"Mi-chael.."

Nikita grabbed her husband by the arm. Clad only in a black muscle shirt and matching sweatpants, Michael looked pointedly at her hand. "I'm just going to spar a few rounds with him, that's all. I promise not to hurt him."

"I'm not worried about *you* hurting *him*."

"Oh, you think I can't hold my own against him? That I'm losing my edge?"

"I didn't say that. Mi-chael-"

Michael kept his expression so carefully blank that it was difficult to tell *what* he was feeling. It might have been anything from anger to disappointment. But the fact was, he was upset. Upset that he had to work that much harder to do things that once came easily to him. Upset that he had to fight to maintain Nikita's high regard for him.

Maybe it was because their relationship was forged in Section. In Section, paranoid was the only prudent thing to be. But again and again Michael and Nikita defied the odds, surviving things that would have killed anyone else. Part of that was what Michael called the "looking over the shoulder" syndrome. But Michael had to wonder if Nikita had seen him as her Dark Knight one too many times because he suddenly realized that *he* believed it, too.

"You *don't* think I can beat him," Michael whispered, surprised to find that hurt.

"No," she protested, instinctively falling into the role of protector. She didn't mind. My God, but she had prayed for the day that Michael might be hers and hers alone to protect. Her fingertips traced a delicate line along the side of his face and without even thinking about it, Michael leaned into the caress.

She moved closer, her vibrant blue eyes focused on his mouth, and Michael waited expectantly for her kiss. "You'll always be my hero, Michael," she whispered, her lips lightly brushing his as she spoke.

"Look at all you've given me," she continued huskily. "You don't need to give me anything else."

"But-"

She kissed him. "I love you."

He closed his eyes, a vague feeling of having been deftly redirected trying to make itself known. What did it matter? Nikita loved him. Loved *him*. No one else. The rest of the world might as well be invisible.

His fingers fiercely entwined with hers, Michael kissed her back. Nikita was the one who was good with words. Not him. But this, *this*, was something he could do.

His kiss held all the passion of the first time they kissed together with the tenderness of the years that followed. "I love you," he murmured, an indescribable ache in his chest.

Breaking away, he rubbed his cheek against hers, forcing back the tide of emotion that threatened to disarm him. "Maybe I don't need to do this," he said, his grey-green eyes flickering over her face.

Nikita smiled. "You could come back upstairs," she said flirtatiously, not looking a day older than when he'd first laid eyes on her.

"Oh? And what's upstairs? A leaky faucet? A window that sticks? What needs fixing?"

"I do," she said, blushing. "Fix *me*."

"Ki-ta." he drawled, "it's the middle of the day."

"That never stopped you before," she replied saucily.

"We weren't an old, boring married couple before," he said, trailing a hand over her bare arm. His touch was still capable of giving her goosebumps.

"There's only one word in that sentence that applies to us and it's certainly not old *or* boring."

"What about the kids?" he asked, his mind already plotting how to create a window of opportunity. His mouth grazed hers, once, twice, before settling comfortably into a much deeper kiss.

"Mmm," she groaned as she opened her mouth to admit his tongue. "They're with Adrian," she said breathlessly.

"All of them?"

"Mi-chael.are you trying to torture me?"

"Not yet. I just want to know where everyone is."

"Most of them are with Adrian."

"Most?"

Nikita sighed. "Yes, Michael. Most. Adam is with Jazz."

"Doing what?"

"If you're asking me if they're off somewhere making love, I don't know. I don't want to know. We've given them as much love and support and information as we can, Michael. What they do with that is up to them now."

"But what if--?"

Nikita kissed his mouth shut. "Adam's 17 now, Michael. He knows what he's doing."

"But Jazz-"

"Jazz knows what he's doing, too."

"But he's so young."

"But he's so in love." Nikita lovingly captured Michael's face between her hands and kissed him. "Remember that, Michael? Being *that* in love? That feeling of-"

"-not being able to wait till we could be together?" Michael finished. "I still feel that way."

"I love you, Michael," she said softly.

"I love you, doucette," he whispered into her ear.

"Race you upstairs?" she asked pertly.

*****

They took their time undressing each other, determined to make their lovemaking last. But anticipation fueled their desire for one another in such a way that things rapidly escalated.

With a gentle "oof", Nikita landed on her stomach on top of the bedclothes. "Mi-chael, are you going to get rough with me?"

Without answering, he spread her arms and legs wide and tied them loosely to the headboard and footboard, respectively. "Mmm," she said, looking back over her shoulder, "you *are* a sight for sore eyes." She openly admired her husband's naked physique. The heated look he gave her in return made her breasts suffuse with color.

Michael knelt between her legs, his slightly roughened hands warm on her willing flesh. Lowering his head, he licked a hot, moist path from the back of her knee to the inside of her thigh. By the time he was through, Nikita was jiggling restlessly against her restraints. "Oh, yesss..more."

With a groan that showed he himself was not immune to the slow sensual torture he was inflicting upon her, Michael thoroughly laved the inside of the opposite leg. Nikita rubbed against the comforter covering the bed in an effort to assuage the ache between her thighs.

But Michael planted a palm in the center of her back and held her fast. "Mi-chael, please.."

"Patience."

Michael eyed the bottle of champagne chilling in the ice bucket with fat intent. Originally planning to drink it afterwards, Michael smiled as he changed his mind. Taking a small sip of the sparkling wine, he held it in his mouth and parted the folds of her femininity. With a gentle kiss, he spilled the cool liquid inside her.

Nikita moaned, marveling at the inventive ways Michael found to pleasure her. Opening the heart of her with one finger, he sipped delicately, enjoying the contrast between the coolness of the champagne and the heat of her innermost passages.

Just when she thought that she could stand no more, Michael moved away to grasp the bottle in his hand. Splashing a goodly amount over his throbbing arousal as well as her back, he set down the bottle. He entered her in one firm stroke, her inner depths already slick and receptive. Nikita threw her head back with a convulsive gasp. "Michael!"

He felt her tighten around him in anticipation of climax. Thrusting even more deeply, he finally collapsed across her back and sank his teeth into her shoulder. He came with a shudder, his seed hot and wet and streaming into the narrow channel that defined her femininity.

"Ohhhh." Nikita groaned. "I may never move again."

"Someone would find our bodies," Michael said helpfully, burying his face in her long pale hair.

"We really should get up."

"Maybe later."

"Yeah. Later's good," Nikita said sleepily.

And that's how Walter found them an hour later. Michael's lean but muscular frame covering Nikita's, his arms wrapped around her slender body.

Walter untied the restraints at Nikita's wrists and ankles, but left them in place. Surveying the sleeping couple with a gentle smile, Walter whispered, "You're lucky I'm the one that found you. All these years together and you still can't remember to lock the door."

Nikita stirred. Now that her arms and legs were free, she entwined her body around her husband's. Like two crucial pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, they fit together perfectly.

As they were meant to be.

"Dad, you're kidding me. Right?" If Sey looked skeptical, it was only because Walter had that twinkle in his eye that he always had when he was plotting something.

"Nope. Be there or be square, kemo sabe."

"But you're no match for him. He'll kill you."

Walter threw his head back and laughed. "You have such a way with words, Seymour."

"Da-ad."

"Just remember. There's more than one way to skin a cat." Walter tapped his index finger to the side of his nose.

"That's what I'm afraid of. That you're the cat."

"You have no faith, son."

Sey lost his voice, only to find it a few seconds later. "I don't want to lose you, Dad. If something happened to you-"

Walter smiled. Wrapping his arms around his son, he hugged him as tightly as he could. "Feeling's mutual, amigo."

"Be careful," Sey whispered.

"Careful's my middle name."

"No, it's not," Sey automatically protested. "Your middle name is Stephen."

Walter sighed. "You sure didn't inherit my sense of humor, Seymour."

***

Adrian paced back and forth. Slowly. He was supposedly giving Walter a lesson in a few minutes, but he doubted that the older man would actually show up. There was something suspicious about the entire arrangement. Not that he discounted Walter's ability to defend himself. On the contrary, having been raised with Eastern philosophy as well as martial arts, Adrian was well aware of the deceptive power of those who might be considered elders.

Long minutes passed, but no one came. Adrian was on the verge of packing it in for the day, but to his amazement, Walter suddenly appeared.

He wasn't alone.

"Cesca!"

"Deep!"

Walter looked from one to the other. "I take it you two know one another," he said innocently, knowing full well that he was the one who was instrumental in bringing Adrian's wife to the chateau.

Passionately embracing his wife, Adrian really couldn't have repeated what Walter said. He was totally focused on holding her. As it was, he could barely speak.

"Cesca, I'm so sorry I wasn't with you.when it happened."

Francesca gave her husband a perplexed look. "When what happened?"

"It's all right. If you'd rather not talk about it, I understand-"

"Understand what, Deep? I don't know what you're talking about."

Now it was Adrian's turn to look puzzled. "The baby. But you still look pregnant."

Francesca patted her rounded abdomen proudly. "I know. It's five months now."

"But how?"

Francesca blushed fiercely. "Deepppp, you know how."

Walter intervened before the conversation went any further. "Looks like you two have a ton of things to talk about. I'll just leave you kids alone for a while, okay?"

Francesca gazed fondly at the older man who expedited her trip to the chateau. "Thank you, Walter. You've been very kind."

"Just helping out." Walter tipped an imaginary hat to the young woman, who possessed the most striking pair of eyes he had ever seen. But then, everything about her was unusual. Her eyes, her hair, even her skin.

Her hair was long. Longer than long. Past her shoulders. Past her waist. It was long enough that she could sit on it. Easily. The color was a light brown that belied her Italian heritage and it fell in cascading waves down her back. Her skin was exceedingly fair and quite like porcelain. Not a freckle dared blemish her face. And yet, for all of that, it was her eyes that gave her an almost arresting quality. They were a golden brown, a warm hue that reminded of honey and amber, and they danced with mischief, as if they had a secret to share.

"You need anything, you just ask. All right, Little Mama?"

"I'm hardly little, Walter," she laughed. That was true. She was as tall as her husband, if not taller, but slender as a reed. Except for the spot where motherhood staked its claim.

She was a special lady. And damned if she didn't have an English accent with just a trace of something else. Something familiar. It certainly wasn't Italian. It sounded more like.Irish! That was it. Her voice had a lilt that no amount of English speaking could conceal.

"You take care of her now." Walter paused significantly. "Deep," he added, unable to prevent himself from smirking. "You'll have to tell me the story behind *that* one someday, Adrian. Must be a doozy."

"You have no idea," Adrian said, allowing himself a smile.

*****

"I can't believe you're here," Adrian breathed, drinking in the sight of his wife.

"Did I surprise you?"

"Oh, yes."

Francesca wrinkled her nose. "Why did you think something happened to the baby? It was just a routine ultrasound, you know."

"Nothing is routine where it concerns you, love."

"But why were you so obviously upset?"

Adrian closed his eyes and drew a shaky breath. He had to tell her sometime. "When I got here, I tried to call you. But they wouldn't let me talk to you. They said.that you lost the baby." Adrian's voice was so low as to be almost inaudible. But there was no mistaking the pain in it.

"Oh, Deep." Francesca sighed plaintively. "I thought they told you. The charts got mixed up. I'm fine."

"You.you are?"

"In fact, I'm better than fine."

Adrian cocked his head quizzically at his wife. "Why?"

"The whole reason the doctor called me in for the ultrasound was because he thought he heard two heartbeats." Francesca shook her head in disbelief. "But he was wrong."

Adrian didn't know why, but he felt vaguely disappointed. "There's just one, eh?"

"No."

"No?"

Francesca's golden eyes glittered with merriment. "There are *more* than two. There are *three*."

"Three babies?"

She nodded. "Isn't that the most amazing thing you ever did hear?"

"I can't believe it."

"Well, believe it. You're going to be Daddy to the three most beautiful children in the whole world."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and begged prettily for a kiss. He could not resist. All this time, he'd imagined her lying broken and bleeding in her bed, but she was safe and whole.

"I love you, Cesca," he whispered before his mouth came down on hers.

"How long do you think they'll be staying?"

Neil raked a hand through his thick blond hair and sighed in exasperation. "I don't know, Maddy."

"She's a pretty thing. Did you know she used to be a model?"

With a roll of his eyes, Neil said dryly, "I heard."

"She gave it up when she married him. I would never do such a ridiculous thing."

"I know, Maddy." Believe me, I know, he thought. It's too nice a day to be having such ponderous thoughts, but there he was. Contemplating what his life had turned into. Against his will.

Sniffing delicately, Madeline turned to face her husband. A deep frown furrowed her beautiful face. Not for the first time, Neil wondered how something so exquisite could be so deadly.

"Is something burning?"

"Probably toast. Connor's in the kitchen."

"Is that boy making breakfast again? Neil, you have to do something about him. He's constantly making a mess. I'm tired of cleaning up after him."

"Then don't. I'll do it," he snapped unintentionally.

"This isn't our house, Neil. It's Michael's."

"You make it sound like we're only here on sufferance, Maddy. We wouldn't be here if Michael didn't want us here."

"Then control your child."

"He's your child, too, Madeline. Not that I'm bloody surprised that I need to remind you of that!"

"Neil!"

He stood up and awaited the confrontation that had been a long time coming. "This has to stop, Maddy." He deliberately softened his tone. "We're cutting each other to pieces. Day after day."

"That's not my fault."

"No, nothing ever is." She reached out with one elegant hand to clasp his arm and it was all he could do to keep himself from flinching.

"Neil.things are still good between us," she said, clearly trying to appease him.

"In bed," Neil retorted. "I need a wife, Maddy. Not a girlfriend. Or a mistress. You've lost touch with the kids and it doesn't even seem to bother you."

Madeline smiled tightly. "I'll admit, I find Connor a disappointment."

"A disappointment? Maddy, listen to what you're saying! He's your son!"

"He's weak. I've never admired weakness.in anyone. You know that, Neil."

"He's not weak. He's kind and sensitive and compassionate. All the things you don't know how to be."

"Kady's turned out much better," she went on, as if Neil hadn't said a word. "My little princess."

"Your little princess?" Neil was incredulous. He couldn't believe how out of touch Madeline had grown. "Your little princess is in the bathroom throwing up. Like she does every morning."

Madeline glared at her husband. "She's just high-strung."

"Madeline, you're a psychiatrist! She's only six years old and she's showing all the signs of a full-blown eating disorder. Why do you think that is?"

She shrugged expressively. Either she didn't know or she didn't care.

"You want her to be perfect! No, it's worse than that! Much worse! You *need* her to be perfect!"

"I'm just trying to raise her to appreciate the finer things in life, Neil."

"Finer things? She's six years old! What about scheduling a little play time in between the music lessons and the dance lessons and the-"

"All right, Neil. That's enough."

"No, it's not. It's not nearly enough!" Neil had never been so furious in all his life. But then, he wasn't angry for himself. He was an adult. He was fully capable of taking care of himself. If he was badly treated, he knew enough to consider the source. But kids, kids were dependent on their parents for unconditional love.

But all Connor and Kady received from Madeline was disdain.

If she were anyone else, he would have given in to the reality of the situation long ago. But he thought kids needed *both* parents. And if he were truthful, he was not certain that Madeline would give up the kids without a knockdown, drag out fight. After all, to her, they weren't children but possessions.

Neil thought about leaving. How could he not? But his own emotional state was of no consequence. Not compared to his children's. He refused to go because to go would leave them defenseless.

Yes, they had Michael and Nikita and the rest of the extended family to look after them. But no one knew how it really was for them. No one.

But now they would. Spending the summer in such close quarters would be a revelation to them. Neil wouldn't tell them. He wouldn't have to. Because it was all slowly coming apart.

The question was: When the dust finally settled, who would be left standing? Him or Madeline? Would Madeline's ties to these people render her invincible?

In the meantime, all he could do was pray that he didn't wake up one day to find that Madeline had taken them. Somewhere, anywhere, far away from the only family they had. Away from *him*.

He couldn't let that happen. He couldn't bear it. To never see his kids again? If Madeline knew.she would gladly exploit that to her own advantage.

Madeline's dark brown eyes glittered. "Perhaps we need a little time away from each other, Neil."

Neil carefully concealed everything he was thinking, wiping his face as blank as he had seen Michael and Declan do. "Perhaps," he said evenly.

"Maybe a little time in Paris would be good for me." Her voice was deceptively soft. He couldn't help but be convinced that she was plotting something.

"Maybe," he agreed.

"Connor would love Paris," she said, watching for Neil's reaction.

Neil's stomach clenched at the thought of Madeline taking Connor away. What if she didn't bring him back?

"School starts in a few weeks," he said casually, as though the thought had just occurred to him.

Madeline shrugged. "True. He can't afford to miss school."

"Right," Neil said hesitantly, reluctant to breathe a sigh of relief just yet.

"Of course, I could put him into private school there." She made it sound as though she had only to think it and it would be done.

"Are you planning on being away that long then?" he inquired, trying hard not to betray his interest.

"I had a job offer some time back. I wonder if they might still be interested."

A long time. She'd be gone a long time. His insides relaxed.

"If you're going to be starting a new job, you don't need to be worrying about what to do with Connor," he said helpfully. As if. The woman not only never worried about Connor, Neil wasn't sure she even knew what he was really like anymore.

"I suppose you're right."

Madeline fingered the sleeve of his shirt. He tried not to pull away, but it took great effort to fight his instincts. "And Kady's too young to be of any use to me," Madeline added.

Neil told himself not to react to that, but he swore if she made one more callous remark about the kids, he wouldn't be held responsible.

"I'm not giving up on them, Neil."

"Of course not," he said, as if the very idea appalled him.

"But maybe in a few years, they'll be more amenable."

In a few years, Connor would be graduating from high school. In a few years, Kady would be finished with elementary school. He could live with that.

"I won't be an absent parent, Neil."

"Of course not," he said again, unable to believe that she couldn't see that she was already playing that role in their lives.

"This is a temporary separation, Neil."

He nodded.

"I won't give you a divorce."

He closed his eyes briefly. He would never marry again. Ever. What happened to him scarcely mattered. He had more than enough to fill his days. Who cared about his nights?

"I don't want one," he confirmed. Madeline inclined her head imperiously, as if to say, Just as I suspected, you don't have a strong bone in that body.

With that, she headed for the doorway, only to be stopped by Neil's soft "Madeline." "Yes, Neil?"

"When will you be going?"

"I'm going to pack now."

"What are you going to tell the kids?"

"You'll think of something, Neil. You always do."

"You want *me* to tell them?"

"You can let me know how they take it. I'm sure Connor won't be broken-hearted," she said sarcastically.

"But Kady-"

"She doesn't have an eating disorder, Neil. You're such an alarmist. She's just going through a phase. She'll grow out of it."

This time she made it through the doorway. Neil was too stunned to argue with his wife. He let her go.

He should have let her go a long time ago.

"Mom?"

Nikita looked as though she had been poleaxed. Her pale complexion lost what little color it normally had. "Where are you going?"

Madeline stopped when she reached the car that would take her to the airport. After opening the door, she turned to face the young woman she had claimed as "daughter" all those years ago.

"Paris."

Nikita shifted uneasily from foot to foot. "What's in Paris all of a sudden?"

"Nikita, there's no possible way you can understand this. Please don't try."

"But why, Mom?"

Madeline winced. Though she considered herself well-armored, especially against touching goodbye scenes, she was undone by Nikita's sincerity. It had always been that way. Even back in Section.

It wasn't just her spirit or her joie de vivre that she admired. Nikita was an unabashed hopeless romantic. She felt things deeply, intensely, and she acted on those feelings, right or wrong. She needed a happy ending.

But there would be none today.

"There's a job there."

"You're leaving your family for a *job*?"

Madeline sighed. "We all have different priorities, Nikita. Different reasons for being. You're driven by your love for your family. I'm."

"Spare me the psychoanalysis, please," Nikita snapped, angry tears welling up in her light blue eyes.

".not like that," Madeline finished.

"How can you do this?" Nikita whispered through increasingly numb lips.

"I don't have a neat package of reasons all tied up with a pretty ribbon, Nikita. I just need to go."

"What about Neil? What did he say?"

Madeline closed her eyes briefly. But it was difficult to tell if she was overcome by pain or exasperation. When she finally spoke again, it was to utter four words.

"Let it go, Nikita."

"I can't, Mom. I love you," Nikita admitted tearfully, brushing at her face with ill-concealed irritation.

"Let *me* go, Nikita. For your own good."

"I just-I just don't get it."

"I told you that you wouldn't."

"Mom? What was between us? All these years?" Nikita drew a shuddery breath. "Was it all a lie?"

Madeline leaned forward and kissed Nikita's cheek. With a sad smile, she lowered herself into the car. She never said another word.

The car drove off a moment later, leaving Nikita standing there, dazed.

***

Nikita walked slowly back to the front door of the chateau. Preoccupied to the point of stupor, she crossed the threshold automatically, completely insensible to her surroundings.

"Kita."

She lifted pain-filled eyes to her husband's face. "Oh, Michael. Mom's gone."

"I know, doucette." He opened his arms and Nikita all but threw herself into his embrace. She needed the physical contact. She needed to feel *something*. But most of all, she needed *him*.

His arms snugly enveloping her, Michael gently rocked her back and forth. She didn't cry. But in a way, her total silence was far worse. Her despair went too deep for easy expression.

"Let it out, Kita."

"I-I can't."

Her admission shocked him a little. Nikita was so free with her emotions. It was one of the things that attracted him to her. No matter how hard Section or anyone else tried to keep her down, she bounced back because she believed that life was meant to be lived, not merely survived.

"I wish I could make this right, doucette. But this is something I can't fix."

"I know, Michael."

***

"Did they send you to check on me?" Neil asked the older man with the colorful bandanna.

"Shit, Neil. There was no love lost between me and the Ice Queen, but I know what it's like to lose someone you love."

Neil nodded and tipped back the bottle of beer in his hand.

"Drinking won't solve a thing, y'know," said Walter.

Neil laughed shortly. It was a bitter noise that had little to do with laughter and all too much to do with the unexpected turn his life had taken.

"You're right. That's why I plan to get drunk. There's plenty more where this came from."

"Where are the kids?"

"Outside. Playing."

"They don't know yet?"

Neil shook his head vehemently. "The woman didn't even say goodbye to her own Goddamn children, Walter. She expects me to tell them." A muscle twitched erratically in Neil's cheek. "What the Hell am I supposed to say?"

"Jeez, man, I don't know." Ever the optimist, Walter tried to find something positive to focus on, but nothing came to mind. "But I know one thing. You can't get drunk."

"Why the Hell not? It sounds like a splendid idea."

"The kids need you, Neil. More than before. How are they going to take this if they see their father falling apart?"

"How do you think they'll take it if I don't?" Neil burst into a fit of laughter that bordered on hysteria. "Do you know how relieved I feel that she's gone, Walter? How do you think Connor would like hearing *that*?"

"If you're so fucking relieved, man, how come you're sitting here, alone, getting blitzed?"

"That's a very good question, Walter. Wish I had an answer for you."

His smile faded as the initial shock began to wear off. His face suddenly contorted by grief, Neil began to sob. When he finally drew breath to speak again, he whispered, "I loved her."

"I know."

Walter took the bottle of beer from Neil's now dangerously tight grip. He wasn't afraid he would drop it. He was afraid Neil would break it and cut himself to pieces. As if his heart hadn't already been slashed that very same way.

After getting rid of the bottle, Walter put his arms around the tall blond man. Not surprisingly, Neil surrendered without much of a struggle at all.

What irony. The family that Madeline brought Neil into would be the one that stood behind him every step of the way.

"Connor?"

"Go away, Fee."

"I thought maybe you'd feel like talking."

"No."

Connor lay on his stomach on top of the covers, his miserable face buried in his pillow. Despite fierce commands to himself not to cry over his mother's unexpected departure, his pillowcase was already soaked through and through.

"Is it okay if I stick around? In case you need something?" Faith wrung her hands, a gesture as uncharacteristic to her as crying was to Connor. She didn't like feeling helpless, but the situation left her no choice.

Connor sighed. "Do whatever you want."

Unable to stay away, Faith sat on the bed, next to Connor. He turned his head away from her, careful not to let her see his swollen, red-rimmed eyes. What would she think of him, then? That he was a baby, not a teenager?

Faith reached out and tentatively touched Connor's hair. He closed his eyes at the feel of her fingers in his hair. How was it possible to need someone so much that her touch grounded him, no matter where he hurt?

"It'll be okay," she whispered.

Suddenly Connor snapped his head around, his blue eyes so dark as to be unrecognizable. "No, it won't. So don't say that."

Faith looked startled, but she didn't back off. She wasn't afraid of Connor' s anger. He had to direct it at someone, and the logical person wasn't here anymore.

"She didn't love us. She treated us like we weren't even there half the time."

Realizing that Connor wasn't really expecting her to comment, Faith merely nodded.

"So how come I miss her already?" Connor asked, his face crumpling as he lost the battle for control.

"She's your Mom," Faith said simply, brushing Connor's damp hair out of his eyes.

Connor looked up at Faith, his heart in his eyes. "Stay with me, Fee," he pleaded.

Faith smiled faintly. "My Dad would kill us both if he caught me in here, Con. You know that."

"Please. I don't want to be alone. Just stay till I fall asleep, okay?"

She nodded and ruffled his dark blond hair. "Just till then."

Connor managed a wet but grateful look and pulled himself up till he could put his head in her lap. "Oh, Con, I don't know about this."

In answer, Connor kissed her knee and closed his eyes.

So she stayed, stroking the side of his face with her fingertips, gently, so as not to wake him up. "I love you," she whispered.

***

Declan didn't take the news well. In the midst of what could have been a second (or third) honeymoon for him and Sey came Nikita's tearful phone call. Blessedly brief, nevertheless it shook Declan to the core.

"What is it?" Sey asked, concerned by Declan's sudden pallor.

"It's Maddy."

Sey's eyes grew huge. "She's dead?" he whispered.

Declan shook his head. "No. Just gone."

"What do you mean, gone? Like missing?"

Declan closed his cell phone with an unusually loud snap. For a moment, Sey almost thought that his lover had broken it. "Not missing. Took off."

"Why?"

"Ah, now there's a question," Declan murmured.

"Is she coming back?"

"How the fuck would I know? She didn't say a bloody farewell to me."

Sey ignored Declan's anger, his mind totally focused on the hurt that undoubtedly lay beneath. "Are you okay?"

At Declan's incredulous look, Sey looked away, realizing the answer was obvious. Of course, he's not okay, you moron, he castigated himself. He just lost the woman who stood in for his mother. *You* might not have liked her, but Declan probably loved her.

His anger spent that quickly, Declan grew quiet. "She never said goodbye, acushla."

Sey entwined his fingers with Declan's, letting him know non-verbally that *he* was still there for him. "I know, love."

"How could she do that to me?"

Sey just shook his head.

"Oh, God, Neil must be beside himself."

"Maybe not," Sey said, then wished he had kept silent.

"Why? What do you know?" Declan demanded.

"Just that.the two of them haven't been happy together in a long time, Dec."

"But they love each other."

"Some people are too destructive to let themselves love anyone, Dec."

"Are you saying it was all a lie? But then why come here? Why settle down and have a bloody family? Why take everyone in like that?"

"Maybe she never intended to let it go this far. Maybe she really changed, but she just couldn't make it work."

"I would have helped her. If I could have."

"I know, love."

"What about her kids? That poor little girl with no mother."

"Maybe the kids are better off without her, Dec."

Declan seized on that like a dog with a bone. "You *do* know something. What? What is it?"

Sey sighed at the inevitability of it all. It was just like Maddy to make a mess and leave it for someone else to clean up. Some things never changed.

"Kady's got an eating disorder. Madeline's rampant desire to mold her in *her* perfect image backfired. Bigtime."

Declan slumped, as if absorbing the news sapped what little energy he had left. "And Connor?" he asked, his voice both terrible and soft.

"She's been running him down for years, Dec. The kid thinks he's the world's greatest loser and no wonder."

"Tell me she didn't abuse them, Sey." Declan's voice was so raw, it was painful to listen.

"Abuse isn't always physical, Dec."

"Shit."

"My sentiments exactly."

***

"You sure you want to go back to the chateau?"

"Aye, I do. Suddenly I have the most overpowering urge to be with Sasha and Emmy, acushla."

"I understand, love."

"I'm sorry we didn't get to spend a few days relaxing the way we wanted."

"Hey, great sex I can get anytime. Right now we need to be with our family."

"I love you, baby."

Sey pushed his hands through Declan's uncombed hair. The long red curls were full of tangles, but Sey's fingers deftly worked their way through. "I love you, too."

He kissed him lightly, expecting a quick hug, but he was unsurprised at the way Declan held onto him. Declan buried his face in Sey's dark brown hair, his voice still raspy with all the emotion that threatened to choke him. "You wouldn't leave me like that, would you, baby?"

"Never." Sey squeezed his eyes shut on the wave of pain that produced. Just the idea of leaving Declan brought tears to his eyes.

"You'd say goodbye first?" Declan asked brokenly.

"I won't have to. I'll never leave you, Declan. Never."

Sey thanked God that they had each other. He didn't know what his life would have been like without Declan, but he didn't ever want to find out.