Suddenly the big day arrived. Christmas Eve. Declan and Birkoff’s anniversary. Declan knew that Birkoff had spent weeks shopping for Emmy. He was certain he should ration out the number of gifts that she could receive at one time, or she would be hopelessly spoiled. But then again...how many times did you find yourself the unexpected father of such a beautiful little girl? And after all, it was her first birthday.... And Birkoff wanted to make sure that Emmy didn’t get shortchanged just because her birthday happened to fall on Christmas Day.

Birkoff ran in from the cold, his cheeks reddened, his breath frosty. His arms were laden with colorful packages, and Declan sighed happily. Just as he’d thought. His partner had obviously bought out every store in the mall. Oh, well... Declan hoped there was something for him in that pile of goodies, too.

Birkoff saw Declan and yelled, "Merry Christmas!" in that impossibly perky way he had. His dark chocolate eyes fairly dancing with merriment, he approached Declan, his arms heavy and aching from holding so many packages. Giving his lover a quick kiss, Birkoff smiled. "Hey, you."

Declan responded with a kiss of his own, taking the time to warm Birkoff’s lips a little. "Your mouth is cold, love. How long have you been out?"

"Long enough, I guess." Birkoff shifted the packages a bit. "It might snow for Christmas." Just the thought was enough to make Birkoff’s heart sing. He loved snow. He loved Christmas.

It was early afternoon. Michael and Nikita had taken the children for some last-minute Christmas shopping. After their last experience with Santa, Nikita was loath to take the twins anywhere near that part of the mall, but she would have liked to show Skye what Santa Claus looked like. However, Michael was convinced that Skye was too young to appreciate Santa in all his commercialized glory. "Next year," he murmured to his wife.

Declan took some of the packages from Birkoff and headed for their rooms. Calling over his shoulder, he said, "Michael and Nikita are still out with the kids. Maddy and Neil took Connor to see Santa, despite Nikita’s warning about the old lech who played the part the last couple of years."

Birkoff nodded, obviously preoccupied. "Is Emmy down for her nap?"

Declan smiled. "Aye. I think she’s excited about Christmas though. Wait till she sees how generous Santa’s been to her." He studied Birkoff’s now flushed face. Frowning, he placed a hand on Birkoff’s forehead. "You’re not going to get sick on me, are you?"

"I’m fine, Dec." Birkoff didn’t feel completely 100 percent, but he was sure it was nothing. Now.

Declan kissed his forehead. "Okay, acushla."

When they entered the sitting room, the first thing that Declan did was to divest himself of all the packages he was carrying. "Just put them down anywhere, Sey."

After Birkoff complied, Declan asked, "Do you want to celebrate our anniversary now or later?"

Birkoff wrapped his arms around Declan. "How about both?" he asked with a charming lilt in his voice.

"You do like presents, don’t you?"

"Yeah," he answered softly. "But I love you." He reached up and kissed Declan, his lips considerably warmer now.

"Just think, we never have to worry about forgetting our anniversary. Who could forget Christmas Eve?" Declan rested his forehead lovingly on Birkoff’s, gazing deeply into his eyes.

"Let me take my coat off. Then I’ll go check on Emmy." Birkoff broke away reluctantly, knowing that Emmy was safe, but needing to check on her, just the same.

Birkoff was two steps away from Declan when Declan grabbed his arm, pulling him back to him. "Hey, I missed you while you were gone."

Birkoff smiled shyly. "Me, too."

"What’s this? You’ve gone all shy on me again?" But Declan said it lovingly, his pale grey eyes warm on Birkoff’s face.

"I have something special for you, Declan. I just don’t want you to see it yet."

"Something hidden? On your person? Can I play hide and seek?" Declan asked playfully.

"Maybe," Birkoff replied coyly.

Declan laughed out loud. "You’re blushing! Christ, what did you get me, Sey? I can hardly wait to see!"

Birkoff shrugged, trying to will the feverish color in his cheeks to fade. "I hope you’ll like it," he said, dropping his gaze to the floor.

Declan caressed Birkoff’s cheek. "I would love anything you gave me, Sey, and that’s a fact."

Birkoff leaned his face on Declan’s hand, rubbing his cheek against his skin. Sometimes they didn’t need words. At moments like this, just being together was enough.

After shedding his coat and checking on the baby, Birkoff went into the bathroom and splashed cool water on his face. He thought perhaps he was a bit feverish, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. Yet.

He reached into his jeans pocket and withdrew a small box. This was Declan’s anniversary gift. He opened the box and admired what was inside. Yes, at the risk of sounding immodest, he knew Declan would love this.

"Dec?" Birkoff called from the bedroom.

"Yeah, Sey?"

"I picked up a baby monitor. Until I can finish the one I’m working on in Walter’s workshop." Birkoff bit his lip, waiting almost anxiously.

"And?" Declan asked expectantly.

"And I was wondering...if maybe...we should move Emmy into her new room tonight." There. He’d said it. It was out. He wanted to move back into their bed. No more sleeping on the floor of the sitting room, as nice as it was.

Declan suddenly appeared next to him. Smiling faintly, Declan agreed. "This would be as good a time as any."

Nuzzling Birkoff’s neck, Declan inquired, "Is my present wrapped?"

Birkoff giggled. "It was too small to wrap."

Declan pretended to be horrified. "No! Too small? Why, you little tease! I ought to..." His voice faded away as he considered his options. "Well, maybe I’ll just settle for having my wicked way with you then."

"You can do that anyway," Birkoff said hopefully.

"No resistance. You pushover!" Declan teased. "Can I make love to you now?" Kiss. "You’ve got such a sweet mouth..." Kiss. "And I can’t wait for tonight." Kiss.

Birkoff sighed as he rubbed his cheek against Declan’s. "Umm...let’s move Emmy now."

Declan kissed him one last time. "As you wish," he whispered.

***

Emmy never woke up during the room-to-room transfer. Birkoff clicked on the baby monitor and closed the door. Returning to their bedroom, Birkoff shrugged out of his clothes, bit by bit, starting with his shoes.

He felt Declan’s gift burning a hole in his jeans pocket. Before he could change his mind, he decided to give it to him now. "Dec?"

Declan popped his head out of the bathroom, already bare- chested. "That was quick, love."

"Here." Birkoff thrust the small package into Declan’s hands, and Declan was so startled, he nearly dropped it. "What’s this, then?"

"Happy Anniversary," Birkoff said hoarsely.

Declan opened the small box and peered inside. There on a black velvet backing lay a small sterling silver locket. Declan forgot to breathe. Picking it up gingerly between his fingers, he examined it closely. The chain was so fine. Not only that but the locket itself opened. Glancing quickly at his lover, he saw that Birkoff was practically quivering in anticipation of his reaction.

He flicked a fingernail under the catch, opening the locket, and lost the rest of his breath. "Oh, God, Sey...." Declan almost cried at the beauty of it. Nestled inside was a picture of Sey and their daughter Emmy.

"Put it on, please..." Birkoff requested softly.

"Help me, acushla," Declan replied, just as softly.

Birkoff threaded the fine chain through his fingers and opened the catch. Pushing Declan’s hair back, he put the locket around Declan’s neck. When he’d finished, he stared at the locket, as if it were tangible proof of their love, just as much as their daughter was. "Now you can take me with you, wherever you go."

Tears filled Declan’s silvery-grey eyes, even as he smiled. "I already do. But now you can lie next to my heart all the time," he said, almost choking on the emotion he struggled to keep under control.

Birkoff kissed the spot where Declan’s heart would be. "I love you, Declan."

"I love you, too."

Birkoff wiped at his eyes, standing uncertainly until Declan reached for him. Then they just held each other for a long time.

***

Asleep in each other’s arms, they drifted contentedly on a sea of tranquility. All too soon, it was time to wake up, make dinner, feed, bathe and clothe Emmy...then maybe...just maybe...there might be time for them to celebrate their anniversary before Christmas Day dawned.

Birkoff snuggled against Declan’s chest. "Mmm...don’t I get a present, too?"

Declan kissed the top of Birkoff’s head. "I think you just did, love."

"I mean, an anniversary present."

"You don’t want to wait till tonight?"

Birkoff looked disappointed. "It’s okay, Dec. I can wait."

Declan kissed him, his thumbs pushing away the errant teardrops that lingered in his beautiful dark eyes. "Don’t cry, sweetie."

Now it was Birkoff who smiled at the tender sobriquet. "Sweetie, huh?"

"Yeah, you’re my sweetie, Sey." Declan wrapped his arms around his lover, holding him tight.

Birkoff closed his eyes, savoring the sound of Declan’s voice, so gentle, so loving. Then his eyes abruptly snapped open. "But don’t call me that in public, okay?"

Declan laughed softly. "Never."

"So do I get my present now? Or do I have to wait through the inevitable Christmas Eve dinner with the family? Not to mention the interminable Midnight Mass?"

"We never go to the Mass, Sey. That’s how we came to be alone, at home, on Christmas Eve, two years ago. Remember?" Declan brushed Birkoff’s hair back from his face, his fingers softly touching his cheeks from time to time.

"I remember everything, Dec."

"Even the parts you don’t want to?"

"There isn’t anything I don’t want to remember, Dec."

"You’re sure?"

"Absolutely."

Declan’s insouciant grin dimmed for a moment. "Sey, did I ever tell you why I fell in love with you?"

Birkoff shook his head. "Not in so many words, Dec. But it’s okay. I wasn’t ready to hear what you had to say back then."

Declan kissed him, nudging his lips apart to open his mouth. Taking a deep breath afterwards, Declan said, "Are you ready now?"

Birkoff nodded slowly. "Yeah. I think I am." He rubbed his fingertips along the side of Declan’s neck.

Declan looked thoughtful. "I dunno any other way to say this, acushla. It was like there was this image of you burned into my brain, long ago, before I even knew you, and then...when I finally met you...I knew who you were. Just like that."

"Just like that?"

Declan snapped his fingers. "Yeah. Only it wasn’t that simple. Y’see, my heart knew things that my brain refused to accept, and I fought knowing how I felt for the longest time. When I finally got the message..." Declan smiled in remembrance, "you could say it blindsided me."

"Was that why--I’m sorry, I don’t mean to bring this up and hurt you all over again..." Birkoff fell silent.

"No, no, tell me, please."

"Was that why you ran away? After I brought Lola to the house? And--"

"I felt...betrayed." Declan laughed harshly. "Which was stupid. I mean, we didn’t have a real understanding or anything. It wasn’t like you were mine." Now it was Declan’s turn to fall silent.

"God, Dec, I’m so sorry I put you through all of that."

"It’s okay, Sey. You didn’t know how I felt."

"Didn’t want to know, Dec. Cause I was so scared." Birkoff’s dark eyes gleamed wetly. "As wonderful as this has all turned out, it’s different from anything I ever dreamed about. And now--"

"And now what, Sey?" Declan encouraged.

"And now it scares me to think of how close I came to not knowing you this way," Birkoff declared.

Birkoff buried his face in the hollow of Declan’s neck. "Do you know why I love you? Cause you’re everything I’m not. You’re strong...you’re fierce...you’re intense."

Declan ran his fingers through the silky strands of Birkoff’s hair. "Do you know why I fell in love with you, Sey? Cause of your sweetness, your good heart, your quiet acceptance of me." He kissed Birkoff’s hair again. "You didn’t try to change me into someone else. You just loved me," he said tearfully.

"Guess that makes us both pretty lucky then, huh?"

"You have no idea, acushla."

"So...what’s my present, Dec?" Birkoff asked again, this time with less impatience.

Declan pulled Birkoff’s face away from his neck, cupping his chin in his hand so he would be able to see his eyes when he told him. "Sey..." he said hoarsely. "This might be the last time I call you that."

"What do you mean?"

"I wanted to give you a special gift, something that meant something only to you and me."

Birkoff barely nodded, transfixed by the intensity of Declan’s gaze.

"You said you don’t like your name. I’ve always thought that was such a shame. To have to go through life hearing people call you something you hate. You said you don’t have a middle name." Pause. "So I’m giving you one."

Birkoff almost wept at the feeling that arced through him. "You did that for me?"

Declan nodded. "Only it’s a Gaelic name. It means ‘little and dark’."

"I’m not that little!" Birkoff automatically protested, albeit weakly.

"Next to me, you are." Pause. "Anyway, you might not even like it. You don’t have to accept this gift if you don’t want to."

"How could I not like it, Dec? If it comes from you?"

Declan kissed him, lingering long enough to feel the smile that traced Birkoff’s lips. "Do you want to know what it is?"

"Yes," Birkoff breathed.

"Kieran."

"Keer-un?" Birkoff echoed.

"Aye, my love."

Birkoff sought Declan’s chest, tracing his fingers over his heart. When he found it, he listened carefully for a few moments, then he rubbed his cheek against the spot. "I’m so glad you found me, Declan."

"I’m so glad we found each other...Kieran."

Declan set the table hurriedly. His long red hair was freshly clean, the soft curls resting upon his shoulders before continuing down his back. He wore a dark blue sweater over black jeans, the sole bright spot a twinkling silver chain around his neck. The locket itself was hidden inside the sweater, next to Declan’s heart, just as he’d said it would be.

Nikita swept into the dining room, like the whirlwind she was. "Declan! You didn’t have to cook for us on your anniversary!" she cried, almost outraged on his behalf.

Declan smiled. "No need to sound so put out, Nikita. Mr. Birkoff and I had something of a celebration whilst you were out. Not to worry."

"Mr. Birkoff? How formal, Declan. What’s up? Tell me the truth now." Nikita leaned forward on her arms, blocking Declan from completing his appointed task at the table.

Declan winked at Nikita. "Ah, but that would be telling, wouldn’t it?" He placed the last of the silverware on the table with a flourish. "You’d better be getting a move on yourself, or you’ll never have time to eat before Midnight Mass."

Nikita rolled her eyes. "Michael’s going to drag me out in the cold to sit in church for hours, how could I forget?" She picked up a stalk of celery and munched happily. "Mmm, good celery."

"I’d take the credit, but God might be offended. You need to eat something with a bit more substance or you’re going to fade until a strong wind blows you away."

Nikita looked down at her flat stomach. "You think I’m too thin, Declan?"

Before Declan could answer, Michael walked up behind his wife and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Yes!" he said emphatically.

Nikita frowned at her husband. "I thought you loved everything about me."

Declan backed up, chuckling as he retreated into the kitchen. "And on that note, I’m getting dinner."

Michael met Nikita’s gaze evenly. "You don’t eat enough, doucette, and you know it. That..." he paused to kiss her soundly on the mouth, "...doesn’t mean I don’t love you."

Nikita pouted. "If I promise to eat everything Declan gives me, can we skip church tonight?"

Michael pondered, his face impassive. "You don’t have to go, Kita."

"But you will."

Michael nodded, selecting a carrot stick from the array of fresh vegetables on the table. Nikita kicked restlessly at the floor, not unlike Faith when she was contemplating how much trouble she could get into if she threw a temper tantrum.

Nikita ran her hands down Michael’s body, stopping at his belt. "I was hoping we could do something more...secular."

His expression never changed. "What did you have in mind?"

Nikita groaned. "Oh, Michael, we haven’t had a moment to ourselves since we came home. What do you think I have in mind?"

Michael kissed her, but the contact was far too brief to be satisfying. Nikita felt frustrated by Michael’s apparent indifference. She watched as his lips closed over the carrot stick and bit down hard. She could swear he was teasing her, provoking her. He couldn’t be this unaware of her. They had three children. He certainly knew how to please her.

A wave of longing overtook her, and she wrapped her own arms over Michael’s. "I want to be with you," she whispered.

"Then come to church with me," he said blithely.

Her eyes narrowing, she wondered what he would do if she simply overpowered him, right here at the dinner table. He caught the look in her eyes and smiled enigmatically.

"Michael, you’re up to something, aren’t you?"

"Moi?" he asked innocently, biting down again on the carrot stick.

Declan re-entered the dining room, hot food in both hands. Michael glanced at him quickly before he whispered to Nikita, "Come to church with me."

Nikita took her place at the table reluctantly. "Is there a surprise involved? Michael, you know how I hate surprises."

Michael smiled again, his eyes closing briefly to cover his vivid green eyes. When he re-opened them, there was a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Come to church, Kita...just you and me...no kids."

"They’re staying home?" she said incredulously. Declan served the two of them, trying desperately not to eavesdrop while wondering just where the others had run off to.

One by one, they straggled in. Walter first, followed by Miranda. The twins, strangely inseparable the past week, came next, followed by the seemingly everpresent Connor. Neil and Madeline brought up the rear, along with Birkoff, who held Emmy in his arms.

"You left Skye upstairs, Nikita?" Birkoff asked disbelievingly. "She’s missing Christmas Eve dinner."

"She’s just seven months old. I’m still breast-feeding her."

"But--"

Nikita snapped at Birkoff, "Not all of us share your enthusiasm for the holidays, Birkoff."

Declan’s eyes flashed with something that might have been anger. He stopped serving momentarily, apparently deep in thought, then resumed, as if nothing happened.

Madeline stared at Nikita, wondering what was really bothering her. Nikita stuck her tongue out at her adoptive mother. "And what are you looking at? Haven’t you ever seen a woman driven to tears before?" Nikita shouted, just before bursting into tears.

She felt everyone’s eyes on her, and she just couldn’t bear it another moment. Scraping her chair back with a hideous noise, she stood up, chest heaving. Addressing Madeline, she whimpered, "At least your husband wants you!"

Fleeing the family’s anxious scrutiny, Nikita ran upstairs, closing the bedroom door behind her. She heard a thundering step on the landing, and she knew that Michael had followed her. She pressed her back against the door in a feeble attempt to keep him out. He pushed at the door, and she fell onto her knees on the carpeted floor.

Burying her face in her hands, Nikita’s shoulders shook with unspent emotion. Michael knelt at her side, taking one of her hands in his. "Kita...what’s wrong?"

"Nothing’s wrong. You think I’m too thin, you don’t want to make love to me, and now everyone in the family thinks I’m a crazy woman who can’t hold onto her husband!"

Michael shook his head. "No, doucette. I’m sorry. I just wanted you to come to church with me, that’s all."

Nikita burst into fresh tears, fueled by her growing frustration and inner agitation. "For the last time, I don’t want to go to church!"

"Then we won’t go," he agreed. "If you want to stay here and have dinner and wrap Christmas presents all night long, we will."

"Nooo!" she wailed. "I want...you to make love to me," she said, nearly choking on the words.

He wrapped his arms around her, finding the crook of her neck with his mouth. Pressing a kiss there, he said, "If that’s what you want, then I’ll make love to you, Kita. You’re more important than the Mass." He stroked a wet tendril of pale blonde hair away from her face as she sniffled.

"I am?" She stifled a sob, her lower lip trembling.

"Of course, you are, Kita. I love you."

She closed her eyes and wept on Michael’s shoulder, her fists clenching behind his neck. "I love you, too," she whispered.

He rocked her gently back and forth in his arms, and she cried herself almost to sleep. When his legs had gone numb, he struggled to stand, taking her with him. "Don’t leave me," she murmured.

He walked her to the bed, forcing her to sit down. "Kita? Do you feel up to a ride in the Jeep, doucette? I think it’s started to snow."

She shivered in reaction. "It’ll be so cold, Michael."

"Not where we’re going, Kita," he whispered against her ear.

"Where are we going?" She hiccuped, clapping a hand over her mouth.

"Going to Midnight Mass was just an excuse to get us out of the house on Christmas Eve, doucette. After an hour there, I was going to drive us out to the farmhouse."

Nikita grimaced. "It’ll be cold and dirty there, Michael."

"Not anymore. That was part of the surprise. Walter’s been working out there all week long. He got the fireplace working, Kita. There’s heat in the bedroom...and the place is spotless, not a bug in sight."

"There’s a fireplace?" she repeated, hope springing to life in her eyes.

"Yes, doucette." He stroked her face tenderly before kissing her. Nikita lost herself in that kiss. It was so much better than his earlier kiss. The one that left her wanting.

"I always intended to make love to you tonight, Kita. I’m sorry I teased you, I didn’t think you would take me so seriously." He kissed her forehead. "Am I forgiven?"

"That depends. Is there running water?"

"Yes," he said with a rakish grin.

"Can we stay all night?"

"And miss seeing the kids get up first thing in the morning, Christmas Day?" That surprised him, but he wondered if Nikita wanted to know just how important she was.

She nodded solemnly.

He refused to let her bluff him. "Okay," he agreed.

She broke into a wide smile. "I wouldn’t miss that for the world, Michael!"

"I didn’t think you would, Kita."

She dropped her eyes to Michael’s chest. "I needed to know that you were willing to give that up for me, though, Michael. I don’t mean to complain, but..."

Michael stopped any further commentary with a heartrending kiss. "You were saying?"

"Not a word, Michael. Not a word."

Nikita wrapped her arms around Michael’s neck. "Thank you for understanding," she whispered huskily.

His hand moved restlessly back and forth, across the top of her shoulder. "I don’t always understand you, Kita, but I will always love you."

Nikita clapped her hands over her mouth with a soft cry. "How will I ever face everyone again? They must think I’ve lost my mind."

He pulled her hands away from her mouth with a frown. "No one thinks that, doucette, and if they do, it doesn’t matter." He touched her lips gently with his, setting up an ache in her lower body. "Nothing matters. Except you...and me."

She closed her eyes on a sigh, feeling his lips against the side of her face. She wanted him with a very real desperation. But...first things first. Reluctantly breaking away, Nikita traced his mouth with trembling fingers. His eyes questioned hers.

"Do you think Declan would mind packing up something for us to eat on the way to church?"

Michael blinked. "I thought you didn’t want to go to church."

A series of fleeting expressions flew in succession across Nikita’s eloquent face. "I don’t. But you do," she finally said in a low voice. "It’s important to you. So we should go. For a little while, at least."

"Ki-ta..." As always, he was touched by her unexpected, even unpredictable way of changing her mind. She had a generous spirit, his Kita, it was one of the things he loved most about her.

He kissed her, a wistful look in his eyes. "Thank you, doucette." He did need to go to church, but he wouldn’t force it upon her. Not if she wasn’t ready. Maybe she would never be ready. But it wasn’t important. He had enough faith for both of them now. "We won’t stay long."

She smiled peacefully as she pressed a tiny kiss to the palm of his hand. "Then we’ll go to the farmhouse?"

He nodded, never taking his eyes off her face. "Where we’ll make love."

"All night?" Her tongue flicked out to caress his fingers.

His green eyes flickered back and forth, eventually casting their lambent light on her expectant face. "Well," he said, "at least until one of us gives up."

"It won’t be me," she said, her tongue finding its way to his ear.

***

Declan never gave Nikita a second glance as he handed her what he thought of as a ‘care package’ to go. He was upset by the way she spoke to Birkoff, but he would never say so publicly. To do so would be to disturb the balance of power within the household. Michael would take his interference as a challenge to his authority, and he didn’t want that. But he would protect Birkoff from any further attacks, in any way necessary.

Suddenly Nikita stopped in the doorway, biting her lip anxiously. "Declan?"

Declan gave her the same impassive look Michael was famous for. The blank stare. "What?"

"I’m sorry..."

"About what?" Declan pretended to misunderstand.

"About what I said to Birkoff. If I hurt his feelings...or your feelings..."

"My feelings don’t matter one way or the other, Nikita," he said almost coldly.

Nikita nodded in understanding. "Then I did hurt you. I am sorry, Declan." She reached out a hand to him, but he ignored it. Dropping her hand abruptly to her side, she didn’t know what else she could say.

She reached the doorway before he called out to her. "Nikita..."

She turned to face him. "Yes, Declan?"

He shook his head, unable to make eye contact. "Just try not to do that again."

Approaching Declan, she suddenly threw herself at him, taking him completely by surprise when she hugged him tightly. "Declan," she whispered against his shoulder, her voice muffled. "We’ve been through an awful lot, you and me, I don’t want to lose your friendship."

He felt the telltale quiver run through her, and he knew that Nikita was near tears again. Hesitantly wrapping his arms around her, Declan struggled to overcome his initial reaction to Nikita’s hurtful words. "Nikita...I don’t want to be angry with you. But I need to protect Sey the same way you protect Michael."

Nikita nodded. As soon as she put herself in Declan’s place, she understood very well how he felt. She released him from her embrace, but Declan continued to hold onto her. "Don’t worry about this, Nikita."

She swiped angrily at the tears that blurred her vision. "I spoiled your anniversary, Declan. How can I not worry? Maybe I even ruined your Christmas, Emmy’s birthday, everything...."

Declan looked aghast at what he’d unwittingly unleashed. "Nikita!" He looked helplessly towards the doorway, wishing valiantly that Michael or Birkoff would come through it. Maybe if he prayed...really hard...

***

His prayers were answered. Michael, the dark knight himself, stood in the doorway, searching for his wife. When he saw her, distraught, sobbing in Declan’s arms, his entire face changed. He was the picture of torment, ever so briefly, before he regained control of his emotions. The mask slipped silently and effortlessly back into place, Michael moved towards Declan.

"You look like someone who needs rescuing." Nikita turned at the sound of her husband’s voice, her face ravaged by tears, her sapphire blue eyes watery, like twin gems dropped to the bottom of a turbulent sea.

"Michael?"

Michael nodded to his wife, but he continued to stare intently at Declan. Declan backed up, feeling electricity in the air, like the charge lightning makes during a thunderstorm. "You got it all wrong, Michael."

He took his hands off Nikita, and stepped back several paces, in an effort to put some distance between himself and Michael. "I don’t think so, Declan," Michael replied.

Michael reached out with one hand, and Declan, still attempting to avoid confrontation with Michael, successfully dodged what he perceived as a blow. "Declan," Michael said, "you’re the one who needs rescuing."

Declan blinked. Rescuing? From Nikita? Or him?

Birkoff entered the kitchen, a cheerful whistle on his lips, and nearly dropped the dishes he was carrying. "Hey! What’s going on here?" he shouted, instantly taking in the fact that Declan was backed up against the wall, with Michael very nearly at his throat.

Without even thinking about it, Birkoff stepped between the two men, insinuating his body between Michael and his obvious target. Figuratively nose to nose with Michael, Birkoff nearly had to stand on tiptoe to make real eye contact with him. But he did. Declan’s brave little lion cub outrageously winked at the odds and dared Michael to challenge his protection of Declan.

"If you want to hurt Declan, you’re going to have to go through me," Declan’s fiercest supporter all but snarled.

Michael considered that carefully. The corners of his mouth twitched ever so slightly, but he didn’t show any other trace of emotion. "That might be a big mistake."

Declan put his hands on Birkoff’s shoulders, willing him to calm down. "Back off, Sey."

Michael nodded imperceptibly at Declan. "Good idea."

That Birkoff did not have a chance in hell of ever threatening someone like Michael did not occur to Birkoff. Michael treated Birkoff with the same respect he would anyone confronting him, and Declan followed his lead.

Declan lay his chin on Birkoff’s shoulder, whispering to him, "Give it up, love. I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but--"

Birkoff half-turned, a wild look in his eyes, something between power and pain. "No, Dec, no one threatens you, not even Michael."

Michael sighed. "Birkoff..."

But before he could say anything, something that might hurt Birkoff’s feelings worse than Nikita’s contemptuous Grinch-like comment, Walter walked in, holding Faith.

"Hi, guys! Is this a private club or can anyone join?" Walter interjected, noting the serious faces surrounding him. Faith giggled from her perch atop her grandfather’s shoulder.

"What’s with all the doom and gloom? It’s Christmas! Christmas is for everyone, but especially kids and lovers!"

He swung Faith down into his arms, wrapping her in a big bear hug. "Well, this here’s your daughter Faith. You remember Faith, don’t you, Michael? Sorta the pint-sized version of my Sugar."

"Well, Faith has something she wants to give everyone before she heads off to bed, to dream of sugarplums dancing and all that other good stuff."

Michael stepped away from Birkoff unobtrusively, his arm reaching out to hold Nikita. Nikita put her head on Michael’s shoulder and closed her eyes. Declan pulled Birkoff back against his chest, his arms wrapped around his waist, and Birkoff grasped Declan’s hands.

"Go ahead, little Sugar," Walter encouraged.

Faith opened her tiny hands to reveal what she was holding. Mistletoe. Walter laughed at the surprised expression everyone wore. "Okay, so she had a little help from Grandpa, but hey..."

"You guys can’t stay in here and fight all night. It’s Christmas, for God’s sake!"

He turned to the little cinnamon-haired princess in his arms. "Ready for your big moment, little Sugar?" She nodded.

He stood in front of Michael and Nikita, waiting patiently. Faith didn’t disappoint him. She waved the mistletoe in front of the couple, giggling. "Now you’s gotta kiss! Grandpa said!"

Michael smiled at his daughter’s beatific expression. As beautiful as her mother. He felt Nikita open her eyes and look up at him. He claimed her mouth possessively, uncaring that they were being observed. Nikita gazed up at her husband, quite dreamy-eyed. "Faith..." she called to her daughter.

"Do we have to say anything?" she prompted.

"Oh, yeah! You got’s to say the words! Mommy says!" Faith giggled again, like a fairy princess fallen to earth, waving her magic wand at will, fixing the errors of mankind.

"I love you, Michael," Nikita said huskily, never taking her eyes off his face.

"I love you, too, doucette." He kissed Nikita again, without any other motivation but love.

Walter walked to the other couple, who waited almost anxiously in anticipation of Faith’s instruction. "Do it, sweetheart," Walter coached Faith.

Faith waved the mistletoe madly in front of Declan and Birkoff, giddy with laughter. "Unca Sey, you got’s to kiss Unca Dec!"

Birkoff looked uncertain. Declan thought perhaps he was having an attack of nerves at having to do something so intimate in front of the others. But no... Birkoff suddenly laughed, "You have no idea how long it took to teach her that!"

Birkoff looked up at Declan and winked. "Hey, I gotta do it, Dec! Faith says!"

Birkoff kissed Declan lightly on the mouth. Declan resisted the impulse to tell Birkoff just how incredibly special he was tonight. No sense in shocking the little one.

But there was more. Faith giggled, "Now you got’s to say the words! Mommy says!"

Declan whispered, "I love you," but Faith was not pleased. "Me can’t hear dat, Unca Dec!"

"I said, I love you!" he shouted at Birkoff. Suddenly they were all laughing.

"I guess everyone bloody well heard me that time, eh?" Declan quipped, trying not to think about a private moment turned inside out.

Birkoff reached up, his hand splayed across Declan’s cheek, and kissed him, so lovingly, Declan would have wept, if they were alone. "I love you, Declan."

Walter smiled. This was like watching a wedding ceremony. You knew how it was going to turn out, but it was so damn beautiful, you wanted to stay till the very end.

Michael pulled up to the farmhouse with a screech of brakes. "Out!" he commanded, nearly pushing Nikita out of the Jeep. She jumped out the passenger side, slamming the door shut.

Michael came around to her side of the Jeep, grabbed her by the elbow, and pushed her towards the door of the farmhouse. When she didn’t move immediately, Michael threw his hands up in the air, swearing. "Damn!"

He pounded on the hood of the Jeep with one fist, managing to avoid denting it somehow. "Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was?" Muttering to himself, he paced back and forth, stopping in front of her every so often to punctuate the air with another gesture or curse.

"Michael! I was just having some fun!" She smiled flirtatiously, licking her lips, and for some reason, that only incensed her husband further.

"Fun! In church! During Midnight Mass!" He was stunned. Speechless. He was going to Hell for sure. His wife could not keep her hands off him. Throughout the entire Mass, Nikita found reasons to press against him, fondle him, or otherwise caress him. Michael was certain that the priest had seen the two of them.

"I dunno what you’re so angry about, Michael. We’re married. It’s not like we’re living in sin or something." Nikita’s tone was matter-of-fact. That just raised Michael’s ire to new levels. She didn’t even show remorse for what she’d done.

"No! You just act like it!" Michael snapped at her.

Far from being wounded, Nikita giggled playfully, twirling her hair around one finger. "Are we having an actual argument, Michael? Like normal people?"

Michael stopped for a second and stared at her, his green eyes sparking furiously. "You like this! This being out of control thing?"

"Mmm...yes. You can trust your anger to me, Michael. I know you’d die before you’d hurt me. I’m not worried. Why are you?"

"Cause I wanted to make love to you, not throw you down and rape you!’

Nikita’s big blue eyes glinted mischievously as she sucked on her lower lip. "Oh, my....is that likely to happen?" Her tongue flicked out and moistened her lips. Michael was hypnotized.

He stared at her mouth for so long, he thought he could actually taste her. "Oh, God, Kita," he whispered harshly. "What are you doing to me?"

"Corrupting you? Exerting undue influence? Making you crazy?" Nikita ran one long, slender finger down Michael’s arm, and she felt him shiver in response.

"Try all of the above," he replied.

"Good." She turned towards the door of the farmhouse then, her pale blonde hair swinging out in a long, silken curtain behind her. "Let’s get in out of the cold."

***

The moment she crossed the threshold, she could see the difference from the farmhouse of her memory. The rooms were clean, if not freshly painted. There was running water. Hot running water. Which meant that the bathroom, and more specifically, the shower, worked. She climbed the stairs, extremely aware of the man following her.

When she got to the main bedroom, she sighed. With relief as well as pleasure. The fireplace was filled with kindling, ready to be lit afire. Michael stopped behind Nikita, his hand just brushing her back. "I’ll go get some wood for the fire."

He turned away, but Nikita grabbed his arm. That same throb of urgency hit him all at once. He looked down at his arm, certain he could feel her fingers on his flesh, through his coat. Again he felt it, that compulsion to take her where she stood, up against the wall, her arms above her head, his body thrusting its way into hers. He closed his eyes against that image.

"Michael..." she said, low and throaty. "You think you’ll hurt me. I can see the conflict in your eyes. But I want you...inside me...now."

"Ki-ta..." He shook his head.

"Please?" She opened his coat, her hands going to his belt. "You can play it safe later. Take me now. Here."

Michael felt his nerves strained to the breaking point. "You must think I have the patience of a saint."

"I didn’t marry a saint, Michael. I married a goddamn sinner! And I’m damn glad I did!"

Michael gave her one last tortured look before his mouth came down on hers. "Kita...if I hurt you..."

"I’ll let you know, I promise. Now, Michael, now."

He shed his coat without breaking contact with Nikita’s mouth. Pushing her against the wall, just the way he’d imagined her, his mouth ground against hers. He took off just enough of her clothing to gain access to her body, nothing more. The fact that they were still half-dressed somehow added to the decadent feel of things, and soon, they were both unbearably aroused.

Panting breathlessly in her ear, he slid his hand between her thighs, parting her warm, moist folds for his entrance. When he entered her, she gasped, throwing her arms over her head. He grabbed both her wrists in his hands and pushed his way inside her again and again, the urge to mate too strong to suppress.

Sensing the end was near, he released her wrists, sliding his hands down to her hips, pulling her tightly against him. When he could go no deeper inside her, he felt as though they were one person. She was an extension of him. A glorious counterpart to his darkness. Her muscles clenched around him, and he groaned, spilling himself into her warm, wet depths.

He buried his face in her hair, the very texture of her hair alive with sensation for him. "Oh, God, Kita..."

Nikita relaxed against the wall of the bedroom, luxuriating in the feel of him still locked deeply inside her. "Mmm...aren’t you glad you’re not a saint?"

He nudged her with his lower body, feeling her answering response in the trembling of her limbs entwined with his. "We must be going to Hell, doucette..."

Nikita smiled rapaciously, her tongue licking Michael’s upper lip. "Well, you know what I say to that, Michael. If we’re gonna go to Hell, we might as well enjoy the trip."