If he had been trying to throw Chrisy off course, he was failing. All she could think of was how this guy would handle talking to her sister, the barrister. There was no doubt in her mind that Rachael would have the man running in circles. "As I told you," she paused.

"Never a dull moment," he interjected.

She chortled. "Yes. Living with Mother was not a bed of roses as those with fantasies of growing up in a wealthy family might like to believe. We did our lessons including the history of various cultures across the multiverse. Each of plays at least one musical instrument." She gestured to herself then positioned her fingers as if playing a woodwind instrument..."Clarinet." She set both hands on the windowsill as she spotted a cardinal flitting into one of the young trees in the garden. "We all read and write in at least two languages outside of Rhydinian Common, Earth English, Gaelic, and Irish."

"Aren't Gaelic and Irish the same language?" Somewhere along the line he'd asked that question before.

"They have similar roots, but they aren't the same."

"One of yours would be French."

"Oui." She turned to face him again. "The others are Spanish, Italian, and two forms of Elvish."

"Impressive, but why France?"

"I wanted something different, a change if you will." Crystal blue eyes swept over the psychiatrist. "My mother traveled extensively on Earth before coming here. I often wonder if some part of me was curious about her paths and why she took them." Chrisy shrugged. "She's never really talked about about how she got here or why she came. Maybe she just needed a change." She took the seat in front of his desk. "When I returned from Paris, I took a position as a governess to Princess Erwyn of Eldicor."

"Are you still teaching in Eldicor?" He met her gaze, but his hand continued to write as he spoke.

"No. Little girls grow up. Erwyn was placed in the hands of other teachers. It wasn't a reflection on my teaching abilities by any means. It was simply time. I now teach the children of the workers on the farm. My family has always held that education should be for everyone."

"And what about your personal life" Any attachments there?"

"Personal covers a lot of ground, Doctor. However, if you're asking about, as my mother would put it, my love life," her expression became thoughtful, "there was someone once. He was a sailor, First Mate on the Lady Venture. Things happened; ways parted. I heard he married and later died at sea." She took a deep breath. "I think of him from time to time and wonder what if, but I don't dwell on it. My brothers and sisters could tell you all about what happens when you meddle with time." She held up one hand in a halt pose. "Not something I care to dabble in."

"Care to elaborate, Christina?"

"Have you ever read Bradbury's A Sound of Thunder?"

"Many years ago, but I know the premise."

"I don't like stepping on butterflies. No matter what form they might take." She folded her hands in her skirt covered lap. "My mother believes that it's like tugging on a single thread and causing a garment to unravel or a tapestry to be undone. I tend to agree with her."

"You share a lot of your mother's viewpoints?"

She laughed softly. "Some, but not all. Just because I favor her in appearance doesn't mean that I'm a mouthpiece for her thoughts and opinions. If I was, my family would wonder who had replaced me. She raised us to think for ourselves. We were ....encouraged to challenge ideas and to question authority when we believed it was unreasonable. In fact," she lifted her index finger to an upright position, "Mother held what might be called court, rather than a family meeting, once a week to allow us to share what was on our minds."

"Everyone has their own methods of child rearing."

"And teaching," she added. "We learned all about assets and liabilities when my brother, Ian, announced that as the oldest known living son, he ought to have more privileges and pocket money than the rest of us." Her lips curved into a wry smile. "Ian learned it was a good idea to be careful what he wished for. Privileges are often coupled with responsibilities."

"Do you have a good relationship with your siblings?"

"Mmm, most of the time. I do, however, have healthy relationships with them. Nothing is always perfect. We have disagreements from time to time. About those dreams, doctor?" she redirected the conversation back to why she'd come in the first place. The ball was back in her court. "What would you like to know?"

"What is she dreaming about?"

"Recovered or still repressed memories for one."

"Such as?" Michael's hand hadn't stopped moving since she'd started talking, but now, it was still.

"I've been told you know all about the accident that took place close to four years ago. The one that caused the memory loss in the first place."

"Yes, I'm aware of it."

"When she was stolen from us, she was drugged and shocked into remembering. That much I know. If you want details on the what, however, you'll have to talk to Diana. The only thing she would tell us was that Mother was given a cocktail of herbs and drugs that could have sent less hardy soul to meet what deity they worship."

"What about other detail" Places" Anything about his face that you can remember?"

"Oh, yes. I came prepared for that question." She had brought a sketchbook and dug it out of her purse. Chrisy set the portfolio on Michael's desk. "My teaching credentials are secondary to why I really went to Paris to study. I'm an artist by calling, Doctor. However, there is always a need somewhere for a teacher or a governess. Artists with no other profession to back it up often face empty tables and no rent money coming in." She grinned. "One of the lessons Mother taught that I took to heart, never be without a back up plan." She opened the sketchbook to the page that showed the face of what had likely been her mother's murderer in her first lifetime. "It's how we roll as they say, a means of survival."

"Have you shown this to her?"

"No, not yet. I finished these last night." She turned several pages in the sketchbook. "That's the water I saw. The vines seem to be attached to some sort of water lily plants." Her index finger moved across the bottom of the page. "My brother, Al, identified it as a type of lotus flower that grows in Greece. The variety has been known to exist several thousand years. I can't even pronounce it. He's the one with the degree in horticulture, so, I defer to his knowledge on the matter."

Michael kept looking from the portfolio to Christina. "These are quite good." He turned pages and stopped as he realized the drawings had gone from a tight view of the face reflected on the water to a wider view of a shore line where several people had been indulging in food and drink. The scenes painted a picture of had been a pleasurable outing. "Quite a mood shift in the theme." He looked up at Chrisy with a curious expression.

She set a second sketchbook on the desk. "There's more." Chrisy's mouth turned downward into a frown as she opened the second sketchbook. "This shows what I've seen afterward. You can look through. I have tags on them." Her fingers drummed on her thighs a few times. "When I told her that I had been bombarded by this dream, she said the last thing she remembers when she wakens is going under the surface of the water. The rest disappears into some darkened corner of her mind.." Her hands were turned outward and with the palms facing the doctor. She was at a loss to explain it. "She buries it somehow. I suppose it's understandable to not want to remember such nightmares, but if she doesn't remember, she can't face it. If she can't face it, she can't begin the healing process."

"Do you mind if I hold onto these for a few days and make copies" If she sees them with her conscious mind active then I might be able to help her unlock what?s been kept hidden."

"I don't mind at all." She took in a slow, deep breath then let it out. "Just one more thing, Dr Fabares."

And that is?" he asked as he leafed through the second set of sketches.

"Could you encourage Mother to talk to her husband about this" Please." For a moment, Chrisy's lip was caught and held by one of her canine teeth. "I think he ought to know. She spends many nights in nightmares and ....he should know. That's all."

"I'll discuss it with her, but I can't make any promises, Christina."

"I understand." The nod was almost nonexistent. "It's just hard to know how much she's hurting and keeping it in." She glanced at the clock and stood. "If you need anything else ...."

"I'll talk to your sisters and your mother, first. Then I'll determine whether a group session or a regression is in her best interests."

"I hope to be hearing from you soon." Chrisy gathered her tote bag and went out the door.

Michael picked up the phone. "Ms. Schultz, my last appointment for the day has just ended. I still have some things to review, but you can take off early if you like." He was quiet as he listened to his secretary give a rundown on the next day's activities and appointments. "Thank you. Don't forget to lock up when you leave for the night."

Michael pursed his lips as he read. His own notes on Colleen's case were extensive. Unlike her offspring, however, he did not have a gift that would allow him to visit her dreams or sense her emotions. The list of people that could have a hand in the healing process was getting longer and longer. On the good side, the puzzle pieces were there, they just needed to fit in place. It was his job to help Colleen put them together.

A total of six daughters and two sons were to be interviewed. He was considering asking Rhiannon Harker if he would be permitted to speak to her eldest child, Maggie. It had been the little girl who had made the first break through to Colleen's mind after her accident. Puzzle pieces didn't always fit together cleanly. Some were roughly hewn; others were polished to smoothness over time. No matter how it was sliced, there was much work to be done.

The following morning was filled phone calls and appointment scheduling. As Chrisy had explained, each sibling had something to contribute. Permission was granted for Maggie Harker to be interviewed. Michael wasn't used to dealing with young children in his sessions and had made it a point to say that an adult needed to be present. Whether it was one of her parents or another adult she felt comfortable with was open for debate.

Each phone call and set of arrangements revealed doorway after doorway into places the doctor had only imagined. Diana had agreed to bring in laboratory notes from the warehouse where Colleen had been held captive. The brothers were to examine certain objects and offer their impressions. Nicole, the younger's, connection was to a nightmare dealing with a housefire. The elder of the pair had seen images of her long dead great grandparents.

The conversation with Rhiannon Harker had been intriguing. He had always wondered about her mother's name. How had a woman that was born with one clan's name end up with another? There was a interesting story behind it and Rhiannon had the goods.

The call to Rhiannon Brock, on the other hand, produced a reluctant agreement to come to the office. She had been witness to something that she referred to as a perpetual rewinding of events.

"Touche," he murmured. "Shall we get back to discussing the dreams" Or would what you've seen be considered a nightmare?"

She was silent for a while as she dug a piece of hard candy out of her handbag. "I'd say it's got a few unhappy themes, but it doesn't really come close to being a nightmare." She gestured outwardly with her right hand. "It's more like they're trying to tell her something. Her father's mother is there, too, but she never speaks. It's as if I'm supposed to understand, but I'm not quite getting her message." She popped the peppermint into her mouth. "They know I'm there. Her grandfather does at least. He addressed me directly. Even asked my name."

"How did he react?"

"Favorably to me, but ..." Nicole pursed her lips as she searched her mind for the right words. "When I told him who my father was, he called me the Badger's daughter. Badger is one the meanings for the surname my father used." She chuckled lightly. "I guess he didn't like Da much since he said what amounted to not holding that against me!"

"That he used..." Michael's curiosity was piqued.

"Yes," Nicole said as she met his eyes. "He had a Greek name, but I was never told what it was." Her lips pursed. "I suppose Mother knows it, but it might be one of those things she buried at some point."

"I gather she buries things a lot?" He'd already heard similar things from Christina.

"Mmm." She made a soso gesture with her hand. "Some people think that when my mother is having a fit of temper that's the time to be concerned, but that's not the case." Her eyes closed a moment as she considered her own words. "I have been told that her temper was a point of contention in her marriage with my father. He told her to tame it, but she's just not her without it."

He made a thoughtful noise in the back of his throat. "When is the time to be concerned?"

"When she's quiet," Nicole replied in a soft tone. "That generally means she's plotting."

"Plotting?" One of his brows shot up.

"Plotting, thinking, weighing options." She shifted her position and crossed her legs. "It might be something simple, but might just as easily be something earth shattering."

"Earth shattering in what way?"

"That's a matter of perspective, I suppose. To you, earth shattering might be the death of a patient by their own hand. To someone else, it might be something as simple as a missing piece of jewelry. More often than not it's the sentimental or personal meaning of the piece rather than the price tag that matters more in those cases."

"What about your mother" What might she call earth shattering?"

"Mother has always put us first. So, anything to do with her children or the responsibilities passed on from her grandfather could lead to something earth shattering."

"Yes, you will. Thank you for coming in, Nicole." Michael watched as she closed the door behind her. As it had been with her oldest sister, Nicole's appointment had been the last for the day. He had no idea how willing any of the women or their brothers would be to talk. He learned a great deal from reading, people were sometimes less inhibited with their thoughts only being heard in their heads. Like Chrisy's, Nicole's writing read like a dissertation.

It came to my attention not so very long ago that I was not the only that had been drawn into my mother's dreams. Four of my sisters have had similar experiences. What I have borne witness to is benign in comparison to what my younger counterpart and our younger sister have seen.

The one I am concerned about most, however, is my niece, Maggie. She has a bond with Mother that sometimes defies all the so-called rules. Like her own mother at that age, Maggie is wise beyond her years. What's rattling in my head is whether or not what Chrisy has discovered happened all those years ago has had an effect on Mairead. What if what was to be for her was cut off as well"

Rhiannon and I were called upon to help Christina in her efforts to sort out what was being said in what she had seen. I find it strange that she knows no Greek and, yet, it's into her hands that that vision has been entrusted. Rhiannon, the elder, has pointed out something that has validity. It is possible that our mother has unconsciously caused us to be drawn together. Is it possible that the goal is to get us to work together in some sort of odd test of cooperation?

I have seen the faces of my maternal grandparents and three of my great grandparents. After some suggestions from Dr. Fabares, I was able to concentrate and hear some of what they were saying.

Most of their messages were hopeful. They wanted remind Mother of who and what she is. She was once the last of her family line. Oh, there are plenty that claim to be and are descendants of the Bruce and Brian Boru, but it is her personal line that was nearly ended. Thanks to us, her children and grandchildren, this is no longer the case.

A message was offered by each of the elders. I don't necessarily understand the what and why, but I now understand who each of these people are.

My great grandmother, Catriona Kerrigan, didn't say much. I must admit, I found her to be strikingly beautiful. However, she appeared not as an elderly woman, but as a youthful faery creature. It became clear to me why Mother had been named for her. She had the same smile and certain mannerisms were echoed in her countenance. I am still uncertain what she was trying to say. Perhaps, Mother will be able to fit it together once the larger picture is in place.

And then there is my great grandfather ....He is a strong presence. It is no wonder my mother has taken inspiration from him and found strength and solace in his words despite the fact that he has long been dead. There is something about him that causes me to feel comfortable and safe. I feel much like I did as a child when wrapped in the warmth and safety of Mother's arms when I had wakened from a night terror. There is a sense of peace in his company, indescribably calm.

It took some time, but I learned why he didn't care for my mother being swept away by Da. Like other young noble women of her time, my mother was a potential bargaining chip. My father had passed himself off as a man of affluent background and breeding. However, Da had never revealed the truth of himself to Grandfather Michael. Had he done so, I believe things would have been very different and opinions would have been swayed in his favor.

Having a wife, (I say having because it is how he speaks of her, in the present tense) who had been born among the Tuatha De Danann and a mother who was gifted by the faire folk with magic, he would not easily be able to dismiss that other such beings existed.

Three potential unions had been considered for my mother. Two matches were offered for her sister, Celia, who eventually married a Scottish lord. By all accounts, the union was happy until her untimely death in childbirth.

As the elder sister and heiress to an ancient bit of land, my mother was considered as a wife for James V of Scotland, who was four years of age when she was born. There had been talk of a marriage between her and an heir to English throne. Even though she had spent time in the English court around the age of thirteen, she returned to her grandparents' home. While it was put down to variety of maladies, I believe that even at fourteen my Mother could see the proverbial writing on the wall. Anne Boleyn was not held in high regard and was seen by some as the usurper of Catalina de Aragon, daughter of the monarchs of Spain that set Cristobal Colon on an unsuspecting hemisphere. The judgement for those events is a matter for history and the gods to debate.

((Told from the point of view of the younger Nicole Brock.))

Chapter 3 - Nicole the Chef

When he started the journey into the mind of one Colleen MacLeod, Michael hadn't prepared for anything more than an attempt to bring healing to a woman's life. And maybe, just maybe, bring her some peace of mind. Five hundred years of memories was a lot of time lost. He had no idea that she was connected to each to her children in ways that would frighten a human being. But she wasn't human, that link had been a blessing and a curse. Her children were able to fill in some of the blanks for him, but all of them that could be found had been born after her arrival in Rhydin.

Her children's bloodlines were muddled at best. Each one had a flavor that was uniquely their own. The younger Nicole Brock was no exception. Like her older counterpart, she had been gifted with various talents, magical and divine. She was quite vocal about explaining the difference to others. When she arrived at Michael's office, she was wearing black suit with a gold blouse. Used to being on her feet a good part of the work day, she wore low heeled shoes. The outward appearance gave an impression of being sensible and having a rather direct personality.

"Won't you sit down, Miss Brock?" He gestured between the couch and the chair closest to his desk. "You can stretch out on the couch if you like. Some people find it be more relaxing."

"Given the busy day I had at the restaurant, stretching out might not be a bad idea." She sat on the couched, took off her shoes then stretched out. "I warn you though, I could doze off."

"Wouldn't be the first time someone did that." Michael smiled and opened one of the folders on his desk. "You mentioned on the phone that your dream has to do with a housefire. Is there some reason that this dream," he paused a moment, "or nightmare connects to you? Your sisters seem to feel that each piece of this puzzle has been sent to them for a reason."

Nicole answer began with a little grin and a low chuckle. "You mean dove in headfirst and are asking questions now?" She closed her eyes and rested her head against one of the pillows that been placed on either end of the sofa. "I'm a fire tamer, Doctor. At least that's the best way to put it."

"A pyrokinetic then?"

"Yes. They discovered it when I was two. I was sick and terrified, so, I unconsciously defended myself. It ended up with the curtains in a doctor's office being set on fire."

"What happened?"

"From what I've been told, my father stayed close to me after that incident. My mother was told to stay clear until they knew whatever had made me sick wasn't contagious. Despite her protestations, they succeeded in keeping her at bay. She was pregnant with Rhi at the time."

"I mean how did they handle your newfound ability' Your parents, I mean."

"They took it in stride since one is a magical adept and the other had divine gifts."

He paused in writing his notes. "Most people might say they're the same thing." " Most people don't have to life with both side of things tugging at them, either."

"Point taken."

"I suppose that could be awkward at best," Michael remarked. "You were saying about the connection between your ability and the nightmare?"

"If it had been my own dream, I would have put out the fire. It wasn't. There are unwritten rules that Mother taught us. You can't interfere in someone else's dreams unless they ask for help." She was quiet a moment before continuing. "Shouldn't, I suppose is a better way to phrase it."

"There's a code of ethics for these things then?"

"Something like that, yes. I guess one's morals have a great deal to do with it. For instance, had it been one of my nieces or nephews having a nightmare with similar circumstances, I would have stepped in.'

"Why?" He studied her as she responded to the question.

"Children sometimes believe dreams are real. Didn't you when you were young?"

Her question took him off guard. "I suppose I did." He smiled to himself. Much like her older counterpart, she'd questioned his methods. The younger woman, however, had been more subtle in her approach.

She sat up and put her shoes back on. "Walking in someone else's dreams can be a weighty experience. Their very soul can be bared. With children, they tend not to have a great deal to hide. At least nothing that might be called unforgivable. Adults, though, there's a huge trust factor involved. We carry things around with us that we don't want people to know. Not even those we trust most." Nicole folded her hands in her lap. "Maybe that's why she's not willing to listen when we tell her what we've seen or heard. Fear of what we might have learned that we shouldn't have. It's a grave responsibility to be allowed into someone's mind as I'm sure you know. The subconscious, that requires an even deeper trust."

"If I'm understanding correctly, you see more than what the sleeper is dreaming about."

"If you know where to look, yes. You see, that's why Mother laid down ground rules. Unless the person has asked for help or is unable to ask, we are to watch and not interfere. Children are a special case because one sometimes drifts into their dreams to soothe a night terror."

"How are your younger brothers and sisters sleeping?"

"To my knowledge rather well. Draven and Mir could sleep through an explosion." She frowned a touch as she remembered part of the nightmare.

I have enclosed a rough plan of the house to give an idea of how the main house and surrounding area look. The private stable, where the family's mounts are housed, is on an offshoot of the main driveway. The rear section serves as a carriage house. There's a loft section with storage and office/sleeping area. When one of the horses is sick or in labor, someone stays up there. It's really quite comfortable.

I have no idea how this fire in my, no, her nightmare starts, but that it starts in the stable seems to be a ruse for another target, the house. The stable is too far away for a fire to spread that easily on a windless day. It isn't the loss of the house that would haunt my mother. It's the loss of or harm to those of us that live within it.

That's what it's about you see. Loss, but who, I never see. She's either shielded me from that or can't see it herself. Maybe, she's afraid to see what could be a premonition of her own ending. Or worse, the death of two people she loves. My mother has always put her family before herself. I know she still weeps over her premature and stillborn son that's buried behind a rose and ivy covered lattice trellis in the main garden.

What I can tell you is that I feel the heat of that fire as if someone struck a match and held it against my cheek. The blaze is as vividly colored as an autumn sunset. Incidentally, my mother's hair often shows those hues of red and gold. Maybe, the fire is a symbol for her.

I watch as people set the horses free. The mix of anger, horror, and sadness that comes from my mother is almost overwhelming as a tidal wave in the echos of a tsunami. Nature is a powerful force, especially when it's angry. Funny thing about that ....my mother has often been described as a force of nature.

With most of us distracted, no one has eyes on the house. We hear screaming and yelling. I never see, but I assume Darien's in the house helping to corral the kids because an adult male voice is loudest. While I watch from my place as a dreamer, I see my older brothers, Chelle, and my dream self continuing to fight the fire, the brigade must have been on their way as they do arrive later on. Mother and Rhi go in. I see Draven running out with Mir. Dee Dee's hot on their heels with Rhi yelling after her.

It's hazy for a while, sooty air and feeling like I'm choking. That's when the dogs run out. I see Rhi, who feels of terror and relief at the same time. She is carrying one of the twins in her arms, but I can't see which one. By then the barn fire is out and the brigade had been hosing the house down. Rhi hands off our baby sister to me. As she heads back toward the house, it dawns on me that our mother, our sister and her father are still in there. I never get to see which two of the adults leave the house. But when the fires are out, the house a smoking shell, and we ought to be relieved that it's over, that's when two body bags come out with the fire brigade. Clearly, it's one adult and a small child.

I can see why she wouldn't want to know. The implication are clear enough. Herself, husband or two of her children lost' No matter how strong she is, she is first and foremost our mother. Seeing that would tear her to pieces.

I really have no idea what else to write save that I understand why she has seemed so tormented.

He tucked the notes into the subfolder marked Nicole Brock in drawer marked Colleen MacLeod. Michael sighed. He just kept hoping that it really was a step closer to healing not just Colleen, but her family as well.

"Imagine, if you will, someone born into a world where magic is believed to be a myth. And then, not only being tossed into another world where it's commonplace, but," she made a side to side gesture with her hand, "after fighting against it for so long to find yourself under the spell of someone who isn't just magically inclined, but ....is magic."

"Are you saying she cast a spell on him?" Michael frowned.

"Not in the sense you're thinking." Diana smiled wryly. "In every mythology, there is one magic that can conquer any person, no matter their station in life. Simple everyday magic."

Michael's furrowed. "Is there such a thing a simple magic?"

"How simple is love, Doctor?" Diana smiled, but this time, there was no guile in it. "It's as simple or as complicated as the people involved. Think about it. You know it's true." Diana pale blue eyes met the those of the analyst. "I'll wager at least half the cases you handle relate right back to love or hate which is often love gone wrong."

"You're an astute woman, Diana."

"I have to be. Lack of attention to details in my line of work can get you killed."

"Point taken," he murmured as he wrote down more entries in his notes. "Can you travel in the astral plane?"

"The astral plane is more of a spiritual thing. Walking in dreams can be being drawn into our own subconscious or finding the pathway between our own dreams and those of others. It isn't as simple as some people would like it to be."

"I'll rephrase the question. Do you have the ability to walk in the dreams of others like your sisters?"

"Yes, but it's limited. My father had always told people that magic didn't have any effect on him. I suspect that I have traded off having been born with certain enhanced abilities for lesser arcane gifts."

"Limited in what manner?"

"Unlike, say, Nicole, for example, I can't make my way into just anyone's dreams." Diana straightened in her seat and rested her hands in her lap. "I have found myself in the dreams of siblings or, maybe, they were in mine." She tipped one hand upward. "I can travel into the dreams of my sibling unless they bar the path. If I ever have children, I'd be able to cross into theirs." She paused a moment. "Your next question is whether or not I can step into the dreams of my husband. I don't know, I haven't tried."

Michael smiled to himself. She had anticipated what his question would have been. "Do you play chess?"

To someone unfamiliar with the intricacies of the game, the question might have been a non sequitur. To Diana, however, it was not. "I play well enough to know that pawns are far more useful some people even know." She studied Michael's face. "Do you know what the puzzle of the eight queens is, Doctor?"

"I do, but to tell the truth, I've never really solved it."

"Try the knight move and bend it." There was a challenging expression on her face.

"I'll do that when I get the chance."

"If you have questions about that dossier, please, contact me." Diana stood.

"I'll do that." He nodded. "I'll set up a meeting with you, if need be, after I talk to everyone."

"Fair enough. Good evening, Doctor," Diana said quietly as she closed the door behind her.

Chapter 5 - The Brothers Brock

Psychometry, like other psychic gifts, had its own set of unique of quirks and patterns. The brothers Brock had begun to show promise in that area when they hit puberty. Like the other children of the direct demigod bloodline, several of their gifts manifested early. In Garrick's case, under his father's tutelage, his abilities to change form and communicate developed in infancy. Several objects were recovered in the warehouse where their mother had been held prisoner for weeks. Michael expected to be discussing their impressions from what was found. He had other questions, but whether or not he'd get to ask them remained to be seen.

"Gentlemen," Michael said as he directed the brothers to the chairs near his desk, "I have a few questions before we discuss your findings."

The elder of the pair spoke first, "Since we're both here it's best if you call me Rick and my younger brother, Garrick."

"Works for me," Garrick said as he settled in.

"That's the first question," Michael took his seat behind the desk, "how exactly does that work" Pairs of certain offspring in the same place."

"You're asking how we got here?" Rick watched the analyst's face as if attempting to read through the cover of a book. Certain levels of telepathy and empathy were like that, peeling away layers.

"Yes. Your mother sometimes refers to it was having children in stereo. I've never really asked her to explain it, just accepted it was so."

"The interesting thing about it is that our nieces and nephews or children, as the case may be, understand it perfectly without being told." Garrick smiled a touch. "I think was Rachael's daughter, Limelenath, that first explained it as having two of the same people in the same room; one isn't just steps ahead, but years."

"How old is she?"

"Melly is nine," Rick answered. "To her, though, this is normal. It's how life is. Maggie gets it, too, Rick and Catie don't fully understand the whys, yet. They don't seem bothered about it, though. They just know there are a lot of people they're related to that happen to have the same names."

"Keep in mind, Doctor that the children in question think of the unusual as usual. Maggie, for instance, thinks it's perfectly normal to chatter at a monkey in the zoo and be clearly understood. Her mother's gift with animals surfaced when she was young as well." Garrick checked his watch.

"It's fairly simple, really." Rick gestured with one hand. "There are six pairs of offspring with the names: Diana, Rachael, Draven, Rhiannon, Nicole, and Garrick."

"Three other names were mentioned," Michael interjected, "who are Mara, Marissa, and Kirin?"

Garrick fielded part of that answer. "Mara and Marissa were adopted into the family."

Rick smiled slightly. "Strictly speaking, Doctor, you've been talking to Kirin. You see Kirin is an alias that was used by our mother. Strictly speaking my mother since the two of us came from what would be or what might be."

"How exactly do those sisters, for lack of better word, fit?" Michael found himself feeling a bit out of sorts. This was a first for him in a session, two people, exactly the same, but different and not twins.

"As for Marissa, she was adopted by Kirin," Rick explained. "Marissa's birth mother, Lydia, and Kirin were best friends. In fact, Marissa's middle name is Kirin and my mother is her godmother. When her parents were killed in a crash, Marissa came to live with us instead of her parents' siblings. I don't really know the reasons behind that choice. All I knew was I had another sister and I've always been good with that. Speaking as an adult, now, I figure there had to be good reasons for any mother's choice when entrusting her child's life into someone else's hands. Marissa was never cut off from her birth family, Doctor. Much like with Mara, the situation was open. They grew up with the love of a large family surrounding them. I like to think the parents did a good job all the way around."

Michael listened to some bantering between the brothers as he gathered his thoughts on what else he should be asking. He referred to previous notes to help him along. Garrick and Rick were laying out several objects and pictures on a table as they chatted.

"What did you bring?" Michael queried as he looked over the array of items spread on the table.

"Photographs, jewelry, and a number of other small items," Rick replied. "Some of the photos are of large items that we examined but couldn't bring in."

"Our sister, Diana, gave us access to a couple of places in the warehouse before they were dismantled. This group in particular was disturbing," Garrick said with a bit of disgust in his tone. He had pointed out a group of photos and jewelry. "While the culprit thought he had paid attention to the details well enough, he missed a few tricks. The body in the casket, for instance. To a drugged and addled mind it probably looked normal. However, it looked to me like the culprit wanted to present the supposed deceased as a much smaller man than the one we know."

Rick picked things up at that point. "There is also the possibility that it was never meant to be seen close up and only to be photographed to convince our mother that her husband was dead. Best guess is that Vickers never entertained the possibility that she wouldn't believe that Fenner was dead without actually seeing the body. Between us we picked up our Mother's grief over what she had been convinced was her husband's body. She felt contempt and hatred toward her captor. I sincerely doubt this was by any means a case of Stockholm Syndrome."

Fabares picked up the set of photos and looked them over. "The photos that show your mother in them, how were they taken?"

Chapter 6 - Rhiannon Harker

Rhi settled Maggie next to her on the couch and smiled at the doctor. She had a story to tell. Michael made the assumption that it was one that Maggie hadn't heard.

It was Maggie that spoke first, "Hi, I'm Maggie."

"Hello, Maggie. I'm Michael." He didn't want to make her feel out of place, so, he kept it at a rather casual level.

"I know. Mama said you're a doctor that's trying to help my Gran."

"That's right. Did your mother explain how we're all trying to help her?" Michael smiled.

"Yeah." Maggie nodded. "We all got a dream with Gran, but she doesn't remember. We do!"

"That's right, Maggie," Michael said with a bit of a solemn tone.

"So," Rhiannon said, "there are some things about Mother that few people outside the family know. Her history is long and varied, but this might be something that both you and Maggie might want to hear, Doctor." Rhi wrapped an arm around her eldest child and snuggled her against her side.

Michael drew a chair up near the couch to listen.

Rhiannon had a scrapbook, roughly eight by ten inches in her lap. She had some drawings and other things to illustrate her tale. "Plenty of people have asked, when they learn of it that is, why my mother was born into a clan with name Struan but has carried the name MacLeod for the better part of her life. It's really quite simple. She was promised as a bride for the youngest son of their Chieftain. And then question becomes ....Why?"

"That's what you're going to tell us, right, Mama?" Maggie asked.

The response was accompanied by a simple nod. "There is a story, a legend to some, but a reality to our family about a piece of cloth. Not an ordinary piece of cloth by any means. While some might argue that the yarns spun around it are tales told by elder folk and bards to amuse the masses, I know better. I know the stories have a ring of truth in them. The lands of Ireland, Scotland, and Wales might be called the last bastions of true magic on Earth. While some might question this, it is those that do not question and believe with the faith of children that are the reason such magic still has its strength and its truth."

"One of the relics held in Dunvegan Castle is called the Fairy Flag. It is the cloth of which I speak. I don't know what got into the head of the person who cut pieces off of such a priceless and irreplaceable thing, but the deed was done. I know, I know, looking to protect kin was likely the answer. However, the fair folk made the rules quite clear regarding it. Three times and three times only, no matter how many parts it was divided into. Later on, photography had become somewhat commonplace and many of the MacLeods going off to war carried a picture of it with them. As the story goes, they all came back safely. Whether that was luck or magic at work is matter of perspective."

"Mama?" Maggie gently nudged her mother with her elbow.

"Hm?" Rhiannon raised a slim dark brow as she eyed her daughter.

"You're doin' that 'gressin' thing Da talks about."

Michael was trying not to smile. He understood exactly what Maggie's uncle had been talking about.

"You mean digressing?"

"That's it! The child nodded at her mother. "Uncle Bertie says it's like drivin' round and round the parkin' places, but not gettin' the car in one!"

Rhiannon grinned. "So where should we be parking?"

Maggie's brows lifted and her forehead furrowed. She gave Rhiannon one of those expressions that seemed to be asking if she really wanted her to answer that. Had she known the word, she would have asked if it was a rhetorical question. "Where Gran comes into the story! You said she was sposta be a bride that means she was gettin' married up with somebody! Where you s'pose, Mama, New York City?" Maggie held her hand out with her palms up.

Rhiannon's lips twitched in amusement. "Ah, I was getting to that."

"Ok." Maggie nodded.

Chapter 7 - Rhiannon Brock: The Discussion Mid December 2012

Rhiannon Brock made her way into the office and made a quick study of Michael Fabares. It had become second nature over the years to check people for visible weaponry and get a surface read on their emotions.

The last few weeks of being privy to her mother's nightmare had been difficult for her. Even though some of her siblings knew what it was like to travel backward in time and how that could change things, Rhi could not bring herself to discuss with any of them what she had witnessed. Eregor, however, had a unique knowledge of how one changed event along the chain could ripple into dozens of other choices. He was the one she confided in.

She didn't wait to be asked, she parked herself in a chair and set a thick envelope on the desk. "I really don't want to discuss this. I've been reliving this nightmare with my mother for over a month now. It gets taxing both physically and mentally. Our goal, Doctor, was to present everything to you with the hope that Mother would listen to your counsel. She refuses to hear us when we tell her what our thoughts are, but she'll listen to you. I believe that in her heart of hearts, she knows we see what she can't remember when she wakens. Some of it, however, is just too hard to take." She paused a moment as she considered what else she needed to say.

Michael offered her a glass of water from the pitcher on his desk. He didn't say a word, just waited for her to continue.

She nodded in thanks before downing half the water in the glass. "I've been watching part of her life like it's a movie that someone has been editing and reshooting. It starts when she meets Darien Fenner and stops when he finds her to bring her home. Only ....he doesn't bring her home, Doctor, something changes and the," she made air quotes with her fingers, "movie goes backward."

Michael could not keep his reaction from Rhi as easily as he might from someone else. He cringed inwardly.

"Exactly," she said as she put the glass on the desk. "Think about watching that night after night and knowing that you shouldn't step in, that you aren't supposed to interfere in someone else's dream or nightmare for that matter. You really want to step in and say something, anything to let her know it's a dream and she's got control, but you aren't supposed to. It's hell, Doc, it's hell watching someone you love slowly being driven to madness, but denying it because she doesn't like seeming weak."

He couldn't refute Rhiannon's words. He knew them to be truth. Colleen drove herself too hard despite offers of assistance. He took up the envelope and fingered it. "Everything is in here?"

"Yes, everything. I've tried not to ramble in my writing, Doctor, but the plane of dreams is not an exact science. If you have questions or need me to come in when you talk to Mother, please, call me."

"I'll do that, Miss Brock."

"Please, call me Rhiannon."

He hesitated a moment before opening the envelope. "Rhiannon, are sure you'd rather not sit and talk to me for a while?"

"I have no illusions about who and what I am, Doctor. Poking into my head could be dangerous." If she winked at him, it was a quick flash. "With all due respect, you don't need to pry into my head right now. My mother is the one that needs your help. When she's well, then I might come and see you." As if that will happen.

Once again, Michael found himself reading the words of one of Colleen's children.

There's this story about a man named George Bailey, who learns what life would be like without him. In essence, that's the lesson being learned in the dream or nightmare, as the case may be, that my mother's subconscious mind has been sharing with me. The thing is, I'm not the one that should be sharing this with her. It's not about me, it's about ....well, it's about her life from a certain moment to another and then ....things go crazy. I learned more things about my mother's relationship with her husband than I ever wanted to. However, it's given me insight into just what she does see in that loud mouthed rapscallion.

Mother has always told us that our secrets are our own to tell, but that we must safeguard the secrets of others. This is a rather awkward situation. I must transcribe what I know of this dream in order to help my mother, but this isn't just her life, it's Darien's as well. How do I keep the balance between helping her and respecting his privacy" I suppose the best way is share public events with you, Doctor, and gloss over the private ones. I'll make separate notations for Mother. There are some things that, even as her psychoanalyst, you do not have a right to know. While I believe she might grant permission, I'm not so sure Darien would want a stranger, you, to know his business. Bad enough that I've seen what appears to be their shared memories.

Something she might never have told you, but she believes herself to be cursed in some fashion. I suppose one could say that every life has its share of tragedy, but my mother feels that she somehow invites it.

This story doesn't start with "Once Upon a Time," because I'm not sure if they met that day or not. So, this story starts when they first kissed just as it does in her nightmare. Maybe she couldn't bear to see or sense him in pain anymore, maybe she was tired of his complaining that the tape on his ribs needed to be pulled. Maybe she just liked the looks of him and took the opportunity when it presented itself. Whatever it was, she planted a kiss on him that could have steamed the windows in the inn. He was too busy enjoying or it being surprised to notice what Doc Valkonan was doing with his ribs. Even at sixteen, my empathic abilities wouldn't have missed the stir that kiss caused in my mother. When it comes down to it, she'd really been alone for years. It took the loss of her memories to show her that. I will keep my impressions to myself of what all Darien Fenner and his roguish charm awakened in my mother that night. However, I can tell you, Doctor Fabares, that assumptions can sometimes bring heartache. That was true that night. Only my mother knows why she took Maranya's remarks as staking a claim of some kind on Darien. It is that, however, that will become a pivotal point in what I've come to think of as a rewinding of this tale. My mother left with a fellow called Renley. Had she been a different sort of person, she probably would have tumbled into bed with him.

As I have said, this dream is bits and pieces. While I can do the remembering of the dream for her, I cannot remember what she was feeling or her impressions of the man that is now her husband. At first, I wondered why she was suppressing it. Most of these were good things, happy memories like the puzzle bracelet she was given for her birthday two years ago. There was Doc Valkonan's bachelorette party, but you really need to ask her about that! One should never see their step-parent that way! There is a misunderstanding that nearly ended things between them. A first date, a first dance, it's like leafing through a photo album of their life together.

It is my understanding that you are privy to the fact that Darien is the one who recovered my mother from her abductor. The nightmare both shows and changes that event. I watch as he takes her home then the picture shifts to the kidnapper's lair. I have no better way to describe it. Instead of returning with Darien, however, she remains in hiding and likely believing him to be her captor playing yet another of his vile games. Every major step of their relationship flows backward in time to the moment in the Annex where Doc Valkonan is attending to taping Darien's ribs. Time flows forward from that moment, but for whatever reason, be it Maranya's behavior toward him or being in a cognisant state in her dream and making an active choice to not take the opportunity for the moment where some might have said, "They kissed ....and the rest is history." This is a question that, once again, only my mother can answer.

The second stage of the nightmare shows what her life would have been like without her relationship with Darien going past the friendship stage. While moving through various points of this journey where their paths cross, I could almost swear there's a sense of questioning from him. Almost as though he's wondering why she won't give him a chance to be more than a friend.

I stand by horrified as I see the face of the man she does eventually marry. Whatever trickery or charming was done, I saw a face that my eldest sister drew from her own shared dream with Mother. It was face of the man Christina saw ending the life of the woman that became our mother in her next lifetime. What should have been the day we rejoiced in the births of Abby and Madison was the day our mother lost a child from a fall down the stairs. Unlike the so-called accident, it was purposeful and willful after an argument. For whatever reason, she was alone in the house with him and left for dead at the bottom of the stairs in her own blood and that of child that would never draw breath. Mother, however, was not dead. Nicole, Chelle, and I found her. Thankfully, there seemed to be no sign of our much younger siblings. My sisters take our mother for medical aid. It became evident that the unborn child could not be saved. We sensed only one living being and none of us had the skill to cut a stillborn babe free. That is so in life and was so in this nightmare. The murderer was dealt with and that is all I will say on that particular matter. If those events are what would have come to pass then she had been protected from that madman all along simply because she had been loved.

Once again these events roll backwards like film played in reverse. She is once again standing at the doorway in the Annex. That's when she wakens. While I am willing to aid my mother anyway I can, I cannot force her to open her mind if she doesn't want to. I am able to help her walk through this dream with her and help her to remember. She must want to do this and that is where help will be needed.

Rhiannon D. Brock

As Michael refolded the pages, he understood why Rhiannon had held back. She clearly understood the meaning of keeping confidences. It was close to the Winterfest holiday and Michael was planning to take time off spent with some friends. He'd go somewhere warm and soothing to his soul; he'd earned it. He jotted a note and had it sent by courier to Rhiannon.

Miss Brock,

Due to the Winterfest holidays, I would like to meet with you and your mother in January. I realize that your sisters have previously provided a wealth of information. However, I believe the puzzle piece that you hold might be the key to what troubles her most. In this meeting I should like to request your assistance in revealing what has already been offered for my perusal.

Perhaps guiding her through the dream state and a hypnotic suggestion to remember will help her to open and discuss the events that take place. Once that is done, it is likely that she will be rid of that night terror.

Respectfully,

Michael A. Fabares, M.D.

Maggie had delivered the juice to her miniature aunts promptly at eleven, but at noon, she was making her way down the stairs, two feet at a time, and singing, Itsy Bitsy Spider at the top of her lungs. Her voice was enough to rouse him from his study, and he cracked open the door to poke his head through right as Maggie was traipsing by.

"Hiya, Darien! You gotta make lunch for the babies! I'm not sposta touch stoves!" She paused a moment, "And they're muddy, too, and I don't do diapers!" She grinned. "I tried that with Catie once and made a biiiiiiiiiiiiiiig mess!"

The journo eyed the girl warily, pocketing a baby monitor on his way out of the office. "I hope ya mean ya took 'em playin in the garden and they're muddied with mud," he grunted. By his estimation, Maggie was a little too enthusiastic and authoritative to be delegating diaper duty. Far, far too much like her Gran already.

Maggie's dark brows furrowed. "In the garden" In this weather" Brrrr!!" That one word said plenty, but the tone hinted at are you nuts" While there were parts of the estate that seemed to be in a state of perpetual spring, near the main house wasn't one of them. "I like the cold and playin' in snow, but I'm not 'llowed to carry the babies unless really bad stuff happens." Maggie trotted back up the stairs after Darien.

Once in the girls' room Darien hefted Madison out of her playpen, she babbling at him as he did it. "You an' the girls 'ave a good storytime?" he asked as the ever-responsible Maggie studiously rearranged the twins' toys in the playpen, he set Madison on the changing table, and mechanically began to set up the assembly line of diapers, wipes, and baby powder.

"Uh huh! I think I like this sittin' on babies thing!" She grinned brightly. Maggie turned to Abby and made what might have looked like mystical hand signals to her in answer to her babbling. When the six year answered verbally along with the hand motions, the mystery was solved. "No, Abby, lunch first, cookie later!" Like some of the others in her family, Maggie had no problem carrying on more than one conversation at a time. "I told them about Rapunzel and how she get outta the tower."

Using the rail to steady herself, Abby stood up in her playpen and pointed to the shelf where some of the other toys were kept. She pointed again and looked from Maggie to her father, who was still attending to her younger sister.

"You want the teddy bear or the dog?" Maggie asked.

Abby made her choice known with the crossing of her arms over her chest and a bit of a scratching motion with her fingers. When presented with the plush toy, she squealed with delight then proceeded to wing the stuffed bear at her father!

Maggie laughed as the bear made a soft thumping sound when it hit the back of Darien's legs. "Abby, you'll be a good pitcher some day!"

Darien's back was still turned when that toy bounced off his pantleg, leaving him unphased. It had certainly not been the first time Abby had done such a thing to demand attention. Final steps were being carried out in the changing process when he called Maggie over again, "Gim'me a hand, Mags?"

After giving Abby another toy, Maggie shuffled over to Darien. Her head tipped, one dark brow lowered and she peered at him. "What ya need?" She handed him a diaper. "That help" Abby's muddy, too!" There was an impish twinkle in her eyes.

"Ta, doll. Was it snowin' outside earlier?" he asked as he diapered up the younger of the twins and disposed of what needed disposing.

"Yup, we're gonna be snowed in for birthday time!" Her golden green eyes lit up. "You like snow" We can all go out back for snowball fight and build a snowman!"

Madison made a face. She'd seen that bear and was making give me hand gestures for it. Her father didn't have to be an empath to understand what she was thinking. "I don't know. Seems like we could get snow inside, doesn't it?" he chatted at Maggie as he bent over and collected the plush. It was nestled safely in Madison's hands before the journo raised a big bottle of baby powder over the six-year-old, gave it a quick squeeze, and dusted her with white.

"You really want snow inside, Darien?" She grinned from ear to ear as she thought of the ballroom on first floor turned into a place to ice skate. "We do that, Gran's gonna be ....Hey!!" She was sputtering as she wiped away a path of the powder from her face. "Oh, so that's how you play, huh?" Maggie wasn't a mean spirited child by any means, but she wasn't about to let Darien get the better of her! Laughing all the way, she snagged a plush dog from the floor and winged it at Darien! The antics amused Abby who was clapping and laughing gleefully!

He narrowly avoided being smacked in the ear, and in mussing up his hair as it sailed past him, the toy managed to improve the style some. "Careful the'ah, we've got miniature ones lyin' around," Darien grinningly chastised as he lifted Madison and carried her to the playpen. Her bear still dangled from her chubby fingers as he set her down, and Abby made jealous eyes at her as she was taken out and brought to the station. Once she was changed, Darien lifted her again and looked down. "Y'ready for lunch?" he asked Maggie.

"Don't you worry, Darien, I got reaaaaaaaally good aim!" She grinned and pondered, If he only knew what I learned in school from Jacen! "Yup! Gran said there's pastagetti in the oven!!" She shook her head. "Spa-ghet-ti, that's it!" Maggie looked at Abby. "Do you want a teddy bear, Abby?" There were several about the room to choose from. Again the crossed arms gesture was made, but this time by the oldest of the children. Abby repeated the gesture and was given a light brown bear. Maggie then turned her attention to Madison. "Maddie, don't you remember" It's this way!" Maggie made made the same crossed arms gesture that Abby had earlier with the scratching figures. "That means teddy bear."

The journo's eyebrow went up as he observed the interaction between children. "What's that you're doing?" he asked.

"It's sign language!" Maggie looked like she was ready to burst with pride! "I'm learnin' it because Mrs. Phen, Doran's mom, can't talk with a voice, so she does it with her hands!" She held out one hand toward each twin. "They don't talk much yet either, but they sure do think a lot!" Maggie made another hand sign toward her mouth, she was silently asking if the girls wanted to eat. "Abby listens real good when I tell a story. Maddie, not so much." The girl shrugged. "Mama said babies have a short ..." Her face crinkled as she thought about how to express the phrase she couldn't remember..."I forget the name, but they can't think about the same thing for a long time."

"Attention span," he said, completing her thought. His brow wrinkled as he skillfully swept Abby up in the opposite arm and headed toward the kitchen. After both girls were placed in high chairs Darien made a face at Madison and watched her reaction, pleased when she smiled brightly. "Go pick out what?cha want t'drink from the 'fridge," he instructed Maggie.

Maggie pulled a plastic bottle of apple juice from the fridge. "You need something in here?" She peered over her shoulder. "I think I can get it if you do!" She smiled and waved at the twins. "Abby says some words like Mama and Da, Mff for Max and Br.." She giggled. "I don't know what she wants when she says, 'Brr,' may she just wants her blanket 'cause she's cold!" Maggie parked the juice bottle on the counter for a minute. "Anyway, I started makin' hand signs for them 'cause Gran says babies know what they want, but they just can't say words for it, yet!"

"I'm fine. Have a seat," Darien said, pulling out a chair at the kitchen table for her. His expression remained pensive as he pulled the pot of spaghetti from the oven and piled a small helping into a bowl. "You said Madison doesn't pay much attention t'ya?" he asked Maggie, setting the bowl in front of her.

Maggie climbed up onto the chair and set her juice on the table. "Sometimes, I gotta touch her to get her to look at me then she listens." Maggie studied Darien a moment before looking over to the girls. "Sometimes, Abby pats her on the head to get her to pay 'ttention." Her hands went up, palms up. "Gran say twins got a language all their own."

Darien made a sound of acknowledgement, then turned back into the kitchen.

"Darien?" Maggie studied him as he went about getting lunch for the twins. "You're not gonna put them in a princess tower, are you?" Maggie had a bowl of spaghetti in front of her. "Onnaccountabecause if you do, me and Doran will have to bust them out!" She twirled her fork in the bowl and twisted the spaghetti. "We're gonna bust out Lainey if Aunt Ariana and Uncle Galen put her in one!" She slurped the spaghetti into her mouth and laughed as one of the noodles whacked her in the nose.

"Whe'ah did that come from?" He returned to the table a few seconds later with cheerios. The snack was just to begin with. Abby had been on a cheerio kick for a couple of days, and if she didn't get them at least once a day all hell broke loose. Madison, naturally, mimicked her sister's eating habits.

Maggie shook her head and laughed. "Don't you remember" I told you ....I was telling them the Rapunzel story and she gets put in the tower!" She chewed up a bit more spaghetti before going on. "Da said he was gonna put me in a tower b'cause he doesn't want me goin' out with boys until I'm lots old like twenty-five!" She set her fork down a minute. "I think maybe when Doran said he'd look after me and Jacen started teachin' me stuff at school and Grandpa started helpin' me learn how to use that whackin' stick, Da's not so worried anymore." A big grin suddenly broke on her face. "It could be because Mama said she was gonna build a biiiiiiiiiig doghouse for him if put me in a tower!"

"Your Da is a smart bloke," he said, pouring a handful of cereal before each of the twins. Madison quickly shoved cheerios into her mouth, but Abby was content to spread them around first. "I haven't decided yet," he answered finally, only half-joking.

Maggie was suddenly wearing her serious face. "Darien, how come Abby listens good and Maddie doesn't?" It was probably simple curiosity on her end, but what was the saying" Out of the mouths of babes"

"It takes longer f'r some, I s'pose," he offered, but the pensive look on his brow still hung there, suggesting that he wasn't exactly speaking his mind.

"Maybe 'cause she was sick for alla that time?" Before Darien could get his two coppers in on that, Maggie went on to say, "Hmm, no 'fense 'n' stuff, but I ask gotta Gran when she gets back from the doctor's. She knows everything about babies!"

"I'll take care of it, Mags," said Darien evenly just as Abby let out a cheerful, high-pitched shriek and sprayed cereal everywhere. "Now eat your lunch before ya get cheerios in it."

"But I like cheerios in my spaghetti!" Maggie chuckled. " 'sides, I still gotta ask about that song Mama's trying to teach me! She says her Gaelic is gettin' rusted up!" The expression on Maggie's face said that she didn't believe that for a minute. "You oughta eat your lunch, too!" At that, Maggie settled in to finish her food. There was much on her young mind now and it wouldn't be long before her grandmother got back.

((This piece was co-written with the player of Darien Fenner. Thank you!))

Chapter 9 - Colleen: Interim

Meanwhile at the office of Dr. Michael Fabares in Stars End.

Colleen had purposefully chosen to have an analyst that was not affiliated with Riverview. She was well known as a donor and volunteer at the hospital. One never knew what reporter or investigator was looking for a scoop on one's social or other activities. That, of course, included people that had worked with, for, or against her husband!

When he heard the knock, Michael called out, "Come in, please."

Collie managed a smile as went in. "What, ya don't ask who's there?"

"Not when I know." Michael answered as he gestured to the chair in front of his desk.

"Point taken." She smoothed the back of her dark green woolen skirt before sitting. "It was my understanding that you were taking time off for the holidays."

"Oh, I am, but some things came to mind while I was reviewing your case and ..."

"Yer a workaholic, Doctor," Collie sighed, "trust me on this, it's not a good thing!" She spoke from both sides of the coin. It was easier being the workaholic than to be watching her husband work and drink himself into what likely would be an early grave. It hurt to see that. Mostly, it hurt to not know why or be able to help him.

"You aren't the first to tell me that." He smiled amiably. "At any rate, I have compiled copies of everything that your children have contributed to the cause." He set a thick portfolio on the desk along with a DVD. "Most of it was rather cut and dried, but Rhiannon Brock presented some rather interesting points."

"Such as?" A slender red brow lifted.

"She believes that I shouldn't be privy of some parts of your shared dream out of respect for your husband."

"I can't say that surprises me. Rhiannon is ....well, there was a plan that 'er Da had fer 'er. When 'er sister willin'ly took 'er place, the bargain was nullified. It's that selfless act thing, ya know?" Collie drew in a deep breath then smiled a touch..."So, what is it yer wantin' ta accomplish wit' me so we can get yer tail out the door 'n off on holiday.

"I want you to take these documents, read them over. Look at the papers associated with them. Every document is there and on that disc. My interview with Maggie and her mother is on that disc. I should have something from the young lady by the time I get back. However, if you ask her, she might be willing to share her thoughts with you."

"I'll speak wit' 'er." She took the portfolio and disc. "Anythin' else?"

"As you're reading, add notes of your impressions. I realize it might be very difficult, but it will be better if you look through before we meet later one." Michael set his reading glasses on the desk. "You really should tell tell your husband. I've told you this before."

"I know yer right, Doctor, but I can't very well explain what all is goin' on until I understand it myself." She flipped the portfolio back and forth. "This should help."

"You might need time to clear your head once you read all that. Time away, maybe alone?"

She shook her head. "No, I....I don't think I'm goin' ta want ta be alone after I digest this." Her eyes closed. What was the worst case scenario' Darien taking off like he did when Madison was sick" She had to prepare for the possibility.

"Did you tell him that you're having trouble sleeping?"

Her answer was a shake of her head.

"Start there, Colleen."

"I'll try." She got to her feet. "Now, get goin' on that holiday 'n' enjoy yerself."

"I'll do what I can." He grinned at her as he grabbed his coat.

The first thing she did was play Maggie's voice recording. Collie smiled as she listened to her granddaughter's voice. Like her mother before her, little Miss Harker often seemed wise beyond her years. When drowning was mentioned, it became clear to her that Maggie had experienced bits and pieces of the other dreams. Colleen's face had become a neutral mask for a moment. She tried to fathom just what all Mairead had seen or heard as well as what effect it would have on her.

Maggie Harker knew exactly who she had come from and just what it meant. Her younger brother and sister had shown themselves to be empathetic toward animals and close family. Unlike the eldest of the children, who enjoyed being out with the sports crowd, the twins were not yet interested in competing outside of school. While they showed a talent for magic and, as one might expect, wielding their wooden swords, their interests rested elsewhere. Catie was showing a great interest in art. She spent a lot of time peeking around her father's elbow when he was working on building plans or drawing for the pleasure of it. Rick's time, when not in school, was spent playing with the family's dogs. And building things, the boy couldn't get enough of construction toys! They were finding their own paths.

Collie made the following notes regarding Maggie's presentation:

Like Rhiannon, Mairead has always been wise beyond her years. She has noticed, among other things, Darien's apprehension toward magic. She also chided me, albeit unintentionally, for not telling Darien what?s been going on. She's right, we cannot fix what we don't know is broken.

While I don't generally use my gift in the daily course of things, I have used it to ease the suffering of those in Riverview when it is permitted. I have used my abilities to walk into the plane of dreams. That is why this troubles me so much. I, who aided others to walk through their dreams and make sense of them, cannot remember my own dreams or nightmares. I have had to become dependent on my children and granddaughter to sort things out. It's like having lost one's sight or hearing, it takes time to adapt.

Maggie has seen a glimpse of her possible future. She seems very happy and she wasn't alone. I suspect that I know who was with her, but it is better to not speak of it lest it changes what should be.

Collie changed the disc out to the one Michael had given her. The files were labeled clearly, so she opened one that was titled, R. Harker: audio. She made notes regarding the text, audio, and picture files as well as the doctor's verbal inquiry.

Rhiannon Harker has always been somewhat of a historian. She's been an avid reader since she could first distinguish letters and words. Her Uncle Cray brought her her first picture book of Scotland. Since then the history of those who came before has fascinated her.

Do I remember what she's speaking of? Yes, I even remember the song she's promised to teach wee Maggie. She'd been singing the lullaby to the youngest of her children barely an hour before. I remember feeling relieved that I didn't have to marry a man that I had never met. Yet, I felt sorrow that his life was lost.

As I read through these accounts of what I cannot recall when I waken, I have found a deeper respect for the adults my children have become. Diana and her crew have provided a great deal of information about what happened when I was held captive. I don't think I'm ready to face all of that again. Not yet. I had three fears during that experience. My own death was not one of them. Madison's, however, was. Once she was away from the creature that threatened to kill her when he thought me to be asleep, I had only myself to consider. In getting her out of danger, I might have given up my only chance for escape. Given the same set of circumstances, I would have made the same choice. To this day, I never asked if Darien even knew she'd been taken with me. Now it is, perhaps, better not to ask.

I knew that I had been drugged in some fashion and the reports confirm what I had already suspected. He wanted me to remember what once was and forced it. Perhaps my subconscious remembers, but my active mind does not. Given what all these reports allude to, it's rather plain that while asleep my memory is active and overflowing. Even dead, I hate the bastard for trying take Maddie from us. And I hate him for stealing Cecilia's life. Mostly, I hate him for still being able to drive wedges between us. I need to find peace with it, but right now, I just cannot.

Since both daughters named Nicole use the surname Brock, it's best to distinguish by age or profession. Nicole the elder and jeweler has experienced something pleasant in comparison to her sisters. She was visited by her maternal grandparents and three of her great grandparents. It is an experience that I wish I could recall. Through her words, however, I understand a great deal of their message. Like Rhiannon Harker, Nicole the elder is a student of history, but her concentration is that of the family. It is interesting to me that she retained most of the historical facts regarding her maternal roots. I feel for anyone asking for the other side of her family tree. She likely has detailed answers for that as well!

I have found some peace in reading and listening to the words of the elder pair of Brock daughters. Perhaps when once again I dream, there will be no shadows of my parents or grandparents. Maybe they will reveal themselves to me or know that their message has reached me. Either way, that will be resolved and one less thing to haunt me. If I am able to consciously find what Maggie calls the peaceful place it will be one step closer to taking control of my own dreams again.

There are further documents and recordings from Christina, the brothers Brock, Rhiannon Brock, and Nicole the chef. Save for Garrick and Rick, these are unpleasant tales at best. I know this duplicity can be difficult for some to follow. It took time for me to get used to it. The children that a born into it seem to have no trouble understanding it at all. The brothers addressed this in their interview.

She jotted a note in her journal file that would not be sent to the psychiatrist. Just from listening to the tone, I get the feeling my sons know more than they shared with Michael Fabares. They told him that Diana might have been the one that did in my captor, but if they truly believe that there's a nice bridge over on Fool's Luck Bay that can be sold to them. Diana was protecting someone. I have no doubt of it.

In the notes for Michael, she wrote, Regarding Rick and Garrick's commentary. Duality, duplicity, whatever one calls it, it is not that hard to understand. I simply refer to them as my stereo children, it says it all. Two people that are echoes of each other. I am pleased to have had the bracelet returned. It carries several reminders: those that gave it, she that made it, and she that it was stolen for.

Christina has always been a gifted artist. Her drawings have helped me to see what she did in her visions. I cannot believe that the man who stole my husband's face wanted me to remember that he was the one that killed me in my first life. Not only that, but that he was later found dead on my grave. The question that comes to mind is ....did someone take revenge or did did he end his own life"

Christina knows very little Greek. So it had confounded me that she was the one connected to this dream. Then again, neither Rhiannon would have been a good choice since it is the soul that rests in them, Zafeiria, that was also set free that day. She makes herself known from time to time. I get the distinct impression that Eregor is well aware of the ancient's presence when she shows herself.

There are three more that I have experienced, but only two are accounted for within the notes and other documentation that was presented to me. I have yet to bring up the last with my doctor. If I am able to get a handle on what is known it might shed light on the unknown. I don't even know if someone has shared this with me or not. All I can remember from it is a voice calling to me. Perhaps there is peace of mind in knowing what the girls have been able to share. They keep saying baby steps, but these are too small, now, and I need more. I've been walking through nightmares and not remembering on waking far too long.

Nicole, the younger and chef, has been haunted with the nightmare of a house fire. Given that her first gift was fire, I know why this is connected to her. I can also see how Rhiannon would be the one to walk through fire to bring people out. Of all my children, she has been the strongest. I have no doubt that the ancient within her gives her that drive and determination.

In the ending statement, Nicole remarks on the effect that seeing two body bags and knowing the possible combinations of who might be in them. It rather clear that this nightmare ends with the death of Abby or Madison. That alone would rend me to a state of despair. To lose two of my children or a child and my husband" Those are things I was better off not having seen or remembering.

The last I have been able to read about and listen to is the testimony of Rhiannon Brock. There are many notes I need to make about this. Mostly, I have to admit this, even if just to myself. When I saw Darien in that warehouse, I almost did remain in hiding. When I felt that anger, pain, and sense of loss coming from him, I knew it wasn't just another trick to lure me out. I knew he was real and alive even though I had been shown things to lead me to believe that he was dead. When he held me, the second of my three fears was destroyed. After everything my captor had done ....I am grateful that I never had to face the third.

It was long past midnight when Colleen set aside what she was working on. She was too weary to put it away and went straight to bed.

"Would you have listened?" came a weary voice from the doorway.

Drawing his hand back, Darien glanced at his wife who stood cross-armed, leaning against the frame in her nightgown. "Why are ya awake?" he said, calmly shutting the laptop. He rose, but left his palm flat against the computer, long, tapered fingers splaying widely enough to cover half the notebook.

"Couldn't sleep," Collie admitted, which wasn't much of a surprise. "What would ya like me ta say, Dare" That I didn't want ta worry ya" That yer always buried up ta yer eyeballs in work?" She shook her head. "How about if I just tell ya the simple truth. I couldn't explain what I didn't understand m'self." Colleen frowned as she came up behind Darien, rested one hand on his shoulder and gestured to the laptop and pile of papers that accompanied it. "That's what this mess is all about."

Mirroring Collie's headshake, the journo rubbed his temple with his thumb. "Who is this bloke you're talkin' to?"

"Dr. Fabares is my analyst. Not too long afore I met ya I was seein' 'im fer help wit' memory loss. Eventually, I stopped goin' because I remembered enough 'n' was too busy workin' on makin' new memories." She set both hands on his shoulders. "But..." she blew out a breath that sent some hair flying out of her eyes, "after what happened this past summer, things were ....I don't know what ta call it, but around Samhain I started havin' trouble sleepin'. When I couldn't recall what I was dreamin' about, I went back." She managed a little smile. "Somehow, I don't think climbin' in people's dreams is part o' yer trainin' as a journalist."

"What do Nicole or Rhiannon have to do with it?"

"In Nicole's case, it's one of her talents. I don't know if it came from 'er fey half 'r 'er father's folk 'r both. She's able ta touch a sleepin' child 'n' soothe 'em without goin' inta their 'ead. My curiosity always got the better o' me," she admitted. "I 'ad to know what was makin' 'em fearful." She was silent a moment as she gathered her thoughts. This had not been easy to begin with and being put on the spot, as Darien was wont to do to her, didn't make it less hard or comfortable to deal with. "Rhi's been tied ta m'thoughts since before she breathed air. Long story, but that explains much." She gestured toward the portfolio that had been left next to her laptop. "Interesting thing 'ere. The only one linked ta a dream what?s not from that ancient bloodline is Christina." Her lips twisted sideways a moment. "But those wit' artistic gifts are sometimes sensitives." Another few moments of silence passed as she lightly squeezed his shoulders. "Some fey weave dreams, so, it's no wonder we can move through 'em. Well, some can."

Darien squared his shoulders beneath her hands, his hard gaze resting on the portfolio his wife kept addressing. "Y'should've said something."

Her hands slipped off his shoulders and she turned to looked out the window that faced onto the front drive. It was snowing again. Her voice had become a low whisper, "There's a lot we don't tell each other 'n' should, I'm thinkin'."

Finally he turned, studying Collie's profile against the soft light cast in from the hallway. Gusting out a sigh, he combed his knuckles through his hair and followed her gaze to the window. "What are we doin', Coll?"

She looked down at her hands. "I can't answer fer ya, Darien. I don't pry inta yer head." She turned her head to look at him. There was no sign of judgement being passed, just a simple truth that had been uttered. "I imagine there's plenty in there that's better not spoken of ....fer now." She caught her lower lip between her teeth. "What I'm doin' is tryin' ta explain what I don't know if I can. I'm still reading through that pile. What'd ya learn?"

The line of his lips kinked thoughtfully, and he crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back against the desk behind him. "What was about..." he stopped himself, feeling his jaw tighten. Changing his mind, he shook his head. "I ain't a shrink, Coll. I can't give my own analysis, and I sure as hell don't know th'first thing about dream....walking," he uttered with some effort.

He wasn't getting off that easily. Collie's gaze locked on Darien's "What was about what?" the question was delivered with a note of curiosity in the tone. There were harder questions that could have been asked, but she held back.

Darien returned her gaze just as firmly, amused by her sudden intensity. "Whose face was in the water?" he asked bluntly.

"That crazy man who snatched me and ..." she paused a moment to consider whether or not anyone had told him that Madison had been taken right along with her. "He wanted me ta remember what once was. In a life before." Her eyes closed a moment. "I apparently did." She leafed through the portfolio to the copies of Christina's artwork. The face reflected in the water was shown more than once, but the drawings varied some. It could easily have been two faces with similar features. "Best guess is this what what 'e looked like then. Unless there's more 'an meets the eye." She flipped through again to the drawing of a body face down on what appeared to be a grave. "She says that she believes this is the same person, but there's no face visible 'ere." Her hand moved to rest on Darien's arm as she studied the drawings. "He ....might 'ave tried ta change his face or 'o 'e was ta hide, but ..." She moved her fingers over the drawing of the dead body.

"The'ah are oth'a reasons." Darien's jaw worked contemplatively, though his eyes betrayed none of what was on his mind. "I want to help you, Collie," he said abruptly, before she could comment on his reticence. He shifted his weight until he stood upright again, this time turning to capture her with a look. "But the'ah's something you're not telling me, isn't the'ah?"

Collie drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Yes, but the question is, which o' the many possible things I haven't said could ya be askin' about?" She studied her husband's face. "If yer meanin' about what I didn't say just now, I don't whether 'r not ya knew Madison was snatched up right along wit' me that day." If he hadn't known before, he did at that moment.

Her rhetorical question prompted Darien to blow out an audible sigh of exasperation. "Why didn't ya say as much earlier?" He stayed her retort by showing her his hand. "I know it was something y'didn't want t'remember, and I don't want to put ya in that position. Believe me, I don't. But I'd say that's an important detail, wouldn't you?"

The tips of her pointed ears reddened. It was generally a sign that her temper was about to explode. However, dead silence came from her for several minutes. It was all she could do to not not ball up her fist and belt him one! She breathed, in, out, in, out. Finally, she spoke, "Yeah, I 'ad a choice ta make. 'er life 'r mine 'n' I got 'er away from that demon as soon as I could find a way." It was worse than a fit of temper, those words and those that followed had been delivered coldly and quietly. "People told me that missing mother 'n' daughter posters were all over the city." She looked away from him. Anger only bolstered hurt for so long and it would show in her eyes soon enough.

Darien could sense the hurt in her words, even if he couldn't read it in her face. "Sorry," he said, though he didn't say exactly what he was apologizing for. Her back to him, he turned and snaked his arms around her waist. "This has nothing to do with that. I shouldn't be taking it out on you. I'm sorry."

"Dare," she murmured as she leaned back against him, "ya've asked me share things. Some what 'ave been locked away for a long long time." Her crossed arms were lowered to rest on his. "I'm tryin', really, I am." Her head turned slightly. "When are ya goin' ta ..." her words trailed off. She thought carefully about her next words before whispering, "When are ya goin' to give me the trust what yer askin' o' me?"

He was silent at first, as if debating his reply. After a time, he said, "I love you, Collie."

With all the things he could have said, those words from him had a way of disarming her. Sneaky man! He got her to smile a bit despite the annoyance she'd felt; he was good at that, too! "I love you, too, ya crazy thing." Colleen delivered a playful swat to his jaw. She trailed back to an earlier part of the conversation. "I'm not sure how ya can help. Maybe sort this out wit' me" Might see somethin' I missed." She dropped her head back against his shoulder and brushed her lips against his cheek. "I'm tired o' not bein' able ta sleep right."

"I'll put some coffee on, then," he replied, pulling away and heading back toward the hallway.

"Darien?" Collie called after him. "Is there something ya wanted ta tell me?"

He paused in the doorway. "It can wait," he said, then left her alone in the office.

She muttered under her breath, "I really have to stop tellin' him that!"

My niece, Maggie, finds recording her thoughts and writing them down later as a transcription to be helpful with her writing practice and thought process. I'm taking a page out of her book here to see how this works. Some of this could be called a repeat of what I already told Mother's psychiatrist. There are things, though, like the inner most workings of my mother's mind and heart that I do not feel comfortable sharing with him. It is her choice to do that. My mission is to help her to remember what was in that dream and, if need be, help her walk through it. It's my belief, however, that once she does remember, it is between her and Darien to begin this healing process. I'm going to my best to help.

My sister, Nicole, is the one truly gifted with guiding people through their dreams. And, much like we don't understand why Christina was given a dream where Greek is spoken, I don't understand, yet, why it's me who must aid Mother through this dream or nightmare. as the case might be. instead of Nikki. There must be a reason. Perhaps there is a lesson to be learned here that I have yet to discover.

What frightens me is not seeing what actually happened because, all things considered, my mother and Darien are good for each other. What scares me is that my mother knows very well at this point that another part of her once stepped backward through time to keep her from making a life changing mistake. What part of this nightmare shows is the what if. I dread to think what would happen if she got it into her head to do what Kirin did and ultimately change what is. It's my belief that this is a warning of why to not even attempt it. I'm trying to keep this narrative objective and not directly address her or him despite the words being meant for them.

Being within someone's dreams is often like watching a film. You are usually a bystander, a watcher, who shouldn't interfere. Some of us, though, have the ability to walk in dreams and aid the dreamer to gain control of their corner of the plane of dreams. There are certain ethics to be considered. Manipulating dreams should never be done without the consent of the person dreaming. It should be gained before they sleep. There are many who would abuse this talent to bend minds to their own ends. This is not how I nor my siblings were taught to use this gift. When you allow someone into your dreams, you lay yourself bare to them. It requires complete trust and blind faith in those you allow past that gateway. Your thoughts, your emotions, and everything that you are is laid open. To allow someone into your dreams can open your very soul to theirs. So, yes, while I am within someone's dreams, I know their most intimate thoughts. Mind you, it is limited to what lives within that dream. This is why manipulating dreams is dangerous. Anyone that knows how can open those pathways could see and change what they should not. With those things said, it's time to begin this journey.

Collie paused the recording. "It was Ali." She only knew one Ali. Collie stood and went to stare out the front window at the falling snow and to remember. Time stood still for what seemed like days before she turned the recording back on. Those three simple words, however, might easily have explained her annoyance, at best, when finding Darien and Ali's ex-wife, Fionna, all cozy at a table in the inn.

Mother has a great appreciation for the tango. The aftereffects on her can be startling. So much so that she's generally careful who her dance partners are for that music. It's no wonder that she was, as the phrase goes, hot and bothered, after dancing. While she danced, she thought of another such dance with Dris.

While they were watching a hot man dance, shake all over, and sing ....well...that's when that stowaway came out of hiding. I knew security at the Port could be lax, but I have to wonder if Darien paid them off or offered to keep something out of the papers that he'd seen. Then again, maybe he just charmed his way past someone, maybe even part of Misty's crew!

Mother become self-conscious of the fact that she was underdressed. One thing is certain, he wasn't exactly welcomed by several of the party goers. Many announced that they were leaving. It left my mother with one of those sinking feelings, a regret for having stepped aboard at all that night. She felt trapped, just as she had felt when the doors closed. Men that aren't part of the entertainment really shouldn't be at the age old traditional hen party. At least that's my feeling on it.

Despite Darien flirting with Mother, she gave him a gentle brush off and told him to go back and pay attention to Anya, it was her party after all. That and Mama was still convinced that Darien was looking to be husband three and the Doc was happily encouraging him! Somehow, that night still ended on a note for those that had remained. I can still hear my sister's yelling voice with that through phone sound when she thought her wingman and not Mom was calling her. The next night, though, well....

Chapter 11 - Turning Back Time

June 2013

Most of her nightmares were a thing of the past now, but two continued to haunt her. The crying voice in the night and walking backward through her own life.

Colleen relived the events of her life from the time she met her husband, again and again, but those were things in the past that she couldn't change. Rather, they could be changed, but not for her. Collie knew all too well the potential repercussions of changing the past. Marissa's recent visit made things all the more poignant. The young woman became Kirin's daughter at a young age and found her place among the brothers and sisters that welcomed her into the fold. Marissa's goal was to save a life. Collie, however, wasn't sure what it was she would do if she allowed herself that privilege. It would be the privilege of a step backward in time to see what she could have done differently.

She was about two weeks shy of the anniversary of having been kidnapped. The memories of what happened came back, night after night, in her dreams. She needed closure. She needed that gaping wound to heal and not open again. She didn't know until after she'd gotten around to listening to the rest of Rhiannon's thoughts on the sound bytes, but her subconscious had been trying to show her what was wrong for months. This time, she was going to remember something when she woke up. And, maybe, she'd be in enough control that she could get a handle on things.

Darien was away on yet another business trip. So, she put the twins to bed with the usual tussling over who was getting what toy to snuggle. The other children were given the requisite stories and good night kisses before being sent off to bed or tucked in. Collie settled into a tub filled with hot sudsy water with a glass of merlot to help her relax. An hour later, she, too, went off to bed. Alone. And that was when she watched her life passing through her dreams.

It was just as Rhiannon had described including several conversations that Collie had overheard in a cursory fashion. It was those sensitive ears. After years of of using them to listen for the cries and calls of her children that came from the far corners of the old house, she tuned in to familiar voices. It was especially true of voices that spoke her name. Having been a bartender in various places in Rhydin and Stars End, she had yet to lose the ability to hear people calling out their orders from the commons while she was cooking. There were some things, though, that caught her attention that she pretended didn't happen. Some of those things, however, had a tendency to soak into the back of her mind like a sponge being dropped in water. Her waking mind push them away.

She slept on ...

The nightmare starts as it always does, with a kiss. Most of it isn't really a nightmare. It's more like a highlights reel for a film at the cinema. And then I get to that day. That day in Old Temple when I was caught off guard and snatched away. I worried more for Madison than myself. Once Maddie was safe, the ballgame changed. By the time I hear the sound of the gunshots, the precursor to freedom, my captor desperately tried to convince me that my husband was a cheating bastard and that he was dead. That's where things freeze and change from what the reality was.

I'm now a bystander watching whatever happens and listening to thoughts in my own voice that aren't truly my own. It's like listening to a voice over in a film.

Dreams are funny things. Too often we forget that we are their masters and not their servants. However, I must allow this one to unfold and see where it leads.

Over a few months time, the whole thing has become clear. With the recent upheaval in the Nexus, I suddenly understand that this isn't about me as I am now. It's about a part of me that's elsewhere, left behind in another place and time. The appearance of another Darien, along with other Post employees having counterparts, has made it clear that if he isn't where he belongs to meet that part of me, her life is going to be a living nightmare. As long as it's in my power to change that, I can't let that happen. Even if they don't marry or have children together, it will stop her from meeting the man that stole my husband's face. If it won't stop it, it will delay it and the circumstances will be different.

Life has become a combination of Dicken's "Christmas Carol" and the film, "It's a Wonderful Life." I'm being shown what life could have been like by other parts of myself. I'm being called by a child's voice that simply asks to be. Could this be one of our girls warning us of something that might go wrong? Or is this a child of another time and place that wishes to be here as well. I have the feeling Seamair is not the only one my descendants grown that I am going to see this year.