Walter rarely ventured out of his room anymore, but he heard the commotion. Curious to see what was happening, he spied Nikita crying, Michael at her side. Unable to bear seeing her in pain, he turned away and walked out the back door of the house. As soon as he entered the backyard, he saw Declan, sitting on the back porch, looking like he’d lost his best friend.

"You want some company, kid?" Walter asked gruffly, sensing that kindness would be Declan’s undoing.

"Aye," Declan said softly, not looking directly at Walter.

"What a mess," Walter pronounced.

"Aye," Declan echoed.

Declan looked down at his hands and saw they were shaking. Visibly shaking. He wrung his hands together to stay their movement, but Walter noticed.

"Got a bad case of the heebie jeebies, huh, kid?"

Declan glanced at Walter, very quickly, but not before Walter saw how reddened his eyes were. "You could say that."

"I just did." Walter sat down next to Declan. "Where’s your faithful companion?"

Declan winced. "Off plotting my death and destruction, no doubt."

Walter frowned. "What went wrong?"

"What didn’t?"

"Talk to me, boy. I’m an old man, I don’t have much patience left. Don’t make me wait too long."

Declan explained the incident in the kitchen with Birkoff, finishing with, "And I took your side, Walter. But Sey doesn’t see it the same way."

"You saying that Seymour sided against me?"

"More like for Nikita, than against you." Declan sighed. "But somehow, one thing led to another, and you know how sometimes you say something in anger? Something you regret fiercely? Something you wish you could call back instantly?"

Walter’s eyes looked faraway. "Yeah." He thought about telling Nikita that she was never to call him Dad again. Yeah, that fell into the category Declan mentioned.

"I told Sey that I didn’t love Nikita anymore," Declan declared, obviously upset.

Walter gasped.

"It isn’t true, Walter. I wish I hadn’t said it. God, I wish I hadn’t said it. Cause Sey decided if I could un-love Nikita, I could un-love him the s-same way..." Declan buried his face in his hands, and though Walter couldn’t see his face, he knew Declan was crying.

"Like I could," Declan choked out.

Walter gently put his arm around the younger man, wondering if it was to be his fate to give support to everyone but never to receive any himself. "Declan, I’ve made a decision. I’m going to move out on my own."

"No!" Declan shouted. "You can’t!"

"I have to, son. I can’t stay here and be a constant source of friction and divisiveness within the family. Pretty soon, there won’t even be any family left."

"Do you think that will make the problem go away, Walter? You’re wrong! You can’t go!"

Birkoff stood in the doorway, listening to the end of Walter’s conversation with Declan. His face drained of all color, he wove unsteadily towards them. "No, Walter! Declan’s right! You can’t go! Don’t leave me!"

Declan turned, just in time to catch Birkoff as he fell to his knees. In the throes of an anxiety attack, Birkoff’s world narrowed to one thing: Declan. "Help me, please."

Declan forgot their differences, his own pain, and Walter’s declaration of independence. He dove for Birkoff, before he could pass out from hyperventilating, and lifted him into his arms. Without another word, Declan took him to their room and lay him on top of the bed. "You’re going to be okay, Sey. I’ll take care of you."

Declan ran into the bathroom and wet a facecloth. He applied the cloth to Birkoff’s face, and Birkoff slowly came around. "Did I pass out?"

"I’m not sure, Sey. But you’re safe now. Here. With me."

Birkoff looked tearful. "I always felt safe with you, Declan. Then you went and changed everything."

Declan shook his head. "That was anger speaking, Sey. I never stopped loving Nikita. Just like I’ll never stop loving you."

"I don’t know what to believe anymore, Declan. Everything’s turned upside down."

Declan said sadly, "I am so afraid of losing what we have, Sey. You’ve got to believe me. If you never trust another word I say, please believe that I love you and I want to stay with you." He closed his eyes in pain, thinking it was too late.

Slowly but surely, Birkoff inched his hand closer to Declan’s, finally grasping it in his own. "I never stopped believing in us, Declan. I was coming to tell you that. When I overheard you and Walter."

Declan collapsed against Birkoff, his arms winding themselves around his neck. He pressed kisses to Birkoff’s neck and shoulder, and Birkoff was sure that he felt tears there as well.

"I love you, Sey. Always."

"And forever?"

"And forever."

***

Nikita paced back and forth until Michael felt he would go mad. "Kita, maybe you could try to talk to Maddy? She was very understanding when I spoke to her."

"No, Michael. I set everything in motion, I’ve got to stop it." She wrung her hands anxiously.

"Did you hear that Walter wants to move out now, Kita?"

She stopped pacing at once. "No! He can’t! We’re a family, Michael! He’s my Dad, he’s the twins’ grandpa! He can’t do this to us!"

Michael moved closer, pulling her into a tight embrace. "Maybe he doesn’t think of it as something he’s doing to us, doucette. Maybe he’s doing it for himself."

"He hates me! That’s why he’s doing this, Michael!"

"I don’t think so."

But there was no reasoning with Nikita when she was in the throes of such angst. In fact, she was not eating or drinking...or sleeping. And right now, she was not thinking. She was reacting.

***

Michael strode into the kitchen, where Walter, Birkoff and Declan sat, trying to make the most out of leftovers for dinner. They all instinctively looked up when Michael made his entrance. He was lean. Powerful. Intense. He also held a note. From Nikita.

"I need your help. All of you. To look for Nikita."

"What’s wrong, Michael?" asked Walter.

"She’s gone."

Michael was strangely calm. Which, ironically, made everyone even more frightened. For Michael to adopt Mission Mode to deal with his missing wife meant things were damn serious.

"I know some of you are still upset with Nikita..." He looked pointedly at Walter. "But if you could just put aside your differences for a little while, maybe we can find Nikita."

"Maybe? Sugar is missing, and you’re saying, maybe we can find her? Dammit, Michael, you’re a cold sonuvabitch sometimes!"

Michael’s green eyes flickered back and forth, assessing and surveying. "You think my falling apart is going to help me find Nikita?"

"No! But--"

"Then let’s do something constructive...for a change."

"Oh...go to Hell!" Walter snorted.

"Been there...I don’t recommend it." Michael replied coolly.

"And I hear the food is piss-poor, too," muttered Declan. Birkoff burst out laughing, and even Michael permitted himself a slight half-smile. Good, the family was starting to close ranks again and become a cohesive group once more. A crisis had a way of doing that.

Walter sighed. It was no use fighting this bunch. He belonged here, like a lunatic belonged in an asylum.

***

Madeline hung up the phone. She turned to Neil, her hand firmly planted in the middle of her back, emphasizing her advanced state of pregnancy. "Nikita’s missing."

"Missing? As in kidnapped? Or run away?"

"Run away. She left a note. She blames herself for all the tension in the house lately."

"How do we resolve this, Maddy? By all rights, it looks like Nikita’s right."

"I know, Neil, but that doesn’t mean we should throw her away, like we have no use for her any longer. You don’t think Nikita is worth saving?"

"I didn’t say that. Frustrating, yes. Not worth saving, no. I like her, Maddy. I just can’t claim to understand her."

"So few of us do, Neil. But those who do, love her very much."

***

Michael’s second phone call went to Miranda. He didn’t ask Walter how he felt about it. He just told him she was coming.

In the meantime, they split into two groups, Michael and Declan in one group, Walter and Birkoff in another. This would make their search more effective, as they could cover twice as much area. Walter’s team went outside to search the grounds, while Michael’s team stayed in the house, looking through each room, especially the unused ones.

Madeline arrived, Neil in tow, just as Miranda was getting out of her car. They waved at one another. "Are you joining the rescue party, too?"

Miranda nodded at Madeline. Madeline gave Miranda a considering look. "Good, Nikita must be in a bad way for her to run off like this, I’ll need all the help I can get if she’s regressed again."

"I’m with you, Maddy."

Neil placed both hands on Madeline’s shoulders. "I don’t want you taking any foolish chances with yourself or the baby, Maddy."

"I won’t, love. But I have to help her, Neil. She’s got no one right now except Michael, and I’m practically her mother."

Neil kissed Madeline. "Just be careful."

***

Declan met the trio at the door. "Come quick, we just found Nikita!"

"Where was she?"

"Is she, you mean. She’s inside a closet in one of the spare rooms at the back of the house."

***

Michael stared at Nikita, his heart pounding when he saw the condition she was in. Clad in only a T-shirt and jeans, she was barefoot, too. There was no heat on in this room, so she was shivering from the cold. He reached out for her, but she backed away, a huddled mass in the furthest corner of the unused closet. "Ki-ta..."

Madeline came up behind him, her heels tapping on the wood floor. "Let me look at her, Michael."

Madeline could barely bend down to look at Nikita. Nikita crept forward slightly at the sight of Madeline. "M-Maddy? M-Mom?"

"Yes, Nikita, it’s Mom," Madeline felt a strange warmth pervade her soul when she said that. It was as if it were true. She suddenly realized that she still wanted it to be. Her own dark eyes swimming with unshed tears, she called out to Nikita again. "Come here, baby."

She held out her arms to Nikita, and slowly, gently, Nikita raised herself up off the floor of the closet, to stand in Madeline’s embrace. "Mom, Mommy, everybody hates me cause of what I said to Daddy...." Nikita’s face crumpled, and she hugged Madeline, even as she cried on her shoulder.

Michael couldn’t look at Nikita any longer. She was at least partly regressed, and it brought back such terrible memories for him, he didn’t know if he could stay in the room and watch without breaking down.

"Madeline, I’m going to wait outside," he said in an extremely husky voice, one that threatened emotion might break through at any moment.

Madeline took one look at Michael’s face and nodded. Michael didn’t need to be here. She could handle this. Nikita was not as badly regressed as she had been in the past. She would recover from this, relatively quickly, but two things had to happen. She had to be absolved of guilt by her primary victim, and she had to forgive herself. The first one was easy, the second could be problematic.

She looked over her shoulder and called Walter into the room. She whispered into his ear, and he nodded, his ravaged face breaking into a grin for the first time in days.

"Sugar?"

Nikita responded immediately to his voice and the nickname. "Dad-Daddy? Is that you?"

"Yeah, Sugar, it’s me, Dad."

Nikita started to cry, with the total abandon of a child, which she was, in her mind. "Oh, Daddy, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, Daddy. I love you."

"I know, Sugar," he said, his voice rasping as he started to break down himself. "I love you...too."

"Do you forgive me, Daddy? I can be a good little girl. I can. Honest."

His eyes flooded with tears, he sputtered, "Yeah, Sugar, I forgive you."

"Thank you, Dad. I-I feel so...much...better." Nikita’s eyes closed and she almost looked as if she had gone to sleep.

Madeline wondered if forgiveness alone might be enough to end the regression, if it were not a complete break. Nikita’s eyes fluttered open again, and the woman looking at her noted a subtle difference that only someone trained in psychiatry would see. Good for Nikita. She fought her way back to the surface on her own.

"Hi, Mom." Nikita said huskily, a very tentative smile on her face.

Madeline kissed Nikita’s cheek and hugged her as tightly as her wide girth would allow. "Welcome back, Nikita."

"I’m glad you’re still my Mom, Maddy. I missed you so much."

"Well, I figured that Michael was by far the worst victim in all this, and if he could forgive you...how could I not?"

Nikita shifted her gaze to Walter. "Walter?"

Walter’s weary face creased in yet another grin. "You mean, Dad, don’t you, Sugar?"

She hugged Walter and kissed him on both cheeks for good measure. "I love you, Dad!"

Her smile dimmed for a moment. "Where’s my husband?"

"Right here, doucette." Michael stood in the doorway, waiting. He didn’t have very long to wait, either, for Nikita launched herself at him moments later.

"Oh, Michael, I’m so glad you’re here. I love you." She hugged him as hard as she could.

He kissed her. "I love you, too."

***

They finally held a house meeting. Everyone was there. Walter, Declan, Birkoff, Neil, Miranda, Madeline, Michael, and Nikita. Miranda designated herself as group leader.

"I realize that I don’t quite belong to this family, and you might think, what’s she doing up there, trying to tell us what to do? Well, you weren’t doing such a great job of it, left to your own devices, if you ask me."

"I’m here to make sure we air out all the grievances and generally get things back on track. That’s all. When I point to you, you may speak. No one interrupts. No one. Got that?"

Declan muttered, "Aye, aye, sir!" and Birkoff giggled.

"Did you have something you wished to share with us, Declan?"

"Who, me?" Declan managed to look completely innocent. "Why, no, Captain. I mean, Miranda."

"Give me five minutes alone with him, Madeline, and I could make him a changed man." Miranda shot Madeline a conspiratorial look.

Birkoff raised an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"

Declan whispered something into Birkoff’s ear, and Birkoff stared at him. Declan put his arm around Birkoff and gave him a kiss on the cheek. In front of everyone.

"Well, maybe not, then," Miranda said, trying not to smile.

"So I take it, then, things are fine with Declan and Birkoff?" Madeline asked silkily.

Declan and Birkoff nodded.

"What about you, Michael? Any other problems we should know about?"

He shook his head negatively, his arms around his wife. Nikita smiled at him, once more looking at him like he was her dark knight, she his princess.

"Walter?

"I got one beef, yeah."

Miranda braced herself. Uh-oh, it figured, she left him for last, and he was going to blow everything up in their faces again.

"We never got the kids’ birthday party off the ground, and I never got to ask you out. You wanna come over here and rectify that situation for me, please?"

Walter gave Miranda a positively wicked grin, and she smiled back. She knew she liked that man. He had style.

Where were the twins? Running rampant throughout the house while Nikita was missing and everyone searching for her? Not quite. Neil was designated most likely to be uninvolved in the search for Nikita, and so, he became the twins’ latest babysitter. Unfortunately, for him, he wasn’t as good a babysitter as he was a doctor.

Someone left Declan’s carefully crafted birthday cake out on the kitchen table. Neil didn’t realize that it wasn’t supposed to be there. But he should have noticed it. He really should have. In fact, he wished with something akin to desperation that he had.

Preoccupied with what was going on in the rest of the house, Neil did not notice the twins attempting to climb up onto a chair. He didn’t even notice when Fee succeeded in reaching the cake, and her two tiny baby hands reached out and grabbed a generous handful of whipped cream and yellow cake.

As always, Fee put everything into her mouth, so it was a good thing what she managed to eat was actually edible. Three bites later, she decided to give some to Chris, who sat waiting patiently beneath her on the floor. She gathered a huge handful of cake and dropped it onto Chris’ face. Chris protested loudly, and Neil finally turned around and saw what was going on.

"Oh, my God! How the he--?" Neil shrugged, deciding that it was probably better just to clean them up and say nothing. That would have been the answer, if life hadn’t conspired against him in the form of two babies and a dog.

Neil picked up Fee, who screamed immediately, wiping her messy hands all over Neil’s face and chest in her struggle to get free. Meanwhile, Zero, Birkoff’s puppy, who already weighed in at almost 30 pounds, bounded in from outside and slurped the whipped cream off Chris’ face. Neil put Fee down so he could deal with the dog, but Fee ran to her brother, promptly pushing him down on the handful of cake. Smoosh.

Neil finally grabbed the puppy, who seemed to have boundless energy, and wrestled him outside. That was when he discovered that the puppy was wet and full of mud. He looked down at his clothing, which was now stained with mud, and while he was so occupied, the puppy, barking intermittently, as if Neil was playing a game with him, shook. His entire body. His entire mud-soaked body. Neil remembered the twins and bolted back inside, leaving a trail of water and mud all over the floors.

At that point, Birkoff was standing in the kitchen doorway, laughing hysterically. "What did you do to them, Neil? They’re covered head to toe in whipped cream!"

Neil poked his head inside, yelling, "They are???"

Birkoff confirmed it for him. Fee had managed to get the rest of the cake onto the floor beside her and her brother. While Neil was dealing with the unruly puppy, both twins had been active indeed. Fee threw a handful of cake at Chris, and he retaliated by smearing whipped cream all over his sister’s face. Everywhere there were handprints. Whipped cream was all over the cabinets beneath the sink. Though they were kept locked so the twins could not get into them, the outsides of the cabinets were coated with a thin film of cream and crumbs of yellow cake.

Neil gasped. "Oh, hell."

Birkoff smirked at Neil. "You can say that again. Declan is going to pound you for sure."

Neil frowned. "Declan?"

"This is Declan’s kitchen, Neil. His normally spotless kitchen. Boy, am I glad you’re the one who has to deal with him."

Birkoff suddenly noticed the mud that Neil had tracked in as well. "And what’s up with that, Neil? Damn, you do like to live dangerously, don’t you?"

Neil was speechless. His life was so routine, even though his field of work was medicine, he rarely ran into anything that he could call a legitimate surprise. But this was unbelievable.

The others started straggling in from the house meeting, and Birkoff saw Declan coming towards the kitchen, his boots clicking across the wooden floor. "Uh oh. Here comes trouble."

Birkoff tried to stop Declan from going into the kitchen, but he merely smiled, thinking that Birkoff was being playful. Birkoff rolled his eyes and glanced at Neil. "Nice knowing you, Neil."

Neil winced when he heard Declan shout, "Hellfire and damnation! Who the bloody hell did this to my kitchen???"

Neil crept in as unobtrusively as possible, but it was futile. Declan saw him, quickly read the guilty look in his eyes, and nabbed him as the perpetrator. "You did this?"

"Well, no...but they did." He pointed to the twins, who were covered in cake and whipped cream. Declan followed his finger down to the two babies, who thought playing with food was even more fun than eating it.

Declan grabbed Neil by the collar and pulled his face into his, his grey eyes glacial. "You let two babies run amok in the kitchen, without supervising them? What do you use for brains, Mr. Intellect? How the hell did you ever get through medical school? You ever hear of poison? You know that babies put just about everything into their mouths? You’re bloody lucky it was just cake!"

Neil suddenly realized that Declan was absolutely right. They could have eaten something dangerous, and it would have been his fault. Entirely. He flushed anxiously. Maybe it was good this happened. Maybe he needed to know just how fallible he was. Before his own child was born.

"And just who do you suppose is going to clean up this mess? It sure as hell isn’t me, you freaking--!" Declan caught himself before he cursed any more fluently in front of the children. "Mush-for-brains," he hissed at Neil.

Chris looked up with interest at the two grown-ups. He couldn’t understand everything they were saying, but he understood their tone. Angry. Upset. He grabbed a handful of cake, intending to offer it as a peace gesture to them. But it slipped and fell on Fee.

Fee took that as an insult of sorts, and she threw a handful back at Chris. Chris meant to hit Fee again, but his aim was not very good, and it went further than he expected, hitting Neil in the abdomen. Neil didn’t think, he just reacted. "Oh, shit."

Chris blinked. That was an interesting word. He didn’t think he’d ever heard that one before. Fee was pondering the same thing. "Kit-tee," she said, trying out the sound of a similar word. She shook her head. That wasn’t quite right. "Sh-it," she said, finally, pleased with herself.

Chris repeated it after Fee. "Sh-it."

Declan whirled around, aghast at what new havoc Neil had wrought. "All the heavenly saints on a toothpick! Neil, you had to go and do it, didn’t you? Do you have any idea what you’ve started?"

A chorus of "Shit, shit, shit" rose up from the two innocent cherubs sitting on the floor, smeared hopelessly with cake and whipped cream. If only their parents could see them now.

They could. Michael and Nikita stood in the doorway of the kitchen, in shock at the sight and sound of their children.

"My God!" cried Nikita.

"Merde!" shouted Michael, who at least had the foresight to curse in a language the children did not completely understand.

The others piled in behind Michael and Nikita, and the kitchen was now filled with onlookers in varying degrees of shock. Birkoff laughed at Declan’s face, and as he doubled over, Declan scooped up a handful of cake and fired it at Birkoff. Birkoff tried to retaliate, but he missed, hitting Michael. Birkoff gasped, but Michael only smiled.

Michael carefully molded a snowball out of yellow cake and whipped cream and he did not miss. He hit Declan square in the face. "For you, Birkoff, a present," he laughed.

The whole situation deteriorated from there. Walter scooped up some cream and hit Nikita, who took the time to taste it on her tongue. "Mmm..." She leaned over and whispered in Michael’s ear, "Does this give you any ideas?" Her tongue licked his ear saucily, and he looked at her, his eyes darkening to jade.

Walter apologized to Nikita, explaining he meant to hit Miranda. Miranda took exception to that and grabbed a handful of cake to hit Walter. But Walter grabbed her arm in mid-air, guiding it back towards her own body, and he managed to smear whipped cream all over Miranda’s face. Embracing her, he leaned into her face and said in that silky, smoky voice, "Can I take care of that for you?" He then proceeded to lick off every bit of whipped cream on her face until she thought she would expire from excitement.

Nikita threw the last handful of cake at Madeline, not wanting her new mother to feel left out of the family food fight. Madeline pulled a bit of whipped cream off her face and sucked it off her fingers. "Nice shot, Nikita. How very Freudian to want to kill your Mom," she giggled.

"Only with whipped cream," Nikita quipped. "And don’t eat that, Mom, you’re a diabetic, remember? Gotta watch your sugar."

Madeline stuck out her tongue at Nikita, and it was coated with white whipped cream. She laughed gaily, feeling as if she were part of the family at long last. Accepted in ways she hadn’t been before.

Neil objected to Madeline eating the cake, no matter how small the piece, and she made a moue with her mouth. "Oh, Neil, lighten up! You’re such an old poop sometimes!"

He blinked, just as Madeline’s hand smooshed yellow cake into his open mouth. "I am?"

Nearly the whole room chorused, "You are!"

"I didn’t know."

Nikita smiled. "Neil, you just need to learn to laugh at yourself once in a while, you take everything way too seriously."

"I can do that." Neil nodded.

Nikita laughed. Madeline said, "He’s adding it to his mental to-do list right now," giggling.

Declan put both fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly. "Okay, who votes that Neil should clean up this mess?"

Every hand in the room shot up. Neil shrunk inside.

"Showers are on the house! Save hot water, shower with a friend!" Nikita laughed as she looked at Walter and Miranda, still embracing in a corner of the kitchen.

Nikita looked at the two children sitting at her feet. "Oh, Faith...your hair...and Chris...ugh. It’s definitely bathtime for you guys."

Faith held her arms out to Nikita. "Mom-mom, up!"

"Yes, you little devil, you’re starting to talk properly now, aren’t you?"

"Shit?"

Nikita looked at Michael, who sighed, but not unhappily. "They’re definitely our children."

Nikita could feel the whipped cream congealing in her hair. Ugh. She stripped down to her underwear and turned the taps on for a bath. The twins sat at her feet, naked, playing with what was left of the whipped cream on their faces and toes. When the tub was half-filled, she tested the water temperature again and smiled. Just right. She picked up and placed each baby into the tub. Turning away a moment, she took off her underwear, folding it neatly on top of the toilet seat. She slid down into the tub, behind her babies, who were already splashing and slapping the surface of the water to make wonderful sounds.

Unfortunately, moments later, the splashing sounds were broken by another chorus of "Shit, shit, shit" from her daughter, Faith, who was clearly the ringleader, by the looks of things. Not having any idea how to deal with it so as not to reinforce the language, Nikita wondered if it was best to ignore it or to suggest other words that might be more appropriate.

She picked up the sponge and carefully rinsed Chris’ hair till it shone pale blond again. He protested when she rinsed his face, spitting at her and the sponge, but she merely laughed. She enjoyed this, she really did. It was rare to have them in a position where they would both sit relatively still for a few minutes. She turned her attentions to Faith, who continued to spew curse words like a determined sailor on shore leave. After rinsing her hair, she asked Faith what the word meant.

Faith cocked her head intelligently at her mother. "Mom-mom? Shit kit-tee?"

Nikita assumed that Faith wanted to know if the two words were interchangeable. She hastened to assure her that they were not. Faith blinked, her changeable eyes now more green than grey. When she was still, when she was pensive, like now, she resembled Michael so much. It made Nikita ache inside. It was something she never had enough time to think about. That their love had produced two such beautiful children.

"Faith? You are such a beautiful little girl. Do you know that your Mom-mom loves you?" She stared intently at Faith, blue eyes meeting green, willing her to understand. She was so deep in thought that when she heard the voice, she jumped.

"She understands, doucette," Michael said softly, from his post at the doorway. He looked at her with such affection, she melted.

"How long were you standing there?"

"Just a minute or so."

His eyes were dark green, not unlike Faith’s right now. Perhaps he was noting the similarity himself. But no, he was admiring his family. He was thanking God for giving him Nikita to have and to hold, and for giving him the two wonderful children he loved so much.

"Do you want to help me put them to bed, Michael?"

He nodded. "I’d like that, Kita. Can I get their pajamas?"

She smiled. "Of course, love."

He drifted closer and let his fingers trail over her cheek, as if he just couldn’t resist touching her somehow. It wasn’t sexual. It was almost ritualistic behavior sometimes, but he found it comforting to know he was her protector as well as her lover. He craved that contact so much. He pressed his thumb against her mouth, sighing as she returned the feeling by kissing his finger.

"I love you." She blinked slowly in response to the words she never tired of hearing from his lips.

"I love you, too." He always reacted, sometimes imperceptibly, but there was always a reaction to those words. Sometimes his pupils would dilate. Sometimes his nostrils would flare slightly. And sometimes, like now, he let his eyelids flutter down so slowly, she just knew he was thinking about making love to her.

***

Declan watched as Neil cleaned the floor. He was supervising the clean-up job in the kitchen. Not that he didn’t find Neil to be a trustworthy and honorable man, but...he’d caused such a huge mess, Declan thought that perhaps Neil would be frightened away by the size of the job. Well, Declan thought, I cannot take a shower until this is done, so it might as well get done quickly, even if I have to play slavedriver.

He yawned as Neil literally crawled on his hands and knees, finding pieces of cake hidden under the moldings and under the refrigerator door. Meanwhile, Birkoff stood, arms crossed in front of his chest, apparently content to watch Neil work. "Sey, you don’t have to stay. That stuff is going to be the very devil to get out of your hair once it hardens."

Birkoff shrugged. "I like watching other people work. Besides, we can save hot water if we take one shower instead of two." Birkoff’s mouth twitched puckishly, but Neil never saw it. Declan did, however, and he shook his head at Birkoff, as if to say, you are so bad when I can’t say anything back.

"Let’s see if we can do something to snap things up, Neil, okay?"

Neil commented dryly, "Why? You two got a hot date or something?"

"Ooh, wit from the Man of Whipped Cream, eh? Now shut up and get done. You might have forgotten your pregnant wife is waiting, but I haven’t."

Neil flushed, realizing that he had, in fact, forgotten about Maddy. Poor Maddy. Poor Maddy? His mind rebelled. The woman called him an old poop in front of everyone! He was too young to be an old poop. Well, to be honest, he didn’t want to be any kind of a poop.

***

Walter led Miranda down the hall to his room. "The shower is through there." He pointed to the bathroom. He gathered a few towels and handed them to her. "You’ll probably want to wash your hair, too." He acted shy, suddenly, which, at any other time, Miranda might have found endearing, but right now, she wanted to see the other Walter, the Walter who licked the whipped cream off her face before kissing the life out of her.

"Walter?" she asked. He glanced at her a trifle nervously. "Yeah?"

"Would you like to join me?" she said, boldly going where no woman had gone before. Well, at least not in several years.

"I-I...um..."

"I’ll take that as a yes." She smiled coyly and took his hand. Sometimes you literally had to lead them to water to make them drink.

***

Neil finally finished the kitchen to Declan’s satisfaction, but it was harder than working a midnight shift at the hospital. By now, Neil was not only full of whipped cream, but soaked with perspiration as well. Not a pleasant combination. Especially when he saw Maddy wrinkle her nose at his approach. "Nikita took pity on me, she let me use her shower. I couldn’t stand that cream in my hair one more second."

"I wish someone would take pity on me. You remember me, don’t you, Maddy? The old poop?"

Madeline laughed. "Of course, Neil. And you know you deserved it, every silly moment of it."

Neil eventually saw the humor in it, and he was just beginning to smile when he saw his stern Irish taskmaster coming around the corner. He gave a short laugh, saying, "Who would have thought he could be like that?"

"Like what?"

"You know. He was so intense there, for a bit, when he got in my face, I thought he could actually kill someone. I mean, I could see it in his eyes, Maddy."

She said nothing, keeping her own counsel.

"Then later, he’s laughing and smiling with so much softness and affection for those two kids. It was like he was a totally different person."

"Maybe he’s both."

"Yeah, right, Maddy, pull the other leg." Neil could believe that Declan could be soft, but not that he could kill. Madeline found it interesting, the lies people tell themselves, when they feel threatened. Even her husband didn’t realize he had seen a part of the real Declan. Well, so much for the past. In a way, it was always there, as part of a person’s present.

***

Declan stripped off his clothing, sodden as it was with whipped cream and cake, and threw it into a pile near the bathroom door. Padding around the room naked, he tried to comb out his hair, removing the more obvious clumps of cake and whatnot. Suddenly hearing a sound in the bathroom, he whirled around, automatically readying himself for a battle. Birkoff stood there, smiling, wearing nothing but his shorts. "I already ran a bath. Are you coming in or not?"

Declan sidled up to Birkoff, a sly smile on his lips. "You cheeky little bugger, you hightailed it over here the minute Neil was done, didn’t you?"

"And waited for you." Birkoff added significantly.

"Yeah, well, wouldn’t be much of a party without me, would it then?" Declan put his arms around Birkoff and kissed him, only to sigh moments later.

"What? What is it, Declan?"

"I’ve got to take a quick bath, Sey. Thanks to whoever left the cake out in the first place, now I’ve got to bake and decorate an entirely new cake by morning. In time for the twins’ party."

Birkoff looked disappointed, then just as suddenly, he brightened. "I know, I’ll help you."

"Not to hurt your feelings, Sey, but what do you know about baking or cake decorating?"

"Not much, but four hands are better than two, right?"

"Depend on whose hands they are, I guess."

"You tease!"

Declan kissed him. "Always."

***

The babies were in bed, safely tucked in. Nikita looked down at the two of them and wondered how they could look so angelic when they were asleep. She yawned and Michael rested his palms on her shoulders. "Tired, Kita?"

"It’s been an...interesting day...to say the least."

"Come..." He pulled her against his body. "Let’s go get you cleaned up."

"I took a bath with the kids, Michael."

"But your hair is full of cake, doucette. Let me wash it for you."

She smiled affectionately at him. "You know how much I love that. I could never turn down an offer like that."

When they got to their bedroom, Michael automatically locked the door behind him. "You hoping to get lucky, Michael?"

He hid a smile. "Always, doucette."

They walked into the bathroom, where Michael ran a bath. "I think this might be the last of the hot water, Kita."

"That’s okay. We can cope."

He laughed. Did she mean that they would make things so hot, the water wouldn’t even concern them?

When the water had filled the tub, Michael helped her take off her white terrycloth robe, untying the belt first, then letting the material gap open. "You are so beautiful, Kita." He gazed at her intensely as his fingers caressed her cheek.

"You always make me feel that way, Michael."

He helped her into the tub, then he sat down behind her, so he could wash her hair. "Unh...I love this..." she said, leaning back against him as he began to pull her hair through his fingers.

"If I fall asleep, don’t bother to wake me."

"If you fall asleep, I must be doing something wrong, Kita."

She chuckled, stretching her body out the length of the tub, feeling the water lap against it enticingly.

"Think we can recapture the magic, Michael?"

"We never lost the magic, doucette. Just ask me."

He pulled her hair through the water several times, eventually applying a jasmine-scented shampoo Nikita liked. After lathering it up and massaging her scalp, Michael rinsed the soap from her hair, twice, to make sure it was clean.

"You still awake?"

"Mmm...barely."

He caressed her back gently, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. Somehow they managed to stand up and get out of the tub, and when they were, Michael pulled her still-soapy body against his, finding her mouth instantly. Slowly he teased her mouth open, his tongue entering her softly, wetly. "Ki-ta..."

"I’m awake...and waiting for more..."

He took a towel and dried her body, then his own. Throwing the towel onto the floor, he pulled Nikita along by the hand till they were standing next to their bed.

He stroked her face with his hands. "Let me love you..." he whispered.

"Always."

Walter lay in bed, his arm around Miranda, while she slept. He just kept staring at the ceiling, as if he were afraid to think about what this might mean. Truth was, he was in love with her. Truth was, he didn’t know how she really felt.

Miranda stirred, her eyes fluttering open, and she realized that Walter was awake. "Mmm...good morning." She smiled, but when there was no answering smile, she grew pensive.

"Okay, Walter, spill it. What nonsense have you talked yourself into now?" she asked, sounding as if she were the high school principal calling him on the carpet. It would have been more effective if she had clothes on.

"Nothing, really, I just--" He stopped, unable to continue. He was so afraid of being rejected, he couldn’t even believe it himself.

"You just what?" She moved closer, if that were even possible, kissing his chin. That single affectionate gesture did more than her words.

"Aw, hell, I think I’m in love with you, Miranda."

She caught her breath and sighed contentedly against him. "I should think so. Otherwise, that was one hell of a performance."

He dismissed her attempt at humor. "Look, sex is easy, love is hard."

"Did you just figure that out, Walter?" She seemed curiously amused.

"We could keep dancing around this all day long, honey, what I really need to know is...do you love me?"

She raised herself up on one elbow and regarded him with affection in her bright hazel eyes. "Of course, I do, Walter. You only had to ask."

He kissed her. "I know I’m moving way too fast on this, honey, but I’d like you to move in here with me."

"Give up my apartment? What if it doesn’t...work out?"

"That’s one hell of a pessimistic outlook, isn’t it?" She idly traced designs on his chest with one finger. "I don’t know, Walter. That’s a big decision."

He looked crestfallen. "I understand, honey."

"Walter, why do you keep calling me honey?"

"Cause you have honey hair, and you’re just...my honey, that’s all. Like Sugar is my sugar." He looked almost embarrassed to admit it, but it was true.

"I mean that much to you?"

"Hell, yes."

"I’ll give you an answer after the kids’ birthday party."

"I’m not trying to push you, honey, it’s just...I ain’t getting any younger, you know?"

She kissed him. "Neither am I."

***

A bloodcurdling scream was heard throughout the house around dawn. It woke everyone. Well, those who were asleep. Some people were already awake.

Madeline regarded her husband, who stood in the doorway of the bathroom of one of Michael and Nikita’s guest rooms. He was naked. He was sopping wet. He looked frozen.

Resisting the urge to laugh hysterically, Madeline politely inquired, "Um, Neil, what happened?"

"I finally got to take my shower, and there was no hot water left!"

He sounded so cross and so indignant, but there was a certain irony in the situation, too. Madeline saw it immediately and though she tried to stifle it, a bubble of laugher escaped her.

Neil sighed, disheartened that even his wife would not sympathize. His lower lip trembled as he began to shiver in earnest. Madeline jumped up, as quickly as her girth would allow, and grabbed a towel. "Oh, love, I’m sorry."

"Is this human enough for you, Maddy? Am I any less of an old poop yet?"

She stroked his face with a long, elegant finger. "You’ll always be the man I love, Neil. Old poop or not."

He stopped trying to dry himself with the towel, and the towel fell to the floor between them. He reached for her, his arms barely able to fit round her waist anymore, but he could still kiss her. So he did.

"Would our son mind if his dad borrowed his mom, just for a little while?"

She smiled enigmatically.

***

Michael laughed when he heard the scream. Nikita smiled sleepily, resting her head on his chest. "Was that what I think it was?"

"Yes," Michael replied. "That was Neil discovering there was no more hot water."

"You’re so mean, Michael." She tickled his chest.

He kissed her hand. "I’m never mean to you, Kita."

"Mmm...no, you’ve been very nice to me, Michael."

He wrapped his arms around her neck, stroking the back of her head. "Can I be nice to you again, Kita?"

"Again?" She bit her lip. "Don’t we have to get up soon? The party is today."

He nuzzled the side of her neck, his mouth covetous. "I promise, we won’t even be late..."

She didn’t answer, she just slid down the length of his body, her nipples hardening as they grazed his abdomen. When she touched his arousal with her fingers, though, Michael uttered a low moan.

"You little minx, you want this to be over quickly?"

Her mouth touched him in place of her fingers, and his fingers tangled themselves in her hair. He groaned involuntarily. "Oh, God, you do."

She smiled.

***

Declan woke when Neil screamed bloody murder, his first instinct to check on Seymour. Birkoff was fast asleep, his head on Declan’s shoulder, his arms wrapped at least partway across Declan’s body. He was curiously possessive in his sleep. Declan smiled. He liked that.

He kissed him and slowly began to disentangle himself to get out of bed, but Birkoff protested sleepily, his arms reaching for Declan. "Ack, I’ve got to get up now, Sey. Or there’ll be no cake."

"To hell with the cake," Birkoff muttered. "The twins had enough cake last night to celebrate two birthdays...and come to think of it...so did we."

Birkoff rolled over onto his back, groaning at the early hour. Declan stood up and started to pull on clean clothes. When he finished buttoning his jeans, Declan pulled a brush through his long red hair, fixing it into its usual ponytail with a strip of cloth.

"Go back to sleep, Sey."

"No, I promised I’d help." Birkoff started to get out of bed, but Declan stopped him.

"You helped me last night, Sey. That’s more than enough for me." He leaned over and kissed him, his hand trailing along his face, as if he were reluctant to leave him.

When he straightened up, Birkoff grabbed his hand and pulled him back down for another kiss. "I love you."

Declan smiled. It was going to be a good day.

***

Michael couldn’t bear it any longer. This sensual assault on him. He wrestled Nikita away from him, pulling her up to his mouth. He gasped at the heat of her, tasting himself on her lips. "You should have let me finish it, Michael."

"Not like that, Kita. I want to be inside you. I always want to be inside you."

"You are inside me, Michael. Always."

Ignited by what she was saying, in a figurative sense, he rolled over and possessed her with a ferocity that left both of them breathless. "Now I am," he said triumphantly, claiming her sweetness and her heat together. His knee in between her legs, he worked at stroking her slowly, but thoroughly.

"Come for me, my Kita," he whispered.

"You first."

He shook his head, slowing his pace to a point that made both of them throb dangerously close to climax.

"I can hold out longer than you can, Michael."

He kissed her already-swollen mouth, his tongue daring her to make good her promise. He stopped, knowing he was right up against the edge of control himself. He couldn’t even think about climaxing or it would all be over.

She knew he was close. She wanted him to pour himself inside her, like he was entering her pores, her skin, her soul. He nudged her gently inside, as a reminder. Oh, well, she could play this game another time.

She pulled on his hair, forcing his mouth down to hers, drinking him. Suddenly, she arched against him. Barely able to form a coherent thought, she managed to whisper in his ear, "Come with me, love."

He did. With a groan, he stroked her hard and deep, feeling her answering throb moments before his. As he climaxed, he claimed total right of possession, like some ancient feudal lord. Mine.

***

By noon, all was in readiness for the twins’ birthday party. Everyone invited was already present. Declan brought the cake out, the single candle lit, and everyone oohed and ahed appropriately. Some people looked ecstatically happy, others merely overtired.

They set up the celebration outside on the back lawn. The weather was cool, but not uncomfortable. It was almost the end of winter. Spring would be there soon. Declan put the cake on the long table, producing a cake knife to cut it with. "Michael, since the twins are too young to be wielding sharp objects, would you do the honors of cutting the cake?"

Michael smiled at Declan. The twins giggled excitedly, their eyes riveted on the cake. No doubt they had different plans for it than eating it.

With a celebratory slash of the knife, Michael cut the cake. He felt almost overcome with emotion. His children, his and Kita’s, were officially one year old, though their actual birthday had been long past. His green eyes met Nikita’s blue ones, and he could see she was moved to tears.

Michael held up the first piece of cake and indicated that Nikita should have it, as the twins’ mother. "Kita, this is for you. You’re the mom."

She surreptitiously wiped away her tears and accepted the cake gratefully. One by one, Michael doled out each slice to another guest, another member of his family, which seemed to have mysteriously increased by one during the night.

"Walter? Is Miranda going to be joining us?" Michael’s meaning was unmistakable to Walter. But he didn’t know the answer.

Miranda smiled. "Walter asked me to move in here. But I’m not sure if that should be his decision alone. Maybe you want some time to think about it. And me."

Michael shook his head. "I don’t need another moment to think about it. I think it’s a great idea. Anyone else?"

One by one, each member of the family voiced his support, and Miranda was struck again by the powerful unity of this family that was not joined by blood.

"No objections, Miranda. Quit your stalling. I’m an old man. How long do I have anyway?" Walter huffed.

Miranda threw her arms around Walter and hugged him tightly. "I guess there’s going to be a wedding!"

"Hey now, I asked you to move in, not to get married." Walter watched as Miranda did a slow burn. He grinned wickedly. "Just kidding, honey."

Miranda lightly smacked his cheek. "You are so bad, Walter. And that’s Captain Honey to you!"

He saluted her smartly, and a ripple of laughter made its way down the table. Nikita hugged her father, not even caring if his announcement took some of the attention away from the twins’ birthday. In truth, their birthday plans had been so long postponed, time and again, she had wondered if this day would ever come.

Michael smiled at the sight of his children, imitating the adults, finally realizing that the cake was meant to be eaten. Not a single smoosh.