Here's the final chapter of this one. I added just a little material I didn't use when I posted the story on another site. This part literally started as a gag for Anya and a random guy. I chose this story as a place it would fit.

Professor Anya Forger married Dr. Kyle Heinzel on her 24th birthday. They held a ceremony for a modest group at an estate Kyle had purchased in Thurindia. They left early enough for the celebration to reach new heights of merriment while they took a paddle boat to the lakeside cabin built for their honeymoon. Anya rode on Kyle's back from the dock through the door of the cabin. Kyle wore a sky-blue suit, and she wore the same pink dress she had received 10 years before. The cabin had only four rooms, including a lean-to extension behind a locked door on the left. They settled on a couch in the cozy den, studiously avoiding the middle.

"You know what I keep thinking about?" Kyle said. "Our names. Dr. Heinzel-Forger…"

"And Dr. Anya Forger," Anya finished. She fingered the necklace her groom had put on in place of a ring, a veritable rainbow of gems that did not eclipse her star stone in the center.

Kyle finally reached out bashfully and took her hand. "Um," he said, "you've got mascara on your shoulder."

Anya looked at a dark smudge on her skin. "Yeah," she said, "that must be Mama's." She dampened a hankie to wipe it away. Her own cheek still bore gaps in her makeup from the tearful goodbye.

"So, um," he said, "you already read my mind. Right? You know what's normal, for me."

"Yes," Anya said. She scooted to his side and elbowed him. "I'll tell you what, you can think about Becky. Or Anja the Elf."

They considered a selection of gifts on the table. Anya opened one from Becky. It was a satellite phone. She giggled uncontrollably at the note, which she held out to Kyle. It read, CALL ME WHEN YOU'RE DONE. She squealed and clapped when her groom uncovered a sculpture of a chimera, its wings 30 cm in span, carved from a single ruby. Anya made him look away while she changed into a gift from Mama. She closed her eyes as he looked up, and blushed deeper when his gaze remained on her face. When he looked down, he beheld her in only a baggy old shirt of Papa's. He whimpered, then he lunged. Anya gently pushed him back. "You were going to show me my birthday present first," she said, straightening the shirt.

He nodded and smiled. He led Anya to the locked door. His mind was filled with Anja the Elf clapping in approval. He opened it. Inside was a steam bath. An L-shaped wooden bench with several cushions wrapped around the tub. Anya considered the mirrors on three sides and overhead.

"Oh my god," she said. "You're a dork, Kyle. This is so bad, it's kind of impressive." She pushed him onto the bench, then dropped to the floor to better deal with his shoes. "Hold still. Mama says it will be easier." As she undid his belt, he grabbed a pillow and pulled it over his face. Her view became his, multiplied by the mirrors. In his mind, he repeated with every unfolding wonder: Think of Anya. Think of Anya. Think of Anya. Think of Anya. Anya. Anya. Anya. ANYA. ANYA ANYA ANYA ANYANYANYAN…

Anya's voice cut in. "Stop that," she said. "It's givin' me a headache." He nodded mutely without lowering the cushion. "Just think, I dunno, normal."

Kyle ran through a calming stream of thought: Okay, okay, it's Anya, don't worry, think anything, every other thought, just nothing weird. Anya's hair, the Big Loop, I closed my eyes then, too, Anya's legs, the giraffes at the zoo, Anya's- OH ANYA!- the perfect game, it will be over in a- OH NO! After an endless moment, he lowered the pillow just enough to look at his bride. She had her arms crossed over her chest. They both stared at each other as he frantically reviewed his monologue: George Glooman? WHY?

"We're done, right?" Anya said. She was already wrapping herself in the shirt. "I mean… that was you, wasn't it?" He nodded. Then he sat up and embraced her tightly.

"Oh, Anya, please don't divorce me!" he blurted through tears. "If you are, it's all right, just please don't tell anyone it's because of that!"

"I'm not divorcing you," Anya said, slightly muffled. "I put on a shirt." Then, abruptly, she began to laugh. "Oh my gawd, you were really worried!" She pushed him down and began hitting him with the cushion. "Kyle! You- are- such- a dork!"

Anya stretched out in the bubbling bath, her chin on the deck. Kyle remained on the bench, kneading her lower back with his long, dexterous toes. "Oh Hell-ell y-y-y-yeah," she said. "Hey, Kyle, think about the giraffe again…" She sighed. After a time, she shifted somewhat unhappily. "I need to call Becky," she said. She looked for the wireless phone. It was on a shelf just inside the door. "Kyle, get the phone."

"We can't, Anja," Kyle mumbled. "I'm a human and you're an elf princess, I can't sire an heir to the throne…"

Anya sighed. Then her most mischievous smile came to her face. She stretched out her left arm. Kyle's right arm twitched. She repeated the motion. His arm extended stiffly. After a few moments of fumbling, his fingers gripped the phone as hers closed into a fist. His eyes opened in surprise when Anya reached up and took it from his hand. He stared at his own hand as it mirrored the motion of dialing. "You're all mine now, cutie pie," she said with a smirk. Becky answered after two rings. "Hey, Becky," she said, "are you with Demi?"

"Of course," Becky giggled. "But we're still at the wedding dinner. Everybody's here, it's barely been an hour since you left. Hey, everyone! It's Anya!" A chorus of greetings and congratulations roared out from the speaker. "You could come back, if you want to."

"Oh, no," Anya said, suppressing a giggle. "We're settled in. Hm, we're taking a bath."

"Hey, who bet they'd be in the bath?" Becky called out. There was another cheer, and a smattering of exaggerated cries of disappointment. Becky continued in a stage whisper, "So, you finally married an Eden guy. And you got your own cutie pie. A whole year younger than you…"

"Oh, Becky, I told you, I'm not…" Anya giggled. "Oh, I love him! I want to hold him and squeeze him and love him forever an' ever an' ever!"

Becky laughed. "Here's someone who wants to say hi," she said.

Anya knew who it was just by the breathing. "Hello, Anya," Papa said. "Are you doing all right? Is your telepathy giving you any trouble?"

"Oh, no," Anya said. She laughed. "I read his mind and he read mine, and it was wonderful. He's still in my head, Papa, and I don't want him to go."

"That's wonderful, Anya," Papa said. "Enjoy the time. Don't do anything you don't want to. Don't be afraid to do what you both want."

"Of course we will," Anya said. "Can I talk to Mama?"

"She isn't ready yet," Papa said. "But she's all right. She's with Uncle Yuri now. She sends all her love."

The phone was passed around, back to Becky and then to Demetrius, Damian, Baby Brother and more. Finally, it came to Fiona. "I'm guessing you're about ready to get back to your man," she said. "Just tell me one thing. Was it all worth it?"

"Yes," Anya said. She rubbed her leg against her husband's. "Yes, he is."

"Then love him," Fiona said. There was a farewell cheer before the line went dead.

When they had retired to their bed, Anya played her portable game while her husband dozed. She squealed and clapped when Anja finally flew away victorious on the now friendly dragon. She tilted her head back at the sound of music, a symphony that she had become convinced was the great composer's best. "Bobby?" she said aloud.

"Hey, Dr. Forger," the voice answered. "I'm on the flight to Kielberg. They let me have my tape player. Congratulations."

"Thanks, sweetie," Anya said. "Um. I'm actually with my husband. You didn't hear anything, did you?"

"About that," Bobby said. "The altitude is letting me talk to the group. I think everybody heard. You were, um, loud."

"Oh," Anya said. Her expression became her Becky face. "Sorry, I guess."

"We all read minds," came the answer. "I just call it Mama-Papa time."

"Yeah, that puts things in perspective," Anya said. After a moment, she laughed, long and loud enough that her husband stirred. "Enjoy Kielberg, sweetie. You earned it."

"So did you," Bobby answered. His voice was growing faint, but his music remained clear. "Good night." Anya rested her head on her groom's chest. She felt his breathing settle back into a gentle rhythm of sleep. She placed a hand on his brow.

Anya found herself at the dock, her groom at her side, looking up at a sky of bright stars twinkling in time and pitch with the symphony. In front of them, a beautiful sailboat was moored. "Hey, Anya," he said. "Are you in my dream, or am I in yours?"

"Neither," she said with a smile. "It's on loan from a friend." She took his hand, and they walked up the ramp. As they sailed away down the river of dreams, she hummed along with the music of the spheres.