Shane could hear the baby crying as he walked down the upstairs hallway. It had been a long day. After he had returned from the prison, he had spent most of the afternoon and evening reviewing every file he had on Lawrence Alamain, trying to find something - anything - that would help Shane predict the man's next move.

Passing the doorway, he saw Kim trying to soothe Jeannie. Kim had her back to the door, so she did not see him. He could hear her, singing a soft lullaby, as she rocked Jeannie in her arms.

Shane turned away. He felt like he was intruding on something private, something he had no business watching. With a sigh, he walked away from the room. Kim's voice grew more faint, until he could not hear her at all.

Reaching Andrew's room, Shane opened the door and peeked inside. He was surprised to see that the lamp next to Andrew's bed was still on. Andrew should have been asleep two hours earlier.

"Daddy?" Andrew looked up from the bed.

Shane smiled and slipped into the room. "Hey, Sport, you should be sleeping." Then he saw the look on Andrew's face and understood. Shane crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Can't sleep?"

Andrew shook his head, causing Shane to flood with guilt. He had been so focused on stopping Lawrence that he had barely thought of how the day's events had affected Andrew. How could I be so blind? he wondered.

From his perch on the edge of the bed, Shane studied his son. Normally, during their visits, Shane focused on how much Andrew had grown since their last visit. It seemed like Andrew was always bigger every time Shane saw him. But, at that moment, Shane was taken by how small Andrew was. He was just a little boy. Who could want to hurt a little boy?

"Come here," Shane said. He slid a bit further onto the bed and put his feet up. Reclining against the headboard, Shane pulled Andrew close, so he was curled in the crook of Shane's arm. "What happened earlier . . . I know it scared you."

Andrew shook his head. "I'm not a baby. Only babies get scared."

"Do they now?" Shane smiled and ruffled Andrew's hair. "Well . . . You don't think I'm a baby, do you?"

Andrew laughed. "No, Daddy."

"I'm going to tell you a secret, Andrew. This morning . . . I was scared."

Andrew's eyes grew wide. "You were?"

Shane nodded. "Absolutely."

"But you chased the bad man," Andrew said.

"I did, but that doesn't mean I wasn't scared. You're the most important thing in the world to me and I was very scared that something might happen to you." Shane gave his son a reassuring squeeze. "But I'm never going to let that happen, Andrew. I'm not going to let anybody hurt you."

"Or Mommy?"

"Or Mommy," Shane said. "I won't let anyone hurt her."

"What about Jeannie?" Andrew asked. "You're not her daddy."

Out of the mouths of babes, Shane thought, trying to ignore the pain he felt from that reminder. He took a deep breath before responding. "Andrew . . . I may not be Jeannie's father, but she's your sister and you love her very much. I'm not going to let anyone hurt your sister."

Andrew looked up at him again with those big, round eyes. "You promise?"

"I promise." Shane watched Andrew as he lowered his head and rested it against Shane's chest.

"Eric said the bad men want to take you and Uncle Roman away . . . Like when you went away before. I don't want you to go away again, Daddy."

Shane could hear the fear in his son's voice. He started to respond, but stopped. He did not know how to respond. Andrew had lived through Shane's "death" when Winters and Jericho had tried to kill him on that mountain, and Shane could hardly promise that nothing would happen to him in the future. There were no guarantees in life, particularly in his line of work. Just look at how close he had come to getting killed during his last two missions. And if something did happen to him, he did not want Andrew remembering this talk and thinking his father had lied to him. But how did Shane explain that to a five-year-old who just wanted to be reassured that his father would not die again?

He thought about it for a moment and decided reassurance trumped honesty for the moment. In a soft voice, he said, "Now you listen to me, Andrew. . . . Don't believe everything your cousin says. I'm not going anywhere, okay?"

Andrew nodded, but did not look up. "Okay," he whispered, hardly sounding reassured.

"Hey," Shane said, a little more strongly. "Look at me." He waited until Andrew looked up again. "I'm not going anywhere. Your Uncle Roman and me . . . we're going to stop the bad men, just like we stopped that man today. You've got nothing to worry about."

That seemed to work because Andrew smiled. Shane tried not to sigh. His son was too young to understand how the world worked, and Shane hoped it would be a very long time before he had to learn.

Or maybe Shane was just deluding himself. After all, Andrew had already been kidnapped for nearly a year and had lost his father for another six months. That was a lot to go through in five years. By now, Andrew probably already knew a lot about "bad men." But maybe it was just better to pretend otherwise and let him stay innocent as long as possible.

Shane leaned over and kissed Andrew's forehead. "Now, I think someone is up way past his bedtime. Think you can go to sleep, Sport?"

Andrew gave one of those "do I have to?" looks and Shane folded. He could almost hear Kim - You're such a pushover, Shane Donovan. "All right . . . How about I tell you a story?" When Andrew perked up, Shane added, "A short one. And then it's time to sleep."

Nodding quickly, Andrew asked, "Tell one about knights and magic."

"Knights and magic," Shane repeated. "I think I can handle that.

"And monsters," Andrew said. "Dragons that shoot fire."

"Hey . . . who's telling this story?" Shane said in a teasing voice. "Okay. So knights, magic, and fire-breathing dragons." He tried not to think about the irony that his son wanted to hear a story about monsters, when he had come so close to real-life monsters the past few days. But it was a story, wasn't it? And in stories, good always conquered evil. Shane wrapped an arm around Andrew. "So . . . let's see . . . now how should we begin? How about . . . Just last week-"

"No, Daddy," Andrew said, laughing, knowing that Shane was still teasing. "You're supposed to say 'once upon a time.'"

"Oh, that's right," Shane said. "How silly of me. Okay, let's start over. Once upon a time, in a land far away, there lived a young knight named . . . . Hmm . . . what should the knight's name be?"

"Andrew!"

"Why, of course. Our knight's name is Sir Andrew." Shane smiled down at his son, glad that he could take away Andrew's fear for at least this night. As Shane began to spin the tale of a brave knight who uses his magic sword to slay a fire-breathing dragon and save his kingdom, he silently pledged that whatever might happen with Lawrence Alamain, the ending would just be like in the stories.

Shane would make sure of it. In this battle, good would conquer evil.