Ch. I – Memories – Morgan's POV

Oh Goddess! Hunters asked me to marry him again. Tonight at dinner he asked me! Of course I said "yes". He's my muirn beatha dán and I know we are meant to be together, but, Goddess, hearing him ask for me to be his wife makes it seem all the more real. Oh Moira—my darling, sweet Moira. She is Hunter's daughter, though I'd never known it! Moira and I had always believed Colm was her father. Oh Colm, my sweet, sweet Colm. Though I am once again with Hunter, there will always be apart of me that will love him. On another note, Moira and Hunter are getting on very well. I know she doesn't know him or care for him as her father yet. How can she? She's only ever known and loved Colm as her Da. However, I do feel her genuine happiness for Hunter and me. She grows fonder of him with each day and him to her as well. It gives my heart joy to know that we can finally be happy.

-Morgan

"Sky, Moira… NO!" I awoke panting, again. I felt Hunter stirring. That was the forth night in a row that I'd been having those awful nightmares. As unnerved as I was by them, I was sure the dreams were just mind trying to process the horrific events that happened only a year ago. That cold day with Hunter's cousin, Sky, Moira, and me fighting Iona, I will never forget. I don't see how I could.

What bothered me most about the battle was when Iona said, "I waited until Moira was old enough to suffer the way I did…" But thinking back, Moira hadn't known hunter was her father. In fact, she hadn't known who hunter was at all. It pains me to think it, but could she have been referring to Colm as well? I know Colm died in a car accident but could she have also been responsible for his death in anyway? It made me sick to think about it, and I decided it was a coincidence, but the tiny voice in the back of my mind said, "There are no coincidences…" It seemed I would never be allowed to rest. As long as I was Morgan of Belwicket and my daughter was Moira of Belwicket, I feared my family and I would never find peace.

A year ago I'd thought those days of battling evil was over, but I was surely proven wrong, and now my daughter has been exposed to it. I feel terrible, still, for keeping as much from Moira as I did. She was rightfully angry with me when she discovered who her actual grandfather was. I know that I had the same reaction when I learned that Ciaran MacEwan, the Wiccan equivalent of "Jack the Ripper" was my father. I also know that my own anger at Katrina matched Moira's anger at me when we discovered that Colm wasn't Moira's father. Katrina had kept that information from, trying to protect me. I have forgiven her since then.

With all these thoughts still in my head I tried to get out of bed, careful so as not to wake Hunter, but I was unsuccessful.

"Good morning, love," he said, "sleep well?"

"Mmm-hmm, like a baby." I lied. I couldn't tell him about the nightmares. I knew that my nightmares weren't disturbing enough to leave me too shaken up, but I didn't want to worry Hunter.

"What is that delicious smell?" he asked. "Katrina's making breakast?"

"Smells great, doesn't it?" I replied.

Hunter and I went downstairs to discover we were wrong. It wasn't katrina cooking breakfast. It was Moira. I had never really seen her cook anything before. It was shocking. She must have sensed us because she greeted us without looking up.

"Morning mum, morning Hunter!"

"Moira, honey, you're cooking!"

"Yea mum, I'd been watching a cooking show on the telly, and thought I'd give it a shot."

"Brilliant, positively brilliant! It smells excellent in here Moira!" Hunter said

"Thanks Da!" she replied.

Hunter expression changed so quickly I'd almost forgotten he'd been smiling before. The look held now was one of deep appreciation and what looked like hope. I looked between him and Moira and noticed that she was smiling shyly. She moved the pan she was handling onto the back burner and met Hunter half-way in very tight hug.

"You called me 'Da'!" Hunter beamed as a tear crept out the corner of his eye and down his cheek. I almost cried with them. Instead I went over to join them in the hug.

"Yeah," Moira said, "I did." I don't know how long we stood there hugging, but I know that I felt much better than I did before because no matter what was going on outside, I knew that, inside, my family had just gotten closer.

A/N – Well, I hope you enjoyed that. I know it was mushy and short, so please review and tell me what you honestly think. If it sucks—say so. If it just needs a little work—say so too. Of course any and all compliments are welcome and cherished. As I said, I will only continue this story if I am encouraged and these reviews will be my encouragement.

Many thanks...