As usual, send all comments/questions/requests/rants personally to:
jenross@win32supportbbs.vnet.net

Hiy'all! Here's another one of my fanfics. There were many 
questions that arose in His Daughter, and this fanfic *might* 
solve some of them. BTW, I *like* this one. I like my own 
fanfic now.

Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine. Any that 
might get created while this story is woven are mine. The 
rest of them are Universals. I am only borrowing them. 

The Price of Life

	Conor woke up before everyone else did. The 
sun wasn't even up. He yawned, then turned his head to 
the beautiful woman sleeping by his side. Caitlin. Smiling 
tenderly, he stroked her cheek ever so lightly with a finger. 
He remembered the previous night's affairs and grinned, 
continuing  the light stroke down her chin. Ever since he 
had married, every night almost had been blissful. He was 
grinning down at her when she opened her eyes. "What's 
so funny?" she asked. It only made him grin wider. 
	"Oh, nothing." he replied. She made a face at him.
	"You toad! Tell me!" she exclaimed. Her fingers 
darted to his ribs, and she tickled him.
	Laughing, he pulled her fingers away. "Stop, Cat! 
I'll tell you!" she giggled, and propped her head on a hand. 
	"As you were saying?" her own grin spread across 
her face. 
	"I was just remembering last night, that's all." he 
admitted. She giggled again. 
	"Just remembering? That's all? That's what that 
big grin was all about?" she shook her head, "I'll never 
understand you." she stood up, and pulled on a clean blue 
tunic. It was Conor's, but it was more comfortable than her 
usual attire these days. Conor came up behind her, and 
wrapped his arms around her. "I have something to tell 
you." she whispered.
	"Aye? What is it?" he asked, rocking her gently. 
	"We're going to have a baby." she said. He stopped 
rocking  her, and raised his eyebrows in surprise, turning her 
around. 
	"Really?" the Prince begged, and she nodded.
	"Aye. Our first child." he drew her close, and then 
caught himself. She chuckled, knowing why he drew back, 
"You can't hurt the babe at its size." She found his breeches 
and helped him put them on, her hands lingering at his waist. 
She ran her hand up his chest, admiring the firm muscles and 
soft skin there. Her hands rested around his chin. She buried 
her hands in his hair and pressed her lips to his. 
	He returned the kiss but broke away after it had 
passed. He picked up a nearly identical tunic, although this 
one was a green color. Sighing,  he put it on. "Cat, finish 
dressing, the village will be up before we know it." He 
turned, and walked away. Frustrated, she sighed. "Why 
did he leave?" she asked herself, and drew a skirt up around 
her legs, knotting it at her waist. Nimble fingers braided her 
hair, and pulled on the band on her finger that Conor had
given to her at their wedding. She left the room and went 
outside, stretching. 
	She spotted Conor squatting by the remains of 
last night's camp fire and giggled at his attempts to 
rekindle it. He looked pitiful in that one moment, like a 
child. She strode over beside him, and put a hand on his 
shoulder. He glanced up. "Conor, let it go. Let someone 
else do it. After all, you are the Prince!" she told him. He 
stood up, and looked down at her.
	"Conor, why did you just leave like that? Why 
are you so...withdrawn after every night?" she fired the 
questions at him, not bothering to quiet herself since no 
one was around. 
	He closed his eyes, and turned around, to walk 
away again. 
	"No, Conor, answer me. Don't avoid me, again." 
she insisted, catching his arm. 
	He looked back at her, and she noticed a tear 
welling in one eye. "I don't want to loose you....like I lost 
Claire...." the tear splashed down his cheek, and she 
automatically brought her hand to his face to wipe it away.
	"You won't loose me. I don't have a father to 
jump in front of." she tried making it funny, but it 
obviously didn't ring as humorous to him.
	"Funny, Cat. You don't understand." he 
walked away from her, towards the woods. 
	Caitlin stared down at the tiny fire he had 
started, and didn't really notice when a tear rolled down 
her own cheek.


	Conor stared down at the pool of water, not 
really staring at anything in particular. He dipped his 
hands into the icy water, and cupped them. The Prince 
threw the water onto his face, and welcomed  the tingling 
sensation. He had been failing Caitlin. Every morning was 
the same. He'd wake up. She'd wake up. She'd try to 
continue that night's love making, and he'd refuse. He'd 
avoid her for most of the morning. 
	Why? He didn't really know why. It definitely 
wasn't her fault. She hadn't once been disappointing. Never. 
It was his fault. He always thought of Claire afterwards. 
Every day. Never once had he and Claire gone as far into 
love making as he and Caitlin did every night, but he still 
thought of her. The only dreams he had were of Caitlin, but 
he still woke and thought of Claire. Claire,  Claire, Claire! 
His dead first love was ruining his marriage! Frustrated, he 
splashed more water on his face, trying to chill it out of 
himself. 
	"Dammit, why?" he asked no one in particular. 
Caitlin came up behind him, and put a hand on his shoulder.
	"Conor." she knelt beside him, trying to look at 
his face.
	"Aye?" he turned towards her, beads of water 
dripping from his chin and hair. A few drops landed on 
Caitlin, which she ignored. 
	"What's wrong? Is it something I did?" she took 
his hands, and looked into his eyes. In them was pain. 
Trouble. His amberish brown eyes weren't the same. He 
wasn't the Conor she knew and loved. This man was 
unknown to her. This man was so foreign, living in a void 
inside Conor. 
	"No." he wouldn't say more. Turning away 
from her gaze, he then stood up. 
	She sighed. "I hear you mumbling in your sleep. 
Its Claire, isn't it." she stood up. But, she didn't really 
need an answer. 
	"It is." he said guiltily. 
	She pushed him into the water. He surfaced, and 
wiped water away from his eyes. "What did you do that for, 
Cat?" he asked angrily.
	"Because you need to wake up, Conor! Join the 
land of the living! Claire's dead! Dead!" she turned on 
her heel, and strode away.  Conor wasn't sure, but he 
could faintly hear sobs.


	Conor closed his eyes, and dove under the 
water. Maybe he'd  go for a little swim. Caitlin was 
right. Claire's dead. Caitlin, however,  was very much 
alive. She was a living, breathing, fighting, beautiful, 
loving woman. Loving...and he had neglected her. He 
surfaced, and  quickly swam to the other side of the pool. 
He pulled himself out, and walked back to the hut.

	Caitlin rocked herself by the fire. She had built 
it up, and sat by it. Crying, she had pulled her knees up to 
her chest. She wiped the tears away from her face, and 
twisted the ring around on her finger. It was a braid. The 
braid  symbolized the bond of two people. It was 
supposed to be two people, at least. So far, it was her and 
no body.  Conor just wasn't really part of that bond. She 
didn't look up when she heard Conor's foot steps tread 
past her. She'd know his stride anywhere. Caitlin doubted 
he knew the same of her. 
	Katherine came up, and sat down beside her. 
"Is it Conor, again?" she asked. Sniffing, Caitlin nodded. 
"And you told him about the baby?" again, she nodded. 
Katherine sighed, "It was Claire, wasn't it?" Caitlin 
couldn't handle it any longer. "He's mumbled in his sleep, 
saying,  'No! You killed Claire!' I'm not sure he knows he 
dreams about her, but he always does. In the morning, he 
ignores me. We spend a wonderful night together, and 
then he decides he doesn't want anything to do with me. 
Why? Because of Claire. Claire, being dead, is more 
present in his mind than Claire being alive. Its always 
her. Never once do I hear him calling out my name 
when he sleeps. During nightmares, he calls out her 
name. Nothing to do with me, any more. All I am is 
his whore, now. I can't stand it any longer."
	Katherine sighed again. "That isn't true, Caitlin! 
You definitely mean more than anything to him. Sometimes, 
when he's sitting all alone, I'll go up to him, and ask him 
what he's thinking about. He is honestly thinking about 
you, and he tells me that." she told her, and stood up. 
"Go talk to him. He'll talk, now.  I saw him go into your 
hut. He was sopping wet. Why would a man go 
swimming with his clothes on? I certainly don't know." 
The woman walked away.
	Caitlin smiled to herself. So, the whole Sanctuary 
saw him dripping wet? She'd go to see him. 

	She found him sitting by the fire, his tunic off, 
and a new pair of leather breeches on. She came up behind 
him, and started rubbing his shoulders. 
	"I wanted to talk to you, Conor. Will you talk 
to me, now?" he turned around, and smiled. He nodded. 
"What were you thinking about, I'm wondering?" 
	He stood up, and took her hands. "Honestly, 
you." as she gave him a look of disbelief, he expounded 
on that. "I was remembering the look on your face when 
we married, the way your fingers curl around your bow, 
the expression your eyes had when I told you a stupid 
joke, everything about you." his eyes told her that what 
he said was the truth.  He stroked her fingers, and smiled 
at her. "Sometimes I know that I may act like I don't care, 
but I do. All the time. You mean more than the sun 
and moon and stars to me. You made me realize that you 
mean more to me than Claire ever did. She's dead. 
You're not. And I love you now." 
	She just stood there. A tear ran down her face. 
He brought his head down, and kissed it away. The taste 
of the salt on his lips was like sugar, and he started 
kissing her cheeks, then lower to her lips, to try to 
get the taste again. She brought her hands to his damp 
curls, and closed her eyes. Her hands trailed down his 
chest, and she wrapped her arms around his waist. His 
own hands gentlely stroked the small of her back, 
and though it normally tickled, now it was fire. He 
trailed that fire up her back, under her tunic. But then, he 
stopped. Annoyed, she asked, "Is it Claire again?" He 
shook his head, pulling  his hands away.
	"I have two reasons. I forgot that I was 
supposed to go out riding with Fergus and Tully today. 
They're probably looking for me. The other reason is 
that I think if we went too far, we might hurt the baby." 
	Smiling, she picked up his now dry tunic and 
pulled it over his head.  "You'd better get going then, but 
we can't hurt the baby like that." she followed him out 
of the hut, both were grinning like fools. Caitlin 
was sure that it wasn't possible for him to grin any 
wider. Fergus and Tully were waiting.
	"I knew you two wouldn't fight for long." 
Fergus told him, chuckling. 
	"I'm going to be a father, though, Fergus!" the 
Prince told him, giving Caitlin one last kiss. 
	"Aye. And you've forgotten Claire. Good." 
Caitlin helped  Conor onto his horse and they rode out, 
Caitlin watching until he was far away. She could still 
see his big grin in her mind. Things were going 
pretty good, so far.


	Conor didn't come back with Fergus and 
Tully the next day. Or the day after that. Every morning, 
Caitlin would walk out, expecting her husband to 
ride up. Fergus and Tully had come back the first day, 
and when she asked why the Prince stayed, they only 
answered that he said he was going to visit friends and 
think for a while. The days passed slowly, then a week 
crept up on her. By that time, Caitlin couldn't sit still. 
She constantly got up from her chair and looked out the 
window when she was inside, or she would always
glance up when she was outside. 
	By the end of the first day of the second week, 
a rider approached town. It was no man, and there was 
a person slumped behind her. Yet, it was Conor's
horse. As the horse came closer, Caitlin saw that it was 
Molly, with Conor behind her. She rushed up to him. 
He was a mess. His face was pale, and when she touched 
his forehead, he burned with a fever. A wound she had
no idea of how he acquired was bleeding openly all over 
his arm. Fergus got him down, and Caitlin followed, 
alarmed, to their hut. Molly tagged behind, and 
snatched her arm. "Caitlin, he's sick. From what he told 
me, you are carrying his child. Don't go to him, you get 
get yourself and your child ill." Caitlin ignored her, and 
sat on the edge of the bed, taking Conor's ripped tunic off.
She looked up at Molly. 
	"How did he get all messed up like this?" a 
million reasons flew through her head at once. He had 
gotten attacked by some Roman, by a beast, or he could 
have fallen off his horse on the way home..... But what was he
doing with Molly? Could they..? No, she wouldn't believe it 
if Conor had actually abused her trust and cheated on her. 
	"He was in our village when he fell under the 
sickness. He fell off his horse and onto the blade of his 
sword when he tried to go home. Don't ask me how he 
managed to do that, Conor's thinking will always remain a 
mystery to me. I'm not even sure why he was in our village." 
she shrugged, and Caitlin could see that she told the truth. 
Either that, or she hid it very well. Probably another trick of 
the Druid Priestesses. Caitlin would never really trust them. 
All of them were creations of the devil, unknowing. She 
wouldn't try to be prejudice about it, but all the Priestesses 
had been strange. Except for Molly- up until now. 
	She wiped the sweat from Conor's brow carefully 
away, painfully aware that only a short while ago, that sweat 
could have been from their lovemaking. She dabbed the 
forehead with a damp rag, and stroked his chin. 
	"Let them be." Fergus whispered to Molly, who 
silently obeyed. She was different from the rebellious 
woman she had seemed to be when Caitlin had last met 
her. They left, and Caitlin bent down, sobbing. 
	"Conor, please, wake up! I've waited for you so 
long, and we just now got back together completely! Our 
baby can't grow up fatherless. Conor, please!"
	She half way expected him to sit up and start 
talking to her in response to her begging. He instead 
fluttered his eyelids, and after a moment, opened them.
	"Claire?" he muttered, and her heart sank. 
	Conor could have hit himself. Horrified that 
Caitlin heard those words uttered through his lips, he 
immediately whispered, "I'm so sorry, Caitlin..." A
tear rolled carelessly down her chin, and on to his hand. 
As an instinct, he tried to wipe it away with a weak 
hand, but she wouldn't allow it.
	"Don't touch me. I thought...you said that...
you told me that..." she couldn't finish, and looked 
away from his eyes. He had claimed that she meant
more to him than the sun, moon, and stars. Then, the 
very next time they spoke, he had broken that vow. 
He had taken her trust, and sent it flying away on an 
arrow that had hit her heart dead center. 
	Biting his lip to keep from wincing from her
harsh words, he tried every excuse he could think of. 
"I was lingering with death. Death had planted her
cold lips upon mine and was convinced into courting 
me away. Claire, being dead, was the image of death 
to me. I didn't know that I was actually alive
when I spoke her name." 
	She shook her head furiously. "You must 
have loved death much, for you wouldn't wake for 
a long while. Molly said you had been out for about 
a day, now. I thought I would lose you. But no. I 
didn't lose you. I got back my husband whole. All 
of him, including his old flame that just won't
extinguish."
	He turned his head to the side, staring at 
the wall, "You have every right to hate me. I don't 
blame you. You're right." she dropped her jaw
slightly, and turned her face back to him. 
	"I'm right? That's the first time any one 
of the male species has ever said anything along that 
line. I'm right. You're wrong. Well, that still doesn't 
matter anything to me. You still matter to me. I love 
you. But you don't love me. You say that every time 
that you say her name." she meant every word
she spoke, he could see that as plain as day. 
	Yet, he had to protest. "I love you. I mean 
that. She is dead." he told it simply, like it was. He 
had known this for a long time, he seemed to 
convey to her. Sitting up ever so slowly, he kissed 
her softly. She closed her eyes, and a fresh tear dribbled 
down. He kissed it away, trying to make things
better. Then he fell back to his blanket roll, exhausted 
from that tiny effort.

	It was the kiss that eventually got her sick. 
She got his fever, and lay gasping in bed only a short 
week later. He was already up, his arm in a make
shift sling. But, because of her pregnancy, she took it 
harder, and it made her sicker than she already was. 
Conor, being the devoted husband that he is, 
sat beside her the whole time, talking to her and wiping 
sweat away. Molly stayed, too, for she was immune to 
the fever and could nurse any one who got it. 
	One morning, Caitlin stood up on her own two 
feet, wobbling a little from weakness. Her stomach was 
gaining the tiniest of roundness, and Conor smiling, 
admired it. He wrapped an arm around her waist to 
steady her, and walked her around. They ventured outside, 
where people gathered around to see the blond prince and 
his princess. She smiled for them, assuring she was
better. The truth shown through. She fainted, crumbling 
to her knees. 
	Conor gathered her into his arms, saying, 
"Caitlin!"
	Caitlin curled up beside Conor, who had just 
recently deemed her well. She had gotten over the fever, 
but it had left her weak. It had been nearly two months 
since she fainted. Nothing majorly bad had happened
since then, and she had only gotten better. He smiled 
at her in his sleep, so she knew that he was thinking, if 
not dreaming of her. She rested her head on his chest, and 
fell asleep.
	Conor woke up first, again. Surprisingly, he 
didn't feel guilty that his beautiful wife who was going 
to bring his child in the world in about three months
was sleeping on his chest. No thoughts of Claire. For 
the first time in six months, he wondered what the 
child would be like. Would it look like him? Would it 
look like Caitlin? Would it be a boy? One that he could 
hunt with, teach to ride and fight, and tell about women 
when he was older? Or would it be a girl, a beautiful 
young girl that looked and acted like her mother?

	He grinned, and wrapped his arms tenderly 
around her. She woke. Clasping his hand, she tried to 
sit up. "I have to pee." she said, grinning at him.
	He watched her leave the hut, and got up 
himself. Groaning, he pulled on his leather pants, just 
in time for her to come back. Grinning again, she 
picked up his leather vest, tying it on for him. He 
pulled her night shirt over her head, and put a soft tunic 
over her body. She held on to him while she slowly
pulled on a skirt. Her body was getting gradually 
larger every day, and it was getting harder to balance. 

	About a month later, she wished that she 
could still stand on her own two feet without falling 
over. She must have miscounted the months, she 
thought, for she the babe was coming very soon, she 
knew it. It had been about nine months since she had 
married the prince, and there was always the
possibility that she had gotten pregnant and not known 
it when they had married. Pain rippled through her 
abdomen. No longer doubting that it was time,
she  fell to her knees, gasping at the first contraction.
	Her breathing slowly turned back to normal 
from its quickened pace. She closed her eyes, taking a 
deep breath. 'I can do this.' she told herself. Her eyes 
opened, and she scanned the room for Conor. He wasn't 
in the hut. She held tightly to the bedpost, and pulled 
herself up. She staggered to the door, and supported 
herself against it before she eased it open. Conor was
outside,  sitting cross legged by the fire. She called out 
his name, and he sprinted over to her. 
	"Cat, are you alright?" he asked, his eye brows 
arching in concern. She nodded, and put a hand on her 
abdomen. 
	"Its the babe. I think it tries to come, now." she 
whispered, and nearly giggled at how high his eyes widened. 
	"What...how...why..wh...what should I do? I don't 
know what to do." he babbled, his eyes getting dangerously 
wide. For once in his life, he had absolutely no idea of what 
he should do. He knew how to conduct any army, how to 
fight in hand-to-hand combat, and how to love a woman. 
But, he had no idea how to deliver a child. That was just not 
one of the things a father taught his son. 
	"Silly, just go get Katherine." she told him, laughing. 
"Its not like either of us deliver babes in our free time." he ran 
off, only concerned with this.
	She sat by the fire, shivering. It was getting so darn 
cold in the hut. Caitlin pulled a blanket off of the bed, and 
wrapped it around her shaking body. Her head was burning 
up with Satan's flame, yet she had to be colder than ice. 
A few minutes later, Conor came back with Katherine. 
	"And what are you doing delivering a child on 
Samhain?" she greeted, and Caitlin shrugged. "A child comes 
when it wants. Obviously, it agrees more with its mother's 
religion, that doesn't have a good excuse for Samhain being
a wicked day, than its father's religion, that has Samhain as 
being a day when things die and come back as a spirit, or 
what have you." she tightened her eye lids, and bit on her 
lip as another painful contraction ripped through her body. 
That one was worse than the first. 
	Katherine was watching Conor's reactions the 
whole time. He was still young. If Caitlin was to die in 
childbirth, like many women did, he couldn't see it, or he 
might behave drastically after that. 
	Conor didn't think that, at first. He was thinking of 
Samhain. Every time a child was to be born on Samhain, 
always either the mother or the child died. 
Occasionally, both did. Never once had he ever wished death 
on any one.  Aye, he would occasionally wish that the 
Romans would just go die so that he wouldn't have to worry 
with that problem any more. But never just one person, 
save Longinus. He wasn't a man. He was a monster. But 
Caitlin, and his little child that would be born...they were 
real people, people that he loved more dearly than life itself. 
	"Conor, maybe you shouldn't be in here, right now." 
Katherine warned, lightly pushing the prince out. He shook 
his head stubbornly, almost like a child.
	"She's my wife, and I love her. I'll stay and help." he
protested. 
	Katherine sighed. "Its a bad omen for men to be in 
the room during labor. Please, Conor, leave." When he didn't 
move, she looked to Caitlin for help.
	She was no help. Her eyes were concentrated on her 
husband like life depended on it. Her breathing was speeding 
up, and after a moment, she cried out in more pain. 
	"The contractions are coming too soon together, 
Conor, please, if you won't leave, go get some help. I can't 
do this by myself." Conor didn't move immediately, so 
she nearly shouted at him, "For the love of the gods, man, 
help us! Go get some help!" Conor left. 
	Katherine quickly joined Caitlin. Crouching by her 
side, she saw she was staring at her hand. On the hand was 
some blood. 
	"Am I supposed to bleed when I'm giving birth?" 
she asked, frightened. "Oh, Katie, it hurts so bad!" 
	Katherine shook her head, and clamped her eyes 
shut. "No, Cat, you aren't supposed to bleed." afraid for 
her friend, she gasped. What would happen when things 
intensified? The pain would be much more than she had
already experienced. If she was bleeding so soon into the 
birthing, she would certainly be in much more pain than 
she already was in. 
	
	Conor waited outside of the hut, sitting on the 
ground. He tried not to hear the pained screams coming 
from inside. Fergus came up, and smiled at him.
	"So, you're going to be a father." he tried to make a
conversation out of it, perhaps brighten up the prince's mood. 
	"And I never should have done it. Look what its 
doing to Caitlin!" he shook his head. "And I'm not even ready 
to be a father." 
	Fergus shook his head. "Either was I when Molly 
was born. And now she is in there, helping your wife bear 
you a child. Neither of you think you are ready. Derek, 
when your brother was born, didn't think he was ready,
either. But when you were born, he was so ready to take 
his little son into his arms that we had to hold him back at 
first, so he wouldn't crush you. You were a wee lad, and 
look what you are now. A father!" 
	That didn't seem to help things at all. "And how is 
it going to be easy to get a baby's head out of there, I think I 
hurt her enough when it just us..." he wondered aloud, and 
Fergus gave a big laugh. "That wasn't funny." he glared at 
him, and Fergus sighed. 
	"I'm sorry, Conor. Everything will turn out fine." 
he put a hand on the man's shoulder, and grinned. "But what 
are you going to name it if its a lad?"

	Conor smiled. "I was thinkin of calling him Liam."
	Fergus nodded. "A good name. What if it was a lass? 
Be careful, if you try to name her Claire, Caitlin will have your 
hide." he laughed, and this time, Conor joined in on the laugh. 
	"Na, I wouldn't do that. Actually, I was thinkin of 
Aerin. Caitlin suggested it." Conor shuddered as he heard another 
scream. 
	Fergus saw it, and offered a friendly smile. "She'll be 
alright, Conor." 

	Caitlin wasn't having an easy time with it. Tears ran 
wild down her face, and she gripped Molly's hand tighter than 
a death grip. Katherine, at her end, encouraged her. "C'mon, Cat! 
Just one more push and we'll have the baby in your arms." 
Crying out, Caitlin supplied that push. Katherine guided the
child out, and carefully severed the cord. 
	"Its a girl!" Katherine announced. Panting, Caitlin 
raised her head.  Katherine carefully bathed the baby, then put 
her in her mother's waiting arms. Caitlin was weak, but she 
still insisted on holding her baby. Smiling, she stroked her 
finger over the tiny red nose, the soft light colored down
on her head, and over the bright green eyes. Already her hair 
was curlier than her father's. 
	"My little Aerin. She looks like her father." Katherine 
picked the child up, and assured the mother, "I'm going to get 
her Da to hold her."

	Conor was sitting nervously beside Fergus when the 
screams were silenced. "What's wrong?" he asked, looking up 
in alarm. 
	"Probably nothing, lad." he told him. 'Conor's too 
tense. Cat will be alright. She better be. She was like my sister. 
Or my daughter.' 
	Katherine came out shortly, holding a bundle in her 
arms. "You have a beautiful daughter, Conor. Caitlin named 
her Aerin."
	Conor's eyes couldn't have been wider. His child! He 
was a father.  "Fergus! I'm a father!" he stood up, and followed 
Katherine into the hut. He looked down at the baby, holding 
her ever so carefully, like if she received any thing besides the 
extra care then she would break. She was perfect. A beautiful
baby goddess delivered from her perfect mother. Wanting to 
share the moment of tender perfection with Caitlin, he looked 
up at her. But, her eyes weren't on him. They were focused on 
the chair in front of her. They weren't bright, and she looked 
almost exactly like a limp doll. He walked over to her, and put
the baby in her arms. "Cat, our baby!" he whispered. She 
slowly turned her head to him. Every movement hurt. 
	"I'm sorry, Conor. I love you." she whispered, her lips 
barely moving.
	"Cat, its alright..." he brought his lips to her's for a kiss,
but while he was there, he couldn't feel her pulse. Startled, he 
brought his hand up to her neck. Keeping his fingers there 
for a moment, he couldn't feel the normally strong beat that 
he knew was there. She couldn't be....dead....no! 
	In denial, he whispered it. "No!" he looked up at the few 
women in the room. "No!" he almost shouted. The baby cried, 
and Conor took her into his arms. 
	"We're alone, little one!" he stared down at her. 
	He had done this. This little perfect being and he had 
killed Cat. He had. The child hadn't meant to. But he had gotten 
her pregnant. He had done it...
	
	Later that day, he held Aerin close as they lowered 
Caitlin into a fresh grave. He wiped away a tear, willing himself 
to stop crying. Mourning would get him no where. But it wouldn't 
stop. He had loved her. No, he loves her. He loved her more than 
he had loved Claire. She wouldn't be forgotten any easier than 
Claire was. Katherine came up to him after they had finished 
burying her. 
	"What will you do with Aerin? She needs a mother." 
	"I can't raise her here. She'd remind me too much of 
her mother, and she is the little princess. While we are in war 
with the Romans, she won't be safe. I have a friend...in 
Britannia. He works for the Romans...but he is a friend of 
my father's, before the Romans came to Eire. Could you...
could you take her to them? Aerin could be raised as one 
of them, by you, if you might, and she would live a better
 life..."
	Katherine knew that this was very hard on him. 
Loosing his wife and his little baby in one day...she nodded. 
For Caitlin, she would do this. "We will leave on the next 
ship, if you wish it." 
	Conor nodded. "Its for the best."
	A few days later, Conor watched them sail away. 
"Loosing Caitlin was the price for the life of my little Aerin.
But I won't loose hope. Loosing hope could prove fatal. For 
my people, I'll carry on. For Da. For my mother. For my
brother. For Claire. And for Caitlin. We shall triumph."
				*
Tell me what you think. More fanfics to come, soon! As 
usual, send all comments/questions/rants privately to: 
jenross@win32supportbbs.vnet.net

Gwen