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Chapter 95: Home at Long Last

Liam was walking back to Faelen's Irish home with his lover and two friends, though they were also accompanied by his great-granddaughter Kiera O'Conall and a young Welsh Spirit by the name of Bran Ap Dafydd. He had met a few Welsh Furs in his previous life, but never a Welsh Spirit. He found it rather unfortunate that this first meeting included such terrible speciesist language. Yet there was something...familiar -- disturbingly so -- about him.

He glanced over at Kiera. Her body language throughout the entire afternoon bespoke of discomfort and uncertainty; it was most obvious that she was informed of their relationship and found it...difficult to assimilate. He inhaled to speak to her as he fell back slightly, but his distraction caused him to breathe carelessly. He exploded into a fierce coughing fit, nearly falling to his knees.

Faelen appeared by his side as if by magic, cradling him tenderly despite the dense swirl of Spirits moving around them. "Are you okay, Liam? Should Nathanial bring us home so you can lie down?"

How, pray tell, was he to answer while wracked with convulsive coughs? He could barely cease long enough to draw a shuddering breath before the painful explosions resumed. It appeared that was sufficient answer. A crackling black dome surrounded them, forcing the passing Spirits to move far enough around them to allow Nathanial to open a portal. Faelen scooped Liam up and stepped into Geoff's bedroom, then laid him down carefully on the bed.

Nathanial was the last to enter the portal, and he closed it behind him. Ap Dafydd was looking around curiously, but mostly watched Nathanial and how Faelen was doting on Liam. Everyone pretty much ignored the youngest Spirit for the moment.

Liam very carefully inhaled, grateful for a lungful of air, as the coughing fit finally abated. Faelen was holding his paw and rubbing his back, so Liam withdrew his paw. "I am well, Faelen; it was a mere tickle brought upon by a careless breath."

Faelen stood up with a snort. "A tickle? Please. Why are you so careful with other people's health but underestimate how serious something is when you are the patient? Do you want me to put the kettle on so you can have another mug of your cold medicine?"

"It's already on, Faelen." Nathanial turned from the bed and began packing. "I assume both stacks of clothes by your bags are going back with us, Liam? Faelen?" Geoff's clothes began sorting themselves out, folding, and floating into his duffle bag. Nathanial's clothes were almost done. Ap Dafydd was almost entranced by the procession, but he still found time to peer curiously back at the bed.

Liam slowly sat up, trying to hide the quiver in his arms. "Indeed. You have my gratitude, Nathanial. I regret I had no chance to paint while here; perhaps next time."

Bran stared directly at Liam, his tone sharp but not overly hostile as he asked, "How old are you?"

Geoff snorted and balled up his fist as if wishing to clout his young friend. "Don't be rude, Bran. Some Furs find that question impolite if you don't know them. It's like asking what type of Spirit you are."

Kiera sat on the side of the bed, seeming to have come to some sort of decision. "Sir, your friend is still sick. Now that everyone's clothes are packed, why don't all of you leave and let him rest? I'll sit with him a bit so you and Faelen can visit with Bran."

Nathanial seemed to catch her intent as quickly as Faelen did. He nodded and moved to the door. "That's very kind of you, Kiera. I was going to make a quick snack for us in the kitchen, anyway. Come on, guys, Liam could probably use some peace." He ushered everyone out, especially Bran, before pausing at the door. "Tea or medicine?"

"Tea, if you please. I have much to do at home and the medication will put me to sleep."

Nathanial nodded and slipped out the door, closing it behind him.

Liam leaned back against the headboard, watching Kiera. She fidgeted, smoothing out her leather pants, adjusting her silk blouse (which she appeared to find somewhat uncomfortable), and otherwise doing all she could to not look at him. She bore many obvious traits, both physical and in mannerisms, that he had come to consider 'O'Conall' traits. He could see many things she inherited from him and others from Lorie. He would have recognised her as his descendant as surely as he recognised Dirk and Faelen.

She opened and closed her mouth a few times before Liam decided to spare her the discomfort. "Yes, I was Lowell O'Conall. Yes, you are my great-granddaughter. No, I do not overly care what you call me. If you are more comfortable with addressing me as 'Liam,' do so. If you wish to have some formality, then do as Dirk and Conor do and add the honorific 'sensei' to my name. For a more familiar form, you may do as your father does and call me 'Poppy Liam.' It is all the same to me."

She smiled shyly. "So Faelen inherited that from you? The fondness -- and skill -- for guessing what people are thinking?"

"Perhaps. He is somewhat better at it than I am. I was aware that you were concerned about my little Danny." The 'slip' caused the desired reaction; Kiera's smile grew and she relaxed some. Liam continued as if he was unaware of it. "Pardon, your grandfather Aedan. It was expected that Faelen and Dirk would tell you their...our secret. I had expressed my desire to meet you officially as family at a later date, when I was not ill, but things do not work as we desire when the Fates oppose it."

She shook her head, still partially facing away from him due to her position on the edge of the bed. "I...was going to wait until the next time I saw you, when you were better, but...it was just eating at me all through the funeral. I don't think I could focus on my schoolwork with this over me the whole time."

"Then it's a good thing you got it off your chest, lass." Liam shook his head, driving Lowell back. She'd reminded him of Aoife too much just then. Kiera gave a start, so Liam tried to explain what happened. "I do not know how much Faelen has explained about Ancient Ones, but I have many past lives and at times echoes of those lives surface and the habits I had therein can override my current ones. Speech patterns are the most common. You reminded me of my sweet Aoife just then, rousing Lowell."

"Doesn't that get confusing? Having so many personalities? Memories?"

She moved farther onto the bed and turned to face him, curling her hindpaws to one side and partially beneath her as Aoife so often did, when he began to answer. He laughed. "Yes, lass, everyone else gets really confused. Some have more trouble with the idea than others, but most people eventually get their little mortal noggins 'round the concept." His eyes twinkled as he teased her, knowing full well she wanted to know if he got confused. "Youngsters like you have flexible minds and keen imaginations...at least when your muzzles aren't buried in those infernal computational contraptions, so you'll figure it all out before long."

The small, shy smile returned; it was a rather endearing one, but not a mannerism she shared with sweet Aoife. Kiera laughed quietly, too, an almost sultry laugh that caused his heart to break. It was an echo of Muiry's.

The laugh cut off and she put her paw on his calf. "Are you all right...Poppy?"

He wiped his eyes before answering, "Yes, lass, I'm fine. You... You just sounded like Muiry." He shook his head and steadied himself. "My poor, beautiful, Muiry. I didn't mean to worry you, Kee."

She smiled wanly. "Dirk told you my nickname? Not many people call me that, just Da and him."

Liam shook his head again. "No, actually, he didn't. I often shortened people's names like that; Den loved it. He began doing the same thing and I guess it stuck."

"How... How long do your, um, echoes stay...echoing?"

He sighed heavily, if carefully, and pushed Lowell aside. "Until I try, and manage, to resume control. It takes energy for them to wake and to be subsumed again, but it consumes less energy for them to remain dominant than either, though it is a constant drain. At times it is more efficient to allow at least some of the echo of the past life to remain active in my conscious mind than to keep fighting it. When dealing with my children it is difficult to keep Lowell at bay. You share many traits with your aunts so it is easy for Lowell to be roused. Not just your aunts, either; I see much of your father in you, and Ciaran, too. It is somewhat surprising to find you remind me of Aedan the least of all my children. You have not tripped nor spilt anything since I have met you, at the very least." Liam switched to a different topic before she could continue. He found it...uncomfortable to discuss his nature for long. "Bran Ap Dafydd. Who is he? Why is a Welsh Spirit living in the Cork Clan? Will he be trouble?"

Kiera grinned mischievously. "You don't want to talk about you anymore? As you will. Bran is the son of the next Cardiff Alpha-well, presumably the next alpha. There aren't any Spirits near his age so Alpha McDougal allowed his family to come here so he may attend school with Spirits near his own age. They've promised that they'll move back to Cardiff when Bran graduates high school. He's a Raven Spirit."

Kiera stopped talking when Liam put a paw to his head. He felt strange, like he did when he saw Geoff after cleansing Garret Marks. It was as if his 'mystery life' reacted to something Kiera said or did, but he could not quite place it. It...would likely have to be-- He cut off the thought when he began to feel even dizzier and weaker than he already was. A sharp pain, caused by too little chi, flashed across his head; had this mystery life roused any farther he would have fallen unconscious.

Kiera moved to kneel beside him and placed her paw on his forehead. "What's wrong? You don't feel feverish." She put a finger on his nose. "No, not too warm or unexpectedly dry, no more than I'd expect from a cold. Should I get Faelen?"

The door burst open as she said his love's name. Faelen dashed over to stand at the edge of the bed. "Liam?" His voice was strained as he attempted to control it. "What happened? You scared me. I thought you were going to pass out again, it was just like the time..."

The sheen forming in those blue eyes, the eyes that blessed and haunted his every waking thought (if he could wax poetic for a moment), caused his heart to cry in sympathy and in regret for causing pain to such a marvellous man. "I was merely dizzy for a moment. Ap Dafydd is approaching, so please compose yourself. We may discuss this later. Retreat to the bathroom to give cause for your abrupt departure, please." He fingered the feather attached to his choker where it lay beneath his shirt.

Faelen nodded and quietly slipped across the hall, closing the bedroom door behind him, before Ap Dafydd finished ascending the stairs. Nathanial was following behind with the tea set, though with more care. The young Spirit tapped on the door.

Kiera sat back on the edge of the bed. "Enter."

The keen, dark eyes flicked across the room before the pup slipped into the room. "Where'd Faelen run off to? He suddenly bolted from the kitchen as if he heard someone was dying." He stepped aside to let Nathanial in.

Nathanial spoke for the three of them while he set up the tea. "He's in the bathroom. I hope he's not getting really sick, too." He smiled as he joked. "If the two of you were sick, I wouldn't stand a chance."

Ap Dafydd took him seriously. "No, of course not. If it's bad enough for a Spirit to catch, you Mages and Furs don't stand a chance. You guys catch every little bug that comes along." He cocked his head to the side, startled by a sudden realization. "How do you know where he is? You were behind me."

Nathanial poured a cup of tea for Liam and passed it to him before answering the aggravating little Spirit. "I, um, see things. Stuff all around me."

Liam took a sip of the tea while Nathanial was still speaking and quickly cut in before Ap Dafydd could continue poking his muzzle into their affairs. He had dealt with pups of Bran's temperament many times in his past lives -- most notably during Song Li's life -- and he found Bran to be reasonably pleasant outside of his fear of losing his friends. He was both inquisitive and manipulative. The former was usually a desirable trait; the latter not so much. His skill in both matters could prove troublesome if he was not handled carefully...though he needed to work on his subtlety. "We have school tomorrow, Nathanial. Have you completed your history assignment?"

The Akita nodded. "Yeah, I try to get them done as soon as possible after they're assigned. You never know what can come up to take all your time." His posture indicated the things which arose in his past were things he did not enjoy. "I just need to do those math problems and some review of our last chemistry class and I'm ready." The toilet flushed in the washroom. "Do you think you will be recovered enough to go to school? We have the meeting with the, um, what is it called? The group that's helping with the auction and all the other stuff."

"They have no official name; they are merely an aggregate of clubs within the school that have talents I wish to utilize. They shall deal with all the other people that shall be brought in to the event, sparing me the unnecessary grief." Liam sighed as he began running through his extensive list of 'things that must be accomplished, attended to, or contemplated.' Dealing with the extraneous activities tacked onto a simple auction, and the people it involved, was a complication that he did not wish to handle. "I will be in sufficient health to attend school, yet the pressures upon my already strained schedule are undesired." Faelen came into the room, so Liam took the opportunity to switch topics. "Let us rejoin Geoff and relax for a short time before returning to Halifax."

---

Nathanial turned the screen off on his phone after he sent the short text message to Nicholas: 'I'm home.' He looked around the basement feeling terribly lonely, despite the fact that he'd been alone for less than five minutes. Geoff and Faelen were at their house preparing the things they'd need for the next few days, then they'd run back over. Conor and Dirk had to stay in Ireland to deal with the many crises that'd come up, such as the Knights' failed assassination attempt on the Canadian Spirits' alphas. They'd be coming back on Tuesday when Alpha McDougal came over for a visit. Nathanial noticed there was some of the usual clutter around the entertainment unit, including an empty beer bottle, which wasn't so usual; he'd have to get after Garret for that. It did make the house feel a little less...cold, though.

Nathanial had just put his clothes in the hamper, hung his suit up, placed the roses Geoff gave him in a small vase in the kitchen (via telekinesis), and was bringing his homework upstairs when his phone rang. It was from Nicholas. He quickly tapped in his password and answered it. "Hi, Nick." His tail wagged rapidly as he peeked through the phone and saw his family. 'My family.' Nicholas sat in the front seat, looking bored as he gazed out the window with the phone to his ear, despite his own tail betraying his happiness. Micah was bouncing in the back seat as he waved at the phone; his gold eyes were sparkling in the white fur that made the mask-like pattern on his face. The 'newest' member of Nathanial's family was driving the car. 'Garret Marks. My dad. Not just the guy who sired me, not just my father, but my dad.' Nathanial felt himself choking up as all this flashed through his mind faster than Nicholas could answer.

"Hey. We're on our way."

Nathanial grinned eagerly. "Yeah, I can see that. Gods, I missed you guys." He sniffled, making Nick sit up in alarm. "Sorry. I'm all right, I... I just miss you. "

The worry didn't completely vanish from Nick's face. "Yeah, well, that's hardly a reason to turn on the water-works...um, but...me, too." The last few words were a barely audible whisper. It looked like Nicholas's eyes were a little misty.

"Hey, hey! Hi, Nats! Dad's driving us home! We'll be there soon!" Micah grabbed the backs of the front seats and strained against his seatbelt. "Let's go, Dad!" He laughed. "Gods, Nats, it was soo fun!"

Garret rolled his eyes and his knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. "Micah, please don't shout or shake my seat. I'm trying to drive."

Nathanial quickly sent his mind over to his father. *Dad, if you can find a secluded spot I can just open a portal for you so you can pull right into the garage.*

The relief on Garret's handsome face was priceless. "Hera bless you, Nathanial. May all the gods bless you." He began slowing down, ignoring the confusion on his sons' faces. "The highway is empty for as far as I can see, so once I stop you can open the portal."

Nathanial dumped his book bag on the kitchen counter and ran through the house toward the garage. Garret had slowed to a crawl just as he got there, so Nathanial opened it ten feet in front of the car and just on the inside of the garage. Garret carefully drove through and stopped the car.

Micah popped out of the back seat even before the engine was off and wrapped his arms around Nathanial, squealing, "Nats!"

The eldest Marks pup turned off his phone and pocketed it while Nicholas climbed out of the car. Nathanial returned Micah's hug happily. "Hi, Sprite. I'm so glad to see you again. I missed you." He leaned over to lick his baby brother's ears. "It looks like you gave Dad some trouble, though." He gave Nick a fist bump as his brother walked by to fetch his luggage.

Micah's face fell. "I didn't mean to, I was just so excited I kept getting louder than he liked and couldn't stay close." Standard Micah behaviour; the pup just couldn't ignore something that caught his attention. He whimpered as he looked over at their father. "I'm sorry, Dad. I don't mean to make problems for you."

Garret looked haggard as he met Micah's forlorn gaze. "I know, Micah. Hi, Nathanial." He leaned over Micah to give Nathanial a quick hug. "Someone bring my stuff in. I'm going to go lie down." The middle-aged Dog looked like he was in his eighties as he staggered inside.

Nathanial frowned at his sheepish brothers. "I just got home, too, so let's take a little while to settle in before you tell me all about your trip. Bring your stuff downstairs, throw the dirty clothes in the hamper, and have sex. I'll bring Dad's stuff in and see you in a bit."

Micah's face lit up in excitement. "Yay!" He spun around and all of his clothes vanished except for the cord and pendant his cloak turned into. He was already three-quarters hard and rapidly reaching a full erection. Micah grabbed Nick's paw and began dragging him inside. "Let's go, let's go, let's go! I need your dick really bad!" It looked like Nick needed it just as much, though his pheromones weren't too strong. "You can do it properly this time, too." They ran as fast as they could toward the basement.

Nathanial shook his head in amusement as he picked up Garret's small suitcase. He made sure everything was closed up and straightened out in the garage before walking back inside. He scanned around reflexively before he went to the bottom of the stairs leading to the second floor. His father was in his bedroom on the third floor filling up the hot tub while he sat slumped over on the edge of it. *Dad? I'm bringing your stuff up; do you want me to bring a coffee or something, too? A scotch?*

*Vodka and orange juice. Two fingers of vodka. Hells, just bring the bottle and forget the orange juice.*

Nathanial didn't think that last bit was a good idea, so, using his magic, he poured two fingers of vodka and topped the glass off with orange juice while he walked upstairs. He began shaking slightly when he reached the second floor. He paused as he put the drink and a bottle of scotch on the service elevator and sent it up to the third floor ahead of him. He carefully ascended to the third floor and levitated the tray of liquor over to him.

*D-Dad?* Even his mental voice was quivering and barely 'audible.' *I-I'm... I'm outs-side your room.*

*Come in.*

Nathanial was shaking as he opened the door, but he began calming down as he walked into his father's bedroom suite. It had no signs of Lily's touch, not like the rest of the floor or the second one. He walked into the large bathroom and levitated the glass of vodka over to his father.

"Thanks." Garret was still fully clothed, even though the tub was nearly full. He took the glass and drank it in one long draught.

Nathanial turned off the faucet, put the scotch on the long counter, and sent the suitcase into the other room. He let part of his mind deal with that while he went to his father and hugged him from behind. "I love you, Dad. I'm sorry they wore you out like this." Garret absently patted his paw, sighing, so Nathanial gently pulled the tired Dog to his hindpaws. "Let's get you in the tub. A long soak and some quiet will do wonders for you." He began stripping the clothes off his unresisting...and hot father, trying very hard not to betray how exciting he found it.

In short order he helped Garret slip into the hot water and flipped on the jets. His father leaned back in the two person tub, groaning. "Thanks. Can you pour me another glass?"

Nathanial took the used glass, floated it over to the counter, and brought back a finger of scotch in a clean one. "Here, Dad." He pressed the glass into the pliant paw, but held it when Garret went to raise it. "This is scotch, not a mixed drink. Take your time and enjoy it; don't drink to get drunk or I'll have to take it from you." He met his incredulous father's eyes. "I mean it, Dad. I just got you back and I don't want to risk losing you to a bathroom mishap. Just relax, please. They're downstairs and without the excitement of the park they'll be much quieter. If not, I'll deal with it. You did a marvellous job; I'm proud of you, Dad." He leaned in to nuzzle the orange and white ear. "Thank you for being here."

Garret took a small sip of the scotch. "Thank you for caring, Nathanial. I don't deserve it, not after the way I treated the three of you. You're right, of course. Getting drunk wouldn't be a good example for them and it would be a stupid thing to do in the tub when I'm this tired. If you keep your paws to yourself you can hop in with me. I could use some quiet company."

Nathanial smiled and began stripping down before he paused, blushing. "I-I'm, um, a little hard. Can I still get in? I'll behave."

Garret was leaning back with the glass pressed against his forehead and his eyes closed. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever. It's not like I don't get hard, too...or haven't seen your dick before. Just shut up and get in the tub."

Nathanial smiled at the way Garret sounded like Nick and finished taking his clothes off. He slipped into the tub and pulled one of his father's hindpaws onto his lap. Garret opened an eye and raised an eyebrow questioningly. Nathanial blushed again. "I was going to rub your hindpaws. They seem tender."

"They are. Thanks." Garret's eye closed again, so Nathanial began rubbing the leathery pads. They sat in near silence for a long time, just enjoying the others company and the hot water.

---

Liam walked into his home with a small pang of regret. He was pleased to be back where he had such a familiar routine. It had been sorely taxed over the last month, but he had luxuriated in the nostalgia of Ireland. So much and yet so little had changed. His ears and nose twitched as he attempted to locate his father; it appeared the chubby Rottweiler was absent at the moment. No matter, it would give him an opportunity to complete some work in peace. Liam still sent a text message to his current father, as a courtesy, to inform him of his arrival.

Talk of home -- correction, Ireland -- and Walter made him recall the thoughts that had long dominated his mind as Lowell. Who were his parents in that life? Why did they abandon him? It wasn't an uncommon occurrence in that era for a woman to leave a child on the steps of an orphanage, all the more so if it was the result of rape or if she were a single mother. Contraception was...less than perfect at the time, and abortions were illegal back alley affairs and highly dangerous. Was Lowell the result of someone raping some poor woman?

He shook his head to drive the thoughts away. These questions had been proven to be unanswerable in Lowell's life; thus they bordered on impossible now. They were also completely irrelevant. He had both his parents this time, and they both loved him...and he them. He was the offspring of a loving relationship, even though it later ended.

He ascended the stairs after putting away his art supplies, stripped naked, and then began sorting the clothing he had brought back from Ireland, including the suit Ciaran had lent him. Once done, he collected his homework and brought it down to the kitchen table. He took a deep breath, cleared his mind, and began whipping through the simplistic drudgery that was required.

Twenty minutes later he finished and was settled comfortably on his stool in the art corner. He picked up the violin, tuned it, and began playing Sergei Prokofiev's Sonata for Solo Violin. Prokofiev was a current fascination for him; he was born during Lowell's later years, far too late to begin composing before Lowell had died. The style of the Fur's works were quite a departure from what he was used to, yet when compared to truly modern works Liam began to see them in a new light -- a most favourable light.

His ears perked when he heard his father's Vespa putter into the carport, but he did not cease playing. Even when Walter entered the house and came to stand in the doorway by the kitchen he did not stop, but continued until he finished the second movement. He lowered the violin and met his father's eyes. "Good morning, Dad. I hope your day has been pleasing thus far."

Walter smiled and walked over as he spoke. "Hi, Liam. It's been all right; I was over visiting Mary and telling her some of what's been going on. You look and sound a lot better. She'll be relieved to see that."

From this Liam assumed she did not go to her morning church service, which was unusual but not unheard of. "Mom will be visiting today? Alone, I trust?" The last thing he needed was the strain of trying to be polite to her boyfriend. However, if his mother's visit was to be, he had to take care of some other business. "First, thank you for your concern; I am in better health, though not fully recovered. Second, before Mom comes over, let me confirm that Mrs. Davis did not call while I was out." Walter quickly shook his head, much to Liam's relief. "Good, I am pleased. I will call her to inquire about her health and -- pending a favourable response -- then prepare for Mom's visit."

Walter nodded and put his paw on Liam's shoulder. "First, I get a hug. Second, how are you holding up...pertaining to Muireann? Third, I love you, Son." He had a small smile on his face, despite the obvious concern therein. He frequently did so when gently teasing his son. Yet Walter must be bothered by something, for he very rarely spoke of his emotions.

Liam had no qualms in giving his father the hug he desired; indeed, it was a relief and a comfort. He held onto the chubby adult as he answered the question. "I...am as well as can be expected, Dad. It is very painful to lose her so soon after regaining her, and the manner in which I lost her... I...wish I could have heard an 'I love you, Daddy,' or some other acknowledgement, before she..." He could not continue. His eyes welled up with tears and they ran down his cheeks before he could catch them.

Walter's arms tightened around him and merely held him in silence as the grief spilt over the walls Liam had made to hold it back.