It wasn’t until they were out in the hallway again that Declan spoke. “Are you going to tell Nikita everything?”

Michael lifted tired grey eyes to Declan’s concerned gaze, answering a question with another question. “Doesn’t she deserve to know the whole truth?”

“Even if it’s going to hurt her?”

Michael replied thoughtfully, “You can’t think of it that way, Declan. Telling the truth should be an all-or-nothing thing.”

If Declan found it ironic that Michael, of all people, decried lying, he wisely kept that information to himself. “Should be, but….”

“Are you suggesting that I lie to my wife, Declan?”

Before Declan could respond, Adam interrupted angrily. “You’re married? You married someone else? You f—“

Declan grabbed the young man before he could do any real damage to Michael, holding both his arms down at his sides. Michael said wearily, “I loved your mother, Adam—“

“Don’t lie to me!”

“I’m not lying!”

“Stop it, both of you!” Declan commanded. They turned to stare at Declan, identical expressions on their faces. “Now you two freaking look like father and son.”

Adam gave Michael a disgusted look that said, “I don’t know if I want to be related to you.” Michael averted his eyes, pretending that he didn’t notice. “We have to go.”

“Go ahead. Dad.”

Michael’s only visible reaction was an almost imperceptible tightening of his shoulders. “Bring the boy,” he directed Declan, turning his back on his son finally.

***

Davenport stood at ease, his gun still drawn on Jason and Mr. Jones. He came to attention when Michael entered, Declan and Adam right behind him. “Michael! Is—“

Michael shook his head without speaking, and Davenport’s voice trailed off. He clapped a big hand to Michael’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Michael.”

“I know.”

Mr. Jones managed to look sad, although he was not in fact responsible for Elena’s illness or subsequent death. He did feel guilty, however, for not contacting Michael sooner. Nevertheless, Mr. Jones was not one to lose himself in contemplation. He had more in common with his alter ego, Mick Schtoppel, than he realized.

Always the practical sort, Mr. Jones breezily chirped, “Well, I guess you’ll all be on your way now, Michael. Comfortable once again dispensing the gentle bonhomie of the good host, Mr. Jones never noticed the shadow that crossed Michael’s still-youthful face.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, Mick, but…I don’t trust you,” Michael commented dryly.

“Oh, come on, Michael, let’s part friends, okay?”

“We’re taking Jason with us,” Michael stated flatly. They could use the extra added insurance that taking Mr. Jones’ second-in-command would give them. As leverage, it wasn’t much, but Michael was prepared to take whatever he could get.

“Mi-chael…I need him,” Mr. Jones actually whined. Something atavistic flared to life in Jason’s dark brown eyes.

“I thought everyone in Section, Oversight, even here, was expendable,” said Jason softly.

“Not you, Baby Bear, not you,” Mr. Jones all but cooed.

Declan hid a grin, and Davenport snickered. So that’s how it was. No wonder Mr. Jones didn’t want them to take Jason away.

“Uh…we promise to send him back in the same condition as we received him,” Michael said with a straight face.

“Very well, “ Mr. Jones agreed. “Give my love to the fair Nikita, Michael, you lucky dog, you.”

It took several seconds to penetrate, but Adam finally concluded that Michael’s wife was Nikita. “You’re married to Nikita? Your cousin Nikita? The same one Mom trusted in our house? Shit, you were probably screwing her the whole time you were married to Mom!”

Everyone froze in stunned silence, waiting to see how Michael would react. Michael, who rarely lost his temper, clenched his teeth and moved in close to Adam, forcing his way into the young man’s personal space. “I don’t…*ever*…want to hear you…say such a thing…to me…or anyone else in my family. Do we understand each other?”

“Yeah,” Adam replied sullenly. “You make the rules, I obey them. That close?”

“Not really,” Michael said evenly. “You know, now that I think about it, you couldn’t be my son. My son would never disrespect me or my family that way.”

Adam peered through the long thick hair that fell across his forehead, temporarily obstructing his view of Michael. So this was his father. His mother had waxed poetic about Michael Samuelle for so long, Adam could recite the entire litany by heart. Yet there was something about the man that Adam could barely remember. He supposed that he could have done worse.

“You keep saying my family. Don’t I get a vote here, or am I somehow not a part of your family?”

“That goes without saying, Adam.”

“No, no, I don’t think it does.”

Adam regarded his so-called father with the deadly gaze of youth. “You have any kids?”

“Yes,” Michael said tersely, clearly trying to head off Adam before he could get where he was going with this.

“How many?”

Michael closed his eyes and counted to ten. “Four.”

“Wow. You really like to fertilize the countryside, don’t you?”

Adam soon found himself with Declan’s hand tightly clenched around the back of his neck. “You’re a vulgar little git, aren’t you, boyo?”

“Declan—“ Michael automatically protested.

Declan began shaking his head vehemently. “No, Michael. He may be your son, but you can’t let him get away with this kind of crap. He’ll run all over you like a freaking steamroller.”

“Maybe he’s entitled,” Michael said, unable to meet Declan’s forthright silver gaze.

“Maybe you’re seriously fucked in the head, too.” Declan couldn’t believe this was the same man who routinely cautioned the other parents about giving the youngest members of the family too much leeway. They won’t respect you for it. When they’re old enough, they might even demonstrate just how much they could have used a sharp swift kick, Michael would say.

Michael inclined his head towards Davenport, and the older man came up behind Jason, giving his neck another yank for good measure. “I’m not really family,” Davenport began, allowing himself a really wicked grin, “so you don’t need to worry about pissing me off, kid. Your first time’ll be your last. Know what I mean?”

Now Adam was starting to feel a bit nervous. What had he gotten himself into? These people did…not…play.

But the insouciance of his age evidently made it quite impossible for Adam to hold onto that feeling. “So…what do I call you?” he asked, addressing his father.

“Whatever you like. I don’t have time for this,” Michael snapped crisply.

Adam didn’t let his surprise show. Not one bit. Instead he delighted in tweaking the older man. “Okay…Michael.”

Declan caught Michael’s eye, giving him a meaningful glance. “Y’know, boyo, I knew someone like you once. He didn’t have long to live either.”

Michael almost smiled. Wait till Faith met her new brother.

“Faith! Come back here!”

Sasha was growing increasingly frustrated by her repeated attempts to usurp his authority. Oh, he knew that she gave her word not to challenge him. But come on, this was Faith.

Her sturdy legs hitting the grassy incline with soft thuds, Faith wasn’t even breathing hard. She was a natural athlete. Whether this came from Nikita’s side of the family or Michael’s was anybody’s guess. A carefree smile curving her lips, Faith was so preoccupied with looking back over her shoulder at Sasha that she missed her footing and went down in a boneless heap.

“Shit!” she cursed.

“I heard that,” said Sasha.

“You’re worse than Chris,” Faith said, sticking out her tongue at the older boy.

She stretched out her hand, and Sasha easily caught her and swung her up and onto her feet. “Thanks.”

“Why are you so damned stubborn?” Sasha grumbled, referring to Faith’s problem with authority.

“Why are you so damned determined to have your own way?” she countered.

“Because we agreed…that I…oh, forget it. You’re hopeless.”

Faith smiled sweetly and dropped a curtsy to the ground. “A thousand pardons,” she murmured demurely.

Sasha burst out laughing. “Fee, you’re not very good at being anyone else, so don’t even try it.”

She sighed. “I wish Chris had been able to come.”

“Yeah, him getting sick like that really put a crimp in our plan. But hey, at least he’s in good hands. Emmy really seems cut out for that sort of thing. Taking care of Chris and Dad. Who says she’s not brave?”

“Not me. At least not to her face,” Faith said with a chuckle.

“Jazz? Where the hell are we, anyway?” Sasha asked the fourteen-year old.

Jazz shrugged. “Oh, now you want my help…a few hours ago, you said you knew exactly where we were going.”

Sasha tucked a long dark brown curl behind his ear and smiled at the boy who was rapidly becoming his best friend. “I lied.”

“So we’re lost?” asked Connor, bringing up the rear. He carefully avoided looking at Faith. She nearly bit his head off when he suggested that she stay home. She didn’t care for anyone making decisions for her or about her. She was every bit as willful as her mother, and Connor didn’t care who knew what he thought.

“Why don’t you stay home instead, Connor?” she had sneered. “We don’t really need you.”

While part of Connor was certain that was true, he clung to the belief that Sasha wanted him there for a reason, and if there was anything at all that he could do to help find the missing men, he was all for it.

Sasha smirked with the insouciance of youth. “Nah. I can find out where we are.” Somehow. Somehow he had to come through. Who knew where Declan and Davenport and Michael had gone? Off on some misguided but well-meant mission? Well, they weren’t the only ones who could protect the family, and Sasha was almost glad of the opportunity to prove this.

“You sure?”

“He said he was, Connor! Now shut up! You’re such a—“

“A what, Fee? Tell me what you really think. If you dare.” Connor wanted to get his hands on Faith, but Faith would have been shocked to see where his thoughts were taking him. And not for the first time either.

As if she were startled by the glimpse of whatever was in Connor’s dark blue eyes, Faith shook her head mutely. “Never mind,” she finally managed to say. Why was it like that? Connor was the only one who could get to her. No one else told her what to do. Not even the high and mighty Sasha. But Connor got under her skin. Why? Faith shivered and rubbed her arms. Suddenly she was awash in gooseflesh. And it wasn’t even cold.

Sasha hid a grin. Those two were meant for each other. He couldn’t figure out why Faith didn’t know that yet. But Connor did. He always had. Faith thought he was out of the game. But he wasn’t. Not by a long shot. This was a kid who was determined to get what he wanted. Well, damned if he wasn’t succeeding. But he’d better be careful what he wished for. He just might get it.

And Faith would not go gently into that good night.

***

“We’re not far.”

“From where? You keep saying stuff like that, but what the hell do you mean?” Connor was getting tired. He didn’t mean to snap at Sasha, especially since Sasha seemed to be one of his only friends lately. But he couldn’t help it. He was fading away for lack of Faith’s affection and attention. He desperately wanted both, but since that seemed more and more unlikely, he was willing to settle for one or the other.

“Let’s make camp here.”

“Just like that?” Connor asked incredulously.

Sasha would have answered, but Jazz responded more quickly. “Yeah, this looks like a good place to spend the night.”

“There’s probably bears out here or something.”

Jazz then proceeded to scare Connor to death by agreeing with him. “Prolly.”

“Damn, that was one thing I wish you didn’t agree with.”

***

“Um…Connor?”

Sigh. “Yes, Faith?”

“Are you really mad at me?”

Another sigh. Longer. More audible. “No, Fee.”

“Oh, good. Cause I…um…do you think there are bears out…tonight?” she whispered into the darkness. It was so dark, Faith couldn’t see him, and talking to a disembodied voice was a little creepy, but she could handle it. She was nothing if not fearless. Well…sorta.

“Maybe.” Connor wasn’t proud of himself, playing on Faith’s obvious fear like that, but then again, she left him so little opportunity to rekindle the intense bond between them.

He could hear her shudder. He silently counted off the seconds until….

…there she was. All at once, Faith was right by his side, finding him by what must have been blind instinct and not a little luck. He opened his arms and she slid into his embrace without hesitation, tucking her head gratefully beneath his chin.

“Thanks, Pooh,” she whispered, probably not even aware that she was using the old nickname.

Like Michael, she rarely allowed herself to lean on someone else, preferring to rely on herself, unable to countenance being perceived as weak. She had not yet realized that sharing her feelings did not diminish her in any way, that it in fact could make her stronger, not weaker.

Unable to think of a single thing to say that wouldn’t trigger off the urge to run, Connor settled for quietly stroking Faith’s hair, feeling her gradually relax under his ministrations.

“I love you,” he mouthed, knowing that even to whisper such things would earn him a stern rebuke. But it was no great hardship to take care of her, for once, and he hoped that someday she would see that.

Her eyelids fluttered against his skin, and his grip around her tightened. There was a name for this feeling in him.

Possessive.

Things were changing, each and every day. Maybe someday was closer than he thought….