Disclaimer: I do not own The Sentinel characters, nor do I make a claim on them. Established characters are the property of Pet Fly Productions. Original characters are the sole property of the author, YS McCool.

Title : Daddy
Series : Dancing # 27
Author : YS McCool
Rating : NC-17
Parings : J/B/M/M T/G
Date : 6 September 1998

Warnings: Angst, violence, death story, but not of any regular original or series character

Summary: A tragedy leads to some serious introspection for Maxine. Meanwhile, William Ellison tries to get to know his grandsons.

Dancing #27:
Daddy
YS McCool

Blair held Daniel's beloved panda bear toward his son. The little boy's dark blue eyes focused intently on the black and white toy. "Dan, would you like to have the bear?" Blair asked distinctly. The little boy nodded his head vigorously, his thick, dark brown curls bouncing. "Come to Daddy and get Panda."

Danny grinned, struggled to his feet, and made a stumbling step toward his father. He fell on his butt. With an extra amount of determination showing on his face, he got to his feet again. This time he made two steps and swiped his bear. Clinging to his toy, Daniel Ellison Covington-Cross remained on his feet.

"Are you getting this, Jim?" Blair asked his love.

"I can't tell, there are tears in my eyes." Ellison said from behind the video camera.

Blair beamed at Jim. "Awww."

"If you tell anyone, I'll deny it," Jim said firmly.

Sandburg smiled. "Of course you will, Dear."

Daniel plunked back down on his bottom, his standing ability having been pushed to the limit.

Michael crawled over and began smacking the flat view-screen of the video camera as it sat on Jim's lap. "Dee, Dee," he chanted.

"Do you recognize your brother, Michael?" Blair asked. "Can you find Dan?"

Blair watched. Currently, he was blocking Michael's line of sight to Daniel. The little auburn-haired boy turned his head looking for his twin. The view screen showed a clear picture of his brother, but it no longer interested him.

Jim started when he noticed Mike's nostrils flare. He pointed toward his son's nose. "Did you see that?"

"Yes," Blair reported, while mentally kicking himself for not having a notepad handy, and for *wanting* to have a notepad handy--his sons were not experiments.

Michael crawled around Blair and made his way to his brother's side. Once he was there, Daniel rubbed his brother's face with his toy. Michael Sandburg Covington-Cross had just demonstrated that he could have an enhanced sense of smell. He couldn't see Danny, and for once the dark-haired little boy was quiet, so how had Mike found his brother? He had followed his nose.

"Did you get that on tape?" Sandburg asked.

"No," Jim reported, sheepishly.

"Don't worry about it, I get the feeling we will have plenty of opportunities to record that again."

Blair leaned back against Jim and watched his sons play.

Half a block away, a dark green Rolls Royce was parked on the side of the street. An older man of about sixty-five rolled down his window and watched the men and the twins in the park through his binoculars. "My God," the man whispered. "He has twins."

While the old man watched, two black men, one of whom looked like the new fire chief, Stephen Ellison, a very tall black man and a black teenaged male, Tony Montrose, and a slender, dark-haired white man arrived in little groups.

William Ellison was in tears as he watched the picnic he wasn't invited to attend, and the grandchildren he had never held.

*******************************

"What are the odds of getting them clean before their mothers see them?" Blair asked as he and Jim tiptoed into the house.

"Very small," Michelle responded.

The men looked guiltily up the stairs. "Hi, Micki," Jim said sweetly. He held the muddy and grass-stained Daniel carefully.

The equally filthy Michael squirmed in Blair's arms. "We need to clean them up."

"Did you just roll them in the mud?" she asked.

"They, ah, played soccer," Jim explained.

She placed her hands on her hips. "As what, the ball?"

Jim laughed. "That's a good one, Michelle." They walked past her as they headed up the stairs.

"You should have figured that any child of ours would be a 'rough and tumble' type," Blair said by way of explanation.

"I can't believe Jim let them back in his truck looking like that."

"He swaddled them in the blankets," Blair reported. "Poor mites. They were deprived of an opportunity to leave muddy foot and hand prints on all that pristine leather."

"I'm not a fool, Chief," Jim said as he headed into the nursery.

"We have a tape of Daniel taking steps," Sandburg announced as he shoved the camera into Cross's hands.

"That's wonderful." Michelle kissed Dan and Cedric Tate as they walked into the house. "Hello, Daddy, Cedric. Can you stay a while?"

"You bet," Dan remarked. "We're going downstairs to make ourselves at home."

"And watch that fight on pay-per-view," Cedric finished.

"Where's my wayward child?" the elder Tate asked.

"Edwina said Max got a phone call a couple of hours ago, and she shot out of here like her butt was on fire." She batted her lashes at the older man. "Will I do?"

"Of course, Child." Dan kissed her cheek.

It was over an hour later when Michelle got a call from Maxine. The fight had lasted all of two rounds, and the Tate men had already gone home. "Micki?" The normally steady voice was shaky and tired.

"Maxine, we were beginning to wonder." Michelle let Blair get closer to the phone, while Jim, with his greater hearing, held back. "Where are you?"

"The Green Hills Hospice in Seattle."

"Seattle?" Michelle and Blair asked together.

"Yeah. I have to stay. It's Honor Vannelli. She's here, and she's dying."

They had gone to school with Honor. Both Michelle and Maxine had been bridesmaids at her huge wedding to Parker Houston, who had dropped dead of a massive brain hemorrhage less than a year later. "What happened?"

"She's got full blown AIDS, and her family's deserted her."

"Good Lord, I had no idea. Last I heard, she was on an around-the-world trip."

"She was looking for a cure before she became too ill to enter other countries," Maxine explained tiredly.

"How is she?" Cross asked anxiously.

"She's sleeping. That's why I came out to call you. I can't leave her alone." Maxine sniffled. "The doctors said that it could happen at anytime. I just can't let her die alone."

"No, you can't. I'll be there in the morning."

"You don't have to--"

"Yes, I do. We were all so tight once. If she can't count on us now, then it was all a lie."

"Thanks, Micki."

"I love you, Baby," Cross whispered. She hung up the phone. "I need to drive up to Seattle and be with Maxine. A lady we went to college with is dying, and her family has abandoned her."

"I wonder why Maxine didn't leave a note for you before she left the house?" Blair asked.

"Max was reacting, not thinking." Michelle sighed. "It's been so long since I've seen Honor. She and I had a falling out after her husband died."

"What happened?" Blair asked, his voice full of concern.

"She found some diaries of his where he fantasized about an extramarital relationship between the two of us."

"Ow," Sandburg exclaimed. "That must have been awkward."

"Very awkward. Parker died suddenly and unexpectedly. Honor was looking for someone to blame, and I was convenient. She keyed my car, sent me nasty letters, and plagued me with hang up phone calls. It lasted almost two weeks. Then she found more entries where he fantasized about a relationship with a world-famous actress who he could never have met."

"Did she at least try to apologize?" Ellison asked.

"No, that's why we weren't speaking. All I wanted was a simple apology. That's all." She rose from the chair. "I told Maxine I would come and be with her. Edwina will be here with you guys, so I know you can handle things around here."

"Hey," Blair said in an offended tone. "We could handle things *without* Edwina. Thank you."

"Sorry," she said. "Let me pack some things for both of us." She went upstairs to the bedroom where they sometimes slept and where their clothes were stored.

Jim turned to find Blair frowning. "What's the matter, Chief?"

"I need to shred those old journals of mine. I would hate to think what you or the ladies would say after reading them."

"You'll outlive us all, Chief."

Blair frowned. "Not if any of you ever read those journals." He rushed away.

****************************

William Ellison squared his shoulders and entered the Cascade police headquarters. He had to obtain a visitor's pass at the front desk.

"Destination?" the young secretary, a mere infant at around thirty, asked.

"Major Crime. I'm here to see my son." He passed over his ID.

"Oh," she said after reading the information. "I thought you must have been dead--" A look of pure horror at what she said was suddenly on the young woman's face.

"Why did you think that?" he asked, icily.

"You didn't come to the boys' Bris or their naming ceremony."

"You attended?" This young woman had gone to his grandchildren's Bris?

"Yes, I was dating Detective Rafe at the time."

Well, that explained nothing. Who the hell was Detective Rafe, and why did he rate an invitation when William didn't?

"I see." He didn't, but that was no longer the point.

She handed him the pass. "Sixth floor, right off the elevators, Mr. Ellison."

William rode the elevator, grateful that no one wanted to talk to him. The sixth floor was bustling with activity and harboring the lowlife of Cascade. He saw prostitutes, drug addicts, lawyers, and drug dealers milling around loose.

James was talking to an obviously distraught man.

"Then he put that big gun in my face and demanded the keys," the portly and balding man reported with a shudder.

"Did you notice the type of gun it was?" the detective asked, patiently.

"It was *big* with silver sides and a ... ah clip in the butt of the handle."

Jim entered that information onto his computer screen. "Okay."

"Do you think you'll find my Viper?"

"I doubt it, Sir. They probably already had a buyer for the car before they even stole it."

"How do you register a stolen car or get insurance for it?"

"They'll have phony papers for it too."

The man shook his head. "I hope you catch them, Detective, before they kill someone for their car."

"We'll do our best." Ellison printed out the report and handed it to the victim. "Could you read over this and sign it for me, Mr. Jamison?"

"Jim, can I speak to you?" William asked.

His son looked up in shock to find his father standing there, but he nodded slowly. "Excuse me, Mr. Jamison. I'll be right back." He walked over to stand in front of his father. "This way," he said with little emotion in his voice. He led them into a deserted break room. "What can I do for you, Dad?" There was an ironic lilt to that word. It twisted at William's guts.

"I wanted to speak to you about your sons."

Jim crossed his arms, and his whole body radiated antagonism. "What about my sons?"

"I'd like to meet them."

His child stared at him for a long, uncomfortable time. "Blair is still part of the picture, Dad. A big part. A *permanent* part. They are his sons, too."

"Yes, well," William sputtered. Damn, he gets a woman pregnant and still wants to give his pretty boy lover half the credit? "I'd still like to meet your sons."

"Fine," Jim said suspiciously. "Do you know where we live?"

William nodded. "In the guest house on the old Barstow estate." How his son managed to swing that without touching any of his family money, Ellison had no idea. He had contacts at the Northwestern Bank of Cascade, but was loath to use them.

"Right." His son shifted in an agitated manner. "We eat at eight, but the boys get to sleep around seven. So, if you want to spend some time with them, you need to be there before six."

William smiled. His son was really trying, so he had to be on his best behavior or he would be starting two scrapbooks for the twins to go along with the one for their father. "See you tonight, Son. Six o'clock, sharp."

Jim watched his father walk away. When had his father gotten old? He did some quick calculations. His father was 61 years old and looked older. He shook himself and headed back to his desk. The detective had work to do, and he needed a way to broach this with Blair.

His carjacking victim had signed his statement and was eager to leave the police station. Jim didn't blame the man. This was not the place to be if you didn't have to be here.

After seeing Jamison off, the detective called the foundation.

"This is the Sandburg Covington-Cross Foundation, how may I direct your call?" the receptionist asked.

"Hi Stella, this is Jim."

"Hi, Detective Ellison. Doctor Sandburg is still meeting with the Cromwell trustees." She lowered her voice. "It looks like we're about to get a hefty endowment."

Jim smiled. Only the subject of Daniel's steps had eclipsed this meeting in Blair's eyes. "That's great. When he's finished, could you have him call me at the station? Tell him it's not an emergency, but I need to touch base with him."

"Sure." She laughed softly. "If you like, I could pass on a kiss."

"Could you?" Ellison grinned. Stella was in her fifties, gorgeous, witty, and a hoot. If she hadn't been totally devoted to her husband, Duane, Jim would have been very jealous.

She sighed. "It would be *such* a strain to put my lips on that man, but for you I would make the sacrifice."

"I couldn't ask it of you," Ellison said sadly. "You might be traumatized."

"I'm sure his kisses would change my life."

"They did mine," Jim admitted.

"What a minute, they're coming out. There's hand shaking and smiling. He's seeing them to their car. Would you like to hang on?"

"Yeah, that'll be fine." Jim waited.

"Ellison, have you heard from Tate today?" Mitchell asked.

Jim placed his hand over the receiver. "Briefly," he reported. "Honor had a bad night last night, and Maxine didn't get much sleep. Michelle made it there about an hour ago."

Grant sighed. "It's such a waste. Vannelli is a very talented writer." He shook his head. "And so young."

"Yeah. I still can't believe her family just cut out on her."

"Hi, Jim," Blair called over the phone.

"Hey, Chief."

Grant touched Jim's shoulder. "I'll talk to you later."

Jim nodded. "Okay, Grant."

"What's up, Jim?" Blair asked.

"My dad came by the station," Jim began.

Blair's breath caught. "Is there something wrong?"

Ellison shook his head. His dad had all but accused Blair of turning Jim into a faggot, but Sandburg was still concerned for the old man. He had given his heart to a kind and loving person. "No, he wants to meet the boys. I've invited him over for dinner."

Sandburg was quiet, not for long, but it was telling. "How do you want to play this?"

"There's nothing to play, Chief." Jim dropped his voice when he noticed several of the detectives, notably Mitchell looking at him. "Look, I told him you are a permanent part of my life. He has to accept that."

"Okay." Jim could hear the younger man drumming his ink pen on the desk. "What time is he coming over?"

"Around six. That will give him an hour with the boys before they go to bed." Jim waited for some protest from Blair, some legitimate reason for keeping his father out of his nest, but nothing came. Despite the mean things his father had said, it seemed that Sandburg was willing to give him another chance.

"Okay, I'll leave here around four and work on something special for dinner."

Welcomed and a special dinner? His father wasn't worthy of that kind of treatment. "Don't put yourself out, Chief."

"Nonsense, Jim. He's your father, the only parent you have. He may not be ideal, whose father is? But I want to do you proud."

Jim wished he were physically close to his love right now. He wanted to touch the smaller man's face and ease this wash of emotion. "Thanks, Chief."

"Hey, we're in this together until the end."

"I love you, Blair," Ellison whispered. "Goodbye."

"Bye."

Jim placed the phone in the cradle and sighed. What had he done to deserve such a person in his life? Perhaps all the shit he had waded through was just the pre-payment for getting to love Blair Sandburg.

****************************

Maxine closed the cover of Vannelli's notes for "Death Master" that she had been reading to Honor.

"Maxine, can I see the tape again?" Vannelli asked.

Tate smiled. Her friend had seen the boys' six-month birthday party four times since Michelle had arrived. "Sure, Kid, whatever you want." Maxine started the tape.

Michelle slipped inside with their lunch. It had required a virtual commando raid to get what Honor wanted. It was greasy, bad for her, but what was the point in denying the woman at this time in her life? If she wanted a stuffed crust pizza, then she should have it. If she had asked for a cigarette and whiskey, Tate would have worked it out so that she could have them.

Cross cut the food up into tiny bites, blew on it, and fed it to Honor. The sores on their friend's mouth must have made eating pizza painful, but she didn't complain.

"Best one I ever tasted." Vannelli laughed, then hacked. Her cough had gone from phlegmy to dry and brittle. It almost sounded like she had sand in her lungs. Tate shuddered and prayed Honor didn't see her do it.

"Take it easy, Kid. The rest of the patients might find out that you're living the high life in here," Cross warned.

The tape got to the part where Daniel and Michael tag team drooled on Chad. The tall man didn't give a whit about his shirt; he just bounced the boys and laughed. That part always made Honor smile.

"Where was that gorgeous man when I was on the prowl?" Vannelli asked.

"Probably sleeping with two other women," Tate quipped. "The man has got a target on his butt."

"Actually, it's over his crotch," Cross corrected.

The three women were quiet as the tape finished. It wasn't very long because the boys hadn't lasted. After tearing up wrapping paper, smearing cake on themselves, and drooling on anyone foolish enough to pick them up, and every adult in the room had been foolish, they had conked out.

Honor had managed to finish an entire slice of the pizza. She would probably throw it up later, but for now she had tasted her favorite sin and was satisfied.

"More notes for you," Vannelli whispered.

Maxine took out her tape recorder and notepad. It was like she was interviewing a witness to a crime. In a way, she was. Honor had been robbed of her life, struck down in her prime by a killer virus, then abandoned by her family for the "sin" of being ill. Tate just couldn't understand that kind of attitude.

"I'm ready," Maxine reported.

"My doll collection... I want that to go to your niece, Kesha. She looks like she would appreciate it. My pre-Columbian art that is on loan to the Getty..." She paused as if she had lost her train of thought. "The list is in my briefcase. I want all of that to go to the Sandburg Covington-Cross Foundation. My record collection... I want that to go to Janice. Your mom is one of the few people I know who would appreciate those beautiful old records." She started to cry, the scary part was that she shed virtually no tears. Her body was too ravaged to part with the moisture.

Cross rocked the sobbing woman and cooed to her. "It's all right, Honey. It's all right."

"Michelle, I'm sorry. What I did, it was shitty. Real shitty. Thank you for coming anyway."

Cross kept rocking the smaller woman. "It was time to let it go."

Doctor Llewellyn, a couple of interns who didn't look old enough to shave their chins or legs, and Patty, the nurse, came in to shoo Maxine and Michelle out.

Maxine took the time to touch base with Grant, Simon, Jim, and Blair. She would have called Edwina, but it was the boys' nap time and a ringing phone always woke up Michael, who would immediately fuss until Daniel woke up to share his misery.

"Miss Tate, can I have a word with you?" the doctor inquired.

They stepped a little way down the hall. Michelle went back inside to be with Honor.

"Yes, Doctor?"

The physician was middle-aged, jowly; his nose had the broken veins of someone who liked to drink, and he always looked like he needed sleep. Maybe he did. He had six other patients here; all under forty and dying. They were just the tip of his practice. "Ms. Tate, do you think you could talk to Mrs. Houston about increasing her pain medication? Modern pharmacology can ease her suffering."

"But it leaves her dull and she sleeps too much. Honor wants to meet death with her eyes wide open. I know I would." Maxine tried to unclench her fists but just couldn't. Dying was bad enough, but to die totally out of control... she shuddered. She would hope the people around her loved her enough to let her make that decision for herself. "She said no, and I have to respect that."

The doctor nodded and walked away. Perhaps he knew the answer to the question but was honor bound to try anyway.

Honor fell asleep after being extra pleased with herself that she had kept the pizza down. While she slept, Maxine turned her friend's copious notes into a series of codicils to her will.

After some soul searching, Vannelli had cut her entire family out of the will. Or, to be more precise, she left them all one hundred dollars apiece. It was a pittance compared to what she could have left them.

Honor had kept in touch with Maxine over the years, but shame had kept her from contacting Michelle. At the time, it seemed a rift that could never heal. Now it was all so stupid and wasteful.

"Micki, I need to get all this printed out for Honor's signature. I also need to stop by her house."

Michelle looked up from the book she was reading. It was a book of prayers, written in Hebrew. "Okay."

Maxine hugged the smaller woman tightly. "Thank you, love. I'm glad you're here."

Cross patted the larger woman's back. "Where else would I be?"

****************************

Blair pushed the button on his answering machine and listened to the nineteen messages waiting for him. He unloaded the groceries while listening. The one from Maxine made him wish he could be with her. To a stranger, her voice was steady and confident, but to him it was strained, tired, and sad.

Tate controlled her emotions tightly, as much or more than Jim did. But Blair knew her, knew her soul. Maxine was hurting. At least Michelle was with her.

Jim breezed in from the garage. "Hey, Chief."

Blair turned and smiled. He and Jim shared a long and tender kiss. "You're home early," he observed. "Not that I'm complaining."

Ellison growled. "You better not." He started unloading the bags. Blair smiled as he watched Jim *casually* sweep the house for the boys. "Where are the kids?"

"They were swiped by Tony and Naomi, so I gave Edwina the afternoon off. They promised to have them home in about half an hour." He placed the last of the groceries on the counter and folded his burlap shopping bags. "Tony wanted to spare them from being pushed around the grocery store and being exposed to countless germs during the cold and flu season." He chuckled.

Ellison paused in his task of putting away the groceries. "It's not the cold and flu season."

"Jim, it's what is known as an excuse." Sandburg began whisking the ingredients together for his marinade. "They wanted to dote on the boys, and I like to encourage that."

Ellison looked the smaller man up and down. Blair was still wearing one of his "milking money out of the rich people" suits. "Are you keeping that on?"

Sandburg hadn't considered changing. "Yeah. Is there something wrong with it?" He had stunned himself by making it through the day without one bit of baby spit-up on it.

"No, I just don't want Dad thinking you were dressing for him."

Blair knew that "I love him/I hate him" struggle going on in his lover's voice. With parents, it was rarely a black and white issue. "Jim, I won't dress up for him, and I'm not dressing down for him either." He hugged the taller man. "Relax, it's going to be all right."

Ellison relaxed against the smaller man. "Yeah, it will. You're here."

Right on time, Tony and Naomi returned the twins to their fathers. Jim had a time prying Michael off Montrose's tie.

"Let go, Mike," Jim commanded. Michael was defiant. He had captured the tie, and it was his.

Montrose slipped the tie off his neck, and Michael threw it down in disgust.

Naomi howled. "He doesn't just want to teeth on it, he wants Tony to be on the other side of it."

"Do you love Tony?" Montrose asked the little auburn-haired boy. "Do you love me?" The child hugged the producer fiercely.

Tony tried to hand the boy to Jim, but Mike snatched two handfuls of Montrose's thick hair and held on. "Tee!" the child shouted with glee.

The businessman had to beg. "Help," Montrose squealed.

Ellison grabbed up his son and pried him off his friend. "He's stronger than he looks."

"I'll keep that in mind." Montrose smoothed his locks. "Michael, I'm one of the few men at the country club who still has all his hair, and I want to keep it that way." Tony glanced at his watch. "Yikes! I need to head home. Grant's cooking tonight."

"Obviously," Blair said. "He's got you." He leered.

Montrose hugged the professor. "You see why I love this man." He pecked Naomi on the cheek. "Can I give you a ride, Dear?"

"Yes, thank you," Naomi said.

"Mom, stay. Jim's dad is coming for dinner." Blair smiled, but he was the only one. The silence was deafening.

Daniel, spotting a captive audience, began to elucidate on his latest theories of toy durability. He babbled, struggled a real word out occasionally, and bashed his T-rex into the floor. Panda was held lovingly in the other hand, safe from any crash tests.

Naomi frowned. "I wouldn't miss it," she said coolly.

Montrose took the woman aside. "I thought he blamed Blair for Jim's lifestyle?"

"He does," she said dryly. "I quote 'There is no way I raised a faggot. It must be Sandburg'."

"If you need help burying the body, just call," he whispered. "No questions asked."

****************************

Maxine closed the door of the stone and cedar house and stepped into the living room. The realtors were doing a good job of keeping the place clean. Honor had put it on the market, because she knew she was never coming back.

Once her friend was gone, it would be up to Maxine to finish closing the place and distributing the small personal items currently not on Honor's long list of holdings. The writer had notes for everything.

It was both a blessing and a curse that Honor's mind was still sharp. A blessing because she was still in control of her life, and a curse because she knew exactly what was happening to her.

Tate sat down at the computer and started it. She put in the password, which gave her access to the hard drive. According to Vannelli's list, she would get this relatively new computer. The machine had everything, including *two* 14.4 GB hard drives, a DVD, a jazz drive, a 21" monitor, a flatbed color scanner, a color laser printer, and several other things that Blair would have to point out.

Her target was a novel in progress called "Death Master". Honor wrote science fiction, excellent science fiction if Maxine was any judge, and this would have been the start to an entire new universe. A universe that would have outlived its creator.

Maxine didn't even realize it was happening until she found herself bent over and sobbing. Only her ringing cell phone kept her from curling up on the floor.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Maxine," Simon's comforting baritone stated.

"Simon, is something wrong?" Tate was pleased that her voice sounded almost normal.

"That's my line, kid. Talk to me." Banks spoke softly and his strong presence made it seem as if he were in the room with Maxine.

"What's there to say? She's hanging on, and I'm here for her." She left out the crying jag she had just passed through.

"And I'm here for you," he soothed. "Talk to me."

Tate looked around the beautiful room she was sitting in. On the walls were dozens of black and white photos. "I'm moving a story from Pip's hard drive to my laptop."

"Pip?" Banks inquired.

"Sorority nickname," the detective explained. "She wants to work on it... until she ... goes."

"How does that make you feel?" her captain asked in a tone worthy of Sandburg.

"Oh Lord, Simon. Blair has really rubbed off on you!"

Banks laughed. His laughter was deep, throaty, and alive. It was so good to hear after spending most of a day whispering in deference to Vannelli's sensitive hearing.

"It's not a good enough save, Maxine. Sandburgisms aside, talk to me."

"I'm looking at her photos. They're all in black and white. She always said that black and white photos were the most flattering, except for sepia tones." Tate catalogued the places and times they chronicled. "She's been all sorts of places, known so many different people."

"She's had a good life." Banks sighed. "But a short one."

"Yeah, she would be just thirty-two in four months."

"Is there any chance she would make it until then?" The big man's tone was hopeful for someone he had never met.

As much as she wanted to lie and make that lie the truth, she couldn't. "No, Simon. There is no hope. The fact that she made it until now is virtually a miracle. It's like she's put every last ounce of energy into finishing some things."

"At least she has you to help her," he paused, then continued, "and you have us, Maxine."

"Thanks, Simon. That means a lot to me." And it did, just a few words of encouragement were all she needed at this point. It wasn't about Maxine, it was about Honor.

"I could drive up tomorrow," her captain offered.

Tate was surprised. "On your day off?"

"Yeah, sometimes I actually do something I want to do on my day off. Can you imagine?"

Banks had managed to surprise her, and that wasn't easy. "Sir, I couldn't ask you to do that."

"You aren't asking, I'm offering. If I know Blair, then he is already planning on making his way there. We'll ride up together."

Maxine smiled. "You're probably right."

"That settles it then. I'll see you tomorrow."

******************************

Blair opened the gate for William Ellison, watched the large car glide through, then closed the gate. He barely thought about the security precautions that were now part of his routine. His time with Jim had often made him a target, but it never truly weighed on his mind until he had held his sons. Now they could never be cautious enough.

"Ma, ma, ma, ma, ma!" Michael chanted. He wanted his mother, preferably both of them. The auburn-haired boy was somewhat imperious in his attitude when it came to his attendants.

"Mommy's not here, Sweetheart," Sandburg assured the child.

Michael listened. It was the car he was hearing and since neither Michelle nor Maxine were in the house, he expected them to arrive in the car. "Ma!" he shouted.

"What's all this?" Jim asked, as he came into the living room.

"I think he can hear your father's car coming this way, and he expects Maxine or Michelle to be in it." Blair gazed at his lover and waited for his reaction to his theory.

"You're a clever little monkey," Jim asserted, then blew a noisy raspberry on the boy's stomach. Mike kicked and squealed.

The doorbell rang, and Blair went to answer it. Though this wasn't the first time they had met, Sandburg felt that he was looking at a total stranger. William Ellison was tall, not surprising considering his two tall sons, with nearly white hair, and a heavily lined face.

"Welcome to our home, Mr. Ellison," Blair said as he held the door for the older man.

"Blair, it's nice of you to allow me to visit." William stepped through the door and looked around the foyer. His eyes immediately fell on the jaguar that guarded the base of the stairs and the hall table. "Oh, my." He bent down, slowly because of his age, and stroked the smooth black marble. The eyes were blue topaz and the muted light of the setting sun seemed to give them depth. "This is lovely."

"Thank you. It was a housewarming gift from my mother." He remembered the feeling of awe that overcame him as Jim lifted the statue from its crate.

"Who's the artist?" the older man asked without taking his eyes off the stalking beast.

"She is," Sandburg said proudly. "You can tell her how much you enjoyed it at dinner."

William rose slowly, and Blair fought the urge to help the older man to his feet. If Jim and Steve were any indication, Ellison pride went to the bone.

"Your mother is very talented."

"I think so." Blair wondered if the older man had the stamina to look around the house. "Would you like a tour?"

Ellison smiled. "In a bit. What I'd really like is to meet my grandsons."

"I was giving Jim a chance to get them cleaned up."

William chuckled. "I remember what that was like. With two, it must be twice as bad."

"Actually, I think the mess goes up exponentially." Blair led his... father-in-law to the family room. Unlike the living room, this was an informal gathering space. Even Jim looked the other way when toys hid under furniture and tiny handprints decorated the surfaces.

Michael had quit calling for his mother the moment Blair opened the door to William Ellison and was sitting beside the couch and pointing underneath it. Daniel shoved over the blocks he was playing with, then gazed up at the stranger. He grinned.

"They're beautiful," William whispered.

Jim, who had been trying to retrieve whatever Mike was pointing at, pulled back with a frown. In his hand was Baker, a floppy toy hound dog. His right ear was loose.

"Sorry, Mike, Baker has to go to the toy hospital."

The little boy quivered his chin and held his arms out for his toy. Jim was too slow in surrendering it, and Michael wailed. The detective placed the dog in his son's arms.

"Hello, Son," William said softly.

Jim rose to his feet. "Hi, Dad. Let me introduce you." He lifted Michael who was only snuffling now that he had Baker safely in his arms. "This is Michael Sandburg Covington-Cross."

Gingerly, as if Mike would shatter into a thousand pieces if he were merely touched incorrectly, William lifted his grandson from Jim's arms. Michael gazed at his grandfather. His nostrils flared and contracted, and his pupils widened. He sucked his fist while holding the unfortunate Baker by his ear--the damaged ear.

"He looks a little like Stephen did when he was a baby," William announced.

"You think so?" Jim asked. "I've been told he looks just like me." The detective tickled his auburn-haired son's nose with his own.

"He does," William said in a choked voice. "Lord, he looks like you." The elder Ellison gently bounced the little boy. Michael chortled while whipping Baker back and forth by the ear.

"Well, we know what happened to that ear," Sandburg announced. He took Mike from his grandfather.

Jim lifted up Daniel. The dark-haired child gazed at this new person and seemed to size him up. William's hands were shaking as he accepted Dan. "This is Daniel Ellison Covington-Cross." The little boy blew an impressive spit bubble.

William's breath caught. For a moment, Sandburg thought the old man was choking. "He looks like Blair," he finally managed to say.

"Yes, he does," Jim agreed. "You should compare their baby pictures."

"Please, not the baby pictures," Sandburg begged.

William was reeling. Daniel was Blair's son. It was obvious. Not just the coloring, but the nose and cheekbones. Michael was Jim's son. He thought about that monumental discovery. Technically, he could leave his estate just to Michael. But did he want to do that? He remembered how much he had hated his older brother when their father's will had been read, and Kirk had gotten everything. He wasn't going to do that to his sons, and he wasn't going to do that to his grandsons. He had not one, but two grandchildren.

Daniel petted his face, and William wondered if he should have shaved again. The little boy was a lovely child. As beautiful as his parents.

"Oooooo," Daniel said softly and rubbed at the tears streaking down William's cheeks. When had he started crying, and why was he crying?

"Thanks, little guy. You may not recognize me, but I'm your grandfather."

Daniel showed no recognition of the title, but he did recognize the woman who walked, no glided, into the room. She was tall, auburn-haired, and gorgeous. Her dimples were deep, her face unlined. Wow.

"William Ellison, may I introduce you to Naomi Sandburg, my mother," Blair announced.

"You can't be his mother, you weren't old enough to stay out after dark when he was born."

"That's very sweet of you to say," Naomi said.

"Nee!" Daniel squealed. Blair's mother took her grandchild into her arms.

William shook himself. He had no idea how he was going to fit himself back into his son's life. He had alienated him as a young man, and nearly lost him to hastily spoken words. His grandchildren were proof positive that his son was still a man and proof that Blair was still also very much a man.

Naomi put the boys on the floor and was entertaining them with a sock puppet. The elder Ellison eased down on the floor, feeling every one of his years. Sandburg joined them, risking his expensive suit to the boys' enthusiasm.

Jim took a call from his office, but didn't leave. Michael seemed distracted by the phone.

"He's listening for his mother," Blair explained softly.

"Where is she?" William asked.

"They went to Seattle to see an old college friend who is dying," Sandburg said sadly.

Ellison didn't have anything to say that. Death stalked everyone, but people their age shouldn't have to look over their shoulder.

Jim had barely put down the phone when it rang again. "Hello?"

"Ma! Ma! Ma!" Michael chanted.

"Yes, Michael, it's Mommy," the detective confirmed. "What, Michelle?" Jim tried to continue his conversation, but now Danny was also chanting for his mother. The stereophonic caterwauling took on deafening proportions. "Michelle, could you say something to the boys?"

Jim came over with the phone and held it between the boys.

"Hi, Sweeties. It's Mommy." Cross's voice was perky. "I miss you so much."

Daniel began to cry for his mother. It was heartbreaking to William. It was no longer a child still short of his first birthday sobbing in his grandmother's arms for his mother, it was five-year-old Stephen crying himself to sleep in Jim's room and asking his older brother why their mother didn't love them anymore.

William felt Blair's hand on his arm. "Are you alright, Sir?"

Ellison shook his head no. He watched his grandsons continue to sniffle. Jim placed the phone back against his ear. "No, Honey, we can handle the boys... Oh, okay. We'll wait dinner." He closed the phone. "Michelle's driving home."

William was terribly relieved. Michelle knew where her priorities were. The boys had probably never been without their mother for any real length of time, they certainly probably never went to sleep without her. Unlike Grace, Michelle was coming home.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Blair asked.

William James Ellison had no intention of spilling his guts and exposing himself in front of his son *and* a beautiful woman, but there was something about the young man's eyes and the comforting weight of his hand on William's arm that made him tell the truth.

"I was remembering Stephen crying for his mother, and how I didn't comfort him. If it hadn't been for Jimmy, I don't know what would have happened to Steve. His mother was gone, and his father didn't have a clue about what to tell him."

"It's hard to know what to tell them." Jim stroked Daniel's curls. "At this age, you're just making noise. But soon, they are going to understand everything we tell them." Jim kissed his son. "Mommy's coming home, Honey. She'll be here in about an hour."

"Probably faster, if I know Michelle," Blair said as he got to his feet. "She took her Crown Victoria."

"It started its life as a police interceptor," Naomi explained. "There is a lot of muscle under that hood." She smiled. "Michelle made the dreaded mistake of letting me borrow it one day. I thought I was going to be able to plaster my wall with speeding tickets."

"Luckily, you were able to charm your way out of them all," Jim teased.

Naomi looked indignant for about four seconds, then she smiled. William could see where Blair had inherited his smile. "Luck had nothing to do with it."

******************************

Maxine switched tapes in the recorder and took the opportunity to stretch. Honor was repeating herself now as she tried desperately to finish this last book. Several times in the last hour, Tate had had to redirect her friend's train of thought.

Michelle had rushed home because the boys were weeping for her. It was the right thing to do. A ten-month-old child didn't understand later; everything was happening right now for them.

"Foxy?" Vannelli called. Foxy was Maxine's sorority nickname. It could have been worse; she was one of only three black girls in the sorority. She prayed Ellison never got wind of it. Being called Cookie at age 31 was bad enough.

"Yes, Pip?" Tate decided against that trip to the bathroom and sat back down beside her friend.

"What about your dreams?" Honor's hazel eyes had faded to the color of mud. Her skin, which had been rather swarthy during her youth, looked like old notebook paper that had been left in the sun to dry out.

Without waiting to be asked, Maxine dabbed on a soothing lip balm. She was using gloves because Honor's lips were cracked and could bleed with very little provocation. "I'm not prone to nightmares."

"No, not those dreams. You wanted to be an advocate for the people. You were going to have kids and a husband. What happened to your dreams?"

"They changed as I got older. The last thing the world needed was *another* lawyer. They do need cops, and I'm a good cop."

"Kids?" Vannelli prompted.

"I have two boys."

Honor sighed. "Michelle has two boys, Foxy. As they get older, they are going to identify with Michelle, not you." She sipped her water. "In the end, you'll be an aunt, not a mother. What about you? Are you living for you at all?"

Honor's words were brittle and not just because of her illness. When the boys got older, they would look to Michelle and not her. It was just the way it was. Michelle was their biological mother.

It wasn't just a matter of skin color; it was a matter of culture. The boys were Jewish and would look to Blair and Michelle to lead them in what they needed to know. Jim was their father and could not be pushed aside, but Maxine would end up on the outside, and until a few minutes ago, it was something she had refused to look at. For the sake of the boys, they were a team.

It was already happening. Michelle was Ma, Naomi was Nee, both Jim and Blair were Da. Maxine didn't have a name yet. They reached for her. They delighted in her presence, especially when they were hungry, but she had no name with the boys. Even Tony had a name, Tee, with the boys.

"I made a deal, Honor, and I always keep my word." Maxine stepped into the bathroom, took care of business, and pushed it all back inside where it couldn't eat her alive. "Should I start the tape player again?"

"No." Honor was quiet for a while. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Maxine. I just don't want you to be on *your* death bed, eaten up with regrets and why nots."

"Those boys mean the world to me, girl. As soon as I knew they were coming, I swore to protect them and put their best interest first. That was the deal, and it still is."

Honor nodded. "Start the tape."

Maxine took notes and kept silent as Vannelli wove a tale of otherwise tragic lives given a new purpose in the age-old battle of good versus evil.

************************************

Blair changed Michael's diaper and watched, dismayed, as the child immediately wet the new one. William laughed. "He's determined to stay awake until Michelle arrives," Sandburg observed.

"She pulled into the driveway a couple of minutes ago," Jim explained. "Michelle is not going to step a foot into this house until she has herself in control."

"You let her sit out there and cry?" Blair accused. "Alone?" He placed a new diaper into William's hand and sprinted out of the room and down the stairs.

"I never said she was crying," Ellison explained to the empty air. He flipped Daniel onto his back and wrestled the diaper from his son's grip.

"Emotional is he?" The elder Ellison asked casually.

Jim sighed. "No, Dad. He is *not* emotional. He is also not effeminate, if that is where you're going next."

William mangled the diaper in his hands as he tried to put it on the squirming little boy. "Sally used to do this," he explained as Jim was forced to rescue his son before the child suffered from diaper trauma. "Why don't you use those disposables?" the older man asked in exasperation. "They're already baby-shaped." William shook the cotton diaper out. "This is shaped like a wonton."

"Disposables are bad for the environment--"

"Blair's argument," William interpreted.

"--and Michael broke out in a *very* bad skin rash the one time we used them," Jim finished.

"Oh... I guess I'm getting all my exercise jumping to conclusions." William took a long breath. "I'm sorry."

Jim was shocked. He didn't think his father knew the phrase "I'm sorry." This might take some getting used to. "Apology accepted." The detective took the cloth from his father and diapered his son. "You might try that phrase on Blair."

"What I said was out of line, but... Until Sandburg you didn't have anything to do with men. What changed?"

"I changed," Jim said simply as he tucked the much maligned Baker into Michael's arms. The child immediately began whipping the toy around by his loose ear.

"And I've got to place that change at Sandburg's feet." William touched his son's shoulder. "What kind of example are you setting for your sons? What kind of men will come of this union? They could be--"

"Freaks, just like their father." Jim was surprised at how calmly he could say that. That word stung more than fag, cocksucker, or fairy ever could, because it had come from his father, the man who was supposed to love him no matter what.

The silence in the room was deadly.

"Jimmy, I'm sorry I ever made you feel that way. I was trying to protect you."

The detective had nothing to say. At least nothing constructive.

Michelle Cross came into the nursery and raised her eyebrow at the two men standing so silently in the room.

"Ma, ma, ma!" Michael chanted until Michelle picked him up.

"Michelle Cross, this is my father, William Ellison."

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Ellison," Cross said as she rocked Michael.

"I've wanted to meet you for some time," William said.

Michelle's dark green eyes regarded the older man with something close to pity. "Really? You and I are currently serving on three of the same boards, but you haven't once tried to meet me. We also both belong to the Cascade Country Club."

William looked at the floor. "I wanted to wait until Jim introduced us."

"Well, now he has." She turned and kissed Daniel as he clung to the end of his crib.

"Ma!" Daniel shouted.

Cross picked the second boy up. "Hello, Pumpkin. Did you miss me?" She nuzzled her son, who kicked happily in her arms. Michelle made her way to the rocking chair where she could hold both boys and coo to them.

"I need to go see about dinner," Jim said.

Michelle waited until her lover was down the stairs before she spoke again. "Well, do they pass inspection?"

"I'm not here to..." William started. "Miss Cross, my son is one baby step away from hating me. There was no way I was going to start a relationship with you behind his back. If I was ever going to meet these boys, I was going to have to come to Jim."

Michelle nodded. The twins purred happily under her chin. "So what brought you around?"

"What do you mean?"

Cross sighed. "Jim is still with Blair, and Blair is still a man. I believe you expressed some... distress at that situation."

"And according to Jim, it's not going to change." William gazed at the boys as they slowly succumbed to sleep.

"No, it's not." Michael's head dropped heavily on Michelle. "Could you take him?" William lifted the small boy up and placed him on his stomach in the crib. "He needs to be on his back. *Never* put them down on their stomachs."

"Sorry," Ellison said as he turned his grandson onto his back. The man suddenly turned around. "Does that mean I'll get to be around them?"

"If you're serious about rebuilding with Jim, then you are more than welcome to be a part of your grandsons' lives." She rose from the rocking chair and placed Daniel in his crib. The little boy yawned and looked so angelic it made his mother sigh.

"They're so beautiful," Ellison whispered.

"Yes, they are. If it weren't for their curly hair, you would have thought that Jim and Blair had them without me."

William studied Michelle's face. "There is a resemblance, the features they share seem to come from you."

Cross turned and smiled at the older man. "Thanks." She briefly touched each child. "I just wish my parents could have lived long enough to see them. They would have been such fantastic grandparents. Luckily, we have Naomi, Dan, Janice, and Tony. Now we have you, too."

"Dan and Janice?" Ellison asked, puzzled.

"Maxine's parents. They spend a lot of time with the boys, and the kids love them. Yesterday, Daniel called Dan, Big. It was so sweet."

"Big?" He puzzled.

"Dan is also known as 'Big Dan' Tate."

The light dawned. He had thought he recognized the man at the picnic from his numerous appearances in the newspapers and on television. Daniel Tate was the city's new fire chief. He had begun the job with slacking recruitment numbers, a string of arsons that terrified the citizens, and a lawsuit from a gay firefighter who had been fired by the previous chief.

His first act was to rehire the firefighter. Dan Tate was not about to "let arguments that kept blacks out of the ranks be applied to a new group the public was trying to cut from the herd." The man had balls the size of tanker trucks. Ellison could have never made that move, even when he knew it was right.

"Oh, Big Dan Tate. I've seen the man in the papers and on the news. He's quite a figure and not afraid of much."

"The same can be said for his daughter." Michelle motioned for William to follow her out of the nursery.

The formal dining room, which looked more like a library to William, was beautifully set. He was about to congratulate Blair on the stunning display, when the smaller man kissed Jim. He could hardly complain in *their* house.

"It's gorgeous, Jim. You've really outdone yourself." Sandburg gazed at the flowers and candles on the table.

"I had to do something to be worthy of that beautiful meal." Jim hugged Blair tightly.

William remembered, early in his marriage, before he ruined it with countless affairs and sometimes brutal words, how he had looked at Grace just that same way.

It surprised him that he could remember the good times, when all he had left were the bad times.

Jim held Naomi's chair, and Blair held Michelle's. William just took his seat. His son and Sandburg served. He noted that Naomi was not served meat.

Frankly, the plentiful vegetables and side dishes looked more than filling. Besides, his doctor was always going on about his blood pressure and cholesterol levels. But then that steak landed on his plate, and he forgot all about his doctor.

"How's Maxine holding up?" Naomi asked.

"You know Max, the Rock of Gibraltar has nothing on her, at least on the outside. On the inside, it's another story completely." Michelle toyed with her zucchini. "It's hard seeing someone you spent part of your reckless youth with dying. While I was there, Maxine spent hours on the phone trying to get just one of Honor's family members to come and be with her. Every one of them turned her down, gave her lectures about *sin*, and hung up."

"It will come back to haunt them," Naomi said firmly. "That kind of cruelty always comes back to haunt people. Probably in the dead of night, when they're all alone."

William glanced nervously over at Blair's mother and wondered if she were talking to him, or about him. She was looking right at him. At him, through him, whatever. Her eyes wouldn't let him escape.

"William," she purred. "Do you still believe that Blair has Jim ensnared?"

"Honestly?" he asked sincerely.

"Yes," she said. "I want you to be honest."

"Yes, I do." And there it was, Sandburg was some sort of sorcerer who had taken Jim's will and bent it to his own.

Blair's mother looked at Jim and Blair to silence them. Naomi smiled and clicked her tongue at him. "William, you seem to be an intelligent man. Take a look at these two." Ellison did as he was directed. "Jim's a half a head taller and around fifty pounds heavier."

"Hey," Jim complained. "That's only forty pounds, thank you very much."

Naomi smiled. "I stand corrected, James. Forty pounds heavier. He's an armed, trained killer who could snap my child's neck with his pinkie finger."

The very *idea* that a son of his would target someone smaller and helpless made Ellison's blood boil. "Jim would never--" William protested.

"But he could. Logic would take a look at the evidence and state that it was Jim who is totally in control, and that Blair is just his helpless little love slave, who is grateful for the privilege of wearing clothes tonight."

Michelle snickered. "On his right ankle, he's wearing a simple gold chain which denotes his status as a much-loved slave."

William almost looked under the table but managed to stop himself.

Sandburg covered his mouth with his napkin, while Jim looked menacingly about the table. "I did *make* him buy me a $45,000 truck, a cell phone, and not to mention this very house." The detective speared a piece of his steak. "Blair's a *good* love slave. After this fine meal, I might let him wear underwear tomorrow and forego the lipstick."

Sandburg lost it. He was chortling as he cuffed the larger man across the head. Jim stole a kiss, then went back to his food.

"Mom," Sandburg began, "don't start conversations like that while I'm trying to eat."

"The images work for me," Michelle admitted.

William chewed on what Naomi, humor aside, had pointed out--no one could force Jim into this situation. Sandburg wasn't strong enough to just take what he wanted; it had to be given to him.

But how could he balance what he thought he knew of his son with what he was now seeing? He didn't know, but he had to try. For the sake of his relationship with his children and grandchildren, he had to try.

After dinner, William was given a tour of the house. It was really beautiful, with large rooms, comfortable and tasteful furnishings, and mementos of his son's life that he had missed.

One particular picture taken, Michelle explained, at the official housewarming caught his eye. Blair was sitting in Jim's ex-wife's lap being fed. She was laughing, he was smiling, and they looked like such good friends.

"Isn't that Carolyn?" he asked Michelle.

"Yes," she said simply. "I adore that woman."

"You do?" He was shocked. "Even after the babies?"

Cross frowned. "Especially after the babies. She came up from San Francisco for a visit to see the boys. Bless her, she stayed in a hotel, rather than crowding into the house."

"You expected her to stay in the house?" William was aghast, ex-wives were the enemy, everyone knew that. The new... wife, Michelle, should have never let the first wife, Carolyn, near her children.

"She has before, and since. We're all great friends with Carolyn and her husband, Roderick. He's a doll. He, Maxine, and I all went to the University of Chicago together. That's him in the background, begging Simon for another 'burnt nearly to a crisp' hotdog." She sighed. "I mean, if he wanted a piece of charcoal, we had a bag of them."

Ellison didn't know what to say about all that. Jim had another life, another mindset, and ... another family that worked well without William. Could he ever fit in, and would they let him work on it until he did?

************************************

Honor Vannelli woke up to find that Maxine had combed the spartan remains of her hair, dressed her in a bed jacket, and applied a light dusting of makeup, all her sensitive skin could stand. It was morning, or so she thought. Before she could make a sarcastic remark about entertaining royalty, she noticed the two beautiful men sitting in respectful silence in her room.

One was a dark-haired, compact angel and a star of the video she so loved of the twins' birthday party. The other man was also on the tape. He was tall, taller than even Maxine, dark, and handsome.

"Hello, Miss Vannelli," the dark man introduced himself. "I'm Simon Banks and this is Blair Sandburg."

Honor smiled. "Forgive me for not rising," she teased.

"Maxine went to shower and change," Sandburg explained. "Can we get you anything?"

"New blood and assorted internal organs. But, barring that, could you put a blank tape in the recorder?" Honor tried to sit up, and Banks instantly was helping her.

The man was strong and strangely unafraid to touch her body. That was one of the first things she had missed. In her day, she had been a head turner, and she'd had no trouble getting men to touch her. Those days were gone. Now only the nurses and doctors touched her.

Sandburg handled the recorder like a pro, but since he had to be the anthropologist who Foxy had praised to the skies, then he must have used them all the time.

"Please put today's date and time on the label," she instructed. Blair placed the machine in front of her and pressed the record and play buttons.

The words came in a rush now. The story was suddenly screaming out of her head in a mad birth rush. Nothing seemed to interrupt the flow as the scenes played out in her mind.

She was vaguely aware of Maxine's return, and some ill-timed attempt by the nurses to give her more medication. She couldn't spare the time or take the chance. If she closed her eyes for more than a blink, she would never open them again. Her life was a fuse, burning, burning, burning down to the quick.

Her voice failed her, and the pain pushed away every coherent thought. Silently, she cursed the frailty of her body as she fought to keep her eyes open and failed. She had failed.

....

Someone was singing a beautiful old gospel tune, "If You Want to Help Me, Jesus, It's All Right," and she thought that she must be listening to her own funeral service. She opened her eyes and saw her lawyer, Charles Berger, was sitting beside her bed and charging her estate two hundred dollars an hour for the privilege.

"What time is it?" she croaked.

"About nine in the evening," Charles reported. "Do you feel up to signing these papers?"

"Only if Maxine's here."

"I'm here," Tate said.

The lights in the room were funny. There was a hollowed out darkness right in the center. Or she was losing her sight. She had felt she needed glasses, but what was happening to her? Vannelli couldn't see in the center.

"Better hurry." The truth was that she would have signed anything Maxine put in front of her. Tate's world was never about money.

The pen hurt her fingers. Her arm, even wasted as it was, was heavy. A little crowd gathered as she signed her name for what she knew would be the last time.

The lawyer was happy. The hospice had a notary on duty at all times, it was that kind of place, and her signatures were witnessed and legalized right there. Exhausted, she settled back on her pillows. The crowd dispersed, leaving only her and Maxine. In the end, she knew it would only be her and Maxine. All the family she had now.

"Would you like something for the pain?" Foxy offered.

If she had anything left, Honor would have laughed. Maxine knew. Somehow she knew. Right now, the blood that was still inclined to move through her shrunken veins caused her pain. Breathing hurt, moving hurt, lying down hurt, and wetting herself hurt.

Tate cleaned her up like she was a baby. No words of accusation, no sounds of disgust. The other woman could have called a nursing assistant, but she didn't.

"Maxine, I'm going blind," Honor confessed.

"What? Oh, Lord. Should I call a doctor?" Tate was clutching the sheets, and Vannelli could feel the tension of the fabric against her flesh.

"No, it would give the relatives a chance to contest... it'll be our little secret."

"Okay." Tate took away the soiled garments. They were quiet for a long time. It was Honor's time to talk, if she could think of something profound. She couldn't. Vannelli slept instead.

.....

Honor could see her friend organizing the tapes. She was dressed differently, so a day must have passed, or two, or could it have been three. It didn't matter, as the writer *knew* there would be no more.

"Maxine, I... I want to see the ocean again." It surprised Vannelli when the words came out. But once they were out, they were perfect. Her sight was going. She did want to see the ocean one last time. It was the reason she had spent an absolute fortune on that house. She could see the ocean from all but three rooms, but she could hear it from everywhere in her home.

"Okay."

That was all Maxine said. No words about regulations, medicines, or logistics. Foxy would take care of things.

....

It was the softest, most comfortable wheelchair she had even ridden in. If she wasn't going to be cremated, she would have asked to be buried in it.

Her friend was ripping the doctor, the security chief, and anyone else stupid enough to stand in her way, a new one. Vannelli wanted to cheer Maxine on, but she needed to save her strength. The lyrics to "There's a Hole in the Bucket, Dear Liza" began to run through her mind. In this case the water was her soul, and her body was the bucket.

"Miss Tate, I simply cannot allow you to take Miss Vannelli out of this facility," the doctor postured.

"Well, I hope you brought someone besides 'tubby boy' here to stop me, because I can wipe the floor with him."

Honor wanted to clap, but her left arm was in spasms. "Ocean, Maxine." Vannelli had planned for that to sound more confident and less like a lost child.

"You heard the woman. Get out of my way." Tate's tone left no doubt that she was ready to go to the wall for this request.

They were rolling now. She was placed on a bed and loaded in an ambulance. The ocean wasn't far away. Everything else on her body was shutting down, but Honor could smell the ocean.

She had no idea what time it was, or if she would actually be able to see it, but the ocean was calling her home.

Maxine guided the gurney out of the back of the van and helped move it down the sand to the water's edge. It was almost dawn, and she hoped that for once the rain would hold off.

"Honor, we're here." The frail stick figure of a woman stirred. Tate had the attendants lift the back up so that Vannelli could see. "Pip?"

"Beautiful," the writer whispered.

A false dawn painted the sky in eighteen separate shades of blue. It made her think of Blair, Jim, Mike, and Daniel's eyes. All of them had their own unique eye color.

Maxine pulled Vannelli into her arms, held her friend's hand, and occasionally wiped away her tears. Slowly, the sun rose, and as it brightened the sky, she felt the other woman slipping away.

"Maxine... don't... give up... your dreams." With no machines to tether her to this world, Dolores Honor Vannelli Houston died.

******************************

Blair's guts were being burned out with a white-hot poker. Maxine was going away for a solo trip to scatter Honor's ashes on her estate on Martha's Vineyard. He knew what had not been spoken aloud, that Tate was deciding whether or not to come back to them.

What could they offer her? Children who no one would ever mistake for her own, the loss of her house that had her name on the deed as well as Michelle's, and even missing out on an offer to transfer to Washington D.C. to work in that city's Major Crime unit, complete with a promotion. Maxine didn't know he, Jim, and Michelle knew about that offer, but little got past Jim.

Sandburg walked around the ladies' official bedroom and saw that there were few things Maxine had of her own here. If fact, if it weren't a clothing or a toiletry item, it was not kept here. Sure, they had convinced her it was just temporary, but still where was her stuff, and why hadn't he noticed it before? Even her new computer was in the other house.

Michelle, however, had many of her own touches in this room, the kitchen, the living room, and the family room. Cross was settling in, but Maxine wasn't.

"Chief?" Jim whispered. "She's coming back," he said with conviction. Ellison had cat-footed into the room, unnoticed by Blair.

"She'll return to town, but not necessarily to us," Blair corrected.

Jim put his arms around Sandburg. "She loves us, Chief. She has to come back."

Blair wanted and needed to believe that. He couldn't imagine what Michelle would do if she lost Maxine. Or, for that matter, what he would do. They were a team, but she felt she was the losing player. "God, I hope so. We all need her." But what did Maxine need?

The ride to the airport was quiet. The boys were at home with Edwina, and Blair had nothing to say.

Maxine kissed each of them softly and waved as she boarded the plane. Michelle stayed pressed against the observation glass until the plane was gone. Only then did she moan. It was a tragic sound, starting deep in her soul and bubbling up to her chest where it was trapped.

Blair and Jim placed her between them and held on.

******************************

Maxine had spent the last two days in glorious solitude while reading Honor's universe outlines. "Death Master" may have been the only one written, but she had full outlines for nine more. There was also a detailed universe bible Vannelli had been working on for the last three years. The writer had started it when she had gone from being only HIV positive to having AIDS. A fact she had kept hidden from everyone.

Martha's Vineyard had given Tate just what she needed--a chance to think and a chance to mourn. Sure, she could have mourned at home, but with Michelle, Jim, and Blair near, she wouldn't have been able to think.

The problem was she was no longer a twenty-one year old college graduate, on her way to law school with the world spread before her somewhat large feet. She had made commitments to Michelle, Jim, Blair, and the twins. It meant she could never have children because by the time the boys were out of the house, she would be almost fifty. Far too old to have children.

At least her parents had Kesha to dote on.

Maxine smiled. Her parents also doted on Daniel and Michael. The boys knew a good thing when they saw it, they loved her parents. At least she could give them that.

The only way she would have a child would be if the father was right there in the picture. She had a wonderful dad and believed every child deserved the chance to know both their parents. So no anonymous donor, or, heaven forbid, a chance encounter. That meant her only viable options were Blair and Jim, and they had their family.

So it was Aunt Maxine, and nothing else. Ever. The mental image of her child, her daughter, began to fade. She had known that phantom face since she'd had her first menses.

Going, going, gone. Never to have lived, never to be.

It was all so damn sad.

Maxine was pouring herself a cup of tea, and wondering how Blair had managed to strangle her monster coffee habit when the phone rang. There was nothing like modern electronics to interrupt a perfectly good wallow.

"Tate."

"Maxine, come home," Ellison's voice was ragged.

Fear clutched and twisted her stomach into a knot. "What's wrong?"

"It's Daniel. Blair and Michelle took him to the doctor this morning, but they can't figure out why the little guy keeps crying. He won't sleep so Michael is up too. He's off his food." Jim took a shaky breath. "Please come home. I'm scared, Cookie."

"I'm on my way." Tate hung up the phone and turned off the computer. Living in Honor's house and visiting her friend's invented worlds were wonderful diversions, but it was time to go home. Her personal disappointments had to be pushed aside. Her son and her lovers needed her.

******************************

William Ellison kept stealing glances at the somewhat terrifying Tony Montrose and his... eh, husband, Detective Grant Mitchell. Montrose was somewhat of an enigma. Known to be ruthless in business, he was, however, also considered to be a champion of the downtrodden. Even after one of the downtrodden had tried to kill the man.

He didn't know why, but he had volunteered to meet Maxine Tate at the airport. Yes, he did. Why did he keep lying to himself? Watching Daniel weep, red-faced, and tragic was more than the businessman could take. Mitchell and Montrose had come along because Maxine would have never ridden anywhere with a stranger, no matter how old and harmless he looked.

The Covington Enterprises jet landed smoothly and taxied to the gate. Tate emerged. He had seen her painting and several photographs, but they hardly did the beautiful young woman justice. Mitchell rushed to her side, then led her back to where Montrose and Ellison waited.

Grant introduced them. "Maxine Tate, this is Jim's father, William Ellison."

"It's good to meet you, Sir." She shook his hand and didn't wipe it clean on her dark brown denim pants.

The tone was crisp, professional, and distant. No doubt Miss Tate had heard a blow-by-blow of his "faggot" rant. He had excuses--he was raised that way, he was from a different generation, and he had been shocked. But that obviously wouldn't hold water with the detective who was looking down at him.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Detective Tate. Everyone has spoken so highly of you."

He didn't throw in his own analysis of the morose group who had seen her off just three days before. A palpable sense of dread and hopelessness hung over that house. It made him think of those last days with Grace when he knew the axe was going to fall, but he just didn't know when.

Montrose supplied a meticulous chronological accounting of Daniel's symptoms, which had started the day before.

The child had become increasingly restless and fussy. He turned away from Michelle's nipple, even though Michael, normally the fussier eater, had continued to suckle. Last night, he had wept for his mother, but Michelle had been unable to soothe him. His crying had kept Michael up also. Because of the three-hour difference, they had decided not to call Maxine on the East Coast.

This morning, Daniel had awakened from the little bit of fitful sleep he'd had, still crying. Nothing seemed to soothe the child. They had taken him to his pediatrician for tests. The doctor hadn't put the boy in the hospital because it was too early for that.

Tate had been quiet. Tony left little room for questions because he seemed to have *all* the details fresh in his mind. Montrose's attachment to the twins made Ellison give more credence to the current rumor that the man had found out Blair was his son.

Maxine was out of the car, almost before it quit rolling. She didn't stop for the nanny, Jim, or even her own father as she bounded up the stairs to where Daniel lay.

The child wasn't crying now, just sniffling and still red-faced. Tate lifted him up and sat down in the rocker with him pressed against her chest. William watched as the little boy instantly calmed in her embrace.

"Hi, Daniel. I'm home. Mommy's home."

"Ma," the child whimpered. He mouthed her breast.

Ellison almost turned away, but he couldn't. As he watched, Maxine nursed Daniel. He had no idea she was also breast-feeding the babies.

William moved out of the doorway as it filled with concerned adults. Jim, Blair, and Michelle gathered around the rocking chair, while Tony, Grant, Dan, Janice, and William hung back. Daniel ignored his audience and sucked greedily from Tate.

Like Michelle, Maxine had known when to come home.

******************************

"The doctor thinks it was one of those twenty-four hour things," Blair explained to Simon as they went through the reports on a ritual murder in Seattle.

"You don't sound convinced," Banks noted.

Blair paused over a photo of the amber jewelry that had been clutched in the victim's hand. According to the detective's notes, they thought the victim had taken it from one of his killers. Sandburg was not convinced of that.

The necklace reminded him of something. He would have to research it later. It was now one of the official functions of his foundation to assist the police in matters of the occult. He had three eager grad students to work on the research. "I think he just wanted Maxine to come home." He held the photo toward the captain. "Are there any more shots of this necklace?"

Simon sorted through the photos from the grisly scene. Jim was in court, so Banks was serving as the official filter of the sickening. "How's Danny doing now?"

"He's eating again and sleeps well. The doctor may call it a bug, but I know what it was. He wanted his mother."

Simon placed an only slightly grisly photo with a better close-up of the necklace into the younger man's hand. "I was surprised to see her back to work so soon."

Sandburg put on his glasses and held the magnifying glass over the photo Banks had unearthed. "She's avoiding us until she is no longer angry." He hadn't meant to say that out loud, not to Simon. Not to anyone.

"Why is she angry?" Banks asked.

Blair looked at his friend. Simon was trying to help. "Maxine is being rather closed-mouthed about things. She'll tell us when she's ready and not before."

"Which is no surprise," the captain observed.

"Yeah," Blair nodded. He studied the photo. "This necklace is significant. I don't think that he grabbed it, but rather was holding it when the spasms that paralyzed him took over. Note the arrangement of the beads."

Banks leaned over the photo after placing his glasses on his face. "They increase, then decrease in size."

"Exactly, that represents reincarnation." He glanced at the CD ROM that had come with the paperwork. "Are his medical records included in the package?"

"They should be. What are you looking for?"

"I need to know if the victim was suffering from a fatal disease. Perhaps Serena could spare me a bit of her time to summarize the medical reports for us."

"That's what we're here for." Banks made an entry onto his notepad. "You think he was sick, and they did this so he would be reincarnated?"

"It's an angle, and it would close the circle tighter on the perpetrators, because they would have to know that he was ill."

"I can't believe anyone would volunteer for such a ceremony." Simon shuddered. "He would have been in agony and awake for much of it."

"The ceremony I'm thinking of doesn't require the participation of the victim and is usually performed on the elderly or infirm whom the tribe could no longer support."

Banks grimaced. "Remind me to suck up to my son later tonight."

Sandburg smiled. "You'll never have to worry about that, Simon. Your son loves you, and Katrina worships you." He touched the older man's hand. "How go the wedding preparations?"

"I'm marrying royalty; it's the only explanation for the opulence of the setting, my tux, our wedding rings, and all." He pouted. "I feel so unworthy."

Blair laughed at the comically hangdog look on his friend's face. "I envy you, Simon. At least you can marry your soulmate with the full blessings of the law."

"It'll happen, Sandburg," Banks assured his friend with a light touch to the smaller man's arm.

"Hopefully before Dan and Mike have to push us down the aisle in our wheelchairs."

"Why don't you have a ceremony? Maybe not as grand as Tony and Grant's nuptials, but something like it." He indicated the picture of the wedding party where he had stood up for Montrose.

Sandburg appeared thoughtful. "I'd like that."

"Then ease up on Jim with it," Banks suggested.

"I will." Blair stacked the photos he was taking with him, then grabbed the CD. "I'll stop by the lab, then head back to the foundation, I'll let you know as soon as we have something."

******************************

Grant snuggled in his husband's arms as they lay on the couch in their sitting room. "Maxine went back to their house, not Jim and Blair's," he reported.

"That's two nights in row," Tony added.

"She said it was late, and she didn't want to wake them up."

"That's so lame and totally out of character for Maxine." He sighed. "It looks like I'm going to have to step in and talk to that young woman. She obviously can't tell them what's wrong, maybe she can tell me."

"I love you, Tony," Grant whispered from his comfortable nest. "I'm so glad that you're concerned."

Montrose kissed the top of his husband's head. "You mean I'm nosy, but that I'm so charming no one will call me on it."

"That too." Mitchell shrieked as he was tickled by the shorter man.

"Do you know what I'm going to do to you?" Tony inquired in a mock growl.

Grant batted his lashes and trembled his lower lip. "No," he whispered.

"Then go to the bedroom, strip, and be waiting for me face down on the bed. You're about to find out."

"Yes, Dear," Grant said meekly. He walked hesitantly toward the door after giving one last pleading look to his husband, which was ignored. Once he was through the doors, he dashed to the bathroom, showered, brushed his teeth, and gargled. He barely made it onto the bed before Tony walked in. Mitchell trembled in anticipation of the wonderful lovemaking his older, wiser, and oh so sexy husband would explore with him.

Softly, Al Green began to croon on the stereo. It was his "Let's Stay Together" album, and a classic. Trying to gauge his husband's mood by choice of music was difficult. This particular album could mean that he wanted a slow romantic fuck, or he wanted to pound Mitchell so hard that the younger man shouted like a gospel singer. Either one worked for the detective.

Montrose gently scratched the soles of Grant's feet until every hair on the younger man's legs was standing on end. Then he stopped.

While Mitchell trembled in anticipation, Tony undressed, taking his time so that Grant was ready to beg to be touched again.

The older man licked a wicked trail from Grant's left ankle to the undercurve of his ass. Mitchell waited in anticipation. Anything his husband wanted to do, he would try.

"I love you," Grant whispered.

"Love you too, Buddy," Tony said softly against the small of the taller man's back. The older man's strong fingers traced soft circles across Grant's flesh.

Montrose knelt on the bed between the younger man's spread legs and pushed them further apart. Grant attempted to subdue his moan, but it was useless. Tony was gripping his thighs firmly--possessing and claiming him.

Mitchell looked over his shoulder and gazed at the older man through half-lidded eyes. "Yes," he whispered. He could give everything to Tony--his heart, his love, his trust, his life, and his soul. All was Tony's with nothing held back. Grant turned his head back, content to be his husband's plaything.

"You make me want to bite your beautiful bottom," Montrose confessed.

Grant swayed his hips gently. "Anything, anything at all, my love."

Tony placed the gentlest and most tender of love bites high on Grant's right asscheek. Mitchell immediately went up onto his hands and knees and spread his legs further. "Oh, yeah."

Grant waited and was rewarded by a hot tongue tickling his balls. Slowly, Tony teased the younger man's tightly puckered anus.

Mitchell knew his whole body was shaking, but he couldn't stop. The older man was fully in charge now because Grant had given Tony that role--older, wiser, teacher, husband, prophet.

Grant hissed when he felt the fat head of Tony's cock push against his hole. He relaxed as much as he could in anticipation of it slamming home, but it didn't.

"No, Buddy, just relax. I'm going in slow. We're going to take our time, Sweet One." He kissed the taller man's neck. "This has to last you for three days while I'm in New York."

"May I turn around?" Grant asked shyly. "I want to watch you take me."

"Turn over onto your back," Tony commanded.

Mitchell rolled over onto his back, lifted and spread his knees. He watched while Tony applied more lubricant to his sheathed cock.

Grant tried, with no real success, to get the smile off his face as he watched the intricate care that his husband used to enter him. It was as if the older man still believed Mitchell was the nervous virgin whom he had taken to bed so many months ago.

"I won't break, Little One," he assured the heavier man.

"But I will," Montrose countered as he dipped inside Grant. "I could shatter from just being so close to you." Tony gripped the taller man's strong thighs and plowed in and out.

"Oh, oh," Grant whimpered as he strained against the larger man. He worked his hips so that he was meeting every thrust of his partner.

"Stroke yourself, Grant," Montrose demanded in silky, caressing tones. "I need to see you do it." Mitchell gripped the base of his cock and pumped. "No, Baby, slower. Take it slow."

Mitchell forced his hand to slow and matched the gentle rocking of Tony. Full. That was the word. He was full--full of cock and full of love for the man who was pleasuring him so thoroughly. "Yes!" he gasped as his husband's cock hit the perfect spot inside him. Grant nearly shot through the ceiling. His hips thrust upward of their own accord.

"That's it, Baby. Move those hips," Tony demanded. "Show me how much you want it."

How could Tony be so calm, when Grant was ready to scream, bite, claw, howl, tear the sheets, draw blood, and just fucking go mad? Mitchell tried to get out a coherent word and failed.

"I know what you need, my love. Your husband knows." Again, Tony used those wonderful commanding and understanding tones. 'Yes, love,' Grant thought. 'Give me what I need. Give it to me! I demand it!'

Tony lowered Grant's right leg and pushed his left leg further back, tilting his pelvis. Montrose pushed deep into the smaller man. Grant was taking more of the older man's weight and more of his cock. So deep, so wonderfully deep.

With a growl, Grant began thrusting wildly against the larger man. His position kept him from using his strength against Tony.

"Please," Mitchell managed to beg. "Please."

Montrose withdrew, spread Grant's legs wide, and plunged back home. The head of Tony's cock was hitting the smaller man's prostate with every stroke now. Grant released his cock and held the older man's shoulders instead. He looked into his husband's eyes, and Tony became his entire world.

"Cum on my cock, Love. Cum on my cock."

Mitchell's cum flew in a high arc to land on his chest as he obeyed his husband's command.

Tony managed five more deep thrusts before his entire body stiffened. He came with a guttural moan that seemed to shake both their bodies.

Grant lowered his legs and settled Tony on his chest. They would need a bath, but that was for later. Right now, he just wanted to feel his husband safe and sated in his arms.

"Love you, Buddy," Tony whispered.

"I love you, my precious Little One."

******************************

Maxine stumbled down the stairs to answer the door. It was just six in the morning, and she had only had two hours sleep, if that much. Tony Montrose was standing impatiently on the steps.

"Tony, it's six in the morning," she complained.

"Yes, I know, but my plane leaves at nine and I don't have much time."

Tate tried to clear her head. "Is something wrong?"

"Yes, dear, there is something wrong." Montrose took the taller woman by the arm and led her into the living room.

"Is it Grant?" Maxine asked before a yawn overtook her. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's not Grant, Dear. In fact, he was still sacked out when I left him. It took all my discipline to leave him when he started clutching." The businessman smiled.

"I'm sure he was cute, Tony, but what's the problem?" Tate asked impatiently.

"The problem is that you're here, and Michelle, Jim, and Blair are somewhere else. Obviously, you can't talk to them, but you can and will talk to me," he said sternly.

Maxine smirked. "That tone might work real well with Grant, but it does nothing for me." She crossed her arms and applied her 'stubborn and unmoved' expression.

Montrose never blinked. You had to give the man credit. "Are you leaving them?"

"No," Maxine answered, shocked. "Why would you think that?"

Montrose nodded like the sage he pretended to be. "Like I said, you're here, and they are somewhere else." He sighed. "Is it losing your friend, or something else?"

"It's just something I have to get over, Tony. I'm not leaving them. I love Michelle. I couldn't live without her, but that love and commitment means I'll have to put aside something I want. It hurts now, it hurts a lot. But I'll get over it." Maxine sounded so convincing to herself, she was sure most of her believed it. That faded face would eventually stop haunting her.

"What dream are you putting to rest to stay with Michelle? I can't image what that could be."

She almost kept it inside, almost. "Children, Tony. I wanted kids. My kids. But being with Michelle already put that on the back burner, and now the twins are here, that means I can never have children of my own."

Montrose nodded. "You think having two is more than enough."

Tate sighed, and shot to her feet, and tightened the belt to her robe until it almost hurt. "Eventually, they will realize I am no kin to them, and I will become Aunt Maxine."

"Maxine, I don't believe that. Do you think for one moment Michelle or Blair or even Jim would allow Daniel or Michael to treat you like an aunt?"

"No, they won't." She flopped back down on the couch. "It's stupid, isn't it? With the world almost overrun with people, why do I want to add one more?"

"Because you're human, Max. You're very human." He hugged the tall woman to him. "Do me a favor."

"What?" she asked, her voice muffled by Montrose's coat.

"Ask Jim and Blair what they think about having another child. I know if you came to me and said you wanted to have a child with me, I would be so excited."

Maxine smiled. "Thanks, Tony, but Grant would murder me in a very messy manner."

Montrose gently rocked Maxine. "We would have to go the artificial insemination route, because if you so much as dented my pillow he would explode."

"It's *always* the quiet ones," she observed from her safe nest in Tony's arms.

******************************

Maxine slipped into the house and climbed into bed with her lovers. Tony had convinced her to go to her lovers and talk to them. Just as she pulled the covers up, Jim pulled her closer and nearly squeezed the breath out of her. Then he relaxed. She had started to drift off when Daniel started calling for his parents.

"Hey!" he shouted. The baby monitor faithfully reproduced every nuance of that single syllable that demanded, in no particular order, attendance, food, a clean diaper, and cuddles.

Daniel preferred a baby version of reveille, a definite Jim trait, while Michael preferred to wait patiently because he knew his place in the universe, a Michelle trait.

Maxine covered her head with a pillow.

"Your turn, Michelle," Jim muttered.

"Da!" Daniel demanded.

"He's looking for someone with a deeper voice," Michelle countered.

"Hey!" Daniel repeated.

Blair rolled out of bed, grabbed Maxine's robe, and put it on inside out. As he puzzled over the implications of the length and the lack of pockets, he headed toward the stairs. "Daddy's coming," he assured his child as he began the climb.

The twins began babbling excitedly as soon as Blair entered the nursery. Knowing that Sandburg would have his hands full, Maxine got up.

So much for sleep.

Michael wrestled the spoon out of Jim's hand and attempted to feed himself. It was a noble attempt and some food actually made it into his mouth, the rest slid down his cheeks and bib. The child was inordinately pleased with himself.

Maxine watched the battle go on in Jim's eyes. Michael must learn to feed himself, but what a mess.

Daniel was content to be fed by Blair while Michelle read the financial section to him like it was a fairy tale.

"And then the evil East Coast Telephone Giant, stomped down on the village of internet providers and demanded twice their normal fees." Cross lowered the paper. "Boo," she hissed.

"Boo," Daniel repeated.

Michelle smiled in triumph. "The cowardly internet providers instantly began to rob and pillage their loyal customers who had been with them through computer crashes, power outages, and jammed lines during peak hours."

Daniel hung on every word. "Boo?" he offered.

"Right, Sweetheart, boo."

"Michelle, you know he doesn't understand a word you're saying," Jim interrupted as he attempted to coax the spoon away from his splattered child.

"No, no, no, no, no," Michael said as he sent a spoonful of oatmeal flying over his shoulder and onto the formerly clean floor.

Jim looked so injured that Maxine just turned away and tried desperately not to laugh.

"You know, Jim, Michael is displaying advanced motor skills," Blair explained.

"Are you saying I should let him mop up?" Ellison asked sarcastically.

During Jim's moment of distraction, Mike banged his tray with his fist and sent the rest of the contents to the floor. He looked down at the gooey mess and wailed.

"Why are you crying?" Ellison asked exasperated, as he went for a sponge to clean up.

"Because his food is on the floor, and he's hungry," Michelle interpreted. She went back to her corporate story. "A bright and shining knight of a corporation called, mysteriously, Covington Internet Services, a division of Covington Systems, a.k.a. 'The Good Guys' swept in among the beleaguered customers and fended off the rampaging two bit, or in this case, sixteen bit providers with weapons called T3 lines, compressed video, and on-site backup, thus saving the day." Cross folded the paper. "Wasn't that a great story?" she asked her sons.

The boys had no response.

Blair wiped off Daniel's mouth, then turned to Michael and offered him a spoonful of oatmeal. The little boy took it eagerly.

"He lets you feed him?" Ellison asked from the floor.

"Well, all that activity has burned up his reserves," Blair explained. "He needs food now."

Maxine waited until Jim finished cleaning and made it back to the table, where his own breakfast was undoubtedly cold. "Jim, how are you feeling these days? Any problems with your senses?"

"No," Ellison answered quickly.

"Then maybe Michelle and I should head back home," she suggested casually.

"Is that why you're upset with us?" Blair asked as he held the spoon of food just out of Michael's reach. "You want to go home?" Mike began to fuss until Sandburg fed him.

"I'm not upset with you, I just have some of my own issues to work through. Besides, this living arrangement was supposed to be temporary, Guys, but we've been here for *weeks*. I think we need to go home."

"You don't have to leave," Jim said.

"But we should," Michelle said. "Maxine's right, we need to go home."

"What things are you working through?" Blair asked as he cleaned up Michael.

Maxine looked around at all their eager faces. It was time to act like a grownup and stop sulking. She wasn't doing herself any good, and she was hurting the people closest to her.

"Honor asked me about my dreams and whether I was pursuing them," Maxine began. "I wasn't. At least not the dreams I had in college. Some don't fit anymore and one... well, it just won't happen."

"Which one is that?" Michelle asked quietly.

"Having a baby." Maxine continued quickly. "But in another year or so, I'll probably change my mind, so--" Her next utterance was cut off by Blair squeezing her so tightly she feared she would pass out.

"Oh, yes. Oh, Maxine, it will be wonderful. With your height combined with mine, we should *still* have a fairly tall child. I'm hoping for a daughter. We would have a beautiful daughter. Now we need a beautiful name to go with our beautiful daughter. Something that sounds good with Sandburg. Maybe--"

"Blair?" Tate interrupted. Sandburg released her so quickly that Maxine nearly toppled out of the chair. She looked up into his eyes and was stunned to see the pain there.

"I see, you don't want me to be the father." The professor's shoulders dropped. "Who did you have in mind? Someone tall and buff?"

"African-American?" Jim asked, looking almost as hurt as Blair. "Someone like Teddy 'I Can't Take A Hint'?"

Maxine grabbed Sandburg's hand. "Don't be silly. Oh course I'd want you or Jim to be the father, Honey. I was just surprised you would want another child." She pointed at the boys, who were squirming to get out of their high chairs so they could hit the floor crawling. "I thought you would consider your family complete."

"Well, yes, they are a matched set," Jim said. "But we really need a daughter around here."

"We could take her to the ballet," Sandburg offered.

"Michelle could teach her to trample down the masses and raid corporations," Ellison countered.

"Or she could also become a *scholar*," Blair said smoothly.

"But if she's anything like her mother, she would make an *excellent* cop," Jim suggested.

"*Honey*, don't you think we have enough cops in this family?" the professor asked in a slightly irritated tone.

Michelle grabbed up Michael and signaled for Maxine to do the same with Daniel. "Let's make a break for it," she suggested. "This *talk* can only end in two ways--a shouting match or rutting on the floor. Either way, I don't want the boys to see it." The two women tiptoed out of the kitchen with their sons.

"The world needs cops, *Dear*," Ellison continued.

"And they need scholars, artists, and--" Blair was interrupted.

The ladies had barely made it into the family room before the sound of dishes hitting Jim's floor came from the kitchen. Someone flopped heavily onto the table.

"Say it?" Jim demanded. "Say it, now."

"Jack-booted thug!" Blair shouted.

"Careful, my little Love Slave, or I might be forced to take what I want." The words were accompanied by the sound of tearing cloth.

"Hey, that was *my* robe," Maxine complained. "Teddy gave me that for my birthday."

"Don't you dare, you brute!" Sandburg shouted. More cloth was torn and still more dishes hit the floor.

"Good riddance. Gifts from old boyfriends should be burned," Michelle muttered darkly. "Especially old boyfriends who live in town and still call."

"Don't you *dare* kiss my nipples. DON'T, Don't, don't," Blair's protests wound down to pathetic moans of submission.

Maxine sighed. "Micki, Teddy is a *friend*."

"Who once asked you to marry him," Cross added.

"Where's the lube?" Jim shrieked.

Sandburg babbled incoherently and was no help in the securing of lube.

"Pantry, second shelf, on the right," Michelle called, helpfully.

"Micki, that was three years ago, and I turned him down," Tate said, returning to their conversation.

"Teddy still hasn't given up," Michelle appended.

"But I belong to you," Maxine said sweetly. "Totally to you."

Cross drew the larger woman in for a long and passionate kiss. They lowered onto the floor beside the twins. The boys laughed and clapped.

"Fuck me, Officer! Fuck me, now!" Sandburg begged between grunts.

"Rutting," Maxine muttered against the smaller woman's lips.

******************************

William McBride followed the dark blue Crown Victoria as it left the Barstow estate. He had one last detail to attend to before he left the country--he had to kill Michelle Covington-Cross.

"Sir, I think this is a bad idea," his driver said as they closed in on the other car. "We only have a little time to get you to your rendezvous so you can get out of the country."

"Shut up and drive. I want to see the bitch's eyes when she realizes it was me who killed her." Cross had cost him his brother, his wife, his money, and very nearly his freedom. Brought down by a woman. There could be no greater shame. Therefore, there should be no mercy. She would die with his hands around her slender throat.

Michelle glanced in her rearview mirror the moment the gray Range Rover pulled in behind them. "We've got trouble."

Maxine turned around and spotted the vehicle tailing them. "It's McBride." She flipped open her cell phone. "Blair, we're being followed by William McBride." The detective paused. "I know we can outrun him, Sport, but we also happen to have the *kids* in the back seat." She checked her gun. "And ask the Justice Department how they lost him."

"How are the boys doing?" Cross asked as she picked up speed.

Maxine looked behind her. "They're looking at each other in some baby staring contest."

"They're communicating. It's the only explanation."

Tate gaped. "Honey, Naomi is ruining you. They're looking at each other because it's fun to look at each other." She resisted the urge to snort derisively.

"One day you will not be *so* sure about that. I *know* they're communicating."

It wasn't worth arguing over. Parents had all sorts of strange ideas about their kids. "Fine, they're *communicating*." She looked behind them. "I want you to floor it until we get to Piedmont Road, then I want you to let me out. Keep going, and don't look back."

"Maxine! I can't just leave you," Michelle gasped.

"You can, and you will. McBride has lost it all, he'll kill those boys just to let you see them die. I won't have it." She extracted Cross's emergency gun from underneath the passenger seat, then removed Michelle's primary gun from her purse and laid it on the seat between them. Tate gave a final glance at the boys, but didn't linger on the sight.

Michelle peeled out at over 140 MPH until they got to Piedmont. Maxine kissed her cheek before the car slowed, then leapt out. Cross left quickly.

Tate took cover behind the boulders that marked the entrance to the edge of the Cascade National Forest and waited. McBride's vehicle was totally eclipsed as far as speed was concerned by the Crown Victoria. Michelle had put a significant gap between the two automobiles, even after dropping off Maxine.

The detective shot out the front tires, the windshield, and passenger window of the Range Rover. The process used up her entire clip of armor piercing bullets. The vehicle was reinforced with kevlar and bullet resistant glass. Even the tires were meant to run flat. The truck careened off the road and slid on its side onto the embankment.

Almost immediately, a bloody and screaming McBride was out of the shattered truck, firing wildly with an AK47. This was bad; as the detective was now seriously outclassed in the weapons category.

"Come on, Jim and Blair. Any time now," Tate muttered as she fired a single shot from her second weapon. She felt chips flying off the rocks as McBride continued to fire.

Tate slapped her second and final clip into her primary weapon and shot McBride in the arm. A second shot hit him in the stomach. The kevlar wearing gangster returned fire.

The sound of the shots was coming closer. Maxine rolled right and fired, striking McBride in the left eye. The gangster's finger continued to spasm on the trigger as the once dapper don fell to the ground. The bullets from his own weapon shredded his leg.

Ellison and Sandburg arrived just in time to see this very grisly sight.

******************************

"So she jumps out of the speeding car," Brown explained to the wide-eyed junior detective, Janet Hunter, from Juvenile, "and did this martial arts style roll behind this teeny-tiny pile of rocks. She had just two bullets left."

"Lord," Janet whispered, as she moved closer to the edge of the chair she had moved to stand in front of Brown's desk.

Henry waited until the noise of the bullpen had risen enough to cover their conversation. "Meanwhile, McBride had this AK47 that he was emptying in her direction."

Hunter looked back at Detective Tate. "It's a miracle she's still alive."

"The Justice Department is taking quite a drubbing in the press for letting him escape," Henry said sagely. "Michelle and the babies could have been killed." The big detective shuddered over the danger that had surrounded his beloved "nephews."

"Go on with the story," Janet prompted.

"Bravely, she executed another martial arts roll, came to her feet, and plugged the man right between the eyes." Henry's expression conveyed that justice had been served and order was certainly restored to the universe at that moment. "Of course, she learned all those moves since coming to our department. Vice was under using her talents."

"It's a shame she still has to go through a coroner's inquest in what was clearly self-defense."

"That's the law," Brown noted.

Maxine rose from her desk to greet two men.

"Who's that?" Hunter asked in a hush.

Henry smiled at the totally wasted drool on the young woman's chin. "The curly haired one is her... boyfriend, Dr. Blair Sandburg. You're new, so you haven't met him. The other man is Tate's lawyer, a rather frightening character named Tyler Brandt."

Blair knocked on the captain's door and went inside. "Hi, Simon. I have the research I promised you. It was a resurrection ceremony, and the victim had an inoperable brain tumor."

Banks shuddered. "I'll pass this on to Seattle. Good work, Sandburg."

"That's what we're here for."

Simon hesitated, then spoke. "How are things now that Maxine and Michelle moved back home?"

Blair smiled. "They're fine, Simon. Better now that everything is out in the open. Don't get me wrong, we miss them, but it was only supposed to be a stop gap while Jim controlled his zoneouts."

"How's he doing?"

"Fine. If the ladies don't have us over for dinner, or they don't have supper with us, we call them so he can touch base with them."

Simon smiled. "Good, I'm glad things are working out for all of you. I was worried."

Sandburg nodded. "So was I."

Banks looked out into the bullpen and moaned--Philip O'Connor strolled in with the mayor in tow. "What's he doing here?"

"Someone must have reported that they saw you smiling, so they dispatched these two to kill the joy in your life," Blair deadpanned.

Simon laughed. "You are so wicked."

"I know," the professor teased.

The mayor knocked lightly. "Captain Banks, Philip and I wanted to escort Detective Tate to the courthouse in a show of solidarity."

"Really?" asked the captain. "When did they become a couple?" the big man muttered to Sandburg.

Blair's lip trembled as he barely managed to keep from laughing. "You do realize that the late Mr. McBride's associates will no doubt be watching this proceeding?"

"Yes, but we want everyone to know I believe in my people," the mayor said firmly.

"Besides, it will give me wonderful insight for the script I'm writing," O'Connor interrupted.

"In which no one else will appear," Banks muttered for Blair's sake.

"What?" the mayor asked.

"Having such a skill will help his career," Banks repeated, firmly.

"Exactly," O'Connor agreed. The actor rushed out to Tate's desk and spoke to her.

Maxine looked beseechingly over the man's shoulder at her captain. Simon shrugged.

******************************

Naomi sank down on the lounge chair beside William Ellison. The shimmery blue silk fabric of her tightly wrapped dress split wide to reveal her impressive long legs.

Family and friends were gathered around the Montrose indoor pool. It was an informal party for Simon and Katrina, given by Tony in celebration of their upcoming wedding.

William smiled at her. "You look very beautiful in that sarong," he noted.

"Thank you." Naomi leaned toward the older man. "William, I wanted to thank you for getting Brandt to represent Maxine."

Ellison looked surprised. "It was nothing. Tyler and I go way back. Besides, Maxine did what she had to do to protect our grandchildren. That means a lot to me."

"I know, I just wanted to say 'thank you' anyway." She petted his hand.

William blushed. "You're welcome, and *please* call me Bill."

"Okay, Bill." She smiled, then turned as the stereophonic chortling of the boys could now be heard. Maxine and Michelle walked in wearing identically cut dark red bathing suits. Several of the men made appreciative noises.

The boys were adorable dressed as little sailors. Daniel's suit was dark blue and Michael's was light blue. Though twins, they were never dressed exactly alike.

The boys were placed in their sandbox that Grant had gotten for them to their obvious delight. They immediately began to burrow in.

Michael held up his sand covered fingers to Maxine and said "Ma!" quite plainly. Tate hugged the little boy fiercely.

Naomi turned to find William wiping away a tear. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," the older man stammered. "I was just thinking of all the mistakes I made with my boys. I drove their mother away and then used them as hostages to get her back. In the end, I lost them all." They watched Stephen sneak up on the boys, make a silly face and a sillier noise, then grab up Daniel for a hug.

"It's not too late, Bill," Naomi soothed. "It's not too late to make things right between you as long as all three of you are still alive."

"I hope so, because there is something I want from my boys. More than all the money and power." He closed his eyes as if in prayer.

"What's that?" Naomi asked softly.

"They called me Father and, occasionally, Dad, but just once, I would like them to call me Daddy. I made them call me Dad when they were little. Daddy made them sound weak, and my boys couldn't be weak. It was a mistake."

"The title 'Daddy' has to be earned from a grown child," Naomi said knowledgeably.

William nodded. "I know. Will you help me? If not for me, then for my grandsons."

She squeezed the older man's hands. "Of course I will, Bill."

The End