"Don’t do this to me, Sey." Declan backed up another two steps, in an effort to avoid looking into Birkoff’s anguished eyes.

"But Dec, there was never any question about keeping him. You know that. We can’t send him back."

"Maybe not, Sey. But that kid is..." Declan raked a hand through his hair, making it even more unruly. "What if we can’t socialize him, Sey? Did you ever think about that?"

Birkoff’s dark eyes filled with tears. "You can’t give up on people like that. Suppose you gave up on me? Maybe we wouldn’t be together right now. People aren’t like puppies. You can’t give us back if we don’t work out."

Declan heard Emmy’s horrified gasp, and he knew she had heard every word they said. "Da! Please give him another chance! Please? Don’t send Sasha away!"

"No one’s going to send anyone anywhere, sweetie." Declan looked daggers at Birkoff. Now he’d made a promise he’d have to keep. Muttering under his breath, he stalked past his lover, "There’d be no living with you if I did."

Birkoff nodded. "You got that right."

Declan held open the door that led to the hallway. "Chris, it’s time for you to go on up to bed. Princess, you, too. I’ll tuck you in."

The children all but skipped through the doorway. Declan turned and stood in the doorway, facing Birkoff. "I’ll be back."

***

Emmy wanted Da to read her a story. As a result, bedtime lasted quite a bit longer than he expected. By the time he returned to their rooms, Declan assumed that Birkoff had gone to bed. He hadn’t.

"Did Emmy forgive you?"

"Of course," Declan replied without hesitation. "Do you?"

"I’m working on it."

Declan shrugged, as if he didn’t care one way or the other. But nothing could be further from the truth. He couldn’t make Sey give up his child. Hell, Sey didn’t even know Emmy when he began fighting to keep her. Just because she was part of Declan. How could he make Sey give up a part of himself? Even more, how could he not at least try to save a child who was the very image of his lover?

When they first met at Section One, Declan never got a really good look at Sasha. He was dirty. It was dark. Things were tense. But since they returned home, he could see just how amazing the resemblance truly was. He had to admit one thing, Sasha did clean up well. His brown eyes sparkling with intelligence, his dark brown hair waving like a long satin ribbon, he was an astonishingly handsome boy.

Declan sat down at the computer, keying in his university access code. When he was connected to the server, he booted up the file that held his research paper. It was due in two more days. He desperately needed to proofread it and get any final edits done by tomorrow at the latest. Drawing a deep breath, he concentrated on the task at hand. It was better than worrying about whether or not Sey would forgive him for implying something he didn’t really believe.

Frowning, he hit his F1 key. Help. Dammit, he needed all kinds of help now. His research paper was due in two days, and it wasn’t coming up on his screen. Re-checking the file number, he tried again. To no avail. Oh, shit. He repeatedly cursed and swore, praying that the paper was still there, somewhere, perhaps under a different file number. But no...

He felt Birkoff hovering over his shoulder. Anxious now, he started to sweat. Christ, that paper was important. It was more than just a grade. It was a requirement for the course he was taking, and the course was itself a requirement for graduation.

"Something wrong?"

"My paper. It’s gone!" Declan sounded vaguely panic-stricken. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t...He didn’t know why he didn’t think of it sooner. Sasha. The little computer weasel was in here. It looked suspiciously like more of Sasha’s handiwork.

Declan stared at Birkoff for a moment. Curious dark brown eyes met cool silver-grey eyes. "Your son seems to have deleted my research paper. Do you know how long I worked on that? A couple of months. I can’t possibly recreate all that work in the next 48 hours. Which means I won’t pass this course. And that means I’ll have to take the course over. And I won’t be able to graduate as planned."

Declan’s voice sounded calm, but he was anything but. The thought of duplicating all of that work made him furious. The thought of not passing the course made him frustrated. But the thought of not graduating as planned made him positively despondent.

Birkoff’s eyes grew round. "Declan, I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again, I swear."

All at once Declan jumped up. "You’re damn right it won’t happen again! That kid needs to learn where he stands, once and for all!"

Birkoff grabbed Declan’s shoulders with both hands. "Dec, he’s just a little boy!"

"You keep saying that, Sey, but the things he does are way beyond what little boys do! Now this! This he did on purpose...to get back at me!"

"But why? Dec, he doesn’t even know you!"

"But he knows you, Sey. Maybe he’s jealous. Maybe he wants you all to himself. I dunno. But I’m not letting him get away with this."

"What are you going to do?"

Declan’s soft grey eyes looked bleak. "I can’t fix this, Sey," he said, indicating the computer. "But I can try to fix him."

"You won’t hurt him?" Birkoff asked anxiously.

"Nooo...." Declan framed his lover’s face with both hands and kissed him tenderly. "I won’t hurt him, Sey. Somewhere lost inside that boy has to be a piece of you. I’m going to find it...or die trying."

Birkoff wound both arms around Declan’s neck and kissed him back. "Thanks."

Declan slid his cheek along Birkoff’s, then buried his face in his hair. "I wouldn’t do this for anyone but you, y’know," he whispered.

"I know."

"I’m still mad as hell, too."

"I know." Birkoff sighed.

Declan heard his sigh and groaned. His lips grazed his lover’s earlobe, and a sharp pang echoed throughout his body. Drawing back, he said, "You’ll have to back me up, Sey. Consistency is going to be especially important. If he thinks he can split us and play one against the other, he’ll be impossible."

"I know."

"You keep saying that, Sey. Can’t you say anything else?"

Birkoff lay his head against Declan’s chest, right over his heart. "Yeah. I love you."

***

Declan didn’t have far to search for the errant five-year old. He followed the outraged screams. Oddly enough, they led him right back to the kitchen. "So you’ve returned to the scene of the crime, kiddo."

Sasha glared at Declan. Caught in the act. He couldn’t deny that he was trying to trash the kitchen again. It was obvious. "It’s all her fault," he said, blaming the slender chestnut-haired woman sitting at the kitchen table.

"Ah, Miss Daragh Cassidy, soon to be Davenport. Is this young man terrorizing you?"

"It’s McLaren. Did I get that right? And you can call me Derry."

The harsh look faded from Declan’s face as he contemplated the young woman who was his sister. "You’ve decided to claim us then?"

"I’m not sure which of us claimed who first. But aye...you’ll do well enough...for a brother." Her full lips curved into a beautiful smile, and for a moment, Declan forgot why he’d come.

Sasha saw how preoccupied the couple was and began to edge towards the door. But it was as if Declan had eyes everywhere. Without even looking in Sasha’s direction, Declan reached out with one hand and stopped the boy from moving any further. "Were you going somewhere, kiddo?"

Sasha rolled his eyes. "I suppose you figured out it was me that trashed the kitchen." He waited. Punishment was sure to follow. It always did.

"Seeing as how you were in the middle of doing it again, I’d say you were right about that. But that’s not what I’m on about."

"Oh..." Sasha dropped his gaze to the floor, looking like the most innocent penitent ever seen. But Declan had seen what an act the boy could pull together on a moment’s notice. He didn’t trust him to be genuine. Not this quickly.

Cassidy looked at her brother. She could feel the tension in him. It emanated from every pore in his skin. Yet he was completely under control. "What did he do?"

"He erased a paper from my computer."

Cassidy shrugged. "Can’t you replace it?"

"Nope. It took me a couple of months to do the research. It would take weeks to recreate the paper. Only it’s due in two days."

Sasha began to look worried. "I was just trying to--"

"I think I know what you were aiming for, kiddo. Only problem is, I don’t know what to do about it. Because of you, I’m not going to be able to hand in that paper. Because of you, I’m going to fail that course and have to repeat it next semester. Because of you, my graduation is going to be put back. What do you think I should do?"

Sasha bit his lip, and he looked so much like Sey, Declan had a hard time holding onto his anger. But he knew he had to, or this boy was going to be lost. Forever.

"Punish me?"

Declan nodded. That was the problem. The boy had nothing to take away. He neither owned nor cared about anything. How could Declan set limits if there was nothing the boy wanted?

"Sasha..." Declan knelt down on the boy’s level. He had him well and truly intimidated now, he didn’t need to keep looming over him, like the bogeyman. "What scares you?"

Sasha looked disconcerted by the question. Then his dark eyes slid away, as if an answer had come to him, but he was loath to reveal it to anyone. His breathing grew erratic. Declan was suddenly reminded of how Sey told him he sometimes suffered from panic attacks when he was younger. Was that what this was? Or was it another manipulation?

"Sasha, you have to tell me," Declan exhorted.

Sasha closed his eyes, and Declan could see the tears leaking from beneath his eyelids. Now he knew he’d struck a nerve. There was no way the boy was faking this. He wasn’t that good an actor.

"You’re going to send me back?"

"Back where?"

"Back there. To the Section. Where you found me." Sasha didn’t want to cry. Crying was for babies. He wasn’t a baby anymore. But the thought of going back to Section scared the bejesus out of him.

"And you wouldn’t want that?" Declan asked carefully.

Sasha shook his head, his long brown hair whipping back and forth. "I don’t ever wanna go back there."

"Would you like to stay here?"

"H-here?"

"Here with us. Here with me...and your father." It suddenly occurred to Declan that no one had ever asked Sasha what he thought about coming to live with them. Everyone assumed that rescuing him from Section was a good thing, a noble thing. But what about what he wanted? If they tried to hold onto him, maybe he would simply run away. And that would probably break Sey’s heart.

"You’d let me? After what I did? To you?" Sasha looked puzzled. His motives were strangely uncomplicated. He couldn’t understand anyone who didn’t think like he did.

"Well...I’m pretty angry about what you did." Sasha nodded, standing like a little soldier at rigid attention. "But I’m willing to give you another chance."

"Why?" Sasha was grateful, but he had no idea why anyone would take another chance on someone like him.

"Cause someone really important told me...we don’t give up that easily on people around here."

Cassidy smiled, a real smile that reached her lambent grey eyes, and she knelt next to her brother, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. "No, we don’t."

The morning after. Now there was a phrase. Sometimes it told of dreams fulfilled. Sometimes of nightmares. And sometimes...neither.

Declan came awake with a faint smile. He had stayed so long in the kitchen with Sasha and his sister that Birkoff was asleep upon his return. Declan had found an adjoining bedroom where Sasha could sleep for the night, and he had promised to allow Sasha to decorate the room, in an effort to make the boy feel more comfortable.

When he saw that Birkoff lay on his side, sleeping, his impossibly long lashes sweeping across his cheeks, he was struck once again by his beauty and air of innocence. He looked so untouched by reality or the world outside. Even the years at Section had left him curiously unmarked. On the outside.

He didn’t want to wake him. But he ached to possess him. Settling the front of his body against his lover’s back, Declan reached an arm across his partner’s chest. Nudging Birkoff’s hair out of the way, Declan pressed a tender kiss at his nape. No apparent response. When he rubbed his cheek against Birkoff’s shoulder, though, Birkoff stirred sleepily.

Rolling over to face Declan, Birkoff sighed happily, apparently still half-asleep. "G’morning," he slurred. So charmingly that Declan couldn’t resist kissing him.

"Mmm...I’m yours to do whatever you will." A tiny smile quirked at the corner of Birkoff’s mouth.

"Now there’s an offer I can hardly refuse." Declan touched his lover’s mouth with the pad of his index finger, and Birkoff kissed it.

Declan replaced his finger with his mouth, bestowing feathery kisses upon that honey mouth he loved so well. Murmuring to him in Gaelic, Declan slipped his tongue inside, to taste the nectar there. Their mouths soon met hungrily, trading hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses for several minutes.

Now hopelessly aroused, Declan slid a knee between his lover’s legs, lightly grazing his groin. Declan left Birkoff’s now-swollen mouth, as tempting as it was, to trail kisses down the center of his body. As Declan approached his partner’s arousal, Birkoff lost his breath, his chest and abdomen heaving gently. "Umm..."

Declan looked up at him expectantly. "Something you wanted to say?"

A beatific smile traced its way across those honeyed lips. "Yeah..."

Declan couldn’t help but respond to that. "I know, sweetie. You love me." It wasn’t even remotely a question. And it was far more than a statement.

Birkoff’s dark eyes lit with considerable amusement as well as affection. "Well, yeah. But that wasn’t what I wanted to tell you."

Declan pretended to be outraged. "And why not?"

Birkoff laughed softly, and Declan smiled, swallowing the sound with a possessive kiss. "Mmm...I’ve got a surprise for you."

Declan’s eyes narrowed as he frowned. He shook his head slowly. "I’m not sure I like surprises anymore."

"You’ll like this one." Oh, now that was mysterious. Birkoff was hardly the enigmatic type. He left that sort of thing to Declan. But he had intrigued him now.

"Is it bigger than a breadbox?"

Birkoff chuckled. "Nope."

Declan looked puzzled. "What a chintzy surprise, then!"

Now it was Birkoff’s turn to shake his head. "You won’t think so."

Declan groaned. "Are you going to tease me to death or tell me?"

"Maybe we should wait till after we make love..." Birkoff said coyly, biting his lower lip.

"Maybe you should tell me or I’ll leave you hanging...right...here." As if for emphasis, Declan kissed him between the last three words. Birkoff slid his hand between their two bodies, though there was precious little space there, and grasped Declan’s arousal, hot and throbbing, in his hands.

"I don’t think so," he whispered fervently against Declan’s mouth, his hands unconsciously tightening their grip on Declan’s heated skin.

"Kieran..."

"I’m going to wait until you’re about to lose control...and then tell you."

"Don’t make me hurt you, sweetie," Declan teased, his mouth repeatedly caressing his lover’s.

"Besides," Declan said with a heavy sigh, "we don’t have that much time this morning. I’ve got to get up, start retracing my steps on that paper, and do some major damage control."

Birkoff pushed Declan onto his back, suddenly looming over him, which was no mean feat for someone so much smaller than Declan. Declan looked surprised. "Baby, you’re not usually so aggressive."

Birkoff chortled merrily, his expressive eyes dancing. "I did it! I did it! I did it!"

Declan grabbed Sey by both shoulders and shook him. "Sey, for Christ’s sake, what the hell did you do?"

"Oh," he said with a lilt, "I only retrieved your paper. You know, the one you slaved over for a couple of months. The one that Sasha deleted."

Declan sat up so quickly, he unseated Birkoff, dumping him unceremoniously onto the bed. "Oh, Sey! You’re bloody kidding me!"

"I’m not."

"But how? It was gone! Absolutely gone!"

"Not really. There were copies of everything you wrote since you started school on the hard drive. The hard part was finding them. Undoing a delete isn’t too difficult. But if the file was overwritten, it would have been lost forever." Birkoff waxed poetic, lost in a rapturous world of technical wizardry only he understood.

"Baby, I have no idea what you’re talking about, but you are bloody amazing! God, I love you!" Declan exclaimed.

Birkoff giggled. "Hmm...so you appreciate my mind, not my body?"

Declan reversed their positions so quickly, Birkoff sputtered with nearly breathless laughter. Straddling his lover, Declan leaned down and kissed him. A heartfelt kiss. One that came from the depths of his soul.

"I didn’t say that."

Birkoff settled easily under his lover’s weight. Pulling twin strands of Declan’s long red hair, he drew Declan closer. "Kiss me again. I kinda like it," he said playfully.

Declan nuzzled his lover’s neck, his lips finding an especially tender spot there. Birkoff sighed with contentment. "Does this mean that Sasha is off the hook?"

Declan grinned. "I let him off the hook late last night. But that doesn’t mean all your hard work was for nothing. Now that my paper is safe, I just have to proof it, edit it, and take it to class."

"When?"

Declan kissed him soundly. "Not till...tomorrow."

Birkoff smiled.

Michael woke up smiling for the first time in a long time. Slowly he opened his eyes and turned his head, searching for the source of that smile. There she was. "Doucette..."

"Mmm..." she answered sleepily, snuggling under his chin.

Today was the first day of the rest of their lives. There was no getting around that feeling. Without the oppressive thumb of Section fixed upon them, Michael felt a curious lightness of being. They were well and truly free.

Michael kissed the top of Nikita’s head, smoothing back a lock of her pale blonde hair. "Maybe we should just spend the entire day in bed," he suggested softly, hoping she would take him up on the offer.

She chuckled throatily as the excited whoops of their two eldest children echoed through the early morning air. "Maybe not," she replied.

She sat up, stretching her arms wide, and Michael caught her in his embrace, wrapping both hands possessively around her middle. A delicious smile curved Nikita’s lips. She was certain she was pregnant again. Even without a test.

Michael nuzzled the back of her ear, his hands never straying from their loving position over her abdomen. She leaned back against him, placing her own hands over his. "I love you."

At the sound of those words from those lips, Michael’s hands tightened imperceptibly across her skin. He was so affectionate this morning. In every possible way, he was showing her how very much he cherished her. It was more than knowing about the new life she carried inside her. It was as if a huge burden had been lifted. From both of them.

"Any chance I could have you all to myself today?" she asked, knowing the likelihood was not great.

"I should go to class," he said, feeling like a dutiful operative reciting policy and procedure.

She nodded wordlessly, her hair spilling across his chest in a silken tangle. He buried his nose in her hair, inhaling her scent, suddenly certain he wore her like some exotic perfume. But it was nothing more exotic than the smell of fresh lemon and jasmine.

"Mmm...you showered last night."

She laughed softly. "You mean I don’t smell like gunpowder? I’m so grateful for small favors, Michael."

"I fell asleep before I got a chance to shower, Kita," he protested. "Help me out, doucette. Come wash my back for me," he entreated.

"Oh, Michael, you know where that will lead. And then we’ll just have to shower all over again. And so on. And so on. We’ll be dried up like prunes by late afternoon," she said with a playful toss of her head.

He pulled her against him, sliding his cheek along hers with a sigh. "You’re going to make me shower all by myself?"

"Well, I’m sure Chris would love to take a shower with Daddy, if you ask him nicely." Michael frowned at her, and Nikita giggled.

"That’s not what I had in mind, love."

"How did I guess?"

The excited whooping grew louder and more intense. Michael had a feeling they were about to be descended upon by a pack of wild dogs. Or maybe it was just the kids. They traveled that way, too.

The door flew open, hitting the wall with considerable force. "Hey, that’s going to leave a mark! What did I tell you about trying to knock the doors off the hinges, Faith?" Nikita raised an imperious eyebrow at her eldest daughter, who sometimes did a fairly accurate impression of the Karate Kid.

"Sorry, Mom. I was just so glad that you and Daddy were home, I couldn’t wait till the door opened." Faith bounced across the floor, unlike any ninja Nikita had ever seen. That was one of the points Nikita often stressed to Faith. That ninja were stealthy. Quiet. Walked without thumping, stomping, or thudding. It was a lost cause.

She clambered up onto the bed, thrusting her sturdy little body between Michael and Nikita. "Hi, Dad," Faith said breezily, as only a five-year old can.

Michael regarded his daughter with the blank stare. Sometimes he wondered how someone as quiet as he was could have fathered a daughter like Faith. But then again, he often wondered how someone like him could have attracted and held the attention of the woman he loved more than life itself.

Michael whispered into Nikita’s ear, "Do you want to tell Faith about the baby?" Nikita smiled at her husband, shaking her head in the negative. "I don’t want to tell anyone yet," she whispered back.

At first, Michael didn’t understand her reaction. He wanted to tell everyone. He always felt that way about announcing the imminent arrival of one of their children. But gradually it came to him. Nikita was fearful of this pregnancy ending in misfortune, like the one before it.

Michael nodded to Nikita, indicating he understood. Releasing his wife finally, he picked up his daughter, brushing her nose with his. "Allo, petite."

He stared deeply into eyes so like his own. Even her hair had darkened slightly, making the resemblance even more striking. God, he was so thankful that things had turned out the way they did. They were home for good. He would live to see Faith grow up, fall in love, and get married. God willing. What more could a man ask for?

He heard a noise at the door. A moment later, Chris stood there, obviously desiring entrance. With a smile for encouragement, Michael waved him inside, calling, "You might as well come in."

Chris looked at his father, a new maturity in his eyes. Michael blinked. There was simply no way that Chris could know what happened, or what the significance of those events were. And yet...

"Glad you’re back, Daddy." He sounded so solemn, so un-emotional. That perturbed Michael. He didn’t want his son to suffer from suppressing his feelings the way he had.

Michael held out his arms. "Come here, Chris."

Chris hesitated for only a second, suddenly pitching himself forward, catapulting himself into Michael’s embrace with a fervor Michael had rarely seen. Squeezing his eyes shut, Chris clung to his father’s neck. "I missed you so much, Daddy," he whispered, as if it were a carefully-kept secret.

They weren’t gone all that long. But the consequences of what could have happened were never far from anyone’s mind. Including, apparently, his son’s. Michael didn’t know how Chris knew, but he did. He was sure of it. "Moi aussi, mon fils," Michael whispered back, so overcome with emotion, he lapsed into French without realizing it.

"Faith was so upset, she couldn’t sleep, Daddy. She said it was her fault that the bad man took Connor away," Chris said in a low voice.

"Oh, Chris. It was nobody’s fault."

"That’s what I said. I told her that bad people don’t need a reason to hurt someone. Right, Daddy?"

Michael was continually amazed by his son’s heightened perception of people and events around him. "How’d you get to be so smart, Chris?"

But what Michael found even more curious was Faith’s reaction in front of her parents. As if nothing was wrong. As if she didn’t blame herself for Connor’s abduction. He knew she shouldn’t. He was just surprised that she didn’t. Had Chris been able to be that persuasive?

"Fee, ma petite princesse, viens ici." Faith reluctantly tore herself away from Nikita’s side to stand obediently in front of Michael. "Yes, Daddy?"

"Let me hold you, petite." He reached out for her and she came. When he held her, her bravado disappeared, leaving behind only tears. "You were scared for Connor, weren’t you, Fee?"

She nodded tearfully. She was good at pretending. Pretending there was nothing wrong. Pretending that nothing hurt. But she was tired of that game right now, and Daddy’s arms were so much stronger than her own. She needed to lean on him for a while.

"What happened to the bad man, Daddy?" Faith asked her father. She lay her head on his shoulder, her fingers playing with the curling tendrils that refused to lie flat on the back of his neck.

Nikita wrapped her arms around Michael and both children. "The bad man can’t bother us anymore, Fee."

"How do you know?" she asked anxiously.

Nikita met Michael’s concerned eyes over the children’s heads. "We just know, Fee. Do you trust us?"

"Yes, Mommy."

"Then believe me when I say, that bad man is never coming back."

Michael poured himself a cup of black coffee and sat down at the dining room table with his wife. Minutes earlier, the two of them entered the kitchen, but the smell of breakfast was still in the air. The aroma of the crispy fried bacon made Nikita sick at her stomach, and she beat a hasty retreat to the other room. Michael stopped only long enough to pour his coffee, then followed.

"You should eat something, Kita."

She gave him a pained look. "Oh, Michael, I don’t think so. Not yet anyway."

He grasped her arms and rubbed them briskly. "Maybe a cup of tea would settle your stomach."

"Well..." Nikita was on the verge of giving in when Davenport and Cassidy arrived. Quickly pulling her arms from Michael’s hands, Nikita pretended that nothing was wrong. Michael felt frustrated. He didn’t regret inviting Davenport and Cassidy to stay with them, but he hated to see Nikita denying her feelings. It meant that she didn’t feel completely comfortable, and even though this was something that could only come with time, it bothered him. There was something unnatural about Nikita holding back her feelings. She was such an emotional creature, his wife. But he wouldn’t have her any other way.

Davenport smiled at the couple. "Good morning."

Cassidy clung to Davenport, just a little too hard to be comfortable herself. She knew Michael and Nikita by reputation only, and though they were most definitely her and Davenport’s saviors, she felt a bit lost in their company. Oh, hell, she felt a bit lost around people in general. She was trained to be the perfect assassin. By a man who despised people. By a man who had little time for the niceties that made the world more pleasant.

"G’mornin’," she said almost shyly.

Michael stood up, placing both hands on his wife’s shoulders. "Would you like some breakfast? I’m sure Declan left something in the kitchen."

Davenport and Cassidy spoke at the same time. "I’m starved." "I couldn’t eat a thing."

Davenport turned to Cassidy in surprise. "Darlin’, you gotta eat something. You haven’t eaten since yesterday. That’s not good for--"

Cassidy placed her fingers over Davenport’s lips, effectively silencing him before he could reveal her pregnancy. Casting a warning glance in his direction, she saw his infinitesimal nod of acknowledgment.

"--you," he finished, as if that had been his first thought.

Michael chuckled. "You have a woman like that, too?" Nikita looked up at her husband and leaned her head against his abdomen. His hands slid under her hair, softly caressing both sides of her neck. Nikita nearly purred out loud. He was being so openly affectionate, she couldn’t get enough. Whatever the reason.

Part of her suspected that Michael was marking his territory in a very subtle way. Making sure that any man within a certain radius knew that Nikita bore the mark of his possession. It might have made her feel uncomfortable if she didn’t have such intimate knowledge of Michael’s way of thinking. In other words, it wasn’t a manipulation or even a deliberate act. Michael was completely unaware that he was doing it.

Another part of her felt that with Section disappearing from their lives, finally, they were beginning a whole new era. One where they would be free. In more than just the literal sense. One where they could become the people they might have been, if Section had never recruited them. Well, maybe that wasn’t even possible. She didn’t care. She knew they were not the same people who escaped Section One so many years ago. And she desperately loved the man who had found the courage to change with her.

As if he were reading her mind, Michael bent down to kiss her. She leaned against his hand and smiled.

Cassidy studied the couple before her from beneath chestnut-colored eyelashes. There was something charismatic about both of them. She could see why they were natural leaders, and she could understand how others might be drawn to them. Feeling almost tongue-tied, she searched for a casual topic of conversation.

"I met your twins. Faith? And Connor? That was the little boy we rescued, wasn’t it?"

Michael stared at her, uncertain how to correct her error without hurting her feelings. "Connor’s not my son, no. Connor is Madeline’s son. He and Chris look something like each other."

"Oh, I’m sorry," Cassidy colored furiously. So much for her first attempt at real conversation.

"Don’t be," Nikita said gently. "It’s a fairly common mistake. Besides, Faith is constantly with Connor. So you’re forgiven for assuming they’re brother and sister."

"You have other children?" Cassidy ventured tentatively.

An enigmatic look crossed Nikita’s face. "Yes, we have another daughter. Skye."

"What a beautiful name!" Now Cassidy no longer had to force herself to think of something to say.

"Thanks." Nikita thought for a moment. "Speaking of Skye, have you see her this morning, Michael? I haven’t."

He shook his head. "Don’t worry, I’ll find her."

***

It was still morning. The day was cool, but not cold. Clear, but not altogether sunny. Skye pulled herself up onto the low wall that separated the Samuelle and Hunter properties. Mommy and Daddy were back. That was good. On any average day, Skye usually tagged along with Faith and Connor, even though her presence was sometimes an unwelcome intrusion. She had seen Faith’s worry escalate with the duration of Connor’s disappearance. It was the first time she had ever seen her older sister lose her composure. As emotional as Faith was, she rarely came apart, as some children might, given the circumstances of Connor’s abduction.

But today was different. Faith had made it clear that Skye should find someone else to shadow. She wanted Connor all to herself. So it was that Skye found herself sitting on the wall. Alone. Pondering. She didn’t mind being alone. She was a quiet, introspective child, not unlike her brother Chris, and her imagination kept her interior life varied and exciting.

Sasha glanced at the little girl as he approached. She didn’t even notice him. That was typical. He seemed to fall through the cracks when he wasn’t up to mischief. Still, he had vowed to turn over a new leaf. Sorta. He’d promised Declan that he would try to be good, and he meant it. He kicked at a stone that had come loose from the wall. It was just a shame that sometimes good was synonymous with boring.

"Hi," he said to the little girl, figuring that talking to anyone was better than talking to himself.

"Hi," she replied absently, clearly preoccupied.

"Um, what’s your name?"

"Skye." With that, the little girl turned the most delicately colored blue eyes upon him, as if suddenly registering that he was there.

"Who are you?" she queried.

"My name’s Sasha." He felt his insides quiver. That was strange. He wasn’t hungry. Declan made sure he had something to eat this morning. "Do you live here or over there?" he asked, indicating the house next door.

"Here," she said in her quiet yet somehow melodious voice. Her accent was tough to figure out. Soft, like her voice. But with a hint of something else, too. French?

She studied the little boy. So different from her or her brother. Or her cousin Connor. Yet not the same as Faith either. His hair was much darker, and it held no reddish glints, like hers. He had amazing eyes, though. Skye loved to look at people’s eyes. She could tell a lot about a person from their eyes. His were the most intriguing shade of brown. Like melted chocolate. Not light, not dark, but somewhere in between. She smiled. If she was cast in the colors of the sky, all light and pastel, he was drawn in the colors of the earth, all dark and substantial.

"My mom’s Nikita," she said, as if that explained everything. To her, it did. It was the quickest way to define her relationship within the extended family.

Sasha stared at her in disbelief. She was the most breathtaking little creature his poor brain could ever have conjured up. Was she real? Or was he still asleep, back at Section, dreaming of belonging to a real family someday?

He couldn’t stop the words from falling out of his mouth. "Are you an angel?"

She shook her head, her laughter tinkling merrily. "No, silly. I’m real."

He shrugged. "Angels can be real. They make good things happen."

She considered that. "Then who are you? I heard you make bad things happen. Does that make you a devil?"

His reputation preceded him. Already. Well, shit, this was one time when he didn’t want that kind of attention. He was used to the chaos that normally defined his life. He wanted...something else. He wasn’t sure what it was. Maybe respect. Maybe...love?

He dropped his eyes to the ground, suddenly embarrassed to meet the angel’s eyes. She was so beautiful. He felt like four kinds of fool for even being in the same space with her. Taking a half step backward, he started to turn away. But her voice compelled him to stop.

"Sasha!"

He faced her uneasily, shifting restlessly from foot to foot. "What?" he growled, unconsciously clenching his teeth.

"You want to be my friend?" Skye asked, not certain why. There was something about the boy. Something hidden. Something worth exploring further. She needed to know more. Insatiably curious, Skye was indeed gifted, both in intellect as well as emotional depth. If there was something worth salvaging in the boy, she would find it.

That simple question took his breath away. Skye could see the surprise on his face. In fact, he was more than surprised. He was stunned. In the course of two days, he had found three people who were willing to take a chance on him. His father, Declan, and now, this charming angel. Though he was well used to gambling as well as braving the odds, he was forced to admit he had never been a lucky person.

Maybe his luck was going to change. "Sure," he said, as if he didn’t care one way or another. Nothing could be farther from the truth.

"I’m glad," the angel girl said.

"So am I," the devil boy answered.

Michael pulled gently on Nikita, his arm around her waist. "Come, walk me out."

Once they passed over the threshold, Michael stopped on the front porch. His arms tightened around her. "I wish I didn’t have to leave you so soon," he said sadly.

"Then don’t," she said.

He smiled at that. Things were so simple for Nikita. So black and white. Never grey. He, on the other hand, lived in a grey world. Always able to see both sides. It made making decisions so much harder. But it was an asset living in the real world.

"There’s someone I need to see at school. Something important I have to take care of."

She gave him a quizzical look as if to say, share with me. But instead he said, "I’ll be home early. I want to have dinner with you and the kids." He kissed her, his fingers dancing restlessly with hers. When his eyes opened, they were so much darker than before. "I love you, doucette."

She tried to smile, but hormones were running rampant throughout her body. Her beautiful blue eyes watered, blurring her last glimpse of her husband. She waved at the indistinct shape that was Michael. "I love you, too," she whispered.

***

When Michael drove onto the university campus, he was struck immediately by a feeling of nostalgia. Though it had been mere days since he’d been there, it felt like years. But luckily, it felt like homecoming. He loved this campus. Acres and acres of bright green lawn, rolling hills, some gentle, some sharply inclining. Old buildings. Steeped in long tradition. Sometimes he swore he could hear echoes of other times and other people.

He liked the fact that he belonged here. The only place he had ever really belonged was Section. Even his time with L’Heure Sanguine was short, conflicted, filled with ambiguity. But here...here he was someone else. He was on his way to becoming a writer. He was using his always agile mind for something other than plotting death or destruction. It felt good.

His booted feet crunched hard on the gravel of the parking lot outside the building that housed the Literature and Journalism Departments. He strode upstairs to the office he was looking for and stopped in front of the door. He was searching for someone in particular. A young man he’d met in one of his classes.

An Australian student majoring in Literature like Michael, the ambitious youth held a dual major, his other major being Education. He wanted to become a teacher. Now that he was in his junior year, the twenty-year old had told Michael he was in need of a clinical placement. Michael thought he had the perfect solution. For both of them.

He knocked on the open door of the Chairperson’s Office. An older woman with salt-and-pepper hair looked up at his knock. "Yes, may I help you? Oh, Michael. How are you?" she asked warmly, obviously glad to see him.

"Allo, Mrs. Delaine. Do you know where I can find a student’s address?"

"We have a directory. If he’s one of our majors, he would be listed. Who do you want to look up?"

"His name is James. James Elliott. I think he’s an Aussie, if that helps."

"Not unless he’s commuting from Sydney, Michael," she said dryly. He laughed softly. "Somehow I got the feeling he was a bit more local."

Flipping quickly through several pages, she ran a finger down the list of names and addresses. "There he is. He has an apartment not far from here. Do you want his phone number? Or his address?"

"His address would be fine. Thanks."

***

Approximately twenty minutes later, Michael stood in front of a well-kept block of apartments. Not expensive. Not rundown. Somewhere in the middle. Michael automatically studied the area, deciding that Elliott’s family must have a little bit of money invested in his education for them to keep him in a fairly decent place.

He knocked on the door and waited. A dog next door barked. He heard movement inside the apartment and grew impatient. Rapping again, a bit harder this time, Michael wondered what was keeping him. A moment later, he had an answer of sorts. A disheveled young man, probably a fellow student, opened the door and peered out before crossing the threshold himself. Looking back over his shoulder, the probable student mumbled apologetically at someone that Michael could not yet see.

Finally, James himself came to the door. Michael smiled at the younger man. He was of average height and weight. No more than 5’10", at the most. His hair was light brown, and he wore it clipped short. He had fair skin, but he didn’t look like the type who tanned. Yet it was his eyes that drew a person in. They were a deep, deep shade of blue. Not pale. Not almost grey. Not icy. They were as close to a royal blue as one could come. The fact that they were partially hidden behind silver framed eyeglasses did absolutely nothing to conceal their beauty.

"Michael!" James exclaimed. "How are you? You weren’t in class yesterday."

Michael shrugged in answer. "Ah, something came up at the last minute." Michael indicated the interior of the apartment with a wave of his hand. "Mind if I come in?"

"Oh, sorry!" James colored. "I didn’t mean to be rude. Come in, of course. Can I get you some coffee?"

"Sure," Michael agreed, removing his leather driving gloves.

***

When they were both seated in the living room, Michael said to James, "I have a proposition for you."

James raised an eyebrow, looking extremely guarded all of a sudden. "What the hell does that mean?"

Michael blinked, his eyes narrowing. "Excuse me? Perhaps I misspoke? I came to see you about a job."

"Oh," James said, his relief obvious. "You mean, you have an idea for where I can do my clinical placement?"

"Yes." Michael folded his gloves and placed them in his jacket pocket. "I’d like you to come to work for me."

James frowned. "Where?"

"At my house. I know you do tutoring in your spare time. Was that one of your students?"

"Who?"

"The boy who left a few minutes ago?"

James looked almost afraid for a moment. "No. He’s just...a friend."

"Look, James, I’d really like to offer you this job, but I have to ask you something very personal." Michael hated to delve like this into someone’s personal life, but one could never be too careful. These were his kids he was putting into someone else’s hands.

"Are you running drugs out of here? Is that what that guy was about?"

James shook his head. "Not at all, Michael. I understand completely. And no, I don’t drink, smoke, or do drugs. Does that answer all your questions?"

"Almost." Michael took a deep breath, and James waited anxiously, wondering if the question would be the same one it always was. It was one of the reasons he despaired of ever finding a decent placement.

"Do you like children?"

"Of course. I wouldn’t want to teach if I didn’t."

"Let me put that another way. Do you *like* children?"

James gasped. "You mean, am I a freaking pedophile? No, dammit! I’m not!" James’ reaction was genuine. He was telling the truth. Michael’s ability to read people was more reliable than a polygraph. But he would have Birkoff run a background check anyway.

"James, I’d really like you to come and meet my family. See if you like us. There are six kids right now. Some are too young to be taught. But the oldest three are going to start school next fall. They’ve never been exposed to anything more educational than Sesame Street. I want them to be prepped for private school."

"You have six kids?" James said incredulously.

"Not me personally, no. But it’s kind of...an extended family. Between us, we have six. My three, Madeline’s one, and Declan’s two."

"Dinner at your house must be bloody fascinating."

Michael smiled at that. "It gets a bit interesting once in a while."

"So what do you think?"

"It would certainly help me out." James considered the offer seriously. "I’d have to take a look at the house and the kids before I give you an answer, Michael. Fair’s fair."

"Absolutely," Michael agreed.

***

Sasha beat a path to Declan and Sey’s sitting room. "Um, sir?" he inquired, addressing Declan.

Birkoff stared at Declan, amazed, mouthing "Sir?" so that Sasha couldn’t hear him. Declan cracked a grin, but quickly hid it before Sasha could see.

"Aye, you fresh-faced little puppy?" Declan said, quite playfully.

That totally disconcerted Sasha. He wasn’t used to this side of Declan. "Um..."

Declan laughed. "I think we covered that one already, kiddo. Whatcha got to say?"

"Mr., um, Samuelle...hired a teacher today. So we could learn some stuff before we go to school."

"So? Did you learn anything yet?"

Not realizing that Declan was merely flexing his sometimes biting wit, Sasha looked uncharacteristically uncertain. "I...I dunno. Was I supposed to?"

"No, no, no, that’s not how it works, boyo. I ask the questions. You don’t try to figure out what I want to hear and then tell me."

Sasha flushed. "Sorry, sir."

"Oh, what the hell, I’m prolly going to regret this, but.... Sasha, for God’s sake, call me Da. Or Uncle Declan. And..." Declan looked at Sey, his eyes dancing mischievously. He was in that good a mood today. "You know how I told you to call Mr. Birkoff just that until we said otherwise?"

"Yeahhh?" Sasha said, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

But it never came. "You can call him Daddy. Or Uncle Sey. Whichever one you feel more comfortable with."

Sasha looked like he wanted to be somewhere else. "What if I don’t feel comfortable with either one?"

"Suit yourself, boyo." Declan looked hurt. It only appeared in his silvery eyes for a brief moment, but it was there. And Sasha saw it. What surprised Sasha was...he normally sought out weakness like most people searched for ways to get rich quick, or how to lose weight by doing absolutely nothing. But he had an opportunity. And he let it go by. Without mentioning another word to Declan or Birkoff.

"Okay." Sasha let himself out of the room, carefully closing the door behind him.

Once he was in the hall, however, was a different story. Thrusting his fist into the air, he whispered, "Yessss!!!"