"So…do you think they know who we are?" Sasha cast anxious eyes around the cafeteria. Children of every age, size, sex, and color were glancing at him curiously from time to time.

Chris gave Sasha a half-smile that reminded the older boy of Michael. "They know who *you* are. Me, I'm nobody. I just happen to be sitting here. Next to you." He took a bite of his tuna fish sandwich, diving into it like a starving man who thought his throat had been cut for several weeks.

Sasha grimaced at Chris. "How can you eat like that? Doesn't it give you an upset stomach?"

"Nope," Chris continued to chew avidly. "Mom says she thinks it's cause I'm going to be big and tall like her and Dad."

"Not if you choke to death first," Sasha muttered under his breath.

"What?" Chris' brows knit together in a frown.

Sasha sighed. "I said, you sure don't have your Mom's appetite." Well, would wonders never cease. Calm, patient, serious Chris, the Samuelles' resident knight-in-training, ate like a truckdriver. He pondered why he had never noticed this before, given the number of meals they must have shared over the past year. But he quickly decided that Chris must eat differently at the dinner table. Under his parents' watchful eyes.

Chris popped the last bite of sandwich into his mouth. "Have you seen Faith yet? She should have lunch now, too."

Sasha shook his head. "I just wish Skye had lunch now," he said morosely.

Chris was nothing if philosophical. "Don't worry. You'll meet lots of other girls."

Sasha stared at him in disbelief. "You think I should forget Skye?" Frankly, he was horrified. In fact, he wasn't sure what bothered him most. Chris suggesting that he dump Skye for a newer, brighter, better model. Or Chris acting like he'd been replaced by one of the pod people from Invasion of the Bodysnatchers.

Chris shrugged. Sasha couldn't let it drop. "Is that what you're going to do? Drop Emmy?"

Chris looked startled, as if he couldn't believe the words had actually come out of Sasha's mouth. "Drop Emmy?" he echoed. He started to laugh. "Why would I do that?"

Sasha gave Chris an exasperated look. "Oh, I dunno, maybe the fact that you just told me to drop your sister. Could that be it?"

Chris began shaking his head, and Sasha was convinced that Chris was definitely not acting like himself. "Is that the problem? Huh, Chris? Suddenly you see all these other kids? Wealthy, upper class kids? And you got a problem with me and your sister? What? Now I'm not good enough?"

"Jeez, Sasha, lighten up," Faith said as she joined the two boys at their table.

Sasha glanced at Faith. "You should tell that to your brother," he snorted with considerable irritation. "I'd wait for an apology, but I don't think the new, improved version of your brother gives 'em."

He slammed the items on his lunch tray around several times before deciding that he was much too angry to eat anything more. He had a feeling that things were going to change now that they were at school. Some things more than others. Change could be a damn good thing. But sometimes it was a bitch.

Faith dismissed Sasha's anger as a response to the nerve-wracking morning they had all somehow survived. As for her brother…Chris did look a bit odd.

Little did either of them suspect that Chris was struggling with his own anxieties coupled with the underlying resentment that came with always having to be the responsible one. It was the burden of being the Samuelle heir. He wasn't sure it was fair, it being so obviously related to gender, but then, as evenhanded as Nikita and Michael tried to be, there was a tendency to give the more rebellious, the more colorful of the twins, a certain benefit of the doubt.

Well, he doubted if he could even be comfortable acting impulsively or running headfirst into situations he wasn't sourced into. But part of him wanted to do just that. Just to see what happened. Wouldn't they all be surprised?

Well, if there was one thing that Faith had experience with, it was how to handle her twin brother. "Chris?" She smiled brightly at her brother, knowing full well how difficult to resist she could be when she turned on the charm.

"What, Fee?" Chris sounded like he couldn't possibly be less interested in hearing what she had to say.

Too bad. He was going to get an earful, courtesy of his sister. Faith steepled her hands in front of her, perhaps unconsciously imitating her newest hero and mentor, Mme. Dupre. It made Chris think of Madeline. He looked distinctly uncomfortable already.

"You think you want to break out? You think you want to be different? Well, listen up, Tosh," Faith said dryly, intentionally using Emmy's nickname for him.

Chris couldn't help but listen. When his sister was like this, there was no stopping her. "Yeah?" he sighed dramatically.

"If you change…too much…your precious little Emmy…won't want to have nothin' to do with you." All Faith needed was a chorus of nyah-nyah's to complete her worse-case scenario.

Well, damn, didn't that strike the little boy right where he lived? Chris stared at Faith for several moments, almost forgetting to close his mouth. Sasha could only look on in absolute amazement. Sometimes he was in total awe of Faith. It was a pleasure watching her work.

Chris didn't look all that different. The change that came over him was not that noticeable, even to people who knew him as well as they did. But her little throwaway comment rocked his world. Though he wouldn't allow her the satisfaction of seeing just how strong she had hit him. Emmy. God, no. He couldn't change into someone Emmy didn't recognize. Worse, he couldn't change into someone Emmy wouldn't…love. They belonged together, him and Emmy, and just thinking about her made him regret what he'd more or less implied to Sasha about his relationship with Skye.

Biting his lip almost hard enough to draw blood, Chris reached across the table and extended his hand to Sasha. Sasha eyed his hand with suspicion. "What do you want, Chris?"

"Peace." Chris looked more than a little embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Sasha. I wasn't being fair to you and Skye. Just cause she's my baby sister doesn't mean that she isn't good for anything." His tone of voice said he was still not quite convinced about that, but he was willing to take that under advisement.

He dropped his gaze, unable to maintain eye contact with the older boy. "The fact is, I like to think of us as 'the three musketeers', but what I did wasn't becoming to a musketeer…or any other officer." His voice grew hushed, the words fainter. "I hope you'll…um…forgive me."

Sasha grabbed Chris' still outstretched hand and pumped it furiously. Taking a calculated risk, he grinned at the male Samuelle twin. "Forgive what?"

Faith nudged her brother forward, and Chris all but fell into Sasha's well-meaning hug. "All for one, and one for all, right?" Faith said with an irrepressible smile.

The three children wrapped their arms around each other's shoulders and huddled together. Sasha winked at Chris, then stuck his tongue out at Faith. "That's right. We even take girls."

Faith didn't laugh. She merely blinked. "And why not?" she said rhetorically.

"Michael…" Nikita looked vaguely dazed, as though she were trying hard to figure something out, but the effort was just too much for her. She moved slowly through the kitchen, her gait a trifle shaky, and Michael put out a hand to steady her.

"What is it, doucette?" Few things actually perturbed Nikita these days. A reference to Section was one, mentioning Adam was another. Michael quickly sorted through their most recent conversations, but came up empty.

"I just had the oddest phone call."

Michael's heart stopped. "From who?"

All at once Nikita smiled, and Michael relaxed enough to draw an uneven breath. "The headmistress at St. Anselm's."

Michael frowned. "The academy? Why?" He seemed on the verge of speaking again, but shook his head instead, clearly changing his mind.

"Madame Dupre…" Nikita drawled, making a conscious effort to pronounce the name correctly, "…seems to think that it's time for a family conference."

Michael blinked. "They haven't even come home from school yet, Kita. Why does she want to see us? What did they do?"

She shrugged carelessly. "Your guess is as good as mine, love. I couldn't even begin to imagine."

"You didn't ask?"

She glanced at Michael helplessly, turning her hands palm up. "I didn't want to sound like I expected them to get into trouble, Michael."

Michael nodded. "When does she want to see us?"

"I promised we'd be right over."

"You did?" If Michael were the type to show his surprise openly, he would have whistled. But he merely looked preoccupied. "What could they possibly have done to warrant a conference this soon?"

"I dunno, but she wants to see Sasha's parents, too."

"Declan and Birkoff? Who's going to watch Luc?"

"I'll just run him over to Mom's real quick."

Michael readily agreed, but he couldn't help but think. What did they do? Or maybe the question should have been, what did Faith do? He hated to think the worst of his own daughter, but he was sure that if something had happened, she was the instigator. He laughed to himself. As strange as it sounded, he was almost proud of Faith. She was a born leader. And the others, well…they loved to follow her.

"So which one of us should go? What should we do? Flip a coin for the honor?" Birkoff asked sarcastically, certain that a family conference would never have been called this early unless something dire had occurred. He sighed. As much as he wanted to believe the best of Sasha, he was certain that Sasha was at the heart of whatever calamity had befallen them.

Declan shook his head, his long red curls unbound for once. It had been a long day. It looked to be an even longer night. "We'll both go, of course."

"Both of us? Dec, how's that going to look?"

Declan's silvery-grey eyes darkened. "Like we're both concerned about our children?"

"I mean, you know…"

"No, Sey, I don't know. Why don't you tell me what you mean?"

Birkoff gave Declan a pained look, which Declan returned. "We checked out the school, acushla, remember? If this is about our alternative lifestyle, it's a non-issue."

"Not exactly," Birkoff hedged.

"What exactly?"

"Well, Sasha's going to have enough trouble fitting in as it is, Dec. I don't want to give him more grief. What if he can't handle it?"

"The peer pressure? The name-calling? That sort of thing?" Unlike Birkoff, who came to knowledge of his sexuality relatively late in life, Declan had years to deal with his.

Birkoff nodded. He was clearly struggling with a host of different feelings today, and his lack of sleep was making it even more difficult to function normally. "I dunno what he must have done, Dec, but I don't want him to be hurt any more than he has to be."

Declan leaned into his lover's body, wrapping him in a snug embrace. "He needs both of us, baby." He kissed his partner's mouth, his fingertip gently rubbing where his lips had just touched. When Declan broke off the kiss, he looked pensive, his mouth almost pouting.

Birkoff couldn't bear that look. Not directed at him. Not knowing he was its cause. "God, I'm sorry, Dec."

A polite sniffle followed. "You want to disown me, acushla. I can't tell you how much that hurts."

"No! I would never—" Birkoff dropped his gaze to the magnificent red hair he loved so much. Playing with a long curling tendril, alternately wrapping and unwrapping it around his finger, he continued, "You should go, Dec. Not me."

Declan kissed his lover's forehead, his lips lingering, unable to bear leaving him. "I won't go without you, baby. Sasha and Emmy are our children. Ours. Not just yours or mine."

Sey lay his head on Declan's shoulder with a loud sigh of relief. Declan's fingers found Sey's thick dark hair and clenched themselves around several strands. As if he intuitively knew what worried his partner most, Declan whispered, "You're a good father, love. She's going to see that right away."

"You think so?" Sey quavered.

Declan buried his lips in Sey's hair in answer. "I know she will," he whispered.

"What if she doesn't?" Sey fretted.

Declan's mouth curved into a wicked grin, though he never left his lover's hair, inhaling that scent that was uniquely Sey. "Then we'll just have to introduce her to justice, Section-style. I'd cancel her for you, baby."

Sey's heart leapt out of his chest, did several backflips, then flip-flopped back into position. There was an undercurrent of something in Declan's beloved Irish lilt. It wasn't quite humor. But it wasn't exactly like he didn't mean what he said either. Gulp.

"Uh…Dec?"

"Aye, love?" Declan asked solicitously, stroking Sey's silky hair back from his face.

"You don't have to kill anyone on my account."

Declan laughed, and Sey could feel the puff of air on his face. It was a real laugh. Not fake. Thank God.

"I'll make a note of it, acushla."

"Thanks. Um…Dec?"

"Aye?"

"You were kidding, right?"

Declan pulled back and raised an eyebrow imperiously at his lover. "Anyone who has a problem with you pisses me off. Does that answer your question?"

Sey groaned, "Yeahhh," and buried his face against Declan's shoulder. That was when he felt it. The rhythmic vibration. Declan was laughing again.

"You *were* pulling my leg, weren't you?"

"Sheesh, now the going price for showing undying love and devotion is to off someone…" Declan chuckled against Sey's hair. "Hell, you used to be a cheap date, Sey. What happened?"

"Ariel?"

Mme. Dupre turned at the sound of her lover's voice. Striding quickly into her office, where the source of the voice could be found, she closed the door behind her. A moment later, she locked that same door. One could never be too careful.

She leaned on the intercom. "Celine, hold my calls, please."

"For how long?"

"Just do it," she said in exasperation.

With a deep sigh, Mme. Dupre faced her lover. "What on earth possessed you to come here? Now? You know how dangerous it is."

"I had to see you, Ariel. It's been so long," the man said, reaching out to touch her.

She automatically took two steps back, managing to evade his grasp. "Not here, Remy. You must be crazy to come here during the day. You could be seen."

"Crazy about you." Remy was not a particularly tall man, but he had something more than height going for him. He had presence. His hair was lighter than his lover's, dark blond in color, his eyes a dark blue, often likened to indigo. He was not thin, but he was solid and well-muscled. And right now, if it hadn't been for the desperate look of love in his blue eyes, Ariel would have sworn he wanted to toss her over his shoulder and be rid of her.

She allowed Remy to come closer, knowing she would regret it later. His hands stroked her arms, his eyes mesmerizing her. "Ariel…no one could ever love you as much as I do. Don't send me away."

"As if I could," she whispered, more to herself than to him.

"We belong together, Ariel. You and I both know that."

He wasn't convincing her. He was merely speaking the truth as he saw it. And he was right. Which, of course, made him very difficult to fight.

She started to lean into his body, suddenly hungering for his touch, and his fingertips dug into her upper arms. All at once, there was a hideously loud knock at the door. They sprung apart.

"Wh-what is it, Celine?"

"Your family conference, Madame."

"What about it?" she asked absently, concentrating only on Remy's disappointed face.

"They're here."

She blinked. "They're here? What do you mean, they're here?"

On the other side of the door, Celine peered through the frosted glass panel surrounding the thick oak door. She could swear that Madame had company. "Shall I have them wait, Madame?"

"Of course." Ariel dismissed her secretary with a sharp wave the girl could not possibly see.

Remy looked disconcerted. "What shall we do? I can't go out the way I came in. Someone will see me. But you have people coming."

"Be quiet! I'm trying to think…"

Ariel observed the two couples as they entered her office. Interesting body language. There were some very strong personalities at work here. That didn't surprise her. She had already met their children. The two couples were an intriguing mixture of dependence and independence, softness and hardness, silence and…noise.

She studied each one. The Samuelle mother. Nikita. Tall, slim, blonde. Quiet. Yet there was an underlying intensity that threw Ariel off-balance. She sensed there was something…for lack of a better word…dangerous…about her.

The husband, now. Michael. She had no compunction about calling him dangerous. An inch or two taller than his wife, lean, almost saturnine. Yes, his hair and clothing were dark, but his eyes were a remarkable shade of green. Nevertheless, there was something forbidding about him. You didn't cross this man. Not and get away with it.

The third one. She mentally referred to her notes. Declan McLaren. Taller than the first man. Leaner, too. Very refined features. Almost…beautiful. Long red hair. The most amazing eyes. Silver-grey? But that closed off look said it all. He was every bit as dangerous as the first two. Maybe more. He was staring at her now. Intently.

As for the last…what was his name? Seymour Birkoff. Wait…the son was Birkoff-McLaren. That meant that there was a relationship between the one who looked like he would kill her in a heartbeat and this one, who seemed like the weakest link in this particular chain. Dark brown hair, waving to his shoulders. Big eyes, the color of melted chocolate.

The one named Declan was watching her study Birkoff. She could feel the waves of ill feeling coming her way, though she could not see them reflected on his face, and she could sense his protective stance towards this one. She made a mental note not to piss him off.

She cleared her throat. "Please, have a seat." She indicated the chairs arranged around her desk. As everyone sat, seemingly in slow motion, Ariel was struck by the feeling that all of this was a surrealistic dream. She, who rarely had trouble asserting her position as headmistress, and hence, leader of the academy, approached the four with a curious feeling of trepidation.

"You're probably wondering why I called you here." She tried to smile, but the intense stares from the two alpha males disconcerted her. Michael did not look so much angry as focused. She didn't think she liked the way he was scrutinizing her, as if he were searching carefully for a chink in her carefully applied armor.

She glanced nervously at Remy, who struggled valiantly to look like he belonged there. "This is my…secretary, Remy," she said by way of introduction.

Remy smiled warmly. "Can I get anyone some coffee?"

Michael's eyes flickered over the blond man before returning to the object of his preoccupation. "I thought that was your secretary outside," Michael said in a low, tense voice, as if he were accusing her of lying to them. Something told her that this didn't sit well with him.

Ariel steepled her fingers in front of her, resting her hands on the desk. "It was…it is." She didn't like the effect these people were having on her. They were making her feel guilty for something, and she had no idea what it could be. "I…have two secretaries."

Declan raised an eyebrow at the woman. "One for outside your office, and one for inside? This must be a bloody great school then," he said dryly. Ariel was unable to tell if he was being sarcastic, though she suspected he was.

Declan sat back in his chair, never taking his eyes off the older woman. He knew he was making her nervous. He could see it in her eyes. She was hiding something. He briefly wondered what it was. But if it didn't have anything to do with the reason they were called into her office, he really didn't care. His priorities were his own life and his own family. What other people did with theirs truly didn't interest him.

"You must know just how extraordinary your children are…" she said, managing to bring off a genuine smile this time.

Nikita cast an enigmatic look at the headmistress, betraying her impatience with tone of voice only. "Yeah, we live with them. Why don't you just cut to the chase and save the wear and tear on all of us?"

Ariel frowned. "I'm not sure why any of you are reacting with such…well, hostility."

Birkoff couldn't stand it any longer. "What did they do?"

"Sey…" Declan glanced sharply at his lover, shaking his head gently.

Birkoff stood up, looking every inch the outraged parent that he was. "You called us in here, you're playing some kind of perverse game with us. I want to know what they did."

Ariel regained her poise. Outraged parents came with the territory. She was well-used to handling them. But she hadn't reckoned on these people.

"What makes you think they did anything wrong?"

"Why else would you call a conference?" Michael countered with another question.

Birkoff stormed over to the headmistress' desk and leaned on his hands. Ariel instinctively moved back. She didn't think he would attack her physically, but then again, he seemed a trifle unpredictable. "I didn't come unprepared, you know." Michael and Declan might be more imposing, and their strength was overt, right out there for anyone to see. But that didn't mean that Birkoff had no weapons of his own.

Birkoff smiled, but it wasn't a warm smile. There wasn't a hint of kindness in it. Sasha was his son, and he would defend him to the death, whether he was right or wrong. No one had ever done that for him, until Declan came along. He wanted his son to grow up knowing he was valued that way.

"There is nothing you can hide from me. If I choose to find it."

"What do you mean?"

"I know you've been married for the past twelve years to Henri Dupre. I know your relationship with him is a troubled one. It's landed you in the hospital four times in the past year."

Ariel was shocked. Right down to her bones shocked. "How could you know that? No one knows that," she whispered.

Birkoff's dark eyes narrowed on her face. "I know you have a lover. You see him two or three times a week. You probably think he's your ticket out of the shambles you call a marriage. But I seriously doubt it. He doesn't look like he has the balls."

He whirled suddenly to face Ariel's supposed secretary. "Do you, Remy?"

Ariel immediately intervened, placing her own body in front of Remy's, as if she expected a more physical assault next. "Who are you people?"

Declan stood up slowly and ambled over to Birkoff's side. Leaning on his lover, Declan said with a wicked grin, "Why, we're your new best friends."

"That sounds like a threat."

Declan shrugged. "Take it any way you like. As long as it gets the job done."

"Am I supposed to give in to extortion?"

"Oh, surely not extortion. Such a harsh word."

"Blackmail then."

Michael joined Declan, and suddenly the headmistress found herself inching backwards, despite her iron resolve not to cave in to such demands. "Blackmail's not our style."

"What do you want?"

Nikita surreptitiously slipped her hand into Michael's, giving it a gentle squeeze. I'm with you, love, whatever comes next. But no bloodshed, please. We have to live here.

"Fair treatment. For all the children."

"That's it?" Remy sputtered, starting to laugh. Ariel turned so sharply, for a moment, it looked as though she would give her lover the back of her hand. "Shut up, Remy!"

"That's all we ever wanted," Michael stated calmly, ignoring Remy.

Remy would have interrupted again, but Ariel took command. "Remy, I want you to leave."

"But I—"

"Now, Remy."

He gave her a forlorn look before exiting the office, unable to resist slamming the door behind him.

"I apologize for the intrusion of my personal life. It won't happen again."

Nikita nodded, apparently speaking for all of them. She sat down again, crossing her legs, feeling more comfortable now that the imminent storm had more or less blown through the room and taken off for parts unknown.

"As I was trying to explain earlier…" She glanced at Michael, then Birkoff, then Declan, one after the other, as if waiting for one of them to derail the conversation again.

"Your children are quite remarkable."

"But?" Nikita prompted.

She sighed, then gave Nikita a tight smile. "But…they do seem to be rather disruptive."

Birkoff wrestled for control of his tongue and managed to say, quite politely, "In what way?"

"Sasha got into a fight. Within the first few minutes of being here," she stated baldly, neglecting to mention the other facts of the matter. She shouldn't have even tried to conceal information from someone like Birkoff.

"Did someone provoke him?"

"In a manner of speaking. He seems rather…attached to the youngest one. Skye."

"Is that a crime?" Birkoff snapped. Declan tried to subdue his partner non-verbally, placing his hand on his arm.

"No, of course not. The fact is, fighting cannot and will not be tolerated here."

"Under no circumstances? That sounds bloody unfair to me," Declan said, instinctively championing Sasha.

"Well…as a matter of fact…" the woman smiled mysteriously, "…Sasha defended himself and Skye against three ten-year-old boys. Known bullies."

Declan didn't even blink. That was his son. His and Sey's son. He couldn't help but feel proud of him for defending the little girl. "And the outcome?"

Ariel chuckled softly. "The ringleader suffered a cut lip, not to mention a rather severe loss of face. He may never live it down. Losing to a six-year-old. And a small six-year-old, at that."

"He doesn't need to be tall. He's got all the stature he needs," Birkoff declared.

She inclined her head gently in Birkoff's direction. "As do you."

Birkoff's eyes widened, but before he could say a word, Declan quieted him with a finger to his lips. When Birkoff would have protested, Declan whispered into his ear, "You've just been complimented, baby. Ssh."

Michael glanced at Birkoff and Declan before asking the headmistress for further details. "What exactly was Sasha protecting my daughter from?"

Ariel didn't miss the dark undertones present in that question. "The three boys are troublemakers. They like to pick on the younger children. Especially the girls."

"You don't let them get away with this kind of thing, do you?" Nikita chimed in.

"Of course not. But as bad as things may appear, I wouldn't worry about it."

"Sure, they're not your kids," Birkoff said.

"Actually, I like to think of them all as mine, Mr. Birkoff. And before you get too excited again, I would like to point out that Sasha acquitted himself very, very well."

"You said he was fighting—"

"Yes. But in self-defense. And in defense of a much younger child. Naturally, those are mitigating circumstances. He never retaliated, though the older boys repeatedly gave him reason."

The headmistress turned towards Michael and Nikita. "In truth, Skye was never in any danger, not with her young protector at her side. I have to say, I was impressed with his maturity."

Birkoff's mouth all but dropped open. "Then you didn't call us in here to discuss punishment?"

"Good Heavens, no. Whatever gave you that idea?"

Birkoff shrugged, even as he mumbled something unintelligible. Nikita frowned. "Then why did you call us in?"

"To congratulate you on having such…interesting…and…unique…chil dren. I simply had to meet the parents of children such as these." The pride in her voice was unmistakably sincere.

"What about the other two? Chris and Faith? Our twins? What did they do to inspire you?" Nikita asked wryly.

Ariel smiled in remembrance of her run-in with Faith. "Ah, Faith…a wonder, to be sure. She…well, at the risk of sounding like I'm tooting my own horn, she reminds me of me. When I was a girl."

Nikita wasn't sure if that was a compliment or not, given what little they knew about the headmistress. "And that would be…why?"

"Headstrong. Impulsive. Stubborn as a…ahem… Yet captivating in some strange way." The woman's face was wreathed in a beatific smile, while her tone was somewhat ironic.

Nikita grinned. "That's Faith. My mule." Michael gazed fondly at his wife. "Dare I say, like mother, like daughter?"

"Only if you call me 'your mule', Michael." He kissed her lightly, a chuckle clearly struggling to escape as he touched his lips to hers.

The headmistress stared at all four of them. "Well…now I begin to understand. All of you are so…singular. Your children could not possibly be any other way. They're like a…virtual celebration of your differences."

Michael stared back, but his green eyes were warm, almost bemused. "Thank you."

Nikita lay her head on her husband's shoulder and smiled. "We wouldn't have it any other way."

Birkoff settled against Declan's side, finally letting go of his earlier anger, and Declan, feeling his lover relax, wrapped an arm casually around his shoulder. "Thanks," Declan said softly, his fingers rubbing Sey's upper arm.

"I think…" she stopped a moment, considering, "…the pleasure may be all mine." She sighed heavily. "Now if someone could only help me straighten out my own life…" she mused out loud.

Birkoff opened his mouth, but Declan kissed him, effectively shutting him up for the moment. Sey's eyes clearly questioned what he could not voice, and Declan whispered against his mouth, "Don't you dare volunteer."

"Or else?" he whispered back, a trace of a grin etched across his already-swollen mouth.

"Definitely or else," Declan averred.

"Uncle James?"

James removed his glasses and looked directly into Connor's somewhat anxious blue eyes. "Yes, Connor?"

"Are we almost done?"

The poor child sounded positively weary. James started class for Connor and Emmy moments after the older children left for the academy. That way there was little reason for any of those left behind to get upset. They were too preoccupied with learning new things. But truth be told, both Connor and Emmy had accepted the structure of a school setting surprisingly well.

But then, maybe it wasn't so surprising. Connor must see school as a way to maintain his emotional connection with Faith, while Emmy clung to the only thing that would help her to be where Chris was. It gave all of the children a common ground, not that they seemed to need one. Sometimes James was convinced that they gave new meaning to the phrase, 'opposites attract'.

Before James could answer Connor's question, however, Smoke appeared, hopping up on James' desk with one smooth, feline-inspired movement. Crossing his legs, he sat perched upon the desk like he belonged there. "Yes, Jamie, are we almost done?" he asked cheekily, clearly desiring to spirit James away from the classroom.

James colored slightly and cleared his throat. "Uh…"

Emmy giggled and rolled her eyes. She had seen that look before. Between her parents. She stood, next to her seat, the way James had taught them, before addressing him. "Uncle James?" she inquired politely.

"Yes, Emmy?" James responded, almost relieved at the distraction from Smoke's smoldering blue-grey eyes.

She walked up to the desk and without any warning, she placed James' hand in Smoke's. Smoke winked at the little girl, amusement dancing in his eyes now. James started to say something, but he completely lost his train of thought, looking into Emmy's silvery eyes. Not only was she beautiful like Declan, but she had his disconcerting cold op stare down pat. "Say 'class dismissed'," she commanded.

He blinked, but Smoke tickled the palm of his hand with one finger, as if to say, do it. James gazed helplessly into Smoke's eyes, and Smoke nodded imperceptibly.

James faced Emmy, somehow wondering if he had just relinquished control to a child. Connor looked expectantly at him, as if he trusted Emmy to take care of things without his help.

"Uh…class dismissed?" James said weakly.

Emmy broke into a smile, instantly transforming from terrorist-wannabe to Celtic princess. She impulsively gave James a big hug, but Smoke, she kissed. As soon as she got close enough to Smoke to whisper in his ear, she did. "Thanks, Uncle Pete," she said daringly, knowing that only Uncle James called him that.

Smoke laughed softly and winked at the little girl again. Emmy waved and nearly turned cartwheels, heading for the door. "I have to go meet the bus! They'll be here any minute!"

Connor, who until that moment seemed content to be quiet, jumped up, a brilliant grin on his face. "Bye, Uncle James!" he caroled as he careened towards the door, skidding to an abrupt stop when James called out to him. "What?"

"I said…be here tomorrow. Same time."

"You mean we have to do this again?" Connor exclaimed.

James nodded. "Every day."

"Till when? Till we learn everything?"

James laughed. "You can never learn everything, Connor. There's always new stuff."

"Well, sure, but…"

"You'll be here until you go to the academy."

"Oh…" Connor sounded crestfallen.

"Just like Faith." James studied Connor's face, noting the exact moment it changed to a happier expression. "And the others," he added.

"Really?" Connor so rarely let his excitement show, it was a pleasure to see the boy genuinely enthusiastic about something.

"Really," James repeated.

Connor bolted through the doorway without another moment's thought, yelling, "Cool!" over his shoulder.

Smoke chuckled at the little boy's antics, but the moment that he was gone, Smoke wrapped his arms around James' waist. "I missed you."

James, who hadn't quite shifted from teacher mode to personal mode, hesitated a second before responding with a husky "Me, too."

"Want to go out?"

"Not particularly, no," said James, shaking his head.

"To eat, Jamie. To eat," Smoke chided him.

"Nah. I'd really like to be here when the kids get home from school and share all their first time stories. Does that sound…you know…sappy?"

"Not at all." Smoke's light eyes twinkled merrily. "So…you want a baloney sandwich? It isn't much, but it's all that's left in the fridge up 'ere."

Again, James shook his head. But he smiled. A smile that lit a fire within Smoke. "I'm not that hungry."

Smoke considered that. "You sure?"

"Well…" James wound his arms around Smoke's neck and nuzzled his cheek. "Not for food, anyway."