Madeline held up her hands as everyone moved towards her at once. "I know you all have questions, but we need to get out of here as soon as possible."

Michael nodded, sliding his gun into the waistband of his pants and closing his jacket over it. "Kita, you're with me. Birkoff, go with Declan and see how Walter is doing."

Nikita glanced at Madeline before joining Michael. "Mom, I need to know where the kids are."

Madeline hugged Nikita, whispering into her ear, "They're safe, honey."

Michael opened the door to the rooftop, holding it open for Nikita. Once they were within the shadowy confines of the stairwell, Michael abruptly stopped and pushed Nikita up against the wall. Though he could not see her in the dark, his mouth found hers, kissing her repeatedly until they were both gasping for air. When they surfaced at last, Michael wrapped his arms around his wife, unwilling or even unable to let go of her for the moment. "I love you," he whispered almost tearfully.

She sought his mouth again, kissing him with great tenderness. "I love you, too, Michael." Her hands moved restlessly over his face, as if trying to touch every part of him that was dear to her.

"I should be furious with you for disobeying me," he said, but it was clear that he didn't believe that at all. "But I'm so glad you came," he finished huskily.

"I had to. I knew you needed me, Michael. I felt it. In here." She indicated her heart, crossing the area with a slender finger twice.

He bent his head and kissed the place she marked. She pulled his head against her breast, raking her fingers through his hair, and he settled there for a few moments, as if simply being near her was the answer to everything.

Though he could not bear the thought of ever separating from her again, Michael broke away from Nikita slowly. "We should go, doucette." He stroked the side of her face lightly with his fingertips, and she leaned into his hand, savoring the loving gesture that would always mean so much.

Madeline stood over Declan, who seemed transfixed by the sight of Justin's body, lying lifeless on the rooftop under the midnight sky. She placed a hand on Declan's shoulder, and she felt him tremble at her touch. "Declan, we have to go. The police will be here any moment now."

"You said you shot him, Maddy. Years ago. Did you lie to me?" Declan's voice was a thread of sound.

Madeline sighed. "I have answers for you, Declan. But there is no time now."

Declan bowed his head and refused to move. "There never is."

Exasperated, Madeline tried to enlist Birkoff's aid in moving Declan away from Justin's body. "Birkoff, we can't be found here. Do you want Declan to be arrested?"

"For what?" Birkoff asked bleakly. "He isn't guilty of anything except being in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Madeline snorted impatiently at the two young men. "You'll never sell that story to the police and you know it, Birkoff. Declan, once they find out the relationship between you and Birkoff, they'll lock you up and throw away the key."

"Crime of passion, eh?" Declan laughed darkly. "Did you know Justin wanted me, Maddy? All these years, I lied to myself, telling myself that he just couldn't reconcile our religion with my sexuality. And in the end, it boiled down to the simple fact that I wouldn't sleep with my own brother. I can't imagine why I didn't remember that till now, can you?" Declan took a deep breath and struggled for control.

Birkoff leaned on Declan, trying to reassure him that he was safe, that he was loved, and Declan grabbed Birkoff's hand, clutching it tightly. "Thank God you're here, Sey," he whispered.

Birkoff knelt down on Declan's level and stared deeply into his eyes. Storm-grey. Yes, like Justin's in color, but that was where the resemblance stopped. Declan's eyes held a reservoir of pain and love that was unique to him, and Birkoff rejoiced in that fact. He still loved those eyes. Because they belonged to Declan.

Cupping Declan's chin in his hand, Birkoff said, "Declan…more than anyone else, I know how you feel. But we have to go now…so we can stay together. If that still means anything to you."

Declan blinked furiously at the tears that threatened to overrun his eyes. He pulled Birkoff close, kissing him twice before he ran his hand along the side of his face. "It still means everything," he said.

Madeline pulled on Birkoff's arm, and he in turn helped Declan to his feet again. The three of them headed for the rooftop door and never looked behind them again. Not once.

After the door closed on the somewhat grisly scene, it began to rain. Perhaps the Heavens were crying, too, at the loss of yet another soul. Or perhaps it was a commentary from the Other Side, where Justin would find himself just another also-ran. Hardly worth a footnote in the Grand Scheme of things.

They knew Walter was going to get better the moment he started flirting with his private-duty nurse, Cheryl. The young woman was clearly unused to that type of attention, and she blushed becomingly every time Walter made the slightest double entendre. He was just explaining to Cheryl how he preferred to be bathed in bed when his wife entered the room.

Miranda stood there in the doorway, tiny but mighty, hands on hips, studying her husband, who suddenly looked as guilty as a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Walter!"

"Yes, Honey?" he said, sweet as pie. He looked the picture of innocence. Until he ruined the moment by whispering loudly to Cheryl, "Deny everything."

Miranda stalked over to the bed. "You incorrigible flirt!"

"Come here, my little wench."

Miranda raised an eyebrow. "Don't you ‘wench' me, you tease!"

"But Miranda, I was lying at death's door—"

"So you thought it was okay to forget you were married?"

"You're the only one I love, Honey. Honest." Walter looked so contrite suddenly, Miranda had to forgive him. She wasn't really angry with him, anyway, just relieved that he was feeling so much better, he even had the energy to flirt with someone.

Besides, she knew how hard it was for a man like Walter, so strong and yet curiously silent on the subject of deeper feelings, to admit that he had been scared. The way they bantered back and forth, one might think they didn't love deeply at all, but it wasn't true. She was afraid, too, of admitting just how close they came to losing him. Forever. She considered telling him just how much he meant to her, but then, she knew if she gave Walter an inch, he'd take a mile.

She smiled patiently. Walter grasped her hand and kissed it, like a chivalrous knight in the presence of his beloved princess. "I do love you, you know," he said in that smoke-and-whiskey voice she loved so much.

"I know," she said softly. She bent over him and kissed him, and his hands reached out, trembling, to hold her close.

"I damn near bought the farm, huh, Honey?" he asked, betraying an inner agitation she hadn't realized he felt.

She rested her forehead on his, and he closed his eyes. This was the best medicine he could get. His wife. He claimed her mouth possessively, then pulled her partway onto the bed with him. "Come here."

She lay her head on his chest, vastly reassured by the sound of his heartbeat, strong and slow, beneath her ear. "I missed you so much," she said quietly, but he could hear how close to tears she was.

He wrapped his arms around her and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "So how long till I can blow this medical gig? It gets old real fast."

She laughed against his chest, and he felt it vibrate through his body. "Walter, you just regained consciousness a few hours ago."

"So? I'm a tough old geezer. What's the best I can hope for, in the way of a sentence?" he asked, comparing the hospital to prison.

"Well," she drawled, "you have a concussion, tons of bruises and abrasions…"

"But nothing broken, right?"

Miranda shook her head. "No, Walter, though how you escaped breaking anything is beyond me. It was the head injury that had us all worried, though. That was what kept you from waking up till before."

"And the upshot of all this is?"

"Well, since you have a critical care nurse living with you, I'll bet we could bend some rules." Miranda regarded her husband affectionately, looking forward to bringing him home as soon as she possibly could.

Cheryl abruptly interjected. "Neil might have something to say about that, Miranda. He wants me on the case, not you."

Miranda looked at the young woman she had trained and wondered how she could have missed teaching her something as important as how to speak to colleagues with the same respect due the patients.

"We'll see about that, Cheryl."

Michael held his son in his arms, and Chris chortled happily. "My Daddy!" Michael buried his face in Chris' hair, so fresh smelling, so baby fine. God, he loved him so much, and his breath caught at thinking that, but for circumstances, they might never have seen one another again.

"I love you, Chris." His children were not going to grow up not knowing their father. Thanks to Nikita. Thanks to Madeline. Thanks to God.

Nikita lay her head on Michael's shoulder, her right arm rubbing his other shoulder. She could not stop touching him. It was as if he had suddenly vanished and then re-appeared. She needed to keep reassuring herself that he was real, that he was still there.

Faith hopped up and down on one foot, then the other. "Mom! Mom! Me hop!"

Nikita reached out and ruffled her daughter's hair, which was starting to darken slightly, making the resemblance to Michael even stronger. "You sure are, Fee."

"Mom-mom? Is G'anpa okay?"

"He's still sick, sweetie."

"Is G'anpa gonna die?" Faith's eyes were so bright and so innocent. She couldn't know what death was yet. Nikita didn't want her to know. At her age, death was like sleep. It was reversible. It was something that happened to other people.

Nikita looked at Michael, who was listening closely to the conversation. "No, Fee. Grandpa's not going to die," Michael answered for his wife. He held out one hand to Faith and she took it, looking up at her father worshipfully. "Daddy!"

He smiled at his daughter. "What, petite?"

She looked beatific. "Love Daddy!"

"I love you, too." He pulled Nikita closer with his other arm and kissed her. "I love all of you."

Declan leaned on Birkoff and Madeline until they were safely downstairs. Once they were outside of Walter's room, Madeline stopped. "I'm going to find Neil. I understand Walter is doing much better. You might want to go in and visit." Madeline's tone said it all. This is not a suggestion. This is an instruction. For your own good.

Declan raked his hands through his long hair, trying in vain to secure it with a thong, but his hands shook too much. "Sey?"

"It's okay, Declan, you're doing fine."

Declan's eyes clouded over, but if anything, he looked more afraid than tearful. "Will you come in with me?"

"Sure." Birkoff framed Declan's face with his hands. "You don't have to do this now, Dec."

"Yeah, I do." Declan dropped his eyes, drawing a shaky breath. "I love you, Sey."

Birkoff bent down in an effort to find Declan's all-expressive eyes, and when he made eye contact finally, he saw how tearful Declan was. "Hey, hey…" Birkoff kissed Declan, and he felt Declan respond, ever so slightly. "Here, let me do this for you…"

Birkoff took the thong from Declan's hand and carefully wound it around Declan's long red hair. He pushed gently at Declan's curls and smiled. "So beautiful," he whispered softly.

That was Declan's undoing. He didn't think he had any more tears left, but he could not help but cry. Birkoff pulled his head against his chest and held him. "Ssh…it's going to be okay." Birkoff had no idea what he said to Declan, but he knew the sound of his voice was soothing Declan's heart.

After several moments, Declan stopped crying, feeling absolute peace for the first time in a long time. Looking into Birkoff's velvety dark eyes, Declan knew it was just a matter of time before the healing started. For all of them.

Walter looked up as the two young men entered his room. Declan looked like he'd been through a war, at the very least, but Birkoff seemed content. He asked Miranda to give them a moment alone, and she kissed Walter goodbye, letting him know she would be just outside the door.

"Declan…God, I've seen better faces on hockey players after a grudge match. Are you okay?"

Declan nodded. "I am now." He glanced at Birkoff before continuing. "Walter, I just wanted to apologize for the way things have been between us since we got back." The words came out all in a rush, as if keeping them inside a moment longer would have been too long.

Walter started to shake his head. "Nah, nah, Declan, don't—"

Declan cut him off abruptly. "I need to say this, Walter, please." He took another breath, pausing to collect his thoughts. "I've been dreadfully unfair to you, and I'm sorry."

Walter would have interjected then, but one look at Declan's face told him to wait and listen. Declan's face creased in a rare smile. "I've never been in love before." He laughed softly. His entire face was transformed, like the skies clearing after the rains have gone. "I guess I didn't know exactly how to act."

"I love your Birkoff," Declan explained. "And he is your Birkoff, and that's okay." Declan smiled again, as if he had just figured out something important. "Cause he's my Sey. And that's okay, too."

"I never meant to take him away from you, Declan," Walter said in a low voice that bespoke great seriousness.

"And you didn't. Not really," Declan affirmed. "I…God, I started pushing both of you away. When all I really wanted was to be part of both of your lives."

Birkoff looked at Declan, feeling a strange compulsion to cry himself now. "Declan…" He trailed a hand over Declan's cheek, not feeling a bit embarrassed to show such affection in front of Walter now.

Walter looked grim, but the truth was, he was close to losing control. He, who never cried in front of anyone. "Declan, you are welcome to be a part of my life anytime, kiddo. I mean that. I never knew you felt any other way. And for that, I'm sorry."

"Walter, I don't know how we're going to live, or where we're going to live, now that this is all over…but I care about what happens to you. I always have. I'm just sorry I haven't always acted like it."

Walter began flapping his arms excitedly, and Birkoff became alarmed. "What? What is it?"

"Are you feeling okay?"

"Enough mushy talk! Let's get everyone together and have a freaking party!"

"Where?" Birkoff laughed.

"Wherever! Here's a good place to start!" Walter grinned. He was starting to look like his old self already.

"Here? Are you sure about that?"

Walter winked conspiratorially and whispered, "I got pull with some of the people who work here…"

"But how are we all going to fit into that tiny room, Michael?" asked Nikita.

He smiled crookedly. "I heard…that Maddy is pulling strings behind the scenes." He picked up Faith, who, despite numerous protests to the contrary, was fading fast. The little girl yawned expansively and lay her head down on Michael's shoulder, her thumb automatically gravitating towards her mouth.

"I don't suppose I could have a sip of champagne if we can smuggle some in," Nikita said coyly.

Michael shook his head slowly. "Ki-ta….you know you might be pregnant."

She smiled enigmatically. "I know. I don't even like the taste of champagne. I just wanted to see your face when you said the word ‘pregnant'."

"Oh?" Michael leaned forward and kissed her mouth, brushing her lips with his afterwards. "What happens when I say that word?"

Nikita stared at Michael's mouth, feeling heat pool in her lower body as she grew breathless. "Your eyes go all dark…and soft…and you look like…" She stopped abruptly.

"I look like what?" Michael said bemusedly.

Her mouth opened in anticipation. Her lips ached. "Like you want to…kiss me…"

"I always want to kiss you, doucette. It's one of the main reasons I married you," he said with a grin.

"You didn't have to marry me for that," she whispered hoarsely.

"No…" He lowered his lashes, deliberately covering his vivid green eyes from her view. He kissed her, so slowly, she didn't think she could stand the wait for his lips to meet hers. "I married you…"

He kissed her again, even more slowly, and she groaned softly against his mouth. "…so you and I could…"

He felt her lips yield to his, and he slid his tongue inside her mouth, just as slowly as he'd kissed her. "…make beautiful babies together…"

"Oh…" said Nikita, a blissful smile on her face.

He nodded to her. "Oh…" he echoed.

Faith slept on, oblivious to the fact that her parents were so enamored of one another. Michael stroked his daughter's back absently as he studied his wife. "I love you," he said, quite softly, so that only she could hear.

She smiled that mysterious smile again. "There it is again. That look in your eyes…"

He kissed her with such tenderness, his hand seeking her cheek and, ultimately, her hairline. All at once, she was struck by a thought that saddened her. "Michael!" she said, so sharply Michael drew back.

"What is it, doucette?" asked Michael, mildly alarmed by the look in her eyes.

"Where will we go tonight? Where will we stay? Is it even safe to go home to get our things? I—"

Michael silenced her with one finger across her lips. "Oh, my Kita…as much as it hurts to leave our home, it's the safest thing to do right now. Until we know more, we're all staying at the chateau."

"What about Mom and Neil and Connor?"

"Them, too, doucette. I wouldn't leave anyone behind." He stroked her mouth with his finger. "The important thing is…we'll all be together."

He felt her relax against him, and he knew he had succeeded in allaying her fears and anxieties about the future. Her hand searched for his and once it found its mate, her fingers tightly interlaced themselves with his. Nothing would tear them from each other's side again. Not in this lifetime.

"Michael?"

"Yes, love?"

She smiled. "Don't forget the dog and the cat."

The babies were asleep in a corner of the room. Madeline and Neil took turns keeping Cheryl out of Walter's room. Miranda sighed. She didn't remember the woman being so intrusive when she was in training.

Walter was having a ball. Parties were his favorite thing. Well, next to making love to a beautiful woman. He wasn't allowed to have any alcohol, and neither was Nikita, so for all intents and purposes, this was the first-ever milk and cookies party for the makeshift family.

Declan was falling asleep in a chair across from Walter's bed. He could hear Walter laughing, but his eyes kept drifting shut, almost against his will. Birkoff was eating Oreo cookies, making sure to dip them into the ice-cold milk Madeline managed to liberate from the hospital pantry.

Nikita was feeding chocolate chip cookies to her husband, and he was nibbling on her fingers, every chance he got. This earned him a smile in return, but sometimes, if he was very lucky, he received a kiss.

"I know we should be planning our next move, but I think we needed this," said Madeline. Neil nodded in agreement. He looked down at the twins, who were sleeping peacefully next to his own son, Connor.

"After what happened tonight, I'm more glad than ever that we changed Connor's name," Neil added.

Madeline kissed Neil and rubbed his ear gently with her fingertip. "It's going to be hard for you to uproot your practice, I know. We all appreciate the sacrifice you're making."

Neil smiled before kissing his wife. "Not such a big sacrifice when you consider what's at stake, is it? Wouldn't be much point in holding onto the practice if you had no life, if you had to worry every time you left the house, or the kids."

"You're so sensible, Neil. I knew there was a reason I loved you so much." Madeline noted the smile of utter tranquility on Neil's face, and her soft-as-velvet eyes sparkled.

"We make each other happy, my Maddy. That's what counts." He embraced her, nestling cheek to cheek with her, as if they were dancing. But the only music came from their imaginations.

Walter complained about the lack of animation in the party-goers, but Madeline gave him a warning glance that silenced him instantly. It reminded him of what they had all been put through during the past several hours.

He raised his glass of milk in a toast. "To us!"

Michael seconded that, draining his glass of milk, leaving him with a white mustache that made Nikita giggle. "You don't like men with mustaches? Or is it just this particular one you think is funny?"

Nikita bit her lip. "Um…can I plead the fifth on that one, Michael? Or better yet…I can lick away the evidence…"

He stared at her mouth long enough to arouse both of them. He bent his head and whispered into her ear, "You're driving me crazy. Did you mean to do that? Or are you just playing with me?"

"Mmm…my lips are sealed," Nikita answered mischievously. Closing her eyes and opening her mouth, she welcomed Michael's next kiss. He laughed gently. "There's definitely something exciting about flirting with you in front of other people, my Kita."

Her blue eyes deepened to indigo as her pupils dilated. "It's the challenge that makes it so…exciting." Her finger traced his mouth, and he wanted to take her right there. "You'd better stop that."

"Why?" she whispered huskily.

"Cause you're getting to me," he whispered, kissing the side of her face and somehow managing to catch the tip of her earlobe with his teeth.

She giggled and slid her hand down between their bodies, stroking his arousal with her finger. "Oh, my…"

He groaned. "Stop that, you wicked woman. Do you know how long a trip it is back to the chateau by car?"

She slid her hands under his hair and around his neck. "We can always stop off at the farmhouse."

He chuckled. "With no plumbing? I don't think so."

"Besides, what is everyone else going to be doing while we're…you know? Don't you think that would be a little…obvious?"

Nikita giggled again. "About as obvious as what you're trying to hide right now."

Michael flushed, but he didn't care. If it was a crime to desire one's wife, he was guilty and then some.

Birkoff dipped another cookie into his milk, savoring the chocolate-y taste in his mouth before it completely dissolved. "Mmm…I love Oreos."

"I know," Declan said sleepily.

"Want one?"

"Not really," Declan yawned. "I hate to be the official party pooper, but…I can't keep my eyes open for very much longer."

Birkoff put down his milk and finished the last bit of cookie. "Can I sit on your lap?"

That got Declan's attention. "What? In front of all these people?" He looked amused more than anything else.

Birkoff switched his seat and sat on Declan's lap, settling against his body with the ease of someone familiar with him. He buried his face against Declan's neck and wrapped his arms around Declan's shoulders. "I just figured that if you're going to sleep, I'm going with you."

Declan felt Birkoff's lips against his neck and closed his eyes. "God love you, Sey, you're such a sweetheart, I'm going to have to keep you."

"I could say we lost valuable time celebrating in Walter's room, but then again…we couldn't leave without him. He wasn't stable to travel until now."

Nikita nodded. "So what do we do first?"

"Break into groups. Declan can go with Birkoff to get supplies. Miranda is getting an ambulance to transport Walter. Maddy has to pack up the house and secure Connor; Neil is getting a car after he shuts down the practice."

"What are we doing, Michael?"

Michael pulled on his black leather gloves and closed the back door to the Jeep. "You're going to stay with the kids while I go to the house and pack up what we need."

"I don't want you to go there alone, Michael. It's too dangerous."

Michael sighed heavily. "I know how dangerous it is, Kita. That's why I don't want you anywhere near it."

Nikita put her hand on his arm, and he could feel her trembling. "I don't want you to go."

"And I don't want to go, Kita. But I have to."

Nikita's eyes blurred with tears. "No. Someone else could go."

"Who are you willing to sacrifice, Kita? You tell me, cause I sure as hell don't know."

She stared at him, her heart in her throat. "You can't go, Michael. I won't let you." She clung to his arm, tears rolling down her cheeks now. He wrenched his arm away from her, and she cried out. "Michael!"

He moved away from her, trying not to let himself be moved by her tears, but it was futile. His heart was breaking, too. Couldn't she see that?

She doubled over in pain. Suddenly Nikita moaned deeply, sinking to the pavement beside the Jeep. Michael was torn between love and duty once more. Did he stay with Nikita? Or did he go? He was the logical one to go to the house. He could send Declan, but Declan had given enough for one night. Birkoff couldn't defend himself adequately enough, and Walter was still injured. It had to be Michael.

Or no one. He stared down at Nikita. She was crying brokenly, as if her life was hanging in the balance. Maybe it was. If she couldn't bear to let him out of her sight now, who could blame her? Certainly not him. He didn't ever want to leave her side again.

He sank to his knees beside her. "Kita…"

She looked up at him, her eyes reddened, her nose running, trying to catch her breath in between sobs. "I need you, Michael. I don't ask for much. But I need you with me now. Or I can't go on."

He held out as long as he could. All at once, he shook his head and pulled her into his arms. She buried her face in his hair, and he knew she was still crying, albeit soundlessly, because the wetness was trickling down his neck.

"I wish I could tell you something that made sense, doucette. I wish I could say that when Justin died, whatever he knew died with him. But we don't know that. And we have to go."

"Take me with you, Michael."

"Kita, if there is anyone there, and they take out both of us…what happens to our children?" He closed his eyes in anguish.

"What happens to any of us if you're gone, Michael?" She clapped a hand over her mouth, shivering with reaction. "I don't want to find out. You're the other half of me. How would I survive?"

He pulled her to her feet, her body still tremulous. "All right…we go together." He kissed her, his mouth soft despite the terseness of his words.

"Thank you," she whispered, holding onto his arms to steady herself. He looked down at the ground for a moment, and when his eyes met hers again, she could see the toll that the night had taken on him.

"If you were anyone else, Kita…I wouldn't let you do this to me. But I can't force you to choose between me and the children, can I?"

She hugged Michael, as hard as she could, knowing for certain that he was hurting as much as she now. "I love you…if that helps."

"You know it does." He kissed her, lightly at first, then more insistently, as if he were afraid to let go of her. He spread his hands inside the collar of her jacket, pressing her against the Jeep. Still, his mouth tugged at hers. When he finally tore himself away from her, he was panting, partly with exertion, partly with frustration.

"We can't do this." He slammed his hand on the side of the Jeep and began to stride away, towards the driver's side.

She hurried to catch up with Michael, wondering what he meant. When he got to the door of the Jeep, he turned suddenly and stopped, pointing a finger at her. "There is nothing in that house worth risking our lives for, Kita! Neither one of us goes!"

Nikita looked troubled. "But what about Josephine? And the dog? Birkoff loves that dog!"

Michael looked like he was at the end of his rope. "Then Birkoff can go get him! But you and me are going straight to the chateau!"

Nikita started to cry. "You're going to leave my kitty? Michael, what if something happens to her?"

"Kita, you're torturing both of us over what? A dog and a cat!"

Her bottom lip quivered. "Our dog…our cat. You wouldn't let me keep the cat in my apartment all those years ago."

He made a sound that was somewhere between laughter and tears. "You wouldn't get rid of it. Did you think I didn't know you kept it? Feeding it? Petting it? Holding it?" He looked away, overcome by a surge of emotion so strong, he was afraid.

"I held it instead of you. Cause you wouldn't let me get near you."

He looked up then, his green eyes ablaze with something like fire. "I wanted it to be me."

"But it wasn't. And she made a damn poor substitute for the real thing…"

He held her gaze for long moments, shaking his head gently back and forth. "God, I don't know anyone else who has this effect on me."

She stepped closer, her mouth sad, her eyes still mirroring the pain she saw in Michael. "I can't leave them behind, Michael. They're helpless. Like children."

He turned sharply and yanked open the door to the Jeep. "Dammit! I know I'm going to regret this!"

Nikita began jumping up and down, clapping her hands together, like an excited but slightly overgrown child. He put a hand on her shoulder, staying her next leap. "But this is how we're going to do this. We pull up in front of the house, I open the front door, we go back to the Jeep and call the animals. If they don't come, get over it. We're going to leave without them."

She nodded. "That's fair."

He got into the Jeep and unlocked the passenger side door. Nikita climbed in beside Michael, looking over her shoulder to make sure the children were still asleep and safely tucked into their car seats.

He laughed to himself. Nikita heard the noise and questioned him. "No one's ever changed my mind before like that."

Nikita permitted herself a tiny half-smile. "Guess they're gonna have to update your profile."

They both laughed.