"You're angry with me," Edward commented sadly, dropping his gaze to Neil's feet.

"Not.angry. Just.curious. How did you find out my name? My address? And-" Neil swung around to stare pointedly at his son. "-how did you happen to let a complete stranger walk into our house?"

Connor glanced anxiously at Edward before facing his father. "I'm sorry, Dad. I never should have-"

"You're damn right you shouldn't have. It's bloody dangerous and *you* know why."

"Please," begged Edward, unable to see someone else suffer for his mistake. "This is all my fault. Please don't punish Connor."

"Now it's Connor, is it? Suddenly you're on a first-name basis with my son? Who are you?"

"You're right." Edward bent his head and his hair fell disarmingly over his forehead. "I never should have gotten him involved."

Neil made an inarticulate noise. "Y'know, you don't act much older than Connor, and he's 13."

"D-Dad?"

"Go to school and take your sister with you. After school, you're to come straight home. You're grounded."

"For how long?"

"I'm still thinking about it," Neil ground out with a fierce glare.

"Are you mad at *me*, Daddy?" Kady asked hesitantly.

"No, sweetheart," Neil replied. "Now run along, Connor will make sure you get on the bus."

***

As soon as his children had left, Neil turned to Edward with an exasperated look. "Whatever possessed you to hunt me down like some kind of stalker? Are you crazy?"

"No," Edward whispered. "I just had to see you again."

"So.what? You followed me home?"

Edward nodded.

"Do you have any idea how creepy that sounds?"

Edward's face was hidden behind a veritable curtain of hair now, but Neil risked everything and touched him. He pushed Edward's hair back from his face, revealing the younger man's tormented expression. "What is it?"

"Do you believe in love at first sight?" Edward murmured.

Neil shut his eyes. He couldn't be having this conversation. Not with a man. An undeniably attractive man, but still and all, a man. When Neil reopened his eyes, Edward was headed for the side door.

Neil darted in front of him and stopped him. "Wait."

"Why? I made a mistake. Don't worry. You won't see me again."

"You can't go *now*."

Edward shook his head. "I have to."

"Your brother wants me to keep an eye on you."

"Like a pet? He thinks I need a leash."

"Well, you have to admit he has a point."

"I run the biggest computer technology corporation in England. I'm the youngest CEO in Western Europe and the USA-"

Neil interrupted Edward's litany with a sharp whistle. "Really? You've got money, you little shit, and you never told me."

"I want-"

"To be liked for yourself? Too late, sunshine. Now that I know how wealthy you are, I have to agree with your brother. You're a terrific catch."

"He said that?" Edward paled.

"Yes. He seems to think you fancy girls, though. He even seems to have your wife all picked out for you. Only he doesn't trust you to stick around for the wedding. Which is where I come in."

"He wants you to babysit me until he can get me safely married?"

"Afraid so."

"What if I don't want to get married?" Edward's voice was awash in despair.

"Why don't you tell him and see what happens?"

"Oh, right. You have no idea what you're asking. Do you know how conservative the business world still is? Cutting edge is strictly for marketing. In real life, you'd better not do *anything* to rock the boat."

"I thought you ran your own company."

"I do. But I answer to a very conservative Board of Directors. *They* don't like my long hair. *They* don't even like the way I dress."

"What's wrong with the way you dress?"

"I don't know. But do you really think *they* would approve of my being gay?"

"Jesus. Even your brother doesn't know?"

Unshed tears sparkled in Edward's brown eyes. "No. And I can't tell him."

"You have to."

"Why?"

"Well, for one thing, he's going to know something's wrong when you *don't* get married."

"Why do you care?" Edward asked in an anguished tone. He pushed open the door and was gone before Neil could say another word.

"I don't know, Ned," Neil whispered to the air. 'But I do."

"And that's basically what happened."

Neil met Declan's eyes with some trepidation. "What do you think?"

Declan paced slowly from one end of Neil's kitchen to the other, his face thoughtful. "What's more important is what *yo+OK Signing off -- mailbox has 0 messages.

"Then you should be able to do as this Marcus asked, right? Keep an eye on his younger brother? I mean, it's not like you're in any danger of being raped. He doesn't sound like the type."

"No, no, he's not. He's actually.more on the gentle side. I don't think violence is in his nature."

"So what's the big deal? It's not like you're likely to lose your heart to him, is it? You did say you're not attracted to men."

"I'm not," Neil repeated.

Declan's silver-grey eyes moved quickly over Neil's face, assessing and appraising. "You're attracted to him." It wasn't a question. It was an out-and-out statement.

"I-maybe. A little." Neil frowned as he stammered his reply. The full force of what he'd said hadn't quite hit him yet.

Declan raised an eyebrow. "I think you left something out of your story."

"What? No, no, I didn't." Neil was distinctly discomfited now.

"Did he touch you?"

"No!"

"Liar. It's written all over your face."

"What is that, some kind of a gay thing?" Neil commented bitterly, striking out at the nearest target.

Declan's expression never changed. "No, it's a people thing. You're saying one thing, but your body language is saying something else."

Neil laughed, but his dark blue eyes remained somber. "I'm a doctor. You'd think I would know that."

"A physician who treats himself has a fool for a patient. Isn't that the way it goes?"

A muscle in Neil's jaw jumped, testament to how tense he truly was. "I can't do this. I'm not like you."

"You think the quality of the love between Sey and me is *different* than what you felt for Madeline?"

"Yes. Isn't it?"

"Bad example." Declan chuckled, but it was a dark sound. "Madeline fooled all of us. Of course, the love between her and *anyone* would be suspect."

Declan sighed and raked a hand through his thick red curls. "Let's use someone else. Do you think I love Sey any less than Michael loves Nikita?"

"No." That brought Neil up short. He truly didn't see a qualitative difference between the intense, almost obsessive love that Michael and Nikita shared and the fierce, deeply protective love that Declan had for Sey.

"But you're different," Neil protested.

"How?"

"You're stronger than I am, for one thing. I don't want someone else in my life I have to take care of."

"Then maybe you're looking at this the wrong way. Maybe this kid, as you call him, wants to take care of *you*."

Part of Neil wanted just that, so badly he could almost taste it. He had been abused by an expert. But he had become dependent on Madeline. Used to taking a subordinate role to a woman who nevertheless ignored his needs.

"No, I don't want to be second anymore. I had that. It was too painful."

"You're not listening, Neil. If someone takes care of you, you don't come *second* at all. You come *first*." Declan's sharp gaze softened. "Maybe you 're afraid to be that important to someone."

"What if he's-just looking for sex?" Neil whispered, unable to look Declan in the eye.

"Then he wouldn't have introduced himself to your kids, Neil. For whatever reason, this kid wants a relationship with you. Not a date. Not a one-night stand."

"I'm afraid."

Indeed, Neil was shaking visibly. Confronting his feelings was not easy for him, though he had always considered himself relatively empathetic to other people.

"What are you afraid of?"

"He asked me if I believed in love at first sight."

"Do you?"

"I don't think so."

"Then what are you afraid of?" Declan asked kindly, striving to be patient. Patience was what Neil needed right now. He was too fragile emotionally to cope with anything else.

Neil touched his lips with his fingers, looking for all the world like a man in a daze. "He kissed me."

"And?"

"And I liked it." Neil cast anguished eyes in Declan's direction and the younger man couldn't help but respond to such an entreaty. Declan wrapped his arms around Neil and hugged him.

To his surprise, Neil hugged him back. "Thanks."

"I didn't do anything."

"Yes, you did. And now.I think I can see why Sey loves you so much," Neil continued hoarsely.

"I don't always know the right thing to do, Neil. I screw up just as much as anyone else."

Neil shook his head. "No, you don't. You're damn near perfect and you know it."

There was a second or two while both men considered that. Then they burst into loud peals of genuine laughter.

"You think Daddy's going to be okay?" Kady asked, looking up at her older brother Connor with genuine concern in her dark brown eyes.

Connor thought for a moment. "Well..." he drawled, "If anyone can fix things, it's Uncle Dec."

Kady broke into a smile that lit up her six-year old face. "Yeah!"

*****

Connor walked his sister to her first-grade classroom and stopped in front of the door. "I'll pick you up here after school and walk you home, okay?"

"I know the way," Kady whined, squirming under her brother's overprotective scrutiny.

"I know you do. But Dad would want to keep you safe."

"You mean *you*, Connor. You worry more than Daddy."

"Listen to me, Kady," Connor spoke urgently, recent events doing more than their share to fill him with anxiety. "I know what kinds of things happen to little kids, even when their folks are careful and watching them--"

"I won't get kidnapped or anything--"

"I know you won't. I won't let anything bad happen to you, Kady. I promise."

Kady's dark eyes gleamed with something akin to hero worship as she met his blue-eyed gaze. "You're a pretty good brother, Connor," she whispered. Then she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him as tightly as she could.

*****

Initially Connor felt light-hearted as he walked the rest of the way to the high school. Their family was going to be all right. Maybe even closer than before. Maybe Mom leaving wasn't such a bad thing, Connor thought, immediately feeling guilty for thinking it. He knew the heartache that Neil felt when she left. But he had to wonder if what his father felt was neither loss nor grief, but anger. Anger over the way she treated him. Anger over the callous disregard she showed for her family. And anger over the deceptive way things played out between them. If Connor learned one thing, it was that Madeline had her own rules, but she had no honor.

Faith was waiting for him outside the main door, flanked by Sasha and Chris. She noticed the grim set to Connor's mouth as he approached. "Everything okay, Pooh?"

"Yeah, yeah," he said absently, not noticing the exchange of worried glances between the twins. "Just...a lot on my mind."

"Can I help?" Faith asked, her entire demeanor uncharacteristically serious.

"You always help," he said, offering her a faint smile before he kissed her on the cheek.

She held onto him before he could move away, her green eyes somber. "If you feel like talking, I'm here."

"I know."

Faith bit her lip. "I mean it, Con. Let me in."

"I will."

She pressed her lips to his for a real kiss, but he shifted uneasily, glancing quickly at Chris and Sasha. "Don't do that, Tig. Not in front of people. Okay?" he whispered.

She looked so hurt, he wanted to take back every single word. "I love you," she whispered, so close he could feel her breath on his face.

Connor wrapped his arms around Faith's waist and hugged her, his mouth touching her ear. "I love you, too."

Sasha cleared his throat. "A-hem! I hate to be a killjoy, but we have less than five minutes to get to homeroom."

Chris chuckled. "Yeah, you wouldn't want me to sic Luc the Hall Monitor on you, now, would you?"

Faith turned in Connor's embrace to face her brother. The way Connor's arm was clinging to her waist wasn't lost on her. "Luc isn't going to live to be seven if he doesn't cut it out," she commented dryly. "Good thing he's in elementary school."

Sasha hefted his backpack over his shoulder. "So...you coming?"

"You two go ahead. I need another minute."

Sasha grinned at Faith. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Faith quipped, "Yeah, like that leaves a lot of territory."

The moment the two teenagers left, Connor whispered into Faith's hair, "I don't need a keeper, Fee. I'm a big boy now."

"I know."

"So what's so important we have to risk being late?"

"This." Faith wound her arms around his neck and kissed him with all her heart. When she broke away, Connor looked stunned.

"What did you do that for?"

"You said I couldn't kiss you unless we were alone."

"Fee?"

"Yeah, Pooh?"

"I don't think we should be alone anymore."

"Why?" she wailed.

"Not if you're going to kiss me like *that*."

Faith stared at him incredulously. "Was it a *bad* kiss?"

"Oh, no, Tig. It was a very *good* kiss."

"Then why--"

"The kind of kiss that leads to *more*, Tig. The kind of kiss that'll get us in trouble."

Realization dawned in Faith's wounded eyes. "Oh, that kind of kiss."

A bit breathless now, Faith leaned on Connor, and he could swear that he felt each and every curve of her body pressed against him. "Would that be such a bad thing?"

Her softness called to his hardness and he deliberately took a step back, grateful that the brick wall of the building was there to hold him up. "Oh, Tig, you have no idea."

"Will I find out someday?"

"Someday."

"Good." With a sigh, she detached herself and flounced away, leaving him to follow a few steps behind.

"Oh, God." That girl was going to kill him someday. He only hoped he lived long enough to enjoy the experience.

Something soft and white whizzed past Adam's ear, bringing him to complete awareness with a visible start. "What the--?"

It was chalk. That son of a bitch Clifford was at it again. Someone needed to teach him a lesson.

"Are we boring you, Adam?"

"No, sir," Adam answered politely, silently consigning the Chemistry teacher to Hell.

"Then perhaps you could tell the class about covalent bonds."

Adam gritted his teeth and thought about how good it would feel to throttle the bastard. But then, he sighed inwardly, he would never get into college.

Clifford's eyes never left his as Adam managed a semi-intelligent response to his challenge. He ruled by intimidation. But thus far, he had been unable to intimidate *Adam*. If Adam had anything to say about it, he never would.

Just a few more months of school and he would graduate. He actually looked forward to college. Something he could never have admitted before coming to live with Michael. But there was one thing he did *not* look forward to. Leaving Jazz behind.

He rarely allowed himself to think about it. Just the thought was enough to unnerve him. Jazz had two more years to go after this one. How was he going to stand being separated from him that long?

All this time *he'd* been the one bolstering Jazz' spirits, both of them certain that Jazz was going to be the one who would suffer most. Now Adam wasn't so sure. Jazz had come to mean *everything* to him. He--

Another piece of chalk zinged past Adam's ear, this one close enough to graze his cheek. Without thinking, Adam bent over, picked up the chalk and threw it back at the teacher, narrowly missing his head.

"You're in deep trouble, Samuelle!" the teacher barked.

Adam leaped to his feet, a furious glint in his eye that his father would have recognized immediately. "Yes, sir," he drawled sarcastically.

"You just bought yourself a ticket to the office, Mister."

Adam slung his jacket over his shoulder and picked up his books. He walked towards the teacher with deliberate slowness, making sure to brush against him as he passed. "On my way, sir," he said with a faint grin.

"Oh, and Samuelle? Make sure they keep you there for the rest of the hour."

"Oh, yes, sir."

*****

Adam had plenty of time to think on the way to the office. About how stupid he'd been. He never should have risen to the bait that way. Jefferson had been hunting him since school started. He wasn't sure why. He was a fairly good student when he applied himself, and lately, he had a lot of incentive to do just that.

There was something almost...personal...in Clifford's attacks.

Oh, well, it got him out of Chemistry.

*****

By the time Adam left the office, it was nearly time for lunch. He stowed his books in his locker and headed for the cafeteria.

Jazz was waiting. Every instinct in Adam's body cried out to take the younger teenager in his arms and kiss him, but he forced his libido under control. He settled for a cursory brush of his fingertips across the back of Jazz' hand and sat down.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"What's for lunch?"

"Dunno. Not hungry."

"You sick or something?"

"Or something."

Adam looked deeply into Jazz' eyes. Normally a vibrant, verdant green, right now they were the color of dull jade. "What's wrong, Nick?"

Jazz unconsciously touched the silver chain that hung around his neck. The chain held a ring that Adam gave him on his fifteenth birthday. Cheap as it was, that ring nevertheless symbolized the commitment between the two.

"Mark Duval called me a fag." Jazz' voice was so low that Adam had to strain to hear it.

"So? Mark Duval is an asshole."

Jazz trained his eyes on the table before him, his mouth reduced to a hard thin line. "He said--"

"What? What'd he say?"

"He said you were, too. He said everyone in school knows we're doing it."

Adam snorted derisively and drummed his fingers on the table to prevent himself from comforting Jazz right there in the middle of the lunchroom. "He doesn't know anything. Besides, we're *not* doing it."

"But we might as well be! Everyone thinks we are!" Jazz whispered harshly.

Adam bent over the table, his shoulder touching Jazz'. "So what are you saying? That we've got the name, might as well play the game?"

"Maybe."

"Aw, Jazz. You're better than this. You're better than *him*. What do you want me to do? Go find Mark and punch his lights out?"

Jazz clenched his hands into fists and ground out, "I wish *I* could."

"You can. There's nothing stopping you from marching right over to his table now and doing it. Except one thing."

"What?"

Adam pretended to brush lint off Jazz' jacket. Jazz was wearing *his* jacket, a fact that probably lent credence to Mark Duval's allegations. But Adam didn't care. He liked the way his jacket smelled when Jazz returned it. Sometimes he even slept with it, though he would never confess such an overtly romantic gesture.

"You'd probably kill him and blood is just so hard to get out and you couldn't afford to have my jacket dry-cleaned, could you?"

Jazz broke into a smile that made Adam's heart beat faster. "I love you," he whispered breathlessly.

"Me, too, Nick."

Adam felt the hair rise on the nape of his neck, as if someone were watching him. He turned his head, but he didn't see anyone looking in his direction. He shrugged.

*****

So that's how it was, the watcher mused to himself. That certainly gave him food for thought.

"What?"

"He gave me detention."

Jazz shook his head, his long golden brown hair flying back and forth, only to settle slowly into place around his shoulders moments later. "No way! Adam, that makes twice this week! What did you do this time?"

"Nothing."

"Oh, come on. You don't get detention for nothing."

"I did. Both times." Adam closed his locker and twisted the combination lock. "I think Clifford's got it in for me."

"You should tell someone."

"Who? It's his word against mine, and he's a teacher."

Adam shrugged. "It's not that big a deal. He'll get tired of harassing me and move on to someone else soon enough."

Jazz sighed. "I hope you're right."

Adam slung his backpack over his shoulder and made his way towards the study hall that was used for detention. It was the last that Jazz saw of him.

*****

Nikita stood in the doorway and contemplated the scene before her. The older children were dawdling predictably at the curb, reluctant to be parted at the end of the day. She sighed. They were truly growing up. Forming alliances that demanded greater loyalty than the relationships they had with their parents.

As Faith passed her mother with a cursory wave and "Hi, Mom!", Nikita smiled. "How was your day, sweetie?"

"Oh, you know. The usual."

"Well, what did you do?"

"Nothing."

Nikita looked askance at her eldest daughter. "All that time in school and you did nothing?"

"Yep."

"Is it the same kind of nothing you do here at home?"

"Mommm...what is this, the Spanish Inquisition?"

Nikita frowned. "And just what would you know about the Spanish Inquisition?"

"We're studying it in History." Faith grabbed an apple, but before she could put it in her mouth, Nikita asked for it back. "Not before dinner. You don't eat right."

"And you do? Mom, you're a twig!" When Faith saw the fierce expression on her mother's face, she quickly backtracked. "Um, a very attractive twig, of course." She cringed and wished for a hole to open up in the floor and swallow her.

"Of course. Faith, be honest. Do you ever *think* before you open your mouth?"

Faith managed to look abashed. "Sometimes," she said in a small voice. "I'm sorry."

"I know you are. I just wish--"

"What? That I wasn't your daughter?"

"No! Why would you think that?"

"It's okay, Mom. I know I'm not easy on anyone's nerves, but sometimes, I just can't seem to help it."

Nikita opened her arms and secretly rejoiced that her daughter was mature enough not to be embarrassed by a parental show of affection. Faith gave Nikita a genuinely warm hug that belied her usual bluff and bravado.

"I love you, Mom."

"I love you, too, sweetie," Nikita whispered, giving Faith an extra squeeze. She had to make allowances for Faith. She was so impulsive, yet every time she tried to take her to task for it, Nikita realized that it would be like punishing a part of herself. For Faith was very like Nikita's younger, openly rebellious self.

And *that* was what first drew her husband's attention, eventually earning his love and respect.

After Faith went upstairs, Nikita took a final look outside to see if she had missed anyone. Faith, Chris, Skye, Luc. Everyone was home. Wait...everyone was home but Adam.

Nikita tapped her foot impatiently. Now *there* was a study in rebellion. Adam was surprisingly mature for his age, but he did have his moments. Most of them small and self-contained, thank goodness.

When Faith returned in T-shirt and jeans, Nikita asked, "Where's your brother?"

"Which one?"

"Adam."

"Oh."

That didn't tell Nikita nearly as much as the guilty flush that crept up Faith's neck and face. "You're hiding something. Tell me."

"Sheesh, Mom. Does that ever work? I mean, come on, if I was a bad guy and you said that to me, I'd laugh."

Nikita reached out and grasped a lock of her daughter's hair, wrapping it tightly around her index finger. When she tugged on Faith's hair, Faith cried out. "Okay, okay, maybe I wouldn't exactly *laugh*."

Nikita released her and Faith immediately plunged both hands into the pockets of her faded jeans. "He got detention."

"Again?"

"Yeah. Jazz said that Adam thinks Mr. Clifford is out to get him."

"Well, did he tell anyone? Another teacher? The principal?"

"Not really."

"Well, that just...sucks."

"Mom!"

"Well, it does, Fee."

"Believe me, Mom, you're not wrong."

*****

By the time they sat down to dinner, Adam was still not back and Nikita began to worry in earnest. "Michael, *do* something."

"He probably stopped to see Jazz on the way home, Kita."

"Then call James and ask," Nikita pleaded. Michael pondered. He was usually the alarmist in the family while Nikita was the soul of patience and ardent champion of the underdog. The urgency in her voice nagged at him. Nikita was strangely perceptive, especially when it came to the children. No matter how old they were.

"I'll check with Jazz first, but I think I might take a drive by the school anyway."

Nikita breathed a sigh of relief. That was Michael's way of telling her that he thought there was something worth investigating. He would take care of whatever it was. He always did.

*****

Adam struggled against the silken bonds that held him. He was blindfolded and unable to see his captor. A sizable lump was growing on the back of his head and Adam fought to stay awake. He knew there was a risk of concussion from the blow he'd sustained. He cursed himself for being so lackadaisical about keeping a sharp eye on his surroundings. If he hadn't been, he might not have been taken by surprise.

"You'll never get away with this," Adam spat.

"Oh, I think I will," said the carefully disguised voice.

"I don't," came yet another voice behind the first. "If you hurt him, even a little bit, you're going to be fucking sorry for the rest of your miserable life."