AN: I guess I'm still discovering everything about this site, but I never in a million years imagined that people would write Dustfinger/Meggie. But I loved the idea of them together before I knew it was possible; she reminds me of myself, and Dustfinger an older, witty, smart, unattainable man I know. Just decided to write this one-shot to express my own feelings as well as things I wish Meggie would've said.

This story is unbeta'ed; I also realized I haven't been putting up disclaimers. So yeah. I don't own anything, I'm just playing with their pliable minds. (evil face).

The story was written to Oh Well, Oh Well by Mayday Parade.

Meggie sat in her room, absently turning the pages of a nameless book. She wasn't quite concentrating as she normally would, but glanced over the tome as though it was refusing her something she wanted. In reality, it wasn't the book that was offending her, but life in general. After a few more pages, she gave up and threw the book down on the bed. It exhaled dust.

Dust…

She sighed. It was getting ridiculous. Sure, at the beginning, it was a childish fancy. Dustfinger was the perfect hero to her. It only made sense that when he showed up and entertained her with his fire, showed her something special of his, that she would have these dreams. He was as much a part of her life as Mo, or Resa, or even Elinor.

You don't have lovely erotic dreams about Elinor, Meggie, her traitorous mind told her. She screwed up her eyes in protest of the image that was presented.

She had no idea how the idea had gotten into her head, but one day she noticed Dustfinger watching her while she taught Farid how to write. She had only glanced back for a second, but she had felt his gaze on her for the rest of the lesson. And ever so slowly, her mind's idea of Dustfinger had morphed from untrustworthy to a friend to the most desirable human being she knew. Meggie was finally realizing why Farid had been so attached to him; he was charismatic in the highest degree.

Meggie would've been fine with this discovery, had that been all. She was a girl growing into her maturity, after all; she was bound to find other men attractive than Farid, who was merely a boy. That didn't mean that her love wavered from him any, it just meant that she was human.

But over the past few days, she found her thoughts getting off track every time she noticed a fire, or a minstrel in the streets, or even Farid. She used to be excited for Farid simply because he was there. Now, she automatically looked for Dustfinger.

It was ruining her life.

Farid had noticed her distance, and confronted her about it one day. It was one of the most uncomfortable conversations of her life; and yet she felt guilty. She was guilty for merely feeling uncomfortable while Farid got his heart broken for no reason at all, for merely a passing thought that Dustfinger was beautiful.

"Meggie, what happened to us?

"We used to see each other all the time."

"You used to want to see me."

"Are we still together, Meggie?"

"Are we still planning the wedding?"

"Meggie, is it over?"

His voice had been choked up. She couldn't even look at him. How did it come to this—they had planned to be married in the summer. How could her feelings have changed so dramatically and quickly?

It wasn't that she didn't care for him anymore; she did. But it was nothing compared to the heat she felt when she looked at Dustfinger now. She couldn't explain; how could she? How could she explain that she was falling in love with a fantasy built of passing glances and the silent connection their eyes made? How could that be explained away when as they spoke, fairies flitted by and the air brimmed with magic?

When she used to even speak to Farid, her whole body would fill up with happiness so she felt she was about to burst. When he had kissed her, she had. All of her feelings came flooding out to him, and happy-ever-after seemed imminent.

They had spoken about having their wedding; it was supposed to happen secretly in the summertime. Her parents would find out about it after, and then she and Farid would go traveling together. Only Dustfinger knew about it. It went unspoken that Dustfinger would know. Everything had seemed to be going perfectly.

If it wasn't for those god-damned dreams!

They were so real! Every night when she drifted off, she could see Dustfinger, smell his intoxicating scent, feel his sandy hair, and listen to him whisper sweet nothings the way only Dustfinger could. His voice that used to be the bringer of ill-tidings now haunted her with its ghostlike quality. Every morning when she woke up, she could feel the heat as though it was still surrounding her. The flickering, non-substantial heat that only fire could bring. The fire that only Dustfinger could truly bring to life.

Even considering all of these things, she would've disregarded the dreams as just that—dreams-if it hadn't been for one important aspect. Dustfinger himself, in the daylight. It wasn't just a thought; it was a certain feeling she got emanating from him. Every so often, she would feel him watching her. For a while, she had tried and failed to convince herself that he was just watching out for her, sort of like an uncle would. But it didn't work. Meggie had considered herself an excellent judge of feelings before now, and this was no different. She knew that Dustfinger felt some amount of affection for her.

She wasn't exactly sure why the dreams were having such an effect on her love life. The dreams, in certain context, could be considered entirely nonsexual. But when she awoke, her heart would be beating so fast she was certain that he was hairsbreadth away from her, watching her sleep as he had before.

It was even worse when she saw him in the daytime. They had used to be friends; they had used to be comfortable with each other. Whenever they felt the need to leave this place for a while, Meggie and Dustfinger would go on long trips into the Wayless Wood. They had gone for walks, they had talked about anything and everything under the moon. She had used to know him better than anyone. They had been the marauding pair, running away when it all became too much. He had shown her the beauty of the Inkworld, and she had shown him with words the beauty that the world they had left behind could possess. For him, she had brought airplanes and trains, music and exquisite dishes, just so they could experience it together. He was mature in this world, but when he was introduced to the other, he was just like a child. It was so endearing.

The rational voice in her head told her that her feelings for Dustfinger had to be platonic. The man was simply that—a man of perhaps 25 years! She was 15! But the silly, romantic voice in her that had led her to love Farid told her that it was only ten years. True love would prevail over age differences. And the logical voice would chime back in, questioning her claims of true love. It went round and round in her mind.

She had been taking these trips around the world with him for years. Why had the dreams only started now? Was it that she was simply growing older, or was it because Dustfinger had begun to feel something more than fatherly affection for her? These questions kept her up at night, much later than she ever had been up worrying about Farid.

With Farid, she had known that he loved her in return. There were no questions; everything was simple, easy, and comfortable. Their first kiss had occurred after great tragedy, and it felt completely normal. It was almost as though she was waiting for him, as though she was coming home.

Perhaps that was why these dreams were having such a profound result on her. She had never known anything but relaxed love; now that there were possibilities and unanswered problems, it was making her excited. It was simply the fact that she had never experience anything like it before.

The dreams had been going on for a while before she officially decided to break it off, temporarily, with Farid, because she couldn't continue leading him on. She had told him that it was only for a little while, and they would get back to planning the wedding soon enough. She just needed a little space at the moment. At that point, she was sure that the dreams were only temporary as well. Now, she wasn't sure of anything except that she was in love with Dustfinger; she didn't know if she would ever be able to love Farid again.

Farid hadn't taken it well; he seemed to think they would be separated forever. Meggie hadn't originally planned it that way; at least until she had the notion that her feelings might be reciprocated.

They had gone out into the woods, just like always, and Dustfinger had asked her to start telling stories, just like always. They had never talked about the marriage that was coming up. They had never talked about the fact that Mo and Resa were unaware of the two lovers' plans. That was the point of these excursions, to get away from all the people that winded them down.

But as they were heading back, Dustfinger had fire on his hand. He was showing her a new trick he had learned. He had taken the fire, and pushed it into the ground. They had squatted down and waited for a bit.

The fire pushed its way up through the ground, and bloomed. It took the shape of a day-lily, which he plucked from the moist dirt and placed in Meggie's hair, right behind her ear. She remembered the feeling well; all was silent except for the crackle of the fire and the two humans breathing. The forest seemed to be holding its breath for them.

He brushed her hair back behind her ear, and took hold of her chin…and spoke.

"Meggie, listen to me," he had said. How could I not listen to him, she had thought bemusedly, his voice sounds like music. "I want you to marry Farid. I know I can't influence your choices, but…" he looked at the ground, away from the fire he had placed in her hair, and she began to feel its heat. "You are still so young, Meggie," he finally decided on saying. "What would your father say? Your mother? You still have your whole life ahead of you to make…decisions…" here he had brushed her hair off of her face, "and I don't want you to make the same mistake I did." With that, he grabbed the burning flower from her hair, and placed it in the ground once again.

Meggie had said, in relation to the flower, "Won't it burn out, Dustfinger? Can't we at least stay and watch until it dies?"

Dustfinger had smiled his mysterious smile, and said, "It won't burn out, Meggie. That flower will be here until you die as well."

She stooped down, and waved her hand above it. She could feel his piercing gaze on her back. She waved her hand above it, trying to burn it on purpose. She wanted the imprint of this day to be with her always. But he grabbed her hand away before she could do it properly ("Are you trying to get rid of a finger?") so she was simply left with a black soot-mark across her palm.

Ironically, it's the perfect metaphor, she thought. If he had simply gone on and kissed me then, instead of hiding his feelings behind misguided words and gestures, I wouldn't have this problem. I could've married Farid with the memory of one happy day with Dustfinger. But now, it was too late. There was nothing for it. She would have to talk to him.

"Ever the coward," she said out loud, "but even so, I'll do it tomorrow." And with that, she lay across her bed, and watched the sun go down on the Inkworld's horizon.

There she was—back in the dream world. And there was Dustfinger, sitting in the forest, just like he always did. He wasn't focused on her at first, but when she approached, he looked up and smiled.

The smile was completely unguarded; there were no walls between his mind and what came out of his mouth. It was a Dustfinger she had never known in daylight; he walked up to her and stood in front of her. There was nothing to focus on but him, and his scent, and his sandy hair, and the day-old stubble on his chin. He was the perfect minstrel.

Usually this was what the dream consisted of. He would simply stand in front of her and they would look upon each other, with want, with love and lust all tangled up into one sweet mixture. They would stand and look at each other, surrounded by the forest which they both loved. It was safe with Dustfinger. It was alright to simply stop and stare for a moment.

He came closer. She realized this dream was different than any of the others. She could smell him as though he really was standing in front of her. She couldn't understand what he was saying; all she could hear was fire crackling. His mouth was moving, but nothing was coming out of it. He moved even closer. She could smell the smoke on his skin.

She could feel his arms around her, yet she could still see all of him just as clearly as before. Dreams were fantastic for unreal things that she wished were true. This was exactly where she wanted to be, even if she would only remember a bit of it.

This was a nice change, thought Meggie, as his mouth found hers. Only seconds—or minutes—or it could've been years—later did she think to look around her.

There was fire, fire all over the ground. He was protected from it, but as the kiss ended, he backed away, and his protection moved with him. Meggie called out to him, but fire came out of her mouth and landed in her hand. It took the shape of the flower that he had made her.

He moved closer to her again, shaping something with his hands. This had never happened before, she mused. What was going on? And slowly, slowly, the force field that surrounded him moved so it covered both of them for a moment. In that moment, he kissed her mouth one last time, and then her forehead.

All of a sudden it was just her inside the protected area. She was watching as Dustfinger stood unprotected, turning and facing the fire. He threw his hands up, threatening the sky.

Burning forest surrounded her, while he stood sadly, looking at her with all the want in the world. But she couldn't concentrate on the lovely dream, for it had turned into a nightmare—fire was all around him. And then she was falling and—

She woke up with a burning day-lily on her pillow.

When she woke up again, and the sun was streaming in through her window, it was gone as though it had only been part of the dream as well. There was no soot on her pillow, or indeed any evidence that it had ever been there. She didn't remember the variation from the original dream at all.

The previous night…

"Mo! Stop!" Resa said loudly, between laughs. "Really! I—umphh! Stoooooop!"

Mo laughed and withdrew his hands from her sides and instead decided to kiss the back of her head. "You could've told me to stop, Resa," he said innocently.

"You know I can't stand being tickled," she complained. It was so cute when she tried to be annoyed with him and failed, Mo thought.

"Oh, I don't know about that," he challenged. "It seems you secretly enjoy it; it's your deepest, darkest secret."

"I was just finishing up with these illustrations for Fenoglio," she said, closing her book and swiveling her chair to face him rather than the desk. "Are Meggie and the baby still awake?"

"No, m'dear," Mo said playfully. He grabbed her chair and spun it around while pushing it out the door of her studio. "We are the only ones awake in the household."

"Mo!" she laughed. He pushed the chair into the door of the bedroom and shut it behind them. He then put his hands on the back of the seat and put his face close to her in mock intimidation.

"Well, darling, what do you suppose we do to pass the long night-hours?" Resa smiled but got up from the chair nevertheless.

"I suppose we talk; I've been meaning to have this conversation with you," Mo's smile fell off his face immediately.

"Why? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, Mo," Resa replied. "There doesn't always have to be something wrong to have a talk!"

Mo relaxed, and moved to lie down on the bed. "What is the topic of conversation tonight?"

"Well," Resa stalled, looking for a way to broach the topic. How do you tell your husband that you wanted to give his only daughter away? "You know, when we decided to permanently move to this world, we accepted that there would be some changes? Changes in tradition, and clothing, and really ways of life in general?"

Mo merely nodded, looking wary of where this conversation was going.

"Mo…I think it's time Meggie was married."

His reaction was immediate—he stood up with a thunderous look on his face. "Married? She's fifteen! Barely out of childhood!"

Resa reached out and pulled him back onto the bed; she started brushing his hair back from his eyes and he slowly lay his head on her lap. "I know, dear husband, but here that's proper marriage age. People are starting to wonder…"

"Well, we can let them wonder, Resa," he said. "We don't have to fit in perfectly. I'm not comfortable with the idea of Meggie being handed off to some stranger."

"That's the thing, though," she said. "It wouldn't have to be to a stranger. We know she's crazy about Farid, and he about her. And I've been meaning to tell you, he came to me a while ago to ask her hand in marriage."

"Yes, I know that proper procedure is to ask the father," she said when he spluttered indignantly at this breach of tradition, "but he's scared to death of you, Mo! You don't realize just how superstitious the boy is, and you were the Bluejay for an inordinate amount of time!" At this she looked away, and Mo could tell she was still in pain from the horrendous things he had done while acting as the savior of the page-people.

"Let's save that conversation for another day, Resa," he said gently. "If Farid will come to talk to me about it, I'm perfectly fine with Meggie…with our daughter getting…married." He swallowed, and it was clear that he was struggling with the topic. "I say, I thought I wouldn't have to deal with this for a long time. Are you sure about Farid? Our Meggie will be a traveling fire-dancer's wife."

"Mo, I think that's the only kind of life that will suit her," she said, looking back at him. "Look at her. She thirsts for adventure more than anything, and she and Farid will make the perfect adventurous team, traveling around. Who knows, perhaps she'll become a great writer about her travels. I'm inclined to believe she'll be happy, unless the Meggie I know has changed drastically in the past few weeks without me noticing." At this they both chuckled. Meggie had loved Farid for longer than they could remember; they would be the perfect couple.

"How about we start arranging the wedding tomorrow, and set it up for…summer?"

"That sounds acceptable, darling. Now…before you killed the mood with your wedding-talk…"

"Hey, mister! I'll have you reminded of one man who used to become crazy at the thought of his upcoming wedding…"

And the rest of the night was consumed by giggling and whispers of love in the darkness; both lovers unaware that their daughter was dreaming fitfully of her fiancée's mentor.

Meggie woke early in the morning; the sun was up, but she didn't think that anyone else in the house was awake. It took her a moment to realize why she felt so excited, and then she remembered.

I'm going to talk to Dustfinger today.

Even now, she was having doubts and reservations. There was no possible way that he could reciprocate the feelings she had. The dream Dustfinger was just that—a dream. There was no way…he had Roxane (at the name her heart gave a painful twist)…he could essentially have any woman in the world and she would fall at his feet. How could they not? I have no chance.

Still, if she was Meggie Folchart, she would do this. She didn't back away from a challenge.

She got out of her bed, dressed, and was making her way down the hallway towards the door when her parent's bedroom door creaked open. "Meggie?"

Meggie cringed and turned around with a too-big smile on her face. "Good morning, Mo," she said.

"Where are you going this early in the morning, sweetheart?" he asked. He could barely open his eyes, and yet could still read her like a book. That was the blessing and curse of having a close parent.

"Ummm…" she delayed. "I was…I was going to visit Farid, actually." Nice save, Meggie.

This news seemed to wake Mo up from his stupor. "Oh, yes," he said. He was acting almost…uncomfortable. Mo was never uncomfortable around her. Anything she had planned with Dustfinger could wait if Mo was in trouble. "Mo, are you all right?" she asked.

"Yes…" he stated. Meggie narrowed her eyes and he winced. "Well, not exactly…Actually, darling, I've been meaning to have this conversation with you for a while, but I never found a…umm…"

Oh my God. This was what delaying her from confessing her feelings to Dustfinger? "Mo," she started, and he winced. "Dad. I already know what you're going to talk to me about, and I know all about it. You don't need to sit down and have a conversation with me about it."

She thought this would reassure him, but instead he stiffened and looked even more uncomfortable. "You…already know about it?"

Meggie rolled her eyes. She was a fifteen year-old! She didn't need the 'birds-and-the-bees' talk now. "Of course, Mo…you don't have to worry about it. Go back to bed."

"Wait, Meggie…that's not all I wanted to say. You say you're going to see Farid now?" She nodded. "Meggie, I know the wedding seems a long way away to you but please, I want you to know that I"—

"Wedding? Mo, what are you talking about?" "What are you talking about?"

Meggie sighed and walked toward her father. This was clearly going to take some time to sort out. "Mo, who said anything about me getting married?"

He truly looked confused now. "You did, of course, and I did, and Farid and your mother did. You just told me you knew all about it already! I must say, I was a little hurt when Farid came and talked to your mother before me, but I'll learn to accept it. I mean, I know he loves you. You'll make a lovely couple; and it's not too far off…" he trailed away.

"But Meggie, I do want you to talk to Farid for me. Tell him to come talk to me about this. I did like the boy, and I think he's a perfect match for you, but if he can't talk to me face to face about his love for you, then we're going to have a"—

"Wait, Mo," Meggie said. Her head was spinning. Farid had talked to her mother about the wedding? And—if her father was talking to her about it…was it still on?

"I'm getting…married?"

"Well, yes, Meggie," Mo said matter-of-factly. "I wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea at first, but your mother talked to me about it, and here in the Inkworld, you are of the proper age…"

Farid…she was getting married to Farid. The wedding was back on—and she hadn't even had a choice in the matter. "I…I…I have to go…I have to go talk to Dustfinger…" she stammered as she backed out of the door. Past the threshold, she started running for the woods. Dustfinger would get her out of this. If they had to run away together, they would. Farid…she was getting married.

"Mo, what are you doing up?" Resa called from the bed.

"I was just talking to Meggie," he said, turning from the doorway to the bed. "Do you know, she seemed entirely surprised when I told her about it? We seemed to be talking about two different subjects. And she just ran off to go talk to Dustfinger. Are you sure we're doing the right thing, Resa?"

"Of course, Mo," she said reassuringly. "I know Meggie, and I know that she loves Farid. Maybe she's a little confused about what's going on, is all. Dustfinger is like her uncle, or godfather, and probably is her method of coping. He is very close to Farid, you know. Dustfinger won't do anything to mess this up. Meggie'll be back later today, perfectly happy to be a blushing bride."

Meggie, as it was, was running as hard as she could for the Wayless Wood. She was confused, and didn't know what to make of the world. Was this a sign that she should forget about Dustfinger and marry Farid? How could she lead Farid on like that—how could she marry a man that she didn't love with all of her heart?

She arrived at the log by the lake where Dustfinger had planted her fireflower. It was still burning, just as brightly as it had been the day it had been planted.

And all of a sudden, Dustfinger was there. His fiery presence was simply there with her.

She didn't see him immediately, but she could tell that something new, something fiery and strange had invaded this part of the woods. He was behind her, looking over her shoulder at the lake and the flower. Any moment now, he would say something to her.

"I come here to think a lot of the time, too," a very different voice said than she was expecting.

"Farid?"

"I find it to be very peaceful," he said, as though she hadn't spoken. She knew it had been extremely painful for him, her withdrawing like that. Her heart pulled out to the man she had once loved.

"Farid…"

"Although, there are some things that a shimmering lake can't make you forget," he said, still continuing to speak. She looked up at him, and he was staring at the day-lily made of fire. "Dustfinger's work?" he questioned. "I've seen it a few times before, but it only stays for a few hours. After that, it retreats into the ground until the next day."

"We're getting married, Farid," Meggie said in a broken voice. She hated the tactic she was using, but she needed his attention.

"What?"

"My father told me this morning. You didn't tell me you'd talked to my mother about it…" she looked away from the flower up at Farid. He was looking down at her. Even in the daylight, his eyes seemed to flicker with the light of inherited fire.

"It was going to be a surprise for you. I know how much they mean to you."

"Farid…" she said again. This was the moment. She had to do something with the knowledge inside of her or she was going to explode. "I'm sorry. I"—

"It's okay, Meggie," he said. "I forgive you. It's been a hard time for everyone. I've…I've missed you too."

Why wouldn't anyone listen to her? "No, Farid, that wasn't what"—

"I have something to tell you, too," he said. "I don't know if you know yet, but…something happened last night." Something in his voice stopped her from pushing through with her confession that she loved another. "Some of Capricorn's remaining supporters went on a rampage last night. Meggie…Dustfinger's house was burned to the ground."

"Oh, God, Farid," Meggie said. "Please tell me he wasn't in it."

Farid didn't have to respond. Instead, he started to shake and sob, his face in his hands.

"And…you know…Meggie…" he said between sobs. "I was coming here…to find you…and reconcile…because they targeted your house too, you know…but it wouldn't catch fire…and they left it alone when the soldiers came around on patrol…and I was just thinking how this could've been so much worse…and you could've been dead too…and I just wanted to tell you I loved you and I will always love you." He stopped, which was a good thing, because Meggie couldn't process anymore. Her heart was breaking in two, both for Dustfinger and Farid.

"Oh, Farid…" she said, pulling him down to sit by her, "I love you too. I'll never leave you. We're getting married in summer, and Dustfinger will be there in spirit. He loved you so much, Farid…" He loved me, too, Meggie thought disconnectedly. He always loved me. Oh, Dustfinger…

I'm going to be happy with my life. Farid and I will get through this together if it takes my whole life. I'll do it. For Dustfinger.

As though separated by a veil, Dustfinger watched as Meggie and Farid reconciled under the trees where he had brought Meggie in her dreams. He watched as they cried for his memory.

His heart ached for Meggie's never-realized love for him, and his love for her. However, in death, things were much simpler. Farid would make Meggie very happy. And Dustfinger would wait for her here. Meanwhile, he could watch them grow old together, and have children, and live out their lives in contentment.

The White Women were overly pleased to have 'the fire-man' back; they kept petting his hair and asking for him to make fire for them. Dustfinger happily obliged, but he was careful to keep it from touching his skin too much. Fire was still friendly to him, but it wasn't the same. His protection was gone. Meggie would never know that she couldn't be burned, because there would never be another incident in which she would be able to be burned. Dustfinger would make sure of it.

He had long ago accepted that his love for Meggie would never be realized, but instead busied himself creating a dream world where it was. It was wrong, anyway; Resa and Mo considered him a family friend. He couldn't have a relationship with their daughter.

It was only after Meggie had spoken aloud in one of his dreams did he understand just how much power he had brought back from the underworld; he could literally affect her dreams, too.

He had never meant to tear apart her relationship with Farid. The boy was like a son to him, and Meggie had used to be crazy about him. He had never thought that the dreams would have that much effect on her. However, when Farid had come to him close to tears saying Meggie had broken it off, he knew that he had gone too far. Happiness wasn't for Dustfinger; he would instead make others happy.

So he had instructed Farid to go talk to Resa about the possibility of marriage, and he would talk to Meggie. However, that day had not gone as well as planned. She had started loving him even more after that day; he supposed he could've been a little more discreet in concealing his love. However, she looked so beautiful with the fire-flower in her hair that he couldn't resist.

He had been planning to leave town anyway. Things couldn't go on like this, when he heard that Capricorn's remaining men were coming to burn down their enemies houses. He knew that Meggie was infinitely more important immediately.

It was a gigantic risk, sending his fire-protection over the dream connection. As far as he knew, powers had never been transferred like that before. He had to try, however. He had to make sure Meggie stayed alive and well and married Farid. It was all that consumed his mind.

Plus, he owed a favor to Silvertongue. And he didn't think the baby deserved to die so soon after gaining life. Resa, too. She had just got her husband and life back. The whole family was worth protecting. So he sent Roxane away that night, on some wild-goose chase for a friend he'd never had.

That was the one pang of regret he did have. Roxane deserved more than a man who was in love with a child almost half his age. That's why she was still alive now. He wanted to give her the chance to find another; to be happy with another, as he was planning to do with Meggie.

You sly dog, Dustfinger thought to himself, even when you do good things for other people, there's always something in it for you. However, could he help that Farid believed in a different afterlife?

Dustfinger knew more about the dead than most dead people do, because he had had the chance to go back to the living and think about it. He knew that the White Women only existed for those who believed. And Farid, poor Farid who tried so hard to understand the complexities of this world, did not believe. He would die and be sent to his Arabian god, to be punished or rewarded for his activities in life. Dustfinger knew that he would be happy in death; he was a hero.

The other perk, of course, would be that Meggie did believe. Her soul would be taken by the White Women when she was old, but it would still be the soul of the 15-year-old he had fallen in love with. They would live happily-ever-after, not in life, but in death.

Yes, everyone would be happy now, he thought to himself, as he watched Farid and the girl he loved kiss passionately through their tears, still in Wayless Wood that he had loved so. Dustfinger would be remembered. It would all work out without him. He had no desire to return to the living. The time for rash decisions was over.

His Meggie would come to him soon enough.

AN: Okay, I'm a complete sap. But in the end, I couldn't stand it; I wanted everyone to be happy. My vitamin of the day is a little bit of fluff all around! I worked on this for 5 hours straight. Pathetic, I know…anyway, here are the lyrics that inspired my first Megfinger. Review please!

And that was it.
I had made it clean just across the street with my new wings.
So I'll just fly and hope that I remember the good times when it's done.

Oh well, oh well.
I can't live with myself as I'm climbing in your window to get to your bed.
And I'll be what you need,
You can call me anything
Just as long as we're still friends…

When she smiles, well it's got nothing to do with me.
I'm not the one who sings her to sleep.
And I've been talking to God asking for just a little help with you but it's hopeless.

I'll keep you warm safe in my arms.

Till heaven calls, keep holding on.