Sasha rested his hand lightly on the back of Skye's neck. He craved the contact. It had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with grounding him. Blindsided by the events of the past few days, Sasha desperately needed reassurance that *this* was the *real* world and *this* was where he *belonged*.

Michael was talking, but Sasha couldn't follow what he was saying. His mind felt fragmented and unfocused. It was a painful place to be. As much as he loved Skye, he longed to sleep more right now. Only sleep could bring him the comfortable numbness that would let him heal.

Sey sensed his son's distraction and accurately attributed it to a combination of exhaustion and post-traumatic stress. He didn't know yet what secret horror lurked behind Sasha's battered defenses, but its size had to be *immense*. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen that depth of tragic intensity in Sasha's bittersweet chocolate eyes.

"Hey," Sey said, nudging his son.

That got Michael's attention. "Are you all right, Sasha?"

"Umm, yeah. Hungry, though. And tired." The truth was, Sasha could barely keep his eyes open.

"Dec, let's take Sasha upstairs and get him something to eat." Sey's eyebrows spoke volumes. Declan nodded, sending Michael a non-verbal message of his own a few moments later.

As Sey gently pulled Sasha away from Skye, he noticed that Sasha instinctively reached out with his fingertips, trying to maintain the link between them. "Time to go, kiddo. You're out on your feet."

"I'll see you later," Sasha murmured. Suddenly his voice rose and he looked visibly shaken. Addressing his question to Michael, he said, "I *will* see Skye later, won't I?"

Skye glanced nervously at her father, their truce still too new for her to say anything. But Michael read the question in her eyes and nodded. "I should tell you, though. I'm not sure how long Skye will be here."

"She's going back to England?" Sasha sounded so heartbroken, Sey squeezed his shoulder supportively.

"Yes."

For a moment, Sasha looked like a whipped puppy, but he quickly hid the pain that struggled to surface. "I see."

"No, I don't think you do," Michael corrected. "It was Skye's decision to return."

"No way," Sasha whispered.

"It's true," Skye asserted quietly. Sasha waited for her to elaborate, but she remained silent. Well, he thought, that's an answer of sorts. In his head, he realized that she was right. But in his weakened condition, Sasha just felt as though he'd taken one blow too many.

"Oh."

Michael tugged on Skye's hand, subtly reminding her that she had to let Sasha go. For now.

Michael didn't care for the beaten look in Sasha's eyes and he wondered how long it would take before they all knew what had happened to Sasha. "He should stay home from school for a few days," Michael suggested to Declan and Sey.

The trio made their way to the third floor, moving almost as one entity, trailed by Emmy who acted as if she'd lost her best friend. When the threesome stopped to rest on the landing before opening the door, Sey said, "Emmy, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," she answered in a very small voice.

Declan studied his daughter's suspiciously wet eyes. "Are you crying, Princess?"

Emmy kicked the bottom of the door with her sneakered foot. "No," she said rebelliously. "What would *I* have to cry about anyway?"

"I dunno, sweetie, that's why I asked."

"You're all so dumb, that's what! You're both acting like *nothing* happened! Like…like every day my brother gets kidnapped! Or…or worse!"

Declan saw past Emmy's adolescent hysterics instantly. "Did you tell her what happened?" he asked Sasha.

Sasha shook his head dumbly. "I haven't told anyone yet."

As Emmy grew into adolescence, her psychic abilities had grown stronger as well. Unless Declan missed his guess, Emmy was responding to Sasha's pain in a way that none of the rest of them could share.

"Em…did you *see* something?" Declan questioned carefully.

Emmy broke into huge, heartbreaking sobs.

Sasha paled. He knew exactly what she saw.

And he wouldn't wish that on his worst enemy.

Sasha took one look at his sister's stricken face and bolted. He ran through the third-floor apartment without stopping, heading directly for his bedroom. When he got there, he closed the door behind him and leaned on it. He could feel his entire body beginning to shake with gross tremors.

Reaction was setting in. For the first time since he'd come home, Sasha could feel *everything*. Fear at being kidnapped and returned to a place that was a living nightmare. Terror at being an unwilling witness to Madeline's grotesque suicide. Despair over what he could only consider as the unresolved situation between him and Skye.

Loss. Loss. There was so much loss. He didn't think he could handle any more. And now, there was Emmy, so obviously reliving things she should never have had to see.

With a moan, Sasha threw himself down on his bed, burying his face against the comforter. It smelled familiar. Like home. That should have made him feel better, but instead…it made him want to cry.

Everything was so different now. He knew things he shouldn't have to know. Things that he couldn't pretend that he *didn't* know.

He didn't even realize that he *was* crying until his fist clenched and unclenched the fabric beneath him and encountered…

…someone's knee.

Sasha looked up with a start, his face hopelessly tear-streaked, and stared into the empathetic eyes of his father. "Daddy!"

"I hope you don't mind me coming in here like this, kiddo," Sey said. "I just couldn't help worrying about you."

Sey shifted slightly and sighed. "Maybe you'd rather be alone—"

"No!" Sasha blurted out. "Please don't go, Dad. I'm…I want you to stay."

Sey slowly pushed his son's hair back from his face. God, Sasha looked as if he'd been whipped. Oh, there were no visible marks, but he was hurt just the same. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Sasha grew pale again. "I don't think I can, Daddy," he whispered.

"It might seem, I don't know, less scary, if you *do* talk about it, kiddo."

Sasha's breath caught in his throat. "This is more than scary, Dad. It's—" Sasha cut himself off and shuddered. "I'm afraid to close my eyes, Daddy. I keep seeing—Shit!"

Instinctively reaching for his son, Sey pulled the teenager into his arms. Sasha immediately buried his face against his father's chest. His voice muffled, he said, "I'm afraid for Emmy. If she "saw" what I did…"

"Ssh, ssh, Da is with her," Sey soothed, his breath ruffling the hair on top of Sasha's head.

"It was Madeline." Sasha pushed the words out of his mouth with an audible effort.

The only sign that Sey heard him was the way his hands paused briefly in their stroking of Sasha's hair. "What happened?"

"She was s-sick," Sasha whispered.

Though Sasha couldn't see him, Sey frowned, his entire face darkening. "What did she do?" Sey ground out, sounding like he contemplated hearing the worst.

"She died," Sasha choked out.

Resisting the urge to prompt Sasha for more information, Sey waited. As patiently as he could.

The shaking grew worse throughout Sasha's body and Sey winced inwardly. Whatever it was, it was bad.

"She…she k-killed h-herself, Daddy."

Sey didn't know what he expected to hear, but that wasn't it. Before he could stop himself, he asked, "How?"

"She blew her fucking brains out, Daddy! She put a fucking gun to her—" Sasha clutched at his father's shirt with both hands, squeezing his eyes shut, only to have them fly open moments later. "Nooooo!"

"Oh, Sasha," Sey said quietly. His pain was for his son, who never should have had to bear a burden of this magnitude, not Madeline.

"Connor's mom is dead, Daddy," Sasha sobbed. "What am I going to tell him when he asks what happened?"

Sey closed his dark brown eyes, feeling his son's turmoil like a physical ache. "We'll work it out, kiddo," he said, wishing he knew if he was speaking the truth.

Reluctantly, Sey drew back. "You should try to get some rest, Sash."

"No! Please, Daddy, don't let go of me. Not yet. Please…"

Unable to resist a plea like that, Sey gently pushed Sasha down on the bed. "Dad!—"

"Ssh. I'll be right here."

Sey lay down next to his son, unsurprised when Sasha crept into his embrace. Wrapping his arms around the teenager, Sey felt Sasha's tremors fade, slowly but surely. The emotional toll on him notwithstanding, Sasha was having a hard time trying to fight the desire to sleep. "Sleep, kiddo. I'll keep you safe."

"You mean it?" Sasha murmured drowsily.

"Absolutely. That's my job," Sey reassured him.

"I'm glad," Sasha mumbled as he finally allowed sleep to catch up with his exhausted body.

Sey listened to the sound of his son breathing slowly and evenly. "Me, too, kiddo."

Emmy stared straight ahead, a solitary tear tracing its way down her pale cheek. Her father glanced at her with concern. "Em, do you feel any better?"

"I'm okay, Da," she responded tonelessly. Her usual animation was gone, stolen by the vision she inadvertently received when she touched Sasha.

"Can you talk about what you saw, Princess?" Declan inquired softly.

A shudder seemed to make its way through her slender frame. "Do I have to?"

Declan nodded, unwilling to force her, but unsure if she should keep all that pain locked away inside.

Echoing Sasha's earlier words, Emmy whispered, "It was Madeline, Da."

Her declaration took Declan by surprise. "Madeline?" he repeated, almost adding "*My* Madeline?" But then it had been a long time since she'd been *his* Madeline. What right did he have to claim a relationship that the woman herself eventually destroyed?

"She's dead, Da," Emmy said, her lower lip quivering. "That's what I saw. Her…death."

The way Emmy stumbled over the word "death" made Declan sit up and take notice. "What happened?" he asked, fearing the answer and its impact on both Emmy and Sasha.

"She…sh-shot herself, Da. In the head." Emmy closed her eyes and more hot tears trickled out from under her eyelids. "It was…awful."

"Sasha saw this?"

Emmy took a deep breath before she replied, "Yes. He was there."

Declan looked away quickly, but not before Emmy could spy the sheen of unshed tears in his eyes. "Oh, God," he muttered under his breath. It was worse than he could have imagined.

"Can I be excused now?"

Declan nodded absently. But as Emmy passed him, Declan's arm shot out and grasped her wrist. "Don't mention this to the other kids."

Emmy wiped at her eyes, so like her father's, though they were now a dark grey and dimmed by sorrow. "What if Connor asks? Someone has to tell him his mom is dead," she added brokenly.

"Michael will take care of talking to Connor and his family."

"Okay."

The thought of Madeline's death hurting either one of his children grieved Declan greatly. The fact that there was very little he could do only served to make things worse.

"I'll be in my room, Da," Emmy said, sounding improbably brave for her thirteen years.

As much as Declan admired that courageous streak in his daughter, he knew that she needed him more than ever. "Are you sure you want to be alone, sweetheart?"

"I—" Emmy's reddened eyes glistened with fresh tears as she struggled to speak.

Declan stood up and abruptly pulled her into his arms, gently rocking her back and forth. "Would you stay here with me for a little while, Em?" Declan asked huskily. "I think I could use a hug."

Emmy closed her eyes and pressed her hot cheek against her father's chest. It was so like him to offer support this way without making her feel like a baby who couldn't fend for herself.

She loved him for that. And so much more.

"I love you, Da," she whispered. At a time like this, when they all felt their mortality too keenly, it seemed imperative to tell him.

Declan's arms tightened across her back. He evidently agreed. "I love you, too, Princess. So much."

Sasha sat completely still. His entire body felt tense. He was afraid to move for fear he would break. He clung to silence because talking out loud hurt. His ears, his head, but most of all, his heart.

In some inexplicable way, he felt guilty. It was in his nature to blame himself, even when there was no possible way that this was his fault. He hadn't put the gun in Madeline's hand. He hadn't urged her to kill herself. But he didn't stop her.

It didn't matter that there was little he could have done. Oh, he could have shouted at her or screamed for help, but that wouldn't have saved Madeline. It would simply have jeopardized Sasha's own life.

And as much as he hated to admit it, he *was* selfish. He wanted to survive. He wanted to live.

But despite the fact that Madeline had held him in captivity for more than three months, Sasha couldn't hate her. He didn't *want* her to die.

But she was dead. Just as he was alive. Did that make her death his fault? Did that make any sense at all?

He couldn't cry anymore. He'd slept in his father's arms for hours, only to wake in the throes of a nightmare. Now it was finally morning. He prayed that the sunlight could do what the night could not. Banish the dark thoughts that clouded his mind.

Gradually he became aware of another presence. It wasn't until a small hand crept into his that he registered who it was. "Skye!"

Skye bit her lip worriedly. She didn't like Sasha's unnatural pallor or the dull look in his eyes. They looked, she thought with a shudder, *dead*. "Are you okay?" she asked, knowing that he wasn't.

Sasha sighed heavily. The effort of taking a full breath made him feel weary. "I'm trying to be," he eventually said. That was as close to the truth as he could get.

"I know something bad happened—"

"Don't ask me to tell you what, Skye, please!" Sasha snapped, aware that his tone was much too sharp.

"I wasn't going to," Skye replied in a small voice that made Sasha cringe. He'd hurt her…and he'd rather die than hurt her.

"It's just that we won't have much time together," she continued.

Sasha stared at her. A fresh wave of pain washed over him. This was like adding insult to injury. How could she desert him at a time like this? Didn't she love him anymore?

"I have to go back to school, Beast. Remember?" she prompted, not caring one bit for the way his dark eyes glittered.

"You don't have to go," he said mutinously. "You just want to."

"That's not fair. I'd stay if I could. But school's important."

"So am I," Sasha said petulantly. He couldn't keep the pain from leaking into his voice. He was heartbroken and he didn't care if she knew it.

"I can't help you with this, Sasha. There's nothing I can do. Not if you won't talk about it."

"I can't," Sasha moaned, in true anguish now. "I-I don't want it to touch you, too."

Skye slipped her hand from his grasp and primly folded both hands in front of her. "There was a time when you could tell me *anything*, Beast."

Sasha gazed at her in pure misery. "I…hurt…so bad. Do you really want to feel like this, too?"

"But I love you," Skye pleaded, her light blue eyes filling with tears.

"I love you, too, Ange," Sasha whispered. "But don't expect me to be there to say goodbye. I don't think I can do it."

"You're…letting me go? Just like that?" Skye asked, her voice crackling across Sasha's senses like a jagged streak of lightning.

Pain. Pain. There was so much pain. "Not…just like that. But you have a new life in England…one that doesn't include me. Don't think you have to wait for me anymore, Ange."

"What are you saying, Sasha?" Her distress was so great, she could barely get the words out.

"You should find someone else. Someone your own age." Liar. Liar. You don't want her to be with anyone but you. Your entire life has led up to this moment and now what? You're pushing away the only person, outside of your family, who loves and understands you?

"You don't mean that."

"I do. It'll be better this way. You'll see. Especially since we can't see each other anyway."

His heart was bleeding. If he was lucky, he would die before he could destroy anything else.

Skye cried quietly, tears splashing down her cheeks like stars falling from the sky. "You said you didn't want to hurt me. But you lied," the young girl sobbed brokenly. "You don't love me. I don't think you ever did."

Sasha couldn't look at her and not hold her. So he stood up and slowly started to walk away. He thought there were no more tears left inside him, but he was wrong. "You'll get over me," he said hoarsely, not daring to take one more look back over his shoulder.

What was that he'd been thinking about being a survivor? What good was survival when his life wasn't worth living anymore?

Suddenly Skye leaped to her feet and raced after him. As soon as she reached him, she began pummeling him with her fists. Sasha tried to duck and evade her blows, but she let loose such a flurry of punches that some of them hit their target. "Ange!"

"You're saying goodbye! You think I don't know that? Well, I won't let you! I'll make you feel something!"

Sasha grabbed her by the wrists and held her at arm's length. "I *do* feel something, Ange! Why do you think I need to let you go?"

They stared into each other's eyes for long moments, seemingly unable or unwilling to move. "You have to go, Skye…or I'm going to kiss you," Sasha whispered.

"Please…"

Succumbing to this latest irrational impulse, Sasha kissed her, shivering when her mouth opened beneath his. So breathless his lips tingled, he drew back, feeling that he should be vaguely horrified by the way he'd claimed her mouth. Closing his eyes, he leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers. "Oh, Ange, what am I going to do?" he murmured softly.

"Talk to me."

"I can't," Sasha said miserably.

"Yes, you can," Skye insisted.

She sat on the grass, pulling him down with her. Her parents undoubtedly wouldn't approve, but she couldn't think about that now. "Come here."

Sasha started to shake his head, but Skye was not Michael and Nikita's daughter for nothing. She was determined to get her way, and she'd only just begun to dig her heels in.

Crossing her legs, she smoothed her skirt over her knees. She tugged on his hair until he put his head in her lap. "Skye, I don't think this is—"

Her fingers found a spot on his temples and gently massaged them. Slowly but surely the magic of love began to work and Sasha relaxed with an audible sigh. He meant only to close his eyes for a second, but the toll of the past few days caught up with him.

He slept dreamlessly within her embrace. For the first time since he'd come home, he felt safe.

"She's dead?" Neil cocked his head and gave Michael a puzzled look. "Maddy?"

Michael nodded. He could tell that Neil was having trouble grasping the reality of Madeline's death. It was almost as if he were in shock.

"She can't be dead," Neil protested, shaking his head. Not Maddy. She was too vibrant, too colorful, too much larger than life to be *dead*. "It must have been someone else. Someone who looked like her."

Michael reached for Neil's arm, but the other man stepped back suddenly, avoiding his touch. "He's wrong. Sasha's wrong."

Michael dropped his arm to his side. The quaver in Neil's voice told him that the news was beginning to penetrate.

"She wasn't well, Neil. She was…very sick."

"What was wrong with her?"

"Sasha said she had a brain tumor."

"Oh." Suddenly Neil clapped a hand over his mouth and Michael was sure he was going to throw up. "What a horrible way to die."

Ah, that was the hard part. Did Neil need to know exactly *how* Madeline died? Michael sighed. No matter how gruesome the details, Michael believed that Neil should know. *He* wouldn't want anyone to hold back information from *him*.

"She didn't die from the tumor, Neil," Michael said with an air of resignation.

"Then how?"

"She took her own life."

Neil blinked in apparent confusion. Maddy? His Maddy? Killed herself? "She took pills? What?"

"Gun. A gun. She used a gun, Neil," Michael said rapidly, trying to brace himself for the impact that hearing something like that would have on Neil.

"Oh, Jesus." Tears sprang into Neil's dark blue eyes. He faltered, searching in vain for the back of a chair to sit down.

Michael helped the other man to the couch. "Where's Ned? Do you want me to find him?"

Neil looked up. All at once his face seemed older and more haggard. "Please?"

When Michael returned with Ned, Neil was lying on his side on the couch. His body was curled up as if he were trying to make himself smaller. The moment that Michael saw Neil's condition, he excused himself and left the two lovers alone.

"Neil? Are you okay?"

"Oh, God, Neddy, it's awful." Neil wrapped his arms around himself and began to shiver.

Ned knelt on the floor beside the couch and stroked Neil's hair. "It's all right, love, I'm here."

"Did Michael tell you? What happened?"

Ned nodded mutely, his brown eyes filling with sympathetic tears.

"I never thought things would end this way. I just thought…I don't know…maybe I would never hear from her again. But—"

"Is there anything I can do, love?"

"Just hold me, Neddy. I need to feel you."

Kady didn't say a word when her father told her that her mother was dead. She knew what dead was. Dead was when you couldn't get home and you had to sleep in heaven. Mommy was in heaven.

After Neil left her with her brother, Kady turned somber brown eyes on Connor. "Do you think Mommy went to heaven?"

Connor evaded eye contact with Kady and shifted uneasily in his chair. "Ummm…sure. Why not?"

"Cause I think she wasn't very nice to Daddy."

Or us, Connor finished non-verbally. "That doesn't mean she didn't go to heaven."

Kady shook her head. "Sam says that bad people go to the other place. You know, the one in the ground."

"You mean hell?"

Kady gasped. "That's a bad word. You're not supposed to say that."

"Doesn't matter. It's where she belongs," Connor said bitterly.

"Don't say that. Maybe God decided to give Mommy a second chance and-and let her go to heaven."

"She used up all her chances when she hurt Dad and you," Connor said in an unexpectedly fierce tone. He felt very protective of his family, especially his younger sister.

"Daddy said she was sick and couldn't help being mean."

"I don't care. She had no right to treat you the way she did."

"She was mean to you, too."

"Yeah, but I'm older. I can take it."

Kady studied her brother from under long black eyelashes that swept her pale cheeks. "No…you're just good at hiding it…like Daddy."

"Whatever. I'm glad she's gone."

"Me, too."

Several seconds went by in absolute silence except for the ticking of the clock on the mantle.

"My stomach feels funny, though," Kady whispered.

Connor closed his eyes. "Mine, too," he agreed.