"Your Dad's waiting for you," Nikita said to Connor, who stood close enough to Faith that their bodies almost touched.

Connor looked visibly uneasy. "Is he very angry?"

"That's not for me to say, Connor."

"Well, it can't be as bad as anything Mom would do," he muttered under his breath in an attempt to reassure himself.

When Connor broke away from Faith, Faith reached out instinctively, her fingertips sliding over the back of his hand. "I'll see you at school," she called out wistfully, already missing him.

After he left, Faith nervously averted her eyes from her mother's all-knowing scrutiny. She didn't want *anyone* to know how upset she was. Not even her mother. Or maybe that was *especially* not her mother.

To Nikita's surprise, however, Faith and Chris, who normally traveled together, headed in opposite directions. Indeed, it was as if they couldn't bear to be around each other.

She tried to speak to Chris, but her son was too much like Michael to unburden himself that easily. He murmured something noncommittal and vanished before she could figure out a better way to reach him.

*****

Emmy caught up with Chris outside school. "Hi," she said shyly.

"Hi," he replied somberly.

"Want to have lunch together?"

"I have to study for a Biology quiz."

"But you have to eat--"

"Just let it go, Em."

"I don't want to let it go, Chris. I--" She glanced around to see if they were drawing any attention and lowered her voice. "I love you."

"Yeah, well, you might want to reconsider that," Chris said bitterly.

"Chris!"

"I don't want to talk to you, Emmy. Now please...I have to go."

Emmy watched Chris enter the school building, feeling fear and anxiety constrict her chest until it was almost impossible to breathe. Chris had never turned his back on her. Ever.

Until now.

*****

"Sasha?"

Sasha was going to be late to school, but he didn't care. Everything was falling apart and none too slowly.

Declan paused, his manner uncharacteristically hesitant. "I need to talk to you."

"Go ahead."

"I'm sorry. About the way I acted. I--"

"It's okay, Da. No problem."

Declan could see how defensive Sasha was and it hurt. It was just as he'd feared. Sasha was putting up walls between them. Walls he might never be able to break down.

"Listen to me, please."

Sasha turned to face his father, his large brown eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I know you're sorry. I am, too. But it doesn't help, does it?"

Sasha's gaze dropped to the cast that Declan wore. "Wow. You really broke your hand, huh?"

"Aye. Pretty stupid. Except for one thing."

"What's that?" Sasha asked with a frown.

"It's proof that I'd rather hurt myself than *you*, Sasha. I love you. You know that, right?"

"I used to," Sasha said in a quavering voice, his lower lip trembling just like Sey's.

"Ohh, Sasha." Declan looked as though he had been pierced through the heart.

Sasha stared at the man who was his hero in nearly every sense of the word, then made a tiny choked sound that could have been a stifled sob.

Declan abandoned his own heartache, seeking only to assuage his son's pain, if he could. He pulled the teenager into a tight embrace and rocked him back and forth. Tears spilled in earnest now, trickling off his chin to land in Sasha's hair. He closed his eyes and pressed a kiss to Sasha's forehead. Suddenly unable to form a coherent thought, Declan murmured soothingly in Gaelic.

"Da, Da, I don't understand," Sasha sniffled.

"I'll always love you, no matter what. Please don't hate me for trying to do what's best for you. I don't know if I can be any other way."

Sasha blinked the tears away and focused on his father's face. "I love you, too, Da. Please don't hate me for doing something stupid."

"Sounds like we both made some mistakes. Think there's any hope for us?"

"Yeah."

Sey leaned on the door frame and smiled. He'd come to offer his support, but it was clear that Declan didn't need any help at all.

As hiding places go, it wasn't the most original. But it accomplished its purpose. Chris made his way deep into the stacks, passing only one other student. No one went to the library during lunchtime. He would be safe until the bell rang in forty minutes.

He shucked off his backpack and sat down on the floor next to it. He pressed his back against the book shelves, finding their weight and substance a comfort, and drew up his knees. His mother might wonder how he managed to get his clothes so dirty, but that couldn't be helped. That was the least of his worries now.

Chris bent forward and buried his face in his hands. No one could know how he felt. Not even Emmy. Fourteen-year old boys weren't supposed to cry. Certainly not over whether their fathers really loved them. Most teenagers didn't care. Or pretended not to.

But Chris couldn't pretend not to care. He folded his arms across his knees and burrowed his face deeper, muffling the noisy sobs that he couldn't bear to hear.

A gentle hand on his arm startled him. With an audible gasp, he sat up too sharply, banging the back of his head on the shelf behind him. "Emmy!" he cried out, wincing as his fingers reluctantly probed his thick blond hair.

"Are you okay?" she asked solicitously.

"Why aren't you at lunch?" he inquired sourly.

"Why aren't you studying Biology?" He could hear it in her tone. She knew he had lied to her and more than that, she knew why.

"Go away," he said sulkily, averting his face.

But Emmy wasn't Declan's daughter for nothing. She wasn't going to give up that easily. She slipped her backpack off her shoulders and stashed it next to Chris'. Then she scooted down to the floor beside him. "Talk to me, Tosh," she whispered, deliberately using her childhood nickname for him.

"I c-can't."

"You can tell me anything. You know that."

"Please...go away, Em."

"I'm your best friend, Tosh. I can't go away. Even if you ask me to."

Chris shook his head, but Emmy framed his face with her hands and stilled the restless movement. "I love you."

Suddenly Chris was hugging her, so tightly she had trouble breathing. His hands tangled themselves in her long red hair as he sought her mouth and kissed her. Then he buried his wet face against her neck, crying silently.

"Oh, Tosh," she murmured, feeling her own heart ache with his.

When Chris surfaced to take a much-needed breath, Emmy traced the path of his tears with her fingertips, her touch instinctively gentling his turbulent feelings. She didn't force him to talk. She knew he would. When he was ready.

"Dad said I disappointed him," he finally said in husky tones.

"We all did, Chris. Even me."

Chris grasped her hand and pulled it to his lips for a kiss. "You couldn't do anything wrong, Soleil. You're perfect the way you are."

"You're wrong, Chris. None of us is perfect. Not even me."

He stroked her hand almost absently. "I know why Dad punished me. I u-understand why."

"But it hurts, doesn't it?" Emmy asked hesitantly.

"Yeah. But not as much as knowing that *Adam* got off scot-free."

"Adam? But Adam tried to stop Sasha from screwing up the rest of his life. Thank God he was there."

"Not you, too, Em. You're on his side, too?"

"But there aren't any sides, Chris. We *all* messed up."

"Then how come Dad didn't punish *him*?"

"I don't know. Does it really matter?"

"Of course it matters! Things have been different ever since Adam came! Dad--" Chris drew a shaky breath. "Dad loves him more than me."

"That's not true! You're both his sons!"

"Dad didn't even ground him."

"Chris! None of this was Adam's fault. You know that."

"I can't believe you're taking his side!"

"Chris, I know you don't want to hear this, but you know whose idea the whole thing was, and it *wasn't* Adam!

Chris looked at her with eyes the color of stone and just as cold. "Dad came down way too hard on Faith."

"Maybe there's a reason for that. You just can't see it."

"You don't know how upset she is."

"Good."

"You're supposed to be her friend!"

"I am. That doesn't mean I don't know when she's wrong. She *knows* it's her fault, she can see what this is doing to *you*, and I don't see her coming forward to do anything about it. That stinks!"

"Em!"

"I'm going to talk to her."

"Don't! You'll make things worse!"

"I don't see how."

Faith passed her day in relative tranquility, unaware that she was being stalked by an uncharacteristically angry Emmy. When school let out, Faith hung around the main entrance, waiting for Connor. Unfortunately, he showed up just in time to watch Emmy blindside her.

"Hi, Em."

"Don't you "hi" me!"

Faith gave her friend a puzzled look. "What did *I* do?"

"It's more like what you *didn't* do!"

Faith snorted. "Riddles, Em. Don't you know how to say something straight out?"

Emmy smiled, but it wasn't a pleasant smile. The slender redhead's deceptively soft tone echoed her expression. "I guess guilt is an abstract concept for you."

Faith's mouth dropped open. "Are you trying to insult me, you little Irish bitch?"

Connor wasn't sure which one of them surprised him more: Faith with her sudden and total eclipse of insight or Emmy with her sudden and total disregard for safety. "Emmy, I wouldn't--"

Faith swung around and glared at Connor with all the animosity at her command. "Shut up, Con!"

"Did you just tell me to shut up?" Connor exclaimed incredulously.

"I'm in the middle of deciding whether to give Princess here a serious ass-kicking, so don't distract me, okay?"

Emmy crossed her arms in front of her, looking for all the world like a defiant angel. "I see. You're through beating up on your brother so you think you'll tackle me."

"When did I beat up Chris? What the hell are you talking about?"

"You know..." Emmy growled.

"It's *your* fault that we crashed the concert in the first place."

"I didn't twist anyone's arms, Princess! I didn't hear anyone say no!"

"But it was *your* idea, Faith! Only now *Chris* is the one suffering for it!"

"Not any worse than *I* am!"

"Liar! We *all* screwed up, we *all* deserved to be grounded!"

"It's not *my* fault that Daddy didn't ground *Adam*!"

"Then why don't you tell your father that this is all *your* fault?"

"How would that help Chris?"

"Cause he'd understand that what *Chris* did isn't any better or worse than what *Adam* did! Can't you see that?"

"No!"

"Faith!" Connor's shout rendered both girls silent. Up until now, they had done nothing but sting each other with words, but blows were not far behind.

"What?" Faith screamed, her nostrils flaring.

"She's right," he said, lowering his voice to a normal tone.

"About what?"

"About everything. It *was* your idea. If Chris is getting more than his share of the punishment, how can you *not* do anything about it?"

"What do you know? *Your* father only grounded *you* for a month!"

"We're not talking about *me*, Faith. We're talking about your brother."

"He needs to get over this thing he has with Adam," Faith complained.

"Maybe. But you could do something to help the situation."

"What if I don't want to?" Faith demanded, belatedly realizing that Chris had appeared behind Emmy. She had no idea how much he'd heard, but her question was answered moments later.

"I appreciate what you're trying to do, Emmy, but give it up," Chris said, his light blue eyes dark with pain.

Faith huffed, "My brother the martyr, boy, do you two deserve each other."

Connor caught the fresh stab of pain this provoked in Chris' eyes and swallowed hard. Chris was his best friend. Forever and ever, Amen. Faith was the love of his life. When it was convenient for her to remember.

It was a hard choice.

But not an impossible one.

"I don't know you anymore, Faith," he whispered.

"C-Connor?"

Connor tried to keep walking after Chris and Emmy, but it was no use. He heard the abject terror in Faith's voice and he couldn't help but stop. Barely glancing over his shoulder, he asked, "What do you want, Fee?"

"You're not going to leave me here, are you? I w-waited for you and ev-everything and--" To her total dismay, Faith began to cry, her athletic frame visibly shaking in reaction to the emotional turmoil that churned inside her.

Connor spun around and caught her before she crumpled to the ground. He gazed helplessly at Chris and Emmy, who paused briefly to make sure that she was all right. In a dramatic gesture that had more to do with adolescence than anything else, Faith wound her arms around Connor's neck, nearly strangling him in the process. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she chanted in his ear.

Her body pressed tightly against his, Faith seemed ignorant of the physical effect this was having on Connor. He pushed her away as gently as he could. Desperation was written across her face. "Please d-don't let g-go of m-me."

He sighed and continued to hold onto her arms, unaware that his fingers were digging into her skin deeply enough to bruise. "Fee, I'm not the one you should be apologizing to."

"I'll catch up with Chris. I'll even tell Emmy I'm sorry," Faith chattered anxiously.

"Don't say stuff you don't mean, Fee."

"But I do. I do mean it. I never should have called her a bitch. She's not. She's my best friend. Or she would be. If *you* weren't. You are, aren't you, Con?"

Connor started to speak, then shut his mouth. He leaned his forehead on hers, feeling a strong compulsion to touch her. "Yes," he whispered.

"But you're not happy with what I did."

"It doesn't matter whether *I'm* happy or not, Fee. Are *you* happy now?"

"No," she said in a very small voice, tears slowly starting to trickle again.

He brushed his lips across hers. It was a chaste kiss, his lips dry and papery from the sudden attack of nerves that assaulted him. "I won't tell you that if you don't apologize, I won't love you anymore. That would be a lie."

She held her breath.

"But I don't think we could be t-together...if you didn't."

"I will, Con. I swear I will. I'll talk to Emmy--"

"And your brother?"

"Yes! I will. I promise."

She grasped his right hand and kissed its palm before pulling it to her face, almost begging him to stroke her cheek. He hesitated for just a second, and she saw it in his eyes. "What? What else? I'll do anything."

"I don't want you to do this just for me, Fee. You have to understand *why* you're doing it."

"I do."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Only--" She squeezed her eyes shut and a fat tear trembled on the very edge of her eyelashes.

"What?" Connor asked, aching to kiss it away.

"Please don't make me go to Daddy and tell him *I* started all this."

"But sweetie...that's exactly what you have to do. What *he* decides to do after that is up to *him*. But you need to tell him."

"He'll hate me. Even more than he probably already does."

"Your father doesn't hate you, Fee. He *loves* you. If you weren't so busy fighting things all the time, you'd know that."

"But what if, what if he--"

"He won't. How could he? He loves you almost as much as I do," Connor whispered, finally giving in to the urge to kiss her.

"You still love me?"

"Yes."

"I want to do the right thing, Con."

"You will."

"You still believe in me?"

"With all my heart."

She looked up hopefully and said, "Maybe I should talk to Adam, too. About Chris."

"That's my girl," murmured Connor.

He steepled his hands in front of him and regarded her impassively. "Then why are you here?"

She dropped her gaze to the floor with a suddenness that even Michael had difficulty following. "I'm...this whole thing...it was my fault."

"Your fault?"

She lifted her eyes to meet his with an abruptness that startled him. "It was my idea. Crashing the concert."

Michael nodded imperceptibly. "I know," he said softly.

"You-you know?" she sputtered noisily.

"I wondered how long it would take you to come to me. Or if you even would."

"But how--?"

Michael almost smiled. "Chris. Connor. Sasha."

"They ratted me out?" Faith asked, a ferocious look replacing her mask of contrition.

Michael shook his head. "No, they're too loyal for that. But they were all truthful about what they did."

"I wasn't."

"I know. You could have said something, Faith. Made things easier."

"I'm trying to make up for that now."

"I can see that. Why?"

"Chris was so upset. I've never seen him so--"

"You think I was too hard on him? On you?"

Faith flushed and restlessly clasped her hands together. "On both of us," she eventually said in a small voice.

"If-if you knew I-I was the ringleader, why did you come down like that on him?" she asked, referring to her twin brother.

This time it was Michael who had the grace to look abashed. "I was...angry. Too angry. I shouldn't have talked to either one of you that way. I..." Michael took a breath and exhaled slowly. "I'm sorry."

"You're--" Oh my God, thought Faith, as she clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her instinctive exclamation, my father just apologized to *me*.

"Faith, I wasn't just angry, I was...afraid."

"You? Daddy, you're never--"

"You don't understand, Faith. You can't imagine what it's like to know...all the things that I know...all the things that can happen to a young girl...like you."

"Oh, Daddy!" Faith's eyes, so like her father's, swam with unexpected tears. She got it, she finally got it, and when she did, she almost bowled him over with her attempt to hug him.

"Oh, Faith. I know I don't tell you often enough, but...I love you." Michael pressed her head to his chest and she buried her face there.

"I love you, too, Daddy," she whispered.

"I'm proud of you for finally coming forward," he murmured against her hair.

"Me, too," she admitted.

Michael held her for several minutes, realizing that it was entirely possible that this moment would never come again, when the two of them were so completely in synch with each other. My little girl is growing up, he told himself.

Finally.

As much as Michael disliked baring his soul with such intensity, he had to admit that it felt good. Talking to Faith was something he should have done sooner. Now, if only talking to Chris could be as easy....

Michael gestured to the teenaged boy, indicating that he should sit down in the chair that adjoined his desk. Michael's study was inviolate. No one was allowed to disturb him when he was in there. Not even Nikita. Which was why he chose that room for his talk with Chris.

He wanted Chris to know that he *was* different from the others. Special. Because Chris and Faith were conceived in love, during that turbulent time before Michael married Nikita, there would always be something setting them apart from the rest of the children.

Chris sat obediently, but his mouth was set in a grim line, tension graphically evident throughout his body.

"I know you're angry, Chris."

Chris merely blinked, the only betrayal of his underlying feelings a brief shiver.

"It's not easy for someone like me to apologize." Michael paused as if lost in thought for a moment, a slight smile softening his handsome features. "Your mother could definitely tell you that."

Chris maintained his silence and Michael sighed. "Chris, it's hard to have a conversation if you refuse to cooperate."

"What would you like me to say?" he asked hoarsely, as if his voice was rusty from disuse.

"I'm trying to say I'm sorry."

"About what, Dad?"

"About the way I spoke to you and your sister. I let fear take hold of me and I couldn't deal with it. So instead it became this terrible anger that I couldn't control."

Part of Chris wanted to be understanding. But the raucous voice inside his head fanned the flames of his righteous rage and he exploded.

"I bet you didn't get that angry with *Adam*," he spat.

Michael frowned. "I don't feel the same way about Adam, no."

"Ha!" Chris exclaimed triumphantly. "So you admit it!"

"Admit what, Chris?" Michael asked slowly, disturbed by the turn the conversation had taken.

"That he comes first! That you love him...m-more! That he's everything you ever wanted in a s-son!"

"That's not true, Chris. Adam has more than his share of faults."

"Then how come you didn't punish him? Huh? How come?" Chris cried out. He didn't even realize that he was crying until he suddenly registered how blurry his vision was. Angrily raking the backs of his hands across his face, Chris shouted, "I hate him! Everything was fine till he came! I wish he--"

Chris stopped, aghast at what he almost said out loud. But Michael wasn't letting him off the hook that easily. "You wish he was dead?"

Chris hung his head in abject misery. Never had he felt so disgraced. There was no excuse for the way he felt. None at all. How could his father ever understand how out of control these feelings made him?

"Do you know how lucky you are? That you were raised by *two* parents who love you?"

"I--"

"Adam never had that. I fathered him on a woman whose sole purpose was to provide Section with an opportunity to kill her father. She was an innocent pawn trapped in a deadly game where she couldn't even guess the rules. She was forced to see her father murdered right in front of her eyes...and then there was me." Michael caught his breath on a throb of unexpected emotion he'd been trying not to feel for years.

"She saw me "die" as well. She fed that piece of fiction to our son and *that*...was the legacy I left Adam." Michael loomed over Chris, a charismatic figure in black, then his breath ruffled his son's hair as he pulled the teenager into his arms.

"Do you know how much I love you? You were brought into this world by two people who never should have been able to find each other, much less make a life together. How could you *not* be special?"

Chris was afraid to move, afraid that whatever spell had taken over his father would come to an end and this would all be nothing more than an interrupted dream.

"If I expect *more* from you, simply because you're my son, I'm sorry. That's not fair. But I don't love Adam more than I love you. I love you both, but in ways so different that I don't think I could describe them if you asked me."

"Maybe that's not the answer you were looking for. But it's the only one that I can give you. Because it's the truth."

Chris rubbed his cheek against his father's shirt in a little-seen gesture of affection. "I'm sorry, Daddy."

"Me, too, Chris." If there were tears in Michael's voice, he kept them there, refusing to let them fall. "I never meant to hurt you. I love you."

"I love you, too." Now Chris was openly weeping, his fists wrinkling the already-sodden material of Michael's shirt.

"Please don't hate Adam for things he can't help," Michael whispered. "He needs family even more than you do, and I want all of my sons to love each other."

Chris brushed a wet strand of hair out of his eyes and tried valiantly to smile. "Even Luc?"

Michael hugged him fiercely, then released him. "Even Luc."

If loving were an act of possession, then Michael claimed *all* of his family at that moment. It was time they stood together.