Partner

Cold and Flu season sucks. Usually I'm not hit this hard, but usually I don't work full time and go to school and try to maintain a life.

This almost didn't get finished today because I have to leave for work... like five minutes ago. I can still get there in time, no worries.

If someone asked a question, it didn't get answered here. I have no idea where this came from, it just did. Huge paragraphs. Geh? Possibly because I finished one series and switched to another. With... longer paragraphs. Geh.

Possibly another update tonight. Maybe not. Depends on if I can keep my eyes open when I come home from work.

Read, Review and Enjoy.




That night, the baby slept soundly. Between Mik and Paw. And still, all Mik could think was. Sex. He didn’t get what he wanted and he didn’t really worry about not getting it. They had a new baby, sex was not the first thing on poor, sleepy Paw’s mind.

The next morning he went into work and found the other partners in the middle of an argument. Arguing because they all had lost their doors as well and they were wondering where to place the blame. As soon as Mik walked in, they all turned to him. The man looked each of the partners in the eyes and made certain he had everyone’s attention.

“Anyone see what happened to the doors? Got a curtain over the bathroom at least, but I’d rather not hear everyone and their brother pissing in my toilet.”

“Like you didn’t have a hand in it?” One of them demanded.

Mork, the man’s name finally came to Mik after working together for ten months, the leader and the all around biggest asshole of the bunch. He was the first, and he was the quickest, to mock Mik for anything Mik had done. The man worked exceptionally well with his Sidhe, what the partners had deemed a broken female. All she did all day long was sleep and cry.

Once communication had started between the Sidhe and the people, Souse and Paw had just shrugged it off, saying that was the way she was and that she was a good fighter when she was needed.

“No,” Mik carefully explained to Mork, “I was here with you guys until you left and then I was filling out paperwork for Mari and then I had to do four hours of reading on how to do paperwork. Then I had to deliver paperwork to Koln and take Koln’s paperwork to Mari and listen to Mari tell me how I’d done the paperwork wrong so I then had to spend an hour doing the paperwork properly.”

“So. You did lots of paperwork?” Mork responded in a snide tone.

Wait for it.

“Is that code for banging?”

There it was.

“My head on a wall, perhaps,” Mik muttered, then shrugged at Mork, “I haven’t the time for your jibes today, Mork, faster this meeting is done, faster I can get back home. Because in case you’ve forgotten, I’m not exactly getting very much sleep, what with caring for a Sidhe and a baby.”

Wait for it.

Mik walked to his seat and sat down, wondering if Mork was getting slow…

“It’s not caring. You’re banging the Sidhe, easier to do him than get one of your own race. We don’t want your blood anyhow.”

Mari chose to walk in just as Mork started. The woman walked through his little group of friends and gave them an surprised sort of look.

“Whoever said that? If I was free to have children with who I please, I’d have Mik. He’s got good facial bones and pretty eyes. He’d make adorable children. Not as bright as me, but adorable. Take your seats, gentlemen,” Mari motioned to the seats out before her where a few other partners idled by, “we have to get this started immediately.”

“Where are the others?” Mik asked, motioning to all the empty seats.

“The others are undergoing tests. Mapping, charting, that sort of thing,” Mari responded as Mork and his friends took a seat, “we are moving into phase two of the program. In a month, we will be bringing in new Sidhe. Jay has still told us that we cannot attempt to acquire any until he gives the go ahead. As it is his money we are using, we must abide by his decision. But we are beginning the search for more partners. We need to know what makes you, you. What makes you, Mik, a delinquent with no connection to anyone of your own race and your own age, the perfect partner for a Sidhe? What makes Mork, a smart assed, outspoken jerk, perfect for partnering a broken female? What makes the others not quite perfect? We need to know these things, and we need you, you all here now, to help us write the training program.”

“Why are we stepping up the program?” Mork asked.

“Population decline,” Mik responded.

“The numbers indicated that the population has declined to seven thousand Sidhe. Paw tells us that our numbers are off, that there are more than we know about, but less than Whisper expected. It is about to be six thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine. We’ve projected Whisper’s illness given what little we have to go upon. He has a week at most.”

“What does that mean for us?” Mork asked.

“When the heir is chosen, when the new Whisper is named? That depends on who it is. The Sidhe obey Whisper completely. They move as one, they act as one. A survival adaptation given our advancements and the need to keep the Sidhe population from… enjoying our presences too much. If that wasn’t bad enough…”

“How is that bad?” One of Mork’s friends asked, “just. Talk to Whisper, show him what we’re doing here.”

“You mean, expect him to be more accepting of us, than you are of Mik? All Mik did was connect with someone of another race, someone who has, by Sidhe standards, seduced him, not the other way around, in case you were wondering Mork. And you’ve ostracized him from the lot of you. A group of people have declared war on all Sidhe, have been slaughtering masses of Sidhe, we have been slaughtering masses of Sidhe, for our computers and our technology. And you think that Whisper will forgive us our sins because we talk to him?”

The room was silent for a long moment.

“Lectures and introduction to the Sidhe,” Mik offered, something to change the subject and anything to break the silence, “take in examples. Paw, Souse, Violet, Essuan, Lillow. Mork’s crying woman. Show them the different personalities and, if possible, one on one training.”

“For six thousand candidates?” Mari asked Mik.

“Uhm. When … numbers are culled down?” Mik winced.

“The lecture is a good idea, and while we are hoping the cull will not completely decimate the numbers, the one on one is, again, a good idea. Pairing Sidhe/partner pairs with other pairs to learn about interaction would help not only the Sidhe, but the new partners as well.”

“Language barrier was a huge issue. Some of us were lucky. Got the ones who know how to talk with their hands. Some of us,” Mork muttered, “got one that screamed and cried anytime we tried to communicate.”

“Our linguists are having a hell of a time translating Sidhe,” Mari murmured, “it would seem that there are gaps in the spoken language and, translating directly into people does not work. As the Sidhe said, te does not mean ‘I am’ and it is used in cases where a Sidhe is pointing at another Sidhe. They are thinking too much like people. What little we have is to introduce ourselves in Sidhe, and that we stumble over. Each of the Sidhe made a different gesture. Without knowing what the gestures mean,” Mari shrugged, “we could be saying anything at all.”

“Souse’s gesture,” Mik made it, “I think means leader. Paw’s made it a few times while talking about his brother, when his brother was leader. Essuan’s could be healer. Of course, there might be a difference between a power healer and regular healer so nurses and doctors can’t use that. Asking the Sidhe about the hand motions is. Impossible. Most of them don’t even realise that they’re speaking like that. They only know that our language lacks something.”

“An example of that being?” Mari asked Mik.

“Their word for lover or love, ayata, ayato.”

“Like our old language, before we. Adapted.”

“Right. Well Ayato is also a proper name, the motion being,” Mik raised his hand to chest level and did a sort of wave across his chest while holding his palm downward. It looked awkward, coming from his hands. Right to left for Ayato, “which is the way they seem to motion when they introduce themselves, right to left. Ayata is from the left. I’ve spoken with a Sidhe and repeated the word several times, doing the proper motion, no motion and the wrong motion. They find more meaning in the motion, without realising that it’s happening, as he couldn’t explain why he thought I had tried to say that a lover is above Mother, than in the word itself.”

“Mother?” Mork asked, “your mommy’s man? Like we didn’t know he’s a Sidhe?”

“No,” Mari said calmly to Mik, “as in Mother, the one goddess who birthed Harella-shay, who birthed Rahl-at and Tahl-ra. Earth goddess, Mother Nature, we live upon her, she sustains us and when we die, we go back to her. Mother. Ayata. While not her true name, our oldest word for love, ayata, came to mean Mother, our love for Mother was above all else, above our love for our child, above our love for our lord. We loved Mother above the very throne of the gods itself. Because Mother gave us all life.

“Myth tells us that once there was a boy born without a name and abandoned before his tenth year. He cared for himself and raised himself up and on his sixteenth year, just before being mated to another man, he was given a name by the man, Ayato. Ayato is said to be one of the lovers. Said, specifically, to be the Other, of the pair. His name, and his personality, have been traced to both Sidhe and people blood, from all across the lands. Ayato came to mean lover. Which is ironic, as Rava, meaning master, was the lover, mentioned in the work, of the pair.”

“The… what?”

“The Two Lovers,” Mik said to Mork, “but don’t feel bad about it, I only know about it because Mari made me read the damned thing four times.”

“I’ve… heard of the Tale of Two Lovers…”

“Which is a collection,” Mari muttered, sounding exasperated, “the debate on the work has been going on since its creation some thousand years ago and the information was collected some five hundred years ago and bound together in one volume, named Tale of Two Lovers. An explanation of all the nuances.”

Mork looked at Mik. Mik shook his head, “haven’t read that yet.”

“In. The Tale of Two Lovers,” Mari snapped at the two of them before returning to her calm tone, “Ayato and Rava are, themselves, compared to Sidhe. The entire work is compared to Sidhe. Until recently, it was assumed that the authors meant that the work was like a Sidhe. But. Given recent knowledge. My family has begun to wonder if, perhaps, the authors meant that the work is like the Sidhe language.”

“Calling Ayato by the old word for lover when in fact he’s the other. Saying that Rava bows to no man but the other, who is named lover so technically he only bows to himself. The other who bows to no man, bows to master, the master of all men. Such on. Such on. Such on.” Mik made a swirl with his finger, and then said to Mari’s confused look, “there were notes in the margins.”

“I will suggest that my family ask to be included in the translations. Perhaps with their insight into the Two Lovers, they can help us. But until then. We are all out of luck for the translation of Sidhe. The closest thing to an expert we have is Mik and he is shotty at best. Says penis more often than not.”

“Not my fault they have so many words for the damned thing. Definitely not my fault that those words sound almost like so many normal words in their language,” Mik muttered.

“I would like you all to go home,” Mari murmured, “and write up any information that you think would be important to a lecture. We have to stick to generalizations, as the Sidhe are not going to all act like Souse or Essuan or the crying woman. I expect them on my desk tomorrow morning. Ask your Sidhe for help. They have proven more than willing to help us help them, when asked properly.”


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