Walking into the Royal Army Headquarters after spending a month cut out from the network was like getting a bucket of ice-cold water straight to the face. Hurk stood uncomfortably stiff in his plain clothes as his former handler, Delia, looked over the paperwork that he'd spent the night before filling out. In one hand, he held a duffel bag full of clothes that belonged to the kids.

"You do know how to make things dramatic, don't you? Any longer and we would've been forced to send them over to the Labyrinth's special wing for more secure and long-term housing. We simply aren't equipped to keep powered juveniles in detention for very long, but I did my best to keep them from going there unless absolutely necessary."

"Yeah, thanks for that. The Lab's definitely not a place for kids. I only got the email yesterday night." Hurk scratched the back of his neck and shuffled off to the side a bit to allow for some scientist with her nose buried in a thick folder of papers to zoom past him.

"They're good kids, even with how shitty their lives have been." Delia flipped over to the last page of the packet of papers and scrawled her signature on the last line. She reached for the APPROVED stamp sitting on her desk.

"I didn't mean to, but I got attached. They're annoying sometimes, but they're mine, you know?"

Delia raised an elegant eyebrow but stamped the front of the packet of papers anyways. "I knew I saw something in you that day in the Labyrinth, but I didn't expect that to be latent fatherly instincts and a penchant for terrible humor during inappropriate times."

"Hey, my jokes are appropriate!" Hurk grinned lopsidedly as he leaned his hip against Delia's desk.

"No, your jokes are meant to come out of a 50-something balding old timer's mouth, not a 36-year-old who can barely scrape out a decent beard after a few weeks."

"Ouch. You don't pull any punches do you, Delia? You should be working in the Torture and Interrogation division, not Espionage."

"Who says I'm not already? Oh, I've also had the liberty to update your personal records." Delia handed over a temporary passcard.

"With what?" Hurk slid his thumb against the slick plastic of the card before sliding it into the pocket of his leather jacket.

"Congratulations, you're now the legal adoptive father to a teenage boy that has an unhealthy fixation with knives and a teenage girl that won't stop jumping on top of things. Also, you're no longer an ex-con – your criminal record has been expunged."

Hurk damn well nearly fell over. He opened his mouth, but no words came to mind.

"No need to thank me, Hurk. You've done more than enough. It's been an honor to work with you, but I'm actually glad to see you go."

Hurk's mouth opened and closed a few more times before he finally settled on, "Would your boyfriend mind if I kissed you right now? Actually, would mine kill me if I did?"

"Yes, and from what I know about your boyfriend, definitely a yes."

"Damn."

"Go pick up your kids, Hurk. They're been sitting in detention for long enough."

"Yes ma'am."

After the twentieth day had passed in the too-bright and too-clean holding cell, Sylas had given up on kicking the latched metal door and simply sulked in silence until he was let out for meals or exercise.

It was the twenty-ninth day of his incarceration and he was dead sick of being shoved back into this cell every day and night. The only reprieve he got was the few hours every day that he could be with Lynn, who was in her own special unit on the other side of the special holding wing.

Apparently she wasn't considered to be dangerous enough to be held in his area. What a joke – if those damn Royal Army bastards knew what that shrimp could do with a long stick and some room, they'd put her right in the room next door!

The door alarm sounded and the metal door slid open a few seconds later. Sylas grumbled as he didn't even bother moving from where he was sprawled on his cot.

"Hey brat, I heard you punched out three cadets before they managed to stick you in here. Good job!"

Sylas scrambled off the bed and practically threw himself at the older man, clinging to him and burying his face into his chest childishly.

"I want to go home! It's too bright in here! They won't let me see her!"

A large hand covered the top of his head before sliding down to his back and smoothing the crinkles of Sylas' RA-issued scrubs. When the other man shifted into a better position to hold him, Sylas immediately felt as if he was eight again instead of the gangly sixteen-year-old that he was supposed to be.

"Hey, listen kid. You're going home – just not the one you're used to. I'm taking you and your sister to my home. No more tiny cells or blinding lights, I promise."

"We're going home?"

"Yeah. All of us. I've got some of your clothes in my bag, so why don't you change and we can pick up your sister?"

Lynn was in the middle of a rather boring game of chess against a detention officer (she'd won nine to three, so far) when the door to the recreation room swung open and Sylas – wearing jeans and a gray polo instead of the standard-issue scrubs – skidded into the room.

"Shrimpy! We're going home!"

"We are?!" Lynn immediately shot up from her seat with a gasp, nearly upturning the chess set.

"Yup. Come and get changed, kiddo." A familiar man strolled into the room holding a duffel bag.

"DAAAD!" Lynn launched herself at him, laughing while hugging him with all of her strength.

"Well, there goes the other surprise."

Lynn turned her head to share a confused glance with Sylas.

Hurk raised an eyebrow and a hand, as if saying c'mon, think!

Both Sylas and Lynn's mouths dropped open at the same time.

"Well, technically you both are getting two dads, since we're going to be living with, well, you know…"

Lynn's hands flew to cover her mouth. "You got married while we were in here?! How could you!?"

Sylas gaped like a fish.

Hurk's eyes widened as he backtracked. "No, wait what? I didn't get married, I meant—"

"That means I can plan the wedding! Let's GO!"

Adoptive father and adopted son shared mutual looks of horror as they were dragged off by an overenthusiastic tiny sixteen-year-old teenage girl hell-bent on planning the perfect fairy-tale wedding complete with a six-tiered wedding cake and someone was going to wear white or else everyone will feel her wrath!