Madeline cast a chagrined look at her husband. "It would seem that the entire world as we know it has gone to bed." She held her finger up when Neil grinned and tried to interject. "Yes, Neil, I know, not necessarily to sleep."

"But since there are some questions better left unanswered…let's not ask them." Madeline picked up her sleeping son, Connor, and held him. "I'd like to drop the twins off in their room, but that would require braving Michael and Nikita's room, and I don't think I'm quite ready for that yet."

Neil wisely kept silent on that score. "Perhaps a little dinner would be in order? Especially since no one else is hungry?"

"Oh, I think they're hungry, all right. But not for food." Madeline smiled that mysterious Mona Lisa-style smile, and Neil wanted to kiss her. He knew just how the others felt, he wanted to take his wife upstairs and make love to her. And he hadn't even been involved in last night's incident.

"Spare me the psychiatric overview, Maddy, and cut right to the chase. They had a near-death experience, and they're all so damned glad to be alive, they're taking a big bite out of life."

Madeline chuckled softly. "An earthy interpretation. But true, nonetheless. What concerns me is this. Was this an isolated incident? Something Justin dreamed up out of a need for revenge? Or was this something even partially sanctioned by Section? If that were true, it would mean we can expect to hear from someone else…and soon."

Neil shivered. "These people you used to work for, Maddy… They don't sound forgiving."

"Oh, they're not, Neil. Where Michael and the rest of us came from…was a very bad place." She frowned, and Neil reached out and rubbed the space between her eyes. "Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say, there were a great many good people doing the best they could under less than ideal circumstances."

"You have a positive talent for understatement, Maddy," said Neil. "What do you say we each take a twin and venture into the den of iniquity upstairs?"

Madeline laughed. "Don't say I didn't warn you, Neil."

Madeline held Connor, while Neil led Chris and Faith to their room. He tried the door, saw it was unlocked and laughed. "See? The door is unlocked, Maddy. How bad could it be?"

Madeline said nothing. Her eyes merely gleamed in that cryptic way she had. Neil pushed the door back to the wall and peered into the darkened room. "Michael? Nikita?"

He was just starting to approach the bed when some sixth sense went off in his head. But the twins broke away from his grip. Suddenly Faith saw her parents and hopped onto the end of the bed. She clambered over the covers until she reached her sleeping father and mother. "Daddy! Daddy!" Fee pulled repeatedly at Michael's shoulder, trying to wake him up, and he groaned, totally unable to focus his eyes.

Neil saw the condition Michael and Nikita were in and tried to pull Faith away from her parents. It was a vain attempt at best. "Mommmmmmy!" Faith all but screeched, this time in her mother's ear. Nikita visibly flinched and rolled away from Michael's body, which, Neil noted thankfully, was covered from the waist down by bed linens. Not so Nikita. Neil rolled his eyes when he saw the state of undress that Nikita was in. Her perfect breasts exposed to his view, he covered his eyes and yelled, "Madeline! Did you set this up?"

Madeline came closer to the bed, saw Nikita, and laughed. "Now, Neil, what woman in her right mind would make sure her husband saw something like that?"

"I don't know, but I'm sure you'd do it, if there were a good reason."

Madeline blinked. "You do know me well, Neil. A comment worthy of someone trained by Section."

Neil raised an eyebrow at that. "I'm not entirely sure that's a compliment, Maddy."

Neil continued to wrestle with Faith, and just as he bent over the little girl, his face dangerously close to Nikita's chest, Nikita woke up. So did Michael. Just in time to see Neil apparently ogling his naked wife at close range. Michael didn't think. He reacted.

One bloody nose later, Neil was sitting on the end of the bed, surrounded by his irritated wife, a repentant Michael, a moody Nikita, and three children, who all seemed blissfully unaware of what just happened.

Michael tried to see the damage to Neil's nose, but Neil winced the moment his hand approached. "Sorry, Neil, but you know how it looked to me."

Neil shook his head very gingerly. "I know, Michael, I know. It's just that…dammit, did you really think I would sneak into your bedroom just to catch a glimpse of one of the nicest pairs of—"

Madeline gasped and Nikita held her head in her hands. "Neil!"

Faith giggled and pointed at Neil. "Funny man."

Nikita groaned. Her head ached like a sonuvagun. Her breasts were apparently part of the public domain. Her daughter was not only not traumatized, but thought the family doctor was hilarious. And Chris? Where was Chris? "Neil, I thought you had both kids with you."

Madeline nodded. "We did."

"Where's Chris?"

Madeline started to answer, then she realized that Chris was indeed nowhere in sight.

"He was here a minute ago." Neil frowned. Nikita wrapped a sheet around herself and darted into the bathroom to get her clothes. What seemed like seconds later, she was dressed, after a fashion. No socks. No shoes. Her jeans felt uncomfortable without underwear, but she could live with it temporarily. And best of all, her breasts were completely covered.

They waited for Michael to get out of bed and get dressed. Otherwise, they might have caught Chris before he wandered into dangerous territory.

Declan was still lying in Birkoff's arms deeply asleep when the pounding started. The sound didn't even begin to penetrate his brain. He was exhausted in every way possible. Declan's head rested on Birkoff's chest, his long red hair streaming across the pale expanse like bright tongues of flame. Birkoff's chin nestled atop Declan's head, and even asleep, his fascination with Declan's hair played itself out. His hands were filled with Declan's hair, his fingers restlessly clenching and unclenching the strands he held.

Still the noise continued unabated. What was it? Birkoff frowned in his sleep, finally shifting Declan off his body as he awoke. Suddenly a tiny voice rang out, loud and clear. "Unca Dec! Unca Dec! Play wif Chris!"

Birkoff registered Chris' voice at the same time that he heard footsteps approaching the bathroom door. Large footsteps. Adult footsteps. Oh, no. They were about to be discovered together. In the altogether.

Birkoff muttered, "Crap!", just as Declan rolled over towards him. Declan wasn't quite awake yet, but he reached for Birkoff just the same. "Hey…it can't be morning yet."

Birkoff shrieked and whirled away from Declan's reach. That got his attention in a way that the pounding had not. "What the hell—?"

Birkoff hissed at Declan, "Chris is on the other side of that door! He wants you! He wants to know if Uncle Declan can come out and play!"

"No bloody way." Declan's mouth dropped open. Blinking away sleep, Declan reached over Birkoff for his shirt. Birkoff laughed. "That's an interesting choice, Dec. You could go without a shirt and no one would say anything, but I think you'll find that even Michael would notice if you weren't wearing any pants."

Declan glared at Birkoff. "What do you expect from a man who's barely awake?"

"You're so sweet when you first get up, Dec. Give us a kiss," Birkoff teased.

The pounding stopped abruptly. That worried both of them. They were fairly well barricaded in the bathroom, and after all, it was their bathroom. Certain rights ought to be guaranteed in the name of privacy. But you couldn't tell that to a toddler with a one-track mind. Or his father who was half out of his mind with worry.

Ah, yes, Michael. The owner of the large footsteps. Chris turned away from the door, his entire face brightening at the sight of his beloved father. "Daddy! My Daddy!"

Birkoff heaved a sigh of relief. The footsteps were moving away from the door. The barricade had held. They were safe. Or at least, undisturbed. For the moment.

Suddenly it occurred to Birkoff how funny the entire situation was. No one knew there was anyone on the other side of the door, and if they did suspect, they would assume that they were using the facilities in the usual manner. Hardly the stuff romantic fantasies were made of.

Declan stared at Birkoff as if he had finally lost his mind. "What's so funny?"

"Us."

"We're funny?"

"Yeah," Birkoff said, weak with laughter.

Declan looked puzzled. "Why?"

"I have no idea," Birkoff continued helplessly, tears running from his eyes. Declan stared at him a moment. "Is this some kind of delayed stress reaction to what happened last night?"

All at once Birkoff wasn't laughing. He grew strangely silent, surreptitiously wiping at the errant tears he couldn't seem to control. "We almost died last night."

"Yeah. I know." Declan nuzzled Birkoff's cheek. "I was kinda wondering when it would finally hit you."

Birkoff's eyes watered till they looked like melting chocolate. "I almost lost you."

Declan nodded. His own eyes suspiciously wet, Declan asked hoarsely, "Why do you think I was so damned desperate to have you? It's never been like that between us. Ever."

Birkoff started to cry, and Declan immediately moved to cradle his head against his chest. Pressing a kiss to Birkoff's head, Declan held him for several minutes. Birkoff clasped his hands over Declan's. And still Declan held him.

"Ssh, acushla. We're both okay."

Birkoff drew a shuddery breath. "This time."

They both fell silent.

Madeline put Connor in his crib and spent several minutes admiring her son. Neil walked up behind his wife, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. "We make pretty good babies, too."

Madeline turned in his arms and smiled. "Yes, we do." She kissed him lightly on the lips. Neil looked askance at her. "Okay, Maddy, what's wrong?"

She averted her eyes, restlessly playing with her fingers. "It isn't any one thing, Neil."

"You're worried about the others?"

She nodded slightly. He sighed. "This is a strong family, Maddy. I've never seen people support each other the way they do."

"But the integrity of the family has been breached. Even violated." Madeline dropped her head. Neil cupped her chin and forced her to meet his eyes. "Why do I get the feeling there is something you're not telling me, Maddy? Why do you feel responsible in some way?"

"Neil, Declan nearly died last night. Along with Birkoff and Michael. You don't think I have any feelings about that?"

Neil refused to let Madeline pull away from his embrace. "No, I think you do. You just don't want to talk about it."

Madeline gave up a startled breath, then chuckled softly. "It's always easier to deal with other people's feelings than my own, Neil."

"I'm your husband, Maddy, you can tell me."

"Neil, I can't even tell myself some of what I'm feeling. How can I tell you?" Madeline felt so conflicted, she was having difficulty putting words to her thoughts.

"Madeline…" Neil said seriously. "I know there's always been something special between you and Declan…"

"I told you, Neil, I never slept with him!" Madeline was on the verge of tears herself. She swiped at her face anxiously. She never lost control. Never.

"But something happened between you, Maddy. I can feel it. Tell me." Neil rarely pushed his wife to talk about Section or anything related to her past. But he knew she needed to talk about this, and he knew she trusted him implicitly.

She glanced at Neil, then looked away, unable to maintain eye contact with that straightforward blue gaze. "He was like a beautiful lone wolf when he came to us. Proud. Aloof. Alone. Very much alone."

She pushed her hair back with her hands and smiled faintly. "I think I was a little in love with him at first." Madeline chuckled. "Of course, I never told him. He would have been hopelessly embarrassed."

Neil encouraged her to continue, his eyes warm on her face. "It was easier to let him think I wanted to sleep with him. He took exception to that. And he lost no time in telling me what was not going to happen." She pondered, her face wreathed in a peaceful smile, clearly lost in thoughts of the past. "I think that's when I realized just how different he was. How special. We became very close. Almost like mother and son."

Her entire face changed. Her mouth became a tragic gesture. "He trusted me. I think I was the only person in the world he really did trust."

Neil held her hands, rubbing her knuckles with his fingers. "Maddy, he still trusts you that way. My God, you helped him escape. You gave him a life on the outside."

"Which nearly got taken away last night, Neil." Madeline almost cried at the thought of what Declan confronted before she arrived.

"That's not your fault."

"Isn't it? Neil, I told Declan that I canceled Justin. Years ago. Long before he left Section."

Neil stared at her. "Are you saying you lied to him? God, Maddy, that's cold. You were the only person he trusted."

Madeline knew she was going to cry. She could feel the tears gathering in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. "I never lied to him, Neil. But he must think I did. How else to explain Justin still being alive? Boasting of being greenlisted."

"Maddy, what are you saying? If you killed Justin, just as you said you did, and you didn't lie to Declan…who was that up on the rooftop?"

"The man I killed…years ago…the man I thought was Declan's brother…was not the same man I killed last night."

Neil rocked back on his heels. "Good God."

Madeline turned to Neil, tears glittering fiercely in her dark chocolate eyes. "I don't know who I canceled years ago, but it wasn't Justin. The man I killed last night…that was the real Justin."

"Then there is some justice in the world after all. Dead is dead."

"Neil, for someone like him to escape cancellation like that means that someone had to manipulate me. Someone high up. Probably the same someone who then greenlisted him and released that poisonous snake back into the outside world."

"But who?"

Her eyes dulled with pain. "It doesn't matter now. All that matters now is that Declan and the others survived."

"Physically. But what about their emotional condition? Maddy, you have to talk to Declan. Explain to him that you didn't betray him. He needs to know that. As soon as possible."

"He needs to sleep more than he needs explanations, Neil."

"That's a rationalization and you know it, Maddy. You're afraid." Neil closed in on his wife and framed her face with his hands. "Admit it, Maddy, you're afraid to see him. You're afraid he'll blame you. Hate you."

Madeline let go of the tears at last. "I couldn't stand to see that in his eyes, Neil. I couldn't."

He pulled her against his chest, his arms warm and welcoming. "I won't stop loving you, Maddy, just because you tell me something I don't like. Neither will he."

"I—"

They both heard it at the same time. The scream. Bloodcurdling in intensity.

It was Nikita.

Madeline and Neil were the first ones to arrive. The door to Michael and Nikita's room was now locked. Pounding on the door for someone to open it was futile. Only Michael and Nikita were inside. Nikita sounded hysterical, and no one could hear Michael's voice. But what noises they did hear did not reassure them. Valuable minutes were lost searching for another key.

Madeline nearly broke her fingernails trying to get to Nikita, and eventually, Neil had to physically restrain her by wrapping his arms around hers. She cried out, and Neil held onto her with a quiet desperation. "Ssh, my Maddy…Nikita will be okay…Michael is with her."

"But what's going on? I want to know! I need to see her!" Madeline didn't know herself this way. Out of control. Barely able to function. Is this what love did to one? She loved Nikita. Ever since the young woman had declared that she considered Madeline the mother she should have had, there had been a special place in Madeline's heart for Nikita.

Michael had his hands full, trying to hold onto Nikita. She woke up, screaming, completely distraught. Lost halfway between nightmare and waking world, she couldn't respond to Michael's attempts to calm her for the longest time. Convinced that someone or something evil was still out there, stalking them, waiting to steal their children away, Nikita became inconsolable.

The babies, who had been sleeping in the adjoining room, woke at the sound of Nikita's terrified voice and began wailing. Nikita never registered their cries as real, still trapped in her nightmare. She had bolted out of bed, struggling to get to them, and it was sheer luck that Michael caught her before she could reach them. He knew that seeing their mother in such a state would only frighten them, and as much as he longed to run to them, to comfort them, his first priority was Nikita's safety.

But restraining Nikita had its drawbacks. The children's crying exacerbated Nikita's sense that they were in danger, and Michael's attempts to restrain Nikita initially increased her agitation, instead of assuaging her fear and anxiety.

Finally, after several long minutes, it was over. Nikita was awake and aware. She collapsed against Michael's body, and he sank to the floor under their combined weight, his arms still around her. "Kita…Kita…it's okay…the kids are okay…they're safe…you're safe…you're here with me."

Michael didn't know what he was saying anymore. He just kept repeating the same phrases, over and over, like a litany. "Ssh, ssh, ssh…" He rocked her back and forth, his breath warm on the back of her neck, and gradually, she began to cry in a more normal fashion.

"Oh, Michael." She leaned her head on his arm, placing her own arms over his. Now she felt safer. Calmer. More secure.

"Tell me about it, love." His lips touched her neck gently in a kiss.

The two of them sat on the carpet, legs stretched out in front of them. Michael wore only pajama bottoms, his sole concession to having visitors, while Nikita wore the top of the same pajamas, for the same reason. He could hear the children's voices in the background…he could hear the noises outside their door…but in a surrealistic way…none of this mattered as much as the woman in his arms.

"Oh, God, it was awful," she whispered. "It was like the other night…only much worse."

She shuddered in reaction, suddenly realizing the children were really crying. "Michael, the kids." She pointed towards the other room, and he helped her to her feet. He stayed close as she opened the door and stood at the side of their beds. Once she reassured herself that they were both safe, she turned to Michael, burying her face against his chest. "Thank God they're here." The twins calmed as Nikita did, reacting far more to the sound of her voice than the sudden lack of noise.

Michael wanted to tell the people on the other side of the door, as concerned as they might be, to go away. He could handle his wife. He knew her nightmare world well now, as sad as that might seem, and he didn't welcome other people intruding to poke and prod Nikita. Still, he couldn't fault anyone else for being worried. Her screams were truly terrifying.

Michael closed the door to the twins' room and gently led Nikita back to their bed. He told her to wait, and he left her side for the first time since she'd awakened. Unlocking the door, Michael blocked entrance to the room with his body.

Madeline fought Michael to get to Nikita, but he stood there, adamantly refusing to move. "Maddy, I know you're upset, but I can handle Kita."

Madeline stared at Michael, her bittersweet chocolate eyes piercing him to the core. "Yes, but who's going to handle you?"

"I'm fine."

"For now. What about later? When it hits you the same way it hit Nikita?"

Michael stared back at her blankly. Part of him was exasperated with Madeline's desire to get to Nikita. Part of him understood what drove her. Besides motherly feelings, Michael assumed she felt considerable guilt for what almost happened. If he took the time to think about it. But he didn't want to think about it. So he didn't. He simply shut down.

He closed his eyes for a second, a frisson of cold tracing its way down his spine. He could handle this. He could. He had it under control.

Michael closed the door in Madeline's face and locked it again. He walked back to bed, where Nikita waited impatiently, his face still impassive. Nikita glanced at Michael, knowing he was deliberately denying what happened, in an effort to maintain control over his own emotions. But his protective instincts, as well as the love he felt for Nikita, those could never be turned off. They were not under his conscious control.

He kicked the covers off the bed, almost angrily, and lay down, beckoning to Nikita to join him. She did. Laying her head on his chest, she listened to his heart pounding in her ear. Slow. Steady. Calm. "Michael?"

"Yes?" he answered without looking at her.

"It's okay. I don't need to talk about the dream." She cautiously raised her eyes to his, seeking some kind of reaction, no matter how small, to gauge his feelings by.

He shrugged. "You can talk about it, Kita. You should. It's good for you to get your fears and anxiety out into the open."

"You don't."

He still didn't look at her. Was he afraid to look inside himself this time? Michael didn't like being vulnerable under the best of circumstances. And this was hardly the best of circumstances.

"I don't need to," he said tersely.

"Why?" Nikita raised herself up on one elbow and looked down at Michael. "What makes you so different from the rest of us, Michael? Dammit, Michael, answer me! You think being so cool is reassuring? Well, it's not!" Nikita surprised herself by getting in touch with something else inside her. Anger.

"You like it better when I fall apart in your arms, Kita? Does that make you happy?" Michael snapped, suddenly making intense eye contact with her. His green eyes sparked with emerald fire.

"Yes!" she shouted. "At least it's real! It's human! And I never hold it against you! When you open up to me, it's like a gift!"

"Well, this is one gift I won't give you, Kita! Trust me, you wouldn't like it!"

"Let me be the judge of that!"

"No!" It startled both of them. The vehemence with which Michael spoke that one word said volumes. About the depth of his own feelings. He might not be in touch with them, but they were definitely there. And they were bubbling mightily to come to the surface. And they were dangerously close to taking the decision out of his hands.

He rolled over onto his side, away from Nikita, his entire body rigid with unexpressed emotion. Nikita crept over to him, gingerly touching his shoulder, feeling a throb under her fingers. He whirled around, surprised to see just how close she was. Their faces mere inches apart, they stared at each other without speaking.

With one sudden movement, Michael pinned Nikita under him. He claimed her mouth with passionate intensity, and she almost struggled to get away until she realized that this was Michael's way of communicating with her right now. He didn't want to face the fact that he had nearly lost his life. Maybe his own life didn't mean so much to him. But her life was infinitely more valuable. She had taken a calculated risk, facing Justin. The fact that she'd won did nothing to change the way he felt. She could just as easily have died in his place.

He broke away, breathing hard, and dropped his eyes. Those all-too-expressive eyes. They truly were windows into his soul. He couldn't control everything, and everything was in those eyes at that moment. "I want to be strong for you. I want you to feel like you can lean on me," he whispered against her neck.

"You are. I do." She stroked his face, and he burrowed deeper into the nook between her neck and her shoulder. He was both hidden and revealed to her in that moment.

"I love you, doucette. So much…I sometimes worry that God will take you away from me."

His arms tightened their grip on her, his lips brushing her neck lightly as he spoke. He was almost tremulous. He was holding onto her for dear life. He felt like he might shake apart.

"Kita, I don't want to let go of you."

She slid her fingers through his hair, again and again, finally resting her hands on the back of his neck. "Let me tell you about my dream, Michael. Then you'll know you aren't alone in feeling scared."

He nodded, and she knew he was listening.

"In my dream…I didn't get there in time…" She blinked away fresh tears. "Justin killed Declan." She tried not to break down, but the images were too vivid in her mind.

He made a choked sound against her neck, and she knew he hurt the way she did.

"Birkoff screamed…it was so terrible, Michael. Justin shot him, too…and his body fell across Declan's…like they needed to be together…even in death."

Michael trembled as he held Nikita. Her emotions were so entwined with his, he couldn't tell the difference between what she felt and what he felt. It didn't matter. They were one.

"And then…and then…he shot you." Nikita felt Michael's trembling stop abruptly. He raised his head and looked at her, his eyes the color of wet leaves in the spring. He couldn't look away. He was transfixed by the pain in her sapphire blue eyes.

Michael pressed a kiss to the palm of Nikita's hand. "Then what?"

Nikita's eyes filled with tears. "You were dead, Michael…" she sobbed. "But even then…there was something worse…Justin said he wouldn't kill me…because he knew I wanted to be with you…Instead…he would kill…Faith…and Chris. But he would leave me alive…so I could grieve for everyone…I'd lost…"

Michael couldn't hold back his feelings any longer. It was too much of an effort, and he was so tired. Too tired to hang onto anything as trivial as control. Tears slid slowly down his cheeks, and this time, he didn't even try to stop them. "If I could make a sound…I'd scream, too, doucette."