Madeline clutched at her middle and doubled over. She was trying to make heads or tails of her own behavior lately, but she just couldn't fathom it. It was completely unlike her to be so labile. One moment, she was a mass of hormonal angst, the next, she was crying over the fact that Zero didn't get enough table scraps from Birkoff last night.

She was having horrendous dreams that convinced her she was losing what was left of her mind. What could be wrong with her? She had an adoptive daughter she loved very much, but her recent efforts to fit into her family backfired miserably. To Michael, she must seem like the proverbial mother-in-law from Hell. Ordering Chris to come inside and eat when all he wanted to do was play with the colorful leaves that fell to the ground. Her dark eyes watered. Oh, no, there it was again, that strange urge to cry.

If she didn't know better, she would swear that she was pregnant. She blinked. No, it wasn't that. She wasn't pregnant. There was only one other terrible possibility. Menopause. Oh, God, she thought, she was starting to go through the Change, and here she was, still a vital woman, in her prime, raising an infant. For the first time in her life, she felt truly frightened. And she had no one she could turn to.

Nikita pulled an oversized sweater over her head and headed downstairs. She wanted to take a walk before dinner. Clear her head. She had so many things to worry about. Legitimate concerns. Not silly fears.

Michael was growing impatient with her desire to keep her pregnancy a secret. He was fretting about Chris being sick, he was being his usual over-protective self about her, and he was frustrated by her adamant refusal to confide in Neil. "That's all it would take to put my mind at ease, Kita. Why won't you do that much for me?"

To be honest, she wasn't looking forward to tonight at all. She and Michael never slept apart. Even when they were sick, they were right there for each other. But this was different. He was concerned about her contracting Chris' cold this early in her pregnancy. "It's a virus, Kita. Even though it's just a cold. Who knows what it might do to the baby?"

She walked and walked…and even when she was so tired, she could barely go on…she walked some more. She stopped for a moment, to look out at the lake, and her eyes clouded with tears. Nikita didn't want to go to bed without Michael. He didn't even want her in the same room with him. All because he had been so close to Chris.

But she was afraid not to obey Michael. What if something did go wrong with her pregnancy? She would never know for sure if it wasn't something she did, something she could blame herself for. Endlessly.

Nikita picked up a stone and threw it into the lake, making ripple after ripple appear across its mirror-like surface. That was like life. Everything that happened made something else happen. She started to cry, but she walked on, lost in thought.

She thought of her daughter. Funny little Faith. So impulsive, so daring, yet so much Daddy's girl. Looking for his approval. Maybe Michael would let Nikita sleep with Faith. It wasn't the same as being with Michael, but it might assuage her pain. A little.

So preoccupied was she that she initially didn't notice that she had come to the Wishing Bridge. She stood on its wooden planks and traced the places where the white paint had flaked off with her foot. Bowing her head, she buried her face in her arms, sobbing. She needed Michael. But he was far away. Back at the chateau.

Oh, God, how was she going to get back to the chateau before dark? She cried harder. That was why when Madeline suddenly appeared in front of her, Nikita shrieked. It got worse when Madeline abruptly burst into tears.

It was hard to say who made the first move. Madeline or Nikita. But all at once, they were hugging each other and crying on each other's shoulders. "Mom, I'm so scared…" "Nikita, I'm so afraid."

The both stared at each other as the words began to register. "You, too?" "What have you got to be afraid of?"

Madeline sat down on the bridge with a thump. Her Gucci leather shoes were ruined from walking through the forest. Her elegant plum suit was matted with leaves and debris. "Everything I know…everything I thought I knew…seems so foreign to me now…" she whispered.

Nikita reached over and held Madeline's hand. Her lower lip trembled as she struggled not to cry. "But Mom…I don't understand. What's wrong?"

Madeline wailed, "Michael hates me!"

Nikita almost laughed. She was sure that Michael thought a great many things about Madeline, but hate? Hate was much too strong a word. Time mitigated the circumstances that originally brought them together at Section.

"You know, Nikita…I never thought you would be such a good mother. In fact, I assumed, probably like you did, that you would fail. But you're so good at it!" She began to whine again. Nikita never realized that Madeline felt like that. Her heart swelled a bit with pride.

"Thanks, Mom. I didn't know you felt that way." Nikita smiled tearfully at her adoptive mother.

"But why are you so good at it? It defies logic! I have all this knowledge, but I wouldn't know common sense if it met me on the street and introduced itself. Michael is right! I have no right to be telling other people how to raise their children!"

Nikita considered that. "Is that what he said, Mom? What did you do?"

Madeline waved her hands in the air. "I chased Chris across the grounds, like a wild banshee. He refused to come in to eat or to take a nap…or do anything sensible. All he wanted was to be with his Daddy." Madeline wiped the tears from her eyes. "What am I, grilled cheese?"

That made Nikita giggle. The very image of her unfailingly polite mother in her genteel clothing anywhere near a grilled cheese sandwich was incongruous. In fact, the last time they went out to lunch together, Nikita ended up in tears. Thinking she wasn't a good mother. Despairing that she never would be. Now the shoe was on the other foot, and damned if Madeline didn't keep trying to shoot herself in that foot.

"You're afraid of not being a good mother?" Nikita asked incredulously.

"Yes," Madeline whispered into the tiny bit of tissue she carried and now held in front of her nose.

"This might be my last chance, Nikita. My only chance. I think— I think I'm going through the Change."

"Menopause? Mom, you just had a baby six months ago. Who are you trying to be? Superwoman?"

She stared at Nikita with hollowed cheeks and dark eyes haunted with pain Nikita never would have imagined she was even capable of feeling. "What if I'm a bad mother? I'm not much of a grandmother! I know Chris is scared of me, and Faith? Faith thinks I'm…old…."

Madeline was throwing out so many different ideas all at once, Nikita wasn't sure she could follow the thread of her upset. She put her hand on Madeline's arm. Madeline's dark eyes blurred with tears once more.

"I haven't been fair to you either, Nikita. I knew you needed me. But I couldn't make time to be here with you. I was so wrapped up in my own stupid life. Having a baby at my age! I wonder what Connor will think when he's old enough to think about things like that?

Nikita held Madeline in her arms, finding it a major effort to absorb so much pain. "It's just— I wanted to be what you needed so badly, Nikita. Why couldn't I just do that?"

"I don't know, Mom. But I haven't been blaming you. Not at all."

"No, you're probably too busy …being such a good mother!"

There was no consoling Madeline. She blamed herself for not being there for Nikita when she needed her. She felt inadequate. Her dreams of a mysterious figure mocking her, threatening her way of life suddenly loomed unrealistically in her head. What she said made no sense and yet it explained everything.

"Mom…first of all, you're a young woman, too young to be going through the Change. And even if you were, it wouldn't happen all at once. You know it doesn't work like that."

"But what if—"

"No what ifs! You're as bad as one of the kids, Mom!" Nikita snorted. "You are doing just fine with Connor. He's happy and healthy and…what makes you think you won't be a good mother anyway?" Nikita was truly perplexed. Madeline was good at most things. Or she seemed to be. Was that all a facade?

Madeline seemingly answered Nikita's thought. "Yes, Nikita. I hide behind a wall of denial, I live behind a curtain of subterfuge, I—"

"You're the most melodramatic woman I ever met!" Nikita burst out laughing, her own tears forgotten.

Madeline cringed at the reproach she thought she heard in Nikita's voice. But Nikita wasn't censuring Madeline at all. She was trying to understand her. And discovering that Madeline shared some of her own fears and anxieties about parenthood made her feel closer to her.

Again she reached out and held Madeline's hand in her own. "Mom, all we can do is love them and take care of them the best we can. And somehow it all seems to come out okay. I don't have any magical answers for you. Wish I did." Nikita hugged the older woman.

"God knows, if I can do it, you can. I mean, how hard can it be?"

Madeline rolled her eyes, thinking of how furiously she chased Chris across the chateau grounds. "Well…"

"Now we can deal with a real problem, Mom."

"Which is?" Madeline feared to ask.

"Being out here in the forest after dark."

Madeline took a deep breath and glanced around them. It was indeed getting darker. Shadows danced menacingly all around them. "How are we going to find our way back, Nikita?"

"I don't know."

It was a very loud argument. It all started when Birkoff confessed to Declan how embarrassed he was about the Halloween costume being revealed to Michael and Nikita. Not to mention certain small children. Granted, they had absolutely no idea what they were looking at, but just the thought of Faith touching Declan's Halloween costume rendered Birkoff speechless. Speechless and impotent. That last bit he was more or less keeping to himself, hoping fervently that the condition was temporary.

"I can't believe you told them, Declan!" Birkoff screamed hoarsely.

"Yeah, well, I can't believe that you think there is someone in this house that doesn't realize we're freaking sleeping together!"

"It's not that…it's just that it was so embarrassing!"

"If you use that word one more time, I'm going to smack you, Sey, I swear!"

Birkoff closed his eyes. They felt hot and gritty, as if he hadn't had enough sleep. "It's just that it was so—"

"Embarrassing, I know, Sey! Christ! What was I supposed to do, Sey? Deny it was mine? Pretend I didn't know what it was? It was kinda obvious what it was!"

"I know," Birkoff whispered. His face flamed all over again. His back against the door of their bedroom, he slid down to the floor, clutching at his knees. He bowed his head, as if hiding, and wrapped both arms around his knees. He wondered if it were possible to die from mortification.

"Sey! Now what are you doing? God, you're so damned sensitive!"

Birkoff started to cry softly. "I thought you liked that about me," he whispered brokenly.

Declan stopped his agitated pacing and stared at his lover. "Sey? Are you okay?"

Birkoff shook his head, wiping at his nose, which had just started to run. "Nope."

Declan knelt in front of Birkoff, grabbing his shoulders as he struggled to make eye contact with Birkoff. "Bloody Hell! What's wrong? Did I do this? You know me. All Irish, all argument. But I don't bite."

Birkoff refused to look at Declan. "It's not your fault, Declan. You're so good at being you. You're so comfortable. I'm not."

"Sey, I've had years to live with what I am. You haven't." Declan's voice grew softer, gentler. "It's okay."

Birkoff snapped his head up and glared fiercely at Declan. "It is not okay! I can't…I can't…"

Declan was afraid now. What was Birkoff trying to tell him? That he wanted to break off their relationship? That forever meant two different things to each of them? That he couldn't…love him anymore?

"Whatever it is, you can tell me, Sey," Declan whispered. "I can handle it." He prayed that were true. He didn't know if it was.

Birkoff reached out and touched Declan's face, steeling himself for what he might see in those eyes. "I can't get it up."

Declan blinked. "What?"

Birkoff stretched out his legs. Grasping Declan's hand, he guided it to the vee of his legs. Declan's hand lay there. Limp. "Jesus."

Birkoff pulled his knees back up to his chest, as far as they would go, and buried his head against his crossed arms. Declan withdrew his hand and looked down at it. "You can't feel a thing?"

Birkoff shook his head without raising it.

"Well…" Declan frowned, then his face cleared. "It doesn't matter, Sey. I told you." It was a real struggle, but Declan finally succeeded in pulling Birkoff into a tight embrace. He was resisting Declan. That hurt his heart. Unbearably. Pain he could absorb. Rejection he could not.

"Sey, Sey, ssh, ssh, don't cry so. I love you. I'll always love you. No matter what."

Declan wrapped his arms around his lover and slowly, Birkoff lowered his face to Declan's shoulder, sobbing. "Dec…lan…what if I can never get it up again? What if we can never— ?"

Declan rubbed his cheek against his lover's hair, closing his own eyes against the pain that thought brought. "It's all right, Sey. We were lovers long before we slept together…and we'll stay lovers long after we're both too ancient to get it up."

Birkoff lifted agonized dark eyes to Declan's face. "You mean that?" he hiccupped. Declan brushed his partner's hair back from his face. "Yeah," he nodded.

"I love making love to you, Sey. But that's not all we're about. It never was." Declan wiped surreptitiously at his own eyes, trying to stay strong so Birkoff could lean on him. "I'm sorry if I ever made you feel differently…"

Birkoff touched Declan's lips with two fingers, effectively forestalling any further speech. "No. No, you didn't, Dec."

Declan stared at his lover's face for a moment, then buried his face against Birkoff's neck with a short cry. His hands clenched into fists, he pulled on Birkoff's neck until his lips were pressed tightly against the pulse that beat there. "I love you, Sey. You're my life," he whispered, his words vibrating throughout Birkoff's very being.

His hands splayed across Declan's back, Birkoff rubbed his cheek against Declan's shoulder. "I love you, too," he whispered back.

"Acushla." Borrowing Declan's word for him made Birkoff feel curiously empowered. It was like Declan protecting him. Like seizing Declan's strength and claiming it for his own.

Maybe things were going to be okay, after all.

Nikita peered through the darkness, wishing there were a full moon to guide them on their way back to the chateau. But no, it was a night of utter midnight blackness. They could hear the trees rustle as the wind passed through their branches. Nikita reached for Madeline's hand and pulled the older woman behind her as she searched for the path. "It must be here somewhere. We didn't come that far to the bridge."

"You don't have the slightest idea where we are, do you, Nikita?" Madeline said sharply, her own tension making her sound as though she were blaming Nikita for being there.

"Don't use that tone with me, Madeline! I'm not one of your Section flunkies anymore! I don't do errands! And I'm not responsible for your midlife crisis!"

"Nikita!" What happened to bonding? Mother-daughter bonding? Where was the love? The affection? Swallowed by the night sky, no doubt.

Nikita started to apologize, but thought better of it. Give Madeline an inch and she took a mile. Such an overachiever. Section One would be proud.

A twig snapped beneath Nikita's feet. She jumped back, as if bitten. "God!" she exclaimed. Now she knew she had to work harder to control her nerves. She was their only hope of getting back home in one piece.

Madeline muttered under her breath, and Nikita ignored her. It was the only way. Madeline glanced at Nikita, almost angrily, but she didn't dare let go of her hand. She was her lifeline.

She continued to nag Nikita mercilessly, virtually blaming her for everything from her failure to lose weight after the baby to the condition of her splendid Gucci shoes. Finally Nikita stopped dead in her tracks. "All right, Madeline, that's it! Now shut up!!!"

"Shut up?" Madeline echoed. "Shut up? I think not, Nikita! Who is the one getting hysterical here? Not me!"

This time it was Nikita's turn to mutter under her breath. Madeline was being too silly for words now.

"No, you're a regular paragon of virtue, Maddy!"

"What happened to Mom, Nikita?" Madeline asked almost tearfully, giving in to her fears at last.

"I dunno, Maddy. You tell me, did you manage to do something with her?" Nikita was not happy. She didn't like prowling around in the dark forest, knowing there were probably at least a hundred creatures that were dying to leap upon their bodies and feast upon their entrails.

Nikita laughed inwardly. How silly could she get? She was starting to sound just like Madeline. Silly…panic-stricken…Madeline.

A larger branch fell with a crash at Nikita's feet, just missing her. Madeline stopped right where she was and refused to go any further. "It's too dangerous, Nikita."

"Then I'll go on without you, Madeline." Ooh, things were going from bad to worse to… From Mom to Maddy to Madeline…

"Don't leave me here, Nikita!" Madeline cried.

"Then keep up!" Nikita snapped back, plunging her way back into the blackness.

Michael tapped Declan on the shoulder and said tersely, "Let's go."

Declan looked at Birkoff. He was an emotional wreck. Eyes reddened from crying. Hair all askew. He looked like an unmade bed. If there were any other way, Declan would never leave him like this. But Nikita was out there…somewhere.

"It's okay, Dec. I understand," Birkoff said, his voice quavering.

Declan leaned over and kissed Birkoff. Staying close, he whispered to him, "I'll be back just as soon as I can. Try to get some sleep. Okay, love?"

Birkoff nodded mutely, his face paler than usual.

Michael pulled on his black leather gloves and surveyed the couple. His eyes flickered back and forth for a moment, considering options. "Declan, I've changed my mind."

"About what?" Declan looked startled.

He stepped forward a pace and tapped Neil on the shoulder. "You're the one I want. It's your wife we're looking for."

Neil's eyes narrowed. "And yours, Michael. Maddy wouldn't be out there if it weren't for Nikita and—"

Michael gritted his teeth and counted to ten. "Don't finish that sentence, Neil. I'm right on the edge."

"Of what?" Neil smirked.

"You don't want to know," Michael snapped.

"Don't talk to me like I'm one of your operatives, Michael. This isn't a mission."

"Isn't it?" Michael eyed Neil almost suspiciously.

"Look—"

"Neil…" Michael's voice sounded commanding, even to Declan's ear. "Shut up."

Declan stared after the odd couple as they left the chateau. "What was that all about? I wonder…"

Birkoff looked up at Declan expectantly. "What?"

Declan shook his head, as if clearing it. "Oh, nothing. We'd better go make sure the kids are in bed. And stay there."

"Michael? What's bothering you?"

Neil trailed after Michael as he virtually ignored him. Michael stalked off to the stables to choose horses for the two of them. Horseback was the only way to travel after dark through the forest. Walking on foot was foolish at best. He winced when he thought about his wife being at the mercy of God knows what out there. He'd never felt so torn.

He didn't want to leave Chris. His son was sick, and he needed one of his parents with him. It had to be Michael. Nikita couldn't risk catching a virus, no matter how inconsequential it might seem, at this stage of her pregnancy. But with Nikita missing, Michael was forced to leave his son's bedside to find his wife.

"Neil?" Michael said in a sibilant whisper, handing the reins to a calm older mare to him.

There was something in Michael's eyes that scared Neil. Power. And quiet desperation. He wasn't kidding earlier. He was right on the edge. The question was, of what?

"Michael?"

"Neil, how cold would you say it was right now?"

"About 40 degrees F. Why?"

"How long do you suppose two women would last in this kind of weather with minimal clothing?" Michael's tone was matter-of-fact, his expression distant, but not quite blank.

"A few hours, I suppose. You—"

"Neil, what effect would hypothermia have on a woman who is barely three months pregnant?"

Neil gasped. "Nikita's definitely pregnant?"

Michael jumped onto his mount and indicated that Neil do the same. Neil managed to vault into the saddle with some degree of skill, a fact that did not go unnoticed by Michael.

"You guessed?"

"Well, she's been so emotional lately. Labile. The last time she was like that was when she was pregnant."

Michael didn't really acknowledge Neil's statement. He was too preoccupied with Nikita's welfare. He led the horses onto the forest path, hoping he would find her alive. Them alive.

Neil bent his head. Maddy was valuable to him. He did love her, despite her obvious flaws. But she was healthy. And she wasn't his first priority. That would be Nikita.

"Michael?"

The younger man glanced at Neil.

"We'd better find Nikita soon."

"Madeline?"

"Yes, Nikita?

"Do you hear something?"

"Fraid not." Madeline was up to her eyeballs in fallen leaves and dirt. She fell and twisted her ankle, just as they had finally realized the path was in the other direction. Now she was injured. Not badly, but enough that she couldn't walk without assistance.

Nikita moved into Mission Mode. She heard the sound again. No one was going to sneak up on them. They might seem unsuspecting, but…wait, who did she think was sneaking up on them? Bears with the intelligence of humans?

Her insides quivered, but to look at her, no one would ever guess that Nikita was nervous. Her hands itched. A sure sign that someone or something was out there.

A figure darted behind her. Nikita swung around, but having no weapon, she quickly improvised. Her foot swept forward and connected with something. Whatever it was, it made a loud crash, hitting the ground. She rushed forward to see what, or who, she brought down.

Well, that was something. Relatively almost all of her was ready to rush the interloper.

But the next moment, her hopeless expression changed. She stared in disbelief at the intruder's face. "Michael!!!"

He was barely able to stir. Her sweep took him by surprise, and he felt groggy from slamming his body into the ground with such force. "Kita?"

She nearly wept with relief. "Oh, Michael! Michael! You're here!"

But before Nikita could hug him, Michael rolled out of range, suddenly back on his feet. "Don't come any closer, Kita." He nodded at Neil to give Nikita the jacket he'd brought for her.

Neil offered Nikita the jacket, but she declined. "Thank you, no," she said almost primly.

"Kita, take the damn jacket," Michael growled low in his throat.

"I said…I don't want it…"

"Where's Madeline?" Neil asked.

"Right over there. Badly sprained ankle."

"Maddy!" Neil exclaimed, immediately joining his wife.

Neil embraced Madeline, talking to her in soft tones that Nikita couldn't hear. But she heard one thing. Pregnant. Her head swung around at Michael. "You told him?" she accused.

He shook his head, but she clearly didn't believe him. She started to cry, at the mercy of her hormones and their accompanying mood swings. He ached to go to her, but his fear for the safety of their baby held him fast. She trembled, visibly trembled, and Michael sighed, tears in his own eyes.

Neil let go of Madeline and stared at Michael. "God! What's the matter with you? She was all you could think about and now that you're here, you can't even hug your own wife?"

Michael didn't even look at Neil, his eyes transfixed by the sight of his wife in abject despair. "Neil…" he began.

Neil snorted. "I know, shut up." Neil helped Madeline onto the horse. After reassuring himself that she was secure, he grabbed his handkerchief and fashioned a makeshift ace bandage for her ankle.

"But I'll tell you something, Michael. She's in more danger from freezing to death than she is from catching your son's cold."

"How did you— ?" Michael interjected.

"Logical guess. Now go get her."

"I—"

"Michael, this isn't about you. It's about her. Go kiss your damned wife."

Michael looked lost. Indecisive for long seconds. "Doucette?"

"Michael…" she squeaked. Afraid of being rejected, she moved towards Michael anyway. He took a half step forward. Michael's motion was undetected by anyone but his wife.

She ran to him, crying helplessly. He caught her around the waist with a little sound and buried his face in the space between her neck and her shoulder. "Oh, God, doucette, I'm so sorry."

She felt his mouth on her neck. "I'm sorry, too, Michael." She whimpered slightly. "I love you," she whispered.

Michael smiled tearfully. "I love you, too, my Kita." He brushed at her hair with his fingers, tracing the line of her face with gloved fingers.

Neil smiled as he recaptured the bridle of his mount. "That's better," he said to the newly reunited couple.

Madeline reached out and ruffled Neil's hair. He grasped her hand and kissed the back of it. "You approve?"

Madeline leaned back in the saddle, content despite considerable pain in her ankle. "Oh, yes…."

Michael kissed Nikita, slowly, tenderly, and possessively claiming her as his.

"Oh, yes…."

Neil carried his wife into their bedroom, placing her gently on the bed. Her dark brown eyes danced as she noticed how gingerly he handled her ankle. "Neil?"

He looked up at Madeline. "Yes, Maddy?" he replied softly, as if he never tired of saying her name.

"Why are you so good to me? Even when I act like I should be riding a broomstick?" Her own expression was wry, her tone self-deprecating.

"Damned if I know. Must be cause I love you, huh?" Neil carefully unwrapped the handkerchief he had tied around her ankle. She winced. "It's awfully swollen."

Neil sighed. "No gymnastics for you this week."

"Aw, and I was so looking forward to my turn on the uneven parallel bars." Neil winked at her and tweaked her nose. "Very funny."

Straightening up, Neil said, "I'm going to get some ice for the ankle, Maddy."

She frowned and patted the bed, indicating the area next to her. "Don't go yet."

"Honey, you have no idea how hard it is for me to tear myself away from you." Neil blew her a kiss and was gone.

While Neil was getting the ice, Madeline pondered her husband. Although Neil often seemed preoccupied, in actuality, he kept very careful tabs on his family. Many times, he seemed oblivious, but she knew it was a facade, not unlike the way Michael hid his deeper feelings. But where Michael made being aloof an artform, Neil used humor to create emotional diversions and disengage from the serious side of things.

The fact that Neil didn't seem the least bit worried about her adventure in the woods was misleading. The truth was, she sometimes felt that Neil was a little-known treasure she had accidentally stumbled upon, and she hugged that thought to herself. He was her treasure, and God knew how much she hated sharing.

When Neil rejoined her, he settled comfortably on the bed after tending to her ankle again. He studied Madeline carefully. "Maddy, when were you going to tell me what you told Nikita?"

She blinked in surprise, her dark eyes reflecting the effect of his question. "About losing my mind?" she said blithely.

He grabbed her hand and kissed it, his face suddenly very intense. "About feeling like you're not a good mother."

"Oh, that," she said dismissively.

"Yeah, that." He kissed her hand again, and the gesture was one that Madeline found extremely distracting. She pulled lightly and Neil released her hand.

"And now you're pulling away from me, Maddy. What's wrong?"

"Neil…oh, I don't know. Sometimes I feel almost jealous of how easily Nikita does everything. The house, the kids, Michael. My God, Michael. He can't be the easiest man to live with. Then there's Faith, the toddler from Hell."

Neil leaned against Madeline's upper body, trailing a hand lightly over her breast. "I know," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her mouth. "But that's them. Not us. What does it have to do with you?"

She returned his kiss, feeling that familiar melting sensation when Neil's mouth touched hers. "Neil?" she said breathlessly. "Do you think I'm having a midlife crisis?"

Neil smiled against her mouth. "Who told you that?"

"Nikita."

Neil pulled Madeline against his chest, playing with her hair, loving the way it felt like spunsilk in his hands. "Consider the source," he said softly.

Madeline sighed. "Is that meant to be encouraging?" She kissed him back, undecided if she should continue this line of conversation or not. She deeply enjoyed kissing her husband, and she was afraid to argue with him, for fear that he would stop doing what he was doing.

Neil could see that Madeline would fret as usual until her fears and worries were assuaged. "Maddy, you're not going through the Change. You're not psychotic. And you're not pregnant."

"Your relationship with Nikita has always been conflicted. For her to be able to do something so well…while you are struggling…must hurt. But she's not who you're really competing with, is she, Maddy?"

"What do you mean?"

Neil stroked Madeline's hair. "From the little you told me about your mother, Maddy, it must have been hard for you. Having her believe that you killed your own sister."

Madeline fought the urge to withdraw, screaming. Forcing herself to nod, she said, "Mother never forgave me. It left me with…an unspeakable sadness I can never…elude."

Neil bent his head and kissed her, his lips warm where hers were chilled, his mouth moist where hers was dry. "Who is it that thinks you can't be a good mother, Maddy? You? Or your mother?"

She looked incredibly startled, as if Neil had announced he had found a cure for cancer.

He kissed her again, even more tenderly if that were possible. "Nikita isn't the problem. The voice in your head telling you, accusing you of not being a good mother. Whose voice is that, Maddy?"

Madeline blinked and her lovely, liquid eyes filled with tears. "But—"

His hands slid around her waist, and all at once, Madeline was in his arms, sobbing on his shoulder. "Ssh, Maddy. Let it go. She's gone. You can never please her. Don't even try."

"You know…and I know…that you are a good mother." He kissed her cheek, rhythmically rubbing her back until her crying quieted. "You've surrounded yourself with a wonderful family, both by blood and by friendship. Those are the only people who count, Maddy."

"Neil?" she questioned, consciously seeking to regain her composure.

She patted her cheeks, as she tried to wipe away the tears. "How'd you get so smart? I'm supposed to be the shrink," she declared, trying to rewrite her life's tragedy with a little humor.

"You couldn't see it yourself, Maddy, cause you're too close to it."

He grazed her cheek with his fingertips. The color and texture of her skin like a rare flower, Madeline bloomed under Neil's careful ministrations. "I want to make love to you," he whispered.

"How is it that you can see inside me, when no one else can, Neil?"

"I love you, my Maddy. This was tearing you up…keeping us apart. I couldn't bear that…any longer." His voice was so low, she had to strain to hear it, but the clarity of his tone, coupled with the sheer radiance that shone from his eyes was unmistakable.

Madeline wound her arms around Neil's neck, studying the face that had come to be both unaccustomed and familiar at once. "I love you, Neil."

He smiled enigmatically as he kissed her. "Can I make love to you, Maddy?"

"Mmm…you not only can, Neil…you have my permission."