Madeline lost no time in following Michael and Nikita upstairs. She was well aware that Michael’s enthusiasm for sharing his house with her was limited at best, and she had no intention of straining their relationship further. Michael carried Faith, while Nikita held Skye in her arms, Chris toddling dutifully at her side.

Once they came to the second floor landing, Michael indicated that Madeline and Neil’s rooms would be on the opposite side of the house from his and Nikita’s. Madeline’s mouth quirked in amusement. Somehow she had a feeling that this was no accident.

Neil took Connor from Madeline, rocking him back and forth. "Hey, little guy, guess what? You’re going to get your own room."

Madeline’s expression never changed, but there was an arch note in her voice. "Your doing, Nikita?"

Nikita smiled. "Well, you and Neil need privacy, just the same as anyone else, Mom. What you do with that privacy is up to you, though. That’s one thing this inquiring mind does not want to know," she commented wryly.

Madeline hid a smile. Dealing with one’s mother as a sexual entity was difficult for anyone, but especially for Nikita, who had so many ‘mother’ issues. But then again, Madeline sighed inwardly, so did she.

Michael barely acknowledged them, seemingly wrapped up in his daughters, one sleeping, the other half-awake and rooting at Nikita’s breast. "We’ll see you in the morning."

Secretly amused by the possessive streak Michael demonstrated towards his family, Madeline merely said "Good night." Neil smiled at the couple who so generously opened their home to them, and with a wave, Michael and Nikita were gone.

***

Nikita stopped outside of the twins’ former room. "Guess what, Chris? You’re such a big boy now, you’re going to get your own room."

Chris looked up at his mother with interest. That sounded promising. His own room. Without Faith? Without baby Skye? Never mind the fact that Skye was a relatively placid baby who made little noise and who slept through the night.

But wait...there was someone missing. Chris had seen Connor with Madeline and Neil. But where was the pretty baby? Emmy? His tiny ray of sunshine. The one who lit up his heart. He frowned, tugging at Nikita’s jeans leg.

"What, sweetie?"

"Ou est Soleil?" Chris never even noticed that he’d lapsed into French, he was so distraught at missing his little red-haired sunbeam.

Nikita looked puzzled. "Soleil? The sun? It’s nighttime, Chris. The sun comes out during the day," she explained patiently, not realizing that Chris meant something, or rather someone, else entirely.

Michael ruffled his son’s hair. "He’s probably just confused by the long trip. He didn’t sleep all that much, Kita."

Chris whimpered in frustration. "No, Mom. Where pretty baby?"

Nikita giggled. "Your sister? She’s right here, Chris. You must be tired."

Chris all but rolled his eyes. Grown-ups. "My baby, Mom."

"Okay, honey, now you’ve lost me." Nikita held Skye on her hip. "Your room is just down the hall. I’m going to show you where it is as soon as I put Skye down to sleep. Okay, Chris?"

Chris gave up. " ‘kay, Mom," he said with a curious air of resignation. Where was the little red-haired baby? He had to find out. Even if it meant enlisting his sister Faith’s aid.

***

After Skye was safely secured in her cradle in her new room, Nikita closed the door. She flipped a switch to activate the baby monitor. Birkoff’s latest redesign of his original invention was markedly improved over the past model. With Walter’s help, Birkoff was going to make more of them, especially with the number of additional children in the house now. But for the time being, Birkoff was going to have to go out and buy some painfully substandard device, just to keep Emerant and the others safe.

Nikita studied her son. Chris was unusually quiet, even for him. Little did she know but he was preoccupied with finding Emmy. All he knew was that she was in the house somewhere.

Nikita showed Chris his new room, but his lack of enthusiasm was written all over his little face. Nikita sat on the edge of Chris’ bed and beckoned her son closer. "Chris, you seem upset about something. Is it the move?"

Chris shook his head, his thumb now seeking his mouth. He was a big boy now. Big boys shouldn’t suck their thumbs. But he couldn’t help it. He had no words to express his inner anxiety.

He looked troubled, his dark blue eyes even darker than normal. "Chris, you know you can tell Mommy anything. Even big boys do that," she said in an effort to reassure him.

He murmured Emmy’s name, and finally Nikita brightened. "Emmy? Chris, are you worried that something happened to Emmy?"

He nodded solemnly, much too serious for such a little boy.

Nikita hugged him, her hands rifling through his pale blond hair. "It’s okay, Chris, Emmy didn’t disappear. She’s downstairs with Uncle Declan and Uncle Sey."

"Why?" Chris managed to get past his lips.

"Cause she lives with them. They’re her daddies. Just like I’m your mommy, and you live with me."

Chris considered that. "Me see her?"

"Tomorrow, Chris."

Chris smiled. Tomorrow wasn’t soon enough. But no problem. He was a dark knight. Dark knights could surmount all sorts of obstacles. Just like Daddy said. He overcame the odds to be with Mommy. And Mommy loved Daddy. Maybe Emmy could love Chris.

Michael was having his own problems disentangling himself from Faith. Not only did Faith not care about getting her own room, she didn’t want to go to bed. "Noooo..." she whined in his ear, her sturdy little arms grabbing onto Michael’s neck.

"Fee, you’re a big girl now. This is a very special thing, having your own room. You don’t have to share with Chris anymore. You don’t have to sleep in the same room with your baby sister. Isn’t that great?"

Faith’s green eyes, so like her father’s, welled up with genuine tears. "Noooo...."

"What’s wrong, petite?"

"Me want to stay wif Daddy."

Michael sighed. They had been over this at least fifteen times since he and Nikita separated the twins. "Daddy has to sleep with Mommy in her room," he said, his patience nearly exhausted.

At last, a new response. Faith whimpered. "Why?"

"Why, what?"

"Why Daddy gots to sleep with Mommy? Me want to sleep with you."

Michael blinked, his own green eyes flickering back and forth as he considered how to approach that question and all it implied. "Fee....Daddy’s married to Mommy. Daddies and mommies sleep together. We talked about this once, remember?"

Under normal circumstances, Faith was anything but a clingy little girl. But these were not normal circumstances. She liked the chateau. She liked the house they lived in now. But she disliked change. As much as she enjoyed exploring, and no matter how much Faith considered herself to be an ardent adventurer at heart, she disliked being uprooted to a new place, even if it was a familiar new place. But most of all, and it was probably at the heart of Faith’s reaction, Faith was having separation anxiety.

Not from her parents. But from Connor. Over the past few months, the only thing that had kept Faith from despairing over her loss of status as the only daughter in the Samuelle household was her growing attachment to Connor. Connor struck a chord in Faith’s heart. She wasn’t sure why she liked him, but the fact that he continually followed her around, literally dogging her footsteps, had something to do with it.

Only thing was, if it were anyone else, Faith would consider him a pest. But Connor was not a pest. For one thing, he was quiet. For another, he deferred to Faith. She liked that.

But Faith was not Michael’s daughter for nothing. She understood that she was not going to see Connor again unless she confided in one of her parents how important Connor was. But she was also Nikita’s daughter. She knew that revealing too much information too soon was likely to get her nowhere close to where she needed to be.

Blurting out Connor’s name, Faith clapped a small hand over her mouth. Michael held his daughter away from him at arms’ length. "Connor? You miss Connor, Fee?"

Faith’s eyes grew wide. Daddy was amazing. How come he always seemed to know everything?

Michael thought for a moment, then made a quick decision. "Let me show you something, Faith."

Holding Faith in his arms, he strode down the hall towards Madeline and Neil’s rooms. Neil popped his head out of his bedroom door upon hearing Michael’s footsteps. "What’s up?"

"Faith thinks that Connor vanished into thin air. I just wanted to show her he’s still here with us."

"Hmm...interesting. We’re having a similar problem. Maybe you can help us out?"

Michael nodded uncertainly. "How?"

Neil beckoned him inside the bedroom. Madeline was rocking Connor in her arms, but Connor was crying furiously, flailing both arms and legs in an effort to get free of his mother’s embrace. Madeline glanced at Neil as he re-entered the room. "Neil, I’m at my wits’ end, nothing seems to help."

"I think I just found the solution."

"You did?" Madeline was incredulous. "What? Where?"

"More like a who," Michael said.

Connor continued to struggle, whining his distress at being separated from Faith. "Unh," he moaned incoherently.

The moment Connor caught sight of Faith, it became evident to both sets of parents. Connor immediately ceased crying. His restlessness stopped. He stared at Faith, his light blue eyes still overflowing with tears. "Fee!!!" he said quite clearly, startling his mother and father.

He reached out to Faith, his chubby little hands outstretched, his fists clenching and unclenching. He didn’t know how to say what he wanted. Down. He needed to get down. He wanted to get closer to Faith. He would have started to cry again, but Faith broke the silence between them.

" ’s okay, Connor. Don’ cry."

Michael threw Faith a startled look himself. He suspected that Faith had something of a tendresse for Connor, as babies often do for one another, but he didn’t realize that she knew his name. Or could say his name with such a wealth of feeling. It was just one word. But it struck fear into his heart. Was this an omen for the future? Was there even some dim possibility that his family and Madeline’s would be joined in any real sense someday?

It was nearly dawn when Neil woke up. He wasn’t sure why. He just had a feeling that he should check on his son. After lying in bed for at least another ten minutes, fidgeting restlessly, Neil finally gave in to the uncontrollable urge to see what Connor was doing.

Popping his head into Connor’s bedroom, he immediately saw that Connor was not there. How could his one-and-a-half year old son be missing at this hour of the night? Stifling a desire to scream, Neil strode down the hall, instinctively checking the empty rooms, thinking that perhaps Connor got lost and wandered into a different room.

Moments later, he heard a child’s voice, very low. Moving towards the sound, he realized that he was on Michael and Nikita’s side of the house now. The voice, growing louder as he approached, was now identifiable as female. Pushing open the door, he was suddenly confronted with two small children, so engrossed in one another, they were oblivious to his interruption.

There was Connor, sitting on the carpeted floor of Faith’s newly-awarded bedroom. Gazing at Faith with something akin to hero-worship in his shiny blue eyes, Connor was listening intently to every word she said. Neil smiled to himself when he realized what Faith was saying.

"Don’ be scared, Connor. Dis my house. I like it here. My mommy and my daddy are nice," she finished emphatically.

Faith clasped her hands around Connor’s neck and gave him a big kiss. "You nice, too."

Connor gurgled affectionately, repeating what he said earlier. "Fee!"

"Yep, dat my name, Connor. You be okay. I take care o’ you."

Neil was so touched, he couldn’t move. He just stood there, watching them for the longest time, unable to bring himself to disturb them. He supposed he should collect his son and take him back to bed. He supposed he should tell Maddy what just happened. But on second thought...she hadn’t quite gotten over the fact that ‘Fee’ was her son’s first word.

***

Nikita was awake. She shouldn’t have been, but she was. She was so glad to be back home. Carefully exiting their bed without waking Michael, Nikita made her way to Skye’s room. Picking up her infant daughter, she brought her back to the bedroom she shared with Michael. Sinking slowly into the rocking chair, she opened her robe, holding Skye to her breast. The baby latched onto her nipple with a vigor that reminded Nikita of the way Faith had suckled at her breast.

"Oho," she whispered, "you might be quiet, but you’re a powerful little thing, aren’t you?"

Suddenly a hand rested on her shoulder, nearly making her jump. She realized belatedly that it was her husband, but the fact that he had been able to creep up on her without warning meant that she was losing her edge. Nikita tilted her face upwards, looking fondly upon the face she loved most in this world. "Michael..." she sighed his name.

"You look so beautiful, doucette," he said huskily.

He held out his arms, and she stood up, walking into his embrace, even as Skye continued to feed. Michael pressed a kiss to her forehead, gingerly approaching her so as not to disturb Skye. He sat down in the rocking chair, taking Nikita with him, and soon, all three of them were enfolded within the snug confines of the rocking chair.

Michael lay back in the rocker, nudging the floor gently with one foot to start it rocking. Nikita snuggled close, her lips against the pulse point at the base of Michael’s throat, while their infant daughter continued to suckle at Nikita’s breast. "Are you happy, doucette?"

"You know I am, Michael," she said, her lips moving against his skin. She rubbed her cheek against him, as if she were a contented kitten. It was times like these that she realized that was exactly how she felt in his arms. Like a well-satisfied cat, with no more agenda than to love and be loved.

Declan disrobed slowly, aware that his partner’s warm gaze was upon him. He kicked off his boots, the leather flying into a corner of the sitting room. Pulling his T-shirt over his head, his long red hair immediately in careless disarray, he looked like a young god come to earth for a visit. One hand on the snap of his jeans, he paused. "You sure that Emmy’s asleep?"

Birkoff lay back amongst the pillows and comforters he’d lovingly arranged for them to sleep on and held out his arms to Declan. "I just checked on her. She and Zero are both asleep."

Declan snickered. "Fine guard dog he is."

Birkoff sighed. "Come to bed already, Dec. I’m tired."

Declan studied his lover. Birkoff had shed his clothing quickly, finding the makeshift bed on the floor of the sitting room more than adequate. Tired of waiting for Declan to come to bed, Birkoff eventually rolled onto his stomach, exposing his back for Declan’s perusal. His skin was nearly as fair as Declan’s, an odd combination for one with such dark hair and eyes. But Declan loved his skin, so smooth, so velvety soft.

Declan shed his jeans and knelt on the comforter behind Birkoff. Running his long, slender hands over his partner’s hips and down onto his firm buttocks, he bent his head to press a soft kiss at the base of his spine. Birkoff stirred then, turning over sleepily. "You want to make love?"

"I always want to make love to you, acushla. But you can sleep, if you’d rather." Declan’s hands massaged Birkoff’s hips almost absently.

Birkoff grinned as he wrapped his arms around Declan’s neck, pulling him down to lie atop him. "Who needs sleep?"

Declan smiled as he kissed him. His lips nuzzling Birkoff’s neck, he approached him as though he were a very fine appetizer, his teeth daintily nibbling the tender skin at the base of his throat. "Ohhh, Dec..." he groaned, "you’re going to leave a mark there."

Declan’s tongue lashed out and gently licked at the spot. "I hope so. I want everyone to know you’re mine."

Birkoff stared at Declan a moment, his eyes dancing merrily. "You’re so possessive today."

Declan took Birkoff’s palm in his hand and slowly licked the length of it as Birkoff watched avidly. "What are you doing, Dec?" he asked hoarsely. "I feel like you’re trying to eat me or something."

Declan chuckled huskily. "Or something."

Latching onto Birkoff’s nipple, Declan laved it with his tongue, sucking the tender nub into his mouth as it grew hard. His fingers moved restlessly down the length of his lover’s body, cupping the arousal there. Birkoff gasped as Declan’s fingers found him.

Sliding slowly down Birkoff’s increasingly heated body, Declan pushed his legs apart, seeking the heart of him. "You want me here?" Declan asked, his eyes glowing like molten silver.

Birkoff twisted impatiently under Declan’s careful ministrations. "Oh, God, yes."

Declan kissed him there. Birkoff groaned at the touch of his partner’s mouth, unconsciously tugging on Declan’s hair. His hands were never far from Declan’s long red hair, and this time was no exception. Birkoff’s dark chocolate eyes fluttered shut, but not to sleep. His hips pushing at Declan’s mouth involuntarily, he drove himself deeper into the warm, moist recesses.

Panting breathlessly, his hands tightened on Declan’s hair. Declan knew that his partner was fast approaching climax, and he released Birkoff from his grip, sliding his tongue along the length of his arousal. "Declan!" Birkoff cried out, unable to bear much more of his sensual assault.

When he couldn’t hold back any longer, Birkoff groaned again, this time longer and deeper in his throat. Declan held him as he climaxed, rubbing his cheek against the throbbing length of him. His face spattered with the visible evidence of their love, Declan purred contentedly, his tongue continuing to lick at his partner’s most tender skin.

Birkoff’s hand grasped Declan by the hair, pulling him up the length of his body to make eye contact. "You are so incredibly beautiful," he whispered to Declan, watching Declan’s eyes darken in response. His fingers tangling in Declan’s hair, Birkoff kissed him, licking the physical proof of their love from Declan’s cheek.

Declan groaned at the touch of Birkoff’s tongue on his face. "Acushla..."

Birkoff pushed Declan onto his back, and Declan willingly went. Their mouths joined, they kissed repeatedly, wet, open-mouthed kisses that drove both of them into a heightened state of arousal. His fingers splayed along the side of Birkoff’s face, Declan’s entire expression darkened, making him look like a very real dark angel, his red hair a glorious counterpoint.

Gripping Birkoff’s cheek firmly with his hand, Declan demanded, "Give me your honey mouth, then, acushla."

Birkoff’s thick, dark hair swirled around Declan’s face as he bent over him. "Tell me where you want my mouth," he exhorted, nudging Declan’s lower body with his own.

"On me. All over. Anywhere," Declan said in a strangled voice.

"As you wish," Birkoff said with a smile, knowing that Declan understood what he really meant by that. I love you.

Birkoff was heady with a sense of his own growing power over Declan. It had taken a long time, but it had finally happened. Birkoff could see that he was loved, even cherished. But what he wanted even more than that was to give some of that love and tender devotion back to Declan.

When he turned Declan over onto his stomach, Birkoff felt a nervous flutter set up inside him. But he put aside the clamoring of doubt and other negative feelings, reveling in the love and affection between them. He pressed a kiss to Declan’s nape, and he felt Declan tremble beneath him. He nuzzled Declan’s ear. "I love you, Declan."

Birkoff used his hands to knead the tightness from Declan’s back and buttocks, feeling the tension ebb away slowly. He trailed kisses down Declan’s back when he was done, finishing by planting a huge kiss on Declan’s buttock. In fact, Birkoff worked very hard to leave his mark there. "You’re mine, and no one else’s, Dec," he whispered.

Declan shuddered a moment later when he felt his partner’s tongue on him. But it didn’t end there. When he recaptured his own arousal, Birkoff slid himself gently onto Declan’s back, joining their bodies. Declan bit his lip at the pleasure of Birkoff taking the initiative and following it through to its logical conclusion. This time they both climaxed, within seconds of each other.

And after it was all over, Birkoff buried his face against Declan’s chest, kissing the spot where his heart would be. Declan snuggled closer, pulling the comforters around the two of them. "Welcome home, Dec," Birkoff whispered against his skin.

"Any place you are is home, acushla."

Declan snuggled closer to Birkoff as they slept. A smile curved his full lips as he dreamed about the Christmas yet to come. It was going to be a very special holiday this year. Christmas Eve would be Declan and Birkoff’s anniversary. Two years ago they committed themselves to each other, exchanging sterling silver Claddagh rings as a sign of that commitment.

In its own way a marriage, their commitment was not only unbroken, but even stronger and deeper than ever before. Declan wanted to celebrate this anniversary in a special way, a way that the two of them would remember forever. He had an unusual gift for his lover, something memorable indeed. Just the thought of it brought a new and bigger smile to his face. It would be such a surprise....

Meanwhile, Birkoff slept in Declan’s embrace, his lover’s arms wrapped around his chest. He felt cherished. He felt secure. He felt...a hand touch his face. Instantly coming awake, he knew without looking that it was not Declan’s hand. This hand was much smaller.

He looked up and froze. It was Chris.

"Hi, Unca Sey," Chris chirped cheerfully.

Birkoff blinked. This wasn’t happening. Maybe he was still asleep, still dreaming. But the supposed apparition spoke again. "Where Emmy?"

"Emmy?"

Declan stirred against Birkoff’s back, reluctantly relinquishing his hold on Birkoff. "What’s up?" he asked as he struggled to open his eyes.

When Declan saw Chris, his eyes opened wide as he exclaimed, "I thought you locked the door!"

"I thought you did!" Birkoff countered.

Declan began to laugh, his shoulders heaving silently. Birkoff met his lover’s eyes and his initial embarrassment vanished as a wave of mirth overtook him.

Chris frowned at his two uncles. They were very silly. There was nothing funny about a knight being on a quest. His quest was to seek the fair Emerant. He needed to see her, or he could not rest. Didn’t they understand that?

Declan sat up carefully, pulling the comforter around his body. "Chris, we’re not laughing at you," he explained, instinctively realizing why Chris was perturbed.

Chris studied them, Declan sitting up, obviously uncomfortable beneath the toddler’s scrutiny, Birkoff huddling under the covers, his nose barely protruding, his eyes huge and dark.

"Where Emmy?" he repeated, totally disinterested in the couple’s state of undress or their discomfiture at being disturbed.

"Emmy’s asleep," Declan told his godson. He felt a bit ambivalent. As Chris’ godfather, he wanted to advocate for Chris’ best interests. But as Emerant’s father, it was up to him to protect her at any cost, even from Chris. What an intriguing dilemma.

"Me want to see her," Chris said quietly but firmly.

"Tomorrow, Chris," Declan said, equally firmly.

"No!" Chris shouted. Declan had never seen Chris throw a temper tantrum. In fact, he could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times that Chris had raised his voice. To anyone. And never to him.

"Me want to see Emmy...now," Chris demanded, his lower lip trembling.

Declan knew Chris. He would swear that Chris was on the verge of tears. Did it mean that much to him then? And what exactly did it mean that such a strong bond had formed between the two children at this early an age? Was it Fate?

Declan was about to retreat gracefully and allow Chris to see Emmy, but not to wake her, when Michael arrived. Birkoff slid the rest of the way under the covers, his nose disappearing from view. Just what they needed. The only thing that could make things worse would be for Walter or Madeline to show up.

Michael stared at Declan, his face impassive. "I’ve been looking all over for Chris. Has he been here long?"

"Not long, no," Declan squeaked, willing his voice to return to normal.

"Is he bothering you?"

No, but you are, Declan thought, trying not to chuckle. Somehow the thought of being caught naked in bed with his lover by Michael struck him as outrageously funny.

Chris saw his father and stomped over Birkoff’s unseen body to get to him, drawing forth an anguished groan from under the covers.

"Bloody hell," Declan muttered, hoping no permanent damage was done. Suddenly he felt giddy again, and he knew that if Michael didn’t leave soon, he was going to burst out laughing.

"Daddy! Emmy here!" Chris shouted at his father.

Michael hid a smile. His son was clearly enamored of Declan’s daughter. Another fine pair. The little knight in shining armor and his even tinier ray of sunshine.

"Michael," Declan said earnestly, trying to treat Chris’ demand with the respect he would give an older person, "I was explaining to Chris that Emmy’s asleep, but he can see her, if he promises not to wake her up."

Michael admired Declan’s finesse in dealing with a potentially difficult situation. Michael was convinced that his son was far more sensitive than he let on, and he appreciated the way Declan treated Chris.

Chris looked up at Michael, his heart in his mouth. "Please, Daddy?" he all but whispered in entreaty.

"Okay," Michael agreed.

Chris turned to Declan. "Where, Unca Dec?"

Declan couldn’t get up. He simply couldn’t. He saw the covers move suspiciously next to him and he thought, Great, of all the times for Sey to discover a sense of humor.

He pointed to the door behind them. Chris bounded for the door, his steps suddenly carefree. All at once, as the door opened, there was a furious uproar. Zero barking nonstop, Emmy crying. Declan forgot what he was wearing, or rather what he wasn’t wearing, and jumped up, revealing the fact that he was wearing nothing but the sterling silver Claddagh ring.

He grabbed the comforter and threw it around his body haphazardly, wincing as he met Michael’s seemingly cold eyes.

"I meant to warn you about the damn dog," Declan said weakly.

Chris didn’t care. He reached into the cradle, his hands lightly touching Emmy’s face. "Ssh, pretty baby," he said, putting a finger to his lips for a moment, before resuming his caresses.

Michael entered the room, seeking answers, and he stopped dead. Watching Chris gently stroking Emmy’s cheek moved him in a way he could not express. It was a reflection of the unique way that Michael expressed his love and affection for Nikita. It was something that Chris could only have acquired by observing his parents.

When Emmy stopped crying at the touch of Chris’ fingers on her face, Michael wanted to hug his son. Such empathy at his age. Such insight. Such...humanity.

"You are the best part of both of us," Michael whispered to his son, knowing Chris wouldn’t quite understand what he meant.

But Declan did. He touched Michael’s shoulder, completely forgetting that he was naked but for the pale yellow comforter he wore. "I dunno if we should be happy about the two of them hooking up this way or not, Michael, but in a way, it’s bloody wonderful, isn’t it?"

Michael nodded wordlessly. It sure was.