Nikita looked out her bedroom window, overlooking the chateau gardens, her arms braced possessively over her slightly protruding abdomen. Only she and Michael could see how her body had begun to change. But now it was nearly time. The Halloween party would take place in another week, and soon, everyone would know the reason for Nikita’s radiance.

She felt a kiss on the back of her neck as Michael joined her. He wound his arms tenderly around her waist, placing his hands over hers. "How’s my little mother?"

She giggled happily. "Hardly little, Michael."

He nuzzled the side of her neck, and she could feel his lips curve into a smile. "I hesitate to disagree with you, love."

"Wise man," she said, turning in his arms to face him. He had such a special light in his beautiful green eyes lately. As immodest as it might be, she thought, no, she believed she was the reason.

She stroked his cheeks with her thumbs, reaching up slightly to kiss him. "You look different, you know."

"Different how?"

"Just...at peace with yourself. And the world. I dunno...happy, I guess."

He tightened his grip around her waist. "If I have anything to be happy about, it’s all because of you." He leaned his forehead on hers, his eyes dancing playfully. "I’ve been so good, Kita, keeping our secret. Can we tell everyone now?"

"Soon, Michael. Next week...everyone will know what we know."

***

Declan hung up the phone. Birkoff glanced at him, a question in his dark chocolate eyes. "Did you get it? Declan! Tell me! Did you get it?"

Declan beamed at Birkoff, his pale grey eyes sparkling merrily. "Oh, yeah. I got it, Sey! I got it!"

"Whoa...wait till everyone else sees this, Dec. You are gonna blow everyone away!"

Declan considered that. His eyes softened as they lit upon Birkoff’s delighted face. A moment later, he pulled Birkoff into his embrace, resting his chin on the top of Birkoff’s head. "Well...there is only one person I want to impress, Sey...and that’d be you."

Birkoff snuggled closer to Declan’s chest, wrapping his arms around his middle. "Mmm...you’re my hero, Dec. You always impress me."

Declan laughed, then sobered. "Will you come with me to the party then? As my significant other?"

"I wasn’t planning on staying upstairs while you have all the fun, Dec. But significant other?" Birkoff pretended to pout. "I thought I was the ‘wife’."

Declan smiled mysteriously. Bending his head to kiss his lover, he whispered, "Only when you want to be, Sey. Only when you want to be."

Their lips touched gently, then more insistently. Birkoff closed his eyes and opened his mouth, and Declan took full advantage. A few kisses later, Declan slid his cheek against Birkoff’s and exhaled softly. "I guess you want to be then," Declan whispered.

Birkoff’s eyes fairly glowed with an inner fire only Declan could quench. "I guess so," he responded amiably.

***

"Faith!" Madeline called out. It was an exercise in futility. Did all children develop hearing problems at this age? Faith was a good child, but she was so much like Nikita. She listened faithfully, cocking her little head to the side. Sometimes she would even nod, as if she agreed with what was being said. But then, moments later, she would go out and do exactly what she wanted to do. Madeline sighed. Did Neil realize that they had this to look forward to with Connor?

Faith chortled as she ran, stopping only when she accidentally fell. Instead of crying, like the average toddler, Faith merely picked herself up and kept on going in the direction she was headed. Whether this was due to a trace of Michael’s stoicism or Nikita’s strong will and single-mindedness was anybody’s guess. But Madeline despaired of ever making the toddler see reason this century.

Nikita had confided in Madeline about her plans for the Halloween party. She thought that Faith would be perfect as a fairy princess. Especially since her devoted father thought the sun rose and set on Fee, Fee being French for fairy. What would Michael say if Madeline told him that his fairy Fee was behaving in a distinctly un-fairy-like manner?

Madeline sighed. Michael was so distinctly un-Michael-like these days. He would probably grin and give Madeline the high five, shouting, "That’s my girl!"

Chris, on the other hand, was quiet, even somber at times. He was not a depressed child. He simply had his own active inner life, one he was finely tuned into, and he did not need input from the outside in the same way that Fee did. In short, he was Michael’s son.

Madeline often wondered who Connor would take after. He had the placid nature of Neil, but there were times, like when he kept her up all night long, fussing for no apparent reason, that he acted just like...well, her. She considered herself the original Princess from Princess and the Pea fame. Leave it to Madeline to find the sole flaw in something fine. At one time, it had been her job. Now, it was merely part of her personality.

Ah well, she supposed there were worse things. "Faith!" she called again. And so it went.

Chris ran and ran until he slammed headfirst into something solid. It would have hurt if it hadn’t been what it was. His father’s body. Michael bent down and grabbed his son by the shoulders. "Chris! What are you running from?" Anxiety etched his voice like acid onto stone. He couldn’t help it.

"Mamie!" the little boy shrilled, his dark blue eyes wild. He pointed somewhere behind him, and Michael stood up, searching the surrounding area. He saw her.

"Mamie? Pourquoi?" Michael queried his son. Why is your grandmother chasing you across the grounds? Flailing like a banshee? He hid a smile. Madeline was not nearly as therapeutic with children as with adults.

Madeline caught up with her grandson and Michael. Chris immediately struggled to get away from Michael’s grip, but Michael held him fast. "Madeline...why is my son scared of you?"

Madeline all but cursed under her breath. "He’s not scared of me, Michael. He’s just very highstrung."

Michael blinked, then laughed shortly. "Chris? Highstrung? He’s the most amiable child I’ve ever met."

"Well...he would be. To you. You’re his father."

"Maddy, you don’t seem to be adjusting to life here. Is there something wrong? You miss your house? You miss your practice? What?"

Madeline wrapped her arms around herself. Sometimes she felt so alone. Even in the midst of people she cared about. Even when Neil and Connor were nearby. A chill made its way down her spine.

"Maddy? Are you all right?" Now Michael was concerned. Madeline was so focused, so well put together, she rarely made a misstep. There was something about her body language that worried him.

"Do you believe in premonitions, Michael?" she blurted out finally, wondering if it sounded as strange to him as it did to her. She, the logician, the demystifier, at the mercy of a few bad dreams.

"Depends." When Michael didn’t know where a conversation was going, he liked to keep his options open. Chris fidgeted under his hand, but Michael didn’t release him. With Madeline acting so out of character, he didn’t want his son wandering around the grounds by himself.

She inclined her head towards Michael and took a preparatory breath. "Maybe it’s just the season. Maybe it’s what happened almost a month ago, Michael."

Michael’s green eyes met Madeline’s bittersweet chocolate eyes, silently warning her not to talk about The Incident in front of Chris. She nodded. "Anyway...I’m not given to flights of fancy. But the past week...my dreams are so different."

"Nightmares?"

"Not really. Nothing overtly threatening. Just feelings. Of menace. Dread. Something bad in the air."

"Halloween is coming, Maddy. Maybe you’re reacting to that."

She shrugged. "Perhaps. But it’s affecting my sleep. And now, I see...", she indicated Chris, "it’s starting to affect other things."

Michael picked up his son and held him, rubbing his back. Chris settled his blond head contentedly against Michael’s shoulder. "Daddy, me tired now."

"I’ll take you inside, Chris." Chris wound his little arms around his father’s neck and kissed him on the chin. Then he giggled. "Just like Mommy does!" he exclaimed.

Michael grinned at his son’s antics. He was so like Nikita when he least expected it. Most of the time, he was quiet and carefully measuring people and things. Then, suddenly, out of the blue, he would explode with laughter, or impulsively kiss him, like now...and his resemblance to his mother was so clear. Both children were a curious mixture of the two of them. That was what made life so interesting.

Madeline smiled wearily. "I’ve been chasing this one, just to get him in to eat lunch and lie down for a nap, Michael."

"Well, around here, we eat when we’re hungry and we sleep when we’re tired, Maddy."

"Isn’t that confusing for the children, Michael?" Her disapproval was unmistakable. "The lack of structure..."

Michael kissed Chris, and his son chortled happily. "It works for us, Maddy. We like it. They like it."

Just when she might have persisted, Madeline backed off, noting the implacable look in Michael’s eye. He was telling her something. These are our children. We are raising them the way we want.

Michael smiled at Madeline, but the smile never reached his eyes. "Maddy, you know you’re welcome here. You’re Kita’s Mom now. I would never tell you to go." He paused, looked away, then back again, his eyes like chips of pale green ice.

"But if you ever tell me how to raise my children again...or if I hear that you’re undermining Kita’s authority..." He didn’t finish the sentence, but the meaning was unequivocal. Cross me, pay the consequences.

Madeline smiled brightly, but like Michael’s smile, it never warmed her dark eyes. "I understand perfectly, Michael."

She didn’t care what anyone said. There was an odd feeling in the air. Whether it was simply the ambiance of Halloween, she didn’t know. But she felt it. And though she was never one to trust her feelings more than her logical mind, in this instance, she felt there was a great deal to be said for intuition.

It wasn’t like Madeline to be so skittish. She knew she must have come off sounding like a lunatic, or worse, Michael now thought she was in denial about The Incident. But she sometimes had dreams about Section One, and some of them involved people who were dead. People who, like Justin, should stay dead. That was the element that was disturbing her sleep.

The person in her dreams was never clearly identified. Yet she knew he was Section. She knew he was dead. Or, she corrected herself, he was believed dead. That was the disquieting part. What if the person she was dreaming about was not in fact dead? She chewed anxiously on her lip. What if the person who let Justin escape Section was the one who lurked in her dreams? The one they needed to identify?

What if her dreams were her mind’s way of warning her? Informing her of things she could not put together consciously? Or maybe she just needed a nice, long nap and some comfort food. Madeline had the strangest urge to visit Declan now. He and Birkoff would know where the Oreos were kept. That ought to clear her mind. Tout de suite.

***

Speak of the devil. Declan and Birkoff were in the midst of very important negotiations with one of their godchildren. Faith was adamantly demanding an extra Oreo, but Birkoff was reluctant to part with it. He needed to shop, both for groceries and for the upcoming party, and his supply of Oreos was dangerously low.

Declan laughed at Birkoff’s obvious dilemma. "Oh, for God’s sake, Sey, give the baby the cookie! You’re a grown-up. You’re supposed to be well-used to disappointment."

Birkoff pouted, but he did as Declan asked. "I hope you enjoy it, Fee," he said, watching the little girl bite into the cookie with real enthusiasm. His dark eyes followed each bite as it entered Faith’s mouth.

Declan sighed. He ran his hand along the back of Birkoff’s neck. "It’s okay, Sey, there’ll be other days and other cookies."

***

Michael entered the kitchen with Chris in his arms, and Declan immediately noted that the toddler was nearly asleep, his eyes drooping with the effort to stay awake. Declan held out his arms to Michael, and Michael handed Chris to his godfather. Chris protested, albeit briefly and without real spirit. "Daddy give me ride," he explained to his sister.

Faith raised an eyebrow and pointed to the empty bag of Oreo cookies. "Unca Sey give me last cookie," she declared triumphantly.

Chris’ face crumpled. As Chris was never one to cry without a good reason, Michael wondered if his son was feeling all right. He pressed a hand to Chris’ forehead. The toddler was undeniably warm to the touch. "Uh-oh," said Michael.

Declan glanced at Michael. "Fever?"

Michael nodded. "Better get him in to see Neil, just to make sure it’s nothing more than a cold."

"And to head off the over-anxious mother," added Declan.

Michael smiled. Nikita’s reputation preceded her. Truth be told, Nikita was a damn good mother, and the fact that she’d managed to become one, despite having a terrible role model to follow, only underscored just how amazing his wife was.

***

Neil listened to Chris’ chest. "His lungs are clear. His nose is a little bit congested, but I’m sure it’s just a cold. Babies this age run fevers at the drop of a hat, but then, I’m sure you know that."

Neil put away his stethoscope and picked up a cherry lollipop for Chris. Chris turned it down and buried his face in his father’s chest. A sure sign he didn’t feel well.

Michael kissed the top of the toddler’s head. Chris snuggled closer. "Chris, would you like to lie down and take a nap?"

Chris shook his head. "No."

"It’ll make you feel better..."

"No."

Chris clutched at his father’s neck, starting to sniffle. "Me want stay Daddy. Daddy stay wif Chris?"

Michael’s troubled green eyes met Neil’s tranquil blue gaze. Neil shrugged. "Hey...some kids want to stay with Mommy when they’re sick. Your son wants to stay with Daddy."

Chris lay his head on his father’s chest and contentedly sucked his thumb, while looking at Neil. "Me stay wif Daddy. Daddy make me feel better."

"Actually, that’s Dr. Neil’s job, Chris," Michael started to explain, but Chris cut him off, determined to keep his father all to himself.

"No! Daddy love Chris. Make Chris all better."

Neil smiled kindly at the little boy, whose cheeks were reddened with fever. Before Michael could correct Chris, Neil said, "He’s absolutely right, Michael. Making little boys all better is definitely Daddy’s job. Dr. Neil just helps out when he can."

Chris managed a half-hearted smile for the doctor who understood kids so well. He was a nice man. Not as nice as Daddy. But then, nobody was as nice as his Daddy. Except maybe Mommy. Chris wrinkled his nose as he thought. Yep, Mommy was real nice, but Daddy...Daddy was his hero.

When Michael tried to lay Chris down for a nap, Chris started to wail. "No! Daddy!" Chris stretched his arms out to Michael, tears streaming down his face, which was now pale except for twin red spots on his cheeks. Michael sat on the edge of the bed and stroked his son’s hair back from his face, the gesture oddly familiar. Chris closed his eyes and rubbed his cheek against Michael’s hand. Chris’ response, so like his mother’s, changed Michael’s mind about leaving.

Michael smiled and said to no one in particular, "I guess Daddy’s going to take a nap, too." He lay down next to his son, and Chris burrowed into Michael’s chest. Michael wrapped his arms around Chris and rested his chin on top of Chris’ head. So sweet. So dear. So like his mother.

He wasn’t tired. He didn’t expect to sleep. But the warmth of Chris’ body next to his lulled him into a state of drowsiness he couldn’t fight. That was why when Nikita finally came in search of her son and her husband, she found them together. Entwined together like a Papa Bear and his cub.

Michael must have felt her presence. He had an uncanny sense of when she was nearby. Whether he was asleep or not. He opened his eyes. "Hi."

She slowly drifted closer to the bed, admiring the way her son and her husband fit together like two pieces of the same jigsaw puzzle. "Hi. Neil said Chris has a cold and a fever."

Michael nodded. "Don’t come too close, Kita. I couldn’t say anything to Neil without giving away our secret, but I don’t think you should take the chance of exposing yourself to Chris’ cold."

She acknowledged the wisdom of that, but she would miss holding Chris when he was sick. "It’ll be hard for me to stay away, Michael. Most of the time, he’s trying so hard to be independent. But when he’s sick, he likes to be held. And he’s just so cuddly to hold onto."

Michael smiled. "I noticed." He looked down at the sleeping toddler in his arms, feeling his heart expand a notch with all the love he felt right now.

Nikita gazed at her husband and her son with absolute adoration in her bright blue eyes. "He’s so much like you, Michael."

Michael turned at the catch in Nikita’s voice. "Is he? He looks just like you, Kita."

Nikita nodded. "I know. But he acts like you, all self-contained and quiet."

"You make it sound like I don’t need anyone, Kita."

She smiled tearfully, wiping gently at her eyes. "Sometimes it seems that way, Michael. But I know you now. I would never make that mistake. You need all of us."

Michael’s expression softened further. "But you, most of all, doucette."

Nikita laughed softly, trying to make light of the surprisingly deep feelings that statement aroused in her. "And you’re every bit as cuddly to hold onto as Chris!"

His eyes lit up. "Am I? He’s like a little teddy bear, doucette. Somehow I don’t see myself as the teddy bear type."

"Ohhh, you have your moments, Michael. You definitely have your moments."

He wanted to touch her. Hold her. But he couldn’t reach her. And he didn’t want to risk her coming any closer to Chris.

Rearranging himself around his son, he kissed Chris on the forehead. Then his green-eyed gaze fell on her again. "I love you, doucette."

Nikita hugged herself, her brilliant eyes dancing captivatingly. "I love you, my Michael."

Faith had the undivided attention of both her uncles. That was heady stuff for a toddler with a definite mind of her own. Add to that the fact that she was on a sugar high from so many Oreo cookies and there was an invitation to trouble...

She darted here and there, managing to elude Birkoff, who was clearly the quicker of the two under normal circumstances.

Declan watched from the sidelines, curiously amused at the sight of his lover exerting himself in such a physical manner for so little reward. "She’s not going to slow down for hours, Sey. I’m telling you, Fee is going to run you ragged."

Birkoff stopped, panting a response to Declan. "Well, it would...be nice if...people sitting on their...butts...got off ‘em."

"What’s it worth to you, Sey?" Declan was flirting with him, dammit. He was struggling to keep up with his goddaughter for the past hour, earning himself a medal or a place in Heaven, whichever came first, and damned if Declan wasn’t having fun at his expense. Again. That dry sense of humor was going to be the death of him one day.

Birkoff leaned close and beckoned to Declan, knowing his innate inquisitiveness would demand that he react. "Dec?"

Declan licked his lips and stared at Birkoff’s mouth, as if he were anticipating the next taste of him. Birkoff sighed. Too bad he was too ticked off to take him up on the offer. "Yes, Sey?" Declan queried.

"Just thought you’d like to know that Fee just ran off with your costume for the Halloween party." Birkoff smiled smugly, crossing his arms in front of him.

Declan’s eyes went wide. He pushed Birkoff back with one hand, his mouth tightening into a thin line. "Now she’s in for it!"

"I don’t think she’s old enough to carry off that black leather look, do you, Dec?" Declan glared at Birkoff as he raced after Faith, who even now trailed Declan’s hard won costume on the floor behind her.

Declan shouted over his shoulder, "Yeah, well, I don’t give two cents for your chances of survival if Michael catches his fairy princess dressed in leather!"

Birkoff gulped and bolted after the two of them.

***

Declan skidded to a stop directly outside of Michael and Nikita’s bedroom door. He watched in disbelief as Faith pushed open the door and waltzed inside with her prize clutched in her tiny little hands. Nikita, who was sitting by the window, rocking back and forth in the rocking chair, stared at her daughter. "What on Earth--?"

Faith waved her arms expansively, beaming at her mother. "Mom-mom, look! Can I have?"

Nikita looked doubtful. "Well, sweetie, the truth is, black is not a good color for you." She wracked her brain to come up with who this alarming piece of attire might belong to, and just as soon as she’d given up, Declan poked his bright red head inside the door.

She blinked. Waving madly at Declan to go back the way he came, she suddenly realized that Michael had already seen him. Michael wasn’t asleep. He was just lying on the bed, continuing to cradle their son. He smiled at Declan. Okay, Nikita thought, he’s seen Declan, but he hasn’t seen what Faith is carrying.

Declan was caught. He couldn’t go back and he couldn’t come in. Birkoff nearly plowed into his back and Declan turned, a vaguely distressed look in his eyes. "Sey! I bet you came to tell me I’m needed in the kitchen!"

Birkoff blinked uncomprehendingly. "Huh?’

Nikita grabbed the proverbial ball and kept it in play. "That’s right. There’s an emergency!"

Michael frowned at Nikita. "How would you know, Kita? You’ve been sitting right here with me and Chris."

"Uhhh...." Nikita groped for words, and it was all over.

Faith, ultimately her father’s daughter, jumped onto the bed, awakening Chris. "Look, Chris! Look what I got!"

Michael grabbed the material out of Faith’s hands and stared at Declan. "Do you have something to do with this...this thing?"

He was astonished at how small an area this kind of costume would cover. But then, maybe that was the whole idea. He blanched. "You weren’t going to wear this to the party, were you?"

Birkoff defended Declan. Sort of. "That’s Declan’s costume, Michael. Part of it, anyway."

"Is there a lot missing?" Michael asked, his lips starting to curve into a crooked smile, despite himself.

"Well..." Birkoff started.

Declan finished the entire discussion. "That is my costume, Michael. But it’s meant for a...private showing. After the family party. Long after. Wee hours of the night after."

Michael held up his hands and began to laugh. ""Stop, stop, I get the idea."

Nikita glanced at Michael. "You do? Well, I don’t. What’s with this private party stuff after our party? Where’s it gonna be? Who’s invited?"

Michael collapsed onto his side, laughing silently. Faith seized the opportunity to leap on her father, and a bit of a wrestling match ensued between Chris and Faith.

Birkoff blushed then. Suddenly Nikita’s face flamed bright red. "Oh...oh!"

Chris giggled. He had total custody of the Daddy, and Faith was left to sulk. Nikita wondered what Faith was going to say when there was a new baby in the house. Perhaps by then, Faith would have learned to swear.