Declan slammed the door to the Jeep and chased Birkoff to the door of the farmhouse. "Christ, Sey, if I catch up with you, I’m not waiting for you to take your clothes off!"

Birkoff stopped at the door, giggling, his long dark hair fanning out around his face. "Oho, really, Declan?"

"You stopped deliberately, didn’t you, Sey? Are you testing me?"

Birkoff shook his head, his hair gently waving around his shoulders. "No..." He stared up at Declan with such love and utter devotion in his eyes, Declan sighed as he pressed himself against his lover.

Burying his face against Birkoff’s hair, Declan closed his eyes, whispering, "You know how bad I want you? If we make it all the way upstairs, I’ll be surprised."

In response, Birkoff smiled slightly and wrapped his arms around Declan’s neck. Relaxing against the door, Birkoff shifted comfortably against Declan’s body, feeling his arousal clamoring for his attention. "Can I have a headstart?" he asked playfully.

Declan laughed softly. "Sure."

"Then take me...I’m yours." And like that, Birkoff vanished through the door.

***

By the time Declan caught up with Birkoff, they were both wildly out of breath. Birkoff doubled over, his hair falling over his face, trying to catch his breath, and Declan smiled wickedly, knowing he was going to take full advantage of the situation.

Shrugging out of his coat, Declan pushed Birkoff back against the wall of the upstairs bedroom. "You’re mine, brat."

Birkoff bit his lip expectantly. "Oh, are you going to...punish me?"

Declan raised an eyebrow at his partner. He worked at removing Birkoff’s coat, threw it onto the bed and promptly forgot about it. He stepped out of his boots and kicked them across the floor. Birkoff gave a low whistle, impressed at the way his normally compulsively neat lover was destroying his image. Clicking his tongue against his teeth, Birkoff said, "You’re always so careful, Declan. Are you going to make this hard...and rugged?"

Declan gave him a cool smile. "Maybe I will...and maybe I won’t. But you won’t know for sure until it happens... How does that strike you?"

Birkoff shivered with anticipation. "I think you’re taking way too long to cut to the chase."

***

Moments later, Declan turned his lover around to face the wall, kicked his feet apart so that his legs were spread, and pulled his jeans down. The sight of his partner’s bare posterior aroused him to the point of no return. Declan nipped at Birkoff’s neck, not allowing him to turn around to return his kisses. "Dec-lannn..." Birkoff complained.

Grasping Birkoff’s long hair between his two hands, Declan pulled it into a ponytail and lifted it off his lover’s neck. Biting at his neck in earnest now, Declan barely took the time to prepare his entry into his lover’s body. Clasping his hands around Birkoff’s middle, Declan eventually made his way down to his partner’s groin, cupping his arousal.

When he heard Birkoff’s sharp gasp and subsequent breathing, Declan feared that he had gone too far, that he had hurt him. But Birkoff threw his head back, his hair cascading over Declan’s face. "God, you make me feel like you want me to lose control..."

"Just this once, Sey. Let go!"

As his climax overcame any objections he might have made, Birkoff held onto his own arousal, stroking towards completion. Declan surged into his lover’s body with a cry, followed by a low groan and a sob.

Declan collapsed against his partner’s back, the intensity of his release so great, he didn’t realize that Birkoff had climaxed as well. As soon as Declan freed him from his grip, Birkoff managed to squirm around to face him. His usually light complexion now flushed, his eyes were fever-bright with residual excitement. "That was...amazing," he whispered.

Declan’s hands roamed freely over Birkoff’s body, checking for tender areas, bite marks, bruises and anything else that might indicate that he hurt him. "Are you okay, acushla?"

"Mmmhmm," Birkoff replied, not trusting himself to speak again.

"Sey, did I hurt you?"

Birkoff sighed contentedly, running both hands down the length of Declan’s body. "No," came the husky response.

Then Declan kissed him, tender, feather-soft kisses that were all about taking however long it took to love him. "I love you, acushla, and don’t you ever forget it."

Birkoff fairly beamed. "I love you, too, Dec." Pause. "But now that you’ve had your way with me, can we please get some heat in here?" he asked, indicating the lack of fire in the fireplace.

Declan had the grace to look vaguely embarrassed. "I’ll take care of that right away."

"Oh, and Declan?"

Birkoff leaned forward, licking Declan’s mouth with such a lack of haste, it was tantalizing. "Now we’re going to go so slowly...I’m going to drive you...crazy."

"Promise?" Declan’s pale grey eyes rekindled their former fire.

"Promise."

Birkoff came out of the bathroom holding two fluffy white towels. Declan was crouching over the fire he’d finally started, and the bedroom was slowly starting to warm up. "It’s catching fire at last, Sey," Declan said, turning to find his lover’s face inches from his own.

Birkoff took his mouth, kissing Declan the way he liked to be kissed himself. Slowly. Deeply. "I’ll warm you up, Dec," he whispered against his mouth.

He spread the two towels across the hearth that even now was beginning to grow warmer. Then he looked deep into Declan’s silvery eyes while he disrobed completely. The first time had been so rushed, they were still partially clad when Declan joined their bodies. But this time...Birkoff wanted to savor the experience.

When he was done with his impromptu striptease, Birkoff smiled, feeling the heat of the fire on his body. Bathed in the firelight, Birkoff’s body bronzed, from his hair to his back to his feet. Even though he was now the aggressor, there was nothing remotely aggressive about the way Birkoff was approaching his lover.

He pushed gently, and Declan fell backwards onto the towels, his mouth seeking his partner’s. Birkoff shook his head. "Let me, please," he whispered.

"You look so beautiful in the firelight, Kieran," Declan murmured, using his special name for his lover.

"When I’m with you...I feel beautiful, Declan," he responded shyly. Birkoff removed the rest of Declan’s clothing, feeling strangely awestruck by the radiant beauty that emanated from Declan. "But you... you’re... always... beautiful."

"Only in your eyes, Kieran."

Part of him felt that to take such beauty would be a desecration of the highest order. The other part of him felt that not to take such beauty would be an equal sacrilege.

Trailing his long, slender fingers over Declan’s chest and abdomen, Birkoff slowly slid down the exquisite lines of Declan’s body until his mouth met his arousal. When he first felt the touch of his lover’s mouth, Declan tensed, then he relaxed, reaching for Birkoff’s hands. Their fingers restlessly intertwined, they made love. One submitting to the other.

The glow of the fire etched their bodies in its warm tones. Declan let go of Birkoff’s hands and pulled on his hair. "Come back up here and kiss me."

Birkoff smiled, a crooked, mysterious smile that frustrated Declan no end. "Not yet, Declan."

"But--"

"You’re still in a hurry, Declan. I’m trying to slow you down. It’s so much better if we don’t have to rush."

His heart in his eyes, Birkoff made a silent entreaty for understanding. This is our honeymoon, Declan. Slow and sweet is every bit as good as quick and intense.

Declan’s storm-grey eyes, already warmed by the fireglow, flickered over his lover’s face and gentled. He nodded, conceding defeat, and Birkoff exhaled, laying his head upon Declan’s firm abdomen.

Declan stroked Birkoff’s hair, feeling some of his previous urgency fade away. "Would it violate your principles if I begged you to kiss me, just once, Kieran? I promise not to take advantage...and I have such a hunger for your honey-mouth."

Birkoff shook his hair out and rearranged himself atop Declan’s body. "Now that you’ve asked so nicely...how could I refuse?" Birkoff lowered his mouth to Declan’s, his eyes wide open, watching Declan’s eyelids flutter shut. There was something wildly erotic about keeping his eyes open that aroused him. Especially when Declan’s beautiful face lay open and vulnerable to his perusal.

Declan shivered, his mouth opening under his lover’s slow sensual assault. He licked his lips, and Birkoff seized the opportunity to plunder his hidden treasures even further, his tongue seeking its mate within. His mouth bit gently at Declan’s, his teeth nibbling upon his lips, Declan’s mouth a veritable feast for his insatiate lover.

Declan’s hands wound themselves through his lover’s thick, dark hair, pulling him closer and deeper. When he found a moment to breathe, he whispered, "So...is this honeymoon everything you wanted it to be?"

Birkoff’s dark eyes gleamed, the firelight reflected there for a brief moment. "Declan...if all I could do was lie here in front of the fire and kiss you...I could die satisfied."

"What a beautiful thing to say, Kieran." Declan stroked his cheek, and Birkoff inclined his head towards Declan’s hand.

"It’s true." Birkoff moved closer, his lips less than an inch away from Declan’s. "I don’t think you have any idea just how much I love you," he whispered, powerful emotion throbbing through him.

"Acushla," Declan murmured, kissing the side of Birkoff’s face, not even able to verbally express the feeling welling up inside of him.

"Yes," Birkoff exulted, kissing him back. "I am, Declan."

Declan lavished kisses all over his lover’s mouth and face, unable to suppress the feeling surging throughout him. "You are, Kieran. You always will be."

Birkoff stopped him, pressing his fingers to Declan’s mouth, his silver Claddagh ring glinting in the firelight. "Always and forever."

"Always and forever," Declan echoed.

Nikita watched from the front porch, smiling, as Declan pulled the Jeep into the driveway. Declan opened the passenger door, and Birkoff got out, almost stumbling. Declan reached out and held Birkoff until he was steady on his feet, and then, they walked towards the house, their arms wrapped tightly around one another.

"Did you guys have a good time?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"The best," Birkoff beamed. Declan pressed his nose into the space between Birkoff’s neck and shoulder. "Jeez, that’s cold, Dec!" he exclaimed, giggling. But he made no move to push him away.

Declan gazed at his lover so affectionately, Nikita could see that things could not be better between them. "We needed the time together."

Birkoff returned the warm look, openly caressing Declan, for the first time that Nikita could remember. "Yeah."

Declan pulled Birkoff closer, obviously savoring the contact. "How’s our Emmy?" Birkoff lay his head on Declan’s shoulder. He loved the way Declan included him. In fact, he loved the word ‘our’. Like he belonged to him. Mind you, he didn’t want to be owned, like a piece of property. But the possessive way Declan clung to him made him feel so special. He hadn’t known how badly he needed that.

Nikita smiled. "Oh, my, she’s gotten so big. It’s amazing how fast they grow at that age!" Observing Declan’s vaguely miffed look, she quickly added, "It’s only been three days, Declan."

Declan shrugged. "I missed her."

Birkoff glanced up at Declan. He was getting better at admitting his feelings. They both were. He rubbed Declan’s shoulder, his hand eventually creeping along the back of his neck. Declan’s grip on Birkoff tightened, imperceptibly to some, but noticeable to them.

"We’d better get inside then, can’t have you catching your death out here," Declan said, carefully avoiding any mention of Nikita’s pregnancy.

Nikita moved back so the couple could pass, catching the door before it closed behind them. She looked out over the front lawn, the snow so pristine, except for Declan and Birkoff’s recent footsteps. Yes, it was a good day.

***

It wasn’t true that good things couldn’t last. It was true that sometimes bad things happened to good people. Nikita was on her way into the kitchen when she felt the pain start again. It had been days since this tearing pain first began. Doubling over, she clawed at the air, searching for the chair that should have been there. Missing the chair, she fell to her knees, clutching her abdomen. "Oh, God...."

She couldn’t get her breath. The pain was too ferocious, holding her in its grip. She started to sweat, the pain growing by leaps and bounds every moment. If only she could call out...

Walter heard someone gasping harshly, as if they were in distress, and he ran to the kitchen door. "Sugar!"

He pulled her into his arms and struggled to lift her up and onto the chair. She was dead weight now, having succumbed to the pain at last, rendered unconscious by its ravenous plundering of her body. Slowly, step by torturous step, Walter managed to get Nikita into the chair. Hesitant to leave her, even for a second, he did the next best thing. He screamed for help.

Michael came down the stairs, two and three at a time, his boots flying across the floor as if airborne. Declan was right behind him, Birkoff at his side. By the time Madeline and Neil arrived a minute later, the children were already clamoring to find out what happened. Walter pushed the twins back, as gently as he could, shouting, "Get them out of here! Someone take those kids! Please!"

Faith ran to Birkoff, tearfully wailing that something was wrong with Mommy. Chris was unusually quiet, but he drifted slowly towards Declan, who held out his arms to the child. All at once, Chris grabbed Declan’s knees, which was the only part of his body he could reach, and hugged them. "Mom’s sick, huh?"

Walter was trying desperately to revive Nikita, on his own, but Neil stopped him from any further attempts. "Walter. Don’t."

Walter’s blood chilled. Neil sounded so solemn, Walter feared that Nikita was dead or dying. Neil bent over Nikita, expertly assessing her. Within a few minutes, Nikita had regained consciousness and was attempting to sit up. "Nikita, please don’t move."

Nikita looked frightened. The pain was still there, but it was more intermittent now. Before, it had been constant, and she could not bear it one more moment. "Neil!"

She grabbed his arm, forcing him to make eye contact with her. "Neil! Look at me! Is it the baby?"

Nikita’s feelings about this pregnancy were so conflicted, she had only recently announced it to the rest of the family. Neil didn’t want to add to her pain right now, but he was sure that something was very wrong.

Loath to mention the rather terrifying possibilities that she might face, Neil tried to avoid saying anything. Unfortunately, his rather expressive face said it all. Madeline paled. "My God, Neil, it *is* the baby, isn’t it?"

Meanwhile, Michael was the first on the scene, the first to go to his wife, and now the first to hear that this pregnancy was in very real jeopardy. Grabbing the blanket that Declan offered, Michael wrapped the soft material around Nikita. "Here, doucette, this will keep you warm."

Nikita was filled with trepidation. "Mi-chael..." She was looking for reassurance, but she didn’t find it in his eyes. He was struggling to be supportive, but inside, he was scared. Scared of losing the baby. Scared of losing his wife. Forever.

"I’m right here, Kita." He closed his eyes, summoning the strength to continue, asking for God’s blessing on all of them. They surely needed it.

By the time the ambulance arrived, Nikita was desperately clinging to Michael’s fingers, so tightly it hurt. Or it would have, if Michael could actually feel anything. Michael was in that state of shock where his fingers and toes felt completely numb, and he wasn’t sure, but it seemed to be creeping up the length of his body with surprising speed.

"Michael!" she cried when the ambulance crew attempted to lift her up off the chair, forcing her to relinquish her grip on him.

"It’s okay, Kita," he said, meaning to reassure her, but completely unaware that his eyes looked bleak, despite his blank mask.

She reached out to him, her hands closing on air, and Michael took a step towards her before stopping. Faith broke loose from Birkoff’s embrace and ran to Michael, clinging to his leg. "Daddy!" the little girl screamed. "Where dey taking Mommy?"

Nikita’s head lolled backwards on the stretcher, and the ambulance attendants fastened the strap across her middle. As if galvanized by Faith’s screaming, Michael picked up his daughter and strode after the ambulance crew. Declan ran after them, catching up in seconds, and pulled on Michael’s arm. "Michael," he hissed, "you can’t take the kids with you, give Faith to me."

Michael turned eyes the color of unpolished jade on Declan. They looked, but they were turned inward, seeing nothing of what was really happening. Declan held out his arms to Faith, repeating his command in a quieter tone. "Give Faith to me."

Faith sensed her father’s indecision, and in dire need of security, Faith squirmed away from her father and into Declan’s waiting arms.

Michael turned and got into the back of the ambulance. He had not spoken a word since he had unsuccessfully tried to reassure Nikita.

Faith clung to Declan, whimpering, tangling her tiny hands in his long red hair. Declan did a half turn, instinctively knowing that Birkoff was nearby. "Sey, how’s Chris holding up?"

Birkoff’s eyes looked unusually big and somber as he answered. "He seems okay, but you never know with Chris. Walter’s trying to distract him by telling him stories, but I don’t think he’s listening."

"And Emmy?"

"Madeline took her. She’s trying to convince Connor to play big brother, but he’s not going for it. I think when Faith lost it, it kinda unhinged Connor, if you know what I mean."

"Yeah," said Declan. He looked after the departing ambulance with ill-disguised concern. Unwilling to chance worrying the twins further, he settled for a non-committal comment. "Nikita’s strong, and she’s got Michael with her."

Birkoff glanced at Declan, aware of what Declan wasn’t saying. Something terrible was about to happen, and they both knew it.

***

Upon arrival at the hospital emergency room, they whisked Nikita into a cubicle at once. Evidently Neil had called ahead.

Nikita was frightened. No one had told her what was going on with her body. She knew it was related to the pregnancy, but that was it. Even Neil had not said more than that.

When the staff began briskly preparing her for an ultrasound, she knew something was very wrong. She struggled to sit up, but the pain was too great. Moments later, she had the strangest sensation that she had wet herself. A surreptitious glance at the sheets beneath her told her something else entirely. She was bleeding.

"Michael!" she screamed, sobbing furiously.

Michael heard his wife shout for him, and everything that happened immediately afterward was a blur. People were racing to and fro. He caught a glimpse of Neil’s worried face as he donned a scrub suit. He tried to stop Neil, to find out just what they were up against, but Neil snapped, "Not now, Michael."

He heard words like stat and shock, and he knew that they were talking about Nikita. He was pushed to the side as nurses and other staff poured into the room. Slowly sinking into a chair, Michael watched in anguish as they worked on Nikita. He could barely make out her face, lying on the examination table. She was so pale.

He felt so cold. Inside and out. He heard someone say, "Is she going to die?". Michael waited anxiously for an answer before realizing that he was the one who had voiced the question. To himself. No one was paying the least bit of attention to the man who loved Nikita more than his life.

He had never felt so abandoned in his life. But worse than that, he was afraid for Nikita. You shouldn’t be alone at a time like this, doucette. We belong together. Remember? Please...remember.

He twisted his hands together, as if trying to tie them into knots, and he actually had to force himself to breathe. If she dies... But his heart wouldn’t let his brain complete that sentence. You can’t leave me yet, Kita. I forbid you to go. Do you hear me?

He was almost certain that she could hear him. They had always had a way of communicating with each other, something beyond words, something beyond the five senses. So preoccupied with reaching her was he that he never noticed when Walter appeared in front of him.

Suddenly feeling a hand on his arm, Michael looked up. "Walter?" he said huskily, as if his throat were unused to speaking aloud.

He looked at where Nikita had been a moment ago. She was gone. "Wh-where did they take her? Do you know? Please..."

Walter braced his hands on Michael’s shoulders. "They’re taking her into surgery, Michael."

Michael looked confused. "Why?"

Walter heaved a great sigh. "She’s bleeding. Neil could tell you why, but the bleeding has to be stopped. She’s in shock."

"The baby?"

Walter shook his head sadly. Michael made an anguished sound, but he didn’t cry. He looked beyond Walter to see Declan and Birkoff approaching with the twins in tow. "No! he shouted. "What are they doing here?"

Declan stopped, leaving the twins with Birkoff before continuing on to where Michael stood. "Michael, Walter thought it would be best if we brought the twins here, just in case--"

Michael whirled to face Walter. "Just in case? Just in case? Just in case what? In case she dies? You think she’s going to die?" He stared into Walter’s bloodshot blue eyes and abruptly realized that Walter had been crying.

"You do! You think she’s going to die!"

Declan winced. "They’re trying to do everything they can to save her, Michael."

"She can’t die! She can’t--" Michael staggered forward, and Walter caught him before he collapsed.

Declan walked slowly back to where Birkoff remained with the twins, shielding them as best he could from seeing Michael’s distress. Faith’s eyes were open wide, still drenched with tears. She didn’t understand everything that was going on, but she knew that Mommy was in trouble, and that for some reason, beyond her comprehension, Daddy couldn’t do anything to help her.

Michael wept on Walter’s shoulder, his face turned away from his children. He could no more have stopped the tears than the tides. He wasn’t even aware of the twins being there any longer. He was trapped in a nightmare world, where once again, he was forced to bargain with God, for his small piece of happiness.

Neil’s face wore the strain of a long day that was about to get longer. He stood over Nikita, willing her to wake up. She should have recovered from the anesthesia by now. He wanted to be there to explain what happened. He knew that both Nikita and Michael showed an alarming tendency to blame themselves for everything. It would be tragic if they took the blame for this.

Nikita stirred finally, as if she sensed that someone was hovering over her. "Mi-chael?" she called.

Always the first one she asked for. Neil winced. She was going to need all the love and support she could get. But he wasn’t sure what shape Michael was in right now.

"Nikita, can you hear me?"

"Yes," she replied, opening her eyes fully.

"How do you feel?"

"Like I’ve been shot."

Neil didn’t even like to imagine how someone who looked as beautiful and untouched as Nikita would know what it felt like to be shot. "You’ve just come from surgery."

"Surgery?" She frowned. "Why?"

"Do you remember the pain you were having?"

Nikita suddenly paled. "The baby! What happened, Neil?"

It all came flooding back to her, full force. It was horrific. The pain, the feeling that she was surely dying.

"Nikita...you had what we call an ectopic pregnancy. That means the fertilized egg was implanted in one of your fallopian tubes."

"Then there is no baby?"

Neil shook his head. "I’m sorry. No. The pain you felt was the egg rupturing the tube. We had to operate to stop the bleeding. You almost died."

Nikita lay back against the pillows, seemingly accepting of all this. But Neil knew Nikita better than he used to. He was not fooled by the calm exterior she projected. He knew how deeply emotional she was.

"I lost the baby? I almost died? Oh, God, how is Michael taking all of this?"

"He doesn’t know all of it yet. I wanted to tell you first."

"But you told me separately. Why?" Nikita’s eyes narrowed as they focused on Neil’s face. "Michael is taking this hard, isn’t he?"

"Of course he is, Nikita. He’s your husband. He loves you." Neil almost sounded affronted that Nikita would ask him such a question.

Neil reached for Nikita’s hand. "You’re not to blame for this, Nikita. This was a mistake your body made."

Nikita turned her face away. "Please..." she said huskily. "...leave me alone..."

Neil started to leave, but thought better of it. "Do you want Michael with you?"

"Oh, God, yes," she whispered, feeling an overpowering urge to cry.

***

Michael looked like a beaten man when he entered Nikita’s room. At his request, she had been given a private room. He didn’t want anyone else sharing her space. Or her pain.

"Ki-ta..." he said softly, though the effort it took to speak was nearly beyond him.

He sat down carefully, desperately afraid that he would hurt her. "How do you feel?" he asked, wishing there were some other way to ask that question. He knew how she felt. Like the proverbial cat with nine lives after spending her ninth life.

"Okay," she said, sounding almost sulky.

He swallowed. "Are you in pain?"

She grimaced. "What do you think?" All at once her face crumpled, and she dissolved into tears. Burying her face in her hands, she stammered, "It w-was all...all my f-f-fault."

"No, sweetheart, it wasn’t." Michael’s love for Nikita blindsided him. Made him incapable of lying to her. "If anyone’s at fault, it’s me. I made you pregnant."

Nikita looked aghast. "How could it be your fault? It’s mine! I didn’t want to be pregnant again! This is God’s way of punishing me! He took away the baby!"

Michael laughed harshly. "He took away the baby because I prayed for Him to save you, Kita. I didn’t care what happened to the baby, as long as He saved you. You were bleeding to death! I couldn’t help it. I was selfish, and now God is paying me back. I thought He had forgiven me all my sins, but I was wrong."

Michael bent his head to his chest, trying to hide his tears, but Nikita pulled on him until he reluctantly settled against her. "I don’t want to hurt you anymore than I already have, Kita," he said tearfully.

She placed both hands on his head, raking her fingers through his hair again and again, in an effort to soothe him. His head neatly tucked under her chin, she felt his overheated breath on her upper chest. "Ssh, Michael, you’re not hurting me now," she whispered.

She found solace in his touch. The emotional pain, the grief that even now tore through her was still there. But the minor physical discomfort she felt at his weight pressing upon her body was as nothing. "Ki-ta..."

She pressed a kiss to his hair. "What, love?"

He raised tortured eyes to hers, so slowly, her heart ached. "When your tube ruptured, they had to operate."

"I know, Michael, to stop the bleeding."

He grasped her fingers tightly in his, his grip almost painful. "Kita, they removed the tube." He waited for her to acknowledge what he’d said. It took a very long time for Nikita to register exactly what Michael meant.

"I only have one tube left?"

He nodded. "The one they removed...was impossible to repair."

"I can still get pregnant?" she asked, her fingers stilled upon his hair. He could feel the tension within her.

"Yes," he said.

She nearly collapsed with relief, and Michael hated to see the tension flood back into her body, but he had to tell her the rest of what Neil told him.

"Kita, you can get pregnant, but it won’t be as easy as it has been in the past."

"Are you saying that Skye might be our last child, Michael?"

"She very well could be," he said sadly, knowing how anything that impacted on her ability to have children would make her feel.

"Oh, Michael..." She began to cry, and Michael pulled her gently into his arms, taking great care not to move her lower body. Her hands threaded their way through his hair, as she pressed her face to his neck, hiding her tears there. He felt the wetness on his skin, and he closed his eyes, the lump in his throat threatening to choke him.

"I wanted to give you another son," she whispered, feeling him tense under her.

"Kita..." he said warningly.

"Not to make up for what you’ve lost. It would be a mistake to make any child stand in for another. But it was something I wanted for both of us. Someday." Her voice broke.

"Maybe someday it will happen, doucette. Maybe someday." For now, it was enough that they had each other. Perhaps God was not so unforgiving, after all.