The cusp of summer was a hot, inopportune time for a young boy's birthday. With school out of session, Jayce Whelan Pierce's classmates were harder to round up than a herd of cats - not to mention most parents were unwilling or unable to take time off to chaperone during the oppressive swelter that had come on the neighborhood as summer heat laid down with a vengeance. Flush with the close of a successful contract, Rue Pierce offered his son the choice of a birthday dinner anywhere in the city.

"Joxster's!" Jayce had cried with glee, frowning as Rue assumed a somewhat pained expression. The boy was still young enough to consider an evening crowned by a stop at that fast-food establishment to be a great dinner out. Of course, it didn't help that Rue or Cal typically provided table fare by a stop for take-out on the way home.

"You know when you're seven, you're almost a man," Cal told his son solemnly. "How about a nice restaurant, like one of those fancy places we've never been?" At that, the frown had smoothed from Rue's face; for all the inconvenience of a partner who could seemingly read someone's mind, sometimes that had advantages.

"Oh, a grown-up place, like fine dining," Jayce said with a sage nod. "I'll find someplace good! I heard Liss telling us about a place she went when her parents took her to Broadway."

That brought them to the evening of the eleventh, and the Pierce household was putting the finishing touches to get ready for a night out on the town. After consulting with his more knowledgeable peers - though Jayce had never been to a fancy restaurant, they were well-off enough that he attended a school with friends who had - and some web research, he had triumphantly delivered the name of his choice. Somewhat bemused, Rue had placed reservations for the upscale Tully's. In order to score a reservation there, he'd actually needed to call in a favor from one of his contacts. Jayce had chosen one of the best, most expensive places within three city rings.

Jayce owned a dapper little suit Rue had purchased for the holiday school production, and amazingly had not outgrown it. He waited on an armchair in the living room, short legs swinging over the edge, flipping channels with unblinking intensity as Cal and Rue argued in soft growls at the border of kitchen and living room. He was used to that sort of thing as background noise; it was like the hum of a motor in good working order, sound with no fury.

"Stand still so that I can tie this properly or I'll choke you with it," Rue threatened, twitching the two long sections of tie to emphasize their respective positions. His tone was irritated, no doubt at least partly due to the fact that he had to reach up to put himself in a position to secure the tie. Rue despised being put in what he saw as the "inferior" position.

Cal shifted from one foot to the other and did his best to hold still, big hands forming loose fists at his sides. "I don't see why I have to wear a tie at all," he complained, aware his tone bordered on a whine but put out enough not to care. "Jayce looks cute in a tie, you look great as usual, but it doesn't suit me at all - and I'm probably going to tear it off halfway through dinner, anyhow."

"You have to wear a tie," Rue said between clenched teeth, blue-green eyes sparking dangerously as he tilted his head to look Cal right in the face. "This is Tully's we're going to."

Cal blinked. When Rue was serious enough to meet his gaze full-on without looking away or flinching, it was either worth rejoicing or he was knee-deep in the shit. He didn't entirely understand why it was such a big deal that he wear a noose around his neck for three to five hours, but if Rue was going to give him the killing frost gaze, Cal figured he had better capitulate. It was that, or dispel any chance of getting laid for the rest of the evening.

"Please help me put it on?" Cal said meekly, bending forward a bit - but not so much as to seem as if he was humoring his already-exasperated partner.

One ocean-blue eye cocked up at him dubiously, as if assessing him for sarcasm anyhow, but Rue's strong fine-boned fingers were deft as he worked, flipping the tie around and crossing and over, knotting it expertly and then smoothing it down the front of Cal's pressed white shirt. A small frown settled on Rue's face as he looked Cal over with a critical eye.

"You're good at that," Cal praised, remaining still until he'd passed inspection.

Rue met his eyes briefly, not pleased but not disconcerted, either. He was getting better at looking at Cal, Cal thought happily. Maybe Jess was right and eventually he'd wear Rue's resistance down until they had a more or less normal relationship.

"You'll do, I guess," Rue acknowledged, then his eyes slid away and his shoulders sang with tension as he turned for the living room. There was a familiar unhappy discomfort in the line of his body, the way that he moved, and Cal stifled a sigh. As Rue's eyes had moved over Cal he'd scented a flare of arousal, which was promptly followed by the shut-down that always followed, as if Rue's own resistance quenched desire before the mind could register it was even there.

Then again, maybe this uneasy truce was the best it would get and he was lucky Rue had never seriously followed through on any attempts to kick him out.

"Jayce, let's get going," Rue said, resting his hands on the boy's shoulders.

Jayce tipped his head back, grinning up at his self-proclaimed "daddy" - Cal was "dad" - and turning off the television with a flick of his finger. "Yay, I can't wait!" he enthused. "And I'm hungry."

"Me, too!" Cal exclaimed, slipping his wafer-thin wallet into the inner jacket pocket of the suit Rue had picked out for him. Never having the occasion to wear one, his partner had ordered the thing to Cal's specifications and had it sent to the house before Cal hardly realized. He sorted out the car-wand for his Jeep from the jumble of semi-precious stones, Rue's car-wand, and a few scattered runes that inhabited a shallow bowl on a tall table just inside the entryway, and paused beside Rue, grinning as he looked over the two handsome fellows that comprised the center of his life and heart.

Jayce had turned seven that day. He was a slight, beautiful creature with a delicate bone structure that came from his mother, but his dark hair and wide, dark eyes were all Cal and his lovely, large-eyed face was a handsome blend of both parents. His hair was long, tumbling around his cherubic face and shoulders because no matter how many times Rue tried to finagle him into more than a trim, Jayce held firm: he preferred it long. Today it was pulled back in a gentlemanly tail. For his seventh "almost a man" birthday he wore a three-piece suit with a light ivory dress shirt beneath a dove-grey vest, and a charcoal jacket and trousers. He had been allowed to open two presents that morning, one from each of them, and the flat links of the sterling silver dress-watch from Rue circled one slender wrist snugly.

Rue Pierce was a man of average height but striking looks. He stood nearly half a head shorter than Cal's 6'4 height and seemed to harbor a perpetual grudge over the difference. Though he was a freelance cyber-Wiccan, he was more often mistaken by colleagues and new acquaintances for a successful young businessman, or (usually) a model. He had the high cheekbones and full lower lip, unfortunately pulled more often into a scowl or pout rather than the wide, dazzling smile he was capable of bestowing. Tonight he was well-turned out in a pale grey suit that complemented the light vest of Jayce's suit, and his navy tie scattered in pinprick maroon diamonds was an answering note to Cal's navy suit and burgundy vest. Cal looked him up and down for a long moment, taking advantage of the fact that Rue's back was turned. His lithe, strong body, firmly muscled but not overly packed with it, was enough to get Cal's pulse going simply by looking at him. Rue wasn't like other guys he'd been with before, but he was everything and the only thing he wanted now.

The object of his regard looked over his shoulder to see Cal focused on him, gaze playing over him like a touch and a thin wash of color rose into his cheeks; he turned abruptly, a hand on Jayce's shoulder to guide him to the door. "Let's go, we can't be late for our reservations."

"I'm driving," Cal spoke up, lifting a hand.

"I figured," Rue responded, dry.

They piled into Cal's Jeep after a minor scuffle over whether the top would be left down. It was, Cal reasoned, swimmingly hot; he had begun to perspire from the moment he'd donned the dress shirt, let alone full suit. Rue argued that putting the top down would undo all the work they'd put into grooming themselves for a fine dinner out. Jayce settled it with a wistful statement on how nice it would be to feel the breeze as they drove after the heat of the day.

Tully's was an upscale restaurant in one of the innermost city rings. One of its many claims to fame was its longevity - one of the few establishments that could boast its founding before the Rising. It was also, Rue had told them, a place where the wealthy and influential dined and it was famous for cuisine par excellence.

They made use of the valet parking at the entrance and joined the throng of people near the door. Cal twitched the sleeve of Rue's suit and leaned in. "We do have reservations?"

"Of course," Rue growled, but didn't pull out of his hold. "Tully's is in high demand, so even with a reservation it'll take some time to get seated."

"Oh." Cal thought about that for a moment, patted Jayce's shoulder, and scanned the bevy of people lingering at the bar and in the luxurious entry-way. Most of them had cocktail or wineglasses in their hands. "Want a drink?"

Rue cast a wary look over his shoulder at him.

"Just while we're waiting," Cal assured him earnestly. He didn't wonder why Rue had a problem with him imbibing alcohol - anything smacking of the lessening of inhibitions usually spelled trouble for Rue.

Rue cocked an eyebrow. "Got money?"

"I'll go get the drinks," Cal said with a grin. He ruffled Jayce's hair in passing and his son squawked and batted at his hand, shooting an anxious look at Rue.

Cal always knew where he stood in his little family. He could dominate in the bedroom, but Rue was the master of the house. He slipped through the crowd, careful not to jostle any of the fragile beings; it was too easy to hurt a full-blooded, normal human so best not to touch. He picked up a mango mojito for himself and a lime mojito for Rue, knowing his partner preferred the tart over the sweet, and put it in Rue's hand before he realized he'd returned.

Rue started, then gave him the eye. "It shouldn't be too much longer," he said, without commenting over the sleight of hand Cal had pulled. He raised his glass to sip from it and Cal stepped into him, clinking his glass against the rim of the tall iced cocktail. Rue raised his brows.

"To Jayce's birthday," Cal said quietly, and they drank to that while their boy stood between them, a hand in each of theirs.

The crowd in the foyer had thinned by the time a tall, richly gorgeous woman in a low-cut black dress and long-sleeved, deep red satin jacket showed them to a table on the far side of a sea of tables covered in golden brocade tablecloths. Each table featured a tall arrangement of camellias on green ivy twining thick on a twisting golden trellis, ringed in a circle of glowing white tea-lights. The effect, as they followed the hostess, was of walking through a sea of stars at sunset.

Jayce was all huge eyes as they settled into their seats, drinking up the sumptuous sights around them with all of the wonderment and awe a boy of seven could contain at entering such fabulous surroundings. In all honesty, Cal was sure his eyes were just about as wide as his son's, because he'd never been in a place like this, had only seen its like on movies and so forth.

With a polite smile, the gorgeous hostess leaned over Rue to offer the wine list, flashing more than the tidal scent of perfume. She straightened and blanched as she met Cal's eyes, twitching as if she might flee rather than pass over the menus, and Cal had to force himself to smooth his expression into something less feral. Another thing made difficult between them, he mused as the hostess beat a hasty retreat after passing both menus to Jayce and leaving the boy to distribute. Rue gave him a quizzical look and Cal shrugged, dropping his eyes to the elaborate pile of napkin on his plate, folded into tortuously sculptural lines. Cal had never had much use for women, even before his single traumatic experience with Trish. Rue, on the other hand...Cal had sensed the quickening of Rue's interest for a pretty female face or glimpse of thigh or breasts on occasion. That was only partly related to his tendency to mark Rue's body on a constant basis, but he knew his possessiveness didn't help.

Rue cocked an eyebrow at him, the corner of his mouth tugging up in the closest he got to an encouraging smile for Cal, and Cal brightened, coming close to knocking his near-empty cocktail glass over the golden tablecloth as he lifted one hand in a quick enthusiastic wave. Rue shook his head infinitesimally, rolling his eyes, and flipped open the wine list, perusing it with a critical eye.

"What's this one, Dad?" Jayce asked, leaning over and shoving his menu into Cal's table space. He pointed.

"Oh," Cal said, squinting. "Escargot." He knew enough not to pronounce the final 't.'

"But what is it?"

"Snails, broiled in butter and garlic and parsley," Rue supplied from across the table. "They're tender and savory, really good."

Jayce pulled a face. "Aw, but they're a starter, and I wanted to try the seared cheeses, Liss said they were really great."

"You could get it as a side," Cal suggested, then raised his brows inquiringly at Rue, who nodded with a hint of the boyish grin of which he was capable. Cal had to clamp down on a surge of emotion better suited for a private locale.

A slim young thing in black cigarette pants and a crisp white shirt materialized to Cal's right, giving Cal a friendly smile that managed to seem attentive and not like an appraisal - which it was. Their waiter was a sleek auburn-haired boy, college-age, hovering at the edge of the table with hands clasped behind his back. He introduced himself in a low mellow voice and Cal promptly forgot his name; Rue was glaring at him.

"Two glasses of the Cave Spring Riesling Reserve '49," Rue said coldly, keeping his grip on the wine list and crooking a finger at Jayce.

"Iced tea," Jayce said, scrunching down behind his menu.

"Very good," their waiter murmured, and hesitated a beat. "Can I bring an order for any starters to the kitchen?"

Rue listed off their selections - Jayce's seared cheese plate, foie gras and dungeness crab cakes in pickled ginger and tobiko aioli to share - then snapped his menu shut. The waiter made a discreet retreat, but not without a last favoring glance for Cal.

With a sigh, Cal downed the last of his mojito. At least Rue had relaxed enough to order a glass of wine for both of them, but now he wouldn't even look at him and his jaw was tight, mouth thinned down. His lover of two and a half years couldn't even admit to himself that he was jealous of a beautiful random stranger, let alone cope with it. It would take all the enjoyment out of an amazing dinner. At least the hostess was gone and wouldn't be wafting her perfumed bosom before Rue's nose again; the waiter would be back and forth and Rue would probably drink more than he should and get angrier with each solicitous visit and at the end of the night Cal might not get laid.

A runner delivered the wine and Jayce's iced tea to the table, providing welcome respite, and they settled into a comfortable reading of the menu. Every so often Jayce would lean to either side of him, asking one of them to clarify an item or read a word for him. He settled on prime rib with sauteed seasonal vegetables to go along with his side of escargot, and Rue expressed a desire to try out the cedar-planked salmon with grilled asparagus.

"I've never had lobster," Cal said wistfully, scanning the seafood selection. He wanted something from the sea tonight; usually, his fish or shellfish choice came fried and dropped into a paper bag.

"Lobster is fantastic - this would be a good place to order it, give it a try," Rue replied with a nod.

When the slim auburn-haired waiter came back, Rue didn't look up as plates were delivered and they placed their orders. Slight improvement, until he thrust the wine list in the boy's general direction and growled an order for a particular red to be delivered with the main courses.

This time, Cal bit down on his inner cheek to prevent an inappropriate smile. He couldn't help it.

They took bits from the three starter plates and shared them out, including the seared cheese Jayce decided to share after all. After tiny bites, Cal and Jayce deeded the rest of the foie gras to Rue, who had downed his white and looked around as if expecting another. After sharing out the starters and chatting about their plans for the weekend - which Jayce was anxiously pushing in a direction toward the underground amusement park - things were considerably more relaxed. A runner cleared their plates and another delivered the red, which Rue left untouched in favor of snagging a piece of bread from the basket before Jayce and Cal demolished the remainder.

"Smile, Daddy!" Jayce enjoined, holding up his cell phone, and Rue flashed that engaging model-calibre boyish grin. Jayce grinned back, then turned to snap a picture of Cal, already smiling in pure delight. When a runner came with Rue and Jayce's plates, he passed over the phone to the man to get a family picture. Cal had to leave his seat and kneel between Rue and Jayce to get all three of them in the frame without the obstruction of the camellia and ivy trellised centerpiece.

"And the lobster," the waiter said, delivering the plate at Cal's elbow. He clasped his hands behind his back and surveyed their table. "Is everything all right here? Can I get you anything else?"

"We're fine," Rue said brusquely, turning to help Jayce with his shell-encased escargot.

Cal gave their waiter a weak smile. "Everything's perfect," he said, and turned to survey his little family, hoping the young man would disappear as easily as he'd earlier materialized. The waiter inclined his head and backed off.

The scents wafting up from all of their plates were mouth-watering. Cal looked over the delicious-smelling fish that had been set before Rue, the faintly spicy note of cedar and the herbs that saturated the gorgeous grilled flesh. Admiring Jayce's cut of prime rib almost made him regret his choice of seafood for the evening, it was done to perfection and he coveted that medium-rare cut. Then he turned his attention to the delicately-splayed, bright red lobster on his plate.

As Rue instructed Jayce on how to extract the delicate creatures from their shells without flipping them at nearby patrons, Cal surveyed his steamed lobster. It was releasing a cloud of enticing scent that reaffirmed his choice. Off to one side of the dish, a heap of garlic mashed potatoes were boxed off by a couple of log-piled rows of sauteed green beans. He zoomed in on the lobster again. It was a large, whole one, lying on the plate all of a piece, claws thrust out in front of it as if it would attack him even now. There was jointing that he assumed he could pull apart to get at the savory insides. Beside his plate was a bowl that was most likely for the shell.

Cal pulled off the smallest leg and held it up, examining it. He pulled the end joint off and a long chitinous strand came with it. Cal frowned and squeezed the leg, crushing it between his fingers - the leg shattered, little pieces dropping to the plate. Aha, there was meat inside after all - but not much, the smallest leg didn't hold a lot. He picked the morsels out of the shell fragments, dipped one into butter, and tried it.

The flavor spread across his tongue like no other shellfish he'd had the fortune to try before.

With a blissful grin, Cal picked up the entire lobster in his hands, imagining how much meat was stored away in the claws and fat tail, rolled it up and then he squeezed with all his might.

Red confetti filled the air. Cal gazed up wonderingly until the splatter hit, juice and bits from the exploded lobster striking him in the face and landing wetly on his immaculate dress shirt. Through the rain of red shell fragments and launched meat shrapnel Cal sought out Rue, who was gazing across the table in sheer horror, his mouth slightly open, blue-green eyes glassy with disbelief.

"What...?" Rue gasped, looking at the remains of burst lobster dripping from Cal's hands, then an expression of abject humiliation crossed his face as he looked towards the nearest patrons and an approaching fleet of runners and waiters. "Dear sweet goddess."

"Sorry," Cal groaned. "I...I didn't know how to open it."

"Then why didn't you WAIT for me!?" Rue moaned, wiping lobster from his cheek and burying his head in his hands.

"I - I'm sorry," Cal repeated helplessly. To his left, Jayce had both hands on his lap and he was taking in the whole scene with wide eyes, mouth twitching in the beginnings of a snicker.

The runners cleared away the remains of the haplessly-burst shellfish with a speed and efficiency that hinted at training or practice for just such an incident and two of the waiters delivered heated towels to allow Rue and Cal to at least attempt a clean-up. The runner who took Cal's towel leaned over and murmured, "Don't worry, sir - it happens."

Cal looked at the fresh napkin in his lap, chagrined. He had ruined his son's dinner, Rue surely wouldn't speak to him for the rest of the night, and now - no lobster.

"How's your fish, daddy?" Jayce spoke up, trying to engage Rue's attention.

Rue regarded their boy with a decidedly forced smile, picking up his wine. "Well, I haven't had a chance to try it yet, Jayce. And I'm sure it tastes like lobster juice now." He brought the wine to his lips, grimaced, and fished out a piece of lobster claw that he gingerly placed on the edge of his plate.

Cal whimpered. He wondered if he could excuse himself and wait in the Jeep until they were ready to go home.

Before he could broach the subject, a fresh plate was slid into place before him and a wide empty bowl beside his elbow. He looked up to the fleeting smile of sympathy from a runner, who brandished a pair of what looked like inverted silver pliers. "If I might, sir?" he murmured, indicating the brand-new whole lobster waiting on his plate.

"Yes, please," Cal said, now somewhat embarrassed. The whole scene had only bothered him insofar as it dropped his estimation with Rue, but not being able to do something for himself - that was the shame.

The runner grasped his lobster and began pulling pieces off - claws first, which he expertly cracked and placed back on the plate; the tail, which he split down the middle, and a few other pieces of the creature that released more savory meats. With an encouraging smile he left the silver cracking-device on the rim of the empty bowl and withdrew.

"Ah," Cal said, enlightened. "That's how you do it." While his meal had been liberated, the pretty young waiter had replaced Rue's wine.

"Is there anything else I can provide?" the young man asked solicitously.

"That's great," Rue said, lifting his head to favor their waiter with a rare smile. "Thank you, I think we'll be fine."

Relieved at this momentary reprieve, Cal dug in. He could tell, though, from the glimmer in his partner's eye as he seized his wine glass that it was far from over.

At least he could take refuge in his son. "Jayce?" Cal asked hopefully. "How's your dinner?

"It's wonderful!" Jayce enthused, and took another big bite of prime rib. His eyes were shining.

There was the high point, Cal knew. As long as his son was happy he could endure the worst later on.

***

"And then Dad exploded the lobster!"

Jess Reynolds stared, nonplussed, at little Jayce Whelan Pierce. The boy gazed back blithely, his mouth curved in a small smile, his eyes bright with the remembrance. Beside Jess, her partner Ryan Mason hooted, pounding on the kitchen table with vigor.

"He... what?" Jess choked, blinking almond-shaped green eyes rapidly.

"How did he manage that?" Ryan had to know, leaning forward, his eyes almost as bright as the boy's. Jess closed her mouth with an effort, sitting back and running a hand through her long gold-streaked chestnut hair.

It was a lovely Saturday morning; the sun was shining brightly but it wasn't yet overly warm, being only a little after nine o'clock. They were hanging out in the kitchen because that was where the coffee was. Jayce had come over soon after Jess and Ryan had roused, flush with the tale of his evening out at Tully's. They hadn't been invited, not that either one had minded, and now Jess was doubly glad.

Cal had to be deep in the shit with Rue now. Fuck, Cal had made a scene of unmatchable singularity at Tully's!! That was easily the most upscale eatery in this whole city; probably in all of North America. And on Jayce's birthday, no less! Jayce didn't seem all that upset -- if anything, he was having a blast relaying the story to Jess and Ryan, and he would surely get a lot of mileage out of it with his peers once school started back up. But Rue was always trying to do things the "right" way. And for Jayce's birthday meal out to go "right", it would have been best that Cal not destroy an entire lobster at their table.

"He sort of rolled it into a ball," Jayce explained, making descriptive motions with his hands. "And then he squeezed. And, ka-blam!" Jayce flung his arms wide, fingers splayed. "He exploded it!"

Ryan about fell off his chair laughing, but Jess sighed and planted her forehead in her hand. She was going to have to talk to Rue, and if what Jayce was telling them was correct -- and there was no reason the boy should lie or even exaggerate -- then Rue was going to be in a foul mood.

Jess grimaced. Not that she could blame him. But Cal was a bull in a china shop, and seemed to think that love could make everything all right. So it was usually up to Jess to talk Rue around when he was upset; really and truly upset.

It was going to be hard to put a positive spin on this one, though. And Rue was particularly good at holding onto a grudge....

"I'll bet that was a mess," Ryan encouraged Jayce, taking a swig of thickly sugared coffee. His short, dark hair was mussed but his even-shorter beard and mustache had been recently trimmed. He was wearing a stained but clean teeshirt and a pair of plaid boxers, since his day wouldn't officially start until he'd downed at least two more mugs of his sweet brew.

Jess was already dressed; since they hadn't decided yet what they were going to do to celebrate Jayce's birthday, she was wearing nice-casual. Which for her meant a sleeveless denim top over a white tank, and a pair of new black jeans.

Of course, now it wasn't even certain that there would be any birthday outing....

"A huge mess!" Jayce reported, his face glowing. "It went all over Dad and a bunch of it hit Daddy too. Lobster bits and juice, everywhere, in Daddy's wine and in his salmon.... It all missed me, though." He said this as proudly as though it had been a personal accomplishment. "Nothing got on my prime rib, either. And it was delicious!"

"Way to go," Ryan cheered, as though it somehow had somehow been something Jayce had done to avoid the shrapnel. "Birthday boys should never be hit by lobster confetti!"

Jess sighed, though she had to agree. "So... do you honestly think that this will stop your fathers from doing something fun for your birthday today, Jayce?" she asked, finishing her coffee and tilting her head.

Jayce survey her, his expression sobering. "Well... I don't know if they'll be able to do anything with me together," he said. "Daddy's still really angry. He wouldn't even talk to Dad this morning. And...."

"What, honey?" Jess pressed when Jayce paused. She hated it when Rue's eternal power struggle with Cal spilled over and affected their son. Normally Jayce was able to ignore all but the worst of their battles. But this had been a huge goof on Cal's part. While she couldn't blame him -- and it was actually kind of amusing, the way Jayce had told the story -- it would have been much better had it happened at somewhere other than Tully's. And it would have pissed off and embarrassed Rue no matter what.

"Daddy slept with me last night," Jayce informed her solemnly, his dark brown eyes wide. "He's never done that before, no matter how mad he was at Dad."

"Owch." Jess winced. As bad as she had thought, and maybe a little worse. Ryan had glazed over, like he tended to do every time their neighbor's sex life came up in conversation. If he didn't acknowledge it, it didn't happen, so far as he was concerned. Jess thought he was being silly, but she wasn't a guy, so she couldn't really relate. Ryan liked to say that he wasn't homophobic, but....

"Will you talk to Daddy?" Jayce asked Jess, tilting his head and looking entreating. He didn't seem really anxious, or overly upset, but Jess still wanted to do her best for him. After all, she was the only person who had a chance of talking any sense into Rue.

"Don't worry, sweetie," she said, smiling and reaching across the table to run her fingers through his long, dark hair. "This is your only seventh birthday. I'll make sure that neither of your fathers spoils its celebration for you."

"Oh, I had fun on my actual birthday," Jayce assured her, smiling all over his cute little face. "I got some wicked presents, and Dad exploded a lobster! But I want to have fun today too, wherever we end up going, which I hope is the amusement park. And I can't if Daddy's still angry."

Ryan was nodding. "Yeah, you're right. We need to get that stick out of Rue's a-- Uh...."

Jess glared at her man, unable to believe he had started to say that, glad at least that he had censored himself in front of Rue's son. Jayce, predictably enough, was giggling. Jess didn't want to know exactly why -- she hoped that the boy didn't know all the details of his fathers' frequently contentious sex life, but she wasn't going to ask. Ryan had glazed over in the way that told her his brain was singing him a happy little song until the gay went away, never mind that he had been the one to bring the subject up.

She sighed and reached over, punching Ryan's upper arm, hard enough to knock him from his temporary fugue.

"We!" she said scornfully. "We, Ryan? As if you're going to do anything to help!"

"I'm... I'll be... offering moral support!" Ryan protested weakly.

Jess groaned and rolled her eyes.

"Pleeeeeease, Jess?" Jayce requested, wheedling with a skill he could only have learned from his paternal father. His puppy-dog eyes definitely held echoes of Cal's, but were even cuter in his just-turned-seven baby boy face.

"All right, I'm on my way," Jess said, rising to her feet and smiling at Jayce. "Don't worry too much. If talking doesn't help, I'll smack some sense into both of your fathers."

"Thank you," Jayce said, unfailingly polite. He offered Jess a fetching smile that put her in mind of both of his fathers. He was a lovely boy who was going to be a stunning young man in a few years. That smile was almost enough to make up for the argument she damned well knew that she was about to get into with Rue. Almost.

"No problem, baby." She smiled back. "But no promises either. You know how stubborn both your fathers can be."

"I'm sure you can do it," Jayce assured her, eyes wide and trusting.

"Good luck!" Ryan was true to his word, hefting a fresh, steaming mug of coffee in support. Jess gave him a dirty look, then sighed and strode out of house, headed directly next door.

She loved Rue and Jayce. She really liked Cal. But sometimes she thought that she ought to get paid for dealing with this shit.

***

The shower had been going for an awfully long time.

Cal slouched into the soft sofa cushions, dragging both hands through his glossy, dark hair. The television was pattering away quietly where Jayce had left it on to "run over" to Jess and Ryan's. Cal hadn't bothered to turn it off, but he wasn't really watching the cartoon program that was on.

All of his senses were focused on the bathroom that was just a little way down the hall, between Jayce's room and the room that he normally shared with Rue.

Neither of them had slept there last night.

Rue had not blown up once they were out of Tully's, as Cal had expected. They had eaten their meal in peace. Rue had chatted with Jayce almost naturally, only a little tightness in his jaw and tension in his shoulders giving away the fact they he was still very pissed off. The ride home had been silent -- Rue had sat in the back seat with Jayce, who fell asleep on his father's shoulder. Cal had tried twice to get Rue to talk to him, but had given up after stinging failure.

And last night, Rue had slept in Jayce's room. Their son's bed was large enough that he could do so without making either one uncomfortable, but he had never done that before. Not even after their first night together, when Rue had been so upset and confused and -- Cal admitted it to himself -- traumatized. But not even after that night had Rue used Jayce to keep Cal at a distance.

Cal had spent the night on the sofa, half convinced that Rue would emerge at any moment and give him a chance to apologize. Only he hadn't.

With a heavy sigh, Cal flopped back against the sofa. He hadn't slept a wink. Rue had been angry at him before, but it had never been this bad. And the hell of it was that Cal couldn't understand what he had done that had been so unforgivable! Sure, crushing a lobster with his bare hands in a fancy restaurant wasn't a good thing to have done.... But Cal had done worse in the past, he thought. Like forcing Rue into having sex in a public restroom at the Zoo.... Or knocking over that display at the grocery store....

His lower lip extending in a pout, Cal waited for Rue to finish showering. He had to come out some time. And he would have to let Cal apologize! They were supposed to go out today and do something for Jayce's birthday. Rue wouldn't want to spoil that. No matter how furious he got at Cal from time to time, being a good parent to Jayce always came first. Always. Cal admitted with a touch of shame that he sometimes used this to his advantage. He certainly had that first night... but best not to dwell on that.

Cal flushed slightly, running a hand through his hair again. He'd messed up last night, and Rue was pissed. Maybe it wasn't the lobster. Maybe it was something else. But whatever it was, he couldn't stay in that shower forever. And he was going to have to field Cal's apology sooner or later.

For Jayce's sake, but mostly for his own, Cal just hoped that Rue would accept that apology.

A flicker on the screen distracted Cal, capturing his attention. The cartoon program had been replaced by a shot of the Wall and a serious-faced newscaster.

Blinking, Cal reached for the remote and thumbed up the volume.

"--just arrived on the scene to telecast live from outside our western Wall defenses, and it looks as if a sizeable force of Skoldegaard demons are assaulting the Wall in force!" A firestorm-array of sparks and sizzling discharges blossomed in the air over the Wall, and the newscaster's expression slipped, displaying an uncharacteristically real look of horror and shock. The 'cast from the live feed fritzed out in a burst of static. "Orion spokeswoman Alicia Carson had no comment when an inquiry was made, and the office of the commander of the City and Wall Defense Corps expressed confidence in a swift resolution." The woman assumed a sober look, glancing to the side as two inset photos were displayed: a line of charging, gray-skinned Skoldegaards, their wicked-fanged maws gaping wide; below it, a still of a series of explosions as the Wall took multiple impacts. "We have a live reporter telecasting in the field, stay tuned for updates on the quarter-hour."

Cal's trained eye made immediate sense of the telecast: the news media had no real clue, but the Wall was under a deadly and concentrated assault.

"Shit." Cal rarely swore, but when he did it was heartfelt.

As though on cue, at this point his phone rang. Cal knew without even a glance at the screen who it was on the other end. Flipping it open, his jaw tight, he commanded, "Talk."

His orders were simple and exactly what he had expected. It didn't make him any more eager to leave the house and head out to the Wall. Especially not when they had been planning to go out with his family and their closest friends to celebrate his son's seventh birthday. Especially not when Rue was still mad at him.

"All right. I'm on my way."

He sighed, closing his phone. His feet were already carrying him to the bedroom. He threw on his work clothes quickly and efficiently. He hadn't been expecting to have to wear them on a weekend, but as one of the most powerful members of the City and Wall Defense Corps, his presence wasn't just needed -- it was required. Not to mention, it was his own family he would be protecting by preventing an incursion.

Cal hesitated in the living room. His work boots were in the utility room, on the way to his Jeep, and then he would be gone... but he couldn't go without letting Rue know that he was leaving and why and where he was going.

The shower had finally stopped, and as Cal wavered, the bathroom door cracked, releasing a cloud of steam that smelled of the soap and shampoo that Jayce usually used, but also of Rue's natural scent.

Rue walked out, rubbing his hair with a towel, his entire body flushed with heat. He was wearing the teeshirt and shorts that he had slept in last night, which he had retrieved from the dryer after they had gotten home from Tully's. It had been fortunate for Rue that they generally had a load in there, since he had been unwilling to go into the master bedroom; rightly suspecting that Cal would have trapped him if he had so much as set foot in there. That was why he had slept with Jayce, and also why he had bathed in the main bathroom instead of the bath off of the master bedroom when they had all roused this morning.

Cal sighed, unhappy over the lengths Rue was willing to go to avoid talking to him. They lived together. They were going to have to discuss it sooner or later.

But not right now. Cal was on call, and he had to get to the Wall as soon as possible. Preferably five minutes ago.

"Where's Jayce?" Rue asked, his smooth brow furrowing in a frown, as though he thought Cal to be solely responsible for their son's absence. His hair was tumbled damply into his face and his skin moist. Cal could smell him from where he stood; warmth and fragrance and wet flesh. If he hadn't been in Rue's ill graces and on his way out the door on an emergency call, Cal might just have felt that he had to jump Rue. As it was, he could only look and simmer. And feel faintly hurt that Rue was so obviously still angry at him for something that wasn't quite his fault.... Well, sort of, but not really. Well, all right, it was his fault, but in the end it shouldn't matter so much.

"He went over to Jess and Ryan's," Cal answered, glad at least that Rue was speaking to him enough to ask the question.

Rue's beautiful blue-green eyes fixed on Cal's clothes and his furrowed brows rose. His expression was unreadable, but Cal could sense the sudden tension in his body. "Where are you going?" Rue asked, sounding as though the words were being wrenched from him unwilling.

Cal grimaced, spreading broad hands in a helpless gesture. "I have to go. There's an attack on the West Wall. They need me."

Rue's face twisted and for once Cal wasn't sure what he was reading off of his mate. He could tell that Rue was upset, very upset, but he wasn't exactly sure why. Well, the fact that Cal was leaving on what was supposed to be Jayce's birthday celebration....

"I'll be back as soon as I can," Cal assured Rue earnestly, grabbing his car wand from the bowl he'd tossed it in the night before. "Tell Jayce I'm sorry. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"You already said that," Rue commented, his eyes narrowing. Cal wouldn't call his mate's voice cold, exactly, but he sure wasn't pleased.

"I'm sorry," Cal offered, giving Rue a weak smile.

Rue nodded shortly, then turned away, headed for their bedroom. Cal reflected grimly as he watched that slender, well-muscled figure vanish around the corner and up the hall, that it actually was safe now. Because he really had to go. But damn it all, Rue didn't have to be so cold!

His dark brows beetling, Cal slammed into the utility room, dragged on his boots, then took off in his Jeep with a roar. He narrowly missed Jess, who was on her way over, but never even noticed.

Jess looked after his speeding vehicle with an expression of shock. Was Cal actually taking off in a huff?! She never would have thought he'd have the nuts!

***

The resounding slam of the utility door as it was jarred shut sent an uneasy reverberation down Rue's spine as he stood in the hallway, towel clutched in his hands. Something about the parting set off an unsympathetic vibration along his skin, and he shrugged to dispel the feeling, realizing as he stalked over the threshold of the master bedroom that his back teeth ached, he was clenching them so hard. And the towel between his hands had been twisted into a useless clot of fibers. He wasn't sure what he was more angry over - the way the night before had gone, and Cal's tentative clumsy attempts at apology; the fact that their plans for the day were shot, because Jayce wouldn't want to go without his biological father; or the way Cal had stormed out, apparently thinking himself the injured party now.

"This is not my life," he said softly, and focused outside himself. The bedroom was neat and spare, bed still made, some articles of clothing still scattered over various furnishings where they'd been left the night before. It was obvious from the state of the bed that Cal hadn't slept there all last night.

A twinge of something approaching guilt flicked raw over Rue's nerves for the fact that Cal had probably spent a sleepless night pacing in the living room, then been summoned on an emergency call to their city's defense. His resolve to stay mad roused up instantly when he remembered the lobster raining down on their dinner table in the middle of the most upscale restaurant in the city -- some of those people could have been clients, past or potential -- and Cal's fleeting grin before he caught Rue's appalled look. It was that infuriating little grin that stayed with him.

It was a summation of everything so cavalierly Cal; it was all right, nothing mattered, so long as one was enjoying himself or got what he wanted.

That thought and remembrance of that sun-hot moment of shame, the center of all stares in the prelude before the storm of whispering, riveted Rue to the spot for a moment. He was so angry the only thing he could dwell on was how angry he was. Then it passed, and he shed his t-shirt, chucking it at the hamper, scavenging around for clean clothes fit to kick around a friend's kitchen and living room. He rubbed at his neck, glancing at himself in the dresser mirror to make sure there were no obvious hickeys or teeth-marks -- there was another shard of infuriation, that such a once-over had become de rigeur. Before pulling a shirt over his head, he usually had to check to see if he needed a collared shirt or polo tee.

After pulling on some casual clothes that allowed enough freedom to stay cool in the blazing weather, Rue drifted out of the bedroom. The house had an eerie air of calm to it, and in the distance there was a thread of sound like far-off whispers. He tsked at finding the television still on when he reached the living room; obviously, Cal had left in a hurry.

A flurry of televised explosions caught his eye and Rue stared at the big, flatscreen television. Like most residents of a big city surrounded by Orion's tech-magic fusion Wall, Rue was accustomed to a certain level of jaded interest whenever a report was made covering the latest attacks. There was an attack at least once a week; some incursions even made it to "Code 4," meaning a breach -- but most Code 4 breaches never even made it past the buffer zone and they were usually small, singles or insignificant groups of demons with more blunder than viciousness. Still, Cal got called in on a regular basis during Code 4 events because he was one of the Defense Corps' strongest operatives, quarter-blood notwithstanding. Due to constant exposure to the state of the Wall and attacks on it, Rue more than most had acquired a kind of immunity to news coverage.

The live feed coming from the screen now made him catch his breath and snatch for the remote. He thumbed the volume higher, taking in the panning shot that encompassed the Wall. Great blooms of fire and what looked to be the spray of heavy artillery formed a thick shower across the entire screen, wave after wave of explosions and the muted roar and rattle of fire-arms and other violent discharges. The molten shimmer of the Wall, a heavy shimmer like heat distortion, was actually bulging inward during some of the explosions, raising an uncomfortable association in Rue's mind to the collapse of the Chicago Wall, which hadn't been so long ago that he didn't remember.

A mob of gray-skinned demons, vaguely dog-shaped, poured in toward a line of defenders that collapsed even as the gunfire increased.

The feed telescoped on the screen, shrinking and becoming an inset, ongoing display as the news studio returned to the foreground, a sober but immaculately groomed female newscaster coming back into sight with her hands folded. "We again bring you an update on the western Wall assault, along with another live 'cast from a unit embedded with an Orion operative. This just in: Alicia Carson with Orion Corporation has confirmed that today's attack has reached Code 6 status. Once again, today's attack has reached Code 6, and the buffer zone between the outer Wall and the first ring is in the process of being evacuated."

Rue shook his head and lifted the remote, preparing to shut it off. He wasn't quite processing it.

The toned young newscaster continued, "The City Wall and Defense Corps are being called to the scene in full force, and to the best of our knowledge, we are assured that today will be no more dangerous for your average citizen than any other." She aimed a tight smile at the camera, managing a less than convincing overall effect. Rue thumbed the television off and tossed the remote at the sofa.

Earlier he had been irritated, even angry, that Cal had gotten called in. Now the shiver that had run down his back when Cal slammed the door shut touched him like a breath of foreshadowing. He shrugged it off with a spasm of irritation and headed for the front door, yanking it open and vaguely upset now that Jayce had felt the need to leave the house this morning before he'd finished his shower. Of course, the blame for that could be laid at Cal's feet, too.

"Whoa!" someone exclaimed as he got a foot out the door, and Rue hauled himself up short before he banged foreheads with Jess Reynolds.

"Damn, Rue, did someone piss in the water supply?" Jess demanded, taking a step back and glancing over her shoulder. "First Cal sends the Jeep out of the driveway like a Scrat out of hell, now you jerk the door open like you're hoping to crush someone with it!"

Rue gave her a simmering glance, then shifted his gaze to the sidewalk, which didn't give him a calculating, searching assessment the way his friend did. "Cal got called in. It's on the news - a Code 6."

"Holy shitstorm," Jess breathed, taking another step back. She raked a hand through her long, blond-streaked tresses, which fell in dark brown waves to mid-back. "Wow. Well, I guess we won't be called in, if it's escalated to Code 6 already. Ryan and me, we're only human."

Rue shrugged, pulling the front door shut behind him. "Did you feed Jayce? I can take him out..." he began. Cal was the one who cooked breakfast. Rue had a good grasp on baking, but a pronounced inability to actually cook real food that involved pans or pots or anything. Most of their food came from take-out, drive-in, or myriad fast food or casual dining options. There was a pancake house not too far from their house.

"We can cook," Jess offered immediately. "Really. I think we'll want to stick close to a broadcast anyhow, just in case Orion calls us in after all."

They fell in side by side on the way to the house Jess and Ryan shared next door. Rue shaded his eyes with a hand and peered at the far horizon. The city was large enough and they lived in a ring further in that made it patently impossible to see the faint distortion of the Wall from here, but Rue could see smoke rising, and the faint flicker and play of light in the distance. Still, he couldn't summon up much more than a vague discontent that this had happened the day after Jayce's birthday, curtailing the second half of their celebrations. Jayce would want to stay glued to the broadcasts, too -- he always did when there was an assault that had the slightest chance of putting him in the position of seeing what Cal did every day for a living.

"What is a Code 6, anyhow?" Rue asked, curious. Any 'cast he'd ever seen usually clarified a Code 4 as a breach, so he could infer from context that a Code 6 was probably a total clusterfuck, but it was always good to know what one was dealing with.

Jess gave him a sidelong look, lips quirking, but there was no amusement in her green eyes. "Code 6 means that a Nephilim is involved."

"Oh." Rue frowned as they reached Jess's front door. He had worked for Orion for a few years before realizing that the tall, huge men and women with unusual hair, skin, eyes, or all of the above that he occasionally worked with or around weren't human. They were instead an order of demon referred to as the Nephilim, named for the breed of super-powered angel/human hybrid of ancient lore - also called the Fallen Ones. And Cal was only one-quarter of that powerful breed. Though they had plenty of partially-blooded and even a few full demon-bloods on their side, it was the entire array of Nephilim that were the driving intelligence and force behind the Rising and the continued assault on humanity.

"They'll have started evacuating the buffer zone, too," Jess continued, opening her front door, "and they'll be keeping it quiet from the media but they'll be encouraging people to shift from the outermost rings into something further in."

"Should we...do anything?" Rue ventured, though objectively he knew they were so far in, if they had to worry then the city was lost.

"Sit tight," Jess said with half a shrug, running a restless hand through her hair again. "Hope none of our people get hurt too bad."

"Right," Rue said absently, toeing his sandals off inside the entryway out of habit and mimicking Jess's gesture without realizing, running a hand through his considerably shorter hair.

"So, Rue?" Jess began.

There was a certain questioning lilt to her tone that prickled Rue's defensive feelers, made him turn away for the Mason/Reynolds living room and parts beyond. Jess's hand on his arm was light, but there was real strength behind it. He was dead certain she worked out more often than he did and it showed in her distinct musculature. "What," he muttered, not a question but a flat utterance.

"I'm not a meddler by nature," Jess said, low and even, ignoring his obvious discomfort. "You know I prefer to wait for you to bring it to me, if you're going to talk about it at all. But when it spills over to Jayce and he comes over before either of you are even ready to face the day--"

"I'm sorry," Rue interjected at once. "I'll make sure Jayce doesn't bother you, he should know better than to come over so early." He kept his voice quiet as possible. While his son had been manifesting some unusual abilities more or less since he'd learned to walk, there were some areas in which he was still developing or where Rue had no idea what Jayce's level was. He didn't know if Jayce's hearing was keen as his father's, so they tried to confine their arguments to the soundproofed bedroom or out of the house completely. Thus he whispered to Jess.

"That is not even the goddamn issue!" Jess said, leveling him with an aghast glare. "You know he's always welcome here. Well. Except when the door is locked or we're not home...no, Rue, you're ducking the real issue. This latest fight between you and Cal--"

"He demolished a fucking lobster!" Rue hissed, the sudden heat of embarrassment flooding his cheeks. On some level of compartmentalized anger he hadn't left that seat, squirming in place as the world stopped and everyone looked their way. "In the middle of one of New York's finest restaurants..."

"Yes, Jayce said," Jess commented, her eyes steady on him. "You've got every right to be pissed, but it's over now. What good does it do to stay mad? Do you honestly think he did it on purpose? I think--"

Rue's jaw muscles flexed. "I think I don't want to talk about it anymore," he said, knowing his tone was sullen and hating it. Had he done it on purpose? Of course not, Cal never did things "on purpose," yet somehow, it still turned out that way, didn't it? He stalked down the long hallway with its teal-colored carpeting, heading for the living room at the end of it. As he approached, the sound of a newscaster's drone reached his ears, along with the tinny rattle of televised gunfire.

He heard Jess's exasperated sigh behind him, and continued until he stood at the living room's entrance. Jayce's smaller form was situated on the long, wide couch that faced the television display, Ryan beside him leaning on one knee with a reflective scowl pulling his handsome face into a look more serious than usual. The man had a remote in one hand loosely aimed at the display, and the volume increased as they stood there listening.

"Watching a newscast?" Rue submitted a non-guess as to what they were doing in the living room instead of hanging out in the kitchen. "Jayce, Cal said he's sorry...he got called in for this."

Jayce bounced on the sofa, clasping his knees. His dark eyes never left the screen. "I know! They said the whole Defense Corps is on their way to protect the Wall, I'm watching to see if Dad makes it on the TV!"

Rue's mouth wanted to smile, but any mention of Cal right now tugged him in the opposite direction. "How about breakfast? You must be hungry."

"Figured we'd wait and see how many to make it for," Ryan said, his whole attention fixed on the display. Now Jess meandered over to the sofa, leaning on the arm beside Ryan and taking a look at the newscast. Ryan's hand went up to cover hers, and she twined her fingers with his, a frown settling on her face too.

Rue kept his back to it. If Cal was sallying forth in his flak vest and battle leathers, he didn't particularly need to see it. The newscaster was going on about Skoldegaards and Varuna, explosions battering the Wall non-stop, and the swift response of the Defense Corps. As far as he was concerned, it wasn't even a real update.

"Who wants pancakes?" Rue asked, his stomach reminding him with a small, gurgling twist that he hadn't eaten anything since the night before, and even then he hadn't finished. It wasn't so much the lobster that had inevitably made its way onto his plate after the spectacular de-shelling as it had been the general tension that had descended afterward, taking away his appetite completely. What that hadn't done, the wine had topped off. It was amazing he hadn't woken with a hangover.

Jess's head snapped up. "Oh, you are not cooking in my kitchen," she vowed.

"No," Rue agreed, nonetheless somewhat hurt by that instant reaction. Cal was allowed to cook, even if it was only omelets. "But I know how to call Berenger's House of Breakfasts and place an order for pick-up."

"Ooh, I want the Mile-High Stack," Ryan said, eyes never leaving the television display.

"Mile-High Stack!" Jayce chirped, leaning on his knees and staring past Rue's shoulder.

Jess shrugged. "It's as good an idea as any," she said, waving a hand. "I have a feeling we'll be glued to the newscast updates for the next couple of hours, and I didn't particularly feel like cooking anyhow. Too bad they don't deliver."

"It's fine. I'll pick it up," Rue offered. He took Jess's order and dug out his phone, scrolling through pre-programmed numbers for one of the dozens of local eateries that were saved into the phone's memory. He left them riveted to the display and found a quieter part of the house. At this rate, he doubted they'd notice if he stepped out for a bit. With Jayce in good hands, it was better if he had a bit of time to himself for now.

***

The Wall above was streaked with red and orange flares as Cal pulled his Jeep around the curb and onto the ramp that led to lower-level parking. The streets were chaos, masses of people streaming in disorderly evacuation toward the gate that led to the next ring of the city while fire rained on the Wall overhead, causing bulges and ripples in the techno-magic fusion substance that protected the physical structure of the Wall's immensity. There were explosions hitting the top where the illusion of open sky lay above them, where the protection was thinnest, and it would only be a matter of time before something came through.

Men in flak vests and battle armor lined the street, directing traffic and herding the terrified civilians in the right direction. They all had weapons, heavy guns as long as a man's arm or thigh. It wouldn't be enough, which was why they were in here.

The City Wall and Defense Corps had waystations in common with Orion Corporation's defense and research divisions that were situated at more-or-less regular intervals around the perimeter of the outermost ring of the city. Cal's instructions had brought him to Sigma, the waystation closest to the western Wall assault. He parked his Jeep and jogged into the underground facility, seeking out the war room quickly from the dozens of other doors lining a sterile white corridor. He'd been here before.

The room within was large enough to hold four squads, although there was perhaps half that present. Cal slipped into the room, thumbprinting the roster at the door to mark him present, and glanced around quickly to orient himself. The war room was a small-scale ampitheater, four sides with rows of seats in each direction and aisles on the diagonal. Tall, husky men and women milled throughout, their hair and eye colors every shade of the rainbow, green and blue and amber and shocking crimson -- the demon-blood contingent on Orion's payroll or the Corps was in full force today. Of all the assembled, Cal was one of the most powerful though he could pass for the most normal of all. He recognized most of them and nodded here and there as he took the diagonal toward the front row. A frown took hold. With the urgency of the call, he'd assumed they would be briefing in batches and sending them out as soon as they got there -- this was clearly beyond a Code 4 incident.

The strategy table dominated the room, and a man and a woman were conversing over it, their heads bent close together. The man was Commander Redhawk, Cal's direct superior, and the woman was Alicia Carson, the tall, leggy blonde tactical guru from Orion Corp, so Cal headed in that direction. Redhawk was an Iroquois whose family had been protecting the city for over a hundred years; he was a few inches taller than Cal, broad-shouldered and pure muscle, sudden death in just about any form of combat Cal had ever seen or heard of and good at beating the odds as well as building up confidence among his corps. When he sent them out on any kind of mission they trusted it was a worthy one. Ms. Carson was a cool one, and Cal had never quite caught her official title but she was definitely a higher-up at Orion Corporation, and when she promised resources -- like their best contract and mercenary demon hunters, for example -- she delivered, so long as she had some say in their deployment.

"Commander?" Cal questioned, drawing near the far side of the strategy table. "Ms. Carson. Shouldn't we be out there, instead of standing around here?"

Redhawk's keen hazel eyes flicked up and over him. He gave a curt nod. "Pierce. Good thing you're here, we're going to brief and send you in. Keep your skivvies on, kid, you'll see action soon enough." He jerked his chin at the row of seats behind Cal.

Ms. Carson's bright blue eyes came up slowly from the strategy table and she looked at Cal. "You're a quarter Nephilim?" she said by way of greeting, frowning as if trying to reconcile her memory with the tall, dark, seemingly normal figure before her.

"Yes ma'am," Cal said, coming to attention more or less, clasping his hands in front of him.

"Only a quarter?" she pressed, seeming concerned now.

"Alicia, I told you, Cal can handle the vanguard," Redhawk said insistently, as if this were a point of contention. "A tank couldn't stop him -- hell, a rocket--"

"And it certainly seems someone armed the Astaroths with rocket launchers, so we may test that theory today," uttered a deep, rolling voice, a bass with that instantly recognizable dark timbre. A closed fist thumped against Cal's back, then arm, hard enough to knock any other man clear across the room.

Cal glanced over, giving Shemyahza Guile bared teeth with a hint of fang in a gesture that wasn't quite an approximation of a human smile, but something the Nephilim understood and returned in kind. "Shem. I figured I'd see you here."

"Where there's smoke," the larger man murmured, now giving him a close-lipped smile of greeting. Shemyahza was seven feet tall, bigger than Cal but just as broad, lithe in the hips and currently wearing a full-length red leather duster jacket over minimal body armor. His long fall of dark green hair was swept back in a tail that was knotted at regular intervals all down its length. He was a dusky-skinned, full-blood Nephilim, the only one Cal had ever met.

The two of them got along pretty well, all things considered. There were things about Shem that Cal recognized in himself, which made him certain his own demonic blood flowed stronger in him after all despite his normal appearance.

"How's that fine-ass mate of yours?" Shem rumbled.

Cal bared his teeth again. "Let's grab seats if they're going to brief us," he said, ignoring the question. If he had to deal with Shem complimenting his mate, they might degenerate into exchanges less polite and besides, thinking of Rue right now was not a good thing. Rue was mad, Cal was getting angry in turn...

"Be seated!" Redhawk barked, his voice projecting around the war room with no amplification. There was a mass shuffling as the assembled hunters and members of the Defense Corps obeyed, all of them picking the nearest seats and sinking into them.

Cal sat next to Shemyahza, keeping his eyes on Ms. Carson, who eyed him a moment longer with that hint of frown marring her pale brow, then she gave him a sharp nod and turned to the strategy table.

"Everyone suited up?" Redhawk demanded, and received an assortment of assentive murmurs and hoo-ahs by way of response. "Good, we're grabbing weapons and going in. After Ms. Carson outlines the plan, grab an ear-path to stay networked, file out the red door for the armory, shoulder your piece of choice, and show those demons what kind of slag they can expect, storming our city!"

A brief but thunderous cheer greeted Redhawk's short speech. The room fell silent as Ms. Carson stepped up, all business in her navy suit and upswept twist of golden hair.

"We have a fleet of third-class operatives and two squads of Defense Corps outside holding the line, but they're not going to last long," Ms. Carson said, lifting a slim hand to touch a panel on the table before her. A holographic display showed them live feed from outside. "Just beyond the Wall, a pack of Skoldegaards are harrying our defensive forces. Beyond that, Varuna on the rise beyond the city are throwing an offensive barrage at the Wall itself. Scrats are on the field as well, not in any kind of organized or concentrated force but causing enough intermittent damage to make things that much more difficult. And there's five Astaroths out there, big, steady, but dumb -- someone's given them rocket launchers."

"I didn't know Astaroths had opposable digits!" some wit called from the back.

Redhawk lifted a hand, pointing to the far side of the room and knitting his brow in warning.

"What's the plan?" Cal demanded, leaning forward and placing big hands on his knees. He was anxious to get out there. Every minute they lingered, more people outside the Wall got hurt, or died.

"You said this was a Code 6 when you called me," Shemyahza's deep rumble interjected, and a ripple of whispered speculation went through the assemblage.

"Yes," Ms. Carson said curtly, "I'm getting to that part. If you'll all sit tight through the briefing you can ask questions after." She leaned against the strategy table, her flinty gaze traveling the room.

Cal twitched, one of his knees beginning to jiggle. He was no good sitting in one place for terribly long unless it involved driving, or settling on the couch with Rue and Jayce after an action-packed day - that he could do. He watched the images scroll above the strategy table, but to him it wouldn't make total sense until he was out there in the fray.

"Beyond the line of Varuna there's a Nephilim monitoring their progress. We lost two people getting a confirming shot." An image flashed on the screen of a tall, attenuated figure wearing ragged black robes. Its hair was vivid purple, spilling down its back and the face was long, high-cheekboned, androgynous. Something about the set of the jaw made Cal think 'male.' "If the Nephilim is taken out, this concerted attack will collapse - the four types of mid-levels out there attacking our Wall are not the kind to cooperate, so they're being controlled by the Nephilim. Shemyahza Guile has agreed to engage him in combat."

Beside Cal, Shemyahza gave her a nod of acknowledgement.

"Basically, everyone needs to fan out, cover up the holes in the defense out there, and buy enough time for Guile to engage. At Commander Redhawk's insistence, Cal Pierce will take vanguard straight out of the Wall and make for the Varuna - right now they're the greatest threat to the Wall. If even one of them manages to penetrate, the Scrats will swarm, and the Skoldegaards..." She trailed off, pressing another button. Three gray-skinned beasts leaped on a line of defenders, their armored bellies spraying ricocheted gunfire in every direction, and a body tumbled toward the transmission, then the jaws of a Skoldegaard blotted out everything.

"Not everyone has gotten out of the buffer zone yet, the Defense Corps is still trying to evacuate but some of the squatters are hard to round up," Ms. Carson finished evenly, and the live feed images vanished. They were replaced by a stereographic terrain map, showing the wall and green units for the defenders, red units for the attacking elements. "Now, here's the outside of the Wall. You'll group into two teams..."

Cal tuned them out. As a rule, he didn't work with teams. Most of his days involved standard patrolling outside the Wall. He got dropped into the missions that were too dangerous for others, ones he could handle by himself, ones where he was the independent element and everyone else was back-up. That was why he took his orders directly from the Commander, and was cut out of any other chain of command. And honestly, most of the squads wouldn't know what to do with him. When you could accidentally hurt a teammate just as easily as taking out the enemy...anyhow, Redhawk deployed him in ways that made sense for the Corps and Cal appreciated it. He glanced to the side and noticed Guile drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair, crimson eyes alert, but his posture just as bored.

"Time to get out there," a soft growl trickled past his lips, and Shemyahza gave him an instant nod.

The display collapsed to a single pinpoint of light that hovered above the table, then disappeared. Ms. Carson stood straight-backed beside the strategy table. "Good luck and Godspeed. Orion is paying out a hazard bonus for everyone."

That drew a spontaneous cheer as the assemblage rose.

"That is," Shem said from just behind Cal as they headed for the far door, "bonuses for the ones that make it back."

Cal hit the door to the armory first, visions of what he could do with a nice fat bonus waltzing through his head. An addition to the deck...upgrades to Rue's den...a trip to the mall for all of them...and there was a new gaming system coming out, he thought. The ONI? Then he was faced with the immediate choice of which guns to take with him from the racks upon racks.

He belted on four, and two bandoliers of the latest pulse-grenades. When Cal was working within the Wall, they never gave him firearms. His bare hands had proved to be destructive enough on more than one occasion, and it was usually all he needed. On this mission, though, they needed all of the firepower they could get. One type of mid-level was bad enough. Four of them and a Nephilim called for a nuclear array, and so Cal got to play with cutting-edge Orion weaponry, the kind Ryan geeked over and Jess helped design and field-test.

Outside was a hail of fire and the doomsday belch of brimstone on the air, complete with pieces of sky falling. They booked it through the buffer zone, picking over piles of ancient rubble and heaps of festering debris. Cal adjusted weapons hanging awkwardly from his body at least five times on the way to the outer gate, which was an old abandoned toll-route that had been sealed up with plate-metal some fifty years ago. Shemyahza was at his elbow, a sleek huge figure coursing forth like a hound on the hunt. In the distance, Cal could see the scattered shape of buffer-squatters fleeing. Chunks of mortar rained down from above; the heavy impacts from outside were bringing pieces of the physical Wall down.

The shimmer-distortion over the portal peeled outward as if an invisible hand had cupped a part of the forcefield and scooped it out; a circle of cold metal and sigils had activated to open the space over the gate. It irised open as they approached, and Cal unholstered the two big guns over his back, ready for suppressing fire.

Right out of the gate a Skoldegaard breached the line of defenders, leaping for Cal. He waited until the muzzle of his gun lined up with the fanged open mouth to pull the trigger. Blood flew out from the back of its head. It fell, then lunged for his leg; Cal dropped his guns and reached down with his bare hands, grabbing the creature by its upper and lower jaws, then yanking. The lower jaw came off in his hands. It continued to writhe and he seized it around the neck, leveraging one foot against the torso and pulling until the head popped off in his arms. Thick blood sprayed over his hands and spattered his armor, the side of his face.

"Come on, quit playing around!" Shemyahza yelled at him, already darting past him toward a group of embattled defenders.

"Right," Cal muttered, and picked up his guns. He had no doubt that Ryan could tell him what make and model they were down to the serial numbers, but he wasn't much good at long-distance fighting. Guns couldn't usually take out what he had to contend with anyhow.

Now that he was outside in the blood-orange false sunset of the battleground, Cal could orient himself to the marks that had only been pixels on a strategy table before. He saw the clusters of armored-up defenders, spread out in ragged pockets now instead of the defensive line the live feeds had shown earlier. He broke into a run, picking out the shape of the rise on the not-so-distant beyond and passing bodies human and other. Once this was all over, he didn't envy the salvage teams, whose duty was also to bring the dead back for burial - or study. Cal recognized the Varuna by sight and he sprinted, shooting through the skulls of a few Scrats along the way. He could sense Shemyahza veering to the side for the Astaroths.

It hadn't been explicitly voiced but he knew the plan. Cal was the vanguard so that he could draw out the full force of the attack, maybe even bring the Nephilim into view. That would give Guile the opportunity to get into position to strike. He'd dealt with Ms. Carson before but she'd probably never seen feeds from any of his missions. She was concerned he couldn't withstand a concentrated assault and she'd probably been disconcerted by the lack of heavy body armor, to boot. There'd been no time to tell her that for him there was no point - if he was up against something that required it, they didn't make it in a gauge heavy enough to withstand what he could take.

Cal discharged his heavy guns at the Varuna, exhausting his rounds, tossing them aside, withdrawing the guns strapped to each thigh. In a simultaneous line, huge chitinous heads swiveled in his direction. Cal braced himself as long whip-like limbs extended at him and massive blue-purplish shockwaves pulsed outward, hitting him the way they'd impacted on the wall above earlier.

He fell to one knee with the force of the explosion and the guns in his hands splintered, reduced to so much scrap. The grenades had much tougher shock-proof casing, fortunately, or Cal would have been ground zero for a detonation even he might have trouble withstanding.

When the blast-wave cleared he rose from the center of a smoking silver crater. The ground was like black obsidian underfoot. Behind him, Cal heard a few heartened cheers at the proof of his survival. He tugged one of the pulse-grenades off the string, primed it, and lobbed it at the Varuna to get their full attention.

The pulse wave, when it hit, was strong enough to tumble him back on his ass. "Wow!" Cal breathed, shielding his face with one arm from dirt and heavy clots of other matter. They had improved the timing, he noted with a grin, and somehow managed to pack a bigger yield into the same size canister. He sensed Jess's hand for efficiency in that formula tweak.

It took a while for the smoke to clear from that one. When it did, he got up and saw the Varuna scattered from their earlier tight formation. He had half a second to see one of them hurl a tremendous handful of purplish baelfire at Shemyahza, hitting him square in the chest and flinging him through the air to hit the Wall and sizzle his way down the length of the barrier. Then Cal had more immediate concerns as he zoomed in on the three Varuna barreling straight for him, claws spread wide, the makings of fiery death sparking to life in their hands.

Guns gone, Cal did the only thing he could, knowing there was no way he'd take out three of them with his bare hands and he couldn't afford to let even one of the deadly creatures past him. He pulled off his bandolier of pulse-grenades and ripped out the string.

A belated, cautionary little voice sounded in the depths of his brain as he ticked off the milliseconds until explosion. He could withstand more damage than even he knew the extent of, but could this be too much?

Ignoring the possibility, Cal charged toward the homing Varuna, the belt of grenades stretched taut between his hands.

***

"Jesus, did you see that? Did you fucking see that!?" Ryan exclaimed, grabbing for the remote and leaping to his feet.

"Ryan!" Jess said sharply. If she'd been close enough she would have clapped a hand over the little boy's ears; because she was on Ryan's other side of Jayce, instead she grabbed at the big boy's ear and yanked it hard.

"Ow...ow...ow..." Ryan whimpered, letting himself be towed rather than resist the wrath of Jess.

"Language!" Jess hissed, tugging at his ear to be sure he really heard and took it to heart, then releasing him. As she looked over at Jayce perched on the edge of the sofa, she didn't think the boy had even heard. He was riveted to the display, eyes round and rapt.

"There is no way we could be out there today," Ryan vowed, rubbing at his ear as he stared at the live feed that had overtaken the priority of regular programming. "No way...did you see that!?"

"I'm right here, of course I saw it," Jess replied with a certain amount of asperity. A beat of fear chased through her; the aftermath of the explosion still hadn't dispersed and Cal had been front and center of that one. Jayce was watching his father in action and he'd been cheering earlier, Ryan covering his eyes for the gorier parts, but now he'd fallen silent, his mouth pursed in solemnity. God...Cal, get up, she urged silently. Get up. You'd better get out of there all right. She couldn't imagine Rue and Jayce without Cal being a part of their lives now. And for all Rue fought it, she thought he'd become pretty attached to the big lug whether he wanted to admit it or not.

"That's the biggest explosion I've ever seen!" Ryan expostulated, and the cam zoomed out, taking in a wide shot of the dispersing cloud of debris.

Jess glanced over, upset to see Jayce's thumb slipping into his mouth. She got up from the arm of the couch, crossing in front of the boys - who both exclaimed indignance that she blocked out any portion of the view - and sitting beside Jayce, putting an arm around him.

"Dad's really strong," Jayce said solemnly, not looking away from the display.

"I know." Jess sucked in a breath as the dust and smoke cleared away. The camera telescoped in on a lone figure at the center of a spider-webbed black crater. Cal was nude to the waist now, brushing away the crispy charcoal tatters of his shirt and upper body armor.

Ryan whistled.

"Wow," Jess said admiringly, caught off-guard as usual by the incredible musculature of her mild-mannered neighbor. He could give Ryan some serious competition in that department.

"Jess," Ryan said, half-whine, half-warning.

"Don't worry, sweetie," Jess said, voice catching in a laugh. "We're not each other's type." She squeezed Jayce's thin shoulders.

"It's not over yet," Jayce whispered, his attention captivated by the screen.

***

Shemyahza Guile had bound up his hair good and tight before answering the call because he'd seen the heavy fighting on the 'cast, but his preparations were now proved in vain as he pushed himself up from the base of the Wall, red duster smoking from impact with the shielding. His dark green hair hung about his face in unkempt loops. He pushed it back, baring his teeth in bloodlust as a pair of Scrat demons tried to swarm over him.

Tossing aside the mangled gun that had broken once he hit the Wall, Shem unsheathed his broadsword, wielding it one-handed with careless ease in a long swipe that lopped the first critter in half and continued on its path to cleave the other through the skull. He held the twitching carcass in place with his boot as he pulled the sword free where it had lodged against bone, then scanned the battleground.

The group of humans and part-demon defenders had fallen back again, pushed by the swarm of Skoldegaards. It was unusual to see the loner creatures hunting as if they'd been re-hardwired for pack mentality. That made him search around for the raggedy-robed Nephilim. It was his job to take the puppetmaster out; anything else was just starters.

Far ahead and to his left, three Varuna converged on Cal.

Shemyahza broke into a run, then saw the lift of the bandolier. "GET DOWN!" he yelled to any sentient within earshot, following his own advice and flinging himself prone.

The blast jarred his teeth and after the concussive shock to the ears, washed over him like the hot breath of a lion. It took several minutes for that sensation to fade.

Shemyahza pushed himself up to hands and knees, shaking his head. Around the blast radius, everything had been flattened, from the explosion and all the way to the Wall. Amused, two thoughts chased through his brain: that was a hell of a gutsy move, turning himself to ground zero as offensive; and he hoped Cal was all right, seeing that even he might have trouble shaking off an explosion kicked off by ten or so pulse-grenades. Even from this distant vantage Shem's skin felt scorched. His acquaintance-almost-friend was unique amongst all the demon-bloods Shem had ever met - and he'd met quite a few - in that he had the strongest Nephilim traits of any not born pure. His powers, however, were selective specialties. He had the strength, invulnerability, keen senses and more, but Shem had brushed his mind upon their first meeting and met only a blank wall of impassable shielding.

Lucky for Cal's part; it meant there were some battles he'd never have to fight.

The Varuna had been far enough, fortunately, that only the edge of the blast had lapped over the defenders. Shemyahza pushed his hair out of his face again, snarled and set his sword into the ground, and took a moment to locate a hair tie that hadn't been ruined to pull the mass of blood-stiffening hair back out of the way. He couldn't see the Scrat demons anymore; he doubted all or even a portion of them were killed but they might have slipped restraint long enough to flee the scene. Scrats fled at big displays of power and most certainly from explosions like that one.

Around him, members of the Defense Corps and hunters that he recognized were rising, shrugging off the effects of the secondary shockwave and taking up their firearms. There were still plenty of Skoldegaards to go around.

Shem sought out the epicenter, eyes traveling past one blown-apart carcass and finding Varuna that had been thrown back, beyond the rise. They were unmoving and could have been unconscious or dead. There was one thing he hadn't caught sight of--

A bare-chested man rose from the heart of the blast-radius, brushing off the blackened remains of clothes and body-armor. He climbed out of another smoking crater, casting an anxious look around the battle field. Turning full circle, he spotted Shemyahza, lifted an arm and waved, then stumbled on a carcass behind him.

"Idiot," Shemyahza muttered, but he was grinning. He plucked his sword free of the turf and raised it in a salute.

Cal turned and made for the remaining Varuna, those hovering out of range and raising claws full of purple and blue fire.

A full-throated shout from behind jolted Shemyahza and he turned to engage himself in the fray again. A trio of Skoldegaards were savaging some defenders still struggling to pick up their weapons, and Shemyahza dove toward them, plunging his great nameless sword into the neck of the first. Momentum carried him into their midst and he wrenched his sword free into an overhand stroke, carving a bloody path through the other two. Some used guns; Shemyahza preferred the old-fashioned standby of a good Worked length of folded steel.

"Are you all right?" he demanded, kneeling to wipe his sword and look one of the defenders in the eye.

The man who lifted his head was plain-faced and darkly stubbled under a heavy blast helmet, his dark hair lank and straggling damply over his neck but the eyes that met Shemyahza's were a simmering amber-gold, demon's eyes with hot crimson pupils. "We'll be fine, Guile," he answered, jerking his chin. "It's a Code 6, isn't it?"

"That's why I'm here, Kyle," Shemyahza said, offering his hand. The man, one-eighth Nephilim, took the help and hauled himself to his feet. "Rally the defenders, will you? Hold out, that's all we're asking. Cal to draw them off and me to..." He trailed off as Kyle's eyes focused to a sharp point beyond him.

"He's insane," Kyle breathed, then turned to his companions, chivvying them to their feet.

Behind Kyle his tall, well-built younger brother Kory had already recovered his feet and shouldered firearms, his keen amber eyes scanning the blast-zone and widening. "Kyle, we've got to fall back!"

Kyle barked to the rest of them, "Get up, get going, you space-cases, if you can breathe enough to hurt you can get on your feet to fight! You heard Kory, fall back with suppressing fire!"

Shemyahza whirled, sword balanced in one hand as he braced for assault. He had time to groan as he caught sight of Cal digging in for impact, both hands upraised to meet the onslaught of the batlike-robed figure of their Code 6 Nephilim barreling at him at top speed.

The collision itself was as loud as thunder. Shemyahza began to run, knowing there was no way that his friend could take the brunt of a Nephilim attack, no matter how many of their traits he had in common.

A large shape blotted out the light of explosions and what little sun filtered through the smoky sky. An Astaroth blocked his path, pulling a trigger and firing a rocket launcher directly into Shemyahza's face.

When his vision cleared at last, his ears were ringing and the Astaroth lay in bloody pieces at his feet. Shemyahza removed his sword from the torso, battle rage receding somewhat. His teeth fucking ached and he was drenched in blood already.

He cast about for the figures he'd seen on the rise where Cal had decimated the Varuna. Nothing.

"Above!" Kyle yelled from behind him, and Shemyahza wrenched his gaze upward.

"Holy fire-blazing cauldrons of hell," Shemyahza choked out.

The Nephilim had grabbed Cal by the throat and hoisted him up, taking him airborne over a hundred feet, probably more. They were high enough that they were a speck to human eyes and even Shem had to strain to pick out the details. He could practically hear the whistle of their descent as the Nephilim bore him down.

"No," he whispered, trying to deny it.

He turned, flinging out his sword-arm and pointing to Kyle and the other defenders. "Back!" he commanded, and raised his deep voice in a baying battle-ground shout. "Back, everyone get back now, RUN FOR THE GATE!" He waited long enough to see the understanding in Kyle's eyes, the others starting to turn and pelt full-out for the gate, and disregarded his own advice.

Shemyahza pivoted, glancing upward to get his bearings on how long he had before impact. They would hit, and hit hard. The fucked-up crazy crank of a Nephilim was taking Cal to the ground with a speed and force that would dwarf the explosions that had riddled the surrounding turf and from the seething threads of silver energy engulfing the two of them, he was going to add an extra final solution to put Cal out of commission for good.

Nothing could survive that unprotected. Shem couldn't.

He thrust his sword into the ground point-first and palmed the pommel, rubbing his thumb over one of the glyphs etched there. With a concentrating frown he activated one of his lines of defense. As the spell flared around him and took hold, he embraced it with his power and fanned it wide.

Shemyahza gazed fixedly upward, helpless as he watched the descending comet of entangled Nephilim and quarter-demon. He couldn't push his own defenses far enough to grab Cal.

As the first volatile edges of the massive wave of destruction licked over Shemyahza's protections, he could swear he saw Cal's face looking down into his, brown eyes wide, fierce, angry...then resigned.

Then the blast-wave hit and Shemyahza's knees buckled under him. He poured all his power into the all-too-fragile veil of protection around him, one hand clenched around the pommel of his sword. His last thought before the two struggling figures hit ground and broke destruction everywhere in sight was how pissed he was going to be at Cal, when he had to avenge him.

The force of a nuclear explosion ignited everything outside the Wall.

***

At first, the surety of his invulnerability protected Cal as he sped toward a hard landing, fending off the claws of the Nephilim with both hands. The creature struggled against him, showering animalistic growls and imprecations in a foreign language flung against him harder than the wind that cut them as they fell.

His first inkling was the tickle of power that crawled over his skin. It didn't hurt, at first. Then he began to struggle not against the demon but to get away as that power burned him, sank into him and ate from the inside out. They fought, and fell, and Cal was on fire as he'd never felt it before.

The world around him was immolated in silver fire, and pain. Cal screamed as every layer of his self was peeled away and what felt like his very skin sloughed into ash. Then he dove into the heart of the explosion, igniting something bigger and larger than the pain battering his body and mind. A hidden, untapped reservoir laid bare by the stripping of body and self spilled raw energy over him and, blind to anything but agony, Cal seized it. Then...

Below him he saw Shemyahza, grim avenging angel waiting below.

He saw Jayce, smiling, laughing. He was happy. He would always be a cheerful boy.

He saw Rue's wide blue eyes, fixed on him in utter desolation. Rue's mouth shaped words that the wind took from Cal. He saw Rue shouting, angry, pleading...

Then nothing.

***

The parking lot at Berenger's House of Breakfasts was crowded that morning as Rue steered the Lexus around it for three circuits and finally ended up parking on the street. Everyone in the neighborhood must have foregone cooking in favor of crowding into booths and watching the 'casts, Rue thought with resignation. He walked through the parking lot, empty of people but crammed with cars. Either he was the only person who didn't think a Wall assault was prime entertainment, or it really was a bad one. There was hardly any movement on the streets, foot-traffic or otherwise, lending to the eerie sensation that this section of the ring was deserted.

When he pushed open the door, the packed state of the restaurant confirmed what the parking lot had hinted at. There were even a few groups crowded into the waiting area, making for standing room only. He checked in with the counter and the girl apologized to him profusely, gesturing around the full restaurant to indicate why his order was delayed and Rue gave her a brief smile of understanding.

"You want to wait at the bar, Mr. Pierce?" she inquired. They were weekend regulars at Berenger's and Jana had been working as hostess for over a year, so he could forgive a delay when they were so obviously slammed.

"Sure," he said, regretting the fact that by his own personal standards it was too late to order a Bloody Mary and too early to get some other kind of liquor and besides, he'd had more than his weekly allotment the night before. He edged through the thicket of standing bodies and found a seat by the bar that incidentally had a perfect view of two different flatscreen televisions aimed in his direction.

"Holy mother of Cain, you see that?" a man two barstools down nudged his companions.

"Damn amazing, those Orion contractors," the man closest to Rue grunted. "Downright scary the kind of damage they can take."

Rue looked up to see a long shot of a figure in an ankle-length red duster jacket sliding the length of the Wall, sparking fluxes as he went. He squinted at the 'cast; the man looked somehow familiar. He looked away as a busboy set a glass of water in front of him, and dipped finger and thumb to fish for a piece of ice. The first glimpse had whetted his curiosity, though, and he glanced back up.

An anchorwoman's voiceover droned briefly, reciting what sounded like a teleprompt that recapped some of what had been going on. The vanguard had taken out most of a group of Varuna that had been the greatest threat to the Wall, and analysts had confidence that everything after would be a quick, clean mop-up. "Shemyahza Guile has taken a hit but he's on his feet now and rallying the resistance against the Astaroths," the voiceover announced.

Rue gulped his water, set it down, and glared up at the screen. That was why he recognized the man on the 'cast -- Guile had been at the scene of the crime during another embarrassing outing, courtesy of Cal. That memory was actually branded into his brain with equal parts shame and desire, because while he'd been jerked around that evening, it had ended with some thorough and intense sex. But Guile...he couldn't forgive the man for the way he'd come onto him. If he had, in fact, been coming onto him and it hadn't been a joke.

"Whoa!" A collective gasp rattled the bar, no, the whole restaurant and Rue looked up to see a tremendous explosion as the camera panned out.

"That's the biggest one yet," said the man beside him with awe.

Smoke billowed, and Rue drank down the rest of his water as they waited for it to clear. He had a guess as to who was at the center of that blast. Sure enough, when the aftermath dissipated, a bare-chested Cal walked calmly from the center of an impact crater, turning to wave at the camera - or Guile - then tripping on a smoking lump behind him.

"Dumbass," Rue snorted into his glass.

"Hey," the man beside him said, turning on him with an indignant expression. "Don't you talk that way about our Wall Defense boys. That man just took a string of grenades to those monsters, y'hear? No telling if he'd a' come out of that alive, and he did it for us."

"No, that's not it--" Rue began lamely. "He -- I -- he's my...friend."

"Even more reason you shouldn't be laughin'," the man informed him with a scowl.

Rue sighed. There was another restaurant-sweeping gasp and he caught sight of Shemyahza Guile taking a rocket to the face, only to get up moments later from hacking his attacker into several pieces. The man beside him slapped a thigh and cheered. Rue fingered the phone in his pocket and considered calling Jess to ask if she was censoring his son's viewing experience. He'd be impressed with Cal walking out of that crater, no doubt, but anything with blood and guts was verboten.

He turned to check with Jana and ask if his order was ready yet, though he had little hope. Not only was the restaurant packed to capacity, but he was pretty sure he'd seen the fry cooks motionless at their stations, gaping at what they could see of the television screens. She was looking over Rue's head at one of the bar screens, hand over her mouth, and despite himself, he swiveled to see.

"RUN FOR THE GATE!" the full-throated bellow of the red-jacketed figure was audible even from the vantage point of the feed, and the camera panned up briefly to pick out two airborne figures, struggling high in the air at a point above the Wall. They began to hurtle for the earth, silver fire streaming out from them like a comet's tail, and Rue's eyes widened. The feed cut out abruptly.

The studio anchor appeared onscreen, looking flushed and disconcerted. "We've lost contact from our embedded unit, one moment while we try to borrow a feed from the Wall camera..." She looked to her left and apparently received a go-ahead, because she nodded. "One moment, ladies and gentlemen, while we piggyback on Orion's feed from the Wall."

A prickle of unease spurred Rue to his feet. He was still processing it, the sight of those two bodies grappling high above the city, falling, and he'd gotten into the habit of thinking Cal was invulnerable when it was only a matter of 'invulnerable so far.' The fact that he hadn't said goodbye to him before the door slammed was an evil omen now instead of a natural response to a litany of irritations. That silver baelfire nagged at his categorical memory and all the alarm bells it sounded were dire.

A feed from the battlefield was restored to the screens while everyone watched in breathless suspense. Rue could hear his own heartbeat and his mind was on time-delay behind what his eyes took in as a voice somewhere exclaimed "Oh my gods above." Onscreen the blast-wave spilled outward from a heart of greenish-silver, spreading across the entire image. As Rue watched, at the core of it a brief flare erupted, an intense pinpoint of reddish-gold that burst outward in another, even more horrendous explosion.

The screen ignited with holocaustic force, licking across the whole picture before the image grayed, camera fritzing out. The 'cast was back in the studio on the anchorwoman, who looked stunned, glanced back and forth between the sidelines and the camera's eye.

Rue knocked over his empty glass and stumbled back from the counter. "Final Strike," he said numbly. Cal didn't have power, not like that. He couldn't believe it, but there was no denying what he'd seen - the Nephilim he'd fought against, the Code 6, had triggered the greenish-silver explosion; the Final Strike had been the red-gold response that could only have come from the demon's opponent...

At the moment of death, to finish him off.

Rue stood for a moment looking up at the 'cast. The anchorwoman was still at a loss, entreating her shocked silent audience to wait until they re-established contact or visuals after the explosion cleared. There was no way of knowing if their people had gotten safely inside the Wall or even if it was still intact...

He turned calmly and walked past Jana, whose slack and upturned face didn't even acknowledge his passing. The door to the restaurant jingled as he left.

Outside, the sun blazoned the parking lot in harsh and unforgiving light. The sky was endless blue above and Rue looked up, automatically seeking the mushroom plume in the distance. It was there, a dark ugly stain on the horizon. He fumbled for his car-wand and dropped it three times on the way to the street, recovered it and clutched it in his hand the last time he picked it up and leaned against the Lexus when he got there. A Final Strike. A fucking Final Strike!

Rue slammed his hand into the car a few times, swearing, shouting in pain and panic. "Fucker! Goddamned bastard, you don't even have the fucking power, how dare you!" He held his hand to his chest as the pain sprang up sudden and nauseating, and huddled against the door. "How DARE you, fucking demon..." At the heart of the explosion, another explosion. He couldn't even let himself articulate what it meant.

A shrill jangle made him jump and Rue straightened, looking around with wild eyes. His phone. He pawed at his pocket, pulled out his cell phone and saw that the number was Jess. Closing his eyes, he thumbed his phone off and dropped it back into his pocket. There was nothing she could say to him to make this all right and sympathy for the damned was pointless.

Even after he unlocked his car and climbed behind the wheel he sat there for long moments, the car purring around him, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. He couldn't think where to go.

At last he guided his car onto the street, grateful there was no other traffic, submerging himself in the mindless activity of piloting the vehicle home.

He got as far as the utility room still holding onto a semblance of normality, then saw a heap of laundry waiting beside the washer. After a spectacular incident involving the washer doing a rhumba around the entire utility room until unplugging itself from the wall, Cal had been banned from that particular house chore in addition to dusting, vacuuming, and anything involving dishes. He passed the pile, and the first few articles atop it were all Cal's.

"Cal," he said against the silence. His mask crumpled.

He slammed his way out of the utility room, furious with himself, raging at Cal in a way he'd never been so angry before. "How could you!" he shouted, sweeping the bowl off the entryway table, sending stones and runes rolling every which way as the shallow bowl shattered with a satisfying crash. "How could you do this to Jayce!" He looked around for something else to break; tore a mounted coat-hanger frame off the wall beside the door and smelled Cal as a jacket tumbled into his arms. "How could you do this..." He didn't even have power, Rue reasoned, trying to make sense of the 'cast, but there was no way around it. He had seen a Final Strike ignite right before his eyes, and Cal had been at the heart of it.

Rue scrabbled his way into the den, clutching the leather jacket tight to his chest for a moment before throwing it savagely aside, unlocking the deep, heavy cedar trunk where the tools of his Craft were stored away. He'd arm himself to the teeth and go out there, beyond the Wall. He'd carve up that Nephilim until there was nothing left to recognize, and if that last blast had incinerated him, he'd find the ashes and obliterate them from the face of the earth.

He actually had a few things unearthed and packed into a satchel he used for jobs outside the house before he stopped. Rue pushed away from the trunk, focusing on his trembling hands. Even if they'd let him outside -- and they wouldn't, it would take hours for the mess of the explosion to get sorted -- he was in no condition to Work.

After a long moment of staring at spilled bunches of herbs, bottles of crystal and salt and a few stray candles, Rue began piling things back into the trunk with utter disregard for his typical precise order. He tossed everything in haphazardly and leaned against the edge of it, holding a bottle of sparkling ground pyrite in one hand and seeing nothing. It wasn't real. This wasn't his life, it was a nightmare and he'd wake from it to the furnace-warmth of a body beside him, and Cal would stir and murmur his name and put a hand on his shoulder...

"You fucking liar!" Rue screamed, and the bottle exploded against the far wall. He got to his feet and slammed the lid on the cedar trunk, leaving the key in the lock and snagging the jacket off the floor on his way out.

His fingers clenched the leather so tight he thought they'd bleed.

Rue stood in the center of the living room and wondered for a long moment whether to set the house on fire or cut his wrists. Cal was never coming home. Then he disengaged and stood outside that thought, horrified.

"No," he whispered. "No, no, no no no..." With a groan he hurled the jacket across the room, spun on his heel and went looking for something else to break. In point of fact, Cal had never promised not to leave him, something Rue had been aware of just beneath the surface all this time. On some level he'd been mortally sure it would happen, to the point he couldn't let Cal get close to him even though physically he forced the issue all the time...and the grudging pleasure he got from that was, he told himself over and over, not enough to make up for the fact that he said 'no' and Cal never listened.

Cal always knew what he wanted, nonetheless.

From the hallway that led to the master bedroom and wound around to open up again on the dining room, Rue heard the insistent beeping of the data wall in the living room. He ignored it, contemplating the picture that hung beside their door - a pic of the two of them that Jess had taken on one of their group outings, both of them leaning against a railing dressed in casual clothes, Cal with his arm around a Rue who had his body inclined away at an uncomfortable angle. Rue with his brows raised, Cal with that artless, happy grin.

"No, you are NOT allowed to do this to me!" Rue vowed, but he left it on the wall, turning in favor of the living room after all. By now the television 'cast might have some kind of substantial update. There was a chance that it hadn't been Cal at the center of that blaze, and even as he thought it, Rue knew he was deeply in denial.

Rue sank to the couch and couldn't even bother to find the remote. He rested his elbows on his knees, his face in his hands, and his face worked. There were no tears, just an upwelling of anger and below that, emptiness. He actually wanted to stop being angry so that he could feel nothing because it was better than hurting this bad...

Cal had never promised him anything. Cal had never bothered to say 'I love you' after that first insulting endearment. He had never sprung him with intentions of forever and he had been a constant embarrassment and had the social skills of a baby ostrich and ate enough for three men fit to send food costs through the roof and tore Rue's clothing to the point where his wardrobe cycled almost weekly and he was an insistent, overwhelming lout with no seduction technique to speak of and an insatiable sexual appetite who forced Rue into carnal relations he'd never asked for so at what point had this become the only thing he wanted to the exclusion of everything he was supposed to have?

"You bastard," Rue whispered, digging his palms against his eyes until he saw white. "I never asked for this."

Emptily, he searched for the remote, thinking that Jack and Moira should be notified as soon as possible. They'd want a service. He would have to sell the house...

The front door snapped open, knob cracking against the wall. Rue winced, waiting for Jayce to hurtle into the room either crying or demanding that it not be true, and gave up on the hunt for the remote, finding his legs under him and bracing for impact.

A tall, broad-shouldered form in a Defense Corps jacket strode into the room and Rue stopped breathing.

His first crazy thought was that the Wall had collapsed and the situation had gone south so rapidly they were yanking in anyone with an ounce of Power, and he'd been ignoring calls so they'd sent someone to collect. He took a step, frowning as he recognized the shape, the outline of the man, the dark hair framing the lean, strong-jawed face but it didn't make any kind of sense.

"Rue," Cal's ghost said, but ghosts didn't smell like ozone and exploded ordnance, not so far as he'd ever read or heard.

"You're dead," Rue informed him, the certainty of the statement belied by the quaver in his voice.

x Cal lifted a steadying hand. The eyes that met Rue's were solid, brown, real. "No, I know why you'd think that, but--"

"You're dead!" Rue repeated, voice rising as he took a shaky step, halted. "I saw. You did a Final Strike."

Hand still outstretched in a pacifying gesture, Cal crossed the space between them. "Yeah, I did. In fact, Shem says we have to talk about that later, when my powers come back--"

He was close enough to see the traces of char on Cal's smooth skin, smell the brimstone where his clothes had been blasted off, to touch him, pawing open the borrowed jacket to run fingers over the very real skin beneath it. "You bastard," Rue said wrathfully, glaring up into apprehensive dark eyes, "you fucking did a Final Strike. What were you thinking?"

Cal's handsome face lengthened into a look of abject apology. "Rue, I'm sor--"

Rue didn't even think. He didn't want to hear it. His hands clenched on Cal's coat and he hauled on it, drawing the quarter-demon into range, stretching forth until their mouths came together in a painful clash.

He kissed until Cal's mouth was soft and wanting against his and they were sharing it between them, their first true reciprocal kiss.

***

After Shemyahza had pulled him from the wreckage of pieces of the Wall he'd brought down with an astonished exclamation of relief, Cal's first pounding thought had been 'get home.' As heavy as the assault had been it would be broadcasting on every channel and he knew his family would have seen it. He brushed aside offers of a shower, of calling from the waystation, borrowed enough clothes to render him decent and hit his Jeep for the road home. A couple of calls placed to Rue's cell and the family line had proved pointless; they were off or no one was answering.

His fears had crystallized when he walked through the door and was confronted with the minor wreckage and Rue's wild face, his disbelief and devastation - then the anger. Cal figured he'd spend the next twenty minutes apologizing for the shock of it when Rue sprang him with a surprise attack of an entirely welcome variety.

As Rue ground his mouth against his, Cal let himself be drawn into it for once as the passive half, sheer astonishment keeping him immobile. It was the first time Rue had ever kissed him -- as opposed to Cal kissing him first, then Rue getting into it -- and he did it as if he were terrified Cal would dissolve any minute. His lips were firm and challenging about what he wanted and Cal joined him in it, tasting blood and feeling pain for the first time - Rue had nipped him, and he was vulnerable to it, but he wasn't going to stop now. As if Rue had read his thoughts the kiss gentled, and they angled to deepen it, tongues stroking into one another and Rue's hands clutched his face into place, not letting up for an instant.

"Nng," Cal responded, amazed. He had to open his eyes even though Rue wasn't letting up on the kiss, tongue thrusting against his, licking Cal's mouth open, nibbling at his lips before diving in tongue-first again. That passion-flushed face from such a distance was, as always, the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, now more precious for the moment he thought he wouldn't get to see him again.

They pulled apart, breathing heavily. Rue's pale blue-green eyes roamed over his face. His lips were parted, swollen with the force they'd plied him with.

"I love you," Cal said breathlessly, scared. He didn't want Rue to reject it the way he had so violently the first time he'd said it, but he had to get it out now.

Rue's eyes kindled, their brilliant color seeming lit from within now. He flexed his fingers at the base of Cal's nape and drew his mouth down, murmuring as their lips touched, "I want you inside me."

Those words, the brush of Rue's wet mouth against his own, were an electric charge shot straight through him. His arms closed around his mate and he stroked down Rue's back as Rue's tongue explored him, Rue's hands stroked and tugged at his hair. When he clasped the curves of Rue's rear through his shorts, there was no protest, no clash of teeth, and Rue didn't break the kiss off - he let himself be crowded against Cal, the hot press of lips and moist return of his tongue proving this was exactly where he wanted to be.

No aphrodisiac like a near-death experience, the thought flitted through Cal's brain, and he devoted himself to pleasuring his mate. He could still scent Rue's arousal but it wasn't the sharp, almost additional physical sensation it had been before; Shem had warned him it would take days or even weeks for his powers to return full-force but if this was the payoff he had no complaints. Still, he hooked a finger into Rue's t-shirt and was surprised when he couldn't rip it down the front as usual.

Rue disengaged his mouth, triggering a noise of discontent from each of them, and pulled back. "Just ask," he said, panting, and skimmed the garment over his head, tossing it aside and pushing Cal's already-unzippered jacket over his shoulders. Rue looked up into his face again, his eyes intense, his expression unreadable as he ran a hand over Cal's breastbone and down to set it against Cal's groin, his breath coming rough and ragged. Cal dipped his head to kiss that tempting mouth and they sank to the floor beside the couch, struggling with the fastenings on one another's pants.

He caressed the flat muscle of Rue's chest, the outlines of his pectorals, thumbing the ovals of nipples that pebbled under his touch. Rue was gnawing at his mouth again and made a triumphant noise as he got Cal's jeans open.

Whoa, the aggression staggered Cal, but it wasn't a call to slow down by any means. He panted against Rue's lip as he sucked at him, wondering when had been the last time they'd kissed this much if ever, and stroked down the definition of Rue's ribs and torso before delving into his open shorts as Rue got a hand on him, then two.

Rue bit down on Cal's neck as he laid a hand flat on Cal's hip and stroked his cock upright. Cal shouted, staring sightless at the couch behind them as he seized Rue in both hands and tried to pull him closer. He was being marked and he damn well knew it and it made his cock twitch in that sure grip. Then he focused on the couch, eyes narrowing. Couch meant lube.

"Wanna fuck you," he moaned, as Rue sucked on his neck and it hurt, damn it, a trace of sensibility informed him this was what Rue had been complaining about all this time. He dug his fingers into Rue's ass and arched his head, hissing as the hand pumping his cock and the teeth on his neck overlapped in a frisson of pleasure-pain he'd never known.

Rue released him, licked at his neck, drew back enough to give him glittering eyes and the glimpse of that red mouth. "I want you to go down on me," he rejoined.

"Oh yes." Yes, yes. He'd never had the pleasure from Rue but fortunately Cal liked sucking cock enough for both of them; the only greater enjoyment besides Rue's hard cock down his throat was pushing into him, watching his own swollen erection feeding into Rue's body as he looked up from that into Rue's wanton face. It was no wonder Rue tried to wrestle himself face-down most of the time, because that kind of double intimacy was the rawest form of closeness there was. "Lie back on the couch and get your shorts off for me."

Rue leaned into him, gaze fixed on Cal's mouth as he gave his cock a few more broad strokes and made him grunt, then pulled away just as Cal reached for him. He got up and moved for the couch, shorts slipping over his hips as he did so, baring a strip of flesh then the curve of his rear in a tantalizing flash. Cal was on his feet in a trice, following that lure. He paused for a moment at the end of the couch as Rue laid himself out, fully nude now and one arm propped behind his head, other hand dropping to his groin and the thickness of his lengthening erection lying hard on one thigh, eyes heavy-lidded and fixed on Cal.

It was incredible, electrifying, this Rue spread out for him and wanting, and Cal dropped to his knees. He reached first into the crack of the sofa to ensure that the expected squeeze-tube was still there, then leaned on Rue's knees and replaced Rue's hand with his own fingers, stroking him, looking up at him to see the moment his eyes closed as he moved forward to take the head of Rue's cock into his mouth.

Rue was already fully hard by the time he drew the length of him into his mouth and down his throat and he panted softly as Cal worked him back and forth, keeping his teeth sheathed. He kept one hand on Rue's thigh, enjoying the way the muscle tensed and quivered, then relaxed, then went taut again. With his other hand he cupped Rue's balls, rolling them between his fingers, tugging at the sac with gentle pressure the way he knew Rue liked it, enjoying the musky almost bitter taste and scent that pervaded him but missing that extra depth of taste/scent perception he'd possessed before.

He brought the span of Rue's cock down his throat from tip to base, pulled out with his lips stretched tight over the slick, throbbing length of it, took the moan as fanfare and plunged back down, his tongue probing the underside until the head of Rue's cock nudged the back of his throat. He bobbed back and forth in a few rapid strokes at that depth and fingers smoothed over his hair, Rue's hands encouraging him, seeking him out. Then he settled the head against the back of his throat and opened, taking the entirety down the cavern of his throat until his lips were stretched wide over the base and Rue was whispering something fervent and dirty and very, very appreciative. He deep-throated Rue's cock and hummed until Rue was pushing up into him, breath sobbing between his teeth. Cal found the lube by touch and uncapped it, worked a finger into Rue then two as Rue squirmed beneath him and he rolled Rue's cock under his tongue.

"Come on," Rue was whispering fiercely, "come on, come on, don't make me wait..."

Cal obeyed with more than alacrity, getting Rue's legs hiked up over his shoulders and spreading asscheeks and easing the blunt swell of his cock into place before he paused again. He drizzled lube into the crack and Rue hissed at him until he began to hump back and forth through the slick crease, delicious friction, and Rue was beneath him biting his lip and reaching between his thighs. Cal wanted his mouth again, so he crowded Rue's legs up and pushed his way in, moaning at the slick feel of Rue's flesh stretching open for him.

"Ahh...yes. Oh, you feel so good," Cal told him, pressing his cock full-length into Rue with his weight bearing down on him. He stretched atop him for a kiss and Rue met him, taking his face between his hands, tongue dipping into the depression of his mouth before Cal shifted atop him and dug in, lips closing over his firm and demanding.

They kissed and Cal thrust, his hands steadying Rue's thighs as he pressed into him, on him. He worked it in until he rested his pubic bone against Rue's ass and pulsed there. Their mouths were joined, frenzied and Cal rocked his hips. Rue's fingernails scraped over his shoulders, urging. He pumped into him and Rue pushed back, stroking his shoulders then grabbing at him, sucking on his lip then biting it as they rode out swift hard pleasure for the mutual goal. Cal didn't last long. He rolled and Rue was there with him, thrusting back and crying out his name.

Afterward they lay there panting for long moments until Rue wriggled, mute reminder of Cal's weight on him. He didn't want to pull out yet but he did, then shifted them until they lay on their sides on the couch, Rue on the inside and Cal with an arm slung over him, keeping him from tumbling over the edge.

Rue's mouth was slack against him as Cal kissed him, slow, lingering, planted one on the arch of a high cheekbone. His eyes were closed, his breathing still rough.

"We okay?" Cal asked him, stroking Rue's side, his stomach, wondering how much to say or whether he shouldn't push his luck. Something had changed, culminating in the most wonderful sex they'd ever had, and it was so new and different he didn't know whether it was permanent or if things would go back to how they'd been.

Rue's blue-green eyes traveled over him, but didn't meet his eyes. "I thought you were dead," he said.

"I'm sor--"

"I really thought you were dead," Rue interrupted as if Cal hadn't even begun. "When I thought that, I realized..." His eyes closed, and his Adam's apple moved convulsively.

"What?" Cal asked softly. Again he didn't want to push, but he did want to know.

"What an asshole you are," Rue said, opening his eyes and glaring up at him. He socked Cal in the shoulder and it hurt. "Final Strike, my ass. You come home, you bastard. You're not one of those grunts out there with nothing to lose."

"That hurt," Cal protested, rubbing at his arm, but a grin was tugging at his lips and it wouldn't let go, spreading all over his face. "I think I'm going to bruise."

Rue was silent a moment, his eyes flickering over him in a way Cal recognized. It was the way he looked at Rue's body all the time, appreciative, possessive. He never thought he'd see it from Rue and it flushed through him, settling low and full in his belly. Rue's lips moved and he was speaking, interrupting Cal's happy contemplations of a second coitus. "What the hell was that Final Strike, anyhow? 'Final' kind of implies that nothing walks away from it."

"Well," Cal said, settling back into the cushion, swirling a finger over the stripped-bare arch of Rue's hipbone. "The Code 6 sure didn't. I, uh, brought that part of the Wall down, you know."

That formed a bubble of silence between them for a moment.

"What the fuck..." Rue trailed off, pushing at him, getting an elbow up under him to look down into Cal's face and making Cal grunt as they shifted, barely able to stay on the couch even overlapping.

"Shem says that the life-or-death situation triggered a latent power inside me that I'd never been able to access before," Cal said, still thoughtfully drawing a finger down Rue's naked body. He liked to touch his mate, whether they were going to do it or not, and he had a hunch now that Rue would let him. "I sure felt like he was peeling away the layers of my skull and that's when I thought I was going to die. And that's when I found the power, and reached for it, and went after it as hard as I could."

"And triggered a nuclear-grade explosion," Rue said, lips twisting in a grimace both wry and appreciative. "You never do but you overdo. But how did you survive?"

"I don't know," Cal said, honestly bewildered. "When Shem pulled me out of those pieces of the Wall that had fallen on me, he was saying something about being at the heart of two blasts, one his, one mine, cancelled out both enough for my invulnerability to handle it."

Rue raised a brow, then dug finger and thumb into Cal's side, pinching him and making him yelp. "You're not so invulnerable now."

"Ow..." Cal whimpered, still feeling the lingering effects of that. "I'm not, at all. I'm power-drained. I...I never have been, before."

Rue's fingers rubbed down the curve of Cal's throbbing neck. "Tell me about it. I gave you a goddamn hickey." He didn't exactly look repulsed by it; the lift of his eyebrow implied intrigue more than anything. Then he closed his eyes, lying on Cal and sighing, letting Cal's touch turn into a caress that moved over hip and down his rear and they shifted together, making small adjustments until their groins were in alignment. Rue jerked as if from a sudden violent nightmare and Cal opened his mouth to ask what was wrong when his mate blurted, "Jayce!"

They were on their feet and searching for clothes in the next heartbeat.

***

Thank the blessed goddess and all the old gods that Orion was right on the ball about contacting family members and emergency contacts, Jess thought fiercely as she slammed pots and pans together, bringing her anger to bear on the making of breakfast. That was the only thing keeping both Cal and Rue alive at this moment, she swore!

Ryan and Jayce were sitting at the table, revisiting the most exciting moments of the attack on the Wall; especially the parts where Cal had done spectacular things. He had effing blown himself up, that was what he had done!

There had been a horrifying twenty minutes before their phone had rung, Redhawk himself on the other end letting them know that Cal had survived. Jess hadn't been able to get a hold of Rue on his cell, and she had almost been glad, because she wouldn't have known what to say. She would have figured it out if he'd answered, but he hadn't. She'd been ready to give him a little time alone, but had decided just before Redhawk called to head over to the Pierce house. She wouldn't want Rue to do something insane in his grief; she wanted to be sure to keep him from hurting himself.

Jayce had been in denial, and for this Jess was grateful; especially since Cal had turned out to be alive after all. Actually, Jayce had been so very adamant about the fact that he knew his father was alive that it made Jess wonder whether it was only a child's faith, or if it was a hint of the boy's latent empathy come to the surface. Rue had told her more than once that he thought Jayce might be sensitive that way. So maybe he really had been sure that Cal had been all right.

Ryan had been silent, almost frighteningly so for him, but considering what had happened to his father, Jess hadn't been surprised.

Just when she had felt as though everything was unraveling around her -- the Wall coming down, Cal's final strike, Rue and Ryan, and everything happening on a day they ought to have spent celebrating Jayce's seventh birthday -- Redhawk had gotten a hold of them. Relief was a powerful emotion, and she'd ridden its rush, hearing that Cal had not only lived, but was on his way home. Beyond all probability, contrary to every reality, he had survived a final strike, killing the Nephilim, and was able to drive himself home!

Even knowing Cal as she did, Jess was stunned by all of this.

The thing that hadn't surprised her, however, was the fact that Cal's first thought was to get to his family.

She'd heard the vehicle ripping down the otherwise quiet street, tires screeching and gears grinding, then the slamming of brakes. That Cal had headed for Rue first was only natural, only to be expected, and she had no problem with that. Jayce was in good hands with herself and Ryan, and Rue was more fragile emotionally than he even knew himself. But as the minutes stretched on and on, and the two men did not show up.... well, it didn't take a genius to figure out what they were doing, and while Jess knew that it was only natural after a life-and-death situation, it still pissed her off that they were leaving Jayce hanging like this.

Not that the boy minded. He was excited by the attack on the Wall, now that it was over with and the worst of the danger had passed, and absolutely thrilled by his father's vital part on saving the city. Since he had never feared that Cal was dead, he didn't seem to need any reassurance. But Cal and Rue couldn't know that, and that was why their continued absence made Jess so livid.

She very nearly did some damage to her favorite frying pan, and it didn't matter that she had been trying to make an omelet, because it came out as scrambled eggs anyway. Not that Ryan or Jayce noticed; so long as she put food down in front of them, they inhaled it. Pancakes were a thing of the past. She could see from the car in the driveway next door that Rue had gotten home -- he must have been at Berenger's when Cal had done his final strike -- but he certainly hadn't brought any breakfast over. Not that she had expected him to, of course.

By the time Rue burst into their kitchen with Cal in tow, their hair tousled and their clothing barely half on, it was only Jayce's joyful cry of "Dad!" and the boy's leap into Cal's arms that kept her from going after them both with her frying pan.

Rue looked guilty and frantic enough, and she could still see the lingering effects of his abject grief around his eyes even though he'd obviously just been deliciously laid, that she cut the man some slack, and instead descended on Cal.

"You. Goddamn. Bastard!" Jess snapped, punctuating each word with a punch to Cal's upper arm. She was startled when he flinched in response.

"Ow, Jess!" he whined, leaning away from her.

"Does that hurt?" she asked, suddenly remembering something Redhawk had said about the result of Cal's final strike; something about his power being drained and him being on disability leave until he recovered.

"Yes!" Cal grimaced, making big brown eyes at her.

"Good!" She punched him once more for good measure before having mercy on him. "Do you have any idea how worried we were?!"

"Redhawk said he'd call while I was driving over," Cal protested, moving his abused shoulder back out of range.

"And what if he hadn't been able to get through?!" Jess yelled, fighting the urge to punch Cal again. "What if we hadn't had our phones on, or Orion had the wrong number on file?!"

"I knew that Dad was alive," Jayce defended his father, his arms wrapped around Cal's neck, fingers twined, smiling widely even in the face of Jess' wrath.

"Jess, we are so sorry!" Rue interrupted, standing beside Cal and looking almost as upset over the entire thing as she felt. His eyes were wide and any second now he was going to start wringing his hands.

Jess took a deep breath, trying to let go some of her negative emotion. "I'm not mad at you, Rue," she said evenly, though she knew that she was still frowning. "I'm sure everything was kind of a blur. For you too, Cal." She relented a little, shaking her head. "But you both have to think. You can't be such freaking lunkheads where your son is concerned!"

Rue looked to be taking her words a little bit too much to heart, and so she reached forward and gave him a quick hug, trying not to wrinkle her nose at the reek of recent sex that clung to him.

"We're sorry," Rue repeated, hugging her in return. Jess patted his back briefly before letting him loose, and noted the fact that his muscles were less tense than they'd been since... well, as long as she had known him. In fact, there was a sort of glow about him, even though he was clearly anxious over having forgotten about Jayce, and it was the aura of good sex. Good, not just satisfying. Something she'd never sensed from him before.

"It's all right," she said, quirking a brow at him but forbearing to say anything. "I'm just pissed off; it'll pass."

Next she went to hug Cal on the side where he was not still clutching his son to him. Cal flinched away instinctively as she reached for him, probably afraid she was going to hit him again, but she stretched up on tip-toe and wrapped her arms around both Cal and Jayce.

"You big idiot," she scolded, though with less vehemence than before. "You're supposed to come home safely, in one piece, all the time!"

"There was a Nephilim involved," Cal said, hugging her back one-armed. He squeezed tight and it didn't make her ribs creak, so she knew that he really was power-drained.

"That's when you let Guile handle things!"

"I wasn't exactly given a choice in the matter, Jess." Cal sounded wounded, and she drew back, punching him again, but gently this time. "Hey!"

But Jess had caught sight of something, something she had never seen before, and had never expected to see, and she couldn't tear her gaze away. Her eyes rounded and her mouth quirked.

"Oh my god, Cal. Is that a hickey?!"

Cal ducked to the side as if expecting another punch, then his dark eyes lit up and he was grinning, hitching Jayce up more securely in his arms and looking bloody pleased with himself. "Umm, well..."

"Do you still have some breakfast left?" Rue interrupted hastily, color creeping up his face and neck as he moved as if to place hands on her shoulders and forcibly turn her back into the kitchen proper.

"Wow," Jess breathed, eluding him with ease. "It's already purple, that's got to be one of the biggest I've ever seen, and it's on Cal--"

"Hey, Cal, it's great you're not dead, you want to come in here and grab something to eat before I finish this off?" Ryan said loudly, in the tone that implied he was thinking of naked hula girls or something as equally, determinedly heterosexual.

"Yeah, thanks!" Cal said, distracted at once by the mention of food. "Come to think of it, I am starving." He shifted Jayce from one arm to the other and grinned at his son. "Funny, I never noticed before how heavy you're getting!"

"I'm not getting heavy!" Jayce protested. "But I am seven and that means I'm almost a man." He glowed with pride over that.

Jess returned to her kitchen island, leaning against it and letting the ire simmer down a notch. "What on earth possessed you, Cal? You were unconscionably reckless, putting yourself in that kind of danger!" She peered at her kitchen utensils, turned the burners back up, and poured more cooking oil. What Ryan and Jayce had left behind wasn't near enough to feed two more hungry men and like any post-Wall assault event, it would be impossible to find any restaurant joint nearby that was open and not completely packed. She might as well cook, and cook lots - she was fairly sure Jayce, Cal, and Ryan had second stomachs.

"Things didn't exactly go to plan," Cal hedged, seating himself at the breakfast nook with Jayce on his lap. Rue hovered in the kitchen a moment longer, looking between the assorted makings of breakfast scattered around the island and his little family. It was obvious he didn't want to be more than a few feet from Cal, yet just as clear he'd do what he saw as the right thing and try in whatever non-technical manner possible to help her cook breakfast.

"Oh, sit down, Rue," Jess told him, jabbing a spatula in his direction. "Who wants biscuits?" Usually she had a few ready-made tins in the fridge but they were out; still, she had the makings, and they were hungry, and there was a flatscreen in the corner when they wore out Cal's updates and wanted something fresh so she was resigned to being here a good long while. Besides, she liked from-scratch biscuits too.

"Me!" Jayce voted, promptly echoed by his parent, as expected, and Ryan, who already had that hungry-hopeful puppy look on, and Rue, seeing that she'd have to make some anyway, said it sounded good to him too.

Jess started another batch of eggs in one pan and sausage in the other, then pulled out flour and baking soda and salt and a pan to grease up. "So, Cal, what exactly was the plan that you managed to frack up so badly?" she said, nailing him with an expectant glare to let him know he wasn't off the hook with her, not by a long shot. When he pulled a long face, she added, "Come on. You know they want to hear the whole story anyhow." She was watching him when she said it, but noticed the change in Rue's expression, a flicker of pain so sharp the image stayed with her even after it was gone and he was smiling in response to something Jayce said with enthusiasm.

Well, she'd pry that out of him later if he needed to deal with it. As well as confirm the abrupt shift in the dynamics of his relationship with Cal - maybe this had been the catalyst Cal had so ardently desired and Rue needed, though the cure could have been as damaging as the disease.

Jess cooked up several batches of food while Cal talked, gesturing and nearly dislodging Jayce a few times, who had settled into a perch athwart both his fathers' thighs, one of Rue's arms tucked around him and looking happy as a clam. One would have thought Cal had conjured up the Wall assault purely for Jayce's post-birthday festivities from the way the boy was hanging on every word.

"Man!" Ryan expostulated, smacking a hand on the table. "Brought down a piece of the fu--frickin' Wall!" He glanced guiltily at Jess over the narrow miss.

"Wow, Cal, that was really smart of you, blasting a hole in our defenses like that," Jess said, withering. She deposited a full plate in front of him and smacked him over the head for good measure.

"Ouch!" Cal whined, and Jayce giggled. "They had repair teams on the way out when Shem brought me in. You think Shemyahza could've done better without a big explosion like that?"

"Yes, that's why they contracted him," Jess said crisply, and went to thump her biscuit dough into submission. She was feeling a little better, having heard all that Cal had gone through to get home, and yet on another level it maddened her even more, so working it out on the hapless dough was the most constructive method she had. "So you were power-drained, right?" It was on the tip of her tongue to say that means you really could have been killed! She held it in check because Cal would simply say but I wasn't and the one for whom it wasn't intended, Rue, would take it like a gut-shot all over again. Even beside Jayce, his arm wrapped around his son and his thigh full-length against Cal's - voluntary touching, there was another new thing - there was a ghost of the ravaged expression she'd glimpsed earlier. She made a mental note to see if she could tell Cal privately to tread gently with his lover for a while, then crossed out the note with a warning to herself to butt out.

Cal paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. "Yeah, the blast must have drained me--" His eggs fell and he made a disconsolate noise.

"But you don't have that kind of power," Jess argued. "I thought yours were purely physical - the strength, near-invulnerability, and heightened senses."

Cal shrugged. "Shemyahza says I tapped a latent power while I was fighting the Nephilim, and he'll have to train me later." He shoveled the eggs back onto his fork and pursued breakfast with a vengeance. As far as he was concerned, that was all that need be said.

Jess stared at him for a long moment; Ryan met her eyes and shrugged, leaning back from his own depredated plate. Cal was the most extraordinarily single-minded person she'd ever met; past the life or death situation, his primary concern was his family, and now breakfast. On the subject of incredible new abilities he couldn't be bothered. He didn't even seem to know he was extraordinary most of the time. She smiled and gave up.

It must be one of the things that made Cal good for Rue whether her best friend liked it or not.

***

Rue Pierce flipped his phone shut, satisfied that the family budget was secure for the foreseeable future. Cal had a steady job and he was on paid leave until he recovered, but Rue drew his pay from contract to contract which was a lot more uncertain. Fortunately for his peace of mind, he had just snagged a lucrative contract with a marketing firm who was exploring their media-fusion options, and one of his networking contacts had tipped Rue's name into the hat. It started two weeks from tomorrow, and it would require more cyber than Wiccan but if he felt the need to flex his more esoteric talent he always had options for little side jobs with Orion. After the incident at the Wall earlier today he was a little surprised to find that anyone was doing business, but then it was only his world that had nearly come crashing down.

He stepped out of the soundproofed den and cringed at the blast radiating from the direction of the living room.

"--your parents, Cal; how could you be so inconsiderate!? Why, if it hadn't been for that kind young man Redhawk we wouldn't have even known you were all right!" Moira Calloway blasted at her son from the living room display.

"I knew he was all right, Gramma!" Jayce piped up, swinging his legs over the edge of the sofa. "I would have had Jess call you if something was really wrong."

"That's wonderful, Jayce darling, I'm glad you're so thoughtful," Moira said, her voice gentling as she spoke to the boy. "Now, pipe down, sweetie, Gramma has to yell at your Dad a bit more."

"I'm sorry," Cal apologized, sounding very sorry indeed. "Mom, I didn't do it on purpose--"

"What did you expect us to think, Cal, seeing you blown up on live television like that?" Moira picked up her rant as if there had been no interruptions, tone rising as she settled into the cadence of a good chastisement. "And then no word, and we try to get through to Rue and he's got everything turned off--"

"Sorry about that, Moira," Rue apologized in his turn, slipping into range of the pick-up and his woebegone lover. Cal turned kicked-puppy eyes on him, reaching out to wrap one large hand around his wrist seemingly without thinking, and Rue could still smell the faint traces of smoke on him, as if the char that had clung to jacket and skin imbued him. He let himself be drawn to the man's side and Cal towed him in with an arm around his waist. He lifted his chin to the data display, meeting Moira's face, her startlement followed by a wipe of expression then a heartwarming smile. "I shouldn't have left everything off like that, I know, I just...wasn't thinking." Behind her Jack was pacing in the background, either listening to every word or still in a towering rage over their son's lack of communication following such a terrible shock for them.

"Bet you were in about the state I was, seeing that," Moira said, her hazel eyes peering into him keenly.

Rue ducked his head. "Well, I..." He trailed off, still not able to cope with the raw despair that he remembered like the burning after-image of a particularly nasty nightmare. He shook his head and met her all-too-observant eyes again. "At any rate, I am sorry. I was just about to call you when Cal walked through the door, and, uh--" He chopped that sentence off and Moira pursed her lips, now looking as though she were concealing mirth. Rue didn't have fair skin by any means, but he was helpless to stop the sudden flush of heat that washed up through his face. He was not only transparent before her, but also susceptible to his newfound vulnerability.

Those uncounted minutes when he'd thought Cal was dead had been the worst in his life. After working through denial and anger and Cal's reappearance and what followed, the familiar wall of stubborn resistance ripped away, Rue was left with something so new and hungry he didn't know what to call it. Whatever it was, he thought it might be close to some of the intense appraisals Cal gave him on occasion but he wasn't ready to give it a name for fear of diluting it, weakening it, turning himself back into the old Rue with his withdrawal and his sullen resistance and fighting everything, even pleasure. What he wanted, or needed.

"Son, damn it all, I know you're used to facing danger more times than I'm sure we hear about it or even want to know, but when something like this happens, we want to hear from you, not some higher-up in the chain of command!" Jack exploded, striding over to the display now and edging his wife to the far side of the screen.

Cal's fingers tightened on Rue's waist, and Rue looked up at the man's aquiline profile with a faint smile. "He's right, you know," Rue murmured. "Parents expect to be called right away."

"I'll let him yell at me all he wants," Cal said back even more softly, bending his head to Rue's ear. "My very first priority was getting back to you. And that's how it should be."

The flush was spreading down his neck now, and Rue ducked his head to avoid the honesty of those dark eyes, tried to wriggle free of the arm, and looked over his shoulder to seek out their son. Jayce was lying belly-down on the couch now, toying with an interlocking puzzle that someone had left on the coffee table, rapt in his own little world. Tuning out the lecture, he'd probably fall asleep before Rue needed to put him to bed.

"What do you think went through our heads, when the first call we got was from your commander?" Jack demanded, his brows contracted in a fearsome scowl.

"Oh. Uh." Cal was staggered. "I'm sorry, I didn't even think about that."

"Obviously!" Moira cut in, elbowing her husband to the side to share the display. "Cal, you know I love you, but you just don't THINK sometimes! When your superior officer called in on our home line, I thought you were dead!"

"Mom..."

"Why, if I could reach through that display right now and wallop you--" Moira continued, shaking her head.

Rue tugged his way free of Cal's grip, unease building up over body contact during such a prolonged period of public scrutiny. Abruptly he realized it wasn't exactly Cal's touch making him uneasy. Before, he'd fight to the death to unclutch those fingers. Now, earlier today touching him had been the only way to assure himself of the reality of the flesh. Then it wasn't enough, and he'd wanted more, and he still didn't want to analyze it but he thought he could bear up under Cal's touch, now. That didn't mean he wanted the Calloways watching with Cal's arm around him. Seeing public displays of affection made him squirm and being the object of them had always provoked revolt.

He turned his face from the display to hide his thoughts, at least from Moira's too-perceptive eyes. Jayce had tossed the puzzle aside and blinked up at him with sleepy eyes.

"Come on, son, let's get you ready for bed," Rue murmured, bending to scoop the drowsy boy onto his feet.

"Don't wanna," Jayce mumbled back, rolling onto his feet nonetheless with a glance for the display. "Gram' n Grampa--"

"--will still be here and might be done lecturing Cal by the time you're in your jammies," Rue said, looking over his shoulder at the display. The Calloways seemed to have switched to a good cop-bad cop routine. He amended, "maybe."

Chivvying Jayce through his bedtime routine wasn't usually a problem. Jayce was a bright boy with a sweet, reasonable nature. Tonight, however, it was one prod after another, with Jayce digging his heels in every step of the way. A long day filled with post-birthday excitement, emotional adults all around him, finished off with an unexpected call from the grandparents, and Jayce was likely overwrought without realizing it. Being a child, he needed sleep, but as a child, he clung to wakefulness for fear of missing yet another exciting upset. Rue paused in the act of turning down the bed as another heat-wave crashed over his face. If he told their son the only thing he'd be missing by staying up would be a "kiss and make up" session to erase last night's argument, that would likely dissolve Jayce's interest in trying to stay awake. He wasn't Cal, though; he couldn't wield so blunt an instrument.

Jayce stomped out of the bathroom, turning a pouty frown in Rue's direction. "Daddy, I don't wanna go to bed." He rubbed at his eyes and looked ready to cry.

Glancing over where Cal was still getting chewed out in front of the wall-phone, Rue grasped Jayce's hand without speaking and gently but firmly dragged the boy into his bedroom.

A couple of feet into the room, Jayce dug in his heels and refused to move forward. Rue wasn't about to force him, and so he let go.

With a weary sigh Rue sank down onto the edge of Jayce's bed. He didn't really want to deal with this, but it wasn't as though he could blame the boy. It had been a long, stressful day. Twenty-four hours, really -- ever since Cal had exploded the lobster the evening before. He hadn't slept well in Jayce's bed instead of Cal's arms, and now he could admit that to himself.

"Jayce, baby, come here," he urged, holding out a hand, suddenly overwhelmed with the need to hold onto his son, since Cal wasn't here.

It looked for a moment as though Jayce was going to refuse, his normally soft mouth firm, his dark brown eyes unreadable. Rue wondered whether he was going to have to field a tantrum; it had been years since the last time Jayce had indulged in one. Then, small feet padding, Jayce came over and crawled into his lap, snuggling up against his chest.

"It's all right now, Daddy," Jayce assured him, patting his upper arm as Rue embraced him tightly. "Dad's alive and you're not mad at him anymore. Right?"

"Right," Rue replied, after he had found his voice. He pressed a kiss to the crown of Jayce's head and held him close.

"You're not going to sleep in here again tonight, are you?" Jayce asked, suddenly sounding a little anxious, craning his neck to look up at his father.

"Of course not!" Rue choked a little over the idea, then caught a slight smirk on Jayce's mouth that reminded him of Cal when he thought he was being clever. "That was.... I won't be doing that again, baby."

"Good," Jayce proclaimed, cuddling against Rue's chest once again and butting his head underneath his father's chin. "I love you, Daddy, but you hog the bed."

Rue couldn't really think of a reply to this, so the two sat in silence for a while.

"Dad really almost died today, didn't he?" Jayce asked, finally.

Rue's arms tightened without his meaning it. "Yes," he husked, fighting the urge to race out into the living area and make sure that Cal was still there. He diverted himself from his own distress by focusing on the child in his arms. "Does that frighten you?" he asked, beginning to worry about the effect of the day's events on Jayce.

"No." Jayce shook his head. "Dad is strong. He didn't die today, so that's okay. And I don't think anything that bad will happen again. And even if it does, Dad will always come back to us. Because he wouldn't leave us."

Rue felt like shit, plainly put, when he thought of how he had been ready to follow Cal into death, before he had found out that his lover was still alive. That wouldn't have been fair to Jayce.... He told himself that he would never have actually done it, found some way to off himself, that he would have lived his life for Jayce. He would have been a good father to the boy, even though he would have felt empty inside.... And maybe it was true; he had no way of knowing now. He felt for a second as though he would weep, and reminded himself quickly that Cal was out in the living area, still being yelled at by the Calloways.

"We'll never leave you, Jayce," Rue assured him, kissing his head again.

"I know," Jayce said equably. "Someday I'll leave you, when I'm old enough. But I'll live close."

Rue bit back on his immediate response to that, telling himself that Jayce was right, but that it would be quite a while yet. He had only just turned seven, after all!

"Will you go to bed now?" he asked instead, hoping that Jayce had softened on the issue in the intervening time.

Jayce made a grumbling sound. "Wanna talk to Gramma and Grampa."

"How about if I let you call them tomorrow morning?" Rue offered, thinking that Jack and Moira would surely want to wish Jayce a belated happy birthday. "Once they've gotten over their mad at your Dad."

Jayce thought about it for a moment. "Okay." Rue breathed a silent sigh of relief. "But I wanna cuddle with you and Dad some more."

"Uh." Rue froze momentarily, wincing at that thought. As soon as Cal was off the phone with his parents, one of them was going to pounce the other. The only questions were, which one of them, and would they make it to the bedroom?

Jayce looked up at him again, brow furrowed. "Are you and Dad gonna do that grown-up hugging and kissing?!" he asked, suddenly suspicious.

Oh goddess, let the boy not be picking that up from him! Rue made a mental note to get Jayce in for empathy testing very soon. He hadn't done it before in case it was scary and traumatizing for the boy, but Jayce was seven now, and was a steady, confident child. It would be better to know; better for all of them!

"Yes," he answered slowly, reluctantly.

"Euw." Jayce pulled a face and squirmed off of his lap. "Then I'm ready to go to bed. But you promised that I'd get to call Gramma and Grampa tomorrow!"

"I did." Rue tucked Jayce in, running fingers through his hair and pressing a warm kiss to his forehead. Jayce's eyes were heavy and he yawned widely. "Are you going to be all right, baby?"

"Sing to me?" Jayce requested unexpectedly. He hadn't asked for this in years. Rue was absurdly touched.

"Sure thing." He continued stroking Jayce's skull, fingers carding through his silky hair, thumb circling over his temple, as he softly sang the ballad that had always sent Jayce to sleep when he had been a baby. It worked its magic again this evening, and before he had finished, his son was asleep, his breathing shallow and regular.

"Sleep sweet, baby," Rue whispered, bending and kissing Jayce's brow again before rising.

Squaring his shoulders, he walked to the door and turned out the light. Whether his parents were done with him or not, Cal was waiting. And Rue needed this more than he had ever needed it before.

With the door to Jayce's room barely shut behind him, Rue's pocket began to buzz insistently. He jumped before remembering he hadn't left it in the den, and fumbled it out of his jogging pants. It was Shelby from Clarion, one of Rue's first clients, a woman who had consistently if infrequently turned up good work for him throughout the years. He answered the call with his typical, "Pierce here," then softened it with a "Thanks, Shelby." It was due to her suggestion that he'd be pulling a nice fat check from a marketing firm at which he'd been trying to get in the door for months. It really did pay to network.

"My pleasure, Pierce," Shelby's rich, low alto replied. She was an older woman, tall and angular and her face attractive even as it settled into age lines, but her voice was vibrant and ageless. When he was younger he thought he might have had a bit of a crush on her, until Trish Whelan came along and subjected him to the full brunt of true infatuation. "I just wanted to check and see if they nibbled."

"They certainly did," Rue said with a slight grin, glancing toward the living room. From the Calloways' posture, it looked as if they might be reaching an appeasement at last. Cal's head was ducked low and he was rubbing the back of his neck.

The odd thought struck him that he wanted to sneak up behind him and lick the nape of that neck, maybe even bite a little. Rue blinked and tried to keep track of his conversation, at least while he still had a valuable contact on the line. "So, what made you think of me this time? It's not a 'special' job but I definitely think I'm one of those best-suited."

"Honestly?" Shelby gave him a throaty chuckle. "I was at Tully's last night, Pierce, and if you hadn't been there, I was going to recommend a conventional freelancer I'd worked with more recently."

Rue gaped.

"You have an adorable little boy. And was that your partner? He's quite a catch." There was suppressed mirth in Shelby's voice, but Rue sensed it wasn't malicious at all. She was just amused, and who could fail to snicker when remembering that moment? It had certainly gotten him noticed.

"Despite the lack of social skills," Rue said wryly. He took a breath, and let the last ghost of resentment go. "Yes...I'm a fortunate man." An incredulous smile was tugging at his mouth.

"You owe me a soft job for that one," Shelby informed him. "A day's work?"

"Done," Rue agreed. This new contract was definitely worth a small freebie, and that was part of the give and take of networking. It paid off in the long run, keeping Shelby and Clarion Industries happy with him.

They said their goodbyes and Rue flipped his phone shut, hesitating on the verge of the living room and wondering if he should slip in, or take his last chance to strip into clothes he didn't mind losing. Cal turned unerringly in his direction, sensing him despite his supposed power-drained state, and beckoned him toward the wall-phone. "Come say goodnight?" he mouthed.

Rue joined him across from the display, smiling at Moira and Jack a little more freely now. He had every reason to be happy: friends who cared about him, a wonderful little boy, a great-paying new contract starting soon, and a loving--

Cal's hand wrapped around his wrist and he found himself tugged to the bigger man's side again.

"We should let you go, I suppose," Moira was saying, peering at them both. "It is later there, after all. Is Jayce coming to say goodnight?"

"Oh, sorry, Moira," Rue apologized. "I got him down to bed already and promised he could give you a call tomorrow morning. What time--"

"You know whatever time you call we'll be up a few hours earlier," Jack said gruffly.

Moira gave him an encouraging nod. "We'd love to get a ring from you tomorrow morning. I'll do some housework and make sure I'm nearby to hear it."

Still Cal's parents looked at him for a moment longer, hesitant to cut the connection, and Rue could understand their reluctance. If it weren't for the warm hand anchoring his wrist in a steely grip that would brook no opposition, Rue might still have his moments of doubt. He'd had a prickle here and there, looking at Cal or beneath his touch, that maybe he'd lost his sanity and this was the easy dream that came after.

"I love you, my darling bonnie men," Moira said fondly, leaning against her husband. "I'll talk to you tomorrow morning."

"Goodnight, Mom," Cal said, ducking his head again.

"Goodnight, boys," Jack husked, settling an arm around his wife's shoulders.

"Sleep well," Rue contributed. He was suddenly restless to end the call. "See you tomorrow." His last impression was of Moira's smile, then Cal clicked off the display.

Hands were on his shoulders, turning him to face Cal and it was probably a good thing because he wasn't sure after all that he could make himself do it: something so simple as turn toward his lover. "You tired?" Cal murmured, unexpectedly accommodating. It made Rue want to elbow him until he thought back on Jess's punches, and he made a mental note to check for bruises - later.

"Are you?" Rue challenged with a lift of his chin, meeting Cal's startled dark eyes.

"Not too tired for that," Cal rumbled, giving him a sensuous smile, and bent to claim his mouth and more.

***

Kory Wynne's first impression as he stepped out of the gunmetal-gray Mustang convertible was that the sprawling sandstone faÁade two-bedroom home at 210 Catamaran Drive was disturbingly normal for the dwelling that housed the most powerful part-Nephilim on Defense Corps payroll. He lounged against his car as he waited for his brother to come around to his side. Kory looked up and down the block and was struck with how very suburban the whole neighborhood seemed. There was a group of children playing some form of tag three lawns over; up in the other direction, a couple of skinny teenagers were sunbathing.

"This is fucking weird," Kory muttered as Kyle stepped onto the curb beside him and flicked dark eyebrows up at him, inquiring. "He used to live in the urban ring with us. High-rise apartment, clubbing almost every night, working hard and playing harder..."

"What's weird about it? He's got a kid now," Kyle rejoined. "Cal's a family man."

Kory shuddered. "Heaven help him. Never gonna happen to us, bro."

Kyle saw no need to reply to that as they took the sidewalk up to the stoop and the red-paneled door. Kory leaned against the doorbell for a long moment, grinning at his brother who simply shook his head and sighed as the doorbell pealed inside over and over. --dongdingdongdingdongdongdong!

After over a minute of that, the door snapped open and Cal Pierce filled the doorway, his handsome face now arranged in an expression far short of his usual congeniality. "What!?" he demanded.

"Dude. Answer your fucking phone! Redhawk sent me all the way over here, I am NOT an errand boy, and where the FUCK are your pants!?" Kory exclaimed. He took a step back, glanced over his shoulder to make sure the kids were nowhere near in play, then stepped closer to his brother to form a solid blocking line.

Beside him, Kyle averted his eyes. "Oh, god," he uttered. "Find your pants, Pierce, and put them on. I won't speak to you until you're wearing pants."

"Uh. Sorry." Cal turned, flashing bare ass on his way to the living room. Kory threw a hand up to cover his eyes, but it was too late. He'd seen. "I think Rue has my pants or at least may be familiar with their last known location...It's your own fault, you know. I thought the doorbell was stuck."

Kyle glared at him and Kory shrugged. "Dude hasn't been answering his phone," Kory said. "I figured he needed a wake-up call."

From inside, a horrified "You answered the door like that!?" floated to their ears, and Kory grinned. Kyle remained impassive, in waiting mode. Cal's deeper reply came back to them, "I thought it was some kind of emergency, like Jayce broke an arm or something." "I don't think he can, he's your son, after all."

Cal appeared in the doorway again, clasping at the frame and somewhat out of breath. "Sorry. Uh. What do you want?"

"Cal," Rue's voice hissed from some point further inside the house.

"Oh." One big hand came up to rub at his sleek dark head. "That was rude, I guess. I, uh, can't invite you in, but thanks for dropping by?" The other hand tugged at the edge of loose black running pants as if to check they were secure. Earlier Cal had answered the door in nothing but a button-up shirt that hadn't had more than three buttons done up; he still wore that, exposing part of the impressive musculature of chest and stomach, but the pants were a welcome addition to his ensemble.

Kory glanced over at his brother, whose nostrils had flared. "That's fine," Kyle said evenly. Kyle had a much better sense of smell than he did, so Kory was inclined to believe that staying on the stoop was the better option at this particular moment in time. Besides, even he could tell without the benefit of No-Pants Pierce answering the door that Cal had just recently been engaged in coitus.

"Sure, it's kind of a courtesy call thing," Kory said, picking up for his brother's lack of conversational skills. "You know, you blow yourself up, part of the Wall comes tumbling down, you have to expect some follow-up from your Corps. Redhawk wanted me to tell you he would've made a personal visit, but as you can imagine, he's been holding the line nearly non-stop since the other day." As had they all, Kory added mentally, but for he and Kyle it just meant extra bonuses and sweet, sweet overtime pay.

"Oh," Cal said, his face dropping into a mournful expression. "Sorry about that."

"Nah, you got rid of the Nephilim, and somehow didn't kill yourself in the process," Kory said, waving a hand. He scratched at his ear and grinned. "Still power-drained?" And enjoying every moment of his disability leave, from the looks of it.

"Uh, yes." Cal looked over his shoulder, probably in Rue's direction, and there was a goofy smile creeping over his face when he looked back. "I don't know for how long, but I intend to, um, make the best of it."

"All right," Kory said, lifting a hand, "I already knew more than I wanted to about your disability leave, Cal, so let's cut off that line of thought right there."

Cal's brows beetled in confusion. "Huh?"

"Shemyahza Guile wants to see you when you can tell your powers are coming back," Kory continued, mentally going down the list that Redhawk had given him. "Redhawk has authorized him, and only him, as being competent to clear you for battle. He said only Guile has the appropriate expertise even though he's a bounty hunter, not on staff, and Guile agreed to do it as a favor to you."

"Wow, that's nice of him--" Cal's face lit up.

"Yeah, well, Orion is paying his consulting fee," Kory said wryly, not wanting his teammate to think that Shem had gotten a sudden attack of altruism, or something.

"Oh."

Kory leaned in to place a hand against the door frame, raising his brows earnestly at Cal. "You know, he wanted to place a house call himself, before Redhawk made me do it. You should be thanking me, because...how did it go? Oh, yeah, Shem said he wanted to make sure you knew he would've taken good care of your 'fine-ass mate--'" Kyle threw him a warning look just as Cal growled, face darkening.

"Never going to happen," Rue Pierce interrupted crisply, stepping into the doorway beside Cal. Unlike his lover, he had actually taken the time to get dressed and looked respectable in dark green cargo slacks and a blue t-shirt that set off his gorgeous eyes. "And you can tell Guile I said that. Besides, as Cal has already proved, he's too stupid to die properly." Despite the flippant words, though, there was an undercurrent of the haunted in Rue's eyes when he said it.

Then, to Kory's intense amazement, Cal hooked his lover around the waist and drew him close to his side. Rue pushed at him, as expected, and tried to break free, but there was an easier body language between them now. Rue got free of him and muttered "later" in Cal's direction, too quiet for most to hear but not Kory's keen ears. Just that small interchange was a striking difference. Where before there had been an uneasy mating and a hopelessly unequal dominance war, now it seemed to be a more mutual, even-partnered relationship. Of course, Kory had met Mr. Pierce on very few occasions so the difference now was even more striking.

"Tell him the other thing," Kyle muttered, taking a step back so that he was no longer on the stoop.

Kory raised his eyebrows at his brother, who while keeping up an expression that would be impassive to anyone else, nonetheless looked uncomfortable to him in a dozen different minutiae of body language. The couple before him was probably setting off fireworks of pheromone emissions; Kyle was signaling, "say the rest of it and let's go."

"Oh, right," Kory said easily. "Not long after you barreled out of the waystation, Ms. Carson said something about making an offer for your services. I think that's another reason Redhawk sent me over here, to make sure we talked to you before Orion did." He grinned.

"So?" Cal said, frowning.

"Redhawk said on the spot he was giving you a 10% raise, and she couldn't afford you," Kory said, and chuckled. "Damn, but he wants to make sure the Corps keeps you. Plus he told Ms. Carson pretty smugly that he knew for a fact you liked having paid benefits and that was something Orion doesn't do."

Cal shrugged, but Kory noticed that Rue perked up at this new tidbit of information. Yet again that confirmed Kory's opinion that while Cal might be the alpha male, Rue definitely wore the pants in the family. Or kept track of the pants. Or had charge of the pants' checkbook... Kory shook his head and grinned at the pair of them, and their body language did declare them a pairing, now that the myriad different conflicting and resistant signals from Rue were lessened or entirely gone.

"I wouldn't have left the Corps," Cal said. "You can tell Redhawk I like my work just fine."

"So, that's what we came for," Kory said, rubbing his hands together. "Now I suppose we'll leave you to it -- uh, I mean, we'll be going." Kyle flashed baleful eyes in his direction.

"Thank you for stopping by," Rue said politely, and Cal waved before shutting the door in their faces.

"Well, that went well, I think," Kory said to the red door, before he turned and grinned at his taciturn brother. "Do we have to go straight back? It's a beautiful day, we could drive around, pick up some pretty young thing..."

Kyle grunted and turned for the gray Mustang at the curb. "The top's already down," he said by way of reply.

Kory grinned at nothing in particular and hooked his thumbs in his belt loops. Yep, it was a beautiful day. Like Cal, his nature was inclined to make the most of it. "Who's driving?" he prompted his brother, and Kyle held up a fist. Kory held up his own, and they extended in the three quick flicks for rock, paper, scissors. Kory tsked. "Damn." He picked a new one every time, but Kyle was just too good.

***

Banging the door shut behind him, Jayce scrambled over the wide expanse of emerald lawn and paused for a moment, planting himself and looking both directions. It had been nearly a week since his birthday and the exciting day after. There were a couple of days left until school and his daddy was starting a new contract soon, so summer break fun times were past. Right now he had to get out of the house, but it seemed like there wasn't much for him to do. There were neighborhood boys he played with sometimes, most of whom went to his school but different grades. This afternoon he didn't see any of them, so they might be at the arcade or someplace. He wasn't allowed to go that far by himself even though he had his own phone for just-in-case. Jayce sighed, flipped his hair out of his eyes, and bolted for the house next door, knocking three times, waiting a bit, then knocking again.

He was constructing ambitious plans of making a trip to the arcade all by himself, leaving a message on his dad's cell phone for good measure to be able to say later he'd notified his parents. Technically. Then he was saved by the door opening and Jess blinked down at him.

"Can I come play Gnashers and Staves? Ryan said I could come play it again after lunch," Jayce said.

Jess opened the door wider, frowning at him a little but she wasnít mad. "Sure, honey. Wow, this is the third time today."

"You want me to go to the park instead?" Jayce said quickly, though he was pretty sure Jess would say no, or at least, not unsupervised. Jayce was getting frustrated. He was already seven, he should be old enough to go places on his own, especially since he had a phone now and the unshakable certainty that nothing bad could happen to him.

"No, no, it's okay." Jess palmed his head and guided him inside, tsking. "I can't believe Cal and Rue are sending you over again, would it kill them to wait--" She cut herself off and frowned harder.

"Oh, they didn't send me over! They just went into the bedroom and I didn't feel like sticking around and watching TV by myself." Jayce grinned up at her. "I don't mind if you don't."

"Aw, hon, that's so sweet," Jess said, resting a hand on his shoulder as they went up the hall toward the living room. From the television area he could hear the sound effects of a blast-em-up video game, which was good news - Ryan already had his system primed and ready and all Jayce had to do was pick up the second controller. "They doing better, do you think? I mean, it's been a couple of days already, so I figured..."

"Much better!" Jayce said brightly. They emerged into the living room and Ryan glanced up from his game, nodding brief acknowledgement. "Well, I guess you could say that. I mean, it's great how my dads will touch and even kiss and not fight anymore, but do they really have to do it all the time?"

Ryan choked over nothing, nearly fumbling his controller before pausing his game.

Jess patted his shoulder and ignored her partner. "That is how most people are when they're in love, Jayce. Actually, I'm relieved to hear that Cal and Rue are acting like that now. Want some iced tea, sweetie? I was just about to pour myself a glass."

"Sure!" Jayce said enthusiastically, glancing at Ryan. "What are you playing, Ryan?"

Ryan coughed, pounding his chest, and pointed at the screen. "Zombie Invasion 3050," he rasped. "You wanna--" He lifted up his controller in inquiry.

Jayce wrinkled his nose and shook his head, following Jess into the kitchen. "You and Ryan don't touch and kiss like that all the time!" he said accusingly. Well, it was true, but he got the impression that most of the time Ryan wanted to, when he wasn't eating or playing videogames.

"Well, sweetie, we have more restraint than Cal!" Jess said brightly. "We wait until you're not around."

They emerged into the wide, bright kitchen, what Jayce often thought of as the "heart" of their home. It always had warm light pouring into it unless the day was shut down with clouds; there were windows in almost every direction and a big, reinforced skylight that took up nearly the entire ceiling. Between the wide-open spaces, the nifty barstools on one side of the kitchen island, and the polished-wood circular breakfast nook, he thought he might like the Mason-Reynolds kitchen even better than his own, and whatever home he ended up making for himself one day, he wanted a kitchen that felt like this one. Jayce clambered up onto a barstool as Jess crossed over the terra-cotta tiles for the refrigerator.

"Ha, you think Dad's the one at fault," Jayce said cheerfully.

Jess paused with a pitcher in her hands. "He's not?" Her wavy blonde-streaked stresses tumbled loosely around her shoulders as she cocked her head.

"Only about half the time," Jayce said in the manner of one confiding a secret. He wrinkled his nose. "This morning before they knew I was up I saw Daddy grabbing Dad's butt."

"Rue grabbed Cal's butt," Jess deciphered, setting the pitcher on the lapis-tiled kitchen island.

"Uh-huh," Jayce confirmed, giggling. "He's been doing stuff like that all week!" He covered his mouth to hide the snicker.

Jess looked at the counter for a moment, a quiet smile forming. She shook her head. "Well, that answers that question," she said, as if to herself. She raised her brows, then went to fetch two tall glasses from the cabinet behind her. She quirked a grin at him. "You don't seem too traumatized, kiddo!"

Jayce twiddled his thumbs for a moment, thinking. He knew what Jess really meant by that. He wanted to put his thoughts in order properly before he replied. Of all the people he'd known all his life, he knew that the relationship between Jess and Rue was really important. His daddy never talked about his own family, and Jayce didn't dare ask. But he knew that somehow Jess was like the family Rue didn't have anymore, and she'd been worried about him this whole time, ever since Cal had showed up in their lives. At first Jayce had been so excited over the appearance of his father, and the way they'd connected, he had failed to really notice how it had bothered Rue, and not in the ways to be expected. He, like Cal, had been so caught up in the unshakable certainty of the rightness of the three of them forming a family that Jayce hadn't realized the way they had done it, or maybe the fact that it had happened so quickly, hadn't been right for Rue. Jess had noticed, he thought. Jess had been trying to help him work through it.

"There was something cold inside my daddy for a long time," Jayce began, looking at his hands. Jess came around to his side of the counter, sliding a glass of peach iced tea within range. She seated herself on a barstool beside him, listening. "Like a part of him was frozen up where even I couldn't reach even though he was always really happy to be with me. When Dad came, Dad broke the ice. So I thought it was right for him to be with us. But then daddy got worse...it was weird. It felt like Dad was the only thing that could make things right, but Daddy was fighting him, like he didn't want to be warm or maybe he didn't know he was all frozen up inside. And now...it's gone. It melted."

Jess sipped at her iced tea, looking off into the distance with a frown.

"Does that sound weird?" Jayce said, suddenly anxious. He knew not everyone could feel things the way he did, so he wondered if he'd explained it wrong.

Jess shook her head slowly, then looked over at him and smiled. "No, sweetie, I think it sounds just about right. So, has Cal gotten better about things, you think? I think part of his problem was he never felt pain before so he just didn't know--" She cut herself off and rubbed a vigorous hand over his tousled hair.

Jayce giggled as Jess ruffled his hair, ducking and batting at her intrusive hand. "Actually, yeah! Daddy took me to the park yesterday and I asked if things were better and he looked kind of far-away and said yeah, dad's gotten more considerate."

For some reason this made Jess choke on her iced tea. After she recovered from furious coughing, she patted her sternum and managed a weak, "Th-that's good to hear."

"Are they gonna be like this forever?" Jayce asked solemnly, leaning his elbows on the counter. "I've been overnight to a lot of my friends' places, and none of them act the way my parents are acting now."

"Uh, well," Jess began with a concentrating look. "Well, you know how you said it's like Rue was frozen inside? And he just melted. You know how rivers can freeze up in wintertime? Yes?"

Jayce nodded; they had learned about that. He knew that water expanded when it froze, too, and that was how pipes could burst in basements even today in the age of super-technology.

"Well, now that Rue just melted, it's like springtime," Jess said, blinking and turning a delicate shade of red. "And rivers can overflow in the spring right when the ice melts, because it's like they don't know how to handle all that water all at once, after nothing for so long." She shook her head a little bit and put her head in her hands.

"You don't have to be embarrassed," Jayce assured her.

"No, it's not that," Jess said, muffled. "I just can't believe I used that as my analogy, that's all. I should've just said they're in the honeymoon phase."

"I thought it was good," Jayce said solemnly. "I like it when people don't talk down to me."

Jess gave him a quizzical little smile and drained the rest of her iced tea. "Well, sometimes we get caught up in how cute you are, little man, we forget that you're pretty mature, too." She hopped off her stool and reached out for him with fingers extended in wiggling-tickle mode, chanting, "Cute! Cute!"

Jayce shrieked and leapt off his barstool, fleeing the Jess-monster with glee, headed for Ryan with full intentions of using the man as a body-shield. "Ryan! Help, it's a zombie!"

"A zombie!? Hell, kid, get your butt in here, I've been training for this moment!"

***

Rolling out of bed and stretching with the supple grace of a panther, Cal gloried in full range of motion, pain-free. He was in fine form and ready for action, a far cry from his capabilities of a couple weeks before. He recalled the day after the incident with a mental groan. Though he'd never encountered pain before in his life, he had experienced enough after his power-drainage to more than make up for the lack.

Two weeks ago he'd woken and attempted to roll out of bed with a moan of pain, stretching to ease the stiffness that had set in overnight, and joints had cracked and popped. He'd tried to heft himself out of bed, failed, and perched on the edge of the bed for a moment. "Shit, I'm sore," he'd complained. "Rue, how do you do this?"

"What?" Rue had asked, wry. "You mean 'live?'"

"Mm-hmm," Cal had whimpered.

"Well." Rue laid back on his half of the bed, lacing his fingers behind his head. "I grew up human, Cal, without your advantages. You just...grow into it. Since you never had that, it's a shock to your system."

Cal went limp and fell back onto his side of the bed, groaning. His stomach muscles ached up and down the length of him. He was sore in places he'd had no clear conception of before now. "I want it to go away."

Rue had propped himself on one elbow and surveyed him. "Sounds like it will, soon enough." His mouth twitched in a half-smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Oh." Cal reached for him, but he was far too sore to follow up on the way he felt right now. "Rue. I - I get it now, you know? When it hurts. When you want me to stop, or - or, the biting thing--"

Fingers halted the flow of his stumbling words, pressing down on his lips and silencing him. "Okay," Rue murmured.

Cal's face lit up. "Okay?"

"Yeah," Rue murmured back, and the look on his face, soft and mussed and lit with the rising sun, made Cal's loins tighten and he had a powerful urge to roll his mate over and plunder him to their mutual enjoyment. Of which he'd be a good deal more careful, now. When he moved, though, it wasn't with the fluid ease to which he was accustomed, and he groaned and lapsed onto his back again.

Today that time was up, and Cal didn't have a trace of the weakness or pain that had bothered him before. He went through a full range of stretching and finished up with some push-ups on the floor.

"That's way too much industry for this early in the morning," Rue commented, shaking his head and meeting Cal's eyes in the mirror above the room's wide, low dresser when Cal had gotten to his feet once more. His clever fingers manipulated his tie; his return to work coincided with Cal's recovery.

"You're the morning person," Cal purred, coming up behind Rue on soft feet and putting his hands on his partner's hips.

"Yeah, but someone kept me from getting eight hours last night," Rue commented, glaring into the eyes of Cal's reflection, words harsh enough but body language transmitting ease.

Cal grinned over Rue's shoulder. "I'd say I was sorry, but--"

"No, you're not," Rue interrupted, shaking his head. "Come on, let go. I've got to finish getting ready for work, and you've got to meet up with Shemyahza at Orion."

"Fine," Cal said, pushing his lower lip out in a brief imitation of Jayce. That got him a laugh, and Rue disengaged from him to retrieve his work shoes. They were both through with the impromptu vacation.

He was relieved to be back in top condition and no mistake, but there were certain aspects he'd miss. His other senses had been dulled, but touch had been...not enhanced, exactly, but transmuted, all textures assuming a different significance with his altered senses. Cal was also a little worried that Rue would revert to his former defensiveness, especially if Cal in his renewed strength made any mis-steps... He would be careful now, though, in a way he never had been before. During the time Cal had been power-drained, lacking the invulnerability he'd possessed as long as he remembered, they had made use of the interval to reverse roles in bed.

That first time, Rue had gotten unexpectedly rough. Too turned on, he'd said later, apologetic. And Cal had snared him with an arm and pulled him close and apologized in turn, his voice hoarse, for years of doing the same. He had been so remorseful through his sudden empathy with what he'd done during those three years of vain protests that Rue had ended up reassuring him, of all things. Then they'd done it again.

It had been good, and sweet - bittersweet, more like, both of them knowing that there might not be another opportunity. Then they'd looked at one another, grinning, and without a word or any agreement other than unspoken they'd reverted to their typical positions after that. The first time had been a novelty, the second, nice and comfortable with no particular extra charge, though Cal had really enjoyed both times and it was thrilling to let Rue top him, while they had the chance. Nevertheless it had been with an emotion approaching relief that Cal had taken the lead the next time, and Rue had invited it and been noisy enough to justify the soundproofing.

"Meet you for lunch?" Cal asked, pulling a form-fitting black tee over his head and casting about for a clean pair of jeans.

Rue shook his head almost at once. "This is my first day at a new location, I have to see how things go, first." He raised knowing brows. "You think Shemyahza will be done with you by that point?"

"Well. I dunno." Cal made a face. "Hope so, anyhow. Fine, I'll come back home and work on the back deck some more. I hate not working, there's just not much I can do if you and Jayce aren't taking time off too."

"Yes, that's why you had three months of vacation stored up when we went and visited your parents last year," Rue said, his mouth twitching but not quite releasing the threatened smirk.

"We should go again," Cal said, making a grab for his mate.

Rue sidestepped him, making a fast track for the bedroom. "I don't think so, Cal; remember what time I have to get to work? Breakfast, and you're dropping Jayce off to school this morning."

"Right." Cal pursed his lips hopefully.

He was denied with a laugh as Rue retreated, thinking rightfully that Cal would seize the proximity to try and convince with hands and lips what words alone couldn't manage.

Breakfast was a jovial affair. Jayce was happy to get back to school - an active child, he liked his breaks and played hard, but he thrived in the social atmosphere at school and enjoyed learning to boot. Rue was happy to get back to work, never satisfied with too much time idle - it made him nervous, his body language had transmitted that knowledge to Cal on those occasions he was between contracts for what he considered to be too long. Being out of work probably reminded his mate of those days when he was living paycheck to paycheck and sometimes had to stretch what he had for himself and a baby for longer than he should've; frightening for anyone, but especially someone who preferred to be in control like Rue. Cal himself was thrilled with the prospect of getting cleared for duty, because he just plain had too much energy to lay about the house not using it for something productive.

In the garage they kissed farewell, not too long under Jayce's watchful eye from the front seat of the Jeep, but this was a new fixture to an altered daily routine and Cal cherished it. 'The honeymoon phase," Jess had accused during dinner out last week, and it was true and he intended to do whatever he could to prolong it for the utmost length possible. She had caught them holding hands under the table.

In truth, Rue had grabbed his hand to prevent a more intimate contact, but Cal hadn't complained.

When Cal put a hand on his partner's belt he was pushed away and Cal let him, though the urge first and foremost when seeing his lips swollen and his eyes hooded like that was to take him straight back to bed. Or the nearest accommodating surface... Still, they had their obligations and when Rue glared like that, even though it was sexy he didn't dare risk the wrath over making them all late.

He proved that he could be good. He kept his hands to himself, and he dropped his son off at school with Jayce waving a cheery goodbye, and drove himself to Orion's Delphinus facility one ring over.

Guile met him in the reception area, seated on one of the upholstered chairs in the waiting area, bare dark elbows resting on his red leather-clad knees. A waterfall of unbound darkly green-sheened hair fell around his shoulders and pooled around his hips on the chair. He was gorgeous in a masculine and feral fashion, and Cal wondered how anyone could see him and believe he was human. Then again, most humans didn't know about the Nephilim, so they had no basis for comparison.

"You're early," Cal informed him, stopping at a wary distance beyond reach of any weapon not projectile. It was nothing personal; he followed his instincts most of the time and instinct told him that this above all others was a dangerous potential rival, unmated and virile and living within a hundred-mile radius.

"You're on time," Shemyahza noted with a lift of his distinctive eyebrows.

Cal rubbed at the back of his head. "Well, you know, Jayce was due back at school this morning, and Rue has a new contract, so..."

"Spare me the details of domesticity," Shemyahza interrupted, raising a hand.

Cal grinned. His longtime acquaintance had been a bachelor on the prowl for as long as he'd known him, which was one amongst many reasons he didn't like Shem anywhere near his mate. Well, that and the unfortunate circumstances of their first meeting, which Rue had never forgiven nor forgotten. "Some day you'll probably get yours," he said, but had to shake his head at the very thought of it.

Shemyahza snorted, delivering an elegant summation of his opinion on that. "Can we dispense with the pleasantries? We've come here today to assess your fitness and let's get on with that."

"Fine," Cal said. Blunt and to the point was how he liked it. "I've made a full recovery, so far as I can tell. No lingering side effects, no--"

A dark green brow twitched, and that was the only warning. A blur leapt for him, chair clattering off to the side and making for a distraction that Cal left in his peripheral vision as he braced himself to meet the oncoming rush. Guile slammed into him with the force of a freight train and Cal's heels would've left furrows in the turf if they had been outside. As it was they went skidding over the reception area. Cal met the charge by planting himself solid, stopping the skid and flexing his arms forward to meet Shemyahza's grip. He bared his teeth in a grin to match the fierce one on Shemyahza's face and they tussled in place for a moment, reaching a deadlock.

"Excuse me," a voice called from the desk area. "Mr. Pierce, Mr. Guile? A room has been reserved for you, please use that instead of the reception area."

They broke apart at once, arms dropping to their sides; Cal clasped his hands behind him like a guilty schoolboy. The receptionist was older and her general form and feature reminded him of his mother. She had turned a stern look on them. "Room 216 on the second floor." She pushed ident chips across the desk for them to pick up.

"So, how's it been?" Shemyahza asked him, as they made their way through the halls. Shemyahza took the lead, so he must have visited Delphinus before.

"Oh, great!" Cal said at once, all enthusiasm. "The sex was wonderful during my time off, Rue got all reciprocal, it was amazing; we even swapped--"

"No details, Cal, I didn't need those details," Shemyahza said, assuming a pained expression. "It was a courtesy question, almost rhetorical in fact, clearly a mistake in retrospect. In fact, I'll try to ask you yes or no questions and you stick to one-word answers, deal?"

Cal shrugged, pushing his lip out a bit; not quite a frown, not quite a pout, mostly he was puzzled, not really put off. Shem had asked. That was how it had been, for him.

"Did you incur any other injuries during the past two weeks?" Shemyahza asked him.

"Yes," Cal replied, and pulled a face when Shemyahza cast a long look in his direction, then rotated his hand as if prompting Cal to continue. "Hey, you just said to reply with one-word answers. You did, just now."

Shemyahza shook his head in a brief, irritated gesture. "Tell me how you injured yourself. Not the details," he added hastily when he saw Cal raise his brows. "Just what it was."

"Plenty of bruises," Cal said cheerfully. "Apparently I bang into things a lot more often than I realized. So, lots of that. Also, hickeys and bite marks."

Shemyahza rolled his eyes.

"And I burned my hands," Cal finished up, casting his mind back over the past couple weeks. Huh, that had pretty much been the extent of it. It seemed like it had all hurt out of proportion to what had actually happened.

"All right, how did you burn your hands?" Shemyahza asked, mystified.

"I was doing dishes," Cal explained, "and I turned the knob all the way to the left like I normally do, and--"

"Voila, scalded hands," Shemyahza filled in, ironic. "I'll bet Rue gave you a lot of shit for that."

They had reached the end of the corridor and Shemyahza tapped the button for the lift, pinning him with an overly wide grin.

"Actually, no," Cal responded, somewhat sheepish. He was so lucky. "He hasn't gloated a bit, you would have expected, right? After all the times I've left on the hottest water and Rue ran his hands under it...nah, he just patched me up, only grinned a little bit once he knew I wasn't hurt too bad."

Shemyahza snickered. "I would've gloated," he said, not even pausing to think over it.

"Yeah...I guess that's what makes him better than you and me, huh."

Room 216 was a gym with a data workstation set up in one corner. They were both stripped down to fight already, convenient enough. Shemyahza started them off with light sparring, as they'd begun in the lobby and been cut short. Of course, their definition of "light sparring" left dents in the walls, and would probably leave Carson or whomever scheduled the room regretful they hadn't scheduled something more open-air. Like a stadium.

Shemyahza called it quits when Cal punched through the floor and exposed building crawl-space. "All right, you've recovered physically," the Nephilim said, no hint of understatement in his face or voice. He scuffed the edge of the floor-crater with the tip of one boot. "Your invulnerability is back to normal - whatever normal is, for you; it's never been put up to systematic test, has it?"

Cal's shoulders bunched in a brief shrug. "I've withstood anything that ever tried to put me down; that's good enough for me."

Silver eyes regarded him for a long moment, inscrutable. Finally, Shemyahza grunted and moved for the workstation in the far corner, gesturing for Cal to follow. "Let's see about any more esoteric forms of power."

"What do you mean by that?" Cal shifted his weight, uneasy. He didn't know where the power had come from, during that fire- and pain-riddled moment when he'd been hurtling for the ground. He had tried not to think about it. Since his powers had begun to come back, stumbling back into the habit of breaking metal or snapping things in half by accident, wrenching a bar off the bed-frame at home, turning up water in the shower hot enough to make Rue yelp and grab for the dial, he hadn't noticed any other manifestations.

"I told you already, remember," Shemyahza replied, pinning him with a knowing gaze. "You're going to need to be trained."

It was like the psych-profile he had submitted to years before, when he'd signed up for the Defense Corps and they hired him contingent on the evaluation of extensive profiling. Cal didn't much like the prospect of someone poking around in his head, even someone who meant well.

"All right," he sighed, dropping into the chair across from the workstation at Shemyahza's indication.

"There's a doctor out west with some kind of new genetic profiling for part-blood, you should look into it," Shemyahza suggested, leaning back. He laced his hands over one knee and fixed Cal with an unblinking stare.

Cal made a noncommittal noise. He met Shemyahza's eyes, wondering if this was going to hurt, or if there would be any other indicator that it was working. Or not. He didn't even know what was supposed to be 'working,' anyhow. After a long moment of intense staring, Shemyahza frowned.

"Well?" Shemyahza prompted.

"Well, what?" Cal echoed, frustrated. This wasn't exactly his idea of fun, engaging the thousand-yard stare of his sometime-chum, borderline rival.

Shemyahza shook his head, a trail of green hair coursing over one shoulder. He brushed it back impatiently. "You should -- wait, this isn't possible."

"What's not possible?" Cal demanded, mental state reduced to twelve and the inability to grasp fractions; this was new and unfamiliar territory and Shemyahza was exasperated at him over something he couldn't control. Abstract numbers had never made sense to him and this was another intangible.

A gust of a sigh answered him. "Clear your mind and concentrate."

"Concentrate on what?"

Forty minutes later, Shemyahza pronounced the "impossible" as something that Cal had inexplicably accomplished. Two weeks ago he had unleashed enough power in a strike to eclipse the Nephilim he'd grappled with, yet today Shemyahza tried to provoke a response from him on that plane in every way he knew how, and Cal failed on every count.

"Dense as adamant," Shemyahza said, shaking his head. "Whatever you had that day, Cal, there's no trace of it now."

"Good!" Cal said, standing and unkinking his muscles, stretching and shaking out his arms. He hated sitting still for that long and precious few things could rivet him to a chair. His idea of hell was a desk job and he didn't comprehend how Rue could do it.

"You're fit for duty," Shemyahza said, but he was still frowning. "I'll put a notice through to Redhawk. I still don't get it, though. How could you cut loose with that much power and then...revert, as if nothing ever happened?"

Cal tipped his head to one side. "Maybe I'm not meant to have it," he said honestly. "I do what I do best and that's the physical stuff. When it comes down to it, anything like that power is too nebulous for me to get a grasp on. So, maybe it was only an option for me when I really, really needed it. And outside those life or death circumstances my mind doesn't have those pathways."

Shemyahza's fingers tapped over the data surface, then he wiped his hand over the panel. "Perhaps you're right," he said, sending a perfunctory smile in Cal's direction. "I don't suppose we'll get to test that theory again."

"Not if I can help it," Cal said fervently. "Bad enough it happened once. I...I can't do that again." His brow knit as he looked down, recalling that haunted expression on Rue's face, a facet of his lover that he never, ever wanted to see again. They hadn't talked about it, they probably never would, but Rue had been in a bad place when Cal had walked through the door, and if he hadn't...that ventured into territory his mind couldn't contemplate. The world frissoned away in a burst of static; beyond this point here be dragons, and the edge of the world. It was a question that had almost ventured into being a year ago after Rue had come home from a day of work that had been horribly truncated by a murder-suicide...and the murder victim's lover had survived. He wouldn't put Rue in that position ever again. "From now on, I'll take vanguard - but I'll damn well fall back when I'm supposed to."

Those silver eyes regarded him, penetrating enough to read into his body language the way Cal interpreted everyone else's. "Good that you're still in your line of work, though, because they need you."

"Oh, I have to! That's not even in question," Cal said. He cast a look behind him, taking in the pits and dents and spiderwebbed craters of the wrecked gym area. "Gotta do something, and besides, Rue can't argue when his own line of work has hardly been...problem-free, if you know what I mean. I got a reality check, though; if I can get power-drained, then I'm really not invulnerable. So I can't keep acting as if I think I am."

"Maybe most of that power that should be yours, mentally, is channeled in another direction," Shemyahza mused, standing up from behind his console.

"Oh?" Cal cocked his head, quizzical.

"Doesn't matter," Shemyahza said, waving a hand. "You function the way you ought, that's all that matters. You're cleared for duty."

"And you got a nice consulting fee for clearing me," Cal said wryly.

A wolfish grin was aimed his way. "After the way you banged up the room, you think they'd risk anyone else's tender carcass against your fists?"

"At least half that damage was yours," Cal protested. His phone trilled and he took it up from the workstation, where he had set it before they'd begun sparring. A beat of excitement went through him for the possibility that Rue could be calling to make a lunch date after all, but the number was from one of the Defense Corps waystations. "Damn. I have to take this."

Shemyahza gave him a perfunctory hand-flip that could have been a dismissal or a half-assed salute. He grabbed his own phone and left in a swirl of dark hair.

"I see you're cleared for action," Redhawk barked by way of greeting.

"That was fast," Cal said, amazed. "Shem just sent the clearance. Yeah, I'm good."

"You left a hole in our line-up," his commanding officer informed him. "The Wynnes have smoked out a cluster of Dreadknocks that were too close to the Wall breach and they need back-up. You up for this?"

It wasn't really a question, Cal knew; once he had been cleared for duty, he was restored to on-call status as at all times when he wasn't on patrol. "Ready and willing, sir. I'm on my way!"

The final piece clicked into place, and once more all was right with the world.

+fin+