She and Azazel spent the next few hours packing as much as they could. Azazel had been teleporting a few boxes to wherever they were off to when the children woke. They'd already packed most of the kids necessities, but Moira prompted them to pick out their favorite toys to pack. When asked, she told them they were going on vacation, which the girls accepted but Kurt seemed confused by. He was too old to be easily deceived, but still too young in Moira's eyes to know the full truth of the matter. Each child filled a box and then Azazel teleported them away. Moira stayed back by herself, taking another sweep around the house to be sure they didn't miss anything. She sat on her bed, their bed, one last time, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes.

An implosion sounded in the next room and she opened her eyes to see her husband enter and extend his hand. "Ready?"

Moira shook her head. "It's not fair."

"Nyet," he responded. "Is not fair. But is life."

"But it doesn't have to be," she said back. "It doesn't have to be unfair. It doesn't have to be like this."

Azazel didn't respond, simply looking at Moira. She shrugged at him, to get him to agree. "It doesn't Alek."

"I cannot know," he finally said. "This has been my life. Has always been this way. Have always had to do these things. You have not." He paused, sitting beside her. "Yes, koroleva, is unfair. But is our life. Life I was born to, life you chose. Life our children were born to."

Moira shook her head. "It shouldn't be like that for them. There has to be a place for them. Somewhere they can have something normal!"

Azazel simply shrugged. "If there is, have not found yet." He took her hand, standing. "Come. We make life for them, regardless of what world provides. We need nothing but each other."

She stood with him and he pulled her close. "Ready?" He asked again. Moira took another look around, at the home they'd raised their children in for over five years, where they'd spent most of their lives. Closing her eyes, she nodded and felt the familiar feeling of the teleport. As they emerged in their new area, Moira felt a chill. Opening her eyes, she recognized they were standing outside the small hideout of Azazel's deep within the USSR. She hadn't been there since they'd escaped the CIA so many years ago.

He held her hand still as they went into the one room shack, the children already inside, going through their toy boxes. Azazel had stacked the boxes of their belongings in a corner, along with their bags and clothing. Moira made a face as she took it in, the space was so small, especially with all this stuff. Back when they'd first come to this place, when it was only three of them, the space seemed reasonable but still small. Now it was far too tight.

"What're we gonna do Mom?" Kurt asked as he played with a car.

"Can we watch TV?" Christine asked.

"No TV," she told them, looking around.

"Play outside for a bit," Azazel told them, pulling out their coats. "Not too far, stay close to house."

Moira helped him get the three children in their coats, then ushered them out the door. Moira sat herself next to the window to keep an eye on them, as Azazel unpacked some necessities. Her fingers traveled over her necklace, hovering on the diamond as they tended to do when she was unsettled. "We can't stay here."

"I know," he replied as he stepped over the now mess of toys. "Is temporary."

Her eyes stayed on her children outside. "This wasn't so hard when it was only Kurt. Even when Christine was a baby it was ok. But now, I can't imagine relocating constantly with the three of them. Especially with Kurt at his age. He's going to ask questions."

"I know," Azazel answered.

"So what do we do?" Her fingers were turning white with how tightly she clutched her necklace. Azazel's hand was over hers, and her grip loosened slightly. Their eyes met as she turned to him, kneeling in front of her.

"It will be ok," he reached his hand up to cup her cheek, wiping away tears she hadn't realized had been shed.

In an instant she was sobbing in his arms, waves of emotion pouring out of her. All that had happened in the past few months, losing the baby, being harassed by her job, and then followed and forced out of their home. It was an unbelievable amount of pain and stress for such a small amount of time. Who could handle so much? She clutched tightly to her husband as she cried, letting out everything she didn't even realize she'd been holding back.

Azazel lifted her into his arms, bringing her to the bed and laying with her there, as she continued to cry. "I'm sorry," she said through sobs. "I'm sorry."

"Shh," he rubbed her head. "No need for sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for."

"I did this," she got out after a hiccup. "Because of my job. I did this."

"Nyet," he said. "You did nothing."

"I did," she replied.

He held her tight. "Shh. Calm koroleva."

Moira took deep, shuddering breaths, trying to pull herself together. "It's not fair," she repeated.

"Is not," he agreed.

"Not just this," she told him. "We should have a baby. He should be five months old. He'd be smiling and starting to sit up. But we have nothing," she paused as she sobbed. "He doesn't even have a name."

Azazel kissed her head. "We had name ideas, da?"

Moira nodded. "Adam," she took another shuddering breath. "Or Nicholas."

"Adam Nicholas," Azazel repeated. "Our son." He paused to take a shuddering breath of his own. "He is with us always, koroleva."

Squeezing her arms around him, she sobbed again. "Adam Nicholas Wagner. Our baby."

They lay in bed, holding each other, their minds only on what could have been. The boy who should have been there.