"I own him. I can give him to you."

"Your past...speaks for itself, Madeline. But your past is still...the past. What have you done lately?"

Madeline strode across the room and hoisted the seedy-looking man up by the lapels of his cheap suit. "You *doubt* my word?"

The man gulped and instinctively waved his hands in front of his face as if to ward her off. "No, no, of course not, Madeline. Your word is always good."

Madeline allowed herself a half-smile. For months, she hadn't been feeling well, but now...now she could scent victory. Bright Shadow was a relatively new terrorist group, an offshoot of Crystal Sky, which Section had destroyed years before. But had they really? Or had they merely driven its remnants underground, where they could not be monitored as they cautiously regained their strength?

*This* was what she had been missing in her life. This sense of purpose. This adrenaline rush.

She couldn't believe it had taken her so long to figure that out. *This* was where she fit in. Not at home with Neil and their children.

She was reclaiming what was rightfully hers. Unfortunately, the fact that she was now working for the *other* side didn't occur to her. Madeline was right about one thing. She *was* sick.

Madeline's smile broadened. "Michael...will never know what hit him."

*****

Connor raised the milk container to his lips and began to drink. Noisily.

Neil frowned. "How many times do I have to tell you not to do that? That's a terrible habit."

Connor wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Hey, at least it's milk. I could be out drinking and using drugs. You want me to switch?"

Neil's glare would have frozen Hell. "Sit. Down. Now."

"All right." Connor sat down obediently at the kitchen table and waited.

He plunged a hand through his dark blond hair, mussing it even more than it already was from Faith's ardent ministrations. "Fee doesn't mind."

"Faith's a slob."

"Dad!" Connor's eyes grew as round as saucers. He had never heard his father badmouth *anyone*. Not even Madeline. And here he was attacking his son's girlfriend! Connor didn't know what to say.

"Dad? Are you okay?"

"Of course I'm okay!" Neil snapped. "I made you dinner, didn't I? Now eat."

Connor looked at the empty table before him and decided that his father was evidently having a nervous breakdown. "Um...Daddy?"

"What do you want now?" Neil shouted.

Connor opened and closed his mouth again. There really wasn't anything that he *could* say. "I'm...not hungry."

"Fine. Go out. Go play with your friends. But make sure you do your homework later," Neil said absently, looking distinctly preoccupied.

Kady wisely followed Connor's lead and didn't say a word until they were safely outside. "Connor? What's wrong with Daddy?"

"I don't know, Kady. But I'll find out. In the meantime, why don't you go play with Sam?"

"O-kay," she said, her lower lip pouting. "But *I* was hungry."

Connor stopped his sister from going any further and dug in his jeans pocket. "Here, squirt." He handed her a couple of dollar bills. "Get some pizza for you and Sam."

"I'm only 6. I'm not allowed to walk that far," she chided him.

Connor sighed. "Okay, you can come with me and Fee. But keep your mouth shut, munchkin. No fair telling Dad how many times we kissed and stuff."

"Aw, you're no fun anymore, Connor."

"I'm keeping you in pizza, aren't I?"

Kady smiled brightly. "Yep! You're the best brother I ever had."

"I'm the *only* brother you ever had, Kady Bug."

*****

"Did you call him?"

"Call who?"

"Wow, you *are* a real sourpuss today."

"Oh, you mean that kid?"

"He's hardly a kid. He runs a huge British computer corporation."

Neil looked daggers at Nikita. She came over shortly after dinner to check on him while Michael watched the younger children. And as usual, Nikita wanted to know what Neil was doing about his personal life. Or lack thereof.

"I hate your memory. If you must know, I'm trying to forget him."

"Why?"

"He's too young."

"Not really."

"Well, in case you hadn't noticed, he's the wrong sex."

"Who says?"

"Look, I know I promised to look out for him, but I'll just have to write Marcus and tell him why I can't be around his younger brother."

"Ned."

Neil flinched, a startled look in his eyes. "Huh?"

"His name is Ned. Try using it. You'd be surprised what you could get used to. You might even discover something new and different about yourself."

"Like what?"

"You *like* Ned. Go out with him. Do the surrogate brother thing. You don't have to sleep with him, for goodness' sake. But keep your mind open."

"Why?"

"Cause your body might know something that your mind doesn't."

Neil flushed dark red. "You heard about the kiss."

"You *liked* the kiss. You liked *him*. Give him a chance."

"You're being particularly pushy today, Nikita."

Nikita shrugged. "I just want to see you happy again, Neil. Whatever it takes."

Neil's dark blue eyes flickered here, there and everywhere before lighting finally on Nikita's face. "What if--" he cleared his throat nervously. "What if he doesn't want to have anything to do with me? I was pretty rude to hi--"

Nikita grinned. "He kissed you, Neil. He wants to...do something with you." She giggled.

Neil almost smiled. "Okay, I'll call him."

"Now."

"You *are* a brat."

"Hey, only Michael and my Dad get to call me that, Mister. Watch your step or I'll sic 'em both on you."

Neil sighed, but his heart clearly wasn't in the effort. "Are you going to sit here and eavesdrop now?"

"Of course not."

Nikita stood up and walked to the door before turning around one last time. "I had Birkoff turn on the surveillance equipment about an hour ago."

Neil burst out laughing, then stilled. "Uh, at the risk of sounding paranoid, that was a joke, right?"

Nikita wrinkled her nose mischievously. "Umm...."

"It's not a date," Neil said as he adjusted his tie.

"Sure it is," disagreed Nikita. "Why are you so stubborn about this?"

"We're just...going out. That's all."

"Isn't that what I said?" Nikita finally threw up her hands in frustration and walked away. But she didn't leave the house entirely. She knew that in Neil's present state of mind, he was liable to bolt.

"Where are you going?" she called from the other room.

"I don't know. Ned said he had a particular place in mind. So I let him choose."

"That was...surprisingly diplomatic of you."

"Is that your way of saying I'm acting like a bloody girl?"

"Oh, for Heaven's sake, Neil. Take a pill or something."

Neil frowned at his mirror image. His tie was completely crooked. "It's too late. He'll be here any minute."

Nikita took pity on him and strode back into the room. In moments, she had Neil's tie straightened out. "There. Isn't that better?"

"Yes. I suppose you do Michael's ties for him all the time," he said wistfully.

Nikita sighed. "Michael doesn't wear ties. Neil, you're a wreck. This one date isn't the be-all and end-all of existence, y'know."

"Yeah."

The doorbell rang. Neil turned to Nikita with startled blue eyes. "What do I do? Nikita, I can't screw this up!"

"Neil?"

"Yes?"

"Now you're acting girly."

Neil resisted the urge to stick out his tongue at her. He was more mature than that. Instead he held up two fingers behind her head and smiled innocently.

"I saw that." Nikita laughed huskily, and Neil wondered why he couldn't fall in love with someone like her instead of complicating his life with someone like...Ned.

Because, he thought, Ned's kiss had affected him deeply. More deeply than he liked to admit.

*****

He opened the door. Ned stood there shyly, his long hair covering one side of his face as usual. He was clutching a bouquet of handpicked flowers. Nothing fancy. No roses. No carnations. Just plain, old, garden variety daisies and lilies-of-the-valley.

"Hi."

"Hi."

"Oh! Come in."

Once Ned crossed the threshold, he handed the flowers to Neil. "These are for you."

Neil didn't know what to say. No one had ever brought him flowers before. Certainly not such pathetic looking flowers, either.

"Umm...thanks."

"You don't like them." Ned sounded crestfallen. Neil could only guess at his expression because his face was still partially hidden by his hair.

"No, no, they're very...nice."

"I knew I should have gotten roses. But I was afraid that you'd think I was trying to buy you."

Neil shook his head. "I wouldn't think that. Not about you. You're...nice."

Ned's head came up slowly and now Neil could see his eyes. "You really think so?"

Neil nodded. He felt a bit self-conscious, but maybe things would be more comfortable once they got to the restaurant.

"I...don't want to rush you, but...I have reservations for 7. They're a little strict about people being on time."

"Oh, okay. No problem. I'll just get my coat."

While Neil was off getting his coat, Nikita crept out of the kitchen to peek at Ned. He *was* younger than Neil. By about fifteen years. But his eyes were kind and he had a nice smile. Nikita put a lot of faith in people's eyes and smiles.

"Hi," she said, deciding to introduce herself. "I'm Nikita. I live next door. I'm a friend of Neil's."

Ned shook her hand politely. "I'm Edward. Edward Guest. I think I'm here on sufferance."

"Oh, no! Not at all. Neil wants you here. Believe me, he does." When the young man looked unconvinced, Nikita pressed on. "You just need to...go slow."

"Slow," Ned echoed.

"Uh huh. Otherwise, you'll scare him away for sure. Neil's a little...skittish."

"I've noticed."

"So don't do anything that might...scare him. Okay?"

"I'll try. He's a little, I dunno, unpredictable...sometimes."

"Can I tell you a secret, Edward?"

Ned nodded slowly.

"Neil badly needs someone to take care of him. Do you think you can do that?"

"I'd love to do that," he breathed before averting his face again. But Nikita was sure that she caught a light in his eyes that wasn't there before. She was right about him. She knew she was. Ned was a nurturer. Just what Neil needed.

"But I don't think he'll let me."

"Oh, he'll let you. But you have to want it badly enough."

For a second, she saw the spike of bare naked desire in Ned's dark eyes, then it faded to a more manageable level.

"He's taking an awfully long time to get his coat. Do you think he's coming back?"

Just then Neil appeared, his coat over his arm, his tie freshly askew. "My tie came undone. Can you fix it, Nikita?"

"I'll do it," Ned said, jumping in before Nikita could say anything.

His hands felt soft and smooth on Neil's skin as Ned inadvertently touched him before getting a firm grip on the tie around Neil's neck. "Sorry."

"No, that's okay."

Ned finished tying the tie and stepped back to examine his work. "It looks good on you. That color."

"Thanks. Guess we should go."

They both reached for the door together, their hands brushing each other's. This time Neil apologized, then chuckled. "I don't see how we're ever going to get through dinner if we don't stop apologizing."

Ned hid a smile. Once he'd thought that he would never be allowed to see Neil again...now the man he'd been dreaming about, quite literally, was standing there in the flesh. His luck was taking a turn for the better.

"I'll drive."

"Of course," Neil agreed. "You're the only one who knows where the restaurant is."

Ned stared at his feet, suddenly tongue-tied beyond belief. All at once, Neil's hand cupped his chin, forcing him to look directly into those dark blue eyes he loved.

"You should stop doing that, Ned. You're a very striking young man and you have nothing to hide."

Neil felt like he could fall right into those deep brown eyes. "Besides...I like looking at you," he said, surprising the hell out of both of them.

"You do?"

"Uh huh." His hand gently caressed Ned's chin and before he knew it, he was kissing him. Ned looked stunned.

"Just thought I'd save us both the trouble of working ourselves into a sweat over the goodnight kiss."

"Oh."

"Yes. Oh. In fact, that was such a damn good idea, I think we should do it again. What do you think?"

Ned didn't trust himself to speak. So he did the next best thing. He kissed him back.

Nikita watched from the hall. Neil didn't need any more help.

Once he was in Ned's car, which was not so incidentally a handsomely appointed silver Jaguar, Neil's earlier uneasiness returned with a vengeance. "Um, Ned?"

"Yes?"

"All that stuff with me kissing you and all--"

Ned sighed. He knew it was too good to be true. He knew it. He cursed himself for agreeing to go on this date. Never fall in love with a straight guy. Never. Never. *Never*.

"Yeah?" Ned could hear the quaver in his voice. He hated that, too. That he could so easily betray himself. He who had so much...in reality...had so little. He'd give up everything he owned if he could find someone who truly *saw* into his heart and could accept the love he had to offer.

For the first time since they'd met, Neil *heard* Ned. Really *heard* him. Suddenly he couldn't bring himself to utter the words he'd planned to say. For he knew they were a lie. He was going to blame it all on bravado and a foolish urge to surprise Nikita.

But none of that was true.

He kissed Ned because he wanted to.

Neil watched Ned's hands tighten on the steering wheel as though he were bracing himself for bad news. Damn, he had no idea why kissing *him* made Ned so happy. But it had. He couldn't take that away from him.

"I need you to know..."

Ned stared straight ahead, afraid to take his eyes off the road for a second.

"I kissed you because I wanted to."

Neil didn't know who was more astonished. Him or Ned.

"You did?"

"Yeah."

Both were so preoccupied with their own thoughts that they didn't notice the silence that fell over the interior of the car.

Eventually Ned pulled the car into a parking space in front of a tastefully decorated little Italian restaurant. It wasn't fancy by anyone's standards. Little by little, Neil was beginning to think that he had badly misjudged Edward Guest.

"I expected...something completely different."

Ned smiled shyly, pushing his hair off his face with one hand. "You're the first person I've ever brought here," he said softly. "I wanted to take you somewhere we could both feel comfortable. You probably feel cheated."

"No...I'm not really a champagne type of guy," said Neil, offering a genuine smile in return.

"How about wine?"

Neil shook his head slowly. "Beer will suit me fine."

"Guess I had you all wrong." It was almost a question. So Neil answered it.

"Not *all* wrong. You got closer than *I* did."

For a moment, Ned wondered if Neil meant something else. He would have asked, but he wasn't sure if Neil would be as forthcoming about that one.

A sturdy middle-aged woman with the improbable name of Mama seated them. By the time his Heineken arrived, Neil was starting to think he was in serious danger of losing his heart to the charmingly shy young man across the table.

"You don't seem like the corporate type," Neil said, taking a sip of his beer.

Ned tried desperately not to watch Neil's tongue dart out to taste the beer before it disappeared back into his mouth, but it was futile. He was a hopeless case. The best he could expect was kind rejection at the end of the evening.

Ned gave Neil a distracted half-smile that Neil found endearing. "Did I say something funny?"

"No, it's just--my brother...your friend Marcus? He thinks I'm a blatant hedonist headed straight to Hell. He wants me to give up my partying lifestyle and settle down. Get married. Have babies."

"You? You don't seem like the playboy type either." Neil frowned. "Or do you have a secret life I don't know anything about?"

That seemed to strike a chord in Ned. He considered the question thoughtfully before he replied. "Yes, actually. I do."

"You do what?"

"Have a secret life."

At Neil's continued blank look, Ned continued. "Marcus doesn't know I'm gay. He's the reason that I go out with a different girl every week. My board of directors is conservative. They would never understand me being...*me*."

"So you hide behind the women."

Ned nodded. "But there's a problem. Marcus wants me to marry this last one. We're friends. Best friends. But we could never be lovers. She knows that. She covers for me whenever she can."

"So what's the problem?"

"She's pregnant."

Neil's eyes widened. "I thought you said you didn't sleep with her!"

"I didn't. But Marcus thinks I did. He thinks the baby's mine. He's practically planning the wedding for us."

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know. I suppose, eventually, I'll go back to England. Do what everyone expects of me."

Neil couldn't help it. The sadness in Ned's voice was unmistakable. He reached out and held his hand, squeezing it gently, as if to say, "I'm here for you."

Go back to England? Get married? Never see him again? Neil put the brake to those thoughts immediately. It was none of his business what happened to Ned Guest.

But he wanted it to be.

"How can you do that?" Neil finally had to ask. "You don't love her." You love *me*. That phrase kept echoing in his head until he thought that he blurted it out.

"Well..." Ned moistened his lips with his tongue and this time, it was Neil who studied the younger man with growing desire. "The pressure is getting fairly intense and...it's not like I have a-anyone in my life right now."

Neil didn't miss that telltale stammer. He slid his chair closer to Ned. "If there *was* someone, though, you would stand up to Marcus, wouldn't you?"

"You mean, come out? Tell him the truth? Tell him that--" Ned's candy-brown eyes met Neil's dark blue gaze.

"You're in love with me."

"Wh-what?"

"Go back to England if you must, but tell Marcus that you can't marry anyone else because you love *me*."

"But that would be--"

"The truth. Wouldn't it?"

Ned averted his face, wondering if Neil was doing this out of kindness or pity or--

"Love. That's the answer to your question."

"I didn't ask a question," Ned said slowly, afraid to hope.

"Yes, you did. I could see it in your eyes."

Ned shook his head. "You can't see my eyes."

"I'm giving you an out. Don't you want it?"

"I want *you*," said Ned, his head coming up suddenly, his eyes blazing with an inner fire.

"I know you do," Neil heard himself say quite calmly. In the meantime, butterflies had taken up residence in his stomach.

"Are you saying I can *have* you?"

"I'm saying we can have *each other*." Neil took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He was not going to faint like a Victorian woman having the vapors.

"You're serious."

"Never more."

"If I say yes, will you come home with me?"

"To-night?" Neil's voice broke.

"No, to see Marcus. To explain."

"Oh. I guess I could do that."

Ned rested his chin on his hand and gazed thoughtfully into Neil's eyes. "I wish--"

"What do you wish, Ned?" Neil asked, hoping he had the power to give it to him.

"I wish I still had your goodnight kiss to look forward to," he whispered.

"Well..." Neil slung his arm around the younger man and kissed his cheek. "You could probably persuade me to part with a few more."

"You think so?" The smile that Ned gave Neil was so heartbreakingly sweet, it made him want to take him in his arms and never let him go.

"I have it on good authority," Neil whispered as he kissed him. It took so little to make him happy, and there was such pleasure in his kisses. Surely this was meant to be.

She had a headache. The pain was worse than anything she had ever experienced before. The psychiatrist in her told her that something was very wrong inside her body. But the headache that was destroying her equilibrium was doing something else, too.

It was making her delusional. Suspicious. Guarded. Withdrawn.

When her contact from Bright Shadow came to her apartment, she refused to open the door, convinced that he meant to harm her. He tried to talk to her through a crack in the door, but she remained adamant, finally screaming at him to go away.

The screaming made her head pound.

She couldn't think. She had to think. There was something important that she had to do. What was it? What was it? Ah, she knew what it was. She had to find Michael and deliver him to someone.

She had to move quickly. She didn't know why, but she was convinced that something was happening, something that could thwart her plans.

Untouched food lay forgotten on dirty plates in the dining room. Madeline hadn't eaten in days. Trust no one. No one. She kept repeating that to herself over and over and...finally she grew hoarse from the repetition and fell silent.

She didn't know how to help herself anymore.

But there was something she had to do.

The feral glitter in her dark eyes would have frightened anyone who was unlucky enough to cross her path.

She waited...to receive the final command. She rocked back and forth, her head bent over her arms, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees. She was waiting....

Soon...God would tell her what she needed to know.

*****

Neil wasn't drunk. He'd only had two beers, and those he drank on a full stomach, having overindulged a bit on homemade lasagna and garlic bread. He hiccupped.

Ned grinned at him. He rather liked Neil in this mood. They were standing on Neil's doorstep, saying goodnight to each other. Their first date now behind them, Ned was emboldened enough to hope that not only would there be more dates, but that Neil would act on the increasingly intense feelings he clearly had for him.

"Would you kiss me?" Ned asked, his voice hushed so that anyone still awake inside the house couldn't overhear him.

"Why? Is that a cure for the hiccups?" Neil quipped.

"It could be. If you hold your breath."

"You're just trying to avoid breathing in all that garlic I ate," Neil said with a chuckle. He hadn't felt this relaxed since...well, he doubted that he'd *ever* been this relaxed.

"No..." Ned rubbed his thumb over Neil's bottom lip. "I like garlic." He reached up and kissed Neil quickly before he could object. "And I like kissing you."

"I noticed."

Neil thrust his hands into Ned's long brown hair and anchored him for another kiss, this one deeper and less tentative than his earlier ones. Ned shifted restlessly in his grasp and Neil broke away, his gaze mildly puzzled. He could tell that Ned enjoyed his kisses. So his sudden impatience to be released left Neil unsettled.

"Is something wrong?"

Ned shook his head. "No, no, it's just--"

"What?"

"You're making me...hot."

"Me? With a kiss?"

Ned blushed and looked vaguely embarrassed. "Yeah. I mean, I *want* you and it's a little hard to hide that when we're this close."

"Do you want me to stop?" Now Neil *was* holding his breath. If there was one thing he didn't want, it was to stop kissing Ned.

"God, no. I mean--"

Neil kissed him and effectively silenced him for several more seconds. When they resurfaced, Neil said softly, "I don't mind how much you want me. I--God, this'll sound bloody awful, but--"

"You like it," Ned finished his sentence for him, and Neil had the grace to look slightly flustered. "Well...yeah."

"I'm glad."

"You are?"

"Now I don't have to hide the way you make me feel," Ned whispered. He pressed closer to Neil and Neil tried to ignore the sudden flash of desire that overloaded his lower body.

"Um, maybe you do. Just a little," Neil said, hoping that Ned didn't feel the unmistakable way his body reacted to him. Traitor. I wasn't ready to give away that much yet. But his body refused to listen. It was in league with his heart.

Ned merely clung to him even more possessively, molding his body to Neil's in a way that felt strangely erotic, despite the fact that it wasn't meant to be. He buried his face against Neil's chest and breathed deep of his scent.

To his surprise, Neil felt comforted by the younger man's full-body hug. He nuzzled Ned's temple, then jawline, then buried his own face in Ned's hair. It felt every bit as good as it smelled. It was fine and silky and it didn't smell like perfume or even cologne. It just smelled like *him*.

"How come you feel so good?" Neil whispered. "I don't even *know* you, not really, but I feel like I've been with you all my life."

Ned pushed his nose deeper into Neil's chest. He didn't want to leave the niche he'd found here. Ever. And all he'd hoped for was a goodnight kiss....

Suddenly they were flooded by light as the door opened. Neil's teenaged son, Connor, stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable due to the light shining in their eyes. "Okay, kiss him and get off the porch, Dad. Some of us have to get up for school in the morning."

Now Neil knew he was really in trouble. Connor's command made him want to laugh out loud.

This had to be love.

"I want to get her something special."

"Uh huh," Sey replied absently as he fingered the latest Stephen King novel, mentally checking its sales against the rest of his inventory.

"Dad! You're not listening!"

"Yes, I am, kiddo."

"No, you're not. What did I just say?"

"That you want to get Skye something special."

"How do you do that? I could have sworn you weren't listening."

"It's called multi-tasking. Like when computers do more than one thing at the same time."

"Are you sure you're human?"

Sey looked over the tops of his glasses at his 15-year old son. "Sasha, why are you getting so worked up over this? Skye's not old enough to date yet. In fact, she won't be for years."

Sasha wouldn't look at him. That was a sure sign that something was bothering him. Sasha was as honest as the day was long, and Sey trusted him more than anyone else. Except Declan.

Sey's warm hand on his shoulder was all it took for Sasha to unburden himself. "Two words. Sophomore Prom."

"She can't go. She's only 12."

Sasha's head came up and Sey could see his tortured expression. "She wants to go. How do I tell her that she can't?"

Sey sighed. "I know it'll hurt her feelings, but you--well, you have to tell her."

"This is high school, Dad. I'm supposed to be having a great time. And the worse part is, I think I *would* be, if she could *share* it with me."

"Kiddo, Skye wouldn't fit in. She's too young."

"She's missing the most important part of my life, Dad! That's not fair!" Sasha cried.

"Sash, I know it's no consolation, but if you two still feel the same way by the time Skye enters high school, you'll be able to share *her* Prom with her."

"If? IF? Dad, you have no idea how I feel! About Skye or-or-anything else!"

"I know you're upset, but--"

"I'm beyond upset, Dad!" Sasha choked out, throwing off his father's attempt to embrace him. "How can I tell her...I'm going to take *someone else* to the Prom?"

"B-Beast?" Skye uttered Sasha's nickname in such quavering tones that it was obvious how much she had overheard. She dropped her backpack where she stood, a tragic figure etched in silhouette as sunlight streamed in through the front door of the Arcadia bookstore.

"Ange, no! Don't go! I have to explain!"

But the 12-year old girl turned on her heel and ran, her long pale hair trailing behind her as if she had taken all the sunlight with her.

Sasha glanced quickly at his father before taking off at a brisk trot. He caught up with Skye less than 100 feet from the store. Tears had slowed her progress considerably.

He grabbed her arm and spun her around, unprepared for the sheer torment in her light blue eyes. "Don't touch me!"

He jerked away as though he'd been burned. "Skye..."

"You let me think that...there was a chance...I could go. It's like you...lied to me...Sasha," she said, every few words punctuated by sobs she couldn't bring under control.

"I didn't lie, Skye. I...wanted it, too."

"But you invited someone else! You couldn't go with me even if you *wanted* to. Why didn't you tell me? Or were you too busy laughing at me?"

"Skye, I wouldn't! I couldn't! I love you! You know I do," Sasha pleaded, his dark brown eyes begging for understanding, if not sympathy.

"I don't think I can believe you anymore, Sasha," she whispered.

When she walked away, Sasha felt as if she'd struck him through the heart. "Oh, Ange..."

He found his way back to the bookstore and picked up her backpack. His father gazed at him sympathetically. "She'll get over it, Sash. It just takes time."

"She'll get over *me*, you mean," Sasha said bitterly, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand.

"If that's true, then the two of you never really had anything to begin with," Sey said, wincing at the tormented look Sasha gave him.

*****

By the time Sasha made it home, Chris was waiting for him, his face set in a stony mask that was all too reminiscent of his father Michael. Sasha tried to ignore him and brushed past the younger teenager, but Chris tore Skye's backpack from Sasha's suddenly nerveless fingers.

"You want to fight me for your sister's backpack?" Sasha asked wearily.

"What did you do to her?" Chris said, his teeth clenched so tightly, he could barely speak.

"I didn't *do* anything to her, Chris. I made the mistake of asking someone else to go to the Prom with me and she thinks...well, I don't really know what she thinks." Sasha sounded despondent and some of Chris' anger faded.

"She thinks you don't love her anymore," Chris said solemnly.

Sasha's head whipped around, his dark eyes blazing with color. "That's a lie!"

"I've never seen her this upset."

"Look, if you want to beat the shit out of me, go right ahead. I don't care."

Chris shook his head. "Yes, you do. If I thought you didn't care, you'd be laid out on the ground right now."

"You really think so, huh?" Sasha smiled tightly.

"Yeah."

Chris' one-word answer was eloquent for its brevity. Sasha reached out and caressed the backpack that Chris now held. "Tell her that I never meant to hurt her," he whispered hoarsely.

"I will," Chris vowed.

Sasha closed his eyes on a wave of pain that he was certain he wouldn't survive. Why did things have to be so difficult? All he wanted was to love Skye. But it couldn't be. Not yet. And now it looked as if it might never be.

He trudged up to their third-floor apartment, his footsteps as heavy as his thoughts. He was going to the Prom with someone he barely knew. He was going to dance with her and laugh with her and yes, dammit, he was going to kiss her. But his heart wouldn't be in it. His heart already belonged to an angel who fell to earth long ago and took up residence there.

He opened the door with his key, surprised to see his other father standing there. "Da! What are you doing home so early?"

"Your Dad called me and asked me to come home. What's wrong?" Declan asked.

"Everything," Sasha blurted out before he threw himself into Declan's arms.

"Ssh, it can't be that bad, kiddo." Declan felt Sasha burrow deeper, his hot, wet cheek pressed snugly against his chest.

"It is."