The call came through around 3 pm. The same time the children were due home from school. They should have been home by now. All of them.

Nikita answered the phone absently, her mind preoccupied with the whereabouts of her children. "Hello?"

"Mommy?"

It was Faith. She sounded rattled. Wait a minute...Faith never sounded rattled. Excited, maybe. But not rattled.

"Honey, what’s wrong?" Nikita immediately shifted into protective mode.

"We went to get on the bus to come home, but Sasha and Skye weren’t there."

"Weren’t there? What do you mean, sweetie?"

"No one’s seen them since lunchtime, Mommy. Chris and me don’t know where they are." Nikita heard her oldest child swallow. She was genuinely frightened. "I’m scared, Mommy."

"Honey, where are you?"

"I asked Mme. Dupre if I could use the phone in her office."

"Did you tell her what you just told me?"

"Chris is telling her now. Mommy, what’s going on? Is this like...like what happened to Connor?" Now Faith was starting to cry softly. Nikita thought Faith was well over blaming herself for Connor’s abduction. That was an extraordinary circumstance. One none of them could have predicted or prevented.

"I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation, Fee. This is not like what happened to Connor. Please don’t cry, honey." Nikita struggled to keep her own fear and anxiety from spiraling out of control.

"Can you put Mme. Dupre on the phone, sweetie?" Nikita tried to sound calm, but the fact was, she was dealing with a completely unknown situation.

"Okay..." Faith still sniffled, but she clearly drew strength from speaking to her mother.

She heard Faith set the phone down and talk to someone in the background. A moment later, Ariel was on the phone. "Mrs. Samuelle?"

"Yes," Nikita said, willing the woman to say something, anything that would allay her burgeoning fear.

"Please don’t worry. I’m sure that we’ll find Sasha and Skye any minute now. I have security personnel making careful rounds throughout the campus right now."

Nikita didn’t know exactly what to say. How could she confess that she was not as convinced as the headmistress? Call it a gut feeling, intuition, or just plain residual paranoia, honed to a fine Section point during her long years as an operative.

***

"Where are we going?"

"I told you to shut up, kid."

"Where’s he taking us, Sasha?" Skye whispered, cupping her tiny hands over his ear to prevent the man from overhearing.

Sasha’s dark eyes darted to Skye’s. "I dunno, Ange." He wrapped his arms around her, feeling her nestle beneath his chin. "But don’t worry. I’ll take care of you."

"I said shut up!" The man commanded, barely taking his eyes off the road to shout over his shoulder to the two children cowering in the back seat of the car.

***

When Nikita hung up the phone, she felt like she was in shock. It didn’t matter what the academy was doing to find the children. It could never be the same effort that Michael and the others could put forth.

She raced to the bottom of the staircase and called, "Michael!", forgetting that her husband was at school. A scant few seconds later, Declan appeared, out of breath and evidently interrupted in the middle of shaving. Shaving cream covered one side of his face, stubble covering the other.

"What is it?"

She stared at the tall lean Irishman and frowned. "Why are you shaving at the end of the day? Most men shave first thing in the morning."

Declan flushed, but the color it added to his face was not unbecoming. "I was...otherwise occupied."

Nikita raised an eyebrow. She would have teased the younger man quite happily, but for the fact that she was so upset. "Declan..."

There was trouble. He could hear it in her voice. "What’s up?"

"I dunno how to tell you this."

Now he was worried. Nikita was not one to give in to maidenly vapors. She was strong and fierce, like the warrior she once resembled.

"They’re missing."

"Who?"

"Sasha...and Skye."

"Missing?" Declan’s storm-grey eyes darkened markedly. "They’re not home from school yet?"

Suddenly Declan was glad that Sey was at the bookstore. "What happened? Tell me what you know." Somewhere between his first thought and his second, Declan shifted into mission mode.

Nikita brought Declan up to date, though she had precious little information to share. When she finished, Declan looked as grave as she did. "Michael’s at school?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Did they call the police?"

"No...Mme. Dupre seemed to think they would find them any moment."

"You don’t think so."

She shook her head. He nodded. "Neither do I."

"Declan, what should we do? Do you think they’ve been...kidnapped?" Or worse, her mind added. She tried to steer her thoughts away from there, but they kept returning of their own volition.

"Should we wait to hear from her? Or--"

"Hold on, Nikita. One thing at a time. Where are the twins?"

"Still at school."

"Let me clean up. Then we’ll go get the twins and pick up Michael and Sey on the way back."

"Maybe we should call them first."

Declan thought of how distraught Sey would be when he found out, and he knew that he didn’t want him to be alone when he learned the news. Similarly, he was afraid that Michael would be tempted to take matters into his own hands if he were left to his own devices.

"Don’t. I won’t be long. We can go together."

Declan started to walk back towards his room, but stopped suddenly. "Oh, and...take the baby over to Maddy’s. He’ll be safe there. Especially after I tell Walter to keep an eye on everyone."

Nikita nodded. "Emmy and Connor are still over there with James."

"Good. Tell them to stay there."

Nikita watched Declan leave, feeling curiously calmer now. Though she was more than capable of taking care of herself and her family, she found that Declan had the same effect on her nerves as Michael. His quiet, almost Zen-like attitude during a crisis centered her.

Things were going to be all right. Declan would see to that.

Remy grabbed Sasha by the scruff of the neck as he exited the car. "Listen, kid! If you want to stay alive, do exactly as I say!"

Sasha curbed the impulse to shout something positively filthy in response, trying valiantly to keep his tendency to act without thinking under firm control. He didn’t want to die. But more important was Skye’s welfare. He had to keep her safe at all times. That meant staying alive. And right now, the only way to do that was to nod obediently and bide his time.

Remy debated long and hard with himself, but in the end, as greedy as he was, he couldn’t sacrifice an innocent child to that vulture who waited inside. Thinking quickly, he stooped to Skye’s level. "Honey, I want you to play a game with me."

Sasha couldn’t help it. His eyes almost crossed at the thought of what kind of game this abject fool wanted to play with Skye. His dark eyes flashed, meeting Remy’s for a brief moment, and suddenly he realized that as bad as Remy was, there was something worse waiting for them inside that house.

"She doesn’t know any games, she’s too young," said Sasha, forgetting his earlier vow to stay silent.

Remy gave him a look that would have quelled anyone with a lick of common sense. But Sasha remained undeterred. "I said--"

"I heard what you said, kid! Now listen...tell the little girl to go back in the car and hide there."

"Why?" Sasha asked.

"You ask a million questions! Just do it!" the older man moaned in frustration. "There isn’t much time. I have to produce a body, kid, and you’ll do just fine."

Sasha frowned anxiously at Remy. "I don’t understand."

"You don’t need to understand, kid."

"Yeah, I do. I cooperate a whole lot better when I understand." Sasha’s eyes were cool and unflickering. Remy cursed under his breath. This was one hardass little boy. Jesus, he sure could pick ‘em!

Remy sweat. With an exasperated groan, he said, "Okay, okay. There’s a real bad man inside who wants to meet your little girlfriend. Catch my drift?" He knew the kid was only six, but it was more like six going on sixteen. The kid paled. He obviously understood what Remy meant.

Sasha took Skye’s hands in his and prayed that he was doing the right thing. His gut told him not to let the little girl out of his sight, not for one single moment. But his gut also told him that Remy was serious about the danger that lay ahead.

Wrapping his arms around Skye, he hugged her, so tightly that she could barely breathe. When he released her, there were unshed tears in his eyes. "You have to do it, Skye. It’s the only way you’ll be safe. I’ll come back for you, Skye. I promise."

Remy gave Sasha a gentle shove. "Hey, kid, don’t go making promises you might not be able to keep."

Sasha glared at the man. "Are you trying to scare the hell out of her?"

Suitably chastened, Remy scuffed his foot in the pink gravel driveway that fronted the elegant home. "Make it fast, okay?"

Sasha kissed Skye. It was the first time he had ever dared to show her just how strongly he returned her feelings. Whispering into her ear, he said, "I love you, Ange. Don’t forget. Okay?"

Skye solemnly nodded. Sasha and Remy both watched as the little girl climbed into the back of the car and hid herself on the floor. Sasha was terrified. But not half as terrified as he would be when he heard what Remy’s proposal was.

"You want me to what?"

"You heard me, kid. The man inside is expecting a pretty little girl. Now I can’t honestly vouch for you being pretty and all, but you do have long hair. I think you’ll pass. If you keep your mouth shut."

Sasha ran his mind over what Remy had suggested might happen to Skye, giving him a startled look when he considered that he was taking Skye’s place. "Hey..." he meant to protest, but Remy clapped a big hand over his mouth. "I mean it, kid. Keep quiet, or you’ll never see your little friend again."

Remy felt the little boy relax. Thank God, he thought. With a little fancy footwork, he was sure he could make this work. Without getting either of the two kids hurt.

***

When they entered the library, where Henri Dupre anxiously awaited the rewards of his dissolute life, Sasha tried to look demure. Small and demure.

"You brought her. Good." Henri looked distinctly pleased at the way things had turned out.

"Hey," Remy warned. "Remember our deal."

Henri nodded slowly. He produced a wad of bills thick enough to choke a racehorse. Holding it out invitingly, he laughed when Remy reached for it. "You’ll get this when I...take possession."

Hardly able to believe he was doing it, Remy shook his head. "Keep your money. I just want Ariel."

"Of course. As you wish." Henri Dupre smiled knowingly. Remy’s liaison with his wife would, in time, lead to Henri’s entire fortune. Why settle for a few hundred thousand francs when there could be millions?

But Henri had no intention of giving up his wife. Or his fortune. Without even standing, Henri cut an intimidating figure. Now he rose, coming to his full height, which dwarfed Remy by a considerable number of inches. But that wasn’t what drew Remy’s attention.

That would be the huge gun that Henri now held. Pointed at Remy. "I’m afraid I just don’t trust you, Remy. Pity we couldn’t do business. But I’ll take the girl anyway."

Remy took a big, slow step backwards, never taking his eyes off the gun. Suddenly, without any warning, Remy shouted, "Run, kid! Get the hell out of here!"

Sasha bolted for the door, disappearing through it before either man could recover. Once outside, he headed for the car, parked in the driveway. He flung open the door, shouting for Skye. Skye popped her head up and stared, wide-eyed, at Sasha. "Is everything okay?"

"No!" Sasha yelled, searching desperately for the keys to the car.

"Sasha! What are you doing? You can’t drive!"

If I knew my life depended on it, trust me, I could learn. Real quick. All at once a figure appeared at the driver’s side window. "Hey! Scoot over, kid! We gotta move now! Or we’re all gonna be history!"

Sasha moved over as far as possible, taking refuge against the passenger side door. "Where are we going now?"

Remy cast him a wild-eyed look. "How the Hell would I know? Away from here!"

"What about that man?" Sasha winced, just thinking about the bad man inside the house.

The vehicle spun almost out of control, regaining firm purchase when it hit the main road. They sped down the road, bound for who-knows-where.

Sasha sat with his head down on his chest, trying to make sense out of what had happened. But he couldn’t. There was such a long pause, he thought that Remy had forgotten his question...until he finally answered him.

"That man won’t be bothering anyone...anymore, kid." Remy sounded convinced.

"How come?"

Remy looked frightened for a moment. But he managed to bury the look under a wall of bravado soon afterwards. "Cause...he’s dead."

Remy was in a hurry. His car raced down the now rain-slicked road, all caution thrown to the wind. Sasha studied the older man, wondering, and not for the first time, where they were headed, and at such a breakneck pace. Sasha was a little bit worried, seeing the miles go by so quickly. He truly had no idea where he was, or if he would ever see home again.

It was useless to try to get a straight answer out of Remy. The man was evidently losing control. He kept muttering to himself, his eyes darting back and forth, from the road to the rearview mirror. But there was no one following them, as far as Sasha could tell, and he could feel the car beginning to lose its grip on the road.

"M-maybe you should slow down."

"Maybe you should shut up, kid!" Remy snapped back. He brushed the sweat out of his eyes, straining to see through the increasingly heavy rain. His head hurt. His eyes were difficult to focus. His heart was pounding hard enough to leap out of his chest.

Again and again, the scene re-played itself in his head, like a bad movie that he could not forget. Henri pointing the gun. The kid running for the door. Henri’s other hand still clutching the wad of bills. Remy grabbed for the cash, opportunist that he was, but Henri fought him. In the struggle, the gun went off, fatally wounding Henri. Remy kept seeing the tall man falling backwards, hitting the floor with a thud and a surprised look.

"It coulda been me, it coulda been me," Remy kept repeating under his breath. So close to death. But never one to miss an opportunity. He might be many things, Remy thought. A con artist. A gigolo. But not a murderer. Never a murderer. But not because he had a philosophical problem with killing someone in cold blood. Oh, no. It was just as Birkoff suspected. Remy was no killer. He didn’t have the balls.

Even now, when there was no longer any threat, Remy continued to speed, his thoughts frenzied, his driving more and more erratic. Remy drew a shuddery breath, feeling himself dangerously close to blacking out. Panic. That’s what he felt. Complete and utter panic. And yet, Remy reminded himself, just because he couldn’t kill someone, it didn’t mean he was incapable of acting on whatever advantage presented itself. Hence, the thick bankroll hidden in his coat pocket. No, he was not a killer. But he was hardly a nice man.

He downshifted going uphill, feeling the aging car’s transmission protest. Sasha winced as Remy clashed the gears going back downhill. Turning to face the backseat, Sasha reached out for Skye’s hand. "You okay, Ange?" he whispered. He wasn’t quite sure why he was whispering. Remy didn’t seem to be much of a threat to them anymore. But he wasn’t taking them home either.

Skye nodded. "Can you sit back here with me, Beast?" she said in a low voice.

Sasha cut a quick sidelong glance at Remy. The older man was still cursing and swearing and muttering under his breath. And he wasn’t slowing down.

Sasha almost asked Remy if he could move into the back seat, but he was afraid of reminding Remy of the little girl’s presence. Maybe he had more friends like Henri Dupre.

But he did stretch over the back of his seat, trying to reach Skye, trying to comfort his beloved. And in the end, that was what saved him.

It happened too fast. Remy, dizzy, unable to focus, continued to speed beyond his ability to keep up with the changes in weather or traffic. He took a hand off the wheel to wipe his face. A moment later, the car hydroplaned on the combination of oil and water on the road, rolling over and over, finally coming to a rest on its roof.

The damage to the car was total. Its rear wheels spinning purposelessly in the air, there was no immediate sign of the car’s occupants. Then, finally, a hand appeared, poking its way through one of the windows. It was Sasha.

He wriggled his body through the rear passenger side window of the car. When he reached the road, he could feel sharp, hard pieces of gravel trying to pierce his hands and knees. Miraculously, except for a cut on his forehead, which bled freely, he was unhurt. Taking a deep breath, he peered into the car again. Where was Skye?

Luckily for Skye, Sasha’s arms had been wrapped around her moments before the crash. Thus, at the time of impact, Sasha threw his body on top of Skye’s, protecting her from injury. No doubt that was the reason his face was cut, but she emerged unscathed. She looked frightened and impossibly tiny, huddling within the car’s confines.

Pushing his arm back inside the car, Sasha called to Skye. "Come to me, Ange. I’ll help you." She whimpered in reply.

"Come on, Ange. You can do it."

"I’m scared, Beast."

"I know." He reached through the window, feeling blindly for her hand. But you’ve got to get out of there, Ange, or when the car finishes settling, you’ll be trapped, without any way for me to get to you.

When he finally grabbed her hand, an electric shock went through him. Thank God. He pulled her through the window, very carefully, trying not to let her body come into contact with the sharp glass and metal that lay everywhere.

When she was free, she shook her head, as if to clear it. "Where’s that man, Beast?"

Sasha didn’t want to tell her. When he was searching for Skye, he saw Remy’s body. He was clearly dead. That was something he hoped he could forget. He didn’t want to lie to Skye, but he didn’t want anything that awful to touch her either.

His lower lip trembling, he said merely, "He didn’t make it, Ange. Come on, we have to get out of here."

Slowly, step by step, they made their way clear of the wreckage. Miles from anywhere civilized, neither of them knew where they were or how far they were from home. How would anyone find them? How would they get home?

Sasha made Skye stand at the edge of the road, on the shoulder, and wait for him. "Wait, what are you doing, Sasha?" she called out.

He didn’t answer. He crawled on his hands and knees again, finding Remy’s body on the driver’s side of the car. Gritting his teeth, he began the distasteful job of rummaging through the man’s pockets, scavenging for anything potentially valuable to them. As much as he disliked touching Remy, he knew that if he and Skye were going to survive, this far from home, they would need whatever they could find.

When he found the thick wad of bills hidden in one of Remy’s coat pockets, he heaved a great sigh of relief. This would feed them, buy them shelter for the night somewhere. He struggled free of the car again and quickly rejoined Skye.

Hiding the money in his jacket, he held out his hand to Skye. "Come on, Ange."

"Where are we going, Beast?"

"Home."

"But how?" Skye asked, once more whimpering piteously.

"Don’t worry. I’ll get us there." He slung his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close to the warmth of his body. She was cold and wet from the rain. He would keep her warm until they could find a place to seek shelter.

"How is anybody ever going to find us, Beast?" she whispered, shivering already.

Slowly they started to walk away from the car. Suddenly Sasha felt full of hope again. "Between your Dad and mine, they’ll find us, Ange. I know they will."

"I know they will."

Faith and Chris ran to Nikita the moment they saw her. "Mom! Mom!" they shouted in unison. Her normally unflappable twins were almost hysterical. She met Declan’s eyes and frowned. There were several police cars pulled up in front of the academy. Declan looked in the direction of Nikita’s gaze and cocked his head. "I thought you said that they didn’t call the police, Nikita."

"They didn’t. Hadn’t. When I spoke to Mme. Dupre." Nikita looked as concerned as she was puzzled.

Faith shivered against Nikita’s stomach, her arms wrapped around Nikita’s leg so tightly they threatened to cut off what little circulation she still had. Suddenly it occurred to Nikita and Declan that the twins might know more than they did. "Sweetie, did Mme. Dupre say anything about where Sasha and Skye might be?"

Faith couldn’t speak. Guilt literally had her by the throat. But Chris rightly intuited what was bothering his sister and spoke for her. "Mom..."

Nikita glanced at Chris, who true to form was holding himself together, almost visibly. Not a mean feat given the circumstances. But so like his father. "Faith said some things at lunch. About Skye. That’s why she’s upset. Now that she’s missing, I mean."

Nikita sighed. "Honey, people say things they don’t mean all the time. You didn’t make this happen to Skye. You know that, don’t you?"

Faith buried her face against Nikita’s thigh. From the way her jeans leg was becoming saturated, she could tell that Faith was crying. "I d-don’t really w-want anything to h-happen to h-her, Mommy," she sobbed.

Chris studied his sister, tears gathering in his blue eyes. Declan reached out and touched the boy’s shoulder, and Chris nearly jumped, betraying his inner agitation. Crouching down on Chris’ level, Declan said softly, "Do you know why they called the police, Chris?"

Chris looked alarmed, but in moments, he managed to subdue the frantic beating of his heart. "There was a murder. They found Mme. Dupre’s husband. Dead. At her house."

Declan swore under his breath, praying that this had absolutely nothing to do with his son or Skye. Nikita’s head snapped around at Chris’ terse statement. She ran her hands anxiously through Faith’s hair, and even Faith’s sobbing slowed, as if she were listening.

"And?"

Chris shook his head somberly. "I don’t know anything else."

Declan stood up and whipped out his cell phone. He pressed speed dial and a moment later, he was connected. "Dav? I need you."

***

Davenport hung up the phone and stared at his wife. There was no such thing as coincidence in Section. And even though they were now on the outside, something niggled at the back of his brain, like it did with Declan, and he knew, with absolute certainty, that the disappearance of the children and the death of the headmistress’ husband were connected.

Being in Section had taught them all to be wary, to think in non-linear terms, to go ‘outside the box’. He would do whatever he could to help. He and Derry would never have escaped without Michael or Declan. He could never repay that debt, though he knew neither one of them would ever ask. But he would be there for them.

"Derry, darlin’..." Davenport began, sliding his gun into the back waistband of his pants. "I’ve gotta go out."

Derry met his eyes soberly. "Trouble?"

"Yeah. I’ll explain later, baby. Love you."

***

By the time Declan managed to persuade one of the numerous cops to share some of their heavily guarded information with him, it was getting late. He motioned to Nikita, and together, they herded the twins into the Jeep. Nikita leaned close enough to whisper, "What’s going on, Declan? What did they tell you?"

Declan cast bleak eyes at Nikita. The headmistress was noticeably distraught over the missing children, but her reaction to the news of her husband being murdered was curiously flat. He didn’t think she was involved, but he couldn’t rule that out yet. "Sey told us her husband abused her. Badly enough to land her in the hospital four times this year. Now he turns up dead? That can’t be an accident."

"But she couldn’t have done it. She was here. At the school."

Declan’s eyes grew sharper, brighter. "Perhaps someone did it on her behalf."

"But who?" Suddenly Nikita blinked. "Oh, my God, that man. Remy. The lover."

"That’d be my guess."

"But what does this have to do with the kids?"

"Henri Dupre was..." Declan took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, willing the pain to go with it. "He was a...pedophile. He liked little...girls. That way."

"Jesus," Nikita swore, leaning heavily on Declan. Declan wrapped his arms around Nikita and looked over her head to the two frightened children sitting in the back seat of the Jeep.

"They don’t know--"

"God, no." Declan shook his head. "I won’t tell them either." He released Nikita abruptly. ""They’re alive, Nikita. I can feel it."

"But what if--"

"He didn’t." Declan gritted his teeth. "Too bad Dupre is already dead. I would have liked to get my hands on--"

Nikita grasped his hand and rubbed the back of it with her thumb. "Do you think Remy has them?"

Declan nodded. "They’re searching for his car now. We’ll find him, Nikita."

"We’ve got to get the kids home to Walter."

Suddenly Declan’s cell phone rang. Shrilly. Insistently. He snapped the phone open and pressed a key. "Talk to me, Dav."

The next time he spoke, it wasn’t good. "Shit."

"What is it, Declan?"

"They found the car."

"Did they find Remy? The kids?"

"Remy’s dead."

Nikita gasped. "Oh, my God."

"There was an accident. The car was totaled."

"The kids, Declan, what about the kids?" Nikita whispered hoarsely, fully aware that the twins were watching every move that the grown-ups made.

"They..."

"Oh, God, Declan, don’t tell me my baby is dead!" Nikita sobbed, unable to stop herself.

Declan pulled Nikita against his chest, trying to silence her loud crying and comfort her at the same time. Again and again, he stroked her hair, whispering, "Ssh..."

"They didn’t find them," he finally stated flatly.

She found she could breathe again. "Then they weren’t with him. They’re somewhere else. Someplace safe."

Declan wished that were true. "They found blood in the wreckage, Nikita."

"Remy’s blood."

"No. Sasha’s."

"Oh, Declan, no..." This time it was Nikita’s turn to comfort Declan. Declan knew that they had to keep up appearances for the sake of the twins, but he couldn’t help it. His brave little boy had bled...enough to soak part of the back seat of the car. But he refused to acknowledge the possibility that he might be...dead.

"He’s not dead, Nikita. He can’t be."

Nikita glanced at Declan tearfully. "We have to get Michael and Birkoff, Declan. We have to...tell them."

Declan closed his eyes. Oh, God, Sey. Sey would be utterly destroyed if they lost Sasha.

It was too sad to contemplate.

It was too sad to be true.

It was the longest trip he’d ever had the misfortune to make. The short distance to Birkoff’s bookstore seemed endless. Nikita sat in the back seat with the twins, her arms alternately around one or the other, as if she couldn’t bear not to be touching them, reassuring herself that they were real. Declan’s hands were clenched so tightly around the steering wheel, the tendons shone whitely in the burgeoning gloom of dusk.

He pulled up in front of the bookstore and set the parking brake. Leaving the engine running, he told Nikita quietly that he would only be a few minutes. Nikita watched him walk toward the door, seemingly unaffected, but he stopped just outside the door, as if bracing himself for what was to come, and she could feel the tension he was trying so valiantly to conceal.

Birkoff’s face brightened when he saw Declan. "Hey, I was starting to worry. The kids must have been home hours ago. Just give me a minute and--"

"Sey." That one word stopped Birkoff from chattering any further.

He blinked owlishly, though he wasn’t wearing glasses. He never wore glasses anymore. Hadn’t since Section. Some idle part of Birkoff’s mind wondered why on Earth he was thinking about that now. But the part that was lightyears ahead of even the most perceptive people knew something was wrong. Real wrong. Bad wrong.

Birkoff swallowed and gulped air, the effort making his throat ache. "Wh-what is it, Dec? Is it...um...?" Suddenly he was breathing too fast, hyperventilating, heading straight into a panic attack. All without even knowing what was wrong. But you know what’s wrong. You do. His heart seized.

"It’s the kids," he said, not waiting for Declan to confirm or deny. "Oh, God, it is, isn’t it?"

From outside the bookstore, Nikita watched the two men, standing so close together, they might be one person. She knew the exact instant that Declan told Birkoff. She could see Birkoff start to turn away from Declan, and Declan’s involuntary attempt to gather his lover into his arms.

He had no words. So he cried. He buried his face against Declan’s chest, hiding, denying. Maybe it’s not true. If I don’t believe it, it can’t be true. Can it? Declan refused to give way to his own emotional overload, knowing he might never come back if he truly went over the edge. Instead, he comforted Sey and himself by murmuring nonsense syllables against his hair, his breath ruffling the dark brown silk beneath his lips.

After a few moments, Sey raised his head, his dark eyes almost black, their depths made impossibly shiny by tears. He tried to catch his breath and regain control of himself. Truth to tell, he might have succeeded if it hadn’t been for an incautious look outside the bookstore.

It was dark now. Not full blown, middle of the night dark. But dark enough. Dark enough that two children, who should have been at home, arguing over which crayon to color with, were lost to their distraught parents. "Dec!" Sey cried. "It’s dark out!"

Declan nodded, not immediately grasping Sey’s point. But soon enough, Sey rammed his point home with a vengeance. "They’re not sposed to be out at night, Dec. They’ll get lost. They’ll be cold. It’s been raining. They’ll be wet. They-they’ll be sc-scared."

Sey’s teeth began to chatter, and Declan realized that his lover was virtually in shock. "You need to be home," he said quietly.

"So do they," he replied sadly. "Oh, God, Dec. What if they’re--"

"They’re not!" Declan snapped back, as if he were just superstitious enough to believe that the words should not even be uttered. Otherwise...oh, God, otherwise, they might gain strength...and come true.

"I don’t want to lose him, Dec. I love him."

"I know, baby," Declan agreed. He pressed a kiss to each of Sey’s swollen eyelids. "Let me take you home, acushla. I’ll put you to bed. You can go to sleep, and when you wake up, it’ll all be over, like it was just a bad dream you had."

But Declan was trying so hard to be solicitous of his lover, he missed the sudden flash of anger that sparked in his dark eyes. "Stop treating me like I’m a freaking invalid, Dec! I can handle this!"

"I didn’t say you couldn’t," Declan said, a hurt look on his face. He released Sey from what seemed to be an increasingly tight embrace, and Sey looked surprised.

He caught Declan before he turned completely away from him, noting the faint shimmer of tears in his silvery eyes. "God, Dec, I didn’t mean that. I’m so sorry."

"Don’t worry about it." To anyone else, it might have seemed as if Declan really didn’t care. But to Sey, who knew Declan better than anyone ever did or ever would, it was obvious that Declan was so preoccupied with Sey’s feelings, he was ignoring his own.

"I can get through anything, Dec, as long as I have you," Sey whispered against Declan’s cheek, pressing a tender but chaste kiss there. "Even this."

Declan resisted for a scant few seconds more, then collapsed against Sey’s smaller but still muscular body. He was breathless, yet oddly quiet for a long moment. Then suddenly Declan drew breath in one prolonged shudder that seemed to come from the depths of his soul. "I’m so scared for him, baby."

"I know, Dec." Sey was glad that Declan was as strong as he was, but he needed to know that Sey could be there for him, too. It didn’t always have to be the other way around.

"Dav is searching the perimeter of where they found the car."

"And?" Birkoff asked hopefully.

"And nothing. They were definitely there. It was Sasha’s blood, after all. But we don’t know how badly they’re hurt, or where they’ve gone to. It’s like they freaking disappeared, Sey."

Sey tangled his hands in Declan’s long hair, trying in vain to press ever closer to his lover. "We’re gonna find them, Dec."

Declan nodded. Alive, he added silently. Please, God, let them be alive.

***

By the time they found Michael, the children were sleeping in the back seat of the car, their heads in Nikita’s lap. Birkoff sat in the passenger seat, next to Declan, but he was clearly too preoccupied to notice anything significant going around him.

He looked out the passenger side window and saw Michael. Michael had no idea what he was walking into. Suddenly Birkoff felt a deep compassion and empathy for the older operative. He would be totally blindsided by this. Just as he was.

As if he was reading Sey’s thoughts, Declan found Sey’s hand and gently squeezed it. Sey glanced quickly over his shoulder at his lover. It was too much. Declan shouldn’t have to tell Michael, too. He moved his head as if to protest, but Declan correctly read the gesture, his eyes signaling his agreement. Declan opened his arms and beckoned. Sey gratefully lay his head on Declan’s shoulder, closing his eyes as he felt the strong arms envelop him.

Declan whispered into Sey’s ear, "Nikita’s going to tell Michael."

Sey nodded without speaking.

***

Michael handed his laptop and his briefcase to Nikita. Gently placing them in the back of the Jeep, she closed the doors quietly, so as not to wake the twins.

He gave her a perplexed look. "You brought the twins? I don’t understand. Were we taking them out to dinner?"

Dinner. It seemed like hours had passed since they first heard the news. Dinner? How could any of them eat when they didn’t know where Sasha or Skye was? Dinner. How mundane. How perfectly...normal. An arc of pain surged through Nikita’s heart at the thought of Michael’s imminent reaction.

"Michael..."

Nikita’s expression was so grave, Michael’s entire body stilled in response. Bracing herself, she plunged into telling him what happened, quickly, without pause. Pausing would mean thinking, and her mind was too numb to deal with thinking about any of the children being dead.

When she was finished, she stared intently into the eyes of the man she loved more than life itself. He looked as though he’d been poleaxed. Michael’s ability to hide his emotions had always been superior to hers, but this...this was so completely and utterly unexpected, it took him by surprise.

"There must be some mistake," he automatically protested.

"No mistake, my love." Nikita’s voice was artificially calm, her tears held in abeyance.

He cocked his head, as if listening to something only he could hear. "No," he said softly. "She’s only a baby." God couldn’t be that cruel. Yes, He could, Michael. You know that. You’ve always known that. Hasn’t He shown you that side of Him again and again?

"Sasha’s with her." She drew strength from that fact. She knew he would, too, once he regained rational thought. If there could ever be such a thing again.

"He loves her," Michael said. That was good. He would protect her. Remember your vow, Sasha? You promised to protect her with your life? Don’t you fail me now, dammit.

She nodded. "But he’s wounded."

Michael shook his head. "Please, no."

"We don’t know how badly. Bad enough, though."

Michael closed his eyes. The pain was overwhelming. There was no justice in the world. Not anymore. Not for them. Not for him. "This is...my fault. Somehow."

"Michael, no." She pulled his head down, capturing his lips in a kiss that was so fraught with pain, it could not comfort either of them.

Declan watched the couple from the inside of the Jeep. His arms tightened around Sey. I know how you feel, Michael.

When Michael opened his eyes again, they were no longer green but grey. A cool shade of grey. "Did Declan put things in motion?"

He was in mission mode now, like Declan. It was as if they both found it easier to function without feeling. Nikita nodded. "He brought Davenport in." Now all three of them slipped into speaking in mission shorthand, Nikita grateful when the numbness took over the rest of her senses. It was the only way she could manage.

Michael strode over to the driver’s side of the Jeep, slapping the flat of his hand lightly against the door, to alert Declan. Declan turned to face him, shifting Sey in his arms. However, Sey was not asleep, merely taking refuge wherever he could find it. His eyes shot open, taking note of Michael and Nikita standing outside the Jeep.

"What does Davenport say now?" Michael inquired tersely.

"They’ve searched the immediate area, Michael. There’s no sign of the kids," Declan answered bleakly.

"But they--Sasha’s wounded. They couldn’t have gone far. We’re talking about two children, for God’s sake." Michael’s tone grew heated for a moment, as he fought for control.

"Tell me about it," Declan sighed.

Sey mumbled something that none of them could quite make out. "What, love? What did you say?"

"I said," Sey suddenly came alive, eyes blazing. "We’re talking about Sasha here. Not some ordinary kid."

Michael’s eyes brightened, a faint smile tracing his lips. "He’s right."

Sey sat up straight, reluctant to leave Declan’s embrace. His eyes met Nikita’s. Nikita began to smile. For the first time in hours, there was hope in all their eyes. "Sasha would know how to hide. Even Davenport wouldn’t be able to find him. Unless he wanted to be found."

Declan looked at Sey, his silvery eyes turning a warmer shade of grey. "Aye. If we haven’t found them yet...there’s a good reason."

"Damn straight. This is my son, you know," said Sey.

"Our son," Declan corrected, provoking a tiny smile from his lover.

"And when it comes to second-guessing Sasha, all bets are off."

***

Skye yawned sleepily. She lay in Sasha’s arms, his jacket covering both of them. "When are we going home, Beast?"

He kissed her temple. "Soon, Ange. Soon."

He hoped he was telling the truth. He wasn’t sure what direction they were headed anymore. Ever since the old farmer gave them a ride...

Skye snuggled closer, trying to keep warm. "I never slept in the back of a pickup truck before."

"Me neither."

This was hardly the time to have an adventure, Sasha admonished himself. But then, he didn’t choose it. Events had a way of choosing him.