Dominic was actively involved in hating himself right now, and for a very good reason. Sending Dr. Litong an interview request had been bad enough, but now the man was here, and he wanted to see them. It took Dom up until the moment his desk beeped with a message from Litong for him to realize that he'd actually done it-- he'd actually put himself and his twin in danger knowingly-- and the fear was immediate and overwhelming.

Then, as icing on the cake, he'd lied to Donovan. He had never lied to Donovan before, and it nearly made him tremble with disgust at himself and with love for his twin. But when he'd read Dr. Litong's summons, and Donovan had asked what the message was, Dominic had lied with the most self-assurance he'd ever had. Just a note from an officer, he'd said. Need to finish up some work. We can have dinner later, since I'm not hungry yet.

At least that last sentence hadn't been a lie. It was all he could do to keep from vomiting; his stomach was twisted in knots and his head was spinning. He had lied to Donovan, and Donovan had believed him, and all Dominic wanted to do was beg at his brother's feet and tell him everything would be alright.

Dom silently prayed for forgiveness as he stepped into the civilian mess.

Something was very wrong with his boys.

Dr. Litong looked worried, but that was expected; despite his attempts to remain calm, Dom knew how forlorn and desperate he must appear. Dr. Litong looked concerned, and that was slightly more encouraging. Maybe he would understand, if Dominic could manage to break free from his fear long enough to tell his keeper what was wrong. Maybe everything would be alright.

Then Dr. Litong patted his hand clumsily, and asked him what was wrong, and Dominic gathered up enough courage to speak. His words were nearly incoherent, his tone hushed and hurried, and the expression in his tortured midnight eyes painful. "Please... don't tell Donovan you're here, he doesn't know and..."

And he'll hate me for what I'm about to do.

Broken their conditioning. Once the shock began to diminish, he tried to assemble a path of action that would solve this problem. Their conditioning was pretty broad. Perhaps it was something small, something completely controllable. The Creche children were cautioned very strongly against even small infractions; Dominic was very likely overreacting. He just needed to know what to fix.

Looking at Dominic's face, he found it hard to believe that overreaction would account for the misery and pain he saw written there. No! Not my boys! No matter what it is, I'll fix it. I won't let them be separated. I won't let them die. It can't be that bad, his mind reaffirmed wildly.

For all this thought, his speech was still lagging behind, and he produced only a single syllable.

It'll be alright, Dommy, right? Aichaku?

Dom blinked back his tears.

It's because I love her, bro. I love her.

His keeper was staring at him, and without expression, his voice as blank and steady as he could make, Dom spoke quietly.

Well, he's not overreacting. A small hysterical giggle crept closer to the surface and he beat it back down and looked at his student forlornly, as if he couldn't quite believe what he'd just been told. Love?

Damn them, they knew better.

He'd kept them under tight surveillance at Command School, and they'd never shown the slightest extended attachment to any of the girls they slept with. It wasn't a mode he shared, but it was one he understood, and it was the best possible state for them to be in. They had to stay there until he could get their contract transferred to the IF. After...after...they could chase after a particularly satisfying girl.

Why now?! He was so close. Had been. The twins still had three reviews to pass. How could they pass like this? If he had been able to visually spot Dominic's distress, the psychiatrists wouldn't have to do more than look at them to see that they were ruined. His boys would be split up and sold, and quite possibly die as most Creche twin pairs did, from advanced separation anxiety. Their conditioning schooled them to be attached to each other and no one else, and the strength of that one permitted attachment was almost frightening.

Please, no, he thought miserably, but Dominic's face did not alter. This was no sick joke.

Forgive me, brother. Forgive me, love. I only meant to be the strong one for you both. I only wanted to make you happy.

There was no spirit left in him as he regarded Dr. Litong blankly, but there was strength. It was not his own, but it was born of his desperation and determination to save, not himself, but Donovan. He could not let his brother die for what he had done. Obsessive protectiveness flamed to life behind his indigo eyes, and he gripped the sides of the table in tight fingers, leaning closer to Litong. His keeper would not turn them in. Dominic would do anything-- anything, even murder-- to keep his twin by his side.

"No," his voice was husky and pained. "I love Rox, and he loves Dante, and you can't take that away from us. You can't take Donovan away from me." Dom drew a ragged breath, fighting to stay calm. "Why do you hate us?" He didn't wait for an answer. "You'd have to, to deny us happiness. The Creche just wants us to be robots, but we are human beings too, like you. Now you're going to turn us in."

He began to shake, and as he stood, he stared down at the man who represented all he hated. He hated the Creche for making him, not a human, but less than human. He hated the Creche for puppetting him and keeping him from knowing happiness. And he hated the Creche because the very entity that created them would now want to separate them.

The sight of what by all rights should have been his son backing away from him with such loathing and fear on his features was suddenly more than he could tolerate, and he took a step forward. "Dominic...Dom, wait, listen to me, I don't hate you! Please, let me help you!" His voice was still low and hoarse, but he could speak no louder without attracting attention, and even this relatively quiet byplay was beginning to draw looks from the other guests.

Dominic turned and fled.

He sat there for nearly ten minutes afterwards, bereft and trying furiously to figure out what had gone so horribly wrong. The twins - his twins - thought they had fallen in love. It meant nothing. As his emotion cooled, Litong's faith in the conditioning he had supervised for the two of them over the years reasserted itself. They were just confused, and Dominic had sought him out instinctively to guide them through it.

He rose from the table at last and left, heading for his quarters. Rox. Dante. At least he had names to work with. He was going to find out all of the circumstances under which Dom and Don had left Command School, and no idiot bureaucrat was going to keep him from what he wanted to know this time. There was still a chance to salvage this before it got out of hand.

It was her eyes.

He hadn't seen that look in her eyes since Command School, and if its absence had reassured him then, its reappearance concerned him now. Granted, it was a very muted and barely noticeable reappearance, but if Jor knew anything then he knew Wick, and that gleam in her pale glacier eyes was very, very familiar.

However, almost seven years together had taught Jor one important thing; the value of temperance. I won't ask. She already told me that everything was fine... and if she wants me to know, she'll tell me later. I won't ask at all.

"So today in firearms they demo'd the I.F.'s new automatic .45 cal fletchette. It's amazing, spark. No explosions, but you should have seen the thing." Jor's face lit up with his excitement, and he even stopped eating long enough to lean across the table and detail his day. "The instructor said that by the time we're reassigned, they should be out for use, and we'd probably get them. I can't wait."

"I want."

Their dinner wasn't quite finished when they left it, but they were hungry for other things. They went back to their room and, a pleasant time later, fell asleep.

She woke up sometime in the night and lifted her head to look at his silhouette in the dim green light from the alarm clock display. He was deeply asleep, his muscular chest rising and falling evenly, but when she turned a little to prop herself up on an elbow his arm still tightened around her slightly. She smiled down at him and ran her fingertips over the very surface of his curls. I love you too, matchman, she told him silently, and snuggled down against him again. Her nervous mood from earlier in the evening was gone, and she felt calm and in control.

Everything would work out. It always did. She wasn't a child anymore, and there was very little she couldn't handle, as long as she stayed in control...and all she had to do here was keep an eye on Terrence and Qui - and Katera until they were transferred. Not even a challenge.

They conducted their normal selection dance, Kat piling meat and sweet foods on to her tray and Mode replacing every other dessert with some sort of green vegetable. She'd only eat a little of them, but it was better than nothing, and he was determined to keep her healthy despite her eating habits. He didn't know a lot about what vitamins and minerals a pregnant woman required, but he did know that growing another human being had to be hard work, and that green things were important. Even if it was only a few pieces of broccoli, it made him feel better to see her eat it.

Maybe that's why she eats it.

That made him smile at the back of her head. She certainly didn't look sick. In fact, the entire time he'd known her, she'd never been sick at all. She'd been injured - and more recently, she'd been pregnant - but never sick. He did what he felt he had to to keep her healthy, but he wasn't sure he believed she could get sick. Just the same, a small plate of green beans displaced a slice of pie before they reached the register to swipe their cards.

She picked a table and they sat down, and he cheerfully watched her devour her food, pausing every now and then to give him a toothy smile around an overly large mouthful. He waited until she'd slowed down enough to respond to queries and then broached the subject he'd been thinking about since they were told the baby was a boy.

"I'll be right back," she told him decisively, and when he made to follow her she gave him a face. "You stay here, and think about..." Actually coming up with a name made her pause, and she bit her lip before giving him a grin. "Lucas. Think."

Then she left the table. A minute later, and she was back. With pie.

She came back with more sweets, and he looked at her wryly as she held him at bay with her fork. "Not Lucas. I don't like the way it sounds." He poked idly at the spinach she'd shoved away from her, trying simultaneously to think of a name and to figure out a way to make her eat something green at the same time.

Not... not James. Why would you ask that? Don't you remember?

That was akin to naming their child Gabriel or Ryan or Jordan, and Kat paled, taking too long to retrieve the utensil. When she finally managed to school her expression into less furious lines, she straightened, and forgot about her dessert as she looked across the table to Mode.

"No." It came out more vehemently and angrily than she'd wanted it to, but his confusion told her that he didn't know, that he hadn't been consciously trying to hurt her. Kat swallowed heavily and took a deep breath, and when she spoke again her voice was studiously calm. "I don't like that."

Not at all.