"But how could you burn eggs?!" Miguel Ortiz asked his friend as he gazed in bafflement at the encrusted, blackened mess on the bottom of the saucepan. "You were only supposed to be boiling them, you said."

Tim O'Neill shifted uncomfortably behind him. "I, er, kind of forgot they were on," he admitted in embarrassment. "It wasn't my fault."

"No? Was there anyone else here?"

"Well, no..."

"Did I tell you to put them on?"

"No, but..."

"Didn't you hear them cracking?" Miguel took another look in the saucepan and shook his head. "Or should that be exploding?"

"Was that a pun?"

"Was what a pun?" Ortiz asked suspiciously. Fluent though his English was, Spanish was still his native tongue and every once in a while he tripped over a pun he had missed.

"Never mind. I didn't do it on purpose."

"I've heard that before."

"Like when?" Tim protested indignantly.

"A certain whole garlic instead of a clove in the sauce? Mistaking sugar for salt in that cake?"

"Well, I warned you I wasn't awake."

"I wouldn't have minded if it hadn't been brown sugar. You should have seen the difference."

"I didn't complain about your chili cake. I ate it didn't I?"

"Yes, you did," Miguel admitted.

"Mind you, that was only because you said it was cherry."

"I did not! And stop changing the subject!"

Tim gave him a sulky look. "Look, I'll scrape it out and put it in the dishwasher. It'll be okay."

"It'll never be the same again is what it'll be," Miguel snorted, then softened at the contrite expression on O'Neill's face. "Ah well, at least you didn't set the kitchen on fire this time."

"What do you mean this time?!" O'Neill yelped.

 "Well, there's always a next time," Miguel grinned. "Never mind, at least life is never dull around you."

"I'm hurt, you know. You're casting aspersions on my cooking." The communications officer drew himself haughtily up to his full height.

"Naturally. It's awful." Miguel was unimpressed. He had been striving to teach Tim how to cook ever since they decided to share an apartment. Every time he thought the comtech was safe to leave in the kitchen alone though, Tim would find some new way to prove him wrong. Sometimes, Miguel thought O'Neill did it on purpose.

Taking the saucepan off the hob, Ortiz dumped it into the sink and prodded at the encrusted mess of burned egg and shell with a fork.

"I'll do it," Tim offered tentatively.

Miguel shot a glance at him and smiled at his woebegone expression. "Come on, Tim, it was an accident. Could have happened to anyone."

"But it never happens to you, only to me," O'Neill said forlornly.

"Forget it. You scrape this, I'll make coffee." Ortiz said briskly, gesturing him to the sink as he reached for the percolator. "What do you want? Cinnamon? Or rum?"

"Rum," Tim sighed as he turned on the taps. "It's your fault I was distracted anyway."

"Excuse me?" Ortiz glared at him. "I only went out for half an hour to get groceries so we could eat! Of course, that was before I knew what you were going to do to the eggs."

O'Neill shrugged. "Oh well, if you're going to be like that about it, I won't tell you Mama Ortiz called."

"And I missed her?!" Miguel wailed in distress, nearly scattering the contents of the coffee packet he was opening everywhere. "Why didn't you tell me?!" Dumping the packet, he dived for the kitchen door.

"Whoa! Wait up. She said they were going out and she'll call you back later." Tim soothed hastily, knowing how attached Miguel was to his family. "She's got some good news for you."

"Oh?" Miguel dithered for a second, then reluctantly came back to the percolator. "Such as?" he prompted carefully.

"I'm not telling."

"Tim!"

"You'll have to wait and see. She wouldn't tell me. She said it was a surprise."

"Was it about the painting I sent? Did she get it?"

"Yes," O'Neill gave him a dirty look. "You didn't say it was of me. Mama Ortiz was very pleased with it."

Ortiz smirked. "Well, you won't stand still long enough for a photograph."

"So quick draw Ortiz struck again."

"I wouldn't say struck exactly," Miguel chuckled quietly, then broke off as O'Neill grabbed him by the shirt and yanked him up close. "What?"

"Which one was it exactly?" Tim asked darkly.

"The one I did of you with Darwin. You know, when you were fooling around with the vocoder?" Ortiz said hastily, knowing the dangerous glint in his friend's eye.

"Oh, that's okay then. As long as it's not that one you did of me in the Stetson." Tim sighed. "I look weird in that."

"No," Miguel said so innocently that O'Neill gave him another suspicious look. Ortiz wasn't about to admit that he was saving that one for his sister. Serena had a huge crush on his friend and would adore the small painting he had done of the comtech. Besides, as an artist, Miguel had a higher opinion of his friend's looks than O'Neill did. "Can I finish making the coffee now?"

O'Neill dropped him and scowled at the saucepan. "Yeah. What do you think? Maybe if I get a sandblaster?" he mused thoughtfully.

"Ah, leave it to soak. If it stays stuck, it stays stuck. We'll buy a new one," Ortiz said cheerfully.

"What do you mean we?" Tim protested.

"All right, you."

"Me?" Tim squeaked. "Why do we need a new one? There's hundred of others!" The comtech had never quite got used to the idea of having to spend money on kitchen equipment that he would much rather spend elsewhere.

Ortiz gave him an exasperated look and decided not to argue the point. He knew what would happen. If he waited for Tim to buy a new saucepan, he would wait forever. If he went out and bought it himself, Tim would instantly hand over the cash to pay for it. "Your cooking efforts have got you overexcited," he snorted. "Why don't we order dinner in? I've got vouchers for that new Chinese place."

Two hours later, Miguel pushed the last shiny box aside and settled back with a sigh of content. "Wonderful noodles," he murmured in pleasure, watching Tim devouring the last of the rice. Although Ortiz could handle chopsticks, it never ceased to amaze him how dexterous O'Neill could be with them when it came to the little fiddly things like peas and rice grains.

"We'll have to go in to the restaurant when we get a chance," Tim agreed. "It looked nice in there and it was really fast service."

"I think you impressed them when you actually ordered in Chinese," Miguel mused as he reached for his coffee.

"I was only being polite," O'Neill protested.

"Hey, I know that. This is me, remember. I know you weren't showing off," Miguel soothed quickly, knowing how sensitive his friend could be. Anyone less likely to be a show off he couldn't imagine, but every once in a while some jerk came along who thought O'Neill was deliberately demonstrating his linguistic abilities to make him look good. The fact was it wouldn't have occurred to Tim to be so impolite as to speak to someone in anything other than their native language if he knew it.

Tim gave him a quick look and grimaced. "Sorry. I guess Hunter got to me more than I realised."

"Forget him. He won't be back next trip." Ortiz sat forward and fished a last crispy noodle from the packet. "So, what are we going to do with all this free time? You got any plans?"

"Not really," Tim admitted, selecting a piece of chicken. "Although, I did think about going down to that marine art gallery we found."

"No," Miguel said firmly.

"Why not?"

"Because I had to forcibly drag you out of there last time. We don't have a garden, Tim. Where would we put a life size dolphin fountain?"

"You're exaggerating!"

"You were planning on plumbing it into the bathroom at one point."

"I was only saying that if we had a bigger bathroom, we could have something like that in it."

"You'd need a bathroom the size of a swimming pool and there is no way that'd fit into the apartment! I don't know where you get these grandiose ideas from at times!"

"I must be feeling cramped on seaQuest," Tim mused absently. "They did say something about there being a smaller model."

"No, no way. absolutely not. I'm not sharing an apartment with a dolphin as well as you. Can't you settle for a goldfish?"

"Goldfish don't emote the way a dolphin does," Tim pointed out firmly.

"Neither do fountains," Ortiz snorted. "Look, forget about the gallery. You only whimper every time we go in there."

"I can look, can't I?"

"Not without whimpering, no," Miguel said dryly. "Why don't we do something together this time?"

"Such as? I'm not going surfing if that's what you're plotting." Tim started to tidy up the empty cartons for disposal.

"Bungee jumping?"

"What?" O'Neill gave him a shocked look. "You can't be serious!"

"Why not? Phillips says it's fun," Ortiz said, keeping a straight face with an effort.

"Phillips would."

"Think of the exhilaration of it. Think of the thrill of it."

"Think of the ground rushing up to meet you. Think of screaming loudly," Tim retorted. "Think of me killing you."

Miguel laughed and held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, I was joking. But we should do something different for once. All we ever seem to do is go to restaurants and movies."

"What's wrong with that?" O'Neill asked mildly as he relaxed again and carried the cartons towards the kitchen.

"It's boring," Miguel pointed out, following him with the empty coffee cups.

"I like boring. It makes a change from being shouted at by strange foreign people who want to kill me," Tim said as he dropped the rubbish in the bin and slid a sly look at his friend. "Present company not excepted of course."

"Sure," Miguel said cheerfully as he started to rinse the coffee cups. "Maybe we could go scuba diving....Where are you going?"

Tim was sidling towards the door. "I want to check what's on TV."

"Oh, okay. Anyway, there's a new reef boat...." Miguel paused and stared fixedly at the wall, letting the water run into the sink. He could hear Tim heading for his bedroom and mentally rewound the conversation. He hadn't really been listening that hard, but.... "Present company not excepted?!" he yelped in sudden understanding, sprinting after the comtech. "You mean me? Why you rat! Come back here!"

"What do you think I am? Stupid?" Tim laughed from behind the safety of his locked bedroom door.

"Come out here and let me kill you!" Ortiz screamed. "You can't say that about me! I never scream or threaten you."

"No? What are you doing now then?"

"Promising you in a loud voice," Ortiz growled back, lowering his volume.

"Sounds like screaming to me."

"Come out here and I won't have to raise my voice as I explain," Miguel crooned coaxingly, ignoring the phone as it started to ring.

"Like I said, what do you think I am?" Tim answered cheerfully. "By the way, isn't that the phone?"

"Phone?" Miguel asked innocently. "I don't hear anything."

"Yes, you can," Tim retorted impatiently.

"No, really, I don't hear anything," Ortiz purred. If there was thing he knew would frustrate the comtech, it was hearing a phone ringing or a radio chirping for attention and not being able to respond. "Maybe you should come out here and listen?"

Tim was silent for a long moment and Miguel could well imagine how he was twitching. Finally he heard the comtech take a deep and frustrated breath and grinned smugly. "Coming out, are you?" he smirked.

"No, you're going to answer it."

"Oh, no, I'm not."

"What if it's Mama Ortiz?" Tim asked guilelessly.

"What?" Miguel froze.

"Well, Mama Ortiz did say she'd call back..."

Miguel screamed and hurtled for the phone, snatching it up in mid chirp. "Hello?"

"Hola, bambino," Mrs Ortiz' warm tones responded. Miguel melted in delight as the screen cleared with her picture.

"Hola, mama." He grinned at her adoringly. "How are things?"

"Fine, darling. I spoke to Tim earlier, did he tell you?"

"He said you had a surprise for me." Ortiz caught a flicker of movement from the corner of his eye and pulled a face at O'Neill as the comtech appeared.

"Ah, diddums then," his friend mocked gently. Ortiz threw a cushion at him and smirked as Tim retreated with a yelp.

"You two aren't fighting again, are you?" his mother asked quickly.

"Who? Us? No," Miguel smiled mischievously. He and Tim might occasionally hold mock battles, but they never actually seriously fought over anything. He snuggled down into the cushions and put his feet up, settling in for a nice long call. Being part of a close, tactile family, he always missed the contact when he was away. Tim, of course, was family too, but the comtech was always around and Miguel didn't really have much of a chance to miss him these days. When they had been separated after leaving High School though, Miguel hadn't been all that surprised to find that he had missed O'Neill as much as he had his brother and sister.

"That's good. So, are you eating properly? Are you happy?"

"Always, Mama," Miguel assured her. It always made him feel good that she worried about his happiness.

"No girlfriend yet?"

"No-one special at the moment," Miguel admitted truthfully and a little sadly. That was the trouble with being on seaQuest. Putting to sea constantly meant broken relationships and he was loathe to get to involved on board with anyone because of the complications involved.

"Never mind, darling," his mother said sympathetically. "I know a nice girl from the old country that I'm sure you'll get on with."

"The old country?" Miguel blinked at her in confusion. "You mean she's from Italy?"

Mrs Ortiz frowned in mild exasperation at her offspring. "No, button. Cuba. She's goes to university with Serena."

"Oh, that's nice." Miguel said vaguely, having visions of Serena's friend 'unexpectedly' dropping by for dinner next time he was home. It had been something of a regular occurrence before Tomas got married. At one point Tomas had been looking quite hunted and his wife always insisted he had married her simply so he could have peaceful dinners again.

"She's very pretty and has such a nice personality. She's studying oceanography like Serena. Her name's Valentine Santini. Eduardo will send you her photo on the Infonet when he gets home."

"Photo?" Miguel felt a vague prickling sensation disturb his sixth sense.

"Yes, dear. Serena's coming over to stay with Tomas, remember?"

"Yes, but I don't see what that has to do with this um ....Valentine?" Miguel floundered, feeling the waters rising. He knew his little sister was coming over to Hawaii for a while during the university recess and had been hugging the secret to himself in pleasure, both at the idea of seeing her and of her terrorizing O'Neill.

"She's coming over with Serena," his mother explained patiently. "She's single too and her family thinks it time she got married."

Uh oh.... Miguel could understand how Tomas had felt. "But..." he managed.

"I'm sure you two will get on so well," Mrs Ortiz continued brightly. "It's time you started thinking of getting married like Tomas. It will be good for you. You need someone to come home to...."

Ortiz sat in dumbfounded silence, feeling the waters closing over his head in a silent tidal roar. He didn't dare protest and hurt her feelings and he could feel himself sinking without trace into her matchmaking plans for her youngest son.

Tim empathically 'felt' Ortiz' presence before he saw him. The comtech was curled up in a chair by his bedroom window, reading some Haiku in the original Japanese, but Miguel's shell shocked spirit seemed to enter the room before the Cuban did. Much as Tim wanted to avoid his nascent Psi abilities, some times he had to admit it came in useful. On this occasion the subtle link he shared with Ortiz had warned him trouble was brewing long before Miguel came to him.

"Mig? What's the matter?" he asked in concern as he uncurled and got up.

Miguel blinked at him dazedly. "Mama wants me to get married," he told his friend.

"So? That's not new." Taking Ortiz by the shoulders Tim pushed the Cuban down into his vacated seat and hovered over him anxiously.

"Mama is sending my fiancée to meet me."

"What fiancée?"

Miguel lifted his head and blinked at him. "That's what I said," he said plaintively. "She's called Valentine Santini. She's from Cuba. Help? What do I do?!" He was slowly starting to surface from his initial shock.

"Um, call back and say no?" Tim suggested hesitantly.

"And disappoint Mama?! I couldn't!" Miguel wailed.

"Pretend you didn't recognise her when you go to pick her up then."

"She's sending a photo. Besides, Tomas is picking them up,"

"Maybe you won't get on with her."

"And maybe I will! Mama has taste!"

Tim shrugged and folded his arms. "Well, I'm sure you'll be very happy together then," he said brightly.

"Tim!" Ortiz bounced to his feet and grabbed his friend by the shirt. "But you've got to do something!"

"Me? Why me? She's coming to meet you, not me."

Ortiz stared at him helplessly for a moment, then a crafty light appeared in his eyes.

"Oh no. No, you don't!" O'Neill shook him off. "I know that look. I'm not pretending to be you. I don't even look Cuban! You find your own way to wriggle off the hook!"

"But you speak Spanish. You could get away with it long enough." Tim backed away from him as Miguel prowled closer, eyeing him critically. "After all, she probably wants to marry me because I'm Cuban, so if I don't seem to be a good bet..."

"Oh, thank you for the insult. That's guaranteed to be make me feel like helping you," Tim interrupted sarcastically.

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah. I also know that if Mama is sending a photo of this female to you, then she's guaranteed to have sent a photo to her too. She's going to know that I'm not you and then she'll tell Mama on you."

Frustrated, Ortiz glared at his friend for a moment and then slumped. "There's got to be some way out of this. I don't want some witch trapping me into a marriage!"

"Why do you think that's what she is going to do? You've always said you want to get married."

"Yeah, but I want have a choice about it."

"You've got a choice, Either you do or you don't. I really don't see why you want to get out of meeting her," Tim said however. "She may be very nice. All you have to do is meet her and maybe take her out to dinner. If you get on, fine, if not, then sayonara. She could be the love of your life that you've been waiting for."

"Do you have to be so logical?" Miguel asked plaintively.

"Do you have to be so illogical? I've only been listening to you."

"What?" Ortiz turned a ferocious look on him.

"That's the standard speech you give me every time I get a little nervous about going on a date."

"A little nervous?" Miguel exclaimed. "You make a blancmange look like granite."

"Ah ha, another insult. You're really impressing me here."

"Oh shut up. You're no help at all," Miguel growled and sulked his way towards the door.

Tim hesitated, then padded after him. Something told him Miguel was genuinely anxious about this meeting. Catching up, he draped his arm casually across his friend's shoulders. "Hey come on. No-one in your family is going to make you marry her."

"No, but I'll get hurt looks."

Tightening his grip, Tim swung the Cuban round to face him. "Now, you listen to me, Miguel, I know your family. All they want is to see you happy. They don't expect you do to do anything you don't want to. Mine would." O'Neill paused, wishing he could bite his tongue out at the poorly considered remark. Oddly enough, it seemed to help Miguel however.

"I'm sorry, Tim. I suppose I am only being asked to meet her, not told to marry her." Ortiz shrugged and sighed. "But I guess our plans will have to wait."

"Oh gee, you mean we can't go bungee jumping after all? I'm so disappointed," Tim said sardonically.

Miguel grinned wickedly. "I'll be sure to call Phillips so he can take you with him next time he goes."

"What? No! I don't want to! If you tell him, he'll never forget!"

Ortiz folded his arms and gazed innocently at his friend. "Then you'll help me deal with Valentine?"

"I never said I wouldn't! You don't have to blackmail me!"

"This isn't blackmail," Miguel retorted, coolly prodding his friend in the chest. "I simply want your promise that you won't take off on me, leave me to her tender clutches or in any other way abandon me."

Tim eyed him with a flash of wariness and experimentally 'tasted' their empathic 'link'. It tasted vaguely salty somehow and Tim did a quick mental reconnaissance to check what the empathic sensation meant against his innate knowledge of his friend. "You're up to something," he decided.

"Who? Me?" Miguel purred, his lopsided grin emerging as his distress lifted a little.

As far as O'Neill was concerned, the lift to his mood was one thing, his grin another. It portended diabolical mischief of some kind. "Yeah, you. You needn't think I'm going to run distraction for you. She'll be expecting you, not me."

"True, but I know someone who is expecting you."

"Oh?" Tim queried suspiciously.

"Uh huh," Miguel smirked. "Serena's coming with her."

"She's what?!" the comtech yelped in horror.

"You heard," the Cuban said smugly, amused by the way his friend all but went into orbit over the idea. "Now, let's see how you wriggle off that hook, amigo!"

Despite a remarkably refreshing argument over whether or not Tim was going to keep his promise and stick around while Serena was in town, or flee screaming for the hills, Miguel couldn't get his mind off the idea of Valentine's impending arrival and he hadn't slept well. He couldn't even imagine how she looked, but had some vague idea of her being a diminutive little creature as shy as a periwinkle and completely in awe of him.

He was up as soon as it was light, disturbed by a very weird dream about being trapped in a broom closet with Ewan Medwyn and extremely glad that he couldn't quite remember what it was the Welsh paleontologist had wanted to do with the brooms. He took refuge from his confusion in sketching. After the tenth time he had erased the face of the mermaid he was working on, he decided to give up and make fresh coffee before he dared check the computer again for the dreaded message. This time the message was there and he printed it out, wishing he had put real rum in his coffee as he hovered over the printout in trepidation. Taking the damp paper carefully, he took it back into the kitchen and put it face down on the counter top while he sipped his coffee and gathered his courage. Finally admitting that the anticipation was only making the waiting worse, he pushed the door to so any inadvertent verbal reaction wouldn't wake O'Neill - not that he could do much about the empathic one - set aside his cup and turned the photo over.

Valentine Santini was gorgeous. There was no other way to describe her. Her hair was the kind of thick glossy mane most women would kill for, her face was finely featured with high cheekbones and her tan made her look faintly exotic. She was looking mischievously into the camera, her ripe lips parted on a laughing smile and her violet coloured eyes dancing with life and invitation.

Something about her hit Miguel straight in the libido without bothering to ask if his conscious mind was interested: much to the Cuban's astonished but acute embarrassment. He wasn't sure how long he sat there with a daft grin on his face, but it couldn't have been long before the door opened and O'Neill tottered in.

Staggering around the counter, Tim sank into a chair opposite the Cuban and focused fuzzily on his friend. "Must you think erotic thoughts so loud, so early?" he asked plaintively.

"Huh?" Miguel came back to earth with a thump and reached automatically for the percolator. He had known Tim long enough for the habit to be ingrained. As soon as he saw O'Neill in the morning, it was feed him coffee until the comtech registered that he was human and conscious.

"I was sound asleep until I got hit by this sudden tidal surge of lechery," Tim sighed as he pushed his mug towards Ortiz and watched him fill it.

"Sorry." Miguel set the mug down in front of him and slid the photo across to join him. "She took me by surprise. Isn't she incredible?" O'Neill picked it up and peered at it closely.

"Very pretty," Tim agreed, more interested in snuggling up to his coffee mug. "Who is she?"

"That's Valentine," Miguel said proudly and felt a flicker of alarm at his own smug tone.

"The witch?"

"I never said she was a witch!" Miguel yelped.

"The one who's going to trap you into a marriage?"

"I never said that!"

"Please, lower the decibels," Tim groaned, wincing. "Remember how sensitive my senses are."

"Well, don't be insulting then."

Tim gave him a groggy look. "Excuse me? You sound like you're interested in her now."

"Well? What if I am? She's pretty."

"She's single," Tim reminded him.

"So?" Miguel demanded belligerently. O'Neill gazed at him eloquently. "All right, maybe you're right. Maybe she is the love of my life."

"And maybe all your hormones are doing a fertility dance," Tim snorted, taking a mouthful of coffee and grimacing at the indignantly loud surge of annoyance coming down the link. "Be reasonable, you can't fall for someone on the basis of a photo."

"Why not?"

O'Neill stared him. "You are the guy who was here last night, aren't you? No-one sneaked in with a substitute when I wasn't looking? Last night, you acted like you never wanted to see her if you could help it."

"I didn't say that."

"No, but you were thinking it."

Ortiz sprang to his feet restlessly, starting to pace. "So, you shouldn't have been reading my mind!"

"I wasn't," Tim mumbled drowsily.

"Emotions then. So, I was wrong. I was panicking over nothing. But what if she isn't interested in me?"

Tim groaned softly, settling down to wait out the Cuban's anxious burblings and make appropriate agreeing noises in the right places. As soon as he stopped talking though, his mind started to drift as his concentration wandered and the next thing he knew Ortiz was shaking his shoulder to wake him up.

"Are you listening to me?" Miguel demanded impatiently.

"Huh, yeah, sure," Tim blinked awake, rubbing sleep from his eyes and peering around him foggily. Oh yeah, the kitchen. Check....

"Oh right, you agreed to go bungee jumping, sure you were listening!"

"I did not! Did I?" Tim protested in panic, then caught the glint in Miguel's eyes. "You're mean, you know that? You shouldn't be cruel when I'm not awake," he added, forlornly peering into the depths of his empty coffee mug.

Ortiz snorted. "You're hopeless."

"Then can I go back to bed?" Tim asked hopefully.

"What for? The sun is up and it's gorgeous outside."

"It's unusual for it not to be gorgeous in Hawaii and the sun hasn't had breakfast yet." Tim pushed himself to his feet and headed for the door. "Call me at a civilised hour." he told the Cuban as he tottered out, leaving Miguel to smile at his dreams. A moment later though, Tim wandered back in and carefully put Valentine's photo down in front of his friend with the air of someone who knows they're going to knock something over at any moment.

"Don't drool too much, you'll make the ink run," he warned Miguel sleepily and wandered off back to bed again.

Ortiz chuckled and picked up the photo. "Hello, Valentine," he greeted her quietly. "I wonder if your personality is as gorgeous as your looks?"

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Miguel groaned as O'Neill parked his motorbike in the drive of Tomas' Ortiz' house. He slid off the back of the motorbike. Despite his initial attraction to Valentine's photo he had spent the entire previous day agonizing over whether or not he actually wanted to meet her.

Tim had spent his time avoiding the loudly emoting Cuban for the sake of his nascent empathic abilities and the headache that went with them. He much preferred a peaceful, non eventful life with as little stress as possible. "Neither can I," he muttered in response to his friend as he took of his helmet. "I can't believe you talked me into coming over for dinner."

"Hey, you're my morale support," Ortiz protested. "I need you. What if Valentine can't stand me?"

"I thought that was the general idea?"

"With someone as gorgeous as she is? Of course I want her to be interested!"

Tim gazed at him doubtfully. "But before we left the apartment, you didn't want her to," he complained in exasperation. "I wish you'd give me the occasional status report so I'd know where I am."

Ortiz snorted and prodded him in the ribs. "You're the empath, you're supposed to know how I'm feeling," he retorted. "Now, come on."

"In a minute," Tim handed him his crash helmet and started to wriggle out of his fringed buckskin jacket. He was wearing cowboy boots and a dark blue denim shirt and jeans in an effort to look as dull and uninteresting as possible to Serena Ortiz.

"What are you taking that off for?" Miguel asked curiously as he obligingly put the crash helmets into the Harley's carrier.

"Because I don't want Serena to see me wearing it," Tim retorted impatiently. "It gives her ideas and she doesn't need any more! The more boring I look the better I'll feel."

Miguel sighed. He couldn't bring himself to break it to him that what O'Neill considered to be boring actually made him look pretty good. The jeans were a excellent fit for once and didn't make him look at all skinny as he assumed. Besides which Serena would have been happy if the comtech turned up wearing a sack as long as she saw him. Ortiz himself had spent an entire hour in a panic over what to wear and ended up in black needlecord and a white silk shirt under his black leather jacket. "It isn't going to work, you know, Serena won't care," he told him and headed for the house.

Tim followed him glumly, carrying his jacket. "I don't see why I have to come anyway," he muttered. "This is a family thing."

"And you're family," Miguel said firmly, ringing the doorbell before he could change his mind and chicken out again. "If I have to go through with meeting Valentine, then you can say hi to Serena."

"I wouldn't mind if it was only hi. It's the empathic heavy breathing she makes when she says it that bothers me." Tim sighed with perfect timing as Tomas chose that moment to open the door and ruin Miguel's chance to demanded what O'Neill meant.

"Hola brat!" Tomas said in delight, scooping his younger brother into an affectionate bear hug that promptly turned into wrestling match. He grinned at O'Neill, ignoring Miguel's indignant squawk of protest as he ruffled his curly hair. "Hi, Stringbean. You been taking care of the brat for me?"

"Sure," Tim smiled back. "He's really looking forward to meeting Valentine."

"You traitor!" Miguel exclaimed breathlessly, finally succeeding in breaking away from his brother and swatting at Tomas in annoyance. "And don't call me brat!"

"He's done nothing but talk about her for days."

"Oh, sure," Tomas chuckled, his dark eyes flashing in wicked amusement as this brother's expense. "You'd better come in then. I'll go fetch her."

"I'm going to get you for that," Miguel growled darkly as he strolled inside. Tomas disappeared off towards the kitchen, knowing that his brother knew his way around the house. Tim padded at his heels, smirking.

"Why? It's true." He said cheerfully and then broke off with a gasp as Serena wrapped herself around his neck and planted a solid kiss on his mouth. Tim scrabbled free with a yelp and collided with the wall as he backed up fast. "Serena!" he yelled in shock. She seemed to have become even more beautiful since he had last seen her and the pale blue silk dress she was wearing set off her glossy sable hair and snapping Ortiz black eyes to perfection.

"Hola, Tim," she purred, slinking closer to corner him. "You're looking very sexy."

"Sexy?! Me?" Tim managed in a strangled tone. "Mig? Help?!"

"Why?" Miguel asked, eyeing his sister's stalking tactics with some interest. Tim was sidling the wrong way he noted, edging away from the escape route Serena as herded him.

"Because if I get distracted, you'll be on your own!"

"Huh? Oh, damn, yeah, Serena, lay off. I need Tim paying attention."

"Oh, but he will be," Serena cooed happily as she trotted over to hug her brother in affection.

"To me, idiot." Miguel retorted as he pushed her back to arms length and winked at her.

His sister gave him a hurt look. "I was only teasing," she sighed wistfully, then started a wicked grin as she took in his clothes. "Why, Miggle, you look like a hood."

"I what? I do not!" Miguel screeched indignantly. "Tim tell her! I do not look like a hood!"

O'Neill slid a look at him and raised an eyebrow. Before he could say anything however, Tomas returned, elaborately bowing a slender, dark haired young woman into the room.

"Valentine Santini, meet Miguel Ortiz, my baby brother," Tomas announced smugly. He was longing to see how his brother was going to react to meeting such a gorgeous creature in such arranged circumstances.

"Not so much of the baby," Miguel growled and turned a watchful look on Valentine. For one split second they stared at each other in wary silence, then Miguel gave her an instinctively dazzling smile and stretched out his hand. "You'll have to ignore my brother, he can't help being an idiot. It's nice to meet you."

Valentine shook his hand carefully, pleasantly surprising him as her warm touch sent a tingle through him. "It's nice to meet you too. Serena has told me so much about you and your family."

"Really? All good I hope?"

"Mostly," she admitted with a hint of mischief. Miguel liked that too.

A polite cough made Miguel glance suspiciously at O'Neill, but Tim was far too busy suspiciously watching Serena for her next move to take much notice. It was Yvonne, Tomas' wife who wanted their attention. "Don't you think you should introduce Tim?" she asked her husband dryly, prodding him in the ribs.

"Oh, I'm only here to...." Tim broke off with a yelp as Miguel trod firmly on his foot. He gave the Cuban a wounded look. "Why did you do that?"

"Sorry, I must have slipped," Miguel replied innocently and smiled winningly at Valentine again. He didn't want Tim revealing that he had ever thought he needed back up.

"You're incorrigible, Miguel," Yvonne scolded and quickly made the introductions.

"I'm not really important," Tim added cheerfully as he shook hands with Valentine.

"Oh, but you are. Serena's told me so much about you. You serve with Miguel on seaQuest, don't you?"

"Uh yeah." Tim had the sudden feeling of being barbecued on one side and frozen the other. Sure enough when he looked round Miguel was glaring at him with blistering heat and Serena's stare was nothing short of glacial. He took a careful step back before his empathic senses were shorted out by a major headache. "But, like I said, I'm not important. Only a friend of Miguel's, not family."

"Of course, you're family! How many times do I have to tell you?!" Miguel raised his eyes skywards and missed the quick look of amusement Valentine gave him.

"You can always marry me if it bothers you and you want to make it official," Serena suggested, firmly taking Tim's arm. Tim removed it equally firmly.

"I've told you, I am not going to marry you," he said bluntly. It was the only way with Serena. She was every bit as single minded as her brothers. She smiled at him mischievously now, totally unfazed.

"Don't you believe in marriage?" Valentine asked curiously.

"Marriage? Yeah," Tim nodded. "Don't you?" As soon as he said it, he wished he hadn't mentioned the sore point. Valentine coloured prettily, then shrugged.

"Isn't it what every Cuban girl wants?" she asked mildly. "These things tend to be arranged."

O'Neill started to comment, then yelped as Serena kicked him in the ankle and thrust him towards the door.

"Come and help me get the table ready for dinner," she urged, shoving him into the hall.

"Sheesh, you're as bad as Miguel!" He could be heard complaining as she dragged him off.

There was an awkward pause, then Yvonne grabbed hold of her husband's arm. "We'd better help them," she said briskly.

"Why? Serena knows where everything is." Tomas was more interested in watching Miguel and Valentine mentally evaluating each other. He found it fascinating to watch from the other side for once. After all, Miguel had been a veritable terror when it was Tomas' turn on the sale block. Now it was his turn and Tomas was looking forward to the opportunity to gloat and torment his little brother.

"Which is what worries Tim," Yvonne replied ambiguously.

"What does that mean?" Tomas asked, finally distracted enough to eye her suspiciously.

"You figure it out, she's your sister. Come along, dimbo." she retorted and propelled him out of the room. There was another awkward silence, then Miguel gathered his courage and took the plunge.

"You'd think 'Vonne would be a more subtle considering. Did you know she's a psychiatrist?"

"Serena told me. She's very nice."

"Who? 'Vonne or my sister?"

"Both!" Valentine laughed, enchanting Miguel. "Your family is all so friendly." Yet more points went up on Miguel's mental scoreboard. "And good looking." Miguel grinned at her sly glance. "You know, you're not quite what I was expecting," she went on.

"I'm not?" Ortiz wasn't sure whether he was pleased or disappointed by that.

"I was expecting some stuck up officer with a superior attitude."

Miguel's eyes rounded in hurt. "Is that what Mama told you?"

"Oh no, she's very proud of you, but you know how it is. I'm always second guessing people when they talk about their family. I'm pleased I was wrong. You and Tim aren't like that at all."

"I'm glad to hear it," Ortiz sighed in relief. "Mama said you were beautiful and she's right."

Valentine smiled back, graciously accepting the compliment as it was meant. "It doesn't always help when you want to be an oceanographer," she admitted as she settled into a convenient chair. "People don't tend to take you very seriously."

"Oh, I would," Miguel assured her truthfully. Much as he appreciated beauty, he appreciated intelligence too.

"Yes," Valentine mused. "I think you would."

Nervously shifting his feet, Miguel started to inspect the bookshelf while he wondered what to say next. He was all too aware that he and Valentine had been left alone to get acquainted. Under normal circumstances, he would have had no difficulty in chatting to such an attractive young woman, but the idea of her being presented as a possible wife made him acutely uncomfortable about impressing her. He was saved from having to answer by the noisy arrival of his young niece. Anne rushed towards him, her mop of curly dark hair flying.

"Miggle! Miggle!" she shrieked in delight as she hurled herself into his out stretched arms and gave him a sticky hug.

"Hola, bambina," Miguel said warmly, oblivious to her grubby fingers on his shirt as he kissed her on the cheek. "What have you been up to?"

"I painted you a picture!" his niece told him, bouncing in excitement at seeing him again. "And I'm going to school now. We've got frogs and hamsters at school..." Miguel grinned as he cuddled her close and let her happy babble wash over him.

"Anne!" Tomas hurried in at the sound of Anne's excitedly raised voice. His daughter promptly stretched out her arms to be retrieved from Miguel.

"Did I tell you about the frogs?" she demanded as Tomas hugged her.

"Yes, you did and I thought you were in bed. You've made Miguel all sticky now. What were you doing?

"I had a cookie 'cause I was hungry."

Miguel glanced at his shirt and shrugged cheerfully. "It's okay, Tomas. I'll wash."

"And then I heard Miggle," Anne explained. "You said I could come and see him."

Tomas sighed and rolled his eyes at his brother. "And I'll bet you stayed awake so you could."

"'Course," Anne chirped brightly. "Is Uncle Tim here too? I want to see Uncle Tim."

Tomas flicked a glance at his brother and sighed. "Okay, you can see him. But only for a minute, then it's back to bed. You have to go to school again tomorrow."

"Again?" Anne's expressive brown eyes widened.

"Yes, again," Tomas said dryly as he carried his daughter off towards the dining room. "Tim! Your other admirer is awake!" he called.

Valentine who had watched in silence now glanced at Miguel curiously as he chuckled. "Other admirer?" she wondered.

"Anne wants to marry him too, but Tim copes better with it being Anne than he does Serena. Anne might grow out of it." Miguel paused and looked thoughtful, remembering Tim's initial dismayed reaction when Anne made her first announcement on the subject. "At least, I think he copes better," he added in amusement. "I'm not quite sure what they see in him."

"He is very cute," Valentine observed coyly.

Miguel was startled to feel the tiniest twitch annoyed by the comment. "I shall get jealous," he warned.

"Oh? Are you the jealous type?"

"Well, no," Ortiz admitted. "At least not around O'Neill. We've been friends too long."

"Good." Slipping to her feet, Valentine started towards the door, explaining, "I promised to help 'Vonne with dinner."

"You cook?" Miguel asked hopefully as he was drawn instinctively after her.

"A little." She sounded faintly exasperated as she turned a cool look on him. "Is that on your list of things required for the perfect wife?"

Miguel froze both at her comment and the sharp note in her voice. "No," he said slowly. "I was interested. I like to cook."

"You do?"

"Yeah. Something wrong with that?" Ortiz bristled at the imagined hint of sarcasm in her tone. All his family cooked. Eduardo had made a special point of helping his wife teach both his sons.

"No, only it's a little surprising." Valentine's expression was thoughtful as she gazed at him. "Do you have any other hidden talents?"

For a moment he floundered. "Not that I know of. I play the guitar and surf a little."

"He also paints fantastic pictures and writes his own music," Tim observed from the doorway.

"Shut up, Tim," Miguel growled at him.

"Don't let him tell you otherwise. He's a brilliant artist, but won't admit it, and his music is beautiful. Get him to play something for you. Tomas has a guitar."

"Will you be quiet!" Miguel could feel his face flushing at Tim's effusive praise and Valentine's speculative gaze.

"He's also modest to a fault and the best friend I've got," Tim added, grinning at the Sensor Chief.

"Why are you here?" Ortiz demanded.

"One, to escape from Serena and two, 'Vonne says dinner is ready and I should fetch the lovebirds."

Valentine laughed at Miguel's indignant sputtering and slipped past O'Neill to go and help Yvonne. Ortiz squared up to the comtech. "Whose side are you on?" he demanded irately.

"Yours as usual," Tim replied mildly. "You like her."

"Who says?"

"The link," Tim said smugly. "It's purring away like it's got fresh batteries."

"Oh shut up," Miguel muttered, pushing past him. "You're not supposed to encourage me!"

Tim snorted as he strolled after him. "Trust me, the way the link is thrumming you don't need encouragement."

"What do you suppose they're doing out there?" Serena wondered an hour later as she peeked through the curtains over the patio windows. She was watching Valentine and Miguel strolling across the lawn.

"Miguel wanted to show her the roses," Tomas commented dryly, nudging O'Neill in the ribs. "What would you be doing if you had Tim out there?"

"Don't encourage her!" O'Neill moaned as Serena shot a wickedly speculative look at him.

Tomas shrugged. "Is Miguel holding her hand yet? That always means he likes a girl."

"No. But they're going all dewy eyed at each other," Serena commented suspiciously, then jerked back as Miguel shot a glare back at the windows. "I think he saw me. Maybe I should go out and pick some roses?"

"I thought you were Valentine's friend," Tim reminded her.

"I am, but we're not that close. She's older than me. Besides, what's that got to do with it? He's my brother. Maybe I don't want her going dewy eyed over him. What if one of them gets hurt? It'll be my fault for introducing them."

Tim and Tomas exchanged a baffled look at this piece of feminine logic, but Yvonne seemed to understand.

"Don't be silly. They can both take care of themselves. Why don't you find something to do?"

Serena folded her arms and gave O'Neill a deliberate look. "Tim did say he'd take me for a ride on his motorbike some time," she murmured.

"You don't have a leather jacket," Tim said promptly. "And I'm not taking you out on my bike without one." Yvonne gave him a thoughtful look and put aside her book to head for the hall.

"We could go for a walk then," Serena suggested. "And hold hands."

"And disturb Miguel and Valentine? No way."

"The way they're looking at each other, I don't think anything could disturb them," Serena snorted in irritation.

"Surely that isn't jealousy I hear is it?" Tim murmured.

"No, but it'd be reasonable if I was. I'd be married by now if you weren't so stubborn."

"Me, stubborn? What about you? Is it my fault, you won't take no for answer?" Tim broke off, aware that Tomas was smirking exactly the way Miguel did. "She's your sister, can't you control her?"

Tomas' grin widened. "No more than I can the rest of them," he admitted cheerfully, nodding towards the door as his wife strolled back in.

"Here, you are, Serena," she said brightly as she held out the royal blue leather jacket she was carrying. "This should fit you fine."

"'Vonne!" Tim screeched in dismay. "You traitor!"

Serena only hurled herself on the jacket in delight and let a smiling Yvonne help her slip into it. "What do you think?" she asked as she did a quick twirl in front of Tim for his approval.

"I think I've been trapped," O'Neill muttered, giving Yvonne a dark look. "Shame on you, woman."

Yvonne smiled blandly. "Now, you can take her out like you promised."

"I did no such thing!" Tim yelped and then winced as Serena turned a woebegone gaze on him. "Aw, don't look at me like that."

"What's going on?" Miguel hustled into the room with a confused Valentine in tow. He glared at Serena as she hovered over Tim. "What did you do?"

"Nothing. Tim promised to take me out on his bike."

"I didn't," Tim protested weakly, knowing he was cornered. He could never say no to Serena - not on the little things anyway.

"So that's why...." Miguel paused. Tomas and Yvonne both knew about O'Neill's empathy and the link he had with Ortiz, but Serena didn't and he wasn't sure how Valentine would react to finding out. Besides, it was Tim's secret to keep, not his. "....you're wearing the jacket, " he finished lamely. Tim's expression as he glared at him was half amused exasperation, half annoyance. "But if you promised...."

"Come on then, pest," the comtech muttered, giving Miguel a 'I'll get you for this' look, as he uncurled from the couch next to Tomas and headed for the door. "We'll go ride round the block."

"Is that all?" Serena asked, trotting at his heels.

"That's far enough," Tim retorted. "And you can keep your hands to yourself."

"How am I supposed to hold on then?"

"Not to me that's for sure," Tim growled. "I don't want to crash because I find your hands in my pockets!"

"Spoilsport."

"Hah!"

Miguel grinned as he heard the front door close behind his friend and his sister.

"Aren't you worried about them?" Valentine asked curiously however.

"Why should I be?"

"She's younger than he is."

"So?" Miguel turned a genuinely baffled look on her.

"She's obviously got a real crush on him. She could get hurt if he took advantage of her."

It was Tomas who snorted. Miguel was too confused to take her seriously. "You don't know Tim the way we do. He would never lay a finger on her even with her permission and the last thing he'd ever do is hurt her."

Valentine smiled vaguely and sat down. She liked Miguel and his family, but she was starting to find it all a little overwhelming. Being an only child herself, she found it difficult to understand the relationships between the brothers and their sister and was baffled by how O'Neill seemed so much a part of the family when he was clearly not related to them.

"Valentine? Are you okay?" Miguel crouched beside her anxiously. "You've gone very quiet."

"Hmmh? Sorry, I was thinking." She smiled at him in genuine warmth.

"About me I hope," Miguel grinned back at her like a puppy hoping for walk.

"In a way. I think I'd like to get to know you better."

"That can be arranged," Tomas said wryly.

"Oh shut up," Miguel snapped without looking round from sinking into Valentine's amethyst eyes.

"Smitten, well and truly smitten," Tomas sighed teasingly, then yelped as his wife smacked him sharply on the arm. "What was that for?"

"You know perfectly well. Come and help me make coffee."

"What? Now?"

"Yes, now," Yvonne said pointedly and dragged him from the couch.

"I think that was a hint," Miguel murmured as the door closed behind them. "How about if I take you out tomorrow? Where would you like to go?"

"I don't mind," she answered, resisting an urge to touch his thick black curls. "Why don't you show me Honolulu?. I've never been here before and you must know all the sights."

"That went pretty well I thought," O'Neill observed as he sipped his hot chocolate back at the apartment that night. "Don't you?"

Miguel gave him a haunted look. "No," he said miserably as he dropped marshmallows one by one into their chocolatey doom.

"No?" Why not? You seemed to be getting on really well with Valentine."

"But that's the whole point. I wasn't supposed to be getting on with her. I was supposed to be cool and aloof. Unapproachable even."

"Unapproachable? You? That's like saying sugar doesn't attract wasps!"

Miguel glared at him. "You know what I mean."

"I know you told me you wanted her to like you."

"I did not!"

"You did!"

"Since when?"

"As soon as we got to Tomas' you said, you thought she was gorgeous and you wanted her to like you!"

"Well, I told you not to take anything I said seriously," Miguel muttered defensively. "And you didn't have to start making up compliments about me."

"Making up what?"

"Exaggerating about my painting and the music."

Tim gazed at him in confusion. "But that was all true."

"Bull! You only said it to impress her for me."

"No, I didn't. It is true, even if you don't believe it. Besides, I thought that was what you wanted," Tim said plaintively, wishing he could keep up with the Cuban. He always had a tendency to feel as if he was on a rollercoaster ride when Miguel was in love at the best of the times. This one made him feel like he was in null gravity.

"She probably thinks I had it all set up." Ortiz dropped his head into his hands with a groan. "She must think I'm an egotistical jerk."

"Is that good or bad?" Tim wondered cautiously. Miguel shot a glare at him between his fingers. "Forget I asked," the comtech said hastily, picking his mug up as he decided it was time for a strategic withdrawal for the night. "I'm sure you'll figure out how you feel tomorrow. You need some time alone together."

"Who says so? You're coming with me."

"What?" Tim goggled at him. "Have you lost it completely? You don't take anyone else on a first date!"

"It isn't a date," Miguel said firmly.

"Who are you kidding? You shouldn't lie to yourself like that," Tim scolded.

"I'm not," the Cuban answered desperately. "It's traditional to take a chaperon along in this kind of situation."

"To play gooseberry? Oh joy. So what do I do? Stand around and watch you two canoodling?"

"There won't be any canoodling." Ortiz said and started to explain that Serena was coming along too, when he realised that Tim would regard his position as promptly null and void if he did. "I'm only taking her sight seeing. I thought we might drop by the gallery since she's studying oceanography."

"That's low, Ortiz, really low. That's practically bribery!"

"True. But are you coming or not? Please come?"

"I never could resist a bribe," Tim sighed and grinned at him. "Okay, I'll come. But you owe me for this."

Ortiz shrugged and grinned at his friend warmly. "No problem. You can take it off against the ones you owe me."

"After we've been shopping, I thought we could have dinner together," Serena said brightly. She was holding Tim's arm as they walked into the Marine Art Gallery, mostly to stop him fleeing. She and Valentine had met the two young men at the plaza and Serena had cornered O'Neill with her usual practiced ease before he could escape. Despite his voluble protests, Miguel was of the opinion that Tim rather enjoyed her attentions.

"Sure. There's that new night club place, right Tim?" Ortiz looked hopefully at his friend, wanting to go but not wanting to be caught out alone with Valentine yet. He had a sneaking suspicion if he said yes and O'Neill wouldn't come, then Serena would promptly change her mind and drop him right in it.

O'Neill gave him a long suffering look and a nod. Sometimes he amazed himself with what he would put up with to get what he wanted - like visit the gallery. Serena suddenly let go of his arm with a soft cry of delight, hurrying forward into Gallery. Valentine caught her breath in equal enchantment, her eyes drawn to the bronze dolphin sculpture directly in front of the doors. Serena was admiring it avidly.

"I think this was a good choice," Tim observed wryly.

Studying the awed expression on his friend's face as he eyed the sculpture covetously, Miguel wasn't so sure. He figured he was going to have to keep a close eye on him. "Tim, don't even think it," he warned.

"Think what?" O'Neill asked innocently.

"About buying that statue. It looks like its solid bronze and our floor would never take the weight."

"Oh," Tim looked disappointed for a moment, then started a slow grin. "We could reinforce the floor..."

"No!"

"You never let me have any fun," Tim sighed wistfully and headed for the jewellery displays which Serena was now cruising avariciously. Smiling, Miguel edged over to Valentine. He knew Tim was teasing.

"What do you think? Do you like the place?"

"I never knew there were so many talented people around," she answered, admiring a tiny wooden sculpture of a nest of seahorses. "Do you have anything on display here?"

"Who? Me? No, I'm not good enough," Miguel said hastily and shot a warning glare across at O'Neill as the comtech snorted. Fortunately, Tim was distracted by the arrival of the owner. Mrs Chan was a attractive older Hawaiian woman and smiled at O'Neill in pleasure.

"Hello, Tim. Back so soon?"

"Back?" Miguel swung around and gave him a suspicious look.

"I happened to be passing when I went for groceries this morning," Tim said quickly.

"I wondered why it took you over an hour to get the milk," Ortiz growled. "Did you buy anything?"

"No," Tim said, giving him his best wounded look.

Ortiz snorted, but was distracted by Valentine touching his arm and asking for his opinion on a painting of sea otters. Tim eyed him warily for a moment, then turned back to Mrs Chan.

"I arranged delivery for you as you asked," she said pleasantly. "Are you sure you don't mind letting me keep it on display?"

"No, it'll take me a couple of days before I dare to tell him anyway," Tim sighed ruefully. "I need to work up to it."

"Work up to what?" Serena asked curiously as she came over to join Tim and find out what the whispering was about.

"Oh, nothing much," Tim answered hastily.

Serena considered this for a moment, then shrugged. "I was looking at the butterfly comb. Did you see it?" she asked wistfully.

Tim had noticed it this morning and knew why she looked so wistful. The richly coloured, cloissioned hair comb was way too expensive for a university student to afford. "Gorgeous, isn't it? Didn't you like the lionfish one?"

"Oh, yes, They're all beautiful. But the butterfly looks almost alive." Serena smiled and wandered back to have another look at the jewelled display on the black velvet back cloth. Tim gazed at her silently for a moment, then turned back to Mrs Chan with a thoughtful expression.

She smiled at him. "Since you brought the table, I'll give you a discount if you want to buy a comb for your girlfriend," she suggested cheerfully.

"She's not my girlfriend!" Tim protested promptly. "She's his sister." He nodded over at Ortiz who had dared to put his arm around Valentine's waist.

"I see," she mused, gazing at him patiently. "The butterfly would look wonderful with her colouring."

Tim squirmed, then grimaced. He knew he was going to lose to the urge to do something nice for Serena. He liked the way her mind fizzed so effervescently when she was pleased: it tickled his senses like champagne bubbles and that was a dangerous but thrilling sensation for the half hatched empath. "All right," he sighed, knowing when he was beaten. "How much discount?"

Dinner was a disaster. Miguel wasn't quite sure why it had turned out that way when they had such a wonderful day, but suddenly he seemed unable to say or do anything right. As far as Valentine seemed concerned, everything was wrong: from the wine to the candlelight. One minute he had been sitting gazing romantically into her violet eyes and thinking longing thoughts, the next she had been really annoyed and fleeing from him.

Tim had been equally baffled. To give Miguel some time alone with Valentine, he had been reluctantly dancing with Serena. He had been endeavoring to keep her hands out of his pockets, when Valentine had suddenly exploded into angry tears and ran out of the club. Serena had gone after her, and, after a while Ortiz had sent O'Neill to find out what was going on. He returned to collect Miguel, having put the young women into a cab and sent them home.

"I don't understand it," Miguel said plaintively as Tim let them into their apartment. "Everything seemed to be going so well."

"You didn't say or do anything that you know of?" O'Neill wondered, knowing that Miguel would have a fit if he thought he had offended anyone with a poorly considered remark. He flipped the lights on. Miguel was far better at navigating in the dark than Tim was. The comtech tended to trip over things and blame Miguel for moving them.

"I think I said something about how romantic it was," Ortiz said slowly. "Then I said something dumb about kids."

"Kids?"

"Yeah, you know, about wanting lots of them or something like that. I was teasing. The next thing I knew she was up and gone." Confused and anxious, Miguel turned to look at his friend. "Is it me do you think? I don't want to hurt her feelings."

Tim bit his lip and hesitated to answer. He had a sneaking suspicion that Miguel was getting involved whether he wanted to or not. "Tell me one thing, are you treating Valentine differently to anyone else you've dated?" he asked cautiously.

"What do you mean?" Miguel demanded, piqued.

"Well, for one thing you don't normally want a chaperon around."

Miguel scowled and flung himself on the couch. "We've double dated before," he pointed out.

"Only with girls we're not really serious about," Tim pointed out, perching on the couch arm. "And this isn't the same thing. You're acting weird, Mig."

"I am not!"

"Yes, you are. I know you're not doing it on purpose, but I get the feeling you're assessing her, studying every last thing she does or says from a matchmaking point of view and that's not like you. It's like you're looking for hidden meanings in everything she says. Like you expect her to trap you into a shotgun wedding."

Ortiz grimaced, folded his arms and scrunched down into the cushions. "I'm not," he muttered, but he didn't sound too sure about it.

"You know, I think you might even be scared of her."

"I am not!" Ortiz yelped, scowling at him.

Tim raised a sardonic eyebrow. "No? You're definitely going all out to impress her one minute and frighten her off the next. No wonder she's confused."

"Since when did you get to be so smart?" Miguel demanded, shooting a glare up at his friend.

"I'm not," Tim replied blandly. "But I know when someone's confused, particularly when it's you."

"Me?"

O'Neill reached over and tapped him lightly on the head. "It's all buzzing around in there in panic. If you ask me, you're giving off contradictory signals and Valentine doesn't know where she stands."

"I don't know where she stands," Miguel complained. "I mean, she's got to have agreed to this wedding idea."

"Why? You haven't." Tim pointed out. "Maybe she's going along with it to avoid hurting everyone's feelings: like you. I know you don't want to do it, but you're going to have to discuss the situation with her properly sooner or later. You can't go on like this. Once you know what she thinks, the pressure will be off. But you're obviously attracted to her."

"Oh, really. And what if she is determined to marry me?!" Ortiz snapped sarcastically as he sat up.

"That depends on whether or not you're determined not to marry her. It takes two to tango like they say," O'Neill pointed out reasonably. "But you need to get it sorted out before you tie yourself into any more knots, that's for sure."

Miguel groaned. "Why do I put up with you when you're so darn logical?"

"Because I'm cheaper than a psychiatrist?" Tim said brightly.

"I could go to Yvonne or Levin for that for free," Miguel pointed out darkly.

"Must be my natural charm then," Tim decided cheerfully.

"Must be. It's sure not your modesty," Miguel snorted and unfolded himself from the couch. He rested his hand on Tim's shoulder in passing as he headed for the bathroom. Despite his teasing sarcasm, he was grateful for O'Neill's advice. Tim might not be an expert on women per se, but he did understand people and had the added advantage of the occasional empathic insight. Miguel was glad of his steadying influence when his own volatile emotions got the better of him. He smiled back when Tim grinned, pleased that the comtech understood what he couldn't put into words. "I'm going to take a bath and think about it."

"What? My natural charm?" O'Neill taunted.

"No. Me and Valentine." The Cuban took a detour to the drinks cabinet and retrieved his bottle of Rum. Tim tended to prefer Scotch on the rare occasions when either of them drank spirits. "Before I can figure her out, I need to know what I feel. Maybe then I can decide what to do about it."

Happily bopping along the Salsa music he had on his personal MD player, Miguel scooped off his headphones and stepped back to study his latest painting. After a minute or so of consideration he decided that the Wimple fish would pass inspection and turned his attention back to the mermaid who was the main focus of the painting. For some reason she was starting to look distinctly like Lt. Commander Hitchcock. O'Neill had been teasing him about it for days, but Miguel couldn't imagine any other face being right. And, as he kept telling himself, there wasn't anything wrong with painting his superior officer in such a fantasy setting. He hoped....

A brisk tap at the door disturbed his concentration and he reluctantly put his brush and palette down. O'Neill had gone shopping after half an hour of sitting and watching Ortiz paint. The Cuban tended to get very involved when he had a painting in hand and it was nigh on impossible to even get a response out of him, let alone a conversation. Miguel hurried over to fling the front door open. "Let me guess, you forget your key again? How...." Miguel screeched to a verbal halt as he realised who was standing in the corridor. "Valentine?" he quavered with a sudden attack of nerves.

"You remembered," she said dryly. "Can I come in? I think we need to talk."

"Um, yeah sure," Miguel stepped back out of her way and closed the door, then made a dive past her in a frantic attempt to tidy up. "I'm sorry, The place is a mess."

"That's all right," Valentine said consolingly enough, but there was tiny hint of disapproval in her voice.

Straightening up from shoving magazines under the couch cushions in an effort to hide them, Miguel abruptly decided not to bother. She could take him as he came or not at all. Neither he or Tim were particularly tidy: although O'Neill tended to have good intentions every time they came home that swiftly went downhill after a couple of days. Then there was always the panic stricken rush the day before they returned to seaQuest when they tidied up again. Miguel tended to be fairly tidy unless he was in a rush and/or excited. "Can I get you a coffee or something?" he asked.

"No, I'm fine," Valentine had spotted the easel and went over to look at the painting before Ortiz could stop her.

"It isn't finished yet," he said weakly. It had taken him ages to get up the courage to paint in front of O'Neill, let alone in front of someone he barely knew.

"It looks finished to me. Who is she?"

"No-one really. Tim thinks she looks like one of our officers."

"It's very good. I'm impressed."

"Thanks." Hovering next to her, Miguel wasn't quite sure how to react to this visit. She was obviously making an effort to be nice to him, but he couldn't figure out why. "Look, about last night," he began shyly. "I'm sorry if I upset you. I certainly didn't mean to."

"It wasn't you, it was me being an idiot." Taking a deep breath, she turned to look at him. "I think it's time we talked, don't you? This situation is awkward enough for both of us, without having to guess what's going on in each other's mind."

Miguel nodded and waved her to the couch, while he covered his painting. "You want to go first?" he asked, sliding a glance sideways at her. Seeing her tense expression though, he went on. "No? Well, there isn't much to say about me. I'm single and currently unattached, but my family wants to marry me off." He laughed weakly. "That's where you come in, I guess."

"And you're not going to argue with your family?" she asked sharply.

"Argue? No." As her expression darkened however, Miguel rushed on. "I mean, I'm not going to let what they want influence my decision, because I'm the one who has to live with it. Besides, I don't want to get married yet."

"Meaning I'm not good enough?"

Ortiz winced at the venom in her tone. "I didn't say that!" he yelped. "I think you're pretty and intelligent and nice...most of the time. I don't understand why you keep snapping at me. I haven't done anything wrong, have I?" he added plaintively.

Valentine glared at him for a moment, then suddenly closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "No, you haven't," she admitted. "But my family is a little more traditional than yours. They want me married off fast, with lots of kids. Never mind what I want. When Serena had dinner with us and she mentioned you, I said I'd like to meet you and they took it from there. They had it all figured out. You're good looking, good background, good career. Ideal husband material." She lifted her head and studied Miguel thoughtfully. "Did you know my parents met your parents and discussed the idea?"

"No." Alarmed, Miguel dropped into an armchair and stared at her. "Don't we get a say in this?"

"I suppose so, if it's a mutual no," Valentine said slowly and gave him a wary look. "Is it?"

Miguel sighed, aware of an upsurge of relief as she took the pressure off. "Right now, I'd say yeah, it's a no. We hardly know each other."

"I see," Valentine took a deep breath of her own. "You know, when you started going on about kids, I thought you'd already made your mind up. I don't want to be an old fashioned stay at home wife. I want a career. I want to be an oceanographer. You know, they put me through university because they figured I'd find a husband?"

"Charming," Miguel murmured.

"It nearly worked. There was a guy I really fell for hard. He wanted kids too and I even considered it. But he wanted them straight away and never mind my career. That's why we split up. I'm selfish, Miguel. I'll have to come first with the guy I marry and that means before his family and friends. I don't think you're ready to do that."

Gazing at her steadily, Miguel had to admit she was right. Valentine simply wasn't the marrying kind when it came down to it, and although Miguel had never quite made his mind up exactly what he wanted out of a marriage, he knew he wanted a woman who would put him before her career at least. "I guess we're not compatible then," he sighed wistfully.

"Maybe not." Valentine slid elegantly to her feet and Miguel got up as well, startled to find himself in close proximity to her.

"Look, I know marriage isn't the point any more, but we could still have some fun," he suggested slowly. "I mean, I'd love to show you around Hawaii."

She turned her head to look at him, her eyes glowing as they locked with his. "I'd like that," she said in pleased surprise. "You know, physically, I can't complain about the choice of material. Let's say I don't find you totally incompatible." She whispered and kissed him on the mouth, her tongue darting between his lips to tangle with his. For a split second, Miguel couldn't think or feel but could only stand frozen, then he kissed back hard and put his arms around her, pulling her tight against his chest. She felt wonderful, firm and yet softly yielding. A simply questing kiss turned urgently passionate, startling them both with its intensity. Ortiz was the first to breathlessly pull back.

"What the hell was that?" he gasped as he met her smouldering gaze.

"Who cares?" Valentine answered breathlessly and locked her mouth on his again. Her hands started to tug at his shirt and, before he knew what he was doing, Miguel was unbuttoning her blouse and sliding his hands under the fine material. Valentine's hands slid down to cup his buttocks and pull him firmly against her.

"We shouldn't be doing this," he said shakily, surfacing from her kiss. "But, oh, boy, I want to..."

"Oh, I know. Miguel, I want you, I want you now..." she whispered pleadingly as he poured kisses over her face and bared throat. Miguel moaned softly and was lost, common sense being swept away by the biological imperative as he lost himself in the taste and feel of her against him.

Humming under his breath, O'Neill let himself into the apartment and hitched the grocery bag back up under his arm as he kicked the door shut. He had felt Miguel's mood start to improve a while ago and once he started effervescing, Tim had absently tuned him out. He was halfway to the kitchen when he saw the pretty feminine clothes laying on the floor and intimately entangled with the shirt Miguel had been wearing. He froze, automatically, if a little belatedly, putting two and two together. Not quite sure what to do, he looked round nervously then started to creep towards the kitchen. Maybe if he put the food in the fridge, he could sneak out without being noticed.

Tim barely managed to skulk two steps before Ortiz galloped out of the bedroom, wrapped in his favourite Aztec patterned bath robe. He swooped on the clothes then spotted Tim, skidded to a halt and went scarlet.

"You're back," he squeaked, chagrined.

"Yeah." Realising he was hunched over the grocery bags furtively, Tim straightened up. "I didn't realise you were....occupied."

Miguel went ever redder. "Look, I'm sorry. I know we promised that we'd never.....in the apartment. But it kind of.... you know."

"Who is it?"

"Valentine," Ortiz mumbled uncomfortably. "It was mutual, Tim. Honest."

"I never imagined it wouldn't be." Very carefully, Tim put the grocery bags down on the coffee table. "I'm going out again for half an hour," he told Ortiz calmly.

"You going to yell when you get back?"

Eyeing Miguel's anxious expression, Tim shook his head and headed for the door. "Not if you don't embarrass," he replied coolly and let himself out again.

Taking a deep breath, Miguel hurried over and slipped the door chain on, then snatched Valentine's clothes up and carried them into the bedroom.

Valentine was sitting up on the disarrayed bed, a sheet discreetly draped around her wonderful curves as she did her best to untangle her hair. She gave him a shy smile as he came in. "Thank you," she said, welcoming the return of her clothes.

Miguel hovered over her. "Look, I didn't meant to take advantage of you," he said nervously.

"You didn't," Valentine was firm about that. "I started it."

"I carried you to bed," Miguel pointed out.

"I took your jeans off. That was a pretty clear signal I thought." She gave him a mischievous grin. "Besides, you were wonderful."

"Really?" Miguel smiled hopefully, pleased by the compliment.

"Really," she agreed, smiling back affectionately.

"I thought you were terrific." Ortiz shifted in embarrassment, hitching the knot tighter on his robe's belt. He was surprised when Valentine reached out and tugged teasingly at the belt end.

"I wouldn't say no if you were to ask me again," she said slyly. "You're awfully cute when you're begging. And you whimper when you're excited."

Miguel flushed. "I wasn't whimpering," he muttered darkly at her teasing.

"Yes, you were. It was ever so sexy."

"Sexy?" Ortiz gazed at her in awe.

"I found it really stimulating to find you wanted me that much," Valentine said huskily however, sliding her fingers under the flap of his robe.

Ortiz stepped back hastily and yanked his robe straight. "Look, I'd love to get back into bed with you, but that was Tim. He's gone out now, but he'll be back in half an hour."

"What?!" Dismayed, Valentine stopped her playful efforts at seduction and scrambled out of bed, tangling the sheet around her. "What must he think of me?! Oh, I'm going to be so embarrassed when I see him." She dragged her hands through her hair and made a grab for the clothes he had put on the bed end. "Go away while I get dressed! You'll distract me!"

Ortiz sprinted to open the door when someone knocked. He flung it open and grinned in embarrassment at O'Neill as the comtech leaned casually against the wall outside.

"Is it safe to come in now?" Tim wondered mildly.

"Valentine's still here," Miguel said weakly.

"I'll come back."

"Uh no, Serena's here too."

"I'm definitely coming back!"

"No, Tim, you can't leave me," Miguel wailed. "I need moral support!"

"Bit late for that isn't it?" O'Neill drawled as Ortiz bodily yanked him into the apartment. The second he was inside, he felt his empathic senses wince at the volume of hostility bouncing between the two women. Serena and Valentine were sitting on opposite sides of the room, studiously ignoring each other. "Uh, oh, what did you do?" he whispered to his friend.

"Nothing. She turned up before Valentine could leave. I think she um guessed what we'd been er doing?"

Tim eyed Miguel's mortified expression and smiled deviously. "I can see how that would be a problem. Serena's never actually realised you're male before, has she?"

Ortiz rolled his eyes. "Maybe it was a mistake telling you to stay," he muttered. "Go over there and distract Serena."

"I don't think it'll do any good, amigo. She looks mad. I can feel the vibes from here."

Scowling, Miguel scooped up his MD player and switched it on. "A lot of help you are. Go to your room and don't listen." He snapped the headphones over O'Neill's head and was startled when Tim yelped and hastily snatched them off again. Loud salsa music vibrated from the earpieces.

"I know you don't want me to listen in, but you don't have to deafen me to stop me," he complained.

"Sorry, I didn't have it up that loud," Miguel apologised, glaring at Serena who was looking utterly dismayed. She turned her head away, her long plait of dark hair swinging. "But I think I know who did. Serena was getting her own back on me."

"And as usual I get stuck in the middle. Oh, it's so much fun being your friend." O'Neill sighed heavily and handed the MD player back. "It's okay. I'll go and sit in my room all alone..."

"Don't start, O'Neill. I have a crisis here."

Tim grinned, unimpressed by the Cuban's growl. "I'm sure you'll be very happy together."

"What?"

"Well, now Serena knows your virtue has been compromised, you'll have to marry...Don't hit me! Remember the glasses."

Ortiz glowered as O'Neill cowered in mock terror. "Get out of here!" he ordered, biting down a grin as Tim slunk off towards his room in deliberate imitation of a kicked puppy.

"Why are you being mean to Tim?" Serena demanded promptly, scrambling to her feet to confront her brother. "He isn't the one acting like, like...."

"Don't you dare say it," Miguel warned sharply. "This is none of your business anyway."

"It is when you sleep with her."

"It's not like I seduced her!"

"If anything I seduced him," Valentine offered hesitantly. She had never seen Serena's temper in action before. It was quite impressive.

"You stay out of this! It's all your fault anyway!"

"That's enough!" Miguel barked catching Serena's arm and thrusting her back into her seat. She glared at him mutinously. "Valentine and I have a mutual interest in each other that it was convenient to indulge. How we indulged it and why has nothing to do with you."

"Isn't it?" Serena was almost tearful as she glared at him. "I don't want you to have to get married. I want you to be happy like Tomas and 'Vonne."

"Have to?" Miguel echoed nervously and slid a wary look at Valentine.

"Serena, I didn't sleep with Miguel to make him marry me!" Valentine actually laughed at the idea. "I did it because I wanted to. I don't want to marry anyone!"

Serena turned a cautious gaze on her. "You wanted to? Why?"

"Because he's a good looking guy and I was hot for him," Valentine snorted.

"For Miguel?" Serena couldn't quite get to grips with that idea. "But he's my brother!"

"Yeah. He might be your brother, but he's not mine."

Serena blinked and looked up at Miguel in confusion. Miguel could feel himself starting to redden as her gaze turned astutely thoughtful. "You mean, you're weren't a virgin?" she asked in hesitant awe.

"No!" Miguel yelped, discomfited.

"Definitely not," Valentine purred, smirking as she sank back languidly in her armchair.

"So, you've actually....?" Serena murmured inquisitively.

"Can we talk abut this some other time?" Miguel demanded hotly. "Preferably next century?"

"What's it like?" Serena's dark eyes were huge melting pools of curiosity.

"What?" Miguel screamed.

"Well, I've always wanted to know how it felt for the guy."

"Ask Tomas!"

"Oh, he's married. He's dull. He doesn't do that sort of thing."

Miguel floundered, wondering how Serena could think that and miserably aware that Valentine was watching him avidly as he wriggled on the verbal hook. "You mean he won't tell you," he guessed.

"Darn right," Serena snorted in disgust, then brightened up. "You think Tim might tell me?"

"What makes you think he's not a virgin?" he growled darkly.

"Well, if you're not, I'm sure Tim isn't," Serena decided smugly.

Miguel couldn't quite follow that. He knew Tim wasn't, of course. But he was reasonably sure that he did have more experience than the comtech and was surprised Serena would think it was the other way around. "Look, brat, you can stop protecting my virtue, okay? It's fine. And don't start questioning Tim about his or he'll never speak to you again!"

Serena pouted. "It isn't fair, you know. That you can and I'm not supposed to. But you do, so...."

"I'll tell on you!" Miguel blurted frantically. "Don't you dare! I'm not supposed too either."

His sister gave him a sultry smile that reminded him of a cat contemplating salmon and cream for breakfast and relaxed into her chair. "Oh, don't worry. I can keep a secret too," she murmured casually and went on while Miguel was worrying over the implication of that comment. "So, what are you two going to do now?"

Sprawled on his bed, Tim had managed to lose himself in the intricacies of translating a Chinese soap opera on TV and forgotten all about the real life soap opera going on in the lounge. He figured that if Miguel needed him to referee he would scream for him and in the meantime he could indulge in some peace and quiet. Besides, the link had settled down nicely.

"What are we watching?"

"Peking Nights," Tim answered vaguely then froze, running back over the last couple of minutes: the creak of the door opening, the weight on the bed next him and the skilful hands massaging his back. He rolled over as an instant flood of panic rushed through him. "Serena! What are you doing in here?"

"Hello Tim," Serena purred at him happily. "Miguel and Valentine have gone out."

"What?!" Tim screeched, alarmed at the idea of being alone in the apartment with this teenage temptation to his morals.

"Oh, don't get so excited. They won't be more than half an hour. And I wouldn't want to get interrupted in the middle of something. I'm sure you'd take longer than that anyway."

Tim eyed her suspiciously as pushed her hand away as she caressed his jaw. Catching his hand however, she nibbled lightly on his finger. "Then again...." she murmured huskily.

"Stop it," Tim growled and pulled away. "I think we should go in the other room."

"Ooh, you're shy," Serena giggled and blushed. "Tim, are you, are you a virgin?"

"Am I a....How the hell did that come up in the conversation?" Tim squeaked.

"Miguel isn't a virgin. I thought he was," Serena folded her arms, looking a tiniest bit shy.

"Well, it's hardly the kind of question you normally ask a guy," O'Neill snapped, mortified.

"Why not?"

"It's embarrassing for a start!" He glared at her. "You don't normally go around asking that kind of question, do you?"

"No," Serena admitted, ducking her head. "But everyone else seems to have done it and I....."

Tim awkwardly put his arm around her as he felt the glimmer of anguish in her soul. "Look, there's really no hurry for that kind of thing. Don't rush into it because you think everyone else has. They probably haven't."

Serena leaned against him, gazing up at him in longing. "I wish you weren't such a nice guy," she sighed wistfully.

O'Neill took a very, very deep breath and shifted away from her so fast she fell flat on the bed and suddenly started giggling. "And I wish you weren't so confusing," he muttered, grabbing her hand. "Come on, we're going in the other room."

"You mean we're not going to do anything?" she asked, fluttering her long eyelashes at him.

"No way."

"Let me guess, wait until I'm 21?"

There was enough genuine yen in her soul that Tim paused and answered carefully. "When you're 21, I'll probably regret saying no, because you won't be interested in me. But you won't regret that I did say no, and that will make it right."

Serena slid to her feet as he pulled her off the bed and she pressed against him, her arms circling his neck. "Won't that be my problem?" she asked.

"When you have brothers like Tomas and Miguel? No, it'll be mine," O'Neill said, firmly unwinding her arms. "Now, be good or I'll never let you in the apartment again!"

The rattle of his bedroom door's handle woke O'Neill out of a nap. He had dozed off in front of the TV. "Tim? Can I come in?" Serena called hopefully.

"No, the door's locked," the comtech retorted firmly, having locked himself in and her out while she had a shower. "I'm protecting my virtue, by protecting yours. Go to bed!"

She didn't answer for a moment. "Miguel's really late back. Do you think he's okay?"

"He's with Valentine. Of course, he is. Go get some sleep."

"Okay," Serena said quietly and he heard her pad off down the corridor towards the spare room that they usually used as a studio/study. Tim had set up the sofa bed for her in it when it looked like Miguel and Valentine weren't going to be back in a hurry.

Turning over onto his back, Tim used the remote control to turn off the TV and stared at the ceiling. He knew Miguel was okay as his empathic senses told him he was having a good time. The Cuban was more relaxed than he had been in days and Tim was loathe to disturb him psychically. On the other hand, he could feel Serena's genuine worry increasing, nagging at his senses until both his conscience and his psi ability made him roll off the bed and head for the door.

Dressed in one of Tim's shirts and Miguel's bathrobe, Serena was curled up on the sofa bed and doing her best to sniffle quietly.

"Hey, it's okay," Tim padded over to the bed and touched her hair, smoothing the thick black locks back from her face as he sat down on the edge of the bed. "Please, don't cry."

Serena promptly sat up and flung herself into his arms, in search of comfort rather than with amorous intent. "But Miggle hasn't come home and I upset him. What if he never comes home? What if he runs away with Valentine and n-never comes back?" she wailed, stuttering in misery. "It's all my fault!"

"Of course it isn't." Tim crooned, rocking her gently. "Miguel's with Valentine and he's simply forgotten what the time is."

"You don't understand. I can't do anything right! They don't want to get married! I thought they'd like each other!"

Reflecting on what had happened that afternoon, Tim couldn't help grinning broadly. "I think I can safely say they do like each other," he said dryly, then winced as her fist smacked him in the chest. Living with two brothers had given Serena muscles.

"Not like that!"

"Well, it'd have to be like that if you wanted them to get married," Tim pointed out. "What else did you expect?"

Pulling away from him, Serena shoved her hair out her face with both hands and scrubbed angrily at her face. Without make up she looked both very beautiful and very young. Serena had the kind of beauty that might mellow but would never fade. "Oh, I don't know," she said impatiently. "But Miguel never seems to have time for a proper girlfriend. I thought I'd be helping him and Valentine. Only Valentine doesn't want to get married and now Miguel's going to get hurt and it's all because of me!"

"I don't think that's quite how it is," Tim told her carefully. "They need time to talk this through without getting interrupted. That's the only reason they're taking so long." Serena gave him a disbelieving look and grabbed at her hair, irritably attempting to fight it into a plait. "Here, let me," Tim said quietly, brushing her hands aside. "You'll get it knotted if you lose your temper."

Serena froze in astonishment as he deftly started to work her hair into a smooth plait. "I didn't know you knew how to do this," she said slowly

"I had a girlfriend who used to like me to do this," Tim answered absently.

"Oh?" Serena couldn't quite keep the edge out of her voice.

"She was very special to me," he told her sadly. "This always helped her to relax."

Serena started to demand more details, then stopped herself: intuitively realising that this wasn't a subject O'Neill either could or should be teased on. "Do you really think Miguel's okay?" she asked forlornly instead. "He will come home?"

"I guarantee it."

"How?"

Tim paused, absently enjoying the feel of her glossy hair in his fingers bringing back good memories and realising that indulging those memories might not be such a good idea around Serena. It was also impossible to ignore the anxiety in her tone and mind.

"What if there's been an accident? What if he's been hurt?" Serena went on, alarming herself with her own imaginings.

"Serena, listen to me." Catching her by the shoulders, Tim turned her firmly to face him. "If anything ever happened to Miguel, I would know about it. I know he's all right. Stop worrying about them."

"How can you know?" Serena demanded with a flash of fast rising annoyance. "Do you have him bugged or something?"

"Or something." Tim half smiled at how close she was without even knowing it. "Can you keep a very important secret?"

"What kind of secret?"

"My secret. And Miguel's," Tim answered.

"Tell me."

"I want your absolute promise that you'll keep it," O'Neill said insistently however.

"You have it," Serena said seriously, her soul blazing with truth. "I'd never do anything to hurt you or Miguel."

"Good. Because I'm an empath," Tim told her as steadily as he could manage. Even now it was hard to say it aloud and he wasn't sure how he would feel if she panicked.

Serena's eyes went huge in awe. "You mean you're a Psi? A telepath?"

"Well, an empath is a telepath, but a telepath isn't necessarily an empath," O'Neill explained, concentrating on finishing off her plait. "Empaths tend to take the long way round to being a telepath." And very exhausting it was too.... "The basic difference is volume. It's like, like being a MD player. A telepath gets the music, but an empath gets to fiddle with the graphic equalizer too. Does that make sense?"

"Kind of. I'm impressed," Serena said slowly. "Then you can read my mind?"

"No, only your feelings."

"And Miguel? Can you read his mind?" she asked with a certain avaricious glee.

"We have kind of an empathic link," Tim said slowly, reluctant to reveal the link's precious existence even to Miguel's sister. "Sometimes I can, but mostly not. Right now, I know he's happy. That's why I know we don't have anything to worry about. Ribbon?"

"Ribbon," she handed him a length of thin silk ribbon over her shoulder to him. "Do you think they'll end up together?"

"No," Tim admitted after a moment's thought. He tied a neat bow in the ribbon and flipped her plait over her shoulder. "How's that?"

"Perfect," Serena approved. "Why not?"

"Because they're too much alike and too much unalike."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Personality wise they're alike, but outlook wise they're not. Valentine seems very career orientated and Miguel's a people person. They'd drive each other mad." Tim smiled as Serena turned to look at him. "Time to turn in, mon petite chou."

"Ooh, I love it when you talk French," Serena giggled. "Do I get a goodnight kiss?"

"Only the goodnight," Tim said firmly as he got up.

"Tim?"

"What?" He refused to look round as he heard her shed the robe and slide under the covers.

"I believe you know Miguel's safe, but I don't feel it. Could you maybe stay a while?" Startled he turned to look at her as he felt her nervous bubbling. "I won't do anything," she promised anxiously. "We could talk?"

Tim considered for a moment. "How about if I get the portable TV?" he suggested. "I was going to watch the movie."

Miguel could hardly believe how late it was when he let himself into the apartment. He had dropped Valentine off at Tomas', relieved to discover that Serena had called to say where she was. The hours seemed to have flown by as he and Valentine walked and talked and finally ended up having dinner at a club. Marriage was no longer an issue, but the physical attraction between them was undeniable after that afternoon's performance.

Wondering what Serena was going to say, Miguel padded quietly through to the back room, anticipating her being awake and angry. Instead he found his sister curled up in O'Neill's arms, the two of them sound asleep on the bed. For a split second shock boiled through him then he realised Tim was still fully dressed and the duvet was firmly wrapped around Serena. He stared to grin as he felt the sleepy stirring of the link.

"Um, Mig?" Tim pried his eyes open with an effort. "You're back?"

"Yeah, sorry I'm late." Ortiz kept his voice low as he switched off the quietly murmuring TV.

"Have an interesting evening, did you?"

"I might ask you that. What are you doing with my little sister?"

Tim blinked fuzzily down at Serena as if wondering how she had got there as she stirred and nestled closer to his shoulder. "She was worried when you didn't come back, so we watched the film together. Guess we fell asleep," he said drowsily, gently disentangling his arm from around her and sitting up. Serena mumbled something in her sleep and turned over, burrowing into the quilt. Miguel beckoned the comtech from the room, reluctant to wake her.

"How'd it go with Valentine?" Tim asked as he followed his friend out and closed the door softly.

"Okay," Miguel said and continued awkwardly, "Look, about earlier, I know we've got a rule about no women and I'm sorry...."

"Mig, don't worry about it. I'm not," Tim draped his arm around the Cuban's shoulders. "You two needed to get things straight between you and if that's what you wanted, who am I to complain?"

"Not everyone would see it that way."

"Not everyone would understand coming home and finding someone in bed with his sister," Tim pointed out dryly. "How come you didn't yell?"

"Because then she'd have yelled at me for being late," Miguel pointed out. "Besides, it was obvious you never did anything."

"Gee thanks."

"You know what I mean." Miguel paused, turning uncomfortably to face his friend. "Look, Tim, Valentine and I have decided we need some time alone together. So I'm going to take her over to Lahaina for a few days. Do you mind?"

"Why should I mind? Let me know whether or not it's going to be a long engagement though, will you? My tuxedo needs pressing."

Miguel punched him lightly on the arm. "Don't! I'm nervous enough already."

"About what? You've already slept with her, I wouldn't have thought there'd be many surprises left," O'Neill snorted.

"Valentine is a very surprising person," Miguel said darkly. "I don't think I could cope with her for long without going crazy."

"That sounds familiar," Tim mused. "I wonder who I know like that."

"Oh, shut up or I'll take the