Fion had never actually spent more than a day away from Piran before. Even when she'd gone to visit a relative, oh so rarely, Piran had gone with her. It hadn't quite occured to Fion just how tricky it was going to be for her. She'd woken up crying, for the gods' sakes. Into her pillow! The slip was going to need to be washed now...

She was very glad that she was sending the boys to stay with Ginny, although she hadn't truly broached the subject with Arthur yet, though Piran had been made more aware. She wasn't Arthur's mother but she didn't feel right leaving him on his own. Fion was hoping that the prospect of spending a few days with a pretty, teenaged witch would work. In a bar. Arthur was adventurous that way...

Oh shit, was this a bad idea?

Fion had packed their bags before breakfast and now all that remained was to drag their erses downtown and hug them good bye. Fion rubbed her eyes a little as she waited for Piran and Arthur to come to the door.

Piran latched himself onto his mother from behind.

He felt scared and apprehensive, for reasons he didn't truly understand. He knew his mother was going somewhere, but not where; he knew he would see her again, but not when; he knew he was going to stay with someone, but not who. All of this made him forget about trying to be grown-up and focus on worrying about Fion.

"Mum," he said, a little piteously in his distress, "tell me where you're going. Please."

Fion felt a sickening lurch in the pit of her stomach, followed by a spike of regret. She turned, slowing dropping to the ground so that she could hug Piran. Gods, she hated to leave him. Her eyes closed for a moment and she quietly reveled in the feeling of having him in her arms, safe.

"I can't, baby." Fion said, knowing this would distress him but knowing that he'd pick the lie if she told it. "I'm not going too far but it's better that you not know. It's very important."

It was, she knew that it was. She kissed Piran's forehead, breathing in the scent of lime, the kind of soap she used in his hair. He was still so small and she asked such big things of him. She was still occasionally shocked by how much she loved him. It seemed so immense, enough to paralyse her, enough to spur her forward when nothing else would. She could still remember the day he'd been born, holding him for the first time and the midwife had said, "meet your son," and Fion had thought that was such a foolish thing to say because he'd been with her all those months. All that time, all that hard work and they had gotten through it together.

And now she was going to have to let him go, for the first time, for the millionth time if you counted all the little letting gos.

"I love you so much, Piran." Fion said, still holding him close while she still could. "It'll be alright. I'll be back before you know it. You'll barely notice me gone, you're staying with a friend of mine, she's a wick too."

Even that had a small sting to it. Fion still rued that there was such a big part of his life that she could never hope to share. All the effort in the world wouldn't change it. She hoped that this would help.

Frantic, tearful farewells on the inside -- Arthur might have spotted some of it through the window, might have over heard bits and pieces or perhaps just picked up on the overall vibe of the house, because instead of barging in or knocking or trying to work his way in, he was hiding out on the front stoop. His morning had been dedicated to finding his own breakfast, a reminder that he could still manage just fine on his own without pretty ladies to help him out, and he was still working on the last of a mangled, unwanted hingle-onna-stick.

He wouldn't interrupt their last moments. Let Piran cry, and Fion obsess and regret. He'd just sit out here, humming and plenty content, and finish up his burnt breakfast, until they were done.

"A wick?" echoed Piran, his eyes wide. He hadn't forgotten that his mother was going away, or that she was so visibly upset, but for a moment the situation seemed ever so slightly less grim - perhaps a wick could tell what was going on with him. Maybe she could even help.

"I'll be fine, mum, don't worry," he added, patting her hand. He knew she always worried about him, even when he was outside playing, even when he was asleep in his bed. But he couldn't help but feel horribly curious - where was she going that was so secret? Why couldn't he come? Why was he being left with a stranger instead of Mr. Demkaih?

Small though he was, Piran was old enough to know not to ask about Mr. Demkaih.

"Mhm, the nicest girl I know too. Excellent work ethic." This was high praise from Fion, since it was a quality she valued above most others. Save cleanliness, that was just slightly higher. "I'm sure you'll have a great time."

Fion wasn't worried about how well Piran was going to keep without her. She trusted Ginny. She was just worried that she might not see him again.

"Make sure you do everything she tells you to." Fion said, wondering how difficult it was going to be to keep him in-doors for a day, until Ginny was aware of how the mission had gone. "Come on, let's get going, as soon as we find Arthur we can leave."

Fion stood, kissing Piran's forehead once more and picked up his bag. Fion opened the front door and saw Arthur sitting on her step, eating something on a stick. Convenient, though she preferred it when he ate better.

"Arty, good to see you, I guess we can get going now." She said, expecting slightly more of a fight than she'd gotten. "Come on, we're heading downtown."

Arty did not escape getting a kiss on the head from Fion. She was not quicker than him normally but with how she was feeling, she needed to do it. After that she was out the front gate, one hand holding Piran's, the other free for if Arthur wanted it. Stride was a few steps behind, tail wagging slightly less than usual. He paused his walk to sniff Arthur's crotch. It was just what he did.

Art was not a cruel king. As such, he offered the last bit of hingle [the feet] to Stride as he went sniffing, and tossed the stick into the flowerbed once Fion's back was turned. Given an hour, wild beasts likely would have dragged the oil-soaked piece of wood off and away to chew on it anyway.

"...said sumfin' bouta bar?" And a girl, he was pretty sure. Art didn't step in to take her hand, but he did fall into step beside her, even if it meant he had to adjust his pace into a gawky little step-step-skipskip-step to match the speed of her longer legs. "Goin' te stay wif some friends or summat? Wussit? Where you goin'?"

"Yes, a tavern really. You'll be staying with Ginny, she helps run the place." Fion said smoothly, slowing a little so her stride was more in pace with Arthur and Piran's. "I'm just going away for a while, to help a friend of mine."

It was truth, just not truth entire.

"You'll enjoy it. You might even be able to convince Ginny to teach you a little about barwork. Never to early to learn your liquors, so long as you don't drink any." Fion had a mental image of Arthur drunk and was visibly appalled. "She's very clever, especially for one so young. She might give you a run for your money, Arty."

Her tone became slightly teasing. She was partly goading him into wanting to stay but she also being sincere. There were few people she would trust with her boys... Especially after what had happened with Ivan.

But she wasn't going to think about that.

The Book and Bell was always quiet in the mornings; by sunup, Ginny had taken up her broom and swatted out the lingering drunks from the night before, some of whom had curled up beneath the bar or fallen asleep at the corner tables. She had spent the morning dozing in the armchair by the fireplace, wondering why it was so cold in the springtime.

Phineas didn't get in until the late afternoon, when the rush began. She felt incredibly alone. Despite having a tavern half-full of tenants, the B&B felt supremely empty. In happier times, she and Stu would have spent the morning bickering and cleaning and playing a game of cards. Her heart ached for missing him and worrying about him.

Still, it would not do any good to get all weepy. By mid-morning she had begun to clean. It kept her hands busy and her mind occupied. When Fion arrived at the steps of the Book and Bell, she would find Ginny standing on one leg on a barstool, sweeping cobwebs from the corner of the ceiling with a long-handled broom.

Art was considering the possibility of all that alcohol around; the mixing, the carrying, the selling, and perhaps a little bit of tasting on top of that. It meant he didn't push Fion for more information, just made a thoughtful humming sound and walked along beside her, expression almost comically thoughtful -- until they arrived. Then he perked up, expression brightening, stepping in to stare up at Ginny on her chair.

He took just a moment to sweep off his hat, smooth down his curls, and then replace it. A shame he had on his second-best jacket instead of his first, too. His first best jacket barely had any holes in it.

" 'lo." Hard to make one syllable suave. Arthur pulled it off by adding a grin to it, just wide enough to put that missing tooth on display. Fion's heart could go to rest: Art would definitely stick around. The question was just if he'd remember to keep an eye on Piran.

"Ginny!" Fion called out, not missing Arthur's practice at flirting. She bit away a smile and moved to stand beside Ginny's stool, she used her hands to hold it even.

"You could fall, doing that. Be careful." She said, an under-current of maternal worry in her voice, she hadn't always been so quick to prod. "Good morning, I brought the boys with me."

She wondered what else to say. She was going to have to introduce the boys to Ginny and give her the letter she'd been saving in her pocket. Other than that it was just time to say goodbye.

Ginny started as Art spoke, and turned around quickly as Fion approached her. Her eyes were a bit swollen, but otherwise she looked perfectly normal; she had even dressed in her best hand-me-down clothes today, probably to make Piran feel better about the whole situation.

She stepped nimbly to the ground and gave Fion an automatic hug. Although Fion was human, she could feel the tremors in Ginny's slight field. The witch knew what she was going to do.

"Good to see you," she said quickly. Turning to Fion's son, she bent down and smiled at him. "You must be Piran."

Piran hadn't expected his caretaker to be a young woman; he raised his eyebrows. "Are you the witch?" he asked, guileless as usual.

Ginny grinned. "Aye, that's me. And you must be Art," she said, turning to the redheaded boy. Raising an eyebrow, she appraised him briefly. It was clear she was quite taken with the cute factor. "You look like a handful, an' no mistake..."

Fion returned the hug, recognising the tremors. She sighed as she let go of Ginny, watching her and Piran carefully.

"It's good to see you too." She replied, touching the paper in her pocket.



"Piran!" Fion said, looking shocked and a little embarassed. She didn't want Ginny to think that she introduced her by race. "Her name is Ginny."

Fion looked momentarily quite red. This was surely a sign that he hadn't been socialised enough. Fion was mortified.



Fion glanced at Arthur. He did look like a handful. In fact, he was a bit of a handful... but she was very fond of him. He had spunk. Fion didn't say anything more, she knew Arthur could speak for himself.

Art tolerated all the hugging and conversation and not paying attention to him, because...well, he got a sense of just how much they all needed it, even if he didn't have so much as a tick of an idea why. However, he did tolerate it impatiently, fidgeting where he stood and plotting during the exchanges, the words, the unhappy interactions.

When Ginny finally turned her attention on him, he was very much ready. In an exaggerated mockery of galdori elegance, Arthur swept the hat off of his head and extended one leg in a deep bow. It was gawky, but charming in its own way, really. Nowhere near as silly as it could have been.

He was grinning when he straightened, hair a mess of curls with the hat in his hand, and he raised his eyebrows at her. "Don' listen te wot people been sayin' about me."

"Oh, ho," said Ginny, waxing impressed. "A real gen'leman, ne? We don't get many o' them in these parts. Do we, Fi?" She winked and stood up again, towering over him; she was quite tall. "Where've you been all my life, handsome? Lissen, you men go get yourselves some ginger beer from the cabinet. I've got to talk to your mum."

Piran hurriedly nodded, muttered "Thank you miss," and hurried off towards the bar.

Turning to Fion, Ginny smiled ruefully. "Your boy's a wick all right," she said, keeping her voice low. "Developin' a bit soon, innee? Thought he had a year, maybe a bit more..."

She seemed lost in thought. It occurred to her that Fion was about to do something very dangerous, and if it was dangerous for Fion, it would be just as dangerous for Stu, and he was all she had in this city. She still had no idea where he was, or if he was even still alive; the colossal worry ached in her heart, and it was all she could do to avoid asking about it. She knew the rules.

Taking a deep breath, she put a hand on Fion's shoulder. "Don't have to tell you to be careful, I suppose," she said quietly. "I'll watch him close. He's safe here, they both are. I always thought it was Stu what kept this place safe, but now I'm startin' to think the tavern's got some sort o' voo on it. We're lucky, we are. We got watchers, an' guards, an' cadets in the rafters, an' dozens of exits..."

Her lower lip wobbled.

"Bring him back," she blurted out. Her face went panicky for a moment as tears threatened to spring to her eyes. The young witch struggled to stay composed in front of the children, but Fion could see plainly as fear and doubt wracked her. "Just...come back. Both o' you. Please."

"Early Bloomer." Fion said wryly. "He's not quite nine yet."

Ginny might have noticed that Fion sounded fairly resigned to it. She'd wondered if being half galdori and half human might make things different for him. Worried was perhaps a better term.

"I wish I could help him more but I don't really know what's happening." She was never going to share that experience.



Fion enveloped Ginny in another hug, eyes squeezing together. She was so grateful that Ginny was going to be the one watching her son and Arthur. She wouldn't have been able to do what she was about to any other way.

"I will, I promise." Fion said, even though she couldn't really. "Thank you for doing this."

Fion leant back a little and pulled a letter from her pocket. She hadn't wanted to give this to Ginny, not now when she was so worried. She'd been going to give it to Ivan but after the morning he'd had, well. She didn't have time to worry about him now.

"I'm sorry to do this to you," Fion said because she really was, "but, should something happen to me."

She handed the paper to Ginny, it was her Will.

Ginny, having been raised in Places of Ill Repute, knew nothing about wills. In her life's experience, when a body died, his belongings were up for grabs, and whoever had the nimblest fingers and the sharpest weapon tended to lay claim to them. She did not understand what was in the letter Fion handed her, but assumed it was instructions of some sort; she nodded grimly, trying to hold back her tears.

"Don't you worry, now, Miss," she said, trying to show a bit more respect and maturity than usual. "They're good boys, all right. I'll keep 'em tethered safe in here until you get back."

Fion's smile trembled a little around the edges, fluttering like a bird. She saluted Ginny, wondering at how grown up she now was, compared to when Fion had first met her.

"Thank you. I'll be back as soon as I can." She looked at both her boys, having laid a sizable claim to Arthur in her own mind, and tried to fix the sight. "I'm leaving boys."

It was going to be fine, she reminded herself. All that remained was to remind them that she loved them. She wanted them to know, even if she'd said it before. It was important.

Good boys? Well, that much was up for debate...they'd been sent off for gingerbeer, sure, and that was where they'd gone, but sometime during their conversation Art had taken a...a detour. He wasn't drinking the alcohol [not yet, anyway] but he was giving it a thorough look-over. He'd been in a couple bars before, but it had mostly been delivering messages or running in one door, through the mob and the mess, and out the back to avoid a specific, legal kind of trouble.

He'd never had time to peruse.

Of course, he couldn't read, so it was a matter of taking lids off and giving them a sniff. Nope, not drinking, but he might be a bit woozy soon enough, all the same...

Piran was about to scold Art for considering stealing alcohol, though he would have liked a taste all the same. When he heard his mother calling, however, he hurried out.

Forgetting that they were in the company of others, he latched himself onto her waist and hugged her tightly. Ginny saw how emotional they were both getting, and quietly excused herself to walk over to where Art was perusing the liquor bottles.

"S'only mornin', man, you'll make yerself sick," she commented mildly, leaning over the bar to get out of earshot. Her nose and eyes looked slightly red. "Tell you what. You hang on 'till dinner and I'll give you a nice tot o' gin with your soup. Don't tell the missus, though."

Art looked up at Ginny and, once again, there was a wide flash of a grin across his face. Whether he was ignoring the tearful farewells or if he truly was oblivious was up in the air, but one thing was for certain: he had an astounding talent at good cheer. He almost immediately pushed the bottle closed, leaning against the counter with crossed arms on the bartop.

"Ne, chip, notta word." One hand tugged free to make a zipping gesture across his mouth, his eyes crinkling so much with the smile that they all but vanished. His tone was probably supposed to be suave, except that Art had spent most of his time on the docks. Meant it came out a bit...sleazier than he was probably conscious of. "Wouldn' share a bitta special treatment wif th' old lady."

Fion hugged Piran tightly, not wanting to let go and leave him. It was not the time for second thoughts, even if it was exactly the sort of time for them to appear. Looking at him then, she was struck by how much he resembled his father, when he'd been younger. Even the expression on his face.

Although really, the older he got, the more he acted like Fion.

"I love you, sweets." Fion said, bending down to kiss the top of his head. "You are the best thing that ever happened to me."

It was true and she didn't care if it was the same sentiment echoed by all parents everywhere. She didn't mind if others felt exactly the same. He was her reason, for so many things. Even for what she was about to do, even if he wouldn't have wanted her to do it. She was wanted to fight for their future.

"Arthur?" She called, voice thick but not as bad as it could have been. "I'm going now. I want a hug."

She was a spy but she still valued the direct approach.

A hug? Really? Art had leaned against the bar, fully prepared to knock Ginny's socks off with some sort of clever comment [assuming he could just find one], but that made his self-confident smile falter and fade, eyes sliding onto Fion instead. There was nothing suave about a hug, especially not when it was a demand...

"...speaking of." He pulled a face at Ginny, halfway rolling his eyes like it was a Huge Imposition -- but hopped down and away, ducking off and then creeping more sedately toward Fion. Hands shoved into his pockets and shoulders raised, he'd mostly just endure a hug...

((He sounds so much like my godson's older brother when people he doesn't know want a hug from him! Hands in pockets, leaning into their sides.))

Fion did not so much mind the begrudging hug. It was probably more for her than it was for him, though she wanted his last memory of her to be one that involved affection. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close, held him there for a moment.

"Take care Arthur. I love you." She said, less uncomfortable with allowing herself to be emotionally attached than she might have been in years past. "I'll see you soon."

She let go and rubbed at her eyes. She breathed in and let it go. It was time to leave.

"Ok boys, be good for Ginny." She turned to Gin. "Thank you, take care of yourself."

Then she walked out, ready to be a part of something bigger.