Morgan rose bright and early the following morning, and ran straight into the bathroom. After a few moments of heaving the contents of her stomach into the toilet, she splashed some cool water on her face and tried to get her breath back. "Wagner," she muttered, "I'm going to KILL you."

Well, that wasn't entirely fair. After all, she was just as responsible for her condition as he was. Still, she was on the pill, so she'd figured that the last thing she had to worry about was getting pregnant. Guess she had to be that .01% lucky enough to prove that birth control pills were indeed fallible.

She brushed her teeth thoroughly, and pulled a brush through her hair, then changed clothes and went downstairs. Margaret was awake, preparing breakfast for the few of the family still living at home. Mainly that consisted of Moriah, herself, and her father. The smell of frying bacon nauseated her all over again, and she swallowed hard. "I think I'm gonna pass on breakfast this morning mom. I've got some things I need to take care of today. I'll just grab something while I'm out."

"Are you sure honey?" Margaret asked from the stove. "I can make you something to go-"

"No no, it's okay. Thanks though." Morgan said. "I'll be gone most of the day, so, later!"

The first thing she had to do today was house hunt. There were a few open houses in the area, and she'd promised herself she'd check them out. The very last thing she wanted to put up with was being pregnant and unmarried in her mother's household. While her own faith didn't declare whether being married, or even necessarily in love was important, according to her mother she was sure to be putting her soul in peril for just having pre-marital sex and being on the pill.

There was no question as to whether or not she'd keep the child. While she had no problem with abortion for others, for her it was out of the question. She was positive that once she told Kurt about her state, he'd insist that she keep the child. As he was the father, she felt she should respect his wishes. If they really loved each other, then they would be able to make it through this.

Adoption would more than likely not be an option. Considering the baby's parentage, she'd be surprised if it came out at least looking like a normal human at all. And even if it did appear normal, it would almost certainly have the x-gene, and would likely develop an ability that normal flatscans didn't possess, later on in life.

She reached for her cigarettes out of habit, and paused. Smoking would probably not be a good idea. With a sigh, she put her hand back on the steering wheel. This was going to be a very, very long nine months.

Five hours later and three houses later, Morgan was sitting in the parking lot of the local mall. This was the one thing she'd truly been loathing- shopping for something to wear tonight. In desperation, she picked up her cell phone, and dialed a number she never thought she'd be dialing.

"Hello?"

"Hey Tessa, it's Morry." She greeted her sister. "Are you busy?"

There was a pause. "No, not really. Why, what's up? Is mom okay?"

"Yeah she's fine." Morgan said "Actually, ah, I need a favor."

She could practically hear her sister smiling over the phone. "Oh really? You need my help? Gee sis, I'm honored. What's up?"

"Don't be a bitch." Morgan laughed. "You probably already know exactly what I need, considering you're the first person I thought to call."

"You betcha. You need help shopping, don't you? Oh, Morgan Morgan Morgan. If it's computers, cars, or anything that goes beep, you're a wizard, but when it comes to fashion you've got no sense at all!" Theresa said. "Where are you?"

"The mall."

"Hmm okay." Theresa was silent for a moment. "What's the occasion?"

Morgan squirmed in her seat. "A date.."

"With Kurt?" Theresa said slyly.

"Yes, you harpy, with Kurt." Morgan said irritably. Why did Theresa always have to do this? Morgan loved her sister, but the constant 'girl superiority' really grated on her nerves.

"Okay. Where are you going?"

"He wants to take me to this Italian place, in Boston. He said it's very exclusive." Morgan said.

"Okay. Come pick me up. What you need you are not going to find in the mall." Theresa said. "I'll be ready when you get here."

"But-"

"No buts!" Theresa said. "Here! Now!"

Morgan sighed. "Yes Ma'am."

It took a half an hour for her to drive across town to the area in which Theresa lived. The neighborhood was full of extremely large, extremely expensive homes. They sat on their acreage far away from the street proper, surrounded by iron fences and draped with lush green lawns. Theresa had made very good money for herself as an attorney, and liked her creature comforts.

Morgan had just barely stopped the car when Theresa came out of her front door and ran to the Aztec. She slid into the drivers seat and smiled broadly. "You're going to love this, I promise you." She breathed. "My friend has a little Boutique down in Greensprings, and I've already told him we're coming."

"This friend wouldn't be Antony, would it?" Morgan asked, turning in the circular driveway and heading out to the road.

"The one and only!" Theresa laughed, and Morgan rolled her eyes. "He's already picking things out for you. Oh, and sis, you might want to consider if you want your dress to match this coloring, or your natural coloring." She wiggled her fingers. "Or you could go somewhere in between."

"That hadn't even occurred to me." Morgan said honestly. "I suppose I could alter the illusion color slightly-"

"Don't bother. I'm sure that Antony can fix you up in whatever it is you need. Besides, it's been sooo long since he's seen you, he's going to have to see your natural coloring again. Oh this is gonna be so much FUN!" She clapped her hands, and Morgan sighed in resignation. Hopefully, the night would be worth it.

Antony's shop was called Retro Reruns, and was fairly popular with the upper crust. He specialized in original designs that emulated such picturesque eras as the fifties, and embraced the rebellious prohibition times of the 20s. He embraced the fashion of the 1900s, molding and sculpting the base fashions into something that was gloriously retro, but very much in fashion for today's current standards. His sense of color was legendary, and his gift for matching cut and style to his customers bordered on myth. It was said, that at certain times of year, even the incredibly rich and world famous came to Antony's for that "just right" gown. More than likely, he went to them, for while Morgan knew he was a name, he wasn't a Name yet.

Still, one would think that the small shop, the store front painted in a vibrant purple with a large picture window, would have been more suited to Los Angeles or New York, than it was to Greensprings Ohio. Antony had flat out refused to move his business, despite several offers. It wasn't any special attachment he had to Greensprings particularly, but that his mother was attached. And as he was attached to his mother, and her caretaker for the majority of his time, then he stayed where he was until she passed on.

Morgan parked the Aztec in the small parking lot next to his building, and sighed with trepidation. The last time she'd seen Antony with any regular basis, she'd been only fourteen and had rather a crush on him. Which, of course, Theresa had delighted in teasing her with. Oh, Antony had thought it was cute and flattering, and had been ever so gentle in letting her down. He couldn't even use the excuse of homosexuality, as Antony broke the mold in that aspect as well. Not only was he decidedly not gay, he was something of a womanizer. Consequently, Morgan had never felt comfortable around him since.

Now she was letting Theresa drag her back into Antony's life. And she wasn't even putting up a kicking and screaming fight. With a sigh, she shoved her hands in the pocket of her jeans, and followed Theresa reluctantly up the stairs and into the boutique.

A tangle of bells jangled as they entered, and a light tenor called from the back room "Just a moment!" Morgan took the opportunity to look around at what Antony was currently offering up.

All of his mannequins were relics from the past, sporting fashions appropriate for their time frame. There was a brightly colored array of dresses, sports jackets, slacks, hats, purses and shoes. It of course immediately appealed to Morgan, and she gazed longingly at a specific pair of heels while they waited for Antony to come out.

There was a rattle of beaded curtain, and Antony stepped through it. Morgan forced herself not to turn and look at him the moment he appeared. Instead, she glanced at him from the corner of her eye, and was surprised to see that not much of him had changed. He was still darkly handsome, with thick black hair and olive skin. His Mediterranean good looks had always appealed to her, and when she was a child she'd dreamed frequently of playing Cleopatra to his Antony.

"Theresa! Ah, I was wondering when you'd be hauling yourself over here for the new season." Antony beamed. He gave her a warm hug. "How's your mom doing?" he asked, with genuine concern."

"Oh, she's fine." Theresa answered. "Still a bit shook up, but she's a tough old bird. I'd be surprised if she let that get her down for long." She scanned the room, and Morgan sighed as her eyes landed on her. "Morgan, come on over here would you? Say hello to your savior!"

With a reluctant sigh, she tore herself away from the shoes, and went to meet him. "Hello Antony."

It was with great pleasure that she saw his eyes widened, and rapidly flicker up and down her form. "Morgan? Is that you?"

She laughed. "The last time, I checked, yes. I know, I know. You're surprised I haven't gone furry like the rest of my family, right?" She asked. Antony was one of the few who'd been allowed into the inner sanctum of family secrets. It may have had something to do with him having witnessed Deacon going through a particularly nasty change, but it probably had more to do with the fact that Margaret was still harboring hopes that Antony would propose to Theresa. No matter how long the two remained 'just friends,' Margaret was convinced otherwise.

"No." Antony said. "No, I just," he paused. "You've just really grown up, I guess."

"Well, I certainly hope so." Morgan said. "It's been about ten years you know."

Antony grinned broadly. "Oh, ten years? Is that all? That's right, make me feel old." He chuckled again. "Well, in any case, you've certainly developed into a stunningly beautiful young lady." He paused. "At least, I think you have. Hard to tell when the person you're referring to is an Illusionist."

Morgan snorted. "Flatterer. And I suppose your going to want to see me naked next, to make sure the dress you're about to put me in is flattering."

"Well, not naked, no." he said, passing by her and heading toward the front door. He locked it, and then flipped the 'open' sign around to 'closed.' "But at least without that illusion. Let's go in the back, shall we ladies? I've got all sorts of lovely things picked out, and I'm itching to get you into something."

Morgan cast one longing look back at the shoes, then followed Theresa and Antony back into his work room.

The back room of Antony's shop was his workroom. It was surprisingly tidy, and well organized. Two walls were lined with shelves containing all manner of fabrics, apparently arranged first by type then by color. One wall had two curtained off alcoves I assumed were dressing rooms, and the fourth was nothing but windows. The ceiling had a large, square skylight right in the middle, and under that was a small raised dais. Dress forms were cluttered in one corner, and his line of sewing machines-Morgan couldn't even begin to fathom why he'd need more than one- were lined up next to the windowed wall.

There was a short rack, with a few selections hanging from it. I wondered if he'd meant those for me. "All right," he said brusquely, "lose the illusion and let me see what I'm working with."

Her eyes flickered to the windows. "Um,"

Antony followed her glance, and smacked his forehead. "Oh, right. One second." He went to the end of the windows, and fiddled with a series of strings, lowering a set of blinds. They were the solid kind, long strips of fabric with slats run through them. They offered total privacy, but the thin material still allowed a lot of light to spill through.

Morgan paused for a moment, before letting the illusion wisp away. It pooled into dense smoke at her feet and swirled in peach and brown before misting away completely. She heard Antony's sharp intake of breath, and turned fierce eyes to him, expecting a look of disgust.

Instead, he had the look of a man who'd just found his Aphrodite. "Buon Dio, รจ il mio MUSE! Tale bellezza!" He muttered.

Raising an eyebrow, Morgan said "I beg your pardon?"

But Antony was already dashing off to a large drafting table near the sewing machines. "Just stay there. No," he said, turning, and hurrying to her. "No, stay up here.. On the Dais.. yes." He tugged her up and planted her on the pedestal. "Right there. Don't move."

Morgan looked at Theresa, who shrugged. "Don't ask me. I never did learn Italian."

Antony grabbed his table and turned it to face her, then sat down and began scribbling furiously. For nearly a half an hour she stood there, while he ran through sheet after sheet of paper, tossing the sketches onto the floor when he was finished.

Theresa retrieved one of the sketches, and raised an eyebrow, looking at Morgan speculatively. "Muse?" she repeated.

Antony grunted.

After another fifteen minutes, Morgan cleared her throat. "Not to be difficult, but, I do have something I need to do tonight."

With a sigh, Antony finished the sketch he was working on, then began to collect the others. For several minutes, he looked them over, casting glances at Morgan, and finally selected one from the stack. "This one." He said. "This is the one I'll make for you for tonight."

He retrieved a measuring tape from one of the sewing tables, and proceeded to measure every inch of her. Then, he took them both by the arm and ushered them out of the store. "Two hours." He said. "Give me two hours. Go, get some lunch or something."

With that, he closed the front door, locked it, and vanished into the back room. Morgan and Theresa stood blinking on the street, Morgan's illusion safely back in place. "Well." Theresa said. "I think there's a Coldstone down the street, if you want to get something to eat."

Morgan readily agreed, and soon the two sister were ensconced in a small bistro table outside the shop, licking ice cream cones and sipping root beer. They chatted about work, well, mostly Theresa's work. Occasionally Theresa would try to pry into Morgan's life, only to be deftly turned away.

"Why don't you tell me anything anymore?" Theresa asked her.

"I'm not sure I understand your question." Morgan said warily.

"Well, you used to tell me all sorts of things, when you were a kid. But now, trying to get anything out of you is like pulling teeth. You never tell me anything. Not what precisely it is you do for a living, or who the last guy you dated was. Hell, if I even so much as mention Kurt you've got the subject changed so fast I can't remember if I actually spoke his name or not!"

Morgan shifted in her seat. Should she be honest? It wouldn't due to hurt Theresa's feelings, but then hadn't Theresa done much the same as they were growing up? She decided to err on the side of honesty. "Because every time I told you something, you'd run off and tell someone else about it." She said.

Theresa looked at her, stricken. "That's not true!"

Morgan rolled her eyes. "Oh please. Antony is a prime example! You caught me making calf-eyes at him, forced a confession, and then told him! Oh, and let's not forget the time I snuck out to go to the movies with Ryan and Ryanne. You ran to dad so fast I was barely out of the neighborhood! Then there was the time when I told you I was thinking of breaking up with Brad, and you go running off telling him before I was even sure!" Morgan realized her volume had been steadily increasing, and took a breath to calm herself down. "I don't tell you anything, because I can't trust you not to go blabbing to someone else about it. You know, for a high-priced attorney, I should think you'd know the value of keeping your damn mouth shut."

For a long moment, Theresa simply looked at her. Then, she gave a slow nod. "You're right. I did have a problem with that. I think maybe it was because I was jealous."

A jolt of shock rushed through her. "Jealous? Of what?" Morgan said, incredulous.

"That you always seemed to get away with things." Theresa said. "That you were so different, so special, so pretty, and I was just plain old every day Tessa."

Thunderstruck, Morgan gaped at her sister opened mouthed. Her? Pretty? Never! Theresa was the one with all the good looks in the family! That traffic stopping figure, bountiful red hair, perfect face, normal coloring! How could she possibly have thought that she was plain and every day? "Tessa, you are special! And beautiful! Sweet Goddess, do you know how often I prayed that I could look like you? How much I emulated you when I was growing up? I wanted to be the one allowed to stay up late, and go to parties, and hang out with my friends! How much I just wanted to be normal?" She asked, her voice dropping down to a whisper. "Tessa, I ENVIED you when we were growing up. Didn't you know that?"

Theresa, with tears streaming down her cheeks said "Oh, Morgan! I love you!"

"I love you too Tessa!" Morgan pushed her chair back and hugged her sister tight, crying softly into her shoulder. "God, we're a couple of idiots, aren't we?" She said.

Tessa sniffled, and pulled back, smiling down at her. "Yeah, we sure are." Then, she laughed. "Come on, let's go for a walk, before we make even more of a spectacle out of ourselves."

They walked down the street, arm in arm. "Tessa, I still can't tell you what I do for a living." Morgan said tentatively.

"It's something illegal, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Morgan confessed. "And the less you know about it, the better. Just know that if I ever get busted, it's you I'm going to call."

"I think I can live with that." She laughed.

Morgan sighed, at war with herself. For years, she'd been misjudging Theresa. She felt a need to make up for it, but had no major secrets that she was willing to share, save one.

"Alright sis." Morgan said. "I'm going to tell you something, but you have to swear, and I mean swear, that you won't tell a soul until I'm ready for them to all know."

Theresa stopped, and looked at Morgan seriously. "I promise." She said solemnly.

Morgan took a deep breath, and said "I'm pregnant."

Dumbstruck, Theresa said "I beg your pardon?"

"Pregnant." Morgan repeated. "Me." She pointed to her belly.

For a moment, Theresa's mouth worked, but no sound came out. Then, she said "Do Mom and Dad know?"

"I just found out myself last night." Morgan sighed. "I've been debating what to do about it for a week now, when I first suspected it."

"What have you decided?" Theresa asked, after a long moment of silence.

"Well," Morgan said thoughtfully, "I think I'm going to keep it."

"Hmm." Theresa said. She took Morgan's arm again, and began leading her back to Antony's store. "Well," she said finally. "I wonder what Kurt will say."