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SEE PART 00 FOR WARNINGS & NOTES

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LIKE THERE'S NO TOMORROW

by

Candy Apple

If the sun never rises

I wanna go down in flames

I want the last thing I hear

To be you whispering my name

If every moment together

Is time that we borrow

Then hold me tight

And love me like there's no tomorrow...

Christian drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, impatient. The traffic was backed up as far as he could see, and the radio was delivering the news of a multiple car pile-up on the freeway. A truck had lost control and gone off the road, taking out a number of cars in its path. Christian sighed. At least fate had been kind enough to trap him in midday traffic and delay him at least thirty minutes later than he'd expected. If he'd been on time, he would have been right in the middle of the mayhem, or at least much closer to it.

He figured Sean was probably already at the office, pacing around the OR, building a head of steam at Christian for being late for the surgery they planned to do together that afternoon. It was another of Sean's complex, time-consuming pro bono operations that required two surgeons to get through efficiently - - which meant Michelle would already be on the warpath, even if they'd managed to bang it out in record time. Just as he picked up his cell phone to call the office, it rang, Sean's name showing on the display.

"I know, I'm late. There's a pile up on the freeway, and I'm stuck about five miles behind it," Christian said.

"I know about the pile up," Sean said. "I'm in it."

"You mean you're helping with injuries?"

"No, not exactly," Sean responded, an odd amusement in his voice. "I'm under the truck."

"Excuse me?"

"I was in the lane next to it when it lost control. It all happened so fast, and the next thing I knew, there was this crash and everything went dark. I must have blacked out from the impact, because when I came to, I was in the dark, and the passenger side and part of the roof of the car was crushed. I've got this little space...God, Christian, I don't know why I'm not dead. The way the truck landed, the car is wedged under the trailer, and I'm in this spot that didn't get crushed."

"Did you talk to the cops? Rescue workers? Do you need me to call - - ?"

"No, I called 9-1-1 as soon as I came to. I guess they assumed I was dead. They're working on moving the trailer. Well, they will be in a few minutes. They wanted me to stay on the line, but I told them I had some calls to make. That there were some people I'd rather talk to."

"Don't they need to get information from you?" Christian felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. He was breaking out in a cold sweat. This can't be happening.

"Christian, they said there's a danger the truck might shift when they try to lift it. The space I'm in is so tiny that just one slip up when they lift the trailer could crush the rest of the car."

"That's bullshit. They know you're in there. They just need to not fuck up lifting the trailer. Who can I call?"

"I'm sure they're doing all they can, but the cop I was on the line with finally admitted that there was a pretty serious danger of that. I told him I wanted the truth." Sean was quiet a second. "I'm scared, Christian. I don't want to die like this."

"You aren't going to. You shouldn't be alive now, so this miracle happened for a reason. You weren't meant to die today, Sean, or you'd be dead now." The thought sent chills up and down Christian's spine.

"I hope you're right. It's pitch black in here. Thank God for the cell phone, because at least I know I'm not blind. I thought at first when I came to and all I saw was darkness - - even though my eyes were open - - I thought I must have gotten hit in the head and gone blind." Sean's laugh was humorless and terrified. "I need you to promise me that if I don't get out of this, you'll make sure Conor gets his second surgery, and that you'll return the favor - - and raise my son, and love him, the way I raised and loved yours."

"You're going to get out of there and do it yourself, Sean," Christian said, hating the shaking in his voice.

"Just promise me you'll take care of Conor. I know Julia will always be there for the kids, and I know Annie will be okay, because she'll still have her mom. But Conor needs a father, and he needs one who's a doctor, who can make sure he gets the care he needs. Please, Christian."

"You know I love our kids, Sean. I'd do anything for Matt, Annie or Conor."

"Okay." Sean was quiet a moment. "I know you've backed off Julia out of respect for me. I know you stayed away even when we were divorced." Sean muttered something else and there was a sound of breaking glass.

"Sean! Talk to me!"

"What was left of the windshield just went," Sean said, panic in his voice.

"Shouldn't they know that?"

"Don't hang up! I smell gas. It's getting really thick...the fumes." Sean swallowed audibly. "If you want to be with Julia, I don't want you to hold back because of me. You'd be there for the kids, and you could have the woman you always wanted. I know you've always wanted a family, Christian. Maybe I can give you that one last thing if I don't make it out of this."

"You're my family, Sean," Christian said, unable to stop the tears that were breaking up his voice. "I don't want Julia. I want you."

"What are you saying?" Sean sounded puzzled, but hopeful at the same time.

"You can't die in there, Sean. I love you and I can't lose you without - - "

"Without what?"

"Without ever telling you how I feel. Goddammit, I should have said something when I first started thinking about it, but I was such a stupid prick. I spent more time pushing you away than...facing what I felt, and what it could mean for us."

"Look, Christian, as much as I'd love to hear all the details, I feel like I'm gonna pass out from the gasoline fumes, so say what you have to say. Wait, hang on," Sean said, and there was a horrendous amount of noise and interference in the call. "Shit, things are moving."

"Sean, talk to me. What's happening?"

"There's more pressure...I can't straighten my neck anymore because the roof of the car is caving in."

"Is it moving now?"

"No, it stopped."

"Can you recline the car seat?"

"I'm afraid to move."

"Sean, you do know that your head isn't supporting the truck," Christian said, and Sean actually laughed, though it sounded a bit hysterical.

"I'll try moving the seat."

"Just try reclining it a little to give yourself more room." Christian waited what seemed like an eternity while Sean moved around a bit.

"The seat's wedged in position. It won't move."

Christian scanned the traffic ahead of him and spotted a black Hummer. "Hang on, Sean. I'm on my way."

"It's not that I don't appreciate that, but you can't lift a truck off me."

"I'm going to be there when they get you out," Christian said, grabbing his medical bag and getting out of the car, abandoning his prize Lambourghini in the middle of the traffic tie up. "Are you still with me, Sean? You hang in there. I know the fumes are probably getting to you, but you've got to hang tough."

Christian rapped on the driver's window of the Hummer, and the young man behind the wheel lowered it. "I'm a surgeon. I need to get up to the accident. Can you take me down the median?"

"Look, doc, I've got a pile of speeding tickets. If I pull a stunt like that, I could lose my license," he replied, reaching to put his window up again.

"I'll give you seven hundred dollars in cash now and write you a check for $10,000 when this is over. Just get me there. You're in the lane next to the median, you've got the vehicle. Lives depend on this. The cops won't bust you for bringing a surgeon to an accident scene."

The young man considered that a moment, then nodded. "Get in."

Christian got in the Hummer and fastened his seat belt while the SUV's driver maneuvered it out of traffic and onto the grass, then began speeding toward the accident scene.

"Sean, are you there?"

"Yes, I'm here. What are you up to?"

"I'm on my way. I'll be there any minute." He held the cell phone between his head and shoulder as he counted out all the cash he had with him, the seven hundred plus a few smaller bills he didn't bother to count. He stuffed all of it in the Hummer's beverage holder.

"I know you keep telling me I'm going to get out of this, but if they make one mistake moving that truck, or it shifts the wrong way, it's going to snap my neck even if it doesn't crush what's left of me under it. We have to accept that I'm probably not going to make it, and there's something I want to say."

"Me, too, but I'm not accepting anything yet."

"I've been grateful for a lot of things in my life - - my kids, the practice, doing what I love to do all these years. I just want you to know that the best part of it was our friendship. I know I've given you a hard time about 'carrying you' or made you feel I was the big talent, that I gave you so much. That was so much shit. You're a good surgeon, Christian. And a good doctor. You'll do just fine keeping up the McNamara/Troy reputation when I'm gone. You can even finally change the name to Troy/McNamara, if you want. It's not like I'll sue you," Sean added, a smile in his voice.

"I don't want it without you. If you die, I'll sell the damn practice."

"We already did, remember?"

"Then I'll sell it again or burn it down. It doesn't mean anything without you. Nothing means anything without you. Don't you dare leave me, Sean."

"I might not have a choice. As you so aptly pointed out, my head isn't holding up the truck, and there's nothing I can do. I just wanted you to know...I-I love you, Christian. Don't give up until you find someone to share your life with, because you'll be a good father, and you deserve that."

"What if I wanted to share my life with you? It's not Julia I want." Christian paused when he heard a horrible groaning and creaking sound from Sean's end of the line. "What was that?"

"They must be moving the truck."

"I love you, Sean. Don't you dare die on me before I have a chance to prove it to you."

"Prove it? You want to have sex with me? Christian, what the hell are you talking about? After all these years...?"

"I want to make love to you, I want us to be together. My feelings have been changing and I never said anything. I thought they'd go away, that it was some kind of temporary insanity I'd get over." Christian stole a glance at the driver, who looked a bit stunned but was keeping his eyes on the road - - or more appropriately, the grass. "So you can't die and leave me now that I finally figured this out."

"If I wasn't under a truck, Christian, you wouldn't be saying this. There's a danger I might live, you know, and then you're going to have to live up to what you're promising now."

"Do you want me to live up to it?"

"If this truck doesn't crush me, I'm holding you to it." Sean was quiet a moment. "I thought it was just me, and I've hated myself for betraying you that way. For having feelings like that when we were supposed to be friends. I kept telling myself you were my 'brother' - - I thought if I made myself feel dirty and incestuous that maybe it would make the feelings go away," Sean's voice was breaking now. "Even if I never get out of this alive, at least... At least I know you feel what I feel."

The Hummer came to a halt at the edge of a horrific scene of destruction and tangled metal. Ambulances, fire trucks, and police cars ringed the scene; injured motorists lay on the ground with emergency personnel hovering around them. A few seemed to be wandering, dazed, like zombies amid the destruction.

"Here's my card. Call me tomorrow with your information and I'll send you the check."

"Thanks, man," he took the card. "Hey, about you and your friend there? I hope you get him out."

"Yeah, thanks, me, too." Christian rushed toward the area where the truck was overturned. There were straps around it, fastening it to a crane. Police and fire personnel surrounded the area. Christian looked around for EMT's but didn't see any. "Sean, I'm here. I'm right on the other side of the truck from you." Christian waited, but there was no response. "Sean! Talk to me!" he shouted into the cell phone.

"That's far enough," a police officer said, stepping in front of Christian to block his path to the truck.

"I'm a doctor, and my partner's under that truck, Dr. Sean McNamara. You don't have any EMT's here for him."

"There are a lot of injured people we can reach who need help. We could really use you, Doctor," the officer said.

"I'll be glad to help after my partner gets the medical attention he'll need when you pull him out of there."

"We haven't spoken to Dr. McNamara in quite a while. You need to be prepared that he might not make it out of this."

"I just spoke to him less than five minutes ago, and he was very much alive. He said the roof of the car had caved in further, and his windshield broke. He couldn't straighten his neck all the way anymore. He said there were strong gasoline fumes."

"Wait here." The officer hurried over to talk to the fire fighters, who in turn relayed the information to the crane operator.

Christian looked at his cell phone. The connection to Sean had gone dead, so Christian dialed his number again. All he got was Sean's voicemail.

"Doctor, they're getting ready to lift the truck," the officer said, returning to where Christian stood. "You'll have to move back. With the gasoline fumes, the fire department has to make sure we aren't dealing with an impending explosion risk. It'll take some time to do this, and you can't get at your partner to help him until we move the truck. Anything you can do for these people in the meantime will be a big help."

"I want to talk to the crane operator, and then I'll patch up anyone you want me to."

"These are qualified people who know what they're doing. You don't need the crane operator to tell you how to treat injuries. He doesn't need you to tell him how to operate a crane."

"Just give me one minute. Or let me call his cell phone. I'll stay clear."

"Use this," the officer said, handing Christian a radio. "Press that button to talk, release it to listen." Christian nodded and took the radio. "His name's Bill."

"Thanks." Christian pressed the button. "Bill?" He released it and a moment later, a man's voice came out of the speaker.

"Who's this?"

"My name is Dr. Christian Troy. My partner, Dr. Sean McNamara, is in the car that's pinned under the truck."

"I'm gonna do my best to get your partner out of there. I don't understand why you're calling me."

"If you get my partner out alive, I'll write you a check for $100,000."

"Look, Doc, my job is to move that truck. I don't want to crush whoever's under there. I don't care if he's a doctor or a ditch digger. If he gets crushed while I'm moving this thing, it ain't gonna be because I wasn't careful. So you can keep your money."

"I didn't mean to offend you, Bill. It's just very important to me, and I wanted you to know that."

"Yeah, well, I get the message, and you gotta know that whoever's under there, I'm gonna do everything I can to get this thing off him without killing him. That's what I already get paid for."

"I'm glad to know he's in good hands," Christian said. "Sorry if I offended you."

"We're doing our best to get your partner out alive, Doc. Just sit tight." With that, Bill ended his part of the conversation and set his radio down, a gesture Christian could see from where he stood at the edge of the scene.

"Thank you," he said, handing the officer the radio back, impressed and a little stunned with Bill's integrity and willingness to pass up a hundred grand for a principle. He scanned the scene for any unattended injured motorists, and quickly spotted a woman wandering in his direction, bleeding from the head. Glancing back at the truck, all he could think about was how Sean would be moving from person to person, treating injuries and reassuring them, and wishing for the sake of those injured, that Sean was out there helping them.

"Ma'am, wait, I'm a doctor," he said, gently intercepting the dazed woman and guiding her to where she could sit on the guard rail. Once she sat, it was as if she snapped out of her daze. She appeared to be in her sixties, with gray hair and glasses, her cheerful tropical print blouse a bizarre contrast to the horror of her situation.

"Don't waste time on me," she said. "My husband is in the car. He has a heart condition. I can't find anyone who'll look at him. I'm fine, just please help him!"

"Can you show me where he is?" Christian asked, and she nodded, raising a hand to her head. "I need to check you out first. You have a head injury."

"I don't care! He was having trouble breathing. If he doesn't live, I don't care if I do, don't you understand?"

"What's your name?"

"Betty Stafford," she said, confused as to why he wanted her name.

"Betty, believe me, I understand exactly how you feel. Just let me do a preliminary check on you, and we'll go right to your husband. How did you hit your head, do you remember?"

"I wasn't wearing my seatbelt and I hit my head on the wheel. My husband isn't injured from the accident, it's his heart."

"Try to relax, we'll go to him in just a second." Christian proceeded to check her pupils and to perform a few very cursory tests to determine her level of coherence and consciousness, including examining the wound itself, which appeared to be generating a lot of blood from a relatively minor cut just above her hairline. "Take my arm, and lead me to your car, Betty," he said, offering his arm.

She moved him along at a surprisingly fast pace until they reached a blue Buick sedan that appeared to have only minor damage compared to the many tangled wrecks around them. It sat upright, not far from the guard rail, looking as if a collision with another car had possibly knocked it off the road and into the railing.

"What is your husband's name?"

"Richard. Not Dick, he hates that. Richard."

"I can't say I blame him on that one," Christian agreed, approaching the car. He opened the passenger side door to find an elderly man, considerably older than Betty, leaning back in the seat, holding onto his chest, his breathing labored. "Richard, I'm Dr. Troy. I just bumped into a beautiful lady named Betty who said you could use some help here." He put on his stethoscope and listened to the man's heart.

"Hard to breathe," the man wheezed.

"Do you have nitro pills with you, Richard?" Christian started digging through his bag.

"He left them at home," Betty said, almost hysterical. "I didn't know that until we looked for them after the accident. I should have made sure he had them!"

"Betty, I need you to stay calm, and stay with Richard. I'm going to one of the ambulances to get some oxygen and nitro. You need to be calm to keep him calm, do you understand?" he asked, and Betty nodded emphatically. "Good girl. I'll be right back."

Christian rushed across to a nearby ambulance and got into the open back of it, helping himself to what he needed. With supplies in hand, he hurried back to the Buick, where Betty and Richard waited. After giving the man one of the pills and securing an oxygen mask to his face, he paused to reassure Betty.

"The emergency workers are making the rounds to all of the injured people. Just stay with him, and keep him calm. I'll try to check back on you in a little while, okay?"

"Thank you, Dr. Troy," she said, her voice shaky.

Before he could move on to the next person, he heard an ungodly groaning and shifting of metal and turned to see the crane lifting the trailer portion of the truck up, keeping it suspended above what was left of Sean's car, which looked disconcertingly like a smashed insect. Unless Sean was a contortionist, Christian had no idea how he could have folded up enough to stay alive in the space he had left.

He broke into a run, rushing toward the scene. Fire fighters were using the jaws of life to remove the top of the destroyed car while others were hosing the area down to minimize the risk from leaking gasoline. Christian felt his chest tighten as badly as poor old Richard's as he waited what seemed like an eternity for them to remove what was left of the top of the car. Recognizing him, the officer he had spoken to before guided him closer to the scene so he could be prepared to administer emergency treatment to Sean.

"Is he alive?" Christian asked.

"I don't know, Doctor. He wasn't moving and didn't respond, but it doesn't appear that the car caved in all the way, so he wasn't crushed."

"We're going to need a backboard over here, and a neck brace."

"I'll get some EMT's down here as soon as you check his vitals," the officer said, and Christian fought hard not to let his knees buckle at the thought of checking Sean's pulse and not finding one. "Sorry, but we've got too many injured and not enough personnel."

"You mean to work on a dead man," Christian said.

"If he's alive, we'll get you help, pronto."

Christian moved toward the car as the roof was removed, and hurried to the side of it. Sean was bent forward, the side of his face pressed against the wheel. Christian reached in and felt his pulse, nearly collapsing with relief when he felt a strong one.

"Get those EMT's over here on the double!" he shouted, and the officer radioed for the necessary help. "Sean, I'm here. It's over. You're alive, buddy," Christian said, laying his hand on the back of Sean's head, partly to comfort him but also to check for any injuries.

"Looks like he was in the only part of the car that wasn't crushed," one of the firemen said.

"Christian," Sean's voice was a little hoarse and a bit weak, but he was starting to move.

"Stay still, Sean. We've got EMT's coming with back and neck support."

"Don't need it," Sean insisted, straightening up with a little groan. "Nothing hit me. I leaned forward to put some space between me and the roof."

"You've got a bump on the head there, partner," Christian said, checking out a growing lump on the side of Sean's head, presumably from the first impact of the crash. "You're going to the hospital," he said.

"Just get me out of this car."

"Easy does it, Sean. I've got you," he said, wrapping his arms around Sean and lifting carefully as Sean held on around his neck for the boost out of the car, since the doors were too badly damaged to open properly. As soon as he could be on his own two feet, Sean tried to step away, but his legs gave out and Christian caught him and held him up. EMT's were rushing toward them with a gurney. Christian took advantage of the moment to hug Sean and hold him close, if only briefly. The embrace was returned, full force. "I love you," he said against Sean's ear. "I didn't lose you," he added, breaking down.

"You found me, Christian. If it took a truck landing on me for that to happen, it was worth it," Sean said. Then, keeping his face close to Christian's, he confessed sheepishly in a whisper, "I was so scared I pissed myself in there. Some tough guy, huh?" he joked, but it was weak.

"Yeah, my mouth would be dry, too," Christian said, making sure his voice was loud enough to be overheard as he reached into the car and pulled the bottle of spring water out of the beverage holder and uncapped it. He fumbled it and most of the water spilled down the front of Sean's shirt and pants. "Shit, Sean, I'm sorry. I guess I'm nervous," he apologized, tossing the open bottle back in the car, letting the remaining water splash on the seat.

"Accidents happen," Sean said, smiling gratefully now that the water obscured any other wetness on his clothing.

"Your ride's here," Christian quipped, steering Sean to the gurney, where he stretched out. "Any pain in your neck or back?" he asked as the EMT's paused to check Sean's blood pressure and vital signs.

"Just from being hunched over so long. Nothing hit me after the first impact and I could always move until right near the end, when the car started compressing more."

"How's his BP?" Christian asked.

"Do you ordinarily have high blood pressure, Sean?" the young woman asked, checking the reading.

"Nothing serious. Only when I'm under a lot of stress."

"This qualifies," she said, smiling. "It's a little on the high side," she said to Christian.

"I'm a doctor, lady. Can you be a little more specific?"

"Take it easy, Christian. I'm alive and I'm okay."

"It's 150 over 90." 

"We'll keep monitoring you until it goes back where it should be," Christian said to Sean. "Sorry I snapped at you," he apologized, and the EMT smiled.  

"It's okay. We usually talk to people at their worst. No big deal."

"Say, did you happen to work on an older couple in a blue Buick - - the guy's name was Richard?"

"Yeah, my partner worked on him. I think they're transporting him to the hospital, but he's stable."

"I'm glad."

"Christian, this really isn't necessary," Sean said, gesturing at the gurney and the blanket Julie, the EMT, placed over him.

"You're shivering, partner. I'm your doctor. I'll decide what's necessary." He took Sean's hand and held it firmly in both of his. "Trust me."

"Always," Sean replied, letting his eyes drift shut a moment.

"I'll ride with him."

"We've got a couple other more critical cases we need to take out first. We're waiting on another ambulance."

Christian scanned the area and was happy to see that the young man in the Hummer was still watching the mayhem from a safe distance, video camera in hand.

"No problem. We have our own ride," he said, wheeling the gurney away.

"Wait a minute, you can't just leave with him!" she protested.

"Watch me, sweetheart," Christian replied, flashing her a devilish smile over his shoulder as he headed for the Hummer. "Hey, buddy, you want to make a little extra?" Christian asked, and his driver grinned.

"Sure thing, man, wherever you wanna go. I'll put the seats down in back. You can slide him right in."

"I can ride in a seat, Christian," Sean protested.

"Stay put. Your BP's up, and you just went through hell. Relax and let me handle this." 

Once they were on the road, Christian riding in back with Sean, the driver finally asked, "Is this the guy you were talking to on the phone?"

"The one and only," Christian said, smiling fondly at Sean, whose hand he continued to hold in both of his. "My partner, Sean McNamara."

"I'm Doug Randolph," the young man volunteered.

"Thanks for your help, Doug," Sean said.

"Hey, Dr. Troy here really knows how to make a person feel appreciated."

"I offered Doug a little compensation to get me to the scene. He had to drive on the median for four or five miles to get me there."

"But you got there," Sean said, his voice sounding tired but the love in his eyes as he looked at Christian positively shone.

"Anything for you," Christian said quietly, leaning down to kiss Sean's forehead. He didn't think Doug had noticed that interaction, but found himself blissfully unconcerned whether he did or not.

********

Julia hurried into the emergency room carrying Conor, Annie close behind her carrying the diaper bag. Christian was finally relaxed for the first time since the whole ordeal started, drinking a cup of god-awful coffee from a machine, relieved that his hands weren't shaking anymore.

"Where's Sean?" she asked nervously. "Why did you want me to bring Conor?"

"Hi, sweetheart," Christian greeted Annie. "Sean's going to be fine. He's in x-ray right now, but it's just a formality because I don't want to take any chances with him. The car is destroyed, but he was just remarkably lucky. May I?" he asked, reaching for Conor.

"Sure," Julia said, with a confused little smile.

"Sean wanted to see the kids as soon as he got out of x-ray. He was pretty shaken up." Christian was distracted by Conor's wriggling, which inspired him to start treating the baby to a series of odd faces and equally odd sounds.

"Annie, why don't you take Conor's bag and find us a couple of seats over there," Julia said, guiding Annie toward the waiting area.

"When can I see Daddy?" she asked.

"In a few minutes, honey. Now just sit down over there while I talk with Uncle Christian." Once Annie complied, Julia turned back to Christian. "He was pinned under a truck. How could he be fine? How could that not kill him?"

"It was a big rig, with a trailer. When it lost control and flipped on its side, the trailer landed at just the right angle that it smashed most of the car except for a cramped space on the driver's side. He went through a pretty traumatic crash and then waited for them to move the truck, knowing it could shift and crush him any minute. I was on the cell phone with him for some tense moments." Christian paused, smiling down at the baby and making a little kissing noise at him. "If it's all right with you, I'd like to take Sean home with me tonight. His blood pressure is a little unsteady, he's been through a lot, and you've got plenty to handle with Conor - - "

"Does he need special monitoring or care? I thought you said he was all right."

"Honestly, Julia? I feel like I really need some time with him. Those minutes on that cell phone were probably some of the worst of my life, and it made me realize that I haven't spent much time with my best friend lately. I'd appreciate the chance to just visit with him a while, maybe fix dinner, watch a game or something. If you'd rather he goes home with you, I understand."

"No, that's fine, Christian. Conor doesn't always sleep that peacefully, and even with Marlowe there, I'm still up and down part of the time. The solid sleep will probably be good for Sean if his blood pressure is up."

"Great, thanks. Let's go see if he's back from radiology," Christian suggested, and Julia nodded, motioning to Annie to join them. When they reached the exam room, Sean was back, sitting on the table buttoning his shirt, though his hands were shaking noticeably.

"Oh, Sean, are you all right?" Julia asked, moving forward to hug him. He returned it, though he stiffened a little as his neck and back were starting to feel the effects of the stress and awkward position from his ordeal. She noticed the movement and backed away.

"Sorry, Jules. My back's a little sore, that's all. I'll be fine. Hey, princess," he greeted Annie, getting down off the table to hug his daughter.

"On the news it said a truck landed on your car," she said, looking worried.

"It did, but I'm fine, sweetheart. Just a little stiff from being in a tight space for quite a while. Don't you worry about anything, okay? I'll be just fine, good as new, after I get a little rest."

"Somebody else is ready to see his daddy," Christian said. "You feel steady enough to hold him?"

"Absolutely," Sean said, reaching out for the baby and cradling his son in his arms. He held onto Conor's hand, the one that had not yet been through the surgical procedure, and kissed it, a couple tears rolling down his cheeks.

"The main thing Sean was concerned about when we talked on the phone was his family," Christian said to Julia, who smiled slightly.

"Are they releasing you?" she asked Sean.

"I was supposed to lie still and wait for the x-ray results, but around here, I'd have bedsores if I did that. Can you find out what's taking them so long?" Sean asked Christian.

"It's only been a few minutes, Sean. Take it easy. I'll see if I can speed things up." Christian patted Sean's shoulder before leaving the room.

"Christian wants to take you home to his place tonight, so I'll get your overnight bag from the car. I brought some things in case you were admitted."

"Do you mind if I spend the night there? This whole experience was pretty surreal, and I know I put Christian through a lot on the phone. Annie, would you mind getting me a bottled water from the machine in the waiting room?" Sean asked, handing Annie some money he dug out of his pocket with his free hand.

"Sure. I'll be right back," she said, taking the money and hurrying out of the room.

"I thought I was going to die. I was panicking, and I know I shook Christian up pretty well."

"You called Christian from your cell phone while you were pinned under a truck?" Julia asked.

"I was in a small part of the car that wasn't crushed, and I managed to get a hold of my cell phone. I called 9-1-1, but once they knew I was alive under there, there wasn't much reason for me to stay on the phone with them. I called Christian."

"That shouldn't surprise me. I don't know why it still does." Julia shook her head, then reached for the baby. Sean relinquished Conor to her.

"What do you mean?"

"You think you might die at any minute, and you call Christian? Did you think of me, of Annie?"

"I thought of all of you. I also thought I might be crushed any minute and I didn't want that to be the last thing you or Annie heard from me."

"Everything okay?" Christian asked, entering the room.

"Fine. You two have a nice evening," Julia snapped. "I'll pull up to the entrance and send Annie in with your bag," she said, striding out of the room. Annie was on the other side of the door, puzzled by her mother's brisk departure. "Give Daddy the water and say goodbye. He's spending the night at Uncle Christian's."

"I'm glad you're okay, Daddy," Annie said, hugging Sean and handing him the water.

"Thanks, honey. I'm fine. Maybe I can come by school tomorrow and take my best girl out to lunch, huh?"

"Okay. See you tomorrow," she said, leaving the room.

"Julia didn't take it too well that I called you instead of her."

"Take it easy, Sean." Christian took a hold of Sean's wrist, checking his pulse. "The x-rays are clear. Your neck and back are fine, and your bump on the head is just that, but we'll keep an eye on you anyway, just to be sure. The doctor's on his way in with the final form for you to sign so we can get out of here."

"Am I going to live?" Sean quipped regarding Christian's pulse-taking.

"It's more rapid than usual, but that's not surprising. You need some rest and to unwind a little. I think I know just the thing for that."

"You do, huh?" Sean looked at him, a little surprised at what sounded like a sexual innuendo.

"Hot soak in the tub, a prolonged massage, and we'll see what comes up." Christian flashed him a grin. "Pun intended."

********

They arrived at Christian's place via a limo service Christian contacted, having arranged for a tow truck to pick up his Lambourghini and deliver it. He steered Sean toward the bedroom. "Get undressed and put this on," he said, tossing a blue silk robe on the bed.

"Julia probably packed my robe in there," Sean said, pointing at his overnight bag.

"Something nice and sensible, probably. This is pure silk, Sean. Indulge yourself, live a little. You almost got killed today. Don't you think it's time you started living it up a bit?"

"Okay, I'll put the silk robe on. Then what?"

"I'm going to draw a hot bath for you, throw in a few special bath oils that relax sore muscles, and then work the rest of those knots out by hand," he said, grinning and flexing his fingers. He sighed, his shoulders drooping marginally at Sean's serious expression. "Are you okay?" he asked, and Sean looked up at him from where he'd started to unbutton his shirt, his hands still shaking a bit.

"You mean besides the fact I can't unbutton my own shirt because my hands keep shaking? The last time that happened, I damn near lost my career."

"This isn't the same thing," Christian said, crossing the room and covering Sean's hands with his own. "It's the lingering adrenaline, the stress...having a truck land on you is pretty damn traumatic."

"What do you want me to do, Christian? This whole thing with the robe and the massage and the bath... I don't know if I'm ready for all that."

"I want to make you feel good, and I want to see the stress go out of your body so you can get some solid sleep. If you'll let me, I want to hold you all night and just feel you breathing against me so I know I didn't lose you before I ever had you."

"I can do that," Sean said, his voice a little strained. He pulled his hands away and slid his arms around Christian, starting an embrace that was returned with passion and intensity. "Shit, I thought I was dying," Sean admitted in a tight whisper. "I've never been that scared."

"I know. You did great."

"I did shit. I was so scared I pissed myself when the windshield broke."

"Yeah, that was really silly of you to be upset because you thought you were about to be crushed to death." Christian closed his eyes and held Sean even tighter. "I kept thinking that I wished I was there with you because I didn't want to live without you." He wasn't prepared for his own emotions to surface and tears to fill his eyes, but they were there, and suddenly the embrace was as much for him as it ever was for Sean.

"You need to be sure you don't think you want me because I nearly died. I didn't, and you don't have to prove anything to me or go overboard with being glad I'm alive."

"Is that what you think this is about?" Christian stepped back.

"I don't know, Christian. It seems like you want to put more distance between us one minute, and the next minute it feels like old times, and then this happens and you suddenly want me in a way you never did before. I'm not up to the back-and-forth anymore."

"This isn't the first time I ever thought about you that way. I just didn't move...I didn't act on it or say anything. I stood there and let you remarry Julia when I wanted to grab you and kiss you and tell you that you ought to be saying those words to me, not to her."

"So it's not about the accident?"

"No, Sean, it's not about the accident, exactly. After Grubman died, I realized there weren't a lot of people in my life who loved me. She told me she loved me, not long before she died. I never said it back to her. I'm not sure why, I just didn't. Maybe I didn't realize it."

"That's my whole point, Christian. I didn't die. You can tell me you love me or that you're glad I'm alive, we're always going to be friends. You don't have to go to this extreme."

"Do you want to go there with me?" Christian asked. "Because if this isn't what you want, I'll back off. Right now."

"It's too much what I want for me to let it happen and then have you wake up and regret it."

"The only thing I regret is waiting so long."

Christian abandoned talking and leaned toward Sean, who didn't exactly move toward him, but didn't move away, either. He closed his eyes when he felt his lips touch Sean's, but was almost unprepared for Sean to respond the way he did. He returned the kiss with an urgent desire that took Christian off guard. Sean deepened the kiss, opening his mouth, his tongue meeting Christian's eagerly.

There was no reason to hold anything back now, and Christian didn't. He put everything he had into kissing Sean, tasting and owning his mouth in a way he never cared to with anyone he'd been with before. There had always been something better, something hotter, something lower than his mouth that he'd wanted satisfied. At that moment, all he cared about was the feeling of Sean's mouth joined with his, one hand possessively on Sean's head, fingers locked in his hair, the other pulling his body as close as he could.

He was surprised when Sean nudged them backwards until Christian fell on the bed with Sean on top of him, the kiss never faltering. Their hands clumsily pulled at each other's clothes, the technique far secondary to reaching the goal. Sean managed to get Christian's shirt off, and Christian fought to get Sean's out of the way, then cursed when he was faced with the t-shirt.

Reading his frustration, Sean moved away long enough to pull the shirt over his head and throw it aside. Christian couldn't resist reaching up with both hands to caress the soft chest hair, rubbing his thumbs over Sean's nipples. The little indrawn breath and shiver that evoked in Sean seemed like the sexiest things Christian had ever seen or heard. That is, until his gaze locked with Sean's and the raw passion, love, and need in his eyes delved right into Christian's soul.

He pulled Sean down again, kissing him, running his hands up and down the smooth expanse of Sean's back, waiting for just one sensation, one move, one scent, one taste that wasn't wonderful, that didn't go straight to his heart. Annoyed at the remaining barrier of clothing between them, Christian reached for Sean's belt and opened it, unzipping his fly, his hand brushing against the hardening bulge there. Sean groaned and pushed against his hand, and Christian had to smile at the urgency.

As if by unspoken agreement, they rolled apart briefly and rid themselves of pants, underwear, and socks. The short break did nothing to cool their excitement. Christian took the opportunity to pounce, rolling Sean under him. Reluctantly giving up Sean's mouth, Christian kissed a trail down Sean's chin and throat, licking and sucking at the soft flesh near his collarbone, leaving his mark. He moved down to a nipple, exploring the shape, size, and texture of the little nub with his tongue, smiling when Sean arched his back and gasped, his hand sliding into Christian's hair.

It was Christian's turn to let out a surprised gasp of pleasure when Sean's hand very carefully enclosed Christian's cock, pumping tentatively, as if he wasn't quite sure it was all right to be doing what he was doing.

"Yeah, that's good," Christian whispered against Sean's ear. "A little tighter," he said, surprised at the intensity of the sensation when Sean complied.

"You can close your eyes and pretend I'm a Victoria's Secret model," Sean joked, but the thought behind it froze Christian in motion, and hit him right in the heart.

"Look at me." Christian took Sean's face in his hands and Sean looked directly into his eyes. "My eyes are wide open, sweetheart." He put his hand over Sean's, were it was still wrapped around his erection. "This isn't for anybody but you. And if you close your eyes, it means I spent all that time at the tanner and got that lipo for nothing."

"You didn't need lipo, Christian. I always thought you were perfect," Sean said honestly, his free hand resting on Christian's side, near where he'd had one of his nearly non-existent "love handles" suctioned out. Christian held Sean's gaze a long moment, realizing that Sean would look at him with that same depth of love and devotion whether he was tan, sleek, and sexy, or old, bald and fat.

"Promise me you'll never do an asinine thing like get trapped under a truck, ever again." Christian wrapped his arms around Sean and held him, feeling the strength of his embrace matched. There was something unsettling, awesome, and just a little bit wonderful about the arms holding him being as strong as his own. "You're never going to leave me."

"You just figured that out?" Sean replied, a smile in his voice.

"Shut up and kiss me."

As they went back to kissing and caressing each other, their bodies rocked together, the maddening slowness of the build of pleasure inspiring them and frustrating them at the same time. At that moment, neither wanted to give up their warm, steamy embrace and the slide of skin on skin, or the hungry, almost desperate union of their mouths.

Sean broke the kiss, gasping, moaning, his body trembling as he came, the pleasure plain on his face and completely open and undisguised. Christian had made him come just by rubbing against him, and Sean let him see every shudder and wave of pleasure cross his features. Feeling his own climax building, Christian resisted the urge to look away, or bury his face in the seductive, warm space between Sean's neck and shoulder. He laid his hand on Sean's cheek, encouraging him to open his eyes again, even though he was inclined to leave them closed in the afterglow of his orgasm.

Christian came, letting his pleasure show on his face as Sean watched, a look of wonder on his drowsy, sated features. When it was over, Christian slumped next to his lifelong partner and new lover, and they tiredly wound around each other in a loose embrace, legs tangling and lazily rubbing against each other.

"Is it okay to sleep?" Sean asked, almost there anyway.

"A nap afterwards is the champagne chaser for great sex," Christian replied, yawning, and then smiling at Sean, who was already dozing. "You've been through a lot today," he whispered affectionately. "Sleep all you want, sweetheart."

Christian let himself drift in and out of a happy, sated haze, but he couldn't quite drift off to sleep. He'd come too close to losing Sean, and then had gotten him back in such an amazing way that all he could do was lie there quietly and listen to Sean breathe, and feel his chest rise and fall with healthy, living respiration.

********

Sean opened his eyes, and for a moment he was puzzled which sensation to think about first. His head ached, his neck and back hurt like hell, and he was held in a warm embrace that felt better than anything he'd every experienced in his life.

"Welcome back," Christian said, kissing Sean's forehead.

"What time is it?" Sean raised his head a bit, then groaned and let it rest on Christian's shoulder again.

"It's about eleven. You needed the sleep. How do you feel?"

"Like I got hit by a truck," Sean quipped, smiling. "I'm trying to move something that doesn't hurt." Sean sighed. "It was a nasty impact and a long time to stay curled up at an odd angle, I guess."

"The offer for the soak in the hot bath still stands, and I have been told that my massages are among the best in the area."

"Julia was really upset that I called you and not her. I don't think my coming over here tonight went over too well, either. I should go home."

"Why? It's after eleven, the kids'll be asleep, and if Julia isn't, she will be soon. You feel like shit and you need someone to take care of you. I just happen to have a free evening."

"I can't just leave my family this way, Christian."

"You aren't going to leave them. They're our family, and we're both still here."

"I know it's wrong, but after what's happened between us, I don't want to go back to Julia, to my marriage. This feels so right, like it's where I belong. Where we've been headed all this time."

"Why is it wrong for you - - for us - - to be happy?" Christian rubbed Sean's back gently. "I'm glad you don't want to go back, because I'm not letting you go. Julia had her chance, now it's my turn."

"Did Julia ever really have a chance, or did we just use her to deflect what we felt for each other?" Sean was quiet a moment. "Sometimes I think we just wanted a woman to be a conduit between us, and she always has been. Maybe it's not her fault that it didn't work for her with either one of us."

"Maybe it's time we set things right, and got on with our lives."

"I can't walk away from Conor, not when he's going through his recovery, and another surgery coming up - - "

"You aren't walking away from him."

"Julia wasn't in favor of doing the first surgery. If I leave her and the kids now, divorce her, God knows what'll happen with Conor's second surgery."

"It'll be done. Julia's a good mother, and in the long run, she'll see that what you're doing is best for him."

"She's sleeping with Marlowe."

"Well, that's kind of surprising and...not." Christian tightened his hold on Sean. "When did you find out?"

"I didn't in so many words, but things they've both said...it's not hard to put together."

"Then maybe she won't be as upset about this as you think. Of course, you thought she was sleeping with Jude and she wasn't."

"Thanks for reminding me of that. This is different. My suspicions about Jude were on a lot shakier ground than this."

"You lie here and relax. I'm going to draw your bath, open a bottle of good wine, and remind us both how goddamn lucky we are to be here." Christian moved so he was on top of Sean. The warm weight felt good, and a little intimidating at the same time. Christian was bigger, maybe a bit stronger if he got the right advantage. Still, there was something comforting in being blanketed and surrounded by your lover in way no woman could do it. "I came way too close to being at your house tonight helping Julia pick out the right suit to bury you in. I don't give a shit how pissed Julia is, or whether or not the timing is good. I love you, and I'm not letting you go."

"I'm not going anywhere," Sean said, reaching up to touch Christian's face. "I've never gone anywhere, at least, not for long. I never could stay away from you, or stay mad at you, even when I wanted to. God knows, I've wanted to," Sean added, rolling his eyes. "Remember when you told me Michelle was in your blood?"

"I don't want to talk about Michelle right now."

"I wasn't really talking about her. But you said she was in your blood. Well, you're in mine, Christian. I think you've always been there."

"Stay here and relax. I'll be back for you in a few minutes." Christian leaned in for a long kiss, and Sean didn't really want to let him go, even though the hot soak and massage sounded like heaven when he felt as stiff and sore as he did.

********

Sean leaned back in the tub and closed his eyes. The hot water felt incredibly good, and whatever oils Christian had added to the water were doing all the things they were supposed to do. There was a spicy, herbal scent to the steamy water, and he could almost feel the stress physically moving out of his body.

"Stay still and keep your eyes closed," Christian said softly. Sean followed the direction, figuring Christian had steered him right so far. He felt his arm being gently washed with a soapy sponge. He opened his eyes and looked at Christian, surprised. "No one's ever given you a bath before?" he asked, smiling. Sean was momentarily distracted by how stunning Christian looked in the black silk robe he wore.

"Uh, sure. When I was little."

"Not since then?" Christian asked, soaping Sean's chest.

"I usually just take a shower."

"I'm going to have a lot of fun with you," Christian said, smiling brightly as he continued bathing Sean. "Now close your eyes and concentrate on relaxing, and the feeling of the water and the sponge on your body. Let yourself drift."

It would have been easy to fall asleep, but Sean didn't want to miss a minute of the experience. Whatever Christian had in store for him, he wanted to enjoy to the fullest. By the time Christian was carefully washing his feet, he felt boneless and lethargic, and his achy body had almost forgotten all it had been through that day.

"Come on, it's time for phase two," Christian said, holding up an oversized bath towel. Reluctantly, Sean got out of the tub, instantly missing the soothing warmth of the water. Christian didn't give him the towel, but wrapped it around him instead, pulling him close. "Look at me." He waited until Sean was focused on him, their eyes meeting. They didn't say a word, but just held that look. Sean slid his arms around Christian, and the response was immediate and passionate, Christian's mouth on his, their tongues tasting and moving against each other, bodies pressing together as Sean opened Christian's robe to push away the only barrier between them. "If you keep this up, I'm never going to have the patience to give you a rub-down."

"Screw the massage. I want you."

"Don't say that if you don't mean it," Christian said, an urgency in his voice that unnerved Sean a little.

"I know I liked what happened earlier, and I want more of it," Sean replied decisively.

After another prolonged kiss, they returned to the bedroom and slipped between the sheets together, embracing and kissing and caressing, exploring each other's bodies with eager hands and mouths. Christian was becoming more aggressive and taking the lead, and Sean let him. He was relaxed and content, and he trusted Christian on a level he had never trusted anyone else, in bed or out of it.

He smiled and groaned at the hot, wet tongue that licked and probed his nipples and the hands that slid under him and cupped his ass to pull him impossibly closer. He knew Christian was moving lower, and he'd spread his legs to make more room for him, but he was completely unprepared for the feeling of Christian's mouth engulfing the head of his cock, while a large hand wrapped around the base, pumping and encouraging it to hardness. He couldn't remember the last blow job he'd had, and even if he could, it wasn't from Christian, so it didn't count. Not now.

At first he wondered where the sound was coming from that was a cross between a moan of pleasure and a sob, until he felt the warmth of tears behind his own closed lids. He couldn't seem to stop his emotions from doing what they wanted, but he didn't want Christian to take them as a signal to stop. He caressed Christian's head, letting his fingers stroke through the dark, soft hair. When his orgasm swept over him, he gasped and cried out Christian's name, incredulous that his oldest friend and new lover was drinking him down, gently holding onto his hips, acting like he wanted every movement and every drop Sean had to give.

When it was over, Christian moved up beside him, kissing him deeply before nudging him to roll onto his side. He knew he should be nervous, but for some odd reason, he wasn't. Maybe he was too relaxed, or maybe he felt too safe. Or maybe he wanted to give Christian as much as he could and this seemed inevitable.

He felt Christian move away briefly, the tell tale sound of the night stand drawer opening and closing. That sent a little tingle of excitement up and down his spine. He'd always wanted to experiment more with a little backdoor action, but he'd never pictured himself in the receiving role.

"Move your leg up a little, sweetheart," Christian said gently, pushing Sean's thigh a little. He cooperated with the movement. "I'll just put my finger in first." Part of Sean wanted to leap out of the bed and run for the door. He'd never had any fondness for this part of his annual physical, and Christian had large fingers.

And even his fingers were no match for the legendary ten-inch dick that lurked, erect, behind him. The very large, very hard entity that occasionally brushed his thigh or bumped into his buttocks.

"You're tensing up, Sean," Christian said, more concern than accusation in his tone. He kissed Sean's cheek. "I won't hurt you. I know how awful it is when it hurts, and I won't make you feel that way," he said, his voice strained.

"I know. It's okay. Go ahead. I'm just having a bad case of virgin jitters." Sean paused. "I don't want to screw this up," he admitted.

Christian enveloped Sean in a tight embrace, fitting his own body around the contours of Sean's. "I love you so much I couldn't live long enough to tell you. If you'd died under that truck today, I don't think I could have lived through it."

"You're a survivor, Christian. You'd have made it."

"It's hard to live when your heart's dead."

"I know what you mean. I don't think mine was really alive until tonight."

"Let's see if I can liven up more than your heart, huh?" Christian said, the leer in his tone making Sean chuckle and relax. It was so Christian that it made all the nervousness seem ridiculous.

Christian's gel coated finger slowly teased Sean's opening, gradually slipping inside him, making him wriggle a little. It was too slow and too gentle to be really uncomfortable. It was just...odd.

"Still okay?" Christian asked softly. Sean nodded, sighing.

"I'm good. Keep going."

Christian withdrew the probing finger and a moment later, Sean felt himself being stretched a little uncomfortably, and just as he shifted a little, Christian's free hand came up and took his.

"Squeeze my hand if I hurt you, and I'll stop."

Their fingers laced together, and Christian's two probing fingers slipped further inside Sean, curving and searching for his prostate. It felt a little too full, but it wasn't exactly pain. Christian had done his job well. Sean knew he was too relaxed to be as tight as he usually would be. Then the fingers came in contact with his prostate, and Sean felt his whole body react as if he'd been shocked. The pleasure was so intense that it bordered on pain. He wanted it to stop and yet get harder and faster at the same time. He was shaking and gasping, writhing in pleasure, almost too focused on the sensations in his ass to feel the lips and tongue that licked and kissed at his neck and shoulder.

When the fingers were withdrawn, Sean knew what was coming next, and he tried not to brace himself. He wanted it and feared it at the same time, and his body was starting to remember how to be taut again.

"Are you remembering how much I love you?" Christian asked, his whisper hot and soft against Sean's ear. Sean angled his head back for a kiss. He needed that expression of love, and he needed the intimacy of looking into Christian's eyes, at least briefly. As if sensing all that, Christian wrapped his arms around Sean, kissing every part of his face he could reach. Christian's leg moved between Sean's legs, and he groaned in pleasure as Sean thrust back against him, humping his thigh.

Taking that as a signal to move ahead, Christian loosened his hold on Sean and shifted a bit, the slight rustle of paper telling Sean he was rolling on the condom. There was another little pause as Christian lubricated himself liberally before moving back up against Sean, pressing the head of his cock against the opening he'd been so carefully preparing. He took a hold of Sean's hand again.

"Squeeze my hand. If you need me to stop, tell me." Sean nodded at the words, and Christian pushed forward. Sean gripped his hand, unable to keep from making a little noise of pain.

"You didn't tell me it was ten inches thick, too," Sean gasped in a strained voice, and Christian laughed softly behind him.

"Take your time. We've got all night," he said, and Sean had to smile at that.

"I don't think you mean that," he quipped. The pain was easing a little. "Okay, I'm okay."

Christian paused a moment longer, then slowly pushed inside. Sean accepted the pain and the stretching and the way his passage was almost burning from the pressure. His stomach was cramping, and he moaned a little.

"Talk to me, Sean."

"My stomach hurts."

"It's okay, sweetheart. Just relax. It'll ease up in a minute." Christian reached around him and rubbed his stomach. Sean wasn't sure if it was Christian's rubbing or the extra little affection that was making it better. He felt Christian's body tight against his own, and the realization dawned that they were fully joined. "I'm inside you." Christian nuzzled the back of Sean's neck.

"You always were," Sean whispered back, relaxing against Christian, relishing the intimacy of their union. He was going to tell Christian to move, but he didn't have to. Christian was tuned into his body and his mind in a way no one else ever had been, and he started a gentle motion Sean knew was nothing like what he wanted or needed physically to sate his needs.

Sean caressed Christian's thigh, trying to move with him a little. Even though it wasn't the wild ride Christian was used to, Sean hoped he could make up for it by letting him know that it felt good, that he wanted it, that it was okay. He let himself go, making sounds of pleasure as the large cock inside him moved in and out a little more rapidly now. Even though it still hurt and he still felt a little impaled by it, it did feel good at the same time, and it was Christian. It felt good because it was Christian inside him, all around him, wanting him and getting excited for him and before long, thrusting a bit harder and coming inside him. Christian calling out his name. And when he eased out of Sean's body, it was Christian wrapping around him, crooning little love words into his ear, comforting him and cherishing him like he was the most precious lover anyone had ever had.

"You didn't come," Christian said, a little disappointed as he caressed Sean's semi-erect cock.

"I'm not twenty anymore, Christian. You already got two out of me tonight," he said, smiling.

"It hurt too much for you to come, didn't it?"

"You didn't do any damage. My ass is sore, but it felt good to have you in me. Cut me a break. I'm a blushing virgin here."

"You really liked it?" Christian asked, nuzzling and kissing him more.

"I really liked it. I really love you."

"I love you, too," Christian responded, gently pumping Sean's cock. It felt good, and it took his mind off being sore and his neck and back still being uncomfortable from the accident. It wasn't a monumental orgasm when it came, but it relaxed him again, and he enjoyed it.

He rolled over then, needing the tight, intense embrace that entwined them.

"I thought you didn't like cuddling," he said against Christian's chest.

"Let's just say I'm finding out what all the fuss has been about all these years."

Sean smiled at that, and held on a little tighter. When sleep came, he happily drifted off, knowing he'd wake up just as loved and treasured as he felt at that moment.

********

When Christian woke up, he heard the shower running in his bathroom, and the warm spot Sean had occupied was empty. He groaned and rolled over to look at the clock. It was only six-thirty in the morning. Feeling grumpy that Sean had not only gotten up before they could fool around a little to start the day, but had chosen to use the shower at such an ungodly hour, he rose up on one elbow and looked behind him. Sean seemed to be rinsing off, almost finished. So much for sneaking in and joining in the fun. Christian slumped back on the bed and waited until the water stopped and a few moments later, Sean emerged, towel around his waist.

"Sorry I woke you. I need to get home to take Annie to school. Could you give me a ride?"

"Wait a minute. That's it? You're going home like nothing happened?"

"No, but Julia is busy with Conor in the morning and I always take Annie to school. Plus, I can't just walk out on Julia without talking to her first."

"But you are planning to talk to her?" Christian said, sitting up in bed.

"As soon as Annie's at school and Conor's had his morning feeding. Can you hold down the fort at the office until tomorrow?"

"If you spend the night with me tonight as a reward, I might consider it." Christian grinned, and Sean had to smile.

"I don't expect I'll be too welcome at the house after I have this conversation with Julia, so you'll probably have a long-term houseguest on your hands."

"No complaints here. Everything okay this morning?"

"I'm fine, Christian," Sean replied, and Christian could have sworn he saw a little flush of color in Sean's face as he ducked back into the bathroom. That whole concept turned Christian on more than it should have, and he tried to ignore his body's lecherous ideas. He got up, walking into the bathroom while Sean was shaving, relieving himself and then purposely making a nuisance of himself sharing the limited space around the sink. Once Sean finished shaving, Christian wrapped his arms around him from behind, kissing his cheek.

"This is nice. Waking up together. I wish you didn't have to leave so soon."

"Me, too."

"How do you feel? Your neck and back, I mean?"

"Still sore. I'll probably take you up on that massage by tonight."

"I have to ask. You're not bleeding or anything, are you?"

"No, I'm not. You took it easy on me."

"I was hoping to cancel a few appointments and spend the morning in bed."

"I'll be back tonight. I don't know how I'm going to work everything out, but this is right. I'm not giving it up to keep up appearances." Sean was quiet a moment. "I was so worried about appearances and reputation and being found out when I was with Megan. And then she was dead and by the time I owned up to loving her, to wanting her, I had just finished scattering her ashes in the ocean."

"I think the whole thing was a little more complicated than that."

"Maybe." Sean moved out of the embrace. "I'm going to get dressed while you shave so you can drive me home, okay?"

"Okay. But tonight, we have a date."

"Promise." Sean went into the bedroom to dress, and Christian finished his morning routine, already looking forward to that night.

********

Sean unlocked the door and walked in, finding Julia at the table, breast-feeding Conor.

"I didn't expect to see you this morning. I asked Marlowe to stay late to take Annie to school. They just left, so you could have saved yourself the trip."

"I guess I should have called. I thought I'd be in time to take her," he said, checking his watch. If Annie had already been taken to school, Julia had moved her out the door a bit earlier than usual. He didn't make an issue of it; truthfully, it didn't matter.

"I didn't know you'd be coming home. Did you have a nice evening with Christian?" she asked, laying Conor in his bassinet, then closing her robe.

"I mostly slept, tried to get some of the kinks out of my back soaking in the tub." Sean sat at the table across from her. "We need to talk."

"About what?" she said, getting up and going to the refrigerator, pouring herself some orange juice. "Did you eat breakfast yet?"

"No, but don't worry about that right now."

"I wasn't. I was about to tell you we were out of milk, so if you want cereal, you'll have to go to the store."

"I didn't mean to hurt you by calling Christian. I wasn't thinking very clearly at the time, and I honestly didn't think I was going to live through it."

"So you spent what you thought were your last moments with the person you care about most."

"Okay. Yes, you're right, that's exactly what I did." Sean knew he'd let his irritation get the best of him in making a remark like that, but it had just come out. He was so tired of the sparring and the conflict, and she was right. Denying it seemed absurd, given what he was about to tell her.

"You're unbelievable." She walked away from the table, her back to Sean. "Our remarriage vows, this ring, this whole marriage, it's just another weak attempt at making this family work when we both know it doesn't." She pulled off the ring and, returning to the table, set it down decisively in front of Sean. "I'm sleeping with Marlowe," she stated.

"I know."

"How?"

"You didn't exactly try to keep it a secret, Jules. I'm not an idiot. I put two and two together. But it's okay."

"That's all you have to say? It's okay?"

"Yes, it's okay. I'm sleeping with Christian."

"Oh, Sean, for heaven's sake! This isn't a joke," she said angrily.

"I'm not laughing." He went to the refrigerator to get himself some juice. He was getting hungry and his throat was dry. He suddenly wished he was back at Christian's apartment. He smiled to himself when he thought about how they'd have most likely spent the morning - - making love and feeding each other.

"You're having sex with Christian? I don't believe you. Christian's not gay!"

"But I am?"

"Well, it would certainly explain why our sex life hasn't always been the greatest," she shot back.

"You know, Jules, I'm not going to fight with you about this. But I'm going to be with Christian."

"Wait a minute. You're not going to just walk out and leave me with Conor and Annie and go screw around with Christian."

"I'm not going to desert you or the kids. We'll work out a settlement that's fair to everyone involved, and I'll help with the kids. I want to be part of their lives. Christian and I both do."

Julia walked away, putting some physical distance between herself and Sean. She kept her back to him for several long moments.

"I destroyed my life to do this with you again. I gave up the spa, I went ahead with this pregnancy, and now you're just going to walk out on me because you suddenly decided you're gay?"

"I didn't decide anything. I love Christian, I always have. That's no secret. I loved Christian before I even knew you. I just didn't realize our feelings for each other were leading to this. Besides, you have Marlowe now. You can't tell me you're not in love with him, because I know you are."

"Don't tell me what I feel!" she shouted back, still not looking at Sean. "I slept with Marlowe because he listens to me and he cares how I feel, and he respects me. You never respected me as an equal, Sean. Never."

"That's not true. If this is about Conor's surgery, then no, I guess I didn't because I know what it's like to go to school and have the other kids shun you and laugh at you and call you names because you're different. I had to live like a freak until I was eight years old and my mother finally couldn't take watching me ridiculed to tears, and she couldn't stand that I had no friends, and that everything my father said about little league was true. I don't ever want Conor to hurt that way, and he doesn't have to. So if you get in my way about making his life as normal as it can be, I will fight you with everything I have because I don't respect a bunch of new age bullshit as a good enough reason to make my son go through life deformed!"

There was a blur of motion before the impact, and Sean found himself reeling, grabbing at the corner of the kitchen counter, though it didn't keep him from going down on one knee. The pain in his face and eye was nearly unbearable, and he fought his stomach as it flipped.

"Sean?" Julia's voice sounded a little distant, weak with shock, and Conor was crying. He tried to answer her, but at that moment, talking was too painful. He just knelt there, trying to comprehend what had happened. "Sean, I didn't mean it," Julia said, hovering near him now, reaching out to touch him and then not following through, as if she were afraid. "I'll call an ambulance."

"No, don't call anybody." He managed to get back up on his feet, leaning heavily on the kitchen counter. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the heavy amber glass votive holder lying on the floor, not far from his feet.

"I'll get some ice." She rushed to the refrigerator, but Sean wasn't really hearing her by then. He pulled his cell phone out and hit the speed dial number he had programmed into his phone for a cab company. After mumbling out the order for a cab, he broke the connection.

"You have to know I didn't mean to hit you," Julia said, her voice rising.

"Please, go to Conor and calm him down." Sean walked away, making his way a little unsteadily into the bedroom. He knew he wasn't thinking all that clearly, but he stuffed a few extra things in a duffle bag, relieved when Conor's crying eased and then stopped.

"Sean, we have to talk about this. My God, Sean, your face is swelling up - - " Julia was in the open door of the bedroom, holding Conor.

"I know it's swelling. I'm a doctor. I'll get it taken care of."

"If you were in love with Christian all this time, why did you do this to me, to us?" she demanded, tears on her face now.

"I guess you got even, didn't you?" Sean retorted, carrying his hastily packed bag toward the door.

********

After finishing the second consult of the morning, Christian looked at his watch. It was after ten, and he still hadn't heard from Sean. He didn't know why that troubled him. Sean was trying to work things out at home, and he had quite a bombshell to drop on Julia. Still, he'd expected to hear something from his partner by now.

The door to his office opened and Sean walked in, closing the door behind him. Christian couldn't believe what he was seeing, and he rose from his chair, his jaw agape. The right side of Sean's face was swollen horribly, displaying a painful-looking array of reddish purple bruising. He was dressed in the same t-shirt, shirt, and pants he'd worn home from Christian's apartment.

"I came in the back way so no one up front would see me," he said.

"What the hell happened?" Christian was out of his chair and at Sean's side in a heartbeat, guiding him to a chair.

"Julia didn't take the news very well. She was upset and she threw something. I just didn't duck fast enough. I didn't even see it coming." Christian crouched in front of him and started gently skimming the injured area with his fingertips.

"It doesn't look like your orbit is involved," Christian observed. "The swelling is bad. Any blurred or double vision?"

"I took a cab over here. My vision's all right, but I've been kind of dizzy. That seems better now. I think it's fractured, probably not displaced."

"Tell me more about the blow," Christian said, pulling up another chair so he was sitting directly across from Sean, watching him intently. "I can't believe Julia did something like this," he said, the shock coming through in his voice.

"It seemed like the longer we talked, the angrier she got, the uglier the conversation got. She grabbed that thing Gina gave her at the baby shower. That amber colored glass thing with the black metal holder?"

"The votive light holder?"

"Yeah, that," Sean confirmed. "She grabbed the glass part of it and threw it at me, and this time, I didn't duck. Bulls-eye," he said, tiredly. "I don't know if she even meant to hit me with it. She looked pretty surprised when I went down."

"You passed out?"

"Not exactly. It just caught me off balance. The pain was pretty blinding when it first hit. Made my stomach turn a little. She was horrified at what happened. I don't think she expected it to hit me."

"Is it safe for Conor and Annie to be with her?"

"She's never raised a hand to any of our children, not once. She'd never hurt the kids."

"You said before that you didn't duck this time."

"Once or twice before, she's gotten angry and thrown something during an argument. It was no big deal because I saw it coming and ducked."

"This is a big deal, Sean. She probably fractured your zygomatic arch, and if it's compressed, we're looking at surgery to reconstruct it."

"The swelling needs to go down before we can get a decent x-ray." Sean leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes.

"We'll take one right away and another one tomorrow after we've iced it periodically. How bad is the pain?"

"Hurts like a son of a bitch."

"Does it hurt when you talk, move your jaw?"

"The whole side of my face is throbbing, Christian. It hurts when I breathe."

"Okay, stupid question. How about some ice and a Vicodin?"

"Sounds better than sex right now," Sean joked, though he didn't quite smile.

"Maybe I can distract you with that later, too," Christian got up to get the ice, patting Sean's shoulder as he passed him. "Stay put and I'll be right back."

Christian got ice from the break room and prepared an ice pack, still trying to visualize Julia inflicting the kind of damage on Sean that he'd just seen. They had a tumultuous marriage at times, but Christian had never expected anything like this. When he returned to his office, Sean was still in the chair, his head back and his eyes closed. He felt a pang of guilt for pushing Sean to tell Julia about them. Maybe if the timing had been different, it all could have been resolved peacefully.

"Here, take this," he said, giving Sean the Vicodin and some water, which he took without comment. "Hold this on your face. As soon as we get a couple of x-rays, I'll take you home." Christian saw confusion in Sean's expression until he smiled and caressed the uninjured side of Sean's face. "Home is my place, sweetheart." Sean leaned into the caress.

"I didn't handle this well. She told me she was sleeping with Marlowe, and I just blurted it out about us. Part of me wanted to get back at her for cheating on me."

"Shh. Just hold the ice on your face and relax."

"I made a total mess of things. Annie was adjusting to the divorce, Julia had her career she always wanted, and now Julia doesn't have her career and Annie thought we were a family again."

"You weren't solely responsible for Julia's pregnancy, and you never forced her to sell her shares of the spa. Annie's a smart kid, she'll adjust. Besides, we're both going to be around for those kids."

"I don't want everybody seeing me in this condition, Christian. Maybe we should just go to the ER for the x-rays."

"I'll make sure it's just us in radiology. Unless you're okay with Karen being there," he added, referring to their x-ray technician.

"Okay."

"I'll go talk to her, and make sure you've got a clear shot down there. I'm going to grab the digital camera. I want to make sure we fully document the injury, if you're dead set against calling the cops."

"I'm not calling the police on Julia."

"You might want some ammunition during the divorce, and for custody reasons. You know she'll fight you about Conor's surgery as long as she has her pint-sized guru hanging around."

"So I should blackmail her with this?"

"Divorce is dirty business, Sean. Custody battles are even dirtier. I should know. If you don't fight dirty, you don't win."

Karen took the necessary x-rays without making a single comment about Sean's injury. At just 26 years old, she'd proven to be one of the best technicians either of them had worked with, and with a husband and new baby at home, she remained immune to Christian's charms and come-ons. Her manner in handling Sean's x-rays was as gentle and professional as it was with their patients.

"You want me to run another series tomorrow, after the swelling goes down a little?" she asked, making a couple notes on the chart. Christian and Sean were viewing the first x-rays.

"Definitely. This isn't giving us a clear enough view of the injury," Christian commented. "We'll do a CT scan and an ultrasound, and I also want you seen by an ophthamologist."

"It's not compressed or displaced, Christian. All we can do is treat it with ice and pain meds, and I'll need to stay on a soft diet for a while. Guess we should have grilled those steaks last night after all," he added, attempting a little humor.

"You take good care of yourself, Dr. McNamara. I'll keep the pictures and the files in a locked drawer, totally confidential."

"Thanks, Karen."

"Karen, can you ask Renee to cancel the rest of the day? We don't have any surgeries on the books, just a couple consults."

"What about Mrs. Landau?"

"She isn't in today. If she comes in and questions it, have her call me," Christian said.

"Okay, will do." With that, Karen left to go talk to Renee, their appointment secretary.

"Come on, I'll sneak you out the back way," Christian said, resting his hand on Sean's shoulder. Sean nodded and stood up from his perch on the end of the exam table, squeezing his eyes shut a moment as the movement made his face and head throb. Christian pulled him into a hug, and Sean didn't resist it. He held onto Christian, soaking up the comfort, resting his left cheek on Christian's shoulder. "Everything's going to be okay," he said softly, stroking Sean's hair lightly.

"How did you know I needed to hear that right now?" Sean asked, his voice tight with emotion.

"Getting hurt by someone you love runs deeper than a physical bruise. Nobody should have to go through that after nearly being killed. You're never going through it again."

"It was an accident, Christian."

"Bullshit."

"She wasn't even looking at me before she threw it. She turned and I guess she must have thrown it without really aiming it."

"If it makes you feel better to let her off the hook, I'm not going to badger you about it." Christian pulled back. "I love you. You remember that, right?" he asked, smiling.

"Always."

"And you're not going to fight me tomorrow on getting more tests run to be positive there's no involvement with your orbit?"

"I'll be a model patient," Sean replied, but he couldn't quite manage a smile. He did manage to return the gentle pressure of a careful kiss Christian initiated. "Shit."

"Did I hurt you?" Christian asked, concerned.

"No, I just remembered that I told Annie I'd take her to lunch today," Sean said, checking his watch. "It's almost eleven thirty."

"You can't show up looking like that. I'll drop you at home, and then I'll go get Annie, take her out for burgers and explain to her that you had a little accident."

"Okay. What are you going to tell her?"

"I have no clue, but when I think of it, I'll let you know."

********

Christian waited in front of Annie's school, and before long, Sean's daughter came hurrying outside. She looked surprised to see the orange Lambourghini parked there, and Christian couldn't tell if she was disappointed or just confused.

"Hop in, sweetheart," Christian said, opening the passenger door for her to get in.

"Where's Daddy?" she said, getting in the car. Christian hurried around to the driver's side and started up the engine.

"Your Dad had a little mishap, but he's doing fine."

"Another mishap? Besides the accident?" she asked, her eyes widening.

"We were working with a patient who was very troubled, and she got angry and threw something, and it accidentally hit your dad. He's got some big bruises on his face, but he's going to be fine. He didn't want you to miss lunch out, so he sent me to stand in and asked if he could have a rain check."

"Can we get take out and go see him? My first period after lunch is art class, and all we're doing is drawing this stupid pot of flowers. I can get excused if Daddy calls and says I'll be late."

"You'd rather get take out and see your dad than go out?"

"Yes," she said, nodding.

"Okay, take out it is then," Christian agreed, smiling.

********

Sean had crawled into bed as soon as they arrived at the condo, and Christian had fixed him an ice pack and given him another Vicodin. He succumbed to the drowsiness and fell asleep, curled up on Christian's side of the bed. He wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep when dipping of the mattress and a hand on his shoulder disturbed him.

"Daddy?" Annie's voice cut through his stupor, and he blinked a time or two and opened his eyes.

"Hey, princess, what are you doing here? I thought Uncle Christian was going to take you out for lunch," he said.

"Does it hurt a lot?" she asked, looking horrified at the swelling and bruising on Sean's face.

"I'll be fine, honey." Sean sat up in bed, regretting the motion as the side of his face and his head throbbed.

"Why don't you come out to the kitchen with me and we'll fix your dad a fresh ice pack?" Christian suggested, taking the used one from where Sean had discarded it on the floor beside the bed. "You need to keep icing that," he said to Sean, who nodded. He was happy to see Annie in one way, but sorry to have her see him when his face looked its worst. When Christian returned with Annie, she was carrying the ice pack, but looked a little uneasy about touching the injured area with it.

"It'll be fine of you don't press," Sean said, patting a spot on the bed next to him where she could sit. She ventured to touch his face with the pack. "I'll hold it, honey. Thanks, that feels great."

"Is your face going to be all right, or will Uncle Christian have to do surgery on you?"

"Christian, do you have a notepad or something? Maybe I can show her what's wrong."

"Sure." Christian got a pen and pad and handed it to Sean. With Annie watching intently, Sean drew a hasty outline of a skull, marking the spot where his fracture was with a simple line.

"That little mark makes all those bruises?" she asked, frowning.

"It's a fracture, but it's not displaced - - that means the two pieces of bone didn't come all the way apart." Sean gestured with his hands to illustrate. "It's also not compressed - - "

"We don't know that for sure until we do the rest of the tests tomorrow," Christian spoke up.

"I don't think it's compressed, Christian. It's my face."

"Right now it looks more like a purple basketball," Christian retorted, and despite her initial trepidation about the whole situation, Annie actually laughed a bit at that. Sean shot Christian a look but smiled as best he could at Annie.

"If it's not compressed, it means the bone didn't cave in, so I wouldn't need surgery because it's keeping its original shape. It's like a vase with a crack in it."

"Did the police arrest that woman who did it?" Annie asked, and Sean looked at Christian, a little flustered.

"She wasn't well, Annie. She needs some counseling, not jail, and your dad was nice enough to not press charges." Christian paused. "I told Annie about the consult with the overwrought patient, the one who was in therapy?"

"She'll be better off getting help than going to jail," Sean agreed, not entirely sure what Christian had said, but it seemed to have satisfied Annie and deflected any suspicion from Julia. "There's something else we need to talk about," Sean said, figuring it wouldn't get any easier to talk about his and Julia's impending split. "Your mom and I - - "

"You're getting divorced again?" she asked.

"What made you say that?" Sean asked.

"Because you didn't come home last night and Mom was really mad, and this morning, she made me leave fifteen minutes early with Marlowe instead of waiting for you."

"I'm sorry, honey. Your mom and I tried, but it's just not working out."

"Are you moving out this time or is Mom?"

"We haven't worked out all the details yet, but I'd rather you, your mom, and Conor stayed in the house. I'll still be nearby, and you'll see me all the time."

"As a matter of fact, your dad will be staying with me for a while, so you can see both of us at the same time," Christian added, sitting on the foot of the bed.

"Who am I going to live with?"

"Wouldn't you like to stay at home, with your mom?" Sean asked.

"She has Conor and Marlowe. Could I live with you?"

"You're always welcome to be wherever I am, princess. We'll talk more about it with your mom before we make any decisions, okay?"

"Okay," she replied, sighing.

"We've got take out for lunch. Chinese. I got you some soup and we picked up some frozen yogurt on the way home," Christian said to Sean, patting his leg.

"I could eat," Sean agreed, and Annie nodded.

After sharing lunch together, Christian took Annie back to school, and Sean turned on the television, holding another ice pack on his face. He was looking forward to Christian returning home, even though he wasn't sure how good his responses would be on the Vicodin, or how much action he could handle with his face feeling the way it did. Though Christian had always scorned cuddling, he hadn't seemed opposed to it after they made love, so Sean hoped for a bit more of it later.

He shifted around in the chair a bit, still noticing a slight feeling of rawness from their lovemaking. Christian hadn't exaggerated his size, and accommodating his full length had been a challenge. Still, the memory made Sean smile to himself, and the thought of the shared intimacy spread warmth through his body. He leaned back in the chair and let himself doze, not noticing the ice pack when it finally slipped out of his hand.

********

"I'm glad to see you got the swelling to go down in your right nipple," Christian teased, his voice only slightly above a whisper. Sean opened his eyes to see his partner leaning over him, holding the ice bag that he'd let slip onto his chest when he fell asleep. His chest felt a bit damp and cold. "I haven't been taking proper care of you."

"Did Annie seem okay to you? Did she say anything else when you took her back to school?"

"Not much. Except that she thinks that woman who hit you should go to jail, even if she has problems." Christian tossed the used ice pack in the sink. "I'm inclined to agree with her."

"Come on, Christian. You wouldn't want to see Julia arrested any more than I do. She didn't mean to hit me. She wasn't even looking at me when she picked up the votive glass."

Sean was unprepared for the glass that sailed across the room, shattering against the wall-mounted television, damaging the screen. He didn't know why he was shaking or why his heart was pounding, but even though it missed him by several feet and he knew Christian knew that, it still upset him more than it should have.

"Was that an accident? Did I not mean to hit the television set even though I threw that glass right in the direction it was hanging?" Christian bellowed. "Quit calling it a fucking accident!" he shouted, striding into the living room. "I didn't have to aim that very carefully either, but I still hit my target!"

Sean dropped back into the chair, not even trying to stop the tears that came. He wasn't sure if he was crying because of what Julia had done, or because his marriage was over - - again - - or because what Christian did reminded him too much of what he'd just been through, because he was in pain, or because the pain pills were messing with his emotions, or maybe because he'd nearly been killed one day and seriously injured the next. He did know that the crying hurt his face, which made it worse, and he wondered how he was going to breathe without blowing his nose, which was off-limits until his fracture healed.

"Shit. Sean, I'm sorry. I didn't aim at you, you know that, right?" Christian knelt in front of where Sean sat in the chair. "I didn't mean to upset you," he said, touching Sean's arm.

"I know. It wasn't really the glass. I just..."

"I know. You've earned a meltdown." Christian fought the lump forming in his own throat. "I hate what happened to you and I hate that I can't go beat the shit out of the son of a bitch who did it. Instead, she's the mother of our children. I can't give her a payback, and you don't want to bring in the cops."

"I don't want to hurt Annie and Conor any more than they already will be from all this."

"I know." Christian sat on the arm of the chair and rubbed Sean's back in long, slow strokes. "You need to calm down, Sean. Getting upset isn't helping your face or your blood pressure, which I need to check later." After a couple moments of silence, Sean spoke up.

"We're not going to be able to watch the game tonight," he said. Christian chuckled at that, leaning in to kiss Sean, then lightly kissing the injured side of his face.

"I guess we'll have to think of something else to keep ourselves busy."

"Just preparing my ice packs will probably keep you busy. I'm really sorry about this, Christian. Things finally come together for us and you spend all your time nurse-maiding me with my broken face and Vicodin-induced limp dick."

"Last night was the best sex I ever had. I think I can handle a mild case of blue balls for a few days."

"It's not that I don't appreciate that you want to make me feel good about it, but I can't believe that. I was nervous and you had to take it easy on me. I know you didn't get to move at your usual speed."

"All day long, it was like I could still feel you around my dick. Even after I showered and put on cologne and got dressed, I felt like I could still smell you on my skin. It was like you seeped into my pores and just...became part of me. I never felt that connection with anyone else. I can fill a lot of ice packs waiting to feel that way again, Sean," Christian added with a little smile.

"Sometimes it scares me a little, the way this is going. It's like I'm falling into something and I've got nothing to hold onto. I'm just going into the abyss."

"Hold onto me. I'm in the abyss with you." Christian rubbed Sean's shoulder gently. "I'm sorry about the glass. It was a stupid thing to do."

"Heavy pain meds tend to make me morose, plus all the shit that's gone down in the last couple days. The glass flying through the room was just a good catalyst to bring it all to a boiling point."

"What do you say I put something nice on the stereo, I'll fix you a new ice pack, and then I'll give you that massage I promised you?"

"Sounds like a pretty dull evening for you."

"You're the most important patient I'll ever take care of. Humor me." Christian reached back to a box of tissues on the coffee table and pulled a few out, handing them to Sean. "Remember, no blowing."

"That might be a worse problem for you than it is for me," Sean quipped, wiping his eyes and carefully wiping his nose. Christian snorted at the humor.

"I just want to take good care of the orbits holding up those beautiful blue eyes of yours." He smiled when Sean looked at him, stunned by the compliment. "I've been looking into those eyes most of my adult life. You didn't think I noticed them? They're the place I look for answers."

"Even when I don't have any?"

"You don't have to have any. I'm starting to think you're the answer to my questions, because for some bizarre reason, I'm looking forward to making you ice packs, rubbing the stress out of your muscles, and falling asleep in your arms. I wouldn't pass on that for a room full of lingerie models," he said, laying his hand on the left side of Sean's face. Sean mirrored the gesture, and they leaned toward each other to share a careful kiss that deepened and lasted until the doorbell rang.

"Were you expecting company?" Sean asked, frowning.

"No," Christian responded, heading toward the door. He looked through the peephole. "It's Michelle," he said.

"Oh, great."

"Just relax there a minute. I'll talk to her." Christian opened the door part way. "Sean's resting. Do you mind if we talk out here?" he asked, gesturing at the hallway.

"I guess not," she said, confused. "I stopped by the office. I just got back from Houston."

"Everything settled?" he asked.

"Most everything. There are a few papers to sign, but the lawyers can FedEx them to me." She smiled a little hesitantly. "I thought maybe we could celebrate, but Linda told me you left for the day - - something about Sean not feeling well."

"It's been a difficult couple of days. Sean was in an accident yesterday, and it was touch and go for a while if they could get him out. His car was pinned under a truck. Bizarre thing is, he didn't get hurt when the truck fell on him," Christian added with an ironic, humorless smile. "There was a...an incident today, and he ended up with a zygomatic fracture - - his cheekbone."

"I know what a zygomatic fracture is, Christian," Michelle said. "That will put quite a strain on the practice, with Sean recovering for so long. Those injuries tend to scare off plastic surgery patients. Will he need repair work done?"

"We don't think so. I'm taking him in for a CT scan, and I made an appointment with an opthamologist to have his eye checked. It's probably just a crack along the suture line, but I don't want to take any chances. He's in a lot of pain with it."

"How did he get the injury? That's usually either a car accident or a fist fight," she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"He was assaulted. He'd prefer not to talk more about the details right now."

"Surely you can set him up with some ice and take me out for dinner," she said, smiling seductively. "Maybe come back to my place for a while."

"Do you think that's a good idea after you just buried your husband?"

"You think Burt deserves a period of mourning after the way he treated both of us?"

"I'm not defending what he did. I was just wondering if you wanted to be this obvious this fast."

"Since when are you the champion of decorum and etiquette? We've suffered enough for our feelings."

"I can't leave Sean. He's been through a lot, and his face should be iced every hour on the hour. He can't keep up with that alone, and dispensing his own pain pills."

"He's a doctor, Christian. He can handle filling an ice pack or taking a pill. I can't believe after all we've been through to make it to this point, all you can think about is your partner."

"This won't get any easier," Christian said. "Michelle, you know I care about you - - "

"Oh, no, you're not breaking up with me, you son of a bitch. Not after everything I did for you," she concluded, a flash of anger in her eyes that was almost unsettling in its intensity.

"Look, I'm sorry about all that sick shit Burt put us through. And I do care for you. I thought I was in love with you."

"And now you're not?" she demanded, struggling to control her emotions.

"Sean and I discovered some things about ourselves, and our relationship after he nearly died in that accident. There's no good way to say this. I'm with Sean. I mean, with him. It took a truck falling on him to get me to this point, but I'm in love with him. And he feels the same way about me. We've wasted decades of our lives getting here, and now that we know what we want, we're not going to lose another minute. I'm so sorry," he added as she angrily swiped tears from her cheeks.

"So that's it? Everything we had is just...gone?"

"It was a mistake from the outset. I should have never made any moves on you in the first place. You own the practice, and our professional relationship should have come first. It didn't, and I'm sorry for that, but mostly I'm sorry I hurt you."

"Are you sure this isn't some kind of overreaction to the accident? Sean's married with a family, and you certainly haven't shown any signs of being gay."

"I love him, Michelle. I can't help it if it doesn't make sense or it doesn't fit. I love him, and now that I finally admitted that to myself, he's the one I want to be with. I've spent my whole life looking for...something. When Sean and I made love, I found it."

"I suppose the sex probably was better without an audience," she said bitterly, shaking her head. "If you think you're going to dump me like one of the hundreds of brainless sluts you've screwed in your life, you have another thing coming."

"What are you saying, exactly?"

"You work for me, Christian. You and Sean both. If you're not at work tomorrow, you're fired."

"Fine, you do that, honey. When my lawyers are finished with you, you'll be working for me. And before you make any more threats, you might want to think about what I know about you, and how that would play in the press."

"I can't believe you'd threaten me with something like that."

"Don't screw with me on this, Michelle. I'm going to see Sean through the follow up care for this injury. And you're going to have to learn to cope with our relationship and not take it out on me, or Sean, professionally."

"Or you'll do what, exactly? Go to the press and tell them your practice is owned by an ex-hooker? You'll go down with me, Christian. You and Sean both."

"All we have to do here is leave our personal issues at the door when we're at work, and do our best to function professionally. If that can't work, make a proposal to Sean and me to buy you out. Now that Burt's gone, there might be something more exciting you could do with your time than manage a medical practice."

"You had better be sure you and Sean leave your personal issues at the door, too. If I detect any lack of professionalism between you - - "

"We've all been unprofessional in that office at one time or another, you included. The fact my relationship with Sean bothers you is no reason to unfairly target or scrutinize us."

"I'm only going to tolerate so much lost revenue for Sean's recovery time. Wrap up your nursemaid routine in a reasonable length of time, Christian." She took a deep breath, and a last look at Christian before she turned and strode down the hall, not looking back.

Christian went back inside, shutting and locking the apartment door.

"Everything okay?" Sean asked. He was holding a new ice pack against his face.

"I told her."

"You didn't have to do that right away, Christian."

"Yes, I did. What would have been the point of waiting? So she could be more angry and bitter when she found out? Besides, she was showing up here expecting me to go out and celebrate Burt's death with her." Christian sat on the couch. At Sean's slightly horrified expression, he added, "She didn't say it that way, but I guess it was to celebrate her freedom, and our chance to be together."

"Are you sorry - - "

"No," Christian responded immediately, cutting off the question.

"Are we unemployed now?"

"Not that she didn't threaten that, but I countered with threatening to reveal her past, and to sue her. She has no just grounds to fire either one of us, even if we did cancel a few appointments. You're recuperating, so she can't fire you for being injured. If she fires me, her cause would be pretty shaky, and we still own part of the business. A decent lawyer could give her hell for that."

"A few days ago, you were in love with her, and she was in your blood - - at least that's what you told me."

"Are you jealous of Michelle? Because you've got no reason to be."

"How can you just turn off your feelings for a woman you were so...enchanted by?"

"After last night, you need to ask? I don't see you going home to Julia."

"Michelle didn't fracture your face."

"What happened to 'it was an accident'?"

"Maybe a realization. You throwing the glass kind of brought something into focus."

"That was an stupid thing for me to do."

"Not really, because what you said made sense. When you threw that glass, you knew the television could be damaged, but you still threw it. So was it an accident when you broke the TV? Didn't that mean that you didn't really care all that much whether you damaged it or not?"

"It was still a dumb ass way to make a point, even if it worked."

"Julia knew I was there, somewhere, just like she did the first time she threw something at me a few years ago. It bothered me then, but I told myself she was letting off steam, that she was just angry." He smiled. "I actually told her to hit me when she found out about Megan. I thought it might make her feel better. Maybe I just figured out how fucked up that really is."

"Did your parents hit you? Is there some reason you make excuses for someone you love hurting you that way?"

"No, they didn't. My mother was...the best," Sean said, smiling. "She was my best friend, my ally. She never laid a hand on me. My old man could yell a good game, but he wasn't into physical violence." Sean paused. "I know how unhappy Julia's been, and I know I've had a hand in making her feel that way. Maybe I just thought of it as paying my dues for not being a better husband, or giving her a chance to get the anger out without leaving me." Sean sighed. "I just don't want to live that way anymore. I know I'm not perfect, and I've screwed up in our marriage, but I don't want to feel like I have to find ways for the person I'm with to punish me for it. She'll be happier with someone different. And I know I will," he added, looking at Christian with the love visible in his eyes.

"Maybe we can stop talking about our failed relationships, and concentrate on the one that works," Christian suggested. "You hungry?"

"Kind of. That soup and yogurt lunch didn't exactly fill me up."

"You want me to toss a couple steaks in the blender?"

"Asshole," Sean retorted, snickering.

"I can make you something you don't have to chew. Just give me a few minutes to figure it out." He headed to the kitchen, stopping to kiss the top of Sean's head with an exaggerated smacking noise and pat his shoulder on the way.

********

Between the Vicodin, another ice pack, and Christian slowly and methodically massaging the stiffness out of his muscles, recuperation didn't seem like such a bad thing. Sean felt like he was floating, and he didn't fight that feeling. Christian had managed to fix a pretty decent meal by creating some garlic and white cheddar mashed potatoes, accompanied by french onion soup with some mercilessly overcooked onions and soggy croutons, and chocolate mousse for dessert. He was actually free of the nagging hunger that had hung on since sometime the previous night, as he hadn't eaten breakfast before he went back to the house to pick up Annie for school. There was soft music on the stereo, and he was with the one person he loved most in the world.

Lying on his stomach on the bed, wearing just his boxers, Sean was finally being treated to the massage all the promises had been about. It didn't disappoint. It wasn't until Christian chuckled a little that he realized the guttural groan of pleasure and relaxation had come from him. As he tired of the clammy feeling of the ice pack, Christian removed it, as if he were that tuned in to Sean's every movement and sensation.

"Tomorrow, we can start putting a little heat on it for pain. It won't be as unpleasant as the ice packs."

"Thanks for taking care of me like this."

"Remember in college when I got the flu?" Christian waited while Sean contemplated that a moment, then nodded slightly. "I remember you sitting up with me all night and mopping up my puke when I didn't make it to the john in time. You didn't care if you got sick. You didn't even think about it. You missed class, which you never did under pain of death, because my fever hadn't broken yet."

"I haven't thought about that for years," Sean admitted, smiling as much as the pain in his face allowed.

"What's a few ice packs and a couple painkillers?" Christian asked with a grin.

"You're right. You got the easy end of that deal. At least I haven't puked on the carpeting."

"The night is young," Christian quipped, leaning close to whisper in Sean's ear.

********

After additional x-rays, a CT scan, and a visit to the opthamologist didn't reveal any further complications beyond the non-displaced fracture both doctors had diagnosed, Sean and Christian felt more than a little relieved. Sean hadn't really thought he had any of the dire complications Christian was intent on testing him for, but given his brush with death a couple days earlier, he understood his partner's slightly over-the-top follow up care. It felt good to be on the receiving end of a little obsessive caring.

"Now that you know I'm not dying, you could go in for a while today, placate Michelle a bit. I'll be fine at home with the heating pad and my pain meds," Sean said as they left the hospital parking lot. Given Michelle's tirade the evening before, both had decided to get the remaining tests on neutral ground.

"I'm not going anywhere to placate her. You up for a drive along the beach?" Christian asked. It was a beautiful day, flawless blue sky, light breeze. Riding with Christian in his Lambourghini with the top down seemed as close to paradise as Sean was going to get until he was up to more intimate activities again.

"I'd love it."

"Good." Christian put on his sunglasses and turned up the radio. As they left the city traffic behind, he reached out and took Sean's hand, leaving one hand on the wheel. Sean leaned back on the headrest, closing his eyes and enjoying the feeling of his hand in Christian's, the sun on his face, and the breeze in his hair. He had to smile at the song playing on the radio. Carly Simon's voice wafted on the air:

Hold me in your hands like a bunch of flowers

Set me movin' to your sweetest song

And I know what I think I've known all along,

Lovin' you's the right thing to do...

"You sleeping on me?" Christian asked.

"There's a nice visual, but no, I'm not," he said, opening his eyes and smiling at Christian. "I was just thinking how glad I was that they didn't slip when they moved that truck. Right now would have been worth living through that, even if nothing else good ever happened."

"A lot more good is going to happen. I have all sorts of plans for you as soon as your face is healed up a little more."

"I'm too ugly to take out now?" Sean needled.

"Let's just say that some of it falls into the strenuous activity category that's off limits along with the solids for the next couple weeks."

"Gives me something to shoot for, then. This is nice," he said, squeezing Christian's hand. "I don't think I've held hands since...well, I don't remember when it was, but it was a long time ago, and I think I was still a virgin."

"Ancient history, huh?" Christian replied, chuckling. Sean just laughed and relaxed in the seat, a lingering smile on his face.

********

Sean enjoyed his excursion with Christian, but he was way overdue for a pain pill, and the thought of curling up on the couch with Christian and a heating pad on his face sounded like heaven. As they approached the door to Christian's condo, both were surprised to see Julia standing there, a suitcase at her feet.

"I thought you might need more of your things," she said a bit awkwardly, gesturing at the bag. "How are you, Sean?"

"Are you okay with this?" Christian asked Sean. "Because you can just go inside if you want."

"Maybe you could give us a minute, Christian?" Sean asked, touching Christian's arm.

"I'll be inside," he said, passing Julia without further comment, leaving the door ajar.

"It's a fracture, but it's not displaced or compressed, so unless it's re-injured somehow, it should heal without surgery. I'll be off solids for a couple weeks, restricted activity. Christian wanted me to have a CT scan and see an opthamologist, so that's what we did today."

"I didn't mean it, Sean. I was angry and it just happened. I wasn't even trying to hit you. I wasn't thinking about hitting you," she said, getting increasingly upset.

"I'm not going to press charges, Jules. I wouldn't do that to the kids. Or to you."

"Thank you. And thank you for not telling Annie it was me."

"I've been defending you with Christian, saying you'd never hit the kids or lose your temper with them."

"I appreciate that."

"I have to know that I'm right. It doesn't matter if you lose your temper with me, but if you're going to feel that kind of rage with Annie or Conor, I need to know that. The kids' safety has to come first."

"How could you think I would hit the children? You just said you told Christian I would never do that, and I wouldn't."

"I'm glad to hear that. Thank you for bringing the bag."

"You're welcome. I understand why you left, and you have every right to be angry, but the kids miss you, and I'm home through the day. I could help you while you recover. These feelings you're having for Christian, they have to be some kind of fall out from what happened between us."

"I'll be over to see Conor in a day or so, when the swelling goes down a little more. I don't want to scare him," Sean added, smiling slightly. "Julia, I'm not coming back. This is where I belong, with Christian. I'm sorry I didn't see that sooner. That we both didn't."

"How can you just change your whole life that way? All of a sudden you're gay? How does that happen?"

"I'm not gay. Maybe I'm bisexual, because I can love another man that way, I don't know. I don't care about putting a label on it. I know how I feel, and I know it's right. Beyond that, I'm not going to hold back on these feelings because they're not expected or totally explainable. I'll always be here for you and the kids, and so will Christian. But I won't be coming home to our marriage. Besides, you have Marlowe."

"I'm not too sure about that." Julia took in a shaky breath. "He was very upset about what happened. I told him the truth, and he actually told me that he feared for Conor because of my inability to control my anger. I told him to leave."

"I'm sorry. If you two are meant to be together, I hope it works out.

"We were talking about going to Florence. Marlowe's always wanted to study art there, and it would be a wonderful experience for Annie," she said.

"When did this come up? If you're thinking of taking the kids out of the country, I'd like some notice."

"I didn't say anything because nothing's final. Now that we've had this falling out, I don't really know where we stand. Living abroad is such an enriching experience for a child Annie's age...I thought you'd be supportive of that."

"Living abroad? Just how long are we talking about here?"

"We didn't talk about an exact time period. He'd like to move there and - - "

"Then I hope he's very happy there, because you're not taking my children out of the country."

"I can't believe that after what you've done, you'd stand in the way of my happiness."

"If you want to take a vacation overseas, I'll even pay Annie's and Conor's expenses to do that. I think it would be a great experience, especially for Annie. Something I never had growing up. But if you think I'm going to sit back and let you pack up the kids and go live there, you can forget it. If you go to Florence with Marlowe, plan on leaving Annie and Conor with me."

"You're seriously going to force me to choose between Marlowe and my children?"

"If it takes you any time to make that choice, then maybe I should be suing for full custody. Thanks again for bringing the bag." Sean picked up the suitcase to go inside. "In a few days, why don't we sit down with a lawyer and see if we can work out a fair arrangement?"

"A fair arrangement? You're walking out on your family to screw your partner but you still want to control us so we can't be happy!" she said bitterly. Just then, Christian opened the door all the way, taking the suitcase from Sean and setting it inside the door. He handed Julia an envelope. "What is this?"

"See for yourself." He waited while she opened it, Sean watching her, puzzled.

"What is this for?" she said, handing the photos to Sean. They were the pictures taken of his injury shortly after it happened, when his x-rays were taken.

"That's what's called insurance. When a judge sees what you did to your husband when he made you angry, how long do you think he'll consider you a fit mother?"

"I thought you said you weren't pressing charges," Julia said to Sean.

"I'm not. But I'm also not walking away from my children, and I want to be sure any custody and settlement arrangements are at least fair. I don't want to take advantage of you or this situation, but you're not going to pack my children off to a foreign country, either."

"Julia, this can be as peaceful and cordial, or as dirty and ugly as you want it," Christian said. "Sean might not have any plans to report you, but if you screw him over, or try to take his kids, I promise you, I have no problems with sharing those photos with social services."

"What happened was an accident."

"You may not have tried to hit him, but you didn't give a shit if you did. That's not much better."

"Both of you, just stop it. Christian, I appreciate your concern, but I'm right here and I can speak for myself." Sean looked at Julia. "Don't even try me about taking Annie and Conor out of the country. I'll only use these if I'm backed into a corner, but I'll do whatever it takes to keep them here in the States."

"When do you want to have this meeting?"

"Next week?"

"Do you want to just use our lawyer, or are you getting one of your own?" she asked, her hand shaking a bit as she brushed a couple of tears away.

"I'll be off work yet next week, so go ahead and make an appointment with Sam," he said, referring to the attorney who handled their business affairs. "If we can settle things sitting at a table with him, it'll be easier on all of us than lawyering up and fighting it out."

"All right," she said, looking resolved now, straightening her posture, and walking past Sean, heading for the elevator.

"Julia," Sean said, following her a few feet until she turned around. "This isn't about not loving you, because I do. I always will. Just not the way I should for us to stay together and try to make a marriage work anymore."

"I love you, too, Sean, and at least I'm not trying to stand in the way of your chance to be happy again. I wish you could be that mature about this."

"If you love Marlowe and you end up marrying him, that's your business. But where Annie and Conor live, and my chance to be part of their lives is my business. I want you to be happy, but not if taking my kids away from me permanently is what it takes."

"I hope you don't wake up in a few months and realize that this whole thing was another mid-life crisis."

"Like banging the pint-sized nanny?" Christian added. Sean cringed a bit at that, but Julia didn't back down from it.

"Marlowe and I have a relationship that goes way beyond sex. But then you wouldn't understand that, would you?"

Christian moved up behind Sean, putting his arm around Sean's shoulders.

"I do now," he said.

Julia looked at them both for a moment, then turned and walked away.

********

Sean stared at the ceiling, incredulous that neither the pain pills or Christian's body spooned around his was giving him any real peace.

"I hope you're awake, because if you're this rigid when you sleep, there's no massage in the world that could unwind you." Christian's voice was a bit sleep-fuzzy, and the warmth of his breath on Sean's cheek felt good. Even better than the heating pad felt earlier.

"I was thinking about Julia."

"You're honest, I'll give you that."

"I didn't mean it that way. I don't like threatening her and ganging up on her."

"Sean, she screwed Marlowe, and then when you told her you had feelings for someone else, she did this to you. Now she wants to move the kids to Florence?" Christian carefully kissed the swollen area on Sean's cheek. "Look, I don't enjoy hurting Julia either. We've all loved each other for too long. But she has to know that you've got ammunition you're not afraid to use if you want to keep your share of the practice, and get a fair custody arrangement."

"What would you think of selling our shares of the business and starting over? Michelle's going to be murder to work for now, and I'll be honest with you, Christian. I haven't enjoyed very much professionally since we sold the business."

"Starting over is no small item, Sean. She owns the name of the practice."

"What good's that going to do her in the long run? Besides, she can't own our names. If we can't call it McNamara/Troy, we'll call it Troy/McNamara. Or come up with some catchy name and put our full names on the sign with it. A good marketing firm can help us with that. We built our business from nothing, Christian. We have reputations, a following, staff that would move with us. It's time we took our lives back. If we're going to make a change, let's make it count. We have each other, our talent, and a hell of a lot more money than we had when we started out."

"What if we could buy Michelle out?" Christian asked, running his hand up and down Sean's arm. He kissed Sean's shoulder.

"You think she'd let us have the business back and each other, and leave her with nothing, just like that?"

"We'd buy it back from her. She could go invest in something else, get away from a lot of bad memories." Christian's hand was traveling around Sean's side to his chest.

"I thought you didn't want to have sex with me for at least a week for fear of worsening my fracture," Sean said, though the thought of a nice, lazy session of screwing around sounded like just what the doctor should have ordered to relax him.

"Some medical professionals feel that sex is good for a fracture. Releases all those BMPs."

"I don't even want to know which woman, and for what reason, you read up on that one."

"It's true. Sexual intercourse releases bone morphogenetic proteins which aid in the rebuilding of tissue and - - "

"Thank you, Professor Troy. I went to med school, too, remember?"

"I remember. I thought you were brilliant." He tightened his hold on Sean. "And cute, in a nerdy sort of way."

"Fuck you," Sean retorted, chuckling.

"Maybe when you're feeling better. You're right. We should give it a week or so, take another set of x-rays. I just like touching you."

"I like you touching me."

"No reason I can't still do that without getting us all riled up." Christian's arm was still around Sean, but the questing hand that had traveled to his chest came to rest in the middle, avoiding the sensitive nipples and just gently stroking the area near his heart. The hand felt warm and good and reassuring. "Try to get some sleep. Is the pain keeping you awake?"

"It's not too bad. The pills and the heating pad helped. This helps," Sean said, covering Christian's hand with his own. Christian nudged at the back of Sean's thighs with his knee, sliding one of his legs between Sean's. It was a little exciting, but not so blatantly sexual that Sean couldn't bask in the closeness and intimacy of it as an end in itself.

"I love you," Christian sighed contentedly against Sean's ear.

"I love you, too."

"If you want to sell everything and start over, just say the word."

"We'll talk more tomorrow. I just want us to get control of our lives back."

"Okay. Go to sleep now. Doctor's orders."

********

Seated in the conference room were Michelle, her attorney, Sean, Christian, and their attorney. After two weeks of recovery and TLC from Christian, Sean's face was still not fully healed, but only sported slight swelling and some fading bruises. He'd lost some weight on the soft diet, which made him appear a bit more under the weather than he was. Still, neither man had felt, or appeared, more relaxed and content than they did now that they'd formed a united front that very little could penetrate.

"I don't know why you insisted on a formal meeting to present me with an offer," Michelle said, shaking her head. "Landau Industries is not interested in divesting itself of our interest in McNamara/Troy."

"Maybe you should read the proposal before you turn us down, Michelle," Sean said. "I think it goes without saying that there are a number of personal issues that make this arrangement awkward at best, and have the potential for negative impact on the practice, and more importantly, our patients."

"Our patients would never be at risk because of some personal issues. At least, not from me," she concluded.

"Mrs. Landau, I would encourage you to at least allow your counsel to review the proposal," Stan Pope, Sean and Christian's attorney, stated.

"May I?" Jeffrey Danvers, Michelle's attorney, reached out for the shiny black folder containing the proposal. Mr. Pope gladly complied, providing two copies for the attorney and his client. Mr. Danvers was an older man with silver hair and small glasses poised near the end of his nose. An advisor to Landau Industries for over twenty years, his concerns did not lie with Michelle or her emotional reactions, but to the kind of bottom line analysis and profit seeking that had made Burt the success he was.

Michelle made a point of not opening the folder, crossing her arms over her chest, pinning Christian with an angry glare.

"You'll notice that Dr. Troy and Dr. McNamara are offering a substantial profit on the original purchase price," Pope commented, and Danvers nodded.

"I will need time to review this with my client before we give you an answer," Danvers said, closing the folder. "What is your proposed timetable?"

"There is some flexibility, but we would prefer to close the deal by the end of the month," Pope replied.

"I'm not interested," Michelle said decisively, sliding the folder across the table toward Christian. "There's no need for us to review this," she said to Danvers.

"Mrs. Landau, I would recommend that we refrain from making any commitments in either direction until we have fully reviewed the proposal."

"No, that's all right," Christian spoke up, taking the folder Michelle had pushed his direction. "You go right ahead and try running McNamara/Troy without McNamara or Troy, and see how long you retain your clientele. Both Sean and I have other investors interested in our shares of the company, an arrangement that will be much more financially attractive for us."

"Consider the offer withdrawn, Mrs. Landau," Pope said, rising as his clients did. "I will be in touch in the near future regarding the new owners of the remaining 49% interest in McNamara/Troy."

"You're selling?" Michelle looked shocked now, as if she hadn't seen that possibility coming.

"I think we're moving altogether too hastily here, gentlemen," Danvers said, an uneasy smile on his face. "I'm sure Mrs. Landau would appreciate the opportunity to review your proposal."

"That's too bad," Christian said to Michelle. "You had your chance."

"You're awfully quiet, Sean," Michelle said, looking at Sean.

"I just want this done. We came here to negotiate in good faith, and you refused to even do us the courtesy of reviewing our offer."

"But this is the practice you two built together. Your names are on it. You can't tell me that you're that cavalier about giving that up if there's a chance I might consider your offer."

"It's a business, and there are some tastefully done silver letters in the lobby spelling out our names. After nearly being crushed to death under a truck, signatures on paper and letters on the wall don't mean as much to me as they used to. If you won't sell it back to us, fine. Keep it. We'll sell our shares and you can figure out how to run it without the surgeons whose names are on the door." Sean looked at the aging attorney. "Mr. Danvers," he said by way of farewell, then walked out of the room.

"Do you want to leave the offer on the table, Christian?" Pope asked.

"We would like the opportunity to review it further," Danvers added. Christian looked at Michelle, raising an eyebrow slightly.

"I'll discuss the proposal with Mr. Danvers and have an answer for you by the end of the week," she said.

"Fine. I'll let Sean know."

Once they were outdoors, out of earshot of Michelle and her attorney, Pope put on his sunglasses and smiled. He was only a bit older than Sean and Christian and fancied pricey Italian suits and sunglasses that cost as much as some people's engagement rings.

"That was a nice round of good cop, bad cop if I ever saw it," he said.

"It was easy because I meant it. I don't care what she does, and that's pretty liberating. I just want our freedom. Whether she leaves or we leave, it's just a matter of packing a box of stuff out of our offices and moving on," Sean said.

"Not that having a truck fall on you was a nice experience, but the settlement money doesn't hurt in putting this proposal together," Pope said, referring to the trucking company's hastily agreed-to settlement to forestall a lawsuit. The driver of the truck, who was intoxicated when his vehicle crashed into Sean's, had been found at fault in the accident.

"I guess things happen for a reason," Sean said.

"There was no reason good enough for that kind of a close call," Christian said, resting a hand on Sean's back.

"I can think of a couple," Sean replied, smiling at his lover.

********

Sean sealed the top of the carton and set it on top of the others. He'd chosen to pack up his home office and his personal effects from the house while Annie was in school, and Julia was treating herself to an afternoon out with friends. He'd offered to watch Conor while he was here, since Marlowe had the day off, and Julia didn't object.

Satisfied the office was finished, he moved to the bedroom and began removing clothing from the closet. The doorbell rang, and he sighed, a little frustrated at the interruption. It was nearly two, and Annie would be home from school soon. He'd hoped to have all his possessions loaded in the back of the minivan Linda had loaned him before Annie got home and had to see him officially "move out." When he reached the door, Matt was on the other side of it.

"Mom said you were going to come over today to pack up your stuff," Matt said. "I thought maybe you could use a hand. Aren't you supposed to not exert yourself until your face heals up?"

"I had a new set of x-rays done yesterday, and the fracture is healing well. I might actually get to eat something that Conor couldn't chew pretty soon," he said, smiling, stepping back for Matt to come in. "I'm glad you came, though. I think I probably took on a little too much too soon with all this."

"Where's Christian?"

"At work. He spent a lot of time with me when the injury first happened, so he had to get back to the practice. At least one of us needs to be there to keep it going."

"So do you think Michelle's going to take your offer?" At Sean's puzzled expression, Matt clarified, "Uncle Chris told me you were trying to buy back the business."

"When did you talk to him?" Sean asked, sorry he hadn't been a bit more subtle, but feeling hurt that Christian hadn't mentioned talking to Matt, especially when he'd been conspicuous by his absence in Sean's life recently.

"A couple days ago. He called me, Dad."

"That's okay. I was just curious. I'm glad you're keeping in touch."

"Yeah, well, I've been kind of busy." Matt walked with Sean back to the office. "I'll start loading this stuff. Are you almost done?"

"I'm packing my clothes right now, so I'm getting there." Sean handed him the keys to the van. "Thanks again for your help."

"Dad, Mom told me what really happened - - not the B.S. story about the crazy patient."

"She didn't have to do that. I didn't want you or Annie to feel any differently about your mom because of this. It was an accident."

"She feels really bad about it, you know."

"I know," Sean said, nodding.

"But you're still not giving her another chance?"

"My leaving is about more than my face, Matt, although I've done a lot of thinking and soul searching about that, too."

"It's because of her affair with Marlowe, right?"

"In part," Sean admitted. "I don't think your mother really wants to reconcile, if she were being honest with herself. She's pretty attached to Marlowe," he concluded.

"She's still in love with you."

"I know you'd like to think that, and maybe she even thinks that on some level, but she's pretty serious about Marlowe. They were talking about moving to Florence together."

"What?" Matt asked, looking surprised.

"I shouldn't have said anything. Don't let on to her that I mentioned it. It's not going to happen unless she signs over custody of Annie and Conor to me first. She's not taking them out of the country."

"Man, I never would've guessed she'd want to do that." Matt sighed. "So that's what the big break-up is really all about?"

"Mostly, it was about Christian."

"Their affair was years ago! You can't still be blaming her for that?"

"Not about Christian and your mother. About Christian and me." Sean took in a deep breath. "You know I'm staying at Christian's place."

"Yeah, so?"

"I'm going to be doing that permanently. I mean, I don't know if we'll be staying there or ultimately moving somewhere else, now that I look at all this shit I'm hauling over there, but...the point isn't where we live, it's that we'll be living together. Permanently."

"You mean you're sharing expenses?"

"Well, that'll be true - - we'll both be pulling our own weight financially in whatever our living accommodations turn out to be. Christian and I are a couple, Matt. We're...lovers."

"You're full of shit," Matt said, an uneasy smile on his face. "This is a joke, right?"

"No, it's not a joke. When I almost died in that accident, Christian and I realized that we'd been denying feelings for each other for a long time. Feelings we didn't want to deny any longer, until it was too late. Even if your mother hadn't thrown that votive candle thing at me, I wouldn't have been staying anyway."

"This is incredible." Matt shook his head. "And I was worried about telling you my news."

"Your news?"

"Yeah, well, it doesn't seem so shocking anymore. Kimber and I got married last week."

"You're joking."

"You and Christian are screwing each other and you think I'm joking about marrying a beautiful woman?"

"She's a predator, Matt. A has-been porn star who's moved from selling sex dolls to selling cult religion."

"I knew this was a mistake. You're turning gay and fucking your business partner but you've got the nerve to criticize my choices?"

"I've known Kimber a little longer and a little better than you have. So has Christian. She's not stable. You're probably making the worst mistake of your life being with her."

"I don't agree. There's something else you should know. Conor's going to have a niece or nephew to play with who's just about a year younger than him."

"She's pregnant?"

"You catch on fast."

"This is a disaster, Matt. What about your future? What about college?"

"I can still go to college. Kimber's not exactly poor, it's not like there isn't enough money to pay my tuition."

"You have a college fund."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't sure you'd be offering that when you heard who I was married to, and that I didn't have any plans to walk out on her. I love Kimber, she's a really good person. And I'm looking forward to the baby. I'm a little nervous, but I want this kid."

"Matt, your college fund is yours as long as you go to college. I just wish you'd take a hard look at what you're doing."

"She wanted me to ask you and Uncle Chris about removing her breast implants. She wants to breast feed the baby."

"I'll run it by Christian, but I can't picture him wanting to touch her with a ten foot pole."

"Would you do it?"

"Something tells me she'd prefer Christian."

"It's not like that," Matt said, shaking his head. "She loves me, not Christian."

"You should really tell Christian about you and Kimber in person, yourself."

"I will." Matt was quiet a minute. "How do you just all of a sudden wake up one day and want to screw another guy? I couldn't even get it up for Cherry, and at least she was wearing lipstick and skirts."

"I don't know how to explain it. I've always felt very close to Christian, and there have been times that I thought about our relationship taking another turn. I think I've been attracted to him for a long time, but when that's not the route you usually go, denial is a pretty powerful thing. And then I met your mother, and fell in love with her... Christian was always going after every woman he could get, I was married and raising a family. There were a lot of reasons not to really take out the attraction and look at it and admit it or allow myself to think about it."

"What does Christian say about all this?"

"He told me he loved me, that he wanted me - - a life with me. That he'd been thinking about it for a while. It all happened pretty fast, after the accident. But I think it's been there under the surface for a long time."

"I just have trouble picturing it, you know? Not sure I really want to."

"Maybe you can start by just trying to accept it, and work your way up from there?" Sean suggested.

"So that's what really freaked Mom out?"

"It didn't help," Sean admitted. He checked his watch. "If you're still willing to give me a hand, I'd like to get this stuff out of here before Annie gets home from school. I don't want her to be upset with me moving out."

"Okay. I'll load this stuff."

Sean hastily packed as much of his clothing as he had boxes and suitcases for, laying some of it on top of the luggage in the van until almost nothing of his personal effects remained. Once the van was loaded, Matt went on his way, presumably back to Kimber and whatever it was Scientologists did with their time. The concept of having a grandchild on the way was going to take time to sink in. The concept of having Kimber for a daughter-in-law was nothing short of bizarre. Still, maybe there was some hope for Matt in finding a woman and settling down, raising a family, no matter how dysfunctional it might be.

Making his way down the freeway in the borrowed van, he couldn't help but think of the accident, and found himself hanging back a bit in traffic. On the way to the house, he'd told himself it was because he wasn't used to driving a van. Now, he realized it was a lingering unease after the accident. He was getting tired, and the thought of a dose of pain medication and a relaxing evening with Christian was definitely sounding good.

He stopped by the small storage unit he'd rented and stacked up quite a few of the cartons there, keeping in the van just the things he envisioned himself using regularly. After driving back to Christian's place, he parked the van near the building, and called his partner on his cell phone.

"Where are you?" Christian asked.

"I'm downstairs with the van."

"I'm still at the office. Just lock it up and leave it there. I'll unload it for you when I get home. I hope you didn't already overdo it today."

"No, it was no big deal. Matt stopped by the house and helped me, so I just had to unload some stuff at the storage place."

"Are we going to have room for all your stuff?"

"I think we'll be okay with what I've brought home with me."

"I like the sound of that."

"Me, too. What're you still doing at the office anyway?"

"My four o'clock hasn't shown up yet, and Michelle was insisting I wait. Apparently it's a total body makeover - - big bucks if it flies."

"Has she said anything about the buyout offer?"

"Not a word. She keeps telling me her lawyer will be in touch with our lawyer."

"It's almost five."

"I'm out of here at five. This is going to sound ridiculous, but I miss you."

"I miss you, too," Sean responded, smiling. "I love you."

"I love you, too. Go upstairs and relax for a while. I'll be home soon."

"Okay. Later," Sean concluded, breaking the connection.

********

It was almost five-thirty when Christian rose from his desk and headed for the door of his office. As he threw it open, he was startled to see Michelle on the other side of it, wearing a particularly seductive smile.

"Everyone else has gone home," she said. "Christian, you're not going to seriously tell me that you want to give me up for Sean, are you?" Her shoulders were back, and she was making the most of her cleavage.

"Don't do this," Christian said, more irritated to be held up on his way out the door than he was tempted by her obvious willingness to convince him to come back to her.

"Why not? Can't handle a little temptation? Don't tell me you're going to try to be faithful to Sean?"

"Michelle, it's over between us. If this is some kind of tactic to derail the buyout negotiations, it's not working."

"This is your last chance, Christian," she said, something ominous in her tone of voice. "You know we can be so good together," she added, stroking the lapels of his jacket.

"I'm done, Michelle. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going home."

"I gave up everything for you, and now you're just tossing me aside like one of your cheap one-night whores! You have no idea what I've been through for us to be together. Don't you leave me this way, Christian. You told me you loved me."

"I honestly thought I did. I'm sorry I hurt you. I never wanted to do that." Christian took a hold of her shoulders briefly. "I'll always care for you, Michelle, but I'm not in love with you."

"When did you realize that? While we were performing for Burt, or was it when you had sex with Sean?"

"What happened with Burt was terrible, but we need to move on. You're young, beautiful, richer than God - - you'll find someone else."

"You're making a mistake, Christian." She backed away, holding his gaze a moment longer before turning and walking down the hall toward her office. Shrugging off the encounter, Christian headed for the parking garage and was only too happy to slip behind the wheel of his Lambourghini and head for home.

********

When Christian walked into the condo, he was surprised to smell food cooking, and even more surprised to see Sean in the kitchen. His partner had struggled through learning a couple of Italian dishes, but was far from getting his own show on the Food Network anytime soon. Still, Sean was diligently working on a salad, and whatever he had in the oven smelled pretty good.

"Honey, I'm home!" Christian called out jokingly.

"It's about time. I just about gave up on you," Sean responded. "My cooking isn't that good anyway, so drying it out for another ten minutes in the oven wouldn't have been a good idea."

"What did you make?" Christian asked, joining Sean in the kitchen and stealing a piece of cucumber out of the salad bowl.

"Lasagna. Hopefully I've gotten better at it since I made it for Julia a while back. She was less than impressed. My noodles were tough."

"I'll buy that. Your noodle seems pretty tough," Christian teased, winding his arms around Sean from behind, letting his hand slide down to squeeze the bulge in Sean's pants. "You didn't take any pain meds, did you?"

"Just some ibuprofen, and that doesn't give me any problems," Sean said, groaning and leaning back against Christian.

"I suppose you've got your heart set on eating right now?"

"I've been on a soft diet for over two weeks, Christian."

"Fair enough. But don't plan on dessert," he said, kissing Sean's cheek before moving away from him. "Why don't you give me the keys and I'll unload the van?"

"It'll wait. Linda doesn't need it back until tomorrow, and something tells me I won't need much for clothes tonight anyway."

"Not if I have my way," Christian replied, flexing his eyebrows. "You given any thought to what you're going to get for a car?" Christian asked. "I haven't seen you buried in Consumer Reports lately."

"I was thinking about something along the lines of a bright yellow Ferrari," Sean quipped, pulling the lasagna out of the oven.

"Asshole," Christian retorted. "Maybe with the settlement money you can get a real car instead of that skateboard with an engine you were driving. You look pretty good in that rented Lexus I picked out for you."

"That skateboard kept me alive under a truck. I'll probably just get another Prius. Hard to beat that for durability."

"That Prius didn't hold up the truck. That was just some amazing luck. How about another Lexus? Or a Mercedes. You like those conservative cars."

"What, you're too good to ride around in a Prius? It's environmentally friendly and what do I need with anything fancier? I'm not going to live in it."

"Image, my friend. We need to look affluent."

"Yeah, and I know how rough that is on you," Sean replied, setting the lasagna on the table as Christian sat down.

"Snap. Cooking is making you bitchy, Sean." Christian grinned and was rewarded with a slight answering smile from Sean. "If we have to strike out on our own and start a new practice, we'll have to project the right upscale image. Even if we get the business back from Michelle, we're going to need to do more business - - and better business - - to turn a healthy profit after having to buy her out."

"I'm going to be going through another divorce," Sean said, serving himself from the lasagna dish after Christian had taken his. "Looking affluent isn't the best strategy."

"I thought you and Julia worked out a settlement the other day."

"We did, but when I show up in my new Lexus and we have the practice back and are going on with our lives, those kinds of agreements can fall apart pretty quickly."

"She signed off on it, didn't she?"

"She did, but judges can revisit those things."

"We have the pictures of your face. That trumps any of her whining about money."

"I don't want to use those unless she tries to take the kids out of the country. Annie still doesn't know the truth about what happened, and the last thing I want is for some scandal to break and her to have to deal with that at school. Kids are cruel enough without giving them that kind of ammunition."

"The important thing is that she thinks you'll use them."

"Hopefully that'll be enough."

"So you'll look at a decent car?"

"Okay, Christian, I will look at what you call a 'decent' car."

"Hey, this isn't bad. You're getting better."

"As long as I never have to make anything besides lasagna, we're all set. It's the only thing I've practiced," Sean admitted, chuckling.

"The only food, maybe. You've practiced a few other things that outdo your lasagna." Sean smiled at that, and Christian was surprised how pleased, and a bit embarrassed, he seemed to be with the praise. When Sean didn't say anything and went back to his food, Christian added, "That can't be the first compliment you ever got on your performance, pal."

"Let's just say that recent reviews have been mixed," Sean joked, but there was an undercurrent of sincerity in the response.

"I think I qualify as an expert witness on the subject," Christian added.

"No arguments there," Sean replied, laughing. The phone rang then, and Christian went to answer it.

"Sure, we'd be glad to have her here," Christian said, mouthing "Annie" when Sean looked at him, puzzled. "Why don't you drop her off, and we can just take her to school in the morning?" He paused. "Whatever works, Julia. It's no problem for us to take her on the way into the office." He waited again, then shrugged. "Okay. We'll plan on seeing you about 7:30 then," he concluded. After hanging up, he returned to the table. "Julia wondered if we could keep Annie overnight. I said it was okay- - I figured it would be."

"Fine, but what about Conor?"

"Julia wants to spend the evening with Marlowe, and I guess they want some privacy. He must be getting over his righteous indignation about her clocking you with the votive holder. Besides, she said Annie's been giving her a hard time about her relationship with Marlowe in general." Christian sighed. "She probably wants the coast clear to bang the dwarf."

"I suppose it's no worse for her to have sex with Marlowe while Annie's there than for us to have sex while she's with us. I mean, if we were in a place with doors where that was an option."

"She's going to have to get used to us together that way, Sean. We can't take a vow of abstinence every time she comes over or spends a night with us."

"We'll have to unless we do something different here with the bedroom set up, or get another place. I don't think she's ready to walk in and watch us having sex at her age."

"I hate to break this to you, Sean, but she's probably seen plenty of it in movies and on TV."

"That's different, and she's not allowed to go to R-rated movies for a reason." Sean paused. "I don't expect to keep her innocent forever, but I don't want her exposed to something she's not ready to deal with, and watching other people have sex live and in person is beyond what I want my twelve-year-old exposed to."

"Okay. I wasn't really suggesting we screw all night. I was just hoping to screw a little, if I promise to be quiet."

"We won't be quiet, and we don't know the meaning of 'a little.'"

"I can't help it if you bring out the animal in me," Christian teased, scooting closer and blowing warm air in Sean's ear. "We've got an hour before she gets here."

"Lasagna reheats well," Sean said, turning to accept the waiting kisses, enjoying the sensations again now that his face was mostly healed. It was still sensitive, but Christian's lips moving over his lips and cheek felt nothing but good.

"You wanna move into the bedroom?" Christian asked.

"Why?" Sean stood and unzipped his pants, pushing them and his boxers down in one swift move, toeing off his shoes and kicking the whole pile aside with surprising speed. "You're overdressed."

Shaking off his surprise, Christian stood and stripped off his pants and underwear, then his shirt as Sean was already tossing that garment at the growing pile of clothes. By unspoken agreement, Christian sat in his chair again and Sean straddled him, their erections rubbing together, creating an intense friction. Christian stifled a moan against Sean's chest, his mouth finding and sucking on a hardening nipple. Sean groaned, his body moving as if he were trying to fit more of his flesh into Christian's mouth. Christian sucked harder, then moved to the other nipple, sucking it while he rolled and pinched the wet nipple with his fingers.

"Oh, shit," Sean gasped, thrusting against Christian even faster.

"I didn't know you were a tit man, Sean," Christian teased.

"Shut up and suck 'em, damn it," Sean retorted. "Oh, God." Not moving back enough to dislodge Christian's attentions to his nipples, Sean got a hold of the plate with the stick of butter on it. Moving back a little, interrupting Christian, he greased his hands and began stroking the butter up and down the length of Christian's cock.

"Let me put some in you," Christian said, but Sean shook his head.

"You're greasy enough for both of us." He got up and turned around, lowering himself onto Christian's cock, moaning as he was stretched open and filled.

"Shit, you're tight," Christian managed, still amazed at the tight heat around his cock that he couldn't remember feeling plunged deep inside a woman.

"You're huge," Sean retorted, his voice strained. "My throat'll be sore in the morning," he added, and Christian laughed, shaking them both.

The motion wasn't altogether unpleasant, and Sean started moving up and down carefully on the rigid cock inside him. Christian joined in the motion until they achieved a shared rhythm. The butter was melting in the heat of their bodies, the greasiness fading and more skin-on-skin friction burning them up. Some part of Christian's brain told him to stop, that he was barebacking Sean...but he couldn't care. He was too far gone and the sex felt too good. Watching his cock move in and out between Sean's cheeks, hearing his strained little groans, Christian was riding the tide until he felt his orgasm sweeping over him, stroking Sean's cock firmly and angling his strokes so Sean was crying out with each thrust, his prostate getting a workout until Christian came, yelling, grunting, giving in to every base instinct to express himself. Sean's body was sharing the spasms of climax, shaking and gasping, his come covering Christian's pumping hand.

When it was over, they sat there and just breathed, letting their bodies cool. Christian wrapped his arms around Sean, resting his cheek against Sean's back.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you, too," Sean responded, sighing. He rose a little, groaning as Christian's cock slid free of his body. He turned around and straddled Christian's lap so they were face to face again.

"Are you okay?" Christian asked, smiling as Sean ignored the question and kissed him on the mouth, sticking his tongue inside, keeping Christian from talking for many long minutes. "I didn't wear a rubber."

"I know. I don't care." Sean ran his hands through Christian's hair. "What would I want with life if you weren't here? I know that's probably the wrong way to feel, but if you have anything that could kill you, it can kill me, too."

"You survived a truck landing on you, so you're on a lucky streak," Christian added, and Sean smiled.

"You can say that again," Sean replied, looking at Christian with so much love that it almost took his breath away. "I hope you always want me like you want me now."

"No, not like now. I want you more every day." They kissed again, losing themselves in the sensations until Sean caught sight of the clock. "It's almost seven. Shower?"

"Yeah, sounds good."

They went hand in hand to the shower, started up the water, and took their time soaping each other up, not really wanting to start things up again so close to when Annie was due to arrive. They were sated and content to enjoy the intimacy of washing each other, though Sean detected a bit of an informal physical going on when Christian's soapy fingers went between his cheeks to probe him.

"I'm okay," he said, loving that Christian was that worried about him.

"I'd rather cut off my dick than hurt you like that." The depth of Christian's emotion that made his voice husky touched Sean's heart.

"You wouldn't hurt me. You didn't." They ended their shower with a long, soapy embrace of slick skin on skin, kissing and feeling each other up, but backing off before they started something they wouldn't have time to finish.

********

When Julia arrived with Annie, Sean was putting leftovers in the refrigerator and Christian was putting the dinner dishes in the dishwasher. Sean answered the door, and Julia did her best to keep up a friendly front as Annie hugged her father and then went to the kitchen to greet Christian.

"Thanks for letting her stay tonight."

"I love having Annie with me. It's no problem," Sean responded. "You and Marlowe have big plans?"

"We're going to have a quiet dinner at the house and just talk. We've got some things to figure out, and we need some privacy."

"Do you want us to take Annie to school in the morning? I heard Christian mention it - - "

"I have an appointment tomorrow anyway, so I can swing by and pick her up. I'm taking the car in."

"What's wrong with it?" Sean asked, concerned.

"I don't think it's anything major, but it might be something electrical. The clock is messed up and there are a couple of other sensor lights coming on. Matt said it was probably just the sensors going bad and suggested I go have them hook it up to the computer at the shop."

"It's running all right, though? If not, you can take my rental car and I'll take the car in for you tomorrow."

"I'm fine, Sean, but thanks. Annie?" Julia called, and Annie and Christian appeared from the kitchen. "I'll be back to get you in time for school, so be ready."

"Okay, Mom."

"Have a good night, you guys," Julia said, managing a smile that looked a bit forced as she took her leave.

After Annie finished her homework with Sean and Christian sitting at the table with her, reading a backlog of medical journals, the group moved to the living room and sat down to watch the new flat screen TV Christian had delivered after the first one met with disaster. Sean slipped into the bedroom and returned with a small bag from an area music store, handing it to Annie.

"Oh my gosh, it's the new Hannah Montana concert! Oh, thank you, Daddy!" She hugged Sean enthusiastically, vibrating with excitement over her gift. "Is this for my birthday?" Annie asked, since her birthday was a few days away.

"It was, but I couldn't wait," Sean confessed.

"You never do," she replied, laughing. Sean had to smile at her very true assessment of his tendency to let her have presents early, especially the ones he knew she was overly eager to get. "Can we watch it?"

"If it's okay with Uncle Christian," Sean replied, and Christian shot him a look, which he erased from his features before Annie turned to look at him.

"Sure. I'll make popcorn," he added, smiling. He extended his genuine smile to Sean this time.

The three of them watched the concert, and then a sitcom or two to calm Annie's excitement before bedtime. Sean made a bed on the couch for his daughter, and once she was settled, the two men went into the bedroom to spend the rest of their evening and night.

"So, you want to go shopping again for Annie's birthday after work tomorrow?" Christian teased, and Sean smiled.

"Can't leave her with nothing to open on the big day." Sean finished undressing and slipped into a t-shirt and pajama bottoms. Christian sighed a little regretfully and put on a pair of black silk pajamas. If they were going to share a bed with Annie there, it had to look platonic, at least for the time being until they sat down with her and explained the change in their relationship.

"I thought we were going to have the talk with her the next time she was alone with us," Christian said, getting into bed, his tone neutral.

"This was unplanned, so I didn't want to drop the bomb and spring it on Julia to deal with. Annie's going to be with us for the weekend after next, and I told Julia we were going to have the talk with her then."

"Okay. Do I at least get a goodnight kiss?" Christian asked, flashing Sean his best flirtatious smile.

"We can risk that," Sean agreed, and the two of them moved into each other's arms and one goodnight kiss turned into another, and then another. "We better cool it," Sean finally said, pulling back. "Or I won't stop."

"You hear any complaints?" Christian stole another prolonged kiss before giving up as Sean pulled back again. "You really think it would burn her eyes out to see the two of us making love, assuming she didn't sleep through it?"

"After we talk with her about it, we can expect her to respect the boundaries of privacy she was expected to with Julia and me. Not that there was usually much reason to worry about it. But the kids were always told to knock on the bedroom door if it was closed. The layout here makes it a little trickier."

"We'll get another place when things settle down a little. You want a house or a condo?" Christian asked, snuggling up to Sean and keeping him close. "She's seen me hug you a million times," he argued, and Sean's body relaxed in his arms.

"I guess you're right," he agreed. "Maybe a bigger condo, with a spare room for when the kids visit."

"Maybe two. As Conor gets older, Annie should have her own room if she's staying with us."

"Okay. We could always use one of the rooms as a guest room when the kids weren't here."

"Who would we have come and stay? The kids are the only family we have."

"I'd like a nice view of the ocean, like this place."

"Me, too." Christian kissed Sean's temple. "I don't much care what it has as long as you're in it with me."

"Same here," Sean said, smiling. "What are we going to do about Kimber's implants?"

"Where the hell did that come from?" Christian asked.

"We need to decide. If she's going to have them out, we should let her know if we'll do it."

"I'm not touching that toxic bitch."

"She's Matt's wife now. God, she's our dau- - "

"Don't say it."

"Well, she is," Sean argued.

"That's a sick joke of the legal system surrounding marriage."

"Why don't you do it and I'll assist? Then she can't claim any funny business."

"You want to get involved with her that way?"

"No, but I don't want to lose Matt, and if we reject his wife, no matter how stupid a choice he's made, we're drawing battle lines."

"If you want to do it, I'll do it," Christian said, sighing. "I can't refuse you anything."

"We'll explore that further tomorrow night," Sean quipped, settling against Christian and letting himself doze. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Christian responded, a smile in his voice.

********

Annie was already cooking breakfast when Sean first emerged from the bedroom, still in his robe.

"You didn't have to make us breakfast, honey," he said, kissing her cheek. "But it sure looks good," he said of the eggs she had frying in the pan.

"Can you do the toast, Daddy? That way it won't get cold while I'm doing this."

"Sure." Sean went to work on the toast while his daughter fussed over the eggs. She was already dressed for school, hair neatly combed and pulled into a barrette. He'd heard her in the shower earlier, and both men had stayed in bed to give her the time and privacy to finish her morning routine.

"There's toast up," she said, frowning, as if she thought Sean had lost his mind, standing there in the kitchen staring at her while hot toast was waiting for butter.

"Sorry," he said, chuckling a little. "I was just thinking how grown up you are," he added, feeling a little lump in his throat. "I remember when you were little, and you used to need your mom or me to comb your hair and get you ready for school." Sean didn't know why he was feeling such a stab of sadness. Children grew, that's how life went. The fact Annie was growing into a beautiful, capable young lady was a good thing.

"You still do the best braids in my hair," she said, coming over to give Sean a hug. The lump in his throat seemed to expand, but he swallowed it, returning the hug. She was not only growing taller, older, and more capable - - she was growing very wise, indeed.

"I'm really proud of you, princess."

"Thanks again for the DVD. I love it." She moved away then and went back to tending her eggs.

"You're welcome. I'm glad you like it." Sean watched her for another moment or two, then returned to his task with the toast.

 A few moments later, Christian emerged, showered, dressed, and ready for the day.

"What can I do to help?"

"Pour some orange juice and pour coffee if you and Daddy want it," Annie directed, not missing a detail of putting on the breakfast. She had started the coffee before beginning the eggs.

The three of them shared their breakfast, talking about what was going on at Annie's school, and considering some options for what they could do together the weekend Annie would be spending with them as part of the preliminary custody arrangement.

"I'd really like to come and live with you," Annie said, pinning Sean with an intent gaze. "I could still spend a lot of time with Mom, when she's not busy with Conor, or going out with Marlowe."

"Don't you think it might hurt your mom's feelings if you moved out of the house?" Christian asked.

"Maybe, but I think she'd understand. She keeps telling me she wants me to be happy, and if moving in with you is what makes me happy, she shouldn't be upset about it." Annie sighed. "Besides, I don't think she'll miss me that much."

"You know better than that," Christian said.

"Annie, your mother and I both want you to be happy. We don't need to rush into anything. Think about it, and we'll all talk it over, and we'll do our best to make the best decision for all of us, okay?"

"Okay."

"These eggs are great," Christian added. "The toast isn't so great," he needled, and Annie laughed.

"If you're going to insult my cooking, I'll be in the other room," Sean replied, standing and heading to the bathroom to shower and shave. "Thanks for breakfast, Annie. Uncle Christian will do the dishes."

"Oh, is that right?" Christian retorted.

"I'll make it up to you later," Sean said, the real message going over Annie's head, but making a direct hit with Christian.

"Sounds fair to me," Christian said, winking at Sean before he disappeared into the bathroom.

Sean had just finished dressing when Julia arrived to pick up Annie. He answered the door, and let Julia in while Annie grabbed her backpack

"Ready to go?" she asked her daughter, who nodded.

"Look what Daddy got me for my birthday," she said, showing Julia the DVD before tucking it in her backpack.

"Wow. You've been wanting that, too. Looks like Daddy still can't hang onto your best presents until your birthday," she added, directing a knowing smile at Sean.

"I'm sure there'll still be one or two things to open at the party," Sean replied, returning the smile. They had a dinner party planned for Annie's birthday, including Sean, Christian, Julia, Matt, Kimber, Liz, Conor, and Marlowe. None of them were sure how the potentially volatile group would all handle being together, but all were willing to give it a try for the occasion.

"We have to go, Mom. I'm gonna be late," Annie said, checking her watch. "Bye, Daddy," she hugged Sean, and he kissed the top of her head.

"Do I get one, too?" Christian asked, joining the group.

"Sure." Annie gladly gave Christian a hug, and then followed Julia out the door.

"You okay?" Christian asked, watching Sean's oddly melancholy expression.

"It just hit me today how fast she's growing up. It seems like she was just a toddler not that long ago."

"It wasn't that long ago, Sean. She's only turning 13, not 40," Christian said. When Sean didn't laugh or smile at the remark, Christian slid his arm around Sean's shoulders. "What's really eating you?"

"I don't know. I guess when she was fixing breakfast this morning, I realized that while Julia and I were going through this tug of war the last few years, Annie grew up while we weren't looking. It won't be long, and I won't be her hero anymore."

"I have this feeling you always will be. She's pretty set on living with you."

"Would that be okay with you?"

"I love Annie, you know that. Of course it's okay. We better get a move on. Our first consult is at nine, and I had a voicemail from our lawyer that Michelle's lawyer called him to set up a meeting for all of us later this morning. She has her response to our proposal."

"It would be too simple for her to say yes or no, wouldn't it?" Sean picked up his keys and stuffed them in his pocket as they started out the door. Just then, his cell phone rang.

"Sean, it's me," Julia said. "The car won't start. Is there any chance I could take your rental to take Annie to school?"

"Sure. I can ride with Christian, and we'll handle the car thing for you. Just keep the rental. We're on our way down."

"Thanks, Sean."

"Julia's car won't start, so I'm giving her the rental."

"Okay. I'll walk out with you. The fresh air'll do me good," Christian joked, since his car was parked in his building's garage. "Besides, maybe Julia's car just needs a little coaxing by experienced hands," he said.

"Works wonders for me."

They approached where Julia and Annie were waiting near Sean's rental car, parked on the street in front of Christian's building.

"Thanks for doing this, Sean. It's just dead, the engine doesn't even turn over," Julia said, handing him her keys.

"Let me try it," Christian said, plucking the keys from Sean's hand.

"Why is it that men always think women don't know how to turn on an ignition?" Julia asked, exasperated. "We've got to go," she said, opening the door of the rental car.

"I'll call you later and let you know what's going on with your car. Was your appointment at the dealership?"

"Yes. I talked to a guy named Ron."

"Okay. Talk to you later, then. Have a good day, princess," he directed at Annie, who waved at him with a big grin as she got in the car. He closed Julia's door and headed the few parking spaces back to where Christian was unsuccessfully trying to start Julia's car. He leaned inside the open driver's door. "Not responding to the magic hands, huh?"

"Not even a spark," Christian replied, giving up. Just then, a deafening, crashing, thunderous bellow of noise assaulted their ears, and flying debris landed near the car, barely missing Sean where he stood next to it.

"Julia! Annie!" Sean hollered, seeing heavy black smoke and orange flames leaping from the direction where the rental car was parked. As he ran toward it, Christian was right behind him. The sedan was engulfed in flames, and Sean felt an arm go around his middle and pull him back before he could get any closer. "We've got to get them out of there!" he shouted. People were gathering on the street, keeping their distance from the car that had the potential to explode again, once the fire consumed the gas tank.

"The gas tank's gonna go any minute, Sean," Christian said, his voice breaking as he pulled Sean backwards.

"I don't care! I have to get them out of there!"

"Damn it, look at the fire, Sean. They're gone," Christian said, the misery plain in his voice. "They're gone," he repeated, as if he couldn't quite believe it himself. As Sean made one more attempt to lunge forward, away from him, the car exploded again, and Christian barely had time to throw them both back on the grass nearby to avoid the second round of flaming debris.

"Somebody do something!" Sean shouted, scrambling up to his feet, and running toward the fire, almost making it to the flames before Christian caught up to him again, restraining him.

Sirens were audible in the distance, and Sean's body finally lost most of its fight, then most of its strength, sliding out of Christian's grip to land on the grass. Sean was on his knees staring at the inferno that had just devoured Julia and Annie, and there was a look of horror and acceptance on his face that Christian found both unbearable and a relief at the same time.

He couldn't think about what happened, the atrocity of it, whether or not they suffered or ever knew what hit them. He had to focus on Sean, and stay strong for him. Christian knelt on the grass next to his partner, wishing now Sean would break down, cry, scream, anything but this vacant, icy silence as he stared at the flames.

"Sean, look at me," he said, trying to get a reaction. "Sean, say something," he prodded, slapping lightly at the uninjured side of Sean's face, though he knew the light slaps wouldn't have hurt the healing fracture. His emotions were so close to the surface that he wanted to let them go and grieve for his longtime friend, and for the little girl that felt like she was as much his as Sean's. Their daughter, that's how he thought of her. And Matt, and Conor, too. Their children.

Sean let out a wail of anguish unlike anything Christian had ever heard, before collapsing against him, his body shaking uncontrollably with sobs and cries so wracking that they shook both men where they huddled together just feet from the deadly explosion. Christian cried with him, holding him tightly, as if he could somehow stop the shaking and the pain by the sheer power of his embrace. He could feel Sean's arms go around him, his hands grabbing the fabric of Christian's suit coat, hanging on as if his life depended on the contact.

"I'm here, Sean. I won't let go," he said against Sean's ear, not sure if Sean could even hear him or understand him. His own ears rang relentlessly from the noise of the explosion. "It's okay, Sean, I'm right here," Christian kept him close, stroking his hair, rocking a little, not caring how many bystanders gaped at them, or whether or not they were caught by the tasteless ghouls who were actually filming the fire with their cell phones and digital cameras.

The police were pulling up at a safe distance as the fire truck pulled up closer, preparing to put out the flames with high-powered hoses.

"Don't let them shoot those hoses in there. The force is too much," Sean protested weakly.

"They have to put out the fire so it doesn't spread to other cars and endanger anyone else," Christian said gently.

"There won't be anything left. I need to hold my little girl again."

"I know, Sean. I want that, too." Christian started to stand, and pulled Sean up with him, realizing that Sean's legs were not going to serve him well. "We have to move back." Somehow, he moved them both, keeping Sean upright, until they made it to a bench in front of the condo complex. "If I could trade with them, I would," Christian said through his own tears. Sean's grip on him became impossibly tighter.

"Don't say that," Sean gasped.

"I'm okay, and I'm here. But you know I'd have died to save Annie and Julia if I could have, and you would, too. We just couldn't."

"How do I live with this?"

Christian didn't think Sean expected a definitive answer; he wasn't entirely sure Sean was even completely able to organize his thoughts, but he had to say something, give Sean something to hold onto, besides him. "Conor needs us, Sean. We're going to be his parents, and we're going to be there for him. And for Matty. Our family needs us," Christian said, his tears plain in his voice.

"Were you injured in the explosion?" A police officer approached them.

"His wife and daughter were in the car," Christian said, trying hard to keep his emotions under control, to take over and be strong for Sean. "We weren't injured beyond our ears ringing."

"Did you witness the explosion?"

"Yes. God help me, yes," Sean muttered.

"Your names?" he asked, pen at the ready.

"Sean McNamara and Christian Troy," Christian said. "The...the victims were Julia McNamara, Sean's ex-wife, and their daughter, Annie."

"I'm sorry for your loss, Mr. McNamara. The detective on the scene will want to talk to you both, so please wait here. Are you sure you don't want him checked out by the EMT's?" the young officer asked.

"I'm not deaf or insane, so don't talk about me like I'm not here," Sean snapped. "I don't need an ambulance."

"Take it easy, Sean. He's just doing his job."

"It's okay. I'm really sorry, sir. Just trying to help," he said, his tone more sincere this time than it was when he delivered what sounded like lines rehearsed in the academy for dealing with victims' families at the scene.

"How are your ears?" Christian asked.

"Ringing like hell, but I can hear," Sean responded.

"Here," Christian handed him a handkerchief, but Sean just let it hang limply in his hand. "Hey, let's get you cleaned up a little." Christian blotted some of the tears from Sean's cheeks, and Sean took the handkerchief from him and wiped his nose. By now the crowd was losing interest in the smoldering and increasingly waterlogged wreck, and began gawking at Sean and Christian, trying to figure out their role in the emergency.

"Let's go inside," a familiar voice suggested. Both men were relieved to see Detective Fishman, the cop who had worked the Carver case before being pushed aside by Kit. At least it was someone who knew them. "Sean, I need to talk to you about the explosion. Can we go inside?" he asked, placing a hand on Sean's shoulder.

"The fire's almost out," Sean said, not seeming to even notice Fishman's presence. "I need to see if...if there's anything left."

"If there is, you don't want to see it, Sean. Julia and Annie were both beautiful girls, and you want to remember them that way. Seeing anything that's in that car won't be seeing your wife or daughter, and it'll just give you nightmares," Fishman added.

"Maybe if I'd just gone into the fire I could have pulled them out."

"We don't have the forensic work done on it, obviously, but I can tell you that once that explosion happened, it was over."

"There was a second explosion," Sean said.

"Probably the gas tank, but we'll know more later. Look, let's go inside and sit down. You can tell me as much as you know about what happened." He still had his hand on Sean's shoulder, and Sean finally nodded. He took Sean's arm so that someone would be on both sides when he stood. Sean initially shook off the support. "You're a doctor, you know how shocks like these affect people," Fishman said. "When you stand, your legs are liable to have other ideas. Let us get you inside."

"I should be dead. It was my rental car. Julia's car wouldn't start. They weren't supposed to die, I was."

"Come on, Sean," Christian coaxed, and once Sean stood, he didn't resist the support. Christian could feel his body shaking with every step. He felt weak himself, and not too steady on his feet. "We'll go upstairs, get away from the crowd."

The three men made their way back into the building and to the elevator. Once they were inside Christian's condo, Sean sat down on the couch with Christian next to him, and Fishman sat in a nearby chair.

"I'll get you some water," Christian said to Sean, but Fishman waved that off.

"I can get him a glass of water. You guys take it easy and catch your breath."

While the detective stepped to the kitchen, Christian rubbed Sean's back gently as he sat next to him on the couch. Sean reached over to the coffee table and picked up a small, pink, elastic circle. It was the hair band Annie had taken off while they were all relaxing on the couch the night before.

"She said she liked the way I braided her hair," Sean said, his voice barely audible. "It was so fine and I remember how it used to feel like silk between my fingers when I braided it for her." Sean clutched the little piece of elastic, his body shaking violently with the new wave of anguish it had brought on. Christian held him, resting his head against the back of Sean's head, unable to hold back his own grief any longer.

"Is there anyone we should call?" Fishman asked, setting two glasses of water on the table.

"Don't release their names to the press. Matt doesn't know," Sean said, straightening, and Christian moved away a little.

"I'll call Matty, Sean," Christian said, keeping a hand on Sean's back. He looked up at Fishman. "Could you go to the office, talk to Liz Cruz, and ask her to go to Sean's place and talk to Conor's nanny, Marlowe, and maybe stay with Conor if Marlowe wants to leave?"

"Not a problem. I'll head over there right now."

"Thanks. I know you don't have to do all this for us," Sean said, snorkeling loudly and blinking a few times to clear his eyes.

"I'll be back later, after you've had time to clear your head a little."

Christian was relieved when he heard the door open and close, and they were alone again. He knew Sean was suffering on a level so deep and profound that it defied words, and yet a part of him wished Sean would comfort him. As if Sean had read his mind, he looked at Christian. His face was flushed and wet with tears, his blue eyes were painfully red, but there was a moment of peace in them when he looked at Christian.

"We still have each other," he said, reaching up to touch Christian's face. "You loved them, too, I know," he said, and Christian didn't know what broke the control of his emotions more quickly - - the invitation to let go and not be strong or the look in Sean's eyes that let him know his partner would survive anything as long as Christian was by his side.

Sean put his arms around Christian this time, his own tears quieting a little as Christian gave in to his.

"I need to call Matt," Christian said, pulling back, trying hard to calm himself down. He dialed Matt's number, holding Sean's hand while he waited for the answer.

"Hello."

"Matt, it's Christian," he said, hating the tremor in his voice.

"You sound lousy. Where are you?"

"I'm at my place. Matty, you need to get over here right away. I can't explain on the phone, but you need to come over now."

"Did something happen to my dad?" Matt asked right away.

"No, he's with me, and he's fine. Just do it, okay, kiddo?"

"Yeah, sure, I'm starting out right now. Can't you tell me what this is about?"

"Not now. I'll tell you everything when you get here."

"Okay. I'll be right there."

Christian put his phone away and looked at Sean. "I'm going to get you something to help you relax," he said, patting Sean's back.

"No," he replied, his voice raspy. "I need to be in my right mind when Matt gets here."

"Okay, we'll wait until then, but then I'm ordering it as your doctor. I'm going to check your pressure," Christian added, leaving Sean on the couch to retrieve the blood pressure cuff they'd used immediately after Sean's car accident while his blood pressure was elevated.

"I'll never forget when my grandmother died," Sean said, smiling faintly as Christian sat next to him again and encouraged him to take off his suit coat. He put the cuff on and began inflating it. "It was her mother, but my mom was comforting everyone else. It was the biggest loss for her, but she consoled me, comforted my great aunt and looked after her needs, she even was strong for Julia...they liked each other a lot, my grandmother and Julia." Sean wiped at his eyes. "Her mother was dead, and she was strong for everyone else."

"Your mom was quite a lady," Christian agreed, smiling at the thought of Sean's mother, and what a kind, friendly woman she had been. "As soon as Matt goes, I'll get you something. It's high," he said, removing the blood pressure cuff.

"I wish she was still here," Sean added, his voice breaking. "She always knew what I needed to hear to get by. Even when I was the school freak, she knew how to make it easier. Sometimes I still miss her so much that I can't believe it. How's that for ridiculous - - a grown man wanting his mommy?"

"I don't think you outgrow needing people you love. She wasn't just your mother. She was your friend."

"Yeah, she was," Sean agreed, nodding. "I should wash up." He stood, and Christian was on his feet in an instant, since Sean appeared to reel a little when he stood.

"Any pain in your face, around the fracture?" Christian asked.

"My head's just throbbing. I don't know what's my face and what's from...everything else. I need the john." Sean walked away, heading for the bathroom. Christian let him go, glad in a way that he was up and moving, even if he would have preferred to keep a close watch on him every minute.

********

Sean splashed water on his face and stared at himself in the mirror. He barely recognized the reflection that looked back at him. Beyond that, looking at himself forced him to face reality. He was alive, and Annie wasn't. This wasn't a dream. He was moving, functioning, going through mundane motions like using the bathroom, washing his face... Life was already going on. It seemed unthinkable to do anything, to wash his face and hands, wipe them on a towel, blow his nose, notice the pain surrounding his healing fracture, even to notice the sun spilling in the windows of the condo.

He was glad his suit coat was in the living room, with its grass stains and soot. His legs felt weak, and he was shivering from a cold that came from deep within his soul. He wanted to shower and wash his hair and get the smell of the fire off him, but he didn't feel strong enough.

"Put this on," Christian was behind him with a hooded sweatshirt, appearing as if from thin air. Sean slid his arms into it, and even though it was too large, the warmth felt good. "You're shaking," Christian added, opening his arms. Sean gladly went into them, taking in the familiar scent and feeling of his partner. Christian had taken off his suit and wore casual pants and a sweater in its place. It wasn't until now that they were both realizing how strongly their clothes smelled of smoke from the fire. "Why don't you change into fresh clothes? We still have a few minutes before anyone gets here."

"Yeah, I think I will."

"Need help?" Christian asked, not appearing too confident in Sean's slightly unsteady gait.

"I'll be okay."

Sean went into the bedroom and found a favorite pair of khakis and a blue shirt. He changed his clothes, then put Christian's sweatshirt over the top for a little extra warmth.

The doorbell rang, followed by a frantic knock, accompanied by Matt's voice.

"I'll get it," Sean called to Christian, moving toward the door. He opened it, and Matt burst in the door.

"I saw Mom's car out front. There are cops and fire department people all over the place and a burned out car. Where is she?" Finally really looking at Sean's grief-ravaged face, Matt froze and all animation seemed to leave him in one shaky exhaled breath. "Where's Mom?" he repeated.

"Matt, I don't know how to say this," Sean began, taking a hold of Matt by the shoulders. Matt looked at him with an expression of horror.

"Mom?" Matt asked, his lip quivering.

"There was an explosion, and...and...no survivors," Sean managed, barely containing his own emotions. Matt's face crumbled at that, and he embraced Sean, sobbing into his shoulder. "Matt, your mom was here to pick up Annie," Sean said. At the mention of his daughter's name, it felt like a knife went straight into his heart, and twisted. "She was in the car with her."

"Not Annie, too?" Matt pulled back, his eyes wide. The words had an unexpected impact on Sean, and he found himself unable to say anything. Christian put his arms around Sean, and around Matt, the three of them in a sort of huddle.

"Your mom's car wouldn't start, so she was going to use your dad's rental car, and he was going to take her car into the shop for her, so Annie wouldn't be late for school," Christian explained softly.

"Who did this?" Matt asked through his tears, and Sean realized he'd been so traumatized by the situation that he hadn't even begun to think about the fact that this was no accident, that someone wanted him dead, and that Julia and Annie had paid an awful price for a change of plans the murderer could never have anticipated.

"We don't know any details yet, Matty," Christian said.

"Whoever it was, was trying for me, obviously. I wish it had been me. I'd give anything to bring them back," Sean said, though Matt seemed oblivious.

"What did you do that someone would want you dead for?" he demanded.

"This isn't Sean's fault, and this isn't the time. Take it easy."

"Take it easy? My mother and my sister were just blown sky high, and you tell me to take it easy?"

"This is painful for everyone, Matt." Sean took in a deep but shaky breath. "I don't know who did it, but we're going to find out."

"You didn't want her anyway. She was in the way of your new life. Mom was just a loose end you didn't want anymore," he accused through his tears.

"Matt, don't go there," Christian admonished, his tone stern.

"I guess this is cheaper than a divorce," he snapped, storming toward the door.

Christian grabbed Matt by the arm and spun him around, but Sean got between them.

"Let go of him, Christian. He's as shocked as we are," he said in a rough voice. Christian didn't want to struggle with Sean or put any more stress on him, so he released Matt, who strode out the door, slamming it behind him.

"He's just lashing out at whoever's handiest, and..." Christian took a hold of Sean's shoulders. "You do know it's not your fault, that he's just hurting you because you're here and he needs to get it out somehow?"

"I know. It's not like other people won't think that way, since we were getting divorce."

"It's his grief talking. That's a bullshit theory and anyone who knows you would know that."

"It should have been me," Sean said miserably.

"Don't say that." Christian pulled Sean into his arms. "Don't hate me for being glad it wasn't, that you're here, alive, in my arms."

"I couldn't hate you for anything," Sean said quietly.

"You need to lie down." Christian started steering Sean toward the bedroom.

"I don't want to be drugged."

"I'm not going to drug you. I just want you to take something mild and lie down for a while. You're in no shape to talk to Fishman or anyone else until you've rested. If you were thinking like a doctor right now, you'd say the same thing."

Sean sat on the edge of the bed. "Something mild, that's it."

"I'll be right back." Christian returned a few moments later with a mild sedative and a glass of water. Sean took the pill without further objection. He'd taken off his shoes when he changed, so he stretched out on the bed, on his side. Christian got on the bed from the other side, spooning up behind Sean. "Relax, close your eyes."

"If I sleep very long, promise me you'll check on Matt and make sure he's okay."

"I promise." Christian stayed there until Sean fell asleep, glad that his partner had a respite from the agony of what they were going through, and wondering how he would face it all once the sedative wore off.

********

Christian called Kimber, only to find out that Matt was already safely back at her apartment. Her sympathy seemed sincere, and her voice broke when she spoke of Annie. Even though she wasn't close to either Julia or Annie, she had gotten to know Sean's daughter a little in the brief time she'd dated him, and she had liked Annie. Annie, for her part, always seemed a bit suspicious of Kimber, which was probably a sign of a good survival instinct.

Next, he called Sean's house, and Liz answered the phone.

"Liz, it's me," he said, not realizing until now how tired he was, or how much he wanted to take a couple pills and go sleep next to Sean.

"Oh, Christian, this is just awful," she said, her voice shaking. "How is Sean?"

"I sedated him and he's sleeping. He's destroyed, how else could he be? God, Liz, it was horrible."

"Marlowe went out after he found out, so I've been watching Conor. Poor little guy doesn't even know what's going on. Marlowe said he'd be back later to relieve me. Is it okay to leave Conor with him, or does Sean want him over there?"

"Sean's in no condition to take care of a baby right now. I don't know if he'll want to go back to the house. I don't think he should be facing all those memories yet."

"You know I'll stay with Conor as long as you need me to. I left a message for Michelle. She was out when Detective Fishman came by. We'll probably just close the office for a few days."

"With no surgeons and no anesthesiologist, that makes the most sense. None of us are going to be up to operating right away."

"What really happened? Fishman said they were killed when their car exploded."

"It was Sean's rental car that exploded. Julia came over to pick up Annie, and her car wouldn't start. Sean let her have the rental car so she could get Annie to school on time, and he was going to take her car in for her later...assuming we could get it to start. I was trying to start it when...there was this deafening noise. As soon as Julia and Annie got in the car, it exploded. I don't know if Julia started it or not." Christian was quiet a moment. "Liz, all we could do is stand there and watch it burn. The fire was so...consuming that there was no way to get near it."

"Sean's probably blaming himself for giving her the rental car."

"Somewhat. I'm trying to get him away from that line of thinking. He couldn't have known."

"That means someone wants Sean dead, because he was the likely person to get into that car this morning."

"Fishman's coming back over to talk to us this afternoon, but I think I'll handle it on my own and keep Sean out of it until he's had some rest."

"One pill won't keep him down all day."

"No, but the other one I dissolved in his water will."

"How are you holding up?"

"Right now I feel kind of numb. Maybe it's not sinking in because I'm more worried about Sean," Christian speculated. "Maybe I'm feeling guilty because I'm glad it wasn't Sean who got into that car. How terrible a person does that make me?"

"I'd say it means that you love Sean more than you do anyone else, and his death would be more unbearable than anyone else's." Liz paused. "You can't help how you feel, Christian. It doesn't mean you didn't love Julia or Annie."

"Annie was like my own daughter," Christian said, his voice shaking.

"She was a wonderful little girl," Liz agreed, the sadness plain in her voice. "I keep thinking that if I feel this bad, how is Sean going to move on from this? This house is so full of all of them, and memories."

"Sean's strong. He'll pull through, even if he doesn't think he will. We'll be there for him, he has Conor to raise. He'll rally for him."

"And for you," Liz added.

"Yeah, I know."

"Do you even have any ideas who could have done this?" Liz asked, and Christian almost told her what had been haunting him since shortly after the explosion.

"To be honest, we haven't even started to cope with that question."

"What about Escobar?"

"I thought of him, but we haven't done anything to piss him off lately, and he likes Sean in a sick, twisted way. I don't think he'd want him dead."

"Let me know what else I can do. I can bring Conor over if Sean wants to see him later without coming to the house."

"He'd probably like that. I'll let you know when he's up."

After hanging up the phone, Christian went into the bedroom to check on Sean. He was still sleeping, though the wet eyelashes and slightly damp-looking pillow were indicators he'd cried in his sleep. Part of Christian wanted to hold him, to lie down with him and just be close, but he didn't want to wake him. Sean seemed peaceful, and that was the whole point of sedating him. The doorbell rang, and Christian was glad that Sean didn't stir. He went to the door, not surprised to see Fishman standing there.

"Come in," Christian invited, standing back until the detective entered, then closing the door. "Can I get you anything? Please, have a seat," Christian added, joining him in the living room.

"Thanks. No, I'm good. I've been drinking coffee all day."

"I hope you won't mind taking a statement from me. Sean's sedated. His blood pressure was up, and he's too emotional right now to give a rational statement about anything." Christian sat in a chair near the end of the couch Fishman occupied.

"I was hoping to talk with you both. Anything you can tell me now could be the difference between solving the case and not."

"Sean wanted to talk to you. I slipped him extra meds so he'd sleep for some solid hours. Once he's up and starts really dealing with this long term, it's going to wear him out." Christian paused. "Were there any...are there any remains?"

"There are badly charred remains. We've been able to separate one from the other for purposes of the autopsies, so they'll be individually...identified for burial or cremation. There's nothing left loved ones should see."

"When will they be released so we can plan some kind of funeral or memorial service?"

"We'll do our best to wrap up that part of our forensic investigation as quickly as possible. A couple of days, probably, assuming all goes smoothly."

"Okay," Christian said, nodding. "I think it's better Sean hears that from me."

"That's fine. Let's start at the beginning. Why were Mrs. McNamara and her daughter here?"

"Julia had plans last night with Conor's nanny, Marlowe. They had some issues to work out and wanted some privacy. Annie wasn't too thrilled with their relationship, anyway, so Julia thought it best to have Annie spend the night with us."

"Mrs. McNamara was having a thing with the nanny?" Fishman asked, looking surprised.

"Yeah, it caught us off guard, too."

"For how long?"

"A few months now. They first did the deed before Sean and Julia split up again, and I guess once she was free, they picked up where they left off."

"Was that the reason for the divorce?" Fishman asked.

"In part. The other part was that Sean and I are lovers."

"This is a recent development?" Fishman looked a bit stunned, but had the courtesy to keep his expression mostly neutral and his tone professional.

"Very. Sean was in a near-fatal car accident several weeks ago, and it brought a lot of things into focus. We got together, and broke off our other relationships."

"So this is a permanent arrangement?"

"We haven't exactly exchanged rings yet, but I hope it's permanent."

"Anyone you know who would be really upset by that?"

"Michelle Landau," Christian volunteered without hesitation. Her anger and her implied threat had been on his mind since the explosion. "We were having an affair, and her husband recently passed away, and she thought we would have a future together."

"They bought your practice, right?"

"Yes, Michelle and her husband, Burt Landau - - he died recently, so we're dealing only with Michelle now. He was a big investor, made his money off buying up businesses and turning them into multi million-dollar ventures. We still own 49% of the practice, and we're negotiating with her right now to buy back her interest."

"Wanting to buy her out followed you and Sean...changing your relationship?"

"Yes. The stress of working with Michelle under these circumstances is intolerable, and we're also not prepared to have someone else participating in the management of the practice anymore. She tried to rekindle things with me, telling me it was my last chance. Something in her voice gave me chills."

"Last chance for what, exactly?"

"To be with her, to not buy her out, to go on like she was hoping we would."

"Anyone else we should know about?"

"Not that I can think of."

Christian thought of James, but kept it to himself. She had a thing for Michelle, and truthfully, it would be in her best interest to leave Sean alone and keep the path clear for herself to pursue Michelle. Another part of himself wasn't prepared to talk to Fishman about doing business with a madam. And then there was Escobar, but with his new face in place, he had nothing but good feelings for Sean, who saved his life by decking the scalpel-wielding Bobolit during surgery and getting Escobar back under anesthesia. He'd even presented Sean with a photo of a very dead Antonio Perez, the last person who could reveal their late night gator-feeding romp in the swamp a few years back.

"This comes close on the heels of Escobar Gallardo's escape from custody while recovering in your surgery suite," Fishman said.

"I don't know why he'd come after us. We did his surgery with the permission of prison officials. We fixed his face, we didn't damage it. There'd be no reason for him to come after Sean or me. As a matter of fact, Sean saved his life in the OR."

"Yes, I heard about that. Pretty remarkable, considering what a dirtbag Gallardo is."

"He was a patient, and Sean's a doctor. He takes his oath very seriously."

"More seriously that you would in similar circumstances?"

"Like you said, the guy was a dirtbag. I don't know if I'd risk decking some scalpel-wielding nut to save his sorry ass."

"We still haven't apprehended Gallardo. You never received any contacts or threats from him since his escape?"

"No," Christian lied, making a mental note to get Sean on the same page so their stories matched. There was no reason to truly suspect Escobar, so there was nothing to gain by self-destructing and spilling their guts now.

"How were the divorce negotiations going between Sean and his wife?"

"Amicably. They had most everything worked out. They didn't want a long, difficult battle for the kids to go through."

"No bad blood then? She just accepted the whole thing quietly?"

"Not exactly," Christian admitted, pausing. "I should probably let Sean tell you this himself, but he's got enough on his dish. When Sean told Julia about us, they argued, and she was upset, and she threw a glass votive holder at him. It hit him and fractured his cheekbone. He's just now getting back on solid food and the swelling and bruising are all but gone. She was very apologetic about it, and Sean was upset, but he forgave her."

"Did they have a history of domestic violence?"

"No. Sean never even spanked the kids."

"What about Julia?"

"He never hit her, either."

"No, I meant, was this the first time she hit him?"

"I think they had a couple other arguments where she threw something. Sean can tell you more about that."

"Okay. I'll talk with him about that. Going back to today, Annie was staying here overnight?"

"Yes. We watched a Hannah Montana concert DVD Sean got for Annie's birthday. She was thrilled with it," Christian said, swallowing hard. "It was a nice family evening. This morning, Annie fixed us breakfast. I can't believe how fast she's grown up," Christian added, finding his emotions closer to the surface than he expected.

"Take your time, Christian. It's difficult to do this so soon, but time is a key factor in any investigation. Anything unusual happen last night or this morning? Any odd phone calls, people loitering around outside you didn't recognize, anything at all out of the ordinary?"

"Not that I remember. Sean and I had dinner in, and then Julia called to ask about dropping Annie off, we didn't go anywhere once she got here...I didn't really look outside until this morning, other than a passing glance. We got a couple phone calls last night, but they were people we knew, so nothing odd."

"Do you remember what time the calls came in, and who they were from?"

"Is that important?"

"Probably not, but you can't overlook anything."

"I got a call on my cell phone about 9:30 from a former...acquaintance. She asked about getting together. I declined, told her I was in a relationship. Her name is Amber, but I don't know her last name. There was a call on the land line here a little earlier from some charity - - I didn't recognize it, so I didn't talk to them long. That was probably 8:00 or so, if I had to take a guess. I don't really remember."

"Sean didn't get any calls?"

"Not that I remember, no."

"Did either of you leave for any reason between when Annie arrived and this morning?"

"No."

"How about Sean?"

"No, neither of us. He was sleeping in the same bed with me, so I know where he was."

"He couldn't have gotten up without waking you?"

"What is this about? You're not seriously considering Sean a suspect in this?"

"Personally, no, but he's an ex-spouse and there's been domestic violence and considerable tension over the...changes in your relationship, so I have to get all the facts about anyone who could even be considered a suspect."

"Let's just say that if Sean had moved that much during the night, I would have felt it. That clear enough?"

"I'm just doing my job, and if I didn't ask questions about your whereabouts, and Sean's, I'd be a pretty shitty detective."

"His daughter was killed. He'd have to be some kind of monster."

"No arguments there, and I don't believe he's capable of that. I have a lot of respect for how your partner handled his involvement with the Carver. He's got guts, and he put himself on the line for that investigation. I don't think he had anything to do with this, but I need information to eliminate him as a suspect as much as I would to make him one. Now, explain to me how this whole car switching thing came about."

"Julia came over this morning to pick up Annie to take her to school. She was going to take her car in to the shop today, after she dropped Annie off, since it had been giving her some problems."

"What kind of problems?"

"Mainly electrical, sensor lights going on or something - - at least I think that's what it was. She couldn't get it started this morning, so she asked Sean if she could take the rental car. He was going to take the car in for her, and I could give him rides wherever he needed to go until it got straightened out. I took Julia's keys and tried to start her car, while Julia and Annie...got in the other car. Sean came back to where I was, to see if I was having any luck with it."

"So he got clear of the rental car, after Julia and Annie were inside?"

"I guess so. I wasn't really watching him. I was trying to get her car started, and he came up to the open driver's door to see how I was doing. The next thing we heard was the explosion."

"What did you do next?"

"Got out of Julia's car, ran toward the rental car, but when I could see it was engulfed, I held Sean back. He wanted to go right into the fire to try to pull them out, but I held onto him. After the second explosion, I think he knew it was hopeless. He finally stopped fighting me."

"Who else knew Julia would be here this morning?"

"I don't know...Marlowe, I suppose. I don't know if Annie told anyone."

"Julia left her car to come up and pick up Annie?"

"Yes. They went downstairs and then Julia called Sean to say the car wouldn't start and to ask to take the rental."

"So he didn't offer, she asked?"

"When Julia first mentioned the car trouble, Sean offered to take it in for her and let her use the rental. She refused, but then when it wouldn't start, she wanted to get Annie to school, so she asked him if she could take it. We went downstairs together to give Julia the keys, and I decided to try to start her car just for the hell of it. We were most likely going to go into the office in my car and then come back later to deal with Julia's car."

"Okay," Fishman concluded, making a couple final notes. "Any idea when your partner will come out of the sedation?"

"He's not going to be up to this until tomorrow."

"All right. I've got enough to get started. Here's my card," he said, standing, and Christian stood also, taking the card. "Have Sean give me a call tomorrow when he's ready."

"I will. Thanks," Christian said, following him to the door.

After Fishman left, Christian went back into the bedroom where Sean had changed positions but didn't appear to have awakened at all. Christian climbed onto the bed and spooned his body behind Sean's. He let himself drift a little, giving in to the emotional exhaustion of the last several hours.

********

The next few days were the predictable blur of activity that follows a death in the family. Julia's parents were both notified, and Erica decided to fly in immediately to participate in the arrangements for the memorial service. Julia's father planned to attend the service once a date was set. He seemed to prefer not to spend additional time in the same town as his ex-wife. Annie's school invited the family to attend their memorial service, scheduled for a Thursday afternoon in a courtyard garden, where they planned to dedicate a new tree and small angel statue to Annie's memory. Sean and Christian moved into Sean's house, and Marlowe agreed to continue as Conor's nanny. Sean wasn't thrilled with Marlowe in many ways, but it would provide Conor some much-needed continuity in his care, at least until Sean himself was better focused on finding a permanent solution.

The media camped at a minimum distance from the house, waiting to catch a glimpse of one of them coming or going so they could swarm them like killer bees. Christian had made a single appearance on the edge of the property to inform them, on camera, that they wouldn't tolerate any trespassing or intrusion on the family's grief, and any reporters violating that should expect to have the police haul them off in handcuffs. Sean knew the case was becoming a media circus, there was little way to protect him from that realization when the major cable news networks all had vans parked down the street. So far, he had little interest in dwelling on the media's sensational, unending coverage and commentary on his family's tragedy.

Christian's prediction that Sean would rise to the occasion proved right. Though he slept very little and ate less, he was up and functioning, taking phone calls and expressions of sympathy and participating in the memorial service arrangements. Occasionally Christian would find him sitting with Conor in his arms in Annie's room, as if he were just spending quiet time with his daughter's memory. Christian usually left him alone at those times to give him the opportunity to sort out his thoughts and cope with his grief; Sean always sought him out when he needed him.

A sunny Wednesday afternoon found Sean and Christian sitting at the kitchen table, finalizing the memorial service arrangements with Erica, who had the composure of a CEO mobilizing her minions.

"What about flowers? Have you thought about the flowers?" Erica's insistent voice was like a scalpel slicing into Sean's brain. He knew dealing with Julia's mother was inevitable, and for Julia's sake, he had steeled himself for the prospect of spending time with Erica, but it didn't make it any less repugnant. The fact Julia had called her mother and told her about the change in his relationship with Christian hadn't endeared him to her heart.

Julia and Annie were not only dead, but destroyed until what was left was better off in a can than in a casket, and Erica was surprised he hadn't decided what color flowers should flank their portraits at the memorial service.

"Actually, we asked Kimber to work with the florist to design something. There will be pink sweetheart roses for Annie, and a mixture of exotic lilies, orchids, and other rare white flowers for Julia," Christian spoke up, and Sean was grateful he'd jumped in.

"Oh, just a moment," Erica said, holding up a forestalling hand. "The porn star is doing the flowers?"

"No, the florist is doing the flowers. Kimber had some good ideas, and regardless of what you think of her personally, she has good taste when it comes to decorating and amenities," Christian said. "I think it's obvious Sean isn't up to doing all this alone, and I thought a woman's touch on the flowers was a good idea."

"The flowers are handled, Erica," Sean said. "And I'm grateful for the help."

"I thought I might perhaps have some say in the arrangements for my daughter and granddaughter," she retorted.

"We thought your grief might make it difficult for you to plan an event," Christian retorted, and the implication wasn't lost on Erica.

"My grief is my business. I do care what kind of memorial tribute is done for Julia and Annie. Obviously, you're happy to push the jobs off on whomever will take them."

"That's not fair and you know it," Sean said. "We're all dealing with an enormous loss, and having friends come forward to help is a blessing."

"Fine, the flowers are handled. What about the music?"

"Liz offered to find us someone, but I told her you might want to handle some of the arrangements personally. If you want her to do it, I'll give her a call," Sean said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He looked at the clock. It was almost time to go pick up Annie at school. Conor cried then, and for a moment, Sean sat there, confused. Annie wasn't at school. She was dead. And it was Marlowe's day off. Such a mundane fact in the middle of such atrocity.

"I'll get him," Christian offered, but Sean shook his head.

"It's okay. I'll go. You guys figure out the details. I'm sure whatever you pick out will be fine," he added, heading to the nursery.

"He washed his hands of that neatly," Erica commented sourly, looking over the checklist she'd made on a page of her thick, leather-bound planner.

"That's not fair and you know it. It's obvious to anyone that he's barely hanging on right now."

"Well, at least he's alive. That's more than I can say for my daughter and granddaughter. They paid the price for whatever he did that angered someone enough to want to not only kill him, but completely erase him from existence."

"Even if that's true, it's not Sean's fault."

"He wasn't in the car, and they were. I hope your little affair together is worth it, because it most likely cost Julia and Annie their lives, if that woman you were sleeping with is behind this."

"Your logic is seriously warped, Erica. You can't blame the fact Sean and I are a couple, or Sean for trying to do Julia a favor. It's not like having a bomb in your car is something you expect on a regular basis."

"What are the police doing to solve this case? I'd like to talk to the detective in charge."

"Be my guest," Christian said, pulling Fishman's card out of his wallet and tossing it across the table at Erica. Part of him pitied the cop for having to field those questions. "He's a good man. He was on the Carver case."

"He didn't solve that one, either, did he?" she observed with a slight grimace.

"He was reassigned."

"Because he didn't solve the case."

"Right, and then they put the Carver's sister in charge of the investigation, so the smart money would have been on Fishman."

"I'll take care of the music and the catering, unless you have another fading porn star who knows her way around the kitchen?"

"We're having the dinner at the Country Club, but we haven't made menu arrangements yet."

"Fine, I'll handle it," she said, making a note. "Invitations?"

"It's a memorial service, not a wedding reception," Christian replied.

"Since it didn't occur immediately like a regular funeral, it would be wise to let friends and family know when it's taking place, as well as the times and places for the service and the dinner. Not to mention the fact this is going to be an international media event."

"Not if we can help it. If I see one camera in that place, whoever's carrying it is going to need emergency rectal surgery to remove it. I hired a security firm to keep the media off the premises during the ceremony at Annie's school and the memorial service. I doubt people are going to have trouble finding out when it is - - the problem is keeping the ghouls outside."

"We have time to send out a small, tasteful card to a modest guest list." Another box was checked on the list.

"Your daughter is dead," Christian said. "Sean is so destroyed over the death of his daughter that he doesn't sleep, barely eats, and walks around like a zombie. I've seen wedding planners less matter-of-fact than you are."

"How dare you," Erica said, her tone low and menacing. "Just because I don't choose to throw myself about the house sobbing convulsively doesn't mean I'm not grieving for my daughter, or for Annie. Someone has to care enough about their memory to plan a fitting tribute. I won't have them exit this world surrounded by a couple cheap bouquets of flowers and a tacky pot luck for ten or twelve people."

"I have a news bulletin for you, Erica. They already exited this world, and all this...this...pomp and circumstance is your showcase and...photo op, not theirs," Christian responded, his ire growing.

"All right, you two, enough," Sean said, rejoining them.

"Conor okay?" Christian asked.

"He's asleep again. He knows something's wrong...he misses Julia." Sean sighed. "I want Julia and Annie to have a nice service. Erica, you and I don't always see eye to eye on things, but your taste is impeccable, and I'm sure Julia would be pleased to have you handle any of the arrangements as you see fit. Just tell us what we need to do to help. Kimber was kind enough to work with the florist for us, so whatever she's set up, we'll let that stand. I think we're all grieving and there's no point in us turning that on each other."

"That's very magnanimous of you, Sean. As much as it would console me to spend time with my daughter's widower and his new lover, I think I'll go back to my hotel and make some phone calls." She gathered her things and stood. "I'm having lunch with Matt. Someone has to straighten out that poor, misguided boy. There must be some other woman in town one of the three of you can sleep with besides Kimber Henry."

"McNamara," Sean spoke up. At Erica's stunned expression, Sean nodded. "Matt married Kimber recently. He didn't tell you?"

"Dear God, no," she replied.

"Guess what else?" Christian said, and Sean just shook his head, knowing that Christian had probably waited like a panther in tall grass for a moment like this. "You're going to be a great grandmother. To the porn star's baby," he added.

"How Julia survived this family as long as she did is a miracle," Erica stated, putting on her sunglasses and striding out the kitchen door, slamming it behind her.

"The great-grandmother remark was a low blow," Sean said, smiling a little.

"Thank you for giving me that opening," he said, leaning over and kissing Sean on the mouth. It was meant to be a simple gesture of affection, but Sean moved closer, deepening the kiss and prolonging it. They hadn't made love since the night before the explosion, and Christian had left it to Sean to make any physical move. Christian thought making love would be a healing thing, a way to be closer, but he didn't want to push Sean at a time when he was so shattered emotionally.

"It's Marlowe's day off and Conor's asleep," Sean said, resting his forehead against Christian's. "Maybe it's too soon," he said, the uncertainty plain in his voice.

"Maybe it isn't," Christian urged gently, initiating another kiss, sliding his hand under the t-shirt Sean wore under blue shirt he'd left hanging open and untucked. His fingers found and rubbed over a nipple that hardened instantly at his touch.

"Let's move this to the bedroom," Sean suggested, pulling back and standing up. Christian followed closely, almost afraid that the act of getting up and walking around would break the spell, and Sean would decide he wasn't ready, or that it was wrong somehow for them to do this when they should be miserable. That it was wrong to break free of the non-stop depression and pain for a little ray of hope.

Christian's fears were assuaged in short order when they reached the bed. Sean pushed him back on the mattress and fell with him, on top of him, a hunger and demand in his kisses that Christian hadn't felt from him before. They rolled together on the bed, kissing and groping, struggling with ornery buttons and zippers and not caring if they caused destruction to the garments in forcing them to surrender.

Once they were skin on skin, Sean seemed to relax into the lovemaking, some of the urgency gone. He never stopped kissing Christian as his hand slid down to wrap around Christian's hardening cock, stroking it. Christian couldn't remember when he'd ever settled for a hand job so he could keep on kissing someone, but that's what he was doing.

He knew Sean would probably go along with it if he wanted to be inside him, and while he wanted that, the closeness and intimacy of the kissing and full body contact was too sweet to give up. He mirrored Sean's pumping action, stroking Sean until he was hard, reaching down to fondle Sean's balls, sliding his tongue into the depths of Sean's mouth. Part of him wanted more, and somehow, he felt guilty asking that of Sean, especially now. Taking that from him and not giving it back to him in return.

"There's KY and condoms in my bag," he said, as if he'd read Christian's mind. "I'll wait," he quipped.

"Sean, I can't keep doing this," Christian blurted. A look of horror crossed Sean's face. "Oh, God, no, I don't mean this, with us... I mean, you're always giving me what I need and I don't give it back to you."

"I've just been screaming and coming all over you to be polite," Sean replied, sighing. "You think I'm lying here like some Victorian bride, nobly giving you what you want and not getting anything out of it? You think I'd just roll over and take it up the ass if there was nothing in it for me?"

"I think you'd do anything for me, and I feel like I'm taking advantage of that. Especially now, it feels like I should be doing something more for you."

"Don't make this about what's happened." Sean sat up and moved away a little, his erection faltering a bit. "I guess this was a bad idea after all."

"I'm sorry. It's my fault. I'm screwing it up."

They both sat on the bed, quiet for a few moments.

"I love you," Sean said softly. "I want to be in you sometime, but I don't care when it happens... and if it doesn't happen, that doesn't change how I feel about you. I want to be with you, not your asshole." He paused. "Losing Julia and Annie this way, seeing how a life like Annie's, just getting started, can end in a heartbeat...the details don't matter. They never really did, but they really don't now."

"I love you, too. I have a confession to make."

"What?"

"I love your asshole, too," he said. He smiled when Sean burst out laughing. Just hearing Sean laugh, seeing a real smile on his face, was worth everything, even if they didn't finish what they started.

"I know there are some...things you need to work through before you want to be on the receiving end of things, and that's okay. I'm not timing you."

"I want us to be...whole, you know? I want to want that, but I don't. I do, but I don't."

"You want to share that with me but you don't want to feel something stuck up your ass?" Sean asked, his tone gentler than the words themselves. They hit home with Christian, because they were so damned perceptive and too much what he was feeling to believe they'd come out of someone else's mouth. "Hey, it's okay," Sean said, seeing the emotion in Christian's expression. "I'm not doing anything I don't want to do, and I don't want to be inside you until you really want it to happen. I can honestly say it would kill me to know I was reminding you of something awful, or hurting you just to get my rocks off."

"I guess all that sappy stuff they say about love is true. You really do know it when you find the right one," Christian said, pulling Sean into his arms. They started kissing again, and it wasn't long before the fires that had cooled were growing hotter. Christian broke away long enough to grab a couple items from the bag, and then was back on the bed, kneeling between Sean's legs. "You want to turn over?" he asked.

"No. I want to see you." Sean drew his knees up and Christian ignored his supplies to kiss the underside of Sean's thigh, moving down low, close to his balls, licking at them and then sucking one into his mouth. Sean gasped at the stimulation, grabbing the sheets with both hands. Spurred by that display, Christian treated the second oval to the same attention before sucking on the tender skin of Sean's perineum. Sean turned his head into the pillow and muffled a loud groan of pleasure.

Christian coated his finger with the gel and worked it into the tight opening, lubricating and stretching, probing for the little nob inside. He didn't want to spend too much time there since Sean was already hard, but he couldn't resist that first shock wave that went through Sean's body when Christian fingered his prostate. He wasn't disappointed as Sean arched up, gasping, his erection seeming to grow just a little more at the intense stimulation.

Rolling on the condom and coating himself with the gel, Christian pressed the head of his cock against Sean's body, then pushed inside, moving past the initial barrier, watching Sean's expression as he was filled slowly but steadily. There were those first few signs of strain, as Sean's body stretched to accommodate him, and Christian reached up to rub and pinch at Sean's nipples to distract him from any discomfort. Sean pulled him down for a kiss just before Christian began moving, pumping in and out.

He loved Sean with every fiber of his being, but the physical sensations were just as incredible. There was nothing like the pressure on his cock as it slid in and out of a passage almost too tight for it. He started slowly, but soon, both wanted the cadence and depth of real thrusting, and Christian began pumping in earnest, torn between wanting a harder, faster pace and wanting to hold Sean closer. He wanted to make love to him and fuck him into the mattress at the same time. When Sean reached for him, the choice was clear and easy. Christian wrapped his arms around Sean and pulled him up, sitting back on his heels with Sean's legs around his hips, moving together. Sean's heart was pounding against his, the heat and dampness between them making them feel fused into one being.

"I love you," Christian breathed into Sean's ear, feeling like he had to say it right then. Suddenly the preciousness of his lover swept over him, along with the thought of how he'd almost lost him a second time in just weeks. If not for a couple strange accidents of fate, Sean wouldn't be alive in his arms, his body moving and responding to him. He'd never feel that hot passage squeezing him like nothing else could, never hear Sean's cries of pleasure, or watch his face flush, or hear him mumble a sleepy "I love you" when he was too sated and exhausted to stay awake any longer.

The pace of their sex slowed a little, and Christian found he didn't mind prolonging it a bit more. Sean was kissing his mouth, his chin, his neck, hands caressing his back, his sides, every part of Christian he could touch. Christian stroked Sean's back, slid his hand into Sean's hair, buried his face in Sean's neck and breathed in his scent, as if he could absorb this moment of perfect closeness into his very pores and keep it there forever.

They began rocking a little faster, both their bodies restless for satisfaction. He thrust upward harder, rubbing over Sean's prostate, making him writhe and moan with each move. Christian found himself gasping and crying out and then coming, feeling the wetness of Sean's orgasm against his belly. When it was over, they stayed in that position a few minutes, limp and satisfied.

Sean moved gingerly, Christian's cock slipping free of his body. He stretched out on the bed, and Christian lay next to him, leaning up on one elbow. He stroked Sean's cheek with the backs of his fingers, then leaned in for a kiss.

"Thanks," Sean said quietly, taking Christian's hand.

"I should be thanking you."

"You made me feel like there was some reason I still wanted to keep going. You're what's kept me going the last few days, but for the first time today, I felt some hope that things will be okay. Not right now, but...eventually. That maybe I could even feel happy again someday."

"You will. I'll make sure of that."

********

Sean wasn't sure how long they'd slept, but he knew he needed to check on Conor. He had a nursery monitor by the bed, so the baby's crying would have disturbed him. He looked at the clock, relieved they'd only been asleep about an hour. He felt lethargic and exhausted, his body sleep deprived and worn out from grieving, and now worn out in a good way from intense lovemaking. In any event, he longed to just stay there next to Christian's warm body and rest.

"I'll check on Conor. Go back to sleep, sweetheart." Christian kissed him on the forehead and got up before he could protest. The bed felt cold and empty without him, and the crushing press of the depression was back. His lower back was tired, and he felt guilty for having felt so good for even a little while. The heat of sex had worn off, and now he felt chilly again, that coldness that comes with grief and seems to linger beyond all logical physical causes.

"He's still sleeping," Christian said, lying down with Sean again, throwing a light blanket over both of them. "Try to rest, Sean. You're exhausted. I'll get him up to eat in a little while."

Sean didn't respond to that, but scooted into Christian's arms, holding on tightly. Christian squeezed him gently and kissed his cheek.

********

When Christian got up the next time, Sean was still sleeping soundly for the first time in days. He carefully covered him, grabbed his clothes and slipped out of the room. He took a shower in the master bathroom to avoid waking Sean in the guest room. When he came out of the shower, he shivered, feeling a cold draft that seemed to come from the bedroom. Frowning, he looked out the bathroom door into the bedroom beyond it, but saw nothing. He dressed, then went to check the thermostat, which read a moderate 72 degrees. Shrugging it off as a chill felt by his cooling body after all that body heat and a warm shower, he went to the nursery to check on Conor and get him up for dinner.

He approached the crib, and found the baby awake, kicking and happy. Smiling and shaking his head at the joyful display in the middle of such somber sadness in the household, he picked Conor up and carried him to the changing table, since it was obvious he was ready for a fresh diaper. After taking care of that, he took his godson to the kitchen and got him situated in his high chair for dinner. There was a knock at the kitchen door. Matt stood on the other side of it.

"Didn't expect to see you here anytime soon," Christian said, opening the door and stepping aside while Matt entered.

"It's a circus out there. There were about twenty people chasing my car like dogs in the street until I turned into the driveway. Then some giant stopped me for my ID."

"I hired security for the house. I don't want some asshole crawling into our shrubs and peeking in our windows with cameras."

"I know I said some stupid things the other day," Matt said.

"Stupid? You practically accused Sean of having something to do with killing Julia and Annie. That's not stupid, it's ridiculous and unbelievably cruel."

"So Dad's still pissed off at me?"

"Keep your voice down. He's sleeping soundly for the first time since it happened. No, he's not pissed off, just hurt as hell." Christian started gathering the supplies for Conor's meal.

"It was such a shock. I don't think it's sunk in yet. They were fine one minute and the next minute, just...gone."

"It's been a nightmare for all of us. I know this isn't easy for you, Matty, but this time, you can't take it all out on your father. He can't handle much more right now."

"I'm not trying to take it out on him. I know I owe him an apology."

"You want anything to eat?" Christian offered.

"I had lunch with Grandma. I'm not really hungry."

"How did that go?"

"She was raving about how awful it was that I was married to Kimber and that I needed to get out of that mess right away, and she even supplied me with the name of a good divorce lawyer she knows."

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I actually agree with Erica."

"I know you guys don't approve of me and Kimber, but your relationship isn't exactly conventional, either, and you want me to accept that."

"There's a big difference in not accepting something and not approving of it. We love you, kiddo. We might not agree with your choices, but we're not going to banish you from our lives over it. Or Kimber. I can't say it isn't weird in ways I can't begin to describe to have her pregnant with my grandchild and sleeping with my son, but it's what you want, so that's the end of that."

"Is it just me or is it cold in here?"

"I thought it was just me. The thermostat says it's 72. Maybe there's something wrong with it." A male scream from the guest room took them both by surprise. "Stay with Conor," Christian said, rushing toward the guest room while Matt tried to console and distract the baby, who was starting to cry from the noise and commotion.

Christian rushed into the guest room to find Sean sitting up in bed, chest heaving with labored breathing, staring straight ahead as if he were intensely focused on something.

"Sean, I'm here, look at me," Christian said, sitting on the side of the bed, taking a hold of Sean's shoulders.

"She was burned...her hair was charred...she was so angry..."

"You were dreaming," Christian said gently, relieved that Sean finally looked at him, his eyes a little less wild than they'd been when he first came into the room. "Breathe, nice and deep," he coached, and Sean did his best to get his ragged breathing back on an even keel. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

"I saw Julia. She was right there at the foot of the bed. I swear to God, Christian, she was there."

"You know it was a nightmare, right?" Christian asked, moving closer, rubbing Sean's back. The soothing motion seemed to calm him more, and he nodded.

"I know it had to be, but she looked so angry, and part of her face was burned...her hands were burned, almost black," Sean managed before his voice broke to badly to go on.

"It was just a nightmare." Christian pulled Sean into his arms. "You feel responsible because you let her borrow the car, and that's why your mind made that up," he said, bringing the blanket up around Sean's bare back when he felt him shivering. The room seemed colder than usual.

"She looked like she wanted me dead."

"Julia would want you to be alive to care for Conor, to be here for Matt, to live your life. She wouldn't wish that on you."

"She might if she thought I killed her," Sean said quietly against Christian's shoulder, as if he were afraid someone else might overhear it.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Sean. You do know this was just a dream?"

"What if it wasn't?" Sean asked, moving away a little so he could look at Christian.

"Then it was a hallucination brought on by exhaustion, grief, and trauma."

"I know you're right."

"It's okay to be upset about this. It was a bad nightmare."

"Maybe I'm losing my mind."

"No, you're not. You're tired and grieving and feeling guilty because you're alive and they're not."

"I do feel guilty. I sent them to their deaths," Sean said miserably.

"No, you didn't, Dad," Matt's voice came from the doorway of the room. He was carrying Conor with him, and sat on the edge of the empty side of the bed. The baby seemed content now as he sat on his older brother's lap, fidgeting with a toy. "I'm sorry I was such an asshole to you. What happened to Mom and Annie...it's not your fault."

"That means a lot coming from you," Sean said, pulling the blanket around himself.

"Kimber and I could take Conor for a couple days if that would help. Give Kimber a chance to practice before the baby comes."

"Thanks, but Sean kept Marlowe on. This is just his day off," Christian explained.

"I didn't think you'd want him around once Mom was gone," Matt said.

"I don't particularly, but it's not about what I want, it's about what's best for Conor, and he's had too much upheaval in his life already. He might not be able to talk, but he misses his mother, and I don't want to take another significant caregiver away from him right now."

"How about you? Have you eaten anything in the last four days?" Matt asked, seeming to really notice for the first time how pale and haggard Sean looked.

"Conor eats more," Christian chided gently, patting Sean's shoulder to take any sting out of the words.

"Come back home with me and have dinner at our place. Kimber's a great cook, and she'd be glad to make us dinner."

"I don't want to put her out," Sean said.

"Dad, we're family, and we ought to be together to get through this. I know you're not happy about our marriage, but we need to put that shit aside now. Let us help you."

"I think we should go," Christian agreed. "The change of scenery will do you good and some food would do you even better. I can vouch for Kimber's cooking. She knows her way around the kitchen."

"Okay, you don't need to gang up on me," Sean said with a little smile. "Give me some time to take a shower and change and we'll go." 

******** 

Kimber welcomed Sean and Christian like a picture perfect hostess. Matt had called ahead to let her know they were coming, and the scent of food was already in the air when they arrived. The tragedy the family was enduring seemed to bring out the kindness and compassion in Kimber, and she'd not only gladly helped with the memorial service arrangements, but now as warmly welcoming Sean and Christian into Matt's and her home.

"I hope we aren’t putting you out," Sean said as they walked into the apartment.

"It's the least we can do," she said, smiling. "Sean, I’m running a little behind with the dinner - - you always have made a great salad. Could you give me a hand?"

"As long as it's just salad. I still haven't mastered much else."

"His lasagna's improving, though," Christian said, smiling at Sean.

While Matt and Christian sat in the living room, Sean went with Kimber to the kitchen to work on the salad. After washing his hands, he started chopping lettuce and other vegetables Kimber had out on the counter.

"How are you feeling these days?" Sean asked.

"A little better now," Kimber said, smiling. "Thank you for asking."

"The first couple months are usually the worst for morning sickness. Julia started to feel better in her third month, when she was pregnant with Annie."

"I know that you and Christian aren’t thrilled about my marriage to Matt, but I am trying to make this work."

"I want Matt to be happy. If you two can make it together, then I’ll be glad for both of you. I know you have it in you to make someone really happy."

"That’s nice of you to say, Sean. You know, I have some nice memories of our time together."

"We had some fun," Sean admitted, smiling a bit.

"I have a confession to make," Kimber said, returning the smile. "I bribed Annie to tell you she thought I’d make a good mother."

“I knew about that.”

"You did? How?" she asked, looking surprised.

"She told me. I should have been flattered - - after all, you did invest forty bucks to get me thinking marriage."

"Oh, no, and I thought it was a girls' secret between Annie and me all this time," she replied, shaking her head.

"Annie and I always had a lot of openness between us. She almost always told me the truth."

"She trusted you because she knew how much you loved her."

"I miss her so much already," Sean said, pausing his salad making. "I don’t know how to deal with the fact she's never coming back. I’m sorry," he said, walking away from the salad ingredients, leaning on a counter with his back to Kimber.

"It’s okay, Sean. I can’t even imagine how hard this is for you," she said, resting her hand on Sean’s back. He turned toward her and accepted a brief hug, then stepped back. "I really do need help with that salad," she said, and he laughed a little.

"I'll get back to work. Thanks," he said, touching her shoulder.

In the living room, Matt and Christian sat together, the heavy burden of tragedy keeping their usual banter at bay. They traded a little small talk about how Kimber’s pregnancy was going, but Christian found himself restless, wondering how Sean was doing.

"What have the cops come up with? I’ve tried calling Fishman, but I either don't get him on the phone, or I get double talk. I learn more on the news networks than I do from him."

"I know. I've called him myself, so has Sean. It's only been a few days, but I keep hoping they'll find something...be ready to make an arrest. And don't bring up the news networks to Sean. He knows they're dogging us, but he hasn't been watching the coverage. They keep replaying footage of the fire right after the explosion."

"Who would have a reason to want him dead? And why do something like blow up a car? Why not just use a gun or a knife? It's sensational...like something that Escobar character would try."

"Yeah, I have to admit that might be his style, but he always liked Sean in a twisted sort of way, and he's got no real reason to want him dead, not after we fixed his face for him."

"What about Michelle Landau? Could she want to derail your negotiations badly enough to do something like this?"

"I gave her name to Fishman to check into it. It seems unbelievable that anybody would go to this length, do it this way. Michelle might be angry, but it's hard for me to believe she'd do something like this."

"What about a former patient? Is there anybody crazy enough or unhappy enough to do it? This doesn’t make any sense, Christian. It's so over the top, like overkill, that whoever did it had to really hate Dad to want him blown away like that."

"Let’s not talk about this anymore tonight. I want this to be a break for Sean. The stress is taking its toll on him."

"Right, I won't say anything else in front of him."

"Whoever it is, we're going to find out. If Fishman doesn't figure it out pretty soon, we'll hire a private investigator, whatever it takes. For now, we need to get through this as a family."

"I can’t believe Dad's not screaming for vengeance. He's never been one to sit back and let someone else handle it if there's a threat to his family."

"He's not sitting back, Matty. He's destroyed. Something died in him when that car exploded, and it hasn't come back yet. I don't know if it ever will. It's like a light went out. I know he'll get stronger and bounce back and go on, but it's going to take time, and whether or not he'll ever be the same, I don't know.”

"After the memorial service, we need to go see Fishman, even if Dad's not up to it. We need to keep on him, so he knows we're not going to rest until he figures this out."

"We will. We’re not just sitting back and letting this go."

"Dinner’s almost ready," Kimber announced, walking into the room, Sean behind her. "The wine and salad are served."

The four of them sat around the table, and did manage to eat some of the food, though no one's appetite was at its best. Sean picked at the salad, and had a couple bites of the main course, but didn't put away the meal Christian had hoped he would. By mid evening, Christian, Sean and Conor headed back home, though neither man really looked forward to going back to the dark house full of its memories, or ducking the ever-present reporters lurking just beyond their property line.

Once they arrived home, Sean took Conor into the nursery to get him ready for bed while Christian sorted through some piled up mail and listened to the answering machine messages.

"He's out like a light," Sean said, joining Christian in the kitchen. "You think maybe there's a chance Matt and Kimber might make a go of that marriage?"

"I don't know," Christian said, sighing. "Kimber's got a good side to her, but she's also got a seriously twisted side. I'd feel a hell of a lot better if they weren't dabbling in some crackpot religion. Hey, you want to turn in and get some rest?"

"No. I can't sleep, but if you're tired, I can just stay up for a while and watch some TV."

"I’m fine. I’d rather be with you," Christian added, ruffling the back of Sean's hair gently.

"Oh, God," Sean said, picking up a large pink envelope off the counter.

"I was going to get rid of that," Christian said.

"It's from cousins of Julia's...I didn't even think to notify them personally," Sean said, opening the birthday card that had come for Annie. "You’re a teenager now," he read off the card.

"They must have sent it before the news broke." Christian paused. "Sean, don't do this to yourself. I'll call them and let them know."

"Today is her birthday," Sean said, his voice strained. "I forgot until now."

"With all that's happened, it's not funny the days are running together."

"Annie, my little princess," Sean said, his body shaking, tears rolling down his cheeks. "She always thought I could protect her. Whenever she was afraid, I could make it right. She trusted me and I put her in that car - -"

"It's not your fault," Christian said, putting his arm around Sean, who readily wrapped his arms around Christian and held on tightly. "You couldn't have known, Sean. It wasn't your fault. You would have done anything to protect Annie."                        

"When it mattered, I couldn't save her. I sent her to her death."

"Damn it, Sean, you didn't send her to her death. You didn't know." Christian rested his head against Sean's, stroking his back. "You're a good father. You did your best. No one could have known there was any danger."

"God, it hurts so bad, Christian. I can't stand it. I just want to die so it'll stop."

"Don't say that!" Christian shook Sean gently. "Don't ever say that. I love you, and I don't want to live without you. It'll get better, I promise."

"Promise?" Sean asked, and the love and trust in that word broke his heart. As overwhelming as Sean's grief was, a word from Christian could make it better, maybe make it hurt a little bit less.

"I promise, sweetheart. It'll always hurt, but it won't hurt this much forever. I promise it'll get better, and we'll get through it, and we'll have some happy times in our lives. Think about Conor. We'll raise him together, and we'll be here for Matt when Kimber screws him over," he added.

"I guess that answers my question from earlier," Sean said brokenly, trying to pull himself together. "How am I going to sit through that memorial service and listen to people talking about them, and keep it together? I dread it. I know I shouldn't, but I do."

"Nobody expects you to keep it together. Everyone's going to be grieving, trying to come to terms with all this. I'll be right by your side."

"I'm sorry." Sean pulled back and leaned on the counter.

"Hey, you have nothing to apologize for." Christian grabbed a couple kleenex and handed them to Sean, who blew his nose and wiped his face. "But it will get better."

"Fishman hasn't called. He promised he'd call when he had something."

"We'll call him tomorrow, see if he has any news."

"I owe it to them to stay on him and make sure he finds out who did this and makes them pay."

"We will. I know we can't bring them back, but it's going to be okay, Sean. We'll find out who did this, and we'll figure out a way to go on with our lives. You and me."

********

Sean shivered and pulled the covers up around his neck. He knew he'd been feeling the cold more lately, but it felt as if someone had turned the air conditioning to about fifty degrees. Even his fingertips felt cold, as if he'd had them in cold water. He reached for Christian, but the flesh he felt was cold. Dead. Terrified at what the sensation implied, he jolted up on one elbow and looked straight into Julia's fire-ravaged face and expressionless, dead eyes.

He jumped out of the bed and backed away, unable to look away from the awful sight, but unable to remain near it. She rose until she was standing on the bed, and then stepped off the side of it, as if the distance to the floor was nothing.

"What do you want from me?" Sean pleaded with the apparition as it moved slowly toward him. "Jules, I'm sorry. I didn't know!" He looked around frantically until he saw a small statue on the dresser that fit easily into his hand. He picked it up and threw it at the figure advancing toward him. It either didn't hit her or went through her, because she didn't even flinch. He felt the wall behind him, unyielding, keeping him right where this horrible ghost-Julia obviously wanted him. He slid down the wall, trying to disappear into the corner, covering his head with both arms.

Hands were on him, touching him, almost tentatively. They weren't cold, and there was no anger or vengeance in them. He'd expected the ghost to tear him limb from limb, or at least inflict some kind of revenge on him. These hands were warm, connected to arms that came around him, pulling him against more warm flesh and a beating heart. It was a body that was like home to him, like every safe, secure feeling encased in human flesh. He moved his arms, carefully at first, afraid this was some kind of trick his senses were playing on him. Finally, he raised his head and his eyes confirmed that Christian was there on the floor with him, clad only in his underwear, very carefully holding Sean's body against his.

"Sean?" he asked quietly, and Sean realized Christian must have thought he was sleepwalking.

"I'm awake," he said, blinking.

"Shit, Sean, you're shaking like crazy. What happened?"

"Where were you?" Sean asked, his voice sounding more desperate and borderline accusatory than he expected.

"I got up to go to the john and it felt cold, so I went to see what we had the air set on, and the next thing I knew, I heard talking and then a crash - - I'm guessing it was that broken statue over there." Christian rubbed Sean's back gently. "You feel like you've been in a refrigerator," he said, standing and giving Sean a hand to pull him up.

"I saw Julia. She was in bed with me, where I thought you were. I reached out to touch you and it was her."

"It was just a nightmare," Christian reassured, leading him back toward the bed.

"I'm not getting in that bed."

"There's nothing here," Christian said. "Nothing but sheets," he added, moving the bedding around.

"It wasn't a dream. It was too real."

"Sean, you and I both know that Julia's dead. She can't be here, wandering around the house."

"I'm not crazy!" Sean protested.

"Hey, when did I say you were crazy?" Christian asked, keeping his tone calmer than Sean's.

"You didn't, but if she wasn't really here, then I am," he said, sitting on the foot of the bed. "I was afraid for my life, Christian. I thought she was going to...I don't know, do something awful to me. Take me back with her. Something."

"I'm no shrink, but it's pretty easy to figure this out." Christian put Sean's robe around him, then sat next to him and took one of Sean's hands in both of his. "You feel guilty about her death, so you're punishing yourself with this horrific 'vengeful Julia' nightmare, because you think you deserve some kind of retribution, or, God forbid, to be dead yourself because she is instead of you."

"It all sounds good but it doesn't change what I saw."

"Your hands are like ice," Christian said, frowning, letting go of the hand he'd been holding to try to warm up the other one as well.

"I was so cold when I woke up. You said you went to check the thermostat."

"Yeah, it felt cold when I got up, so I went out to check on it. Look, Sean, I got up and moved around, that probably disturbed your sleep, and you had a nightmare. I know it was awful, but that's all it was."

"I can't sleep in here. I don't want to sleep at all because I know if I do, I'm going to see her."

"Let's bundle Conor up and go back to my place."

"I don't want to get him out of bed in the middle of the night and haul him across town, not to mention the camera flashes going off while the handful of reporters on the night shift out there chase us down the road. Besides, if I'm losing my mind, I'll probably lose it at your place, too."

"You're not losing your mind. You're not eating, you're not sleeping, and you're grieving. You're beating yourself up because you lived and Julia and Annie didn't. Your mind is starting to play with that in some ugly ways. Plus, there are a lot of memories here. I think maybe we pushed you a little fast into coming here and staying. We could have set something up for Conor at my place, or rented a different place, I don't know. We don't have to be here."

"I have to decide what to do with the house, and I have to face this sooner or later. Putting it off isn't going to make it easier."

"You just need some rest - - "

"Don't even think about sedating me." Sean rested his face in both hands, elbows on his knees.

"I wasn't thinking of that," Christian replied, patting Sean's back. "Warming up a little?"

"It was cold when she was here. Her skin was cold, like death. I reached out to touch you and I thought you were dead," Sean admitted in a strained voice.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here when you needed me," Christian said.

"It's not your fault you had to go to the bathroom. If I'm so bad off you can't use the john without me going nuts and seeing things then you better put me away."

"Put your robe on and we'll go out to the living room and sleep on the couch together. I'll grab a blanket."

"You're not going to try to talk me into going back to bed?"

"If I dreamed I woke up next to a corpse, I wouldn't want to get back in bed either. Come on."

Sean stood and pulled on his robe while Christian did the same, and made his way to the couch on legs that still felt shaky. The two of them settled in there, feet on the coffee table, shared blanket, and Christian turned on the television. The familiar glow and drone of an old TV show rerun made the house seem less foreboding. Sean let his head rest against Christian's chest, and drew solace from the warmth there.

"I love you," Christian said, kissing his forehead.

"Me, too," Sean replied, letting his tired eyes drift shut.

"I'll be right here, sweetheart. Get some good sleep."

********

Sean couldn't help feeling that the memorial service at Annie's school was a sort of dress rehearsal for the joint memorial service for Julia and Annie planned for the following Monday. The remains had been released to the funeral home later than Fishman had estimated, and cremation had taken place.

Cremation. They were so badly burned there was nothing he could see, nothing he could identify as his wife or daughter. When he'd authorized the cremation, he'd felt as if he were somehow subjecting them to another burning. Burning burned remains. When they got back from the funeral home, he'd gone to the bathroom and vomited whatever was still in his mostly empty stomach from the breakfast Christian had finally coaxed him into eating. He was a doctor, he knew he was playing Russian Roulette with his body, depriving it of sleep and food, coping with monumental stress while running himself down to a condition of low immunity and marginal strength. Still, food made him sick and the thought of his daughter's death made him sicker. He grieved for Julia, missed her...but the pain of losing Annie made him feel as if someone had stuck their fist inside him and ripped out all the vital organs, leaving him open and bleeding. As if he'd been put through major surgery and left with his incision gaping open to heal without the benefit of stitches.

He feared the nearly obsessive attachment he was forming with Christian. Even now, he felt uneasy because Christian had taken Conor into a part of the garden safe from press scrutiny while he got ready to go to Annie's school. Part of it was the nightmares. Those horrible, all-too-real visions of a vengeful, charred, dead Julia coming back to exact retribution for what he'd done to her. He knew Christian had to be right - - he was finding a way to punish himself for the explosion, as well as the affair with Monica that he hadn't confessed to Julia before she died.

He'd seen a dead and bloody Monica sitting at the dinner table one night. He'd seen Escobar when he wasn't really there. Shit, maybe I am crazy, Sean thought as he tightened the knot on his tie with slightly shaky hands. He really didn't feel well; he was dizzy and his head felt like it belonged to someone else and had just been set there on his shoulders. He'd managed to hide the fact from Christian that he'd thrown up the breakfast Christian was so proud of getting him to eat before going to the funeral home to sign the papers and finalize everything.

There wasn't much contrast between the crisp white shirt he wore under the dark suit and his pallid complexion. He was beginning to resemble a walking corpse himself. Walking corpses... Don't go there, he told himself, not wanting to conjure the memory of the nightmare that had him curled in a fetal position against the wall the night before.

"You don't look so good, my friend," a familiar voice said from behind him. He spun around to see Escobar sitting on the bed.

"Oh my God, please," Sean mumbled, covering his face, willing this hallucination to go away. His whole body was shaking, and he just wanted Christian to come back inside and make it stop. He really was losing his mind.

"Sean, get a hold of yourself, I'm not here to cause you trouble," Escobar said, and Sean felt real hands on his shoulders. "You gave me my face back and you saved my life from that psycho prison bitch with the scalpel. Why would I cause you problems?"

Sean didn't know which was the lesser of the evils. Knowing Escobar was real and not a hallucination, or accepting he was stark raving batshit crazy but taking comfort in the fact Escobar was an illusion. He finally took his hands away from his face and looked straight into Escobar's recently repaired face. He still bore an unsettling resemblance to the lead character from Hellraiser, but he was healing, and eventually, he'd look like his old self again.

"I did what you asked of me. What do you want from me now?"

"I came to offer my assistance," he said, stepping away from Sean now that it was apparent he had accepted Escobar wasn't a figment of his imagination.

"I can't do this with you right now. My daughter..."

"I know what happened to your family, Sean. I can imagine what you feel. I'm a father, too, remember? Sylvio Perez violated my daughter, and I know what kind of pain and rage I felt when that happened. All the money and the power weren't worth shit because in the end, someone got to my baby and did that awful thing to her. Even killing him didn't really set it right...but it helped."

Sean found it bizarre that he actually took comfort in Escobar's words as a father. Nothing seemed worth anything because none of it saved Annie. He couldn't save Annie. Still, no matter how understanding Escobar could sound, you could never allow yourself to forget what he really was. Sean reminded himself of that, and tried to pull back the raw, open grief that made him cling to any comfort from any source. Grief that would make his mind soft in staying one step ahead of Escobar...or at least, keep him from getting himself into more trouble that he was already in, if that was possible.

"You threatened my family, so don't try to tell me you understand how I feel."

"I never harmed your family, and I wouldn't have. I don't kill children. All that mattered was that you thought I would do it. You can go far on that. Unfortunately, not everyone sees it the same way. In my world, targeting families happens way too often. It's most effective because it destroys your opponent without actually killing him. Don't let it destroy you, my friend."

"My daughter is in a jar. I can't even pick out a dress to bury her in because there was almost nothing left to bury."

"You have to tap into your fury, Sean. It will give you strength until you heal. I remember you coming to my house, all by yourself, nice, clean-cut suburban doctor busting into the drug lord's lair...because I came near your family. That man is still inside you, and he's not a whining pussy who lets the person who killed his family get away with it."

"You told me that if I fixed your face, you'd leave me alone. I kept my end of the deal."

"No one will know, Sean. If you're afraid of prison, don't be. I'm not a clumsy amateur you hired for five grand in a bar. I won't even have to resort to hams and alligators. But it will be taken care of." He pulled a plain card out of his pocket, and offered it to Sean with a gloved hand. "If you change your mind, call this number, and one of my associates will get in touch with me."

Sean looked at the plain white card with the phone number in simple black numbers. "I could give this to the police."

"And tell them what? There are no prints on it, and I assure you, it isn't traceable."

"I want them dead, and I want them to suffer first," Sean admitted, tears rolling down his cheeks. He balled the card up in his hand. "What the hell does that make me? It makes me like you and I won't do it," he concluded bitterly.

"Poor Dr. Sean, always torn between what he wants and what he thinks he should want," Escobar said, nodding knowingly. When Sean looked at him, he was surprised to see something that passed for compassion in the eyes of a man who'd spent most of his life as a ruthless killer. Sean was surprised when Escobar gave him a quick embrace before stepping back. "Be at peace, my friend," he concluded, patting Sean's shoulder before leaving the room.

Sean sank into a chair and took in a long breath, expelling it slowly. He didn't know what to make of Escobar's visit, or his ambiguous farewell. Sean looked at the crumpled card in his hand. He could call that number, tell whoever answered to tell Escobar to do nothing. To stay out of it. Or he could call to confirm that Escobar's people would be on this, hunting down the culprit and bringing him - - or her - - to their own brand of justice. Or he could leave things as they were and take solace in the fact he had refused to invoke Escobar's brand of help - - whatever happened, it would be neither to his fault nor to his credit. Could Escobar really be that wise, know him that well?

"Marlowe's here," Christian said, walking into the bedroom where Sean sat. "He's with Conor now, so we can go whenever you're ready." Christian waited a few seconds, and when Sean didn't look at him and didn't answer, he crouched in front of where Sean sat. "Hey, I know this is hard."

"It's not that," Sean said, resolving he wasn't going to taint his relationship with Christian by hiding something like this. "Escobar was here."

"What? When? I was outside in the garden with Conor. I didn't see anything. We have security here to keep the reporters off the property."

"No one ever sees him coming."

"What happened?"

"He offered to find out who killed Julia and Annie," Sean responded, handing Christian the card. "That's his contact number."

"What did you tell him?"

"That I wanted them to die, to suffer...but that I wasn't going to order it."

"Part of me wants to call this number and tell him to do his worst."

"I want with everything I am to kill the bastard who did this. Preferably slowly. Maybe he was right. Maybe I am just a whining pussy."

"I don't think Escobar Gallardo qualifies as a grief counselor. What the hell does he know about emotions? About coping with something like this? Shit, you have to love someone to grieve for them. I doubt that son of a bitch is capable of it." Christian straightened to stand and rubbed Sean's shoulder. "We should get going."

"What should I do?"

"Go to the memorial service at Annie's school. Grieve for your daughter. Hire a private investigator if you don't trust Fishman to do the job. But don't make a deal with the devil. Way back when, I did, for a briefcase full of cash, and look what it's put us through."

"I thought he was a figment of my imagination," Sean said, looking up at Christian. "I can't even tell the difference anymore."

"You're exhausted, Sean. Besides, why the hell would you expect Escobar to show up here, now?"

"I guess you're right," Sean agreed, nodding.

"After the service, let's come back here, change into something comfortable, and go have lunch on the beach. Just us."

"I can't hold anything down. I threw up breakfast." Sean stood up, trying not to let the fact he was dizzy be too obvious.

"I know," Christian said sympathetically, surprising Sean. "You think you got away with that, huh?" he teased gently. "I'll make us a puke-proof lunch, I promise." He smiled when Sean chuckled at that.

Sean, Christian, Matt, Kimber, Erica, and Liz attended the memorial service at Annie's school. The entire student body was gathered in an outdoor courtyard, a few of Annie's classmates and teachers serving as the principal participants. They had planted a new flowering tree, and at the base of it stood a small stone statue of an angel. "In memory of Anne Catherine McNamara" with the date, was engraved on a small plaque on a stand at the base of the tree. A crowd of reporters lurked on the perimeter of the school grounds, but the local police were on the scene, making sure they didn't go on school property.

Tori Epstein, one of Annie's long-time friends, read a poem she'd written. One of Annie's teachers read an essay Annie wrote describing what she'd learned about teamwork from being part of the soccer team, and her coach shared a few anecdotes about Annie, describing what a good team player she was. A small group of students from the school choir sang two songs.

There were very few dry eyes at the service, and while Sean appreciated the tribute to his daughter, it felt like poking an open wound with a sharp stick. He wondered if some day he'd actually visit the courtyard again to see how Annie's tree had grown. In some sense, it was nice to know that kids twenty years from now would wonder who Anne Catherine McNamara was, and why she had a tree named after her. Still, none of it had a soothing effect on the pain that never seemed to get any better.

After the service was over, Annie's English teacher approached Sean with a manilla folder. She was a heavy set, older woman with gray hair and glasses, with an almost grandmotherly appearance.

"I'm Mrs. Andrews, Annie's English teacher. I'm so sorry for your loss, Dr. McNamara," she said. "Mrs. McNamara was a lovely woman, and Annie was just a pure joy to have in class."

"She was a pure joy to me, too," Sean said, smiling. He was relieved the service was being held outdoors, that he could hide his wet red eyes behind the sunglasses. It made things easier to cope with somehow. "Thank you for saying so." He turned to Christian. "This is Annie's godfather, Christian Troy."

"It's a pleasure," Christian said, shaking hands with her.

"I finally get to meet Uncle Christian," she said, smiling brightly. "Annie mentioned you often."

"That's good to hear. She was more like a daughter to me than a goddaughter."

"Annie wrote an essay earlier this year. I thought it might be difficult for you to listen to it today, but you might like to read it when you feel ready," she said, handing it to Sean. "I asked the students to write an essay about a favorite childhood memory."

"Thank you," Sean said, taking the folder. "Annie was a good writer. I always thought she might make a career out of it someday," he said, glad his voice was holding up and that he could actually say something about his daughter and keep his composure. Maybe Escobar was right. Maybe he just had to tap into the anger more than the pain.

"Mrs. Bryant, our principal, would like to see you before you leave. She's right over there," she said, indicating a tall woman with short brown hair wearing a business suit, talking with Matt and Kimber.

"We'll be sure to talk with her. Thank you again for this," Sean said, gesturing with the folder.

"Nice meeting you, Dr. Troy."

"Likewise," Christian replied, flashing her his best smile. After she'd left, he turned to Sean. "How are you holding up?"

"Okay. We should probably rescue Annie's principal before she's recruited into the cult," Sean said, heading toward where Matt and Kimber were still chatting with Mrs. Bryant.

"I'd like to thank you and everyone who was involved in putting on this program. It was lovely. Annie would have loved it," Sean said, accepting a brief handshake and hug from the principal.

"You have our deepest sympathies. Annie was a wonderful girl, and a bright student. And I'll miss seeing Mrs. McNamara at the school programs. She never missed anything Annie was involved with."

"Julia was very devoted to the kids," Sean replied. "She was a great mother."

"I thought you might like to have Annie's things, from her locker. I'll have one of the students run inside and get them."

"Thank you, I would like that," Sean said.

"I was just talking with Matt and his new wife. It's hard to believe it wasn't that long ago he was a student here."

"Time flies," Matt said, looking a bit chagrined that the principal was making a point about his age. She also was casting an odd eye between Kimber and Sean, since Sean had brought Kimber to a school function during the brief time they were dating, and she'd made quite an impression on everyone there.

After concluding the amenities at the school, the group made their way to the parking lot, which was ringed by the press.

"Why don't we all have lunch together?" Liz suggested. "I'm not really ready to just go back to work."

"That's a good idea," Kimber chimed in. "How about it, Sean? Are you up to doing lunch with us?" she asked, resting a hand on his arm.

"Sure," he replied, casting a slightly regretful glance at Christian. Lunch alone on the beach sounded better than a group in a restaurant, but he had to start getting out more, not depending on Christian alone for his every breath. Besides, lunch on the beach would probably involve their security guards if they didn't want to be caught on some reporter's candid camera. And he had to start forcing himself into situations that required him to stay composed, and stay focused. There was such a thing as too much time to grieve without boundaries, and he felt like his grief was consuming him.

Once seated at the restaurant, Erica lost little time in bringing up the investigation.

"I spoke with your friend, Detective Fishman yesterday," Erica said, sipping her water. "I found him to be somewhat evasive."

"It's an ongoing investigation," Christian said. "The cops usually aren't too forthcoming, especially if they don't want to jeopardize tipping someone off."

"Your loyalty to the police is touching, but I'm not satisfied with how this investigation is going. They can't give me a viable working theory, or name any suspects. It's obvious Sean was the target of this crime, so it seems they could be looking into disgruntled patients or asking you, Sean, for more input into the investigation."

"I told the police anything I could think of. Fortunately we don't have a lot of disgruntled patients, and even if we did, something like this is extreme," Sean said. "We've had dissatisfied or even unbalanced patients come back at us one way or another, but it's never been anything on this scale."

"Come on, Grandma, this isn't really the time to talk about this," Matt said, flashing a look at Sean.

"It's okay, Matt," Sean said. "We all want to get to the bottom of this. The last few days have been very difficult for me...for all of us. If I've given you the impression that I'm not concerned about getting to the bottom of this, then I apologize. I guess the wounds were a little too fresh for me to take on the cops. Erica, if you have the name of that private investigator, we can talk about hiring him. I do want to speak to Fishman first, as a courtesy."

"Fine. You talk to Fishman. I'll set up an appointment for us and let you know the date and time."

"I thought they planned a lovely ceremony for Annie today," Liz said, blatantly changing the subject. "It's obvious her friends and her teachers thought a lot of her."

"It's hard for kids that age to deal with something like this," Matt said. "It's hard to deal with this at any age. It's so damn senseless."

The conversation paused while the food was served. Sean looked a the attractively prepared grilled mahi mahi on his plate, the colorful fresh vegetables, and the seasoned rice. It should have looked good, and he should have felt hungry, but it might as well have been a dead rat, and he still felt nauseous. Christian's large grilled chicken salad didn't look any better, though he was actually eating some of it. Knowing the pounding in his head was mostly due to his self-imposed hunger strike, he picked up his fork and took a bite of the fish, hoping that if he just forced himself, he'd at least feel better physically. And maybe he'd start feeling a little clearer mentally.

He felt Christian's leg against his, and looked next to him to meet Christian's eyes. He couldn't look away, and couldn't help but return the love that was in that look. Suddenly, his food looked a little less awful, and his heart felt enough lighter that he actually ate some of it, absorbing the warmth and closeness of Christian's touch.

"When is grandpa flying in?" Matt asked Erica.

"Tomorrow morning, a few hours before the service."

"We'll be glad to pick him up at the airport if that would help out," Christian offered.

"I can pick him up, but thank you," Erica replied. "I spoke with him on the phone last night, and he asked me where we were planning to scatter the ashes. I assume you have something in mind, Sean, but I would like to know what it is."

"I hadn't planned that yet," Sean said, feeling his fleeting and temperamental appetite making its exit. "I wanted to take time for all of us to talk about it and decide on the best place."

"I would like to take the ashes home with me, and scatter them in a botanical garden Julia was particularly fond of as a child."

"Was that the Windham Memorial Garden?" Sean asked, and Erica nodded. "Julia mentioned it a few times. She said it was a great place to regain your serenity."

"She loved it there. It would be...calming to think of her there."

"I don't want to separate them," Sean said, taking a drink of the white wine he'd ordered. It was more to push the lump down in his throat than anything else. "I had considered the beach, here in Miami."

"Hopefully not the same one where your mistress was scattered," Erica retorted. "I don't think Julia would approve."

"Excuse me," Sean said quietly, getting up from the table and walking out of the crowded dining room.

"Jesus, Erica," Christian said, shaking his head. "What the hell's the matter with you?" He got up as well, throwing his napkin on his plate, following Sean.

"This is difficult enough for all of us without attacking each other," Liz said.

"It's a valid point. I don't want my daughter's ashes scattered someplace he thought of because that's where he attended the last major ash-scattering in his life. Julia wasn't that passionate about the beach. She wouldn't even care about that. It's as if I'm the only one who has put any thought into a final resting place for them."

"We've all thought about it, grandma," Matt responded. "I think Dad was planning on just keeping the ashes for a while until the family decided on the best place. We didn't plan it as part of the service tomorrow. I don't like the fact he cheated on Mom any more than you do, but that's in the past, and he's got enough to handle without having that thrown in his face."

"Forgive me if it doesn't bring me peace to have my daughter's and granddaughter's ashes in an urn on the mantle watching over my son-in-law and his partner in flagrante delicto on the sofa."

"I think I've had enough," Liz spoke up, standing. "I'll see you at the service tomorrow," she said to Matt, patting his shoulder before leaving.

"My parents were in the process of finalizing a divorce, Grandma. Mom was already in a relationship with Marlowe. They were both moving on." Matt sighed. "Dad's taking this really hard. He's not eating or sleeping and he's having nightmares when he does sleep."

"I'm surprised you're defending him, Matt. You've been more than a little irritated at his antics in the past."

"Maybe since Matt only has one parent left, he wants to take care of him," Kimber spoke up. "Matt's right about Sean. He's taking this very hard. I'm sure he wants to do what's best for Julia's and Annie's ashes."

"Well, if he wanted to do what was best for Julia, it would be a first, but miracles do happen," Erica concluded, shaking her head.

********

Sean was leaning against the side of Christian's bright orange Lambourghini, hands in his pants pockets, staring at the ground. Christian expected him to be emotional, maybe crying, but he wasn't. Mostly, he was thankful the press hadn't followed them here. A dark sedan carrying their personal security people watched Sean from a discreet distance.

"She's always been a bitch, Sean. You can't take her seriously."

"It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her that, so that's why I got up and walked out. I don't want to get into a mudslinging contest with Erica in front of Matt, and certainly not at a time like this."

"I'm glad you're not letting her get to you."

"She's so self-righteous about Julia. If this weren't all so tragic, it would be almost funny. She has the nerve to act like she's this big champion for her daughter when she barely knew Julia existed through most of her childhood. Erica was always too busy with her career to be bothered with Julia, and now that she's dead, she flies in here and acts like the devoted mother. She can shove her botanical garden up her ass. Julia and Annie aren't going anywhere until I'm goddamned good and ready to make that decision."

"If I'd known a visit from Escobar would have this effect on you, I'd have called him myself."

"It's got nothing to do with Escobar, that psychotic asshole. It's you. It's always been you. Anytime I thought I couldn't get through something, you're the one that's pulled me through. Okay, so maybe Escobar calling me a whining pussy did hit home, but if I didn't have you and Conor, I wouldn't have much reason not to be a whining pussy."

"So what do we do now?"

"Marlowe's on the job until seven, so we've got time to take a drive. I need to clear my head before we go talk to Fishman."

"Let's go back to my place and pick up some different clothes. You've still got some stuff over there, so we don't have to go back to munchkinland."

"I'm done explaining myself to Marlowe. I want him there at least for the time being to help Conor through the adjustment of losing Julia. But if he thinks he's going to paint more freaky shit on the walls and derail Conor's second surgery with his usual crock of new age bullshit, he's even crazier than I think he is."

"All this assertive attitude is getting me hot," Christian teased, and Sean snorted.

"Name something that doesn't get you hot," Sean quipped, sliding into the passenger seat of the car while Christian got in on the driver's side.

"You think Marlowe would stay overnight with Conor?" Christian asked.

"Probably. Why?"

"What would you think about ditching this place and going to some pricey hotel with a jacuzzi and room service? We'd be back in the morning. The service isn't until mid afternoon."

"It feels wrong. And I don't know if I really have it in me to enjoy that the night before the memorial service. I've decided I'm going to speak tomorrow, and I need to get my thoughts together."

"You're going to speak at the service? That's going to be pretty difficult."

"I know," Sean said, leaning back in the seat. "But this is my last chance to say something about my wife and daughter in front of an audience. In front of our family and friends. Our lives have been so fucked up for so long that I don't want the people who knew and loved Julia to think about that. Or to think about how they died. I want to talk about what they meant to me, I owe that to them."

"Okay. You know I'm behind you no matter what you do, right?"

"I know. That's why I know if I fall, I don't have to worry. You'll catch me."

"I hope I've already caught you," Christian responded, his voice serious.

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Not without me, you aren't," Christian said, smiling. "How about that lunch on the beach?"

"We just had lunch."

"You had a quarter of a fish filet, and I had half a salad. Let's get those gourmet sandwiches from Pierre's, a bottle of wine, and hang out on the beach for a while?"

"Sold," Sean replied, smiling. "But I want to stop and see Fishman first."

********

Detective Fishman was at the precinct when Sean called, so he was prepared for their visit. They sat around the table in an interrogation room, Fishman's clasped hands resting on top of a fat folder that was presumably the case file.

"Before we go any further, I want you to know this case is our top priority. I'm the lead on it, but my partner and two other detectives are working with me on it. We're under some pressure from the media that will probably result in forming a task force, which will put additional personnel and resources at our disposal. Your mother-in-law is convinced she should hire a private investigator. I'm going to be honest, Dr. McNamara - - that's going to get in the way more than it's going to help."

"What are all these people doing?" Christian asked.

"We've questioned witnesses, which was no small undertaking. Many of the people in the crowd that gathered had seen the explosion from their windows, or from their cars as they were passing. We're also talking with people who would have been on that street during the hours your rental car was parked there. Obviously the explosive device was planted after you parked there. There was no timer. It was wired to explode when the engine started, so you would have triggered it yourself had it been planted at any other time."

"Did you find out anything? Did anyone see anything?"

"We have a couple reports of a man in a hooded sweatshirt, good build, loitering in the area at the time. One witness places him near your car about two a.m. No one saw him do anything, but all three people who mentioned him considered it unusual or suspicious."

"What about Michelle Landau?" Sean asked.

"We've had a tail on her, and I've been doing some background checks. Your business partner has an interesting past, including a stint as a high-priced call girl. She was arrested once for prostitution, but the charges were dropped."

"I guess old Burt didn't hook up with her for her medical school experience," Christian said, shaking his head. "Shit."

"So far, she hasn't done anything overtly suspicious, but we are keeping track of who she meets up with, where she goes, and so on. There are a few interesting characters in the mix I'm not really at liberty to go into right now."

"Nothing that ties her to the explosion?" Sean asked.

"Not directly or conclusively. We're working on tracing the origin of the explosives. Landau Enterprises has been doing a good amount of blasting to bring down an old building downtown to make way for an office complex. The type of explosives used in part of that project are similar to the type used in the car explosion. Now, mind you, I said similar. There's a lot of analysis and tracing of serial and model numbers before we know if there's any real relationship."

"With all the kinds of explosives there are in the world, it's kind of an interesting coincidence," Christian observed.

"That's what I thought, but we still have to be careful how much we tie to that. We have no proof that Mrs. Landau had direct access to the explosives on that job site, even if they match exactly, which we haven't determined yet."

"But you think it's a good lead, don't you?" Sean persisted.

"I think it's a damn good lead. The kind that makes you look real hard at a suspect." Fishman paused. "I don't know if you've been following any of the media coverage of this case."

"I've tried not to," Sean admitted. "I have the DVR set up to record the news, because at some point, I want to see the coverage, what they're saying. I just can't deal with hours of footage of the fire and all the forensics details on a nightly basis."

"One of the issues they're bringing up is the life insurance policies you had on Annie and Julia. A million dollars on your daughter, and five million on your wife."

"You don't have to blame that on the press. I know those are questions you need to ask me."

"Then I'm asking. Why so much?"

"I have a five million dollar policy on myself, too. In the event I die, I want my kids to have all the advantages they'd have if I were alive. When Julia and I talked about those policies, we agreed we felt the same way. While Julia didn't work outside the home for much of our marriage, even in her case, she felt it was a way to make something positive come from something tragic. The kids' college educations guaranteed - - ivy league, if that's what they wanted, top of the line child care and any tutoring, lessons, educational travel experiences... We agreed that what Julia did for the kids as a stay at home mother would require a lot of money to replace over their lifetime. Annie was a baby when the policy was taken out, so we were planning at least twenty years into the future to support and educate both kids. If something happened to both of us, my policy was to go to Christian to buy out my half so he'd be full owner of the practice, and whatever was left, I trusted his discretion to invest for the future of the business or to help look after the kids...or to plan for his own retirement. Christian's always been family to me, so I care what happens to him after I'm gone."

"Was he always the beneficiary?"

"He and Julia were co-beneficiaries originally, but when we got divorced, I took her off the policy. Julia's never managed that kind of money on her own before, and I had no way of knowing who she'd meet or remarry, so I figured it made more sense to entrust the money to Christian. I knew he'd take care of our family."

"What about Annie's policy?"

"That's earmarked to start a charitable foundation in her name. Under the circumstances, in Julia's and her name. The only way we would have used that money would be if the death had occurred in a way where other family members were injured or needed extended care. Julia and I both agreed we didn't want to personally profit off the death of one of our children. At the same time, an accident that injured more than one member of the family could put us in a position to need extended care."

"I have a similar policy on myself, with Sean as the beneficiary," Christian volunteered. "We never wanted to leave each other in a situation where the surviving partner couldn't buy out the business and carry on as sole owner. And I always figured Sean could use the money to put kids through college, or whatever he needed. Neither one of us wanted to have our families or our business in the toilet if we died."

"Okay. You know I had to ask about this, Sean."

"It's weird. I haven't even thought about the money or the insurance. I'd give that and the shirt off my back to bring them back. I could give a shit less about the money."

"I appreciate your cooperation about these questions. I hope you'll take the next one in the same spirit. Your mother-in-law mentioned an incident in which you," he opened his notepad and flipped a few pages, "choked her daughter, pushed her into the refrigerator, and threw her out of the house with such violence that she was afraid to remain in the home long enough to pack a bag."

"That's bullshit," Christian spoke up. "Erica's just trying to make Sean look bad."

"She told me that Christian was Matt's biological father. I didn't know that for seventeen years. I wasn't even able to think clearly. I know I pushed her, and I guess my hand was up at her neck, but I didn't choke her. I never would have done that. I told her to leave, and I was...irate. I suppose she was scared. I shouldn't have laid a hand on her, but it was probably one of the worst moments of my life."

"Did she go to the hospital, have any bruises?"

"No, not that I know of. I never saw any on her, and I don't believe she sought any treatment. She looked fine even right then, when she left. She was upset, crying, but she wasn't hurt physically."

"Okay," Fishman said. "Your mother-in-law also called our attention to the domestic violence situation with your son, Matt, and the restraining order he had against you."

"He pushed his mother across the room," Christian said. "I love Matt, he's my son, too. But if you'd been there, you'd have probably slugged him, too."

"I shouldn't have hit him," Sean said. "But he dropped the restraining order. We worked it out eventually. When he pushed Julia, I just reacted. I was pretty disgusted that any son of mine would physically assault his mother."

"You have a good relationship with your son, now?"

"It's been rocky since his teenage years, but that was an especially bad time. We're on good terms now. I hope it stays that way."

"Erica was just a font of good information, wasn't she?" Christian said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.

"We have to look into this stuff. I'll tell you, Dr. McNamara, I personally don't consider you a suspect in this, but officially, anyone who stands to gain from the deaths, or had any prior...'bad blood' with the victim or victims earns a spot on the list."

"How much of this is in the news?" Sean asked.

"Most of it," Christian admitted, even though Sean had directed the question at Fishman.

"When were you going to mention that to me?" Sean demanded, turning in his chair to face Christian.

"Maybe when I thought you could handle it. Before today, you haven't eaten or slept since it happened, and I had some doubts if you were going to pull though it at all. When would have been a good time for me to say, 'Oh, by the way, Sean, your personal life is being analyzed on Fox News right now, and they're discussing the autopsy reports. Grab the chips!'"

"It would have been nice to know they were raking all this shit up."

"That's what reporters do - - rake shit," Fishman said. "Unfortunately, most of it is traceable through public records. Anytime there's a homicide of a prominent, respectable victim, not only does society care a hell of a lot more, but the press immediately go to work on making the victim and their family look as sordid as possible, because it draws in more viewers and sells more tabloids."

"What else do you need from me? Let's get it all over with now," Sean said.

"I think that's it for now. I'm sorry it was necessary to bring these things up, but I've been fighting my boss on questioning you sooner."

"Do you have any other suspects besides Michelle and the guy in the sweatshirt?" Christian asked.

"We have a few persons of interest, but it's pretty early on for me to say anything about them. I will keep you posted if anything new develops. If you decided to hire this private investigator, that's your business. But I'd appreciate a little longer to work on this case without someone getting in our way. We have a team of investigators working on this - - not just detectives, but forensics people, too. We're not sparing the resources on pursuing this investigation."

"That's good to know," Sean said. "There's something I need to know. When the explosion went off - - ?"

"They'd never know what hit them. The first explosion was right under the front seat. The second was the gas tank, but they didn't suffer. It happened too fast."

"Good. I can't shake this image of the fire consuming...everything." Sean swallowed, and Christian rested his hand on Sean's back.

"They didn't suffer. Put that out of your mind. These things look horrible, but actually, the victim doesn't suffer the way they do from other causes of death. It's quick, pretty much instantaneous."

********

Christian leaned back on the couch and watched the coverage on the national news network. Sean was in his study, trying to compose something for his eulogy at the memorial service. He'd declined Christian's offer to talk it through or bounce anything off on him. This was apparently part of Sean's coping process, to work through it on his own, and to give the whole situation some semblance of closure by speaking at the service.

They had given up on the proposed trip to the beach. Sean wasn't in the mood for it, and they probably wouldn't have had much privacy if reporters caught on to where they were. This case was the true crime feeding frenzy of the moment, and they were caught up in that hype. The program Christian was watching was hosted by a well-known news network reporter and former attorney who had her own show. She had no less than four people dissecting the case, including a famous medical examiner, a former cop-turned-author, and another legal analyst. She had summarized the way the family had "closed ranks" on the media and would not make any public statements, discussed the large insurance policies and the domestic violence incidents. The former cop focused on how the spouse is always the first suspect, and made a point that it was Sean's rental car that exploded, after he loaned it to Julia and Annie. They also mentioned rumors that Sean and his partner in the medical practice were having an affair, and were currently living together.

The medical examiner went into tasteless and explicit details about the charred remains and what they could tell about the nature of the explosion. And then he uttered words that hit Christian like a brick in the stomach.

"Julia McNamara's remains were positioned in such a way as to indicate that she probably survived the initial explosion and tried to exit the vehicle before the second explosion. Her burns would have been extensive and probably ultimately fatal, anyway. The explosive device was located slightly to the right of center of the front seat area, so the greatest impact would have been on the passenger side. Of course, that could have been an error on the part of the person who installed it, so I wouldn't take that as any sign of intent to target the passenger."

Christian couldn't move, and he couldn't seem to breathe. Julia knew, and she was alive in those seconds after the explosion. If he'd let Sean go to the car, could he have gotten her out? Was he so afraid of losing Sean that he prevented him from saving Julia?

No, that's crazy. That car was an inferno. This guy has to be wrong, and even if he's not, Sean wouldn't have had time to get her out. And if he'd gone near that car, he'd have been horribly burned, if not killed.

Fishman didn't mention that little forensic detail. He'd spared Sean that, but how long would Sean be spared any of it?

Christian fervently wished he'd been spared that image as he shut off the television. Without the hum of the voices on the air, he could hear just the faintest sound coming from the study. It sounded like a few sharply indrawn breaths that accompanied stifled crying. He thought of letting it go, leaving Sean alone as he'd asked, but he couldn't stand that sound and not at least go to Sean. And at that moment, he needed Sean as much as Sean might need him. Maybe more.

He went to the open door of the room and saw his partner sitting at the desk in front of the computer, his shoulders shaking.

"Want some company?" Christian asked, moving toward him.

"Yeah, I could use it," Sean admitted softly. Christian pulled up a chair next to him and put his arm around Sean.

"How's it coming?"

"It's hard, harder than I thought," he said, wiping at his eyes. "I don't know if I can do this."

"You don't have to."

"Yes, I do. I need to do it."

"You don't have to do it alone," Christian said. "I'm right here."

"There's so much to say. How do you sum up a lifetime in a couple of pages? All the things they were, everything they did..."

"You don't have to cover all that ground, Sean. You're not the only one speaking. Don't worry about it being complete or perfect or even all that organized. It's not a term paper - - I remember how good you were at those."

"Considering I usually had to write one for each of us, it's a good thing," he quipped, and Christian squeezed his shoulders, chuckling.

"You're trying too hard. Nobody's grading this. Just talk to our friends and family about what Julia and Annie meant to you, and don't worry about it being perfect."

"If I don't put something down on paper, I won't remember anything. My mind'll go blank."

"Write down some thoughts. Not all neat little sentences with catchy words. Just make a list of thoughts, impressions, ideas. And then talk from them. You'll do fine."

Sean let his head droop onto Christian's shoulder.

"Why don't you finish in the morning? The service isn't until afternoon, and it's getting late." Just then, as if on cue, Conor started crying.

"I'll take care of him," Sean said, standing.

"Oh, come on, let his old godfather have a turn," Christian teased, and Sean smiled tiredly at that.

"Better check the diaper before you volunteer, godfather. Come with me."

Sean went to the crib and picked up his son, holding him and comforting him while Christian hovered close by.

"His hand is really beautiful, Sean. You and Mogabi did a great job," Christian said, smiling when the little hand with the tiny pink scars closed around his finger. He put his arm around Sean and leaned in closer so Conor could see both of them making fools of themselves at the same time. And then it hit him. All his life, he'd lamented the fact he was alone, that he didn't have a real family of his own... and now he was standing here with his life partner he loved more than his own life, making silly faces at the baby they were going to be raising together.

"We had the easy part of it. This little guy did all the hard work."

"I know it was hard for you to put him through all that."

"I spent so much time fighting Julia and Marlowe that I guess I didn't feel like I could let my guard down and acknowledge that it twisted my guts in a knot every time I had to turn the screws on his hand. I kept worrying he'd start being afraid of me."

"He loves you, Sean," Christian said with a smile in his voice. "I think kids know when you're hurting them and when you're helping them."

"I just don't want him to feel like a monster...a freak...the way I did."

"You weren't a monster or a freak. You were a little boy with a facial deformity who had surgery and grew up into a beautiful man. And thanks to you, your son is going to grow up to be a beautiful man, too, just like his dad."

"Our son," Sean corrected. "Our life, our family, our kids. You shared your son with me. Now it's my turn." Sean placed Conor in Christian's arms. "He needs changing. I'll get the stuff ready."

Christian carried the baby to the changing table and laid him down there. Sean went ahead with changing Conor while Christian made a variety of goofy faces at the little boy that kept his grin in place while Sean finished the dirty work.

"Sean, they're talking about our relationship in the press. I just thought you should know."

"I'm not planning on being in the closet all our lives, so I guess it doesn't matter. I just don't like the idea of it being fodder for a bunch of gossip mongers. What else were they talking about?"

"The usual stuff, mostly what we discussed with Fishman," Christian lied, not wanting to tell Sean what had been said about Julia. There was almost nothing left of them, so how could that guy be so sure she'd been alive after the first explosion?

"Christian?" Sean frowned, standing there, holding Conor, pinning Christian with an intent gaze. "What did you hear?"

"Nothing we need to dwell on. They were getting into forensics and talking about...about issues we don't want to concentrate on now. There's no point."

"You can tell me or I can go turn on the news and find out myself."

"Put Conor down first."

"Christian, what the hell is it?"

"Just do it, Sean. We'll go in the other room and talk about it."

Sean paused a moment, then laid Conor in his crib, making sure a favorite toy was close by before leaving the momentarily quiet and content baby to follow Christian to the living room.

"I don't know how they could be so sure about this, but it's better we talk about it now, before someone else brings it up."

"Christian, for God's sake, just tell me," Sean said, sitting on the couch next to Christian.

"I was watching one of those commentary shows where they have a panel of experts on, and one of them was a medical examiner." Christian paused, not wanting to look at Sean when he said the words, but knowing he had to. He owed him that. "He said the way the remains were positioned, that it was possible...it was possible that Julia's death wasn't instantaneous, the way Fishman told us."

"What exactly did he say?" Sean seemed to go paler than he already was.

"He said it looked as if Julia wasn't killed by the first explosion, and may have tried to get out of the car," Christian concluded, his voice breaking.

"What about Annie?" Sean asked, his voice rough. He was calmer than Christian expected him to be, but he wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad sign.

"He said the explosives were closer to the passenger side, that there was no sign that her death wasn't instant."

"That's why she blames me, because I didn't save her. She must have seen me out there, not coming for her."

"I held you back. Don't blame yourself, blame me. I didn't want you to die and I held you back. Everything was on fire, you couldn't have gotten her out. You're blaming yourself, that's why you're having nightmares."

"I wondered why she was so angry. She couldn't have thought I caused the explosion, but I didn't get her out of the car and she knows it."

"If you'd gone near that car, you'd have been badly burned, probably killed. And just because Julia survived the first blast, if she even did, doesn't mean she would have survived her injuries." Christian was talking fast now, and he didn't know if it was for Sean's benefit, or his own. He knew he held Sean back, he knew that Sean's safety was the first thing on his mind and in his heart when he did it. No matter how he grieved for Julia and Annie, feeling Sean's living, warm body in his arms assuaged his grief to an extent he would admit only to himself. "I'm sorry, Sean. I didn't want you to hear it on the news, or from someone else."

"I know you're right," Sean admitted, slumping back on the couch. "I saw that fire, and I couldn't even see Julia and Annie in that car, the flames were so intense. If Julia knew what was happening to her, that idea horrifies me. But the rational part of me knows you're right. I couldn't have gotten her out of there, and she probably wouldn't have survived her injuries."

"Or you wouldn't have survived yours," Christian said, barely able to get the horrible words out.

Sean rubbed a hand over his face. "Just when I think all this can't get any worse."

"Maybe we're making a mistake not making any statements to the media...about us, I mean."

"I don't give a shit what they think, so why should I make a statement? Besides, we are together in a relationship, it was a factor in divorcing Julia. There are domestic violence incidents in our family's past. I do have large insurance policies on Julia and Annie. Granted, they're spinning it to make me look like the next homicidal husband of the day, but it's all true. Getting tangled up with reporters will only make us look defensive - - because you know one of them will say something offensive and one of us will get pissed off and then they'll have footage of us taking a swing at one of them."

"You're probably right."

"I'm always right, remember?" Sean asked, smiling. "I'll never completely get over blaming myself for putting them in that car, and for not getting them out, but the truth is, when I face reality, no one could have gotten to them."

"Maybe the nightmares'll stop then," Christian said, leaning back, shoulder to shoulder with Sean on the couch.

"I hope so. I could use some sleep. But I can't stop thinking about what it must have been like for Julia in those seconds. Did she realize Annie was dead? Did she understand what was happening to her?"

"Between the shock, pain, and all the smoke and fire - - I doubt she had the time or the ability to process all that."

"I used to wonder how the families of murder victims coped with hearing all those details on the news every day. How they coped with their tragedy being a ticket to higher ratings, how the unfolding horror of what happened to their loved ones being everyone's favorite drama to follow would feel. I've stuck my head in the sand and avoided it as much as I can. It's horrible, but I can't stay in a bubble forever."

"I'm guilty of making that bubble around you."

"I know I was pretty close to the edge, Christian. I don't know if I would have made it without that bubble. I know I wouldn't have made it without you."

"This is going to sound stupid, but it pisses me off when they refer to our relationship as 'an affair.'" Christian took Sean's hand in his. "It's so much more than that."

"I don't care what they want to call it. There isn't a word that really does it justice anyway, so why worry about it?"

"This is a forever thing for me, Sean. I've been engaged before, but I never felt certain about it like this. Like all the pieces just suddenly fit together."

"Forever is a long time to go without a woman, Christian. This isn't the time for you to make lifetime commitments. We're both grieving. We should get through this, and then - - "

"Why, do you think you're going to change your mind about me?" Christian asked, looking into Sean's eyes intently.

"Never," he said quietly.

"But you think I can't be faithful to you, is that it?"

"I know you, Christian. I love you with all my heart and soul, but I know what you like. And someday, you're going to want to experience it again."

"So? If we need to scratch the old itch, we bring a woman home and share her. Wouldn't be the first time."

"It's been a long day, Christian." Sean withdrew his hand and stood. "I'm going to take a shower."

"Can I come, too?" Christian asked hopefully.

"I need a few minutes. I won't be long," Sean replied, heading for the bathroom.

Well played, asshole, Christian thought. You're on the verge of proposing and then you bring up doing a threesome. As if some skank's pussy is going to be better than being inside Sean. And you're going to pass up playing with his sensitive little tits just to have a handful of hers? Half of them were implants, anyway - - I could play with a pair of those at the office without the complications.

But we've always been friends, partners, intimate enough with each other to not mind having the other around watching while we bang some nameless one-night pick-up. Hell, Sean set one up himself on the Rosenberg case... Yeah, the only way we could have sex to try to fix our relationship, with a woman in the middle who looked like Julia.

Now that barrier's gone, and you're putting it back up. And managing to reinforce that nagging insecurity in Sean that he's not enough for you sexually.

Decision made, Christian got up off the floor and checked on Conor before heading toward the bathroom.

********

Sean let the water pour down on his head, not sure how to sort out everything going through his mind. Julia's suffering and his inability to save her...and the truth that Christian was going to eventually go back to dragging cheap pick-ups from bars into their home, and into their bed. He'd been a fool to think anything else. He loved Christian, and he always would, and it didn't change that he wanted them to be lovers, to be together for life. But he'd foolishly thought sex with him would be enough for Christian. He didn't believe it at first, but it was so good between them, so emotional and intimate and...complete.

Am I being fair, or a self-righteous hypocrite whose cock twitches at the thought of ramming into something slick and tight? Of course, lately, that fantasy has involved sliding in and out of Christian, and I'm giving him that, as much as a male is capable of. I don't have a pussy or big tits, but I've given him all I've got...and it's not enough.

"I know I wasn't invited," Christian said, startling Sean a little as he opened the shower door and stepped in behind him, closing it again. "Is it okay if I stay?"

"Sure," Sean replied, not really sure what he wanted to say. Christian's body felt good against his back, and his arms felt good coming around him from behind. "Is Conor okay? I heard you in there on the monitor," Sean said, referring to the nursery monitor he had dangling from the shower head. Christian was momentarily distracted by wondering just how many of those receivers Sean had sprinkled throughout the house. Conor couldn't burp off schedule without his father's radar going up.

"He's sleeping." Christian rubbed Sean's chest. "Can you forgive me for being a stupid, insensitive asshole?"

"I wouldn't be here if I couldn't," Sean retorted, smiling a little, already warmed by the apology.

"I've never been good at controlling myself. But I want to."

"This is an emotional time for both of us. It's probably not the best time to make life altering commitments." But that's what I want...you to alter your life and make a commitment to love just me and want just me until we're both old and gray and die together in matching deck chairs overlooking the beach. Sean closed his eyes, savoring that thought.

"I saw the look in your eyes when I brought up doing a threesome."

"Don't go by the look in my eyes right now," Sean said. "I'm tired and sad and just trying to get through one day after the next. That's not your fault."

"You think I mentioned a threesome because you're not enough for me," Christian stated.

That hit home, and Sean couldn't deny it. He leaned against Christian, and felt warm lips on his neck, warm breath in his ear.

"It's not about you. It's about me and my inability to keep my dick in my pants." Christian paused. "I'm afraid I'm going to fuck this up, and it would kill me."

"You didn't fuck anything up. I'm upset about what we just found out, about everything. Why are you trying to take that on yourself?"

"Maybe because it matters to me if I hurt you. And I hurt you a few minutes ago." Christian's fingers were in his hair now, massaging the shampoo in, but mostly just massaging his scalp and his temples, alleviating the residual headache he seemed to have since the explosion. Between the deafening noise they'd been so close to, and all the stress of the tragedy, both of them were keeping the over the counter headache medicine companies in business.

Sean groaned in relief as he felt some of the tension melting away. He let himself be steered under the water again to rinse off the shampoo, and was surprised when he felt hot, wet suction around his cock. He leaned back on the tiles, closing his eyes and losing himself in the sensations. Everything seemed to fade to the edges of his consciousness as he felt himself getting hard. Making love with Christian had that effect on him, uplifting him to some other place, offering him an escape that even getting drunk couldn't match. Maybe because it was an escape from pain, and a doorway into something beautiful at the same time.

Christian's hand was around the base of Sean's cock, squeezing and pumping while his mouth worked the rest of it, his other hand massaging and fondling Sean's balls. With the shower still spraying down on them, Sean came with a little gasp of pleasure, Christian not releasing him until he was spent. Christian moved up Sean's body and used his own body to press him against the tiles, kissing him urgently, arms on the tiles on either side of his lover. Sean wrapped his arms around him and pulled Christian impossibly tighter against him, returning the kisses with equal passion.

Grabbing the soap, Christian rubbed it hard in his hands, getting them as slick as possible before coating his cock and urging Sean to turn around, which he willingly did. Christian kissed his neck and shoulders, one hand moving up to rub over water-slick nipples. "I love you, Sean," he whispered, and the words went straight to Sean's heart the way they always did. Christian often told him he loved him right before he entered him, and it was something Sean treasured.

Christian eased into him gently, compensating for the fact the soap wasn't as slick a lubrication as the gel was. Sean was relaxed from the orgasm, and by the fact he wanted to feel that close to Christian. The pace was slow and easy, so gentle there was almost no initial discomfort from it. Some part of his brain was telling him that this wasn't the best pace for Christian, but it felt so good having that big cock sliding in and out of him slowly, giving him time to adjust to and feel each move, that he couldn't bear to urge Christian to speed things up.

Christian's head was resting against the back of his, and Christian was moaning low in his throat, sounding as if each thrust was the sweetest sensation in the world. He didn't speed up his moves, but he changed his angle a little, and began brushing over Sean's prostate with each stroke. Sean had felt himself getting a little hard again, but now he was gasping and moaning with each move, his cock waking up to full hardness.

He wasn't sure if it was the intense sensations from his prostate or the realization that Christian was controlling his own urges long enough to make love to him until he came again, that brought Sean to the edge, and then pushed him over it, his body shaking with his climax while Christian reached around to pump gently on his cock, making the second orgasm even better, sweeter than the first, even if it wasn't as earth-shaking. With a few more slow but firm thrusts, Christian came inside him, and then just waited there a few minutes, holding him close.

"I love you, too," Sean said, his voice shaky with emotion, but for the first time in days, it was emotion that came from love he couldn't begin to express, not pain or sadness. That was always there, beneath the surface, and would rise to the surface again when they were out of this little cocoon of love, but for right now, Christian had given him so much love that his heart couldn't feel anything else. Just when he thought it was impossible to love Christian more than he already did, it felt like all those feelings had expanded tenfold.

Christian carefully eased out of him, and they let the water from the shower rinse them off before turning it off and stepping out of the stall. Pulling on terrycloth robes and letting them absorb the water, Sean went to check on Conor one more time before going to bed. When he returned to the bedroom, Christian was already in bed, his robe tossed on the floor, with the covers turned back for Sean.

Sending his robe to join Christian's, he got into bed and lay back, opening his arms to Christian. It was so often the other way around - - Sean would sleep with his head on Christian's shoulder or chest, or Christian would be the one to pull him into an embrace. Maybe it was Christian's larger stature, or maybe it was just that he'd spent so much time taking care of Sean when he was recovering from the facial injury or comforting him through his grief that they'd fallen into that pattern.

Christian seemed happy to break that pattern, moving into Sean's arms, resting his head on Sean's chest. Sean stroked his damp hair, and just lay there feeling the warm weight of Christian's body against his.

"You don't have to make me a bunch of promises, Christian," Sean said softly. "A thousand women might get your dick, but I've got your heart, and you've got mine, and that'll never change."

"Are you for real?" Christian asked, looking up at him. Sean had to smile at that.

"Yeah, I am, and so are you. We're for real, forever. We've been through a lot of shit, and we'll probably go through a lot more before we're done, but we never stop loving each other even when we come to blows over it, and we never will, no matter what else happens."

"I think we could build a lifetime on that," Christian said.

"I think we already did, and we're living it." Sean kissed the top of Christian's head. "Thank you for being in my life."

"Thank you for being my life," Christian replied, moving up to kiss Sean before settling back in his arms. They lay there quietly for a long while, just being together, until they drifted off to sleep.

********

When Christian woke, he was disappointed not to find Sean in bed with him. The sun was streaming in the windows, and he checked the night stand clock to see that it was almost nine. It was the first long sleep he'd had since the explosion, and he hoped Sean hadn't been awake too much earlier than he was. His partner desperately needed a good night's sleep. That's when he noticed the note on the pillow.

"Felt inspired to write the eulogy. Sleep in if you want. Come get me when you're up. Love you. S."

Come get me when you're up. Christian had to smile at the innocent double entendre. The note didn't really say a whole lot, but for some reason, Christian knew he'd always keep it, somewhere. Maybe because it was written the morning after one of the most beautiful nights of his life.

"A thousand women might get your dick, but I've got your heart."

"Yes, you do, Sean. Always have," Christian muttered to himself.

"I do what?" Sean's voice startled him from the door of the room. Still in his robe which was open in a deep V to reveal his bare chest, hair rumpled and unshaven, Christian couldn't believe the way Sean turned him on at that moment. He came in carrying a tray with breakfast for two, kicked the door shut behind him, and set the tray on the bed before sitting there himself. "Marlowe's in the nursery with Conor," he explained.

"Get your writing done?" Christian asked. He could see by the redness and puffiness around his eyes that Sean had been crying, but he seemed okay at the moment as he handed Christian a glass of orange juice before picking up his own and taking a drink.

"I got up about seven, and it just flowed. I knew what I wanted to say. I just hope I can say it."

"Nobody expects you to hold up perfectly. I'll help you if you need me."

"I never doubted it," Sean said, smiling faintly.

"Did you get up for Conor last night?"

"A couple times, why?"

"I never heard you get up. Did you sleep?"

"Yeah, part of the night. Then I heard Conor about three, and he needed changing. I came back to bed for a while, but I didn't really sleep. I heard him again near seven, so I just got up. Marlowe was already here by then, but I didn't think that far ahead when I got up."

"Are you okay, after what we found out last night?"

"I'm not okay at all, Christian. It's just a matter of degrees. There's so much...horror with all this. I guess a part of me always felt that Julia or Annie probably suffered something, especially since the first explosion didn't destroy the entire car. Maybe that's what Julia wanted me to know."

"You're not still thinking you really saw Julia? You do know it was a dream?"

"I want to believe that."

"But you don't?"

"I do." Sean paused. "It was just so real when it happened. I know it can't be, but it felt like more than a dream." He sighed. "I think I was close to losing my mind. You brought me back from the edge."

"Yeah, well, I can't make it without my partner, so I kind of had to." Christian smiled, and Sean returned it. "Waffles, huh?" Christian sat up and stuffed a pillow behind his back so he could eat the warm waffles covered in sliced strawberries and whipped cream. "I guess you've broadened your horizons beyond lasagna."

"Liz brought us the fresh fruit yesterday, along with some other groceries and a couple of casseroles. All I did was a little slicing, toasting, and dolloping."

"Dolloping? Whatever the hell that is, you should be doing that with me, not by yourself," Christian joked. He was happy to see Sean actually chuckle a little at the remark.

"I'd rather do most things with you than by myself, so you've got yourself a deal."

Sean was actually eating breakfast with Christian, instead of picking at the food like he'd been doing. It was if some sense of peace had settled on him for the first time since Julia and Annie died.

"You look good this morning," Christian said.

"Yeah, thanks," Sean replied, rubbing over his unshaven face.

"Well, yeah, there's the fact I've wanted to tear your robe off and throw you on the floor since you walked in, but I mean you look...okay," Christian said, and Sean nodded, understanding what he meant.

"I still feel like I'm walking around with a hole in my chest, and I know it's always going to be there, but I feel like now there's a chance it might get better. That life might be good again, even if it's never the same."

"I think we'll be okay," Christian agreed, chasing the food with a drink from the cup of coffee on the tray. "This was a nice surprise," he said of the breakfast.

"It's not much, but you've been taking care of me so much lately... And last night was special. Waffles don't exactly do it justice, but you really don't want my eggs benedict."

"I didn't fall in love with you for your cooking," Christian retorted.

"No, it was my incredible body," Sean added.

"It was for the whole package," Christian said, not joking this time. He dipped a piece of strawberry in the whipped cream and held it out to Sean, who leaned in to eat it, taking his time licking the whipped cream off Christian's finger. Sean put a strawberry in his mouth and leaned forward toward Christian.

"Come and get it," he said, and Christian kissed him, sliding his tongue in Sean's mouth, their tongues having a mock battle for the fruit until they separated and it was in Christian's mouth.

"Erica called."

"Buzzkill," Christian replied.

"She's not my favorite person, either. She's coming over in an hour or so to start going over everything for this afternoon. She wants to be sure we know our places in the program."

"Dress rehearsal for a memorial service, huh? Nice."

"As much as she gets under my skin, I'm glad she took over the planning. I couldn't have done it this soon, and I want Julia and Annie to have something nice." Sean took a drink of coffee, and Christian couldn't help thinking how much he'd like to climb on top of Sean and taste the coffee in his mouth instead of from the mug he was holding. "I just hope we can keep the media out of it."

"The security company assured me they'd keep the vultures out."

"Without an established guest list, that'll be pretty hard," Sean said, sighing. "Erica wanted to limit it to the people we notified, but I didn't want to keep out anyone who genuinely wanted to pay their respects. I knew most of the people in Julia's and Annie's lives, but not everyone."

"They can take names at the door. At least it'll force people to check in so it's not so simple for reporters to just wander in. I'll call Tony this morning," Christian said, referring to their contact at the security company.

"Okay. We better shave and get dressed. I don't think Erica wants to see our fresh from bed look."

"Her loss," Christian said, setting the tray on the floor before grabbing Sean by the lapels of his robe and pushing him down on the mattress, climbing on top of him, opening his robe. He had a morning erection that felt like it was going to burst without some attention, and humping Sean's naked body was just what the doctor ordered. He felt a little guilty when he realized Sean wasn't even slightly hard, and didn't have much say in their present position before he found himself mostly naked and being humped.

Christian's worries were assuaged when Sean pulled him down for more kisses, hooking one leg over Christian's back to intensify their friction. Christian came fast, but when he reached down to stroke Sean, he found him almost completely flaccid. Sean gently pushed his hand away.

"Shit, Sean, I'm sorry."

"Why?"

"I just shoved you on the bed and got off on you...and you didn't want it." Christian started to move away, but Sean put his arms around him, keeping him right where he was.

"Today's going to be...hard to get through. Being with you gives me strength, even if my head's just not in the right place to act like I want it."

"Everything else is," Christian said, smiling as he got another smile out of Sean.

********

Sean, Christian, Erica, Julia's father, Robert, Matt, Kimber, and Liz rode in a limousine together to the service. Sean hired another sitter to take care of Conor, as Marlowe wanted to attend the memorial service, though he chose to go on his own. The funeral home handling the service was used to dealing with high-profile funerals and the security issues that could surround them. The private security personnel Christian hired were a subtle but visible presence that resembled the Secret Service, muscular men in dark suits and sunglasses, carrying two-way radios, keeping members of the media at bay.

The limo was directed to a side entrance obscured by landscaping and an electric gate where the family could arrive with some privacy. As they got out of the car, something in Sean's gut twisted, and it all seemed overpoweringly real again. There's nothing like dressing up in a dark suit and riding in a limo to bring you hurtling back toward reality at a dizzying speed. That, and the smell of flowers, sound of hushed voices, and that little sign that read, "McNamara Memorial Service" with a small arrow pointing the way to the chapel.

"They have the first center row reserved for us," Erica explained as they walked toward the chapel.

"What are those?" Sean stopped dead in his tracks when he saw cameras mounted on tripods on either side of the chapel, aimed toward the front.

"I chose one representative from the local media, and one of the national news networks, to allow in for coverage."

"Absolutely not," Sean stated flatly. "Get them out of here, now. This isn't entertainment."

"You could have asked us, Erica," Christian spoke up. "We've hired security people to make sure this is a private service."

"There are a lot of people worldwide who have been following this case and their sympathies go out to us, and to Julia and Annie. Why shouldn't they be permitted to at least share in the tribute?"

"You mean tune in for the show? What's really at play here, Erica? Have you signed on to write the tell-all book and this will just boost your readership?" Sean accused. He almost expected an angry denial, but instead, Erica looked a bit stunned, and seemed momentarily at a loss. "I don't believe this. You really are going to make a book out of this, aren't you?" Sean made a move toward the chapel, but Christian caught hold of his arm.

"I'll handle this. We're not going to give them a show," Christian said. "That's why we hired security." Christian pulled out his cell phone and called the on-site supervisor for the security personnel, and briefly explained the situation. Within minutes, four dark-suited men quietly entered the chapel and approached the reporters, in teams of two, and escorted them and their cameras from the chapel.

"You had no right to do that," Erica said to Sean. "I made all these arrangements - - "

"You made all these arrangements because you wanted to. I let you do it because I thought it might help you with your grief to be in charge of this. I did it because I thought it would please Julia to know you wanted to arrange the memorial. If I'd known for a second you were using this as a promotional event for a book, you'd have had access to this memorial service over my dead body!" Sean stated in an angry voice he tried to keep low enough not to carry beyond the area where they stood to were the mourners were beginning to arrive.

"You never cease to amaze me," Robert Noughton spoke up, having been a silent observer through most of the argument. A tall man with thick silver hair and glasses, one could easily see in his features a resemblance between him and Matt and Annie. "You'd actually use our daughter's and granddaughter's deaths to your own advantage."

"How dare you accuse me of that. I want to tell their story, give them some notoriety. Let people know what kind of woman she was, what kind of girl Annie was - - "

"All you want to do is sell books!" Sean retorted.

"People are arriving," Kimber said, inclining her head toward those who were being checked in at the door and would soon be wanting to take their seats in the chapel.

"I need a minute," Sean said, gesturing toward the chapel. "Unless you've got microphones and cameras in the flower arrangements," he said to Erica.

"Let it go, Sean. The cameras are out of there. You don't need this today," Christian said, resting his hand on Sean's shoulder. "You want to go in alone?"

"No," he said without hesitation. "Do you mind if we go in first for a few minutes?" Sean asked, mainly directing his question to Matt, but even Erica didn't make waves with that request.

"I'll ask the funeral director to send the early guests into the sitting area," Liz said. "You guys need a few minutes first."

"Thanks, Lizzie," Christian said with a slight smile.

Sean and Christian walked into the chapel, and Christian closed the doors behind them. Sean continued up the aisle. The "stage" was flanked by two large portraits on easels, one of Julia and one of Annie, both framed in ornate silver frames. The frames were wreathed in flowers, Julia's a combination of exotic lilies, orchids, and other white flowers Sean couldn't really identify. The urn holding her ashes sat on a clothed stand in front of the portrait. Sean had chosen the urn himself; it was square, white with silver accents, a large carved silver lily on top, and a nameplate with Julia's name engraved on it. Kimber's choice of flowers complemented it perfectly.

When he'd first seen the urn, it was empty. A pretty empty box that looked like it could be a jewelry box on Julia's dresser as much as a container for her remains. Now, she was encased inside it, and her substantially enlarged likeness looked down on him. When he looked at Christian, there were tears on his cheeks as he looked at Julia's portrait.

Sean moved closer, almost hesitantly reaching out to lay his hand on the urn. In that moment, he could see Julia in her wedding dress, waddling around in her maternity clothes while she was carrying Matt, holding Annie in her arms in the hospital, breast-feeding Conor in the nursery...it was as if their entire relationship spun past him in fast forward, ending in the air conditioned silence of this somewhat sterile environment, reduced to some ashes in an overpriced box.

"I never thought that when we were all in college, our whole lives ahead of us, that one of us would end up like this...not now, not this soon," Sean said, not sure why he wasn't crying, why he hadn't broken down again, because the pain inside him was so massive and so stifling that he felt as if he might explode with the pressure of it. "I just wish I could see her one more time," Sean said, tears coming to his eyes now.

"I do, too," Christian said, his arm around Sean's shoulders. "One of the last times I saw her, I was telling her off, and I never really made things right with her."

"Don't blame yourself for that. We all told each other off at one time or another. The changes we were going through were going to be hard on all of us." He smiled. "It's just hard to believe those three kids we were in college are gone...that it was so long ago. Sometimes I feel like I ruined Julia's life," he admitted, his voice breaking and most of the carefully held controls he'd managed to get in place were disintegrating. "She wanted to be a pediatrician, remember?"

"I remember. You didn't ruin her life, Sean. She chose you. She didn't have to marry you. She didn't have to be with either one of us. She just always was, so I guess that's where she wanted to be. You don't think I feel guilty for not sending her away that night when we made love and Matt was conceived? I don't regret Matt but I regret how it happened. As much as I cared for her, I should have sent her home to you. So much shit would have never happened."

Sean moved away from Julia's portrait and approached Annie's. Decorated in abundant pink sweetheart roses and baby's breath, the portrait looked down on an urn decorated in silver carved roses holding all that was left of her. Sean wasn't prepared for his legs to give way, but he was grateful that Christian was when he caught him and steered him into a chair. Sean buried his face in Christian's shoulder and sobbed, the sight of Annie's portrait too much for him to bear. He knew Christian was crying with him, he could feel the vibration in his body. Despite his own grief, Christian was holding him close, rubbing his back in long strokes, just letting him cry it out. But that was the problem. It didn't feel like the pain or the tears were ever going to slow down, let alone stop. He couldn't even bring himself to look up at the portrait, to look into his daughter's eyes. Eyes that always looked so lovingly and trustingly at him.

"I know it hurts," Christian said. "I miss her, too." He patted Sean's back. "Take your time, it's okay."

"I can't look at her," Sean admitted. "She trusted me to take care of her and when it mattered, I let her die."

"I thought we were past that. You didn't have anything to do with her dying, Sean. It wasn't your fault. You were trying to help Julia get her to school on time. How in hell could you have known?"

"She always believed in me, like I could do anything, even when I let her down, she still looked at me like I was her hero."

"You were, Sean. If she were here now, she'd tell you to stop feeling so bad, and that she loved you. She wouldn't blame you." Christian sniffled, trying to control his own emotions. "You've got to be able to look at the portrait if we're going through with the service," he said gently. His tone wasn't judgmental, but he was right, and Sean knew it. There were people filling up the reception area, and Matt, Erica, and Robert would all want their private moments. "I came prepared," Christian said, handing Sean a handful of tissues.

Sean took them and wiped his eyes and blew his nose, still avoiding looking directly at the portrait of his daughter. All he could see was her standing on the passenger side of the car, smiling and waving to him right before she was blown into a million pieces.

"I think I'm gonna be sick." Sean felt the rising tide of nausea, and fought it for all he was worth.

"I don't have that many tissues," Christian responded, and something in the reply actually made Sean laugh, though it was watery and miserable sounding. Christian started rubbing his back again. "Just breathe for a few minutes. Nice and slow. In and out." Christian was quiet a few minutes before he spoke up again. "We're going to get up in a minute, and we'll look at Annie's picture together, and we'll tell her how much we love her."

"I want to believe in all those stories about angels and Heaven and think that she's somewhere like that."

"She is, Sean. I don't know what I really believe is out there, but I believe she's somewhere peaceful and beautiful. She has to be," he added, his voice strained. "We're going to do this for Julia, and for Annie," he said decisively, and that logic cut through some of the grief fogging Sean's brain.

"And for Matt," he added. "I haven't been there for him the way I should have with this."

"We're all doing the best we can. Even Erica, messed up crazy bitch that she is."

"Don't push it," Sean said, pulling away, swallowing hard and steeling himself to stand on his own two legs again. Christian stood first and held a hand out to Sean, which he took for the upward pull. He still felt shaky, but he made himself stand there and face the rawest pain of all, saying goodbye to his daughter.

He didn't know if it would have been easier to see her laid out in a casket in one of her prettiest dresses, to kiss her goodbye and touch her one more time. Sometimes that seemed worse, and sometimes it seemed as if it would give him comfort. It didn't matter, because she was gone in an instant, the very essence of her destroyed until all that was left was in that little urn with the carved roses.

"Kimber did a beautiful job on the flowers," Christian said, and while part of Sean was horrified that he would bring up such a mundane detail, another part realized he was pulling Sean back into reality. Forcing him to look at flowers and think about the living, maybe to even find some beauty in how the arrangements were handled.

"It looks great. I need to tell her that. All the flowers are beautiful. Julia would have loved this. Annie would have loved all these pink roses." Sean smiled. "I sent her pink roses for her birthday a couple years ago... Little ones, like these. She was so excited when the florist came to the door and the flowers were for her." Sean paused. "Oh, my God. I was dating Kimber at the time. She saw the flowers and talked to Annie about them. How did she remember that?"

"You'll have to tell her you remember, too. It'll mean a lot to her. She always liked Annie."

"Maybe Kimber was right. Maybe she would have made a good stepmother back then, before everything she went through. She bribed Annie forty bucks to tell me that," Sean added, smiling.

"When you guys were going out?"

"Yeah, I guess if she couldn't land one half of the partnership, she was going to settle for seconds. That seems to happen a lot," Sean added. Though the words could have sounded self-pitying, they were said with humor. He didn't feel sorry for himself the way his relationships had turned out. He had Christian, and what they had was more amazing that any other experience in his life. "I love you, princess," he managed, his voice barely coming out with the last word. "I'm not giving Erica my daughter," he said decisively, touching the urn that held Annie's ashes. "If she wants to take Julia's ashes home with her, she's her mother, and maybe the way things are now, it's not right for me to hold onto Julia."

"You want to keep Annie's urn with us? We don't have to scatter the ashes at all if you don't want to."

"I don't want to," Sean said, his hand still on the urn. "I know she's not in this box. But it's all I have left of her."

"We'll take it home with us after the service, and there's where it'll stay forever unless you change your mind. We can always make arrangements in our wills to have Annie's ashes buried with you, or mixed with our ashes someday, however we decided to handle all that. Part of her can be with us forever."

"I'd like that," Sean said, feeling a little stronger. He knew it was illogical to attach so much value to a box of ashes that didn't hold Annie's spirit. They weren't going to run up to him and throw their arms around him, they weren't going to grow into a beautiful young woman he'd walk down the aisle and give away someday. But they were all he had left of Annie, and they were going to stay with him.

"Feeling better?"

"We should go back out there," Sean said, swallowing hard. He looked up and Christian and brushed a couple of tears off his partner's face.

"Do I look okay?" Christian asked, smiling a little.

"We both look like shit," Sean responded. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

They walked out to the reception area and Sean approached Kimber, giving her a hug. "Thank you for Annie's pink roses," he said, stepping back.

"She was so excited about those. I couldn't think of getting her anything else," she said, wiping away tears.

********

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.

********

Sean opened his eyes, realizing now why one butt cheek was cold and the rest of him was almost too warm. He was on the couch with Christian, who was mostly on top of him, though he'd moved aside when the heat of passion waned and it was obvious that Sean wasn't going to be able to breathe comfortably without a little less weight on his chest. The reality of the narrow couch was that there just wasn't room for both of Sean's cheeks on the couch, and one was exposed to the air. Smiling at their uncomfortable but pricelessly intimate position, Sean checked his watch, which, with his socks, was all he was wearing.

"Shit," he said, seeing that it was after two in the morning. He didn't know exactly when they finished making love and dozed off, but he knew that neither of them had checked on Conor since about ten. He was sure he'd have heard his son crying if he did, but still, he felt guilty for falling asleep and not checking on him first.

Easing out from under Christian, he carefully covered him with a throw that was on one of the chairs, and pulled on his pants long enough to go to the nursery and make sure Conor was all right. Yawning, he entered the shadowy nursery and approached the crib.

*******

"Christian!"

The shout of his name was so loud and so...primal that it jerked Christian out of a dead sleep and to his feet before he even realized what was happening. Not bothering with clothes, he rushed toward the sound of Sean's voice.

"Christian!" he screamed again. It could only be described as a scream. The only time he'd heard that kind of terror in Sean's voice was when Quentin cut off the end of his finger.

"Sean, what is it?" Christian rushed into the nursery, where the bright overhead light was on and Sean was gripping the side of the crib. The empty crib.

"Conor's gone!" he shouted. "Somebody took him!"

"Did you look through the house?" Christian asked, taking Sean by the shoulders.

"For what?! In case he jumped out of his crib and walked away?"

Christian rushed out of the room, grabbing a blanket on his way out. He wrapped it around his waist and turned on the outside lights, rushing outdoors.

Sean didn't know what Christian was doing, and he was shaking so hard it made it nearly impossible to pick up the phone, let alone dial it. He skipped 9-1-1 and dialed Fishman's number. He hadn't thought about the time, but was grateful when he heard the detective's voice on the other end of the line.

"Fishman," he said.

"Somebody took my son!" he blurted into the phone.

"Sean, is that you?"

"Somebody took Conor. He's not in his nursery!"

"Did you call 9-1-1 yet?" Fishman asked, his voice sounding urgent, as if he were already on the move.

"No - - I called you because you already know all about the case," he said.

"Okay. Try to stay as calm as you can and don't touch anything. I'm on the way, and I'll get the alerts out right now. I have a photo of Conor we borrowed from the house during the search."

"I can't lose my son," he said, not sure why he thought Fishman would know what to say to that, or care, but it just came out.

"We're gonna get him back, Sean. You hang on until we get there, and I promise you, we'll find him safe and sound."

Sean knew Fishman couldn't really make those promises, but he clung to them and was grateful for them anyway. "Thank you," he said, somewhat absently, not sure what to say or do besides lay down the phone and start wandering through the house in the insane hope he'd find his baby somewhere else, safe, alive, and having mysteriously levitated out of his crib.

"Sean!" Christian came back inside, and finally joined Sean in the master bedroom where he was wandering around more than anything else.

"What happened to the goddamned alarm? The security people?"

"The alarm isn't set," Christian said.

"I thought you set it when we came home."

"I did! You were carrying Conor and I locked the door and set the alarm when we came in. I don't know where the security guys are. I went all over the garden area and no one showed up."

"Fishman's coming. I should finish searching the house. He might be here somewhere."

"You'd hear him by now if he were here in the house."

"Only if he's still alive," Sean said, his voice tight.

"Don't even think that way. Wherever he is, he's alive."

"We don't know that." Sean hovered in the doorway of the nursery. "Remember the Jon Benet case? Her father searched the house, too...and they found her body later..."

"We're not going to find his body, Sean. He'll be fine." Christian took a hold of Sean's shoulders. "He'll be okay."

Christian gathered up the clothing piled in the living room. He urged Sean to at least put his t-shirt back on with the pants he was wearing. Christian hastily dressed, and by the time he finished, sirens were blaring in the distance. Within moments, Fishman, two other plainclothes detectives, and a number of uniformed officers and forensics staff were in the house, searching it, checking for evidence, and fanned out to question the neighborhood.

"Well, I know where the security guys are," Christian announced, joining Sean and Fishman at the kitchen table. "They were chasing a prowler but didn't catch him. One of your guys is talking to them right now."

"Who?" Fishman asked.

"Uh...Detective Ashford, I think he said."

Fishman picked up his radio. "Hey, Ash, what've you got?"

"Tall male with a good build, hooded sweatshirt, outran their best runner," the voice on the other end of the radio said. "Real agile guy, jumped over a fence and by the time the nearest security man got over it, he lost visual on him."

"Remind you of anyone?" Fishman asked his colleague.

"I showed them a photo, but they didn't get a good look at his face," Ashford replied. "They said the build was right, though."

"Did they pull all their men for the chase?" Fishman asked.

"Yeah, they did. There were only two guys here, and the supervisor happened to be in the area and stopped by to check the site - - he tried to figure out where to cut the suspect off in his car, but he missed him."

"They didn't see anyone else?"

"No, just him. He wasn't carrying anything - - I already asked. We're combing every inch of the property, but when they first spotted him, he was in the middle of the yard and empty-handed."

"Okay, thanks," Fishman concluded, setting down his radio. "Sounds like our friend, Jude Sawyer."

"But he didn't have Conor, so what was he doing here?" Christian asked.

"Probably creating a diversion so the person who did have Conor could get out. I need you to tell me everything that happened tonight, leading up to discovering Conor missing," Fishman said to Sean and Christian.

"We went over to my place while you guys were searching the house," Christian said, resting his hand on Sean's back while he spoke. Sean was sitting there with his elbows on the table, his fingers laced, his mouth pressed against his hands as if he were physically holding in a scream that threatened to tear free from the pit of his soul. "We spent some time on the beach, grabbed a bite to eat, and then came back here this evening, probably about nine or so. Conor was already droopy, so I put him to bed and Sean called Erica. We talked for a while, and fell asleep on the couch in the living room. The next thing I remember, Sean was...I was going to say he called to me, but it was more like a scream. He was in the nursery, and Conor was gone."

"We probably dozed off around eleven or so, and I didn't wake up until almost two. I went to check on Conor, and he was gone. I should have never let myself doze off like that."

"Are you positive you set the alarm and locked the door when you got home?" Fishman asked.

"Yes, I know I did. Sean was carrying Conor, so I set the alarm and locked the door. I took Conor from Sean because he was going to call Erica. I put him to bed and then came back out to the living room."

"When we were here to search, your security people weren't here," Fishman observed.

"They followed us instead," Christian responded.

"We locked the house when we left, but we didn't have the code to reset the alarm. So there's a period of time between about four-thirty, when we left, and nine, that the alarm was off and the security people weren't here. Does anyone else have a key to the house?"

"I don't know if Julia gave out any keys after we separated..." Sean looked up. "Marlowe had one."

"I've got a call in to the Trenton PD to pick him up for questioning. Would Jude have a key?"

"I don't see why. When Julia was friends with him initially, we were still together. There was no reason for him to have a key to the house. When they were seeing each other during our separation, Julia was living in an apartment, so if she gave him a key, it would have been to her place, not here."

"I thought you had someone watching Marlowe in New Jersey," Christian said.

"I had some colleagues doing me a favor, keeping an eye on him. I was planning to fly out there this week and question him myself. We have cell phone records that prove Jude and Marlowe have been in regular contact in recent months, since Marlowe's been in town. There's a real spike of activity around the time of the explosion and right after. We have confirmed that not only did Jude have access to the explosives, but he was involved in some of the blasting activities at the Landau Industries site. The site foreman can't confirm whether or not the amount of explosives necessary to cause the car explosion are missing from the site. They're powerful stuff, so we're only talking about an amount so small it could be a counting error from an inventory standpoint."

"I'm having a hard time picturing Mr. New-Age-Repressed-Memories being a killer," Christian commented, puzzled. "I can't stand the guy, but he never seemed violent."

"I was in his way in every sense of the word," Sean said. "He didn't agree with how I wanted to raise my son, about the surgeries...hell, even that god-awful mural he painted on the wall was part of a dick-swinging contest. Like he was pissing on my territory, only with paint."

"You lost me," Fishman said, frowning.

"Marlowe painted this huge mural of the Garden of Eden on the wall in the nursery. I was impressed with it initially - - he's quite talented, even if I don't care for his style. But it was very dark and a bit disturbing, not really what I'd call appropriate for a nursery. When I found out he was sleeping with my wife, I painted over it." He paused. "He wanted to take Julia and the kids to Florence...I told her I'd never go along with that. He never had any faith in my love for Conor. He and Julia both seemed to think I couldn't accept Conor because he wasn't perfect. That's how they interpreted the fact I wanted him to have a normal life, that I wanted to fix as much of what was wrong as I could so he didn't have to go through what I - - what kids do to other kids who are different."

"Jude's awfully magnanimous, helping his cousin get rid of Sean so Marlowe can have her and the kids," Christian said.

"I can't picture Jude as the nurturing father type. I doubt he wanted to step in and raise Annie and Conor," Sean added. "I think things were pretty much over between Julia and Jude."

"Annie's diary has been pretty enlightening about Marlowe. And you're right, Sean, he doesn't like you. According to several entries in Annie's diary, the reason she didn't like him was because he was always either bad-mouthing you, telling Julia to stop letting you control her life, or making some comment on how he wanted them to all be a family. Once you left the house to be with Christian, Marlowe apparently turned up the heat to step into your place. Annie butted heads with him because she always stuck up for you, or basically just heckled him because she didn't want to have any part of him as a father figure."

"She wanted to come and live with me. Every time Julia and I separated, Annie wanted to stay with me. I'm not sure why, because her mother was with her more than I was, but she'd always ask if she could come and live with me. I never wanted to hurt Julia that way, because I knew what it meant to her to have Annie with her."

"Detective Fishman?" A young, uniformed officer stood in the doorway, motioning to Fishman.

"Excuse me." He went to talk to the officer, leaving Sean and Christian at the table.

"Are you okay?" Christian asked Sean, rubbing his back a little.

"No. I can't lose him, Christian."

"You won't," Christian said, even though he knew he couldn't promise Sean that. He realized he was holding back a little, censoring himself on how he wanted to comfort Sean because they were both men. He was still interacting with Sean in front of the cops like they were friends and not a couple. Shaking that notion off, he moved his chair close and put his arms around Sean, glad he'd done it when Sean turned into the hug and hung on tightly. "We're going to get him back, Sean. It's going to be okay," he said, as Sean relinquished a little of his hold on Christian and sat back. He took Sean's hand in both of his, and kept it that way even after Fishman returned to the table.

"Marlowe left New Jersey late last night. He took a flight to Miami," he concluded, sitting down again. "They had a missing child case of their own, and pulled everyone in on it, overtime, and the guys who were unofficially keeping an eye on him, couldn't."

"So just like that, he shows up here and takes Conor? Wasn't anyone watching?" Sean demanded.

"He found a weak moment. Unfortunately, it happens. There's no sign of forced entry here. My theory is that he probably let himself in after we left, and waited for you to get home. Once you were asleep, he picked up Conor, disarmed the alarm, and walked right back out the door. The very fact Conor didn't make any noise, didn't cry - - that's a pretty strong indication he was with someone he felt comfortable with."

"Or that he couldn't cry," Sean added quietly.

"Look, Sean, I can't even imagine what you're going through right now, but this is good news. Marlowe doesn't want Conor to kill him or do him any harm. You've said yourself that he cared very deeply for Conor. He probably thinks he can raise him better than you can, or maybe he wants him because he's part of Julia, but whatever his reasons are, Marlowe is not going to kill that little boy. If he's our kidnapper, things just looked up. It makes perfect sense - - Jude was the distraction Marlowe needed to get out with the baby."

"What happens next?"

"We've got an APB out on Marlowe, and we've amended the Amber Alert to include a description of him. A male midget traveling with a baby with a distinctive birth defect shouldn't be too hard to trace. It's not like they can blend in with the crowd."

"Excuse me." Sean got up and left the table, and Christian heard a door slam somewhere in the house.

"Nice," Christian said.

"I'm sorry. I was thinking out loud." Fishman stood. "I need to get rolling on some things. We're leaving a unit outside, and one of my people will set up in here, in case there are any ransom calls, but I don't anticipate that. I think Marlowe's making a run for it with Conor, not trying to collect money on him." He paused. "Tell him I didn't mean that to come out the way it sounded," Fishman added before leaving the house.

After Fishman left, Christian went to find Sean. The door to the master bathroom was closed, so he tapped on it.

"Sean, it's me." He tried the knob and found it locked. "Sean, the door's locked." A moment later, he was relieved to hear the lock turn, and the door opened. Sean looked pale and tired. "Fishman apologized for that remark about Conor."

"He was thinking like a cop," Sean said. "It's true, they wouldn't exactly blend in."

"You don't look like you're feeling too good," Christian said sympathetically, putting his arm around Sean.

"I feel so powerless. I should be out there looking for him."

"We've got a whole police force doing that. We wouldn't know where to look. Come with me and sit down. I want to check your BP."

"I'm okay, Christian."

"Don't fight me. It was spiking after your accident, and after the explosion." He didn't resist it or argue about it anymore. "It's up, but not more than I'd expect it to be," he said, and the fact Sean didn't ask what it was or didn't seem to care drove home just how devastated and out of it he really was. Christian sat next to him on the bed.

"I fell asleep and Marlowe walked right out of here with my son."

"Falling asleep in a locked house with an alarm set while your child is sleeping is not exactly neglect. We had no reason to think Conor was anything but safe."

"I didn't have one of the monitors in the living room. It was in the kitchen."

"And you don't think Marlowe is smart enough to turn off the monitor in the nursery, to turn down the volume on the other units? He's crafty enough to get in the house and slip back out with Conor. I think he probably would shut off the monitor."

"There's an alarm if you turn off the nursery unit and the other units are on."

"Then he turned down the volume. It's not like you left Conor alone in a shopping cart or forgot to lock the doors."

"You know, it doesn't matter. If I don't get my son back, it doesn't matter how it happened. We were making love and sleeping while he walked off with Conor."

"So now you think other couples with babies don't ever sleep or make love until the kid's in high school?" Christian asked. "There is no way to make this your fault, Sean, so give it up. You didn't kill or fail Annie, and you didn't cause Conor to be kidnaped. Let it go. You're a victim here. Shit, you convicted yourself faster than the press ever thought of doing."

"Could you call Matt? I'd really like to see our son right now."

"Sure." Christian kissed Sean's cheek and gave him a little squeeze before going to make the phone call.

Sean sat like a zombie in a chair in the living room. Christian had gotten him a sweatshirt to go over his t-shirt. He vaguely remembered shivering and being grateful for the warmth.

"Dad?" Matt's voice cut through the haze he felt he was in, and he stood up and moved toward him, hugging him, needing to feel connected to the only child he could be with at the moment. He refused to give into the voice inside that said this was Christian's child, that his natural offspring were all gone now. It didn't matter. Matt was no less special because Christian's genes were in him. Matt was still his son, and still called him Dad. "It's okay, Dad, they're going to find him."

"I love you, Matt. I know I don't say it enough anymore. I just needed to tell you that."

"I love you, too, Dad." Matt stepped back from the embrace and they sat down in the living room. "Christian told me they think Marlowe did it. That was a shocker. He sure didn't seem like the type."

"No, he fooled us all, I guess."

"The security guys missed a midget running across the lawn carrying a baby?" Matt asked. "No wonder Christian's out there ripping them new assholes."

"They were chasing a potential intruder. Apparently, Marlowe wasn't working alone. Jude Sawyer is his cousin. They think Jude created the diversion so Marlowe could get away with Conor." Sean rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Christian and I fell asleep in here. I didn't hear anything."

"You heard something, probably - - you got up to check on Conor, and weren't the security guys still running after the prowler when the cops got here?"

"Yes, I think so," Sean replied.

"So you must have heard Marlowe leaving with Conor, even though it took you a second to come to and go look."

"It was too little, too late."

"I know I came down on you about Mom and Annie, but you know that was so much bullshit, right? This isn't your fault, either, Dad."

"Marlowe thinks he can be a better father than I am. At least, that's the prevailing theory for why he took Conor, because of the fact we were always at such bitter loggerheads about Conor, even before I found out he was sleeping with your mother." Sean sighed. "Maybe he's right. I'm not exactly batting a thousand in the fatherhood department when it comes to keeping my children safe. God knows I failed you enough times."

"We've had our differences," Matt conceded. "I don't always agree with you. I know you don't always agree with me," he added, smiling. Sean had to smirk at that, though it was humorless under the circumstances. "You're a good father, Dad. You can't take the blame because somebody else did something awful to your kids."

"You're supposed to protect your children. You went through so much, and then Annie... And now Conor's missing. My track record sucks."

"Hey, quit bashing my old man," Matt joked, patting Sean's shoulder as he got up and walked past him toward the kitchen. "You want something to drink? I could use one," Matt said, looking in the refrigerator for a beer.

"I think I'll pass for now, but thanks." He paused. "How's Kimber?"

"She's okay. I told her to stay in bed and sleep in. I figured there wasn't much she could do here," he said, sitting down next to Sean on the couch. "I'm glad you asked Christian to call me."

"I needed to see my son," Sean said honestly. "What if it isn't Marlowe, and what if the prowler wasn't Jude? What if whoever wanted to kill me targeted Conor to get to me? What if they find his bo - -"

"Don't even say that," Matt cutt him off. "Why would someone go to all the trouble of kidnaping Conor just to aggravate you? If they wanted you dead, all they had to do was walk in here and put bullets in both your heads and go home - - there was an unguarded moment where they could have easily gotten to you. They didn't need to go through all this elaborate baby-snatching shit just to finish what they started with the car bomb."

"No, I guess not," Sean agreed, though he took little comfort in anything anyone was telling him. The terror was too profound to be assuaged with a few comforting words, even if they made sense. He wanted to scream, rage, cry, demand results from the cops...and none of it would bring Conor home any faster. He didn't know where to look, how to begin to figure out where Marlowe was and what plans he had in place for getting his son out of the area...maybe out of the country.

Christian came in then, red-faced and fuming. "I fired the security guards, so we'll have to watch our own backs from now on."

"They were chasing an intruder - - " Sean began.

"They should have had a plan in place to keep someone here while they did that. If they hadn't all run after the decoy like a bunch of brainless bloodhounds, Conor wouldn't be missing."

"Can't argue with that logic," Matt agreed.

"They should consider themselves lucky if we don't sue their asses for everything their two-bit company is worth," Christian concluded, sitting in a chair, though he still seemed to be vibrating with anger. The doorbell rang, and he got up immediately to go answer it. Sean stiffened in his seat, a look of fear spreading over his features. Every doorbell, every knock, every phone call...he feared it would be Fishman, somber and sorry, telling him they'd found a body...

Instead, Liz came in with Christian, and Sean stood up to greet her. She hugged him, crying herself, even though Sean was mostly past that, as if there wasn't any emotional energy left to even shed tears.

"Oh, Sean, I'm so sorry. The police are going to find him, so you just hang in there," she said sympathetically, patting his back.

"I'm working on it," he replied, forcing a little smile he didn't really feel. There was nothing anyone could do until someone could put his living son back in his arms, safe and sound.

"It's all over the news. What happened?" Liz asked.

"They think Marlowe took him," Christian explained, saving Sean going over it again.

"Marlowe? He seemed so...sweet natured," she said.

"He's Jude Sawyer's cousin," Sean added.

"The guy Julia was seeing from her college classes?" Liz asked, surprised.

"One in the same," Sean replied. "The cops think he's the one who created the diversion with our security people last night."

********

"So what makes a guy with a clean record and a fairly successful personal training business end up involved in double murder and kidnaping?" Fishman asked, sitting across the table from Jude in the police interrogation room. They'd picked him up at the gym, without incident. He wasn't in hiding, and apparently didn't realize he was under suspicion of anything until the police loaded him in a squad car.

"I don't have the faintest idea what you're talking about," Jude responded, crossing his arms over his chest. "All I know is I was in the middle of a session with a client and your flatfoots pick me up and haul me off in a squad car."

"You might as well drop the innocent act. We know you've been moonlighting on a construction site, and learning how to use explosives to bring down buildings."

"Is it a crime to work a second job? The personal training business is great, but with the economy being what it is, I've lost a few clients, and it helps to pick up a few extra bucks."

"You're aware of how Julia and Annie McNamara were killed?"

"Of course, I'm aware of it. I was a friend of Julia's for a long time. We hadn't been seeing each other recently, but you'd have to be a hermit not to know the facts of the case."

"No, she wasn't involved with you anymore - - she was having an affair with your cousin, Marlowe," Fishman said, and Jude looked a bit surprised, but quickly regained his neutral expression.

"So what does that have to do with me?"

"Conor McNamara is missing, and a man who fits your description was seen by security personnel on the McNamara property last night, just about the time of the abduction."

"A lot of men might fit my description from a distance in the dark."

"I never said it was from a distance, or in the dark."

"I assumed since this guy was spotted on the property by security, and got away, that it was probably dark, and probably at a distance, or he wouldn't have gotten away."

"I didn't say they chased him, either."

"If they're guarding the property and they see someone there, it makes sense they'd approach him. If they had and he didn't run, I wouldn't be here, because you'd have him in custody instead of me."

"Let me lay something out for you, and yes, right now, it's circumstantial. But people are on death row thanks to circumstantial evidence, so bear that in mind." Fishman opened the folder he'd been keeping beneath his folded hands on the table. "You've been employed by Landau Industries for construction work for about three months. Recently, you've been working downtown on the office complex site, helping with the demolition of the original building on that site. The explosives used to kill Mrs. McNamara and her twelve-year-old daughter were not just similar to those explosives, but from the same batch. Forensics is a funny business. You'd think blowing up the murder weapon would get rid of the evidence, but once in a while, something survives that you just don't expect, like the serial number on a unit of explosives." He leaned forward. "And just maybe, on that little piece of rubber, is a partial fingerprint."

Jude looked momentarily stricken, but he stayed silent.

"It might not be a full print, but you'd be amazed what the lab boys can do with a fragment of evidence these days." He picked up the bottle of water one of the officers had given Jude, holding it by its neck carefully. "I can't wait to run comparisons with some of our best suspects." He used his other hand to call a colleague, asking him to come into the room. A young detective soon entered. "Steve, run this down to the lab, and just touch it right here. We don't want to disturb the prints."

"Right, will do." The young man left with the bottle.

"There's a missing baby that belongs to a family who have suffered way too much loss lately, and I want to reunite that baby with his father. Ordinarily, with what he have on you, I'd just sit back and enjoy watching you hang for your part in these despicable crimes, but you've got something I want, and I'm prepared to work with you to try to save your miserable ass from death row to find out where Conor McNamara is."

"I think I should talk to a lawyer," Jude said.

"You think, or you want your lawyer? If you're just thinking about it, remember, the deal's off if you don't give me what I want. And guess what? We don't have any concrete evidence on your cousin. So he could slip right out of this scot free, while you wait for your date with a lethal injection. I'm assuming he's on the run with the baby somewhere, and maybe his plan will work. Do you think when he has what he wants, he'll hand the baby back to Dr. McNamara and give himself up to save you? Are the family ties that strong?"

"Assuming I knew anything about this, and I'm not saying that I do, what kind of deal are you offering?"

"If you tell me where your cousin and the baby are, I'll ask the DA to not seek the death penalty in your case."

"That's not much. I'm still looking at life in prison."

"The point is, you're looking at life. Your other alternative is death row. At least alive in prison, you'll have all those years to become a jailhouse lawyer and work on your appeal."

"I want immunity."

"People in hell want ice water." Fishman stood up. "You're a murderer, Sawyer. You killed that woman and her little girl in cold blood. I ought to just take you out to meet the family in a dark alley, and let them vent their grief on you. You're lower than dog shit on the bottom of my shoe. On second thought, keep your information. The DA is going to enjoy scoring two death sentences in this case. We'll find your cousin. There's only so long a dwarf and a lobster-clawed baby can hide with the kind of media we have going on this case. Fuck you. Once we have the lab results back, you can fry for all I care." Fishman started toward the door.

"Wait," Jude said, and Fishman turned around. "We never meant for Julia or Annie to get hurt. It was an accident."

"You planted explosives under the car, but you didn't expect anyone to get hurt?" Fishman sat at the table.

"It was Sean McNamara's rental car. He was supposed to be the one in it. We never planned a double murder."

"Go on." Fishman was tempted to ridicule him on the point that planning a single murder was somehow excusable, but he didn't want to risk stopping the confession, which was being caught on video camera.

"Marlowe and I were always pretty close, even as kids. He had a rough time of it growing up, and I stuck up for him. We hung out together a lot. It kind of varied with him how things went with women...sometimes they overlooked the whole size issue, but other times it was a big deal. Kids made fun of him all through school. Girls either thought he was 'cute' or they didn't think of him as date material at all." Jude paused. "He really fell hard for Julia, and she didn't seem to care about his size, at least not in the long run. He said he thought it took her some time to get used to, but apparently not very much time, because they started sleeping together pretty early on."

"Why murder Dr. McNamara? They were already separated, so how was he standing in Marlowe's way?"

"You have to understand, Julia's marriage had been in trouble for years, even before I met her, it wasn't on solid ground. When we were seeing each other, she was separated from him but still wouldn't make the final move to get a divorce and get on with her life. With our lives. We had something special, and I think we could have gone somewhere with it. But she just held onto that old life with Sean and never cut the tie. Even when he dumped her for his partner, he was still controlling her life."

"How was that?"

"Once she accepted he wasn't coming back, and the marriage was over, she started making plans with Marlowe, and he wanted to take them to Florence. He submitted some of his work to a program at one of the most prestigious art schools there, and he was offered an internship, which is kind of unusual, I guess, for an older student going back to school for another degree. He was excited about it, and he thought it would be a wonderful environment for the kids, not to mention for a new relationship. Not only did Sean tell her he'd never let her take the kids out of the country, but he was blackmailing her with some photos of himself after some fight they had."

"She broke his cheekbone in a domestic dispute," Fishman said, referring to a report in his file. "He didn't press charges."

"No, but he had evidence, and he was threatening to use it to get full custody of the kids if she tried to take them to Italy."

"So you two decided to get him out of the way?"

"Marlowe finally found the woman he wanted, and he was crazy about Conor, like he was his own son. They had a real future together, if they had been free to just live their lives their own way. I really did care deeply for Julia once...I guess on some level I still did. I felt as bad for her as I did for Marlowe. They had a great future together right in front of them, and still couldn't have it. Sean was still trying to keep Julia from reaching her potential, from being happy, even while he was starting a new life with someone else. Julia didn't know how to play the game, fight dirty. Maybe if she'd dug something up on his partner, she could have countered the whole custody thing. Going by what's on the news, there's plenty of mud to sling."

"Who's idea was it to get Sean out of the way?"

"Marlowe's."

"How did I know you were going to say that?" Fishman replied, smiling.

"Do you want me to tell you this story or not?"

"It's just convenient that this art-studying night nurse that no one can believe is involved in anything illegal, let alone violent, is the one who decided to murder a man just to make custody arrangements better for his girlfriend and her kids."

"It was more than that. As long as Sean was alive, he was going to be an obstacle to Julia's happiness. Marlowe and I were sitting at his place one night, drinking too much, and he was getting morose about his chances of ever finding real happiness, and how he was going to turn down the internship so he could be with Julia... It's one of those moments I wish I could erase, because all of this would have never happened. As a joke, I said, 'Maybe we should kill the bastard and throw the body in the swamp.' I know it sounds bad but it was a joke. Marlowe just looked at me, real serious, and said, 'I've thought about it.'"

"How did you jump from there to explosives under the car?"

"I said, 'Come on, man, you're kidding,' or something like that. But he was dead serious. He started talking about tampering with his brakes, or doing something to his car. He said he didn't think he'd ever be able to look another human being in the eyes and kill him with a gun or a knife, no matter how much he wanted him out of the way. So it would have to look like an accident, be something indirect. We let it go at that, and nothing more was said about it. About that time, I was learning to use the explosives on the construction site. I started learning how much it took to bring down part of a building - - we had so much of that stuff at the site, and it would take so little to destroy a car. I got thinking about what Marlowe had said, how serious he seemed about it. I thought he might do something stupid."

"So you beat him to it?"

"Maybe that's what you'd call it. It was a stupid decision, I should have just let the whole thing alone. But I kept thinking about the explosives and how easy it would be..." He shrugged. "So I took just enough to do the job home with me. It sat there for a day or two. I talked to Marlowe about it again, to find out if he was really serious. I thought maybe just the booze and feeling sorry for himself...maybe that had given him the idea to try to do away with Julia's ex, but he was still serious about it, and the next day, he had all the information on Sean's rental car, where he parked it, the license number so I didn't make a mistake... It seems so surreal now. I'm not a murderer."

"No one is until he kills for the first time," Fishman said. "You planted the explosives?"

"Marlowe didn't know how to do it. Besides, we figured if someone saw me, they'd be less likely to remember me or be able to identify me, than if they saw him." He ran his hand over his face. "I went there in the middle of the night, stuck the explosives under the car, wired them to the starter...and you know the rest of the story." Jude swallowed hard. "When I heard the next morning that a woman and her daughter were killed in an explosion, I..." He fought back tears, which Fishman believed were genuine. Not that it made the attempt at killing an innocent man less horrific, but the mix-up was obviously what Jude considered a tragedy - - even though blowing Sean up would have apparently been considered taking care of business. "Marlowe lost it. We were back at his place screaming at each other, crying, hysterical. We didn't know what to do. There was nothing we could do, at least that's what we finally concluded. We couldn't bring Julia and Annie back, and going to prison for the rest of our lives wouldn't solve anything. I didn't count on the guilt and the nightmares that don't ever let up. The visions of Julia with her charred hair and burned skin, looking at me accusingly, showing up in my nightmares, telling me to confess what I did. Telling me I'm a child killer, a monster. Going to prison doesn't scare me as much as having to face her again tonight when I close my eyes. Maybe this'll set things right with her."

"When did you have the brainstorm to kidnap the baby?"

"Marlowe was intent on getting Conor away from Sean and Christian. He said they'd be awful parents, that Conor would be exposed to a lifestyle of promiscuity and neglect because of the things he'd heard about Christian's lifestyle, and that all Sean cared about was making Conor perfect, and the baby would have to go through all these painful surgeries, and that coupled with the trauma of losing his mother would probably scar him for life...he was panicked that we had to do something. I knew he was going to do it on his own, and probably get caught, and blow everything. He could get past the lock and the alarm - - he had a key and the combination, but not past the security guards. We needed an opening, and when the house was unguarded, he called me, and I agreed to help him get back out with the baby. He said he'd wait in the house until Sean and Christian came home with Conor, and once they were asleep - - or doing something he thought would keep them busy - - he was going to grab Conor and make a run for it. So he texted me. I was waiting around the corner. I did my prowler routine, and sure enough, I had two guys chasing me on foot and a third trying to track me in a car. I almost didn't get away, but I was in better shape than their fastest guy, and I managed to lose them."

"Where is Marlowe now?"

"In his car, on the way to a cabin in upstate New York. My parents own it. It's not used too much, mainly just in the summer. It's pretty cold there now," he added, referring to the fact that early Spring was still chilly in New York.

"Do you know the route he was taking?"

"Yes, I can give you that, and the exact address."

********

Sean sat on the foot of the bed in Annie's room. He knew he was being ungracious, retreating in here when Matt, Liz, and now Kimber, and Linda from the office, had all come over to sit with them and offer moral support. He'd finally showered and shaved and changed into clean clothes, since he hadn't done any of that since he'd made love with Christian on the couch the night before, and he wasn't too sure he didn't smell like he'd been doing just that within the last several hours.

"I miss you so much, princess," he said to the little white box with the silver rose trim. It sat on Annie's dresser like a little music box might have. He noticed a folder lying there, and remembered Annie's teacher handing him the essay she'd written, telling him she thought he might enjoy reading it later. When the wound isn't so fresh, Sean thought. He picked up the folder and opened it.

My Favorite Childhood Memory, by Anne Catherine McNamara

He smiled at the use of her full name. Annie was very precise, and could be very dignified when she identified herself. "Annie" was her nickname, but the older she got, "Anne Catherine" became the name she gave when asked for it.

Sean put on his glasses and began reading.

When I was six years old, I wanted to bake a cake for my mom's birthday. My father said we could go get a pretty one from the bakery with flowers and Mom's name on it, but I wanted to do it myself. I had watched Mom bake, and she always let me help out, so I thought I knew enough to do it on my own. I needed Daddy's help because I wasn't allowed to use the oven by myself. He told me he didn't know anything about baking cakes, but I said I knew how to do it, so all I needed him to do was put it in the oven. He asked if he could help, so I said "okay."

I put all the ingredients in the bowl, and he used the big mixer while I watched. I think he was worried I'd hurt myself on the mixer. He helped me with the directions, too, because I didn't understand what it meant to "fold" something in, or "blend" it. I could read most of it, but some of it didn't make much sense without Mom there to show me how to do it.

We poured the batter in the pans and put it in the oven to bake. The frosting was the canned kind. When I was little, I always wanted to eat a big spoonful of frosting out of the can, but Mom wouldn't let me. Daddy let me have half a teaspoon of it. I thought I was in Heaven.

Sean paused, taking off his glasses to wipe his eyes. He was smiling and crying at the same time, but reading Annie's words was oddly comforting. For a while he was in the kitchen with his six-year-old daughter, struggling through what would become a legendary baking debacle.

Mom was running some errands and then she was going to pick up Matt at his friend's house, so we had to hurry. The cake probably hadn't cooled long enough before we started putting the frosting on it, because every time we spread the frosting over it, part of the cake came up on the knife. The more we frosted, the worse the cake looked. At first, Daddy laughed, but I started crying, and then he got all serious again. He promised me we'd fix it, and it would look fine when we were done. We managed to get frosting on top of most of the first layer, and then we put the second layer on. It was worse than the first layer, so Daddy got another can of frosting out of the cupboard, and tried whipping it with the knife to make it softer and easier to spread.

Uncle Christian stopped by, and when he saw the cake, he started teasing Daddy about not letting their patients see what he had done to that cake with a knife. I didn't get it back then, but now I think it's funny. My father and my Uncle Christian are plastic surgeons, and they do things like facelifts, nose jobs, and reconstructive surgery on people to make them look better. The cake wasn't so lucky.

Sean laughed out loud at that, remembering how utterly horrible it looked, how dismayed Annie was at his failings in the kitchen, and what pure delight Christian had taken in observing the whole mess.

Uncle Christian got tired of watching, and thought he could do better, so he said, "Stand back, I'm a surgeon." Daddy called him a name I'd get in trouble for writing here, but he let him try anyway. He managed to get a little more frosting on without the cake falling apart, but pretty soon he was just making chunks of it that were falling off stick together on the sides of it by gluing them on with the frosting. He called them cake grafts.

Sean sat on the foot of the bed, shaking for the first time in weeks with laughter more than tears.

I tried writing with the tube of frosting, but I couldn't get "Happy Birthday" on there. I started doing it too big, so we used my "Happy" and Daddy wrote "37^th" in the room we had left on top of the cake. Uncle Christian said Mom would probably kick his butt for putting her age on the cake. Daddy teased me that he would tell her I did it so she wouldn't be so mad.

We put a bunch of candles on it. I don't remember if we put all thirty-seven on there or not, but there were a lot. I think Daddy thought they'd make the cake look better. Uncle Christian said the cake would set off the smoke detector if he put any more on it. Daddy asked Uncle Christian if he didn't have someplace else he needed to be. I didn't get it then, but now I know they were just bickering with each other. They do that a lot, even now.

Sean shook his head, still smiling. He couldn't believe how much better reading Annie's essay was making him feel. Part of it broke his heart in a whole new way, remembering a six-year-old Annie, and knowing she was gone, and that this was all he had left of her. At the same time, he was finally able to smile and laugh at a memory, and feel all the wonderful feelings he'd experienced that Saturday afternoon when they ransacked the kitchen together, creating the world's ugliest birthday cake.

After dinner, Daddy turned the lights off and we brought the cake in to Mom, all lit up. Uncle Christian teased Daddy that he better keep the lights off until after the cake was cut. When Mom saw the cake in the light, she looked surprised. She said, "What did I ever do to deserve this?" Back then, I didn't know why Daddy, Uncle Christian, and Matt were all laughing, but now I understand.

"I thought you were in here crying," Christian said, smiling when he saw that while Sean was taking off his glasses again to wipe his eyes, he was smiling.

"I finally read Annie's essay about her favorite childhood memory." He handed the folder to Christian, who read a few lines of it.

"Oh, my God. I remember that." Christian skimmed a few more lines, then laughed.

"Stand back, I'm a surgeon," Sean quoted, and Christian laughed, that having been the exact line that cracked him up in the middle of all the stress and misery of waiting for news about Conor.

"She was a good writer," Christian said, noticing that the teacher had made very few corrections on her spelling or punctuation.

"She was a good daughter," Sean said, accepting the folder back from Christian. "I know this'll sound crazy, but I feel like I've been with her for a while."

"It doesn't sound crazy at all. It's just the point where memories start helping instead of just hurting more." Christian sat on the foot of the bed next to Sean. "We were worried about you."

"I know I should be out there. Our friends are just trying to support us, and Matt's been here since early this morning. It just feels too much like a wake."

"It's not, Sean. He's going to be okay, and you're going to get him back."

"I want to believe that. You know, it's funny. When I sit in here with Annie's things and...and I can see and touch the urn and know that there's literally a part of her here...sometimes it makes that burning in my chest better. It's not a physical burning, Christian," he said, when Christian looked worried.

"I know we took pictures that night," Christian said. "Maybe we can look them up sometime."

"Okay. We should probably go back out there," he said, standing up and laying the folder on the dresser.

"Dad," Matt stuck his head in the door. "Detective Fishman's out here and he'll only talk to you."

Sean stared at Matt a moment, then looked at Christian.

"Let's just go find out what he has to say," Christian said, sharing the fear that it was bad news. If Fishman wasn't carrying Conor with him, it could mean they'd found him, but not alive. That thought was more awful than either of them wanted to face, but they headed out toward the kitchen, where Fishman was waiting.

He handed Sean his cell phone, and there was a photo on it - - a photo of a grinning Conor. "The folks at the Orlando PD thought you might like to see that."

"What does this mean?" Sean asked, staring at the photo.

"It means a car with a police escort is bringing your son home from Orlando as we speak, safe and alive. They arrested Marlowe without incident in a restaurant where they were having lunch."

Sean handed the phone back to Fishman and hugged Christian, neither of them sure if they were laughing or crying, and that started a flurry of hugs all around as their friends joined them in the kitchen, all of them eager to see the cell phone picture and join in the celebration.

"How did you find him?" Sean asked Fishman, finally having emerged from the moment of celebration.

"We picked up Jude Sawyer for questioning, and it was very productive. He cracked and sang like a canary," Fishman added, smiling a little evilly. "As soon as he heard about that partial fingerprint we found on the casing from the explosives, where the serial number was."

"You found a fingerprint?" Sean asked, stunned.

"Hell no. We were lucky to lift the serial number off it. He was a little upset with me when he found out," Fishman said, chuckling.

"That was sneaky," Christian joked, and Fishman retained his devilish smile.

"Nothing I love more than watching a scumbag hang himself. Makes my day."

"Miami's very own Dirty Harry," Matt joked.

After the hoopla settled down, Matt and the others left, deciding that Sean and Christian might like some time with Conor, and a little time to relax after such a long, stressful wait. While they waited for the cars from the Orlando PD to arrive, Christian made another pot of coffee and the three of them sat around the kitchen table while Fishman filled them in on Jude's confession.

"It's just hard for me to believe that someone would go to those lengths over a custody situation that wasn't even theirs," Sean said, referring to Jude's role in the crime.

"You'd be amazed at the stupid reasons people have for killing other people," Fishman said. "Marlowe definitely had a dark side." He took a small book in a plastic bag out of his sport coat pocket and handed it to Sean. "I copied anything we felt might be worthwhile for evidence."

"Annie's diary," Sean said, holding onto the little book with both hands.

"People can become obsessed, and it sounds to me like Marlowe became obsessed with the idea of your wife and your son being his family. With that obsession came the fixation on you as the sole reason that all of it was falling apart. Julia couldn't take the children to Florence, and she probably didn't want to go and leave them here. Plus, he wanted Conor with them. Annie mentions in her diary a couple incidents where she overheard Marlowe saying something about them going to Florence, and it was like she was an afterthought."

"Because she was old enough to be attached to me, and to stick up for me when he said something negative. I should have listened to her when she wanted to live with us," Sean said to Christian.

"Julia didn't want her to move out. You were trying not to back-stab Julia by just letting her do it," Christian said. "It's about time you stopped beating yourself up for every part of this mess. Marlowe is apparently missing a few of his marbles - - you didn't even want to hire the little psycho, but I don't hear you blaming Julia for it."

"She didn't think she was hiring a homicidal maniac. I never would have pegged him as dangerous, though I thought his art was a little disturbing. But not everyone who paints a scary picture is a killer, either."

"The whole fingerprint scheme with Jude was great," Christian said. "Do you really do that with suspects all that often? You see it on TV, but you see a lot of things on TV."

"It's not a good idea if you can avoid it. The suspect can just as easily stay silent if they know there's no possibility you have that evidence. I figured Sawyer wouldn't wear gloves when he handled the explosives, since he was planning to blow up the evidence. We were racing against the clock to rescue a missing child, so I pulled all the stops and just went for it."

"Life in prison isn't much of a bargain, even if he gets out of the death penalty," Sean said. "I'm still surprised he confessed so easily."

"I guess he's been having nightmares about your wife," Fishman said. "He said something about 'Julia with her charred hair and burned skin' accusing him of being a child killer."

Sean felt weak, and he was glad he was sitting down. He wondered if all the color had drained out of his face, because he felt as if it must have.

"He had nightmares about Julia?"

"I shouldn't have brought that up. It's unpleasant, and nothing you needed to hear."

"No, it's all right. I was just curious what kind of nightmares they were."

"Mainly just her showing up, accusing him, like I said. He referred to them as 'visions', so his guilt must have been doing a real number on him."

"Must be," Sean said, thinking of his own visions of Julia, of hearing her voice in the nursery in a whisper of Marlowe's name. Of why the photo of Julia, Marlowe, and Conor was the sole object that broke in the nursery that night for no explainable reason.

It all had an explainable reason...the drafts, the cold, the visions, the nightmares, the picture falling off a table, the ghostly voice in the nursery and Conor's fussiness. It was Sean's fragile mental state in his overpowering grief, a minor malfunction of the air conditioning, a chance breaking of a picture that just fell off a table, a baby who missed his mother...

Sean took a drink of his coffee and tried to let go of those thoughts. Conor was coming home, and that was all that mattered now.

Fishman's cell phone went off, and he answered it. Looking irritated, he snapped it shut.

"Well, Marlowe Sawyer's clammed up and is demanding his lawyer. I guess he's not going to be as easy as his cousin."

"He might as well give up. Jude's told the whole story and he was arrested with Conor," Christian said.

"He's not going anywhere anytime soon, no matter what he pleads. He's a kidnapper," Fishman concluded.

By the time the unmarked sedan, followed by a police cruiser, pulled into the driveway, Fishman was the only cop present. He'd arranged a decoy car to be included in bringing Marlowe back to the local police headquarters so any reporters who got wind of Conor's rescue would be expecting the action at the police station, not the McNamara house.

"They're here," Fishman said, looking out the window. Sean and Christian stood and waited near the door while Fishman opened it and went out to greet the police and the social worker who had traveled with Conor. When Sean caught a glimpse of the older woman removing Conor from a car seat, and holding him as she stood near the car, he bolted through the door on a dead run toward them.

"Conor!" he called out, heading toward his son, unable to wait another second to have him back. The woman just smiled and prepared to hand Conor off to Sean as soon as he got there. Somehow, he managed to calm down so his excitement and emotions wouldn't upset Conor as he carefully took his son from the social worker, holding him close.

"I think he's glad to see his daddy," she commented, since Conor looked almost as happy to see Sean as Sean looked to see him. A moment later, Christian joined them, sliding an arm around Sean, touching the back of Conor's head gently. Sean's face was wreathed in smiles, even though he was crying at the same time.

"Thank you," Sean said to Fishman, who was standing back, watching the reunion.

"You folks get some rest. I'll keep you posted about the case. I'm leaving a unit out front to make sure you don't get harassed by the media until you can get your own security back to take care of it."

"Really, thanks for everything you've done," Sean repeated. "I can't tell you what this means to me."

"I'm a father, too, remember? I know what it means." He slapped Sean's arm lightly. "Get some sleep. We've got both of them in custody, so you don't have to watch your back."

********

Christian leaned on the doorframe and smiled. Sean was sitting in the rocker, with Conor in his arms, and both were sound asleep. Christian had waited in bed for his partner for almost an hour, and finally decided to see what was taking him so long in putting Conor down for the night. After such a long, stressful day and almost no sleep the night before, they had decided to go to bed and get some much needed rest as soon as Conor was asleep. It was obvious that Sean was reluctant to let go of his son, and must have fallen asleep once the baby had fallen silent and still.

Figuring Sean would be stiff and uncomfortable if he left him there much longer, Christian touched Sean's shoulder.

"Wake up, sweetheart," he whispered softly, not wanting to startle Sean when he had Conor in his arms. Sean opened his eyes slowly, looking a little confused for a moment. "Let's bring Conor into bed with us."

"I know it's stupid, everything's safe now. I just can't put him down and leave him here."

"You don't have to. Come on." Christian guided Sean toward the bedroom, and they settled Conor between them in the king size bed. As much as Christian would have liked to hold Sean, seeing the complete peace on his face as he dozed off almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, with their son safe and sound between them, was just as satisfying.

Letting his eyes drift shut, Christian felt very much at peace himself.

********

Christian finished his consult, and after the patient left, made a few notes on her chart. He had scheduled her for surgery, which represented some much needed income. The only other surgery he'd performed recently was removing Kimber's implants so she could be ready to breast feed her child. Now, though, their schedule was slowly filling in again, and he'd sold Mike Hamoi his condo, so they were liquid for the time being. There was something liberating in not being all that concerned about the condo. Truth be told, he wasn't that worried about the Lambourghini. If it had to go, it could go, as long as there was enough for the three of them to live comfortably and have what they needed. As long as they could afford Conor's surgeries and ultimately his college fund, everything was okay. He found himself smiling a little at the thought of a quiet evening at home with Sean and Conor...with his family.

Just then, Sean opened the door to his office and walked in, sitting across the desk from him. He looked discouraged.

"Marlowe's sticking to his story and turned down the plea bargain. There's going to be a trial." Sean rubbed the bridge of his nose. "This could drag on for months, years even."

"I was sure he'd take the plea deal to avoid the death penalty," Christian said, walking over to where Sean sat, standing behind him and rubbing his shoulders.

"He's still saying it was all a big joke when he was drunk and that he never seriously told Jude to kill me. He can't wriggle out of taking Conor, but he claims he was trying to save him from a painful series of surgeries from a father who couldn't accept him unless he was perfect."

"Sean, it doesn't matter if he goes away for murder or for kidnaping. By the time he gets out, he'll be too old to be a threat to anybody, if he gets out at all."

"A sensational trial isn't going to help our business," Sean leaned into Christian's touch. "And I don't want to be distracted with all that shit when we're trying to work on Conor's surgery and recovery. The media just got disinterested in chasing us around. It'll all start back up again with a trial. Plus, there's no way if he's trying to worm out of paying for killing Annie and Julia that I'm not going to be sitting in the front row staring him down every fucking day of that trial."

"We're going to be there, sweetheart. Together." He paused, just massaging Sean's shoulders. "If a good lawyer's convinced Marlowe he can get off the hook on the murder charges, he's going to give it a shot." He stopped massaging and noisily kissed the top of his head. "Let's get some Chinese and go home to our kid."

"We can't both sit in a courtroom all day while our practice goes down the tubes."

"We'll figure out something to get through it. Come on, it's been a long day."

"Before I heard from Fishman, I heard from our real estate agent. She found a house for us to take a look at. We probably should hold off on that, because we don't know what kind of impact all this'll have on the practice."

"What kind of place is it?" Christian sat in the other visitor chair.

"It's a one-floor, Spanish-style, built back in the 40's, tile roof, garden, total privacy from the neighbors. There are steps leading down to the beach. She said the interior is pretty interesting. There are marble floors in part of it, a sunroom with a great view of the garden. She e-mailed me a photo of it."

"You really love it, don't you? Just from the photo?"

"It's not even that much longer a commute than we already have."

"I think we should look at it." Christian took Sean's hand. "Are you feeling ready to think about putting the house on the market?"

"As soon as we move. I'd rather get settled in a new place, and then sell it. But I'm ready for us to make a fresh start with Conor."

"I think we should look at this place." Christian squeezed Sean's hand and then kissed it, holding it against his face. "Your eyes lit up when you talked about it. I haven't seen that light in your eyes for a long time. If that house can make that happen, let's go see it tomorrow, and get a deposit on it."

"You haven't even seen the picture," Sean said, smiling.

"If a shack on the beach made you look that happy, I'd be all for it."

"I love you. I don't know if I mentioned that today."

"Not since this morning, and I was beginning to feel unwanted," Christian joked, leaning in for a kiss. "I was watching your mouth all through that consult with Mrs. Hillier, and all I could think about is how much I wanted to be kissing you."

"That's a relief. I thought I had something in my teeth from the shrimp scampi we had for lunch, the way you kept staring at me."

"Even with garlic breath, I wanted to make out with you."

"I didn't have garlic breath. I rinsed out my mouth after lunch."

"Not long enough, but that's okay. I want you anyway."

"How about now?" Sean kissed him, complete with tongue.

"Coffee. And you." He kissed Sean again. "I love you, too, by the way."

"Good thing you said it back, " Sean joked. "I was going to withhold my favors if you didn't."

"How'd it go with your patients?" Christian asked, referring to those for whom he hadn't joined Sean in doing the consults.

"Fine. Remember Mrs. Foster? She's one of my regular botox ladies."

"She only trusts you to stick a needle in her face. Yes, I remember her," Christian joked, referring to the sixty-year-old socialite turning him down to wait for Sean on one of her previous visits.

"She hugged me and brought me a book on grief. She lost her son to a motorcycle accident about ten years ago, so she was very sympathetic. We started talking about dealing with losing a child, and both ended up crying, so I rescheduled her for tomorrow, and she promised we'd only talk about her vacation in Paris this time. Mrs. Gonzalez gave me a rosary she said she had blessed for me and that I should use it to pray for Annie and Julia. I'm glad she was just a consult for a some touch-up work on her eyes, because between her and Mrs. Foster, and the staff hugging me one-by-one and asking me how I'm holding up, I feel like I've been at a wake service."

"They mean well. They care about you."

"I know. It meant a lot to me. It was just hard to go through. Part of me wants to talk about it and in one way it feels good to have people be that sensitive about it, but then another part of me just wants to focus on business because if I don't, I can't get through the day. It's been two months. I thought it would start getting easier."

"You're back at work, we're having some good times together...it's getting better. You're doing better." Christian caressed Sean's cheek lightly and rested his hand there on the side of his face. Sean leaned into the touch, closing his eyes.

"You really think so?"

"I really think so. I think you're amazing."

"I don't feel amazing," Sean admitted, opening his eyes and looking into Christian's. "I feel so damn...fragile."

"Glass is fragile, but it's still strong. And so are you. It's still a fresh wound, Sean."

"That's what Mrs. Foster said. She told me she was still on a cocktail of sleeping pills and antidepressants this soon after her son died."

"We agreed you were going to break in gradually with the easy outpatient stuff, and a few consults. You're doing that. Maybe you can assist me tomorrow with Mr. Olson's rhinoplasty, get a feel for being back in the OR when it's not essential that you be there."

"Okay." Sean stood, and so did Christian. Before starting out for home, Sean put his arms around Christian and hung on tightly for a few seconds, lingering there when Christian's arms came around him. "It still hurts," Sean said softly, his voice barely a whisper.

"I know it does, partner. Every day we come in and try to keep a routine going, it's going to feel a little better. I promise."

Sean stepped back and nodded, smiling a little, though it was faint. Christian put his arm around Sean's shoulders, and Sean's arm came around his waist, and they walked out together.

********

"I'll let you two take a walk through on your own," the real estate agent said, smiling. Though neither of them had given away exactly how interested they were, she apparently had the impression the showing was progressing well. The house was cozy and yet large enough with its three bedrooms and three bathrooms to not feel cramped. The marble floors in the living room and kitchen, a newly renovated master suite with a luxurious bathroom with a sunken garden tub and a separate, oversized shower, and the beautiful sunroom with the pale yellow walls and the windows overlooking the lush garden were all reasons both of them loved the house. The small housekeeper's quarters in the back of the house would be an ideal spot for Conor's new nanny.

"There's a beautiful spot out there for Conor to play when he gets a little older, " Sean said, looking out the windows of the sunroom.

"We can offer Maria the housekeeper's room if she'll agree to be live-in for Conor," Chritian said. "It's a beautiful house, Sean."

"I can see this being our house. It feels like home."

"Then let's not play games. Let's make an offer on it right now. She said it's immediate possession. We could have our stuff moved in here in a few weeks."

"Do you think I'm running away? Wanting another house?"

"Maybe a little, but I am, too. There's nothing wrong with wanting to leave the pain behind and have a fresh start."

"Sometimes I don't want to leave the other house, because all those memories are there. The kids when they were little, Julia, all the times you and I and Julia and the kids sat around the table or trimmed the tree. It's the only house Annie ever lived in."

"If you want a couple days to think about it, we can hold off on making an offer. Or we don't have to move at all if you're not sure."

"Why are you so good to me?" Sean asked, and the question took Christian by surprise.

"Because I love you," he answered, thinking that should be obvious. Sean studied him for a moment, then nodded.

"I know you do. I guess I just haven't been loved that way before," he said, smiling.

"Get used to it," Christian replied, taking Sean's face in his hands and kissing him, prolonging the contact until Sean finally pulled back smiling. "Why don't we go home early, send Maria out with Conor, and make love for the rest of the afternoon? If the house is meant to be ours, it'll be here when we're ready to make a decision."

"That's one offer I'm prepared to accept on the spot," Sean quipped.

********

Sean lay on the bed on his stomach, relishing the warm weight of Christian's body against his back and the slow, steady pace of his Christian's cock as it slid in and out of him. They were alone in the house, they had a good couple of hours to just enjoy each other. Christian was treating him to the kind of slow, easy rhythm he knew Sean liked best, taking the long road to climax. His arms were braced on either side of Sean, his warm breath on the back of Sean's neck Then his lips were there, kissing Sean's neck and shoulders, nuzzling him, making him feel cherished. Christian was putting more pressure on his prostate now, and Sean was rubbing his cock against the mattress as Christian was picking up his pace a little. The combined movements carried Sean into a sweetly intense orgasm, and Christian wasn't far behind him.

"Stay in me a few minutes," Sean said, rolling onto his side with Christian, so they were spooned together. He wasn't ready to let go of their union just yet. They just lay there quietly for a little while, exchanging a few caresses and kisses, mumbling a few love words. Christian finally eased out of Sean, then wrapped him in an even tighter hold to make up for the loss.

"Do you really like it, when I'm in you?" Christian asked.

"You know I do."

"How do you get past it hurting to like it?"

"It doesn't hurt when we do it like this. It doesn't really hurt anymore when we go at it a little faster and harder. It can just get a little uncomfortable if it's too rough. You always think about me, even when you're moving faster - - I know you're taking care of me, and maybe that's why it's okay. I'm not afraid of you hurting me for real, and a slightly raw asshole isn't the end of the world. It would be worth anything to feel this close to you."

"I still think about it, Sean, and I don't know how to relax and want it."

"If you have to work at it like that, you're not ready for it. When you were inside me the first time, it was because I knew I wanted you that way. I never did it before, never had anything up there except for my annual physical, but I felt ready to be with you that way. I want you to feel that...sense of peace and resolve about it."

"I want the memories to go away so I can just enjoy it. It's not you, Sean. It's not that I don't want you in me."

"I know that." Sean turned over so they were face to face. He caressed the side of Christian's troubled face. "I don't doubt how you feel about me because I haven't been inside your body. I've seen inside your heart and soul, Christian. I know what kind of man you are, and I know how much you love me. You seem to feel like you're taking something from me when you're inside me. And you are, but you're giving me something at the same time. It feels good, and having part of your body inside mine is something I wouldn't give up for anything."

Christian kissed him then, passionately and possessively, running his hand up and down Sean's thigh and his hip, around to his ass, stroking it gently, letting his fingertips brush over Sean's center. Christian's hand felt good there, and Sean humped against him a little. They were both getting hard again, and Christian rolled them until Sean was on his back. Christian pushed Sean's thighs up, exposing his still slick hole, which already looked a little stretched from their first session of lovemaking.

"Do it, Christian. I want you to," Sean goaded, knowing Christian needed a little nudge to take him again, and to do it the way he was longing to do it. Sean watched him coat the large, growing erection with gel, stroking himself to full hardness. Sean started stroking his own cock, until they were almost jerking off in unison.

Christian slid inside him, meeting little resistance since Sean was relaxed from his first orgasm and stretched from accommodating Christian the first time. While he started pumping in and out of Sean, Christian kissed him, rubbed his nipples, then licked them. He raised his head to watch Sean, to see the pleasure on his face, and took in the sensations of Sean's warm thighs around him, his hands coming up now to frame Christian's face. He had a green light from Sean to take what he thought he wanted, to drill him as fast and hard as he needed, but the thought of lingering inside him, of watching the love and the pleasure on his face...it meant too much to miss a moment by rushing it. Watching Sean endure it rather than enjoy it suddenly held no lure, and he relaxed into making love to him, glad that it was taking both their bodies longer to respond this time.

He took time for more kisses, to touch Sean's skin and really feel him, letting his hands roam over his chest, his sides, his hips. He stroked Sean's cock, kissed his upraised thighs, let Sean guide him back down for more kisses, enjoyed the feeling of Sean's fingers rubbing over his own nipples, making them hard, Sean's hands caressing his back, his sides, straining to reach his ass. He realized he was smiling, unable to not respond to the little smile on Sean's face, interrupted only when he opened his mouth in a moment when Christian paid special attention to his prostate.

Knowing his climax wasn't far away, he worked at making Sean come first, since he didn't want to finish and leave him unsatisfied.

"I love feeling you around me, being inside you," he said, holding Sean's gaze. "I never wanted anyone the way I want you," he added, seeing Sean's eyes fill a little at that.

"I love you, Christian...I love you in me," he said, a little breathlessly, pulling Christian down for more kissing. While their mouths were locked together, their bodies as close as they could be, Christian could feel Sean coming, just as he withdrew from their kissing to gasp and moan a little, his body arching as Christian felt the slick moisture on his belly. The intimacy and beauty of that moment was the final straw that brought Christian's orgasm sweeping over him in a warm, wonderful, almost unexpected wave, since he'd lost himself so much in Sean that he realized his own climax came from giving Sean his. In giving himself over so completely to Sean, his own pleasure was like a sweet surprise that shook him to his very core.

He reluctantly slid free of Sean's body, already missing the connection. He made up for it by gathering Sean in his arms and kissing him, and being kissed by him, touching as much of him as he could, loving the feeling of Sean returning the caresses that couldn't possibly stir another reaction from either of them. They were spent, sated, sweaty, and deliciously tired. The touches now were all about love, closeness, wanting to show each other that somehow the feelings were just as intense now that the sex was over as they were before it started.

"Thank you," Christian whispered against Sean's ear, kissing it.

"I thought you wanted it hard and fast," Sean said, sounding a little puzzled. "You made it so good for me." Sean's face was so close to his, Sean's hand coming up to touch his cheek.

"Making it good for you made it even better for me. I've never felt that with anybody else. I wanted it however you wanted it." Christian didn't know if that made sense when he said it, but judging by the look in Sean's eyes, he understood it. Sean kissed him again, then just kept his face close against Christian's, and it felt like they were just silently communicating, connecting with each other, like nothing else in the world existed outside that warm space of their body heat and shared breath. There was no need for words...and no words that would have been enough.

********

When Christian woke, he was disappointed not to feel Sean's body in his arms. Realization was dawning, and he looked on the night stand at the clock, which read almost six. Maria and Conor would have returned home by now, and Sean probably had gotten up in time to relieve her so she could go home. He felt a bit guilty for not setting an alarm or being alert to that himself, but relieved that Sean took care of it.

He was surprised to see Sean come back into the room wearing only his robe, carrying Conor, two beers in his free hand. He set the beers on the night stand and sat on the bed with their son, who explored the sensation of walking on the mattress, falling on the pillows with a giggle when his unsteady toddler gait didn't fare well on the softer surface. Christian leaned toward him, making faces, encouraging Conor's little fit of giggling.

"Maria probably knows what we were doing with our free couple of hours," Christian said to Sean.

"She probably does," Sean responded, smiling. His hair was still rumpled and he had a little sheet wrinkle on the side of his face. "I didn't wake up until after five. She was already in the nursery with Conor. I didn't see much point in putting on a show. Besides, I figured we could take our shower together later, after we put Conor down for the night."

"I like the sound of that," Christian said. He rolled onto his back and Conor happily climbed on top of him, playing a slightly sloppy version of patty-cake.

"I talked to Mogabi on the phone this morning. He's got some open time on his schedule in a few weeks." Sean paused. "I told him to reserve us some time in a couple months. I want to be sure he's strong enough, that it's not too much for him right after...Julia."

"He's doing great, Sean, but I think you're doing the right thing by giving it a little extra time. Between weaning him off breast milk and Julia not being here, it could have made his recovery tougher emotionally."

"I just want him to be happy," Sean said, kissing Conor's unaltered hand, scooting close to Christian so they were both in Conor's easy reach.

"I know you do. He will be. We're going to make sure of that." Christian looked at Sean, smiling at seeing real happiness in Sean's face in an unguarded moment. Since the explosion, if Christian happened to look at Sean when Sean didn't think anyone was looking at him, he had an overpowering sadness in his eyes. Not at this moment, though. He looked happy and content, snuggled against Christian, playing with their son, just relishing the quiet closeness of the family moment.

"I love you," Sean said, looking at Christian, who leaned over to kiss him.

"I love you, too," Christian said, then looked at the grinning baby sitting on his stomach - - now officially Conor Troy McNamara, his son, too, thanks to a name change, and a few key legal documents bearing both their signatures. "Both of you." Christian paused. "Thank you for what you did at the lawyer's. It means a lot to me that he has my name. That I have parental rights with him."

"I wanted to be sure if anything ever happened to me, he'd be with his other father." Sean was quiet a few minutes, just watching Christian and Conor, looking like he was at utter peace.

"This afternoon was special," Christian said, reaching over to touch Sean's cheek.

"Yeah, it was." He smiled broadly, and Christian found the smile contagious. So did Conor, apparently, as he smiled and slapped both little hands on Christian's chest.

"I think he's hungry," Sean said.

"He's not alone. Let's get everybody dressed and go out for dinner. What do you think?"

"How about Chen's?" Sean suggested, choosing a Chinese restaurant they both liked. "Conor likes the cashew chicken there."

"Oh, bullshit. Daddy Sean likes the cashew chicken there," Christian teased, chuckling.

"And the egg rolls. I think I worked off all the calories I ate earlier."

"Yeah, that rib-stickin' salad you had for lunch is gone just six hours later, imagine that. We're going to eat like pigs tonight. It's not that I'm complaining about your gorgeous body, but I would like to feel a little less rib on you, sweetheart."

"My appetite's still working its way back to normal," Sean admitted. "Sometimes it's okay, and sometimes I don't feel like I can swallow, if I get thinking about it too much...have a bad day."

"I know. I just want you to feel good and stay healthy."

"I feel good now," Sean said, kissing Christian.

********

A couple days after looking at the house by the beach, they decided to make an offer on it, which was accepted quickly. Not feeling that the furniture from either Sean's house or Christian's apartment was what they wanted, Christian hired a decorator he'd worked with before to give them some ideas. Sean was actually not expecting to play much part in that process, since Christian had usually done his best to keep him at arm's length when he was on a roll with office renovations. Julia had taken the reins of decorating the house, and Sean had gone along for the ride, paying the bills and not asking too many questions. He was surprised when Christian insisted that this time, both of them would meet with the decorator and nothing would be selected that wasn't chosen by mutual agreement.

After going through a number of possibilities that didn't meet that criterion of mutual agreement, they finally found some color schemes and furnishings both could agree on following a subtle, Spanish-influenced Mediterranean theme, using rich golds, greens, and burnt orange tones for furniture combining leather and suede and the occasional tapestry piece for accent.

The dark, carved wood bedroom set for the master suite featured a tall, impressive headboard, footboard and coordinating dresser, mirror and armoire. A rich mossy green color on the walls was brightened by a gold bedspread and green tapestry accent pillows.

The living room featured a large, colorful rug on which a cognac leather sofa sat, flanked by burnt orange chairs and accented with a few colorful paintings on the walls. Overall, the house had a masculine feel to it, but enough bright accents and mixture of colors to keep the dark woods and rich fabrics from making things gloomy.

The color scheme and furnishings went perfectly with the Spanish style of the house and the marble and tile floors. The sunroom deviated a bit from the rest of the house with woven sea grass furniture with pale cream colored cushions and a wide variety of leafy plants to give the room an almost tropical feel.

Conor's nursery was painted a soft, pale green, with yellow and white accents. The second of the home's three bedrooms closest to the master bedroom was chosen for the nursery, since Sean and Christian had made the decision they would care for Conor at night, even if their nanny was living in the housekeeper's quarters. Both felt strongly about keeping up the bond they were forming with their son, and since most of his daytime care was Maria's responsibility, both felt nighttime was their only time to really be with him.

Christian was surprised that Sean turned out to be a good decorating partner, his more conservative tastes keeping Christian from going too extreme with some of the furniture choices, and actually having a pretty good eye for color when it came to choosing paints and fabrics. Mostly, they were both happy to have designed their new home together, even if they did rely heavily on the decorator to help guide some of their choices.

********

Sean taped another carton shut and added it to the stack by the door in the kitchen. Now that moving day was just several hours away at the crack of dawn, he felt some of that melancholy he knew he would, leaving the past behind. Still, he was at peace with their decision to buy the house by the beach and make a new beginning. The trial was a few weeks away, and he dreaded the painful journey into the past it would force on them. Maybe having something so acutely tied to their future, like a new home, would help keep him focused on moving forward instead of sliding back into the overpowering grief that always seemed to lurk around the corner, waiting to envelop him.

"I think that's everything," Christian said, adding another carton to the stack. "We're ready for the movers," he added.

"Not a moment too soon," Sean said through a yawn. "I'm wasted."

"Me, too. I'm actually jealous of Conor for getting to sleep the last three hours while we've been working."

"You labeled everything that was going into storage separately, right?"

"Yes, sir," Christian executed a sloppy salute with a smile. "I followed your instructions to the letter."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to sound like a drill sergeant. I just want to be sure we don't open a carton expecting our underwear and find the unwanted portion of Matt's old CD collection instead."

"I packed everything in Annie's room for storage," Christian said, the reluctance to bring up the subject clear in his voice.

"I know I should have just packed most of it up for Goodwill. I did ask Kimber if she'd like to have a couple of Annie's best dolls for our granddaughter when she's old enough - - you know those big expensive ones she displayed?" Kimber's ultrasound had revealed the baby was a girl, and she was getting closer to her due date.

"I remember those. I brought one of them home for her from Italy. She was only seven or eight, I think. She went nuts over it."

"She was so excited about it. Erica got her the other one in New York a couple years later." Sean sighed. "I packed those up separately and labeled them. I told Kimber we'd hang onto them for her."

"There's no rush in sorting through her stuff, Sean. We'll put it in storage, and deal with it when you're ready."

"I feel like I'm putting her in storage, boxing up all her things and hiding the fact I ever had a daughter," Sean said, leaning on the stack of boxes, angry at the pain that was flaring again, that he was feeling so sad when he should be excited about the move.

"Maybe we're putting too much in storage," Christian said, rubbing Sean's back. "Is there anything special you want me to put in with the stuff going to the house?"

"You've got the...urn out of there, right?" Sean asked.

"Of course, I did. It's on our dresser with the last minute things we're taking with us."

"Good." Part of him didn't want Christian to put his arms around him, because he knew it was going to be the thing that shook what fragile control he had, but the other part of him turned gratefully into the hug, holding onto Christian, letting a few tears out. "I'm sorry to be a wet blanket," he said, his voice still shaky.

"I miss her too, Sean. I know you can't just turn off your grief like a light switch when you think you should be done with it. And we're both tired and stressed out with the trial coming up, that doesn't help."

"Part of me wants to go, and the other part wants to stay," Sean said, pulling back. Before he could wipe at his eyes, Christian brushed the tears away for him. Then he wiped his wet fingers on his pant leg, which made Sean laugh. "Tissues usually work better," he said.

"I'm not touching your nose, just so we're clear on that."

"You would if you really loved me," Sean teased him, grabbing a paper towel off the kitchen counter, since it was about the only paper product handy, and blowing his nose in it.

"Let's just say there are some of your body fluids I'd rather get my hands in than others."

"Is that a proposition?"

"What if it was?"

"It better be," Sean replied, leading the way into the bedroom.

********

Sean felt as if everyone who saw him in the car, and then saw him at his destination, would immediately recognize him, and figure out what he was doing. Despite the dark glasses, baseball cap, jeans, t-shirt and casual jacket, he didn't feel camouflaged enough to go to the adult toy store. Truthfully, he felt a little bit like a pervert, as if all he needed was a trench coat to complete the look.

He sat in his car a few minutes, trying to decide if he really wanted, and needed, to go through with this. He'd told Christian it didn't matter if he could turn the tables and be inside him the was Christian was often inside Sean, and he stood by that. He'd live happily ever after with Christian if that never happened. But reality was calling, and he'd found his thoughts often occupied by fantasies of pumping in and out of something. It wasn't necessarily Christian, and it wasn't any specific woman, or even a particular type. It was just his natural instinct to want to screw something that was bedeviling his fantasy life and the subject of the rare times he jerked off in the shower, when Christian wasn't nearby to keep him company in there. Staring at the store, he took a deep breath and got out of the car, making the decision to go inside and see what they had to offer.

The store was surprisingly clean, well-lit, and looked more like a nice department store than a seedy sex shop. He hoped to see what he was there for and throw some cash on the counter for it and get out before he lost his nerve.

"Can I help you find something?" a male voice startled him from behind. A clean-cut, middle-aged man with a receding hairline stood a few feet away.

"Where are your...male...toys?" he asked, hoping that was enough. Of course, it wasn't.

"Are you looking for the fake penises, strap-ons?"

"No, no, not the toys that are male. Toys for males...fake pussies, I guess," he shot out before he lost his nerve.

"Right over here. Before you settle for one of those old school ones that looks like a blow-dryer with a pussy in it, check these out." He led Sean to a display of, well, asses. Sean knew only too well about the real doll industry, but he'd never seen an anatomically correct woman's ass, complete with high quality latex "skin" and both functional holes, in a box on a shelf. "We have them modeled after some of the top porn stars. You can pick whichever one you like. They're all a little different. We've got four of them."

"Kind of weird without the rest of the woman attached to it," Sean said, picking the one that looked the most appealing to him. Part of him felt like he was picking up spare parts at the anatomy lab, but he tried to banish that thought. He knew what he needed, and this ass-in-a-box could probably scratch the itch. He sure as hell couldn't hide a full sized sex doll in the closet, and he didn't want Christian to feel like he wasn't enough, or that his reluctance to deal with being penetrated was causing any serious problem in their relationship.

"You don't have to take her to dinner or cuddle afterwards," the man joked, and Sean smiled faintly. "She's got a vibrator you can use, or you can skip that and just let her have it with no motion from her."

"Okay. I'll take this one." Sean handed him the box.

"Don't tell me - - this'll be cash, right?"

"Right," Sean said, anxious to grab his fake ass and run for the door.

"Unmarked bags," he said, holding up a purple plastic bag that accommodated the item, and gave it complete coverage. "Enjoy," he said, handing Sean his change.

"Yeah, thanks," Sean replied, stuffing the bills in his pocket and leaving with his purchase.

Driving back toward their old house, he knew he'd have complete privacy. It hadn't been listed with the real estate company yet, and Conor and his nanny were settled in the new house. Christian had a nose job at two, and it was just a little past noon. He let himself into the quiet, shadowy house, trying not to feel like a teenager with a stolen Hustler sneaking into the john to jerk off.

He went into the guest room and unpacked his purchase, setting the artificial ass in the middle of the bed. It had the bizarre effect of making it look as if the woman's upper body and legs had somehow disappeared into the mattress, and only her ass remained visible.

"Well, I guess since you're already naked," he said to the rubber ass, before stripping off his own clothes and trying not to feel too ridiculous.

He knelt on the bed behind the toy, using the lube that came with it to start stroking his cock. Closing his eyes, he tried to forget that it was a fake ass on the bed. He started thinking about Christian's ass, about what it would feel like to pump in and out of him, and his body started responding to that. He used one hand to rub across his chest, rolling and pinching his nipples, the way Christian would if they were making love. He imagined Christian's hands on him, his mouth, the heat of his body when they were skin on skin. He aimed his slick cock toward the fake pussy and shoved inside it, not needing to be careful of its feelings or avoid hurting it.

His foreplay fantasies were of Christian, but these physical sensations were ends in themselves, and he didn't really have a name or a face or a backstory for his rubber partner. She was an anonymous hole that served a purpose. He fucked the toy vigorously, moaning out loud now as his cock enjoyed the sensations of sliding in and out, of pumping into something. He was ramming into it, completely driven by his own physical need, and when his orgasm did come, it was intense, shaking him and possessing him until he pulled out of the opening that had sated him, and rolled on his back on the bed. He froze, his eyes going wide, when he saw Christian standing in the doorway of the bedroom.

"How long have you been there?" he asked, still out of breath. Then he noticed Christian's pants were open, and his hand was around his semi-erect cock.

"Long enough," Christian said, a little smile curling the corners of his mouth. "Is there a woman stuck in the mattress, or is that all there is?" he teased, entering the room, looking at the rubber ass, intrigued.

"I'm sorry, Christian. I don't know what got into me." Sean felt trapped. He felt ridiculous trying to cover himself up, since Christian saw him naked at least once or twice most days. But he still felt humiliated, perverted, guilty...

"I do. Since you've been with me, you're always on the receiving end, and you needed a little action of your own." Christian seemed to notice for the first time how stricken Sean looked at having been caught. "It's okay, Sean. Did you think I was going to be mad because you had a little fun with a sex toy?"

"It's not that you're not enough, that it isn't great between us, I just...needed it."

"Do you know how hot it was, watching you get off like that? I just about christened this new Armani with a full load," he said, referring to his suit's brush with being squirted.

"I just needed to..."

"Fuck something. You're human, Sean, and you're male. You're not gay just because we fell in love with each other. So where's the harm in having a little fun with...God, she doesn't have a name, does she?" Christian winced a little.

"Uh," Sean picked up the box where he'd tossed it on the floor. "Ashley."

"You mind if I play with your new toy?" Christian tossed his jacket aside, and took off his pants and underwear, leaving just an eye-catching lavender shirt over his naked body.

"I could clean her...it...up a little if you want."

"Nah, let's just gangbang her," Christian said, moving into position behind the rubber ass, sticking his cock into the pussy. "God, she feels like she's ready for me, but it's your come in there. Shit, that's hot," Christian gasped, starting to pump into the rubber form, letting loose and giving it a rough pounding he'd never dream of giving Sean.

Sean watched him, entranced with seeing him take what he needed from the toy, watching the orgasm sweep over him, and hearing him cry out as he finished with a few jerky thrusts. Panting, he pulled out of Ashley, flopping back on the bed, looking over at Sean and laughing.

"I think we should take Ashley out to dinner or something," he said, patting a rubber butt cheek. "Maybe get her a fourteen karat gold pussy piercing."

"It was good, wasn't it?" Sean asked, finally smiling and losing a little of his initial embarrassment. It was silly to be shy with Christian about something like this. They'd shared having sex with a woman before, so why should a little action with the ass-in-the-box be such a big deal?

"Get to have all the rough stuff without hurting someone I love in the process," he said, reaching out until Sean put his hand in Christian's. "Did you really think you had to hide this?"

"I thought maybe you'd think I was weird."

"Well, she is kind of like a spare part from the anatomy lab - - "

"Oh, shit," Sean said, laughing. "That's all I could think of when I first saw this thing. Is this what proctologists practice on in the lab?"

"So where were you planning to store Ashley, anyway?"

"You're going to keep calling it Ashley, aren't you?"

"Beats saying, 'hey, Sean, where'd you put the rubber ass?' doesn't it?" Christian sighed. "I have to hand it to her, she was one of the best lays I've ever had. But she can't hold a candle to my number one." He squeezed Sean's hand. "You have got to lighten up a little, Sean. You're not a pervert because you try something new, or because you have a need that's just purely physical. Let's enjoy that - - that we're friends first, that we can enjoy this stuff together?"

"We haven't even tried her asshole yet," Sean said, flexing his eyebrows, emboldened by the easiness of their interaction over something he thought would be a disaster in their relationship. Christian just laughed. "What are you doing here, anyway?" Sean finally asked, curious.

"I lost one of my cufflinks, and I wanted to see if it was still in a drawer or on the floor somewhere here. It was one of the diamond ones, and it's pricey."

"You want to look for it now?"

"Excuse me, Ashley," Christian picked up the rubber ass and set it on the floor by the bed. Then he scooted over closer to Sean. "Maybe after we make out for a while."

"What happened to your nose job at two?"

"Cancelled. She had a family emergency or something. I have to be back at four for another one. Want to assist?"

"Sure." Sean smiled as Christian climbed on top of him, kissing him thoroughly. "Ashley's good, but there ain't nothing like the real thing," he said, and Christian smiled, kissing him again, launching a session of stolen afternoon lovemaking that left little time to look for cufflinks.

********

Christian slipped into his suit coat, having chosen one of his conservative looks for the court room. Sean was already dressed, also in a dark suit, with a white shirt and tie, taking a few minutes to spend with Conor before they started out for court. They'd settled nicely into their new house, and as Christian checked his look in the large mirror over the dresser, he had to admit he was enjoying the new decor. It was warm and inviting, and the rich golds and greens in the master suite were relaxing and beautiful.

As he entered the kitchen, he found Sean at the table, helping Conor with breakfast while Maria washed the dishes. A matronly woman in her fifties, Maria had a cheery demeanor and infinite patience with the challenges of childcare. She loved to cook, and even gladly adjusted a few of her spicier Mexican recipes to make them rest better with Sean, who didn't quite have Christian's high threshold for hot seasoning. She was also adept at cooking a variety of other types of foods than Mexican, so no one in the McNamara-Troy household could complain of going hungry.

"Oh, Dr. Troy, you look nice, too," Maria said, giving his dark suit and purple shirt an appreciative once-over.

"Thanks, Maria. We should go," Christian said, squeezing Sean's shoulder.

"I know." He touched Conor's cheek. "I was procrastinating a little."

"Depending on the timing, maybe neither one of us will even have to testify today. They're taking a damned lifetime nitpicking the forensics."

Christian admired Sean's strength in having sat through the grueling testimony of the medical examiner, even though the prosecutor had the courtesy to set his easels displaying the autopsy photos toward the judge and jury, and not the area where the family was sitting. Still, the lengthy descriptions and discussion of the condition of the bodies had been enough to bring tears to Christian's eyes and cause Matt to leave the court room. Sean had sat there through it all, going from tears in his eyes to crying softly while the coroner went into the necessary details about Annie's death and the condition of her remains. He hadn't let go of Christian's hand through most of the testimony. Thankfully, most of the discussion was now focused on the explosion and the technical issues surrounding the explosives and how they traced them to Landau Industries and the site where Jude was working.

"I'd rather get it over with. Having it hanging over my head is worse." Sean stood, leaning down to kiss Conor's cheek. "I love you, buddy," he said to the content toddler, who seemed preoccupied with his pieces of banana.

"Ove you," came the reply. Sean stared at him, since it was the first time Conor had answered him so directly and clearly. Grinning like the proud parent he was, Sean picked Conor up, lifting him out of his high chair and hugging him, risking banana stains on his dark suit, and not caring.

"That's my boy," he said, kissing Conor again, holding him while Christian made a growling noise against Conor's neck that made him recoil a little, giggling.

"I love you," Sean said again, and again, Conor replied with an "Ove you."

"I love both of you," Christian said, patting Sean's back.

"I really needed that this morning," Sean said, reluctantly putting Conor back in his high chair.

The explosives expert finished his testimony relatively early, and Sean was on the stand by mid-morning, mostly answering questions about Marlowe's interview and hiring, their conflict over Conor's surgeries, and finally Julia's affair with Marlowe and the issue of Marlowe wanting to take Julia and the kids to Florence while he studied art there. Being it was the prosecutor asking the questions, testifying wasn't nearly as contentious and unpleasant as they were prepared to face with the defense attorney, who had concocted a scenario in which Jude may have been working for Sean, not Marlowe, since Sean had so much to gain from the deaths. He claimed there was as much hard evidence for one theory as the other, and a more clearly defined motive for Sean.

The most difficult part of the testimony for Sean was recounting what happened the morning of the explosion, including his memories of the explosion itself. By the time the court went into recess for lunch, he was drained, and grateful for the break. Christian didn't feel much better. It was like watching Sean being tortured and being unable to stop it. He knew the cross-examination would be worse, and he questioned his ability to sit there and let Marlowe's lawyer badger Sean with a lot of sordid questions and gruesome implications.

"How are you holding up, sweetheart?" Christian asked as Sean rejoined him, finally free from the witness stand for the hour lunch break. He put his arm around Sean's shoulders, giving him a little squeeze.

"It's harder than I thought, talking about it." He slid his arm around Christian's waist, leaning into the contact as they walked toward the doors to exit the court room.

"This way," Fishman called to them from near the front of the room. He gestured for them to follow him, and they did, going out another exit the jury had used. "You can take a break in a conference room back here. The reporters'll eat you alive out there. They know Sean's testifying today, so it's a real circus." Once he'd led them to the conference room, he patted Sean's arm. "You're doing great up there, Sean. When Hirsch goes after you, and he will, don't let it get to you. He's desperate and he's reaching, so he's probably going to focus heavily on your infidelity, the domestic violence issues, your relationship with Christian, and really tie it all in to the insurance money. Just answer him honestly, and do your best not to have an outburst. If you have trouble with your emotions, let the jury see that. Reducing the grieving father to tears probably won't earn him the points he thinks. The jury likes you - - you can tell they're reacting well to you on the stand. Four of them started crying when you broke down, talking about your daughter."

"You think so?" Sean asked. "I didn't even notice that, I guess."

"Christian, Hirsch is going to be rough with him, and I'm going to tell you the same thing. You're not going to be much support to him if you end up in jail for contempt, and this judge is pretty no-nonsense. The prosecution will object to inappropriate questions, or any time that he's badgering Sean beyond what he has a right to do in the process of asking his questions. But leave it to us. I don't care what shitty thing he says or asks."

"I'll do my best, but I'm not going to sit there and let that asshole accuse Sean of killing his family."

"You have to, Christian," Sean said, sighing. "I'm not looking forward to this, either, but Fishman's right. I don't want you thrown in jail for contempt. It's going to be more stressful for me if I have to worry about you erupting."

"I hear you," Christian said, though he wasn't happy with the admonition.

"I'll leave you two alone for a while. Do you want lunch? There's a sandwich shop right near the courthouse that delivers. They're ordering for the jury, and I'm going to get myself something."

"Go ahead if you're hungry," Sean said to Christian, sitting at the conference table.

"If somebody could get us a large turkey sub, I'll try to get him to split it with me," Christian said to Fishman.

"Will do."

Fishman had barely left when the door opened and Richard Matthews, the prosecutor, stuck his head in the door. A tall, slender man in his late forties, Matthews had thinning brown hair and wore small, wire-rimmed glasses.

"Sean, nice job this morning," he said, extending his hand to Sean, who shook it.

"I didn't really do anything except answer your questions."

"Well, that's partially why things flowed so smoothly. You're sincere, and the jury is connecting with that. I thought we should go over a couple things before Hirsch gets a hold of you this afternoon.

"The way you and Fishman are talking about this, I'm expecting bamboo shoots under my fingernails," Sean said, trying for humor, but his voice held a trace of unease.

"Fishman already gave us the 'don't have an outburst' speech," Christian said.

"That's crucial. Sean, he's going to try to paint you as a viable suspect, and that means making you look bad to the jury. Now, you're not on trial, and even if Marlowe walks, the DA's office has no intention of pursuing charges against you for anything. There's no solid evidence, and we're satisfied we're trying the right man. You don't need to panic or defend yourself - - or to convict Marlowe. If he scores any points, that's my problem to deflect, not yours. If he asks an inappropriate question, or crosses a line, I'll object. Otherwise, just answer his questions, and as often as you can, make it a simple yes or no answer. Don't volunteer anything. If you open the door to it, the prosecution can run with it, just like we talked about before. If a question seems really offensive, take an extra breath before you answer him. It'll give me time to object if I have a valid reason to. Too often, witnesses blurt out an answer before I have time to object, and then the horse is out of the barn and the jury's heard the answer. If I don't object, answer him to the best of your ability."

"I thought Marlowe was on trial here. How can his lawyer just turn around and start putting Sean on trial?" Christian asked.

"It's a strategy. Find another possible suspect and put them unofficially on trial to deflect attention from the evidence piled up against your client. Despite the fact he's entered into a plea deal, Jude is a good witness. He's believable, his testimony is solid, and we're going to put Marlowe away. He could have just as easily accused you of hiring him if that were true, but he's testifying against his own cousin. We would have made him a plea deal for either story, if he convinced us it was true. So while he has a plea bargain, he could have gotten it for implicating you as much as he could for implicating Marlowe. And it's apparent he isn't too fond of you, since he was planting explosives under your car, so we can assume if there was a valid case against you, he would have been implicating you."

"You think the jury'll figure all that out?" Sean asked.

"I'll make sure they do, in the long run. The problem is that you'll have to tolerate this bullshit from the defense in the meantime. I want Jude's testimony to be the last big piece of our case that sticks with the jury."

"I'll do the best I can," Sean said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He was feeling over-coached and stressed out, as if the entire case were riding on his shoulders, despite the prosecutor's words, taking the responsibility on himself for winning or losing the case.

"Maybe you could give us a few minutes?" Christian said, and Matthews nodded, standing up and heading for the door.

"Did anyone order lunch for you?"

"Fishman's getting us something," Christian replied.

"Sean, you're going to do fine, and hopefully we'll get through this today. We might need to do a re-direct tomorrow to clean up some loose ends, but this should be the tough part."

"Okay," Sean said, not really caring what he was saying anymore. He'd been duly advised that he was going to spend the afternoon being turned on the figurative spit, and made to look like a monster who would kill his wife and child for their insurance money. Once Matthews left, Christian shifted his chair closer and put his arm around Sean.

"I wish I could make this easier for you," he said, kissing Sean's temple.

"You are making it easier. I couldn't do this without you here."

"Matt left a voicemail on my cell phone. He's going to try to get here this afternoon. Kimber wasn't feeling well this morning and he thought she might be going into labor, but then she started feeling better."

"She's so close to her due date, he probably shouldn't get tied up here."

"Apparently someone from the Church is going to stay with her this afternoon."

"Keep an eye on him. You know he's a hothead, and he's probably going to explode faster than you are if things get ugly."

"I'll hold him back. I'm still bigger than he is."

"Okay," Sean said, smiling faintly.

********

The defense attorney, Martin Hirsch, was an older man with gray hair and glasses, tall and imposing, and experienced litigator with a number of wins under his belt. He approached the witness stand, greeting Sean cordially, as if they were new business acquaintances.

"Marlowe Sawyer wasn't your first choice for a night nurse for your son, was he?" Hirsch asked.

"No," Sean replied simply.

"In fact, you hired another night nurse, or nanny was it? What were you calling it?"

"Night nurse. His official work schedule was only at night."

"I see. The first young lady you hired, Monica Wilder...she wasn't in your employ very long, was she?"

"No."

"She resigned."

"Yes."

"Why did she resign, Dr. McNamara?"

"She said she was moving back home."

"But you knew there was another reason."

"Yes."

"What reason was that?"

"I asked her to leave."

"Because...?"

"We had a one-night...mistake."

"You slept with her?"

"Yes."

"How many times?"

"Once. I knew it was a mistake as soon as I did it."

"So you paid her off to leave town before your wife found out?"

"I gave her severance pay. I felt it was only fair."

"She didn't leave town though, did she?"

"No, she didn't."

"You continued to see her."

"She continued to see me. I told her it was over, but she was obsessed."

"With you?"

"That there was more to our...encounter than there was."

"So this young girl whom you slept with and then fired, felt there was something between you?"

"Yes," Sean replied, though his irritation was beginning to seep into his voice.

"But you never cared about her beyond having sex with her while your pregnant wife was waiting at home?"

"Objection, the defense is making a speech, not asking a question."

"I'll allow it, but get to your point Mr. Hirsch," the judge replied,

"Thank you, your honor." Hirsch stared at Sean. "Should I repeat the question, Doctor?"

"No, I heard you. I did care what happened to Monica, but I was committed to making my family work, and I realized I'd made a huge mistake, and I did my best to fix it."

"Ultimately, Monica met a conveniently bad end, didn't she?"

"Objection," the prosecutor said. "Argumentative."

"Sustained."

"What happened to Ms. Wilder?"

"She was hit by a bus," Sean said, the memory of Monica's gruesome death still vivid if he gave it more than a passing thought.

"Right in front of your office - - you were present when she backed into the street, weren't you?"

"Yes, I was. I followed her out of the office because she was upset, and I was concerned about her."

"So you were facing the road, and she had her back to it?"

"Yes."

"You didn't notice the bus coming as she stepped backwards into the street, while she was arguing with you?"

"No, I didn't. It all happened so fast that it's a blur."

"You've been present at a couple of shocking deaths in the last year...first, Ms. Wilder's bus accident, and then the explosion that killed your wife and daughter."

"Objection. The defense is piecing together an argument, not asking questions.

"No more speech making, Mr. Matthews. Sustained."

"Ms. Wilder wasn't your first affair, was she?"

"I'd hardly call it an affair. It was one time."

"Please answer my question, Dr. McNamara."

"No, it wasn't."

"You had an affair with a woman named Megan O'Hara, isn't that correct?"

"Yes."

"You would classify this one as an affair, correct?" Matthews asked, obvious sarcasm in his tone.

"Yes."

"As a matter of fact, you were in love with Mrs. O'Hara and would have left your wife for her, had she lived?"

"Yes," Sean replied, never having quite faced that truth himself. If Megan had lived, what would he have done? In that moment, he knew he would have found a way to end his marriage to Julia and be with her. Maybe somewhere, she could hear him and know that he was owning up to it, not hiding her like a dirty secret anymore.

"She did leave her husband for you, isn't that right?"

"No, it isn't. She separated from her husband, but that was before we...were together romantically."

"Your wife found out about the affair?"

"Yes."

"How did she react?"

"She was angry, hurt, felt betrayed."

"She didn't leave you?"

"No. We worked through it."

"Mrs. O'Hara committed suicide, isn't that right?"

"Yes."

"That was convenient, wasn't it?"

"Her cancer recurred, and she was dying a horrible, painful death. There was nothing convenient about it, for anyone."

"Women have a tendency of dying around you, at fortuitous times, don't they?" he said.

"Objection, your honor. This is completely inappropriate and irrelevant. He's simply badgering Dr. McNamara."

"Your honor, two mistresses, an ex-wife, and a daughter have died under questionable circumstances around Dr. McNamara. It is relevant to establishing the possibility that this man may have had something to do with at least one or more of those deaths, which is directly relevant to proving my client's innocence."

"Objection sustained on the basis of making speeches, which I have already told you not to do, Mr. Hirsch. You may proceed with this line of questioning, but be sure it is germane to your case, and confine yourself to asking the witness appropriate questions. I know you are well aware of where the line is," the judge added.

"Not long after the whole debacle with your first mistress, your wife revealed something rather shocking to you, didn't she?"

"Yes."

"What was that?"

"My son, Matt, wasn't my biological son."

"And the father was?"

"My partner, Christian Troy."

"You were upset by this revelation, weren't you?"

"Yes."

"So upset that you shoved your wife against the refrigerator and attempted to choke her, isn't that right?"

"No, that's not right."

"You did push her."

"Yes."

"You put your hand on her throat?"

"Yes."

"So what part of what I said was false?"

"I didn't try to choke her. I didn't leave a single mark on her, and she didn't seek any medical attention."

"So it's okay to have shoved her and put your hand on her throat, as long as you didn't leave marks?"

"No, not at all. I should have never touched her, but I was upset, and I did. But I would have never hurt her, and I didn't."

"Your son filed for an order of protection against you several months later. Can you tell us about that incident?"

"We were attempting to have a family meeting with my son - - an intervention of sorts. Christian, Julia, and I were concerned because he'd been having some serious problems, some of which had escalated to violence. It turned into an argument, and he pushed his mother across the room. She would have fallen if Christian hadn't caught her. I grabbed him, and then I hit him."

"Re-broke a recently repaired broken nose, I believe?"

"Yes."

"And you hit him for pushing his mother?"

"Yes."

"But you pushed his mother yourself when you were angry with her."

"The circumstances were a little different."

"So you pushing your wife and putting your hand on her throat is excusable, but your son pushing your wife is cause to break his nose?"

"Objection," Matthews stood. "Dr. McNamara isn't already answered the questions regarding the alleged assaults on his wife and son."

"Dr. McNamara has a history of violence with his wife and son. That is directly relevant to considering him as a possible suspect in the death of his wife and daughter."

"Overruled. Answer the question, Dr. McNamara," the judge said.

"None of it was excusable, and if I had it to do over again, I wouldn't."

"You didn't like Marlowe Sawyer, did you?"

"I had no personal animosity for him. I just didn't choose to hire him. My wife did." Sean was momentarily distracted by watching Christian lean forward to hand an envelope to the prosecutor. There was a note inside, which Matthews read, and then looked at photographs. He made a couple notes on his legal pad, but did nothing else.

"Why didn't you like him?"

"I felt he was too outspoken. He lectured us during the interview, which I found indicative of someone who would be disinclined to cooperate with decisions we made as parents for our son."

"He threatened your control of the family?"

"No, I just didn't feel he was the best choice for a night nurse, and I felt we wouldn't work well together."

"Your wife didn't agree, and hired him after your son was born, correct?"

"Correct."

"That must have made you angry."

"Not angry. I was disappointed she made the decision without me, but I respected it."

"How do you feel Mr. Sawyer did as a night nurse? Was he an effective caregiver for your son?"

"To a point." Sean glanced over at Marlowe, who was watching him with interest, making the occasional note.

"Meaning what?"

"An effective caregiver works with the family, and with the child's medical care team, they don't take it on themselves to interfere at a level that far exceeds their credentials and the scope of their position."

"You're referring to Mr. Sawyer's concerns over the painful reconstructive surgeries you were performing on your son's hand?"

"Among other things, yes."

"Such as?"

"Shortly after being hired, he took it on himself to paint a dark and somewhat inappropriate mural covering an entire wall of my son's nursery."

"I understand you complimented him on it, initially."

"I thought he had artistic talent. I didn't say the mural wasn't good, just that it was dark and inappropriate for a nursery. I later painted over it because I felt it was disturbing to my son. I wouldn't have wanted to wake up to that every morning myself," he added, and a few people in the jury box actually smiled.

"You painted over it after you learned of his relationship with your wife."

"I did think sleeping with the mother of the child he was caring for was less than ideal conduct for a night nurse, yes."

"But you slept with the first night nurse."

"Yes, and she didn't work for us afterward," Sean retorted, his fuse getting shorter by the minute.

"She was at fault in that situation, not you?"

"We were both consenting adults, and neither one of us had any business doing what we were doing. We were both wrong."

"Your wife was in love with Mr. Sawyer, and hoping to go to Florence with him, and take your children, isn't that right?"

"Yes."

"So your wife is in love with this man you have obvious contempt for, and is threatening to take your children overseas. What did you plan to do to stop this from happening?"

"Take my wife to court over custody if necessary."

"That's all?"

"Is there something else you think I should have done?" Sean shot back.

"While you were so angry over your wife's relationship with my client, isn't it true you were having an affair with your partner, Christian Troy?"

"No, I wasn't having an affair. Our relationship changed, and I told my wife about it within less than twenty-four hours of that change. She had already slept with your client by that time, and I was aware of it."

"You started having sex with your partner."

"Yes."

"Are you gay, Doctor?"

"I've never been with a man before, and don't plan on being with anyone else besides Christian. I don't know what label you want to put on that."

"You don't consider yourself gay, then?"

"Not after being married for twenty years, and having enjoyable physical relationships with other women I've seen when I was separated or divorced, no."

"Does it bother you to be considered gay?"

"Objection, relevance."

"Your honor, we have testimony that Mrs. McNamara challenged her husband about his sudden change in sexuality. If he has issues with being called 'gay', it could be a basis for conflict between them."

"Make your point and move on, Mr. Hirsch. Overruled."

"I'm happy in my relationship with Christian, so I frankly don't care what kind of label someone else chooses to put on me."

"What turned out to be wrong with your wife's car, the one that was malfunctioning the morning she was killed?"

"It wouldn't start...I don't remember. My son, Matt, had the car towed and took care of it for me. I let him keep it. He needed a nice car of his own and his mother would have been pleased if he had it. I never asked him what was wrong with it."

"I see. But you probably paid for the repairs?"

"I don't know. I didn't handle my own bills right after it happened. Christian handled the household business for both of us, and anything like the car repairs."

"How long was your wife upstairs, talking to you and Dr. Troy, before going back down to her car?"

"I don't recall exactly. Maybe five or ten minutes."

"So her car was untended outside on the street during that time?"

"Objection, calls for conjecture since Dr. McNamara previously stated he wasn't in a position to see Mrs. McNamara's car from upstairs in Dr. Troy's condo."

"Sustained."

"To your knowledge, was anyone in your wife's car during that time?"

"Objection. Conjecture."

"Sustained."

"Did your wife indicate she had brought any additional passengers with her that morning?"

"No."

"When you went downstairs, and out to the sidewalk, were there any other passengers in or around the car?"

"No."

"You had large insurance policies on your wife and daughter."

"Yes."

"Five million dollars on your wife. I believe that policy recently paid out, did it not?"

"Yes."

"What are your plans for that money?"

"I've enhanced my son's trust fund for college, and my investment manager is handling the rest for the time being."

"And you had a million dollar policy on your daughter, which has also paid out?"

"Yes."

"You were going to establish some kind of charitable fund with that."

"Yes, I plan to."

"But you haven't done that yet, have you?"

"No, I haven't."

The attorney walked back to his table, and pulled out a couple of photographs from a folder, returning and slapping them down on the witness box railing in front of Sean.

"Was this worth six million dollars, Dr. McNamara?" he demanded, as Sean laid eyes on vivid 8x10 autopsy photos of Julia and Annie for the first time.

He knew Matthews was objecting and the judge was pounding his gavel, and he thought he heard Christian's voice, but all he could do was turn away from the awful images, the swiveling chair freeing him from the sight. His stomach heaved and despite his best efforts and a hand over his mouth, he felt himself losing the battle and throwing up, feeling like he couldn't breathe between the tears he couldn't control and the heaves that felt like they were choking him.

Christian was at his side then, and he heard him bark something about acting as Sean's doctor, presumably in response to an order for him to go back to his seat.

"I'm here, Sean," he whispered close to Sean's ear. Christian produced a handkerchief to help Sean wipe his mouth. Sean realized then he was shaking too hard to do it himself. "Just take a deep breath, sweetheart," he said, low enough that only Sean could hear the endearment. "The judge called a recess. Can you stand up?"

"Yeah, just give me a second." Sean worked at taking in some deep breaths, and then stood, glad that Christian was staying close and steadying him with an arm around him and holding onto his hand to walk him back to a seat. The courtroom was becoming blissfully silent as the jury and spectators were ushered out. Fishman and Matthews were standing between Matt and Hirsch, having obviously pulled Matt back from the defense lawyer before he could do any actionable damage. Matt was still reading the lawyer the riot act, calling him a colorful variety of names.

"Matty, let it go," Christian called to him. "Come over here and sit with your dad."

Matt glowered at the lawyer another moment or two, then turned and came back to where Sean and Christian were sitting, taking a seat on the other side of Sean, resting his hand on his father's back. Christian stood then and strode over to Hirsch, grabbing him by the lapels of his expensive suit before Fishman or Matthews realized what he was doing.

"What kind of perverted bottom feeder are you, anyway? What the hell was the point of that?"

"Take your hands off me, Dr. Troy. I'll have you arrested for assault."

"Oh, really? Then I might as well make it count," Christian said, pulling back his arm to deliver a powerful punch. Before it could connect, Sean was on him, pulling him back, with the help of Fishman and Matthews.

"I'll look forward to questioning you, Dr. Troy," Hirsch said, straightening his suit.

"Give it your best shot, asshole. Let's see how good you are when you're not tormenting grieving fathers," he retorted.

"Christian, forget it," Sean said tiredly. "We've got a break, and I need one."

While Matthews and Christian exchanged a few heated words, Fishman guided Matt and Sean out the side exit to a men's room.

"Shit, I thought I hit the floor," Sean said, looking at the healthy swath of vomit that had splattered his shirt and tie.

"You did that, too," Matt said, with a little smile. "Nice shooting, Dad," he joked while he wet a large handful of paper towels and tried to help Sean get the worst of the stain off his clothing.

"I smell like the medical waste dumpster," Sean complained, trying to dry some of the wetness.

"That son of a bitch should be disbarred."

"No argument there," Sean said, feeling frighteningly dizzy and a little light-headed. A moment later, everything was dark.

********

"Christian!!" Matt shouted, rushing out of the men's room just as Christian was coming toward it. "He just collapsed," he said, leading the way back into the men's room where Sean lay on the floor.

"Shit." Christian checked Sean's pulse. "His pulse is a little rapid, but it's steady. He probably just passed out. He's already coming out of it," Christian loosened Sean's tie, and Sean's own hand went up to his collar a little weakly when he felt the movement.

Fishman and Matthews were close behind them. "Is he all right?" Fishman asked.

"He passed out, but he's already coming around."

"I'll call for an ambulance," Fishman said.

"Don't do that, he'll hate it. I'll check his blood pressure and keep an eye on his vitals." Christian supported Sean's head and shoulders, raising him off the tile floor. "Okay, Sean, talk to me, partner," he said gently.

"I'll go talk to the judge about getting a recess for the rest of the afternoon," Matthews said, leaving.

"What happened?" Sean asked, blinking a time or two, raising his hand to his head when he tried to sit up.

"Take it easy, Sean," Christian supported him as he tried sitting up again. "Sit tight a minute and take a couple deep breaths. Do you remember where we are?"

"The men's room," he replied.

"Where?"

"Are we still at the courthouse?"

"Yes, but we're going home. It's all over for today," he said.

"You scared the shit out of me, Dad," Matt said, smiling, relieved.

"Sorry. I don't know what happened. I was just standing here, and now, I'm down here."

"Sean, look at me. Any blurred vision? Chest pain?" Christian asked.

"My head's killing me but no, my vision's okay and I feel kind of winded, but no chest pain."

"Dizziness?"

"I feel...I guess, kind of. Can you get me off the floor?"

"Matt, get on his other side so we can support him once he's up."

Once Sean was on his feet, he reeled a little, leaning on the support.

"I'll go find out what the judge said," Fishman said.

"He can't go back up on the stand today. As his doctor, I won't allow it."

"You sure he shouldn't go to the ER?" Fishman asked.

"All they'll do is make him sit there for three hours to see a doctor. I'll check him over and monitor him, so he'll be better off resting at home."

Fishman nodded and left the room to go find the prosecutor.

"Did you see those pictures?" Sean asked Christian, looking into his eyes with an expression that held such agony that it broke Christian's heart. "I should have known what to expect...I'm a plastic surgeon, I know what fire does to flesh...even bone..."

"Shit," Matt muttered, running a hand over his face.

"Give us a second, Matty," Christian said, inclining his head toward the door. Matt seemed only too glad to leave, not any better able to discuss the condition of the bodies than Sean was. Maybe not as able, since he didn't even have training as a surgeon to bolster his capacity for the grotesque details.

"They were awful," Sean said quietly, burying his face against Christian's shoulder, letting out some of the shock and new grief the horrific photos had brought to the surface. "There was nothing left of my little girl," he sobbed.

"You shouldn't have had to see that. There was no good reason for it," Christian added, holding Sean close. "That's not Julia and Annie anymore. No matter how awful it looks, it was too fast for them to suffer, and they're not suffering now." Christian just stood there a few more seconds, letting Sean vent his pain, knowing there wasn't anything else he could do to make it better than just to be there. "I'm going to take you home, check your blood pressure and make sure you're okay, and maybe we can spend an unscheduled afternoon relaxing and hanging out with Conor."

"Sorry about all this," Sean said, pulling back, wiping at his eyes. Christian grabbed a couple paper towels and handed them to Sean, who dried off his face and wiped his nose.

"You've got nothing to apologize for, sweetheart." Christian rubbed his back and kissed his cheek, tossing out the used paper towels for him. "Feel steady enough to walk?"

"Oh, yeah, I can walk."

"Head still hurting?"

"Not as bad, but it still aches and I still feel kind of light-headed."

"You haven't eaten much in the last couple of days."

"And I'm not eating anything now."

"We'll get you a soda with some sugar in it you can drink on the way home. In case your blood sugar's low."

There was a tap on the door and Matt stuck his head in, carrying a Coke. "I thought the cola might help your stomach," he said, handing Sean the can.

"You must be psychic," Sean said, smiling a little as he took a couple sips of the Coke.

"I was just telling Sean we needed to get him a soda to make sure his blood sugar wasn't too low, since he hasn't been eating much."

"Are you okay, Dad?" Matt asked, and Christian could tell it was about more than the fainting spell. Matt wasn't used to seeing Sean anything but strong and healthy throughout his life, and now he was seeing him made fragile by the horror of the tragedy their family had been through. There was a real note of fear in the question.

"I'll be fine, Matt," Sean said, moving forward to hug him. "I've been upset with the trial and not taking care of myself the way I should. Christian's always on my ass to eat something or relax, and I don't listen to him most of the time."

"Start listening, Dad." Matt stepped back. "I don't want to lose anymore parents just yet."

"You aren't going to lose me. I'll be fine after I get some rest. And after this goddamn trial is over."

"Kimber and I could take Conor tonight, if you guys want some time to relax."

"Kimber doesn't need the stress right now. She's almost at her due date." Sean patted Matt's shoulder. "Go home and take care of her, and call us if our granddaughter is getting ready to make her appearance."

"Okay. Take care of yourself, Dad. I'll be here tomorrow as soon as court's back in session."

After Matt left, Sean and Christian left the men's room and found a bench in the quiet hallway. In this area of the courthouse, the press couldn't get easy access, and only the occasional staff person walked down the hall. A few minutes later, Fishman and Matthews came down the hall together, talking, before pausing where the two men sat.

"Sean, you're up and about, that's good," Fishman said.

"I'll be all right," Sean said. "What about the trial?"

"We're in recess until tomorrow afternoon," Matthews said. "I explained that you collapsed, and still hadn't been fully evaluated medically. The judge was fine about starting back up tomorrow at one. The only good news is, I think Hirsch lost the jury. He was gambling on throwing you off balance, or pushing you into faking a reaction, if you were really guilty of anything. It backfired."

"He sure made me feel like a dirtbag, so I can't believe the jury is on my side anymore," Sean said.

"Between this stunt, and the photos Christian gave me, we'll take care of that tomorrow on re-direct."

"What photos?" Sean asked, vaguely remembering now the exchange he'd watched between Christian and the prosecutor.

"The photos of your cheek fracture after your wife threw that votive holder at you. Between that and the fact it wasn't the first thing she ever threw at you, we'll make sure we level the playing field a little."

"By smearing Julia when she's not here to defend herself? When she's dead, for God's sake? Forget it. I won't testify about that."

"But it's okay for the jury to hear about you assaulting her?"

"Maybe it's best to just move past the whole domestic violence thing and let the jury focus on Sean's reaction to the photos," Christian suggested.

"Abusive husbands are great murder suspects. You may have pushed your wife in a moment of intense emotional distress, but if she habitually threw things at you when she was angry, you're going to come out looking more like a victim of ongoing domestic violence than she is. Matt also said he's willing to testify in a way that will mitigate the negative impact of the incident in which you struck him."

"I was not an abusive husband," Sean shot back, the anger plain in his voice.

"I'm not saying you were, but you could look that way to the jury if we don't counter it. Your wife is dead, she can't be upset by any of this. But her killer could get off the hook if the jury even entertains the possibility you could have had anything to do with this. Reasonable doubt is all it takes to blow a conviction. They have to keep liking you, Sean. So we have to deal with any reasons why they might not."

"Trials get ugly, and Matthews knows what he's talking about," Fishman said. "I know this isn't easy, but keeping the jury sympathetic to you and your family is key in convicting Sawyer, even if it's not fair."

"All right, if it's that important to the case - - but I don't want you making Julia into the villain here."

"Understood," Matthews said, nodding.

"Because if you do, I won't cooperate with you on the stand. She was my wife, and I loved her, and I'm not going to make her into something she wasn't."

"Fair enough. Get some rest, and we'll see you back here tomorrow at one," Matthews said.

"Do you guys need a lift?" Fishman offered.

"I drove, so we can manage," Christian said as they both stood.

********

"Christian, for the tenth time, I'm all right," Sean complained, sitting on the side of the bed in his robe while Christian listened to his heart with the stethoscope.

"Shut up and take a deep breath," Christian retorted, his tone much gentler than his words. Sean followed the directions. "One more," he said, and Sean shot him a look, but did it anyway. "Your heart sounds good, your lungs are clear, but your blood pressure's high again. I think we should put you on a low dose med to keep it down and then re-evaluate it once things have settled down a little."

"It's just the stress," Sean said, standing and taking off his robe, throwing it on the foot of the bed.

"Now you're making my blood pressure go up," Christian quipped, as Sean was clad only in his boxers.

"I feel like shit right now," Sean said, getting into bed and closing his eyes.

"How's your head?" Christian asked, sitting on the side of the bed.

"It's pounding like the bass speakers in a low rider."

"I'll get you something for your headache. If I send Maria out to get this prescription filled, will you take it?"

"You're that worried about my blood pressure? Shit, Christian, anybody's would be out of the ballpark after this morning." Sean closed his eyes and covered them with his hand.

"It's out of the ballpark each time one of these things happens, and it's running on the high side in between. Just humor me for a month or so, and if it levels back out after the trial, you won't need it anymore." Christian took a hold of the hand Sean didn't have over his eyes. "I love you. Let me take care of you."

Sean moved his hand away from his eyes and opened them a little. "I don't mean to be such an asshole. I just don't feel good and you're here for me to take it out on."

"I'll get you something for your head, and then I'm going to bring you something to eat."

"Not unless you want it in your lap," Sean said, running his hand over his stomach. "I'm too nauseous to eat anything. It was all I could do to keep that Coke down."

"You don't have a fever, so I don't think it's the flu. Any abdominal pain?" Christian asked, beginning to press on Sean's stomach in a few key areas.

"Will you just leave me alone, Christian? I threw up and I'm stressed out. I don't have a goddamned brain tumor."

"You didn't answer my question, sweetheart. Any abdominal pain?" Christian added a little caress of Sean's hair to his gentle tone. When Sean looked at him, a little guiltily, he just smiled. "I know you don't feel good, it's okay. I just want to be sure your appendix and your gall bladder are all right."

"No pain except in my head."

"Okay. I'll be right back." Christian was gone a minute and then returned with two Tylenol and water, with a washcloth over his arm. Sean took the pills and chased them with the water, lying back on the pillow, wincing. "Moving around is making it pound like crazy, huh?"

"I haven't had a headache like this one since med school."

"Try this." He laid the cool cloth on Sean's forehead. "Will you humor me and let me check your BP one more time, see if it's coming down a little?"

"Okay."

Christian checked Sean's blood pressure, and was relieved to see that it was not as high as the first time.

"I'm going to keep an eye on Conor while Maria goes after that prescription. Try to doze off if you can. I'll check on you in a little while."

"I love you," Sean said, not opening his eyes.

"I love you, too," Christian replied, kissing Sean's shoulder before making sure it was covered.

********

It was near dinner time when Sean emerged from the bedroom, still in his robe, hair rumpled, bleary-eyed. Christian wasn't sure if he'd really slept all that time, or just retreated there and stayed in bed because he felt too lousy to do anything else. Any time Christian had looked in on him, he didn't move or respond, so he either slept that soundly or needed the time to himself.

"How's your head?" Christian asked. He was sitting at the table with Conor, while Maria put the final touches on dinner.

"Better. I can move my head without feeling like it's going to explode, and I'm kind of hungry." He sat at the table, managing a smile for Conor.

"I made baked chicken and rice," Maria said. "Nice and mild, just some lemon and pepper for flavor."

"Sounds good," Sean said. "Do you get the feeling we're never going to use that big table in the dining room?" he asked Christian, since they were comfortably seated around the table in the large, cheerful, eat-in kitchen.

"Maybe when we have some company over the holidays," Christian said. It was hard to believe Thanksgiving was just a few weeks away, and Christmas would be close behind.

"Yeah, maybe," Sean agreed.

"Sit tight. I want to - - "

"Check my blood pressure before dinner."

"Got it in one," Christian replied, returning a few seconds later to check it. "It's down quite a bit. The rest and the pill did their work."

"I'm sorry I gave you such a hard time earlier."

"You had a right to be cranky. If you eat something for dinner, that'll make it up to me."

They shared a quiet family meal, and Sean did eat, relieved that he had an appetite, and that the food actually made him feel better. It eased the residue of the headache that lingered, and made him feel less lightheaded. He dreaded going back to court the next day, but hoped by the time afternoon rolled around, he would feel strong enough to go through another round of interrogations.

Family time with Conor was spent in the master bedroom, since Sean still felt tired from his earlier ordeal. He was propped up on pillows in the bed, just relaxing and holding Conor while Christian stretched out on his side of the bed and read stories. At times, he wondered which one was benefitting more from the drone of him reading aloud - - Conor or Sean. The latter was dozing as much as he was awake, rallying when Conor would wriggle around or make noise.

"He's out like a light," Christian reported, returning to the bedroom after putting Conor down for the night. "Looks like you're not too far behind him."

"I didn't sleep all that much this afternoon," Sean confessed. "I know I played dead when you looked in on me."

"You're entitled to some time to yourself once in a while, Sean. Today was a lot to handle. I know seeing those photos was a nightmare, and I'd still like to corner Hirsch in a dark alley and perform a little unanesthetized surgery on him."

"It wasn't anything I didn't already know. It was just seeing it that I couldn't handle. Now when I close my eyes, I can't see anything else."

"This was pretty close to going through the whole thing over again, from the beginning."

"That's how it feels. It's like all the progress of the last several months, moving ahead, us making a new start...it was like being dragged back to the starting gate again." Sean sighed. "Now my blood pressure's all over the map and I'm afraid I'm going to drop dead from a stroke or a heart attack and not be here for Conor...and get cheated out of my time with you. I was so shitty to you earlier because I know you're right. I should have been on something for the blood pressure since shortly after my accident with the truck. I guess I didn't want to accept it."

"You told me it was elevated while you were going through Megan's death, and Julia finding out. It went back to normal. It probably will this time, too." Christian got back into bed and scooted over close to Sean, who gladly moved into his arms, resting his head on Christian's chest. "Trust your in-house doctor, Sean. I'm keeping a close eye on you, and you're going to be fine."

"I don't want to go back there tomorrow. I know I have to, but I just...don't want to."

"I know. I'd give everything I have to be able to make that go away so you didn't have to be back on that witness stand again." Christian rested his head against Sean's. "I don't care how many anti-outburst lectures Fishman gives me, if they go after you that way again, I'm putting a stop to it as your doctor."

"Might as well let it run its course, Christian. I really don't want you to end up in jail for contempt. I don't think I could do this alone."

"You don't have to."

"Thanks for putting up with me."

Christian smiled at that, and gently tilted Sean's chin up so they could kiss. One led to another, and while Sean didn't feel up to anything more than that, they both drew strength from the intimacy of it, and tried to banish the ugliness of the day with the beauty of the feelings that came with those kisses.

********

Sean found himself sitting on the witness stand again. This time, when he looked over at the defense table, it seemed that Marlowe was avoiding eye contact, something he hadn't done before. He wondered if it was possible that Marlowe could have such a dark side as to want him dead at one time, and still have enough of a conscience to feel ashamed of the way his attorney was trying to get him exonerated on the murder charges.

"The defense has no further questions at this time, but reserves the right to re-cross at a later time," Hirsch said, rising momentarily to make the statement.

Sean wondered if his relief was visible, or if the slight unknotting of his stomach was just internal. Matthews rose to ask his questions, but Sean didn't dread that. At least they were on the same side.

"How are you feeling today, Sean?" Matthews asked, approaching the witness box. He knew the prosecutor's friendly demeanor was intended to make the jury feel more familiar and friendly with Sean, too.

"Much better, thank you," Sean said, not much in the mood to revisit the previous day's incident.

"I understand you're under a doctor's care for your blood pressure."

"Yes," he responded.

"If you feel unwell during our discussion, please let me know. Judge Cavanaugh has indicated he will entertain a motion for a recess if needed for health reasons."

"I appreciate that, thank you," Sean said. He realized Matthews was making an issue of this to make Hirsch look worse, and make the jury feel sorry for him, and therefore be more sympathetic to him. The more they felt for Sean's situation, the less likely they were to buy a scenario in which he was responsible for Annie's and Julia's deaths.

"Just prior to your affair with Mrs. O'Hara, you suffered a loss in your family."

"Julia miscarried. I took it hard."

"You were very anxious to have another child?"

"It took me by surprise at first, but once I got used to it, I was really happy," Sean said, finding himself smiling a little at the memory of how excited he'd really been at the prospect of being a father again.

"Julia was confined to bed rest for the duration of her pregnancy, wasn't she?"

"Yes."

"At a point, she made a decision to not remain on bed rest and to return to her college classes, correct?"

"That's correct."

"Did she discuss that decision and its potential outcomes with you?"

"No. She only left the house once, and she had the miscarriage."

"At the time, she was friends with Jude Sawyer, correct?"

"Yes, that's right. He drove her to the hospital."

"You believed they had an affair."

"I was wrong. They didn't."

"She saw him romantically after you separated though?"

"Yes. Annie mentioned that he stayed over occasionally."

"So when you had your affair with Megan O'Hara, you were dealing with the loss of a child, and also were under the impression your wife was already having an affair."

"Yes," Sean replied. "I misjudged the situation."

"Would you have become intimate with someone other than your wife at that time if you didn't have strong feelings for that person?"

"I don't understand," Sean said, a little confused. "I wasn't looking for a one-night stand, if that's what you mean. I never intended to have an affair with anyone. Even when I had those feelings for Megan, that...connection. I didn't act on it right away."

"You felt guilty?"

"I felt awful. My father left our family when I was a child. I'd vowed I'd never do that to my own family, and then I found myself in love with someone else, and on the verge of doing just that."

"Mr. Hirsch brought up your brief encounter with Monica Wilder. Is it safe to say that was a stressful time, too?"

"Yes, very."

"You were awaiting the birth of your son and you still didn't know the extent of his physical challenges."

"That's right."

"You had sold your business recently."

"Yes."

"Was that a decision that rested well with you?"

"No. The business has always meant a lot to me. It felt like a loss, even though we made money on the sale."

"You only slept with Ms. Wilder on one occasion, right?"

"That's right. I shouldn't have done it at all. I regretted it even while it was happening."

"You sound as if you still feel guilty for that."

"I do. Julia didn't deserve infidelity right then, and I never forgave myself for it."

"In the seventeen years you were married to Julia before you met Megan O'Hara, did you ever cheat on her?"

"No."

"Did you ever want to?"

"No. I loved Julia and my family was too important to me."

"So you were a faithful husband, father, provider for a good seventeen years before some extremely stressful circumstances and a misunderstanding about the nature of your wife's relationship with another man led to the only affair you had."

"That's true."

"Objection, your honor," Hirsch said. "I fail to see how this is relevant to determining my client's guilt or innocence."

"The defense spent a substantial amount of time maligning Dr. McNamara's character as a husband and father. I think it's only fair we have the opportunity to explore these incidents as they relate to our witness's character, and therefore the likelihood that he was somehow involved in his wife's and daughter's deaths."

"Overruled. You opened the door, Mr. Hirsch."

"Yesterday, the defense brought up some incidents of domestic violence. Were you ever arrested for domestic violence?"

"No."

"And the restraining order your son obtained, he later dropped."

"Yes, that's right."

"How would you characterize your relationship with your son, overall?"

"I love Matt. I'm very proud of the man he's become, and I like to think we've always been close, except for a few trouble spots when he was a teenager."

"As far as you know, does your son harbor any animosity toward you based on the incident that led to the restraining order?"

"No. Matt and I have a good relationship, and he's been very supportive," he said, smiling in Matt's direction."

"You mentioned rough spots when he was a teenager. Did he ever speak to you in a disrespectful manner?"

"He was a teenager," Sean replied, smiling, drawing a few chuckles in the courtroom.

"Fair enough," Matthews said, smiling. "Did those occasions include profanity?"

"Sometimes."

"Did he call you names, or swear at you?"

"Sometimes."

"Did you ever strike him when he did that?"

"No."

"Did you want to?"

"I was angry, but no. I don't believe in corporal punishment."

"You never slapped or spanked your children?"

"No."

"The fact he isn't your biological son doesn't affect your feelings for him?"

"He's my son, regardless of biology. And his natural father is my best friend and life partner, so there's no reason for me to love him any less than if he were biologically mine."

"Would it be a fair statement that you actually suffered greater injury and danger to your safety as a result of domestic violence than your wife or son did?"

Sean just stared at Matthews.

"Dr. McNamara, did your wife throw an object at you that resulted in a fracture of your cheekbone?"

"Yes."

"Is this a photograph of your injury?" he asked, showing Sean one of the photos.

"Yes."

"I'd like to enter this into evidence, your honor." The judge approved the motion, and the lawyer handed the photo to the jury foreman to begin circulating it to the jurors. "Was that the first time she ever threw an object at you?"

"No."

"What did she throw at you before?"

"A coffee mug. I ducked and it hit the wall."

"If you hadn't ducked, do you have an idea of where it would have hit you?"

"My face or head, judging by where it hit the wall behind me."

"When that happened, were you angry?"

"Yes."

"Did you throw something back at your wife?"

"No."

"Did you hit her?"

"No."

"Slap her, push her, menace her physically in any way?"

"No."

"Did you want to?"

"Hit her? No."

"What about when she broke your cheekbone with the votive glass?"

"It was an accident. She threw it when she was angry and it hit me. She was upset about it. She didn't mean to do it."

"Did you require medical attention?" 

"Yes. I had x-rays, a CT scan, and saw an opthamologist to be sure my eye wasn't affected. I was on a liquid diet and painkillers for a period of weeks."

"In spite of that, you still loved your wife? Even after she did that to you?"

"Yes."

"Do you miss her?"

"Yes."

"Did you consider pressing charges against her?"

"No."

"You documented the injury with photographs."

"I didn't want to use that in any way, but the only reason I would have was to keep her from taking my children out of the country."

"Even then, you didn't plan to pursue criminal charges?"

"No. I never would have wanted her to be arrested. For her sake or the children's."

"Sean, did you have anything to do with the deaths of your wife and daughter?"

"No," Sean said, his voice choked.

"Thank you," Matthews said, returning to his table. "No further questions at this time," he said.

Sean was relieved to leave the witness stand, and returned to his seat between Christian and Matt.

*********

The rest of the prosecution's case focused on Jude Sawyer's testimony, and the testimony of several other people, including Christian and Matt, to corroborate the testimony from Sean and to give their views of Marlowe, Jude, and various other details of the case. Apparently feeling his tactics had backfired in his questioning of Sean, Hirsch's approach with the other witnesses was not nearly as dramatic or abusive.

The grim experience of the trial was interrupted for the McNamara-Troy clan when Kimber went into labor. Sean and Christian were both involved in the delivery of their new granddaughter, Jenna. The baby came just in time for the Thanksgiving holiday, which was a mixture of joyous and painful firsts - - Jenna's first holiday, Sean's and Christian's first holiday together and in their new home, and the first major holiday since Julia's and Annie's deaths.

"That turkey's smelling pretty good, Lizzie," Christian said as he entered the kitchen where Liz was checking on the bird.

"It's almost done. We're right on schedule for dinner," she said, closing the oven door.

"Thanks for doing all this," he said, referring to the Thanksgiving dinner she was preparing. "I know it was a big job."

"Well, Kimber has a good excuse for not cooking, and I don't think Sean's cooking has progressed to doing a turkey, has it?"

"He's doing pretty well, but the trial's been hard on him. We were going to do it ourselves, but neither one of us had the heart for it, after dredging up every horrible detail, and considering we could have to go back for the verdict anytime."

"They did let those poor people go home for the holiday, didn't they?" Liz asked.

"They took a break today, but tomorrow, they're back at it."

"Is Sean all right? He looks so tired."

"The medication is keeping his blood pressure under control, but he doesn't sleep well. Ever since Marlowe's asshole lawyer showed him those autopsy photos. He either has nightmares or he ends up sitting in Conor's room, watching him sleep. I'm hoping when this trial is over that we can move on a little."

"You're going to have to accept that losing Annie is probably going to leave a wound with Sean that won't heal. When I was growing up, friends of ours lost their daughter - - she was murdered by her boyfriend. Their family fell apart. The parents divorced, her father ended up an alcoholic, her mother battled depression until the day she died."

"Are you trying to cheer me up?" Christian asked, uneasy as he nibbled on a carrot stick that was waiting to be chopped up for the salad.

"All I'm saying is that it could be a longer road for Sean than just the end of a trial, or even Marlowe going to prison or even being executed if it comes to that. When all that is over, Annie will still be dead, and that realization could be harder on him that anything else. People think revenge on the killer is going to be a magic solution, but it isn't."

"I love him, Lizzie. It doesn't matter if we have to live with the aftershocks of this for the rest of our lives. It's hard watching him suffer. I want him to feel happy again. I thought he was starting to move in that direction, and then this damn trial just dragged him back down."

"Just don't be surprised when, for the rest of your lives, he has setbacks. When Annie should be turning sixteen, when Annie should be going to the prom, or when she should be graduating, or getting married. Or when Jenna grows up and goes through those milestones that Annie never will."

"Then I guess I'll just have to make his life so happy and so good that he can get through those setbacks."

"Something tells me you will," Liz said. "Go get Sean and drag him out here and make him chop some vegetables. The turkey's good for a little while. Figure out a way to cheer him up." She winked at Christian and patted his cheek.

Christian did lure Sean out to the kitchen on the pretext of chopping vegetables, dislodging him from his spot on the couch next to Matt, where he was watching him holding Jenna.

"Turkey's almost done, huh?" Sean said, going to the sink and washing his hands.

"We need to put the salad together eventually," Christian said, sliding his arms around Sean.

"You got me out here under false pretenses, huh?" Sean replied, smiling.

"I thought I'd give you something to be thankful for," Christian said, unfastening Sean's pants.

"We can't do that in here! We have company in the living room."

"And they'll stay there for a few minutes." Christian slipped his hand inside Sean's underwear, wrapping his hand around Sean's cock.

"God, that feels good," Sean whispered as he leaned back against the counter. Christian knelt in front of him and took Sean's cock in his mouth. He worked intently at bringing Sean to hardness, enjoying the little gasps of pleasure he knew Sean was trying to stifle. Sean stroked Christian's hair, keeping enough control of himself not to thrust too hard.

Christian knew Sean was getting close, so he deep-throated him, making him come, holding onto Sean's hips as he rode out the waves of his orgasm. Christian stood, touching Sean's face, taking in the soft, sated smile and the slight droop to Sean's lids. He could feel Sean breathing hard as he pressed against him.

"I love looking at you after you come," Christian said, kissing him.

"I don't mind you looking at me but I'd just as soon pass on everyone else doing it."

"Don't tell me you didn't enjoy that little element of danger, keeping one eye on the door?"

"I'd be lying if I did," Sean admitted, kissing Christian. "Thanks."

"A little birdie told me you could use cheering up."

"Oh, don't tell me that. Liz told you to blow me?" Sean asked, his eyes bugging.

"She suggested I bring you in here to chop vegetables and cheer you up. Don't get your shorts in a knot - - well, at least, not in a worse one than they're in right now. I thought you might enjoy that more than making salad."

"Think we have time for me to return the favor?"

"Your hand is okay. I want that perfect mouth of yours right up here with me." Christian kissed him, thrusting his tongue inside Sean's mouth. They lingered over their kisses, Sean's hand freeing Christian's semi-hard cock from its confines and pumping it, stroking it firmly. Christian stifled a moan in Sean's mouth as he came, and in their passion, neither thought of the fact that there was no mouth around Christian's cock as it joyfully spread its seed on Sean's and Christian's pants.

When Sean spotted the stains, he started laughing. "Oops," he said, wiping the come off his hand on the pants that were already spattered.

"We can't go out there like this," Christian said, though Sean's good humor about the whole mess was contagious, and he couldn't help smiling. Mainly, he was thrilled to have given Sean a happy distraction, no matter how messy it turned out to be.

"Put this on," Sean said, handing him one of Maria's aprons.

"You want me to wear an apron that says Mamasita Caliente on it?" Christian referred to the black apron with its bold red inscription. He'd bought it as a gag birthday gift for Maria, and she'd been amused by it to no end. It was always hanging somewhere handy in the kitchen.

"You can have Kiss the Cook if you prefer it," Sean retorted, shaking his head. "Just long enough for us to get to the bedroom and change. Don't give me that look - - this was your idea."

"Can I help it if I prefer your pulsing rod of man meat to the turkey?"

"My pulsing rod of what? Where the hell do you get this stuff?"

"You never watched a cheap porno movie before?"

"Not that cheap, apparently," Sean responded, chuckling. He used a dishcloth to wipe at the stain on Christian's pants, and then his own, so they wouldn't end up causing stains on the aprons they couldn't explain - - or wouldn't care to. "Just put on the apron before somebody walks in here and sees us with come on our pants."

Unable to argue with that logic, Christian put the apron on and Sean put on his, and they managed to make a reasonably unobtrusive dash to the hall and then to their bedroom while the guests were too enthralled with the babies to pay much attention.

Gathered around the big dining room table, the small group said grace, then began eating their meal. Despite pleasant instrumental piano background music, a lovely spread of food, and everyone's best effort to be cheerful, there was an undeniable shadow over the gathering. Sean was grateful they were at least in a different house at a different table. The thought of sitting in their old house, where they'd spent so many Thanksgivings as a family, was unbearable.

He poked the green bean casserole with his fork, but couldn't eat it. It was Julia's recipe, and the last year she was alive, Annie had taken over preparing it, wanting to be able to say one thing on the table was her creation. He took pride in keeping up a decent front for Matt's sake, not wanting his son to feel so blue and miserable when it was his first Thanksgiving as a husband and father. Also, he knew Liz, and Christian especially, were doing all they could to make this as easy for him as it could be. The least he could do was pretend it was working. Mostly, he wanted the day to just end, so he could wake up the next morning to another ordinary day, one of the holidays behind him.

"You did a wonderful job on the dinner, Liz," Kimber said. "Next year, Matt and I will host dinner, I promise."

"You had a good excuse to sit this one out," Sean said, smiling. "I totally agree. Liz, everything is delicious," he said, knowing the meal was good. He just didn't enjoy eating it.

"It was my pleasure. I haven't cooked a big dinner for Thanksgiving in years, and surprisingly enough, you can actually miss doing it," she added.

"Mom always complained about it, but I think she liked doing it," Matt said with a grin.

"Julia was a great cook," Sean said, trying to keep the light tone to his voice that would welcome any discussion of Julia or Annie the rest of the group wanted to have. The last thing he wanted was to be a killjoy, or worse, to keep Matt or anyone else from having happy memories of the family members whose absence he felt so acutely.

He distracted himself interacting with Conor, making sure the little boy had all the goodies he wanted on his plate in a form he could eat them. Each time he picked up something with his reconstructed hand, Sean's heart jumped just a little. As soon as the trial was over, they would get started on the other hand.

Decorated in warm shades of gold and orange, the family room where they all settled to watch football offered comfortable leather couches, overstuffed chairs, and plenty of end tables and a large coffee table to hold coffee, dessert, and snacks as the day and evening wore on. Sean focused on the football, something Annie and Julia were never excited about anyway. Christian, Matt, and he usually stretched out and watched the games while Julia and Annie either got a head start on cleaning up dishes or went on strike from the kitchen and found themselves a movie to watch.

Right now, he was on the couch with Christian, only this year, Christian had sat so close to him he was almost on him, and now was resting his head on Sean's shoulder, nibbling some of the chocolate covered pretzels that were among their snack foods. Conor was on a blanket on the floor, playing with a wide array of toys, closely under the watchful eyes of his two fathers. Matt was sleeping in a chair, the toll of new fatherhood making him steal a nap whenever he could. Kimber was holding Jenna, but didn't fight Liz's offer to take over for a while. Sean knew he was lucky to be surrounded by family and friends, and even luckier to have Christian in his life the way he was now. He tried to focus on being thankful for that, and not think too much about what he had lost.

********

The jury returned with a verdict very late in the afternoon the Tuesday after Thanksgiving. The prosecution had sweat a few bullets because the deliberation dragged on for quite a few days. Sean, Christian, Matt, Kimber, Liz, and Linda were all present for the verdict. As they sat and waited for the jury to file in, Christian held out his hand, palm up, to Sean, who gladly slipped his hand into it, gripping firmly. Sean was holding up well, and getting better all the time at keeping a calm, composed, outward appearance. Still, Christian knew what Liz said was true - - he would never be free of his grief over Annie. A lifetime of birthdays, missed milestones, and an aching void that could never be filled would linger with him over time. With a little guilt, Christian realized that because of their relationship, Sean would never have another daughter. But in a sense, it didn't matter. Twelve more daughters would never replace Annie, or erase the pain of her death.

For the first time, Christian really looked at the people on the other side of the courtroom. Marlowe's mother, a matronly looking older woman with hair that was probably dyed a color similar to his, a younger sister dressed in a tasteful business suit, and a few cousins. Not a large family overall, but they had traveled all the way to Miami from New Jersey to be there for most of the trial. It still seemed surreal that Marlowe could have such a fiendish side as to plot Sean's death just to get Conor away from him and have a clear shot to travel with Julia and the kids. Or, maybe more shocking, not that he was a fiend but that he was so convinced that Sean was such a horrendous father that he deserved to die in a fiery explosion merely to save Conor from being raised by him. Or could Marlowe truly be so delusional as to think reconstructive surgery was such an atrocity that it justified murder to prevent it?

Christian realized he was squeezing Sean's hand tighter than Sean was squeezing his. Sometimes the thought of how close he'd come to losing Sean to a grisly death not once, but twice, within a short span of time sent a new set of chills down his spine.

The judge received the written verdict from the jury and read it silently, before instructing Marlowe to rise, and the jury foreman to read the verdict.

"On the charge of the attempted murder of Sean McNamara, we find the defendant, Marlowe Sawyer, guilty," the man in the jury box read. There was a brief murmur of voices among the McNamara-Troy contingent, and Sean just closed his eyes for a moment, squeezing Christian's hand. If Marlowe was guilty of that charge, then the felony murder convictions for Annie and Julia would logically follow, and they did.

"On the charge of felony murder in the case of Julia McNamara, we find the defendant, Marlowe Sawyer, guilty." By now, Marlowe's mother was in tears, and Christian couldn't help but feel sorry for her. Seeing your son on his way to prison for life is never a happy occasion, and in this case, she had yet to fear the possibility of the death penalty.

"On the charge of felony murder in the case of Ann McNamara, we find the defendant, Marlowe Sawyer, guilty." Christian looked at Sean, and noticed that his eyes had filled and he was swallowing hard. Still, he stayed silent, sitting through each part of the verdict.

"On the charge of conspiracy to commit murder, we find the defendant, Marlowe Sawyer, guilty."

"On the charge of kidnaping with regard to Conor McNamara, we find the defendant, Marlowe Sawyer, guilty."

Once the full verdict had been read, Matt, Kimber, Liz, Linda and Christian all stood, hugging each other and feeling like the weight of the world had been lifted from their shoulders. It was over, and Marlowe had been found guilty. Christian's momentary celebration was cut short by Sean's stillness. He sat back down next to Sean.

"Are you okay?" he asked, putting his arm around Sean's shoulders.

"Two tragedies result in another tragedy. Everybody loses. Another parent mourns another child. Another family's torn apart and never the same again. Annie and Julia are still dead." He sighed, wiping away a stray tear. "Doesn't seem like much of a reason to celebrate."

"The good guys won, Dad," Matt said, sitting on the other side of Sean, not having heard what his father said. "That's justice for Mom and Annie, and for you, and even for Conor."

"There's no justice to be had here, Matt. How do you atone for something like that?"

"I thought you'd be glad," Matt said.

"I am, in a way. If he'd been acquitted, it would have been difficult to take."

"Why don't we all go out to dinner?" Kimber suggested. Christian looked at her as if she'd sprouted third eye in the middle of her forehead. "I just meant, the trial's over, and the jury made the right decision. We've all been on needles and pins waiting..."

Sean reached toward Kimber and took her hand briefly. "It's a nice idea, Kimber. Maybe we can take a rain check? I think I'd rather just go home right now."

"Of course, Sean. Are you all right?" she asked, seeming genuinely concerned.

"I'll be fine. You guys pick up Jenna and enjoy a little family time," Sean said, referring to the fact that Maria was watching Jenna and Conor both at their house while they were at the trial.

As they all prepared to leave, Sean watched Marlowe being escorted out of the courtroom as his family left, his mother still in tears as his sister escorted her to the door. They still had the sentencing phase to go through, and both sides were undoubtedly going to be pouring over their strategies to get the outcome they wanted. At best, Marlowe was heading for a life behind bars. At worst, he was headed for death row. Sean wasn't sure where he wanted to see him go, or if it even mattered.

Matthews approached the group before they left the courtroom.

"I'm hoping at least a couple of you will be willing to make victim impact statements during the sentencing hearing."

"Do you think it'll really make a difference?" Sean asked. "We've all testified."

"It's an opportunity for you to express the effect the crime has had on your life. It can have some effect on the judge's decision."

"Let us know when they set a date," Sean said. "We'll talk it over."

"Thanks for doing such a great job on this case," Christian said, shaking hands with Matthews.

"I'm just glad we got the right verdict. I will be making a statement to the media shortly. Anything you folks would like to say publicly? Might get some of the bloodhounds off your trail."

"I think this might be the appropriate time to make a statement," Sean said, and Christian nodded.

********

The impromptu press conference on the courtroom steps had attracted all of the local media, as well as most of the national news networks. Matthews made his statement first, acknowledging the work of the police department and the forensics team who had pieced together the evidence on the explosives, doing a bit of grandstanding about the horrendous nature of the crime and how the perpetrators had been brought to justice. He also expressed his intent to pursue the death penalty in Marlowe's case, as Jude had bargained his way out of that by testifying against his cousin.

Sean felt a little overwhelmed by the sea of reporters and the bank of microphones all waiting at attention for him to start speaking. He took a deep breath, and a moment to compose his thoughts. If he'd spoken at Julia's and Annie's memorial service, he could certainly speak to these people, now.

"I wanted to make a statement today primarily to express gratitude to some people. First of all, to the members of the media who have respected my family's privacy, and our decision not to make statements or grant interviews, I would like to say thank you. This has been a very difficult time, and our family has suffered greatly in the past several months.

I would like to thank Mr. Matthews and his team for their impressive work in the courtroom, and their dedication to getting a conviction, and justice for my family. I also want to thank Detective Fishman, who led the task force in solving the case. This thank you means the most to me, because when my son was taken, he and his team sprang into action, and Conor was back home in twenty-four hours. He got the confession from Jude Sawyer. More than that, he was consistently professional, thorough, completely dedicated to this case, and he treated my family with sensitivity. He investigated us, asked us painful questions as he should have...but he was also kind, compassionate, and supportive. I trusted him to find out who did this, and give us some sense of ...resolution, and he lived up to that trust. He is a fine detective and a class act." Sean turned away from the microphones and shook hands with Fishman, who was standing with Matthews. The two men shared a very brief, one-armed hug. "If I didn't say thanks before, thank you," Sean said quietly, away from the range of the microphones.

"I'm just glad we nailed the bastards," he responded, smiling. His words gave Sean a little sense of victory, too, and he returned the smile. Annie and Julia were gone, and they couldn't be brought back, but at least the men responsible for their deaths were going to pay for it. Maybe there was a little comfort to be had there.