He heard it before he saw it. A scurrying and a squeaking, almost like mice in the walls, except it wasn't in the walls, it was in the room. Veld's eyes snapped open and he raised himself up on one elbow, squinting in the darkness. Yellow eyes blinked back at him. Yellow, not gold, and set too far apart to be human. Veld seized his gun and leveled it between the thing's eyes. Twin gusts of shadow made him stop short.

"No, wait!" Vincent cried, grabbing his arm, even as a deeper blackness rolled over the yellow eyes, wiping them from existence.

"Nero?" Veld asked, fading adrenaline giving an edge to his voice he was powerless to soften.

Golden eyes gleamed in the shadows, and despite himself, Veld sighed in relief, thumbing the safety back on.

"Nero," Veld said tiredly, "we discussed this. Use the door."

"Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir," Nero mumbled. "I'll go."

"Is something wrong?" Vincent asked.

"No, Sir. Sorry to disturb you."

"What was that?" Veld wanted to know. "That wasn't you."

An awkward silence thickened the air. Veld eyed Nero and then Vincent. The latter had a rather guilty look on his face.

"That was Ned," Nero replied, and the yellow eyes reappeared, making Veld jump.

"Okay," he said slowly. "What's a Ned?"

"Oh, well, 'Ned' is his name, Sir," Nero explained. "He's a shadow creature. I call them 'squeakies'. Vincent said it was okay so long as I kept them off the furniture."

"When were you planning to tell me this?" Veld tried not to growl.

"They're actually kind of cute," Vincent began. "They don't bite, or shed, or poop. They're just...shadow animals."

Veld rubbed his face with his flesh hand, wondering what sort of ritual sacrifice one had to make in order to get a single night's sleep.

"Why was Ned in our room?"

Nero shifted awkwardly, the shadow creature in his arms. "He...he got away from me. No excuse, Sir."

Except that was an excuse. Veld could distinguish truth and lies down to the merest fraction. Nero wasn't lying, but he wasn't sharing the full story.

"You turned up in here pretty damn fast," he said, and the look on Nero's face confirmed his suspicion. "You were already in here, weren't you? Why?"

The boy fidgeted, shifting where he stood, staring at the carpet rather than meeting Veld's eyes.

"I wasn't in the room, exactly," Nero mumbled, his mask making a staticky mess of his confession. "I was just in the shadows. I wasn't watching or anything."

"That doesn't answer the question." Veld reached over to turn on the bedside lamp, and shoved the gun back under his pillow. "Why were you in here at all? Is there something wrong?"

"No, Sir." The reply was flat, almost bitter, and there was an unmistakable scowl on Nero's face as he stared a hole in the carpet. The creature in Nero's arms squeaked in protest as he squeezed it.

Things that squeaked were high on Veld's list of Things That Don't Live in My House.

"Put that-er, Ned-put it out of the room, please. But don't leave yet. We're not done here."

Vincent put a hand on his arm. "Veld-"

Veld shook him off. "No. Nero? Now."

Turning, Nero set the creature down. It scurried into the darkest corner of the room and did not return. Veld watched the corner for a moment, but no beady yellow eyes were forthcoming. Turning his attention back to Nero, he noticed that his arms were not crossed over his chest, but held at his sides, hands curled into fists so tight they were shaking.

Veld wasn't about to hand out a verbal smackdown while sitting in bed. He rose, and Vincent scrambled out of bed as well, his expression troubled.

"Look, Nero," Veld began. "We don't have a lot of rules in this house. I expect the few we do have to be respected. I don't appreciate being startled out of a sound sleep when nothing is wrong. I don't know why you felt it was all right to hide in the shadows here when we specifically told you the room was off limits unless you sought permission to enter. Explain."

"I know what the rules are," Nero said, a heretofore unheard acidity to his words. "No searching for your siblings at night. Sleep in the bed. Wear clothes. Go to school. Go to work. Do your share. Don't touch the knives. Close the godsdamned door."

Nero heaved a breath so deep that Vincent was surprised his next words did not come out as a sob.

"I wasn't in your room," he insisted. "I was in the shadows under the bed. In between space. Inside them, below them, however you want to put it. I just…" His deep voice broke, cracked. "...I didn't want to be alone."

"Nero-" Vincent approached Nero cautiously, shooting a dark look at Veld over his shoulder. "It's not that big a deal. Veld's just a little upset."

"Damn right I'm upset," said Veld. "The two of you may not need much sleep, but I do. I also expect to feel secure in my own bedroom. I need my privacy."

Vincent reached for Nero, and caught himself. Nero wasn't usually open to a hug, but right now he didn't even seem receptive to the Deepground equivalent.

For a long moment Nero stood silent, trembling. When at last he looked up, his golden eyes burned with an emotion Vincent had never seen there before: anger.

"It won't happen again." It was not an apology, not even a promise. The words carried all the icy weight of a threat. "No excuse, Sir. Am I to be punished, or may I be dismissed?"

"We've been over this, too," Veld snapped. "Stop expecting me to beat you for breaking a rule."

"With all due respect, Sir," Nero growled, "I'd rather be beaten than do nothing."

He seemed shocked at his own words, but now that he'd said them, all he could do was plow ahead. "Why can't I look for my brother and sister? Why do I have to waste my time with classes when I could be doing something useful? They could be...hurt. They could be trapped. They could need me. I need them. I've been playing at being...being…" he trailed off, lacking the words. With a frustrated noise, he shoved both hands through his hair. "I don't belong up here."

"I understand you're worried," said Veld, his voice losing its sharp edge. "But the area around the crater is still unstable. What's left of Deepground is not safe for anyone, including you, to go poking around in. As hard as it is to wait, we need to let the WRO stabilize the area first. You don't want to cause more cave-ins or other destruction. That could make things much worse for any survivors."

"I've done some searching," Vincent added. "There are no signs of Rosso or Weiss among the bodies that were pulled out. I'm not giving up hope yet, and neither should you."

"Do you know how far down Deepground goes? How far out?" Nero challenged. "I do. You got maybe the first two or three levels. There's like...thirty. Nothing important was kept near the surface. I know where things are. I know what was likely to come down, and what might still be standing. I know Deepground. I know Weiss and Rosso, Azul and Argento."

"I could find them," he insisted. "Or I could if the two of you weren't so obsessed with house-breaking me like a godsdamned pet!" Nero balked slightly, belatedly realizing he might have crossed a line, but it was too late now. "I'm not a child. I'm not a charity case. I'm not..." Again, he did not have the word, and so let the silence hang.

Vincent backed up a step. "Is that how it seems to you?" He looked at Veld, who sighed deeply, shaking his head, silent.

"Nero," said Vincent, "I'm sorry. We didn't mean...we just…"

"I'm not going to apologize for giving you a home and a place to establish yourself," Veld said. "Deepground itself is finished. We'll go in, try to find your siblings, and get everyone else out that might be trapped down there, but like it or not, this is your world now."

"NO!" The shout echoed off the walls. "This is not my home! DEEPGROUND is my home!"

Nero stopped, put his hands over his face, took another sobbing breath.

"I'm sorry, Sir," he said, putting his hands down. He was still shaking; both body and voice, though his eyes were dry. "You've both been really nice. I'm sorry. I'm sorry…" His voice cracked a second time, the following words small and seemingly belonging to someone much younger:

"...I want to go home."

Vincent glared daggers at Veld before opening his arms. "Nero, I know you'd...rather be with your real family." Hearing his own words, he stopped, stepped away. "I know there's no proof you're my son. I'd still...I'd be your dad, if I could."

He backed up, grabbed a robe off the chair, and left the room. Veld sighed.

"I think it's time to adjourn this discussion," he said, glancing at his watch. "It's two-thirty in the morning. Please go back to your room, Nero. We'll talk about it later."

Veld had come to expect compliance, obedience, and a certain amount of confusion from Nero. This time, he did not get it.

"With respect, Sir," Nero said, collecting himself somewhat and standing at attention. "There's nothing to discuss. Thank you for all you've done."

He saluted, and though the gesture seemed sincere, Veld couldn't decide if he was joking or not. For a brief moment he was reminded of Vincent. What little he could see of the defiant expression largely hidden by Nero's mask was eerily familiar.

"With your permission, Sir."

Nero stepped back, and vanished into the darkness.

"Shit," Veld grumbled.

Veld found Vincent sitting at the kitchen table, a tall glass of whiskey in front of him and a bleak expression on his face.

"A little backup would've been nice, Valentine."

"You didn't need my help," said Vincent without looking up. "You were doing a fine job of chewing out my son all on your own."

"There's no proof he's your son," said Veld. "Unless you count the stubbornness and the resistance to reason."

"If he wasn't stubborn he'd be dead," Vincent shot back. "And it's not unreasonable to want his family back. For damn sure this one's not working out."

"And whose fault is that? I warned you, didn't I? Told you that you were expecting too much, but did you listen? Of course not."

"Smug asshole."

"Oh, there's a cogent argument."

"It's not an argument, it's a statement of fact."

"Well, here's another fact for you. Nero is quite correct about not belonging here." Veld paused long enough to take a bottle and a small glass out of the cupboard. "He's a trained killer without a specific purpose."

Veld poured an inch or so of rum into the glass, and sat down across from Vincent. "He's undisciplined, and he's powerful enough that he doesn't have to obey anyone's rules. We can't actually make him do anything he doesn't want to do. We can't force him to stay away from Deepground, or to stay here."

Grimacing, Veld knocked back half the rum in one gulp. "Hell, we can't even keep him out of our bedroom."

Vincent blinked. "That's a sipping rum."

"Not in this house."

Vincent leaned his head on both hands. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I screwed up. It's my fault he woke you, my fault he brought Ned in. Hell, it's my fault he even exists! I admit everything. Guilty as charged."

"Well, hooray for you." Veld drank off the rum in his glass, poured another inch into it. "You've cornered the market on blame once again. But just like the last time, it's not actually helpful."

"Oh, fuck you."

"Not tonight, I have a headache."

Vincent rose, dumped the whiskey into the sink. "Good, because right now I have no desire to touch you. Or to talk to you."

"Likewise." Veld waved a hand at him. "Go on. Run off as usual."

Vincent rounded on him, slamming a fist on the table. "Gods dammit, Veld, what the hell do you want from me!"

"I want you to stay here and deal with the problem!" Veld rose to face him. "Stop running away every time you get pissed at me. That didn't fly when we were Turks and it won't fly now."

"I don't," said Vincent, voice gone suddenly low and shaky. "Do I…?"

"All too often," said Veld. "It's time to grow up, Vince. Whether you're Nero's father or just his sponsor, he needs your help. And I need your help, too. I can't do this alone."

"But what are we going to do?"

"Find his family," said Veld, as grim and determined as Vincent had ever seen him. "Nothing will resolve until that's done. It's the not knowing that's driving him crazy."

"I never thought of that," said Vincent. "And I should have. Gods, I'm an idiot."

"We both are." Veld looked at the rum remaining in his glass, scowled, and pushed the glass aside. "I'm going back to bed. You coming?"

"If you don't mind sleeping with an idiot…"

"I don't if you don't," said Veld.