Tony watched Kate turn and leave the living room before he went back to listening to Rafe. His brother was talking about his job, a fascinating subject at any time. Their father had been a grocer his entire life, and their mother a seamstress; no one would have expected that their three sons and one daughter would turn out to be a bank manager, a nightclub owner, a cop, and a commercial architect respectively.

“So there I am, one bouncer down on the ground, the other three tied up with holding the crowd back, this absolutely piss-drunk university football player ready to start a riot because we won’t play Celine Dion for him and his girlfriend, and the rest of his piss-drunk university football buddies ready to back him up. And I’m thinking, ‘Rafe, there’s a way out of this. There’s got to be.’”

“You always worked best under pressure, Rafe,” Mario teased. “Remember when Mama caught you bringing that garter snake into the house?”

Rafe glared briefly at Mario, then went on. “So I tell the football player that we don’t usually play Celine Dion on Underground nights, but if he and his girlfriend would like to wait in my office, I’d figure something out for them. They’re so far gone that they just take my word for it, don’t even think that I’m going to call the cops. I thought about it, believe me, but with the whole football team there, that would have been a mistake. So I get another idea. Thank God my DJ stores a lot of his stuff in the back. I get one of the serving girls to escort the two lovebirds to my office, then grab the DJ and ask him where his Celine Dion disks are. He tells me, and I run and grab one. On my way to the office, I grab a bottle of champagne and two glasses. They’re making out on my couch when I get there, but I get their attention. Then I plug the disk into my office stereo, pop the champagne and pour them two glasses, tell them it’s on the house, happy anniversary, and I leave. Half an hour later, they come out more wasted than before, declare to God and the whole University of Illinois football team that this is the best club in town, and the whole lot of them take off like nothing happened. Which, for them, it probably didn’t, because I don’t think any of them remembered it the next morning.”

“And all it cost you was one bottle of champagne?” Tony asked.

“And the cleaning bill,” Rafe said. “You should have seen the mess they left in my office. I couldn’t go in there until the place was bleached.”

Tony laughed. “And this from the man who didn’t know the colour of his bedroom carpet until he moved out.”

“Hey, that was messy,” Rafe replied with a grin. “This was disgusting.” They all laughed. “How about you, Tony?” he asked. “Got to be something interesting going on in national security.”

Mummified soldiers, Tony thought. Missing weapons. Escaped prisoners. Terrorist plots. I got kidnapped. Gerald and Gibbs got shot. Kate got taken hostage, twice. “Nah,” he said. “Same old, you know? Someone breaks the law, we find out who and arrest them.”

“Oh, come on,” Rafe said. “The way you talk, you’d think your job’s just as boring as Mario’s.”

“Hey!” Mario said, feigning indignation. “I’ll have you know that my job is plenty exciting! Why, just the other day, we had someone apply for a mortgage–”

“No, no,” Rafe said, cutting him off with waving hands. “No mortgages, please! I just bought a house!”

“And didn’t I help you through it?”

“Well, yes. But that doesn’t mean I need to hear mortgage stories!”

Mario shook his head tolerantly, then turned to Tony. “How about you, Tony?” he asked. “When are you going to ask me for mortgage advice?”

“When I’m in one place long enough to think about buying,” Tony replied automatically.

“Hey, brother, four years in D.C.? If I were you, I’d start thinking.”

“Gibbs could fire me tomorrow,” he protested, but even he could hear how weak that sounded. “Or I could start having issues with him.” That sounded even weaker.

Mario shrugged. “If you want to keep throwing your money away, Tony, that’s your call. It just looks to me like you have several reasons to be staying in D.C. for a while.” He didn’t move, didn’t even look away, but Tony knew exactly what his brother was saying.

“And two salaries would make affording a place a lot easier?” he said.

Mario looked at Rebecca. “Two salaries makes everything a lot easier,” he said, smiling at her. She smiled back, and then he turned back to Tony. “But again, that’s your call.”

He had a good brother. “Let me ask you something, Rebecca,” he said, turning to his sister-in-law. “How long do I leave Kate alone in there with Mama before I go rescue her?”

Rebecca laughed. “Kate can handle herself, can’t she? The question is, how long are you comfortable leaving the two of them alone together?” Her smile took on a mischievous edge. “After all, when Mario left me alone with her the first time, it only took her fifteen minutes before she was showing me his naked baby pictures.”

“What?” Both Tony and Mario’s voices sounded at the same time, and Rafe burst out laughing.

“She managed to restrain herself that long, Becca?” he said. “I was hardly out of the room when she was pulling down the photo albums for Lis.”

“I... I can’t let... I have to...” Tony turned away and started towards the kitchen, but Rafe caught him by the shoulder.

“Relax, Tony,” he said. “She’s cooking dinner. I don’t think you have to worry for another few hours yet.”

Tony allowed his brother to pull him back, but the idea of Kate seeing his baby pictures was mortifying. He’d have to find some way of making sure his mother never got the opportunity. Good God, why hadn’t he thought of it? Of course his mother would want to show Kate pictures from his childhood. Hell, she was probably in there right now, telling Kate all the silly embarrassing little things he’d done growing up. He scrubbed at his face with his hands. This was so very, very bad.

“It’s all right, Tony,” Rafe said, an edge of concern in his voice. “She’s done it to all of us. She’s even done it to you...”

With Annette. Every one of them heard what Rafe had stopped himself from saying; he was sure of it by the quality of the silence that blanketed them for a moment. Tony stopped himself from physically wincing, but he couldn’t stop his eyes from squeezing shut behind his covering hands. Christ, man, what’s your problem? It’s been five years. Aren’t you over her yet?

“I know,” he said, schooling his expression enough to drop his hands and face his brothers again. “But you don’t understand. This is Kate.”

“She cares about you, Tony,” Rebecca said. “A few baby pictures aren’t going to change that.”

Tony was about to protest, but a sudden cacophony of youthful noise caught him off guard. “Unka Rafe! Unka Mar-yo! Unka Tony!”

Three small figures burst in upon them, seeming to multiply in their exuberance. Tony caught one under the arms and whipped him into the air. “Gotcha!” he said, and the boy laughed in delight. “Which one are you, now?” he said, wiggling the boy side to side.

“Peter!”

“No, I’m Peter,” said the one who was running around Rafe’s legs.

“No, I’m Peter!” yelled the one that Mario had slung over his shoulder.

Tony moved the squirming child under one arm. “You had to have triplets,” he told his sister as she followed her boys into the living room. He reached out with his free arm.

Elena grinned and kissed him on the cheek before hugging him tightly, deftly avoiding her son, still clutched under Tony’s arm. “Thought I might as well get it over with,” she said, completing the standing joke. “Hey, brother.”

“Hey, sis,” he murmured. “Long time, no see.”

“And whose fault is that?” she asked as she pulled away to greet her other brothers.

“No one but mine,” Tony said under his breath, then set the struggling unidentified nephew on the floor and began to tickle him. The boy shrieked in laughter, but he was so small that Tony had to follow him down to keep it up as he collapsed. Suddenly he found himself piled upon by the other two, and allowed himself to be pinned to the floor under three small bodies who began to tickle him in return. He wrestled with his nephews for a moment, but their attention was soon drawn by their grandfather, who called them over to say hello. Elena’s husband Eric helped Tony to his feet, and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Sorry ‘bout that, man,” he said. “They’ve been in the van for an hour.”

Tony brushed off the apology. “They’re good kids.”

“Watch out,” Eric said. “You’re their favourite, ‘cause you actually play with them.”

“I like it,” Tony said with a shrug.

“Make sure you take some time for adult company,” his brother-in-law replied. “Here they come again.”

Indeed, the nephews were arrowing back for him. They grabbed his hands and began pulling him away from his siblings and in-laws, asking him to come play outside with them, it wasn’t raining anymore, and would he take them to the park down the street? He grinned at the people he was leaving behind, and let them drag him to the foyer. He put his shoes and coat on, then followed the three boys out to the backyard, where some of his other nieces, nephews, and second cousins were playing. In short order, he found himself giving piggyback rides, swinging children in the air, pushing the smaller ones on the backyard swing set, pretending to anchor in a game of tug-of-war, and laughing when they all pinned him to the ground after he fell in the wet grass. It was so easy to forget all the pain and anger that he saw on a daily basis when surrounded by the innocence of children.

He was soaking wet, for he had allowed them to keep him on the ground for some time, and had one child under each arm in a silly game of keep-away, when he caught sight of someone on the back porch. It was little more than a glimpse, because he was spinning around at the time, but it was enough. He would know that figure anywhere. The good cheer brought on by playing with the children slipped away from him like water, though he tried to hold on to it. The children didn’t notice right away, but as he slowed down his movements, and set his two captives on the ground, they quieted. Some of the older ones saw the woman on the porch, and drew away from Tony, looking at him with some confusion. He smiled at them. “Go on,” he said gently. “I have to go inside now.”

“Aww, do you have to, Unka Tony?” Dylan asked.

Tony ruffled his nephew’s hair. “Yeah, Dylan. I do. But I’ll be back.”

“Let’s play tag!” Minuet said, her cheeks flushed with the fresh air. She touched her sister on the back. “You’re it!”

Ah, the resilience of children, Tony thought as they all scattered away from Melisande, and she began to chase them. Nothing really matters to them. If something interrupts them, they can just keep going. He, on the other hand... He knew he was a mess. His jacket was soaked and covered in grass, as was his hair, he was sure. But part of him didn’t care. Even if he’d been in a three-piece suit or a tuxedo, looking completely put together and drop-dead gorgeous (because he knew that with some effort, he could), it wouldn’t have mattered. This was not a meeting to look forward to. This was not a meeting that would be bettered by any outward appearances. He turned around and allowed his eyes to take in the woman on the porch.

She didn’t look much different. Her hair was shorter, and she had to be using contacts now, for she didn’t have glasses, but she wore the same style of clothes she always had, and she hadn’t seemed to gain or lose any weight. And there was something else: the expression on her face. That absurd mixture of condescension, anger, and sadness that had become so familiar over their last five months together was firmly in place as he walked across the lawn and up the back steps of the porch. He stood across from her, making no effort to tidy his disheveled appearance. What would be the point?

“Tony,” she said.

“Hello, Annette,” he replied.