PART TWO
//Look to love
you may dream
and if it should leave
then give it wings
But if such a love
Is meant to be;
Hope is home, and the heart is free//
The first summer-like day of April was enough of a reason for Cordelia to
arrange for someone else to watch the store while she packed a picnic lunch
and took Frannie to the park. Resting on the blanket she had spread across
the grass, Cordelia paged through the battered copy of Angela's Ashes she
had kept for herself when she packed up Doyle's things. Frequently she would
lift her head and smile as she watched Frannie climb up and then slide down
the jungle gym slide. The familiar words and the warm breeze soothed her
until, without thinking, she drifted off to sleep in the spring sun.
Cordelia jerked awake with a start, instinctively seeking out the small figure
of her daughter. She jumped to her feet when she saw a strange man pick the
little girl up and swing her around. Trying to hide the apprehension she
felt, Cordelia approached the pair warily. "Frannie honey, what are you doing?"
Her fear lessened somewhat as the stranger put the child down and gently
pushed her in the direction of her mother.
"We were playing mommy. That's Michael. He's my new friend."
Picking Frannie up, Cordelia faced the stranger. "Hello," she said coolly.
"Hello Cordelia."
"Do I know you?"
"No, but I would like to talk to you though." He paused, weighing his words.
"Harry sent me."
Cordelia's eyes widened. "Sweetheart, why don't you go play on the swings
for a bit. I need to talk to Michael."
"But Mommy..."
"No buts. Off you go."
They watched the little girl until she had settled herself on a swing and
began to push herself back and forth. Satisfied that Frannie was occupied,
Cordelia faced the older man angrily. "Who the hell are you? And why did
Harry send you here?"
Michael looked around carefully to make sure they were unobserved. Cordelia
watched in shock as he shook his head once and his face changed into one
she hadn't seen in almost five years. "Who are you?"
Shaking his head once more, Michael returned to his human mask. Ignoring
Cordelia's question, he began to speak. "Just about thirty-four years ago,
I met a woman. She was beautiful and I loved her. But she was human and I
was afraid to tell what I was."
"Oh God," Cordelia whispered, already sensing what he was going to say.
"Yes," he replied sadly. "She found out I was a demon. She was terrified
and wanted no part of me. She disappeared. I looked for her for a long time,
but I was never able to find her."
"But how does that relate to me?" Cordelia asked, even though deep down she
knew the answer.
"Three months ago I was in Dublin. She sat down next to me in a coffee shop.
Needless to say, she was surprised to see me." Laughing bitterly, he continued,
"We talked, if you can call it that. She accused me of ruining her life by
giving her a child of hell."
"You mean..."
"Yes, after she left me, she returned to Ireland and had a child, a son.
Apparently he seemed perfectly normal..."
"Until he was twenty-one," Cordelia finished quietly.
"When he went to her for answers, she was crazed. Chased him away. Refused
to speak with him ever again." Michael shook his head sadly. "She refused
to tell me anymore about him. Swore that she didn't know where he was."
Whispering sadly, Cordelia shook her head. "No wonder he never talked about
his mother."
"She's not a well woman. In some ways I feel responsible. But there's nothing
I can do about it now." Cordelia watched the regret play across his face
and waited silently for him to continue. "Moira was unwilling or unable to
tell me where he was. So I hired a detective and he got me as far as the
former Mrs. Allen Doyle here in the States."
"And Harry sent you to me."
He smiled. "She said that you would be the best person to tell me who my
son was."
"I'd like to think so," Cordelia agreed. "But it's getting late. And outside
in Sunnydale after dark is not a good place to be. Let me get Frannie home
and I'll tell you all about your son."
"And my granddaughter?"
"You knew? How?"
"Harry had told me when he was lost. I just did a little math." Reaching
out, he began to help her pack up the picnic basket. "Did he know?"
"No, he didn't. I found out a few weeks later. She's the only thing that
kept me sane in the beginning." Cordelia smiled as Frannie ran over to help
them pack up. "I wish he could have known. He would have been so happy. He
loved kids. I was so shocked when I found out he had taught school..."
***********
Time passed, and Michael slowly became a part of the family Cordelia had
established for herself and her daughter. After some initial wariness on
the part of the Slayer and her friends, they accepted him as well; especially
after his knowledge of demon lore helped Buffy stop a particularly vicious
demon that came to town.
A dark October night found everyone at Cordelia's house, helping Frannie
and her playgroup friends decorate pumpkins and prepare for Halloween. "I
think that I've found a way to bring him back," Michael said quietly to Willow,
Giles and Angel as they draped fake cobwebs around the room.
Willow glanced at the older man curiously, "How? Giles and I went through
every book imaginable. We couldn't find a single way to open the vortex without
it becoming uncontrollable."
Michael smiled. "Because of my nature, I have access to a few more sources
then mere humans. They've given me a spell that should control the vortex
and allow us to bring him back."
"But what about the time difference? I was in hell for only five months in
this world. Yet there, it was almost five hundred years. Could he have survived
that long? That much pain and suffering? He was only half human and mortal..."
Shaking his head in disbelief, Angel grimaced at the thought of the torture
he suffered being inflicted upon his friend.
"There are many planes of existence besides this earthly one. Not all of
them are the hell you endured. Nor does time pass so rapidly in all of them."
Idly picking up the next bag of decorations, Michael continued his explanation.
"The vortex you were trying to close was being opened by a demon from a
dimensional plane where the time passes almost the same as this
world. And as for your concern about his suffering, I do not believe it's
as bad as you would think. It's not the Hell you experienced, with its physical
pain and torture. It's more of a nothingness or an extreme loneliness." He
sighed, "But then again, I suppose that can be a hell of its own sort. All
I know is that we need to do this. My granddaughter needs her father, Cordelia
certainly doesn't deserve to be alone, and I would like to finally meet my
son. Please tell me you'll help."
Without hesitation, Willow spoke for them all. "When?"
"The next new moon, a week from tomorrow. I have a list of everything we'll
need. Can we talk about this more tomorrow night? I don't want Cordelia to
know. It would only make her worry." He paused, then shrugged. "And if it
doesn't work, she won't be disappointed. Can you meet at your place Giles?"
Giles nodded as Frannie called from the table. "Grandpa! Look at my pumpkin!
I made it look like you!" The sight of the pumpkin decorated with its pipe
cleaner spikes and big red eyes broke the tension that had settled over them.
Smiling, Michael turned his attention to the table. "Now Frannie, I'm much
scarier looking then that!"
The little girl giggled as he picked her up and tickled her. "No you're not.
Uncle Angel's scarier!"
Angel looked embarrassed as the older demon glared at him. "And just what
are you doing scaring my granddaughter?"
Hearing the commotion, Cordelia walked over and took Frannie from Michael's
arms. Glaring at both Angel and Michael, she said firmly. "There will be
no scaring of anyone! I don't feel like explaining the two of you to the
rest of the kids' parents when they're all awake with nightmares. Now get
into the kitchen and help clean up."
Cowed by the protective Cordelia, both men retreated to the kitchen without
a word.
***************
The howling wind grated on Cordelia's nerves as she paced anxiously around
the kitchen. "I don't know why I'm so uptight tonight," she said to Buffy,
Joyce and Anya as she rearranged the knick-knacks on the baker's rack.
"It's like I'm waiting for something to happen. But I don't know
what."
Buffy shrugged helplessly when Joyce raised her eyebrows and glanced at her
daughter "It's probably the storm, Cordelia. I've always hated storms like
this. Would you like some tea?"
"Sure Joyce. But don't get up. I'll make it." Rummaging through the cabinets,
Cordelia continued speaking over her shoulder. "I don't think it's the storm.
I've been thinking about a dream that Frannie had last night. She told me
about it this morning. She told me things...I don't know. It just seemed
like it was so real to her."
A very pregnant Anya perked up with interest. "What was it about? I've been
reading up on dreams because the baby has been giving me some weird ones.
Maybe I can interpret it for you."
"There's nothing to interpret Anya. She dreamt about her father. He was here.
He held her and called her princess and said that I was his queen." After
placing the teakettle on the burner, Cordelia returned to stand at the center
island. "It doesn't take a genius to figure out that she wants her father.
Up till now, Angel and Xander have been enough of a father figure for her
I guess. But I think now she's starting to realize what she's missing."
"Or maybe she's getting the same visions her father did and he really is
coming back," Anya blurted out.
As they watched Cordelia's face whiten in horror at the thought of her daughter
suffering the same visions that tormented Doyle, Joyce and Buffy turned to
glare at the former vengeance demon.
"What? It's not like I said anything about the spell Michael found."
Cordelia raised her eyes and glanced from an indignant Anya to an angry Buffy
and Joyce. "What spell? What are they doing?"
Buffy sighed, "Anya, if you weren't pregnant with one of my best friend's
babies, I'd have to kill you." Gently taking Cordelia's arm, Buffy led her
into the family room. "Michael found a spell that would allow them to control
the vortex. They're working it tonight." A bright flash of lightening and
a fierce crash of thunder interrupted her. "Right about now," she said as
she glanced at her watch.
"No! They can't! Willow and Giles said that the vortex was uncontrollable.
It's not safe. I don't want to lose anyone else. Buffy, you have to stop
them."
Joyce sat down next to the troubled woman and put a comforting arm around
her shoulders. "Cordelia, they'll be okay. Giles looked everything over and
it seems like it'll work. They'll be here soon. I'm sure of it."
Cordelia rose to her feet and faced the seated woman. "But you don't understand.
Angel and Doyle thought the spell we used was safe! And look what happened,"
she said angrily.
A subdued Anya entered the room. "I made the tea."
"Screw the tea," Cordelia muttered as she crossed the room to a small cabinet
in the entertainment center. "I think I need this more right now." Pulling
out a bottle of Irish Whiskey and a glass, she poured a neat shot and then
tossed it back. Joyce started to object, then quieted and smiled when Cordelia
started to cough from the unexpected burning. "Damn, I'll never understand
how he could toss them down like that. It's like swallowing fire." Returning
to the couch, she sat next to Joyce and rested her head against her shoulder.
"I can't lose anyone else," she repeated.
"You won't. And maybe it'll work, they'll bring him back to you."
"She's right Cor," Buffy interjected. "You still have hope, don't you?"
"Yeah," Cordelia nodded. "I do." Closing her eyes, Cordelia began to wait.
It was only twenty minutes later when the front door burst open and the missing
friends entered. Cordelia jumped to her feet and rushed to greet them; prepared
to berate them for worrying her. She stopped suddenly, frozen by the sight
of the slumped form Xander and Angel supported between them. "No, it can't
be," she whispered. "Doyle?"
Angel flashed a worried smile at Cordelia. "Yeah, it's him. But he's sick
and really out of it. We need to get him into bed and warmed up."
"My room then. Hurry."
Leading them up the stairs, Cordelia hurried past her room to the linen closet.
Grabbing every available blanket, she ran back to the bedroom. She stopped
in the doorway, watching as Willow and Angel stripped the tattered clothes
from the lean body she remembered so well.
"Where are the blankets?" Willow demanded.
Moving forward, Cordelia dropped them on the bed. "Here. What's wrong with
him?"
Michael and Giles stepped forward from the corner in which they had been
observing the activity. Giles began to stammer an explanation but Michael
quickly interrupted. "Inter-dimensional travel is very difficult for humans.
It can kill them unless they're exceptionally strong. I believe that his
human side has been greatly weakened by two trips through the vortex."
"No...I can't lose him again. Not like this."
"Shhh," Michael comforted as he put an arm around her shoulders. "We won't.
Willow will help him. And so will you. You need to talk to him. Let him know
there's something to come back to."
Cordelia nodded, then waited silently with the older men as Willow rummaged
in her bag. Pulling out some crystals, she arranged them on the headboard.
Again reaching into her bag, she pulled out several packets of herbs
and placed them under the pillow. After muttering several invocations, Willow
rose to her feet and motioned Cordelia forward. "Why don't you sit with him
for a while? I'm sure he needs to hear your voice." As Cordelia sat on the
edge of the bed, Willow quickly and quietly ushered the other men out of
the room.
Reaching under the heavy blankets, Cordelia took hold of Doyle's still hand.
Gripping it tightly in her fingers, she began to speak. "I can't believe
you're here. I hoped, oh God, I hoped. But I never thought..." Breaking off,
she broke down and sobbed. Finally, she lifted her eyes and ran a gentle
hand over his face. "Shh," she whispered as his body trembled. "You're
alright. You're home. It's safe. I promise you." Worried by the violent tremors
that rocked his body, Cordelia slipped under the covers and wrapped her body
protectively around him. "Don't worry. I won't let you go again."
PART THREE
//Under the heavens
we journey far
on roads of life
we're the wanderers,
So let love rise
So let love depart
Let hope have a place in the lover's heart//
Cordelia soon found that she was hosting a small house party as three days
passed and Doyle showed few signs of improvement. Angel refused to leave
his friend and Buffy refused to leave Angel. Michael paced anxiously outside
the sickroom door, afraid to face his newfound son for fear of losing him
again. Willow continued to serve as healer and Giles stayed to assist. Joyce
insisted on staying to look after Frannie, who was confused by all the tension
in the house. She had originally wanted to take the child home with her,
but after watching her with Cordelia and Michael, she realized that the small
girl was a source of comfort to her distressed family. And although Xander
and Anya returned to their own home late each night, they always appeared
bearing breakfast early the following morning.
Late the night of the third day, Cordelia and Angel found themselves keeping
vigil together in the dark. "He seems better tonight. More peaceful, doesn't
he?"
Angel wrapped his arms around Cordelia and pulled her close. "Yeah, he does.
Willow says that hopefully he'll start to wake up tomorrow or the next day
at the latest."
"Do you think he's okay? That he's still going to be the Doyle that we
knew?"
Resting his chin on the top of Cordelia's head, Angel sighed. "I don't know.
I certainly hope so. But I guess we'll just have to wait and see."
Pulling out of Angel's arms, Cordelia motioned towards the door. "Why don't
you get some sleep? I heard Buffy come back in from patrol a while ago.
I'm sure your fiancée would like to spend some time with you."
She waited until Angel had left the room before settling into the oversized
armchair that had been placed next to the bed. Pulling a blanket over herself,
she
reached out and captured Doyle's hand. "I love you. Please come back to
me."
***********
Ever attuned to her daughter's voice, Frannie's hushed giggle and the answering
murmur of a voice roused Cordelia from sleep. She started to take a deep
breath in preparation for a yawn and a stretch, but froze when she recognized
the Irish lilt of Doyle's voice. Half-afraid that it was a dream, Cordelia
kept her eyes closed and listened to the conversation.
"So are you a fairy then? Do you bring sweet dreams?"
"Uh-uh. I'm not a fairy. Uncle Angel says he's going to take me to Ireland
one day and then we can see real fairies."
"Really? And your Uncle Angel knows how to find fairies?"
"Yup, he knows lots." Frannie's voice lowered in confidence, "But he doesn't
know as much as Poppy or Grandpa. They know all kinds of stories."
"What kind of stories?"
"They know stories about princesses and monsters. But Mommy got mad cause
one time Poppy was telling a grown-up story and forgot I was in the room.
I got really scared. But then Aunt Buffy killed the monster and I wasn't
scared no more."
"I bet you're a very brave little girl."
"I'm not little. I'm gonna be five soon. That's what Mommy says."
"I'm sorry then, you're a brave big girl."
Cordelia heard the bed move and peered through lowered eyelashes to see what
was happening. As she watched, Doyle slowly pushed himself up and swung around
until he was sitting on the side of the bed. Without hesitation, Frannie
climbed onto his lap.
"What's your name?" she asked.
"You can call me Doyle."
Cordelia watched Frannie's face as she frowned in concentration. "But that's
my daddy's name and my name too, Frannie Angelina Doyle."
Doyle went utterly still for several seconds before glancing at Cordelia
and meeting her opened eyes. She read the unspoken question in his gaze and
nodded. Taking a deep breath, he ran his hand over Frannie's tousled curls.
"Well that's good. Little girls are supposed to have the same name
as their daddies."
Frannie looked at him curiously. "You're really my daddy? 'Cause Mommy said
you were lost."
"I was lost. But your mommy and her friends found me."
Throwing her arms around his neck she hugged him tightly. "I'm gonna go tell
Uncle Angel. He told me stories about you. He said he missed you lots."
A quick glance at the bedside clock made Cordelia jump from her chair. "No
you don't, young lady. Just what are you doing out of bed at this time anyway?
It's only 4:00 in the morning."
Biting her lip, Frannie buried her head in Doyle's neck and tried to evade
her mother's frown. Leaning down, Cordelia scooped the little girl into her
arms and headed for the door. "It's back to bed for you. And I don't want
to see you until the sun is out." Stopping at the door, she turned back to
face an amused Doyle. "I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere!"
Several minutes later, Cordelia returned to the bedroom and shut the door
behind her. She paused for a moment, resting her head against the doorframe.
"No, stay there," she said as she heard Doyle start to stand up. Lifting
her head, she took a deep breath. "It's just a bit overwhelming. I have so
much to say to you. I don't know where to start."
Doyle patted the mattress next to him. "How about we don't say anything just
yet. I just want to hold you for a little bit."
Cordelia nodded and quickly joined him. "That sounds like a good place to
start." With a quiet sob, she wrapped her arms around her long lost lover
as if she would never let go. As Doyle pulled her backwards, she moved with
him until they were both lying entwined on the bed. Cordelia's shoulders
shook with sobs, as all of the grief of the previous five and a half years
surfaced. Unmindful of his own tears, Doyle stroked Cordelia's back and murmured
quiet words of comfort to her. When her tears stopped, Cordelia wiped her
eyes and propped herself up on her elbow. "I can't believe you're here."
"Neither can I, Princess. I dreamt about this moment for a long time." He
grinned, "But I don't think I ever included a little fairy of a girl in my
homecoming. How?"
Laughing softly, Cordelia punched his arm. "If you have to ask how..." But
she quickly sobered. "I guess we got lucky that last night. I didn't know
until almost three months after you were gone. Angel and I had moved back
to Sunnydale by then. We couldn't stay in LA. There were just too many memories.
I was staying with Buffy and Willow and I kept getting sick.
Finally Willow insisted that I go to the doctor. I was so happy when I found
out. It was like there was a little piece of you still here."
Nodding in understanding, Doyle ran his hand down Cordelia's side. "I'm sorry
I wasn't here, that you had to have our baby alone. It must have been hard
for you."
"There's nothing to be sorry about. There was nothing you could have done.
And I wasn't alone. I had Angel and Buffy, Willow, Oz when he's in
town, Giles, Xander, Anya, Joyce...They've been here for me the entire time.
They've been our family. We couldn't have made it without them." She
sighed, "It was hard at times, but only cause I missed you so much."
"I'm glad then," Doyle said. "Glad you weren't alone." He yawned and pulled
Cordelia closer. "I'm so sleepy. Will stay with me if I sleep a little
longer?"
Cordelia smiled, thinking of the one family member he still didn't know about,
but the weariness in his eyes stopped her from speaking. "Rampaging demons
couldn't pull me away. We can talk more in the morning. There's a lot to
tell you."
"Mmmmm, in the morning. I love you," he whispered sleepily.
"I know. I love you too."
*************
Angel slipped quietly into the room and smiled at the huddled figures on
the bed. He could tell by the small, contented smiles that wreathed both
faces even in sleep, that his friend was back. Unable to help himself, he
placed a hand on the mattress and began to shake.
"What the hell?" Doyle sat up quickly and glanced around. Spotting Angel,
he smiled broadly. "Hey!"
"Hey yourself. Welcome back."
"It's good to be back." As Cordelia rolled over and stretched, Doyle placed
a gentle hand on her shoulder. "You wouldn't believe how good it is."
Angel smiled. "I think I have an idea."
Cordelia's muffled voice rose from under the covers. "What time is it now?"
she asked sleepily.
Laughing, Angel pulled the covers away from her face. "It's after nine. Your
daughter has had me awake since six."
"Six? Oh God, Angel I'm sorry. She knows she's not supposed to wake anyone
up."
"Come on. Get up," Angel urged. "There's coffee in the kitchen. And it's
okay she woke us up. It's not everyday she gets to say her daddy's home."
Doyle stopped in mid-stretch. "Me. A father. Of an almost five-year-old little
girl." He shook his head, saying with a smile, "Now that's a concept that's
going to take a little getting used to. But I can't wait to start."
Cordelia led the way to the kitchen, anxious for both her morning coffee
and the chance to see her daughter with her father. All conversation ceased
as the three laughing friends entered the room and Frannie ran to her father.
Doyle swept her up in his arms and gazed around the room, smiling at
the familiar faces. He frowned when his gaze fell on Michael's unfamiliar
face. "Cordelia darlin', care to introduce us?"
"Oh God, I didn't tell you." Cordelia gasped, looking up from the coffeepot
and gesturing helplessly at Michael. "I'm sorry Michael. There was just so
much to say last night...Frannie..." She stammered and Michael smiled.
"Don't worry dear. I can certainly understand. Perhaps now?" he encouraged.
"Okay. Now." Taking Doyle's hand, Cordelia led him to stand in front of the
older man. "Doyle, meet Michael." She hesitated a moment before continuing.
"Your father."
The smile on Doyle's faced disappeared as he slowly lowered Frannie to the
floor. The two men stared at each other silently, while Joyce and Giles quickly
herded everyone from the kitchen except Cordelia. "So, what rock did you
crawl out from under? A little late to play the proud papa isn't it?"
"Hey!" Cordelia exclaimed. "Hear what Michael has to say before you pull
attitude." Placing her hand on Doyle's arm, she pulled until he turned to
face her. "No matter what you might think, or blame him for; he's the one
that found the way to bring you back. You need to listen if only for that
and the fact that your daughter adores him."
"Fine," the younger man said. "For Frannie's sake. But make it quick."
Michael gestured towards the kitchen table. "Why don't we sit down?" Doyle
reluctantly followed Cordelia, and took a seat at the table. He didn't resist
when she reached out, captured his hand and squeezed it tightly in a silent
show of love and support. "There's really not that much to say. I never knew
that you existed until this year. As soon as I found out I had a
son; I started looking for you. Within three months I had found Harry. She
sent me to Cordelia. I've been here ever since, quietly looking for a way
to bring you back to your family."
"That's a nice enough tale. But why should I believe you?"
"Doyle!"
"No Cordelia, it's okay. He has every right not to believe me." Michael sighed.
"I never knew your mother was pregnant when she ran away from me. I
searched for her for months but I was never able to find her. Finally, I
accepted the fact that she was too afraid of me, that she didn't want to
be found."
"Can you blame her? It must've been a shock to find out the man she loved
was some ugly demon," Doyle said bitterly.
"You're right. I should have told her. But I'm sure you can agree, that's
not an easy conversation to have."
Cordelia squeezed Doyle's hand once again. "He's right, you know. Think about
how hard it was for you to tell me. And I already knew all about things that
go bump in the night."
Reluctantly, Doyle was forced to agree; both by his own knowledge of how
hard it was to tell the true about his mixed heritage, and by the sadness
and regret he could see in the older man's eyes. "You're right," he finally
admitted. "I just wish you could've told her. Maybe things would have turned
out differently for all of us."
"Maybe," Michael agreed. "But if I had, and she accepted it. Your life would
have been completely different. Perhaps then, you wouldn't have met Cordelia
and I wouldn't have such a lovely granddaughter."
"Yeah, you do have a point there. I don't think I'd want to change that."
Rising from the table, Cordelia smiled at the two men. "Is it okay to call
everyone back in? I think we interrupted breakfast," she said as she gestured
to the plates that littered the table.
"Breakfast? Count me in." Doyle smiled ruefully, "Many's the time I thought
about our post-demon all-nighter breakfasts."
"Well we still do them. Just for a slightly larger crowd now. Angel's been
teaching Frannie how to make eggs. Michael, why don't you call everyone back
in?"
Michael rose from his chair and started towards the doorway. He stopped suddenly
and smiled, before motioning the huddled group of people hiding around the
corner of the door forward. "I'm sure you all heard. Breakfast is now being
served."
"Great, I'm starved."
"Honey, you're always starved. If I didn't know better, I'd swear you were
having quadruplets."
"Xander, leave Anya alone. Pregnant women need a lot of calories."
"Yes, Willow."
"Michael, I'd like to review that spell book. May I borrow it?"
"Certainly, Giles."
"How does everyone want their eggs?"
"Scrambled." "Over-easy." "Poached."
"Gee Angel, if you ever give up the mysterious creature of the night gig,
you have a great future as a short-order cook."
"Thanks, Buffy. I'm glad you have such faith in me."
As happy chaos reigned in her kitchen, Cordelia stepped away from the counter
and turned the toast detail over to Joyce. Reaching Doyle's side, she smiled
as he pulled her into his lap and surveyed their large, extended family.
"Is it always this noisy?"
"Pretty much," Cordelia laughed. "But I don't think I'd want it any other
way." She kissed him and then slid off his lap as Frannie proudly placed
a plate of food in front of him. "Everyone I love is right here in this room.
I couldn't ask for more then that."
//Look to love
and you may dream
and if it should leave
then give it wings
But if such a love
Is meant to be;
Hope is home, and the heart is free
Hope is home, and the heart is free//