May was a beautiful month, filled with sunshine and the scent of new flowers. Faith would have loved to go outside and play, but she was charged with guarding her baby sister for a short while. She would have thrown a temper tantrum to end all temper tantrums, but Nikita offered Connor as a playmate to head off any potential conflicts. That definitely took the sting out of babysitting.

Skye sat on the floor of the living room, watching her older sister Faith play a simple game. Faith was in the middle of explaining some deep, dark philosophical issue to her best friend Connor.

"Connor! You cheated!" Faith was clearly outraged. That anyone would cheat was bad enough, but Faith took it personally. Piss me off, pay the consequences. Still...it was Connor. The love of her young life.

Connor had the grace to look mildly sheepish, his light blue eyes dulling, if but for a moment. He didn’t want to anger Faith. Oh, she would never be so callous as to withdraw her affection, but he didn’t even want to take that chance.

Connor was two years old now, and oddly enough, as he grew, he resembled his Aunt Nikita more and more. Madeline didn’t mind. Connor’s fair hair and blue eyes gave him something in common with Chris, and at times, from a distance, they might even be mistaken for one another.

"Connor, you can’t do that," she explained patiently. "There’s stuff called rules," she added, not realizing that Connor had no idea what a rule was.

All Connor knew was that he loved being with Faith, and if she demanded obedience to these rule things, he would gladly comply.

He reached out to touch Faith’s cheek and then, in obvious imitation of certain adults, Connor stroked her cheek gently. Faith closed her eyes, a blissful smile on her face.

"Fee like?" Connor asked quietly.

"Je crois que oui," Chris answered for his sister, sitting down in the middle of the small group. Connor blinked. He didn’t understand when Chris and Faith spoke French to each other. If he were capable of being more articulate, he would have called it their secret language. But he could see for himself the effect his touch had on Faith. No words needed. French or otherwise.

Skye continued to watch the others, never speaking, never smiling, apparently content to be on the periphery of things. Very much like Chris, she often felt closer to him than to Faith, despite the fact that Faith was the same sex as she was. Still, she was curious as to why Chris joined them. But before she could even try to say anything, her unspoken question was answered.

Emmy toddled over, her stuffed animal clutched in one hand, the camel with the wrinkly knees visibly dirty from months of dragging on the floor behind her. She never went anywhere without it. It was her talisman, her touchstone. Birkoff tried to wrest it away from her once, just to clean it, but for the first time in her life, she showed evidence of having a temper. Apparently, no one messed with her attachment to Chris. Not even Daddy.

"Soleil," Chris called to Emmy. Sunshine.

By now, Emmy knew Chris was referring to her when he used the name Soleil. He often whispered to her, lovely, secret words, in French, that she couldn’t understand yet. But she exacted a promise from him, that when she was older, he would teach her to speak the secret language. Chris blushed fiercely when he agreed to this, but he could deny her nothing. Besides, he fervently hoped that by the time she was old enough, she’d have forgotten the promise.

Emmy smiled at Chris as he held her other hand. "How’s George?" he asked.

Yes, the camel’s name was still George, despite Michael’s request that Chris call it something else. He simply didn’t understand what difference the name made to his father, and so, following his own code of ethics, he merely made sure that the name was never used when Michael was around.

"He sweet," Emmy said, beaming. Like you, she wanted to say. But despite her effusiveness with nearly everyone else, she became shy and occasionally tongue-tied in Chris’ presence.

Skye felt the love between the two other children as if it were a tangible object. She had been silent for so long. But no more. "Where my?" she asked in pre-toddler-ese.

Chris looked at his baby sister, a puzzled frown creasing his face. "Your what, Ciel?" Chris often called Skye by the French equivalent of her name, Ciel. It was a habit he picked up from his father. Michael would have been amazed at the influence he had on his children. If he only knew.

"My, my--" she cried inarticulately, frustrated by her inability to say what she wanted. My other half, she completed in her head. She wanted what Chris had with Emmy. Faith had Connor. Why wasn’t there someone special for her, too?

Skye started to cry, as babies often do, but it completely unnerved Faith, who feared that her mother would think she wasn’t doing a very good job of taking care of her little sister. As if Faith had called her there, Nikita popped her head into the living room, saying, "Is everything all right in here?"

"Oh, yes, Mom," Faith chirped cheerfully, willing Skye to stop crying. "We’s playing a game."

"You are?" Nikita smiled warmly at her oldest daughter. "You’re getting to be Mommy’s number one helper, Fee."

Faith cringed inside. She wasn’t entirely sure she deserved that kind of praise. Not with Skye crying and all. Even if she didn’t make her cry.

"Mom, could we go outside now?" Faith asked hopefully. The swings would distract Skye. She loved to go on the swings. And Faith vowed she would gladly push her baby sister on the swings until Skye was satisfied or Faith grew tired. Or both.

"No, sweetheart, there’s no one to watch you right now," Nikita said reluctantly.

With all the people in this house? Faith wanted to yell. What are they all doing?

"Mommm...." Faith whined. Nikita hated when she whined. It made her want to throw up her hands and walk away. Michael said that Faith’s whine was just like her mother’s. Nikita was sure that wasn’t meant to be a compliment. That made Nikita want to smack Michael.

Speak of the very devil. Michael stood in the doorway, just behind Nikita. Placing a hand lightly on the back of her neck, he kissed her. "Hi. Daddy just got home from school. Is everyone behaving?" He directed his question specifically to Faith, though he glanced cursorily over the rest of the children.

Why does Daddy always look at me when he asks that? Faith thought, realizing that Skye’s crying had almost stopped. Thank God. Having a baby sister wasn’t so terrible, but if Skye didn’t stop making her look bad in front of their parents, she was going to have to get even someday.

Maybe Skye just needed to grow up a little bit. So she could be a big girl like Fee.

Declan adjusted the sketchbook on his lap for the third time. He nearly dropped the pencil he was holding when he noticed that the kids had shifted out of position again. "Sey!" he yelled at Birkoff, who was trying in vain to ride herd on five restless children.

"What?" Birkoff shouted back, squinting at the sun blazing in his eyes.

"Can’t you get them to sit still for more than a few seconds at a time?"

Birkoff drew himself up to his full height, placing both hands firmly on his hips. The glare he gave Declan would have quelled a lesser man. "What do you think I’ve been trying to do for the last hour?"

"I dunno, Sey. You tell me," Declan quipped tongue-in-cheek, winking at his lover. "All things considered, next time you suggest I do a portrait of the kids for Michael and Nikita, I think I’ll take a photograph."

Emmy stood up and reached for Josephine. The cat had not been seen much in recent years, and everyone attributed this to Josephine’s regal personality. Nikita thought that the kids were too much competition for the cat. Michael thought the cat showed more sense than God usually gave animals in staying away from his brood.

Although Faith and Chris had by no means settled down, it was obvious that they had made peace with Josephine. She no longer raised her back up like what Faith called a "Halloweeny cat". But just as Josephine finally resigned herself to living in a house with a seemingly unending supply of children, the two younger ones came along. Emmy was not a tail-puller, much to Josephine’s delight, but Skye was a poker. She was insatiably curious about what made the cat a cat, and she constantly poked and prodded and tickled the poor cat silly.

Emmy tripped over Skye’s outstretched leg, falling onto her stomach full-length. Luckily, they were all sitting on the grass in the backyard, so there was no need to worry if anyone was hurt. Nevertheless, Birkoff ran to where Emmy lay crying, gathering the child in his arms.

"Emmy, Emmy, you all right?" he murmured next to her ear as he held her. She drew a ragged breath and finished sniffling. "Me okay, Daddy."

"Nothing hurts anywhere, sweetie?" he double-checked. "No, Daddy," she said, smearing her face with the backs of her hands. Her hands were full of grass stains, as was her dress, but Emmy herself seemed none the worse for wear.

Birkoff would never wish for his daughter to be injured in any way, but he had to admit, he loved basking in the glow of all that unconditional love she gave off. No matter who she was with, she always gave them her full and undivided attention. It was a gift she had, for making people feel special, for making them feel loved. And it went a long way towards healing the stresses and strains his poor heart had sustained growing up.

Declan saw that Birkoff had things well in hand, but he fought with himself for a few moments before deciding to join them. "Ah, the heck with the portrait, Sey. Some things are more important."

He sat down on the grass, next to Connor, admiring his namesake. He was a fine looking boy, Maddy’s son, and Declan was proud that he bore his name. Josephine, who had decided that retreat was the better part of valor, lounged on the periphery of the small group, licking her fur in a way that could only be described as tantalizingly feline.

"Connor, where’s your Mom? I haven’t seen much of her lately."

Connor regarded Declan with eyes the color of a freshwater stream. But his facial expression clearly owed its origin to Madeline. "Mommy busy," he said in a tone that said exactly how he felt about that.

"Oh," Declan said, immediately deciding that was a subject that was probably better not broached.

He ruffled the boy’s blond hair, noting that Connor no longer tried to avoid other people touching him. For a while, it seemed that Faith was the only one allowed to touch Connor, and Declan hoped that he would grow out of that. Sometimes he thought he detected an underlying anger in Connor, but he would never presume to tell Maddy how to raise her child.

Declan reached into his portfolio, where he had stuffed a highly inappropriate number of goodies and treats for the kids. Okay, it was bribery, and Declan was normally a far more subtle man, but he thought it was likely he would need them all before he was done.

"Connor," Birkoff called to the little boy, who seemed curiously preoccupied now. "Was that why you cheated?"

His mouth suddenly set in a mutinous pout, Connor replied as if the words were being pulled from deep within him. "Me sorry, Fee."

Birkoff nodded, his hair falling in front of his shoulder, brushing the top of Emmy’s bright red head. "I know you’re sorry, Connor. But was that why you cheated?"

The little boy’s eyes grew bleak. "Mommy busy," he repeated.

Declan glanced at Birkoff meaningfully. "How does that make you feel, Connor?"

"Mad," he said in a voice so low, they could barely hear him. "But," he continued, more loudly, "me not a’posta get mad at Mommy."

Birkoff snorted impolitely. "Who says? Mommy?"

It was obvious to both adults that Connor didn’t mean to cheat Faith during their game, that he felt terribly remorseful about being so unkind to the one person who forgave him anything, and that he acted out with Faith because he felt safe with her.

Declan met his namesake’s troubled blue eyes calmly. "You know, it’s okay to get mad, Connor. Mommy won’t stop loving you."

"How you know?"

"Cause I know your Mommy a long, long time. She would never do that to her own little boy." Declan thought of all the times that Maddy’s unexpected kindness saved him and smiled.

Birkoff noticed the smile and called him on it. "What are you so happy about, Dec?"

All at once, Declan lay back in the grass, his arms spread wide. "Oh, I dunno, Sey, it’s a glorious day. The sun is shining. I’ve got you and all these bloody wonderful kids here," Declan gestured expansively.

He looked at Skye. Too quiet as usual. In her own little world. "Skye, my love, what are you daydreaming about?

She looked startled that Declan spoke to her. She felt like Cinderella at the ball. Waiting for her prince to come. Sometimes she had this ache inside of her, like an awareness of things to be, things that would be quite wonderful one day, but things whose time had not yet come. Her vocabulary was still too poor for her to articulate the things she wanted to tell her family. But someday...

Suddenly struck by inspiration, Declan grabbed his sketchbook and his pencil, brushing broad black strokes across the page. Rapidly, so rapidly Birkoff was amazed, Declan managed to draw a rough sketch of the youngest Samuelle.

"Dec, that’s beautiful!" Birkoff cried, in awe of Declan’s talent.

"God, Sey, she looks just like Nikita must have looked at her age. Don’t you think?"

"Yeah," Birkoff answered, his eyes growing sleepy from the heat of the sun and the comfortable weight of his young daughter in his arms.

Declan glanced at Birkoff and yawned. It wouldn’t do any harm to catch a quick nap before they went inside for the day. He flung the sketchbook away from him and rolled over onto his side, pillowing his head on Birkoff’s knee. Emmy played with her father’s long red hair until they were both fast asleep.

Slowly, Chris crept closer to Emmy. Holding Emmy’s tiny hand in his, Chris snuggled against Birkoff’s other leg. Not to be left out, Connor poked Declan’s abdomen, producing only a faint snore in response. Safe. He was safe with his uncle, too.

Connor lay next to Declan, soon lost in that limbo state between sleep and waking. Skye sucked on her thumb, wondering why everyone deserted her. But it was okay. The reigning queen Josephine soon paid her a visit, her tail held high in the air, meowing loudly.

Skye returned the favor by not poking, prodding or otherwise touching the poor cat. But she never got a chance to reflect on her good deed. Zero, Birkoff’s dog, was fast approaching, and from the look of him, things were in a pleasant state of chaos in his universe.

Bounding back and forth, from meaty paw to meaty paw, Zero did a happy dance. His people were happy. He was happy. He didn’t even mind coming face to face with the erstwhile Queen of the Household.

Josephine regarded Zero with something that would be disdain in a human. Oh, my, her manner said, you are such a frisky puppy, now be good and go play in traffic. But no, Zero was not to be deterred. He was going to wake up all the humans, just as they’d finally quieted themselves down. Living amongst them could be such a trial sometimes.

Zero put out his paw, as if to pay his respects to Josephine. But Josephine was through fooling around. What was Zero, anyway, but a mere dog? Harrumph! she sighed to herself, begone, pesky puppy!

And with a hard fwap of her long tail, she signaled the end of the audience she had granted ever so briefly to Zero. But Zero, of course, being a dog, did not take no for an answer. He lunged at the petite cat, and moments later, the inevitable happened.

Everyone awoke. Children yelled. Zero bounded into the air, as Josephine’s paw caught his butt, and when he came down, he landed on Declan’s abdomen. Declan jumped in reaction, and Connor rolled out of the way in a move that would have done a field op proud. Emmy screamed, and Chris leaped at Birkoff’s chest, unthinking.

Zero stood there, panting, his long tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. He was proud. He was a dog.

Fwap!!! He certainly *was* a dog. Josephine licked her paw clean again. It would all be in her report.