Madeline's death changed everything and everyone in very different ways. Nikita felt the loss strongly because she had once bonded with Madeline and claimed her as the mother she never truly had. As if to balance that, Michael couldn't pretend to feel anything but relief. He was glad that she was gone. As far as he was concerned, her presence in their lives had been disruptive for too long. But he knew that Nikita was grieving, and even though he couldn't be sorry Madeline was dead, he respected his wife's feelings enough to keep his thoughts to himself.

The children, on the other hand, were ambivalent. Faith and Chris remembered Madeline as "Mamie", their ill-at-ease grandmother who nonetheless tried to be part of the twins' early childhood. But Skye, who really didn't have it in her to hate anyone, suddenly found herself despising a woman she barely knew, simply because of the way she had treated Sasha. By the time Luc was born, Madeline had already become unstable, acting out towards those she purported to love. Luc didn't understand the finality of death yet. But he, like his father, felt relieved that she wasn't coming back.

Declan's feelings were a bit more complicated. It was as if Madeline were two people, quite separate and quite different from each other. The Madeline who literally saved him by looking the other way when he escaped Section…that Madeline was one he would keep in his heart forever. But the Madeline who mistreated her family, who abducted his son, who forced that son to endure God only knew what kind of torture, up to and including her suicide…that Madeline was one he could never forgive. For Sey, it was easy. He had never trusted Madeline, not even when she insinuated herself deep within the confines of the extended family, and the revelations following her death merely confirmed his opinion.

For Sasha, even if Madeline hadn't kidnapped him and subjected him to the end of her sorry life, he would have hated what she represented. To him, she *was* Section, that place he forbid his mind to go, the place where nightmares became reality. And Emmy? Emmy was an empath tormented by images that she hadn't seen firsthand. Like Skye, it wasn't in her nature to hate, but she couldn't bear what the memories were doing to her brother.

At the opposite end of the spectrum was the Davenport family. If it wasn't for the fact that it would frighten his kids, Davenport wished he could go to Section, just so he could see with his own eyes that Madeline was dead. Derry seconded the emotion when she declared that she wanted the opportunity to "spit on her grave".

Walter agreed. Only the loving hand of his beloved Miranda prevented him from riding into Section on his Harley, screaming vengeance for the boy he considered his grandson.

James and Smoke had little contact with Madeline, but out of loyalty to Neil, they would have to say they were on *his* side. Adam and Jazz lamented what happened to Sasha and cursed the woman who, even in death, nearly succeeded in ruining Sasha's life.

That left only Neil and his two children. Neil couldn't help but remember the woman he'd fallen in love with, the woman who'd given him Connor and Kady. But as much as her sickness explained, if not excused, some of her behavior towards her family, Neil could never truly forgive Madeline for what she'd done to those children. For himself, he was glad that she was out of his life for good. If guilt hadn't prevented him from admitting it, he would have said that losing Madeline was the best thing that ever happened to him. Because it brought him Ned.

On the face of it, Kady seemed much too young to understand Madeline's death. But in a way, she grasped the most important part. Madeline could no longer hurt any of them. Except…

…she was still hurting Connor. Kady could see it in his eyes, as well hidden as he thought the pain was. But that wouldn't last forever. Faith would take care of that.

Skye turned down her bed and stopped. Since she returned to England, she thought about Sasha every day. A tiny smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Due to the circumstances of Madeline's death, Michael had relaxed the restrictions on contact between Skye and Sasha. The grown-ups hoped that it would help Sasha heal.

She knew it would.

Every night, they chatted for a few minutes by computer. Sometimes she longed to hear his voice, but phone calls were allowed no more than once a month.

She chuckled under her breath. Her father believed that keeping them apart would eventually lead to mutual disinterest, or even better, an interest in someone else, someone her own age. He couldn't be more wrong.

Skye saved up all the moments she shared with Sasha, no matter how small, making copious notes in her journal. She didn't care how young she was. Absence made the heart grow fonder. Didn't they know that?

"I told you, Daddy. I don't need a counselor," Emmy said shortly, turning her back on her father. "I'm over it."

"No, you're not. You're not sleeping. You're not eating. Do you think you can get over it just by wishing it never happened? You have to talk about it. If not with me, then with *someone*."

"Who? Sasha? He's the only one who'd understand, Daddy, and he's finally starting to heal."

Emmy bent down to pick up her backpack and slung it over her shoulder. She pulled her long red hair back into its usual ponytail and sighed. She didn't have to look into a mirror to know that she was losing weight. Or that her pale grey eyes had dark circles under them.

Sey wasn't giving up that easily. He cupped her chin, forcing her to make eye contact with him. "I love you, Em."

She made a face as tears unexpectedly flooded her eyes. "I love you, too, Daddy. But—"

"Ssh. I can't help wanting to take care of you, sweetie."

"I know," Emmy agreed, swiping anxiously at her face with her fingers. "I wish—"

"What? What do you wish?" Sey's thumb rubbed her chin affectionately.

"If only I could talk to Chris," she whispered, ducking her head. Sey's fingers slipped off her chin as he glanced at her wistfully.

"Declan said that he didn't—"

"—want us to tell the other kids. I know, Daddy. But they know *something* happened. They just don't know how bad it was. I wouldn't tell *everyone*, Daddy. Just Chris."

"Chris isn't the problem, Em. What if he tells someone? And that someone tells Connor…or Kady?"

Emmy's eyes grew wide with remembered horror. "He wouldn't do that, Dad."

"He might not mean to, sweetie. But what if he did? Then what?"

Emmy squeezed her eyes shut. "I just want the pain to go away, Daddy," she murmured. "It's like this huge part of me is locked away from Chris…and I don't know how much longer I can *not* tell him."

"Oh, Em." Sey pulled his daughter into his arms and held her. She was right. It wasn't fair to ask her to keep a significant part of herself buried. Repressing all that feeling couldn't be good. He knew that. That's why he wanted her to see a counselor. But a counselor would understand the need for privacy, even secrecy. Chris was just…Chris. He had no particular expertise in anything yet except…he shared an intensely emotional bond with Emmy.

Chris would rather die than hurt Emmy. They grew closer every day.

"Em?"

Emmy sniffled. "Yes, Daddy?"

"I'll talk to Declan."

"Thanks," she said softly.

Her stomach felt like it was tied up in knots. Declan had reconsidered. How could he not? Sey was at his most persuasive when he was making an emotional argument. But now that the moment was at hand, she was nervous.

Telling Chris meant going into detail. It meant describing things that she had tried for months to forget. It also meant second-guessing herself. What if she was wrong? What if Chris *couldn't* handle it?

What if this only made things worse?

Then, like magic, Chris appeared. He smiled and she forgot what she was worried about. Tall and lean and blond, Chris resembled his mother in coloring, but his overall demeanor remained closer to his father's. "Allo, Soleil," he said, looking more than ever like her knight in shining armor.

"Hi," she said almost shyly. "We need to talk."

He raised an eyebrow in query. "Before school?"

"Yes," she breathed, biting her lip. If she didn't tell him now, she would lose her nerve by the end of the school day.

"Okay." He glanced at her and noted her apparent anxiety. "Are you all right?"

"No," she responded quickly. "I'm not. I haven't been for a long time."

Chris blinked, not showing any of what he was feeling on his face. Emmy's statement didn't surprise him. He knew that something was wrong. He just didn't know what it was. But her body language suggested something ominous.

He only hoped that it didn't have anything to do with him. He truly loved her. If she ever broke up with him…well, he didn't give much for his chances of survival.

She told him, sparing no gruesome detail.

She watched him grow pale, but she pressed on bravely.

When she was finished, she was breathless. Tears, ever present these days, streaked her face. Her eyes were swollen, her nose reddened.

But to Chris, she was the most beautiful girl in the world.

He kissed her forehead, her eyelids, and the tip of her nose. "I can't believe you were keeping all this inside."

"I can't believe you can still kiss me when I feel so…ugly."

"You could never be ugly to me, Soleil. I love you."

She wound her arms around his neck and kissed him. A salty tear trickled down her cheek, wetting his bottom lip. When they broke apart, Chris licked his lip, tasting her sadness on his tongue. "I'm so sorry you had to go through this alone for so long, Em."

"Not your fault. And now I'm not. Alone, I mean." She smiled through her tears and it was just like the sun coming out from behind the clouds after a cleansing rain.

"You'll never be alone as long as I'm alive," Chris vowed.

That stirred her heart in a way that little else could have. "I love you," she whispered.

He couldn't help but kiss her.

Sey watched from the upstairs window and smiled. He walked slowly back into the living room and wrapped his arms around Declan before giving him a long, heartfelt kiss.

Declan gave him an amused look. "Not that I mind, but what was that for?"

"Oh, just for being you. And putting things right."

"I did all that before lunch?" Declan chuckled.

"Uh huh."

"Wow, I'm good."

Sey kissed him again. It was impossible to disagree with him when he was so obviously onto something.

Adam was fitting his key into the lock of his apartment when he heard the phone ring. Trying to balance his backpack and the small bag of groceries he carried, he swore creatively as he fumbled and dropped the key. By the time he managed to get the door open, the phone had stopped ringing.

He carefully placed the groceries on the counter, but he let his backpack fall to the carpeted floor with a soft thump. "That was probably Mom checking up on me," he muttered out loud.

He loved his new apartment. It wasn't all that big, but it was his own private, personal space. That was what counted.

Adam pressed the button on his answering machine. His father's calm voice filled the small kitchen. "Sorry I missed you, Adam. It's nothing important. Just—"

He smiled as he recited the end of the message with Michael. "—checking to make sure you're all right."

He liked being missed.

Once he had all the groceries put away, which didn't take long since Adam never claimed to be a cook, he dragged his backpack over to his desk. He had homework. He *always* had homework.

With a sigh, Adam contemplated calling his father or Jazz. He was happy with the way his life was going now, but his first semester at college was hardly easy. The workload sometimes seemed…well, overwhelming. It wasn't that he wasn't smart. Or that the work was too hard to figure out.

But he had a feeling that he hadn't struck the right balance between work and play yet. In fact, he was too busy to *have* a personal life. Something that bugged Jazz no end.

"So when *do* I get to see you, Adam?" was his lover's most recent complaint.

It was true. The last time Jazz visited, he was supposed to stay overnight. But Adam fell asleep somewhere between dinner and the movie. Jazz insisted that he understood how draining college life could be for a freshman, but Adam wondered. They didn't see nearly as much of each other as they would have liked.

He raked a hand through his thick unruly hair, touseling it into further disarray. "I wish Jazz was here."

As if in response to Adam's fervently voiced wish, the doorbell rang. Repeatedly.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Adam mumbled to himself as he toed off his shoes and padded softly to the door. His feet sank into the pile of the carpet and he thought, Jeez, that feels good.

After he unlocked the door, the door seemed to swing open of its own accord. "Hey! Grab something, would you, man? I'm about to drop the pizza!"

Adam's dark brown eyes grew wide as he took in the unexpected sight of his green-eyed lover seemingly hopping on one foot. "You brought pizza?" he exclaimed, his stomach growling audibly.

Jazz chuckled. "Just in time, too, from the sound of it."

Adam grabbed the pizza box before it slipped completely out of Jazz' hands. "Mmm, that smells great. Sausage and extra cheese?"

"Just the way you like it, man. Um…would it be okay if I actually came in?" Jazz asked, indicating that he was still standing on the doorstep.

"Oh! Sure."

Adam slid the box across the formica counter and licked his lips in anticipation. "You want plates or paper towels?"

"You have plates?" Jazz asked incredulously.

"Just two. I couldn't afford more. Good thing I'm going to the folks for the holidays, huh?"

"Like they'd let you starve to death, man."

Adam grinned. "I am *so* hungry."

"I know you are. I sensed it. That's why I came."

Adam lifted a piece of sausage-laden pizza from the box and paused to blow on it. "You did? Was that the only reason?"

Jazz shook his head, his long, straight golden brown hair swinging across his face. "No. I, uh, kinda missed you," he said in a low voice, uncertain how Adam would respond. He didn't want to sound like a fucking girl or anything, but after the most wonderful summer of their lives, it was a real letdown to be separated from Adam this way.

"I missed you, too," Adam said huskily. Oil smeared Adam's lips and Jazz suddenly had the most incredible desire to lick it off.

"You'd better eat before it gets cold," Jazz said absently, mesmerized by the sight of Adam's mouth.

"Right," Adam agreed, forgetting to take a bite.

Suddenly Adam put down the slice of pizza and stared at his lover. "Hey, I just realized how rude I've been. I never greeted you properly at the door."

"Yeah? Is there a password or something?"

"Uh huh. This." Adam leaned forward and framed Jazz' face between his hands before kissing him.

Jazz responded instantly by kissing him back, his tongue slipping inside Adam's mouth. Adam plunged his hands into Jazz' hair and refused to let him move away.

"Stay," Adam whispered. "Can you stay overnight? Please?"

"Well…" Jazz pretended to think it over. "Not if you're going to fall asleep on me."

"I promise to make that up to you if you stay."

A slow sensual smile tugged at the corners of Jazz' mouth. "In that case, you'd better eat. You're going to need your strength."

Adam grimaced. "I just remembered, I have homework."

"I'll help you with your problem if you'll help me with mine," Jazz offered sweetly.

"Oh, yeah? What's your problem?"

"I can't get enough of you," Jazz answered hoarsely.

"Mmm…" Adam zeroed in on Jazz' neck, his favorite place to suckle. Jazz didn't mind. Jazz loved being marked. Besides, Adam found he was feeling especially possessive now.

Adam's hand cupped the hardness between his lover's legs. "Does this help?"

Jazz spread his legs a little wider and rocked his groin against Adam's hand, moaning at the sensation. "What about the pizza?"

"Fuck the pizza."

Jazz nodded as Adam unzipped his jeans. "I like it cold anyway."

"I can help with that, too," Adam whispered against his mouth.

It was like the first time they were together. Or the day that Adam moved into his new apartment nearly three and a half months ago. After the family reluctantly left him alone, Adam locked the door behind them and contemplated his first night in his own place.

"This is great," he said to himself, startled when he heard the toilet flush in the bathroom. "Who's there?"

"Me," replied Jazz, drying his hands on the solitary towel Adam had. "I thought you might want to, you know, celebrate."

"Oh." Adam took the towel out of Jazz' hands and replaced it on the rack. "I was just going to, you know, go to bed."

Jazz' smile lit up the tiny bathroom. "Works for me."

"Won't your folks wonder what happened to you?"

Jazz unsnapped Adam's pants with a loud pop. "Oh, I think they can guess what's going to happen to me."

"You sound pretty sure of yourself."

"Well, if you'd rather sleep than—" Jazz started to turn away, but Adam reached out and grabbed him around the neck. He pulled the younger man's head down and kissed him hard.

When he finally managed to break away from Jazz, Adam panted heavily, a faint grin on his handsome face. "You are such a fucking tease."

Jazz dropped to his knees and tugged Adam's pants down around his ankles. "I've never promised you anything you didn't get," he said, his breath fanning the wiry hairs in Adam's groin until they prickled and came to attention.

Adam stroked Jazz' hair. The texture was like satin and it slipped between his fingers lovingly. "I have a better idea. Let's christen my new bed."

"Your new bed?" Jazz echoed.

"*Our* new bed," Adam corrected, liking the sunny smile that evoked.

Adam kicked off his pants and left them on the bathroom floor. Taking Jazz by the hand, he led the way into the bedroom. Jazz stopped just outside the threshold and stared at the full-size bed. "Um…what if we mess up the brand-new sheets your mom bought you?"

Adam shrugged. "Guess I'll have to wash 'em."

Jazz gave Adam a skeptical look. "You don't know how to do laundry."

"I'll learn."

Adam pulled on Jazz, attempting to bring him closer to the bed, but Jazz hung back. "Jeez, what are you worried about now?"

"Does your mom know we're…um…you know?"

"What do you think? You think she guessed we were screwing each other's brains out all summer long?"

"Um…"

The uneasy look on Jazz' face gave Adam pause. "What's wrong? You change your mind or something?"

"Not exactly," Jazz whispered. "It's just…"

"What? Talk to me, Nick."

"I dunno, man. Suddenly everything felt…different."

"It *is* different. I'm different, you're different, everything about this is fucking different. But—" Adam's voice softened as he trailed his fingers along the side of Jazz' face. Jazz closed his eyes and swallowed, his tension almost palpable.

"But you still love me, right?" Jazz opened his eyes suddenly, the bright sheen of unshed tears making them seem an even more vivid shade of green. "This isn't just about fucking."

Adam shook his head slowly. "It's never been about fucking for me, Nick. You're not someone I fuck. You're someone I want to spend the rest of my life with." Adam kissed him as tenderly as he knew how. "I love you, Nick. That's one thing that's never going to change."

Jazz looked into the eyes of the young man he loved and read the truth there. Without another word, he began unbuttoning Adam's shirt.

They made love all night long and they slept in each other's arms until dawn, waking by force of habit. "Hey, Nick," Adam whispered against his lover's temple.

"What?" Jazz murmured sleepily.

"You don't have to get up and leave. You can stay with me and we can have breakfast together and—"

Jazz groaned and stretched his arms expansively, his body instinctively curling around his lover's lean but muscular frame. "Mmm, that sounds romantic…"

"Yeah," Adam admitted, pressing a light kiss to the top of Jazz' head.

They were so close, Adam could feel the frown that marred Jazz' otherwise peaceful expression. "Damn."

"What?"

"I have to go to school," Jazz grumbled.

"Well, you still have to eat."

"True. But I have to be there by—"

"I'll give you a ride."

That woke Jazz up. "You don't have a car, Adam."

"We can take a cab?"

"We don't have any money."

"I'll walk you to the bus stop?"

Jazz nodded. "Sounds like a plan."

Jazz rolled over, intending to get out of bed, but Adam caught him and held him against him. "We could make love one more time."

"We could take a shower together."

Adam kissed him and Jazz' body seemed to mold itself to his, the lines and curves of both fitting together as though they were two halves of the same whole. "I love you," said Adam, playing with Jazz' left hand.

Suddenly his eyes were drawn to the ring that Jazz wore. "You're still wearing my ring."

"I never take it off," Jazz replied huskily.

"What about school?"

"If anyone asks," Jazz said playfully, his green eyes sparkling with mischief, "I'll just tell them it belongs to my big, buff boyfriend."

Adam chuckled. "I'm not big *or* buff."

"But you *are* my boyfriend, aren't you, Adam?"

Adam's arms tightened around his lover. "I think I'm a helluva lot more than that, Nick. And so are you."

"Yeah?" Jazz grinned.

"Yeah," Adam said softly, his dark eyes tender as they took in the intimate picture the two of them made lying in bed together.

"I love you."

"I love you more."

The sun peeked through the blinds in Adam's apartment, creating an intricate pattern of shadows on his bedroom wall. He started to stir, smiling as his eyes slowly opened. "G'morning."

This was definitely the way he wanted to wake up for the rest of his life. Looking right into the face of his lover.

As if he felt Adam's scrutiny, Jazz' eyelids fluttered. "Morning."

A few seconds passed in companionable silence. Then Adam ran the back of his hand down the center of Jazz' body. With a marked drawl, Jazz said, "What are you doing?"

"Mmm…nothing. Yet." Adam leaned over and kissed Jazz, nudging his lips apart with his tongue.

Jazz kissed him back, shifting his body closer in an apparent attempt to give Adam greater access. "Mmm…no. Definitely feels like you're up to something."

"I could be," Adam teased, his fingers plucking lightly at Jazz' groin.

Jazz would have laughed, but there was nothing funny about the way Adam made him feel. Suddenly Jazz froze. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what? You must still be half-asleep."

Jazz shrugged and Adam claimed his mouth again, his kisses growing more and more urgent. When they broke apart, Jazz' bottom lip was glistening wet, not to mention swollen. "Do we have time for this? When is your first class?"

"I've got the morning off," Adam whispered, his dark eyes curiously hot.

Jazz sighed in disappointment. "But I don't. I can't play hooky today. I need to bring up my grade in Geometry and there might be a quiz."

"Damn."

"And don't forget. You've still got homework," Jazz reminded his lover. "We got a little sidetracked last night."

"A little? Is that what you call this?" Adam insinuated himself between Jazz' legs and Jazz' mouth parted involuntarily. "Shit. You don't play fair."

Adam bit at his mouth, kissing him harder and deeper than before. "I don't have time to be fair. I want in. Let me…please?"

Jazz couldn't bear to say no. Especially when it was what he wanted, too. "You make me so fucking hot," he whispered in between kisses.

Adam stroked Jazz' cock as if it were his own. The younger man shivered all over. "A-dam…"

The lube was still in the bed somewhere. Adam fumbled to get the cap off one-handed because he didn't want to let go of Jazz. There was almost no resistance when Adam entered Jazz. Jazz was so relaxed, he might well have been boneless.

This was Adam's favorite way to make love. Face to face. He wanted to be able to catch every single change of expression on his face, but more than that, he wanted to be able to kiss him. He loved kissing Jazz. He was so incredibly responsive.

Not to mention noisy.

Groans and moans and whimpers filled the air. But Adam wasn't worried. That was one of the perks of having his own place now. Privacy.

They could both be as loud as they wanted and they didn't have to be afraid they would be overheard.

Adam slid into his lover one last time and came. Already satisfied, Jazz lay limply in his arms, slightly breathless. "Are you trying to kill me?" Jazz asked, an amused grin on his love-bitten lips.

Adam shook his head. "Nah, if I wanted to kill you, I'd do this." Then he proceeded to tickle him. Jazz rolled away, laughing hysterically. "So much for the sheets."

Jazz pulled the covers over his head and pretended to hide. But Adam pounced on him moments later, somehow oblivious to the sticky wetness that threatened to join them…forever.

"We need a shower."

"Definitely."

Jazz leaped out of bed, naked as the day he was born, only to be confronted by a face at the window. "Jesus!"

"Don't you guys ever answer the freaking doorbell?" Faith asked with more than a trace of impatience. "I've been cooling my jets out here for a good fifteen minutes, listening to you two moan till I felt like throwing up."

Jazz grabbed the first thing at hand to cover himself. Part of the sheet from the bed. "Why are you looking in our window?"

"Duh. Why don't you guys get some curtains?"

"Go away, Fee," Adam commanded. But it was hard to sound commanding when he was hiding under the covers.

"Oh, get over yourself, Adam. I've seen what you two have got before."

Adam poked his head out of the covers and scowled. "When? Where?"

"Now don't go all older brother on me, either."

Adam wrapped the part of the sheet that wasn't attached to Jazz around his waist and tried to summon up a shred of dignity. It was hard to look imposing when he was half-naked. "Okay, Fee, what have you been doing and with whom?"

Faith burst out laughing. "Don't worry, bro, I'm not doing anything you don't know about."

"But even if I was," she began, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "I'll never tell," she sing-songed, imitating one of the female characters in a movie she had seen recently.

"Get in here."

Faith grinned unrepentantly. "Mind opening the door first? I don't think you want me climbing in the window, seeing as how you're so concerned with appearances and all."