See Chapter One (Part A) For Disclaimers

Chapter Three

"Ready?" Alex popped her curly dark head around the door, watching as Moira hopped around the room, looking for her other shoe.

"Damn.  Am I late?  I can't seem to find anything tonight. . ."

"Oh, not really.  The boys aren't dead of boredom yet."  A rich, warm chuckle followed the statement.  "Thought you might need a little help."

"Done and eternally grateful, too.  Kat, you look lovely!" Moira exclaimed as the little girl filed in behind Rose.

Alex had curled her soft brown hair into little ringlets that framed her young face, allowing the rest to fall loosely from the pile on top of her head.  The soft blue dress they had found while on their 'girl's day out' last week was adorable without being 'precious' and suited the eight year old to a tee.

The three women traded smiles, remembering that day.

Moira had met Katherine Corrigan and her mother, Rachel shortly after her tiff with Derek and had taken an instant liking to the child.  Sunny and quick as a whip, Kat was one of the few children she had taken to immediately.  Little Kat acted more adult than most people Moira had worked with in the past year or more, while still retaining a child's enthusiasm and the former reporter could see that Rachel was justifiably proud of her daughter.

But Alex had declared a 'no men allowed' shopping day to prepare for tonight's gala event.Nick had mimed an arrow through the heart, feigning boredom and traded knowing looks with Phillip who had rolled his eyes.  Derek had only smiled at the other men's antics, enviting them all to enjoy themselves.

Kat had had a wonderful time; they all did.  Trying on dress after fancy dress, creating miniature fashion shows, chatting about which style or color looked best for which person.  Stopping only briefly in a small cafe for a quick bite of lunch, the four girls were soon off again, lugging packages from boutique to boutique.  By the end of the day they had all begun to feel a little giddy; like Cinderella in a fairy tale.

We'll have to make plans to do that again, Alex thought while sitting Moira down at her dresser to do her hair.  That was fun.

"Moi, what did you do?" She asked her in dismay, using the same nickname that Nick had adopted for his old friend.  Over the past couple of weeks, the two women had become the best of friends and found that they had much in common.  Not the least of which was an appreciation of a good joke.

Moira would have shaken her head if Alex hadn't been working on it.  Instead she sighed ruefully.  "I'm not sure.  It was supposed to have been something like a french twist.  Simple and elegant."

"Girl. . .nevermind."  Alex did shake her head while Kat and Rose sat on her bed, fascinated.  "We'll make you gorgeous.  Rose can you get my kit from my room?"

"I'll get it Alex!" Kat offered and was off the bed in a shot.

Alex chuckled as she disappeared out the door.  "Your kit?" Moira asked her curiously.  "Alex, what are you going to do to me?"

"Nothing. . ."  The researcher protested, laughing.  "Like I said -- we're going to make you gorgeous.  Can't have the chairman of the Luna Foundation going to the ball with an ugly white woman, now can we?"

Moira met her friend's eyes in the mirror and, despite her best efforts, the reporter's lips quirked into a grin.  "Well. . .no, I guess not."

"Heaven forbid."  Rose intoned solemnly, mimicing the dutch accent.

"Exactly, I'm glad you agree.  Thank you Kat -- just sit it on the dresser."  Alex mumbled, pins in her mouth while her hands did magical things to Moira's white hair.  When she was done, the result was the perfect french twist the reporter had been trying for and failed.  After a moment's study, she pulled a couple strands loose to soften the effect around the face and neck.  "Now, let's see. . ."  she rumbled around in her kit for something, "Ah, here it is."

"Alex. . .what about the peach or beige?  And the charcoal?" Rose said, studying her thoughtfully.

"And the blue or lavendar?"

"But only a little," Rose confirmed, ", or it wouldn't look right."

"Right."

Moira followed the exchanged, amused.  "May the victim ask what you two are talking about?"

"Your war paint, pale face."  Alex told her firmly.  "While I still think it was the perfect choice, that dress does nothing for your color."  She smiled impishly.  "Makes you look like you've seen a ghost."

Moira raised an eyebrow elegantly, saying nothing.

Rose and Kat traded giggles from the bed.

Because, in the past two weeks, not only had Moira seen a ghost but both she and Alex had helped ease the apparition's fears, setting it free to roam were it would, instead of being confined for eternity, doomed to haunt the ground on which it died.  Far from being upset at her death, after the initial shock wore off -- and finding that her dog Brandy had been taken care of -- the appariton, Debbie Himes, had stated almost in glee, "Now I can cause some trouble!" And had promptly disappeared.

Presumably to start causing some mischief.  So what tells me we haven't seen the last of Miss Himes around this House?

But Moira had sobered.  "War paint.  You. . .may not be far wrong in that. . ."

"Don't you worry.  Things have a way of working out for the best. . .you'll see."  Alex encouraged, chuckling cheerfully while entertaining the image of Debbie catching Nick unawares in the shower.  Or worse yet, Derek or Phillip.  She choose and disgarded several cosmetic vials from her kit.  "And besides, this is a war of sorts and I intend you to be the best armed woman in the place."

Unaware of Alex's slightly lascivious thoughts, Moira laughed at the picture her friend painted; her in a white evening gown, armed to the teeth like Rambo and painted up like Sitting Bull.

By the time she was finished, Alex had transformed Moira's usual appearance from that of a practical crackerjack reporter to a serene and practiced socialite.  Softening the edges, adding gentle color to her cheeks and drawing attention to her blue eyes turned her no-nonsense style into someone Moira didn't immediately recognize.

Studying the image in her mirror, Moira finally found her voice.  "If I hadn't watched you do this -- Alex, I might be tempted to accuse Rose of casting an illusion on the mirror.  No way this is me. . .is it?"  The elegant, sophisticated woman staring back at her was everything she had wanted and something she could never have accomplished on her own.

Rose laughed lightly as Kat giggled at Alex's smug expression.  Taking a closer look at Alex and Rose, Moira detected the researcher's subtle touch in both of them and even in little Kat.  Nothing obvious, the resulting handiwork was as varied as it was natural and applied entirely to suit each personality.

"Well -- good working materials."  Alex shrugged, pleased at Moira's approval.

Just then, there was a discrete knock on the door.  "Miss Alex -- I am to remind you that the Ball is tonight."  Duncan's eyes echoed the four's laughter as he delivered his message solemnly.  "Young Nick also wished me to express something as well. . .but I shall not repeat it."

"I'm sure.  Well, Ladies -- we're propperly gowned and coiffed," Alex grinned as Kat found Moira's missing shoe.  "Let's not keep the guys waiting."



Waiting at the bottom of the grand staircase, Derek Rayne looked up to the sound of bright chatter as the four women rounded the corner of the upper library, and caught his breath.  It was amazing the difference clothing and a few little things made in creating an impression.

Alex was stunning, the chocolate brown and wine velvet enriching her warm skin, while young Rose fairly glowed in the shimmering green and pink silks.  But it was the Legacy's newest member where the change was most evident.

Conscious of his eyes on her, Moira descended the steps with unconscious grace, fairly radiating confidence and strength -- quite unlike the volatile, angry young woman that faced him two weeks ago.  Gone were the accustomed jeans and simple shirt, and in their place, a gown of white; the design as elegant as it was simple.

That was all to the good.  She would need every scrap of that courage and grace in facing Hamilton Wiseman and his rumors tonight.

Derek offered her a hand, meeting her at the landing.  Covering her bare shoulders with a filmy white wrap, he smiled charmingly and received a smile in return.  "My dear, you look lovely."

"Thank you.  Thanks to Alex, I feel lovely."

"Shall we go?" Derek led her to the limosine waiting outside that would take them to the landing and then into San Fransisco propper.

Nick stopped tugging at his tie to claim Rose and Alex as they followed.  "Escorting not one, but two beautiful woman, " he smiled broadly, his eyes all but disappearing.  "How lucky can you get?" Alex sighed, elbowing him lightly as Rose blushed faintly, both women accepting an arm without verbal comment.

"You're with us Phillip!" Kat informed the priest as she came down last with her mother.

"Of course."  Phillip intoned gravely as he gallantly offered the little girl his arm.  "You look lovely, Katherine.  And Nick may have the pleasure 'f Alex and Rose's comp'ny, but the honor 'f escortin' the most beautiful young lady belongs t' me."  He glanced from Kat to her mother, nodding shyly as the psychologist took his other arm.  "Rachel."

"Hello, Phillip.  Ready?"

"A tuxedo is no more uncomfortable than a cassock.  I'd much rather be at th' parish, but. . ."  He blanched as he realized his mistake.  "I didn't mean. . ."

"No explainations necessary, Phillip."  Dr. Corrigan laughed and whispered conspiratively as they passed through the foyer.  "I'd take a nice pair of pants over an evening gown, myself.  So you see, I know exactly what you mean!"

 

"Are you nervous?" Derek spoke quietly.  The tone was kind and the hand on her arm, fatherly as he led her through the throng of reporters and former colleagues lined up on both sides of the red carpet area in front of the senator's home, each angling to get the best shot of the arriving couple.

Flash bulbs were going off all around them and Moira for one was beginning to feel like a goldfish in a bowl with the cat sitting an inch away, calmly licking it's lips.  "Terrified."  Moira confessed soto voice as she smiled, she hoped graciously, for the cameras.  His quiet chuckle as he patted her hand did nothing to reassure her as he, too, smiled for the inevitable photos.

"Don't worry -- I won't feed you to the sharks."  He joked.

"You do and you'll wish the Reverand had finished you off."  She smiled sweetly.

"Of that, I have no doubt."  Derek Rayne conceded defeat as Moira St.  John proceded him into the lion's den.

Senator Kelly had spared no expense for tonight's gala event.  Although not coming close to the Luna castle in overall style and impression, the senator's home was impressive enough to qualify as a mansion and quite large enough to accomodate the hundred or so guests in attendance tonight.  Ranging in stature from politicians and police officials to businessmen and the odd reporter, the gathered assemblage represented the cream of the social crop.

Anyone who was anyone would be here tonight.

Among the last to arrive, a miriad of sounds and perfumes swirled and mingled with bright laughter and cigar smoke as Derek led her through the greeting line toward the end where the senator and his wife, Serena were waiting for them.  Breaking into a beaming smile, Senator Kelly grasped the chairman's hand warmly.

"Derek!  It's good to see you.  I'm glad you made it."

Returning the handshake, Derek's smile was just as wide.  "Robert, my friend.  You know I wouldn't miss this for the world."

"Full of it as always, Derek -- you haven't changed.  I'd like to introduce my wife, Serena."

Serena Kelly extended a gloved hand gracefully and he clasped her fingers, lightly kissing the knuckles.  "Charmed, I'm sure."

The lady chuckled as she retrieved her fingers.  "Robert told me you were a charmer, Dr. Rayne.  I see he was right."

His lips quirked into a smile.  "Far be it from me to contradict your husband, Mrs. Kelly.  May I introduce Moira St.  John . . ."

The senator broke in, taking Moira's hand and echoing Derek's gesture.  "Ah yes.  Miss St.  John.  A pleasure, my dear.  I have followed your work faithfully."

Unsure of what to say, she settled on a neutral responce.  "Thank you, senator.  The pleasure is all mine."

"Robert, you have other guests to attend to and I'm sure you boys have a lot of catching up to do."  Mrs. Kelly interupted them gently.  "Why don't I take Moira and introduce her to everyone."

"That's a wonderful idea, sweatheart.  I'm sure Miss St.  John would hardly be interested in the dull reminiscence of two stuffy old men and would be bored to tears within minutes."

But when the senator smiled in her direction, Moira returned it saying, "Hardly that, Senator.  I would like to believe myself more stalwart than that.  And besides, I doubt any conversation two such distinquished gentlemen as yourselves could come up with would be anything less than fascinating and intellectually stimulating."

Watching the two women as they walked away, Robert Kelly placed a hand on his friend's shoulder .  "Outwitted and out matched!  You had better watch this one, Derek."

Derek merely nodded.  "Oh I intend to Robert.  I intend to."

 

Serena Kelly turned out to be a charming, kindly woman.  Leading Moira through the intricate twists and turns found in any social gathering, she was an invaluable source of information.  As they made their rounds, she introduced the younger woman, mercifully keeping the contact short as names and faces began to blur, despite the reporter's best attempts to the contrary.

The gathering tonight served two functions.  For one, it virtually guaranteed the presence of anyone with the monitary or social backing to support the governor's proposal of more funding and manpower for local law authorities.  Hence the vast numbers of police officials in attendance.

For another, it gave Dr. Derek Rayne the perfect setting for introducing, albeit indirectly, a social black sheep into the Luna fold.

Serena chuckled to herself as the woman in question chatted politely with the police commishoner's wife.  Oh I doubt Derek Rayne has any idea that I would have that clear an insight into such a devious mind.  But then, this party has more uses than mere politics. . .

For the members of the Legacy were not the only Gifted in attendence tonight.

Although I'm sure for someone on the Outside to know of the society's existance would be enough to send ripples of fear through the hierarchy.  She snorted delicately, keeping a close eye on Moira's conversation.  Serena had a campaign of her own to wage; that of making sure the image of Moira St.  John portrayed tonight was one even the most prim and propper socialite would envy.

For while her husband had made the comment earlier of having followed the young woman's career, Serena had given that comment validity.  Impressed by what she had seen, Serena had taken pity on the her and was determined to give the girl every opportunity to make up for what lies her less ethical colleagues had been spreading.

Dr. Rayne may have begun the dance, but it was the senator's wife who had set the stage.  And between that young rogue and myself, we should be able to see this farce concluded in our favor.

"God.  Why me?" Moira groaned in a whisper as she rejoined her hostess.  "All my brave comments to your husband aside, if I hear one more dinner story I think I might go postal."

Serena chuckled sympathetically, taking her arm and steering their steps slowly to the back veranda.  "I thought you might be ready for a break by now.  Robert doesn't care that his guests are entertaining -- so long as they are entertained!" she said dryly, eliciting a chuckle from her guest.  "Besides, there are a few things I would rather we discussed in private."

She noted the sudden tensing of the muscles under her hand with satisfaction.  That's good.  Keep the wariness, child.  You will need it in the business you are entering.  They had reached the back part of the house, mostly deserted in favor of the brighter, better lit front foyer and study.  Ushering an uncertain Moira onto the concrete and stonework platform, the senator's wife turned and shut the french doors.

The noise died down significantly, giving them the privacy to talk and be heard without shouting.

"I know what you are thinking.  You're wondering what I could possibly have to say that I couldn't say in there."

"I. . .you're right," the silver haired reporter confronted her bluntly.  "I'm also wondering how you know that."

// Maybe because we are more alike than you know. //

But instead of being surprised by the revelation Moira just nodded thoughtfully.  // I thought there was something about you. . .but I couldn't be sure. . . //

// Why did you not unshield?  Read my thoughts? //

Moira flushed slightly, indicating the mass of people milling around in the house beyond the glass doors.  The very thought of unshielding amoung all those people, of having their thoughts and deepest feelings pressed upon her was enough to make her shudder despite the warm night air.  She turned away from the house and it's occupants, focusing her attention instead on the slight breeze that stirred wisps of her hair against one cheek; of the stone rail, cool and firm beneath her hands.

"You aren't comfortable with your Gift, are you, my dear?"

"No, I'm not."  The senator's wife said nothing; she simply waited for her to continue.  Empathy like theirs tended to get out of control if not properly trained and the young woman was obviously very much in control of her Gift.  Somewhere, someone had taken Moira St.  John in and given her the discipline she needed to survive, and the story was bound to be an interesting one.

"Let me guess, you want my story.  Am I right?"

"Only if you want me to give it to me.  But I must confess, I am curious.  We don't see too many self-taught empaths; those who teach themselves often are not the best judge when it comes to discipline."

"I . . . can see that."  Moira nodded thoughtfully.  "But ridicule and fear are very harsh teachers."

Again, she said nothing, only waited for the younger woman to speak.  When she did, it was a low whisper, barely audible at first.  Serena marveled at the control; the careful way the reporter chose her words.

"When I was ten years old I lived just outside of Toledo, Ohio.  A small town, Oak Harbor held the usual share of bigots.  And petty minded parents tend to breed similar habits in their children."  Moira shrugged and Serena read a world of pain in that small movement.  "I was born with natural white hair.  A beacon for every kid in town who decided that was enough to make me strange. . .different.  Not quiet an outcast, but near enough to be the butt of at least a dozen new jokes every week."

"And you parents never let you color it?"

Moira's smile was bitter.  "No.  My mother died in an accident when I was small and my father raised me.  He never ran from anything in his life and he concidered changing my appearance the same thing as hiding under the bed.  And for Andrew St.  John's daughter to admit defeat, tantamount to failure.  One thing he never condoned was failure; in anyone or anything."  Silent for a few moment's, Moira stood completely still, absorbing the night sounds around her; a cricket that chirped off to the right and a bullfrog croaking in the distance.

"What did you do?"

At the quiet question, she shook off the mood.  "Nothing.  Ignore them long enough and they get bored and go away.  Anyway, shortly after the teasing died down, that's when I started showing signs of the Gift."  Moira laughed bitterly.  "All I knew was that I started seeing things that weren't there."

"What did you see?" Serena asked curiously.

"People, colors. . .sometimes I heard voices.  I didn't dare let anyone know. . ."

"Or the rumors would start again."  The other empath nodded in sympathy.  "I know of nothing that can change the past and I know this won't help much . . . but I don't know of any one of us who wouldn't remember and understand what you went through."

Moira nodded in silent acknowledgement.  "I started reading.  Anything I could get my hands on that in any way resembled what was happening to me.  I was eleven then and couldn't risk telling my father.  But when he found out, he didn't believe me anyway.  Said I was making it up; to get attention, he said.  So after . . . God, I don't remember . . . countless trips to the library and the local book store, I ran across this little shop.  A hole in the wall I had never noticed before, in a semi-run down part of town.  I went inside and found. . ."

"A woman.  Someone who knew who you were and what you wanted.  Am I right?"

The older woman watched while the reporter gaped in surprise.  "Okay, I'll bite.  How did you know that?"

Serena shrugged slightly, walking over to the stone ballister, joining her in staring into the night.  "That kind of thing tends to happen to those of us with the Gift.  We tend to attract the Fate's attention."

"I. . .that could be. . ."  Moira turned thoughtfully back to the darkness.  "Genevieve took me in, trained me . . . kept me sane when I was sure the world was crumbling down around me.  She was an ancient woman, hair as white as mine and more wrinkles on her face than books in her shop.  But it was her eyes that got me.  Gray as soft and kind as a dove's feather."  Now she smiled, ruefully.  "I'm afraid I was a handful.  Poor woman had the patience of a saint.  She taught me everything I needed to know; from shielding to projection, she showed me how to shut out what I didn't want to hear.  That was the most important gift she ever gave me.  That and sanctuary."

"A place to go when the world outside got to be too much."  The senator's wife hazarded a guess.

"No, it was more than that.  To a rebellious kid with no friends, no family, she gave hope.  A haven of silence and love in a world otherwise utterly devoid of both."  Moira came back to herself with an embarrassed laugh at the overly dramatic words.  "Sorry, must be the writer in me."

Serena only chuckled softly.  "Never apologize for your feelings, child.  Or for a good story, well told."

"What about you?" Blushing to the roots, Moira asked her curiously, grateful that the darkness hid her embarrassment.  "You obviously have the Empathy; what else is out there that I don't know about?"

Serena laughed brightly.  "Oh many things, my dear. . .many things!  After all, the world is a vast place, full of infinite possiblities.  Though I'm sure the Legacy council would have an absolute fit if they ever found out that they do not have sole jurisdiction over the supernatural. . .or the truth."

Somehow it didn't surprise Moira that her hostess would know of the Legacy.  After tonight's conversation, it only seemed natural.  "I'm sure.  'More things in Heaven and Earth'. . ."  She quoted solemnly.

"Exactly, child.  I just wanted to assure you that, no matter how bleak things may seem now -- or how strange -- you will always have friends to call upon as you need them.  Myself for one and I mean that."

"Thank you, Serena.  That . . . really means a lot."

Embarrassed, the older woman made a shushing sound.  "Oh hosh posh.  And don't you worry. . .no one with a wit of sense will hold any truth to those rumors once we're done with them.  You have done a fair bit to unravel that image yourself, you know.  The commisioner's wife has never given anyone as much of her time as she gave to you, my dear.  Remember that."

"I will.  And as much as I dread going back inside. . ."

Serena sighed, loking just as reluctant as Moira felt, before replacing the social mask.  ". . .the others will be looking for us before long.  Just keep in mind what I have said, and don't let them get to you.  I can almost guaruntee you that they will use every opportunity tonight to make you into what they want you to be."

As the two Empaths made their way back into the study, Moira thought about her opposition and replied.  // I can almost guarantee you that you're right. //

Continued

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