It wasn’t dark anymore. That was the first thing he noticed. The sun was coming up over the horizon, gilding everything it touched with a slightly golden, quasi-pink color. Including Faith’s hair.
That was the second thing that Connor noticed.
The third was…she was still lying in his arms. Her eyes were still closed, her hair glowing like burnished copper now. Connor’s arm ached where her head rested, but the moment that he shifted position, Faith protested, even in her sleep. Her soft grumbling filled his heart to overflowing.
He bent his head, nuzzling her cheek very lightly. Emboldened by the fact that she didn’t immediately wake up and start shouting, Connor kissed her. That did wake her up, but to his surprise, she didn’t look angry at all. She looked almost…confused…and then, the most beatific smile broke out across her face. “Pooh…” she breathed.
“Yeah,” he whispered back. Okay, it wasn’t the most original thing to say, but he was helpless against her beauty so early in the morning.
“You kept me from being eaten by bears last night,” she whispered.
Part of him felt compelled to point out that there were no bears, and that even if there had been, Connor could hardly stand up to a bear, no matter how much he loved the young girl in his embrace.
The other part of him, the one that was struck speechless simply by Faith’s proximity, agreed with her. But then again, he wasn’t sure if being with him right now was really that much safer than facing those bears.
“Um….”
Faith had such an expectant look on her face. Did she think he meant to confess his feelings? Again? Only to have her laugh in his face? Again? He wouldn’t. He would…not…say…a…freaking…word. He would just—
“I love you, Tig.” Oh, damn. Well, apparently, his head had other ideas. And it was obviously in collusion with his mouth.
She stopped smiling. Connor braced himself. This is it. She’s going to remind you of just how much she doesn’t feel the same way about you. What an idiot. Stupid, stupid, stupid….
“Oh, Pooh,” she said, the words leaving her mouth so achingly slowly that he couldn’t breathe.
“I was so afraid you didn’t care anymore.”
She was afraid that he didn’t care anymore? Wow. That was almost more than Connor’s young heart could take. “Then it’s…okay?”
“More than okay. Better than okay. We are so far beyond okay that—“
“I get the idea, Tig. I get the idea. I get…*you*.”
“Yeah, you do.” Faith’s eyelashes swept down to cover her eyes, then rose just as quickly, revealing eyes that were a vibrant green. “Think you can handle me? Some people think I’m…um…difficult.”
Connor’s fingers touched her cheek, and she leaned into his hand. “You’re worth the trouble,” he replied hoarsely.
She smiled tenderly, and suddenly Connor was struck by her resemblance to her mother. Everyone commented on Faith’s resemblance to Michael, but her facial expressions, if not the actual features or coloring, closely paralleled her mother’s.
“What are you doing?” Connor looked over Faith’s head to the source of the voice. That was not a happy voice.
Faith looked up and rolled her eyes comically. “Uh oh, busted. Y’know, Sasha, you’re not cut out for this kind of thing. Now, my brother, Chris, he actually enjoys breaking people up and—“
“Consider me his stand-in,” said Sasha firmly.
“But we’re not doing anything, Sasha,” protested Connor.
“Let’s keep it that way, okay? I sure as hell wouldn’t want to be the one to have to tell her father and your mother what you two are up to.”
Faith chuckled. “You’re scared of Dad?”
“Not scared. I just wouldn’t want to…I dunno…disappoint him. You’re his daughter. Don’t you feel that?”
Faith nodded. “Yeah.”
Sasha reached out a hand to pull Faith to her feet, but Connor beat him to it. Standing at her side like the fierce protector that he wanted to be, Connor met Sasha’s eyes evenly. “I would never hurt Faith. You know that, Sasha.”
Sasha gave Connor a sympathetic look. He leaned over the younger boy, whispering into his ear, “It’s easy for things to get out of control, Con. Trust me, I’ve been there.”
Connor’s eyes widened. “You and Sk--?”
Sasha shook his head. “Not yet. I gave my word, Con, and to me, that means something.”
“It means something to me, too.”
“Good.” Sasha turned and winked at Faith. “Don’t be in such a hurry to grow up. It gets harder as you get older.”
“What does?”
“Life.”
With that, they began to break camp and gather their belongings.
***
“How do you think Mom is doing?” Faith asked Sasha. They kept to the sideroads by day, sometimes threading their way through the forest, but they were able to use main roads once it got dark, making it easier for them to blend in.
That was something that Sasha really didn’t like thinking about. Not just Nikita, but his Dad. “I asked Emmy to check on her, too. I hope you don’t mind,” he offered.
“Not at all.” They walked along in companionable silence for several more minutes.
Jazz was up ahead, on point, and for miles, they had seen nothing but one another’s faces. Suddenly Jazz shouted, “Get back! Get back! There’s a car coming over the hill!”
They were at the bottom of the incline. Sasha shaded his eyes with his hand. He could just make out an indistinct shape that must be the car in question. “Shit! It’s coming fast, too!”
Sasha shoved Faith out of the way, meaning to get her to safety that much quicker. But she fell, landing on her hands and knees. Before Sasha could grab her, he saw Connor running back to the road. “No, I’ve got her! Go back!” Sasha yelled, waving his arms frantically.
The car was bearing down on all of them. Sasha tugged Faith into his arms, trying desperately to help the young girl to her feet. Connor looked stricken, and there was simply no way he could stay put and watch from relative safety.
“Faith!” he screamed as the car hurtled closer.
Connor reached Sasha’s side at the last possible moment, and together, they pulled Faith out of the path of certain danger. As they stood gasping for breath at the side of the road, Jazz raced back to them. “Are you all right?”
With a hideous squealing of brakes, the car that literally flew by stopped. The group turned and stared as the car began to back up. Towards them.
“Oh, man…” Sasha said in a barely audible voice.
“It’s—“
“Yeah.”
“It sure as hell is.”
“Damn.”
“What should we say?”
“Deny everything.” If there was one lesson Jazz had learned, that was it. Rule #1: Don’t get caught. Rule #2: If you get caught, deny everything. Rule #3: Wait, there was no Rule #3.
Rule #1 and Rule #2 pretty much covered everything.
Or they used to.
He had a feeling that their files were going to need major updates.
“Sasha?” Declan exclaimed incredulously, obviously aghast at the sight of his son standing in the middle of the road. Miles from home.
“Da, I can explain,” Sasha said, nervously winding a long strand of dark brown hair around his finger.
The transformation was nothing short of amazing. To see a boy Sasha’s age go from a self-confident leader to an insecure pup, apprehensively awaiting his father’s imminent explosion.
“You damn well better, boyo,” Declan spat angrily.
He felt rather than saw Michael’s hand on his shoulder. It was a comforting presence as well as a reminder to keep things under control. Declan didn’t even try to smile, however. That would be a lie even he couldn’t stomach.
“Go on.”
Sasha began to explain how he and the others came to be on a deserted road so far away from home, finishing with, “So you see, Da, I had to come. Faith was going to go anyway, and I figured that they needed me to protect them.” He smiled winsomely.
He needn’t have bothered.
Faith stomped on his foot, provoking a loud “Hey!” followed by a sharp “OW!” Sasha glared at the young girl, fervently biting his lip to keep from shouting out something inappropriate.
“You idiot! I don’t need protecting!”
“You do so, you little—“
“I do not. I’m a Samuelle! I don’t need your protection or your help, thank you very much!”
Connor looked askance at the love of his life. “But Tig, you don’t mean you don’t need my help, right?”
Faith’s green eyes fairly glowed with renewed rage. “I don’t need anybody’s help, Connor! What part of that do you not understand?”
Connor sighed. So much for his romantic dream of walking off into the proverbial sunset with Faith. He wondered how many more years he would have to spend convincing her that they were meant to be together. He wondered if he even had the heart for it. Then he looked into those beautiful green eyes, throwing showers of emerald green sparks every which way, and he smiled. He couldn’t give up now. Things were getting…interesting.
Only Jazz stood apart from the others. He was feeling very much like the new kid on the block, and he wasn’t sure where he fit into the scheme of things. Or if he even did. In a way, he was just along for the ride.
Michael took his hand off Declan’s shoulder and focused his compelling grey-green gaze upon his daughter. “Faith!” he said with a little more intensity than he normally used.
“Um…yeah, Dad?” She twisted her face out of its usual shape, as if she were trying desperately to puzzle out something, and Michael wondered if it were an act or the real thing.
“Do you have any idea what could have happened to you out here?”
“I—“
“And your mother? What kind of hell is your mother going through, wondering where you are, whether you’re hurt, or even dead?’
“But Dad—“
Sasha could tell the exact moment when Faith realized the inevitability of Michael winning this particular argument.
“How could you do something so…monumentally stupid?” he hissed.
Suddenly Faith looked hurt. “But Daddy,” she said, her lower lip quivering, “we were coming to find you and Uncle Dec and Uncle Dav.”
“This isn’t something you can play at or squeak by with, Faith. This is real.”
“Daddy, st-stop.” Now Faith was on the verge of tears. “I was scared. We wanted to r-rescue you.”
Connor wanted to wrap his arms around her and hold her while she cried, but he knew that she would never accept such a public display of what she would consider weakness. So he settled for a longing look aimed in her direction, all the while knowing that she was far too preoccupied with disappointing her father to register Connor’s feelings.
All at once Declan put his hand on Michael’s shoulder, the gesture doing much the same thing for him as it did for Declan. Michael stared at his daughter for a long moment before he opened his arms, beckoning her inside his embrace.
Burying his face in Faith’s soft auburn hair, Michael closed his eyes and breathed her scent. His little girl. His little know-it-all. “Oh, God, you could have been killed out here,” he whispered, more to himself than to her.
As if she finally realized the enormity of the mission they had undertaken, Faith began to cry, hiding her face against her father’s broad shoulder. “I’m sorry, Daddy, so sorry,” she kept saying, her voice all but lost in such close contact with his jacket.
“Ssh,” he whispered back, winding his fingers through her hair, as if to reassure himself that she was there, alive and intact.
Declan shook his head slowly, as if he couldn’t quite get his mind to accept that Sasha had followed them. Tracked them. Successfully. Suddenly overcome by emotions that threatened to strangle him, Declan wordlessly begged Sasha to understand his plea.
Sasha’s dark brown eyes ran over Declan’s entire frame, searching for wounds. He breathed a sigh of relief when he found none. “Da…” he squeaked, sounding just like Sey.
He fell into his father’s arms, and Declan held him tighter than he ever had before. “I love you, kiddo,” he murmured against Sasha’s temple, knowing that to say anything louder would merely embarrass the adolescent.
“Me, too,” Sasha echoed, ever cognizant of other eyes and ears.
Davenport watched with a certain element of thank-God-my-kids-are-only-five, but as he well knew, it was only a matter of time. He slung an arm around Connor’s shoulder, telling the young boy without saying anything that he understood their need to protect. He had to. It was even more powerful in him, in Declan, in Michael. It was what brought them here. Away from the relative safety of home.
Jazz smiled, in that detached way of his, and Davenport grabbed the fourteen-year old boy by the scruff of his neck, catching a handful of long dark hair. “Hey, kid, they dragged you into this, too, huh?”
“I considered myself in good company,” came the muffled reply.
“Well, I reckon that’s a fair statement.”
The sound of slow clapping brought them all around. What? Who?
It was Adam.
“I got tired of waiting in the car. *Dad*.”
Faith’s head spun around, her shoulder-length hair whipping into her face. “What did you say?”
Michael closed his eyes and prayed.
“Me, too,” said Jason, spreading his good-ole-boy charm for all it was worth.
Sasha’s fingers tightened on Declan’s arms, the pressure so intense that it hurt. “Who’s he, Da?” he asked in a horrified rasp.
“Apparently, I’m your uncle, kid.”
“Who are you?” Sasha repeated, sure there was something wrong with his hearing.
“Your uncle.”
Sasha blinked hard, then whispered to his father, “He looks just like Daddy.”
Declan whispered back, “He just looks like him.”
“Is he one of…*them*?”
As horrified as Sasha sounded to count one of his closest relatives amongst the “bad guys”, Declan felt ten times worse. They were using Jason. They were no better than the people they denigrated. How could he explain to Sasha, “He’s your uncle, but we’re just borrowing him, long enough to use him as leverage”?
Then as quickly as he second-guessed himself and the others, Declan heard Sey’s voice in his head, “We’re survivors, that’s what we are. We do what we have to do. To protect the family. Because without it, what do we have?”
The man in question interrupted Declan’s rumination. “What’s the problem, kid? Y’all don’t know me from a hole in the ground, so don’t go judging me on your Daddy’s say-so.”
“Speaking of which, where is my brother?”
“Home,” Declan said tersely, willing himself not to react to the man’s attempt to bait him into doing something he didn’t want to do.
“I can see the boy looks just like me, so obviously he’s my brother’s son. But I distinctly heard him call y’all Da. So who the hell are you?”
“No one important.” Declan felt Sasha’s fingers digging into his arm again, and he knew he would have to explain this to him later. Sasha clearly disapproved of Declan’s seeming disavowal of his relationship with Sey.
“I do believe the kid begs to differ with y’all.” Jason smiled at Sasha, but his attempt to be charming fell flat, as far as the near-teen was concerned.
Sasha knew Declan would disapprove, but he couldn’t help it. He could no more deny Declan was his father than he could Sey. “He’s my father,” Sasha said with a distinct edge to his voice.
“He is? Well, now, that’s mighty interesting, isn’t it?” Jason looked over the former operative and licked his lips. “Well, you do have a certain way with…*leather*,” he said, evidently appreciating the way the black material clung to Declan’s body.
Declan had no desire to get into a discussion of his or Jason’s sexual proclivities in front of the kids, but he had no control over his lover’s twin. Luckily for both of them, Adam got tired of waiting for his turn to wreak havoc.
“Excuse me. Can we cancel the reunion of the Brady Bunch and get this show back on the road?”
“Good idea,” Declan said quickly, thinking that the sooner they arrived home, the sooner they could cut Jason loose.
“Get in the car,” commanded Michael. Faith twisted around in his embrace, straining to see the older boy who claimed her father as his own.
“Sure thing. *Dad*.”
As the teenager walked away, Faith shouted, “He’s my Daddy, not yours!”
That got Adam’s attention. With a sharp pivot, he faced the young girl. Faith was almost ashen, distress written in every expressive feature. “As much as it pains me to admit it, he *is* my father.”
“Liar! Why don’t you go back where you came from?”
Adam’s lip curled in an unpleasant sneer. “I’d love to, little girl, but my mother’s dead.” The venom in Adam’s voice penetrated Michael’s preoccupation.
“Stop it, Adam.”
“I don’t think so, Dad. Especially since you’re the reason she’s no longer with us.”
“You take that back!” Faith wailed.
“Sorry, kid. It’s the truth!”
“I hate you!”
“Hate me all you want, but we’re still related.”
Faith wound her arms more tightly around her father’s neck. “I’m sorry about your mother,” she said shakily. Suddenly her green eyes glowed, their emerald depths the only color left in a face the color of parchment. “But you can’t have my Daddy!”
“I already got him,” Adam uttered with the arrogance of youth.
Connor slipped out of Davenport’s grasp and ran full-tilt at the older boy, knocking him down. He stood over Adam, his chest heaving, his eyes wild, declaring the battle lines to be observed. “Stay away from her,” Connor ground out.
Adam looked up at the eleven-year old with disdain. “Who’s going to make me?”
Almost as one, Michael, Declan and Davenport each took a full step forward. “I will,” they chorused.
Jazz, Sasha and Connor soon joined the older men, menace alive and well and thriving in their glittering eyes. “That goes double for me,” said Sasha, still feeling a compulsion to protect the others.
Adam threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, I’m sooo scared.”
Michael fixed his son with a deadly glare. “You should be.”
***
The trip home was tense and painful. Forced into close proximity with one another, Michael’s family nevertheless pretended that Jason and Adam were not there. Without conversation to distract them, everyone fell into an uneasy silence.
Declan stared out the window. He would never have imagined that Sey had a twin brother. And a thoroughly unlikable one at that. What Jason considered charm, Declan considered smarm. They were truly identical, right down to the puckish grin, and yet, Declan found himself wanting to steer clear of the young Comm op.
For Michael’s sake, Declan was willing to ignore his feelings towards Jason. They needed him. It was that simple. But once his usefulness was at an end, Declan could not wait to let him go.
Preferably as far away as possible.
As they approached the Samuelle home, Declan’s heart lightened. Any time now, they could send Jason back where he obviously belonged. Adding to his brighter mood was the fact that soon he would see Sey again. It seemed like years since they parted.
When the car finally stopped, Declan’s heart quivered in anticipation. Grabbing Sasha by the arm, he practically dragged his son out of the car. “Let’s go,” he urged.
“You’re glad to be home, huh, Da?” Sasha asked rhetorically, his father’s enthusiasm rapidly becoming contagious.
“Kiddo, you have no idea!” Declan picked up Sasha, no mean feat these days because the boy had matured considerably since the last time he had done this, and literally whirled around in a circle two or three times.
By the time Declan was done, Sasha looked vaguely sick but happy. “Think Dad’s upstairs waiting?”
“I hope so.”
Feeling like a young boy on his first date, Declan stood outside the apartment door, fidgeting nervously. Sasha went inside first, yelling, “Dad! Emmy! Guess who’s here?”
Emmy popped her head out of her bedroom, a relieved smile gracing her beautiful features. “Sasha! You’re back!”
“Yeah! But look who I brought with me!”
That was when she noticed her father lounging uncertainly in the open doorway. “Da? Oh, Da! I missed you! We all did!”
The young girl vaulted across the room and landed in Declan’s waiting arms. He held onto her for several seconds, struck dumb once again by emotion that had him by the throat. “You came back, you came back!” Emmy repeated.
“Of course, sweetie,” Declan said, his voice muffled by her hair. He buried his face even deeper, loving the cool feel of her silky hair against his cheek.
Slowly releasing her, he realized that a few tears had somehow escaped. He swiped at his eyes and cleared his throat. “Ahem…where’s your Dad?”
Suddenly Emmy looked very uncomfortable, a fact that was lost on neither Declan nor Sasha. “What is it, Em?” Sasha asked, knowing that something had to be very wrong for Emmy to be so reluctant to reply.
“He’s…um…resting.”
“Where?” Declan frowned.
“In bed.”
Declan raised an eyebrow at this news. “He isn’t up?”
“Da, Daddy hasn’t been himself since you went missing.”
“I wasn’t missing, Princess. Sey knows where I—“
All at once Sey opened his bedroom door. He often dreamed that he heard Declan’s voice, but it seemed so real this time.
“*Declan*? Oh, God, it’s really you.” Sey paled, wavering on his feet as if he would fall.
“Aye, love. Come here,” Declan exhorted, not caring one bit for the way Sey looked. He looked thin. Frail. Like a strong gust of wind would blow him all the way to Ireland and back.
Sey began shaking. An all-out trembling of his body that looked frightening, as if it were the prelude to a seizure or worse.
“Sey?”
Emmy’s pale grey eyes grew bigger and darker. As if this presaged certain disaster, Sey’s fine tremors abruptly degenerated into a grossly uncoordinated series of muscle jerks. “Jesus, he’s seizing! Em, run next door and get Neil! Sasha, help me lower him to the floor. Gently, gently…” he directed his son, trying not to think about what this meant.
Stay in the moment, Declan, stay in the bloody moment, he told himself, making a determined effort to slow his own breathing.
Within moments, Declan was sitting on the floor. He pulled his lover into his arms, Sey’s back to his chest, and wrapped his arms around him. God, he could feel Sey’s ribs. He’d always been slender. But this….
Declan had to take care that Sey’s head and flailing limbs didn’t inadvertently hit him, but the seizure had faded away to tremors by the time Neil arrived. Emmy pointed at Sey, her mouth working soundlessly at the sight of her father lying prostrate in Declan’s embrace.
Neil opened his medical bag and extracted his stethoscope before crouching down at Sey’s side. “What happened, Declan?”
Emmy looked heartsick. “It’s my fault,” she said, drawing a shaky breath.
“No, Princess Em, this isn’t your fault—“ Declan began, only to be cut off by his very distraught daughter.
“It is! Daddy hasn’t eaten the whole time you were away, Da!”
Declan flinched as if she’d struck him. He couldn’t blame an eleven year old child for something that was more his fault than anyone else’s. He was the one who abandoned Sey to his own devices.
He was the one who knew what it would mean to Sey when Declan didn’t return right away.
God, he’d left him. Just like everyone else in Sey’s wretched past.
Neil finished his examination of the nearly unconscious man in Declan’s arms and sighed. Declan would blame himself, and it was so clearly a no-win situation. “He’s hypoglycemic, hypotensive….”
After instructing Sasha to get a cup of orange juice, Neil reached into his medical bag and ripped open a packet of sugar. When Sasha arrived with the juice, Neil emptied the sugar packet into the cup, sweetening it further. “Not exactly the recommended way to bring up a blood sugar, but it’ll do for now.”
Together, he and Declan poured juice, bit by bit, into Sey’s mouth, careful not to let him aspirate the liquid into his lungs. Shortly after drinking the sugared juice, Sey began to rally. While he still looked weak, he definitely looked more alert.
“This seizure had absolutely nothing to do with you, Declan. It wasn’t triggered by stress. It was brought on by a combination of things. Low blood sugar, low blood pressure. Probably an electrolyte imbalance, too.”
“Jesus,” Declan gasped. “Shouldn’t you take him to the hospital?”
“No need. He’ll be fine. Once you feed him something. Oh, and try to get him to drink plenty of fluids. That’ll bring up his blood pressure.”
Sey irritably brushed Declan’s hands away from his face. “Stop it!” he muttered.
“What’s the matter?”
Sey tried in vain to get away from Declan, but he was overcome by a wave of dizziness. Feeling as if his own body was betraying him, Sey could have broken down and cried.
Declan quickly intervened. “I’ll help you back to bed, love. Then I’ll fix you some soup. Okay?”
“Just leave me alone!”
Declan cast wounded eyes in Neil’s direction. Neil shrugged. He wished he had been aware of Sey’s deterioration, but the plain fact of the matter was, he was too preoccupied with his own family. When Connor disappeared, Neil found it hard to notice anything but his own misery.
Now was his chance to make restitution. He reached out to steady the younger man, eventually helping Sey to his feet. “Let Declan put you to bed, Birkoff.”
“Don’t want him to,” Sey managed to say, his lips curiously incoordinate as well.
“Look,” Neil said firmly, “you have a death wish you want to indulge, do it on someone else’s time. No one dies on my watch, understand?”
“Yeah.”
“Let Declan put you to bed.” Sey started to protest again, but Neil put a finger to his lips, effectively silencing the younger man. “Ssh…then you eat something. Even if it’s something as mundane as soup. Trust me, your stomach will thank you.”
“But—“
“Get yourself better first, Birkoff. Then you can get as angry as you like with Declan. Okay?”
“Well—“
“I’m telling you, you don’t have the energy right now.”
Sey reluctantly nodded. His head still felt like it was filled with marshmallows. All soft and gushy and completely impenetrable to thought. “Okay.”
Declan was close to tears, but he refused to show it. He would give Sey whatever he needed, even if it meant hurting himself. He put an arm around Sey’s shoulder, only to have him shake it off. “Don’t touch—“
Declan moved away as if stung. “I just want to make sure that you don’t fall…okay?”
Sey’s hair fell forward in a silken curtain, not unlike his son’s, hiding his expressive dark eyes. “Okay,” he whispered.
Once they entered the bedroom, Sey’s tension was palpable. Did he think that Declan would overpower him? Did he think that sex was all that their relationship was about?
“Let me help you,” Declan said, indicating that Sey should get undressed. Sey’s eyes flashed like hot neon for a moment, so brief that Declan almost thought he had imagined it.
“I don’t need…help.”
Somehow Declan was sure that wasn’t what Sey meant to say at all. I don’t need…you?
Oh, God, Declan prayed, let me be wrong about this.
Once Sey lay on his side in bed, he found the urge to sleep overwhelming. Right after a seizure, right after a hypoglycemic episode this intense, most people would give in to that urge. Without even having to think about it. But not Sey. Sey fought the urge as hard as he could.
He felt completely defenseless. Like his skin had been torn from him in long strips, exposing his nerve endings to God-knows-what.
Part of the problem was Declan.
Normally Sey found his partner’s presence comforting, even soothing. But right now, he felt conflicted. He wanted to blame Declan for leaving him, but his head was at war with his heart. Always supremely logical, except when in the throes of an emotional crisis, Sey knew that Declan left for a very good reason. Intellectually, he accepted that. Hell, he even applauded it.
But emotionally…he could find no other way to describe how he felt but abandoned.
So he could not sleep. Even in the face of utter exhaustion.
***
It would take someone far more powerful than Sey to resist the lure of Morpheus any longer. He finally fell into a deep sleep. A sleep that nothing and no one could interrupt.
Except Declan.
Unable to come to terms with whatever was going on, Declan paced silently back and forth until Sey went to sleep. The moment that he was certain that Sey was really and truly asleep, Declan leaned over the bed, his shadow looming like some dark, otherworldly creature over his lover.
Something like this went right to Declan’s heart. He was, first and foremost, a protector. That those he loved should be placed in any kind of jeopardy both angered and frightened him. Angered because he felt compelled to defend them. To the death, if need be. Frightened because he felt his hold on his family was a tenuous one, one that could be severed by Fate at any time She chose.
He could never have disobeyed the clarion call to Michael’s side to protect the family. And yet, here he was, being punished, and yes, that was what it felt like, for keeping his family safe.
“I needed you to live,” he whispered to the sleeping man. “But I come to find out…you would have let yourself slip away. What about Sasha? Or Emmy? They would have had…no one.”
Sey never stirred as Declan lay beside him. He needed to touch him, reassure himself that Sey was still all right. But he was afraid of waking him, of having that terrible anger unleashed upon him again. Why did he feel as if Sey had somehow betrayed him? By not believing in the strength of their bond, their love?
Sey rolled over in his sleep, coming to rest facing Declan, taking that decision out of Declan’s hands. In his sleep, he reached out for his lover, and that brought tears to Declan’s eyes. All at once Declan took his life in his hands, pulling Sey into a snug embrace. Sey sleepily protested, but half-heartedly at best. Tucking Sey’s head under his chin, Declan rested. At last.
***
He was warm. Too warm. And he couldn’t move. He was trapped. Trapped! He struck out at the walls of his prison, only to wake and discover that it was all a dream.
There were no prison walls, only Declan’s arms holding him.
There was no overpowering heat, only Declan’s body up against his.
Gingerly trying to move his head away from where it nestled, quite contentedly, against Declan’s chest, Sey felt something hot and wet on his cheek. When he eventually managed to look up, Sey’s heart turned over.
Declan was crying. Silently. In his sleep.
Sey listened to the ragged breathing for a moment before reaching out to push Declan’s hair back from where it had fallen into his face. He frowned when he heard the breathing turn into muttering, the words too low to make out. Until suddenly they grew louder.
“…whathefuckcanIdowhatthefuckcanIdo…” All of a sudden, it was quite clear what Declan was lamenting, and Sey’s heart ached as Declan began to whimper.
But he almost screamed when Declan’s eyes abruptly opened, all wet and bright and silvery like liquid starlight. “Sey!”
“I’m right here, Declan,” Sey replied softly.
“Are you okay?” Declan sounded breathless, like he had been running a long race.
“Are you?” Sey countered.
Declan groaned and rolled over onto his back. He stared at the ceiling, wondering if he had any choices left that wouldn’t totally destroy him.
Folding his arms behind his head, Declan lay there, unmoving, while Sey studied him. “You were crying.”
Declan gave Sey a startled glance. “Did I say anything?”
Sey shook his head slowly. “Not really.”
“Oh.” Declan risked another brief look at his lover. “Did I wake you?”
“Not exactly.”
Could their attempts at conversation get any more complicated?
Declan reluctantly sat up. “Well, I’d better get you something to eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Sey, please don’t argue with me about this. I don’t want to tell you what to do, but—“
“Then don’t.”
Declan worried that Sey was still in a self-destructive frame of mind. “But—“
Sey covered Declan’s mouth with two fingers, staying his protest. “Ssh. All either one of us has to know right now is that we’re here. Together.”
“Are we? Together, I mean?” Declan seemed to be holding his breath.
“Why wouldn’t we be?” Sey stroked the side of Declan’s face, marveling at the change of expression on that much-loved face.
“All I know is how much I love you. What that means to you now…I dunno. But I do.”
Declan looked as if he would cry again. His splendid eyes welled up with tears as he realized that there was no way he could survive the rest of his life without Sey.
Sey traced the outline of Declan’s lower lip with one finger. “I love you, too.”
“Maybe we should wait till morning to talk about what happened. I just want to hold you. Would that be okay?” Declan asked, aware that he was still afraid of losing him.
Sey chuckled softly.
“What’s so funny?”
“Well….”
Declan waited expectantly.
“Now that we’re both awake…could you fix me some of your homemade chicken soup?”
Declan nodded. “You promise to eat a whole bowl?”
An insouciant grin transformed Sey’s painfully thin face. “Okay, but only if you promise to put noodles in it.”
“What kind?” Declan asked as he leaned over his lover, aching to claim his mouth. All this time, all this wasted time, and not one single kiss.
“There are different kinds?” Sey squeaked, mesmerized by the sight of his lover’s mouth to close to his.
“Aye.”
Their mouths met in a soul-stirring kiss, a kiss that came from the depths of pain to reclaim territory charted by Declan’s heart.
“Wow.”
“That’s all you can say? Wow?” Declan almost smiled.
“God, I missed you.”
“And my chicken soup.”
“And your chicken soup.”
There are so many ways to say “I love you.” Making chicken soup is only one.