"Wonders Wrought" (the sequel to "Epithalamion") by Juliettt@aol.com (revised and posted August 9, 1995) Okay, folks. Y'all requested a sequel, so here it is. Scully, Mulder, Skinner, Margaret, Melissa, Bill, The Lone Gunmen, and anybody else I've forgotten to mention that you have ever seen on _The X-Files_ belong to Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen Productions, and FOX Broadcasting, or some amalgamation of the three, and I am using them with lots of love but absolutely no permission. Jackie St. George and Martin Nantus belong (!) to Sheryl Martin and Rosie belongs to herself. Lucinda Carey belongs to Sheryl Clay. I am also using them with love but *with* Sheryl's and Rosie's and Sheryl's permission. Bruce Cunningham is mine -- MINE, I tell you! I take full credit and/or blame for any other characters not already claimed, and this story also belongs to me. As implied, this story is a sequel to my story "Epithalamion." If you haven't read that one, you really should read it first. Apologies to Deep Throat, but trust me on this. The poetry is the sixth, seventh, and part of the eighth stanzas of John Donne's "Epithalamion Written at Lincoln's Inn." John Donne has been deceased for over three hundred years, so I didn't bother to ask his permission to use it. The song is "Groovy Kind of Love" by Phil Collins (I would have asked but couldn't find his phone number). Ratings: Mushy, Romantic, and PG (sorry to all of you who wanted an NC-17 sequel; use your imaginations, okay?) or possibly PG-13 depending on how you feel about smoochin'. . . . Dedicated to my friends in the Great White North (you know who you are!). *************************** "Wonders Wrought by Juliettt@aol.com *************************** Thy amorous evening star is rose, Why then should not our amorous bed inclose Herself in her wished bed? Release your strings Musicians, and dancers take some truce With these your pleasing labours, for great use As much weariness as perfection brings; You, and not only you, but all toiled beasts Rest duly; at night all their toils are dispensed; But in their beds commenced Are other labours, and more dainty feasts; She goes a maid, who, lest she turn the same, Tonight puts on perfection, and a woman's name. The wedding was over, the pictures taken, and the entire company had moved to a nearby hall for the reception. Mulder and Scully -- I beg her pardon, Mulder -- were seated in the back of her mother's car. Margaret had insisted on driving them to the reception herself. Dana knew this was partially to give Bill and Brian and the others a good chance to decorate the car, but she thought Mrs. Scully also just enjoyed watching them together. Nor was she far from the truth. Margaret glanced into the rear view mirror and caught her daughter's eye and smiled. She remembered the last time she had driven Dana in the back seat of her car -- a much less joyous occasion than this one. She glanced up again and saw them staring at each other and looked away just in time -- Dana checked the rear view mirror and then cupped Mulder's face in her hands and slowly kissed him. When she finally pulled away he sighed in satisfaction and drew her into his arms, resting his chin on top of her head. "Love ya, Scully," he said quietly. Margaret did not mean to eavesdrop but she simply could not let that one pass. "I don't believe it!" Their heads shot up. Whaa -- "You two just got *married* and you're *still* doing the last- name bit?" They exchanged glances. They had settled this quite simply between them and by mutual agreement had decided to continue using surnames when it felt comfortable. They had been doing it so long there was no less affection or intimacy in "Mulder" and "Scully" than there was in "Fox" and "Dana." "Mom," Scully explained patiently, "it's just a habit. Nothing to get worked up over. We'll just go on as we always have. Well," she continued as Mulder reached out to touch her cheek, "mostly, anyway." Socially she would be Dana Mulder, but professionally she would still be Dana Scully. This was as much due to convenience as to principle and family pride. "Not that I won't love being Mrs. Fox Mulder," she had told him carefully, "but I've been Dana Scully for so long. . . ." "I understand," he had interruped softly. "I think 'Dana Scully' is a beautiful name. *Almost* as beautiful as 'Dana Mulder.' And besides," he had grinned, "I love you and would do anything I could to prevent your having to stand in line at the DMV to change your license. . . ." Margaret shook her head. she thought as she pulled up in front of the entrance and put the car in park, She glanced in the rear view mirror as she opened the door to let her nephew park the car. Yes, they were definitely happy. . . . Shane sat behind the wheel of Aunt Margaret's car and waited with amusement for his favorite cousin to stop kissing her husband and get out of the car. They broke the kiss reluctantly, then started when they realized where they were and that several of the wedding guests were gathered around the car grinning. Mulder sheepishly opened the door, climbed out, and turned to help Scully as the small group erupted in cheers. And then they did the only thing they *could* do under the circumstances. Kissed again and took a bow. *** By the time they finished hugging and kissing and shaking hands with everyone who came through the line to congratulate them the reception was in full swing. Mulder escorted Scully to a seat and went for champagne. It was while he was returning that things started getting interesting. . . . The band had been setting up and now they were ready to begin playing. The MC picked up the microphone and asked for everyone's attention and then announced the first song, "a dance traditionally reserved for the bride and her father." The entire room froze. Mulder stopped so suddenly that a tiny wave of champagne sloshed over the rim of the glass and dripped, unnoticed, down his fingers. He looked over at Scully, who buried her face in her hands. He was just rushing over to her when he saw a man in a well-cut dark suit place a hand on her shoulder. She looked up. "Mrs. Mulder, may I have this dance?" A brief look of astonishment crossed her face -- Mulder knew it must mirror his own -- then she smiled and stood up and tookk his hand, flashing a glance over her shoulder at Mulder as the Assistant Director of the FBI led her to the dance floor. The music began and the crowd breathed an audible sigh of relief. He was a good dancer. Somehow that didn't surprise her. She had an idea that this tall, enigmatical man had many hidden talents. "Thank you, Sir," she murmured as he expertly led her around the floor. "My pleasure, Scully," he began, then stopped. "I mean --" "'Scully' is fine, Sir," she assured him. "And I didn't just mean for the dance." He looked at her quizzically. "All of it, Sir. The reassignment, the leave of absence, everything." He gave her a little half-smile, then looked away. "Assistant Director Skinner," she said softly, "I know what you did. And I know why you did it." She shook her head. "I never thought I'd be thanking you for separating us, but -- thank you." She swallowed hard. "I know I -- came down pretty hard on you at first while you were trying to explain. . . ." He shook his head. "Just acting in the best interests of the Bureau, Agent Scully," he said firmly. She smiled at his shirt. "What amazes me," he went on, obviously changing the subject, "is how you were able to get all of this together in a week." She smiled into his eyes this time. "We've waited long enough," she said quietly, then dropped her eyes. "The dress is my mother's. My cousin's wife is a professional pastry chef. A big family comes in handy -- sometimes," she added. And having a big family would make it easier for Mulder to fit in. His own family's attendance had been markedly poor, even considering how small it was. His mother was there, sitting very quietly at a table in the corner with his cousin Meg and her husband. That was all. "About the only thing I couldn't come up with is a string quartet," she laughed. "We were one viola short." He shook his head. "Too bad." She knew he was referring to the MC's faux pas. "That's okay," she reassured him. "It gave me this chance -- to thank you." She reached up and kissed him on the cheek as the music ended, rendering him speechless. Watching them, Margaret Scully smiled. she thought. She knew that Dana had disliked and mistrusted her boss at the beginning of her time at the X-Files. It would appear that had changed. They were headed in her direction. Now to thank him in person -- she just hoped the lovely woman he had brought with him would not mind. . . . Mulder was walking towards them as well, intending to ask Margaret for a dance. His jaw dropped when Skinner offered her his arm and she took it, walking with him to the dance floor. "What --" he sputtered. Scully laughed. "I don't know, Mulder. I started to introduce them but she called him 'Walter' and asked him to dance! Have they even *met* before?" she asked him. He nodded, eying her warily. "Yes -- umm . . .while you were -- gone." He reached for her and pulledd her close. he vowed silently. She returned his embrace, resting comfortably in his arms. It never failed. No matter what her circumstances, just being with him calmed and reassured her. She reached up and affectionately kissed him on the faint cleft in his chin. He glanced over the milling crowd of guests. "Scully -- I'm going to go ask my mom to dance," he said softly. She nodded and straightened his cravat. "But you're mine for the next one," she warned him. "Dana, I'm yours for everything else," he promised seriously. He kissed her lightly on the cheek and went in search of his mother. She saw him bend and ask her a question, saw Mrs. Mulder smile and stand up, taking her son's arm. Dana sighed. Bill Mulder had obviously died without telling his ex-wife the full story behind the destruction of Samantha's clone. She was glad. Maybe someday they would be able to explain, but she had a feeling the older woman was not ready for the truth yet. And until then she would need all the family she could get. She grinned. Her mother had suggested asking Mulder's mom to join them at the Scully family reunion that summer. She had no idea how her mother-in-law would react, but the offer would be made. A simultaneous touch at each of her elbows brought her out of her reverie. She glanced up. At her left stood Martin Nantus with Jackie grinning over his shoulder. At her right was Frohicke. The two men eyed each other. Laughing, she hugged Jackie, then turned to Frohicke. "Sorry, Marty," she said over her shoulder. "This one's taken. When Mulder gets done dancing with his mother we'll trade, okay?" "Gee, thanks, Dana," Jackie muttered. "That *definitely* leaves me on the short end of the deal." Scully laughed and moved off with a beaming Frohicke. Marty looked disappointed. "Poor thing," Jackie teased him. "Guess you're stuck with me, huh?" He grinned at her, his love for her shining in his eyes. "Lady, I'm very happy to be 'stuck with you,'" he whispered. Jackie smiled up at him, then caught a glimpse of something over his shoulder that made her snicker. "What?" She merely pointed and he looked to see Rosie calmly waltzing by with Langley. *** Mulder held Scully close as the band shifted into a pop song and the MC, obviously in an attempt to atone for his earlier mistake, picked up the microphone and began to sing in a low, melodic voice: When I'm feeling blue All I have to do Is take a look at you Then I'm not so blue. When you're close to me I can feel your heartbeat I can hear you breathing in my ear. Wouldn't you agree Baby, you and me got a groovy kind of love? Scully leaned back and smiled into his eyes. Then they turned as one to catch Jackie's eye as Marty spun her slowly nearby. She twinkled at them and all four of them laughed, remembering. Anytime you want to You can turn me on to Anything you want to Anytime at all. When I kiss your lips Ooh, I start to shiver Can't control the quivering inside. Wouldn't you agree Baby, you and me got a groovy kind of love? When I'm feeling blue All I have to do Is take a look at you Then I'm not so blue When I'm in your arms Nothing seems to matter My whole world could shatter, I don't care. Wouldn't you agree Baby, you and me got a groovy kind of love? Mulder bent and whispered in Scully's ear. "How soon do you think we can decently leave?" His breath was warm on her skin. She shivered. "Umm -- we have to cut the cake first," she said softly. "Lead me to it," he smiled. "And then there's the bouquet . . ." He sighed. "I think I hate traditions," he groaned. "And the garter. . . ." He froze and then grinned at her meaningfully. "I think I just changed my mind." *** As they cut the cake she leaned up to his ear and, under pretence of kissing his cheek, whispered, "Mulder, if you even *think* of shoving cake in my face I will seriously hurt you." He gaped in mock horror. "Me? Why, Scully, I'm hurt!" "You *will* be, Mulder," she warned him. He grinned and carefully fed her a bite of cake, his teeth gently grazing her fingers as he bit into the piece she held. She jumped and a bit of white icing smudged the tip of his nose. "Scully . . . " he shook his head. "Hey, it was an accident! And if you didn't have such a big nose. . . ." "I thought you *liked* my nose." 'I *love* your nose," she said, kissing it. He stared at her. "Let's do the bouquet and garter thing and get out of here," he suggested. She swallowed hard and nodded. "There's Melissa. Let's ask her." She waved to her sister, who started guiltily, then crossed the room. She hugged Mulder and kissed him on the cheek. "Mel," Dana whispered, "why don't we go ahead and have the bouquet now?" Melissa crinkled her eyes at her. "What, you in a hurry or something, Cat?" Dana blushed and her sister took pity. "Okay." The single women lined up at the front of the room. Dana glanced back over her shoulder and grinned. Jackie and Mel had stolen a march on her, but there was still Rosie. . . . She took careful aim and tossed the bouquet over her shoulder. But instead of the laughter and scrambling noises she had expected she heard a faint *thud* and then silence. Puzzled, she turned. Oops. She had underestimated her own strength. The bouquet was lying neatly on the table in front of her mother, who was talking to Walter Skinner and Lucinda Carey. Dana hurried over to them as the women dispersed. "Oh, Mom -- I'm so sorry," she stammered. "I swear I didn't do that on purpose. . . ." Her mother smiled calmly and picked up the bouquet. "That's okay, sweetheart." Then she laughed. "Your father would have thought it was funny." She nodded toward the stage. "I think your presence is demanded at the front again, Dana." Now the single men were lining up and calling for them. One of them set a chair on the stage. Her heart galloped as she took her seat. Mulder stood staring down at her for a moment, then gracefully dropped to one knee, lifting her right leg and placing her foot on his bent knee. He smiled into her eyes as she pulled the hem of her dress back to allow him access to the garter but not enough to give anybody else much of a view of her legs. He gently slid his hand up past her knee and she quivered. Then he stopped in shock as he encountered the top of her stocking. His eyes widened and she smiled sweetly at him. With an audible gulp he carefully hooked one forefinger under the garter and drew it down her leg and off her foot. She smiled again and stood up, then grabbed him by the lapels and kissed him soundly amid the catcalls and wolf whistles of the crowd. He grinned sheepishly as she left the stage and turned his back to the guests. Bruce Cunningham was standing to the side of the group of guys with his arms folded. He smiled a little sadly. Not that he believed in traditions like this, anyway, but he didn't have the time for a relationship, even had he had time to meet women who weren't in the Bureau. Not now. Maybe not ever. His mind wandered. Mulder and Scully had managed -- but then they had Skinner to run interference for them. Besides, they just seemed to *belong* together. He wondered if he could ever be so lucky. And so he was only standing at the front of the room because his fellow agents had dragged him there. Which is why he was utterly shocked when the garter plopped against his chest and came to rest on his folded arms. He heard a merry laugh, and then Dr. Scully was hugging him. "Cunningham! You know what this means. . . ." He grimaced. "I shudder to think." She really liked this kid. "Not only are you the next to go -- but you get to dance with my mother. . . ." He smiled. He liked Margaret Scully -- she reminded him of his own mother, who had died when he was a young boy. "My pleasure, Dr. Scully." With that he tucked the garter into his pocket and went off in search of Margaret. Scully walked over to where Mulder was standing, talking to one of the Agents from Violent Crimes, and slipped her hand into his. His voice betrayed no change, but his fingers gripped hers tightly and squeezed. When the other man turned in search of more champagne she leaned up and whispered in his ear. "Let's get out of here." "You'll get no objections from me," he muttered. Now. How to sneak out? Especially since Jackie and Marty and Melissa were walking up, smiling. "We're just going to change," Scully said brightly. Jackie nodded. "We'll be ready." "Of course, we didn't say *where* we were going to change," Mulder whispered as he and Scully hurried out of the room hand-in- hand. They bypassed the rooms where their clothes were waiting and scurried out to the parking lot. "Where --?" "Around back," he grinned, ignoring the car liberally bedecked with streamers and shaving cream and tin cans that sat before the entrance. The rounded the corner at top speed, then stopped in shock. The car was there, all right. But it was decorated to a degree that put the decoy car to shame. Streamers. Balloons (yes, balloons). Shoe polished messages like "The FBI always gets its (wo)man." But what was even more shocking was the fact that the entire party had moved outside and was lined up on either side of the sidewalk. They looked at each other. Looked at Jackie and Marty and Margaret and Skinner and Melissa. "How --?" Dana began in confusion. Marty lowered his voice several steps and put on a mock drawl. "Rental car? Saturn okay? Part it where?" They groaned as everybody else laughed. "Trust no one," Jackie sniggered. "Mulder -- please, please tell me you have the keys," she begged. He grimaced. Marty took pity and tossed him the keys. And then they were running for the car and ducking the birdseed that pelted them. Mulder was laughing so hard that at first he could not unlock the door. Finally, however, they were inside and waving to the crowd as they drove away. They drove in silence, nervously watching the rear-view mirror. But nobody followed them. Thy virgin's girdle now untie, And in thy nuptial bed (love's altar) lie A pleasing sacrifice; now dispossess Thee of these chains and robes which were put on T' adorn the day, not thee; for thou, alone, Like virtue and truth, art best in nakedness; This bed is only to virginity A grave, but, to a better state, a cradle; 'Till now thou wast but able To be what now thou art; then that by thee No more be said, *I may be*, but, *I am*, Tonight put on perfection, and a woman's name. Contrary to her expectations he did not take her to one of the fancy hotels in town. Not only had they kept their honeymoon plans a secret from everyone except Margaret, who had the keys to Captain Scully's hunting cabin in New York where they would be staying, but Mulder had refused to tell Scully where they would be spending their wedding night, simply saying that he wanted it to be a surprise. When he made the turn that led to their new house she just looked at him. Somewhat nervously he turned and looked at her, relaxing visibly when she gave him a soft, approving smile. He smiled back. She understood. He wanted to begin their life together in their new home. "This is perfect," she whispered sincerely. They sat in silence for a moment after Mulder turned off the ignition. Then he turned and smiled at her, a slow smile that began at the corners of his lips and crept into his eyes. "Stay put," he whispered, then opened the car door and got out. He returned a couple of minutes later and opened the door for her and helped her out. He slammed the door and, as she bent to catch the hem of her dress to keep it from trailing, grabbed and lifted her in his arms. She laughed down at him and planted a kiss on his lips as he carried her across the threshold. "Welcome home," they whispered to each other. He carried her in through the heavy oak front door, past the formal dining room into the large great-room with the stone fireplace. This had been only the second house they had viewed and they had fallen in love with it because of that fireplace and, to the utter shock of Margaret Scully and all their friends, they knew they had found what they wanted and had made an offer on it that day, using part of Mulder's inheritance from his father as a down payment. It had two bedrooms, the master with a bathroom of its own, and huge closets big enough that they wouldn't have to fight over space. A well-lit kitchen with cabinets low enough for Scully to reach, "not that I would mind helping out occasionally," Mulder had said with a twinkle. The house also had a cozy breakfast nook with a bay window that looked out on a wooded lot -- "the perfect place for us to argue cases over morning coffee," Mulder had laughed, and an extra corner room "for the library," Scully had said as they moved box after box of books in and spent all night setting up bookcases. "For now," Mulder had said with a faint smile that made her blush. He set her down on the sofa -- her sofa from her apartment. He had finally gotten rid of his. "But Mulder," Scully had protested, "you love that sofa!" "No, I really don't," he had said calmly, "I only slept on it because I could never get to sleep in bed. But I don't plan on sleeping on the sofa ever again." "Well, not unless we have a fight," she had teased. He had grinned. "Scully, it would take a really big fight to make me choose the sofa over you." She had laughed. "We'll just have to make a pact never to go to bed angry." She sat there looking up at him, this man she had married, standing in the semidarkness of their living room. Then she slowly stood up and took his hands in hers. "Why don't you light a fire, Mulder?" she suggested softly. "I need to change out of this dress." He nodded and then his eyes widened in surprise as she drew a box from under the sofa and handed it to him. "For you," she said with a soft smile. "It's nothing compared to the pearls, but. . . ." He silenced her with a quick, light kiss. She stepped back and looked up at him, stars in her eyes, then turned and made her way out of the room. He watched her go, listening to the soft sound of lace against her skin, then turned his attention to opening the box. Inside was a pair of cream silk pajamas, faintly perfumed with the scent of the shop from which he knew she had bought them. He smiled and quickly stripped off his suit and slipped into the pajamas. They felt cool against his skin but the natural fibers immediately began to warm. He thought of her shopping for pajamas for him, wondered what else she'd bought, and shivered. This reminded him of her request for a fire, and he hurried to light the kindling and logs they had already laid on the hearth. He sat there for a moment enjoying the warmth, listening to the stillness of this house -- of this home. Smiled again. He could never really remember having a *home* -- the closest thing he had ever known was the Scully house. But this -- this was his home, and Dana's, and they would fill it with enough love and laughter that visitors would know it immediately when they stepped through the front door. And maybe someday they would have to find another place for all those books that were still in their boxes in the corner room. . . . He looked up as a soft sound told him that Dana was returning. As she came closer to the firelight he gasped softly. She was wearing a simple silk robe that matched his pajamas. Her hair was down around her shoulders and her blue eyes seemed luminous in the flickering from the hearth. She stood for a moment looking down at him, then sank to the floor beside him, leaning against his side. Mulder reached for her hand and brushed his lips against the palm, smiling as she shivered slightly. She sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder and he rested his head against her hair, breathing in deeply the faint scent of her soap and perfume and the something else that was Dana's smell. He kissed the top of her head and she snuggled in closer to him. They sat in silence for a long while, just absorbing this new sensation of closeness, listening to their own breathing and the popping of the log on the hearth. He felt his heart swell as he looked down and caught her watching him, the light from the flames making her hair look like a living fire above the paleness of her face. "I love you so much, Dana," he whispered. She felt the ache of unshed tears at the back of her throat. "I love you, Fox. . . ." He pulled her into his arms for another of the slow, deep, hot, erotic kisses with which they had been experimenting for the past week. The touch and taste and smell of his skin, already so familiar to the sight yet so utterly new to every other sense, intoxicated her. He felt it, too -- this dizzying, euphoric blending and shifting of the known and unknown, the comfortable and the unbearably exciting. And the overwhelming joy that comes when absolute trust and uncharted territory collide. He pulled away and reached to cup her cheek in his hand, grasping her left hand with his right to caress her ring finger with his eyes and then his lips. She smiled and touched the wide gold band she had given him. Bonds of a sort, but not fetters, and certainly less binding than the unseen ties they symbolized. An acknowledgement of sorts, an announcement to the world: *I am hers, and she is mine.* Mulder's left hand trailed down her cheek and neck to her shoulder. With infinite care he slid his fingers under the edge of her robe and drew it down her arm, exposing the thin strap of her nightgown. He leaned forward and brushed her cheek, chin, and throat with his lips. Scully quivered slightly and her eyes closed. He bent and began placing hot, wet kisses on her shoulder. She sighed and ran her fingers through the thick hair at the back of his head, clasping him to her. Finally he raised his head and smiled into her hazy blue eyes. She smiled back and placed her fingers against his mouth. He closed his eyes and kissed them each individually, nipping at her thumb to make her gasp. Her eyes dropped in disappointment when he reached over and closed the doors on the fireplace and stood up, then opened wide as he bent to scoop her up in his arms, laughing softly. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he stood there for a moment before the fire, just cradling her close, enjoying holding her with no guilt or fear of discovery or rejection. And then he turned and walked down the hallway to the bedroom. She kissed the spot on his neck just behind his ear that she had been eying all day, making his pulse jump, and he quickened his pace. He entered the bedroom, dimly lit by the candles she had placed around the room and, out of long years of habit, closed the door. They stared silently for a moment at the hand-carved mahogany canopy bed they had discovered and coveted on sight in the antique store earlier that week. The flickering candles cast shifting shadows on the white cotton sheets, already pulled back to welcome them. Mulder crossed the room and slowly, tenderly lowered his wife to the bed. Before he could straighten up again she caught him by the shoulders and pulled him down. . . . And at that moment it was as if the something that had been holding its breath for the last six years, if not for their entire lifetimes, finally sighed. And it was magic. And they fell in love all over again, again and again through that long, perfect night. . . . ******* "Any idea where they were staying?" Melissa asked as she and Margaret and Jackie pulled up in front of the house. "Nope. We didn't even bother trying to find out -- for the same reason nobody chased them last night," Jackie responded. "They certainly had to wait long enough. They deserve the privacy." "Six years." Margaret sighed. They hopped out of the car, their arms burdened with presents. Margaret also carried the two garment bags with the clothes Mulder and Scully had left behind at the reception. She produced a key and unlocked the door. "I'll go hang up these clothes," Margaret said. "You girls put the gifts on the table in the dining room, okay?" She practically hummed as she strode toward the bedroom. Her baby girl was married. To a man she could not have loved more had he been her own son. And *she* had dinner plans for that night. Not a date, really, but still. . . . She grinned. Life certainly was good. . . . She swung open the door to the bedroom and started to step inside. Then stopped in dismay and confusion. Dana and Fox were sound asleep in each other's arms amid a tangle of white sheets, Dana's head on her husband's chest and his face buried in her hair. She had her left arm across his chest and up around his neck; his right hand curved around her back. The fingers of their other hands were intertwined. She stood smiling for a moment, then carefully backed out of the room. And bumped into something that said "Ow!" rather loudly. "Shhh --" she whispered. Jackie looked a question at her, then leaned around the corner to look. "Oh," she said softly, and her lips parted in a wide grin. "Now *that's* something I was beginning to fear I'd never see. . . ." Margaret closed the door as silently as possible and they tiptoed back to the dining room. "Load 'em back up," St. George told Melissa. "What!" "No questions -- let's go," she all but barked. Margaret looked at Jackie in wonder. She wasn't going to rib Dana Katherine about this, despite her love of teasing the two agents. A sudden rush of tenderness for this young woman washed over her, and she gave Jackie a swift hug. "What's that for?" "Nothing. Can't I just hug one of *my girls* if I feel like it?" she said defensively, watching Jackie's reaction. The Canadian smiled, her eyes bright. "You know, Jaclyn St. George Nantus," Margaret whispered, "for a Dragon you're a real softie." "Don't tell anybody," she whispered back. "I have a reputation to maintain." "Somebody gonna tell me what all the secrecy's about?" Melissa complained as she stood in the doorway, her arms full of packages once more. "Someday, Mel -- someday," Jackie laughed as they locked the door behind them. And in the master bedroom Dana and Fox shifted even closer together in their sleep and smiled, knowing that the reality that awaited their awakening was even sweeter than the dreams they shared. . . . Now sleep or watch with more joy; and O light Of heaven, to morrow rise thou hot, and early; This sun will love so dearly Her rest, that long, long shall we want her sight; Wonders are wrought, for she which had no maim, Tonight puts on perfection, and a woman's name. -30-