Some things are painfully obvious. This was evidently one of them. Madeline was going into the transition phase of labor. She did not want Miranda, she made it very clear that she wanted Declan attending her. Unfortunately, the knowledge in Miranda’s head could not be transferred to Declan’s without anything short of bad science fiction. So Miranda coached Declan on what to do, and Declan hoped and prayed that he was doing whatever he was doing correctly.

Neil was on his way to the Samuelle house. But it looked like he was going to be late for the birth of his son. For one thing, Madeline seemed unusually impatient to have her son born. For another, her son was wasting absolutely no time in obeying his soon-to-be mother. For a first-time mother to deliver so quickly could have led to a precipitous birth, a dangerous event indeed. However, it soon became clear that Madeline had in fact been in labor for hours, more hours than would be believed possible, but she was so determined to attend Michael and Nikita’s second anniversary party, she literally blocked the pain from her conscious mind.

If she had known she was able to do this, she would have perfected the technique and taught it to all the operatives at Section One, making it the primary defensive tool in their catalog. It might have earned her more respect or even a promotion. But she would have traded all that glory and more for the life she had now, with or without the son she was about to bring into the world.

Miranda guided Declan through the next sequence, and she thanked God that He steadied Declan’s hands. It would never do to drop a newborn. She was just about to call Neil again, thinking that her reasons for wanting him at Madeline’s side were twofold: one, because he was the father-to-be, and two, because he knew more than she did about potential obstetrical complications. She was not that happy with Madeline’s blood pressure, but at least, her gestational diabetes was under control.

There was a loud crash outside the room, and then a thunderous stomping throughout the house. The door flew open suddenly, and there was Neil. Looking considerably worse for wear, but there. Madeline didn’t notice. She was too busy pushing and panting. Meanwhile, Declan was trying not to notice what was happening to the lower portion of Madeline’s body. It hardly seemed appropriate, despite their long acquaintance and close relationship.

Then something happened to change all that. The baby’s head crowned, and Madeline gave an exulted cry. Declan stared at the baby’s head, transfixed. "Oh, God!"

Birkoff couldn’t speak. He wasn’t present for the birth of Nikita’s twins, nor was Declan, but this...this was beyond words. He saw tears shimmering in Declan’s eyes, and he knew in that moment just how much Declan truly loved Madeline. He touched Declan’s arm gently, in a show of solidarity, and Declan smiled.

Neil moved forward slowly, picking up Madeline’s hand and kissing it. "Maddy, I’m here, love."

"Neil! You’re not mad?"

He shook his head in slow motion. "No, Maddy, I’m just glad I got here in time for the birth of our son," he whispered, tears clogging his throat.

Declan cleared his throat, offering to change positions with Neil. "I mean, you are the father, Neil."

Neil nodded. "That’s right, Declan, I’m the father. I’m not here as Maddy’s doctor. I’m just the man who loves her so much, he would die for her."

"Please...continue. I’m sure you must be doing something right. Maddy looks so happy." Neil leaned over and kissed her, smoothing back her long, dark hair, now matted with droplets of perspiration.

Miranda snorted. "The two of you are just too poetic for words. In the meantime, we have a baby waiting to join us, in case you forgot."

Miranda called out, "Maddy! You need to give us one or two more big pushes! Can you do that?"

Declan met Madeline’s eyes. Her eyes, normally dark and glistening with something akin to pain, were now lit with a special light, a light that made her dark eyes gleam. He nodded. She pushed. There was a sudden loud squall of sound.

Declan looked down at his hands and realized that he was holding Maddy’s baby. "Maddy! It’s your boy! Your son!"

Neil stared at the baby Declan held so carefully, his hands visibly trembling with something between excitement and fear. "God, he’s beautiful, Maddy!"

At last, Madeline was distracted enough to allow Miranda to do something for her, releasing Declan from his responsibilities. She took the baby and cleaned him, laying him on Madeline’s abdomen, to bond with his mother. Madeline’s eyes filled with tears. Her baby. She and Neil had a baby at last. It didn’t make up for the pain or the loss of the baby she couldn’t carry to term, but she was ever so grateful for this child.

"His hair is almost the same as yours, Neil." Neil glanced at the baby, startled.

"You’re right, Maddy." His hair was nearly the same shade of dark blond as Neil’s. His eyes, however, were a brilliant, piercing shade of blue, unlike Neil’s, which were a softer, more pastel color.

"Look at his eyes, Maddy. They’re amazing."

Declan let the two parents talk on about the baby’s various attributes, and he gradually fell back to a position somewhere near the door. Birkoff followed, and soon, without a single word exchanged, they were hugging each other.

"Declan, I’ve never seen anything even remotely like this! It’s like...it’s not even real!" Birkoff was managing to put into words something of what Declan was feeling.

"I know, Sey, did you see how tiny his fingers and toes are? But for all that, he’s a big baby!"

Miranda nodded at Declan. "Yes, babies born to diabetic mothers usually are. They’re called LGA, or large-for-gestational-age, babies."

Declan looked worried. "But the baby is healthy, right?" Then, as if realizing that he should never have asked that within Madeline’s hearing, he shut his mouth tight.

Miranda smiled patiently, understanding something of what Declan was going through. "The baby looks fine. Better than fine. Wonderful."

Madeline and Neil whispered lovingly back and forth to each other. Miranda abruptly realized that they were lost in their own little world, unlikely to have heard a word the others said. "Neil, do you want me to call the hospital to arrange transport for Maddy and the baby?"

Neil nodded absently, but Miranda doubted if he knew what he was agreeing to. Miranda left the room to call the hospital and to touch base with Walter, who was anxiously waiting outside for word on Madeline.

Declan grabbed Birkoff’s arm and started to pull him outside the room with him, but Neil stopped him. "Declan...my wife and I have been discussing what to name our son."

"Aye? Well, that’s your--"

Madeline cut off what Declan was going to say next. "Declan, I want you to know that whatever secrets lay between us, stay between us. I haven’t told Neil anything about you or the others beyond what you already know about."

Neil nodded in all seriousness, and Declan realized with a start that Madeline had finally told Neil about Section. He queried her with a raised eyebrow, and she replied, as if he had spoken out loud, "Yes, it was time I told him. We trust him with our lives. Doesn’t he deserve to know?"

Declan acknowledged this with a sigh and a slight incline of his head.

She smiled wearily at Declan, her heart filled to overflowing for her new child and for him. "His name will be Justin."

She heard Declan’s sharp intake of breath, and she quickly moved on, lest Declan object or worse, refuse. "In honor of your late older brother, Declan. Who was not as fortunate as you." Declan’s older brother had been part of the group of Irish terrorists brought in by Section, but he did not survive his time in Section. Declan, in his own curiously stubborn way of dealing with the pain, denied that there was any connection, physical or emotional, between himself and the young man who had been his brother. He never quite got over the guilt of denying his own brother. Madeline never forgot how he cried when he finally told her.

"So his death will not have been in vain," Declan replied, his grey eyes like stones, dull and unmoving.

"It never was, Declan," Madeline said. "He should be remembered. He was your brother, no matter what he did. And you didn’t give him up, no matter what we did."

"Maddy, you don’t have to--"

"We want to," said Neil, with a firmness that took Declan by surprise. By God, the man had reinvented himself within the past week. Maybe they should have told him sooner.

"His name is Justin..." Madeline said defiantly, tears spilling over. Neil put his arm around Madeline and held her briefly, but she wanted to continue.

"And his middle name will be Niall. That’s Neil, spelled the Irish way."

Declan almost laughed. "The correct way, you mean. About bloody time."

Neil nodded, a slight smile curving his lips upwards at the corners. "So...we’re off to the hospital...with Justin."

"Aye," said Declan, his eyes both sad and bright at the same time. He reached out to touch the new baby with one finger.

"Hello, Justin."

Birkoff lay his head on Declan’s shoulder, feeling Declan’s pain ebb as he accepted the new baby’s name.

"Hello, Justin."

"Declan!

"Declan! Wait up! You’re going too fast!"

Declan slowed his pace a fraction, impatient to pick up Michael and Nikita now. He debated leaving the two of them at the old abandoned farmhouse overnight, but he knew the plumbing didn’t work. He didn’t think that would be a part of anyone’s romantic fantasy.

Birkoff appeared at his shoulder, slightly out of breath. "You’re going to pick up Michael and Nikita, right? Can I come?"

"I’m okay, Sey. Really." Declan was sure that Birkoff thought he was upset. Upset, no. Slightly overcome by emotions he thought long gone or submerged so deeply, they would never resurface, yes.

"The Justin thing. You’re okay with it?" Birkoff touched Declan’s face, his fingers almost trying to read Declan’s emotional state by searching for underlying tension.

Declan captured his fingers and kissed them. "I’m fine. But I love you for asking."

Birkoff smiled faintly. "Just for asking, huh?"

"That and a whole hell of a lot of other reasons, Sey." Declan’s eyes watered just a bit. "Okay, you can come. But it’s just a straight to the farmhouse and back pick-up job, you know."

"I know." Birkoff leaned up and kissed him. "I just want to be with you."

***

Michael kissed Nikita fervently, his arms wrapped tightly around her. When he broke off the kiss, he looked odd, almost disturbed at the loss of contact between them. He didn’t know what was happening to him. When he stopped touching her, he felt breathless, almost anxious.

"Oh, doucette, sometimes I’m afraid I need you way too much."

"That could never be, Michael. I love you and need you in the same exact way," she told him.

His fingers clutched at her hair, entangling themselves in the long, silken strands. "You always understand me."

"I always try," she corrected gently. "Even I don’t always understand you, Michael." She smiled lovingly at him, reflecting back the tenderness and affection he’d repeatedly shown her over the past few hours.

Her words automatically gentled the intensity of the anxiety within him. "Thank you."

"For what? Trapping you here under false pretenses? Having my wicked way with you? More than twice?" She winked saucily at Michael.

He swooped down upon her neck, feasting on her as if she were delectable beyond words. "Much more than twice. You have a voracious appetite, doucette."

She leaned back on the bed, stretching her body with feline grace. "I don’t see you having any trouble keeping up, Michael."

"I could kiss you till the end of time, my Kita, and it would never be enough." He kissed her cheek, her eyelids, and then, lingered over her mouth until she sighed prettily.

Michael’s hand wandered down her body slowly, and Nikita responded with a groan so sensual, it sent shivers up his spine.

"Mmm...you want to melt my bones all over again..."

"Is that what I do to you?" He looked amused.

"Sometimes." Her eyes, bright, willing sapphires, clung to his as he gingerly stroked between her legs.

Moments later, he replaced his hand with himself, joining them one more time. His weight at once familiar, Michael stole into her body’s most zealously guarded crevice.

They lay together, their bodies united but unmoving, as if simply being part of one another were enough. And it was, for a long time. But slowly, feeling awakened...

***

Declan parked the Jeep outside the farmhouse. "You want to wait here, Sey?"

Birkoff shook his head. "I’ll go back up with you."

Together they climbed the old staircase, and when they got to the door of the room that Michael and Nikita shared, they heard it. Groaning. Sensual keening. The slick sound of two wet bodies coming together and sliding apart. Repeatedly. Declan cursed softly under his breath. "I thought they’d be well done by now," he whispered to Birkoff.

Birkoff grinned. "You don’t know Michael and Nikita as well as you think you do, Declan," he whispered back.

Declan leaned against the wall outside the room, trying to ignore the sounds that only seemed to increase in loudness and intensity. Birkoff was undeniably amused by Declan’s discomfiture.

When the sounds went on for some moments, Declan shifted uncomfortably. "We should wait outside in the Jeep," he whispered.

Birkoff leaned against Declan, his dark eyes intent on his mouth, his lower body picking up the unmistakable signs of arousal in his partner. "This isn’t making you hot?" he whispered into Declan’s ear, his hands cradling the back of Declan’s head.

Declan closed his eyes with a shudder. "Um, no, we can’t. Not here. Definitely not now."

Birkoff slid his hands through Declan’s long red hair, savoring the feel of it. He kissed him, and Declan gasped, despite his rigid control, especially when his hand touched Declan’s belt buckle.

Declan grabbed Birkoff’s hand, trapping it where it was. "No."

Birkoff pulled his hand to his mouth and kissed it. "There must be another bedroom here..."

Declan looked aghast. "Not a clean one! God, there must be bugs! Even...spiders!" He shuddered, this time with distaste.

Birkoff’s dark eyes lit up. "I’ll protect you, Declan."

Declan listened to the renewed moans in the other room and sighed. "Sweet M--! Did you ever hear such a noise?"

Birkoff smiled. "Now we can go wait outside in the Jeep."

***

Michael slid into Nikita, and they became one entity. One soul. Two hearts beating in unison. There was a lot to be said for synchronicity.

Nikita’s toes curled, and she stroked Michael’s calf with her foot. The muscles on his back rippled sensuously as she clutched at him. And suddenly it was all over.

Nikita smiled sleepily. "Well, this is one anniversary I’ll never forget. And we never even got to your present for me, Michael..."

"You’re a greedy little thing, aren’t you?"

"Should we start walking home then? It’s a long, long way on foot."

Michael pondered the fact that no one ever came to pick them up. "They must have forgotten us. Guess they were having a good time without us."

***

Birkoff lay with his head in Declan’s lap, Declan stroking his hair repeatedly. "Are we going to stay out here till morning?"

Declan nodded. "Go to sleep, Sey."

Birkoff looked sheepish. "I’m sorry I came on to you like that, Declan. Good thing you have more sense than I do."

"Not more sense, Sey. Just more control." He leaned down and kissed Birkoff. "And sometimes...I wish I could be more like you. Impulsive. Enthusiastic."

Birkoff grinned. "Out of control?"

Declan smiled. "It wasn’t wrong, Sey. Just bad timing. Try that again under different circumstances and I dunno what might happen..."

"So...?"

He kissed him again. "Bless you, Sey, you’re my heart."

Declan slept sitting up, his head leaning against the driver’s side window of the Jeep. Birkoff slept on his side, curled up on the front seat, his head still in Declan’s lap. It was such an idyllic picture, Michael hated to intrude, but the lack of working plumbing in the old farmhouse could not be ignored any longer. After so many hours of passionate lovemaking, both Michael and Nikita needed to shower as well as answer the call of nature.

It was close to 3 am. Michael tapped lightly on the driver’s side window, and Declan woke with a start, the sharp movement of his body startling Birkoff. Michael peered in the window at Declan, asking him, "When did you two get here?"

Declan shrugged, yawning and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Birkoff turned over and lay his head on Declan’s knee, obviously intending to go back to sleep.

"Why were you so late getting back here?" Nikita said, shivering in the cool night air, her light jacket not adequately covering her black leather outfit.

"Long story. Get in." Declan opened the side door, and Michael helped Nikita into the Jeep. She settled against his shoulder once they were inside. He wrapped his arm around her, more to keep her warm than out of affection, but he could not resist kissing her temple as she snuggled closer.

Declan glanced in the rearview mirror and started the Jeep. Tapping Birkoff on the shoulder, he attempted to wake him. Birkoff sat up slowly, bleary-eyed, his hair all askew. He noted that Michael and Nikita were in the back seat, and he struggled to remain awake. But the pull of Declan’s black leather jacket covered-shoulder called him, and eventually, Birkoff just lay his head back down, this time against Declan’s shoulder.

As they drove back to the Samuelle house, Declan attempted to fill in the details of the events Michael and Nikita missed. "Maddy had her baby."

"You’re kidding," said Nikita, knowing that Madeline was certain the baby would be born on Mother’s Day, nearly a month from now.

Declan nodded. "She had the baby right in your guest room."

"Boy or girl?"

"It was a boy. Dark blond hair, blue eyes. Looks like Neil, poor kid." Declan laughed.

His laughter faded a moment later. "They named him Justin."

"Nice name," said Michael.

"Yeah, well," Declan glanced in the rearview mirror at Michael, and he felt the intensity of Michael’s eyes upon him. Did he know about Justin? How many nameless, faceless terrorists must Michael have seen and taken out, without giving it another thought? Why would he remember Declan’s older brother? Declan didn’t know, but part of him thought it was so.

Birkoff leaned on Declan’s shoulder and promptly went back to sleep. Declan smiled.

Nikita leaned on Michael’s shoulder and finally succeeded in getting to sleep.

They completed the rest of the ride home in silence. When they pulled into the driveway, Michael said, "I know that Nikita is going to want to see Madeline."

Declan glanced at Nikita, sleeping peacefully on Michael’s shoulder. "You’re going to wake her up then?"

Michael smiled. "Or I make an executive decision and let her sleep now. But then I get to face her wrath in the morning."

Declan laughed softly. "Now that’s not much of a choice, if you ask me."

"I can deal with it." Michael looked at Declan, his face impassive.

"I don’t doubt that for a moment," shot back Declan.

Suddenly a wide grin broke open across Michael’s face as he clapped a hand to Declan’s shoulder. "You were outside the door earlier tonight...."

Declan’s eyes grew huge in his face. "You knew?"

"I do now," Michael said triumphantly.

Declan colored furiously. "We never meant to eavesdrop--"

"Of course not, it’s not your style." Michael lowered his voice even more, adopting a more conspiratorial tone. "It would embarrass her if she knew..."

"Say no more." Declan was only too happy to let it drop.

***

Walter would have happily acted as gatekeeper to the homecoming couples, but for one thing. He was too damn tired. When neither couple showed up by 1 am, Walter gave up and went to bed, grumpily muttering to himself about inconsiderate people who never call anyone, especially ungrateful daughters and sons-in-law. Of course, he was considerably mollified by the unexpected presence of Miranda in his bed. It had been a long night for her, and she claimed she was too sleepy to drive home. But then, she didn’t fall asleep till much, much later...

Michael literally picked up Nikita in his arms and carried her upstairs to bed. When he put her down on their bed, she protested weakly that she wanted a bath. He overrode her objections and settled for giving her a quick sponge bath, during which she fell back to sleep. After removing her clothes, he pulled the covers over her, kissing her forehead lightly, as if she were his daughter, down for a nap. She barely stirred.

He stood there and watched her sleep for a long moment before he took a shower himself. There would be time enough in the morning to give her his anniversary present. It had been a memorable evening all around.

***

Declan pulled Birkoff over his shoulder and carried him to their room, carefully placing him on their bed. He never woke up, trapped in that almost boneless state of sleep that very young children usually attain. He was so trusting, his face smooth of all worry now. He automatically gravitated towards Declan in his sleep, and Declan sat on the edge of the bed, stroking his face with the back of his hand for several minutes. He felt eons older than Birkoff right now, though only a year separated them in reality. Maybe someone else his age might not have been able to make the life choices he’d made so far, but Declan knew what was right for him...for them.

So he watched him sleep...and he whispered "I love you" in a voice not quite steady.

Madeline was just drifting off to sleep when Nikita entered her room at the hospital. "Hi, Mom."

Madeline smiled wearily. "Not exactly how I envisioned your anniversary party, Nikita."

"Looks like you got a present instead of giving one," Nikita said wryly, studying Madeline’s new son. "He’s beautiful, Mom. What’s his name again?"

"Justin." Madeline leaned back against the pillows, yawning.

Nikita played anxiously with a long strand of blonde hair. "Sorry, I won’t keep you long."

"Is something on your mind, Nikita?" Madeline said, knowing this was more than likely. She showed all the telltale signs of keeping a secret she was dying to tell.

She bit her lip. "Well...Michael and I had the most wonderful romantic fantasy at the farmhouse I told you about, Maddy."

"And?" she prompted.

"And..." Nikita twirled the strand of hair around her finger till Madeline feared she would break it. "Michael said he wouldn’t mind having another child."

Madeline brightened immediately. "That’s very good news, Nikita. The two of you seem to be getting along particularly well these days."

"I think so. I just...I just wanted to thank you...for helping us get out of Section in the first place...not to mention everything you’ve done since...." She bent down and hugged Madeline fiercely.

"You may not be the mother of my blood, Maddy, but you’re definitely the mother of my heart."

Madeline felt tears come to her eyes and she laughed softly. "Nikita," she said, wiping her eyes, "we’ve come full circle. Now I’m the one with the overactive hormones."

"I love you, Mom," Nikita reiterated hoarsely.

"That calls for another hug."

***

Michael woke to find that Nikita was gone. He blinked the sleep from his slumberous green eyes and idly ran his hand back and forth on Nikita’s side of the bed. He missed her. He’d spent nearly twenty-four hours in bed with the woman, and he missed her. He could hardly believe it himself. But it was true.

Slowly he sat up, stretching his arms wide. Nikita’s cat, Josephine, sauntered into the room daintily. That gave Michael pause. The bedroom door was open? He was just about to stand up when a small set of athletic arms and legs launched itself at him.

"Faith!" He ruffled her hair, so like his own, but slightly lighter in color. Luckily, he was wearing pajama bottoms. His daughter was nothing if not energetic in the mornings.

"Dad-dy!" Faith hopped in place, or tried to. She was actually too young to hop, but she kept attempting to get ahead of herself.

"What is it, Fee?"

"Mom-mom?" Michael assumed she was wondering where Nikita was.

"Umm..." He supposed it wouldn’t be wise to say he didn’t know where she was. Then again, there was something to be said for the truth. "Maman n’est pas ici, petite."

"Pas ici?" Faith’s pronunciation sometimes impressed the hell out of him. But then, maybe he was just being a proud father. Didn’t every father think his daughter the most beautiful or the most brilliant?

"Not...here..." said a husky voice from the doorway. "Even I know that one." Nikita sashayed into the bedroom, still slightly groggy from lack of sleep. "I wouldn’t have missed seeing that baby for anything, Michael. He’s the best!"

"Your son might have something to say about that, Kita." He laughed as Chris came tumbling into the room. He didn’t move quite as gracefully as his sister yet, but Michael was sure he was going to be every bit as athletic as she was. Chris promptly made a liar out of his father by plopping his butt down on the carpeted floor.

Michael sat on the edge of the bed and held his arms out. "Don’t I get a kiss?"

Faith scrambled into Michael’s embrace, trying to climb up into his lap. "Dad-dy! Dad-dy! Me!"

"You jealous little thing! You get all my kisses! Can I save one for your Mom-mom?"

Faith bit her lip, looking just like Nikita, and Michael laughed. "Guess not!"

Nikita yawned. She sat down on the bed next to Michael, and he pulled her close to kiss her. "I missed you."

"Mmm...me, too." She leaned her forehead on his, caressing his face. Suddenly Chris pulled on Nikita’s pantleg. "Mom! Mom!"

"What, Chris?" She glanced at her son affectionately, noting the resemblance between him and Justin.

He held out his arms to Nikita, yelling "Up! Up, Mom!"

Nikita pulled Chris up into her arms and held him. "You’re getting to be such a big boy, Chris. Yes, you are, my sweetheart."

Michael poked Nikita in the ribs gently. "Hey, I’m your sweetheart. No fair." She kissed Michael. "So you are. Are all the men in my life going to fight over me now?"

Michael pretended to be offended. "You mean there’s a line? Am I at the head of it or at the end of it?"

Nikita pretended to ponder the question seriously. "Hmm...let me check..."

He wrenched her into his arms and kissed her with considerable intensity for someone so recently sated from lovemaking. "Does that help you decide?" His eyes bright green and glowing with love, Michael held Nikita, their children sitting between them, looking on curiously.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and lay her head on his shoulder. "I think you’re a very silly man even to ask..." she whispered sleepily.

Chris pulled on Nikita’s hair to get her attention. "Mommmm!"

She raised her head slowly to stare at her son. "What, sweetie?"

"Me eat?"

"You’re starving the children again, aren’t you, Michael?" she chuckled.

"Me? No. That’s Declan’s job." He smiled gently. "I still owe you an anniversary gift, Kita."

"Mmm...maybe later, Michael. After I sleep for a year or so..."

He laughed. "No, love, this has absolutely nothing to do with last night."

"What then?" She loved presents. It had nothing to do with money or material things. Those things didn’t matter. She never had them growing up, and she never missed them. At least, not in the usual sense.

When she first came to Section, and she was given an apartment, she was overwhelmed. She had never owned anything before. Or had a place to live that was safe and secure. That she could call hers.

Now she had a home of her own. Even more, she had a loving husband, beautiful children, wonderful family. Those things she couldn’t put a price on. But her husband loved to spoil her. Give her presents. But it seemed as though the presents he gave, well, they were always symbols of things she needed or valued in some way. Like the melded hearts necklace she wore. Or the diamond eternity ring she wore.

"Faith, go get Mom-mom’s present, petite."

The little girl climbed down onto the floor and walked as fast she could to the door, darting off to the right in the hallway.

"Faith has my present, Michael?" She looked amused and a bit skeptical. He nodded slowly.

"You’re up to something."

"You say that a lot, Kita. Am I always plotting behind your back, doucette? Or you just wish I was?" He tickled her and she began to giggle furiously, doubling over, nearly dislodging Chris from her lap. She put Chris down on the floor and he yelled predictably.

Nikita put her finger to her lips. "No, Chris. You can’t always have your way, y’know."

Michael nibbled on her neck. "Oh? I do, most of the time, Kita. Why can’t he?"

"I’m trying to teach the children how to live in harmony, and you’re breeding a bunch of anarchists right under my nose, Michael." She smiled slowly, and he kissed her. "Oh, yes, doucette. But I can vouch for their parents, nice people. A little dull, but..."

She smacked him lightly on the arm, but he responded only with another kiss, this one more intense than the others. "Mmm...did I tell you I love you today?"

"Yes, but tell me again. I forgot what it sounds like..." Michael teased her.

She liked this side of Michael, this playful side he usually reserved for the children. "I love you, Michael."

He kissed her, just as Faith came ambling through the door with a huge piece of paper clutched in her tiny hands. Faith stretched to hand it to her father, and Michael took it, making sure he thanked her. "That’s my girl, Fee." He pressed a kiss to her forehead and she giggled. "Dad-dy!"

Michael unfurled the paper and held it for Nikita to see. There was a huge blob of red paint in the center, more or less circular in shape. "Faith wanted you to have this token of her love, Kita. You can tell what it is, right?" He nodded at Nikita, willing her to agree with him, for the sake of their daughter.

Nikita nodded, trying to keep her puzzlement off her face, but Michael read her uncertainty. "See the big red heart, Kita? Faith made this for you, for our anniversary."

She made a big round ‘o’ with her mouth. "I see that, Fee. Thank you, darling girl." She took care not to crush the paper, but leaned over to hug her daughter.

"Oh, Michael, that is so sweet. Now you’re gonna make me cry again," she wailed, seeking his shoulder.

"That’s what I’m here for, doucette." He buried his face against her neck, kissing her there.

"To make me cry?"

"No, doucette, to bring you sweet things that show you how much we love you." His thumbs stroked her eyelids shut, so gently, until his lips replaced his fingers.

"I love you, Kita."

"I love you, too, Michael."

"Happy anniversary, doucette."

Faith leaped up and resumed her attempts at hopping, exclaiming suddenly, "Douce!"

Michael chuckled, his breath fanning Nikita’s neck. "I wonder if it was a mistake to start teaching her French..."

"It’s a fine day for a wedding, Dad." Nikita struggled with tying Walter’s tie properly as the older man squirmed and wiggled like a fractious child.

"Stop fussing, Sugar! I can tie my own tie! I’ve been doing it for nigh onto fifty years now, at least!"

"Dad, you’re a nervous wreck." She contemplated the man she willingly called her father. He was dressed in a white leather suit, and, in honor of the occasion, he was wearing a white bandana. He put that on with some trepidation because it reminded him of Nikita’s wedding to Michael. He could still see the blood splattered across the white bandana he wore to that wedding. It was like a bad dream that refused to fade.

Suddenly Walter bolted for the bathroom, retching into the toilet. Nikita followed slowly, offering him a clean towel for his face. He took the towel gratefully, but he said nothing. Nikita eyed him carefully. "Y’know, this reminds me of my wedding, Dad."

He glanced at her sharply. "Don’t say that, Sugar! Don’t even think it!"

Nikita frowned. "Dad, you’re so nervous, you can’t even keep your breakfast down. Like me, that morning. Only I was pregnant." She gasped, holding her hand over her mouth. "Dad! That’s not it, is it? You’re pregnant? Oh, my God, you mean you and Miranda have to get married?"

Walter grinned despite his apparent nerves. "Nice try, Sugar. And thanks."

***

Birkoff and Declan were in the midst of an argument as they came into the kitchen. "What do you mean, you’re not making breakfast?"

"Just what I said! Read my lips! The kitchen is closed! Till after the wedding!"

They crept closer and closer to one another until they were easily nose to nose. Birkoff’s eyes narrowed, a dark glint in his chocolate-brown eyes. Declan gave him the Irish version of the Blank Stare.

"Why’d I have to go and get involved with a pigheaded Irishman anyway?"

"Who’re you calling a pigheaded Irishman, boyo?"

"If the boot fits, Dec!"

"I’m not bloody Cinderella, Sey!"

"No, you couldn’t fit into her glass slipper!"

"Well, you’re not exactly Prince Charming either!"

"Wrong fairy tale, Dec!"

Suddenly there was dead silence. Not a sound intruded. Not even the tap at the sink dared drip.

Declan’s nostrils flared ever so slightly. Just before he whipped off his white jacket and threw it across a chair. "Get over here!" he commanded in a low tense voice that brooked no argument.

Birkoff swallowed. Maybe he’d pushed things a bit too far?

When Birkoff didn’t move immediately, Declan took matters into his own hands. He grabbed Birkoff by the shoulders and pushed him against the refrigerator. Hard. Breathing harshly, Declan suddenly grabbed Birkoff’s face between his hands and kissed him. Just as hard. When he was finished, Birkoff stared at him, his mouth swollen.

Declan caught his breath all at once, wrapping both arms around Birkoff’s neck. He kissed him again, but this time, he was tender, careful of his partner’s bruised mouth. When he was done, he rested his face in the crook of Birkoff’s neck. Unable to suppress a tiny shudder, Declan whispered, "God, I love you."

Birkoff, his body still trapped against the refrigerator, though by choice now, not force, placed his arms over Declan’s. "You know I feel the same way, Dec. Why are we fighting anyway?"

When Declan finally met Birkoff’s eyes, he was tearful. "Cause I wish it was us, Sey."

Pause. Birkoff searched for the right words and nearly cried when he found them.

"We don’t need a wedding to be committed to each other, Declan."

Declan lay his head on Birkoff’s shoulder, while Birkoff held him.

He was right.

They didn’t.

***

Michael couldn’t make the twins sit still a moment longer. They were in grave danger of ruining their good clothes as it was. "Whose idea was it to put two near-toddlers in white clothing anyway?"

"Um," Nikita looked vaguely guilty. "That was prolly me, love. I thought the idea of everyone wearing white had a certain cachet."

"Don’t try to distract me by using French words, Kita." Michael smiled affectionately at his wife.

As they kissed, Nikita’s eyes flew open. Someone or something was tugging on her dress. "Luc Christophe!"

It was hard to be stern when you were struggling to get your mouth around a name like Luc Christophe. Nikita began to giggle, and soon after, Michael joined her. "We didn’t think of that when we named him, Kita. You know how parents like to call their children by their full names when they’re in trouble..."

She nodded, unable to stop chuckling to herself. "All I can say is, Dad better hurry up and get married. Or the twins will no longer be wearing white."

"It was sweet of Walter to let Faith carry flowers, Kita, but she’s so young."

"Oh, Michael, let her have fun. If she trips and falls, no one’s going to be outraged. She’s a baby...and they’re only flowers." She put her arms around his waist and hugged him.

"Well, at least Walter didn’t make Chris his ring-bearer."

Nikita giggled. "Even Dad and I didn’t get that carried away, Michael."

***

Miranda might be a tiny woman, but she looked beautiful. It might be said that every woman does, on her wedding day, but in this case, it was absolutely true. She wore an off-white dress, for she had never been married, having devoted her entire life to her career. It fell to her ankles, but unlike some long dresses, which have the effect of cutting off a short person’s legs, it enhanced her petite stature. Her honey-blonde hair shone brightly under a gauzy white cap interlaced with yellow and white flowers.

"God, she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. What the hell’s she doing with an old fart like me?" Walter looked panic-stricken, and Birkoff took pity on him.

Birkoff was Walter’s best man. He was so happy for Walter, he was delighted to be given the honor of being his best man. But he worried about Declan feeling left out.

"She must love you a whole lot, Walter," Birkoff said in his own inexplicably innocent way.

Walter grinned infectiously. "Yeah, Seymour. Yeah. That must be it. Thanks!"

"Oh, and Seymour?"

"Yes, Walter?"

"Stop sending Declan those heartbreaking looks when you think no one is looking. Go get him and bring him up here. Ain’t no reason a man can’t have two best men if he wants, is there?"

Birkoff didn’t need to be told twice.

***

And the minister intoned, "You may now kiss the bride...."

Walter gave a huge whoop and flung his arms around Miranda, uncaring if he crushed her dress or her in it. He kissed her so hard, she would swear her eyes crossed, but he was like a big teddy-bear, all stuffing and no teeth.

Madeline stood next to Neil, cradling her own baby in her arms, something she thought might never happen, finally realized. Neil nuzzled her neck and whispered, "Are you sorry we eloped?"

She shook her head gingerly, not wishing to wake her son, who was now nearly a month old. "Not at all. Renewing our vows would have made for pretty pictures, Neil, but look at what we have instead." She held out the baby to him, and he kissed Justin’s cheek.

"Everything’s finally coming together for us, Maddy," he said, a few tears of his own evident.