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A Magical Wedding	By : TheShadowCat Category: G through L > Hellboy Views: 4671 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hellboy, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Maggie wakes to find her face mashed into her pillow and the pillow damp. After about a minute of wondering, she recalls her last memory of being in the shower. She checks and sure enough, her hair is still moist from said shower.

She yawns and stretches and then moans and winces as her aching muscles and sore bruises protest her actions. She finally sits up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes and trying to decide what to do next. She glances at the clock and sees that it’s after four in the afternoon.

With a reluctant sigh, she slides out of bed and heads for the closet. After dressing, she goes to check on Abe. She can hear the jets to the bath so he’s easy enough to find. After calling his name a few times, it’s more than obvious that he’s sound asleep.

She trots downstairs and heads out the front door. She’s not sure why, but she feels compelled to go check on the red oak out front. When she steps outside, what she sees nearly stops her heart.

The tree must have been struck by lightening the night before because the top is barely hanging onto the rest of the tree and the wood is scorched. At the base of the tree, the dryad lies huddled in a ball and even from across the yard it’s easy to see that she’s noticeably shaking. Maggie quickly covers the distance to the stricken being.

After dropping to the ground next to her, Maggie pulls the fallen dryad into her lap. She holds and rocks the shivering being, further reinforcing Maggie’s fears. Dryads don’t liked to be touched and to allow herself to be held can only mean she’s in severe shock from the lightening strike. Some time passes before the dryad starts to pull back and Maggie immediately releases her.

Where have you been? the dryad demands.

“I’m sorry,” Maggie replies guiltily. “I’ve been so busy with my own life that I didn’t notice that you were hurt. I truly am sorry.”

Can you fix me? the dryad asks, only slightly appeased.

“Yes, but I will need to use a saw to do it,” Maggie answers, noticing the shudder when she mentions the tool. “I will also need to climb up there.”

Why not just use your power? she inquires.

“I can’t control my powers right now,” Maggie admits.

Why not? the dryad questions.

“Because of the pregnancy,” Maggie states. “It’s true for all female Keepers. Once she becomes pregnant, she loses her abilities for a short time. I will have to climb up to repair the damage. Will you let me?”

Yes, the dryad answers simply after another shiver courses through her body.

“I’ll be right back,” Maggie states as she stands back up.

Maggie swiftly runs off to the tool shed and collects what she needs before returning to the damaged tree and badly shaken dryad. She soon comes back with a hand saw, loppers and pruning shears as well as a small can of pitch to cover the soon to be exposed inner wood. The dryad sees the tools and all but goes into convulsions at the mere sight of them.

Working quickly, Maggie pulls the lopper and shears out of the tool belt she’s now wearing and then lays them on the ground out of sight for later. She readjusts the saw in the belt along with the can of pitch. Then she kicks off her shoes and then thanks her lucky stars for deciding to put on loose shorts as she starts to shinny up the tree.

She scales the tree easily and once she reaches the damaged area, she finds a good place to position herself as she pulls out the saw. She swiftly cuts through the rest of the top that’s been mostly torn from the tree and then throws it clear. After that’s been taken care of, she sets to cutting away the damaged parts and then covering the exposed area with pitch to keep out disease and bugs. Once everything is done, she heads back down, happy to have been able to help even without her abilities.

“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?”

She practically falls out of the tree as her foot slips with her surprise at that shout. She steadies herself and regains her footing before she looks down to see a very perturbed merman below her.

“Geez, Abe, you trying to give me a heart attack?” she demands as she glares down at him from her perch a good ten feet above him.

“Don’t talk to me about heart attacks,” he snarls as he stares back at her. “Just stay put, I’ll go get a ladder.”

“Oh, for heaven sakes, Abe, I’m perfectly capable of climbing out of a tree by myself,” she snaps as she starts her decent once more.

“Don’t you dare,” he growls, stepping closer to the trunk of the tree. “You could fall.”

“You’re right,” she states as she continues her descent. “And I could be hit by a truck tomorrow. Life is uncertain, love. There’s nothing you can do about it, but pray for the best and do what you can.”

He stands there glaring at her as best he can while she finishes climbing down the oak. As soon as she’s within reach, he grabs her and yanks her out of the tree causing the rough bark to scrape up the palms of her hands.

“OW!” she protests loudly. “That hurt.”

She looks at her hands, but fortunately none of the scrapes are deep though they still sting. He doesn’t answer but just holds her close, back to chest, and she can feel him slightly trembling.

“I’m sorry I frightened you, my love,” she starts as she rubs his arms reassuringly. “But the tree was damaged and needed repair. Without my powers, I have to do it in a more mundane fashion then I normally would. Do you understand?”

“Why not call an arborist to do it?” he asks as he buries his face in her hair.

“That would take too long and the dryad needed help now,” she explains, looking back over her shoulder.

“What dryad?” he inquires, pulling back a little.

Who’s that? asks the dryad who’s now standing in front of her.

“The tree’s dryad,” she answers before turning to the dryad in question. “This is my mate.”

“Who are you talking to?” he questions.

He is of water, the dryad states. Why do you mate with him?

“The dryad, you won’t be able to see or hear her,” she responds, starting to feel like she’s watching a tennis match as she turns back and forth between the two. “I mate with him because I love him.”

She feels him slide his hand up her neck under her hair to the base of her skull and then the suction cups grabbing hold of the skin on her neck. She gasps in surprise and slight discomfort as she can actually, for the first time, feel him inside her mind. She hears and feels him gasp as he sees the dryad for the first time through her eyes.

It has always amused Maggie to see how Hollywood gets the image of the dryad totally wrong. Instead of a tall slender woman with long flowing hair, fair skin and wearing a gauzy dress, here stands a rather short and stocky androgynous being with oak leaves for hair, her skin the color and texture of the bark of her tree and completely, unabashedly naked. While dryads usually don’t have a gender, this one has always struck Maggie as being slightly more feminine then others.

I don’t understand, the dryad replies. What is ‘love’?

“It’s an emotion like anger or happiness,” Maggie explains. “Will you be alright now?”

Yes, thank you, Keeper, the dryad answers just before she turns and disappears into her tree.

As the dryad vanishes from view, Abe releases the back of Maggie’s neck and starts to rub the now sore area there. She gladly leans against him as she bows her head, allowing him more access to the offended skin.

“I can understand why you wanted to see the dryad,” she mutters, enjoying the gentle massage to the point of almost not being able to form a coherent thought. “But did you really need to use the suction cups?”

“I did that so I could see what you’re seeing more easily,” he explains. “Otherwise, I might have hurt your mind trying to force my way in. So why exactly were you up there playing Tarzan? You about scared me to death when I saw you up there.”

“The thunderstorm last night,” she starts. “One of the bolts of lightening struck the tree and sent the dryad into shock. The fact that it took me over twelve hours to notice that something was wrong makes my guilt meter go off the scales.”

“If the tree could last that long why not let it wait a little longer for an arborist to take care of it?” he asks.

“Because, Abe, it’s my job,” she states, finally stepping away from and turning to look up at him. “The Powers that be created Mages for a reason. We’re the Keepers of the Earth and it’s our job to try and keep everything in balance. But since there are so few of us, we’ve been having a harder time of it. Especially since the industrial revolution started doing some serious damage to our planet.”

“Ok, but please, no more climbing up into trees,” he nearly begs.

“I’ll stop climbing up into trees as soon as you give up chasing down all the things that go bump in the night,” she retorts with her fists on her hips.

“But that’s my job,” he states in surprise.

“Exactly,” she responds as she pokes a finger at his foam neoprene clad chest. “I’m failing to see how climbing a tree is more dangerous than facing a hellhound.”

“You could fall and break your neck,” he replies weakly.

“And you could get yourself turned into fish fillets,” she states, a bit snappishly.

With that, she turns on her heel, gets her shoes back on, walks over to the downed bit of tree, picks up the loppers and starts to cut off the larger branches from the severed trunk. He watches her for about a minute before he joins her, picks up the shears and begins to cut the removed branches down even farther. After about twenty minutes or so, they’ve finally gotten the large chunk of tree down to more manageable piles.

“Ok, so now what?” he asks.

“The smaller branches and leaves go into the mulch pile and the rest goes into the wood shed,” she tells him.

“I find it hard to believe that you use a wood burning fireplace,” he states a bit perplexed.

“I only burn dead fall,” she replies. “There’s probably a ton of it out there in the forest now thanks to that storm last night. I should go get as much of it as I can before it becomes a fire hazard. One of our rescued horses is a draft horse and I’ve got a cart just for this, so there’s no real heavy lifting. Want to come help me? We might end up spending the rest of our honeymoon only collecting wood, just for fair warning.”

“It’ll make a nice change of pace,” he states. “But there had better be plenty of rest breaks in there. I won’t let you over exert yourself.”

“Worry wart,” she grumbles. “Fine, we’ll take lots of breaks.”

“Good,” he nods. “Now, how do we get this stuff where we need it to be?”

She takes him back to the tool shed and pulls out a wheel barrow, rake and a flat edge shovel after she’s put away the other tools she had out. She gets to follow Abe back to the oak as he pushes the wheel barrow with the shovel and rake inside of it. Over the next fifteen minutes or so they spend cleaning up the area around the oak with Abe insisting on doing the majority of the work. Once they’re done, Maggie feels like she wants to take a long hot bath for about a month.

“No hot baths,” he warns.

“Eavesdropper,” she grumbles.

“Why don’t you go take a shower while I get dinner started?” he suggests.

“As lovely as that sounds, I need to go check on Magick,” she replies. “I should be back in time to set the table.”

“All right,” he says as he leans down and gently kisses her. “But no climbing trees without my help.”

“Worry wart,” she teases as she turns and starts to head down the hill.

She returns about a minute later, grabs the key to Magick’s barn and then heads down the hill once more. After spending time with her horse, getting the stall cleaned and feeding him, she finally leaves the barn. Helen is waiting for her as she’s exiting.

“Hi, Helen,” Maggie greets. “What’s up?”

“Hi, I was just wondering if Abe was ok,” Helen replies.

“He’s doing much better, thanks,” Maggie states. “How’s Doug?”

“In the dog house,” Helen states. “Literally and figuratively speaking that is. I’ve been after him for months to fix the dog doors on some of the kennels, and now he’s finally doing it. And after that he’s going to finally make me that bookcase I’ve been wanting.”

“You’re just loving this, aren’t you?” Maggie laughs.

“Well, I don’t love what he did to Abe,” Helen admits with first a grimace and then a smile. “But I am enjoying the repercussions.”

“It’s a good thing you married yourself a carpenter,” Maggie chuckles.

“Thanks to you,” Helen reminds her.

“And after helping you find the love of your life, I sent you two to Hawaii on your honeymoon with a camera and several rolls of film,” Maggie reminisces. “I always wondered why you never even finished off that first roll and why all the pictures were of your room and the restaurants that you two ate at.” Maggie looks Helen straight into her eyes. “Now I know why.”

Both women have a good laugh for the next couple of minutes. They remember how confused Maggie had been over the lack of photos that were taken and the even fewer details about the islands that the couple could give her. They continue to chuckle until Helen notices something on the side of Maggie’s neck.

“What’s that?” Helen asks.

“What’s what?” Maggie counter asks.

“There’s something on the side of your neck,” Helen says as she takes a closer look. “It looks like a smudge of dirt or something.”

“I don’t feel anything,” Maggie states slightly mystified as she runs her hand over the side of her neck.

“Oh, never mind, it’s not dirt,” Helen snickers.

“Then what is it?” Maggie asks.

“You mean you’ve never had one before?” Helen counter asks.

“Had one what?” Maggie demands totally confused at this point.

“You’ve got hickey,” Helen laughs as Maggie turns so red she could probably glow in the dark.

“At any rate, the storm last night has knocked down a bunch of firewood for us,” Maggie states as she desperately tries to change the subject. “Abe and I will be out collecting as much of it as we can tomorrow. Would you please hook up Tumbleweed to the cart in the morning for me?”

“Sure,” Helen responds while trying to bring her laughter under control. “What time would you like him brought up?”

“7:00 if that wouldn’t be too much trouble for you,” Maggie replies.

“7:00 is fine,” Helen affirms as an occasional giggle escapes her lips and she’s unable to resist one final tease. “I’ll see you in the morning. Try not to be too disheveled when I get there.”

Instead of crawling under a rock and hiding like she wants to, Maggie heads back up the hill determined to have a talk to a certain sucker fish that’s currently making dinner. Once there, she finds that Abe is almost done making dinner so she quickly washes up and then sets the table. Dinner is a quite and pleasant affair as Maggie tells Abe what to expect when they go to collect wood the next day. In all of the hustle and bustle, she completely forgets about the hickey.

After dinner, she cleans the kitchen before going to find her mate who’s wandered off. She finds him in the family room, sitting on the couch, reading another book and she notices the book lying on the table next to him. She goes over to the bookcase and pulls out a couple of books of her own. She pulls ‘The Joy of Sex’ out of his hands and replaces it with one of hers.

“Try some Agatha Christie,” she suggests as she puts the absconded book on the coffee table. “There’s such a thing as too much research.”

“I would think you’d enjoy my research,” he says with a wicked grin on his beautiful blue face.

“I have, my dear,” she assures him with a small kiss on the forehead. “But if you do any more research I’m going to have to take up walking on my hands since I won’t be able to get my feet close enough together to effectively walk upright any more.”

“Very well,” he concedes as he picks up the second book. “But you should be doing some research of your own now.”

“I’ll do that later,” she tells him while she settles down next to him on the couch. “Right now, I just want to enjoy a quiet evening with my husband.”

“I think I’d like that,” he states.

He props his feet up on the coffee table and then carefully wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him. She gladly snuggles up to him before opening her book and getting lost in its pages.

She’s not sure how much time has passed, but when she looks up, she can see that it’s dark outside. She looks over at Abe and notices that he’s back to reading “The Joy of Sex.”

“Didn’t you like ‘And Then There Were None’?” she asks.

“Finished it,” he answers simply as he turns the page.

She mumbles something about blasted speed readers as he pulls her closer and she lays her head on his chest. She closes her eyes and starts to gently stroke the arm around her. She stops when she notices the texture is all wrong. She knows what he’s skin is supposed to feel like when it’s dry, but this seems even worse then that.

“What’s wrong with your skin?” she inquires worriedly.

“It’s dry,” he replies, turning yet another page.

“I know what your skin feels like when it’s normally dry, Abe,” she states. “This is somehow worse. So what’s wrong with it?”

“It’s nothing, I’ll be fine,” he responds still not taking his eyes off the page he’s reading.

She yanks the book out of his hand and tosses it to the other end of the couch. Before he can move to retrieve it, she flips herself onto his lap straddling his legs with hers and facing him. He looks at her and blinks the nictitating membranes a couple of times in surprise to the unhappy look on her face.

“What’s wrong with your skin?” she demands.

He leans over to kiss her and she stops him with a hand on his chest.

“Don’t you dare try to distract me,” she warns. “Now answer my question.”

“My skin isn’t used to being in so much fresh water,” he finally replies after having a staring contest with her and losing. “It’s causing my skin to dry out more than normal.”

“That explains why you no longer smell like the sea,” she states. “I thought I was just getting used to your scent. Ok, so you need salt in your water. That’s easy enough to fix in the bath, but I can’t do anything about the pond.”

“I’m afraid table salt won’t do,” he replies. “It has iodine added to it. Besides, getting the right balance is difficult. Too little will do me almost no good and too much will actually hurt me. My tank is constantly being tested and adjusted to keep it balanced. Just throwing a bunch of salt into the tub won’t do any good I’m afraid.”

“I can’t not do anything about this,” she moans and then leans her forehead against his chest. “Do I need to take you back?”

“I’d rather not go,” he answers as he carefully pulls her towards him.

“How salty does the water need to be?” she asks as she lies against him, resting her cheek on his chest.

“It needs to be the same salinity as tears,” he responds.

He gently starts to stroke her as he reaches for the book she grabbed from him. It’s out of reach so he goes for the book she had been reading. She relaxes into him and while her body is not moving, her mind is working furiously trying to figure something out. A half forgotten memory is niggling at the back of her brain and it’s driving her crazy.

About a quarter of the way through the book, she suddenly explodes out of his lap and goes charging out of the room and up the stairs. He senses happiness, so he knows she’s not upset, but she leaves so quickly that he doesn’t get a chance to pull from her mind what that was all about. With a shrug, he goes back to the book he was reading.

Several minutes later she comes tromping down the stairs and then out the door that leads to the garage. A few minutes after that, she reenters the house and disappears into the kitchen. Then it’s back out into the garage for a couple of minutes before heading for the closet in the front hall. When she comes back into the family room she’s now carrying his trousers from the wedding, a trench coat and a fedora.

“Here, put these on,” she commands as she drops the items in his lap.

“What for?” he asks.

Her mind is such a buzz of activities right now he can’t pick anything up.

“We’re going for a car ride,” she tells him with a self satisfied smile on her lips.

“Ok, why?” he inquires, curious to see where she’s taking this.

“You said that you needed water that had the same salt content as tears, right?” she asks back.

“Yes, I did,” he answers. “So?”

“So, were going to the beach,” she happily states.

Disclaimer: I don’t own the rights to ‘The Joy of Sex’ by Alex Comfort or ‘And Then There Were None’ by Agatha Christie.
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A Magical Wedding