Manny Came, Too    MANNY CAME, TOO(Standard, all-purpose disclaimer) All
pre-existing characters are the property of the creators and producers of
"Due South." No copyright infringement is intended. All new characters and
situations are the sole property and responsibility of the author. 

Rated PG-ish for raucous leprechauns and flirtatious nymphs. 

Well. Katrina *has* been in a mood lately, hasn't she, what with that goat
and all? I thought it was high time I reclaimed my Evil Twin badge of
honor, so while she's busy sulking about missing MediaWest, I'm going to
be running rampant on the keyboard. 

This is a sequel (sorta) to a story I wrote a few months back called
"Changing Your Demeanor," but I think this one can stand on its own.
Appreciation, gratitude and thanks to Gloria for suggesting the title, for
helping with the proper leprechaun behavior, and for encouraging me to
follow my baser instincts -- which is a lot more fun than being good. 

 MANNY CAME, TOO 

by Buffy 

"Geez, Benny, you mind?" Ray pulled his arm out of the Mountie's frantic
grasp and continued up the steps of his friend's apartment building at a
more dignified pace. "I keep on telling you, they're harmless." 

Ben made futile shooing motions, trying to convince the detective to
hurry. "You also told me they wouldn't be back until next Saint Patrick's
Day. It's only been two months, Ray -- what do they *want* from me?" 

"Beer, probably." Ray glanced over his shoulder. The normally impeccable
Canadian was mussed and rumpled; furthermore, the expression on his face
would have been more at home on your typical babbling lunatic. "Take it
easy, Benny. Hey, where's Dief? Hidin' out at Willie's? Under the bed?" 

"Oh, no. No, his last experience with Horace seems to have acclimatized
him to leprechauns. And of course, he's quite at home with the manitou.
Could you please hurry, Ray? You got along famously with Horace last time,
maybe he'll listen to you." 

"Yeah, yeah --" At the head of the stairs, Ray turned to face Ben. "Wait a
minute. What the hell is a manitou?" 

Ben pushed Ray in the direction of his door. "Oh, a manitou is an
Algonquin spirit, a manifistation of the natural world. I understand that
they're quite powerful." 

"Powerful. Great. How about friendly?" 

Ben came to a halt before his apartment. "Ah. Well, the legends are
inconclusive on that point. Of course, it's probably a bit inaccurate to
think of a personification of the spirit world in such... mundane terms.
It's probably *far* beyond such petty human traits as friendliness." 

Ray stared at him. "And you're asking me to go in there and evict him." 

"Well... yes. If it's not too much trouble, that is." 

Ray rolled his eyes. "Save a Mountie's life, and you pay and you pay..."
Turning the doorknob slowly, he stuck his head inside. He pulled it back
out again by inches. "Ohhhhhkay." He eased the door shut. 

"What did you see?" Ben demanded. 

Shrugging, Ray leaned against the wall. "I saw about seven leprechauns
beside Horace. There's this kinda..." He gestured vaguely. "This misty,
hazy... *blob* sitting on your couch eating Cheez Curls with Dief." 

Ben nodded slowly. "Yes, that would be the manitou. And he's allowed
Diefenbaker to sit on the couch... now I'll never be able to keep him off
of it." 

"Yeah, fine, whatever. Now for the important question." Ray lowered his
voice. "Who are the half-naked chicks?" 

"The *what*?!?" Ben risked a peek into his apartment. When he turned back
to Ray, his face was pale and drawn. "My God, Ray, it's getting worse by
the minute. Now I've got nymphs." 

"Nymphs?" 

Ben sagged against the wall. "And, if the leaves coming out of their hair
is any indication, they're dryads. I think I saw a sylph or two as well." 

"Sylphs too, huh? Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" 

"Well --" Ben shrugged. "From my reading, they're usually fairly
benevolent. They just... waft along on breezes and such." 

Ray leered into the apartment. "Hell, they could waft my way any time they
wanted." 

Both men jumped as a diminutive, stocky figure yanked the door open and
glared up. "And if ye're quite done discussing the lassies, suppose you
two louts come and join the party?" 

"Hey, Horace. You realize you're a little out of season, right?" 

"Sure and I realize that, Ray." Horace beamed up at the detective. "But I
had such a *fine* time back on Himself's holy day -- and when I heard that
Black 47 was playing on North Clark this weekend, well, who could stay
away? Now, will ye come inside like civilized folk or will ye lurk out in
the hallway like beggars?" 

Ben stammered, "Ray, I *really* don't think...." 

"I'll handle this, Benny." With a jerk of his head, Ray drew Horace 

out of the Mountie's earshot. "It's like this, Horace. Fraser's really not
used to dealing with you guys. I mean, they have spirits up in Canada,
sure, but they're, well... you know. Canadian." 

Horace nodded wisely. "I understand, laddie, I understand. I've met my
share of those northern sprites. Poor, frigid things they are, and
wouldn't know a party if one set up housekeeping in its arse. But I've
been working on yon Manny, and he's coming along like a trooper. We sent
one of the sylphs for beer, she should be back any time now." 

Without waiting for an answer, Horace strolled over to Ben, who promptly
flattened himself against the wall. The leprechaun merely grabbed Ben by
the leg and tugged him forward. "In with ye, laddie. Nothing like a lapful
of nymph to ease a young man's mind. And ye won't be young much longer, so
enjoy it while ye can, right?" 

Ben threw a wild, beseeching stare in Ray's direction. Ray shrugged.
"Sorry, Benny, did my best." He followed the others into the apartment. 

Conversation ceased. Diefenbaker looked momentarily ashamed; then,
realizing that he wasn't going to be ordered onto the floor in the
foreseeable future, he stuck his head back in the bag of Cheez Curls. The
dryads and sylphs clustered in the corner, diaphanous robes fluttering in
a breeze that didn't really exist. Giggling and pointing, they fell to
discussing the two humans. Ray preened under their scrutiny; Ben tried to
ignore it. 

Slowly and solemnly, the manitou stood. He turned to Ben, and his form
coalesced into something a bit more human. When he spoke, his voice seemed
to come from all directions at once. "*You*... don't have any beer." 

Clearing his throat, Ben said, "I... wasn't expecting company." 

Manny turned to Ray. He pointed a disappointed finger at the Mountie.
"*He* doesn't have any beer." 

"What can I say?" Ray apologized for his friend. "I've tried to talk to
him about it, but he's not really used to people just dropping in, ya
know?" 

"Ye could at least have some of that Moose Head swill, or even Molson's,"
one of the leprechauns by the window grumbled. 

"None of that now, Fulbert," Horace said sternly. "The lad's a friend of
mine, and I won't have anyone speaking unkindly *to* him or *of* him." He
whispered to Fraser, "Never mind Fulbert. He's part gnome. I try not to
hold it against him, but blood will tell, won't it?" 

"I suppose it will." Fraser pulled out a chair and sat down weakly at the
kitchen table. 

There was a light rapping on the window pane. A silvery voice cried out,
"Let me in! Let me *in*!" 

"Hah!" Fulbert looked around triumphantly. "Lalage is back. I told you the
lass would come through for us." 

He threw the window open, and a sylph, clad in sheer green gauze, soared
inside. She came to a perfect two-point landing in the center of the room
and she set the two cases of beer she was carrying on the floor. "Oh, the
shopping in this city is impossible. I couldn't *give* the gems away, it
was a good thing I had my Gold Card with me --" Her eyes grew wide as she
saw Ray. "Ooooooooh. A *man*." She flitted over to him and drew him to a
chair. "I'm Lalage. I like you." 

Ray smiled at her. "That's nice." 

"No! I saw him first!" One of the dryads rushed over in a mist of pink
draperies and grabbed Ray's other arm. Rose petals fell about her as she
shook a finger in the sylph's face. "*I* want to talk to him." 

Lalage pouted. "Oh, but I wasn't here when he came, Gia. You're just not
being fair." 

"Ladies, ladies." Ray took each nymph by the hand as he sat down. "Why
can't you both talk to me?" 

Gia promptly curled up on one arm of the chair. "He's clever. I like him."
She plucked a white rose out of her hair and stuck it behind Ray's ear. 

Lalage sat on the other side. "Ummmmm. *And* he's got pretty eyes...." 

Ben stared, scandalized. Horace pointed at the scene in the corner proudly
as the manitou and the other leprechauns started distributing the beer.
"See? Now that's a man who knows how to enjoy himself. Relax, laddie. Now,
I can tell that ye're not quite up to your friend's level, so I'll start
you out with someone easy. Medora! Over here, lassie." 

One of the other dryads squealed, "Ooooh, I get the Mountie!" She ran over
to Ben and deposited herself neatly in his lap. Flipping her long red-gold
curls over his shoulder, she said, "Horace *told* us you were cute. That's
why I wanted to come. I really don't care about going to the pubs, do you?
But could you take me to the botanical gardens? Please?" She stared at Ben
with soulful emerald eyes. "I've got friends there who I haven't seen in
an absolute *age*." 

"Ah. Yes." Ben tried to shift the nymph into a more comfortable, and
marginally less intimate, position. "Well, I suppose that might be...
educational." 

Medora laid her head on Ben's shoulder. "Mmmhmmm. I can be 

*very*... educational. And I don't mind in the least that you don't have
any magic in your soul." 

Horace made frantic shushing motions. "Now, lassie, there's no need to get
into all that. Here. Have a beer." He pressed a can into the dryad's
dainty hand. 

"Excuse me? Horace, what did she mean, I don't have any magic in my soul?"


"Ah. Well." Horace looked at the ground sheepishly. "No offense, laddie." 

"I'm sure I have a *little* magic," Ben mumbled. 

Medora looked up from her beer brightly. "Oh, no. Not even a teensy weensy
smidge. We can tell, you know. We have our little ways. Oh, but don't
worry, I like you *any*way, Ben!" She cuddled even closer. 

"What about Ray?" Ben demanded. He pointed at his friend, who was now
draped in nymphs. 

"Oh, he's positively *oozing* with magic," Medora cooed. 

Horace nodded. "I'm afraid so, Ben. Yon laddie has the Touch. Part of it
comes of being Catholic, of course. Oh, he's not Irish, but that would be
too much to ask for." 

"Yeah, Benny," Ray called from behind his ring of admirers. "Remember when
I told you that my sunglasses had mojo, and you laughed? Shouldn't've
laughed at the mojo." 

"But my grandmother didn't have any *books* about mojo, Ray!" Ben wailed.
"How was I supposed to know?" He turned to the manitou, who was on his
third beer. "What about the sweat lodge? I had a vision of a raven, I know
I did..." 

Manny shook his head as he looked up from summoning ice to keep the beer
cold. "You silly Mountie person. That was Eric's vision, not yours. You
just got caught in the psychic backwash." 

Ben sighed unhappily. "Oh, dear." 

Medora put down her beer and wrapped her arms around Ben's neck. "Don't
fret, darling. I *told* you, I like you anyway. And we'll be in town all
weekend, so some magic is *bound* to rub off sooner or later." 

"Oh. Good, I'm certainly looking forward --" Ben looked up in relief as he
heard a knocking at the door. "Excuse me, please." He stood up and set
Medora gently on her feet. 

"That's all right, Ben. I don't mind answering the door with you." She put
her arm through Ben's and pulled him to the door. Opening it, she smiled
brightly. "Hello. I'm Medora." 

"Wow." Mario Gamez stared at her. Recalling his mission, he said, "Fraser,
my mother says to tell you that there are a bunch of wet ladies without
many clothes in the shower, and she wants to know if you know them... and
can I have one?" 

"No," Ben said automatically. 

Medora jumped up and down and clapped her hands in glee. "Oh, goody, the
naiads are here!" Grabbing Ben by the arm, she led him down the hallway,
Mario trailing behind. "I want you to meet all my friends, darling.
There's Fenella and Jonquil and Darion -- well, he's not *really* a naiad,
but he might as well be, and unless you know you could never tell the
difference...." 

Horace and the manitou watched them go. Horace smiled in satisfaction and
rocked back on his heels. "Ah, I knew the laddie just needed someone to
rattle his composure a little." 

The manitou nodded profoundly. "Yes... but Horace, we're out of beer." 

"Ah, we can send one of the sylphs out again... or perhaps we won't,"
Horace added as he noticed that all of the sylphs were now occupied with
Ray. 

Horace sighed heavily and combed his stubby fingers through his beard.
"All right then, one of the other leps can go. Fulbert? Basil? Stop that
dancing and listen to me!" But the leprechauns had organized a conga line
and were too busy chanting the traditional leprechaun party slogan --
"Beer, beer, we want more beer. All the lads are cheering, get the fucking
beer in!" -- to pay any attention to their leader. 

"Ye're a lot of bastards, I hope ye realize that. Come along, Manny, this
is a job for men." 

"All right. But I don't have any money." The manitou followed the
leprechaun out of the apartment. 

"Never worry, laddie, I've always got me pot of gold to fall back on...." 

Katrina Bowen~~~~~kbowen@willowtree.com~~~~~buffy@jumpgate.net~~~~~ 

I have been a selfish being all my life, in practice, though not in
principle. --Jane Austen