“Declan, you’re not going to like what I’m going to say….” Nikita hesitated to say another word. She knew Declan was dangerously close to losing control, and the news she had to impart was not good.

“What?” Declan missed Sey’s calming influence. He would know what to say, what to do. But he was needed elsewhere. He was good with the kids, and those remaining were understandably upset by the twins’ disappearance. So Sey was off working his magic, while Declan indulged in a bit of hypothetical fingernail-chewing.

“Emmy’s missing.” There, she’d said it. Flat out.

Declan abruptly stopped pacing. There was absolutely no discernible expression on his face. But what color there had been suddenly drained out of his face, leaving it even paler than normal. Nikita waited for something, some sign that he was processing what she said, but Declan never uttered a word.

He couldn’t. He was trapped inside his head, hearing voices he thought had been silenced long ago. God is punishing you, they said. God is going to take away everyone you’ve dared to love, everyone you’ve had the arrogance to claim as yours. One by one.

Slowly he sank into the chair Nikita offered. Nikita didn’t fool herself into thinking that Declan even knew the chair was there. He was functioning on a purely automatic level.

To confirm this, Nikita bent down and stared deeply into Declan’s eyes. They were no longer silver or even grey. They were black. His pupils were dilated to the point where no other color was visible. Without taking her eyes off Declan’s still blank face, Nikita beckoned Smoke closer, whispering, “Get Birkoff.”

Smoke looked puzzled by what was going on. “But he’s with the rest of the kids.”

“Then trade places with him. I don’t care what you have to do, but get Birkoff and bring him here.” Smoke didn’t think twice about disobeying that voice. That wasn’t a request; it was a command.

***

Declan was so still, he might not have been breathing, but for the slight rise and fall of his chest. Nikita was so tense, she wanted to scream, but just as she was about to give up hope, Birkoff arrived.

“What? What is it? What’s wrong?”

Nikita scrutinized Birkoff, praying that he would take the news better than Declan. Otherwise, she didn’t know how to bring Declan back from wherever he’d gone.

“Birkoff…Emmy’s missing. I think she must have gone to look for Chris.”

Birkoff nodded. “I know.”

“You know? How?”

“She wasn’t with the others, and it’s not like her to sulk in her room.”

“But we’ve got to get this information to Michael and the others.”

“Michael knows, Nikita. I called him on the cell phone as soon as I saw that Emmy wasn’t there.”

Nikita frowned. “You didn’t tell Declan?”

Birkoff closed his dark brown eyes briefly. “Do you have any idea how much he loves that little girl? Maybe it was wrong, but I was hoping we might find her and the others before he even had to know she was gone.”

If Declan knew they were speaking about him, he didn’t show it. He was lost in a world of pain that swirled almost continuously in his head.

“Well, he knows, Birkoff. I told him.” Nikita gazed compassionately at the former field operative. “And he’s not handling it very well.”

Birkoff followed the line of Nikita’s vision, tears coming to his eyes at the sight of his lover. “He’s not handling it at all,” he whispered.

“Declan?” Birkoff called to him. No answer.

He looked back over his shoulder at Nikita and said, “He’s blaming himself. For all of this. It’s not fair, Nikita. It’s not fair.”

Now it was Nikita’s turn to react tearfully. “I’m sorry, Birkoff. I was pretty hard on him earlier. But I was just so worried.”

“I know.” And Birkoff did know. It was perfectly understandable that Nikita behaved the way she did. Just as it was perfectly understandable that Declan behaved the way he did. Everyone had his own way of coping, and unfortunately, none of them was guaranteed to work.

Birkoff knelt down in front of Declan, taking his cold hands in his, chafing them gently to warm them. At his lover’s touch, Declan awoke, as if from a great sleep. A terrible gasp flew out of his throat, not unlike when someone who has drowned suddenly begins to breath on his own again.

“Kieran! Ta me tuirseach. Ta me ar buille. Ta egla orm….” Declan’s rapid Gaelic was impenetrable. Wherever he was, he was lost in a place where he had retreated to his mother tongue.

“Declan! Declan! I don’t understand, love. Come back to me. Please, Declan. I need you. We need you.” Birkoff stopped focusing on Declan’s beautiful but blind eyes and bent his head to the still cool hands he held. Pressing his lips to Declan’s hands, he closed his eyes. After a moment passed with no response, he rubbed his cheek against the same hand, his tears spilling across the back of it.

Like an extraordinary chemical reaction, Sey’s tears did what his voice could not. They brought Declan back.

Now if only there were good news.

Declan wrapped his arms around his lover, burying his face in Sey’s hair. Tears streamed helplessly down his pale cheeks, the wetness trickling down the side of Sey’s neck. But Sey couldn’t help but feel relieved. Declan was back. He was in great pain. But he was undeniably back.

Sey kissed Declan’s ear, whispering, “I love you,” over and over again, like a warding against the evil spirits that threatened, and all the while, Declan clung to him, as if his only hope of safety lay within Sey’s embrace.

Nikita could only stand by and watch. Cupping a hand over her mouth, she pondered the role reversal she had witnessed. Declan, always so strong, seeking succor. Birkoff, often mistakenly characterized as the weaker of the two, providing the support Declan so desperately needed.

When Declan could speak again, he said only, “Emmy’s gone,” choking back a sob. Sey stroked his face, a finger lightly brushing Declan’s brow, before responding, “We’ll get her back, Dec.”

“My fault,” he said hoarsely, his voice a ruined remnant of its former glory. “No,” Sey protested. “You did your best.”

“Wasn’t…good enough. Never…good enough.”

“Ssh, ssh, my love,” Sey continued to whisper, suddenly getting a sense of how deeply Declan often hid his real feelings, even from him.

With a visible shudder, Sey turned wounded eyes upon Nikita. “What the hell did you say to him?”

“I-I….”

“You’ve known him, what, seven years? You know he doesn’t always show his feelings, Nikita. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have any!” Sey fought the urge to strike out at Nikita in the same way she had struck out at Declan.

“You of all people should know that…” Sey said brokenly. “You wouldn’t hurt Michael like this….”

Nikita shook her head gently, her usually sparkling blue eyes filling with unshed tears. She knelt carefully at Birkoff’s side. “I’m so sorry….”

Sey drew back, his hand continuing to hold Declan’s. “You’re telling the wrong person,” he said, trying desperately to summon up a frosty tone, only to have his voice quaver.

But before Nikita could even think about framing an appropriate apology, Declan pitched himself forward, hiding his tear-stained face against Sey’s chest. “Don’t, baby, please. Please don’t fight with her. These are the people you love most.”

Sey pressed Declan’s trembling face closer, whispering into his hair, “You’re the person I love most, Dec.”

With a soft cry, Nikita wrapped her outstretched arms around both men, pulling them into a snug embrace. She kissed Birkoff’s cheek first, then Declan’s, murmuring, “And I love you both.”

It wasn’t quite an apology. No, it was more. This was a family first conceived out of hardship and betrayal, but those days were long gone. This was a family woven of intricate emotional tapestries…and despite the best efforts of those who would stand against them…it would not unravel.

***

Nikita sat on the floor, wiping at her reddened eyes, saying, “Now all we need is for the kids to come walking through that door.”

“You mean like this?”

As one, Birkoff, Declan and Nikita turned to face the source of the voice. “Michael!”

Michael was holding Emmy, and the little redheaded princess had looped both arms around his neck. “Da! Daddy! Look!”

They followed her eyes to Michael’s side. There were Faith and Chris. Apparently none of them the worse for wear.

Declan almost knocked over Nikita, trying to get to his daughter. Birkoff was right behind him. Michael gladly handed over his charge, and moments later, Declan was holding her tightly, his breath ruffling her curls, his words unintelligible. But to Sey, they sounded something like a prayer.

Nikita held out her arms, and Faith leaped into a big hug. “Mom! You wouldn’t believe me if I told you!”

Nikita looked up at her husband, love and gratitude in her once again tearful eyes. “Thank you for finding them, Michael.”

“Find them? I didn’t find them.” Michael pulled his suddenly reluctant son into an embrace.

“What? But if you didn’t find them, then who--?”

Faith bounced up and down excitedly, trying to get her mother’s attention. “Mommm! I’m trying to tell you!”

“What, sweetie?”

“Emmy did it!” Faith pointed at the tiny girl, now being shared by both her fathers.

“Did what?” Nikita gave her daughter a puzzled frown.

“Magic! We were lost! But Emmy asked the trees which way to go, to get home, and they told her!”

Nikita tried not to rain on Faith’s parade, but she was afraid that she had been listening to too many fairy tales lately. “Sweetie, trees can’t talk.”

Emmy blinked and interjected, “Yes, they do! I can hear ‘em, honest.”

Birkoff gave his lover a look that said, she came from your part of the family, not mine, and Declan smiled, for the first time in hours.

“I believe you,” said Declan, uncaring what anyone else thought.

Even Chris smiled, despite his continued belief that he would be separated from the girl he loved all too soon. That was what this family was about. Unconditional acceptance. Unconditional love.

Declan noted the way Chris’ face drooped right back into a scowl. “Chris, you weren’t here for the good news, were you?” Declan asked, intuiting right away what was bothering the young boy.

Michael felt his son tense, and he wondered what Chris expected to hear now, that he needed to brace himself. “Of course, I should have told you first thing.”

Chris swiveled his head around to look intently at his father. “Told me what?”

“Tell him, Michael,” Declan said, willing to let Michael be the messenger this time and reaffirm his son’s trust in him.

“Uncle Declan and Uncle Sey aren’t leaving, Chris.”

Chris stared at his father, somewhat dumbfounded. Michael glanced helplessly at Declan. Perhaps fewer words would help?

Declan smiled, and the warmth of that smile lit his pale eyes with silver fire. It was just. To be able to put right what was wrong.

“Chris…Emmy’s staying.”

Chris threw his arms around Michael’s neck and hid his face. Big boys don’t cry. Well, not unless they have a really good reason.

Emmy gave a whoop of glee, tittering merrily as she played with Declan’s long red curls. “Thanks, Da!

Birkoff snorted, but his dark brown eyes danced with laughter. “What about me, Princess Em?”

“You?” Emmy made an indescribable noise that sounded like a cross between a raspberry and a typical high-pitched giggle. “You believe in trees talking, Daddy?”

“Umm….”

Trust a child to ask the hard questions.