NOTES: And now, it's time for us to get back to Diana's POV and for the story to come to an end. Thank you, Rodlox and PurpleYin, for the betas!

SPOILERS: through Mommy's Bosses/season two

DISCLAIMER: The 4400 and all things associated with it belong to other people.

NOT ALONE

Part 4

It was a surprise, hearing April's voice at the bathroom door. She didn't bother questioning why or how her sister had turned up in Seattle; she just opened the door to see if her mind was playing tricks on her. There stood April in all her unkempt glory, no figment of her imagination. Never before had she been gladder to see her sister, not even that time when Jack had dumped her because he hadn't liked competing for attention with her degrees.

April coaxed her out of her bathroom, helped her change into something more comfortable and got her out of her room to sit with her on the sofa with a blanket. Then she stuck a cup of some herbal tea in one of Diana's hands and carefully massaged the other. There were candles and soothing scents and voices. In a haze, she did what they told her, the drive to be involved with finding Maia overwhelmed by the calming pressure of the women around her. It took every ounce of control to keep herself still and not rave like a maniac. The others apparently took it as a sign of success on their parts. In a way, perhaps it was, their mere presence somehow tethering her to sanity and a need for propriety.

Iris left around midnight, but Mrs. Skalko stayed. Tom's girlfriend was there, too, and even Nina stopped by, offering Diana assurances that the investigation was going well and that Diana would not be a part of it. Perhaps, if she had been in a different state of mind, a personal visit from the head of NTAC might have made more of an impact, but in order to remain remotely calm, she had to force everything, including her attentiveness in regards to updates on the search for her daughter. It was like being a performer on a stage, with all her reactions coming from some subconscious script based on what she felt they expected of her. By sticking to the script, maybe she could prevent doing to them what she had done to Marco. So she didn't really absorb any of the details Nina told her. Instead, they tumbled around in her head, vaguely reassuring but not fully processed.

Eventually, she was persuaded to go to bed. She couldn't help but suspect that the tea and scents and massage were the main reasons she could even consider laying down in the midst of such a crisis, that and the collective will of the people around her. They expected her to, so she tried. Of course, it took some time before her brain shut down enough for her to actually sleep, but she did, though her dreams were troubled, offering little rest. In the small hours of the morning, she heard her front door open. It was not a sound she was used to hearing second hand, and the oddity of it woke her before the murmurs of hushed but excited voices filled her living room. She opened the door to her bedroom just as her sister was reaching for the knob, but that barely registered. Behind April stood Tom with a sleepy Maia in his arms. She heard a noise, like a cross between a gasp and a sob, which she assumed must have come from herself, and then she was holding her daughter, laughing at the simple joy of it.

Despite having just been rescued from kidnappers, Maia was crabby as only a tired ten-year-old could be. So April shooed them into her bedroom and took care of Tom and Alana and Mrs. Skalko.

Just as she was about to drift off, snugly spooning her daughter, Maia said, "You have to see Marco tomorrow."

The somber words caused a spark of worry in her heart. "Did you have a vision?"

"No."

"Then why?"

There was no immediate response, as though Maia were weighing her words. "He was happy to see me, but... His mouth was smiling while his eyes were sad. He said it was better for Tom to bring me home, instead of him. It was like he was afraid. I think he thinks you don't want to see him anymore." She paused for a moment. "He's wrong, isn't he? He didn't do anything bad, did he?"

"I was the one who did something bad." Diana smoothed a lock of hair behind Maia's ear. "And yes, honey, he's wrong."

"So you'll see him tomorrow?"

"We'll see him tomorrow."

"No, just you," insisted Maia.

"Why just me?" She couldn't help being curious and a bit suspicious.

But Maia's tone was too matter-of-fact to hide any artifice. "Some things you have to do on your own."

With her wise child safe in her arms, Diana fell into a peaceful sleep.

In the morning, she woke to find her daughter staring at her, deep in thought. They talked for a long time about what had happened, why it had happened, and how they were going to prevent it from happening again. Maia was amazingly calm about it all, explaining how she knew, shortly after waking up from the anesthetic, that she would be returned safely home. She went on to say Marco believed the people who'd taken her weren't really interested in stopping Diana from testifying; they'd wanted Maia for her abilities. After all, kidnapping Alana would have been much easier, given the complications of dealing with the building's security. Killing Diana or Tom outright would have also have been simpler if all they'd wanted was to silence their testimony. It was a bit disturbing hearing such things coming from the mouth of her child--that she'd have to even contemplate anything so grim--but Maia had seen Collier's death and the coming war. How much worse were words of violence compared to seeing the reality of it in Technicolor in your mind's eye?

The smell of coffee finally got her out of bed. April had made pancakes, which Maia happily enjoyed, but Diana's stomach wasn't in the mood for food. She stuck to yogurt and humored her sibling by having a piece of toast with some homemade April had jam brought from California. Maia asked the questions Diana had been too distracted to voice the night before. This was how she found out Marco had bought April a plane ticket. She also learned he'd made sure Mrs. Skalko had been around to help out.

By ten, Diana had showered and changed, and the guilt of all she owed Marco was making her antsy. Worse, knowing he'd done none of it to make her feel guilty made her feel even guiltier; it was unfair to project her mother's tendencies onto him. With assurances from Maia and April, and the half dozen NTAC security agents patrolling the building, she reached the point where she was willing to leave her daughter for a few hours. Having the security detail increased by five caused her more guilt--that these men were spending their weekends looking after them--as well as a sense of inadequacy. Her rational mind knew there was no reason to feel that way, but her emotions and ego insisted that she should be all Maia needed to be safe. That she wasn't meant she wasn't good enough, and that was not acceptable.

She struggled with these issues as she made her way across town to Marco's new place. She'd never been to the old one, his apartment uptown, but it had only just occurred to her that maybe she should have shown more interest in his first home, something besides the typical questions about square footage and amenities accompanied by a slap on the shoulder to congratulate him on becoming a property owner. It was in a decent neighborhood, just on the cusp between urban and suburban, with nicely established trees and a park nearby. His rowhouse was one of a set which had been built as part of a recent urban renewal project, with garages in back and inviting porches and landscaping in front. The street was wide, with a bike path and designated guest parking on opposite sides.

After getting out of her car, she double-checked the address and drummed up her courage. The day was sunny, with birds chirping in the trees and flowers in bloom. It was as though the world was telling her to relax and enjoy life, but the knots in her stomach were oblivious. With reluctant steps, she walked across the porch and rang the door bell. On either side were pots of a piney shrub she quickly realized was rosemary, which offered up a fragrant greeting.

The door was opened by a pretty, smiling, pregnant brunette in an apron. "Hello."

"Hi..." Diana looked at the house number again. "I, uh...think I have the wrong place..."

"Who are you looking for?"

"Marco Pacella."

This made the woman's smile even broader, eyes sparkling behind wire-rim glasses. "Oh! You must be Diana!" She held out her right hand, and Diana automatically returned the gesture, sharing a firm handshake. "I should have recognized you. Please come in."

With a tug from her hostess, Diana found herself entering a sparsely furnished, negligibly decorated but nicely sized home. To the right was a room populated by nothing more than an exercise machine and backed by a stairwell; to the left was a family room that opened to an empty dining room. Combined with the mostly white walls, it was like walking into a house in transition, not quite lived in.

"Marco's taking a shower."

Distantly, Diana became aware of the faint sound of running water.

"Would you like some coffee?"

"Sure," she answered numbly as her hostess led her to the other side of the stairs and sat her in a stool at a kitchen counter that overlooked a gas range.

Glancing at the woman's left hand, Diana noted a ring. Marco had never worn a ring nor mentioned a pregnant, married roommate. Even the wildest part of her mind rationalized that she wouldn't have had such a warm greeting if this woman was Marco's wife. So who was she? Her inquisitive nature overcame her growing sense of dread. When a mug of fresh coffee and a carton of cream were set in front of her, she said, "Thank you. Do you mind my asking who you are?"

This caused her hostess to blink at her then laugh. "Of course. Marco speaks of you so often, but we've never actually met, have we?" She held out her hand for another shake. "I'm Celia."

"Marco's sister Celia?" Looking past the mother-to-be glow and happy hostess vibe, she could almost see a lawyer in casual clothes.

Her big brown eyes twinkled with mirth. "I take it he hasn't mentioned my pregnancy?"

"Uh, no."

"Well, it's understandable."

Still adjusting to the revelation, it took a heartbeat for Diana to process the comment. "Why's that?"

There was a brief flash of an are-you-thick look in her eyes that reminded Diana of the one Marco sometimes gave Tom, but it was quickly covered by a thoughtful smile. "Pregnancy is generally connected to family, child rearing, marriage..." She let the sentence dangle in significance and took a sip of something that looked like grape juice. "I'm guessing he wouldn't want to intentionally bring up a topic that might make you uncomfortable."

Diana hadn't been sure what she might face when she'd come to Marco's home, but this was definitely not one of the scenarios she'd imagined. "Well, congratulations."

"Thank you." Her bright smile was nothing like Marco's goofy grin. "Have you eaten?"

"Not really...but I'm not very hungry."

Celia waved a dismissive hand and opened the refrigerator. "I'm sure last night would ruin anyone's appetite, but not eating won't help anything." Taking out a butter dish and carton of eggs, she set them on the counter next to the stove. From her perch on the other side of it, Diana had an ideal view of the cooking surface, and it was then she noticed the bread, grated cheese and frying pan that were already out. Apparently she'd arrived just in time for brunch. "How do you feel about bacon?"

"Okay, I guess."

"Great!" Her hostess rummaged in the refrigerator and freezer while she talked. "I hate cooking bacon at my place because the smell lingers forever, but Marco has a better vent than I do." Returning to the counter with her haul, she snapped on then the burner under the frying pan then unwrapped and tossed in a frozen, folded slice of bacon. "So how is Maia doing?"

"Surprisingly well, or I wouldn't be here." She could barely hear the hum of the vent fan over her head.

Reaching into a basket full of onions, Celia pulled out a head of garlic and snapped off a fat clove. Then, with the thoughtless grace of someone who has done the same thing a thousand times, she laid the blade of a kitchen knife against it, smashed it, removed the skin and began mincing it. "Marco said she seemed pretty calm about the whole thing. I think 'eerily unfazed' were the words he used." The bacon had started to hiss, and she poked at it with a wooden spoon, causing it to unfold. "It's amazing what kids can handle sometimes."

"Maia's no ordinary kid." Was that a hint of pride in her voice?

"Having lost her parents and ending up sixty years in the future, how could she be?" Celia paused as she ground pepper into the pan to give her guest a calculating gaze. "Or do you mean there's something else that makes her extraordinary?" Apparently Diana's expression conveyed more than she'd intended, for Celia hastily held up a hand and added, "...not that it's any of my business." She absently tossed the garlic into the bacon fat. "So long as she's okay."

Diana felt a corner of her mouth tug up. "I think she's taking all this better than I am."

Snagged the crisped bacon with a pair of tongs, she asked, "How are you doing, if you don't mind me asking?" while crushing the bacon in a bowl.

"I'm still trying to figure that out." It was not the sort of thing she would usually confess, let alone to a relative stranger, but Celia was as easy to talk to as Marco.

With a conspiratorial grin, she popped open a bag of spinach and dumped it into the pan. "It's always easier to think things through on a full stomach."

"I guess." The savory cooking smells were almost making her think nice things about food. "So...how is he?"

Celia absently flipped the spinach, making sure it cooked evenly. "At the moment, mostly hurt and uncertain."

"Uncertain? About..."

"His career choice, what's happened and, well, you." Diana's anxiety must have showed on her face, because Celia immediately backpedaled. "It'll be okay. He gets like this every once in a while; he just needs some reassurance and time to think."

"I've never hit him before or told him to go away."

"No, but there were extenuating circumstances. It's not everyday your child gets kidnapped." At this, she ran a protective hand over her protruding stomach. "Speaking of which, where's Maia?"

"With my sister. Apparently Marco bought her a plane ticket so there'd be someone up here to help me."

"There you go." She said it as though it proved something obvious and irrefutable.

"'There you go' what?"

Turning off the heat, Celia began to scrape the contents of the pan into the bowl, tossing the spinach to spread the bacon bits around. Setting down the heavy pan with a little grunt of effort, she returned her attention to Diana. "He's looking out for you, has your best interests at heart."

"Well, we're fairly close."

This gained her a skeptical raised eyebrow from Celia. "Fairly close, huh?" She pulled a mug from a cupboard and filled it with coffee, a spoon full of sugar and another of cream, just the way Marco liked his. "Honestly, how many coworkers would have done that? How many even knew you had a sister before last night?"

"I..."

The sound of footsteps on the stairs behind her cause Diana to stiffen in anticipation.

"You just had to cook bacon!" Marco's vexation held a resigned amusement as his words bounced down the stairs and around the empty house.

"Humor your pregnant sister!" Celia called back, then she patted Diana's hand. "Just be honest with each other. It'll be okay." Picking up the mug, she moved toward the wide arch that led to the hall and dining room.

"Last time I checked...bacon wasn't on the doctor's list of recommendations." His voice reached a more normal volume as he approached the bottom of the stairs.

"But the spinach it's flavoring is in the top ten."

"A likely excuse."

Barefooted, unshaven, with tousled, damp hair, Marco had an unguarded openness to him that was accentuated by his clothes. He wasn't wearing the concealing layers Diana was used to. An old T-shirt clung to each muscle that wasn't hidden beneath the towel around his neck. Its sandy color was just a few shades off his skin, nearly giving the illusion of shirtlessness. It wasn't often she saw his bare forearms. Their liberal dusting of dark hair added to the enhanced aura of masculinity his stubble and revealing shirt evoked. The loose fabric of his brick red exercise pants flowed smoothly across every surface it came in contact with, shifting enticingly to offer glimpses of well toned legs as he moved.

Diana associated so much of Marco with his face and hands--the intelligence and humor in his eyes, warm smiles and kisses, his gentle, supportive touch. It wasn't often she overtly considered the whole package, but there was no helping it. Heat crept to her cheeks as she ogled him, and she was relieved he'd yet to notice her.

Accepting the coffee from his sister, he took a long draught. "Thanks. And thanks for coming over."

"No problem."

"Was that the door I heard?"

"Yes. You have a guest." She gestured in Diana's direction.

Without his glasses, Marco had to squint at her, confusion creasing his brow. Then his eyes went wide, and he glanced away.

Celia put her hand on his arm, and he met her gaze. "Marco." There was censure in his sister's voice. "Say good morning."

He held Celia's gaze for a moment before nodding and turning to face Diana full on. That was when she saw the horrible bruises, one on his left cheek, the other on the side of his nose. They were accompanied by dark circles under his eyes, a testament to his late-night efforts to rescue her daughter. Between that and the bland, friendly mask he wore, she felt her heart sink. It was not a sensation she'd ever thought she'd associate with him, and it soured her already miserable stomach.

"Good morning, Diana." He smiled as though there was nothing wrong.

"Good morning, Marco." Was that quiet, quavering voice really hers?

Taking away his coffee, Celia poked Marco in the kidney, causing him to yelp and give her a frown. "What was that?" she demanded impatiently. Taking her brother by the elbow, she dragged him to the stove. Setting down his mug, she gestured to Diana. "Tell her what you're thinking." When he hesitated, she insisted. "Tell her."

There was something slightly different, perhaps more revealing, about talking to him without the subtle screen of his glasses between them. Despite that, Diana wasn't quite sure what it was she saw in his eyes, but she was more than familiar with the sincerity in his voice. "I'm surprised to see you here." His gaze dipped briefly to his hands. When he looked up, an uncertain smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "I'm glad you're okay."

For a moment, they just stared at each other, and the warmth of his gaze began to melt the ice in her gut.

"There. That wasn't so difficult." She'd almost forgotten Celia was there. "How about you, Diana?"

"I..." It was her turn to look at her hands, absently swirling the coffee in her mug. His sister's presence was obtrusive yet reassuring, like an oarsman steering them through rough waters. "I wanted to thank you..." She looked back into his eyes, trying to convey the depth of her gratitude. "For Maia, for April...for everything." Just thinking about all he'd done caused an strange, expansive sensation in her chest that awed and frightened her. It was like she was losing her grip, the currents of her emotions pulling her out to sea. She felt her eyes sting with the start of tears and blinked them away. Tears, especially public ones, were not acceptable. "And I wanted to say how sorry I am for what I did."

She could tell there was more going on behind his eyes than what he was showing, but there was no hint of his original false cheer. "You're welcome, and...thanks."

"Well, now that the hard part's done..." Celia pulled the towel from around Marco's neck, giving Diana a glimpse of his respectably defined pecs revealed by the tight fit of his shirt. "Time for you to feed us." She slipped her apron off and placed it on her brother, briefly standing on her toes to accommodate her belly-reduced reach. "I was thinking a spinach omelet," she added as she hung his towel on a peg near the back door. Retrieving her glass of juice, she maneuvered around the stove to claim the stool next to Diana. By that point, Marco had already cracked five eggs into a bowl and was beating them with a fork.

Diana had never seen an omelet being made. It was actually entertaining to watch, especially as he tapped the pan to get the eggs to wrap around the filling. Of course, she suspected it was a lot more difficult than he made it look. Once he was done, Marco took off the apron and, to Diana's disappointment, put on a well-loved long-sleeved corduroy shirt that had been hanging by the back door. The omelet was delicious, though both Diana and Marco conceded the largest, central segment to his sister. The cherries and fresh loaf of bread that accompanied it were also tasty and reminded Diana she was nearly out of fruit at home. The thought was almost refreshing in its mundanity.

Celia proved to be an excellent conversationalist, drawing Diana out of her shell of discomfort to discuss everything from farmer's markets to corporate finance. Slowly, she felt herself begin to normalize as she was persuaded to think of things other than her daughter, the kidnapping and her relationship with Marco.

Somewhere in the house, a clock chimed twelve.

"Well, sorry to eat and run, but that means it's time for me to head back." Celia hopped from her stool and made her way to the front door. They both followed.

"Sure, stink up my house with bacon then flee the scene."

"Really, Marco," Celia's voice held no remorse, "if you don't want to cook with bacon, then you shouldn't have any in your kitchen."

"Oh, use logic as your defense, why don't you?" He opened the door for her with a smile.

"Why do you think Olivia never has any?" Standing on tiptoes, again, she gave her brother a hug and kissed his cheek. "Thank you for breakfast." Then she turned to Diana. "It was nice to finally meet you."

"It was nice meeting you, too."

Celia offered another handshake. "I hope we get to see each other again, soon." Still holding onto Diana, she took her brother's hand and placed it on top, sandwiching their hands between hers. Diana felt his fingers flex around hers then loosen, as though self-conscious of the customary gesture. "You've both been through a lot. Try to be gentle with each other and yourselves." She said it with a sudden intensity of feeling and, to Diana's surprise, a misty-eyed smile. Letting them go, Celia turned and bent subtly yet awkwardly to snap off a branch of rosemary before starting across the porch. "Call me if you need anything, Marco."

They watched her walk down the sidewalk for a minute before Marco closed the door. He sighed, "Well, that's one down."

Unsure what he'd meant, she followed him back to the kitchen and asked. "What do you mean?"

"Only one more sibling to go," he explained with a resigned grin as he collected the plates.

A little flash of indignation caused her to frown. "You were afraid to introduce me to your family?" Did he think his relatives would disapprove of her? Some people still had odd notions about adoption, single motherhood and unmarried women her age.

Nodding, he dumped the dishes in the sink, his smile sheepish. "I've been worried they might scare you away."

"Oh." She felt a bit of shame from having jumped to the wrong conclusion. After all, she'd never introduced April to anyone during her sister's last visit. "She seemed very nice."

"If she ever hears you say that, she'll have you eating out of the palm of her hand in no time." He snorted. "She was on good behavior, and...I don't know if you noticed, but we just narrowly missed a hormonal moment." For some reason, he seemed oddly determined to get the dishes done. "So Maia's doing okay?"

"Yeah, thanks to you."

"Thanks to her visions. I can't get over how calm she was. It's nice to know they can be beneficial."

"Take the compliment, Marco."

At her tone, he paused and looked at her. Nodding, he asked, "April didn't have any problems getting to your place?"

"I guess not. We didn't really talk about it." Now that they were discussing things, she felt the need for his undivided attention. "Can't the dishes wait?"

He gave her a sheepish smile. "I want to deal with the bacon smell as quick as I can." Leaning over the sink, he unlocked the window and slid it open. "I know...it's a bit obsessive, but...it's my first house."

And just like that, a whole other side of him fell into place for her, giving her a deeper sense of his life outside of work and their relationship. "Anything I can do to help?"

This gained her a patented, Marco, happy-goofy grin. "Open up one of the windows out front?"

"Sure."

By the time she came back, he was wiping down the stove. "Want to sit on the sofa?" While he said it casually, there was weighty implication to it--both that she would be staying longer and that doing so would offer them the chance to be physically close. They'd had the stove and counter between them most of the morning.

"Sure."

He led her to the couch and gestured for her to sit. It was plush and colorful and still had that new-fabric smell. She chose the middle so he would know she wanted him close. He picked the left corner, with his unbruised side facing her. They sat there in an uncomfortable silence, not quite looking at each other, until Marco wiped his palms on his knees and turned to face her.

"I'm really glad you and Maia are okay."

"You already said that."

"I did, didn't I?" He glanced away, and they fell into another silence.

Fast losing the comfort that brunch had brought her, Diana impulsively reached for one of his hands. There was something infinitely reassuring about sharing touch and warmth with him, and the reflexive stroke of his thumb across her fingers expressed more than all the words they'd spoken that day.

"We don't really talk about some things."

"No," he agreed.

"I wonder how normal that is."

His lips thinned in a suppressed smile. "Normal is relative."

"But it makes it more difficult at times like these."

"It does."

"I haven't ruined things, have I?" It seemed unnatural to be able to speak so calmly about something so powerful. Her family had always measured the potency of a topic with vehemence--a habit that had taken years to control, though she'd never quite mastered it.

He shook his head and squeezed her hand. "No. But you did hit me, and that does complicate things."

"I'm not sure it deserves too much scrutiny; I wasn't quite myself at the time."

"Yeah, I know, but...if it had been you and Tom coming back from an assignment, would you have hit him?"

She wanted to say "yes," but she considered it for a moment. "Probably not."

"It's not just the misdirected anger. It's...almost as if you won't let yourself..."

"As if I won't what?" Only a bit of her defensiveness came through in her voice.

"As if I'm an indulgence you don't think you should have. I'd never been sure if you weren't just...going with the flow. Then, on the same night that you decide to take a big step, you also demand I leave. I can't help but wonder if you're afraid of me...of us."

Although it initially sounded ridiculous, there was some sense to it. "Marco, what can I do to fix this?"

"There's only one thing I can think of that might really help things along, but...I'm not sure you'll appreciate it."

"What?"

"Counseling."

The corners of her mouth quirked up. "Would it help to know Nina's already signed me up...Maia, too."

"Yes, but would you really talk to an NTAC shrink about us?"

"...probably not," she admitted.

"We could find someone...go together."

"You really think...?"

"It couldn't hurt." He gave her a crooked grin. "And it's not as though we've been doing the best of jobs on our own."

Thinking of how long it had taken her from the first flicker of interest to their first kiss, it was difficult to argue. She'd though things had smoothed out since then, but how was it she'd only just visited his house or met any of his family? Everything had been on her terms, on her territory, at her pace. It was only fair she make a concession to him for her myopic selfishness.

"Consider it a way of making things easier for ourselves," he suggested. "What do you think?"

"Sure."

"Good." Putting his other hand over theirs, he stood and drew her up with him. "But...I think it's time for you to go."

The unexpected change of direction disoriented her. "Why?"

Wrapping her arm around his, he guided her to the front door. "It's a ten minute walk to Celia's and a fifteen to twenty minute drive to Olivia's. So I figure we have..." he glanced at his watch, "about ten minutes before she gets here. One sibling a day is enough."

"How do you know she's coming?"

"Because I'm sure, the minute she got back, Celia called Olivia to taunt her about getting to meet you first."

"Things went well enough with Celia. Would it really be so bad..."

"You and Olivia are both eldest. You have a lot of...similar traits." His uncomfortable smile bordered on a grimace. "You'll either get along like matter and antimatter or peanut butter and jelly. Allow me to be worried about both."

Amusement bubbled within her, and she smiled as she turned to face him. He'd done his best to keep his bruises away from her, but standing face to face, there was no avoiding them. Reaching out a tentative hand she brushed his cheek, just below the sullen purple stain. His eyes closed in contentment, as they occasionally did when she touched him, though he winced slightly when her fingers drew too close.

"Does it hurt much?"

Opening his eyes, he gave her a quiet smile. "It'll be okay."

His gaze moved from her eyes to her lips, but instead of kissing her, he held her. The feeling of his arms around her was like redemption, lifting a huge weight from her shoulders, overwhelming her with a sense of solace.

"Marco..." she murmured into his neck, too relieved to think of anything else to say.

Tightening his grip, he pressed his lips to her temple. "I know."

She wasn't sure what it was he knew, but she was satisfied he seemed comfortable with her again. After a long moment, he loosened his hold on her and drew back a little. Taking the opportunity, she kissed him, lightly, gently, but that didn't last long. Her simple gesture seemed to open the floodgates, and soon, Marco's hands found their way to her face, tangling in her hair, drawing her into a deeper kiss. It was as though he intended to burn away their problems with the heat of his passion, and she was happy to add fuel to the fire.

Breathlessly, they broke apart, and she smiled at him. "Okay, now I can go."

"Yeah." He was wearing another happy-goofy grin. "I'm good with that."

Opening the door, her led her through, but she held onto his hand. "Come to my place for brunch tomorrow? April's probably dying to meet you."

"Sure. I think it's only fair."

He watched as she made her way to her car, waving while she pulled out and passed his house.

As she drove home, Diana reflected on how much her life had changed over the past two years. With the arrival of the 4400, her personal and professional vistas had expanded further than she'd ever guessed possible, encompassing the life-altering realities of psychic powers and motherhood. By opening her heart to Maia, she had opened it for Marco and April, as well. All three offered her challenges and complications, but the rewards were more than worth the effort.

Greeted at the door by a smiling child's hug, she decided, no matter the difficulties, she wouldn't change things for the world.

FIN