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SEE PART 00 FOR WARNINGS & NOTES

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For all her ulterior motives, Erica had planned a beautiful service. A small string ensemble provided the music, and several people shared reflections about either Julia or Annie. When it was time, Sean made his way to the lectern, setting his notes there. He put on his glasses and began.

"The morning that she was taken away from me, my daughter made breakfast," Sean said, fighting the lump in his throat. The notes were blurring with tears that welled in his eyes, but he was determined to say what he had to say. "The reason that stands out so much in my mind isn't because it was the last time we had together, but because it was the moment when I realized how much she'd grown. She was still my little princess, she would have been that all her life," he added, taking off his glasses and wiping his eyes. "I got my first glimpse that morning of the woman she would grow into. She had her mother's grace and beauty, but she was her own person, and she had insight and understanding that surprised me. I always knew my little girl was smart, but that was the first time I realized that she was also wise. Somehow, she knew that I was feeling a little bit blue about losing the child she was," he paused, his voice breaking badly, "so she told me that I did the best job braiding her hair," he added, smiling at the memory, even though he had to wait to get his tears under control before going on.

"I knew once she became a teenager, the days of her trusting me to touch her hair, let alone style it, were definitely numbered." There was an answering laugh from the other mourners. "I also knew there'd be times we'd drift apart, that we wouldn't see eye to eye, and a lot more times I definitely wouldn't be her hero. But I was looking forward to it, because I couldn't wait to meet the woman she was going to be, to find out what she would become, to go to her graduation and her wedding, but whatever she chose to do, I hoped she'd always be in my life, and that even though we'd have our rough spots, we'd always have the friendship we had now." Sean leaned on the lectern and worked at getting his voice back, wiping his eyes again. "You were the best part of your mom and me, princess, and I'm never going to get over losing you. It's a blessing if even one person in your life ever loves you unconditionally. I was so blessed to have that from you, and you would have always had it from me. I know I'll miss you and think about you until the last day of my life." Sean leaned on the lectern and worked hard to get his control back. But it wasn't coming back, and he'd still said nothing about Julia.

He felt an arm around him, and a warm, very familiar presence next to him. Christian was there, giving him the strength to go on.

"Do you want me to read the rest?" Christian whispered in his ear. Sean fought the urge to lean into him. The pain of Annie's death was so raw at that moment it felt like acid coursing through his veins.

"Just stay here next to me," Sean whispered back, stealing a look into Christian's moist, bloodshot eyes.

"Always," he whispered back, giving Sean a little squeeze.

"Christian and I knew Julia most of our adult lives. As a matter of fact, she gave me one of my proudest moments very early on in our relationship. She was the one and only woman I ever got to steal from Christian Troy," he said, and everyone, including Christian, laughed. "I took that as a sign we were meant for each other," he added, smiling. "It's no secret Julia and I were in the middle of a divorce. It's important to me that our family and friends know that the problems we had with marriage over the years didn't mean we didn't always love each other. I just might have been wrong about the 'meant to be' thing when it came to marriage. I think we were meant to have three beautiful children, meant to be in each other's lives, and meant to share all the good and bad times we had together. No matter how it began or how it ended, I wouldn't have traded a minute of what happened in between." He paused and took a deep breath.

"One of the hardest things about saying goodbye to my daughter is not knowing what she would have become," he began again. "I feel the same way about Julia. She was a work in progress, like an unfinished symphony - - it's beautiful and compelling even without a decisive final direction and ending. In all the years I knew her, she never stopped trying to find out who she was, to define herself. She was a wife and mother, a life partner, a medical student, a businesswoman... I finally realized she wasn't just one of those things, but all of them. I think there were times when she felt that what she was doing wasn't noticed, that it wasn't as important as what I was doing, or what she could have been doing if she'd followed her dream of being a pediatrician. She brought three remarkable children into the world. She was a wonderful mother." He looked at Matt, who had put his head down in one hand, and Kimber was holding the other. "With her business partners, she created a successful business out of nothing. Not that I put a lot of faith in her at the time, but she wasn't deterred by that. And she did what she set out to do."

"Whoever did this thing, robbed Annie and Julia both of becoming what they were really meant to be. They took away Annie's right to grow into a woman and take her rightful place in the world, and they took away Julia's chance to finish her journey, and I'm angry. I'm so angry that I don't know whether to grieve or to rage. I wasn't going to say anything about what happened, but we all know how they died, and we're all angry underneath the grief at two lives cut short for no worthwhile reason." Sean was a little troubled at the truth in Escobar's words. Tapping into his rage really did make him stronger. Maybe that's how you become a monster...

"I don't want that to overshadow all the beautiful things Annie and Julia were to each and every one of us. Their deaths were awful on so many levels, and that's what the media and the public will remember them for, years from now. That horrible case where that woman and her daughter were killed. It's up to all of us to remember them for their lives, not their deaths. Their beauty, their intelligence, their kindness, and all they meant to all of us. If we can do that, then maybe even the fact that some...monster obliterated them won't be the most memorable thing. I'm hoping that someday I can remember them both with happiness for what they brought into my life without this overpowering sadness. That's the legacy I want to give them."

After the service, Sean took on the exhausting process of shaking hands, hugging, and otherwise greeting what turned out to be hundreds of people. He was moved by the presence of some former patients, pleased that they remembered him personally beyond what he'd been able to do for their faces, tummies, breasts or some other assorted body part. There were numerous women in Julia's age group who were acquaintances of hers. Sean wasn't convinced that many of them weren't there to be able to say they'd been there, given the case's notoriety, but he honestly couldn't sort out which ones would fall in that category. He hadn't seen Marlowe as he scanned the crowd from the podium, and now he didn't see him among the guests in the reception area.

He stiffened where he stood when Michelle approached him. There was so much suspicion surrounding her that he found it nearly impossible to greet her civilly, let alone thank her for coming.

"I know we've been having our differences, Sean, but I hope you know how sorry I am about your loss," she said, extending her hand. He shook it courteously, but resisted her effort to pull him into a cordial embrace. Then she handed him a thick, tri-folded set of papers he recognized as their buyout offer. "I don't mean to bring up business at a time like this, but I thought this might bring you some peace of mind," she said, handing him the papers. "I signed the deal, as is."

"Thank you. I'll get this back to our lawyer to finalize everything."

"I can stay on for a few weeks if you like, to manage things. This is a difficult time to take the reins of the business back."

"You're right, Michelle, I can't discuss business at a time like this. Anything beyond what's on paper, the lawyers can work it out. I don't know when I'll be ready to operate again, but I'm sure Christian and I can manage once the deal is done."

"That's your choice, of course. Where is Christian? I wanted to express my sympathy to him as well."

Sean looked around then, realizing he had lost track of his partner in the flurry of greetings and condolences. "I'm not sure, but he's here somewhere."

"All right, well, I wish you the best, Sean." With that, she turned and walked away, heading for the exit.

Sean didn't know what to make of the paperwork in his hand. Was it an attempt to assuage a guilty conscience, or had the enormity of the tragedy shamed her into letting go of something she knew had great meaning to him?

Erica had spent some time greeting the mourners, but was now as conspicuous by her absence as Christian was. Julia's father approached Sean, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry to say that Erica is out there talking to reporters," he said. "Every time I think that woman can't piss me off more than she already has, she takes it to a new level. Do you want me to go out there and break it up?"

"No, let her be. If she wants to use her daughter's and granddaughter's deaths to sell books, she's the one who'll look bad when all is said and done. It's funny, but I can't help but feel bad for Julia today, beyond the obvious reasons. I honestly thought Erica really wanted to make this a beautiful service for her, but all she really wanted was to be sure it was upscale enough to make her proud, and to showcase her and her upcoming tell-all book."

"She's always been ambitious. I just thought you should know what was going on."

"Thanks for the heads up. How are you holding up, Robert?" Sean asked.

"I don't think the reality's sunk in yet. I know I lost a lot of time I could have spent with her, with both of them. It was awkward after the divorce. Julia was upset with me for leaving her mother for another woman...things were strained. I should have just moved past that."

"This took us all by surprise," Sean said, sighing.

"I have to say, I didn't see it coming with you and Christian."

"Yeah, well, neither did we, but when the realization dawned, there was no turning back. I hate that it hurt Julia, or put any stress on Annie or Matt. I was expecting to see Jennifer," Sean said, referring to Robert's new wife.

"I didn't want the kind of scene Erica would have made if she'd been here, so I thought it best if she stayed home. She wasn't happy with that idea, but she went along with it."

"Julia loved you, even if you guys didn't see eye to eye on things."

"I know she did. I know you know how I feel about losing her."

"Yeah," Sean agreed, nodding, feeling his eyes fill at even the mention of his grief for Annie, let alone her death itself.

"Sean, the eulogy was beautiful," Liz said, approaching Sean and enveloping him in a hug. "How are you doing, honey? You look pale."

"I'm okay. I don't know if I'll be glad or sorry when this is over."

"Funerals are like that," she said sympathetically, rubbing Sean's back a little as she stood back. "I'll stop by with some more food later. You need to eat something."

"Christian keeps trying to feed me. I have to give him an 'A' for effort. Liz, the food you've brought us has helped a lot. Thanks for looking out for us."

"I'm so glad I had a chance to meet you," Liz said, shaking hands with Robert.

"Likewise, Liz. Julia mentioned you in her letters several times. She considered you part of the family."

"That's so nice to hear," Liz said, smiling, though it was a little shaky. "I'm going now, Sean, unless you need anything else. I'll be at the dinner later."

"No, I'm okay. Have you seen Christian?"

"I think he went back into the chapel," Liz said.

"Okay. If you'll both excuse me, I'm going to check up on him. Erica will never forgive us if we don't keep things on schedule for the country club," Sean added, feeling and sounding more tired than vindictive. Erica was what she was, and there wasn't much point in railing against it.

Sean opened the door and stepped inside the silent chapel. The double doors were kept closed now to encourage the guests to stay in the reception area. Maybe it was the quiet room that made the forlorn sound of Christian's crying break Sean's heart in two. Christian was standing near Julia's portrait, his whole body shaking. He'd held up so long for Sean, he'd held Sean up literally more than once, and while he occasionally shed a few tears, he was always there to take care of Sean and hold him and comfort him and give him hope. Thanks to all that love and caring, Sean had the strength to be there now for Christian. Even walking up the aisle and seeing Annie's portrait again didn't slow him down, or weaken his resolve to give Christian the strong shoulder he needed.

Christian heard Sean's footsteps, and turned, startled.

"I'm sorry. I just...needed to come in one more time before we left," he managed, wiping at his eyes. Sean didn't answer, but pulled Christian into a hug.

"It's your turn," he said quietly, glad when Christian gripped him tightly and let out the wracking sobs he'd held in for so long. Whether he was just trying to be strong for Sean or whether he thought there was something inappropriate about the bitterness of his grief for his partner's wife, Sean wasn't sure. Either way, Sean wanted him to know it was okay. "You loved them, too, Christian. You and Julia and I shared a lot of love and good times in our lives, and it's okay to cry for her. Annie was our little girl, and she loved you like crazy."

Sean smiled slightly, glad he could do something for Christian that Christian had done for him after Megan died. One night, when hiding in the bathroom and running the water to cry out a little of his grief didn't offer any relief, Sean had made up some excuse about going over to the office to pick up a patient chart he needed to review for the next day. And then he'd gone to Christian's place, walked in the door, and proceeded to bawl in Christian's arms until he was so exhausted by it he fell asleep there. It was the only moment of peace and solace he'd found in the aftermath of Megan's death, one time when his feelings for her weren't judged, when he could grieve openly, bitterly, and loudly. When someone held him and rocked him and listened to his pain without any recriminations.

They stood there for a long time, until Christian felt better, and Sean felt strangely at peace. His grief was a constant dull pain in his chest, but it wasn't the uncontrollable and insurmountable monster it had been. He found strength in comforting Christian, in greeting Julia's and Annie's friends, and he began to feel a little of himself coming back, gaining ground again. It was the first time he truly believed life would go on, and the reason for it was there, in his arms.

"We got our business back, partner," Sean said as they walked down the aisle toward the doors.

"What?" Christian asked, confused.

"Michelle was here." He stopped and pulled the papers out of his breast pocket. "She signed the buyout agreement."

"I'm glad," he said.

"Yeah, I know, I don't exactly feel like breaking out the bubbly, either. I keep wondering if it's guilt for what she did to Annie and Julia when she was aiming for me, or if she just felt it was the right thing to do."

"I should have never pushed you to sell in the first place."

"You didn't hold a gun to my head. I signed the papers."

"But you knew I wanted to sell, and I know that hurt you."

"It's history now," Sean said, managing a little smile. "It's ours again."

"I need to tell you something." Christian moved a couple chairs in from the aisle and sat down in a chair near the end of one of the rows. Sean sat down next to him. "I sold it because I realized I was in love with you, and I couldn't handle it."

"What?" Sean replied, completely taken aback by that revelation. He wasn't sure he'd heard it right. It didn't make sense.

"I went to see a shrink. I'm not even sure why, but I guess because I was trying to figure out what my problem was with relationships. She told me I was already taken."

"By me?" Sean clarified.

"Yes, by you," Christian confirmed. "The whole idea that I was gay and didn't know it just freaked me out. Every time you tried to get close to me, I was trying to put distance between us to prove her wrong. To prove we were just friends, and that was it."

Sean leaned his elbows on his knees and sighed, then pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Say something," Christian urged.

"What do you want me to say? The thought of being in love with me was so horrible you pushed me to sell the business and didn't want to get near me in case it was true?"

"No, it wasn't horrible. If it had been horrible, it would have been easy, no big deal to blow off as just so much psychobabble shit." Christian paused. "The reason it got to me the way it did is because I love you with all my heart and I knew she was right. That love is so big that it eclipses everything else. I wasn't ready to accept that. That the woman I was searching for wasn't a woman at all. That came out wrong," Christian added. Sean actually chuckled.

"It's okay, Christian. I know what you meant."

"When you were in the accident, all the shit of trying to distance myself and fight what I felt for you seemed ridiculous. I loved you and I wanted you, and all that denial almost cost me my chance."

"That explains why you kept trying to shake me like a bad habit. I never understood it. It really hurt and I didn't get what I'd done that made you want me at arm's length. Kind of makes sense now."

"No, it doesn't. I was an asshole."

"So what else is new?" Sean replied, smiling right away so Christian knew he was kidding. "I'm glad you told me, but none of it matters now."

"If I hadn't been running away from you, we might have never gotten tangled up with Michelle."

"Is that what's bothering you? Christian, even if Michelle did this thing because she wanted to kill me and get me out of the way because of her feelings for you, that doesn't make it your fault. I seem to remember you telling me over and over again that it wasn't my fault for giving Julia the rental car that day. The only person at fault is whoever put the explosives in that car. It's taken me a long time to accept that, and there are times it still sweeps over me and I blame myself - - because I fell in love with you and that upset Michelle, or because I left my wife... I just hope someday my rational thinking completely takes over and pushes the emotional gut reaction of blaming myself out of the mix."

"You're not angry about the business?"

"It means a lot to me that you told me the truth. Besides, how can I be mad about what you felt then, when you love me the way you do now?"

"I've always loved you, Sean."

"Me, too," Sean responded. "We better go get through this dinner party of Erica's. She was out talking to reporters."

"What's wrong with her?" Christian asked, rhetorically, as they stood.

"How long have you got?" Sean retorted.

********

Sean took off his suit coat and tossed it on a chair. The memorial service was over, the fancy dinner was over, and they were back in the shadowy silent house again. Conor's sitter left, and Christian came out to the living room carrying the baby.

"Where the hell was Marlowe?" Sean asked, referring to the nanny's absence at the memorial service and the dinner.

"I don't know. Maybe it was too difficult for him. His feelings for Julia ran pretty deep."

"He could have stayed home with Conor then. Saved us the hassle of scrambling around for a sitter when most everyone we knew was at the service," Sean complained, settling on the couch with a beer. Christian joined him, and as soon as Conor reached for his father, Sean traded the beer for the baby.

"Uncle Christian will take care of that for you," he joked, taking a drink out of the bottle.

"I don't want him to grow up calling you 'uncle' anything. I was thinking we should start getting him used to Dad Sean and Dad Christian - - just until he can call us both 'Dad' without being confused. What do you think?" Sean made a face at the baby while Christian processed the enormity of that statement.

"He's your son, Sean. Do you really want him calling someone else 'Dad anything'? You waited all this time for a son that I didn't have a part in."

"He's our son, Christian. We've talked about this before. Matt didn't grow up calling me 'Uncle Sean.' Obviously, that was for other reasons, but the point is that he grew up viewing me in a parental role and you as an 'uncle.' I don't want Conor growing up viewing you as having less validity as his parent than I do - - I don't want him to think of you as someone not as close to him as I am."

"That means a lot to me."

"I know it does," Sean responded, casting an affectionate look at Christian. "Otherwise, I wouldn't do it. But I know stupid shit like biology doesn't change how I feel about Matt, and I know it doesn't change how you feel about Conor. We can't go back and re-do how it was handled with Matt, but we can change it starting right now with Conor."

"If somebody had told me twenty years ago this was where we were headed, I'd have thought they were crazy."

"You'd have probably kicked their ass," Sean added, chuckling. Conor caught the spirit and chuckled back at him, one waving little hand landing on Sean's mouth and pulling at his lip. Sean nipped at the tiny fingers with his lips, and that only elicited another happy giggle out of the baby.

"I know how precious he is to you, Sean. So I know what it means that you're sharing him with me so...completely."

"It'll be as good for him as it is for us," Sean said, settling the baby on his lap, watching as his tiny repaired hand fidgeted quite adeptly with Sean's watch band. "Christian, look at that," Sean said, smiling excitedly as the little fingers probed the details of the watch the way any baby with perfect hands would.

"You want to schedule his second surgery, don't you?"

"As soon as we can get it on Mogabi's calendar." Sean didn't mind the tear or two that leaked out of his tired eyes this time. They were tears of joy at watching his son's little hand probing and exploring without being prodded, without being manipulated with physical therapy. "Julia thought I couldn't accept him the way he was born," Sean said, "that I wanted to change him." Sean kissed the top of the baby's head.

"Before Conor was born, when you found out about the ectrodactyly... You wouldn't have had Julia get an abortion because you didn't want a deformed baby. You would have done it so he didn't have to live through what you did, before your surgery."

"I'm so glad I didn't know in time. If I'd encouraged her to abort and she'd listened..." He stroked Conor's head gently. "If I lost him, I can honestly say it would kill me."

"You aren't going to lose him, or me." Christian moved closer, leaning in for a kiss.

"I had no idea how severe it would be, if his arms and legs would be affected, if he could walk, if I could fix it for him. I would have loved him no matter what he looked like, but the rest of the world would have tortured him and shunned him and made him feel like a freak." 

"Kids can be cruel. And your dad making you live through that for years because he thought a college fund was more important than fixing your face was just plain ludicrous." Christian kissed Sean again, this time making sure his lip covered Sean's upper lip. "There's no way anyone can tell you ever had surgery there, you realize that, right?"

"I know. I'm not sure I'm totally convinced that people don't look at me and see something's...off."

"It's impossible to tell. You obviously had a brilliant surgeon, and whatever scarring was there isn't visible anymore. It wasn't even when we first met."

"My mom always said it didn't show, but I hated having my picture taken, even after the surgery. I was convinced everyone could tell by looking at me." Sean snorted a humorless laugh. "Anytime a girl turned me down, I was convinced she could see my mouth was lopsided and she didn't want to have to kiss me. I know that's ridiculous. I've stared at my face in the mirror over the years and I can't see anything wrong. The scar wasn't bad even after the operation, and it disappeared after a few years. I just feel like it's lurking there. I know how disgusted my father was with me because we have almost no childhood pictures of me. Almost no baby pictures. My mom took a few, but that's it. Not even the first day home from the hospital picture. God, he must have been so fucking disgusted by me that he didn't even want to commemorate that. There are annual school pictures. I remember the looks on the faces of the photographers...like, what's the point of posing this kid because who'd put this picture up on the mantel?"

"I bet your mom treasured those pictures."

"She did. She didn't look at me and see a freak the way everyone else did. She saw me. And that's what I want for Conor. For the world to see him, not his hands. For him to not have to make friends in spite of his handicap. For people to not mention his deformity first, and then what a bright kid he is, or how good he is at something. I want him to fall in love someday and have her- - or him - - see what a beautiful person he is, without having to get past something that I can make go away before he ever has to hear a harsh word about it."

"Doing the surgeries was never about your inability to love him as he was, it was about your inability to watch him suffer when you could stop it. You know, when Liz had the abortion, it was largely because she didn't think I could love an imperfect child. I know how it feels to have your feelings for your child - - or your fitness as a father - - brought into question unfairly."

"Yes, I know you do," Sean nodded, sighing. "I just wish Julia and I could have seen eye to eye, that she could have understood that. She seemed to feel it was some kind of vanity issue, or my need for him to be perfect."

"Well, she had Marlowe feeding her a lot of shit, too. I think you ought to send that dwarf back to the forest with Snow White. It's your decision, but I don't think he'll be a good influence on Conor's relationship with you, long term."

"He's going to get sent back sooner than planned if he doesn't show up and explain himself pretty soon. And it's our decision to choose a nanny for our son. Letting him call you 'Dad' isn't an empty title."

"You didn't eat much at dinner. Would you eat if I fixed us something?"

"Probably not. I promise I'll have breakfast tomorrow, okay?"

"It's a date," Christian replied.

"If Conor has another surgery, I'm going to need to take time off to be with him. Julia's not here to do it, and I don't want Marlowe doing his post-op care unsupervised."

"Would you trust me to help you out with it? We could hire some help at the practice, and share Conor's care. It'll be good for us, and the practice, if we're both able to operate, depending on the patients, and I'd like to have some time to bond with our son."

Sean nodded, not sure why his eyes filled up, or why he felt like crying when what Christian was saying made him so happy. Christian moved closer, pulling Sean against him, Conor nestled between them.

"I miss my daughter," Sean said, realizing where the pain was coming from. They were on the verge of having a happy family together, but yet it could never be whole, because he could never have Annie back.

"I know, sweetheart. I miss her, too."

"I thought after the funeral it might be easier. It just feels emptier. Like I should be able to move on and do better, but I can't."

"I wish I could make the pain go away."

"You do. You can," Sean said, looking into Christian's eyes.

"I'll put Conor down, and we'll turn in." Christian kissed Sean and picked up the baby, heading into the nursery.

Sean went into the bedroom and undressed, piling everything on a chair, including his underwear, slipping naked between the sheets. He closed his eyes and sighed, trying to will the stress and stiffness out of his muscles. Part of him wanted to cry, and the other part was too tired. His head ached and his eyes burned. They felt red and raw and puffy, like he had a permanent cold that never went away. The last cold he'd had, he caught from Annie. That thought was more than his fragile controls could handle, and the tears were back. He rolled on his side and held onto a pillow that smelled like Christian's aftershave, burying his face in it.

He heard Christian moving around in the room, probably shedding his clothes. The room darkened, and he felt the mattress dip behind him. Christian's hand was on his shoulder then, rubbing gently.

"Roll on your stomach," he said quietly. "I'll give you a massage. You're strung tight."

Sean followed the instruction, and felt Christian's warm hands on his shoulders, slick with some kind of massage oil that smelled a little spicy and exotic. Whatever it was made his skin feel warm, and Christian's hands were unknotting his muscles expertly. The careful rubbing and caressing felt good, and Sean could feel himself relaxing. He worked at controlling his emotions and pulling back on the tears.

"You're tensing up on me again," Christian said. "Just let it out, sweetheart." Christian kissed the back of his neck. "The pain that's in there has to come out. Let it come out."

Sean sat up and reached for Christian, needing to feel the closeness of his partner, craving it even more than the massage, no matter how good it felt. Christian held him tightly, letting him pour out grief that didn't seem to have any end. The enormity of it scared Sean, and part of what made him cling to Christian so desperately was his fear that he'd never get better, that he'd always feel a little better and then backslide into the abyss of pain and lose what little control he'd gained.

"It's only been a little over a week, Sean. It'll get better."

"I thought I was getting a handle on this, and then something happens and I just lose it again."

"Losing a child is awful. It's not natural and it's not supposed to happen. When I lost Wilbur, I thought I was going to die, the pain was so bad. Sometimes it still is, and I know that he's okay. He's alive out there in Arizona, living a stable, decent life with James and Cicely. When we lost Annie, it was different, worse. I didn't think anything could be worse than saying goodbye to Wilbur, but it was. She was your daughter, and that made her precious to me, too. If I were in your place, I don't know if I'd even be sane," he added, his voice shaking. "Don't hold anything back with me, even if you have to with the rest of the world."

"I don't know if I am sane."

"You are. You're one of the strongest people I've ever known. You'll survive this. We'll survive it together." Christian nudged Sean's chin upward and kissed him, glad when Sean responded to it with a hungry desperation. The lovemaking would distract Sean from his pain for a little while, and elevate Christian from the pervasive and ongoing sadness that seemed to linger in the air.

For a long time they just lay there together kissing and caressing, holding onto each other and sharing the closeness. When Sean seemed calm and relaxed, Christian slid down and took Sean's still lax cock in his mouth, trying to do all the things to it that he liked done to his own. Sean's hand lightly stroked his head, his fingers sliding through Christian's hair in a caress, his other hand lying palm up on the pillow next to him. His breathing was a little rapid and he was moaning softly at the stimulation, though it was taking a while for his body to get interested.

Christian released Sean's cock from his mouth and while his hand kept working it, he tongued Sean's balls, then started kissing the insides of his thighs. Sean groaned and thrust into his hand, and Christian had to smile. The fastest way to Sean's dick seemed to be through his heart, and the more kissing, nibbling, and attention he got, the faster he got hard.

Or maybe that's just what he wanted most from Christian, and his body responded in kind.

Sean came with an unrestrained shout while Christian pumped his cock and used his mouth to make bright passion mark inside his thigh. With a surprising smoothness and coordination, Christian rolled on a condom and lubricated himself while Sean rolled onto his side, bringing one knee up. Resisting the urge to shove inside Sean and start pumping, Christian took his time lubricating Sean, further relaxing him and cuddling him and planting little kisses along his neck and shoulder. It felt good making Sean feel good, and the moment of slipping inside him would be just as good for Christian two minutes later.

"I love you," Christian said against Sean's ear as he carefully eased inside him. He knew he was well endowed, and he knew that accommodating his full length anally was a challenge, even for someone who was used to it. Sean never complained even when they moved at a faster pace, and he usually came. Christian knew him well enough, and was getting to know his body well enough to know that these slow, gentle encounters felt the best for Sean. And Sean had enough pain in his heart and soul that he didn't need more in his body.

The slow pace was a little frustrating, but it was nice in another way to be completely joined with his partner longer, to wrap around him and be in him at the same time. To know that the gentle in and out motions were taking away some of the overwhelming sadness that Sean needed him to take away for a little while. There was a lifetime for their sex life to get wilder, spicier and more light-hearted.

As if he'd read Christian's mind, Sean flexed his internal muscles, and the sensation made Christian shudder.

"Go for it," Sean said, angling his head back to give Christian a knowing look. Unable to resist the invitation, Christian urged Sean onto his stomach, then moved up so Sean could get up on all fours. Christian couldn't deny this was his favorite way to get off, his favorite position, and he re-entered Sean and let go and started pumping. He was already hot, already close to the edge from the slower paced lovemaking they'd been doing, so his climax was quick in rushing over him, and had the intensity of a climax born of prolonged stimulation and waiting for the needed release.

With a few gasps and cries of his own, he came, bracing himself on either side of Sean, not wanting to drop his full weight on his partner's back. He slid out of Sean and once he'd rolled onto his back, Christian lay on top of him, kissing him passionately, owning his mouth the way he'd just owned his ass.

He was glad to feel the slickness of come on Sean's belly, relieved to know his partner enjoyed himself, too. He'd felt him shudder and his muscles contract, but he'd been so wrapped up in his own sensations that he hadn't really paid attention to whether or not Sean was just giving him what he wanted to feel, or if it was genuine. Christian felt a little guilty that he didn't care before now, but this was a rare moment when he'd just indulged himself and taken what he wanted.

Sometimes he thought Sean was too precious to him to really get off the way he had during a lifetime of banging nameless, faceless women, most of whom he never saw more than a few times. Their pleasure was necessary to facilitate his own, but if they felt used, or their pussies were sore, or they didn't come as many times as they could have, it wasn't the end of the world. He never knowingly hurt them, but then he didn't fuck many virgins - - most of the women he was with were experienced enough to keep up with him.

While Sean was no blushing virigin to sex, he was a virgin to this kind of sex before he'd given it to Christian, and one thing Christian knew from painful experience was how hurt and violated you could feel if your sex partner didn't treat you right when you were too nervous or too new at taking it up the ass to deal with getting a good pounding.

With Sean, every stroke mattered. If he was hurting, if he was uncomfortable, if he did or didn't like what Christian was doing, if he felt loved enough, if he could accommodate Christian's thrusts without being torn or bruised... All that mattered with Sean. The fact Sean's ass was as precious to him as any other part of him held Christian's rougher instincts in check. Deep down, he knew Sean didn't particularly like being drilled until he was sore. He made it clear he liked having Christian inside him. It was also clear that the times he liked best were the times his body had plenty of time to adjust, when Christian was more in the mood for love than he was for a high-impact screw.

"Feel okay?" Christian asked. He couldn't help it. It was dark in the room and things were wet and slippery. He wouldn't know if he'd drawn blood.

"It's okay, Christian. I trust you. I don't think you have it in you to hurt me like that."

"I did it harder than I usually do."

"I know. I was there," Sean added with a little smile in his voice. "I'm getting better at this. You're really patient with me."

"I love you. And you don't have to try to be good at it. All our sex is good, Sean. Even half asleep, groping around in the dark, when you're crabby and won't let me at your ass."

Sean laughed at that, and Christian drank in that sight and sound as much as any of the lovemaking he'd enjoyed.

********

Breaking glass. Conor was crying.

Sean wasn't even fully awake as he slid out from under Christian's arm and fumbled for his robe in the dark room. Wrapping it around his naked body and tying it, he didn't even think about the logical things like why glass broke or that it could mean some kind of break in. All he knew was Conor was crying and the noise he'd heard came from the nursery.

The house was silent and dark except for the baby's cries. In the glow of the nursery's night light, Sean just barely avoided stepping with his bare foot on the fallen picture and the glass from its shattered frame. He went to the crib and picked up his son, checking to see if he needed changing. The baby was dry, but fussy, and Sean stood there with him a while, patting him and making little comforting noises to him.

He shivered, and at first thought it was just because he was naked under the robe and had been partially blanketed by Christian's body while he was in bed. It felt cold in the nursery, almost drafty. Conor wasn't in the mood to be put back in his crib, so Sean avoided the broken glass and made his way carefully to the rocker.

He felt a little twinge when he sat, but it was nothing serious. He was getting more accustomed to this new chapter in his sex life, and he wanted Christian to get what he needed from their relationship. He was already lacking the tits and the curves, he couldn't afford to be lacking much more and hope to keep Christian's fidelity sexually. Sean dreaded the time when Christian went out to satisfy his baser instincts somewhere else. It was a real danger, given Christian's sexual history, and Sean knew if they were going to be together a lifetime, he probably had to accept he wouldn't be enough versus having access to what women could offer. Forcing Christian into a lifelong promise to never stray was probably a sure death knell for anyone who hoped to be his life partner.

Sean was missing that sensation of thrusting into something hot and tight. Christian was generous with his blow jobs and hand jobs, but Sean had to admit if only to himself in the middle of the night that his cock remembered what it was like to be on top of a woman. He didn't want anyone else but Christian, but his body wanted to get off the way Christian had gotten off on him a few hours earlier. So now who's the worse infidelity risk? Sean asked himself.

Why does everything have to be so fucking complicated?

Conor was still fussy, and Sean himself felt a growing unease in the room. It was chilly, but it was something else. He expected to stand up and turn around and come face to face with someone. He wasn't alone in the room with his son, that much every animal instinct in his body was telling him. Holding Conor tightly against him, ready to put himself between his son and whomever - - whatever - - was in the shadows, he stood and turned quickly towards the door of the room. No one was there.

Holding Conor so his face was protected, he went to the light switch on the wall and turned it on, flooding the room with light. The baby wiggled more, some of the bright light seeping into his eyes. The room was empty.

"Shit, I'm losing my mind," Sean said in a whisper to himself.

Then he looked at the broken picture frame, and realized he wasn't completely insane. He'd been awakened by breaking glass, and so had Conor. The baby was fussy for no apparent reason, and that wasn't like Conor. He was a calm baby, generally slept through the night. He'd even been a little trouper through the surgery and recovery issues. Reluctantly, Sean turned out the light so they were back in the dim glow of the night light. Conor started to cry, his arms and legs moving with all the strength his little body possessed. Sean shivered, the cold swirling around him again as he tried to calm his son.

"Marlowe."

It was Julia's voice, there was no denying that. Sean fumbled for the light switch again, flooding the room with light. Again, he found himself alone with his son.

"Sean?" Christian appeared in the door, still naked and sleepy, rubbing at his face. His sudden presence made Sean start a little. "What's going on?"

"Don't move," Sean warned, stopping Christian as his feet were inches from the broken glass. "I heard that drop and Conor was crying," he explained, deciding not to explain anything else at the moment. It was all too weird, and definitely not possible. He was tired, it had been a rough day, and he could accept he was probably imagining things. Conor was fussy because he missed his mother. The picture just...fell.

"This is new," Christian said, picking up the framed picture, avoiding stepping in the glass. The photo was of Marlowe with Julia, who was holding Conor. "You sure you didn't accidentally knock this on the floor? No need to be passive-aggressive, Sean. I would have thrown the damn thing in the trash first time I saw it."

"No, I didn't knock it anywhere. It was the breaking glass I heard when I woke up. I haven't been able to calm Conor down."

"Probably because you're not calm," he said, laying the picture on the changing table and holding out his arms. "Let me try," he offered. Sean reluctantly handed over the baby, skeptical that Christian had any magic formula to calm him down. Still, it was possible Conor was drawing anxiety from Sean. Besides, being held by Christian calmed Sean down, so maybe it would work for his son.

Before long, Conor seemed quieter, and while Christian was tending to him, Sean cleaned up the broken glass from the floor. Then he picked up the photo of Marlowe, Julia, and Conor.

"You don't think Marlowe could have had anything to do with the explosion, do you?" Sean asked, and Christian looked at him, frowning. He'd laid Conor in the crib and was making faces at him in the final moments before he would fall asleep again.

"Mr. New Age Mural Painter? Doesn't seem the type. Besides, why kill you when you're divorcing Julia anyway? The explosion was obviously meant for you, since no one could have known how it would turn out."

"As long as I was alive, he'd never have a clear shot to raising Conor his way, to being the main influence in his life."

"Yeah, I know, but he doesn't strike me as the kind of person who'd go out and buy explosives and plant them under your car."

"I'm calling Fishman in the morning and telling him that Marlowe's disappeared, and tell him to check him out."

"Why Marlowe all of a sudden? The smart money's on Michelle. Or James."

"Who?" Sean frowned, then realization dawned. "Michelle's madam."

"I figured she'd rather have you alive and in my life, so she'd have a chance with Michelle herself."

"I don't understand."

"James is in love with Michelle herself."

"Shit, if we run short of money, we can just sell her story to the Young and the Restless."

"You really think Marlowe could have tried to kill you?" Christian asked, moving away from the crib.

"I think Fishman needs to look into it, that's all I'm saying."

********

Christian finished up in the shower and stepped out, not surprised that Sean was in the bathroom shaving. He'd seen Sean naked dozens of times during their friendship, but it amazed him how his brain had managed to rewire itself to make his heart skip a beat seeing him that way now.

"You could have joined me," Christian said, grabbing a towel to dry himself.

"This is Erica's last day in town, and I need to talk to her about the ashes. I called her when I woke up and set up lunch." He set the electric razor down and looked at himself. "I should get a haircut. I was going to get one before..." Sean sighed.

"Leave it," Christian said, running his hand through the soft brown hair. Sean's hair was far from long; just a little thicker and fuller, the way he'd worn it a couple years ago. And it was just the right length for Christian to stick his hands in when he wanted to keep Sean in place to kiss him thoroughly. "Makes you look younger."

"It does?" he asked, frowning, looking at himself again.

"I like sticking my hands in it when I'm making love to you," Christian confessed, ruffling it again.

"I guess the haircut can wait, then," Sean responded, looking pleased as he stepped into the shower. "You tell me when I need the next one," he hollered over the water.

"Are we still talking about haircuts?" Christian teased.

"Whatever," Sean said. "Be creative."

********

Sean stared at the steering wheel of the rental car. He'd arranged to have another one dropped off that morning, and asked Christian to stay with Conor. Not only did he feel like he needed to handle Erica on his own, but he felt the need to drive himself where he needed to go, to run a couple mundane errands. He needed to try living again, to see if he could do it. So much of him felt dead inside. Even grieving was a complex task, because part of him felt sad for Julia's death, but the overwhelming grief that defined his every waking moment was Annie's death. There were times he wanted to go see Matt, spend time with him, but Matt was going to have enough trouble keeping his marriage together without his weepy father showing up looking for solace.

Then there was the omnipresent security personnel between him and the reporters who were now receding just a bit from their frenzied pursuit of him. Every time they'd hoped to rush him for comments, either their private security or Christian had been physically between him and their intrusive microphones, cameras, and heartless questions. Now he knew how the president's family must feel - - every move monitored by dark-suited men in dark sedans.

Julia was dead. Annie was dead. Matt was married. He'd tried so hard to hold onto his family, and they were all gone. He had a new family now, with Christian and Conor, and he treasured that. They were precious to him, and they were his new beginning. Christian had always been with him, but now it was so much different. Better. Sweeter. Conor was a part of Julia and him that would survive and grow into a man. Someone to carry on the McNamara name - - both their names. He'd already thought of changing Conor's middle name to "Troy." Conor Troy McNamara. It was the best way he could think of for their child to have both their names. If anything happened to him, he'd want Conor with Christian, and that would mean adoption, because he didn't want to risk another Wilbur debacle - - either for Christian's sake, or for his son's. He didn't know all the legal hoops he needed to jump through to ensure that, but he was resolved to do whatever it took.

He adjusted the rearview mirror and then looked at himself for a moment. He was groomed, he'd chosen a nice-looking tan suit and a lavender shirt...he was demonstrating more of a Christianesque flair with color than usual. He had the outward appearance of someone whole who was getting on with his life. Maybe he'd catch up to the appearance eventually.

He started the car and headed out of the driveway and into the late morning traffic. He dialed his lawyer's number, and made an appointment with his secretary for himself and Christian to talk about Conor's status, name change, and to write up the necessary papers to ensure Christian as his guardian in the event anything happened to Sean.

He pulled into the parking lot for the restaurant where he was to meet Erica, and went in to claim his reservation. He cast an eye around for Robert, since he'd invited Julia's father to come along if time permitted. His flight was leaving for New York that afternoon. He ordered a glass of white wine while he waited, listening to the music playing in the background. A legacy of his brief affair with Megan - - actually listening to the music playing in the background in restaurants. It was something neutral and new age, nothing compelling. Part of him was relieved for that.

Erica made her entrance, and he rose as she approached the table, pulling out her chair for her to be seated. She was dressed in a simple black business suit with a tailored white blouse, looking as composed as ever.

"Robert sends his apologies. His original flight was cancelled, and he had to take an earlier one if he wanted to be back in New York tonight."

They paused while the waiter arrived and took Erica's beverage order.

"I've come to a decision about the ashes," Sean stated.

"Oh, have you? That sounds very unilateral. I thought this was a 'family decision.'"

"In a way, it still will be, at least in part. While I'd like to keep both Julia's and Annie's ashes with me, I realize that might not be the most fair, appropriate thing to do, since Julia and I were in the process of a divorce, and I know how much Annie's ashes mean to me - - I can imagine what Julia's must mean to you. If you would like to take Julia's ashes to New York with you, and either keep them, or scatter them in a place you feel is meaningful to you and to Julia, I'll give them to you after lunch, when I pick them up from the funeral home."

"And Annie's ashes?"

"Will stay with me. Indefinitely. I'm not prepared to let her go, at least in this small way. I know she's not there, that her soul isn't trapped in that little urn. But I realized how much comfort the thought of keeping her with me, even that way, gave me, and I can't let her go."

"I don't think Julia would have been pleased to have their burials, or scattering of ashes, done separately."

"Then it's up to you if you want to leave Julia's ashes with me, also, and trust that I'll keep them together. At this point, I'm planning to make provisions in my final arrangements for Annie's ashes to be buried with me."

"You were certainly serious about not letting her go, weren't you?"

"Since Annie died, the grief has been unbearable," Sean said, taking a drink of his wine to push down the lump that rose in his throat every time he thought of, or referred to, Annie's death. "When Christian suggested keeping her ashes with me, that it might help, he was right. It does help, in some little way. I'm having a lot of trouble coping with her loss, Erica. I miss Julia, and the grief I feel for her, for the family we had, for our history together...it's an intense pain like I've never felt before. But losing Annie is something I feel could easily push me over the edge. I'm not looking to you for grief counseling, but I want you to understand that I wouldn't stand in your way about this if I could face letting go of Annie right now."

"Perhaps you should seek out that grief counseling, Sean. Not from me, but from a professional here in Miami who could see you on a regular basis."

"With all due respect to counseling, unless the counselor can bring my daughter back, there's not much more he or she could say than what Christian is there for me to say or do. He's been my rock. Without his support, I couldn't have survived this. With it, I know I will. It's just taking time."

"It's fortunate you have him with you, then. I can see your mind is made up on this point, so anything I say will be a waste of time. I will take Julia's ashes with me to New York. I'm not sure if I'll scatter them immediately, or wait until you may have a change of heart regarding Annie, and perhaps they could be scattered together, as I think Julia would have wanted."

"That's fair."

They ordered lunch, though neither of them were much in the mood for eating, and despite their cordial demeanor, spending time together was not high on either's list at the moment.

"I know you don't agree with my decision to talk to the media," Erica said. Sean laid down his fork, which he was just as glad to have an excuse to lay down anyway. The salad was dropping like a lead ball into a stomach that didn't want it, or anything else.

"That's an understatement."

"I'll admit, part of it is because of the book deal, but you seem to think the book deal is purely for my personal gain and aggrandizement."

"It's not?" Sean asked.

"All the world thinks of when they hear about Julia or Annie is their death. How they died and who might have done it. There was so much more to both of them than that. If I can embed that message inside the lurid details of the criminal investigation, perhaps I can make people feel for them and view them as human beings, not just another movie-of-the-week crime story."

"So you're doing it all for Julia and Annie?"

"Yes, in large part."

"Reporters lurk around my house day and night. We can't take Conor anywhere in the daylight, because someone leaked to the media that he has a birth defect, so now they want to take pictures of my baby so they can exploit him like some kind of freak. They speculate night and day on my relationship with Christian, making it into some sordid, dirty liaison that caused my divorce. They dredge up horrible issues from Christian's past that are none of their business, and not his fault. They're all convinced I killed Julia and my own daughter, blew them into oblivion because of some insurance money. Every private, painful moment of my family life has been talked about on all the cable news networks by a half dozen legal analysts to entertain the viewing public with their evening snacks. How is fanning that flame any favor to Annie or Julia, or is it just that it makes things hotter for Christian and me to try to get on with our lives? I can understand you resenting us, but your own infant grandson?" Sean sighed.

"I never intended anything I said to the media to cause Conor any pain."

"But it's okay if it causes pain for Christian? Or for me?"

"I clearly don't believe you're responsible for Julia's and Annie's deaths, and I've never said otherwise in any comments or interviews I've done."

"Interviews? How many interviews have you done, Erica?"

"Just two. One spur of the moment interview with reporters at the funeral, and I'm planning to talk with Andrea Hall before I leave this afternoon."

"That's just great."

"Andrea Hall is very influential in Miami, and she's had several major stories picked up nationally. She has a very good reputation."

"I know Andrea Hall. I worked with her during the Carver investigation."

"And weren't you exploiting that poor girl whose face was carved up to get your own face on the television and make a name for yourself? Don't get so high and mighty with me, Sean. You aren't above pandering to the media when it suits you."

"At least I was trying to do something worthwhile for someone else. I'm not going to lie that the publicity boosted our practice, but that wasn't the main reason I did it. Besides, Christian and I paid the price for any glare of the spotlight we experienced with that situation. If I thought for one minute that interview would have encouraged Quentin to do to Christian what he did, I'd have never agreed to it."

"I really should be going. I can follow you to the funeral home to pick up the ashes."

"Fine." Sean motioned to the waiter for the check.

********

After making the grim stop at the funeral home, Erica was off to her hotel to pack, carrying Julia's ashes with her. Sean tried to avoid feeling another wave of loss and separation at seeing her stride to her car with the carton containing the urn that held Julia's remains, but whether or not it was logical, he still felt as if he were saying goodbye to Julia one more time.

The carton containing Annie's urn was on the passenger seat, and Sean wasn't sure how he felt about that. In a way it was comforting to have some part of her with him, and in another way it was just a bitter, awful reminder of what it was like to have his living, breathing, talking, smiling, pretty little daughter riding in that seat like she so often did. Tears were blurring his vision, and it was getting harder to navigate the traffic.

"Damn it," he swore softly, wiping his eyes with one hand, keeping the other on the steering wheel. He willed himself to keep his control, and dialed Fishman's number. The best he could do for Annie or Julia now was to find out who killed them, and whatever he'd felt or heard in the nursery the night before, he owed it to them to explore it in case it was more than his fevered imagination.

"Fishman," the Detective answered.

"It's Sean McNamara. I'd like to meet you if you have a few minutes."

"Where are you? I'm at a crime scene right now, but I could meet you."

"I'm not far from Mancino's," he said, referring to a popular Italian restaurant.

"I can do that. Give me about twenty minutes or so."

"See you then." Sean broke the connection and pulled into the restaurant's parking lot. He went inside and got a table near the window and ordered a cappuccino. Fishman was right on time, arriving about twenty minutes later.

"It was a very nice service yesterday," Fishman said as he craned his neck looking for a waitress.

"Have you had lunch? My treat," Sean offered.

"I could eat. Join me?"

"I had lunch with my mother-in-law, but I didn't really eat anything."

"They make a great deep dish pizza here. I highly recommend it."

"Order it the way you like it. Any pizza's good pizza," Sean said, smiling faintly.

After Fishman placed the order, he pulled out his notebook. "You called me for some reason other than buying me lunch - - not that I don't appreciate it."

"Something strange happened I thought you should know about. Our nanny, Marlowe, disappeared. I haven't seen or heard from him since the day before the memorial service. He asked me to get another sitter, because he wanted to be at the service, but he never showed up there. I've left voicemails for him, but I don't get a call back."

"That's pretty odd," Fishman said, making a note. "Do you know of any place he might go?"

"You have his home address, I assume."

"Yes, I got all his contact information when I interviewed him the first time. I gotta say, Sean, he didn't strike me as the type to blow up a car."

"Me, either. But his disappearing act is pretty strange. I thought at first maybe he just didn't feel able to handle the service." Sean paused. "He was in love with Julia. But when he didn't show up for work, and never called or returned my messages, I knew something was wrong."

"I'll look into it."

"Any progress on Michelle and the explosives?"

"We haven't been able to link her directly to them, no. We're still on it, though. I'm glad to see your security people are on the ball. I'm sorry we weren't able to provide you protection, but you have to understand that threats from crackpots are pretty commonplace in a highly publicized case.

"You lost me. Threats?"

"The threats you've been getting in the mail."

"I haven't seen any threats."

"Sorry, I thought you knew. Your security firm has been logging them and passing them on to me. Your partner wanted us to offer you police protection, but truthfully, these threats are typical of high profile cases."

"What kind of threats?"

"Mostly crackpots, religious fanatics..."

"I think I have a right to know specifically what they're threatening."

"A whole lot of sick shit. You're not missing anything by not reading them."

"Level with me."

"There's a lot of anti-gay crap from the religious nuts, aimed at you and your partner. There are the usual 'avenger' types who are spouting hate and accusations at you because they think you killed your wife and daughter for the insurance money. Some of it gets pretty disturbing, but I was serious when I said that the vast majority of this crap is an end in itself for these nutjobs. There really isn't any point in you focusing on it. You have security people to keep track of it, and they're in touch with us."

"It would be nice if someone would clue me in when my life's in danger."

"Sean, someone blew up a car with the belief you'd be the one driving it. I hate to break it to you, my friend, but your life was already in danger before any stray psycho sent you a nasty note in the mail. I wouldn't get too pissed off at your partner for just handling it. It's not something you needed on top of everything else."

They paused while the pizza was served. Despite the stressful conversation and his general depression when he first arrived, Sean had to admit it looked and smelled good. It was square, a few inches thick, and loaded with every ingredient you shouldn't eat. He accepted the spatula Fishman handed him when he was finished taking his own piece, and took a piece himself.

"It's just weird, traveling around like you're being followed by Secret Service agents, and then finding out there are people out there who are sticking their nose into my personal life to the extent they're spouting gay hate at me for living with Christian."

"Welcome to the gay marriage debate, doc," Fishman said through a mouthful.

Gay marriage. Marriage. Sean didn't care what kind of marriage it was, but he knew he wanted that with Christian. A permanent commitment. He wanted to hear the words from Christian that he wanted him, and only him, forever. He wanted it to be his body that Christian craved enough to not keep his options open for the occasional brainless screw. As sappy as it sounded, he wanted a ring and a promise, even if he knew that what he and Christian had together was unbreakable. It was pushed to its limits over and over again and it always survived. No ring or pretty words were going to make that any better. That didn't stop him from wanting it.

"I guess that was out of line. Sorry," Fishman said, taking a drink of the Coke he'd ordered.

"What? No, I was just distracted. I'm new to this whole 'gay' label. I don't think of myself that way."

"How does that work? Stop me if I'm crossing a line here, but since I found out about you and your partner, I've been trying to figure out how you change teams that way."

"If I figure it out, I'll be glad to tell you," Sean said, smiling. "At the risk of sounding sappy, I guess it's love. If you love someone enough, it's not exactly that the package they come in doesn't matter, it makes the package they come in the one you want to open." Sean shrugged. "I don't look at any other man the way I look at Christian. We all can look at someone of the same sex and know they're attractive - - I've always known Christian was pretty remarkable in that department, whether it was his track record with the co-eds in college, or the way women fall all over him now...or just looking at him. But acknowledging that he's...the gold standard in men and wanting to have sex with him are two different things."

"Not anymore, huh?" Fishman said, and when Sean looked at him, the detective was giving him a sly smirk, as if they were talking about chesty women instead of his male partner. Sean had to laugh a little.

"You got me there," Sean admitted, though he was still uneasy.

"Sounds to me like you always had a thing for your partner and just figured it out."

"Because I said I knew he was handsome? That waiter's a nice looking guy but I don't have any interest in screwing him," Sean said, referring to one of the young male servers.

"It's not that. I've spent a lot of years sizing up what's going on in people's heads. It's an occupational hazard of this business. Your whole expression changes when you talk about the good Dr. Troy. It always has. So more power to you. I hope things work out."

"So do I."

"I hate to bring this up, but I need to search the house."

"Why? I've volunteered any information you've asked of me. It's not like the media have left any part of my life private."

"It's procedure in a homicide case. I'm actually way behind schedule doing it. I can get a warrant, but I didn't see a point in doing that if you were agreeable to letting us do it."

"Are you searching it as part of investigating Annie's and Julia's deaths, or are you doing it because I'm a suspect?"

"Both. I could lie to you and tell you you're not on the suspect list, but you are as far as the DA's concerned. There's no physical evidence tying you to the crime, and personally, I don't think you had anything to do with it. I still have to investigate it. Besides, whenever there's a homicide, it's standard procedure to search through the victim's home to find anything that might be a clue to who would want them dead. Look, Sean, if I thought you did it, I'd get a warrant and sneak up on you, not ask you over pizza if you minded my searching your house in a day or two after you had time to destroy evidence."

"I don't have anything to hide. I've seen what cops can do to a house during a search, and I'm not looking forward to having the place ransacked."

"I'll be supervising, and we're not going to ransack it. Besides, where have you gotten your information? From watching CSI?"

"I saw Christian's place after Kit McGraw and her pals ransacked it during the Carver investigation. She was throwing two-hundred dollar shirts in piles on the floor and they rifled through his things like a pack of coyotes."

"Don't look now, but I'm not Kit McGraw."

"Thanks for clarifying that. I might have it bad for my partner, but I can still differentiate between you and Kit."

"It's the hair," Fishman quipped. "Seriously, Sean, I'm not interested in trashing your house, and we'll only take anything we feel is vital to the investigation. Given what we know now about Kit McGraw, she was trashing his place for reasons of her own."

"Just take it easy on my son's nursery. He's been through enough upheaval without having to change his surroundings right now. Let me know when you're coming and we'll take him out of the house until you're done."

"I'll give you a call. I'd like to get it taken care of tomorrow."

"Okay. It's a major operation to smuggle Conor out of the house. Since the media got wind of his birth defect, they're ruthless with trying to get photos of him, so we'll need a little warning."

"Just when you think they can't stoop any lower, they manage."

********

Sean strode through the door in the kitchen, slamming it behind him. Christian was sitting on the floor in the living room with Conor, an array of brightly colored blocks on the quilt on which the baby sat. He stopped in his tracks and took a deep breath, willing his anger to cool off before he exploded in front of his son. More than that, the solicitous way Christian was playing with Conor, urging him to pick up the little plastic blocks, flex his repaired hand, drained some of the ire that had brought Sean back home at about fifteen miles per hour over the speed limit.

"When were you going to mention the death threats?" he asked, trying to keep his voice from rising.

"Maybe when you were a little less fragile emotionally," Christian replied, standing up. "I should have told you," he conceded.

"It's my life, Christian. Our lives. You should have leveled with me."

"Why do this to yourself? Shit, Sean, this is the first day you've left the house and driven yourself somewhere. You're just getting back on your feet."

"I know I've been a basket case, you don't need to remind me."

"That's not what I meant." Christian looked at him regretfully. "It's a whole lot of sick shit from religious fanatics and anti-gay groups. Hate mail, saying Julia's and Annie's deaths were God's punishment for our sinful relationship. Some of it is hate mail directed at you for killing your family to collect the insurance money. A few of them crossed the line into making threats on your life, or both our lives. We've been sending them all to Fishman just in case. Did he tell you?"

"By mistake, yes, he told me. I got together with him to talk about Marlowe, and he said something about our security being on the ball... You shouldn't be hiding things like this from me."

"I was trying to protect you, and I guess that was the wrong thing to do. I love you, Sean. I've watched you suffer like I've never seen anyone suffer through a loss, and I just wanted you to have a chance to heal before you had to cope with all this ugly bullshit. Fishman said it's par for the course in a highly publicized case like this, especially when the family's address and phone numbers were listed and they weren't in any kind of hiding before the story broke. Celebrities can hide from this, but average people who didn't think they had a reason to be in hiding are easier targets for mail, phone calls, everything."

"The phone barely rings here."

"The phone company has a list of approved numbers. Everything else is blocked."

"My cell, too?"

"I know your access codes, so yeah, I had the same kind of blocks put on our cell numbers."

Sean sat on the couch and watched Conor for a minute. The baby rewarded him with a toothless grin, and threw a little plastic block at him. Sean's eyes widened. Conor had picked up an object in his repaired hand, and thrown it - - quite forcefully, too.

"Did you see that?" Sean asked Christian, who was smiling broadly, nodding. Sean knelt on the floor and carefully tossed the little cube back toward Conor, watching to see what he would do next. With a series of vocalizations and a continued grin, he picked up the block and threw it back at Sean.

"Don't look now, but he's playing ball with his old man," Christian said, remembering one of the very things Sean had said when he was trying to come to terms with Conor's birth defect - - that he'd never play ball with his old man.

Sean picked Conor up and held him, kissing the baby's cheek and stroking his fine hair. "You might just be a pitcher after all," he said, a couple tears escaping even as he was smiling broadly at the little boy in his arms. He reached one hand toward Christian, who knelt on the floor next to him and embraced both of them. "I'm sorry," Sean said.

"No, I am. I should have told you."

"It doesn't matter. You were trying to protect our family."

"I'm kind of new at having one, so I guess I didn't handle it too well."

"You better start practicing. I made an appointment for us with Stan Pope to talk about Conor's future. Part of that is drawing up papers so you have legal parental rights."

"Are you serious? I know you want him to call me Dad, too, but that's serious."

"If something happens to me, I don't want there to be any question about who will care for Conor and take care of his future. I want to set up a trust for him, for his education, something that would cover any surgeries he might night if we weren't there to make them happen. I don't want anyone to be able to replace you as his father if I'm not there. Beyond that, I don't want you, or Conor, feeling like you're any less his father than I am."

"I love you both, you know that?" Christian kissed the top of Conor's head, then sought out a kiss from Sean, which he got willingly.

"At the same time, I want to change his name to Conor Troy McNamara."

Christian looked stunned. "Are you serious?"

"I think a hyphenated last name is hard for kids to explain, but I want him to have both our names. This way, he will."

"I don't know what to say."

"Just say it's okay with you."

"Okay? Sean...I can't tell you want this means to me."

"You don't have to." Sean smiled. "Thanks for all the stuff you did that I wouldn't have had the presence of mind to do to protect us. The security, screening the calls and the hate mail... I'm sorry I jumped you like an ungrateful ass."

"You can jump me anytime, anywhere," Christian joked, hugging Sean and Conor. "He's doing great, Sean. He's picking things up, tossing things, squeezing things. I can't believe how well he's doing with that hand. Don't look now, Dad, but I think we'll be going to some little league games for this guy."

"You know, I don't care anymore? I just want him to play with his friends, go to school, enjoy his life, and have as good a life as he can. I want him happy and whole, and proud of who he is. I want people to look at him and see what an amazing kid he is," Sean said. "I know his life won't be perfect, but I want to make it as close as I can."

"We'll schedule his next surgery when some of the media frenzy quiets down, and you feel more up to assisting like you did the first time. I think he's ready."

"I don't want any of this ugliness to touch him."

"I know. I didn't want it to touch you, either, but that was unrealistic."

"Kind of hard for me to stay mad at you for loving me enough to want to protect me from all of it, and Fishman did say most of that stuff is just so much hot air, and it settles down when the media does. He said it was really rare for anyone to make good on any of the threats."

"That's the attitude we need to take, and try to get on with our lives as much as we can."

"Fishman's coming tomorrow to search the house. He said it's standard procedure."

"I suppose it is. When's he coming?"

"He's going to warn us first so we can take Conor out for a while."

"We could go back to my place. Until all this media crap dies down, we don't want to expose Conor to it." Christian leaned back a little. "Do your eyes feel as lousy as they look?"

"They burn, but that's not too unusual lately."

"Sit tight." Christian left the room and returned a few minutes later with eye drops. "Tilt your head back. No, these aren't for you, kiddo," Christian said to Conor, kissing his head. "They're for Daddy so he doesn't have scary eyes," he added.

"Thanks a lot," Sean retorted, tilting his head back and letting Christian put the drops in his eyes, carefully blotting any excess with a tissue.

"Just keep your eyes closed for a few minutes." Christian sat next to him on the floor again, close by so Sean's head could rest back on his shoulder. That moment felt like paradise to Sean, leaning on Christian, Conor in his lap, the three of them just being together. Sean didn't open his eyes, but he did turn his head toward Christian, glad when his partner's arm went around him and pulled him closer.

"I love you," he said.

"I know. I love you, too. Even with your scary eyes," he added, giving them both a much needed chuckle.

********

"Andrea Hall's segment with Erica is coming on," Christian called to Sean, who was in the nursery with Conor.

"Coming," he called back. A moment later, he joined Christian on the couch. It was ten o'clock, and Andrea Hall's interview with Erica was part of an evening show on one of the national news networks.

"Conor okay?" Christian asked.

"Dry and asleep," Sean replied.

"Andrea finally gets to go national," Christian commented.

"Erica thought I should do an interview with Andrea."

"What do you think?"

"I don't know. She was pretty professional and thorough when we worked with her during the whole Carver mess."

"You think it would be a good idea?"

"I'm not sure. I've thought of asking Stan when we see him tomorrow, what he thinks."

"He's not a criminal lawyer. Should we have one?"

"Fishman keeps saying he believes I didn't do it. I wouldn't be saying anything on the air that I haven't already told the cops."

"Let's think on it. I don't think we should do anything hasty."

The segment began with a recap of the case and the investigation so far, including all the same details about insurance money, Sean and Christian's relationship, and too many shots of the burning car that had both Sean and Christian averting their eyes.

Erica was dressed in the same outfit she'd been wearing when she had lunch with Sean, sitting in the interview chair with her legs crossed, looking very relaxed. Andrea Hall looked more tentative than she did, but that didn't surprise either man. Erica didn't ruffle easily.

The conversation began with some standard discussion of the case, asking Erica where she was when she got the news, and what her first reactions were. Not given to displays of emotion, Erica managed to squeeze out a tear or two, but was otherwise completely composed as she described where she was and what she was doing when she was notified of Julia's death. She talked about Julia's childhood briefly, and on her dreams of being a pediatrician, and how she gave that up to marry Sean and have their children.

"Their marriage was always troubled according to what I've learned," Andrea said. "They were divorced once, and then remarried after their third child was born?"

"Julia finally was realizing some success as a career woman. It was something she worked very hard for."

"She opened a spa in Miami," Andrea added, glancing at her notes.

"Yes, and it was very successful. In the meantime, she had an unfortunate one-night...encounter with her ex-husband, and became pregnant again. At first, she was determined not to let that interfere with her success. She was going to have an abortion, but somehow he talked her out of it and she learned shortly thereafter that the child she was carrying had a birth defect."

"I talked her out of it? I drove her to the goddamned clinic myself!" Sean protested angrily.

"I liked the 'unfortunate' one-night encounter, myself. Calm down, Sean. You know she's going to make you look like the prick here."

"Sean asked her to remarry him when he found out she was pregnant?"

"He was always pursuing Julia. He couldn't let her go, even when she made it clear she didn't want to be dragged back into being a housewife again." Erica shook her head. "Julia finally gave in when she found out her child might have a birth defect. At least she would have a doctor in the house to help care for her child's needs, and support her if she needed to stay home with him. She only went back to Sean to do what she felt was best for the baby."

Sean closed his eyes and let the words hit him. He'd known it in his heart once he found out about Conor, so it was no real surprise. He wondered if Julia had told her mother in so many words that she was only going back to him out of desperation. News of his son's birth defect was compounded by his own realization that it was likely Julia had come back to him for that reason, not because she couldn't live without him. Both revelations had sent him to Christian's place, even when Christian was trying to distance himself from Sean, desperate for some kind of solace.

"Bitch," Christian muttered.

"So your daughter was trapped in a loveless marriage for the sake of the baby?"

"More or less. She made the best of it for the children, until she found out that Sean was having an affair with his partner."

"No mention of the dwarf-banging," Christian said. "Or the cheekbone fracture," he added.

"There isn't going to be any mention of it, either. Not from me, even if I did an interview, which I don't see any point in after watching this. All the media wants to do is paint me as Scott Peterson with a medical degree and a male lover."

"That must have come as a terrible shock to her after she'd put her life on hold, again, to remarry Sean and raise a third child."

"She was devastated the last time I spoke to her. She felt she'd abandoned all she had accomplished, and now was going to be left alone with two children to raise while her husband and his partner pursued their...relationship."

"Do you believe your son-in-law could be involved in their deaths?"

"No, I don't believe he committed any crimes. I would assume the explosion was intended for him and Julia and Annie were in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"You mentioned that your grandson had a birth defect. How is he doing now?"

"Very well. He has had one corrective surgery and I'm sure his father will complete any subsequent surgeries necessary to correct any remaining issues."

"You brought a photo with you. Is it all right to show that now?" Andrea asked.

"She gave the media a photo of Conor? How could she?" Sean said angrily, standing up, looking as if he were about to smash a fist through the television screen.

The photo that came up on the screen showed Julia with Conor on her lap, both hands visible - - one corrected and one not.

"I'm gonna kill that woman," Sean seethed.

"What's the difference, Sean? Maybe they'll back off for a while trying to get a photo."

"He's being put out there like some kind of freak, Christian! Let's all stare at the murderer's deformed baby!" he shouted, his face turning redder by the moment.

"He's a beautiful child, Erica. You must be very fond of him."

"She spent about thirty seconds with him on this visit," Sean retorted at the television screen. "She must have stolen that photo out of the album in the nursery."

"Julia probably sent her pictures. There's nothing you can do about that. She was Julia's mother, and she's probably got photos and a whole lot more information than she's even sharing here."

"It breaks my heart that he's here in Miami and not closer to me in New York."

"His birth defect involved his hands?"

"Yes, he has a condition called ectrodactyly. He inherited it from Sean, though his condition manifested itself as a cleft palate he had corrected as a child. The genetic abnormality is hereditary."

"Did Julia resent Sean for that, the fact the birth defect came from his side of the family?"

"No, she was very understanding about that. Personally, someone walking around with that kind of potential to pass on a birth defect to their children owes it to someone they plan to father children with to be honest about the risks."

Sean stared at the screen a moment and then left the room. Christian heard the bedroom door slam.

"Sean?" he called after him, but there was no reply. Christian got up and went to the door of the bedroom, pausing a minute, then opening the door. Sean was sitting on the foot of the bed, staring into space.

"I can't listen to any more of that."

"I can't believe she'd bring that up on television," Christian said, sitting next to Sean.

"I confided that to Julia. Why would she even tell Erica about it? What was the point?"

"Erica's a doctor, too. She probably asked some probing questions about Conor's condition, since she'd know it's congenital."

"I know it's stupid, but I feel like they might as well have stuck one of my pre-op photos up there right along with Conor's. I know I shouldn't care... I'm mainly upset for him. When I was a kid, I didn't even want to raise my head all the way in public because if I kept my head down, sometimes people didn't notice and then they didn't stare and nudge whoever they were with to get a look at the freak. I never wanted Conor to feel like he needed to stuff his hands in his pockets or try to disappear into the wallpaper so people wouldn't stare at him."

"Your dad should have never made you wait that long to have it corrected."

"When I was born, they didn't have the money. They started a college fund for me and by the time I was eight, there was enough there to pay for the surgery, or at least most of it. The doctor who did it took what my mother could pay. It wasn't enough, even then."

"That's what made you really want to be a plastic surgeon, didn't it?"

"Yeah, that started it. For so long, I focused so much of my energy on doing those surgeries when I took on pro bono cases... I was at a conference a few years ago, and when I ran into someone from med school, he made some comment about how I was getting a reputation for my work on those cases. I know I stopped doing so many. I guess I thought someone would figure out I had a personal reason for it. I wanted to distance myself. Isn't that awful?" Sean asked, his voice strained. "I should be fixing faces the way that doctor fixed mine, but every time I do one, it brings everything back and I find myself dwelling on it again, and wondering if that'll be the reason someone figures out my past."

"You've done a lot of pro bono facial reconstructions, Sean. You've paid your...Karmic debt, if that's how you want to look at it. You can't single-handedly fix every cleft palate in the world even you fixed a few more of them. So let some other doctor do that and you fix something else. It's not like you don't do enough pro bono work." Christian rubbed Sean's back. "You never showed me the picture you had from little league."

"I should have burned it."

"Do you trust me enough to let me see it?"

"You'll laugh at me if I tell you why I don't want to."

"I promise I won't," Christian said, smiling a little.

"I'm serious, Christian. You'll think I'm crazy. We're both plastic surgeons, we both know what those deformities look like."

"Look, I never would have dug this up, but since Erica did, and you're upset about it, I want to help."

"I know you do."

"Then show me. Maybe it's not as awful as you think."

"I don't want you to see me that way, Christian." Sean stood and walked over to the mirror. "I've already got enough strikes against me. No tits, no pussy..."

"God, I would hope not." Christian moved up behind him. "Is that what you think I want? Tits and a pussy?"

"It's what you've wanted all your life, and lots of them. You're already settling for someone who can't give you any of that when you're with me. Now you want me to pull out my old cleft palate photos and show you how ugly I was?"

"Damn it, Sean, I'm not settling for anything when I'm with you. I love you, you messed up asshole, that's why I'm with you. Don't you think I'm capable of loving someone for something more than a bouncy pair of tits?"

"You've never had a lover without them before, Christian. You don't date imperfect people."

"Everyone's imperfect. If they weren't, we'd be out of business."

"This isn't a joke."

"No, it's not. I'm sorry about what Erica did in that interview, because I know it hurt you. But don't worry about Conor. By the time he's old enough to know the difference, this media circus will be over, the case will be solved, and he'll have two normal hands. Even if someone does come across that information in the future, it won't matter. You're going to fix it for him."

"And someday when one of his friends Googles him online and finds that picture, they can use it to tease him and undo all the good repairing his hands now is doing. I did this to Conor, and I thought I could undo it for him."

"You didn't do it to him, Sean. You're not God, you couldn't control whether or not that passed to your kids. Annie didn't have a single sign of anything wrong."

"Neither did Matt. I was so scared before he was born that he'd have it, but then he came out so beautiful and perfect...like you and Julia. I should have known then."

"And Annie came out beautiful and perfect. And Conor came out beautiful with something fixable. Stop treating yourself like Quasimodo."

"Okay, let's just drop it for now."

"As soon as you let me see the picture."

"Oh, for God's sake." Sean went to the closet and dug through a box on the floor, finally pulling out a smaller box. He pulled out a framed picture and handed it to Christian, turning back to lean on the dresser, facing away from Christian, as if he couldn't watch Christian look at the photo.

"Look at me," Christian said, waiting until Sean turned away from the mirror and faced him. "Do you know what I see when I look at this little boy? I see your beautiful blue eyes looking back at me. I see the curls that turned into the hair I run my fingers through when we're making love. I see the perfect little nose that grew into your perfect nose. I see you looking so afraid of the camera, so unhappy, and it rips my heart out that I can't do something for that little boy you were. I think about what you went through at school, and I think about the lousy childhood I had, and I wish we'd been in the same place at the same time back then, because maybe we could have made each other's lives a little less shitty. You were a beautiful child, Sean, with one defect you couldn't help, that needed to be fixed. Not some monster that should be living in a bell tower."

"Now when you look at me, you'll be thinking about him, and that's not what I wanted. It's like he's a curse that follows me no matter how many years pass."

"I love you, and I love kissing you, and I can't tell there was ever anything there," Christian kissed Sean, waiting until the overture was returned, and Sean opened his mouth, sliding his arms around Christian at the same time. Christian put all his passion for his partner into that kiss, as if their entire relationship depended on it. "You have a beautiful mouth, Sean, and our son is going to have beautiful hands, and all that shit in the past is in the past and it's going to stay there."

Sean didn't answer him, but initiated another kiss as passionate as the first, steering Christian toward the bed, pushing him back on the mattress and landing on top of him, barely breaking the kiss. They pulled at each other's clothes, and after a few muttered curses, managed to divest themselves of shirts and Sean's t-shirt.

"You need to stop wearing those," Christian said, running his hand over Sean's chest. "It would be a lot easier for me to get you naked without it."

Sean didn't answer; he was too busy licking and sucking at Christian's nipples, his hands working diligently at removing Christian's pants. He was only too happy to cooperate in getting himself naked. Sean moved down and took Christian's hardening cock in his mouth, one hand around the base. He took as much as he could in his mouth, which Christian thought was considerably more than the last time. That thought aroused him, touched him, and saddened him a little all at once. Sean was trying so damned hard to live up to some standard Christian hadn't set for him.

Rational thought took a backseat to the physical as Christian relaxed into enjoying the best blow job he'd gotten from Sean yet. His partner had to stop short of deep throating him, but he didn't miss by much. His free hand was playing with Christian's balls, rolling them and squeezing very gently, just enough to drive Christian crazy in combination with the suction on his cock. Christian groaned low in his throat, sliding his fingers into Sean's hair. "God, that's good," he gasped, wanting to give Sean the reinforcement he deserved. Before long, he felt his climax coming, and Sean didn't let him go. He rode out every wave with Christian until there wasn't a drop left. When he released Christian's lax cock, he kissed it, and the gesture raised a lump in Christian's throat.

"Come here," he urged Sean to move up so he could kiss him. "I want to try it tonight," Christian said, knowing Sean would understand what he meant.

"You don't have to do that, Christian," Sean said quietly.

"I want to. If you want to."

"You know I want you any way I can have you," Sean said.

"I'm gonna need to see you," Christian admitted.

"I'm right here," Sean responded, kissing him again. "Relax and let me take care of you." Sean got the lube out of the night stand and moved back on the mattress between Christian's legs. "Bend your knees a little," Sean instructed. "Remember how much I love you," he said, moving up to kiss Christian again. At the same time, he ran a lubricated fingertip lightly over Christian's pucker, making sure the area was slippery with gel before he put more on his finger and carefully eased it inside Christian, stopping as soon as his fingertip had slid past the initial barrier.

"You've had your finger in me farther than that before," Christian said. "You can go ahead more than that."

"There's a big difference between examining you for medical reasons and making love to you. I can settle for you tolerating one, but I'd like you to enjoy the other."

"Do to me what I do to you, getting you ready. Just do it. The suspense is killing me."

"Okay," Sean agreed, smiling at that. He put more gel on his finger and eased it all the way in, albeit slowly. Christian was relaxed from his orgasm, and he seemed to have no problem accommodating Sean's finger as it carefully stretched and lubricated him. Sean sought out Christian's prostate and massaged that area.

"Holy shit," Christian gasped, arching his back. "I should have had you doing my annual physical all these years," he said, and Sean laughed.

"I have to be hard to do this, Christian, so let's keep annual physicals out of it."

"Hey, if somebody can make sticking their finger up my ass feel that good, and he happens to be a doctor, why not combine business with pleasure?"

"If I were doing this right, you wouldn't be talking so much," Sean quipped, aiming for Christian's prostate again, getting the same response as the first time. Withdrawing his finger, he lubricated his cock, and Christian pulled his knees back, exposing himself more, giving Sean easier access. Sean leaned forward between Christian's upraised legs and kissed him, lingering there a minute. "I love you," he said, knowing Christian knew that, but also knowing how much it meant to hear it when you were giving someone something that it was a little scary, and sometimes a little hard, to give.

"I know you do, more than anyone else ever has." He pulled Sean's face back down to his for another kiss.

"I'll go slow," Sean said, moving back down to begin easing his cock into Christian's passage. As he began moving forward, Christian grunted, a sound that definitely wasn't pleasure. His expression was strained.

"You're bigger than you look," Christian said. Sean was tempted to tease him about that not exactly being a compliment, but he could see the discomfort on Christian's face.

"Just a second," Sean said, easing out of him gently.

"Don't give up on it. I just wasn't ready." Christian let his legs back down flat on the mattress, looking crestfallen.

"I'm not giving up," Sean said, leaning over to kiss him before lying on his back, next to him. "Why don't you straddle me, and then you can be on top and take it at your own pace?"

"You think that'll help?"

"Nothing will happen you don't want to happen." Sean started stroking his own cock, making sure it was fully hard. He barely thought about the way it might look to Christian, who was up on his elbow now.

"Shit, that's hot."

"Then bring your ass over here so you can do something about it," Sean challenged, and Christian grinned at that. A little humor seemed to be relaxing Christian much more than a lot of drama and preparation. He straddled Sean, reaching back to line up Sean's cock with his center. Sean felt the head of his cock slip inside Christian, and he did his best to control his urge to thrust, and his urge to moan as the tight sheath of Christian's passage surrounded him, as Christian carefully lowered himself a little at a time. When he saw Christian looking distinctly uncomfortable again, he reached down to rub his thigh a little. "Slow down, tiger," Sean said gently.

"Gravity's a bitch, Sean," Christian responded.

"We can stop if you want. It's okay."

"I don't want to." After he'd paused a few seconds, he lowered himself further, wincing a little. He looked surprised when his ass met Sean's groin.

"You're there, Christian. We're together," Sean said, reaching up and lacing his fingers with Christian's, using his other hand to stroke Christian's cock. Christian reached up and ran his hand over Sean's chest, pausing to pinch his nipples, making him arch a little, breaking the stillness of their union. That seemed to nudge Christian into moving a little experimentally, his eyes widening a bit. "Relax, the first time is hard, I know."

"This isn't my first time...just the first time in a long time."

"Being abused or raped doesn't count as a first time, when your partner doesn't care how you feel. If you don't like it, we can stop and do something else."

Sean was a little surprised when Christian took him up on that, slowly moving up until Sean slipped free of his body. Christian's cock had softened, and he turned over on his side, facing away from Sean.

"I didn't like it. It didn't feel good. It felt like it used to."

The words hit Sean like acid at first, and then he thought about what Christian had been through as a child. He'd never elaborated on what "I let him touch me" involved, but it was probably unrealistic to think Christian's foster father abused him for that many years and never demanded anal sex from him. And then Quentin raped him. How could he want this?

Sean felt his own erection faltering at those sobering thoughts, and he focused on Christian's needs.

"It's okay, Christian. I love you. It doesn't change anything between us." He moved up close behind Christian, wrapping his arm around him and hooking his chin over Christian's shoulder. He was stunned when Christian pulled away quickly and stood, grabbing his discarded clothes off the floor. "Will you at least look at me?" Sean asked.

"I need to get out of here for a while. I need a break, Sean. All the misery and the pain and the bullshit. I need a break. I'm going out."

"I told you it didn't matter about the sex - - we don't have to do it that way."

"Maybe this whole thing was a mistake. Maybe you were right and I was just freaked out about the accident and you almost dying. I never wanted to get it up the ass from you or anyone else." With that, Christian left the room, and Sean heard the master bedroom door slam, presumably where Christian went to get dressed.

He couldn't move. He felt sick and yet couldn't throw up. He wanted to cry and yet it seemed like the tears weren't there, as if his system was too drained from too much grief to even cope with this. Sean knew he'd dumped a lot of misery on Christian in the last couple weeks, and he didn't even blame him for wanting out of it for a while. He should have had a break long before this. Even a few hours to himself.

Maybe this whole thing was a mistake. Or maybe it was a mistake to think anyone could take him seriously as a lover after seeing that damn photo.

Sean tried to tell himself it was fatigue talking, or that it was just Christian's issues from his childhood abuse. No matter what it was, those words hung heavy around Sean's heart, and he felt as if it were physically squeezing it, keeping it from beating the way it should. Shivering, he got up and found his robe, pulling it around his body, tying it tightly.

The ghost they had the most to fear from wasn't Julia, imaginary or not. It was Mr. Troy, the son of a bitch who'd abused Christian and damaged him in ways Sean could probably never completely repair. And to some extent, it was Quentin, who raped and terrorized Christian, stripping him of all the strength and feeling of security and control over his own body that he'd finally found as an adult.

The master bedroom door opened, and a few seconds later, the back door slammed as Christian apparently left. A moment or two later, the unmistakable sound of the sports car's engine followed, fading quickly into the distance.

And just like that, Sean felt as if he'd been cut in half. Or was it in fourths, now? Losing Annie had wounded him so severely that he felt halved already. Maybe all that was left now were fractions, and Christian took with him out the door the last of what mattered.

He went out to the living room and filled a glass with scotch, drinking it down in just a couple tries. He filled it again, not caring that it burned as it went down, that there was very little food to interfere with it. He wanted to be numb, and he had a ways to go to numb this. He stopped with the third glass against his lips, then set it down. He was alone in the house with Conor. He was already feeling a little odd from throwing down the alcohol on a nearly empty stomach, but he could still function.

Conor Troy McNamara.

Conor's new name died with all the dreams and hopes for the future that it represented. Well, at least the alcohol was good for one thing. It broke the stalemate at which his emotions and his body had been stuck. He slid down the wall, the tears coming easily now, and he let himself sob inconsolably for pain that seemed bottomless. Annie was gone, Julia was gone, Christian was gone, and the press had made him some sort of pariah who was suspected of killing his family for money, or at best, a pervert who had dumped his wife and family to screw his partner.

He pulled himself up, and walked into the master bedroom. He calmly took down from the shelf a locked strong box and set it on the bed. Next, he went to a box where he kept his watches, and took out a small key. Sitting on the bed, he unlocked the box, and took out the loaded revolver inside it. The cold metal weight of it felt oddly good in his hand, and he held it properly, wiping away tears with the back of his free hand. His finger caressed the trigger, his thumb toying with the safety.

One shot and it would all go away.

His thumb seemed to move of its own accord, releasing the safety on the gun.

********

Christian pulled into the parking lot of the Shore Club. He'd had some of his greatest conquests here, sitting at the bar, hooking up with some exotically beautiful woman...maybe a model, or wannabe model. It really didn't matter. He never cared about their resumes.

You didn't even look at him before you left him, the voice inside his head reminded him. Or is that because you couldn't look at him and still leave?

He sat at the bar and ordered a drink, downing it in one gulp, then ordering another. Before long, he noticed a beautiful blonde a few seats away, and she noticed him. He smiled. She smiled back. Neither moved immediately. She took the little plastic stick with the cherry on it out of her drink, and made a rather sensuous show of eating it, wrapping her full lips around it, sucking on it a bit before taking it in her mouth. It was a mouth made for blow jobs, and when he got his second wind, he could bang her until she screamed, until she came multiple times, until his cock had gotten so much action he was bored. And he wouldn't feel as if she had anything coming in return. He wouldn't have to worry about hurting her. She wasn't sad or depressed or complicated. When it was over, he could take a shower, get dressed, and be done with it.

Christian got up and made his move, sitting on the empty stool next to her. "Can I buy you another one of those?" he asked, flashing his best smile.

"Sure," she responded, returning the smile. "I'm Melanie."

"Dr. Christian Troy," he said, never tiring of the reaction his title got from bar pick-ups. If they were on the fence, the whole doctor thing usually pushed them over to the right side.

"What kind of a doctor are you, Christian?" she asked, as they shook hands.

"Bring the lady another one of these, with two cherries this time," Christian told the bartender, and Melanie smiled, giggling a little. Yes, this is just the kind of recreational activity I'm looking for. Melanie sipped at her drink, and then had oral sex with one of the cherries. "I'm a plastic surgeon," he said. In Melanie's case, her large breasts were natural, and she was too young to need much in the way of work done. Still, she seemed pleased with her catch of the night.

"I'm studying to be a nurse," she replied. "I'll be ready for my clinicals soon. I'd love to be a surgical nurse," she added, moving just a little closer.

"It's too bad they don't still wear those old fashioned nurse's uniforms. You'd fill one out nicely. Those are pretty amazing for naturals," he commented on her breasts, the large cleavage between them visible in the low cut dress she was wearing.

"I'm also an exotic dancer, part-time, to pay my way through school. They get me some very good tips," she added.

And she's just looking for some pathetic forty-something guy with money to come along and be her sugar daddy.

Fuck you, Christian thought. I know what she's after, and even though I think the wind probably whistles in one ear and out the other unobstructed, she still has to know what I'm after, and it's not a lifetime commitment.

No, you threw that back in Sean's face. You're man enough to fuck some slut in a bar, but not man enough to face a real relationship with a real future.

Christian shifted on the barstool. He could still feel some evidence that Sean had been inside him. It wasn't painful exactly, but his asshole felt odd. Residual ass pain was no stranger to him. He'd thought it was over when he got away from his foster father, but it had made a roaring comeback when Quentin raped him. That constant reminder that someone had violated him. He took another drink.

"Christian?" Melanie probed, looking worried. The last thing she'd mentioned was being an exotic dancer, and he'd shut down on her.

"My place isn't far from here," he said.

"I'd love to see your place, Christian," she replied, slipping off the barstool as he paid the tab. Easy as that, she was his, no strings, no issues.

Damn, she does look good getting into the Lambourghini, her long legs ending in those high heels.

He drove toward his condo, realizing he hadn't been back there since the day after the explosion. It wasn't exactly an escape, going back there, but he was wary of going home with people he didn't know, and far preferred they come to his place. It was also preferable to urge a one-night stand out of his own bed and send her off with cab fare than it was to for him to strike out and leave in the middle of the night or, God forbid, to wake up in the morning to find himself at her place, and her feeling all domestic about him being there.

"You haven't said much since we left the bar," she said, her voice sounding a little anxious. Women took a potential life and death risk every time they left a bar with some guy they didn't know, and part of him felt guilty for making her wonder if she'd been snagged by a serial killer, or just a guy who didn't care enough to even pretend to want to know her before he screwed her.

"I've been going through some personal issues, and spending tonight with you is a really nice change of pace. I'm sorry I've been so quiet."

"That's okay. I bet I can figure something out that will break the silence," she said, crossing her legs and sliding the skirt further up her thigh.

"I bet you can," he replied, taking in the view before putting his attention back on the road.

********

Christian lay on the bed, naked, watching Melanie do a little dance routine as she stripped off her dress, then released her ample breasts and, finally, with much bending and undulating, removed her thong panties. He had to admit it was kind of cheesy, and most women thought their stripping routines were sexier than they actually were. Still, watching her breasts bounce and checking out her pussy when she bent over wasn't all bad.

She climbed up on the bed, straddling him, but when she leaned in to kiss him, he pushed her back. "No kissing," he said, completely unprepared for the fact that he just plain didn't want her mouth on his.

"Excuse me? You want me to get naked for you and suck you off, but you don't want to kiss me?"

"I said I've been going through some stuff. We can still have a good time, baby," he said, reaching out to get two handfuls of her breasts. "Don't tell me you don't want to ride my cock, because I know you do," he added smugly. She actually smiled at that, and at the sensations of having her breasts squeezed and fondled. She smelled like good perfume and eager pussy. He could feel the wetness on his stomach where she was straddling him, and she was getting ready to move back and take his cock inside her.

He found himself wishing her thighs had that light dusting of hair on them, and that she smelled like aftershave, or maybe like that freshly-showered combination of soap, shampoo...and Sean.

"Sorry, Melanie," he said, raising up in the bed, dislodging her so she got off him, sitting there naked and puzzled. "This was a mistake." He got up and went to the dresser, taking money out of his wallet. "This should be enough for cab fare home."

"You asshole," she said, getting up and grabbing her dress, holding it in front of her. "If you think you're going to bounce me out the door with cab fare, you're nuts. The least you can do is drive me home."

"Oh, come off it. It's not like I'm the first guy who ever picked you up for a one-nighter."

"What are you gonna do with that hard-on, anyway? What's your problem?" she asked.

"I'm an asshole and I made a mistake."

She seemed stunned by that, and her expression softened. "Maybe we can pick up where we left off."

"Picking you up was the mistake," he said, then regretted a little how he was treating this girl. He was punishing her because he hated his own behavior. "Look, I'm with someone, it's complicated, and I thought this was the kind of break I wanted. I thought I wanted a break but I don't. I want him."

"Him? Holy shit, you're gay?"

"I don't know what I am, but I know this isn't it anymore. I'm sorry about tonight, but it's not going to happen, and I need to go home." He handed her a few folded up bills.

"Keep your money. This wasn't a professional dance gig for me. I'm not a paid whore." She angrily pulled on her underwear and bra, then her dress. "You old guys with your mid-life crisis shit are disgusting." She picked up her purse and stormed out the door, leaving him standing there, not sure what to do next.

He finally decided on a shower, figuring there was no reason to literally rub Sean's nose in what he'd been up to. He put on some fresh clothes and cologne, maybe a little too much. It wasn't like Sean was a bloodhound. The shower would have removed all traces of Melanie, her perfume, and her pussy.

Locking the door behind him, he left his condo and drove back toward home.

********

The house was eerily dark and silent when he walked in. Christian expected Sean would still be up, even though it was late, after two in the morning. He went to the guest room where they had been staying, but it was empty. He was on his way to check on Conor when he passed the master bedroom door, and could see the outline of Sean lying on the bed. There was something wrong about it, beyond the fact they hadn't been sleeping in there because of it bringing back too many memories for Sean of his life with Julia. He wasn't in the bed, he was lying across it, at an odd angle. His right arm was extended on the mattress, and something in his hand gleamed in the moonlight. Christian's throat constricted and the bottom fell out of his stomach when he realized it was Sean's revolver.

He hit the light switch and was on the bed in a heartbeat, realizing something was amiss - - there was no blood. Sean jerked awake and looked momentarily startled to find Christian leaning over him, fingers on his neck, looking for a pulse.

"What the hell are you doing with the gun?" Christian demanded, snatching it out of Sean's lax hand before he had the chance to even be awake enough to remember he had it.

"I was thinking about blowing my brains out but I changed my mind," Sean replied calmly. "Conor needs me, so I didn't do it," he added, sitting up. "What are you doing here? You can give me the gun. I'll put it away. I fell asleep or I would have done it already - - put the gun away, that is, not shoot myself." He sat up and held out his hand.

"You say something like that to me and then expect me to hand you the gun back?"

"Christian, if I were going to kill myself, you'd be a couple hours too late. If it'll make you feel better, put it away yourself. There's the box," he gestured at the strong box on the bed. Christian took the invitation and put the gun away, returning the box to the closet shelf.

"You were going to kill yourself because I left?"

"How was she? As good as you remember?" Sean asked, sitting on the foot of the bed now.

"Not by a longshot." Christian sat on the foot of the bed, next to Sean. He was still wearing his robe, and he looked worn out. "She was a blonde with a big pair of tits - - natural ones. Not too bright. Easy pick-up. We went back to my place, and it just went down hill from there. Her thighs weren't hairy, she didn't smell like aftershave, she didn't love me and I sure as hell didn't give a shit about her." Christian sighed, then looked at Sean. "She wasn't you." Sean's eyes filled, but he looked away, not saying anything.

"She didn't have a dick, and she didn't want to put it in you."

"You never forced that on me," Christian said. "I was punishing you for what my foster father did to me, for what Quentin did. You were gentle and loving and you wanted me because you love me, and I did the best I could to hurt you so you'd stay away from my ass."

"Telling me you weren't ready was enough," Sean said quietly.

"I know that. It just feels inevitable and I don't want it. I don't like my asshole feeling raw, I don't want a dick in there. Anybody's dick. I don't know how to be in love with you and make a life with you and not let you do that."

"If you love me, and you want to be with me, and raise Conor together, we can get around it. If you don't have faith in me, or in what we have together, even with that one issue that isn't quick and easy, then I'm not going to drop to my knees and beg you to stay. When you walked out the door, the pain was so intense that first I tried getting drunk, but then I realized I was alone with Conor. Then I wallowed in a little more misery for a while, and I thought about how simple it would be to blow my brains out. In one shot, all of it would be over. Annie's death, Julia's death, you walking out on me to fuck some slut. And then I thought about Conor, who's already lost his mother, needs another surgery, needs some kind of stability and love in his life so he doesn't turn out as screwed up as we are. And I realized something that was pretty goddamned liberating. I can survive this. I can deal with my own life being gutted, having everything and everyone who matters taken away from me, because my son needs me, and I have to do this for him no matter how awful the future might look - - I'm Conor's father, and as long as there's a breath left in my body, I won't leave him."

"Are you saying you don't want me back?" Christian asked, a little unsettled by Sean's words. Part of him felt like he needed to get away from Sean's pain and his emotional dependence as he struggled with his grief. Now that Sean had been pushed to another level, another phase in his suffering and recovery, and he seemed stronger and more independent than he had in weeks...maybe since he'd known him, he found himself a little insecure about his place in Sean's heart.

"I'm saying I love you with all my heart and soul, Christian. I will until the day I die. I want our life together. I want us to raise Conor together. I've told you over and over again that it doesn't matter if you can't deal with one way of having sex - - when our bodies come together, it's like nothing else I've ever had in my life. I also know that maybe too much has happened to you in your past to be with a man sexually, and if you can't handle having a physical relationship with me..." Sean swallowed hard. "I still love you, and I'll always be in your life, as your friend, as long as you want me."

"After all this, you'd still be my friend, my partner, if I didn't want us to be lovers anymore?"

"I said it, and I meant it, Christian. If being my lover is the thing that's going to drive you out of my life, then I'll give that up before I'll give you up, and give up our friendship."

"There's just one problem with that," Christian said, moving over to where Sean stood. "You spoiled me for anyone else. That girl should have been ideal, exactly what I wanted. I was looking forward to a night of brainless banging. But she wasn't you, and I didn't want her. I wouldn't even let her kiss me. How's that for twisted? She's straddling me, naked, but I won't let her mouth touch mine. And then all of a sudden the smell of her and the feel of her is all wrong. It feels like she's where I only want you to be. I've called dozens of women 'sweetheart', and not meant anything by it - - but I wouldn't call her that because it's what I call you sometimes and when I say it to you, it matters." Christian took Sean's face in his hands. "I want you, just you. Just your mouth, your hands, your chest, your ass, your legs wrapped around me. I want you getting hard while I make love to you. I want to be inside that sweet body of yours even if I have no right to do it because I can't give it back."

"Do you think that your asshole is worth more than the way your body feels against mine when we're making love? What your mouth feels like when my tongue is inside it? That it's worth more than the way you love Conor and want to raise him with me? That it's worth more than feeling your arms around me and making everything else, no matter how awful, bearable again? You make me laugh when I feel so shattered that I don't think I can go on. Don't ever feel like you're not giving enough back to me, Christian. You're enough, you always have been, even when we weren't lovers. I meant it when I said I loved you the most. How could you not be enough?"

Christian pulled Sean close, kissing him intensely, wishing he could undo the last few hours through the power of that contact alone. Sean was as responsive as ever, opening his mouth, letting Christian in, his arms embracing Christian's body eagerly. Sean loved him and wanted him with no strings attached. He hadn't demand fidelity, and he would even step away from their physical relationship, and still be there. Christian couldn't remember being loved that way before, and he was grateful for the realization that he wouldn't be loved that way again. This was it, and in one moment of panic, he'd almost lost it all - - except for Sean's devotion to Conor, he'd have found him dead, that revolver probably in his hand much the way it was when he found him asleep, but very much alive.

"I'm so sorry, Sean," he said, the words slurred because they were spoken against Sean's mouth. "If you'd pulled that trigger, I'd have blown my own head off with the next bullet." Christian knew at that moment, it was true. If he'd found Sean that way, dead, because of how he'd treated him, Christian knew he'd have taken the gun out of Sean's hand, taken Sean's lifeless body in his arms, and lying there with him, pulled the trigger.

"It's okay, Christian. I understand." Sean held him close, rubbing his back in long strokes. "It's not your fault. Just don't be afraid of me. Share my life with me and love me, that's all I want from you. The rest are details, and they'll work themselves out."

"I'm sorry I said it was a mistake. It wasn't. I didn't mean what I said, even when I said it." Christian drooped his head onto Sean's shoulder.

"I know," Sean said softly, still rubbing Christian's back. "Don't feel so bad about it, my love. It's okay. We're okay."

"You can forgive me for being such an asshole?"

Sean was tempted to tease him a little, lighten the mood, but he didn't. Christian's voice was still shaky, and his vulnerable side rarely made itself so visible. When it did, it was usually with Sean, and he treasured that trust. It also touched him how much Christian had ended up hurting himself when he knew he hurt Sean.

"You know that I forgive you, Christian. Everything's okay. We've both been through a lot, and you've been my strength through all of it. That's a lot of pressure when you're grieving yourself."

Sean pulled back a little to look into Christian's wet and very troubled eyes.

"When I saw you on the bed, with the revolver in your hand, I thought - - "

"I know, and I'm sorry about that. It was stupid, and it was the grief as much as anything you did." He brushed away a tear with his thumb, leaving his hand gently on Christian's face. "You, along with Conor, are my reason for living, not my reason for dying. Okay?"

"Okay," Christian nodded, leaning in for another quick kiss. "Promise me you won't ever think about doing that again."

"It was a bad moment, Christian. Don't worry about it. I don't want to die." Sean started toward the door of the bedroom. "Let's go check on our son and then get some rest."

********

Sean was sitting at the table feeding Conor when there was a knock at the door. Christian had gone into the office to pick up their messages and mail, and to look at the schedule for the upcoming week. Sean had expressed some interest in going back to work, at least for a light schedule, so Christian was going to review the surgery schedule and determine what they could handle for their first few days back after Julia's and Annie's deaths.

"Who do you think that is?" Sean asked Conor, who just opened his mouth, waiting for another visit from the spoon. "Yeah, that's how I feel about company at breakfast time, too," he said, giving his son another bite of the baby food before going to the door. Fishman stood on the other side of it. "I thought you were going to call before searching. I'm just feeding my son."

"We'd like to come back this afternoon for that, but I wanted to run a couple things by you first."

"Sure, come in," Sean stepped back to let him enter, and then closed the door. "Coffee?"

"Yeah, that'd be great," he said, heading for the kitchen table. "Hey, there, little man," he greeted Conor, who eyed him a little warily. "Cute kid," he said to Sean.

"Thanks." Sean returned to the table and handed him the coffee. They both sat. "Go ahead. I need to finish this. Peaches are a favorite," he said, just as Conor slapped the tray of his high chair and made a smacking motion with his mouth.

"How old is he?"

"Nine months," Sean replied.

"You mentioned you did surgery on his hand - - it doesn't look like anything was ever wrong."

"Thank you," Sean said. "I worked with another surgeon who specializes in these types of surgeries. I'm planning to do his second surgery soon, when I feel more focused again." Sean fed the last of the food to Conor, wiping his mouth.

"Do you remember a friend of your wife's named Jude Sawyer?"

"I remember him. Why?"

"Doesn't sound like you cared much for him."

"He had a thing for Julia. She was attracted to him...it isn't a favorite memory." He handed Conor a ring of brightly colored plastic keys, which he began to shake vigorously with his repaired hand. "We're always trying to encourage him to do anything and everything to build the strength in his hand - - " Just as he said that, Conor threw the toy on the floor with all his might. "Even that," he added, laughing and picking up the toy, putting it on Conor's tray again.

"Did they have an affair?"

"I thought they did," Sean admitted. "Turns out she wanted to but she didn't. After we separated, before Conor was born, she was seeing him off and on for a while. I'm not sure why they split, but she just didn't mention him anymore at a point. Why?"

"But they were in an intimate relationship at some point?"

"Annie mentioned that he'd stayed over a couple times, so yes. How does he figure into anything?"

"Were you aware when you hired Marlowe Sawyer that he was Jude Sawyer's cousin?"

"No," Sean replied, surprised. "Marlowe never mentioned that, at least not to me."

"Did you do a background check on him?"

"Marlowe? No, I didn't. I assumed Julia did. I didn't hire Marlowe. I wasn't impressed with the interview, so I didn't agree to hire him. She did it on her own, right after Conor was born, so I assumed she did the background check. Did he have something in his past?"

"Marlowe doesn't have a record, no, but I did find out something interesting about Jude. He's been working construction jobs to supplement his income as a personal trainer. His most recent gig was on the job Landau Industries is doing downtown."

"The one where they were doing all the blasting? You thought the explosives might be the same kind as the ones...in the car?" Conor was getting restless in the high chair, so Sean removed the tray and picked him up, setting him on his lap. The baby immediately started fidgeting with his watch again.

"Yeah, they are the same. The serial numbers match. The explosives in the car came from the same batch at the explosives at the construction site."

"I don't get it. You think Jude did it? He was really crazy about Julia. I can't picture him killing her."

"But Julia wasn't the intended target."

"Oh, my God. But why would he want to kill me? I was in the process of divorcing Julia. He might have been pissed off we got back together, that I got her pregnant, but now the coast would have been clear for him again, except for his cousin."

"I haven't figured all that out yet, but what I do know is that Jude Sawyer had access to those explosives, and was being trained in how to use them. I'm trying to establish if there was any connection between Michelle Landau and Sawyer."

"You think she might have hired him to do it?"

"I can't picture the lovely Mrs. Landau shimmying under your car on her back and hooking it up herself. Someone had to do it for her. I'm wondering if the good Mr. Sawyer had the hots for the rich young widow."

"I think he'd have the hots for her if she was a middle-aged widow. His tastes seem to run to older women."

"It's usually sex or money in these cases. If it's both, you've got an even stronger motive. This all hangs together in an interesting kind of way with Marlowe's disappearing act. He's back home in New Jersey, by the way."

"Keep an eye on him. He might leave the country."

"What makes you say that?"

"He and Julia were talking about moving to Florence so he could study art there."

"What about the kids?" Fishman asked.

"She wanted to take them, but I told her not to try it." Sean sighed. "I have photos of my face after the incident with the votive holder. I didn't want to use that for anything but a last resort, but I did tell her not to push me with taking the kids out of the country. I was prepared to use that with social services or the court to get full custody if I had to so she didn't take them that far away."

"That must not have set well with Marlowe."

"I don't really know. I never talked with him about it, even when we had him stay on for Conor. We both knew there was no love lost between us, but he cared about Conor, and I wanted what was best for my son...with losing Julia, I thought losing Marlowe right away would be a lot for him to adjust to, so I put up with Marlowe being here. That didn't mean we really communicated with each other any more than we had to."

"If I were him, it would piss me off if my girlfriend's ex was screwing up my plans."

"Marlowe is very attuned to what's best for Conor. That's the only reason I would think that he might not be that vindictive about it. I wasn't trying to mess up their plans or control Julia. I didn't want to lose my children." Sean closed his eyes a moment at the pain that statement brought to the surface. "How ironic is that? My trying to hold onto my children might have cost my daughter her life?" Sean swallowed hard, his eyes filling. He hugged Conor a little tighter, making the baby wiggle on his lap a bit, trying to stiffen to slide down to his own two feet. "He wants to take off all the time - - I think he's going to be an early walker," Sean said, repositioning the increasingly restless baby. He wiped at the couple of tears that escaped. "I'm sorry. I'm not too good at talking about it yet."

"You're doing fine, Sean. This isn't easy, but I wanted to get your input on it. Whatever you do, if you have any contact with Marlowe or Jude Sawyer, it's imperative you don't let on that you know anything about them being investigated. I haven't directly questioned Jude yet. Thanks for the tip about Marlowe and his connection to Florence. I'll put a tail on him with the cops in Jersey."

"You said that a guy with a good build wearing a sweatshirt was seen near the rental car the night before it happened. Jude fits that general description."

"Well, the good build, sure, but no one really got a good look at his face. They can't even agree if he was black or white, or exactly how tall he was."

"But you think that's who physically planted the explosives, don't you?"

"I always have. Usually, things aren't as obscure as they are on TV. If you have someone suspicious lurking around a future crime scene, they're usually involved."

"When do you think you'll know something?"

"I'll call you as soon as I do. The search this afternoon is a formality as far as I'm concerned. I'll be mainly focusing on your wife's belongings and papers, to see if there's any correspondence with Marlowe or Jude that might be useful. Did she have a computer?"

"Yes. Her laptop is still in the master bedroom, along with most of her belongings. I haven't really felt up to going through that stuff yet."

"How about her cell phone, Blackberry, anything like that?"

"Her cell phone would have been with her that morning because she called me just a few minutes before about the car not starting. I think she had a Blackberry, but it would have been with her, too."

"Okay. I'll be doing most of the search personally, and my partner and one other detective that's on the task force will be with me. We'll be as careful as we can not to disturb anything significant. Around two okay for you?"

"That's fine. I'll take Conor over to Christian's place for a while. Since they aired that damn photo on TV, the curiosity factor's gotten worse instead of better. Conor hasn't seen anything but the inside of this house and part of the garden since this started."

"Your mother-in-law hasn't exactly been silent with the press, has she?"

"She's writing a book," Sean said, finally getting up to set Conor on a blanket on the floor with his toys when it was apparent the little boy wasn't going to tolerate being restrained on his lap any longer. "Christian thought the photo might defuse a little of the curiosity, but it's just fueled it instead."

"Her private eye has been a royal pain in the ass. Any chance you could get her to call off her pit bull so we can handle this part of the investigation without him screwing it up?"

"I can talk to her, but she won't listen to me. She never has. Maybe Christian could talk her into it."

"It would be helpful not to have him snooping around right now. Both of these guys are flight risks, and we have less than nothing to hold them on."

"I understand."

"We've been on this case night and day, Sean. It's the top priority at the department, and with the explosives issue, we've even been working with the ATF. Nobody is going to rest until we nail the SOB who did this. Multiple homicides are an automatic top priority, but when it involves the death of a child, there aren't many cops that don't take that personally."

"That's good to know. Do you have any kids?"

"A boy and two girls." Fishman gladly pulled out his wallet and showed Sean the photos. "That's my oldest, Rebecca. She's sixteen." The photo was of a pretty girl with long dark hair and a big smile.

"That must be interesting," Sean commented, trying not to think too much about the fact that Annie would never see sixteen, that he'd never have the happy dilemma of dealing with her first date, the heartaches of dating, and all the assorted mayhem of the high school years. "She's very pretty."

"She's a little spitfire, just like her mother. This is Josh, my thirteen-year-old. He's interested in being a doctor, actually. He's a great student, smarter than his old man." The boy in the photo had brown hair, glasses, and wasn't smiling all that widely in the photo. Nerds don't enjoy their teens as much as other kids do, Sean thought, sympathizing with the boy in the photo.

"I'd be glad to show him around the practice sometime, let him job shadow if he'd like that," Sean offered.

"He'd go for that, all right. Thanks, I'll give you a call on that sometime after everything's settled with the case and things are back to normal."

"Annie's thirteenth birthday was the Friday after she died," he said, feeling that awful, raw ache again that had seemed a little better.

"I shouldn't be showing you pictures of my kids under the circumstances," Fishman said.

"No, it's okay. I have to get better at dealing with this, and I wanted to know more about your family."

"This is my youngest, Rachel," he said, showing one final photo of a pleasant-looking woman with short dark hair, another dark-haired girl, this one much younger than the first. "She's only seven. She was a surprise," he added, chuckling. "That's my wife with her."

"You have a beautiful family," Sean said as Fishman put his wallet away.

"Thanks. I know I'm a lucky bastard. I'm about the only cop I know who hasn't been divorced. Sharon's a remarkable lady to put up with all this cop shit all these years." He stood up and headed for the door. "Thanks for the coffee. We'll be back around two."

"All right. Keep me posted."

"Will do." He opened the door and paused there. "Hang in there, Sean. We're going to nail whoever did this. It just takes time."

"I believe that. I'll see what I can do about Erica's PI."

"Great, thanks." With that, he pulled the door shut behind him.

********

When Christian walked in the house, Conor was playing on the floor with some elaborate-looking Playskool activity center, and Sean was sitting on the couch, watching him, though his expression was joyless and he looked like he'd been crying.

"Hey," he said, standing, feigning a more upbeat mood than he obviously felt.

"Hey yourself," Christian replied, pulling him into a hug. "It's okay if you're having a bad morning," he said, giving Sean a little squeeze.

"I've had better," Sean admitted, pulling back. "Fishman's coming over to do his search around two," Sean added. "How are things at the office?"

"Well, there wasn't a problem lightening up our schedule for next week." Christian hesitated, hating to add to Sean's melancholy mood. "We only have four on the schedule. Three are pro bonos."

"I don't understand - - we were booked solid before - - " Sean froze a moment, then reality dawned.

"A lot of people having plastic surgery don't want to risk anyone finding out they're having work done, and with the press coverage this case has gotten, and reporters hanging around here and the office..." Christian shrugged.

"I'm sure some of it's the fear of publicity," Sean said, "but you and I know I'm the public's favorite suspect for the murder of my wife and daughter. Nobody wants a murderer standing over them with a scalpel."

"We went through the same thing after the whole Carver mess, Sean. It's unfair and it sucks, but it'll blow over."

"It almost ruined us," Sean retorted. "We barely survived that financial disaster."

"But we did."

"By playing operation in the basement of a crematorium to make payroll and catering to a psychotic necrophiliac, sure. By me trying to hawk our services in a nursing home to people whose main cosmetic issue is hiding their incontinence. That's not surviving, Christian, that's selling our souls because we can't get any respectable clients!"

"I wasn't going to tell you this now - - I thought of just telling you the four surgeries were the lighter schedule. But you wanted me to be honest, so there it is, and I hate like hell dumping it on you right now."

"I don't know why it didn't cross my mind before. I guess with the explosion and...everything, it just didn't seem that important. I kind of forgot about probably losing my career in the bargain. People who are suspects in high profile cases like these often never get their lives back, even if they're innocent. My not killing my family for the money isn't nearly as tasty a story as the possibility that I did."

"You didn't do anything wrong, and once the case is solved, we won't have to deal with a bunch of unjust suspicion. The whole Carver thing did clear up, and we did get our patients back."

"Fishman came by to update me on the case," Sean said. "Jude Sawyer is one of his suspects."

"Jude? Was Julia even seeing him anymore?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. But it gets stranger. Jude and Marlowe are cousins - - they're both Sawyers. It never occurred to me there could be a connection there. If that's not enough, Jude is supplementing his personal trainer career with a construction job - - at the site where Landau Industries is demolishing some old buildings using explosives from the same batch as the ones used on the car."

"I don't even know who to suspect out of that mess."

"Fishman wasn't sure, either, but he wanted us to try to get Erica to call off her PI. Apparently he's worried the guy's going to spook Marlowe or Jude, and he doesn't have anything to hold them on."

"And Erica's going to listen to us?"

"She might listen to you."

"Now that I'm sleeping with you, that's not likely. I lost my appeal when I changed teams."

"I told him we'd try."

"If I call that bitch, I'm not going to be able to chat with her about her private dick. Not after what she did to you and to Conor in that interview."

"You're probably right. She most likely wouldn't be interested in what you had to say when there was no chance of you two getting a little action."

"I could make some fresh coffee," Christian offered, looking at the minimal amount left in the pot.

"If you want some, go ahead. I don't want any." Sean sat on the couch again, watching Conor.

"Did you put that thing together this morning?" Christian asked.

"No. It belonged to Annie. It was in the storage room. I don't know why we kept it. We didn't plan on more kids."

"He seems to be having a great time with it," Christian added, sitting next to Sean on the couch.

"I figured he would. Annie used to play with it for hours. I remember putting it together...she kept grabbing the parts and trying to play with it while I was assembling it." Sean leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Fishman has three kids. I didn't know that."

"I guess I don't know much about the guy besides him being a cop."

"Two girls and a boy. It's funny, but I could see some parallels in our lives. His youngest is only seven and he said she was a surprise - - sounds familiar. His boy is thirteen. I got thinking about Annie's birthday, and when I looked at the picture of his sixteen-year-old... She's probably dating, going to proms, thinking about college," he said. "And Annie's in a box on the dresser in her room," he added, covering his face with his hands and sobbing into them. "I want my daughter back," he said brokenly.

Christian's heart broke at the profound pain in those words, and the depth of the agony that was still simmering inside Sean, just beneath the surface. He was doing his best to go on, to focus on Conor, to accept the unacceptable and pick up the pieces of his life, but there were days when the wound was so raw that the pain consumed him.

Sliding a little closer, Christian put his arm around Sean and urged him into an embrace. Sean clung to him then, the tremors in his body shaking both of them.

"I want her back, too, Sean. I think about her all the time," Christian admitted, his voice breaking. He knew his own pain was partially the grief of losing Annie, who was as precious as his own child would be because she was Sean's child, but the other part of it was aching for the way Sean's grief tortured his soul and gave him so little peace. Christian held him a little tighter, rubbing his back gently.

Unsettled by the sound of Sean's crying, Conor had abandoned his toys and was now sitting in the middle of the blanket, crying himself.

"Damn it," Sean cursed, reproaching himself, going to Conor and picking him up, bringing him back to the couch. "It's okay, buddy, you're dad's just a big crybaby," he said, looking relieved when Conor quieted down quite quickly. He grabbed a tissue and wiped the baby's nose and cheeks.

"You could use one of those yourself, Daddy," Christian teased gently, and Sean actually smiled, wiping his own nose on the tissue. "I think he just wanted in on the group hug," Christian said, making a face at Conor, who rewarded him with a broad, mostly toothless grin.

"I probably shouldn't be around him so much right now," Sean said. "This isn't the first time this morning I've sat here and cried like a baby...it's probably unsettling to him. I guess it's just a bad day."

"Conor loves you, Sean. He might be a baby, but if he were a couple years older, he'd be running up to you to give you a hug when you looked sad."

"I thought things were getting easier."

"I'm not an expert on the grief process, and losing a child is a whole different issue...but I think that's pretty normal, sweetheart." Christian hoped the love name would help soothe the raw emotional would a little. He kept his arm behind Sean and leaned over to kiss his cheek. "It's gonna be okay, Sean. It'll get better."

"Sometimes it's just unbearable," Sean admitted in a soft voice. "It's like it has no limits, there's no end. It's not like it can heal because no matter how much better I might feel for a while, she's still dead, and I wonder if she knew what happened, if she felt anything, if she died screaming in that car and I couldn't get to her," he concluded, closing his eyes and turning away, covering his face. "And I think about Julia trying to get out of that inferno and probably seeing us through the flames and no one helping her..."

Christian took Conor off Sean's lap and cajoled him a little, finally taking him back to his toys. When the baby seemed engaged again in playing, Christian returned to the couch. He held out his arms to Sean, who moved into them gratefully. He didn't have anything wise to say to make Sean feel better. The horror of the explosion, Annie's and Julia's deaths, and all the lingering grief and horrible thoughts it all brought with it were realities. There was nothing Christian could do to spare Sean that, and no real solution he could offer. He hoped just holding Sean for a while, patting his back a little...maybe that would ease the pain.

"I wish I could make this easier for you," Christian said honestly.

"I don't think I'd have made it through this without you," Sean admitted. "I know it doesn't always seem like it, but you make it easier just being here."

"For what it's worth, I don't think Annie knew what happened. No one seems to think so. The theory that Julia did is just that, Sean - - a theory. She may have never known what was going on either. Just because they found her in a particular position - - there was so much devastation from that explosion that I'm pretty skeptical they could tell anything for certain."

"I know you're right. I know they speculate on that stuff to entertain people tuning in to the news networks. I just have this image in my mind of Annie screaming for me and being so afraid and in pain and my not reaching her."

"It's a nightmare vision, Sean. Like you had of Julia. It's the thing you fear the most, that they suffered and you could have done something. I asked myself that same question because I held you back from going to the fire. I asked myself if I made a choice between Julia and Annie, and you."

Sean sat back a little at that, looking puzzled. "Did you think you did?"

"I suspected myself a little," Christian admitted. "It all happened so fast that I had to make a snap decision and I chose to hold you back, and not to try to save them myself, either, because when I make myself remember it, and think back about it objectively, there was no way anyone could have gotten near the car doors or opened them. We'd have been on fire ourselves before we could ever get either one of them out."

"It's frightening when you start thinking about which person you'd save if you couldn't save your whole family. What you'd do in the name of duty, or what you'd do in the name of love, how you'd live with the choice."

It was on the tip of Christian's tongue to confess the darkest secret of his soul, the one thing that ate at him, and made him question his initial decision not to let Sean get near the burning car in the first place.

That awful black truth that in the deepest recesses of his heart, a part of him was relieved that there was a mix-up, that it was someone else who died, and not Sean. As unthinkable as this loss was, Sean was alive, healthy, in his arms, in his life, in his bed... The truth was he would give anything for that, anything to save Sean. No price was too high. He didn't think Sean would ever forgive him for thinking and feeling that way, so he kept silent.

"You didn't have any choices, and I didn't have any viable ones, either. There was nothing we could have done, even if we'd literally thrown ourselves into the fire."

"On some level, I know that," Sean said. "I never blamed you for holding me back. I guess I knew right from the start that it was hopeless, and if you'd let me go, Conor would be an orphan now." Sean leaned back on the couch. "You know, Escobar was right. When you step out of the pain and let the anger take over, it does give you a sort of strength. A lot of strength, actually."

"Tapping into that is what probably turned Escobar into what he is. People don't usually become monsters like that on their own."

"I still have his card."

"Escobar's?"

"Yeah. I still have it. I take it out and look at it every day. And every day is a conscious decision not to call him. But I won't give up that card because I need to know that I still can, if I want to."

"Calling him would be a huge mistake, Sean."

"I know," Sean said. "But how am I going to sit in a court room someday and look across the room at someone who was responsible for killing Julia and Annie and not kill him with my bare hands?"

"You'll do it because Conor needs you, and I'll grab you before you get that far." Christian smiled, and was relieved when Sean returned it. "Let's pack up the little guy and head back to my place, so we're not here while the cops pick their way through the house. Or would you like me to stay and keep an eye on them?"

"I think Fishman will handle things ethically, and to be honest, I'd rather not be alone today."

"Maybe we can even slide out to the beach for a while. The fresh air and sunshine would do us all good."

"You do me good," Sean said, smiling at Christian.

********

It was a perfect day to visit the beach, and being the middle of a business and school day, it wasn't hard to find a sparsely populated spot for the three of them to enjoy. Christian took on the project of filling little buckets with sand and entertaining Conor while Sean stretched out on a blanket. Christian wasn't positive, since Sean's eyes were obscured by his sunglasses, but after watching the even respiration for a while, he was convinced Sean was sound asleep there. He'd slathered his partner's fair skin with suntan lotion when they first arrived, so he could leave him there undisturbed for a while.

"Christian Troy," a woman's voice startled him. He looked up to see Andrea Hall standing there, wearing a black one-piece bathing suit and zebra-striped sunglasses. "I never would have expected to see you here," she added, and Christian's suspicions that Sean was sleeping were confirmed, since he didn't even stir or acknowledge anyone was there.

"You stalked us out to the beach? Where's the camera man, lurking behind that beach umbrella over there?" Christian accused.

"I'm not stalking you. I had an afternoon off so I came out here to get some sun. If you don't believe me, my son, Jake, is right over there," she said, waving at a young teenage boy about fifty yards away, who waved back. "I took Jake out of school and treated him to lunch and an afternoon at the beach. Since my divorce, I don't get to spend much time with him. He lives with his father."

"I'm sorry. Today was a rough day, and we were trying to get a break from everything. The press has been relentless. I thought maybe Erica exploiting Conor in your interview would take care of the gawkers and photo seekers, but they're just more excited now that they've seen him."

"If I had thought we were exploiting that child, I wouldn't have shown the photo. There was some talk in the press already about him having a birth defect, and I thought a tasteful photo that confronted that, as part of an overall interview on the case, might defuse some of the curiosity."

"Andrea, what are you doing here?" Sean raised up on one elbow, then sat up, as if he were scanning the beach for other reporters and cameras.

"I didn't realize I was going to spook you both so badly just by stopping by. My son and I are just enjoying a little time on the beach, and I saw you over here. Sean, I've never had the chance to express to you my condolences about your wife and daughter. I realize the press aren't your favorite people right now, but I am sorry for your loss."

"Thank you. You'll understand if I don't feel a lot of warm feelings for the people who think I did it."

"I don't think you did it. I was wondering if we could talk for a few minutes, off the record?"

"Is there such a thing?"

"There is with me. If it's off the record, that's what it means."

Sean was quiet a moment. "You mind keeping an eye on Conor for a few minutes?" he asked Christian.

"We're fine," Christian responded.

"Okay. Let's take a walk."

"You were obviously unhappy with Erica's interview," Andrea said.

"That's an understatement. She had no right exposing the things she did in that interview."

"She doesn't think you had anything to do with it. That should be worth something."

"That's nice of her, that she doesn't think I'm a monster who would murder my own child in cold blood."

"I'd like to give you a chance to tell your side of the story, Sean. You're very credible on camera. You were very effective when we did the publicity for Naomi Gaines' surgery. People took you seriously. You got good feedback from our audience."

"There isn't a side of the story for me to tell. I should have been in that car. It was only a bizarre twist of circumstances that Julia and Annie were instead."

"What about your relationship with Christian? The marriage break-up? Those things are rarely one-sided."

"Maybe not, but that's no one else's business but ours."

"I checked up on Erica's domestic violence stories. I have an unsubstantiated tip that the violence wasn't one-sided."

"This is why I don't talk to the press. All any of you want is to find some dirty, salacious detail of my personal life, or my wife's life, or Christian's life, that you can turn into a catchy headline."

"If Julia was abusive to you, Sean, it could really sway public sympathy in your direction."

"What? Why? That would only be relevant if I were trying to explain why I did it, and I didn't do it, so how is it relevant to anything but smearing my wife's name?"

"All right," she said, holding up a forestalling hand. "If you change your mind, I would love to do an interview with you. Or you and Christian. You're being villified in a lot of news coverage, and it might help save your practice if you could get public opinion turned around."

"When the case is solved, it'll turn around. You might have been Christian's get out of jail free card, but you're not mine."

"Sean, you're in a business where your reputation is golden. No one's going to care after the case is solved, what you have to say. They care now. To the majority of people who followed this case, you'll just be that doctor who was suspected of killing his family for the insurance money. Once the real answer is found out, people rarely are interested in going back and rebuilding the reputations that were destroyed along the way. You're a hot property now, and I believe you could sway public opinion back in your direction. I really think you should consider it for the sake of your career."

"I don't think you're worried about my career. I think you're more interested in your own, and what an exclusive with the suspected murderer could do for your ratings."

"Of course, I'm interested in what this interview could do for my career. I've heard rumors Barbara Walters wants to interview you. The chance to scoop her would be a nice feather in my cap."

"My son is more important than my career, and I'm not exploiting him on national television again. His grandmother has done enough."

"Then we won't talk about Conor. You can review the questions first, and have veto power on any you don't want to answer. Though I have to say that seeing you as a real person, as a father, a doctor...it can only help."

"I don't want to use Conor to make myself look good."

"Then let us show some still photos of the two of you together, something that doesn't even show his hands, if you're worried about us putting undue attention on his birth defect."

"I'll think about it," he finally responded, more tired of the pitch than he was thinking about doing the interview.

"That's all I ask. I don't have a business card on me," she said, laughing a bit. "If I call you later this week, will you take my call?"

"I'm not even sure how Christian has the call screening set up on our personal lines, so just call the office. I'll return the call either way, and I'll think about the interview. I'm going to get back to Christian and Conor."

"Thank you for your time, Sean. I hope you'll give it serious thought."

"I'll be in touch," he said, not sure if he would be.

Returning to where Christian and Conor were still working on a slightly lopsided sand castle together, Sean sat down on the blanket and tried to recapture a little of the serenity he'd felt before Andrea showed up. There had been so much serenity in the outing that coupled with the emotional morning he'd had, he'd fallen asleep on the beach not long after they arrived.

"She wants to do an interview, I suppose."

"What do you think I should do?" Sean asked.

"Put a little more sunscreen on your nose." Christian handed him the bottle.

"I'm serious, Christian. I need your help with this."

"If you keep hiding from the media, it makes you this mysterious character that's suspected of killing his family. You're likable on camera, Sean. People responded well when you went on camera during the Carver case. Maybe this wouldn't be such a bad idea."

"She said I could review the questions first, have veto power on the ones I didn't want included."

"That's probably the best offer you're going to get."

"You think I should do it, then?"

"I don't think anyone who sees you, hears you talk about Julia and Annie, gets to know something about you - - I can't picture anyone thinking you could be a murderer."

"Sometimes people do things like these interviews and it actually makes their situation worse."

"Fishman has nothing on you, because there's nothing to have. He doesn't even think you're a viable suspect."

"Maybe I should check with him, see if it would compromise the investigation in any way."

"You could do that. I can't see how it will if you don't mention any of the new developments he's told you about."

"I'm going to call Erica later. She probably won't listen to me, but I don't want to risk her PI causing any problems with the investigation."

"How would you feel about me calling Lizzie and asking her to babysit tonight, so we could have a little alone time?"

"I don't know, Christian. We still don't know who did this, and if they'll try anything else..."

"We left him with Liz right after it happened, and for the memorial service. We have security at the house."

"I know, and I know everything went okay. If I'd been thinking clearly, I probably wouldn't have left him at all. If anything happened to him...I don't think I'd survive it." Sean touched Conor's head lightly. "I'd never forgive myself if something happened and I wasn't there for him."

"Sean, you do know that you can't watch Conor every minute of his life until he goes away to college?"

"I can if that's what it takes to keep him safe," Sean responded. "When this case is solved, then we can start putting our lives back together. I just don't want to give a killer easy access to Conor."

"So if security can't fend off the threat, you're going to do it singlehandedly, unarmed?"

"I'm not unarmed, and the time it would take them to deal with me might be the time it took for help to get there before they got to Conor. Some hired security guy isn't going to give his life for my son, but I will if I have to. Which is why he's not going to be with a sitter until this is over."

"What if it's years, Sean? You've heard about those cold cases as well as I have."

"I don't think it'll be years. I think Fishman and his team are close to figuring this all out. The whole thing with Jude, Marlowe, the explosives...I don't know how it ties together, but I think it does. It's too much for coincidence."

"Okay, you win."

"I win? How do you figure that?" Sean snapped.

"It was a figure of speech, Sean. Jesus, calm down."

"Don't you think I'd like a break from all this, too? Do you think you're the only one who gets tired of grief, and depression, and worry, and unbearable loss? Don't you think I'd like to be able to leave my son with a reliable babysitter and go out for the evening? Make love without one ear on the nursery monitor? My daughter's dead. Julia's dead. Some fucking lunatic blew them into a million pieces right in front of my face!"

"Sean, take it easy. You're upsetting him," Christian said, trying to distract Conor from his father's outburst.

"Take it easy? Take it easy?"

"Yeah, take it easy," Christian confirmed. "You're so goddamned worried about catching Conor's every fart, but in the next breath you're throwing a tantrum in front of him. If you're going to have a meltdown, let's go home."

"Oh, you mean my place? Where the cops are searching? Or your place, where Annie and Julia died right out front and the pavement is still charred? Maybe I can relax at home where I hear voices and see things that aren't there! I could always go into the office and play I still have a career!" Sean stood. "I have to get out of here." With that, he walked away, striding as briskly as possible across the sand.

Christian wondered where he was going in swimming trunks, sunglasses, and flip-flops with no car keys, but he didn't try to stop him. Truthfully, he didn't really blame him. He was surrounded by pain wherever he went, and he had no breaks from it. The memories at the house were around every corner, and there was no way to avoid the charred pavement arriving at Christian's place. The building's owner was having the concrete work redone, as soon as the police okayed the crime scene being essentially destroyed. While it wasn't cordoned off anymore, they were reluctant to permit the destruction of the charred cement.

"Okay, Conor, we better make sure your Daddy's all right." Christian gathered up their supplies and picked Conor up, heading back toward his condo. He hoped Sean would go there, or at least that the security guards who were keeping an eye on their comings and goings would keep good track of him.

********

Sean turned on the shower and stepped under the spray, glad to get the greasy suntan lotion off his skin. As his body and his temper cooled, he knew Christian didn't deserve to be snapped at when he was as loyal, supportive, and caring as he was. As the wounds tried to heal, Sean found there was more anger coming to the surface, more frustration...sometimes it felt like a rage building up in him that needed to come out. It was a dangerous feeling, the kind of feeling that simmers and festers until it drives you nuts and you do something stupid...like calling Escobar. Or worse yet, becoming like him.

He finished in the shower and stepped out, wrapping a towel around his waist. He leaned on the counter, sighing, closing his eyes a moment. His head was pounding and his eyes felt raw. That's all the good crying does you - - your eyes are bloodshot, you have a headache, and all the shit that made you cry hasn't changed anyway.

He heard the front door open and close, and Christian's voice as he talked with Conor.

"See, there's Daddy," Christian said, as the two of them met Sean in the bedroom. Conor held his arms out, fussy. Something about Conor's obvious desire to see him, and him alone, moved Sean deeply. It wasn't the first time the baby ever reached for him, but he was rarely so aggressive about it. Sean took his son in his arms, hugging and kissing him, patting his back. "I'm sorry I was such a dick," Sean said to Christian.

"It's okay, I'm used to it," Christian teased. "I just want to have a little quality time with you." He touched Sean's face. "We haven't really made love since that night I took off. A quick hand job in the morning doesn't count."

"I'll keep that in mind the next time your dick is poking me in the thigh at six in the morning."

"You know what I mean," Christian replied, grinning. "It's not that I don't like those, but I miss the total body workout, if you know what I mean."

"I know."

"I thought maybe you were still pissed at me about that night. We've made love with Conor in the house before. We've got a PA system of nursery monitors, so we can't help but hear him."

"It's not you, Christian. Sometimes being in that house just gets to me. Messes with my head."

"Then let's look for a new place. Even if it's just temporary. A nice, upscale two bedroom so we can have a nursery for Conor and a room for us with no ghosts."

"No ghosts," Sean repeated. "That would feel good."

"It doesn't have to be our permanent place. I was thinking a nice house on the beach."

"This probably isn't a great time for us financially. We could hit the skids for a while."

"I'll sell this place. It'll move pretty fast. Mike Hamoi was interested in it...no reason I can't give him a call and let him make an offer. That should pay for our lease and give us some living money. There's a lot more to cleaning out and selling your place, and neither one of us is ready for that right now. I know you're not sure yet what to do with the insurance money, so we can just let that sit."

"You love this place."

"No, this is a nice condo. I love you, and this little guy," he added, touching Conor's shoulder, "and wherever the two of you are, is home. So can we kiss and make out now?"

"I thought it was kiss and make up," Sean corrected.

"Don't you like my version better?"

"As soon as Conor's down for his nap, you've got a date."

********

"Hello?" Erica's voice, even in that one benign word, held a note of coldness to it. Plus, Sean was certain her caller ID had shown her who was calling.

"Erica, it's Sean. I need to talk to you about something relevant to the case."

"Really? I thought you were probably calling to rage at me about the Andrea Hall interview."

"Would there be a point?"

"No, since it's already done."

"The police are pursuing a couple of somewhat delicate leads in the case, and Fishman asked if we could refrain from having any private investigators in the middle of things for the time being. Christian and I were planning to hire one," he lied, figuring she'd take it better that way, "and he asked if we'd hold off a while. He was also concerned about your investigator. If someone outside the department gets wind of the people they're investigating right now, there's a possibility of spooking them, and they have nothing to hold them on right now."

"So this is a 'call off the dogs' phone call?"

"I'm as anxious as you are to get to the bottom of this, but the cops have a task force dedicated to it, and I don't want to risk having something we do with a couple of private eyes ruining one of their leads."

"How long does he propose we wait for them to follow up on these leads?" she asked.

"Just until they either eliminate them or find something. He didn't give me a time line."

"I'll speak to my investigator and ask him to suspend his activities for the time being."

"Thank you, Erica. I'll be in touch if I hear anything."

"How is Conor?" she asked.

"He's doing well. Christian and I are spending a lot of time with him. I know he misses Julia, but he's adjusting well."

"That's good to hear. How are you, Sean?" The question caught him off guard, since he didn't expect her to care how he was.

"I have good days and bad days. I'm waiting for the good ones to outweigh the bad ones, but it hasn't happened yet. And you?"

"About the same. Julia and I didn't have much time together in recent years, so there are times I can find some escape in the routine of life here, but it doesn't take much for it to all rush back."

"Escape would be nice. There isn't much of that around here. We're still trying to sneak around and worry about security and the media. At least the general public doesn't think you did it."

"That's a natural assumption, Sean. It's so often the surviving spouse who had something gain from it. I made it clear in my interview with Andrea that I didn't harbor any suspicions where you were concerned. I was hopeful that would be of help."

"Maybe it was. I don't know. Andrea approached me about doing an interview. I don't know what to do."

"You have the advantage of being innocent, and that often comes through in those interviews. You could do yourself some good."

"In comparison to what's happened, I'm not that worried about myself. It's Conor and Christian I'm worried about. I don't want Conor exploited for news coverage, and I don't want to drag Christian down with me."

"Andrea is a very ethical, credible journalist, even if she has covered some sensational cases. It's why I chose her. I would do it if I were you. And I'm not just saying that because of my book. I know you don't believe that I'm talking to the press and writing this book for anything but gain and self-aggrandizement. But I do want Julia and Annie to be known for more than their deaths. From the beginning, I planned to donate the proceeds from the book to charitable foundation you're establishing in their names, with Annie's insurance money."

"That's very generous of you, Erica."

"For God's sake, Sean, they were my family, too. How could you think I wanted to rake in the blood money from the murders of my daughter and granddaughter?"

"That was an ugly assumption for me to make, and apparently I was wrong. I haven't been thinking too clearly since it happened. Why didn't you say something then? Why let me think you were in it for the money and fame?"

"We've never really liked each other, Sean. That's no secret. But in spite of that, I was shocked that you could think so badly of me. I did love Julia and Annie."

"I know you did. I'm sorry if I added to your grief. I didn't mean to."

"There's no shame in seeking counseling to get through this kind of tragedy. If you're actually asking me for advice, maybe it's a sign you need to talk to someone."

"You mean because we're having a civil conversation, or because I'm trusting your advice?"

"Because you and I haven't had this long of a talk since we met, and when you called me tonight, the only reason was to do Fishman's bidding and ask me to call off my dog."

"I'll think about it. Thanks for your advice, and your cooperation, Erica. I know it would mean a lot to Julia."

"All right. Kiss Conor goodnight for me."

"I'll do that."

As Sean hung up the phone, Christian walked into the living room, carrying two beers. He handed one to Sean.

"Erica thinks you should do the interview, huh?"

"Yes, she does. I know you do."

"I just think that if people could see you, hear you talk about Julia and Annie, they'd know you couldn't be that kind of monster." He sat next to Sean, running his arm behind him on the couch. "Looks like Fishman took it pretty easy on the place," he said, referring to the tidy condition they'd found the house in when they returned from Christian's place. "He left you a note," Christian handed it to Sean, who unfolded the small piece of paper that had obviously been torn from Fishman's omnipresent notepad.

Sean - - Everything went smoothly. Took Julia's laptop and some personal papers, Annie's diary and a few letters, and a few other miscellaneous items. My boss told me to pick up your computer and any potentially relevant personal papers. I'll try to get that back to you by the end of the week, the rest of it as soon as we're finished with it.

"Annie's diary?" Sean said aloud. "Why would they want a little girl's diary? I should have taken it out of her room. She's so protective of her diary. She always stashes it under her pillow if I come into the room while she's writing in it. I guess she thinks I have x-ray vision," he added, smiling.

"Sean." Christian let his arm slide off the back of the couch to be around Sean's shoulders.

"What?"

"You're talking about her in the present tense, sweetheart."

"Was I?" Sean asked, looking puzzled. Christian nodded. "Don't worry, I haven't forgotten that she's gone. I guess for that minute or two, I was just picturing her with her diary, writing as fast as the pen could go...sometimes when she was mad about something, or upset, or excited. She seemed so alive."

"She was alive in that memory, Sean. Annie's still alive in your memories, and in your heart."

"Yeah, well, you can't hug a memory," Sean said, tossing Fishman's note aside. "Erica thinks I need therapy. I guess the fact I asked her advice and talked with her made her think I'd lost my mind."

"Well, it was a little out of character," Christian said, a note of humor in his voice. "You can't stand Erica."

"I still can't," Sean responded, smiling.

"Do you feel like you need therapy?"

"I don't know what I need. I need to have my daughter back. I need to be arguing with Julia about custody issues. I need to turn back the clock and keep them from getting into that car. A therapist can't make that happen." Sean took a drink of his beer, then leaned back so his head rested on Christian's arm. "You're good therapy. You and Conor. Is he asleep?"

"Out like a light. I think the fresh air and sunshine was a good change for him. Speaking of change, my real estate agent e-mailed me a few house photos. You want to take a look at them?"

"Sure. What am I going to look at them on? They took my computer, remember?"

"I have my laptop. I've been keeping it in the car, in case they showed up unexpectedly to search here."

"I keep trying to remember if there's anything on my computer I should be worried about."

"You didn't keep any information about the whole Sylvio Perez thing on there, did you?"

"No, of course not. There's a lot of personal information in there I probably wouldn't have shared with the cops. Like some old e-mails from Megan. They were personal."

"I should have thought to tell you to clear off your hard drive. I never thought about it."

"They would have just had an expert analyzing it to see that I cleared things off, and then they would have been more suspicious."

"I didn't know you still had old e-mails from her. Not that it's odd you do. I guess I don't think too much about it anymore."

"Until we got together, I can honestly say that no one filled the void in me that her death left behind. I didn't think I'd ever love anybody that way again...or more like I didn't think anyone would ever love me the way she did. Every time she looked at me, I could see love. It wasn't until you and I crossed that barrier with each other that I saw that kind of love directed at me again. I know Julia loved me, but everything was always so complicated between us, and I never really gave her exactly what she was looking for."

"You're exactly what I'm looking for," Christian said, touching Sean's forehead with his own. "You know how much I love you, right?"

"I know, but it would be okay if you wanted to show me," Sean replied, meeting Christian's eyes. Christian pressed his lips against Sean's, immediately welcomed as Sean's mouth opened and their tongues met. They took their time, lingering over the shared kisses and the anticipation of clothed bodies pressed together.

Christian moved forward until Sean was lying on the couch under him, both of them trying to achieve some gratification as they kissed, humping through too many layers of fabric. Sean unzipped Christian's fly and slid his hand inside with all the skill of a surgeon, wangling his way past pants and underwear to wrap his hand around Christian's cock, stroking it.

"There's hand lotion in the kitchen," Sean said in a brief break between kisses.

"I'm not sticking any old fruity smelling slippery shit inside you. That stuff can be irritating. I came prepared." Christian pulled a tube of KY out of his pocket.

"Do you just carry that around with you all the time or did you have plans for tonight?" Sean asked, laughing. Christian was almost as glad to see and hear a real laugh from Sean as he was to feel that graceful, talented hand around his cock. Almost.

"I was optimistic," Christian replied, kissing him again. He unzipped Sean's pants, enjoying the awkwardness and spontaneity of having sex on the couch, even as they struggled out of their pants and underwear together.

He slid his finger into Sean, lubricating him generously, though neither one of them were in the mood to linger too long with the preliminaries. He coated his cock and slid inside Sean in one long, smooth stroke, pausing when they were fully joined to let him adjust. They kissed a little more, and Sean wrapped his legs around Christian. With their upper bodies still clothed, it focused all their lust on the point where they were joined, and somehow, that made it all a little bit hotter.

Christian knew he could thrust harder and faster if he gave up kissing and holding Sean, but he wasn't prepared to do that. The slow and easy pace felt good, even if it was prolonging the final outcome longer. The journey was feeling good, and the destination would be worth the slow burn. He nuzzled Sean's neck, inhaled the scent of him and his cologne, felt the softness of his skin and the roughness that had grown since the morning's shave. He found the contrasting smooth softness of Sean's lips, and the eager tongue that waited behind them. He reluctantly left Sean's mouth and kissed his cheeks, his eyelids, his forehead, even the end of his nose, as their bodies rocked together in a slow but steady rhythm. He was rewarded with a broad smile from Sean as he took Christian's face in both hands and guided him back so their mouths met again, wrapping his arms around Christian, kissing him with such passion that it almost rivaled the sensations around Christian's cock as he slid back and forth inside that tight passage.

He shifted a bit, putting more pressure on Sean's prostate, easing back so he could watch him, loving the little wordless gasps, the sweet look on Sean's face that held an element of wonder, as if the pleasure almost surprised him as much as satisfied him. His eyes were locked with Christian's, making Christian feel like he didn't want to miss a moment by closing them. Christian sped up his pace a little, sensing that Sean was as ready as he was for release. He felt himself coming close to the edge, and was relieved when Sean came first, his body arching, a smile spreading over his face as he came. The spasms of Sean's climax were the extra push Christian needed to reach his own completion, and he barely remembered to stifle a shout to avoid waking Conor. As much as he adored his little godson, this was not the moment he wanted to hear him crying.

Easing carefully out of Sean, he wrapped his arms around his partner, needing to hold him especially close to make up for the lost physical union. Sean returned the embrace, hooking a leg over Christian's to keep him close, to make their position just a little more intimate. They kissed again, and then some more, relishing the intimacy of the moment. Sean slid his hand under Christian's shirt, caressing his chest and then around to his back. It was more a gentle gesture of love than anything else. Christian mirrored the gesture, realizing how much he was missing touching Sean's skin. Frustrated, he pulled at the t-shirt until Sean moved enough for him to remove it. Sean unbuttoned Christian's shirt and tugged it off his shoulders until it was sent to join Sean's t-shirt on the floor.

They both enjoyed the lovemaking that was absent of urgent desire. If they got hard again, they could get off again, but if not, it just felt good to touch each other and be this close. For Christian, wanting to make out again once he'd gotten what he came for was a new experience. Just the intimacy of rubbing his naked body against Sean's, of touching him in all those special places, feeling Sean's hands exploring him and loving him like they had all the time in the world, and there was no other way Sean wanted to spend it.

"That's how much I love you," Christian said, referring to the conversation that had started their passionate encounter. He took Sean's chin gently in his hand and kissed him again, but this time, it was a gentle, sweet kiss on lips reddened from the eager, urgent kisses they'd been sharing.

"I wish I could make time stop, right here, forever." He traced Christian's lips with his fingertips, the tenderness in the gesture going straight to Christian's heart. He took Sean's hand in his and kissed the questing fingers.

"I can't stop time, but I can promise to love you like this until I take my last breath."

"I know you can't really promise it, but just tell me you won't take your last breath until after I take mine."

"I don't want to go anywhere before you do, sweetheart. I don't want to miss a moment with you."

"There aren't words for what I want to say," Sean said, and Christian smiled.

"I have a solution for that," he said, pulling Sean close and kissing him again, starting another languid session of lovemaking that led them to another shared climax, and a blissful oblivion of sleep.

********

On to Part 4