For possibly the first time, she did not relax into the wrap of his arms, standing stiffly there as he took over the cooking. "And?" she asked, staring at the cupboard directly in front of her.

"And I'm sorry," he added, making quick work of the eggs. If he wasn't mistaken, she was making a quiche. He left the whisk in the bowl and unwound himself from her so that he could add some salt and pepper. "I know I should have told you, but I didn't want to bother you, and I thought you'd hear us outside."

"I did not hear you," she told him, stepping away from the bowl, her arms wrapped about herself as she turned to look at her husband. "All I heard was the quiet. All I saw was our children missing, and no response from you when I called out for you. Anything could have happened, Rhys. And I have made a fool of myself calling to Elaine for the sake of a silly prank that went wrong."

"It wasn't a prank," Rhys said, in weak defense of himself. All his life, all he'd wanted was a little normalcy - the way things had been before his father had ....Well, he didn't really want to think about that now. Then again, he loved his life with Nat and their children, and he couldn't help but revel in the fact that it wasn't normal, and yet ....Rhys frowned as he turned back to the bowl and whisked the eggs and milk mixture together. He wasn't sure what he was feeling exactly. He wasn't angry at Nat really, only at himself. "I just wasn't thinking, I guess," he half-murmured in reply.

"It is my instinct to think the worst," Nat said, her voice shaking as she tried to calm herself down. The last thing she wanted to do was burst into tears and worry the children. "I thought we had been attacked, that our children had been taken right out from under my nose. I thought I had failed to protect them. To protect you. I would have killed anyone who walked in through the door, Rhys, without stopping to make sure they were an enemy."

Rhys was still frowning as he poured the egg mixture atop the veggies she'd already spread out on top the pie crust. He knew she was right and that he probably would have thought the same thing, but he hadn't really thought about it much, since they were just going out into their own yard. "I guess our lives will never be normal," he murmured to himself. "I'm sorry I worried you. It won't happen again," he promised, though his back was still turned to her, almost afraid to meet her gaze. It was a mistake to think their lives could ever be normal or even pretend they were normal. It was a mistake that could cost them their lives, if they weren't careful, and he knew that.

He could no doubt hear her breath shaking as she struggled to calm herself. "I could not bear it if anything happened to you," she said quietly, her voice half-choked. "To our children. I am sorry. I ....overreacted."

Rhys' frown deepened as she took the blame on herself. He could hear the tears in her voice, but before he could soothe her worries, he needed to pop the quiche in the oven, or lunch would quickly become dinner. It only took a moment and then he was wrapping his arms around her to pull her close. "I'm sorry, Nat. I just didn't think."

This time, she didn't stay stiff, hugging into him close as she held on tightly. "It is my fault," she kept saying, still trying not to cry. "I should not have ....should not have thought the worst. I am so sorry."

Rhys flicked a glance out the window to make sure the kids were still safe under that tree, while he held their mother close, one hand gently rubbing her back. "I would have done the same, you know," he admitted, though he might have looked a little harder before freaking out. "We've done everything we can to protect them, Nat. If they can't play in their own yard, we might as well move to Avalon."

"I did not know they were in the yard," she pointed out. "I could not hear them out there. All I knew was that they had disappeared, and you did not answer my call." She shook her head, lifting her red-rimmed eyes to his. "I am sorry."

"No, I'm sorry," he told her, his eyes dry but full of remorse as he lifted a hand to touch her cheek. "I never meant to worry you, baby. Ana wanted to learn how to play 'hot scots', and I was laughing so hard, I forgot to tell you we were going outside. I thought you'd hear us."

She blinked, her shock and tears forgotten in the face of another Ana-ism. "Hot ....scots?" she asked, a faintly curious smile beginning to quirk at her lips.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure sure she meant hopscotch, but I could be wrong," he said, gently brushing the tears from her face, smiling softly. "I'm sorry, Nat. Really, I am. I didn't mean to upset you."

She sniffed, shaking her head. "I think we were both wrong here," she said quietly. "I should not have panicked so quickly. A lesson learned, da?" She turned her head, kissing his palm affectionately.

"For both of us," he agreed, turning her face toward him so that he could give her a kiss. "I promise to tell you where I'm going next time, and you promise not to panic, okay?" he asked, a soft smile on his face.

"I promise." She smiled, answering his kiss with her own. "But I still have to finish lunch, or Ana may incite a mutiny out there." A quick glance through the open door showed that Ana and Micah were cloud-gazing now.

"They're safe, Nat. Aurelia has this place so warded, a mosquito couldn't get in. And the dogs would kill anyone who dared get close," he assured her, though he, too, worried for the children's safety - and hers.

"I know." And to her credit, she did know that. But there were some habits that were so ingrained they might never leave her entirely. She could definitely try harder not to give into that instinctive panic, though. "I will do better."

He slid his arms around her waist, a reassuring smile on his face. "You're doing fine." He chuckled as a thought came to mind. "And here I thought I was the over-protective one," he teased.

"I am just better at hiding it until the very last moment," she teased him in return, brushing another kiss to his jaw. "You will never again suspect that I am not ready for a fight, I think."

"It's not a bad thing necessarily," Rhys remarked. "I mean, I think we should be prepared, just in case, but we don't want to scare the kids," he reasoned, frowning a little as he recalled the last threat, which had happened a few months ago at Micah's daycare center.

She mirrored his frown, remembering the same incident, the same panic she had felt then. "We were lucky last time," she murmured. "We had a friend we did not even know existed."

"Me an' Sasha can," Ana announced, filled with self-importance at being put in charge of the baby. "We're the bestest pro-tek-torrs in the umbiwerst!"

Rhys just barely managed to stifle his laughter at his daughter's mangling of the English language. Thankfully, he was familiar enough with her "Ana-isms" to know what she meant.

"You're an awesome big sister, Anakins!" he praised her, taking a moment to kiss the top of her head.

She beamed, positively buoyant with the praise, and sat herself down on the other side of the basket to Sasha, little fingers scritching the calmer dog's head. "We got this, Papa."

"Good girl!" Rhys said, chuckling as he corrected himself. "Girls. I'll be right back. Yell if you need us, okay?" he asked, knowing she would. He really hated leaving a small child in charge of another small child, but he felt they were safe enough in their own backyard for the few minutes it would take to get the picnic together.

"I will! I'll yell really loud and everyone will wake up," she informed him confidently. It wouldn't take long to grab the food and bring it out, and they could be reasonably assured that Sasha would enthusiastically savage anyone who tried anything with her pups.

Rhys chuckled again, knowing his daughter could carry through on that threat if she really wanted to. She could be possessed of a blood-curdling screech akin to that of a banshee when the need arose.

"I'll be right back. Promise!" he told her, scritching Sasha's ear and darting a quick look at Dylan before sprinting back to the house to help Nat with the food.

In the kitchen, Nat had loaded up Micah with the plastic plates and cutlery to take outside, which he was doing as carefully as he possibly could as Rhys arrived.

"Scuse me, Papa," the little boy politely said, though the way he braced suggested he was expecting his father to leap over him again.

"Are you okay or do you need help, Micah?" Rhys asked the small boy, not even realizing his son was bracing for another leap.

"M'kay," Micah assured him, concentrating fiercely on his little pile as he toddled out through the door.

Nat chuckled softly, carefully lifting the quiche out of the pan onto a plate. "He wanted to do something helpful," she explained. "There was a suggestion that he might bring the jug out by himself."

"He's a good boy," Rhys said, smiling proudly as his son toddled out behind him. "Dylan is okay, by the way. I guess it was my turn to over-react," he told her, a sheepish grin on his face.

She smiled. "We are quite the pair, are we not?" She kissed his cheek. "No one will ever be able to fault us for our protective instinct, that is for certain."

"They might be able to fault us for leaving our children in the care of a couple of dogs," Rhys pointed out with a chuckle, though they were only a few feet away really and in both sight and earshot. "What can I help with?"

She gestured to the food laid out on a couple of trays on the table. "Pick one and take it outside," she said with a grin, putting the jug of juice down on one of the trays as she did so. "Lunch is served."

"As you wish," he said, taking up the heaviest of the two trays and thankfully, not acting like a smart ass, but clutching it in both hands and carefully carrying it out to the blanket they'd laid out under a tree where the kids were waiting. "Lunch time!" he called as he approached.

"Yay!"

The plates and cutlery were already laid out carefully for everyone, leaving space for the adults to set down the food and serve everything out. And, of course, Dylan chose that moment to wake up hungry.

Nat laughed, rolling her eyes as she settled the baby boy to his own meal before reaching for her cup. "Someone is going to have to cut up my food for me!"

"Looks like your mother outdid herself yet again," Rhys remarked, though he'd had a small hand in helping with the quiche preparations. "Looks like I'm that someone," he added with a chuckle as he served up lunch for the children before making a plate for Nat.

"Is there mushrooms?" Micah was asking, inspecting the contents of both his plate and Ana's as though expecting to find some discrepancy between the servings.

"I don't know, are there?" Rhys replied, not denying or confirming, a smirk on his face as he cut up Nat's food. "Would you like me eat it for you, too?" he teased his wife.

Nat stuck her tongue out at him through a laugh. "I am fully aware that you can eat an entire quiche by yourself, dusha moya," she assured him. "But your son is eating, so I think I should eat as well." As usual, the breastfeeding was eliciting sly interest from the two children, but they had learned by now not to poke.

"I could feed him, you know," Rhys reminded her for probably the umpteen-thousandth time. It was true he'd have to use a bottle, but he thought plenty of babies had been bottle fed without any lasting repercussions.

"I thought you were on night duty tonight?" she countered with a smile. She was not one to deny Rhys this kind of bonding with their babies, after all.

"Am I?" he asked, a smile spreading across his face. He was probably the only man alive who actually enjoyed losing sleep just so he could take the two a.m. feeding.

Ana giggled at the look on her father's face. "You gone all smiley, Papa!"

Nat grinned, glancing at the two children as they giggled together, swapping bits and pieces on their plates. She looked back to Rhys.

This was a step too far for Nat, who had to hastily hide her laughter in Dylan's back as he burped on her shoulder.

"The Pooh," Rhys corrected, though he doubted it mattered. Pooh, Poop - it was all the same thing, as far as he was concerned.

"But why's he called Poop?" Micah asked, picking a bit of broccoli out of his quiche with his fingers.

"Why is your bear called Mussels?" Nat countered affectionately. "Winnie the Pooh was real, you know. The man who wrote the stories, he bought a real teddy bear for his son, who named it Winnie the Pooh."

Micah shook his head, not accepting this explanation. "Winnie's a girl's name and poop is poop," he said matter-of-factly.

Rhys tried to hide a snicker, as he looked over at Nat. "He's got a point there." Never mind the fact that Mussels was an equally silly name.

"The bear is a girl," Nat said with a smile. "Her name is Winifred." She eyed Rhys. "And this is all true, so you can look it up if you want to. She's from Canada."

"What?" Rhys said, furrowing his brows doubtfully. "She is not. Everyone knows Winnie the Pooh is a boy." Then again, he was talking about the fictional bear, not the one the creation was based on, of which he knew very little.

"In the books, yes," she said, chuckling at his insistence. "The real bear is girl, which is why the bear in the books is called Winnie."

Ana was watching this go back and forth like a tennis match, her mouth half-open.

"No, that can't be right," Rhys said. "Micah is right. Why would you name a boy bear Winnie" And why Pooh?" he asked, not really wanting to argue about it, but puzzled just the same.

"A.A. Milne's son was called Christopher Robin, so it would appear that strange naming conventions were a way of life for him," Nat offered, sitting the six month-old Dylan in her lap. The baby boy beamed at his brother and sister.

"Yeah, well, everyone knows that," Rhys pointed out, though he really didn't know that much about the origins of Pooh Bear. Even when he'd been a boy, who'd been too busy memorizing baseball stats to have much time for Winnie the Pooh.

She chuckled, rolling her eyes at him. "Back to the subject at hand, though," she said, straightening Dylan as he listed in her lap. "Mischa, would you like to watch Winnie the Pooh?"

Rhys was still eying Nat, and mulling over this naming thing, but he let the debate go for now. Micah looked thoughtful a moment. Ana was the one who'd suggested Winnie the Pooh, but had she suggested it because she really wanted to watch it or just to make her brother happy' Who knew"

"Okay, Mama," he said agreeably, so long as it wasn't Frozen ....again.

Nat smiled, fairly sure Rhys was going to bring this up again at some point, but glad that, for now, it was done. Ana smiled happily, glad not to have had another argument about movies. It seemed as though the eldest child of the family was starting that crucial stage of social development that meant she was going to start paying attention to other people's wishes and wants.

Oh, he was probably going to Google it later, but he was willing to let it go for now. "Winnie the Poop it is then," he said, looking over to see how Micah was doing with his lunch. "All done, Mischa?" he asked.

The little boy nodded, showing off his almost empty plate. He'd managed to finish everything except the cucumber slices, all of which had been very carefully picked out of his salad.

"You want me to take the baby?" Rhys asked, now that he, too, had finished eating. He was on baby duty later tonight, but was willing to help as much as he could.

"Mmm, yes, please." Nat was happy to pass Dylan over to his father so she could finish her own meal, catching Ana's eye only to smile. "Da, you can both play until it is time for dessert," she said, and the two children shot up from their seats, bounding away across the garden with the dogs in tow.

Rhys reached over to take Dylan from Nat and settle him against his lap. "Winnie the Poop?" he said, smirking over at Nat, clearly amused by the latest Ana-ism.

She laughed, relaxing back. "It could have been worse," she conceded, but it was still pretty bad. "She is becoming a lot like young Lyneth was, don't you think?" Though they hadn't met the inquisitive little fae-child for several years now, it was hard to forget her.

"Lyneth?" Rhys echoed, having to jog his memory banks to place that name. "Oh! That kid that belonged to those friends of Beth and Jason," he said remembering.

"Da, the tiny one who spoke like an adult," Nat said, still entertained by the memory. "She charmed you without even trying. It was very funny to watch."

"She was a cute kid. A little precocious, but cute," Rhys said in his own defense. It had never been too hard for a female to charm him, it seemed, no matter that female's age.

"It was a sign of just how tightly Ana would have you wrapped about her finger," Nat informed him teasingly, nudging his knee with her toe. "And adorable, too."

"Mmm," Rhys murmured in reply. "Is it that obvious?" he asked, not bothering to deny the fact. Her mother had managed to wrap him around her finger right from the first moment they'd met. He had mourned the fact that she'd slipped through his fingers - until they'd run into each other again, trying to steal the same thing from the Louvre, of all places.

"Only to me," she promised, eyes sparkling with her smile as she set her plate aside, lying back on the blanket in the shade. She let out a contented sigh. "I do love our home, Rhys."

Rhys arched a brow at her remark, though he was happy she was no longer angry with him. "This home or our ....other home?" he asked, not so much as mentioning either their home in Avalon or Glastonbury.

"Maybe later," Rhys promised, a look in his eyes that said he was hoping for more than just snuggling. He plucked up a single raspberry to offer it to Dylan. He wasn't sure how they could eat them without a little sugar to sweeten them up, but fortunately, he could to have cream with his.

Micah and Ana, however, were more than happy with just their raspberries on their own, slithering down off Rhys' lap to sit side by side as they shoveled the fruit into their mouths cheerfully. Dylan inspected the raspberry offered to him, closing his fingers around it on the second try, and immediately smashed it into his mouth.

Nat snorted with laughter, rolling her eyes. "Like father, like son."

Rhys shrugged and smiled, secretly proud of that fact. He thought Ana took after him most, but he didn't mind that Nat saw a little of him in all of their children. "Is that such a bad thing?" he asked, with a smirk at his wife.

"Have I ever said it is?" she countered, dolloping the sweet brandy cream over his dessert and offering it to him as Dylan smacked his lips, apparently undecided about whether raspberries were worth all the trouble.

"Not that I know of," Rhys replied, honestly enough, though he doubted Nat had ever said a bad word about him to anyone. He knew he wasn't without faults, but she was the only woman who had ever seemed to overlook them or make any attempt to really understand him. He leaned in close, his lips mere inches from her ear. "Have I told you lately that I love you?" he whispered.

She blushed, the sweet endearment unexpected and more touching because of it. "Not today," she murmured in answer, turning her head to brush her lips to his tenderly. "But then, I have not said it either. I was intending to show you later on."

"I won't argue with that," he said, with a twinkle of anticipation in his eyes.

"No whisper!" Micah suddenly interrupted, tugging on his father's sleeve with sticky fingers. "Mama says no whisper!"

"Did I say that?" Nat asked, turning wide, innocent eyes on their older son above a fond smile. "Well, then, I am very sorry, Mischa. Can you forgive me?"

Micah nodded his head, as if her apology or his parents' whispering hardly mattered. Then again, rules were rules. But at the moment, he was far too busy enjoying his raspberries to say much else.

"Spasibo, solnyshko." Chuckling, she kissed the little boy's head, finally getting around to eating her own little bowl of fruit in a warm shade of their only decent tree.

"So, I was thinking ..." started Rhys, as he scooped up a third spoonful of cream-covered raspberries. "This yard is a little too bare. What do you think we should do about that?" It wasn't quite as bare as he said - there was a flower garden and a few young trees - but he wasn't talking about plantings.

Ana looked around curiously. "We gonna get toys?" she asked hopefully, with all the selfish sweetness of a five year old. After all, if Papa was asking them, then it must have something to do with what they would like. Right"

"I think you have plenty of toys," Rhys replied with a chuckle, but quickly followed that up, so as not to disappoint. "I was thinking more along the lines of a playhouse or maybe a jungle gym or something like that."

"What's a junga-jim?" was the inevitable question, but he definitely had Ana's full attention, at the very least. If something was going to happen to her garden, then she reserved the right to be consulted fully about it first.

"It's ..." Rhys trailed off as he tried to find the words to explain it. "You know, like at the playground," he said, which was not quite the best explanation. "Or a swing set or something. I don't know. What do you think?" he asked, letting his children mull that over.

"Oooh." Ana nodded as though she fully understood, and informed Micah loudly. "Papa wants to make a playpen for Mama." Nat bit her lips, deciding not to get involved in this one. It was Rhys' pet project, after all.

Rhys exhaled an exasperated sigh, scowling a little at his eldest. "No, that is not what I mean. I am talking about building something for you and Micah. Unless you're not interested," he added with a shrug. Two could play at this game, after all, and he wasn't going to be beaten by a five-year-old.

"For us?" Ana blinked, surprised delight showing itself in her expression. "Like the stuff at the park?"

Nat smiled. "Da, just like the things at the park," she confirmed, rescuing Rhys for a moment. "Something just for you and your brothers."

"You is gonna build us a park?" Micah asked, eyes as wide as saucers.

Rhys laughed. "Not a whole park, Mischa, but maybe some things to play on right here in our own yard. I'm just not sure what you'd both like."

"Can we have a house we can camp in?" Ana asked, her enthusiasm piqued now by the prospect of something special in their garden that was just for them.

"A house you can camp in?" Rhys echoed, looking to Nat for confirmation. He'd been thinking about building them a playhouse in the form of a miniature castle, and there was no reason they couldn't camp out in it, if it was big enough. "You don't want to camp out in a tent?"

"But what if it rains?" Ana pointed out. "Or it's cold" Like on Habboweem, we could camp and have a fire and martsmarrows."

Nat rolled her eyes - they were going to have to do something about the cutesy language at some point.

Unlike Nat, Rhys didn't even blink an eye at the cutesy language, accustomed to it as he was. "If it rains?" he echoed, frowning. "If it rains, we make a tent inside, like we always do."

"But you an' Mama don't fit in the tent with us," Ana pointed out mournfully. "You want a campin' house, right, Micah?" She nudged her little brother, hoping for some back up.

"Okay," he agreed, making no argument. He knew it wasn't often Nat got a chance to cuddle with her daughter and he wasn't about to deny her that. He easily scooped Dylan up from his basket and moved toward the house with one son in each arm.

"Come on, solnyshka," Nat murmured to her own sleepy armful. "Up we go." With a little effort, she made it to her feet, adjusting Ana onto her hip as the little girl stirred enough to curl her arms about her mother's neck. Nat would come back to tidy up the picnic messes, but for now, she was going to revel in the opportunity to be the one to put Ana down for a nap.

By the time Nat reached the bedrooms, Rhys had already settled Micah in and was doing the same with Dylan. Unless they surrendered to sleep themselves, it looked like the adults were going to get at least an hour to themselves.

With kisses and whispered promises to keep them safe, Nat extricated herself from Ana's arms, tucking her in gently as she sighed and drifted properly into her nap. It took a little longer to leave the bedroom - there was something arresting about the sight of their children asleep that could hold her in place for hours at a time.

Rhys caught up with her, sliding an arm around her waist as they watched their eldest lost in sleep. "Can you believe our luck?" he asked her quietly, barely more than a whisper.

"Not always," she whispered back to him, tucking herself under his shoulder. "Some days, it seems too good to be true, you know?"

"Believe me, I know," Rhys replied, unwilling to tear his gaze from their sleeping children just yet. "We are truly blessed, Nat," he whispered. He wasn't exactly the religious type. He hadn't been for a long time, despite his angelic origins, and yet, he had a feeling there had been a higher power at work in all this, perhaps even beyond that of Avalon.

She smiled, leaning into him tenderly. For all the trials of their first few weeks, theirs was a connection she knew she would never willingly be without. Rhys had opened her heart, given her a home and a family; shared himself with her in ways she had never thought she would be able to share with anyone. And all because of a sword and a memorable plane trip.

Had it been some grand scheme of Fate that had drawn them together, after all? Even Rhys' guardian angel had seemed unable to answer that. But it hardly mattered, grand plan or no, so long as they were together - so long as they were family.