"Two! There are *two*!"

Emmy sat bolt upright in bed and struggled to catch her breath. "Two? Two what?" Already the prescient dream was fading. Already it was no longer part of her conscious memory.

"Damn!"

She blew out a long breath and dangled her feet off the edge of the bed. She was going to have to wake up Chris. He was the only one likely to understand the urgency that sometimes accompanied her visions. Oh, her fathers were patient and infinitely understanding as well, but she didn't like reminding them of things better left in the past. Things like…Section One.

And…Madeline.

She dialed his cellphone and hoped that he had it turned on. If she got his voicemail, she would have to invade the Samuelle household directly below. But that was potentially dangerous.

Michael Samuelle was a notoriously light sleeper. So was his wife Nikita.

You didn't want to wake up someone with their particular…backgrounds…without any warning.

She was about to give up when the phone was abruptly answered. "What?"

"Is that any way to answer the phone?" she hissed.

"At three am, it is. Is everything all right?" Chris demanded anxiously. Now that he was more awake, he was beginning to pick up on the unusual vibrations thrumming through their bond. There was nothing supernatural about their connection, if one discounted the fact that Emmy was a psychic as well as something of a witch. But they were in love on a level that went far beyond what most people felt, and that bond made them peculiarly attuned to one another.

"No, it's not all right. Would I be calling you if it was?"

"Jeez, you're cranky at this hour. Remind me to call off the wedding."

"Screw you."

"I wish that was why you were calling me," Chris said wistfully.

Emmy chuckled softly before she remembered to keep any sound to a minimum. Da was a light sleeper, too, and it wouldn't do to get his Irish up. Literally.

"I had another one of those weird dreams."

"The ones about Section?" Chris whispered.

"Yeah. At least, I think that's where they take place. By the time I wake up, I forget a lot of the details, and besides, I've never seen Section myself."

"Does it make your skin crawl when you see this place?"

"Yeah, it does."

"Then trust me, it's Section." Chris shuddered and raked a hand through his light blond hair. These dreams were coming more and more frequently. He was convinced that they meant *something*, something that Emmy was supposed to decipher. But he wished he knew what it was.

"Do you remember *anything*?"

"Just that there were two."

"Two what?"

"I don't know. I woke up screaming, Two! Two! I have no idea what it means."

"Gee, thanks, for telling me. At…um…3:15 am now. I don't suppose either one of us will sleep now."

"You're so supportive, Chris. Tell me again why I want to marry you."

"That's easy. You've heard about my huge—"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence if you ever want to sleep with me again!"

"Awww. Are you going to be like this *after* we're married, too?"

"All the time."

"Mmm…I look forward to it. You know how sarcasm turns me on."

"You're seriously twisted, Chris."

"And you love me," he added dreamily.

"And I do love you," she agreed softly. "No one else I'd rather wake up on a wild goose chase."

Chris sighed and slid deeper under the covers. "Since I can't sleep now, want to talk dirty to me?"

"Chrissss…"

"Just when I start to think you've evolved into some higher life form, you act like a typical guy."

Chris smiled. "That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me, Em."

"No, it's not. At least, I hope not." Emmy frowned.

Chris' swollen flesh leaped at his touch. "Keep talking, Em. I love the sound of your voice."

"Are you jerking off?"

"Umm…I refuse to answer that on the grounds that it might incriminate me."

Emmy rolled onto her stomach and buried her head under the pillow, barely managing to hold onto her phone. "I wish you were here," she sighed.

"I wish I was, too."

"Dammit, Chris. You *are* jerking off."

"Well, you woke me up," he complained.

"What's that got to do with anything?"

He shrugged and continued to stroke himself almost lazily. "If I was there with you, I'd come all over your pretty little breasts…"

"Chrisss…" This time it was more of a groan than a protest. Emmy rubbed against the mattress, her own hand slick and wet between her legs.

"Then I'd lick it off your nipples…"

"Ummm…"

"Then I'd kiss you…"

"Where?" she asked breathlessly.

"There."

She came at nearly the same time that he did. She strained to be quiet, but she knew that he could feel her climax as surely as if he *had* been there.

"Mmm…love you, Tosh." The old nickname slipped out without thinking, and Chris responded in kind. "I love you, too, Soleil."

"Sleep, m'petite."

Emmy fell asleep with a smile on her face and the dialtone buzzing in her ear, the vision long forgotten.

"Emmy's on the phone in the middle of the night again, Dec," Sey murmured sleepily.

"I know."

"Is this where we pretend that we don't know what she's doing cause it might traumatize her forever and she wouldn't be able to have normal sex?"

Declan opened one sleepy grey eye and peered curiously at his lover. "My daughter is not having sex. Normal or otherwise."

"Righttt. I forgot."

Michael sighed and rearranged his pillow unsatisfactorily. "My son has a more active sex life than I do," he grumbled.

"Whose fault is that?" Nikita asked rhetorically.

"I did *not* say that you couldn't cook," Michael replied defensively.

"You said that I couldn't make *salad*, Michael."

"I meant…"

"Yes?" she purred.

"Never mind. I can control my…impulses…a little while longer."

"Uh huh." With that, Nikita slid her near-naked body into its usual position against Michael's back. Michael groaned when her talented fingers found the hardened length that jutted proudly from between his lean yet muscular thighs.

"Well, I could…if you didn't do *that*."

She sank her teeth into his shoulder. "Oh, my God."

Faith threw a sneaker at her twin brother's bedroom door. "Knock it off, Romeo. People are trying to sleep."

Sasha threw his arm over his face and tried not to notice the persistent throbbing in his groin. "Someone's gonna hear us, Ange."

"Not if you're quiet, Beast."

"Nobody's *that* quiet."

"No one knows I'm up here."

"And no one's gonna know. Cause you're gonna go right back downstairs. The way you came. I mean, the way you got here."

"Awww…your sister's doing it with Chris, y'know."

"I do *not* want to hear about my sister having sex. Trust me on that one, Skye."

"He's a good kid, Sasha," Sey mumbled.

"Mmmhmm."

"Since he's so good, should we only ground him for *two* weeks?"

"If you say so, baby."

"Don't call me baby when I'm making executive decisions here, Dec."

"I'm in awe of your authority, acushla."

"That's a little better."

tbc

"What do you think it means, Chris?"

"That something bad is going to happen."

"Well, yeah. I kinda got that part," Emmy said dryly. "But what?"

"That…is really hard to figure out."

"I said I was getting a job, not getting married."

"Very funny. I forgot to laugh," Adam snapped.

"Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning," Jazz commented,
setting the box of cereal down carefully on the tiny kitchen table.

"You tried that already, remember? Didn't work out too well for either one
of us, as I recall," Adam said archly.

"Oh, get over it, Adam. I'm not going to repeat my mistake." Adam snorted.
"I'll make new ones."

Adam pulled Jazz into his lap and wrapped his arms around him, so tightly
that the younger man could barely move. "Whattt?" Jazz wailed.

After a huge sigh, Adam whispered, "I don't want to lose you, Nick."

"You won't," Jazz reassured him. "I told you. Not…gonna…do the same
thing…as before." Every couple of words was punctuated by a heart-stopping
kiss, and Adam couldn't help but respond. "Promise?"

"Promise. I know you're probably sick of hearing this, Adam, but…I love
you."

Adam shook his head vehemently and buried his face in Jazz' light golden
brown hair. "Love you, too."

"Then we're cool about the job?"

Adam glanced at him warily. "Depends on the job."

Jazz laughed and nestled closer to his lover. "You know me too well."

"I'm…getting there."

"Connor was up late last night," Neil said as he paged through his morning
newspaper. Ned leaned over the older man, his silky brown hair flopping
predictably over his forehead, and kissed the top of his head. "Mmm…yes."

"Any idea why?"

"Why would *I* know anything about Connor being up late?" Ned inquired with
an air that was just a shade too innocent.

"Because, my love, you know *everything* that goes on in *this* house and
the *next*," Neil said sweetly.

Ned settled comfortably in the chair next to his mate and spooned sugar into
his tea. "You make me sound like a Nosey Parker."

"If the shoe fits…"

"I assure you, Neil, I am hardly the nosey type."

Neil nodded disbelievingly. "Uh huh. This is the brain behind the CEO of one
of the largest conglomerates in Great Britain?"

"I gave up the day-to-day running of the corporation, Neil. You know I'm
happy here at home."

"Oh, yes, my dear little househusband," Neil teased. "But you didn't stop
*thinking*, did you?"

"Are you asking me to make an educated *guess* as to what Connor was doing?"

"Yes, dammit," Neil replied impatiently.

"He was with Faith," Ned said before blowing on his hot tea.

"Why didn't you say that in the first place?"

"Sworn to secrecy."

"About what?"

"Well, it wouldn't be much of a secret if I told you, would it?"

"I don't like you keeping things from me, Neddy," Neil whined. His hands
slid over the younger man's shoulders, and Ned gave him a curiously heated
look. "Are you trying to seduce me into telling you?"

Neil grinned encouragingly.

"Sorry. I promised Con."

"What about your promise to *me*?"

"You mean the one about loving, honoring, and cherishing?"

"Yes."

"I'm still keeping that one."

"I notice you left out *obey*," Neil growled.

"Oh, no, I just never made *that* one."

"You're a cheeky little bugger this early in the morning, aren't you?"

Ned just smiled.

"You can't wear pink! *I'm* wearing pink!" Faith cried.

"With red hair? Please."

"Skye, I'm not kidding! I'm going to wear pink!"

"Well, *I* happen to look much better in pink than *you* do!"

"But you can wear *white*! Mom and Dad are going to *expect* you to! In
fact, if you don't…I don't think I want to be around to hear the fucking
explosion!"

"Fee, they *know* Sasha and I are sleeping together," Skye explained.

"But that doesn't mean you can blow off your wedding and wear *pink*! Jeez,
even *I* wouldn't do that!"

"Fee…you *are* doing that," Skye pointed out.

"Oh, right. But you know what I mean."

"Well, we've got a couple of years yet. Maybe you'll find a new color you
like better."

"I want *pink*!"

"Pink what?" Sasha asked as he joined them. He bent his head to kiss Skye,
and Skye virtually poured herself into his arms. "Hi."

"Hi. Stop that. Your mom is somewhere behind me."

Skye straightened up and adjusted her clothing. Just in case. "Hi, Mom."

"Hello. Well, both my daughters in one place for a change. That has to mean
something. What are you two up to?"

"Nothing."

"Planning a wedding."

Skye and Faith traded looks of consternation. "Not *our* weddings. Just *a*
wedding."

"Anyone I know?"

"No."

"Yes."

Skye glared at Faith, as if to say, You have the timing of someone who could
not possibly be related to me.

"Umm…Todd. Todd is getting married," Faith said lamely.

"Todd? Isn't Todd a boy's name?" Nikita asked.

"Umm…"

"I'd be very interested in hearing why *Todd* wants to wear pink. It must be
a fascinating story."

"Not really," Skye said weakly.

Nikita glanced at Sasha meaningfully, but Sasha shrugged. "Hey, don't look
at me. I came in on *pink*."

"Well…" Nikita drawled. "I'm not sure how close to this *Todd* you are,
girls, but take it from me, he wouldn't look good in *pink*."

"No pink."

"Crossing it off m—um, his list. Right now, Mom."

"Good."

Nikita went back into the house, and Skye waited till she vanished
completely before giving her older sister a shot in the arm. "Great. Now
neither one of us can wear pink."

"Why don't you both wear white?" Sasha suggested. Only to be impaled by the
sharp gazes of both his fiancee and his prospective sister-in-law.

"Or…not." Sasha didn't even try to kiss Skye goodbye. It seemed a little
risky.

Then again, *not* kissing her was probably a bad idea. After all, she had
her heart set on *pink*.

"You have to test your blood four times a day?" Kiarra asked.

Luc nodded silently. He seemed unusually preoccupied lately, something that
vaguely nagged at Kiarra. She was well used to the moods of all the Samuelles, including their youngest child, but Luc was *special*. She *loved* him.

With all of her eight-year-old heart.

"Does it hurt?"

"Sorta."

"Can I see?" Kiarra pulled Luc's hand into her lap and scrutinized it
carefully. "Wow, you have bruises on your fingers."

"Yeah. They're kinda sore."

"Can I kiss 'em and make 'em better?" she asked breathlessly.

"Ummm…okay." He held his breath while she touched her lips to his
fingertips. It made him feel funny.

"Did that help?" she queried anxiously.

"Lots." But he never took his eyes off her face. She was beautiful…and now
the only reason she wanted to have anything to do with him was because he had a life-altering medical condition. Sometimes life…sucked.

"Morning, sunshine." Davenport kissed the back of his wife's neck, and she
turned sleepily into his arms.

"Jake?"

Davenport frowned. "Who else would be in your bed at this hour of the
morning?"

She grinned, and he fell in love with her all over again. "You're so
predictable."

Davenport kissed her, and she twined her arms around his neck, pressing her
breasts into his chest. Suddenly his erection pressed just as firmly against her thigh. "You're right."

"Are you going to work like that?" Adam grabbed Jazz by the wrist and swung
him around to stare at the outfit his lover wore.

He was dressed almost completely in black, but that wasn't what drew Adam's
attention. No, it was the silver necklace that hung around his otherwise bare neck and shoulders. A tiny ring set with an even tinier faux emerald slid back and forth on the chain. "Yes."

"But you never…you always…"

Jazz leaned forward and pushed his hands through Adam's thick dark hair.
"I've never made our relationship a secret, but…I've never put it right
out there either. I thought…maybe it was time to change that. This time,
when I go to work, everyone's going to know that I belong to someone. To
*you*," he added almost shyly.

"You always wear the ring," Adam pointed out, indicating the class ring that
Adam had given Jazz as a symbol of their love and commitment.

"Yeah, but…people who don't know me…might think it was my own."

Adam picked up the fine silver chain and let it slip between his fingers.
"Then how will they know who gave you this?"

"I'll tell them," Jazz said quietly. "My brave, beautiful…husband…gave
it to me…because he loves me."

Adam felt his heart jump when Jazz said the word *husband*. He'd always
thought of the two of them that way, but to hear Jazz put it into words…

"Nick…"

"I know, Adam. I always know."

"Why now?"

"Why not now, Ned? Are you ashamed of me?"

"No, of course not, Neil. It's just—"

"Just what?" Ned could tell that Neil was on the verge of impatience, but he took a deep breath and centered himself anyway.

"It's just he never came before this. Why now?" he finished lamely.

Neil folded his arms across his chest and regarded his lover sternly. "Is there something you're not telling me, Neddy?"

"Ummm…Neil, you don't understand what he's like—"

"Marcus was my friend before you and I even met, Ned," Neil ground out. His teeth ached from grinding them together, but he couldn't seem to help it. He felt every part of his body tighten in anticipation of what Ned had to say.

"Look, can we talk about this later? I have to pick him up and—"

"You didn't tell him, did you?" Neil's eyes widened and seemed inexplicably bluer. "We've been living together for how long? And you didn't bloody tell him?"

"It…never came up," Ned said almost inaudibly. He averted his eyes and bent his head, his hair falling forward in its characteristic manner. The same manner that Neil inevitably found endearing. But not now. Not when he needed to see the truth in Ned's face.

"It never came up?" Neil paced back and forth, stopping every few seconds to stare at his lover in utter disbelief. "It. Never. Came. Up?"

"He didn't have to know, Neil." Ned winced when Neil started to shout, his entire body language reflecting that he wasn't accustomed to arguing with the man he loved.

"That's…that's like denying you love me!" Ned paled and pressed himself closer to the wall of their living room as though he wanted nothing more than to disappear.

"You know that's not true," Ned choked out.

"Do I? I don't think I bloody know you!"

"You're just angry right now, but—"

"I—" Neil raked a hand through his already disheveled dark blond hair. "I don't know what to say to you, Ned. I thought we didn't keep secrets from each other. You know how I feel about that."

"I didn't mean to, Neil," Ned whispered, the sound of imminent tears in his voice.

"Jesus, I could hear you two all the way upstairs, Dad," Connor said, shaking his head. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Neil snapped.

Connor looked from one to the other and back again. "Right. You don't want me to know, I'm cool with that. But next time, try to keep it to a low roar, okay?"

"We're *not* arguing," Neil managed to say without unclenching his jaw.

"Uh huh. And the rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain."

"What?"

"Sounds like a regular musical comedy you've got going here, Dad. But…" Connor was almost as tall as his father now, and he drew himself up to his full height, which, much to his surprise, Neil found slightly intimidating. "If you hurt Ned, you're going to be sorry."

"Why? You're taking his side? You don't even know what this is about."

"I heard enough of it," Connor confessed. "And just for the record, that wasn't a threat, Dad. I don't have to beat you up. If you hurt Ned, you'll do it yourself."

Neil had the grace to look away at that. It was true. Ever since Ned came into his life, he had loved the other man beyond reason. If anything happened to make Ned unhappy, even if he himself was the cause, he would regret it for the rest of his life.

"I'm sorry you heard any of this, Con. I didn't want that," Neil said softly. Ned nodded without speaking, his large brown eyes now luminous with unshed tears.

"Yeah, I get that. You guys'll work it out. You always do." With that, Connor left the two of them alone. But Ned levered himself away from the wall and started to follow Connor out of the house.

"Where are *you* going?"

"To the airport. That's what I was trying to tell you. Marcus is at the airport. He expects me to pick him up." Ned shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, and it was apparent that he didn't want to stay in the same room with his lover any longer than he had to. Not, contrary to what Neil believed, because Ned suddenly hated him. But because Ned was struggling to hold back tears and he refused to allow Neil to feel guilty for one more thing. This was his fault. All his fault. It was up to him to make it right. Even if it meant sacrificing his own happiness.

"I have to go, Neil," Ned said huskily.

"We need to talk, Neddy," Neil said, a bit more firmly than he intended.

"Later. I…have to go shopping before I go to the airport. If I don't go now, I'll be late."

"Let him wait."

"Sorry. I can't." Ned darted through the door, keys in hand, before Neil could catch him. He peered through the front door after him, noting how he swiped at his eyes before he backed the car out of the long winding drive.

I did that, he told himself. I made him so upset, he probably can't even see where he's going. "Dammit, Neddy," Neil whispered out loud. He grabbed his cell phone and hit auto-dial.

When Ned's voicemail picked up, Neil swore loudly and threw the phone down on the couch. "If anything happens to you…I'll never forgive myself."

It took Ned most of an hour to shop for groceries. He loaded the bags into the trunk of the car and sat in front of the store for another ten minutes. Waiting for the phone to ring. When it didn't, he picked it up and checked for messages. "You have three messages."

He listened to Neil's voice grow more and more distraught and then carefully pushed the delete button. He didn't need to hear them again. They were etched into his memory forever.

He pressed his face against the window and gazed sightlessly at the shoppers bustling back and forth in the parking lot. He never argued with Neil. He didn't have to. They didn't keep secrets. They shared everything. And they loved each other quite desperately. But this…was different. His failure to tell his older brother about the true nature of his relationship with Neil cut Neil to the bone.

And now it was killing *him*.

He sighed heavily and dialed home, bracing himself for the emotional impact of hearing Neil's voice again. "Neil?"

"Thank God! I've been going crazy imagining what must've happened to you—"

"I'm fine," he said with more calm than he was capable of feeling. "I'm off to the airport now."

"Ned! Don't hang up!"

"What is it?"

"I don't want to argue with you, Ned. I love you."

"I love you, too." Ned touched a fingertip to the phone and put it back on the seat next to him.

Sometimes it amazed him that he could run a major corporation, but he couldn't handle his personal life. He'd always been bad at relationships. He'd despaired of ever finding *anyone* who remotely understood him. But Neil…Neil was the love of his life. He had to find a way to make this right.

But the thought of confronting his brother Marcus made him cringe inside.

By the time he reached the appropriate gate, he was a nervous wreck. He studied the strangers streaming through the gate and shivered. There he was. Marcus Guest. A leonine man who bore little resemblance to his little brother.

"Edward! It's so good to see you!"

Ned pasted a courageous smile on his face.

"Get my bags, Edward. There's a good lad."

Ned felt a surge of anger, but just as quickly suppressed it. He hadn't even seen his older brother in over a year, and the man was patronizing him in his usual overbearing way. He didn't mean anything by it. It was simply the way he was.

"I-I'm not a b-boy anymore, Marcus," Ned stammered, much to his chagrin.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Edward. You're what? Twenty-five? Wait till you're *my* age. Then you can boss *me* around."

"I don't think I can wait that long," Ned muttered under his breath. Dangerous words. Dangerous thoughts.

"How are you getting on here in France? I must say, I expected you home long before this. You never call. You rarely write. What on earth are you doing here, letting someone else run the business?"

"You could have waited till we got to the car before you started taking potshots at me, Marcus," Ned whispered.

"What did you say? You'll have to speak up, Edward. There's entirely too much noise here."

"I said, I bought a roast for dinner. You'll like that."

"Ah, yes. You always did have a flair for cooking, Edward. Funny that."

"I *like* cooking," Ned declared mutinously. "What's wrong with cooking?"

"Not a thing. If you're, well, you know what I mean, Edward. *Men* don't cook."

"*Real* men, you mean."

"Well, yes."

Ned shifted the bags to his other arm. They were getting heavy, and he wasn't as muscular as his older brother. But it would be particularly embarrassing if he had to stop to rest. Or if he dropped one. Marcus would never let him live it down.

To his relief, however, he made it to the car without mishap. With great difficulty, he managed to lift the bags, one by one, into the trunk, but there wasn't as much room as he'd thought. Thanks to his hour-long shopping spree. So he was forced to take one of the bags back out and place it into the backseat. "Mind you don't drop it now, boy."

"I'm not your fucking boy," Ned mumbled.

"What?"

"Nothing." How many years had Marcus carelessly subjugated him without him even realizing it? Too many. Let him get his own bags. Or better yet, let him walk to the house. That would be justice.

"Nothing? Heh, sounded like *something* to me."

"Look, I was CEO for—" Ned was so blindingly angry, he couldn't see straight.

"You still are, Edward."

"Don't fucking interrupt me again!"

"Edward!"

"You're coming to *my* house, Marcus. You can bloody well act better than this. Or you can…can get out and walk! I mean it!"

"Very well." Ned was just wondering why Marcus had agreed with him so readily when his brother added, "But it's not *your* house, is it? It's Neil's."

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut the fuck up!"

"I mean, you could afford your own house if you wish to continue living in France, Edward. I don't know why you'd want to, but you could."

"Stop it! I…I hate the bloody sound of your voice! Do you know that?"

"Perhaps this isn't a good time for me to visit, Edward."

"Perhaps you could bloody well call me *Ned*. Just once, Marcus. Just *once*. That's all I ask. And shut up. Or I'll…sit right here in the parking lot till we both turn to stone."

Marcus sighed and opened the passenger side door. When he finally settled into a tolerable position, he fastened his seat belt and glanced at his younger brother. "You've always been dreadfully melodramatic, *Ned*. I've no idea why everything has to be such a production with you."

"Don't you?"

"No, I do not. Now drive. I'm hungry."

"I could slit your throat for you. That'd take care of the problem right quick."

"And your language, Edward, really. You're lapsing into the most lamentable slang."

Ned resolved not to speak again for the duration of the ride home, and the silence, while far from comfortable, was strangely welcome.

Ned regretted his childish fit of temper by the time he pulled into the drive. But there was nothing he could do about it now but go forward. He tugged his brother's luggage out of the trunk and readied himself to drag it into the house somehow.

Suddenly Neil appeared, flushed and out of breath. "You're back! I was wor—Marcus! How nice to see you! Did you have a pleasant trip?"

Marcus glared at his brother before saying, "It was…interesting."

Unaware of the treacherous undercurrents, Neil looked momentarily puzzled. "That sounds ominous. Bad flight?"

"Uhhh…no, it was nothing. Really."

Ned breathed a silent sigh of relief and hefted a bag over his shoulder. Neil immediately grabbed the others and fell into step with his lover. "You sure you feel up to making dinner? You look a bit knackered."

"I'm…fine. Honestly. I am. And for the last time, I *like* cooking."

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing."

"I only wanted to make you proud of me. But nothing I do is ever good enough."

Ned frowned and turned the roast carefully in its pan. He ladled more gravy over its top and examined it again. He was glad that the others left him alone to cook. This was *his* kitchen. Even if his brother didn't acknowledge it.

Neil poked his head inside for a moment, only to be shooed outside instantly. "Sure you don't need any help?"

"Yes. Now get out. Please."

"Can't a man steal a kiss from his—?"

"Don't. Please. Not now. Not when I'm doing this. I'm trying so hard, Neil. Really, I am."

"I'm not mad at you, Neddy. Cause I know you're going to tell Marcus. Aren't you?"

"I will. Just…give me a little time. Okay?"

"Baby, I'm worried about you. You look so stressed out over this and I never meant for that to—"

"I know. I do. But go. I want this to be perfect."

Neil reluctantly left the kitchen, but his concern never faded. Ned was usually so easygoing, perhaps too much so. He was intense, but that intensity was tempered with a need to apologize whenever things didn't go according to plan.

He cursed himself for taking out his anger on Ned. It *was* Ned's fault for not telling his older brother about them. But it was also in Ned's nature not to do so. Neil *knew* that. But he had felt so betrayed that he couldn't see past his own pain to Ned's.

"That was excellent. All my favorites. Nice of you to remember, Edward." Marcus beamed at Ned, and Ned smiled shyly in his direction.

"Thanks."

"Marcus, we can catch up in the morning, if you like. You must be tired from the flight," Neil suggested.

"Why, thank you, Neil. If you'll just show me to my room…"

Ned instantly jumped to his feet and started to lead the way to the guestroom. But Neil waved him back into his seat. "Finish your dinner, Ned. I'll walk Marcus upstairs."

When Neil returned, he found Ned anxiously clearing the table. "Hey, hey, we've got a dishwasher, remember? Slow down."

"I know. It's just…I'm a little tired, I think."

Neil pulled the younger man into his arms, but Ned tensed as if he thought Neil might strike him. "What's wrong?"

"You shouldn't do that. Marcus might see us."

"So what? This is our house. Not his."

"But he doesn't know."

"But he will. Tomorrow's soon enough. Now let's go to bed."

"I can't."

"What do you mean, you can't?"

"We can't sleep in the same bed, Neil. He'll know."

"If my kids can adjust, so can he," Neil said rather more forcefully than he intended.

"I'll sleep in Connor's room."

"No, you won't. You're my husband. You can bloody well sleep in *my* room."

"Neil…"

"Don't do this, Neddy. Please. I don't know if I can sleep without you," Neil pleaded, his anger suddenly gone when he saw what it was doing to his lover.

"All right. Just let me finish up here."

But he never came up.

Neil waited and waited, his eyes blurring with fatigue, but Ned never came. "Oh, Neddy, what are you doing, baby?"

Ned pulled the comforter over his aching body and settled into his makeshift bed on the couch. He couldn't sleep with Neil. Not till his brother knew what was going on between them. But he couldn't sleep *without* Neil either.

He sniffled and buried his face in the nubby fabric.

It was the longest night of his life.