Michael went downstairs to see Brian back, and the boy was just about as green at the gills as it got. He had his hand wrapped around a glass of firewhiskey, but he didn't look like he had a single thought moving through his brain. Michael walked over to the floo and flicked his wand at the hearth.
"Edward!"
"Who are you?" the cranky voice bellowed back.
"Do a headcount for me. How many rugrats you have there?"
"Don't need a headcount. Got eleven. We're good," the voice came back.
"And they're alright?"
"Why wouldn't they be?"
"That's all I needed to know. Out," Michael flicked the grate shut. He sat down with Brian. "Look at me, Boy," he ordered quietly. Brian managed, silently, to comply. "Your kids are fine. Those weren't your kids. they were Fi's kids. Don't split words with me and don't try to own what you isn't yours. Those were her kids. Yours are safe in Tuscany. You did not fail anyone. Unless you've found a way to be all knowing and onmipresent."
"No," Brian replied, staring into his firewhiskey.
"I know what this brings up for you. More than you know how to cope with. But you don't have to solve it all at once. Go up and see Khaat." Brian rolled his eyes. "Don't be insolent. Just do it, Take your glass and go. Now." Brian got up, picked up the glass and went upstairs. When he came in, he just asked Jess if he could have a moment with Khaat. When Jess left, Brian closed the door.
Khaat reached for his hand, and Brian put his drink on his nightstand and laid down beside her on the bed.
"I'm sorry," she said softly to him.
"Me too," he said. "I should have been there."
"No. Your first responsibility is to your own kids," she said. "You can only handle what you know about. You know that. No one blames you for this."
"They were ripped apart. I just saw...Abbey, Dakota, our kids...you..." he said. "I couldn't get it out of my head." He hid his face in her chest and she wrapped her arms around him. The smell of tne medicated bandages that surrounded her chest were almost reassuring for him. It spoke to him that she was safe. No one medicated a dead man.
"I'm right here, Bri," she said in a whisper, kissing him. "You never ever let me down. Not one time." She found the piece of paper in his pocket, took it out and read it and crumpled it and laid it aside on her nightstand. She wouldn't need it. She already knew. She felt his silent tears on her shoulder, and she accepted them, glad he was letting all that pain go. . It was time for him to grieve.