Chapter Two:
The Fiancees

Daniel walked into the bare concrete room and looked at Jane. She's mad,/ he thought, amused. He nodded to his friends and somewhat loyal helpers. The two were members of his little gang of "friends." Eddie was white. Sammy was black. Both were big, brawny, and brainless. They grinned at him, arms crossed.

"So, Jane. Enjoying your stay?"

She sat in the chair, hair and wedding dress barely ruffled, shoving her chin out defiantly.

Daniel smirked and signaled Eddie and Sammy to leave. They frowned but obeyed. After they'd left, he closed the door, and turned, studying her, pleased to see a moment's doubt in her eyes before she turned fierce again.

He laughed and laughed more at her shocked look before striding over and grabbing her chin. "Don't kid yourself, Jane. You're like many others I've seen." He stroked her cheek with a thumb, getting the reaction he'd expected.

She jerked her head away. "Just wait," she said simply.

"I don't believe I'll hold my breath, dear Jane." He made sure the twine around her wrists was tight enough. He sent Eddie and Sammy in behind him. "Don't touch her," he warned them. "Leave that to me."

Behind him, Jane took advantage of her inept bodyguards and grabbed a needle which had still been stuck in her dress and went to work, trying to pick apart the twine with it.

* * *

Catherine woke up with the worst headache she could ever remember having. She moaned and rubbed her head with a hand. She looked to see what was holding her other hand down and was surprised to see Michael there, asleep with his arms around her. He hadn't felt like sleeping with her for years.

"Hey, baby," she said sleepily, stroking his hair back as softly as she could. Her vision was slightly blurry.

Michael sighed and woke up, looked at her blearily. Suddenly he climbed off the bed. "He wanted to know when you were up," he explained.

"Who?" she demanded.

"That Bran guy. Who is he? I mean, we were all in your bedroom one second, and then he and Will whisk us off to here. Do you know where here /is,/ mommy? I met King Arthur just last night!"

She grinned a little at him. "Bran can probably explain a lot better than I can," she said. "But humor me for a few minutes. Come here."

He came, and she hugged him tightly. "All right," she said after a few minutes. "I guess that's enough for now."

Michael made a face. "You're /so/ lucky I don't believe in cooties, Mom."

She smiled. "I am, aren't I?"

He nodded and left. A few seconds later, Bran came in.

"Like mother, like son," he told her as he pulled over a chair.

"You got a problem with it?" she demanded.

"Nope," Bran said with a shrug. "But the weapons-master might. Michael's been pestering him with questions for what seems to Phaistos ages." After a pause, he asked, "Feeling better?"

Catherine groaned and rolled away a bit on the bed. "I didn't know hangovers were so /painful,/" she said at last.

Bran smirked. "And if you had known? What would it have changed?"

"I would have put a do-not-disturb sign on the door."

"The door Daniel bust through last night?"

"Last night?"

"Plus a few years?" Bran said after a moment's consideration.

Catherine frowned. "Refresh my memory. Everything that happened last night, from why you showed up to when you showed up and everything after." She leaned back and listened to him tell her, and the story wasn't nearly as long as she had half expected. "So what now?" she asked.

"We try to find Daniel," Bran said. "Where Daniel is, Jane will be."

"Hopefully," Catherine said softly.

Bran nodded soberly. "That's what Will is worried about. That he'll sell her, or-"

Catherine nodded when he couldn't finish the sentence. "Or worse," she offered. Bran nodded, and Catherine tried to sit up, leaning back with a groan. "Well, the only place I know to find him is in my time."

"That's where we believe he's from," Bran said.

"Great. So I guess we start there?"

"Sure."

"Got any Tylenol? Advil?"

"No, but I can get McIntire to whip up some tea or something?"

"Tea? /Tea?/ Bran, hate to break it to you, but I don't drink tea. I'm American."

Bran looked hurt. "Americans drink tea," he said.

"/I/ don't. People where I'm from don't drink that trash."

"I'll ask him to come in anyway," Bran said decisively. "If you really want to get over that headache, you'll do what he says."

After a few seconds of trying to find some appropriate thing to say, Catherine gave up and sighed, turning away and muttering things under her breath. "Fine. Whatever. Just go... My head hurts."

Bran got up and obeyed. Michael was in the hall, pacing, and Bran stopped to talk to him. "How often does your mom do this?" he asked.

"First time, I think," Michael muttered. "But /why?/ That's what's getting to me."

Bran nodded his agreement. "I'm going to see if McIntire can help her. Want to come with me?"

After a slight hesitation, Michael nodded and followed. "Mom said you'd explain what's going on."

"You're a bit young," Bran said, careless.

Michael glared at him. He wasn't young! He stopped and put his hands on his hips, waiting until Bran stopped to face him. When the man finally did, Michael said, "Listen, pal. I don't know what you're thinking, but I was raised right on the edge of the hood, all right? I got the rich pimps on one side, the poor ones on the other. I got gangsters all acting tough and all that trash on my back on the time. I got to put up with junkies and prostitutes and all this other crap. And you think I'm not old enough? I've watched people get shot to death on Fountain street, and you say I'm not old enough? The cops won't even come into our neighborhood in uniform or in marked cars, if they even come at all. And you think I'm not old enough?"

Bran raised his eyebrows, considering. "All right, then," he said after a few minutes. "I'll explain." He started walking, and Michael fell into step beside him. By the time they'd gotten back to Catherine's room, with McIntire in tow, he was nearly done and about to explain the most recent events. And by the time Catherine surfaced from her room, drinking tea complacently and with a minimal headache, he was done.

Catherine shrugged. "All right," she admitted, "that McIntire guy knows his stuff."

"Good, then," Bran said, giving a nod to McIntire. McIntire and Catherine gave a slight wave to each other as Bran said, "We'll get Will and go. So, Michael. Have you ever been to Wales?"

Michael laughed. "Not funny, man. Those might be big fish, but you don't want to live with them."

"Actually, they're mammals," Bran said, amused despite himself. "And I meant the country."

"I know what you meant. Wales, part of the United Kingdom. Everyone there talks really weird gibberish."

"Michael, honey," Catherine said, putting a restraining hand on his shoulder. "You're worse than I was."

"You know it, momma."

Catherine's face clouded. Catching something Bran hadn't, she knelt down in front of Michael, looking him in the eyes. "Now, you listen to me, Michael. You're lucky I'm not Henry's mother. She'd beat him for that. I will not put up with your disrespect, understood?"

"Yes ma'am," Michael said quietly, looking away. "It was just a joke."

"You can make jokes that aren't mean," Catherine said simply. She spotted Will down the hall and waved him over. "Ready?" she asked.

"More than ready," Will said.

"Good." Bran took Eirias from its sheath and held it, doing a series of motions that Michael watched closely, fascinated.

A moment later they were all standing in a small, comfy living room, with only one person standing in it besides them.

The first thing Catherine noticed was that the woman was beautiful.

The first thing Catherine did was fly at her, or at least try to, but Bran was holding her back by grabbing her shoulder.

"Catherine," he said unnecessarily. "None of that, this time. Michael, I'd like you to meet Isabella, my fiancée."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Copyright 2001. Second chapter. I'm at a writing course- thank God for computer labs, that's all I'm saying. For Rose-bud the "Sisters" of the Wild Magick. Simon and Barney are coming in the next chapter, along with another familiar face... Hope you stay tuned!