*16*

It was nightfall before Mike was beginning to understand what was going on with his sister. Claire had managed, with the help of the esteemed Eberts, to secure previously locked files from the QSX lab where Michele's abilities had been activated, and what they detailed to him made his face go pale with combined anger and pain. Chris' comments had triggered a memory that Mike hadn't examined in years, but was now turning out to be of vital importance.

When Mike had been first approached for his assistance with the QSX Project, he had been supplied with data and video that had astonished him. Her readings, much like when she spiked now, were off the scale, her unconscious use of her abilities enough to terrify hardened military men into refusing to go anywhere near her. They'd been forced to put her room on its own power, to keep her heavily drugged most of the time and slap together a cocktail that would inhibit her abilities as well as keep her calm and complacent.

He was the only person who could possibly help her, but, as he explained to the Official's representative, he couldn't. Keepers needed to be anonymous faces of authority and, as everyone was dismayed to learn, he not only knew the woman, but was her twin brother. After a few days of tense discussions, the decision was made to solve the problem by altering Michele's memory slightly. She would see Michael, but would no longer be able to connect him to her twin brother. A supposedly simple task, as one of the head scientists on the project had worked on several military projects perfecting mind-altering drugs for interrogation and sleeper cells for the CIA and NSA.

It was this same scientist, one Marcus Heilburg, who had also developed the Phase II drug that had brought Michele's Quicksilver ability to full functionality, the unexpected side effect was the activation of what appeared to numerous ESP type abilities. Michael, however, suspected they had simply been latent, as he could clearly remember incidents in their childhood, which, upon reflection, seemed to indicate she was indeed gifted, though with what talents, no one was quite sure.

She seemed to be capable of a wide range of powers: telepathy, empathy, and telekinesis along with an odd ability to manipulate energy, mainly electricity. However, she was completely out of control. The only thing she could seem to handle, and with frightening ease, was the Quicksilver. Michael had agreed to help once the memory block had been set in place, provided he was given complete control in her training.

By the time Michael had arrived at the lab just over a week later, it was obvious something had taken place because not only did she have no memory of him, but her abilities were suddenly muted, far less violent and out of control. She would now get headaches, severe headaches, if she used them for too long, which resulted in yet more drugs for the pain followed by several hours of unconsciousness from which she would awake refreshed and unharmed. At the time he'd thought nothing of it, walking her through withdrawal from the highly addictive drugs used to keep her quiet and then learning the basics of how to control her numerous abilities had consumed the majority of his attention.

It never once occurred to him that something more had been done until now.

***

It was quiet in the house, given the number of people currently residing there. Hobbes and Graywolf had volunteered to clean up after the late dinner Dani and Amanda had cooked up, leaving them free to catch up on missed schoolwork or just hang out upstairs and be kids for a while. Darien and Alyx were in the den, ostensibly watching the TV, but actually doing little more than being with each other. Alyx was lying curled up against him; still groggy from the sedatives she'd been fed most of the afternoon. At least she hadn't been forced to endure a round of sense blindness as well, since she had stopped spiking before Mike had felt it necessary to administer a dose of inhibitor. She had mentioned still feeling weird, like the power buzz she used to get on the neurotransmitter enhancer, but nothing she couldn't handle. Mike hated the fact he was about to upend the peaceful scene before him.

"I take it this is going to be a bad news/bad news deal," Alyx stated without even bothering to look up at Mike.

He grunted, not very surprised she'd noticed his current mood. "That's one way to put it."

"Typical," Darien muttered, plainly not happy with the way the chips were falling, yet again. "Want I should get Hobbes and Gray... or maybe go?"

Alyx's head tipped slightly to the side as she thought about it. "Let's leave them out of it for now. If I feel I need their input, I can fill them in later."

"And me?" Darien asked.

"You? Moral support. Based on my bro's mental fidgeting the news is beyond bad," she concluded, her entire demeanor entirely too calm for Mike's liking. "Sit."

Mike did so, the pile of printouts in his hand. "First off, I want you to know Claire was completely unaware of what I'm about to tell you until today. So was I, in fact. We think the Official knew, but since Claire did not ask permission to access these files, I'd rather not get her in trouble by confronting him. Not yet anyway."

Alyx huffed. "Oh just get on with it, would you? What is it, some sort of mutation?"

"No, nothing like that," Mike assured the pair. "It... Oh bother, it's another set of programming. It was designed to hamstring your powers. A set of keys and triggers. It's the reason you get overuse headaches."

Alyx just blinked at him, as if unable to comprehend what he was saying. Darien, however, had no problems at all, and it made Mike wonder if perhaps they'd also set up a mental block in her in case this was ever mentioned. "Wait, you're telling me her headaches are... psychosomatic? Like if power output equals x then pain level equals y? That kind of thing?"

Mike had known Darien was a hell of a lot smarter than he was often given credit for, but this was quite impressive. "Exactly. And the more she pushes beyond the preset levels the worse the pain and the longer the programmed recovery time."

"So then why the drugs? If the pain is induced by the programming, medication won't really have any effect," Darien commented brightly as Alyx continued to sit and just listen to the discussion.

"But Claire didn't know about the programming and treated the symptoms. Don't forget Michele also gets headaches due to bleed through. All those voices whispering in the back of her mind do create very real pain as well."

"So what's gone wrong?" Alyx queried as she shifted slightly to face her brother.

"Based on preliminary simulations, the combination of extended Neuotransmitter Enhancer use and the recent memory alterations have caused the older programming to break down and fragment." Mike set the papers on the floor and ran a hand through his hair. "'Chele, it would appear that your true power level is far higher than what you currently use."

She just shook her head in seeming disbelief. "That would explain Claire's funky test results. She kept saying I had unlimited potential."

Darien snorted. "Well, now we know how they limited it. So what do we do?"

"I'm not sure, but with the cycle of the programming breakdown increasing, I would recommend pulling you from field duty immediately," Mike responded in all seriousness. "There's no way to predict when you'll next spike and no way to know in what form. Just imagine what would happen if you blew all the power while on a plane?"

Alyx nodded slowly. "Standard risk assessment. So what are my options?"

"Limited at best," Mike admitted. He was somewhat relieved she was handling this so well and thinking instead of reacting. Though she had never been one to simply react except in extreme situations, especially these days. Reacting with her abilities could seriously injure, if not kill someone, so she made sure to maintain control at all times. That was why she'd been so concerned over these bouts of uncontrollable abilities. "We keep you dosed on inhibitor and hope it runs its course. You would perforce be limited to desk duty, if not put on medical leave until the situation was resolved." He knew how well that idea would go over, but 'Chele just seemed to absorb the information, while it was Darien who paled. He knew how much she hated being on the inhibitor and the panic attacks it could cause.

"Or?" Darien prompted, clearly wanting any other option to having to use the inhibitor.

"We shut down the programming."

"Can that be done?" Alyx asked, her eyes locking with Mike's.

He waved at the papers. "According to those, yes. The data Claire got me includes the keys to the programming. I would guess Heilburg intended that your... handlers be able to turn the programming on and off in conjunction with the Phase III plan." Mike watched her eyes narrow at that. It was a damn good thing Heilburg was believed to be dead or he would have been spending his days running from one scorned woman. Michele still occasionally had remnants of the Heilburg programming pop up in her mind, but so far she'd been able to handle them without any adverse effects. The base Michael had given her when he returned her full memory half a year ago remained completely stable even after all this time and under pressure from this other programming breaking down.

"'Chele?" Darien queried her softly, his head turning so he could bury his face into her hair.

Mike debated feeling embarrassed for an instant as he watched the verging on intimate scene before him before he realized that touch had become another form of communication between the pair. Mike was well aware of how tactile Michele was and that facet of her personality had only increased since her abilities had been made fully active. The fact that they felt comfortable enough to simply be themselves in front of him made him even more certain that reintroducing them some six months ago had been the right thing to do.

She wrapped her hands about Darien's right one and sighed heavily. "Give us a couple, would you?"

Mike reached down and pick up the papers and then stood. "Sure. Take as long as you need."

Once Mike had left the room, 'Chele waited until reasonably certain he wasn't eavesdropping and sighed softly. "Well, do I know how to throw a party or what?"

Darien didn't even come close to laughing, this was way too serious to turn it into a joke. He closed his eyes for a second and then used his free hand to cup her chin. He felt her swallow convulsively as she fought back the tears he knew were threatening. His forefinger rested atop her carotid artery and he could feel the rapid pounding that belied the cool exterior that she had worn for her brother.

"You sure you don't want me to go, too?" he asked softly, not certain he should have any voice in this decision. Neither choice seemed to be acceptable, when all she wanted was to just have things back the way they were before all this had begun.

"I may not be sure about much right now, but I am certain I need you here." She kept her voice carefully controlled, but he could feel the uncertainty roiling just below the surface.

"All right," he acceded, not about to argue with her if she felt he could be of use in figuring out what to do. "So, say you choose the inhibitor and let it the breakdown run its course?"

She shuddered. "Mike would start me on low doses of inhibitor and run tests to see if he can predict the rate of deterioration. Higher doses would be administered as needed to control the spiking." Her clinical description was effective in helping her to maintain her air of disinterest, even though he knew how much she must hate the idea of living on the inhibitor again.

"'Chele..."

"I would perforce be pulled from this mission, but I believe Mikey would be willing to complete it in my stead, once he was fully briefed on the details." 'Chele's voice cracked slightly and she turned her head to bury her face against his shoulder.

"Not your preferred choice, I take it?" He wasn't sure how his attempt at levity went over until she snorted.

"Hey, I'd get a much needed break outta it," she pointed out with a total lack of humor. "I don't like walking away from a job, Dare. Even with someone as capable as Mike to cover for me."

"I know," Darien sympathized. "That leaves option B, unless you brainiacs can come up with something else by the time Eberts calls." She shifted away from him then, and for a second he thought he'd said the wrong thing, but she simply turned to sit sideways on the couch, her hands still firmly wrapped about his. "What?"

She seemed to be staring in rapt fascination at the dark gray cushion between them. "I just... More powerful," she mumbled with disbelief in her tone. "Can you handle that? Me stuffed even further into your mind when we're together? The corresponding increase in the feeling of loss when we're apart? The whole mind-meld routine when we..." She tipped her head up to meet his eyes for an instant, and then looked away in obvious embarrassment.

"'Chele, this isn't about me, or what I want. You need to make the best decision for you." Darien leaned in and encouraged her to lift her head and meet his eyes. He could understand her concern, but if they were still together after all this time, there wasn't likely to be anything that would drive him away.

"But it is about you, about us, I..." She frowned slightly. "I remember what can happen when I'm under the influence of increased abilities. It's why I don't go anywhere near the enhancer."

Darien growled under his breath, he still couldn't seem to convince her that she was not to blame in that whole mess that had occurred in Cabo San Lucas nearly two years ago. "'Chele, you'd been brainwashed; it wasn't you in many ways and you know it." He lifted her hand and kissed the back of it. "You are fully in control of yourself and I trust that you will always do the right thing in any given situation."

"But what if it happens again? What if ... that is the real me?" There was real fear in her voice.

Darien reached out, tweaked her nose and got the smile he'd hoped to elicit for his reward. "And what if the madness cure fails? What if I wake up tomorrow to discover the tail bright red?" he countered in all seriousness. It was a secret fear of his that had inspired some impressive nightmares over the months since the serpent had been rendered permanently green.

"Darien..." It was obvious she had not been aware of his underlying worry on the matter. Considering the source of the cure, even with Claire checking it over and deeming it worthy, there was always the fear of that other shoe dropping.

"'Chele, if something were to happen we'll deal with it then, but getting all worked up ahead of time," He gave her hand a squeeze of reassurance, "does nothing but upset you. You can't predict the future..." He trailed off as she quirked an eyebrow at him. "Okay, so you can..." She began to chuckle softly and he grumbled, "Hey, work with me here."

'Chele laughed, but there was a hard edge to it that proved she was still concerned over the possible outcome. "You are being logical, isn't that my job?"

He shrugged. "I had a good teacher," he told her with a grin. She returned the smile and leaned against the back of the couch as she thought about his observations. Darien waited several minutes before prompting her with a quiet, "Well?"

She shifted and bussed him a good one on the lips. "Thanks, bub."

***

Mike thumbed through the printouts as he wandered from the den to the kitchen from where the aroma of fresh brewed coffee drifted. There he found Hobbes and Graywolf discussing the merits of their preferred weapons, both of which sat partially disassembled on the table. Bobby with the same Colt he'd had for years and Gray a nice 15 round Browning that would be reasonably comfortable in his larger than average hand. It was a fair bet that many of the more common handguns would be simply too small for his grip and Mike idly wondered what the man's back-up gun was.

"Hey Mike, where's Fawkes and the kid?" Hobbes asked with seeming casualness as he swiftly reassembled his gun and slipped it back into its belt holster.

Mike set the papers on the counter then opened the cabinet to retrieve a coffee mug. "In the den, talking. She has a decision to make about how she wants to handle this."

Graywolf shoved the clip back into the Browning, flicked the safety on and stuffed it back into his shoulder holster. Though unnecessary and technically against the rules of the house, neither man had been willing to give up their weapons and lock them in the gun safe for the duration of their stay due to the volatile nature of the mission. Given the kids were all very well trained in gun safety, making the concern about them doing something excessively stupid negligible, the normally stringent rule was given a blind eye.

"Perhaps we should join them?" Gray suggested.

Mike shook his head. "She wanted to discuss it with Darien first." Mike tried not to flinch at the sudden burst of anger from Gray.

"And why should he have any say in her decision? He is neither her partner nor her family..." Gray had barely begun the building rant when Mike interrupted.

"He will be," Mike stated, and regretted the words almost instantly as Graywolf paled visibly. 'Damn, I need more sleep,' Mike thought, knowing he needed to be at the top of his game and was far from it as his slip proved. He damn well knew 'Chele and Darien hadn't announced their engagement to anyone yet. If it hadn't been for a distressed Darien spilling it earlier, even Mike wouldn't know.

"He asked her?" Hobbes questioned, hope obvious in his posture.

Given it was too late to take back or deny the words, Mike nodded. "This morning, apparently."

"Way to go, Fawkes," Bobby crowed with a broad grin on his face and an honest happiness for the couple that Mike could feel.

Graywolf, on the other hand, had gone from angry to... to something Mike couldn't quite identify. The man sagged, suddenly shrinking in upon himself and somehow managing to reduce his size by a third. Mike caught the stray, though oddly focused, thought, 'Shari, not again,' but it meant nothing to him.

In hopes of breaking the deadening silence, Bobby cleared his throat. "So can you tell us what's going on in the kid's head?"

Mike grimaced as he stirred his coffee and knew that imparting the news to the two overprotective men before him was akin to striking a match near a broken gas main and had a much higher risk of explosion. "According to the papers Dr. Keeply accessed, it's yet another set of buried programming, which is breaking down due to internal stress."

Hobbes swore softly under his breath; considering he'd dealt with some of the other programming 'Chele had suffered with over the years, his imprecations were more than justified.

"Programming? What do you mean?" Gray sounded truly mystified, and Mike realized that his sister's partner was completely in the dark about the methods used to make her one of the most unique agents in the known world.

"Mind control, Gray," Bobby responded curtly. "Of several different types. Some were outta necessity, like that..."

"The pattern programming," Mike filled in. "The Phase III programming was anything but beneficial, however." He could feel the confusion swirling about Gray's mind.

"Phase III? Pattern?" Gray questioned of the air itself. He spun about to face Mike directly. "Why would they do these things?"

Mike sighed and sipped at the coffee while he gathered his thoughts. It was obvious that this would not be dropped without a least a partial and truthful answer. "The pattern programming was designed as an emergency method to impose shields upon her abilities. Especially in the beginning when her control was far less than perfect." Mike kept his voice as bland as possible, fully aware of exactly how necessary that programming had been for the first year. "The Phase III was one of Heilburg's tricks and done without the Official's knowledge. Since she was not trained in the spook biz, he thought it would be useful if implanted, and accessible 'personas' that could handle a variety of tasks were available." Mike shook his head and idly stirred the coffee. "He'd originally done work on sleeper cell programming for the government. He used a combination of drugs and deep hypnosis that worked amazingly well... or seemed to?"

"'Seemed to'?" Gray repeated, his tone giving away his strained belief.

"Yep," Hobbes confirmed. "Turns out it falls apart pretty quick after being activated. Usual result was a nutso agent with a bad case of multiple personality disorder. Hear to tell the lucky ones fell into a kind of coma or catatonia."

Gray sat there, seemingly stunned, for several minutes. "Alyx went through this?"

"Yes, I did," was the quiet response.

All three men turned to see 'Chele and Darien standing in the doorway, his hand firmly grasped within hers.

Darien caught the way Gray's eyes drifted down to their clasped hands, and how he frowned when spotting nothing more than the amber ring she often wore on her left index finger. Darien had a sneaking suspicion that the beans had been spilled on their engagement, and seconds later his worst fears were confirmed.

In an icy cold voice Graywolf demanded, "When, exactly, were you going to mention your... engagement? Or was this another secret you've deemed I should be kept in the dark about?"

Mike looked like he was sorely tempted to smack Xavier upside the head in hopes of knocking some common sense into it. Darien had to admit his temper flared more than a touch at the question, but made a point of keeping calm, though by the way 'Chele's hand tightened about his she was about to go nuclear all over her partner's ass.

"Well, I have been kinda unconscious since I was asked this morning," 'Chele replied sardonically.

Gray stood, tension etched in every line of his body for everyone to see. "You can't marry him."

"Excuse me?" Darien snapped, not about to let the man jump down her throat, not now.

*I'll handle this,* 'Chele's mind voice was tight with anger.

*You sure?* he asked, not doubting 'Chele could handle herself, but wanting to make sure she knew she wasn't in this alone.

*Quite,* she responded sharply then turned her focus on the very tall man standing before her and carefully enunciated two words. "Go. Home."

Graywolf went completely still. "What? What did you say?"

"I said 'go home.' I have neither asked for nor do I want your advice on my personal life." Her cool precisely spoken words told Darien far more than holding her hand did, as he was currently getting nothing from her. That made him certain she was beyond angry and was making the effort to not broadcast it to him. "Your opinions about this relationship have been made perfectly clear, but at this point I no longer care. I requested that you reserve judgement until after this mission had been completed, but since you have proven yourself incapable of doing so, I want you gone."

"Alyx..." Gray appeared to be honestly shocked and paled noticeably at her directive.

The three men observing this did so in silence, realizing this situation needed to be dealt with by the two of them alone. Darien felt neither embarrassed nor triumphant, as he fully understood how difficult this was for her. He knew how much she cared for her partner and how much she had come to rely on him in the last few months, but she would not allow anyone to ever try to control her. It was obvious that Graywolf had either never realized this for himself or had forgotten in his ire over the engagement.

"No. I have had enough. Go back to DC. Cavanaugh will be apprised of the situation by the time you arrive..."

Gray interrupted her and Darien had to wonder if the man realized he was risking her very righteous wrath by doing so. "Aly... Michele, I'm sorry. I..." He paused his stunningly sincere apology. "I'm just a bit overwhelmed by all this." He waved a hand about. "I want to complete this mission. Please?" he beseeched, nearly causing Darien's eyebrows to shoot up in reaction.

'Chele studied Graywolf minutely for long minutes, then nodded tersely. "No more chances, understand?"

Darien was amazed when Gray made the wisest decision possible and simply stated, "Yes." He then proceeded to sit back down at the table, quite plainly shaken by her reaction.

Mike was quick to change the topic and hopefully the mood of the group. "'Chele, can I hope you made a decision?"

'Chele's fingers flexed and released about Darien's hand a couple times as she changed tracks from dressing down Xavier to dealing with the mess her mind currently was. "I want you to remove the programming."

Mike shook his head. "I can't remove it, not without more information. I can only turn it off." The dismay was obvious on Mike's features even to Darien.

"Kid, you sure you wanna do that?" Bobby sounded rightfully concerned.

"Don't have much choice, Bobby. Mike's already threatened immediate desk duty if I do nothing. The inhibitor isn't a viable option this time." 'Chele explained in a curt tone. Now that she had relaxed slightly he could once again feel her unhappiness with her choice, and even knowing and agreeing with her reasons, he was just as uncomfortable with her being backed into a corner.

"Why not?" Graywolf asked softly, not wanting to invoke her ire again and clueing Darien in to the fact that the inhibitor was not one of the many secrets that had been kept.

Michele sighed and glanced up at Darien, who tried to give her an encouraging smile, but suspected that he blew it. *You ready for this?*

*Shouldn't I be asking you that?* he returned, earning a mental chuckle. *I'll back you 100 percent.* The wave of gratitude was more than enough of a response as her focus returned to her partner.

"Xavier, there's no way of knowing how long I'd be on the inhibitor, and therefore unable to work." She sucked in a breath and released it slowly. Only Darien really knew how much a fake the tough as nails agent exterior really was, and even at this moment she was doing her damnedest to make sure it remained that way. "They'd put pressure on the kids; Dani especially, and I won't allow that to happen."

And that, in a nutshell, was what had forced her to make this choice. Darien knew inquiries had already been made for Dani to begin training, if only unofficially, with at least a half dozen different agencies. In an even more bizarre twist some idiot had tried to recruit Rose with the insane goal of creating a team of prepubescent agents. Darien was convinced the guy had dipped too far into his stash before going to the movies.

There was silence for several minutes, with no one really feeling able to follow up her announcement and apparently no arguments against her reasoning.

"How long will it take, Mikey?"

"Couple of hours, at most. It's pretty straightforward," Mike answered.

"What about drugs? We know Heilburg liked to combine them with his programming. Are they needed to make the... adjustments?" 'Chele most certainly didn't sound thrilled, and it was plain that Mike hadn't considered that potential hitch in the plan.

Mike skimmed over the pages, "Hmmm, not according to these, but I'll give Claire a call and double check."

"Works," 'Chele said with a seemingly careless shrug. "Can we do this tonight?" It was obvious to Darien that she wanted this over with in the worst way possible.

"Probably. I'll set things up downstairs and let you know in say... an hour?" Mike tried to inject some confidence into his words, but neither he nor his sister was buying it.

Darien could feel the sudden wave of exhaustion crash over her and realized she was doing everything possible to keep her emotions tightly locked inside, to the point where he was only getting the faintest of hints of her current emotional state. He wished he could take her away from all this and fix all her problems, but he knew it wasn't within his power. The best he could hope to do was to support her through this and be there if she needed him.

"All right," she agreed. "We're gonna head upstairs to spend some time with the kids. Fill them in about everything."

"Yeah, sure," Bobby voiced in complete agreement. "Let us know if you need anything."

"Thanks, Bobby," 'Chele replied, her voice slightly choked. "Dare?"

"I'll be there in a minute." He lifted their entwined fingers, kissed the back of her hand and then freed her. She leaned against him for a moment, the need for comfort obvious to him, and then walked through the kitchen to cut through the dining room and disappear up the stairs. One of Darien's hands took up its usual place in his rear pocket while he spent a few minutes closely examining his sock-clad toes as he forced himself to rein in his temper before lifting his gaze and focusing on Gray.

"Agent Graywolf, can I speak with you for a moment?"

Gray looked surprised by the painfully polite request, but managed a mumbled, "Uh, of course," as he glanced at the other two men in the room, neither of whom had any idea of what Darien wanted to say.

With a slight nod of affirmation, Darien followed in 'Chele's footsteps through the dining room, but instead of up the stairs he continued on to the formal living room. He shuffled over to the shelves lining one wall and caught himself smiling at the pictures spread along several. Most were of the kids, singly or in laughing groups - Michele preferred candid shots as opposed to stiffly professional ones. A few had Mike or 'Chele in them and some even included Darien, one with a triumphantly smiling Rose procuring a piggy-back ride.

Graywolf cleared his throat, startling Darien though he took care not to show it. Damn, the man could move quietly for his size, and thick carpeting couldn't be blamed, as the floor was a rich red hardwood.

"If this is about your... engagement," It sounded like Gray nearly choked on the word, "I..."

"It's not," Darien interrupted, well aware of Gray's quite vocal point of view. "Not directly anyway."

"Then what?" Gray asked with some impatience, clearly not interested in spending one moment longer than necessary with Darien.

"Whatever happens between me and 'Chele, 'specially if we do the deed, I want you to promise you'll say nothing to anyone." Darien knew, at least initially, his request would go over like a lead boat with several bowling ball sized holes in the bottom, but he was hoping he could persuade Gray to do this.

Graywolf actually laughed; a harsh anger-filled laugh admittedly, but a far better response than the one Darien had been expecting. "And just why would I do that for you?"

Darien shook his head. "Not for me. Not even for Alyx." He used her work name deliberately.

"Then why?" Gray questioned with burgeoning exasperation.

"For them." Darien directed Gray's attention to the pictures of the kids. "Alyx has done everything in her power to let them be kids, to keep the two halves of her life separate, but, as you've now seen, it's becoming increasingly difficult for her to do so." He ran a hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck in discomfort. He had no idea if he was getting through to Graywolf or if the man's total contempt for Darien was keeping him from actually hearing a single word. "Hate me all you want. Be pissed off at Alyx, but try to keep in mind she has trusted you with the most important thing in her life..."

Gray snorted. "So important she's willing to put them at risk to marry you," he sneered.

Darien shrugged, refusing to rise to the obvious bait. "She already left me for them once and, if push came to shove, I have no doubts that she'd do it again in a heartbeat. And I would wish her luck and happiness... just like I did the last time."

Xavier looked like he had swallowed his tongue, which was a vast improvement over the condescension and glaring of mere seconds before in Darien's opinion.

"For all of us who do know, security for the kids is a priority. I'm just asking you to do the same." Darien didn't plead, didn't beg and, in truth, didn't really expect Gray to agree.

The silence dragged on for long minutes; Gray's eyes flicking over the various photographs lining the shelves before settling heavily upon Darien. "Agreed. I will tell no one about the children... or Michele."

Darien wanted to say 'thank you,' but wasn't given a chance as Gray added, "Go on. I'm sure she's waiting for you to show before explaining her decision to them. I need to check in with Cavanaugh anyway." And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving Darien alone in the living room.

Darien reached out and ran his fingers along the frame of a picture that was of himself and 'Chele the previous Christmas. "I tried, babe. I tried."