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Chapter Text

(2104 words)

June—2010

The house was still quiet when Athena stirred awake, the soft gray light of morning filtering through the curtains. The first thing she heard wasn't the birds or the hum of the air conditioner—it was the crackle of the baby monitor coming to life with the babbles of her daughter on her night table. "Bobby..." Athena sighed, a sleepy smile tugging her lips. "She's up." But when she reached over to her husband, there was nothing but an empty cold matress. He was already at work. "Hmm.." Athena hummed, a little sad she didn't see her husband this morning.

Sure enough, when she shuffled down the hall and up the stairs in her robe and fuzzy slippers, there was Gabrielle—two years old, curls wild—bonnet yanked off in the toddlers sleep, bunny plush in one hand, banging her palm on the crib railing. "Mamaaaa," she drawled, her voice half a song, half a complaint. "Maw-nin'. Goh up!" Athena laughed softly, rubbing her eyes. "Good morning, sugar plum." She reached into the crib, scooping her daughter up.

Gabby melted against her mamas shoulder for half a second—then immediately perked up when she spotted Athena's belly. "Behbey!" she chirped, patting it with her tiny hand. "That's right," Athena said with a sleepy chuckle, brushing a kiss into her curls. "Baby brother's still in there. He ain't ready to come out yet." Gabby's little finger traced a sloppy circle on her mamas belly. "Behbey seep?"

"Mm-hmm. Baby's sleepin'. You ready for breakfast?"

"Yeh! Ceyull!" she squealed, already wriggling to get down. By the time they made it to the kitchen, the sun had fully risen, washing everything in a soft gold glow. Athena lifted the toddler into her highchair, adjusting the straps again. "Woah, slow down there Gabby-Girl..! You've almost outgrown your highchair, might need a booster seat soon..." Athena said before looking into her daughter's brown eyes, hazel as light shown on her face.

"Don't grow up too fast, okay babygirl?" Athena smiled softly, cupping Gabrielle's cheek. The toddler just grinned at her mom, just happy for all of Athena's attention on her. Little did Gabby know she would soon be sharing that attention when her little brother comes in 4 months.

Athena poured cereal into a small pink bowl while Gabby sat in her highchair, swinging her legs and humming tunelessly to herself. Athena brought over the little bowl of cheerios. "Alright sugar, Mamas gonna go get some nummies, eat your breakfast babygirl." Athena smiled and handed her daughter a spoon.

"Tank ooh!" Gabby exclaimed. Milk dribbled down her chin as she tried to spoon up more cereal than her mouth could hold. "Slow down, baby, you gon' choke," Athena warned, grabbing a napkin. Gabby grinned through her messy breakfast. "Nummy! Behbey eat ceyull?" Athena smiled. "No honey, baby's thinking about havin' some toast."

Athena went over to the counter and popped two slices of bread into the toaster. The familiar pop-pop was comforting while Gabby bounced around in her seat like a tiny tornado. When the toast was done, Athena spread a little butter on the slices, then grabbed a mug of warm tea. She carried her breakfast over to the table where Gabby was halfway done with her cereal. The second Athena took a crispy bite of her toast, Gabrielle's head snapped up, a cheerio stuck to her soft chubby cheek, lips wet with milk. Gabby's eyes widened. "Mama! Toas!" Athena smiled, holding her slice toward her daughter. "Here you go, baby. Bite."

Gabby leaned forward, her spoon still in her hand as she took a bite then pulled back with a triumphant grin. "Yeh! Mmm! Mama toas!" Athena chuckled, wiping Gabrielle's cheeks with the napkin. "Careful, sugar plum. Don't bite my fingers too." Gabby hummed happily, "Mmm!" as she gnawed the piece of toast Athena held, tiny hands gripping Athena's fingers like they were a lifeline. Athena leaned down, pressing a kiss to her daughter's forehead. "That's my hungry girl. Eat up."

After breakfast, came playtime. Gabby dragged her basket of toys from the corner into the middle of the living room—blocks, dolls, her Bun-Bun, and a handful of mismatched markers. She set them all up in a circle like they were having a meeting. "Wi'in, Bun-Bun. Wi'in!" she demanded, pointing at her stuffed animal. "Wi'in mama!" Athena, who had sunk onto the couch with a hand on her five-month belly, raised an eyebrow. "Girl, you got them toys listenin' better than most adults I know." Gabby looked up and grinned, proud of herself. "Bun-Bun wi'in!"

"Mmm, good. Long as somebody is."

A while later, Athena grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. Bright colors filled the room—Blue's Clues was playing, the cheerful voices spilling into the quiet morning. Gabby gasped like it was a personal miracle. "Bwoo! Bwoo!" she cheered, pointing. "Mama! Dat bwoo pawpint!" Athena chuckled, leaning back on the couch with her mug of tea, rubbing slow circles over her belly. "You just love that dog, huh?"

"Yeh!" Gabby said, bouncing. "Bwoo my fend!" She sat transfixed for a good fifteen minutes, mouthing along with the songs, occasionally turning to Athena to say something in her baby dialect that only she understood. Then, when the credits rolled, Athena picked up the remote again. "Alright, miss Gabby-Girl," she said. "You ready for mama's turn?" Gabby blinked. "Mama toon?"

"Not cartoons. Mama's music." Athena scrolled to YouTube on the TV and clicked through her favorites—70s soul, disco, R&B. The familiar drumbeat of Gloria Gaynor's "I Will Survive" filled the room. Gabby froze for a second, before standing up like she'd been hit with inspiration.

"Mama! Gabby sing! My sing, Mama my sing!" Athena laughed. "Your song? You gonna sing for mama?"

"Yeh!" Gabby said confidently, her curls bouncing as she started to bounce in place, offbeat but determined. The music began, Gloria Gaynor's voice filled the livingroom. And like a little shadow, was Gabrielle's high pitch squeaky little voice singing."Ah fuh I wah fayed—I wah petefiyed!" Athena smiled at her daughter, love filling her heart. "Go mama! Sing your heart out sugar!"

Athena cheered. Gabrielle twirled in a circle, arms out, diaper crinkling under her pajama pants. "I willw s'pive! Hey hey!" Athena laughed one hand on her belly as if the baby inside was dancing too. "Go 'head, Gabby! Sing it, baby!" Gabby took that encouragement and ran with it—full toddler mode. She pointed dramatically toward the window like she was on a stage. "And I s'pive, I willw s'pive!!" Athena pulled her phone out and began recording. "What was that, baby?" Gabby blinked, then repeated it louder. "S'PIVE!" The line—"And I'll survive. I will survive, hey, hey"—had officially become toddler gospel.  Athena hit stop, giggling as she replayed it once, then sent the video to Bobby with a text

Athena : Your daughter's debut single 😂💜

She'd barely set her phone down before it buzzed

— Incoming call: My Boo 💕.

Athena smiled, sliding to answer the facetime call. "Hey, Captain."

"Hey, beautiful," Bobby's warm voice came through, the bustle of the station faint in the background. "Just saw the video. You serious right now? My girl's out here performing before breakfast?" Athena chuckled. "She's been up since six, baby. That's a full concert for her. And actually, she already had breakfast."

"Lemme talk to her," Bobby said instantly, a grin on his face. Athena turned the phone to Gabby. "Daddy's on the phone, baby." Gabby's eyes lit up like fireworks. "DA!!" She scrambled onto Athena's lap, grabbing for the phone with both sticky hands. "DADA!! Hi DADDY!! Wook, wook, I sing!" Bobby smiled from ear to ear. "I saw you, my superstar! You sang so good, Gabs! Daddy's proud of you!" Gabby giggled, hiding her face in Athena's shoulder before peeking back at the screen. "Peese cap, Daddy." Bobby exaggerated a round of applause, camera shaking as he clapped. "Woo!! Go Gabby-girl! Your the best singer in the whole world!"

Gabby squealed with joy. "Yeh! I da best!!" Athena could only smile, heart full as she rubbed her belly, her baby boy giving a small kick within "She gets it from her mama." Bobby's eyes softened through the screen. "And her mama looks beautiful as ever." Gabby babbled on "I s'pive, Daddy! S'pive!" while Bobby cheered. Gabby was still giggling into the camera, tiny palms patting the phone screen like she could actually reach her daddy.

"Daddy, wook!" she said, pressing her face up close. "Mwah!" She blew a big, wet toddler kiss, leaving a smear of saliva on Athena's phone. Bobby laughed, that deep, gentle sound Athena had fallen for years ago. "Aw, thank you, sweetheart! Daddy caught it—"

But suddenly, a muffled voice, most likely Buck, called out from behind him. "Cap! We got one—rollover on the 405, multiple vehicles!" Bobby's expression shifted instantly. That quick transition Athena recognized—the moment the man she loved turned back into Captain Nash. His eyes flicked away, jaw tightening as the firefighter in him took command. He glanced back at the screen, regret already written across his face. "Athena...I gotta go." Athena nodded softly, reading it before he even said it. "Be safe, Bobby."

He gave her a small, apologetic smile, then looked at Gabby one last time. "Daddy's gotta go help some people, okay, Gabby-girl? You be good for Mama, yeah?" Gabby frowned, confused. "Noh goh, Daddy. ‘Tay!" she whined, lip wobbling. "I know, sweetheart, I wish I could stay," he said, voice warm but hurried now as the radio chatter grew louder. "Daddy'll be back soon. Love you, bug."

"Wub ooh!" she shouted, waving her little hand at the phone. "Love you more," he said with a half-smile—then the line cut, leaving Athena staring at her reflection in the now-dark screen. She sighed, brushing her thumb over Gabby's cheek as the toddler pouted, clearly not thrilled her daddy disappeared mid-"concert."

"I know, baby girl," Athena murmured, pressing a kiss to Gabby's curls. "That's your daddy's job. He runs toward the trouble." Gabby blinked up at her. "Daddy hewp?" Athena nodded, her heart swelling. "That's right, baby. Daddy's out there helping people." Gabby grinned proudly, tiny hand patting Athena's belly. "Bebe hewp?" Athena chuckled, rubbing her bump. "Someday, maybe."

Gabrielle let out a long, dramatic yawn—the kind that made her little jaw tremble and her eyes go all squinty. She rubbed at her face with her tiny fists, curls sticking to her forehead from all that singing and twirling around the living room. "Seepy, Mama," she mumbled, voice thick with exhaustion.

Athena smiled softly, brushing one of those curls away. "Yeah, baby. You had yourself a whole concert this morning." Gabrielle giggled faintly at that, already half-asleep as she leaned into Athena's chest. "I s'pive, Mama," she whispered, referencing her favorite song. "You sure did," Athena murmured, kissing the top of her head. "My little survivor."

She turned off the TV and carried Gabrielle to her bedroom. She settled down in the middle of hers and Bobby’s bed, pulling the blankets up around them both. Gabrielle curled up against her side. Gabby's little fingers clutched the collar of Athena's shirt, her body warm and heavy in that way toddlers always got right before a deep sleep. Within minutes, she was out—her breaths slow, peaceful, steady.

Athena ran a hand over Gabrielle's back, her gaze softening as she looked down at her sleeping girl. She could feel Elias shift faintly inside her—one small kick, a quiet reminder of what was coming next. Her heart swelled with love...and a small ache. Soon, it wouldn't just be her and Gabrielle at home during the day. Soon, she'd have a newborn in her arms again, her attention divided, her days even fuller. She was excited—she already loved her son deeply—but there was a quiet grief in knowing this chapter, the one of just her and her first baby girl, was closing.

Athena exhaled, pressing a kiss to Gabrielle's crown, her hand resting protectively over her belly. "Don't you worry," she whispered, voice barely above a hum. "Mama's got enough love for both of you." Gabrielle stirred slightly, snuggling closer in her sleep. And Athena just held her tighter, eyes closing, cherishing the quiet—the soft weight of her daughter, the gentle pulse of new life within her—and letting herself be still in the fleeting, tender moment between what was and what would soon be.

Chapter Text

(1177 words)

October—2008

The air that evening had that faint October chill that Los Angeles rarely got—just enough to make Athena trade her light tee for one of Bobby's soft sweaters. The windows were cracked open, letting in the scent of autumn candles and distant laughter from kids already trick-or-treating down the street. Inside the Nash house, Athena sat cross-legged on the couch with little Gabrielle balanced in her lap, the baby kicking happily and babbling in sing-song coos. Mostly just a lot of ‘Mmmm’s’ and ‘ooh’s’ and ‘ahhh’s’ but they were still cute. Her round cheeks glowed warm under the living room lamp, and she kept suckling on her tiny fists like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

"Bobby," Athena called, a smile on her lips as her husband came out of the kitchen with a bowl of candy. "I was thinking we could take Gabby trick-or-treating in her stroller. Just a few houses." Bobby raised a brow, already knowing where this was going. "Trick-or-treating?" He grinned. "She's four months old, baby. She can't even hold her head up all the way yet." Athena scoffed playfully. "She can hold it up. And she doesn't need candy, Bobby, she just needs the experience! Her first Halloween—come on, that's special!"

Bobby chuckled, setting the candy bowl on the counter. "It's cold out, Athena. We'll just end up pushing her around the block so you can show her off to every neighbor." Athena gasped dramatically. "Show her off? Bobby Nash, I would never—" Gabrielle let out a loud squeal that cut her mama off—a bright, bubbly sound that made both parents laugh.

"Oh, see?" Athena cooed, lifting Gabrielle up and pressing her nose against her baby's. "She wants to go, too. Don't you, sugar? You wanna go see all the spooky lights?" Gabrielle gurgled in reply, a string of drool dangling from her lip. Her wide brown eyes sparkled under the light, lashes fluttering like tiny fans. Bobby gave in instantly. He could never resist his girls. “We don’t need to go anywhere for it to be special” Athena said.

"Alright, alright," he said, leaning down to kiss Athena's forehead and then Gabrielle's soft hair. "You can dress her up, but we're staying here." Athena's lips curved up. "Oh, I can work with that."

 

⸻

 

Ten minutes later, Bobby was trying—and failing—to keep a straight face.

Gabrielle sat in Athena's lap on the bed, swallowed up in a bright orange pumpkin costume, complete with a puffy belly and a tiny green leaf hat that flopped to the side. Her chubby legs kicked out in jerky movements from the bottom, socks already slipping off.

"Look at her!" Athena said proudly, holding their daughter up like a puppy. "Isn't she just the cutest pumpkin you've ever seen?" Bobby bent forward, laughing so hard he had to brace his hands on his knees. "Oh my God, Athena, she looks like a—like a marshmallow with legs!"

Athena gasped. “You mean she is adorable?” Gabrielle blinked between her parents, then broke into a gummy grin, laughing in her baby way—one little squeal followed by hiccupy giggles. Bobby couldn't resist. He scooped her up and blew a raspberry against her cheek, earning more bubbly laughter. "There's my girl," he said softly, eyes full of that warm, quiet kind of love that never needed words. "My little pumpkin."

 

⸻

 

By dusk, they were out on the porch together.
The jack-o'-lantern Bobby carved flickered beside them, glowing like a beacon in the dark. Bobby sat with the candy bowl on his lap, and Athena was bundled up beside him with Gabrielle tucked against her chest. The baby's head rested on her mama's shoulder, the fuzzy blanket wrapped snug around her, soft enough to make her sigh in sleepy comfort.

Tiny puffs of breath escaped her lips as she looked around—eyes wide at the strange sights of kids in costumes running past the gate, plastic pumpkin buckets rattling with candy. Every now and then, her mouth made a perfect little "o" of surprise before she'd bury her face back into Athena's neck. Bobby was dressed as a vampire, and Athena was dressed as a cat. Well, tried to be. If you counted a long sleeve black shirt and black cat ears as a cat, then by all means, Athena was a cat for halloween.

"She's watching everything," Bobby murmured. "So serious about it, too." Athena smiled down at Gabrielle, brushing her thumb across her daughter's cheek. "She's curious. Probably wondering why all these little humans look like ghosts and spiders." Gabrielle's fingers curled around a lock of Athena's hair, tugging gently. She let out a soft coo that melted both of them on the spot. "Oh, you like Mama's hair, huh?" Athena whispered. "Don't you pull too hard, sugar."

A group of kids came up the walkway, and one little witch pointed and giggled. "Your baby's so cute!" Athena beamed. "Thank you! Your witch costume is so cool!” The boy dressed as a pirate dug his hand into the candy bowl. “Can s-she eat candy?” He asked curiously. Another little girl dressed as a princess waved at Gabrielle. “Hi baby!” the girl giggled. “No, not yet. But she definitely tries.” Bobby chuckled, putting some candy in the princesses basket. “She should definly try—uhm—the, the kit kat!” the boy said to Bobby. “I’ll make sure she does, bud. Happy Halloween!”

Gabrielle gave a tiny sneeze—a high-pitched, squeaky little sound that startled her so much she blinked wide-eyed and then started to giggle at herself. Bobby chuckled, leaning over to wipe her nose gently with the corner of the blanket. "Bless you, pumpkin."

As the night went on, the crowd thinned. The porch light glowed soft and gold, and Gabrielle finally dozed off in Athena's arms. Her lips parted slightly, eyelashes resting against plump cheeks. Her small hand stayed curled around Athena's shirt, not letting go even in sleep. Bobby glanced over at his wife, who was humming quietly under her breath—some slow lullaby he'd heard her sing before. He reached over, resting his hand on top of his wife’s thigh.

"You were right," he said quietly. "We didn't have to go anywhere for it to be special." Athena smiled, eyes still on their baby. "Told you so." Bobby laughed softly, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Yeah. You did." He brushed a finger down Gabrielle's cheek—soft, warm, impossibly small. "You know," he whispered, "she's not gonna remember this night, but we will." Athena nodded, her voice barely a whisper. "She'll grow up so fast. But right now..." She looked down at her daughter. "She's my tiny pumpkin." Athena chuckled softly. Bobby smiled. "Ours." And with the candy bowl half-empty, the porch light flickering gently, and their baby snuggled warm between them, the world felt perfectly still—just the three of them, wrapped in love and the glow of Halloween night.

Chapter Text

(1083 words)

October—2012

Late afternoon sunlight pooled through the living-room window, turning the toys on the rug into tiny bursts of color. The house smelled faintly of laundry soap, baby lotion, and the strawberry smoothie Athena hadn't quite finished. She was starting to move slower these days, one hand resting almost constantly on her belly—five months along now, where her last baby was kicking softly against her palm.

Athena was in the kitchen, halfway through chopping fruit for Gabby's snack, when she felt a small pair of arms wrap around her leg. "Hi, baby," she cooed, glancing down to see Elias blinking up at her with his wild curls all stuck to his forehead with some sweat, cheeks flushed from a nap. His little lips formed a pout. "Hi mama" he said softly, rubbing his eyes with a tiny fist. Athena smiled, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. "Want some berries, Eli?" He perked up at that. "Bewiezs?"

"Mm-hm. Gabby's gonna have some too." At the mention of his big sister, Elias' head swiveled toward the living room, where Gabby sat cross-legged on the floor as she carefully stacked her magna-tiles into a tower. She looked so serious, tongue poking from the corner of her mouth. A small habit she had picked up from Bobby. A tile had then toppled over, taking out half her tower.

"Oh no!" she gasped, eyes wide"Eli! Help!" Elias toddled over as fast as his little legs could carry him, stumbling halfway and catching himself with his palms. "Heeyuh, Gabby!" he chirped, plopping beside her. She giggled when he picked up a block and put it upside down on top of her tower.
"That's not right," Gabby said, snickering. "It goes like this."

"Dis?"

"No, like this!"

Their laughter filled the room. Athena leaned her hip and on the counter, one hand resting instinctively on her gently rounding belly — three months along now — and just watched them, that familiar warmth washing over her.

Just then, Bobby walked in from the hallway, rolling up his sleeves. "Hey, family," he said, smiling that gentle Bobby smile that always softened the room. "You two behaving for your mama?" Gabby popped up proudly. "I was, Daddy! Eli almost broke my tower."

"Nuh-uh!" Elias huffed, lips puckering. Bobby came up behind Athena, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. "They're getting along," he murmured, voice low and warm. "Miracle of the day," she smiled. He chuckled, turning her gently so he could kiss her lips. But just when Bobby was about to deepen the kiss—a tiny voice shouted

"NOH!"

Elias launched himself forward like a tiny superhero, arms spread wide. "Dat my Mama!" Bobby pulled back, trying not to laugh. "H-Huh?" The wobbly words came out, a laugh on the verge of escaping. Athena blinked. "Elias Robert..." Athena said softly, almost a warning as she almost used his full name.

Elias's little body wedged between them, pushing at Bobby's leg with both palms. "Off! Offa Mama!" he demanded. "Dawh, Daddy! No kiss!" Bobby blinked down at him, pretending to stumble backward. "Whoa! Easy there, champ—"

"My mama!!" Elias shouted again, hugging Athena's leg like he could physically claim her. His lower lip trembled in pure toddler jealousy. Gabrielle, of course, found this hilarious. "Eli jealous!" she sang from the rug. "Daddy took Mama" Athena couldn’thelp but chuckle a little but seeing her toddler so worked up pulled at her heartstrings. "Gabrielle, don't start!"

But Elias wasn't done. His little brow furrowed, he turned to Bobby with the most serious toddler glare. "No kiss Mama. No moe. Dat my Mama. You goh." Bobby knelt down to his level, fighting back a grin. "You want Daddy to go?"

"Yeh," Elias sniffled, nodding firmly. "Goh bak. Goh to wuhk." Athena's lips quirked. "Oh, now you want him to go to work?"

"Yeh," Elias said, pointing dramatically toward the door. "Go. My Mama ‘tay." Bobby pressed a hand to his heart. "Man, you're breaking me, buddy."

Athena cupped the back of Elias’ head. "Eli, Daddy can kiss Mama too. Daddy loves Mama. We share love in this house, remember?" The tiny tot crossed his arms. "I dun wanna share Mama. Noh share Mama.”

"Elias Robert Nash," she said with mock sternness, "you are something else."

"It’s ‘cause hes scared," Gabrielle piped up knowingly, walking over with her doll in hand. "Hes scared ‘c-‘cause he think Daddys gonna take you away." Elias turned to her, little face softening. "Scawed," he admitted, voice small. "Noh wan Mama goh."

"Oh, baby," Athena murmured, crouching down despite her belly's protest. She pulled Elias into her arms, his face smushing right into her shoulder. "Nobody's taking Mama, okay? You always got me, bubba." He clung to her. "My Mama." She kissed his hair, rocking gently. "Your mama," she agreed softly, a smile on her face. "Always your mama."

Bobby rubbed his sons back. "Hey, Eli, buddy," he said quietly, "you know what I think? Mama's so full of love, she's got enough for everybody. For you, for Gabby, for me, and for the baby too." Elias peeked up. "Fo' da bebe?"

"That's right," Bobby nodded. "Your baby sisters gonna need her big brother to help take care of her." The thought seemed to intrigue him. "I hewp?"

"You'll help a lot," Athena replied. Elias blinked, then held his chubby arms open to Bobby in apology. "Hug." Bobby scooped him up easily, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "See? We can both love Mama. Deal?" Elias leaned back in Bobby's arms, looked at Athena, and whispered, "Buht me moe"

Athena laughed, hoisting herself up with the support of the counter top. Gabby clapped her hands, delighted. "Good job Eli! Sharing is caring!”
Elias giggled too, his earlier jealousy forgotten as he buried his face in Bobby's neck. Athena reached out and stroked his back, her belly shifting gently beneath her hand as the baby kicked like she wanted to join the moment.

"Bubba," Athena reached out and took Elias’ hand and pressed it softly against her belly. “Feel that?” she whispered. “Yeh.” He whispered back. Bobby smiled, rubbing Elias’ back. “Shes telling you that you better share mama” Bobby joked. Elias shrugged his tiny shoulders. “Maybe.” They all laughed—even Elias, though he didn't quite know why—and the house felt so full, so alive, that for a moment time stood still.

Chapter Text

(2577 words)

May—2016

It was a lazy Saturday morning, the kind of quiet, sun-warmed day that made the Nash house feel like a bubble. The older kids were sprawled inside, cartoons humming from the living room, while Bobby had taken it upon himself to finally clean out the garage.

The air was heavy with the scent of dust and motor oil, and Bobby, sleeves rolled up, wiped his brow as he moved another box to the side. "Man, we need to have a garage sale..." He squinted at the handwriting on one of the bins.

1989.

The lid creaked as he pried it open, and a puff of dust floated up. Inside, nestled between old Little League trophies and faded Polaroids, were the relics of his childhood Minnesota summers—a worn brown glove, a baseball scuffed and yellowed with age, and a shiny metal bat with his name engraved in shaky letters down the side.

Bobby Nash #22.

"Would you look at that," he murmured with a small smile. Little footsteps padded up behind him, followed by a soft voice. "Daddy?" He turned to find Naomi standing in the doorway, barefoot, wearing one of her blue and white stripped romper. Her curls neatly put into two french braid pigtails.

"Well hey there, sunshine," Bobby grinned. "You come to help Daddy clean?" Naomi nodded solemnly and walked up next to him, looking into the bin he had just opened. Bobby chuckled. "You sure you're up for this, peanut? It's dusty work." Naomi looked up at him with a smile. "I can do it!"

"Alright then." He handed her a rag, which she immediately began "dusting"—mostly just pushing dust around in small circles. But Bobby watched her with a fond smile, heart melting anyway. While he stacked old boxes, having temporarily forgotten his old baseball stuff, Naomi walked around, humming little songs to herself. Every now and then, she'd hold something up, a broken picture frame, a spare bolt, a long-forgotten sock and ask, "This one 'portant, Daddy?"

"Not that one, sweetheart," Bobby said and nodded towards the trash bag. "You can toss it in the trash." He turned back his attention to the bin, lifting the metal bat. It felt heavy, solid, alive with memories. He ran his fingers over the engraving again and smiled softly to himself. "Man...I used to think I was gonna make the majors with this thing." Naomi turned around and walked up to him, leaning against his leg, looking up at him curiously. "Whats that?"

"This?" He crouched down to her level, holding it out so she could touch the bat. "This, baby girl, is Daddy's old baseball bat. Used to play ball with my friends and Uncle Charlie every summer." She reached out, touching the cold metal. "You played?"

"Sure did. Wasn't half bad, either." He winked. "Maybe I'll teach you and your brother and sister how to play." Naomi gasped like he'd just offered her the moon. "You gonna teach us?!"

"Yeah," he said, smiling now, the idea sparking in his mind. "Go get your brother and sister, huh? Tell Gabby and Eli to come outside. Daddy's got something fun for everybody." Naomi's eyes went huge and excited. She squealed, her little feet bolting toward the door. "GABRIELLE! ELIAS! COME ON! DADDY SAY WE PLAY!" Bobby chuckled to himself, shaking his head as her voice echoed through the house. "That oughta get their attention." He stood, taking the old glove and ball from the bin, his grin soft and nostalgic.

 

_________

 

Naomi came running out first, pigtails bouncing, sneakers slapping the driveway. "Daddy! Daddy! They're coming!" she called, voice breathless with excitement. Bobby smiled, kneeling by the cracked plastic bin he dragged out. "Good job, peanut." He lifted the lid again, that familiar smell of old leather and dust wafting out. A brown glove, a few worn baseballs, a dusty cap with the Minnesota Twins logo—and the metal bat, gleaming faintly even through the years.

Gabrielle and Elias came trudging behind their little sister. "Dad, why's Naomi yelling like it's Christmas?" Elias asked, pausing with curiosity when he saw the bin. "Because," Bobby said, straightening up and giving the bat a gentle swing through the air, "today's baseball day." Gabrielle wrinkled her nose. "Baseball? Like, actually play it? Not just watch it?"

"Yeah, actually play it," Bobby chuckled. "It's good exercise. Builds coordination." Naomi's eyes had locked onto the bat in his hands. "Ooh, Daddy, can I hold it?" Bobby crouched down beside her, showing her the handle. "This one's a little heavy, sweetheart. You can help me set things up, though."

Elias squinted at the bat, curiosity sparking. "Why's there a big dent right there?" he asked, pointing to the warped spot near the middle. Bobby paused, thumb brushing over the dent. His smile turned nostalgic and a little rueful. "Ah. That," he said softly. "That's from Uncle Charlie."

"Uncle Charlie hit it?" Gabrielle asked. "Sort of," Bobby said with a small laugh. "We were about your age. He was thirteen, I was nine. We got in a fight—I don't even remember what about. He got really mad, swung the bat, and—" he tapped his shin gently, "—broke my leg right here."

The kids' eyes widened. "Wait—he hit you with a bat?" Elias said, shocked and half-impressed. "Yup. On accident...kind of," Bobby said with a small smirk. "He felt terrible afterward. But, uh, that's why there's a dent. Metal versus bone—bone lost. Shattered my leg up to the knee. Thats why I have this scar." All three kids leaned in to see their fathers leg. and sure enough there was a scar—faded, but still there, something they never seemed to notice. Naomi gasped dramatically, covering her mouth. "Did you cry, Daddy?"

"Oh yeah," Bobby said with a chuckle. "Loud enough that the neighbors came running." Gabrielle's eyebrows furrowed. "That's crazy! Uncle Charlie broke your leg?"

"Yup," Bobby said, clapping his hands together. "And now, I'm gonna teach you guys how to hit the ball without hitting people." Naomi grinned proudly, not realizing the irony of those words. "I'm gonna be so good!" she declared.

Bobby smiled, placing the big Minnesota Twins baseball cap on her little head. "I bet you will, sweetheart. Now let's get you set up behind Elias. Just stay back where it's safe, okay?"

Bobby set the dented bat aside for a moment and crouched beside Gabrielle, handing her one of the scuffed baseballs. "Alright, Gabby-girl," he said, hand on her shoulder. "Let's start with you. You're my pitcher today." Gabrielle grinned, chin tilted up proudly. "Like in the movies?"

"Exactly like in the movies," Bobby said. "You see that big tree stump over there? That's your target. Hold the ball here—" He gently adjusted her fingers along the seams. "—and twist your wrist a little when you throw. It gives the ball a little spin." She nodded seriously, tiny brows furrowed with concentration. She pulled her arm back and threw with all the strength her eight-year-old frame could muster. The ball soared wide left and straight into the flower bed. "Hey!" Elias yelled, laughing. "You're supposed to aim for me, not Mama's roses!"

"Oops," Gabrielle giggled, running to grab it again. Bobby chuckled, shaking his head. "That's alright. First rule of baseball, always warm up the arm." He turned to Elias. "Alright, slugger, your turn." Elias puffed his chest out. "I'm ready." Bobby picked up the dented metal bat and handed it over, careful to guide Elias's grip. "Two hands, nice and tight. Feet shoulder-width apart. You want to twist from your hips, not just your arms."

"Like this?" Elias asked, giving it a little practice swing. "Perfect," Bobby said, stepping back a few paces. "Now, Gabby, you're gonna throw it nice and easy this time. Aim for your brother's bat, not the roses, got it?" Gabrielle nodded solemnly, winding up again.

"Naomi," Bobby called, glancing toward the littlest one hovering nearby. "You wanna help too, honey?" Naomi bounced on her toes. "Yes! What I'mma do Daddy?"

"You're gonna be our catcher," Bobby said, gently steering her a couple feet behind Elias. "But you stay way back here, okay? If the ball comes your way, you can grab it. Otherwise, hands to yourself."

"Okay!" Naomi chirped, clutching the too-big glove Bobby had found in the bin. Bobby stepped back, heart warm at the sight. His kids in the sun, giggling and jostling, the bat gleaming like a relic from another life. "Alright," he called out. "Let's see what you've got! Pitcher, ready?"

"Ready!" Gabrielle called.

"Batter, ready?"

"Ready!" Elias grinned, eyes sharp on his sister.

"Catcher, ready?"

Naomi bounced. "Ready!"

"Okay—play ball!"

Gabrielle hurled the ball, Elias swung—the bat whistled through the air and for a heartbeat, it was perfect, sunlight, laughter, the sound of a solid swing. But the next instant, everything went wrong. The ball ricocheted, missing Elias's bat entirely and striking Naomi square in the nose with a sharp thwack. Naomi's little body jerked back, but Elias's backswing, too heavy and too wild, came around and clipped the back of her head.

Naomi stumbled, her knees buckling. She dropped the glove, both hands flying up to her face. Blood dripped through her tiny fingers. And then came the cry. That high, piercing sound that froze Bobby where he stood. "Naomi!" he shouted, heart slamming into his ribs as he sprinted forward. Blood. Tears. Tiny trembling hands. All in the span of a single second. "Oh God—Naomi—" Bobby dropped to his knees beside her, his voice breaking. "Hey, hey, sweet girl, it's okay, Daddy's got you—"

Gabrielle froze where she stood, eyes wide with horror. "Daddy, I didn't mean to—Daddy, I—" Her eyes began watering. "It's okay, Gabby, it's okay, just stay there!" Bobby said quickly, scooping Naomi into his arms. The warm sunlight suddenly felt too bright, the laughter gone, replaced by panicked sniffles and Naomi's muffled cries against his shoulder. And that's when Athena's car pulled into the driveway.

She was home from a 48-hour shift—exhausted, hair pulled up into a small ponytail, uniform still on—and the look on her face when she saw Bobby crouched in the yard, clutching a bleeding Naomi, could've split the sky.

"Robert!" she shouted, slamming the car door and rushing over. Bobby's throat tightened. "It happened so fast—she—she got hit in the nose and then the bat—" Athena didn't even let him finish. Her mama instincts had already taken over. She snatched Naomi into her arms, pressing a trembling hand against the little girl's nose. "Oh, baby, it's okay, Mama's here," Athena murmured, her voice fierce and soft all at once. "I got you, sweetheart, I got you."

Naomi sobbed against her chest, tiny hands clutching at Athena's collar. Gabrielle and Elias stood frozen on the grass, both crying now too. Bobby rubbed a hand over his face, guilt sinking like a stone in his chest. "I just wanted to teach them baseball..." he said quietly. Athena shot him a look—that sharp, fire-eyed look that meant you're lucky I love you, Robert Wade Nash. "Next time," she said, holding Naomi tight, "stick to wiffle balls."

 

_______

 

Athena carried Naomi inside like she was made of glass. The little girl's sobs had softened to hiccups, but her face was streaked with blood and tears. Athena's uniform shirt was already dotted with red. "Shh, baby girl, I know," Athena murmured, pushing open the bathroom door with her hip. "Mama's got you." She flicked on the light and set Naomi carefully on the bathroom counter, one hand steady on her back. Naomi's eyes fluttered, still dazed, and her tiny fingers reached instinctively for Athena's sleeve.

"It's okay, my love. Mama's not going anywhere," Athena whispered, brushing Naomi's curls out of her sticky, tear-wet face. "Let's get this cleaned up, okay?" Naomi whimpered, her little voice trembling. "It hurts, Mama..."

"I know it does, baby. I know." Athena opened the first aid kit with one hand, pulling out gauze, antiseptic wipes, and a tiny flashlight. Her voice stayed calm, even as her stomach twisted. "Let me just see, sweetheart. Gotta make sure you didn't hurt that pretty nose too bad." She tilted Naomi's chin up gently. The bridge of her nose was already swelling, a small cut under one nostril still bleeding. Athena's heart broke a little seeing it.

Behind her, Bobby hovered in the doorway, silent for a moment, guilt written all over his face. "Is it broken?" he asked quietly. Athena didn't answer right away. She dabbed at the blood carefully, Naomi wincing and sniffing through each touch. Finally, she said, "I don't think so. But she's gonna have one hell of a bruise. And she might have a mild concussion." Naomi whimpered again, reaching toward her mama. Athena pressed a kiss to her temple. "You're okay, baby. Mama's here."

Then her tone shifted—low, sharp, exhausted. "Robert, what were you thinking?" Bobby rubbed the back of his neck. "Athena—"

"No," she cut him off, voice rising just enough to make Naomi flinch. Athena instantly softened again for her daughter's sake, stroking her back. "It's okay, baby. Mama's not mad at you." Then she looked up at Bobby, eyes blazing. "You gave a six-year-old a metal bat, Bobby?" He sighed. "It was just supposed to be a fun little lesson, Thena. I—"

"She's four," Athena snapped, motioning to Naomi. "She's four years old, Bobby, and she could have a concussion! You're lucky it wasn't worse. What if that bat had cracked her skull?" Bobby looked stricken, remembering how he literally shattered his leg because of that very same bat. "I didn't think—"

"That's exactly the problem," Athena said sharply, pressing a cool cloth to Naomi's forehead. "You didn't think." Naomi sniffled softly, her voice tiny and stuffed from crying. "Mama..." Athena's eyes softened immediately again as she turned back to her little girl. "Hey, hey, it's okay, sugar. Mama's not mad at Daddy, I promise. Just worried about my baby." Naomi leaned against her shoulder, eyes drooping. Athena kissed her hairline, whispering, "That's it. You rest those pretty eyes, okay? Mama's right here."

When she looked back at Bobby, her voice had dropped lower, calmer, but edged with that quiet kind of anger that always cut deeper than yelling.
"You know I love that you want to spend time with them. You're an amazing father, Bobby. But you can't treat them like they're you. They're little. They're not invincible." Bobby nodded slowly, guilt softening his features. "I know. I really messed this one up."

Athena sighed, brushing Naomi's cheek gently with her thumb. "She's not just my baby, Bobby. She’s your baby too. Just—please. Next time you wanna teach them baseball, start with foam balls and plastic bats. Or better yet," she added dryly, "wait till I'm home."

Bobby exhaled, stepping closer and resting a hand on Athena's shoulder. "Deal." Athena didn't look up right away—just focused on Naomi, who had finally drifted off, thumb in her mouth and cheek pressed to her mama's chest. "God—he better help you," Athena murmured quietly, "if this girl wakes up tomorrow with two black eyes and a headache..Bobby I swear. And I’m not joking." Bobby gave a small, remorseful smile. "Yeah," he said softly. "I'd say that's fair."

Chapter Text

(2178 words)

August—2009

The house was quiet. The hum of winding down that wrapped around everything like a blanket.

Except for one tiny person.

14 month-old Gabrielle Nash was not asleep.

For the last nine months, she'd been perfectly fine snoozing in her crib—babbling herself to sleep with her bunny tucked under her chin. But tonight? Tonight was a different story. The moment Athena laid her in the crib, Gabrielle's face crumpled, a high-pitched whine bubbling up as her little fists reached out. "Mamamaaa..." Athena sighed softly, rubbing her temples. "Gabrielle, it's bedtime, sweetheart."

Bobby walked in, handing his daughter a stuffed animal to try and bribe her to sleep. "She's got that look again..." And she did. The look that said 'put me down and I will scream like my lungs are on fire.' Athena didn't even bother trying again. She didn't want to stay up all night trying to put Gabrielle to sleep—that'd be inconsiderate to Bobby who has an early shift the next morning. She exhaled, defeated, scooped up her daughter, and whispered, "Alright, alright, c'mon then. But you better sleep, you hear me?"

So co-sleeping it was.

Athena slid back into bed, laying Gabrielle between her and Bobby. The baby wiggled herself into the perfect little spot, right in the dip of the mattress, pulling her blanket halfway over her belly. Within five minutes, Bobby and Athena were both out cold—his arm draped loosely over Athena's waist, her hand resting protectively over their daughter's tiny legs.

But Gabrielle...was wide awake.

 

_______

 

It was well past midnight. The room was quiet except for the hum of the ceiling fan and the gentle rhythm of Athena's breathing beside Bobby. Between them, little Gabrielle lay on her back, wide awake, eyes open and sparkling in the dim light leaking through the curtains. She wasn't crying. She wasn't fussing. She was just...awake.

Her tiny fingers played with the hem of Bobby's shirt, tugging softly at the tag sticking out from his collar. Then she reached over to her mama, brushing against Athena's earring with fascinated little pokes. Athena stirred, mumbling into her pillow, "Gabby...bedtime, baby..." Her voice was so heavy with sleep it barely sounded like words. Bobby, not even opening his eyes, mumbled something that sounded like, "...no tag...shirt bite..." before turning over.

Gabrielle blinked, babbled softly to herself, then laid back and stared up at the ceiling again. Her little lips moved in quiet conversation with nobody in particular—strings of baby syllables like "buh-da-nuh ma ma ma..." drifting into the dark. Every so often she'd roll over and tap Athena's arm, or grab Bobby's finger and hold it for a while. But it soon fell out of season for her.

Gabrielle huffed, unimpressed. Her little body wriggled between them, kicking the blanket off her body. Then came the whine. Soft at first, then a rising plea. "Mmmm..mmMmm! Nuh-Nuh!" Gabby rolled toward Athena, tugging at her Mama's shirt and fussing for milk. Athena stirred, hand already reaching automatically to pull her close. "You wanna nurse, baby?" she whispered.

Gabrielle gave a pitiful little hum, leaning in. Athena adjusted her position and pulled up her shirt, curling around her daughter as she began to nurse. The familiar rhythm calmed her immediately—one hand resting on Athena's chest, the other rubbing sleepily at her own eyes. Athena brushed her fingers through Gabrielle's curls, eyes heavy. "There you go...my clingy girl..." she murmured sleepily.

For a few minutes, the only sounds were soft suckling and the faint hum of the ceiling fan. Gabrielle's eyelids began to droop, and Athena thought maybe this time she'd finally drift off. But when she tried to ease her back down between them, Gabrielle popped off, wide awake again. She giggled, clapping her little hands before smacking Bobby's arm.

Bobby startled. "Huh—what's—" His eyes blinked open, unfocused. "Is it morning?" Athena sighed. "Not even close. Your daughter's having a midnight party." Bobby rubbed his face, squinting toward the clock. "She got your night owl genes," he muttered. Gabrielle crawled across him, pulling herself up on his back, babbling proudly. "Da-da-da-da-da."

"Yeah, yeah, Daddy's here," he said, sinking back into his pillow. Gabby flopped down on his chest, humming happily. For a few peaceful seconds, it almost seemed like she might drift off—her tiny fingers clutching his shirt, eyes fluttering. But then she caught the nightlight's glow reflecting in Athena's ring and got a second wind.

 

______

 

Another hour passed like that. A slow blur of half-sleep and soft laughter, of gentle "shh"s and Gabrielle's small hands exploring every texture around her. By the time she began fussing again, Bobby's alarm would be going off in a couple of hours. Not even 10 minutes later, Gabrielle rolled off her father's chest and sat straight up between her parents, hair beginning to frizz and cheeks starting to flush, babbling softly to herself. She clapped once, proud of the sound it made, and then crawled up toward the headboard, her diaper crinkling in the dark.

"Gabrielle..." Bobby's voice came from somewhere deep in the pillow. "What are you... doing, baby?" Gabby's only answer was a cheerful "ba-ba-ba," followed by an attempt to climb over her daddy to grab his watch that was on his nightstand.

Athena reached out, catching her before she tumbled. "Oh no, ma'am," she murmured, pulling her close again. "You're not going anywhere. You're supposed to be sleeping, little miss thing." Gabrielle squirmed in protest, whimpering now—not quite crying, but close. Her face crumpled in that overtired way, her body jerking against Athena's chest as if to say she didn't know what she wanted anymore.

Athena shifted, her heart softening instantly. "Alright, alright. Come here, nuh-nuh time." She adjusted her shirt again and brought Gabrielle close, the motion practiced, natural. Gabby latched almost immediately, letting out a little sigh as her hand splayed across her mama's collarbone. The tension in her tiny body began to melt. Athena leaned back on the pillow, brushing a few curls off Gabrielle's forehead. "That's it, baby girl," she whispered. "It's okay. Just relax, hmm?"

The room was still again, the only sound a faint rhythm of suckling and the quiet hum of the ceiling fan. Bobby stirred beside them, cracking one eye open, gaze soft even through the exhaustion. "She finally out?" he rasped. Athena shook her head slightly. "Not yet. She's nursing, but she's fighting it. You know that look—the one where her eyes are closing but she's determined to stay awake." Bobby gave a tired little laugh, his voice gravelly. "Sounds familiar."

"Because she's just like you," Athena teased in a whisper. Gabrielle's little feet twitched under the blanket, one heel kicking lightly against Athena's stomach. For a few minutes, it almost seemed like the peace would last. Gabrielle's breaths slowing, her lashes fluttering against Athena's skin. Athena dared to hope. Her eyes started to close, her hand still rubbing slow circles on her daughter's back.

But then Gabrielle stopped nursing and turned her head, mumbling, "Da-da," with the most heartbreaking mix of sleepiness and excitement. Bobby groaned. "Baby girl, Daddy's right here," he whispered, voice thick with fatigue. "We can talk in the morning." Gabrielle frowned, pressing her face back into Athena's chest, but she wasn't done. She pulled off again, pouting, then whined—that sharp little pre-cry sound that meant, 'No, I'm not ready for sleep. I want comfort. I want both of you awake with me.'

Athena sighed softly. "You're lucky you're cute," she murmured, guiding her to nurse again. This time, Gabrielle's hands fidgeted the whole while—one twisting Athena's necklace chain, the other grabbing at the blanket, releasing, then grabbing again. Her eyelids drooped... lifted...drooped again. "Come on, baby," Athena whispered, kissing the crown of her head. "You've been up all night, sweet girl."

Finally—finally—Gabrielle's sucking slowed to lazy, uneven pulls, the kind that came only when she was teetering between awake and dreaming. Her hand loosened on Athena's collarbone. Athena smiled faintly, holding her close a little longer just to be sure. "That's my girl..." She tried to lay her back down between them, but Gabrielle made a soft, wounded sound—not even a cry, just a hum that said, 'don't go.' And Athena didn't dare try again and risk waking Gabrielle up again.

Bobby reached out groggily, resting his palm over Gabrielle's belly. "She's okay. I got her," he mumbled, half-asleep.

Athena leaned over, whispering, "Uh-uh, you better enjoy your sleep because you've got your shift coming up in a couple hours."

He groaned softly. "Yeah..work, again."

 

_________

 

The alarm went off like a bomb at 5:30 a.m. A shrill, merciless BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! that ripped straight through the soft quiet of the early morning. Bobby groaned, the kind of low, tortured sound that came from a man who'd only gotten maybe two hours of sleep. His arm shot out, slapping the nightstand until he finally found the button to shut it up.

But it was already too late. Beside him, Gabrielle stirred. At first, just a little whimper—a tiny noise against Athena's chest. Then, her head popped up. Puffy eyes, messy curls, the faintest line from the bedsheet pressed into her cheek. And then came the soft, sad sound of betrayal.

"Mamaaa..."

Athena's eyes cracked open instantly. "Nooo, baby, no no no no..." she whispered, reaching to rub her back gently. "Go back to sleep, honey. It's still early." Gabrielle blinked, dazed and grumpy. Her little lip trembled, and she gave a sleepy, dramatic sigh. Bobby peeked over, whispering hoarsely, "Damnit...she's up."

Athena groaned, dropping her head back on the pillow. "She just went to sleep an hour ago." It was true. Gabrielle had finally drifted off somewhere around 4, limp and peaceful after an entire night of refusing to close her eyes. And now, with the sunrise barely brushing through the curtains, she was awake again—fully and unapologetically awake.

"Mama," Gabby whined again, crawling clumsily up toward Athena's face. "Nuh-nuh." Athena sighed, her heart melting even as her brain screamed for rest. "You just had nuh-nuh, sweet pea," she murmured. Gabrielle's answer was to plant her face right against Athena's chest, hand patting insistently. Bobby dragged himself upright, rubbing a hand over his face. "Guess she knows what she wants."

"She knows too much," Athena mumbled under her breath, shifting her shirt so Gabby could nurse again. The baby latched immediately, like she'd been starving for days instead of ninety minutes. The room went quiet again, except for the faint sounds of Gabrielle's suckling and Bobby stumbling around in the half-dark, trying to find his towel.

Athena squinted one eye open. "You got a shift this early and you still kept her in bed last night," she said softly. He gave a drowsy smile. "You said co-sleeping was the emergency plan."

"Mm-hmm," Athena hummed. "And now we're paying the price." Gabrielle's little hand patted rhythmically against Athena's chest, her eyes open but distant—that dazed, still-tired stare babies get when they're running on fumes. Every few seconds she'd pause, unlatch, and blink sleepily up at her mama like she couldn't decide if she wanted milk, cuddles, or a nap.

Athena brushed a curl off her forehead. "You're gonna crash so hard later," she whispered. "Both of us are." Bobby bent down to kiss Gabrielle's hair, then Athena's temple. "Try and nap when she does, okay?" Athena gave a dry laugh. "You say that like it's optional." He smirked faintly, buttoning his sleeves. "You're the sergeant. You've survived worse."

"Not with a fourteen-month-old dictator running the house," she muttered. Gabrielle popped off with a sleepy whine, looking between her parents like she wanted to join in the conversation. Her voice came out soft and scratchy from the long night. "Da-da..."

Bobby's heart melted instantly. He sat on the edge of the bed right next to where Athena was laying and reached out to his daughter, rubbing her little back. "Hey, sunshine. You're supposed to be sleeping, you know that?" She blinked at him...and sneezed. A tiny, squeaky baby sneeze.

Athena and Bobby both laughed softly. "Bless you," Bobby whispered, his voice gentle as he tucked the blanket around her. Gabrielle yawned wide, a slow blink taking over her face before latching back on to feed some more. Her hand found Athena's again, and before either of them realized it, her eyes finally fluttered shut mid-feed. Bobby stood there for a second, watching the two of them. His wife, half-asleep with her head against the pillow, and his baby girl, milk-drunk and finally quiet.

He smiled, tired but full. "That's my girls," he murmured under his breath. Then he grabbed his towel, kissed Athena's forehead one more time, and slipped quietly out of the room into the bathroom.

Chapter Text

(8702 words)

June—2009

Morning light spilled through the curtains in soft golden streaks, warming the pastel nursery walls. The first sounds of June 15th, 2009 were a tiny sigh, a stretch, and then a cheerful babble from the crib. Athena stirred first at the crackle of the baby monitor, mama instinct already tuned to every sound that came from that room upstairs. She nudged Bobby gently. "It's her day," she whispered with a sleepy smile.

Bobby cracked one eye open, groaned good-naturedly, and rolled out of bed. "Our baby's one," he murmured, rubbing his face as he pulled on a T-shirt. The words felt unreal. A whole year. A whole year of late nights, laughter, first giggles, first steps. They walked down the hall and up the stairs hand in hand, their hearts already full.

In the crib, Gabrielle was standing—her bonnet yanked off and curls messy from sleep, one chubby hand gripping the rail, the other clutching her bunny blanket. When she saw her mama and dada peek in through the doorway, her entire face lit up. "Mamaaa! Dadaaa!" she squealed, bouncing on her little legs.

Athena's chest ached in that way only mothers knew—that mix of pride, love, and disbelief. She went straight to the crib, scooping Gabrielle up into her arms. "Good morning, birthday girl," she whispered, peppering soft kisses all over her daughter's face. Gabrielle giggled, smacking her tiny hands against Athena's cheeks and then reaching for Bobby.

"Hey, sunshine," Bobby said softly as he took her from Athena, his voice still gravelly with sleep. He lifted her high up into the air, making her squeal. "You're one! One year old today. How'd you grow up so fast, huh?" Gabrielle just laughed, babbling happy nonsense as her parents showered her with kisses. They carried her downstairs to the kitchen, where Beatrice and Samuel were already awake, coffee mugs in hand. The smell of pancakes and syrup filled the room.

"There's the birthday girl!" Beatrice beamed, setting her mug down and rushing over to smother Gabrielle with kisses. "Happy birthday, my sweet grandbaby!" Samuel grinned, tickling Gabrielle's belly gently. "Can't believe it's been a year already. Look at her—she's walking, talking, already the boss of this house."

"Wonder who she gets that from," Bobby teased, earning a playful swat from Athena as she set out plates. "Thanks for the breakfast mama, but you guys didn't have to get up at the crack of dawn for this?" Athena said while strapping Gabrielle into her high chair. "Of course I did! I did the same for you when you turned one." Beatrice replied with a smile, sitting back down at the kitchen table.

Breakfast was full of warmth and chatter. Gabrielle sat in her high chair, clapping her hands and smearing syrup on her tray as her grandparents sang a quick "Happy Birthday" just for her. Athena couldn't stop smiling.

 

After breakfast, the real work began.

 

The backyard had to be perfect—pink and white balloons, a banner that read 'Happy 1st Birthday, Gabrielle!' Bobby was in charge of setting up tables and the canopy tent. Athena handled decorations and making sure everything matched her carefully chosen color palette. Hen and Karen showed up around ten, arms full of aluminum trays and gift bags. "Happy birthday to our little niece!" Hen called as she came through the door. "Where's the birthday girl?"

"In her room with my parents," Athena said, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. "They're spoiling her rotten while we do the work." Karen laughed. "That's their job." The kitchen turned into a joyful bustle—pots simmering, the oven humming, and music softly playing in the background. Hen took over the deviled eggs, Karen started layering baked ziti, and Bobby was outside assembling a toddler-sized picnic table that Athena swore would be "so cute for pictures." even though Gabrielle was the only grandchild, baby of their friend group and the youngest child in the family on both sides.

Every so often, Athena snuck upstairs to peek into the nursery. Gabrielle sat in Beatrice's lap on the floor, drooling on a teething ring, while Samuel sat on the rocking chair, reading from a baby picture book about farm animals. Every time he made a silly moo or baa, Gabrielle erupted in giggles, clapping her little hands.

 

_______

 

Bobby stepped out onto the porch, wiping his hands on a rag as he pulled his phone from his pocket. The morning sun was already climbing higher, warming the fresh tablecloths that fluttered in the breeze. He glanced toward the street—quiet still, but soon it'd be full of laughter and cars pulling up for the big day.

He scrolled to Mom ❤️ and hit call. It rang twice before her familiar voice answered, warm and brisk as always. "Hi, sweetheart! We just landed in L.A.!" Ann said. "Hey, Mom," Bobby greeted, smiling. "You made it in one piece?" Ann chuckled on the other end. "Oh, you know me and airports. Charlie's handling the luggage. We'll grab the rental car and head your way—GPS says about an hour and a half."

"Perfect," Bobby said. "That'll put you here right before the party starts." He said, looking at his watch. "Is my birthday girl up yet?" Ann asked. "Oh she's up," he laughed. "Athena's mom and dad have her in the nursery. She's been smiling since she woke up." Ann softened. "Oh, Bobby...I can't wait to see her. Feels like just yesterday I was holding you on your first birthday." Bobby chuckled, shaking his head. "Don't make me cry before noon, Mom."

"You'll survive. We'll be there soon. Tell Athena I said hi—and give my granddaughter a kiss from her grandma, alright?" Ann chuckled. "Will do. Drive safe, love you." Bobby responded, a soft smile on his face. "Love you too, sweetheart." He hung up with a small sigh, a smile still lingering. Then he turned back toward the kitchen where the smell of garlic and onions was starting to take over the house.

Inside, Athena stood over a pot of sauce, stirring with a wooden spoon while Hen chopped vegetables beside her. The two women worked in a perfect rhythm, years of friendship making the silence between them easy. Music hummed low from the speaker on the counter, something light and happy. Karen poked her head into the kitchen. "I'm gonna sneak upstairs to see my favorite one-year-old," she said with a grin.

Athena smiled. "She's in the nursery with my parents. Prepare to be guilted into a photo shoot by my mama." Karen laughed as she disappeared up the stairs. That left Hen and Athena alone, moving comfortably around one another as the kitchen filled with the sounds of sizzling pans and easy conversation.

Hen set her knife down and leaned against the counter. "So," she said lightly, "you excited for today?" Athena smiled, but there was something wistful behind it. "I am," she said softly. "I mean—it's her first birthday. I've been waiting for this day since the moment she was born. I just..." She trailed off, stirring slower now. "It's crazy how fast it went. Feels like I blinked and my baby isn't a baby anymore."

Hen's face softened. "Yeah," she said quietly. "That first one hits different, I heard." Athena only nodded. "But really, I get what you mean. It's beautiful—and it hurts a little too. You spend all that time keeping them alive, watching every milestone...and then suddenly they're toddling off, saying 'no' like they own the place."

Athena nodded, her eyes softening as she looked toward the ceiling, as if she could see Gabrielle upstairs. "She used to fit right here," she murmured, holding her arms in that familiar cradle position. "Now she's walking around, bossing everyone, calling for Bobby when she wants to be picked up." Hen smiled gently. "She's got your spirit and his heart. Dangerous combo."

That earned another laugh, watery this time. Athena blinked away a tear she didn't realize had been there. "I just...I don't ever want to forget any of it. The nights she wouldn't sleep. The way she used to fall asleep on his chest. Even the crying fits. It's all—"

"Part of the story," Hen finished softly. Athena nodded. "Yeah. Part of the story." Hen reached over and gave her a squeeze on the shoulder. "You're doing good, Athena. She's happy. She's loved. That's all that matters." Athena smiled, her chest tight with emotion. "Thanks, Hen."

"Anytime."

A beat of silence passed, broken only by the gentle simmer of the sauce. Then Hen grinned suddenly. "Now, come on, before you start crying into my pasta. We've got trays to fill." Athena laughed through the last of her tears. "Yes, ma'am." They went back to work—Athena tasting the sauce, Hen seasoning the chicken—while upstairs, the faint sound of Karen's laughter drifted down the hallway, followed by Gabrielle's sweet, infectious giggle.

 

_________

 

By late morning, the house hummed with motion and purpose. The backyard was already a blur of pastel balloons and sunshine, the faint scent of barbecue mingling with the sweetness of birthday cake frosting. Hen stood on a step stool, adjusting a string of paper garlands shaped like little suns and clouds. "A little higher?" she called.

Bobby squinted from below, hands on his hips. "Nah, that's good. Don't want to make it impossible to take it down." Hen sighed, looking at her work. "Yeah, it looks good." The backyard looked perfect—colorful tablecloths anchored by mason jars filled with wildflowers, folding chairs neatly lined up, and a small corner where a baby-safe playpen sat with Gabrielle's name banner hanging above it. The sun glowed soft and warm, like it knew this was a special day.

Inside, Beatrice moved through the kitchen with the same efficiency she'd once ruled her household with. She was arranging trays of food—baked macaroni, roasted chicken, collard greens, sweet cornbread—each one set out neatly on the long dining table. The air was thick with comforting smells. Samuel followed behind her with a stack of plates and utensils. "Now, Bea," he said with a teasing smile, "you sure you don't want to let the catering folks handle this next year?"

Beatrice gave him a look over her shoulder. "Not when it's my grandbaby's first birthday, I don't. Store-bought food doesn't say love." Samuel chuckled, shaking his head as he set out the cups and napkins. "Alright, alright. But next time, I'm ordering at least the drinks."

Meanwhile upstairs, Athena was in the bathroom with Gabrielle, who was having the time of her little life splashing in the tub. The bubbles clung to her curls and cheeks, and every time Athena rinsed her off, she'd squeal and kick her feet in the water. Athena laughed softly, wrapping her baby in a soft yellow towel and lifting her close. "You're the birthday girl, huh? Look at you, one already." She kissed her damp forehead. "Mama can't believe it."

Gabrielle babbled in response, tugging gently at the necklace around Athena's neck. "Yeah, yeah, I know," Athena murmured, smiling as she carried her daughter into the nursery. The outfit Beatrice had brought from Florida—a pale pink dress with ruffled sleeves and tiny white shoes—was laid out on the changing table. Athena put a nice clean diaper on her daughter before drenching her in lotion, keeping her already baby soft skin even softer. Athena dressed her carefully, taking her time to comb through her soft curls and fasten the white bow in her hair.

"There," Athena said once she was done, holding Gabrielle up to the mirror. "You're the prettiest girl in the world." Gabrielle giggled at her reflection and clapped her hands. The baby's earrings glistening in her reflection. Athena laughed, shaking her head. "You know it too." She walked back downstairs and went into her room and laid Gabrielle in the middle of her bed for a few minutes with a toy while she slipped into her own dress—a deep coral sundress that shimmered slightly in the sunlight coming through the curtains. She checked her reflection, quickly did her makeup, then picked her daughter up again.

 

In their en suite bathroom, Bobby was buttoning up his light blue shirt, glancing in the mirror before smoothing his hair back. He caught sight of Athena and Gabrielle in the doorway and froze for a moment. He smiled. "You two look perfect." Athena smiled softly. "So do you, Captain Nash." He chuckled as Gabrielle reached for him. "Oh, is Daddy allowed to hold the princess now?" Gabrielle made a happy noise and leaned into him when he took her.

Back in the guest room, Beatrice and Samuel were finishing getting dressed—Beatrice in a floral blouse and gold earrings, Samuel in his favorite button-down. And in the hallway, Hen and Karen were squeezing into the guest bathroom together, fixing each other's collars and sharing the mirror space. Karen turned to Hen with a grin. "You think we're ready for kids too?" Hen smiled softly. "If you're ready, then so am I. I-I survived paramedic training, so, I'll be fine."

By the time they all met downstairs again, the house felt ready—food set out, decorations up, laughter starting to echo in every room. Bobby looked around, his heart swelling at the sight. "Alright," he said, smiling. "Let's get ready for our guests." Athena nodded, holding Gabrielle close as the tiny girl laid her head against her mama's shoulder. "Let's do this." Outside, the sun was shining just a little brighter, as if even it knew—today was Gabrielle's day.

 

_______

 

By noon, the backyard was shimmering with life. The soft hum of conversation and laughter mingled with the summer breeze, and the faint sound of a radio playing an old Stevie Wonder song carried from the open kitchen window. The decorations fluttered gently—streamers, balloons, and a big handmade banner that read Happy 1st Birthday, Gabrielle!

Athena stood at the back door, holding Gabrielle on her hip as she looked out at the scene with quiet pride. Her baby girl was all dolled up in her pink ruffled dress, the sunlight catching the tiny earrings on her baby's ears. Gabrielle blinked, wide-eyed and curious, taking in every color, every face, every sound. "Alright, baby," Athena whispered with a smile. "Let's go meet your guests."

The moment they stepped outside, Gabrielle's little face lit up. Hen spotted them first and grinned, waving. "There she is! The birthday girl!" Karen clapped her hands. "Look at that outfit! Athena, she's too cute—"

"Don't I know it?" Athena teased, bouncing her baby a little. Hen leaned over, wiggling her fingers. "Hey, Gabs! You remember Auntie Hen?"Gabrielle's whole face brightened. She giggled and reached for Hen's curls, making everyone laugh. "Yeah, she remembers," Bobby said proudly, coming up behind Athena with a tray of lemonade.

Before long, the doorbell rang—and that's when the house started filling fast. Maddie and Chimney were first through the door, carrying a big pastel gift bag with tissue paper spilling out the top. Maddie practically melted the moment she saw Gabrielle. "Oh my gosh, she's so big now!" Chimney grinned. "And look at that smile—girl, you know you've got everyone wrapped around your finger already."

Athena laughed. "She gets that from her daddy." Bobby raised an eyebrow. "Really? I was thinking more from her mama." Then came Eddie and Shannon, holding a wrapped box between them. Shannon smiled warmly. "Happy birthday, sweet girl." Eddie grinned, crouching a little so he could wave at Gabrielle. "Hey there, birthday princess. You gonna share some of that cake later?"

Gabrielle just blinked, then reached for his sunglasses, fascinated by how it glimmered in the sun. "Oh, yeah," Eddie said with a laugh. "Definitely Athena's kid. Already observant." The yard filled with chatter, the sound of laughter growing louder as the 118 crew made themselves at home. Other babies from Gabbys daycare played in the grass, adults chatted over trays of food, and Gabrielle was passed from arm to arm—each person cooing, making her giggle.

Inside, Beatrice was proudly showing off the dessert table she'd put together, a small two tiered cake decorated in soft pink and white, cupcakes with tiny edible flowers, and a little smash cake set aside just for Gabrielle. Samuel stood nearby, greeting everyone with a warm smile and his usual calm charm. "Welcome, welcome," he said, shaking hands and pointing people toward the backyard. "Food's out there, drinks in the cooler. Make yourself at home."

Just as Athena was about to grab a drink, her phone buzzed. She glanced down and smiled. "That's Ann," she said to Bobby. "They just pulled up." Bobby's eyes lit up. "Perfect timing." He stepped through the side gate just as a car rolled up out front. His mother, Ann Hutchinson, stepped out first—dressed in a floral dress, a gift bag in one hand and her purse in the other. Right behind her was Charlie, tall and broad-shouldered, wearing sunglasses and holding a brightly wrapped present the size of a small appliance. Bobby was glad his older brother could show up after the divorce.

"Mom!" Bobby called, grinning as he walked over. Ann's face softened the moment she saw him. "Oh, there's my boy." They hugged tightly, a few years of new warmth between them. "And where's my granddaughter?" she asked, pulling back, her eyes sparkling. "Inside with Athena," Bobby said, his grin wide. "Come on, she's been waiting to meet you."

Ann laughed softly. "She doesn't even know what's waiting for her. I came bearing gifts and baby kisses." Charlie shook his head with a smirk. "You say that like you're not gonna cry the second you hold her."

"Oh, hush," Ann said, swatting his arm. When they stepped into the yard, everyone turned to greet them. Athena came over with Gabrielle in her arms, smiling warmly. "Ann," Athena said, "you made it."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Ann said, her eyes immediately falling on the baby in Athena's arms. "And this must be my little Gabrielle." Gabrielle blinked up at her new face, lips pursing curiously before she broke into a shy, toothy grin. "Oh my goodness," Ann whispered, voice thick with emotion. She held out her arms. "May I?" Athena nodded, carefully passing Gabrielle over.

The moment Gabrielle settled in her grandmother's arms, Ann's eyes welled up. "She looks just like you did, Bobby," she said softly. "Right down to the nose." Bobby chuckled, hand resting over his mother's shoulder. "Hopefully she gets her mama's temper, though." Athena smirked. "Oh, I don't know. You've seen her throw a fit when it's nap time." Charlie laughed, leaning down toward Gabrielle. "Hey there, peanut. I'm your Uncle Charlie."

Gabrielle giggled, smacking her little palm against his cheek before hiding her face in Ann's shoulder. "Oh, she's definitely a Nash," Charlie said, laughing. "Already knows how to make an impression." The air was light, easy, and full of love. Beatrice and Ann hit it off instantly—swapping grandmother stories over sweet tea while Athena and Bobby made sure everyone had what they needed.

And Gabrielle—beautiful, curious, bright-eyed Gabrielle—soaked in every moment. From the laughter echoing through the yard, to the familiar arms that held her close, to the warmth of the sun that made her lashes sparkle like tiny stars.

 

_________

 

A few hours later, the sun had dipped lower in the sky, painting the backyard in gold and amber. The laughter had softened, the food trays were half-empty, and little kids of family and Gabrielle's daycare friends were chasing bubbles across the grass and playing in the baby play pen while the grown-ups lingered at the tables, talking and sipping drinks.

Athena carried Gabrielle on her hip, the baby's curls a little frizzy from all the excitement, her pink dress slightly wrinkled. Gabrielle was giggling, clapping her hands as Bobby wiped her cheeks with a napkin. "Alright," Bobby called out, smiling at the group. "Cake time, everybody!" A cheer went up from the crowd, and Athena felt her heart flutter with a sweet ache.

Hen clapped her hands. "The birthday girl's about to destroy that cake!" Everyone gathered around the patio table where Beatrice had placed the small tiered cake, its frosting perfect and smooth. But sitting right beside it was Gabrielle's own little smash cake—a tiny round version, decorated in soft pink frosting and a single golden candle shaped like a "1."

Bobby carried the small cake carefully, setting it down on the tray of Gabrielle's highchair. Athena buckled their daughter in and brushed a few curls from her face. Gabrielle bounced her legs, eyes wide at the colorful sight in front of her. "Alright, pumpkin," Bobby said, kneeling beside her. "You ready for this?" Gabrielle reached out, her tiny fingers hovering over the frosting. Everyone laughed.

"Hold on, hold on," Athena said, smiling as she reached for the lighter. "We gotta light your candle first." Bobby leaned back, giving her space, and as Athena lit the tiny gold candle, the soft flame flickered and danced in Gabrielle's round brown eyes. The backyard quieted, the air filled with warmth and anticipation. Hen started the song softly, and soon everyone joined in—voices wrapping around each other, echoing through the yard. Suddenly the memories came flooding back.

 

🎵 Happy birthday to you...🎵

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

October 7th 2007

It was a quiet Friday morning in mid-October, sunlight just barely creeping through the curtains. Athena had been feeling off for days—dizzy spells here, a queasy stomach there, and a fatigue that coffee just couldn't fix. At first, she brushed it off as stress from work. But after counting back the days on her calendar, her heart started to race.

They'd been trying for a baby for months now—timing everything, hoping, waiting. Bobby had even made her promise not to get discouraged if it didn't happen right away. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that this time was different. So she found herself standing barefoot in their bathroom, robe loosely tied around her waist, hands trembling as she set the test on the counter. Five minutes. That's what the box said. But those five minutes stretched out forever.

She paced. Checked the clock. Checked the mirror. And when she finally looked down again — there they were.

 

Two pink lines. Clear as day.

 

Athena gasped softly, a smile breaking through her shock. Her hand instinctively went to her stomach, her eyes glassy as the realization sank in, she was pregnant. She whispered to herself, "Oh my God...Bobby, we did it."

_______

That evening, Bobby came home from a long shift, smelling faintly of smoke and soap from the station showers. Athena was already waiting for him in the kitchen, trying to keep her excitement in check. "Hey," he greeted, kissing her cheek, "you look...extra smiley today."

"Do I?" she teased, busying herself with something on the counter. He raised an eyebrow. "What's going on?" Athena turned around, holding out a small white box wrapped with a red ribbon. "Just...open it." He frowned curiously but obeyed, tugging the ribbon loose. Inside was a tiny pair of baby socks—soft, yellow, with little ducks on them. And beneath them, the positive test.

Bobby blinked, then looked up at her, eyes wide. "Athena...are you—?" She nodded, her eyes filling with tears. "I'm pregnant, Bobby. We're having a baby." For a long second, he just stared, as if trying to believe it. Then his breath caught—and he pulled her into a crushing hug, laughing and crying all at once.

"Thank you," he whispered into her hair. "Thank you, honey." Athena smiled against his shoulder, whispering, "Looks like our little one's on the way." He pulled back, cupping her face in both hands. "Our little miracle," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. They kissed—a long, trembling, overjoyed kiss—as the reality of it all settled around them like the warm light of a promise fulfilled.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

October 26th, 2007

The soft hum of the clinic filled the room—muffled voices, the faint whir of a printer, and the rhythmic tick of a clock on the wall. Athena sat on the edge of the exam table, the paper beneath her crinkling as she fidgeted with her fingers. Bobby sat beside her, his hand resting on her knee, thumb brushing slow, steady circles. They were both quiet, caught somewhere between disbelief and awe.

"You okay?" Bobby murmured. Athena exhaled a shaky laugh. "I think so. Just...nervous. Excited. Everything all at once." He smiled, leaning closer. "Same here." A soft knock sounded on the door before a nurse stepped in, cheerful and warm. "Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Nash. I'm Nurse Daniels—I'll be doing your intake today."

Athena nodded, smiling faintly. "Morning." The nurse pulled up a stool and opened Athena's chart on the computer. "So, I see this is your first prenatal visit. Congratulations! Let's go over a few quick questions, okay?" She asked about the date of Athena's last period, any symptoms, medications, and family history. Athena answered carefully, glancing occasionally at Bobby—who squeezed her hand each time she hesitated.

When the nurse finished typing, she turned back with a kind smile. "Looks like you're about six weeks and some days along. Perfect timing for a first ultrasound." Bobby's eyes widened slightly. "Six weeks already?"

"Mm-hmm," the nurse said, wheeling the ultrasound machine closer. "We might even be able to hear a heartbeat today if baby's in a good spot." Athena's own heart skipped. Hear the heartbeat. The idea made her chest tighten with emotion. "Go ahead and lie back for me, honey," the nurse said gently. "We'll take a quick look."

Athena reclined, tugging her shirt up just enough for the cold gel that made her gasp softly. Bobby stood by her side, fingers laced with hers. The nurse moved the wand slowly over her lower belly, the screen flickering to life with grainy gray and black shapes. For a moment, it was impossible to tell what was what—just shadows and static. Then, the nurse smiled.

"There we are."

She pointed to a tiny, flickering dot near the center of the screen. "That's your baby." Athena's breath caught. Bobby leaned closer, his face lighting with wonder. "That little speck...?"

"That little speck," the nurse said warmly, "is your baby's heart beating." And sure enough, the room filled with the tiniest, fastest sound—thump-thump-thump-thump—rapid and alive. Athena's eyes filled with tears instantly. Her hand flew to her mouth as she whispered, "Oh my God..." Bobby squeezed her hand tighter, his own eyes glassy. "That's...that's incredible."

The nurse smiled, turning the screen slightly so they could both see. "Heartbeat's strong. Baby looks perfect for six weeks." Athena couldn't tear her gaze away from the flickering heartbeat on the screen—their little one, no bigger than a blueberry, already alive and fighting to grow. Bobby pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. "That's our baby," he whispered, voice trembling.

Athena nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks. "Our baby." The nurse printed a few small sonogram pictures and handed them over. "Here's baby's first photo," she said with a grin. Bobby took them gently, like they were made of glass. He stared at the tiny white blur in the middle of the black background, a grin spreading across his face. "Guess we're really doing this," he said softly.

Athena smiled through her tears. "We really are." And as they left the clinic hand in hand, Athena kept one hand pressed over her belly, already protective—already in love with the tiny heartbeat she'd just heard for the very first time.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

🎵Happy birthday to you...🎵
Gabrielle smiled the cutest toothy grin as she watched everyone sing to her. Bobby looked down, his daughter clapping along with the song.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

November 1st, 2007

The sun had barely begun to rise, its pale light spilling softly through the blinds when Athena's stomach churned again. She groaned, clapping a hand over her mouth and stumbling out of bed before she could even think. Bobby stirred instantly. "'Thena?" His voice was groggy, thick with sleep, but the sound of her retching in the bathroom had him on his feet within seconds.

By the time he reached her, Athena was kneeling over the toilet, one hand gripping the counter, the other braced on the cool tile floor. Her dark curls fell forward, and she let out a miserable whimper between breaths. Bobby knelt beside her, rubbing slow, steady circles on her back. "Hey, hey...it's okay," he murmured. "Deep breaths, sweetheart."

Athena squeezed her eyes shut, trying to catch her breath between waves. "Oh my God...this baby hates me already," she croaked weakly. Bobby smiled softly, brushing her hair away from her face. "Nah, this baby just wants to make an entrance." She managed a watery laugh—half a groan, half a sigh. "Some entrance."

When she finally leaned back against the wall, pale and exhausted, Bobby reached for a cool washcloth, gently pressing it against her forehead. "There we go. Easy now." Her eyes fluttered open, finding his. "You don't have to do all this, Bobby." He gave her that patient, tender look—the one that made her fall for him all over again. "Athena Nash, you're growing our baby. Taking care of you is the least I can do."

He helped her to her feet, steadying her by the waist as he guided her to the sink. She rinsed her mouth while he filled a glass of water for her, holding it out like it was the most important thing in the world. "Small sips," he reminded her softly. She obeyed, taking slow, cautious gulps. "I feel like I've been hit by a truck," she mumbled.

He smiled gently. "Then it's a good thing your husband's a firefighter. I know a thing or two about rescue." Athena swatted his arm weakly, laughing despite herself. Bobby helped her back to bed, tucking the blankets around her. The smell of ginger tea soon wafted in from the kitchen—he'd started brewing it before she even asked. A few minutes later, he returned with a steaming mug and a plate of dry toast.

"You're a saint," she whispered, propping herself up. "I'm a man in love," he corrected softly, sitting beside her. He brushed his thumb along her cheek, the pads of his fingers cool and comforting. "You're doing so good, 'Thena. I know it's rough, but every minute of this is bringing us closer to that little heartbeat we heard."

Her eyes softened, tears pricking at the corners. "You really are too good to me." He smiled, leaning in to kiss her forehead. "Never too good for you." Athena leaned into his shoulder, nibbling at the toast between sips of tea. Every time her stomach turned, Bobby was right there, rubbing her back, whispering reassurance, grounding her with his steady presence.

When she finally settled and her eyelids began to droop, Bobby pulled the blanket higher and kissed her temple. "Rest, sweetheart," he murmured. "I'll stay right here." And he did—sitting at her bedside, hand resting protectively over her small but growing bump, as the woman he loved drifted back to sleep.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

February 1st—2008

It was one of those clear, cold mornings that made every sound in Los Angeles seem sharper—the kind where the sunlight felt more like a reflection than warmth. Athena sat on the edge of the exam table, the crinkling paper beneath her thighs loud in the quiet room. She pressed both hands over the small swell of her belly, rubbing in slow circles, half from nerves and half from the faint flutter she'd been feeling for a week now.

Bobby stood beside her, one hand resting on her shoulder, the other gripping the folded jacket in his lap like it was a lifeline. He was smiling—nervous, proud, giddy—but mostly, just in awe. "How you feeling?" he whispered. "Like there's popcorn popping in my stomach," Athena murmured, voice low but bright. "I swear she's practicing dance moves already."

Before Bobby could respond, the door opened and the ultrasound tech stepped in, cheerful and efficient. "Morning, Mom and Dad. Ready to meet your baby again?" Athena exhaled a breathy laugh. "More than ready." The gel was cold against her skin, and she jumped a little, but Bobby squeezed her hand. The monitor flickered to life, and then—there it was. That tiny universe that had taken over their lives. A small shape on a gray-and-black field, heart pulsing like a little strobe of light. Their baby still had months left to grow but had so many features already. Limps, a tiny nose, little fingers.

"There's your baby," the tech said softly, moving the wand with practiced grace. "Beautiful heartbeat—right on track. Let's see if we can find out if we're painting the nursery blue or pink." Bobby leaned closer, his eyes glued to the screen. The room was silent except for the rhythmic thump of their child's heart echoing from the speakers. It filled the space, filled Athena's chest, filled Bobby's whole being. The tech smiled. "Congratulations," she said, eyes warm. "You're having a girl."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Bobby's breath hitched. Athena blinked, and tears rolled before she could stop them. "A girl," she whispered, voice breaking on the word. Bobby laughed softly, a wet, shaky sound. "A little girl." He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and when his hand slid down to her belly, being careful to not touch the cold gel—

Thump.

A distinct, sharp kick pressed back against his palm. They both gasped. Athena looked down, wide-eyed, then at him. "You felt that, right?" He nodded, eyes shining. "I did. She's saying hi." The tech chuckled. "Looks like someone likes her spotlight." Athena laughed through her tears. Bobby kept his hand there, unmoving, reverent, waiting for another kick, another sign that their baby girl was in there, alive and thriving and already stubborn.

When they left the office later, the sun had warmed a little, the light softer now. Bobby opened the car door for Athena, his hand instinctively brushing her bump again. "She's already got me wrapped around her little finger," he said quietly. Athena smiled, her eyes still misty, voice gentle but certain. "She's got us both."

 

_____________

 

🎵Happy birthday, dear Gabrielle...🎵

Athena felt her eyes begin to water, her vision going blurry. 'Damnit' Athena thought to herself. She did'nt want to cry on her babygirls special day, afterall—look at her happy smile...! Athena looked at Gabrielles face, full of pure joy and no sense at whats going on.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

February 22nd—2008

The afternoon sun streamed through the half-open blinds of the small bedroom that was quickly transforming into something magical—Gabrielle's nursery. The walls, once plain and beige, were now a soft blush-peach, the color Athena had chosen after three store trips and two arguments with paint samples. Bobby was kneeling on the floor, trying to assemble the crib with his usual concentration—brows furrowed, tongue poking out slightly as he tightened a screw. Athena stood nearby, hands on her bump, swaying a little to the Motown playlist playing low on the radio. The music filled the room like a heartbeat.

"You sure you're putting that together right?" she teased, watching as Bobby squinted at the instruction manual. "I'm sure enough," he said, not looking up. "Besides, if I do it wrong, she'll let me know." Athena laughed—that warm, tired, glowing laugh that had become a soundtrack of this pregnancy. "She's gonna be too busy crying and eating to care about your handiwork." Bobby looked up at her, eyes softening. "You mean our handiwork."

That made her smile even wider. Her hand drifted down over her belly, where their daughter had been moving more often lately—little flutters that felt like butterfly wings brushing from the inside. Bobby noticed the motion and froze, setting the screwdriver down. "Is she moving?" Athena nodded, grinning. "Mhm. She's been doing somersaults all day." He crossed the room in two long strides, crouching to place a hand on her bump. "Hey, baby girl," he whispered, voice suddenly gentler than air. "It's Daddy. You giving your mama a hard time in there?"

Athena rolled her eyes but felt her heart melt all the same. "Don't encourage her." Just then, a soft kick pressed against his palm—a firm one this time. Bobby's eyes widened. "Whoa. That's her?!"

"That's her." Athena's voice broke into a laugh, full of wonder. Bobby stayed there for a moment, hand still resting over the curve of her belly, as if trying to memorize the rhythm. "Hi, Gabrielle," he murmured. "You keep growing strong, okay? Daddy's gonna make sure your room's perfect for you." Athena blinked back tears as she looked around. The crib. The half-folded blankets. The little bookshelf waiting to be filled. It wasn't done yet—but it already felt like a promise.

She brushed her fingers through Bobby's hair. "You know," she said softly, "I used to think love was something that settled after marriage. But with her...it's like it's starting all over again." Bobby looked up at her, smiling that kind of smile that said I know exactly what you mean. "Guess we're both falling in love with the same girl," he said.

Athena laughed again, brushing a tear away. "Yeah. Lucky us." Bobby stood, wrapping his arms around her from behind, hands settling over her belly. Together they looked at the nursery—sunlight catching on the fresh paint, the crib, the promise of a life they'd built from hope and heartbeat.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

March 31st—2008

The house smelled faintly of sawdust and cinnamon candles—a funny mix of home and construction. Bobby was outside with the delivery man, getting the rocking chair and changing table delivered. Athena sat curled on the couch, her feet propped up on a pillow, one hand resting on her belly, her phone balanced between her shoulder and ear.

"Yeah, Mama, I'm takin' it easy," she said, smiling tiredly. "Bobby won't let me lift a grocery bag, let alone a suspect." Beatrice's voice crackled through the receiver, smooth and warm—but carrying that tone Athena knew too well. The one that always started soft, then sharpened. "I'm glad he's lookin' after you, baby. But you know, I still don't understand why you had to go and become a police officer. You had that law degree in your hands. You were supposed to be changin' the system—not runnin' around chasin' it."

Athena sighed, pressing her palm into the spot where her daughter had been kicking all morning. "Mama, I didn't wanna sit behind a desk all day. I wanted to do something. To be out there, helpin' people before they even get to court."

"You could've done that in a courtroom, Athena. You had potential—real potential. And now you're puttin' yourself in danger every day, with a baby on the way." Athena's jaw tightened. She'd heard this before, every phone call the same since she joined the academy, except the baby part. But pregnancy made her raw, her patience thinner. "I love what I do, Mama. And Bobby supports me. That's what matters."

Beatrice clicked her tongue. "Mm-hmm. Bobby. I'm still tryin' to picture how that firefighter fits into all this. You were on your way to bein' a lawyer, not a firehouse wife." Athena froze. "A what?"

"Don't get defensive, Athena. I'm just sayin' you've changed so much since meetin' him. You left Florida, you let go of law school and now look at you—halfway through a pregnancy, workin' twelve-hour shifts, and dependin' on a man who doesn't even know what it's like to be a Black woman in uniform. You're barely 2 years into your marriage and you're already welcoming a child in a few months. God—you've only just turned 25 a week ago! It's like watching teenagers navigate blindly through a pregnancy—Athena, it is just reckless."

The words hit hard, sharp and uninvited. Athena's breath caught in her throat. Athena couldn't believe what she was hearing, if anything her mother is a hypocrite because Beatrice had gotten pregnant younger than she did. "You think I gave everything up for him?"

"Well it seems like it! You gave up the future we worked for," Beatrice said. "Your daddy and I scraped and saved to send you to college. You were supposed to be the one who changed things. Not another badge, another statistic." Athena  sat up straight, lowering her feet from the pillow, her heart pounding, anger burning hot behind her ribs. "Mama, I didn't quit because of Bobby. I quit because I wasn't happy. I wasn't gonna spend my life doin' something that didn't make me feel alive."

"And now what? You're riskin' your life and raisin' a child in a world that won't see you the same way it sees him. Don't tell me that doesn't keep you up at night." Athena's throat tightened. She looked down at her belly, her bump round and full of life. The baby kicked again, as if she could feel her mama's pulse quicken.

"Mama," she whispered, voice trembling, "it scares me every day. But that don't mean I made the wrong choice. It means I'm strong enough to live with it." There was silence on the other end. Then Beatrice sighed, quiet and heavy. "You always were strong, baby. I just...I don't want to see the world take that from you."

Athena's eyes softened, a tear slipping down her cheek. "Then have a little faith in me, Mama. In us." They hung up soon after, not angry, but not quite healed either. Athena sank onto the couch, hands still trembling. She didn't hear Bobby come in until he was kneeling beside her, his touch gentle on her knee. "That didn't sound good," he said softly. She blinked back tears. "She thinks I threw my future away for you. For this." She motioned to her badge on the coffee table. "For a life she doesn't understand."

Bobby didn't flinch. He just nodded, thoughtful, then reached for her hand. "You didn't throw anything away. You found what mattered. And you're damn good at it." Her voice cracked. "She thinks our baby's gonna have it harder because we're different." He pressed his palm to her stomach, warm and steady. "Then we'll make sure she's got everything she needs to handle the world. Love, pride, and two parents who'd walk through fire for her—literally."

That made her laugh through the tears. "She kicked," Athena whispered suddenly, catching her breath. She grabbed his hand, pressing it to her belly. "Right there." Bobby felt it, the faintest flutter against his palm. His eyes lit up, soft with awe. "Hey there, baby girl," he murmured, voice breaking into a grin. "You listenin' to your mama fight already, huh?" Athena giggled, her heart swelling. "She's already got opinions."

"Like her mama," Bobby said, leaning in to kiss her forehead. Athena leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. The anger from the call began to dissolve—replaced by something warmer, steadier. Hope.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

June 15th—2008

 

The hospital room was quiet except for the rhythmic beeping of the monitor, the soft hum of fluorescent lights and the low moan of Athena riding out another contraction. Rain drizzled gently against the windows—a soft summer shower that matched the trembling in Bobby's chest. Athena had been in labor for almost the entire day now. Her hair was damp against her forehead, her breaths deep and shaking, eyes squeezed shut as another contraction rolled through her body.

Bobby was at her side—one hand holding hers, the other pressing a cool cloth against her temple. He'd never seen strength like this. The woman he loved, the mother of his child, was fighting through waves of pain with a courage that left him in awe. "You're doing so good, baby," he whispered, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. His voice cracked, but she didn't notice, too focused, too deep in that primal, beautiful rhythm of labor.

The nurse's voice broke through the air, calm and steady. "Alright, Athena, you're at ten centimeters. It's time to push." Athena nodded weakly, tears springing to her eyes—not from fear, but from relief. Bobby kissed her hand and leaned close, whispering, "You've got this. I'm right here. Always."

Then came the sound. That deep, raw, human sound that only a woman bringing life into the world can make—the sound of power, of exhaustion, of love.

Minutes blurred into eternity. Bobby counted breaths, wiped her tears, whispered prayers he hadn't said in years. And then—a cry.

Tiny, sharp, perfect.

The room stilled.

Bobby froze, chest trembling. Athena's face melted into relief and wonder as tears rolled down her cheeks. The nurse smiled wide. "Congratulations...it's a girl." They placed the newborn on Athena's chest—small, pink, slick with life.

Gabrielle Renée Nash.

Athena let out a choked laugh, brushing her fingertips over her daughter's back. "Hey, baby girl..." she whispered, voice trembling. "Mama's here." Bobby couldn't speak—he just stood there, eyes glistening, watching his world become whole. He reached out, resting his hand over Athena's, over their daughter. A family. Rain still fell outside, quiet and rhythmic, like the world itself was rocking their newborn to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

🎵Happy birthday to you! 🎵

Gabrielle squealed, clapped her hands too, and then immediately reached for the flame. "Whoa, whoa, no baby, not the fire," Bobby said with a laugh, blowing out the candle for her. The crowd cheered again. Athena clapped along, her heart tightening in her chest.

It hit her all at once—every moment of the past year tumbling through her mind like waves, the faint pink line on that pregnancy test, the first flutter of movement under her ribs, Bobby's wide-eyed joy when he'd first felt a kick, the late nights whispering to the life growing inside her. The sound of Gabrielle's first cry. The weight of her on Athena's chest for the very first time.

She remembered Bobby's trembling hands as he cut the umbilical cord. The sleepless nights when Gabrielle wouldn't stop crying, the laughter when she finally rolled over, her first giggle, her first word. The way she looked up at them every morning like they were the whole world. Now that tiny newborn was sitting upright, proud, and beaming at her very first birthday cake. Athena blinked hard, tears welling up despite the smile on her lips.

Hen noticed first, nudging Karen gently. "Aww, Mama's getting emotional." Karen smiled softly. "Wouldn't you? Her baby's one." Bobby reached over and touched Athena's hand. "You okay, honey?" he whispered. Athena laughed through the lump in her throat. "Yeah...yeah, I just—" Her voice caught, and she shook her head gently, eyes on her daughter. "She was just so small. And now look at her." Bobby squeezed her hand. "I know. Feels like yesterday we brought her home."

Gabrielle squealed again, slapping both palms into the frosting, sending pink icing flying across the tray—and onto her face. Everyone burst out laughing. "There it is!" Buck called. "That's the smash moment!" Gabrielle looked up in surprise at the sound of everyone laughing, then grinned mischievously—and dove right back in, stuffing frosting into her mouth with both hands.

"She's got your sweet tooth," Bobby teased, nudging Athena. "She's got your messiness," Athena shot back, smiling. Ann was laughing so hard she had tears in her eyes. "Oh, Bobby, she looks just like you when you used to sneak cake batter." Charlie added, "Difference is, she's got the cuteness to get away with it. Bobby, you were just an ugly baby."

Athena laughed quietly, still wiping at her own eyes. She leaned down, kissed the top of Gabrielle's frosting-smeared curls, and whispered softly, "Happy birthday, my love. You made me a mama." The backyard shimmered with light and laughter. Cameras flashed, voices overlapped, and Gabrielle sat proudly in her highchair, joy painted across her cheeks in pink frosting. It was messy. Loud. Beautiful. Perfect. The kind of moment Athena knew she'd carry forever.

 

___________

 

9:32 p.m.

The house was quiet now. The laughter, the music, the rustle of wrapping paper—all faded into the hush that only comes after a day filled with joy. The faint smell of vanilla cake and balloons still lingered in the air. Upstairs, the nursery was bathed in the soft golden light of the night-lamp. The room was tidy again, toys tucked away, Gabrielle’s icing stained dress thrown into the hamper. Athena sat in the old rocking chair, the one Bobby had assembled before Gabrielle was born. Its gentle creak filled the silence like a lullaby.

Gabrielle lay against her chest, warm and sleepy, her tiny hand resting over Athena's heart. She nursed softly, eyelids fluttering, her breath deep and even. Athena stroked her baby's dark curls and glanced at the clock on the wall—9:36 p.m. Two minutes. Two minutes until the exact moment her daughter entered this world one year ago. Her throat tightened.

"Hey, my sweet girl," she whispered, voice trembling but tender. "You know what time it is, huh? Almost your real birthday. One whole year since Mama got to meet you for the first time." Gabrielle let out a soft sigh, still latched, her tiny fingers flexing as if she could understand. Athena smiled through her tears. "You were so small, baby. So pink. I remember hearing you cry, and it was the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard." She brushed her thumb over Gabrielle's cheek. "And when they put you on my chest, I just...I couldn't believe you were real. That I got to be your mama."

Her voice broke on the last word. Outside, a faint breeze rustled the curtains, and the world seemed to pause—holding its breath with her. "You've grown so much, my angel," she whispered. "You laugh now. You dance. You say mama and dada and wave your little hands when you want something. And every single day, you teach me what love really means." She looked down again—Gabrielle's eyelashes fluttered as she began to drift, her little lips slowing, her breaths syncing with Athena's heartbeat. Athena rocked her gently, pressing a kiss to her daughter's forehead.

9:38 p.m.

"Right here," Athena breathed, smiling through her tears. "This exact moment, last year...you came into the world. You changed everything." A tear slipped down her cheek, landing softly in Gabrielle's hair. "You made me a mama. You made this house a home. You made my heart bigger than I ever thought it could be."

The clock ticked quietly on the wall. “My mama—your Mimi, was right. I used to think she would overreact for the smallest things, especially when it came to me. Being a mom is amazing, and being your mom is even more amazing. I love you Gabrielle. More than you could ever know,” Athena’s voice cracked a little. “not until you have your own kids.” There, that was the truth, and Athena felt lucky to know that kind of love.

Athena's rocking slowed, her voice now only a whisper. "Happy birthday, my little love. My miracle. My whole heart." Gabrielle stirred faintly, lips parting as if to sigh in her sleep, and Athena smiled—eyes glistening, chest full to bursting. She leaned down and pressed her forehead to her daughter's. "Mama loves you, baby girl. Always. Forever. Every beat of my heart—it's yours."

And as the night deepened and the world outside turned still, Athena stayed there—rocking, holding, memorizing the weight of her child—because she knew that one day, her baby wouldn’t be so little, her arms would have to let go, but her heart never would.

Chapter Text

(7129 words)

August—2011

The daycare lobby smelled faintly of crayons, disinfectant, and oatmeal. Athena signed her name on the clipboard by the front desk while the receptionist looked up with a friendly smile.
"Afternoon, Mrs. Nash! Picking up both today?" Athena smiled back, brushing a bit of windblown hair out of her face. "Yes ma'am—Gabrielle in the Ladybugs room and Elias in Turtles."

The receptionist pressed the small call button on the phone. Beep. "Ladybugs, Gabrielle's mom is here for pickup," she said into the receiver, then repeated the call for the younger classroom. "Turtles, Elias's mom too." Down the hall, Athena could already hear the muffled hum of children talking, plastic toys clattering, and a teacher's calm voice directing cleanup time. She finished signing both kids out and walked toward the Ladybugs door. She pressed the doorbell button beside the safety latch. Inside, the teacher looked up, smiled, and opened the door.

Gabrielle spotted her instantly. The little girl's face broke into pure sunlight. "Mamaaa!" she squealed. She barreled across the play mat, curls bouncing, stickers on her shirt, and slammed right into Athena's legs with a happy hug. "Hey, baby girl." Athena bent down, scooping her up. "How was my big girl's day?" Gabrielle grinned and pointed to a sticker shaped like a gold star. "Look, Mama! I gots a stika!"

"I see that sticker. That means you did good, huh?" Athena teased, kissing her daughter's warm cheek. After thanking the teacher and grabbing Gabrielle's backpack, artwork, and spare clothes from her cubby, Athena headed toward the second classroom—the Turtles room, where the younger babies and toddlers stayed.

Through the window, she saw Elias wobbling along the foam mat, holding onto a low shelf for balance. The moment the door clicked open, his round face lit up. "Ma!" he squeaked, voice high and breathy. He took a few bold steps toward her—three, four—before plopping down on his bottom with a soft thud. Determined, he dropped to his hands and knees and finished the rest of the distance crawling. Athena laughed, heart swelling as she scooped him up. "You almost made it all the way, little man! My brave boy."

He gurgled, pressing his cheek to her uniform shoulder while she collected his diaper bag, bottle, and the little art project the teachers had helped him finger-paint that day. Once they reached the car, the early evening sun was dipping low, a soft orange glow spilling across the parking lot. Athena buckled Elias first, making sure the straps lay flat across his chest, then turned to Gabrielle. As she leaned in to clip the buckle, she noticed Gabrielle's skin—damp, a faint sheen of sweat across her nose and hairline.

Athena frowned softly and brushed her hand across her daughter's forehead. "Hmm. You okay, sweetheart? You feel a little warm." Gabrielle blinked sleepy eyes. "Seepy, Mama," she murmured, rubbing her stuffed bunny's ear against her cheek. Athena studied her a second longer. The prickled skin, the warmth...it wasn't just ordinary tired. But home was only ten minutes away, and the little one was already drooping against the car seat.

"Okay, my love," Athena whispered, fastening the last buckle. "Close those eyes for Mama. You can nap on the way home, yeah?" Gabrielle gave the tiniest nod, thumb slipping toward her mouth, and her lashes fluttered closed. Elias was already flipping through a baby cardboard book upside down, his pacifier bobbing gently.

Athena shut the car door quietly, circled to the driver's side, and slid behind the wheel. For a moment she sat there, watching the two of them in the rearview mirror—the toddler with flushed cheeks, the baby with drool running down his chin—and felt that familiar mixture of worry and fierce tenderness stir in her chest.

She started the car. The hum of the engine filled the space, soft enough not to wake them. The road home was lined with jacaranda trees in early bloom, purple petals scattered across the asphalt. And as she drove, Athena glanced back every so often, keeping an eye on her sleeping babies, already planning a temperature check, soup, and a quiet evening once they got home.

The ride home from daycare was too quiet for Athena's liking. Normally, Gabrielle would chatter nonstop in her car seat about her day, what she colored, who she played with, who "didin share da bue cwayon." But today, the little girl's head rested against the window, thumb in her mouth, eyes half-lidded. By the time Athena pulled into the driveway, Gabrielle was already asleep. She unbuckled her carefully, whispering, "C'mon, baby. We're home."

Inside, the house was still warm from the afternoon sun. Athena set down Elias' diaper bag, then went to the couch and laid Gabrielle down gently, covering her with a throw blanket. Elias, now still awake and drooling happily, babbled from his car seat until Athena unbuckled him. "Hey, Mr. Wiggles," she cooed, kissing his forehead.

She fixed both of them a small snack—a little applesauce for Gabby who only managed a few tired spoonfuls and baby puffs for Elias. Her instincts told her something wasn't right with Gabby's flushed cheeks and sluggish eyes, but she hoped it was just the long daycare day. By 6 p.m., Bobby was home, his keys jangling at the door before his familiar "Anybody home?" filled the hallway.

"In here," Athena called from the kitchen, bouncing Elias on her hip. Bobby's eyes softened when he saw them—his little family framed by the golden hour light spilling into the kitchen. "There's my crew," he said, kissing Athena's temple and ruffling Elias' curls. "Wheres Gabs?" Bobby asked as Athena sighed a little. She nodded towardsthe livingroom. "Over there napping." Bobby walked over to the couch and kneeled down infront of his daughter. Gabrielle's eyes fluttered open at the touch of her daddys hand gently combing her curls out of her face."You okay, princess?"

Gabby shrugged weakly and murmured, "Tiwed." Bobby frowned slightly but nodded. "Alright. How 'bout Daddy makes dinner tonight?" Athena smiled, relieved. "That'd be great, babe. She's been off all day."

_________

The house smelled like home—a mix of garlic, chicken broth, and warm bread. Bobby moved around the kitchen with practiced ease, humming under his breath as he stirred the pot of soup. Athena set the table, balancing Elias on her hip while Gabrielle sat slumped in her little booster seat on her chair, chin resting on her hand. "Dinner's ready!" Bobby called, setting the steaming pot down. "Homemade chicken soup à la Daddy."

Normally, that would've earned at least a giggle from Gabrielle. Tonight, she only blinked sleepily, rubbing her eyes. Athena ladled out small bowls for everyone and sat beside her daughter. "Alright, sweetheart," she said gently. "You need to eat a little something, okay?" Gabrielle poked her spoon into the soup, chasing a carrot chunk. "Not hungy," she murmured. Bobby teasingly poked her tiny foot with his underneath the table, trying to get her to at least smile, his voice soft but upbeat. "C'mon, Gabs. Just a few bites, huh? Daddy made this special for you."

She gave him a tired look and pushed her spoon toward him. "Ooh can eats it." Bobby chuckled under his breath. "Nice try, kiddo." Athena smirked from across the table. "She's learning from the best." Bobby shot her a playful glare before turning back to their daughter. "Tell you what—if you take three bites, we can watch a little bit of that Max and Ruby show before bath, deal?"

Gabrielle pouted but nodded, dipping her spoon carefully into the broth. She took a tiny sip, then another. Halfway through her third bite, she wrinkled her nose and whimpered. Athena's brow furrowed. "You okay, baby?" Gabrielle shook her head. "My tummy huwts," Gabrielle said softly, eyes glassy. "Alright, sweetheart." Athena leaned closer, brushing a hand over her daughter's warm forehead. "Just rest, okay?"

Gabrielle nodded, but instead of finishing her soup, she wriggled out of her booster seat and toddled toward her mother's chair. "Wanna sit wif ooh, Mama," she murmured, tugging on Athena's arm. Athena hesitated—old habits of teaching manners kicking in. "Baby, you know we sit in our own chairs when we eat." Gabrielle's bottom lip trembled, and her little shoulders drooped.

That was all it took. Athena's resolve softened like butter in the heat. She sighed quietly. "Okay, come here." Gabby climbed carefully into her mama's lap, curling into her chest with a tired sigh. Athena adjusted her bowl to the side and wrapped an arm around her daughter, rubbing her back in slow circles. "Just this once," she whispered, kissing the top of her curls.

Across the table, Bobby watched them—the way Athena's hand moved so instinctively, the way Gabrielle relaxed completely against her mother. His heart clenched with a soft ache. Elias, meanwhile, was having the time of his life in his highchair—smashing bits of rice into his tray, gurgling happily. The rest of dinner passed quietly. Bobby and Athena exchanged small looks across the table—that silent language of parents who both knew something was brewing but hoped it was nothing more than fatigue.

______

 

After dinner, the soft quiet of the house was broken only by the sound of running water. The bathroom filled with the scent of lavender bubbles and the faint echo of Gabrielle's favorite song humming from Bobby's phone on the sink counter. Athena was still in hers and Bobby's en suite bathroom—finally getting a few moments to herself. So bathtime was Daddy's job tonight.

"Alright, my little water bugs," Bobby said, rolling up his sleeves. "Let's get squeaky clean." Gabrielle sat on the fluffy bath mat, already stripped of her clothes, half-sleepy and half-grumpy, hugging her towel around her. Elias sat next to his sister, babbling at his own toes and smacking the floor with his palms. Bobby knelt beside the tub, testing the water temperature with his wrist like Athena always did. "Just right," he murmured, nodding in approval. When he looked over at Gabrielle, she was staring at him, eyes droopy but curious. "Daddy?"

"Yeah, baby girl?"

"Can we have the bubbas?" Bobby grinned. "The bubbles? Of course we can." He squirted a generous squeeze of baby-safe bubble bath under the faucet. The water frothed and shimmered, piling high into soft mountains of foam. Gabrielle's little face finally lit up with that tiny spark of joy Bobby loved so much. "Bubbas!" she squealed, reaching for them.

"That's my girl." He lifted her up gently and lowered her into the tub. Gabrielle giggled as the bubbles wrapped around her arms and chin like a foamy beard. Elias let out an impatient "Eh!" when he spotted the bubbles, kicking his legs. Bobby laughed. "Don't worry, buddy, you're next."

He quickly set the baby bath insert next to Gabrielle, making sure it was secure before lifting Elias in. The baby squealed when the warm water hit his tummy, splashing his hands against the surface immediately. "Hey, hey, hey—not Daddy's shirt, man!" Bobby said, laughing as water hit his chest. Gabrielle giggled, though it was softer than usual—a sleepy, raspy laugh. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes heavy-lidded. Bobby noticed, gently brushing some damp curls from her forehead.

"You okay, sweet pea?" Gabrielle nodded lazily, dragging her toy duck through the bubbles. "Tiwed." He gave her a soft smile. "Alright, baby. We'll make it a short bath tonight." Elias was having the time of his life, babbling a string of happy nonsense sounds while trying to grab Gabrielle's duck. Gabrielle furrowed her brows. "No, baby! Dats mine!" Bobby chuckled. "He just wants to share, sweetheart." She huffed out a complaint. "He cant share if he jus gonna takes it."

"Fair point," Bobby said, biting back a grin. The three of them stayed like that for a while—soft splashing, giggles, the faint hum of the lullaby playing on Bobby's phone. Gabrielle leaned against the tub wall, eyelids fluttering. Her play slowed until she was just lazily scooping bubbles with her hands, more interested in resting than washing. Bobby could tell she was done. He gently lifted her out first, wrapping her in a warm towel and holding her close. "All clean, sweetheart," he murmured, rubbing her back. "You did good."

Gabrielle rested her head against his shoulder with a small hum, her damp curls sticking to his shirt. "Your turn, mister," he said softly to Elias, still splashing with wild delight. Elias kicked his feet, sending a wave of water over the edge and onto Bobby's jeans. "Oh, come on!" Bobby laughed, shaking his head. "You're having too much fun to get out, huh?."

When both kids were finally wrapped in towels and smelling like lavender and soap, Bobby carried them down the hall. Athena was walking up the stairs after taking a shower, dressed in her soft cotton robe, her hair wrapped up in a silk scarf. "Oh, look at you," she smiled, taking Gabrielle from his arms. "You did good, Daddy." Bobby grinned proudly. "Nobody drowned, so I'd say that's a win." Athena kissed Gabrielle's damp forehead and felt how warm her skin still was. Her heart gave a small, worried tug. "You're warm, baby girl."

Gabrielle murmured, "M'kay, Mama," and melted against her shoulder. Athena met Bobby's eyes. He gave a small, understanding nod,they both knew what that meant. She was coming down with something. "Let's get them to bed," Athena whispered. "Yeah," Bobby said softly. "Bedtime, little man. Don't fight me tonight, okay?" Elias babbled something that sounded suspiciously like "no," and Bobby groaned, smiling despite himself.

Athena walked down the hall towards Gabby's room with her daughter in her arms. "Still not feeling great, huh?" Athena murmured. Gabrielle shook her head and whispered, "My tummy feels yucky." Athena brushed her curls back. "Okay, baby." The soft hum of the dishwasher murmured in the kitchen, and the faint sound of Bobby's low voice came from the nursery down the hall as he wrestled Elias into pajamas.

In Gabrielle's bedroom, Athena sat on the edge of the tiny bed, gently rubbing lotion all over Gabrielle's tiny arms and legs. The air smelled like cocoa butter and baby shampoo, the warm scent wrapping around them both like a hug.

Gabrielle sat quietly on the carpet in front of her mama, her little shoulders slumped, her curls damp and soft against her forehead. She'd been quieter than usual all night, no silly giggles or endless chatter, just those tired, heavy eyes and an occasional sniffle. "Hold still, sweetheart," Athena murmured, rubbing the lotion into her daughter's sienna skin with slow, soothing circles. "You're slippery enough to slide right off this floor."

Gabrielle gave a tiny giggle and leaned her head against Athena's knee. "Mama, I tiwed." "I know, baby," Athena whispered, soft and full of empathy. "You had a long day, huh?" Gabrielle nodded, thumb drifting toward her mouth before Athena gently redirected it. "Uh-uh," Athena said with a half-smile, "you don't need that thumb, honey. You're my big girl now." Gabrielle pouted but didn't argue.

Athena reached for her little girl's panties and slid them up her legs, then helped her into soft pink pajamas patterned with tiny white clouds. Once Gabrielle was dressed, Athena scooped her into her lap and grabbed the wide-tooth comb and leave-in conditioner from the counter. "Alright, let's get this pretty hair done," Athena said softly, spritzing a little water onto her daughter's curls.

Gabrielle sat still, heavy-lidded and relaxed, as her mama gently parted her hair and worked through each section with patient, careful hands. Athena hummed a slow tune, something her own mother used to hum to her. Athena smoothed cocoa butter through each section and put Gabrielle's curls into four protective twists before putting the bonnet on.

"Look at you," Athena whispered once she finished, tilting her daughter's chin up. "So beautiful." Gabrielle smiled sleepily. "Like Mama." Athena's heart melted. "Yeah, baby. Just like Mama." She kissed her daughter's temple, then reached for the small medicine cup sitting on her daughters nightstand that she had brought. "Alright, sweet pea. One little sip of this, and then bed." Gabrielle wrinkled her nose. "It's yucky."

"I know, baby, but it'll help you feel better." Athena tipped the cup gently to her daughter's lips. Gabrielle swallowed the cherry-flavored syrup with a dramatic grimace, making Athena chuckle softly. "Good job," she praised, wiping Gabrielle's mouth with a tissue. "See? Not so bad." Athena stood and lifted her daughter into her arms, Gabrielle curling into her immediately—all warm, soft limbs and sleepy hums. Athena laid her daughter down gently, covering her with the blanket and tucking it snug under her arms.

"Want Mama to sing?" Athena whispered, brushing her fingers through Gabrielle's curls. Gabrielle nodded, eyes half-closed. "Sing, Mama." Athena began to hum the same tune she'd hummed while doing her daughter's hair—slow and sweet, her voice low and full of warmth. Though Gabby's gaze seemed distant.

"Wanna tell Mama what's wrong?" Athena asked softly. Gabby shook her head, voice small. "My tummy dun likes me." Athena's chest tightened. She rubbed small circles on Gabrielle's back until her breathing evened out. Gabrielle's breathing slowed, eyelids fluttering shut as Athena traced gentle circles over her forehead with her thumb. "There you go," Athena whispered. "That's it, baby girl. Mama's right here." She leaned down and kissed Gabrielle's cheek once, twice, lingering there for a moment longer than usual.

Because even when you know it's just a little fever, it's still your baby. And no matter how many times she's put them to bed, Athena still feels that ache every night—the one that whispers, She's growing too fast.

Athena stood for a moment in the soft glow of the nightlight, watching her daughter's tiny chest rise and fall, the faint sound of the lullaby still echoing in her head. Then she whispered, almost to herself, "Sweet dreams, my heart." And quietly closed the door.

Athena padded down the hall barefoot. From the nursery came the muffled sounds of Elias—babbling, whining, that half-laugh, half-cry sound that only a baby fighting sleep could make. Bobby's voice followed, calm and low, with that gentle patience that came only from a father who'd been through this dance too many nights to count.
"C'mon, little man," he murmured, bouncing Elias on his chest, patting his diaper clad butt, "you've had your bottle, you've been rocked, you've sung along with me...what else could you need, huh?"

Athena leaned against the doorframe, a soft smile tugging at her lips. "What he needs," she said quietly, her voice soft but teasing, "is his mama." Bobby looked up, tired but smiling. His eyes softened when he saw her. "I was just about to tag you in," he said with a chuckle. "He's been giving me a run for my money." Athena stepped inside, the nursery dim except for the warm glow of the nightlight casting gentle shadows across the walls. Elias turned his head toward her voice immediately, little fists waving, a wobbly coo bubbling up in his throat.

"Hey, my sweet boy," Athena whispered as she took him from Bobby's arms. Elias nestled instantly against her, his tiny body relaxing, his cheek pressing into her chest like he'd finally found what he'd been looking for all night. Bobby smiled, rubbing a hand on the nape of his neck. "See? Told you. He's got a radar for his mama." Athena sat down in the glider by the crib, adjusting Elias in her arms while pulling her robe back and exposed her breast. He made a soft, breathy whimper before latching, those little fingers flexing and curling into the fabric of her robe. Athena sighed. A long, quiet sigh, feeling the day's exhaustion melt into something gentler, softer.

For a few moments, neither of them spoke. The only sounds were the rhythmic creak of the glider, the soft hum of Elias's suckling, and the occasional sleepy sigh that left him as he started to drift. Bobby leaned against the wall, arms crossed, just watching—because no matter how many times he'd seen this, it never stopped being beautiful to him. The sight of Athena, the steady way she moved, the instinct in every motion. It was grounding, humbling, a kind of quiet miracle he never got tired of.

"You're amazing, you know that?" he said quietly. Athena looked up, a faint smile on her lips. "For sitting here in a bathrobe at nine-thirty at night?"

"For being you," Bobby said simply. "For doing all of this—day in, day out—and still managing to make it look effortless." Athena gave a tired little laugh, her thumb tracing slow circles over Elias's tiny back. "Effortless, huh? You didn't see me almost fall asleep standing while taking a shower."

"I did," Bobby said with a grin. "Maybe not tonight, but I have. And you still looked beautiful." Athena shook her head but smiled anyway, her gaze dropping back to the baby in her arms. Elias had slowed his nursing now, the quick little gulps giving way to sleepy, lazy suckles. His eyelids fluttered, heavy and soft, lashes resting against his round cheeks. "There you go, baby boy," Athena whispered. "That's it. Go to sleep, sweetheart."

Bobby came over and knelt beside the glider, resting a hand on Athena's knee and leaning close to press a kiss to her scarf that covered almost half her forehead. "I'm gonna shower and get ready for bed, okay? You need anything?" She shook her head. "No, just this." Bobby nodded, kissed her again on the forehead— this time longer—then stood and quietly left the room.

Athena stayed where she was, rocking gently. Elias's breathing deepened, warm and even against her chest. She brushed a kiss against the top of his soft curls, closing her eyes for a moment as the glider creaked and the night settled deeper around them. In that quiet, she thought about how motherhood felt like this so often—beautiful and exhausting, tender and relentless. She was tired down to her bones, but she wouldn't trade a second of it. Because this—this little boy, that little girl down the hall, the man who kissed her forehead like a promise, this was home.

And even though she didn't know it yet...that tiny stomach bug had been passed to Athena kissing Gabrielle goodnight..to passing it on to Elias through her milk, already begun its quiet journey through them all. The house was still when Athena finally climbed into bed the night before. The bathroom light glowed faintly through the half-closed door, steam curling out as Bobby's shower ran. She could hear the soft patter of water against tile, the familiar rhythm of his evening routine.

Athena barely made it under the covers before her body gave out — every bone in her aching from the long day. She pulled the blanket over her shoulder, letting her eyes flutter shut. The faint hum of the fan filled the room. Somewhere in the back of her sleepy mind, she thought she heard the shower cut off, Bobby moving around, but she was already gone before he crawled into bed beside her.

 

___________

 

Morning hit like a freight train.

The baby monitor on the nightstand crackled to life, erupting with a chorus of crying. Not one—two. Athena's eyes blinked open, heavy and unfocused, her throat dry. She groaned quietly, pressing the heel of her hand to her forehead. She felt awful—her stomach churning, her skin clammy, a dull headache pulsing behind her eyes. Beside her, Bobby stirred, rubbing his eyes. "You okay?" he mumbled, voice hoarse.

"I—" Athena didn't even finish. She swung her legs out of bed, stumbled toward the bathroom, and barely made it to the toilet before throwing up. Her body heaved, everything in her protesting. Bobby was at the door within seconds, worry snapping him fully awake. "Athena—hey, hey, easy. I got you." He knelt beside her, rubbing her back until the worst passed.

Athena sat back, wiping her mouth with trembling hands. "I think whatever Gabby had—" she started, breathless, "—I've got it." As if on cue, the baby monitor flared again—this time with a sharp, high-pitched cry that could only be Elias. And layered under it...another sound. "Is that—" Bobby paused, listening. "Gabby," Athena finished, dread washing over her.

Bobby helped her up. "I'll check the baby, you get Gabby." Athena nodded, but the second she had walked upstairs and stepped into the hall, she could smell it—the unmistakable scent of a diaper blowout from Elias's room and the sour tang of vomit coming from Gabrielle's. She turned into her daughter's room first. "Gabby, baby?"

Gabrielle sat up in her small bed, cheeks flushed, bonnet gone...her hair thrown up on. Her stuffed bunny was pressed against her chest, both of them splattered with half-digested dinner. Tears welled in her glassy eyes as she sniffled, "Mama, I—I'm sicky..."

"Oh, baby girl," Athena whispered, crossing the room in two strides. "I know, sweetheart, I know." She scooped Gabrielle into her arms, holding her just far enough away to keep the mess off her robe, rocking her gently. Gabby whimpered against her shoulder. From down the hall came Bobby's voice, firm but calm. "Oh boy...we've got a situation over here too." Athena called back weakly, "How bad?"

"Uh...very..very bad," he said. Despite everything, Athena let out a tired laugh, her voice cracking. "Good thing you're the fire captain."

"Yeah, but I'm not equipped for this kind of explosion," Bobby replied, already carrying Elias toward the changing table. The poor baby's diaper was overflowing, his onesie soaked, his face red from crying.

Athena stripped Gabrielle's bed, piling blankets and sheets in the corner, then ran a cool washcloth over her daughter's sticky face. "It's okay, my love," she murmured softly. "Mama's right here. We'll get you cleaned up, okay?" Gabrielle nodded weakly, eyes half-closed. In the nursery, Bobby worked fast, humming under his breath as he cleaned Elias up, whispering, "You poor little guy...you don't even know what hit you, huh?" Elias's cries softened as soon as Bobby finished, his tiny fingers clutching his dad's shirt.

When Athena carried Gabrielle into the bathroom for a quick rinse, Bobby met her there, holding Elias in a clean onesie. They exchanged the kind of look only parents truly understood—a mix of exhaustion, worry, and the wordless, we've got this. Gabrielle whimpered as Athena washed the vomit out of her hair. "Mama, my tummy huwts..."

"I know, baby," Athena whispered. "You've got a little bug, that's all. You're gonna rest with Mama today." Athena turned around to look at Bobby, shooting him a look that was half stern, half loving. "You're calling out." He blinked. "I am?"

"You are," Athena said, firm but soft. "We're all going down together—I'm gonna need help with both kids." Bobby smiled tiredly, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe. "Yes, ma'am."

By the time Athena finished rinsing Gabrielle off and wrapping her in a warm towel, the bathroom smelled faintly of lavender soap and baby lotion, the scent of comfort. Gabrielle leaned against her mama's shoulder, fever-warm and drowsy, clutching her clean pajamas in one hand. Elias was sat on the fuzzy bath mat while Bobby left the room.

Out in the hallway, Bobby's phone buzzed in his pocket. He sighed, rubbing his temple. He already knew who it was before he looked.

Captain Gerrard.

The man's timing was impeccable, and not in a good way. Bobby picked up the phone, pressing it to his ear. "Hey, Cap."

"Nash," Gerrard's voice crackled through the line. "You're supposed to be in at 0700. You running late?" Bobby exhaled slowly, glancing toward the bathroom where he could hear Athena humming softly to Gabrielle, getting her dressed into her new pajamas and drying her hair. "I'm calling in sick, Cap." A pause. Then a snort. "You don't sound sick."

Bobby sighed internally. "I'm not. But my wife and kids are, bad. Stomach bug. The baby's ten months old, Cap, and he's got it rough. I can't leave Athena to handle both of them alone."

"Bobby, you're a firefighter, not a babysitter," Gerrard said flatly. "We've got two guys out already—you're up for shift rotation. We need you here." Bobby's voice stayed calm, but the exhaustion bled through. "With respect, sir, my family needs me here more. Athena's sick too. I can't just walk out on them." Gerrard huffed. "You're telling me a little flu's keeping you from doing your job?"

Bobby pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting to stay patient. "It's not the flu, it's a stomach virus—and my daughter's three, my son's still in diapers, and my wife's throwing up every hour. I'm doing my job, Captain. Just at home today."

"Nash, if I let every man take off because his kid had a cold—" Bobby's voice sharpened just slightly. "If your family was sick like this, you'd understand." There was a long pause. Gerrard sighed, clearly irritated but realizing he was cornered when the alarms went off, signaling there was an emergency. "Fine. Take your sick day. But I expect you back next shift."

"Appreciate it," Bobby said curtly, hanging up before the man could change his mind. He let out a heavy breath and set the phone down. From the hallway, Athena called softly, "Everything alright?" Bobby nodded, heading toward the bathroom where Athena was helping Gabrielle into her clean clothes, a soft green pajama set with princess Tiana on the front. Her curls were still damp, and Athena gently worked some leave-in through her daughter's hair with careful, practiced fingers.

"Gerrard being Gerrard," Bobby said quietly, crouching beside them. "Tried to tell me I wasn't sick enough to stay home." Athena scoffed under her breath. "He's lucky I didn't answer that phone."

Bobby smirked. "Trust me, that thought crossed my mind." Gabrielle gave a tired little sniffle, looking down at Elias who had pulled himself up against Athena's leg. "Mama, I sleepy."

"I know, baby girl," Athena whispered, kissing the top of her head. "Daddy's changing your sheets, okay? Then you can go lay down." Bobby nodded and stood, heading into Gabrielle's room. The smell of vomit lingered, but the sunlight through her window softened everything, turning the chaos into something strangely domestic.

He tossed the soiled sheets into the laundry basket, then pulled out clean ones from the dresser. Meanwhile, Athena gathered up the laundry. Both kids' bedding, pajamas, towels and headed toward the washer. Elias was wrapped snug against her chest in the baby sling, his tiny head nestled beneath her chin. His breaths came fast and shallow, poor thing still uncomfortable from his stomach troubles.

"It's okay, my boy," Athena murmured, rubbing his back as she started the machine. "Mama's just gotta load the machine and then I'll get you some medicine." The rhythmic churn of the washer filled the laundry room as she loaded in the damp bundles.

When she came back down the hall, Gabrielle was lying on her bedroom floor, wrapped in a small blanket, her bunny tucked beneath her chin. Her eyes were heavy but she watched her daddy work with quiet fascination. Bobby gave her a tired little grin as he shook out the clean fitted sheet. "You supervising me, sweetheart?" Gabrielle gave the smallest smile. "Mhm."

Athena leaned against the doorway, one hand supporting Elias's back. The sight before her,  her husband smoothing out the corners of their daughter's bed, their sick little girl fighting to keep her eyes open, made her heart ache and swell all at once. Bobby finished tucking in the sheet, then crouched down and brushed Gabrielle's cheek. "Alright, peanut. Fresh sheets, clean pajamas, good to go." Gabrielle blinked slowly. "Thank you, Daddy." Bobby smiled. "Always, peanut." Athena walked over to Gabby and crouched, Elias' head lolled back before Athena cupped the back of his head and pressed his cheek against her chest.

"Baby, come brush your teeth and then you can have some breakfast." Athena gently brushed a curl behind Gabrielle's ear. Gabby shook her head no. "I'm not hungy.." Bobby walked over and lifted her up. She was limp against him like a weighted blanket. "Well why dont you go brush your teeth—get that icky taste outta your mouth, hm? And then we can cuddle and watch some Blues Clues?" Bobby rubbed her back gently. Gabrielle perked up at Blues Clues.

As Bobby walked down the hall towards the bathroom, Gabrielle looked up at him. "It tastes icky."

"I know, sweetheart," Bobby said, voice light and kind. "We’re gonna get your teeth pearly white." Gabrielle laid her cheek against his shoulder, small fingers clinging to his shirt. In the bathroom, he set her on the counter, steadying her with one hand as he ran warm water over her little toothbrush—the one with the tiny cartoon ladybugs on the handle.

"Okay," he said softly. "Minty toothpaste, just a little bit. We don't want it too spicy, right?" Gabrielle gave a faint, sleepy giggle. " ‘picy."

"Yeah," Bobby smiled. "We'll skip the spicy." He brushed her teeth gently with the kid’s toothpaste with strawberry flavor instead of the minty one, humming low and soothing while she held onto his wrist for balance. "There we go...up top...and the bottom...good job." When they were done, he handed her a small cup of water to rinse and spit, then dabbed her mouth with a towel.

"All clean," he said proudly, booping her nose. "Like nothing ever happened." Gabrielle smiled tiredly, her eyes drooping. "Thank you, Daddy."

"Anytime, peanut." He lifted her back into his arms, kissing her temple before carrying her toward her room. Meanwhile downstairs, Athena had retreated to the master bathroom. Elias still tucked in the baby sling, sleeping soundly against her chest, his small breaths warm and steady against her collarbone.

She stood at the sink, brushing her teeth with slow, tired motions, her reflection pale but calm. Every so often, she'd glance down at her son, one hand automatically cupping his little back to keep him snug and secure.

When she finished, she spat, rinsed, and ran her hand gently down the baby's back. "You're lucky you don't have teeth yet, little man," she murmured softly, smiling to herself. "One less thing to deal with." She looked toward the bedroom door where Bobby's faint voice could be heard—that calm, patient "dad voice" he only used with the kids. Of course he used a different voice with her that she definitely loves too.

 

__________

 

By midmorning, the Nash house had officially surrendered to chaos. Athena had managed to get both kids settled for a short nap. Gabrielle bundled in a blanket on the couch, Elias asleep in his baby rocker—while Bobby tried to sanitize every surface that had been touched since sunrise.

The sound of the washer and dryer ran constantly, blending with the hum of the baby monitor and the faint creak of the floorboards as Bobby moved from room to room, gathering towels, cups, and discarded tissues. Athena had retreated to the couch, one hand lazily rubbing Gabrielle's back, the other holding a cup of ginger tea that had long gone cold. Her head lolled against the cushion, eyelids heavy.

For a brief moment, the house was quiet.

And then—

"Whats that-," Bobby murmured, hearing a wet, unmistakable squelch from the rocker. He looked over and winced. "Oh buddy..." Elias was awake, red-eyed and uncomfortable, his diaper clearly no match for the situation. Bobby sighed, scooping up the baby under the arms. Athena stirred, mumbling through half-sleep. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," Bobby said gently. "Just a code brown." Athena cracked an exhausted smile. "Send backup." He chuckled softly. "You just rest. I got this." Bobby carried Elias to the nursery changing table, doing the delicate dance only parents know—removing the soiled onesie, using what felt like a hundred wipes, and trying to keep a squirmy ten-month-old from making a bigger mess.

Elias fussed, whimpering softly, his tummy clearly still upset and all these wipes starting to irritate his skin. Bobby hummed quietly as he worked, voice low and soothing. "I know, buddy. It's no fun. We're gonna get you cleaned up, alright?" When he finished, he wrapped Elias in a clean onesie and scooped him up, pressing a kiss to his temple. "Good as new. Mostly. I’m just gonna put a towel under you next time.”

He brought Elias back to the living room just as Gabrielle sat up abruptly, face scrunching in discomfort. "Mama..." she whimpered, holding her little hand to her mouth. "I dun feels good." Athena blinked awake instantly, her instincts kicking in. "It's okay, baby, it's okay—" Bobby moved fast, grabbing the small plastic bucket from beside the couch, but Gabrielle shook her head stubbornly, tears already forming. "No, I dun wanna!"

"I know you don't, sweet girl," Athena soothed, rubbing her back as Bobby knelt beside them. "Nobody likes it. But it'll help your tummy feel better." Gabrielle shook her head again, starting to cry harder. The sound made Elias frown too, his little bottom lip wobbling.

Bobby rubbed Gabrielle's back in slow circles, voice calm and steady. "Hey, peanut. It's okay. Daddy's right here." After a few tense moments, it happened—and Athena, ever the pro by now, held Gabrielle's curls gently back while Bobby stayed close with tissues and a damp washcloth.

When it was over, Gabrielle slumped against her mama, exhausted and tearful. Athena wiped her mouth gently and whispered, "It's all done, baby. You did so good." Gabrielle sniffled, clutching Athena's arm. "Mama..."

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

"I dun like beings sicky." Athena smiled weakly, pressing a kiss to her daughter's forehead. "Me neither, baby. Me neither." Bobby brought over a fresh blanket and tucked it around both of them. He then walked over to the pack and play bed in the corner of the livingroom and layed a towel ontop of the mattress and layed Elias back down with a bottle of warm milk.

A few minutes later, Athena groaned softly, hand over her own stomach. "Ooh. Speak of the devil." Bobby frowned. "You too?" She nodded slowly, pushing herself up. "Yeah. Guess it's my turn." She said, her brows already furrowed. "Sit, I'll—"

Athena held up a hand, waving him off with a faint laugh. "Bobby Nash, you do not wanna be in that bathroom right now." He smirked despite himself. "I've seen worse."

"Not from me you haven't," she teased weakly, making her way down the hall. Bobby raised a brow as he walked behind her. “Yes I have? I’ve seen both the best and the worst.” Athena shook her head, “Nuh-uh, just..just stay out..!” She said, feeling bile come up her throat before dashing to the bathroom.

A minute later, Bobby heard her retching through the cracked bathroom door, and his chest tightened. He wanted to help, to do something—but there wasn't much he could do except wait. When Athena emerged a few minutes later, pale and trembling, she leaned against the wall. Bobby met her halfway, steadying her with a hand on her back. "You okay?" he murmured.

"Yeah," she breathed, trying to smile. "Just...flashbacks. Morning sickness all over again." Bobby chuckled softly, rubbing her arm. "At least back then we got a baby out of it." Athena managed a tired grin. "This time, I just get laundry and vomit."

"Lucky you," he teased, and she swatted his arm weakly before collapsing onto the couch again. He tucked a blanket around her and kissed the top of her head. Gabrielle was bundled on the couch, cocooned under a blanket, head resting in Athena’s lap. Elias was in the pack and play bed, cheeks flushed, suckling on his bottle and his little tummy gurgling as he started to slip into sleep.

Athena leaned her head back against the couch, sighing through her nose. Her throat ached, her stomach still queasy, and she felt like she’d been hit by a truck. Bobby came back from the kitchen, carrying a tray with crackers, Pedialyte, and a fresh cool cloth. He set it down on the coffee table and gave her a sympathetic smile. “You hanging in there, babe?”

Athena groaned. “Barely. My whole body hurts.” Bobby knelt beside her, brushing his hand over her knee before checking Gabrielle’s forehead again. “Her fever’s down a little. That’s a good sign.” Athena looked down at her husband—the only one in the house who didn’t look like death warmed over, and squinted at him. “You know what I don’t get?” she croaked. “What’s that?”

“How you’re not sick,” she said, her voice tired but incredulous. “You’ve been kissing all of us, sharing food, holding the baby who’s been blowing raspberries full of germs in your face…and look at you. Perfectly fine.” Bobby chuckled quietly, trying to look innocent. “Guess I’ve just got a strong immune system.” Athena raised an eyebrow. “A strong immune system?”

“Mmhmm.” He grinned. “Years of Minnesota winters, sweetheart. Builds you different.” Athena let out a groan that turned into a laugh. “Must be nice,” she muttered. “Out here sweating and throwing up while you’re walking around like you’re invincible.”

“Not invincible,” he said, kissing her forehead. “Just sturdy.”

“Sturdy,” Athena repeated, shaking her head. “You’re an asshole is what you are.” Bobby laughed, soft and low, brushing her cheek with his thumb. “Maybe. But I’m your asshole.”

“Unfortunately,” she sighed, fighting a smile as she adjusted Gabrielle’s blanket. “Fortunately,” he corrected, smirking. Athena rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. He kissed her again, right on the forehead, earning a halfhearted, “You’re gonna catch it,” from her. “Maybe,” he said easily, heading back toward the kitchen. “But it’s worth it if it means not seeing Gerrad for a few more days.”

Athena watched him go, shaking her head with a tired smile. “Stupid Minnesota immune system,” she muttered under her breath. From the couch, Gabrielle stirred, blinking blearily. “Mama?” Athena brushed her daughter’s curls back. “Shh, it’s okay, baby. Go back to sleep.” And as the house quieted again—the faint hum of the dishwasher, the rhythmic tick of the clock—Athena leaned back, exhausted but full-hearted. Her husband might be an immune-system superhero, her babies might be sick, and she might feel like death herself…

…but she wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Chapter Text

(2518 words)

April—2014

The house smelled faintly of cinnamon waffles and cocoa butter, the soundtrack of a Saturday morning humming in the background. Cartoons, the low rumble of the dryer, and Athena's voice floating from upstairs as she hunted for one of Gabrielle's shoes. Naomi had just woken up from her nap, the kind of deep toddler slumber that left her cheeks pink and her curls matted in every direction. She blinked against the light, squinting as though she'd been asleep for two years straight. Which would be the entirety of her life.

"Hey there, sleepy bug," Bobby murmured softly, lifting her from her pack and play bed that was in the corner of the livingroom. She melted against him instantly, warm and heavy, still smelling faintly of baby lotion and dreams. He rocked her on his chest, one large hand supporting her diaper clad butt while the other rubbed gentle circles along her spine. Naomi's eyelids fluttered half-shut again.

Jake and the Neverland Pirates played on the TV, and Elias sat cross-legged on the couch, eyes wide, cereal bowl forgotten on the coffee table. "Yo-ho, let's go!" he shouted along, spoon in hand like a sword. Bobby smiled to himself. "Captain Nash and his crew," he muttered under his breath. "One pirate, one cranky parrot." Naomi yawned, completely unaware she was the parrot in this situation.

Upstairs, Athena was helping Gabrielle get ready for her best friend's birthday party—a pink tulle dress, white tights and sparkly sneakers. Athena hummed softly as she worked through Gabrielle's curls. "Hold still, baby," she said, parting another tiny section. She tied a black rubber band, then twisted the hair into a thin braid that ended in a perfect little curl. She was doing a rubber band braided hairstyle with curly ends, the kind often finished with colorful clips and playful patterns. By the time she finished, Gabrielle's head was covered in neat, tiny braids, each one decorated with pink butterfly clips. "You look just like springtime," Athena smiled, brushing a hand over Gabrielle's shoulder as the girl beamed at her reflection.

By the time the pair came down the stairs, Athena had her purse over one shoulder and Gabrielle clutched a brightly wrapped gift in both hands. The six-year-old was beaming, bouncing with excitement. "Alright, baby girl," Athena called toward the living room, "Daddy's got your brother and sister. You ready to go have some fun?" Gabrielle nodded enthusiastically. "There's gonna be cake and games, Mama!"

"Games?" Elias' head shot up from the couch, scandalized. "Why can't I go?"

"Because last time you played a game at a party, you pinned the tail on the birthday boys arm, not the donkey," Bobby explained, remembering how he apologized to the kids parents. Elias frowned. "It looked like da donkey." Athena laughed, coming over to kiss her son's forehead. "Next time, buddy."

As she straightened, Naomi spotted her mama—and that was it. Her lower lip started to wobble. She reached out both arms from Bobby's arms, whining softly, "Mamaaaa."

"Naomi.." Bobby muttered, already knowing what was coming. Athena smiled gently, brushing Naomi's curls back. "Hey, pumpkin. Mama's just taking Sissy to the party, okay? I'll be right back." Naomi's little brows furrowed, and her eyes went glossy. She clutched at Bobby's shirt but kept her arms reaching toward Athena, face crumpling like a storm cloud ready to break. Athena leaned in, pressing a kiss to her baby's forehead, then to Bobby's cheek. "You'll survive," she said with a smirk that was equal parts teasing and sympathetic.

"Define survive," Bobby murmured under his breath, and she just laughed. Athena and Gabrielle headed toward the door, and Naomi's tiny voice rose in protest—soft at first, then louder, shriller, heartbreakingly desperate. "Mama! Maaaamaaa!"
Gabrielle called over her shoulder, "Bye, Daddy! Bye, Eli! Bye, NayNay!" before skipping out the door.

The second it clicked shut, Naomi went completely still in Bobby's arms—silent but trembling, little chest rising fast. He rocked her gently. "It's okay, bug. Mama'll be back before you know it." But Naomi wasn't having it. She squirmed, face scrunching up as her bottom lip trembled again. "Mama goh," she whispered pitifully. Bobby sighed, brushing a thumb over her cheek. "Yeah, sweetheart. Mama's gone for a little bit."

Then the storm hit. "Noh!" Naomi wailed, pushing against his chest. "Noh Mama goh!"

The sound coming out of Naomi was something else. Not the normal, sleepy whine of a toddler who missed her mama. No—this was a full-blown, red-faced, kicking, back-arching, operatic-level tantrum. Elias sat a few feet away on the couch, his eyes wide but not sympathetic. The boy's face was the picture of judgment—brows scrunched, nose wrinkled, and lips pursed like he'd just smelled sour milk. "Bruh," he muttered, squinting at his little sister. "Why she screamin' like dat?"

"Elias," Bobby warned, bouncing Naomi gently as her cries echoed through the living room. "Not helping, buddy." Elias didn't move, just stared at Naomi, his little four-year-old face pinched in the most dramatic look of disgust Bobby had ever seen. Naomi threw herself backward in Bobby's arms, fists flailing. "Noh Mama! Noh Mama goh!" she sobbed. "Yeah, I got it, sweetheart," Bobby said through gritted teeth, trying to keep his voice calm even though his patience was thinning. "We've established that Mama's gone. She'll be back."

But Naomi wasn't hearing any of it. Every word out of his mouth was just more fuel for her fire. Her cries got louder, the little hiccuping, breathless kind that tugged on Bobby's heart and his last nerve. He sighed and looked at Elias, who still hadn't moved. The boy was glaring like a tiny grandpa judging a noise complaint. "Elias," Bobby said, voice low but firm. "Change your face." Elias blinked. "What?"

"Your face," Bobby repeated. "That one right there. Change it." Elias huffed and crossed his arms, his mouth twitching. "She's loud."

"Yeah, I know," Bobby said, rubbing his temple. "Believe me, I know." Naomi let out another dramatic wail, head thrown back, tears streaming, and Bobby could almost feel his blood pressure ticking up. He had done this before—twice, in fact—but never quite like this. Gabrielle had been a saint as a toddler. Sweet, calm, easy. He could count all her tantrums on one hand. And Elias...well, Elias had a stubborn streak, sure, but he was mostly sunshine and giggles, the kind of kid who could be redirected with a snack or a joke.

Naomi, though?

Naomi was something else entirely.

She was her mama's fire and her daddy's persistence wrapped up in two feet of curls, sass, and unpredictable emotions. Sometimes she was pure sweetness—snuggly, affectionate, funny. Other times, like right now, it was as if there was a tiny angel on one shoulder and a devil with a bullhorn on the other, and the devil always won. Bobby took a deep breath and tried again. "Alright, bug. How about this, you and Daddy go get a snack? Maybe some applesauce?"

Naomi hiccuped, rubbing her wet cheeks, sniffling pitifully. Then, just as Bobby started to think he'd broken through, she gave a slow, deliberate shake of her head.

"Noh."

Bobby blinked. "No?"

"Noh."

"Okay," he said carefully, "what about some milk?"

"Noh."

"Juice?"

"Noh!"

He glanced over at Elias, who was trying hard not to laugh now. "Don't," Bobby warned without even looking. Elias bit his lip, shoulders shaking. Naomi sniffled again, then declared, "Mama home," in the same tone one might use to announce a royal decree.

Bobby sighed, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Sorry, sweetheart. Not yet. Just you, me, and Eli for a bit." Naomi's bottom lip jutted out again, and Bobby could see it coming—round two of the meltdown. He closed his eyes briefly, then looked heavenward. "Lord," he muttered under his breath, "grant me the patience of a preschool teacher." Elias perked up from his seat. "What's a peesckool teacha?"

"Someone who deals with this every day," Bobby said, patting Naomi's back as she started to cry again. "And still chooses to come back the next morning." Elias blinked, impressed. "Dats bave."

"Yeah," Bobby said, walking in circles with Naomi in his arms. "They really are brave."

Naomi had finally calmed down or so Bobby thought. Her sobs had quieted into soft sniffles, her lashes still wet and clumpy from tears. Bobby took the opportunity to gently set her down on the living room rug, squatting down so they were eye level. "Alright, baby girl," he said softly, smoothing her curls back from her face. "Daddy's just gonna grab you some juice, okay? You stay right here and play with your blocks." Naomi sniffled, her little face scrunching. "Noh."

Bobby smiled patiently. "Yeah, I know you want Mama. But you can play for a sec while Daddy—"

"Noh!" she interrupted louder this time, stomping her tiny foot like a miniature storm. He exhaled through his nose, calm but already on edge. "Okay. Daddy's still getting your juice." He turned toward the kitchen, but the second her toes left the rug and hit the cool floor, Naomi screamed. A high-pitched, dramatic, almost operatic wail that could've shattered glass.

Bobby froze halfway to the fridge, then slowly turned around. Naomi was toddling after him, tears streaming, her curls bouncing wildly as she clung to his pant leg with a death grip. "Noh goh, Daddy! Noh goh!"

"Sweetheart, I'm not going anywhere," Bobby said, voice tight with forced patience. "I'm literally two steps away—"

"NOH GOOOOOH!" she cried, face red, nose running, her words dissolving into hiccupy sobs. Elias looked up from the couch, eyebrows raised. "She needa stop," Bobby glared at him. "Don't."

"I'm just sayin'," Elias muttered, crossing his arms. Bobby sighed and grabbed Naomi's sippy cup from the counter, filling it halfway with water, halfway with juice. He turned around just in time to see Naomi toddle over again, still whining, little fists balled up at her sides like she was ready for war. "Okay, bug," he said, crouching down and holding out the cup. "Here ya go."

Naomi sniffled, taking the cup carefully with both hands. For one glorious second, there was peace. Bobby could've sworn the heavens parted.

Then—thunk.

The cup hit the floor. Juice everywhere. Bobby blinked slowly. "...Naomi." She just stared at him, big brown eyes glistening with defiance. He picked up the cup, wiped it off and wiped the floor, refilled it a little, and tried again. "Alright. Let's try that again. Nice and easy, okay? No throwing." Naomi took it, lifted it to her mouth—then chucked it further this time.

"NAOMI GRACE," Bobby said, his voice dropping an octave, full Dad Mode now engaged. From the couch, Elias groaned dramatically. "Daddy can you make her stop?"

"Elias, I've got a lot on my plate right now," Bobby said, cleaning up the second juice spill. "She makin' my ears sad," Elias complained, sticking his fingers in them. "Well, your sister's two," Bobby said through a sigh. "She doesn't understand the concept of volume control yet." Naomi crossed her arms and glared up at him, lip trembling but chin set. "Noh sippy. Noh juu. Noh Daddy." Bobby blinked. "Excuse me?" She pointed her tiny finger at him like a queen banishing her knight. "Noh Daddy." Elias let out a snort.

Bobby turned slowly toward his son. "You think this is funny?" Elias bit his lip, trying and failing not to laugh. "Kinda." Bobby exhaled through his nose. "You're lucky I'm too tired for a lecture." He crouched down to Naomi's level again. "Alright, little miss. You've got two choices, you can sit with Daddy and calm down, or you can go sit on the couch with your brother." Naomi's eyes narrowed, gears visibly turning in her toddler brain.

"Noh," she said flatly. Bobby stared. "That wasn't one of the options."

"Noh," she repeated, shaking her head, curls flying. Elias groaned louder this time. "She's bowken, Daddy." Bobby rubbed his temples and muttered under his breath, "Terrible twos, my ah....ss" Bobby caught himself before he swore, stretching the word out. "Terrible twos. They should call it tiny dictatorships." Naomi stomped her foot once more, just to drive the point home. “Alright.” Bobby sighed and held his hands up.

He walked over to the couch and sat down, his son just a few feet away. Naomi toddled over too, now standing in the middle of the living room—her curls frizzed out, cheeks sticky with tears, and her pout set deep.

Naomi stomped her bare foot once. "Noh sit. Noh Daddy. No budder." She blurted. "Okay," Bobby said, leaning back slightly. "So, all no's. Got it." Naomi sniffled, triumphant in her chaos. Bobby exhaled through his nose, eyes glancing around the room. He wasn't about to get into a full-on debate with a toddler. There was no winning that. Then—his Dad instincts kicked in. Distraction.

"Hey, Naomi," he said suddenly, tone changing. "Did you see that?" Naomi froze, confused. "Wha?" Bobby pointed dramatically toward the kitchen. "I think...I think there's a snack hiding in there." Naomi's tears hiccuped to a stop. "Snak?"

"Yeah," Bobby said, voice low and full of wonder. "But it's sneaky. It only shows up for good listeners." Naomi's eyes went wide. "seeky snak?"

"Mm-hm." Bobby nodded seriously. "Might even be a graham cracker. But only for little girls who sit nice on the couch and wait for Daddy to bring it." Naomi blinked at him for a few long seconds, suspicious. Then, like a light switch, she sniffled once and toddled over to the couch—tiny legs moving fast. She didn't sit on his lap, though. She climbed right next to Elias, tucking her legs under her and wiping her nose with the back of her hand.

Elias stared at her like she was some alien creature. "You...listenin’now?" Naomi looked at him, blinking. "Snak.”

"Of course," Elias muttered. Bobby grinned quietly to himself, standing up and heading to the kitchen. He grabbed a small pack of animal crackers, ripped it open, and walked back in like a hero returning from battle. "Look what Daddy found," he said, holding the pack up. Naomi gasped like it was the most magical thing she'd ever seen. "Snak!"

"Yep." Bobby handed it to her. "For good listeners." Naomi took the bag with both hands, still sniffling, and sat back on the couch. She popped one cracker in her mouth, satisfied.

Bobby sat down beside them, finally exhaling. "You see, Elias?" he said quietly. "Parenting is all about strategy." Elias glanced up at him, unimpressed. "Daddy, you can’t gives a cookie to a cookie monster." Bobby smiled tiredly. "Elias, just…please." Naomi held up an animal cracker proudly. "SnakDaddy."

Bobby laughed softly, combing his hand throug her curls. "Yeah, baby girl. Snack Daddy." For the first time that afternoon, there was peace in the Nash household—even if it was bought with crumbs and pure survival instinct.

Chapter Text

(2394 words)

May—2021

It started as a random wednesday nights—the kids were in bed, the house finally still. The air between Bobby and Athena had been easy and warm all evening, the kind of quiet comfort that only comes from years of love and routine. Then, the comfort turned to closeness. The kind that had always come naturally for them, even after all these years. But afterward—when the laughter faded and the lamp was the only thing still glowing—Athena's heart jumped.

It was the soft snap sound. The one she didn't want to hear. Then something felt...off. "Wait," Athena murmured, pulling back just enough to glance at Bobby. He froze, reading her face instantly. "What?"

"...Something doesn't feel right." Bobby blinked, frowned a little, then pulled out to check, and there it was. One look, and the problem was obvious. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me," he muttered under his breath, holding up the evidence. Athena stared at him, then at it, then back at him. "Please tell me that's not—" He gave her a wry, helpless look. "The condom broke." A heavy pause hung between them, the air thick with disbelief and irony. Athena groaned, collapsing back against the pillows. "Of course it is. Because why wouldn't it be?"

Finally, Bobby exhaled a quiet laugh. "Well. We always said we make good kids." Athena shot him a look. "Don't even start, Nash." Bobby took off the broken condom and tossed it in the trash. "What?" Athena groaned, dropping her face into her hands, though her mouth twitched like she wanted to smile. "Bobby—we're finally way past diapers. Finally. You know how long it took me to get my sleep back?" He leaned closer, rubbing her back. "Hey. Whatever happens...we'll handle it. Like we always do."

"I know." She sighed, leaning into his touch. "It's just—I can't tell if I'm terrified or...kind of okay with it." Bobby smiled softly. "You'd be an amazing mom all over again. And if it's not the case, that's okay too. We're good either way."

 

____

 

The next morning started like any other weekday morning, except for the fact that Athena's brain had been on a quiet, spiraling loop since 5 a.m.

'What if I am? No, no way. But what if?'

Downstairs, toast popped, the coffee machine hissed, and Bobby was halfway between making lunches and reminding Elias that his backpack was still by the front door. Gabrielle was at the kitchen island, scrolling through her phone and nibbling on a piece of fruit, while Naomi sat cross-legged on the floor, putting on one sock at the speed of a snail. Athena stood at the counter, butter knife in hand, staring at the toaster like it held the answers to her future. Bobby noticed. "You okay, honey?"

She blinked, forcing a small smile. "Yeah. Yeah, fine." He gave her a look. The kind of look that said he knew she was lying but also knew better than to press before caffeine. Gabrielle groaned dramatically from the island. "Mom, can you tell Elias to stop breathing so loud?" Elias shot back instantly, "I'm not even breathing loud!" Gabrielle grimaced—very disgusted. "Yeah well break h loud somewhere else, you have cooties and I don't want your cootie breath on me."

Elias looked at his older sister like she was stupid. "Yeah—real mature Gabby, cooties aren't even real?!" Gabrielle scoffed. "Yeah they are—with you they are! You don't even brush your teeth before bed?!" Bobby and Athena turned around to stare at their kids. "You don't brush your teeth before bed?" Athena asked, eyeing Elias. The boy looked at his parents, lips closed tight. "Buddy, am I gonna have to go upstairs every night and monitor you like a toddler just to make sure you brush your teeth?" Bobby asked, raising and eyebrow. Elias shook his head while Gabby rolled her eyes at him. "Go double brush." Athena said as Elias disappeared upstairs.

Athena took a slow breath. "Everyone, finish breakfast. We leave in ten." The words were automatic—muscle memory from more than a decade of parenting—but her thoughts were somewhere else entirely.

Last night kept replaying in her mind. The sound, the look on Bobby's face, the way they'd both just stared in disbelief.

'You're almost forty, Athena,'

her brain whispered.

'You just got your nights back. The last kid is almost in middle school. You survived teething, sleep regressions, and the toddler Naomi..'

And yet, under all the panic, a smaller, softer thought crept in,

'Would it really be so bad?'

"Mom, can you sign my permission slip?" Gabrielle slid a paper in front of her. "Huh? Oh—yeah." Athena snapped back to reality, quickly scrawling her signature. She caught her reflection in the microwave door—still beautiful, still strong, but a little dazed. Bobby came up behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist. "You ok?" he murmured, just for her. She nodded, exhaling slowly. "I just...didn't sleep great."

He kissed her temple. "You've been off since last night." Athena hesitated, then muttered quietly, "You'd be off too if a piece of latex tried to ruin your whole life plan." Bobby stifled a laugh. "Athena..."

"I'm serious, Bobby! I'm not going back to diapers and 2 a.m. feedings. I just got my body and my sanity back." He smiled gently. "Thena, you've had both of those for years." She sighed, leaning into him despite herself. "You're way too calm about this. Seriously." He smirked. "That's because one of us has to be." Before she could reply, Naomi appeared in the doorway holding her shoes—two different ones. "Mama, which foot does this go on?" Athena blinked, then smiled faintly. "See? This is exactly what I mean."

Bobby chuckled. "You love it." Athena gave him a side-eye. "I love you. This is debatable." He kissed her cheek and went to grab his keys, while she gathered her things and her composure. Athena sighed and looked at her daughter, sweet babygirl Naomi. "Baby, you know which shoe it goes on." Athena cupped one hand on her daughter's cheek. Naomi smiled at her mom and nodded. "I know, I just wanted to see you again before I leave!" Athena sighed through her nose and pulled her daughter in for a hug, chuckling despite herself. "We still have time baby—I'm dropping you off today, Daddy's taking your siblings."

Naomi giggled as Athena kissed her forehead, still clutching one of her sneakers. "Baby, go grab your backpack," Athena said gently. Naomi rolled her eyes, already halfway to a preteen sigh. "I know, Mama." Athena arched a brow. "Excuse me?" Naomi huffed but smiled anyway, backpedaling. "Yes, ma'am."

"That's better." Athena smirked and handed her the correct shoe. From the kitchen, Bobby called out, "Tell your mom I made coffee!" Athena called back, "Tell your dad I'm two steps ahead of him!" Athena leaned against the counter, watching it all unfold, warmth tugging at her chest.

Maybe it was last night's scare still playing on her mind, or maybe it was just this—her family in motion, her babies growing up right before her eyes—but the thought of another little one didn't feel so impossible anymore. Naomi came back in, hair half-done, backpack slipping off one shoulder. "Mama, which sneakers should I wear? My white ones or my pink ones?"

"Whichever don't have mud on them," Athena replied, still distracted by her thoughts. Naomi scrunched her nose. "So...neither?" Athena looked up and gave her daughter a look that made her laugh. "White ones, baby. Go." Naomi grinned and disappeared again. Athena felt Bobby behind her again before he said anything, the soft brush of his hand at her waist, the warmth of him. "You sure you're ok?" he murmured. "Yeah," she said, quiet. "Just thinking."

He hummed. "About?" She nodded toward the hallway where Naomi was trying to stuff a hoodie into her bag. "About how fast they're growing. How it feels like we blinked and...they went from teething to talking back." Bobby chuckled softly. "Well, some things haven't changed. They still leave socks everywhere." Athena smiled, shaking her head. "Mm. That's true."

He pressed a kiss to her temple, his voice low. "You'd do it all again, wouldn't you?" She glanced up at him, brow raised. "Do what?"

"The baby thing."

Athena huffed out a soft laugh. "After last night? Please. I almost had a heart attack."

"Almost," Bobby teased. "Almost," she echoed, but her voice softened as she watched Naomi reappear, proudly showing she'd tied her sneakers and zipped her hoodie. "Ready," Naomi said, grinning. Athena looked at her for a long second—really looked—then smiled. "Let's go, baby." As they headed for the door, Bobby called after them, "Love you, ladies!" Naomi shouted, "Love you, Daddy!"

And as Athena drove Naomi to school, her daughter humming along to the radio, the thought flickered again—small, quiet, and unshakable.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to start over.

 

___________

 

It had been nearly three weeks since "the accident," as Athena half-jokingly called it. Three weeks of counting days, overanalyzing every small cramp, every wave of nausea, every moment of fatigue. Three weeks of telling herself she wasn't worried—and then worrying anyway. Bobby didn't press. He'd catch her staring into her coffee or spacing out while folding laundry, and he'd just reach out, touch her hand, grounding her without a word.

Tonight, though, Athena finally caved. After a late shift, she stood in the pharmacy aisle for ten minutes, arms crossed, pretending to read the backs of boxes when she already knew exactly which one she'd grab. She tossed it into her basket between toothpaste and paper towels, like that could make it less of a big deal. By the time she got home, the house was quiet, kids already asleep, Bobby in the kitchen rinsing out the dinner dishes. He glanced up as she came in.

"Hey," he said, drying his hands. "You okay?" Athena lifted the small paper bag slightly, wordless. He paused, then nodded, soft understanding passing between them. "You want me to wait with you?" She hesitated, then sighed. "Yeah...yeah, I do." They went to their room, the house dim and peaceful. The quiet felt louder than usual. In the bathroom, Athena unwrapped the box, hands steady but heart racing. Bobby leaned against the doorway, not saying a thing—just being there.

Athena stood at the sink, the little pink box sitting on the counter like it was staring her down. Bobby looked at the box, then his wife. "You gonna open it, or are we just gonna admire the packaging all night?" She shot him a look. "I'm thinking about it."

"Thinking doesn't change the result, honey."

"I know that." She sighed and picked up the box. "It's just...we haven't done this in years."

"10 years," Bobby said. "But who's counting." She chuckled softly. "You are, apparently.”

Athena opened the boox and took out the little package. she tore it open and there it was, an unused pregnancy test. She took off the little pink cap and pulled her pants down before sitting down and peeing on the test strip. After she was done, she put the cap back on and set it down on the counter, and washed her hands and wiped down the test. Then she leaned against the sink, arms crossed, eyes flicking to the small white stick like it was a ticking time bomb.

For a long minute, neither of them spoke. Then Athena broke the silence. "You know...it wouldn't be that bad." Bobby glanced at her. "Oh?" She shrugged. "I mean, sure, we’ve been done with diapers and midnight feedings and all that. But...we've done it before. We could do it again. We're older, wiser. We could handle it."

"You're not wrong," Bobby said softly. Athena turned toward him, her voice quieter now. "The house is quieter these days. The kids don't need me the way they used to. I miss that sometimes. The little feet running down the hall, the 2 a.m. cuddles, the way a baby just...fits right in your arms, you know?" Bobby smiled, his eyes soft. "I know." She laughed under her breath. "And if it was another girl? Naomi would lose her mind. If it was a boy, Elias would finally have someone to actually do all that weird crap boys do."

"Gabrielle would babysit for exactly five minutes before demanding payment." Athena grinned. "Exactly." Her voice softened. "I guess what I'm saying is...maybe it wouldn't be so bad to start over. To have another piece of us." Bobby reached for her hand, intertwining their fingers. "Athena, whatever happens—whatever you decide—I'm with you. You know that." She nodded, her chest tightening in that familiar mix of love and fear. "I know."

They stood there together, watching the seconds tick by on her phone timer. Each one felt heavy, like it carried a whole lifetime of what-ifs. When the timer buzzed softly, Athena's breath caught. She reached for the test. Bobby stayed quiet, just watching her face. And then...she exhaled. Long and slow.

 

Negative.

 

She stared for a moment, trying to gauge how she felt. Relieved? Maybe. Sad? A little. It was both—like closing a door she hadn't realized she'd left open. Bobby stepped closer, gently brushing her cheek with his thumb. "You okay?" She nodded. "Yeah. Just...processing." He smiled softly. "Guess the universe has other plans." Athena leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. "Yeah. But still...it's nice to know we could." He kissed the top of her head. "We could. And we'd be good at it again, too."

She smiled faintly, letting out a quiet laugh. "You mean I'd be good at it. You'd just be along for the ride." Bobby chuckled. "Hey, every ride needs a driver." Athena rolled her eyes but smiled against his chest. The test sat forgotten on the counter as they stood there, the bathroom light soft and warm around them. Life moved forward—and even though the stick was negative, there was something oddly comforting in knowing that if the universe had decided to surprise them, they would've been just fine.

Together.

Chapter Text

(3191 words)

September 28th—2013

Athena heard the sound before she even opened her eyes. It started faint—a rustle through the baby monitor, a soft whine and for half a second, she thought maybe she'd imagined it. Maybe Naomi would roll over and go back to sleep. Maybe, just maybe, Athena could squeeze in another hour. Then came the cry.

"Mamaaaa!"

She groaned into her pillow, eyes still shut. "No," she muttered into the sheets. "No, no, no..." The cry came again, louder this time. "MAMAAAAA!" Athena rolled over, squinting at the alarm clock.
5:07 a.m. She flopped back dramatically and stared at the ceiling. "Why," she whispered to no one. Beside her, Bobby stirred. "You okay?" he mumbled, voice still gravelly with sleep. "Your daughter's awake," Athena said, already swinging her legs over the side of the bed. He gave a sleepy chuckle. "They're all my kids when they're sleeping. Soon as they wake up, they're yours."

"Mm-hm." She gave him a dry look over her shoulder. "Asshole." She swore, padding toward the hallway in her robe. The house was dark and quiet except for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the distant baby monitor. The air still carried that cool early-morning chill, and Athena's bare feet made soft sounds against the hardwood as she walked down the hall. The closer she got to Naomi's room, the louder the noises became
—little squeaks, the rhythmic thump of a crib mattress being jumped on.

When she opened the door, the sight that greeted her was equal parts adorable and exasperating. Naomi was standing tall in her crib, curls shooting in every direction like she'd been struck by lightning, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. Her pajama top was half unbuttoned, and one leg of her footie pajamas was rolled halfway up like she'd gotten into a fight with it overnight. She beamed when she saw Athena. "Hi!" Athena blinked, still adjusting to the light coming from the small night-light shaped like a cloud. "Hi?" she echoed groggily. "Baby, it's still nighttime."

Naomi didn't care. She pointed dramatically at the door. "Out." Athena sighed, leaning her head against the crib rail for a moment. "Sweetheart, it's too early. The sun's not even awake yet." Naomi pointed again, more insistently this time. "Out!" There was no reasoning with her. Athena reached down, lifting her daughter into her arms, and Naomi immediately wrapped herself around her mother's neck like a koala—all warm limbs and sleepy baby smell. "Lord have mercy," Athena murmured, rubbing Naomi's back as she left the room. "You couldn't sleep till six? Just one more hour?"

Naomi mumbled something unintelligible against her shoulder, half-yawn, half-grumble. Down the hall, Athena could hear the faint rumble of Bobby's snores and the white noise machine from the older kids' room. The rest of the house was blissfully still—the kind of silence that made this early-morning interruption feel even louder. In the kitchen, she shifted Naomi to one hip and turned on the coffee maker with her free hand. "You want breakfast?" Naomi lifted her head and blinked at her, eyes glassy but alert. "Snak."

"Of course," Athena muttered. "It's five in the morning. Let's have snacks." She poured herself a mug of coffee, took one long, soul-saving sip, and grabbed a small bowl of Cheerios for Naomi. The toddler plopped onto the couch, swinging her little feet as she munched one Cheerio at a time, eyes glued to the dark TV screen until Athena turned on some cartoons. By 5:30, Naomi was humming along to the theme song of Doc McStuffins while Athena sat next to her, sipping her coffee and staring blankly at the wall, mentally calculating how many hours were left in the day.

She looked at her daughter—wild-haired, sticky-fingered, already demanding another snack—and sighed with equal parts love and fatigue. "That's how you're gonna be today, huh?" she murmured. Naomi looked up at her with an innocent grin, a Cheerio stuck to her cheek. "Hi, Mama." Athena shook her head, smiling despite herself. "Yeah, hi. It's gonna be a long day, isn't it?"

The toddler grinned wider. "Uh-huh." And that was how the day started at 5:07 a.m., with lukewarm coffee, cartoons humming in the background, and a toddler who thought sleep was optional.

 

⸻

 

By 8:03 a.m. Athena had achieved what should've earned her a medal of national honor, all three children were clothed, fed, and buckled into the car. She didn't know how it happened. One minute she was pouring cereal and telling Elias for the fifth time that, no, he could not wear pajama pants to the market, and the next, she was standing in the driveway with her travel mug of coffee and her sanity hanging by a thread. Naomi was the main culprit.

That morning alone, Athena had changed Naomi's diaper twice, her outfit three times because apparently one shirt was "itchy," one was "too blue," and the third was "no" and wrestled her through the emotional trauma of choosing socks.

They were just socks. Tiny, pink, ruffled socks. But for reasons unknown to any adult logic, Naomi had decided that one of them was "bad." By the time Athena clicked the last car seat buckle, her coffee was lukewarm, her hair that she had straightened the night before was starting to frizz and curl, and she could feel her blood pressure thumping behind her eyes. Bobby came out with his thermos and that calm, unbothered morning energy that only someone who hadn't been wrestling with a toddler could possibly have.

"You ready?" he asked cheerfully, sliding into the driver's seat. "No," Athena said. "Drive before I change my mind." He chuckled, turning the key in the ignition. The radio came on softly—Frozen soundtrack, of course, because Gabrielle had asked to hear it all week while on her way to school. From the back row, Gabrielle belted, "Let it gooo!" with all the dramatic flair of a Broadway star. Elias sat in the middle seat, slouched over with his thumb in his mouth, mumbling something about wanting pancakes.

And Naomi in her car seat directly behind Athena was mad at her socks. Not the shoes. Not the seatbelt. The socks. Athena caught the first kick in the rearview mirror. Then the second. Then the third. The little pink ruffled sock launched like a missile, bouncing off the center console and disappearing somewhere under the passenger seat. "Naomi," Athena said, half-turning in her seat. "Put your foot down."

"Noh!" Athena blinked slowly, jaw tightening. "Excuse me?" Naomi's curls bounced as she kicked her bare foot in the air. "Noh!" It was the kind of defiant toddler "no" that seemed to echo through generations—the same word Athena was sure she'd once said to her own mother. Bobby bit the inside of his cheek, fighting a smile as he checked the side mirror. "You good?" he asked, trying to sound casual but clearly entertained. Athena stared at him. "I have been awake since five o'clock," she said flatly. "Ask me again after coffee." He held up a hand in mock surrender. "Yes, ma'am."

From the back, Gabrielle piped up between verses. "Mama, Naomi took her sock off!"

"I'm aware," Athena said, massaging her temple. Elias yawned. "Naomi loud."

"You're not wrong," Bobby said under his breath. Naomi, catching her brother's tone, glared at him. "NOH, Ewi!" Elias blinked, unimpressed. "ooh too loud." Athena turned her head just long enough to give both of them the 'Mama means business' look. "Everybody zip it for five minutes." The car fell into temporary silence, just the hum of the road and Elsa still singing in the background. Athena leaned her head back against the seat with a sigh, eyes half-closing. She took one long sip of coffee and muttered, "This was supposed to be a relaxing family outing."

"Relaxing," Bobby repeated, amused. "You sure you're talking about us?"

"Shut up and drive." For a few minutes, it almost felt peaceful. The road stretched out ahead, the trees flickered gold and orange in the morning light, and the kids were—"NOH SOCK!" Naomi screamed suddenly, breaking the calm like a grenade going off. Bobby jumped slightly, one hand steadying the steering wheel. "Lord—okay, okay. What's the issue now?" Naomi pointed accusingly at her remaining sock like it had personally offended her. "Noh sock!"

"Then take it off, baby," Bobby said evenly. "It's not hurting anybody." Naomi crossed her arms, tears brimming in her eyes. "NOH!" Athena groaned. "Then what do you want, Naomi?" Naomi's chin wobbled. "Sock bad!" Bobby glanced at Athena, who was pinching the bridge of her nose. "So...she wants the sock off because it's bad, but she's mad if it's off?"

"Apparently." He sighed and reached a hand back without looking away from the road. "Okay, honey. Gimme the sock." Naomi swatted at his hand, offended. "NOH!"

"Alright then, Daddy's out," Bobby said, hand returning to the wheel. Athena closed her eyes and took a slow breath. "Sweetheart, listen. We are going to the market. You can either wear both socks, or no socks. Those are your options." Naomi sniffled. "Noh." Athena gave her a long, tired look. "Of course." Gabrielle started singing again, louder this time, a high-pitched, off-key chorus of 'Do You Wanna Build a Snowman?' Elias groaned dramatically and buried his face in his jacket. "I wanna go's home," he mumbled. "You and me both," Athena said.

Bobby chuckled softly, navigating a red light. "Hey, guys, let's play the quiet game. Whoever stays quiet the longest gets a cookie when we get there." Naomi sniffled. "Cookie?"

"Yup," he said in his best dad voice. "But only for quiet kiddos." There was a brief pause, and then, miraculously, silence. Athena's eyes flicked open, suspicious. "Did that...work?" Bobby grinned. "Don't question it. Just enjoy it." For a few blissful minutes, the car hummed along peacefully. Gabrielle mouthed along to the music quietly. Elias had drifted back toward sleep. And Naomi...Naomi had found her missing sock. Athena saw it happen in slow motion—the toddler fishing it out from under her seat, examining it like it was some ancient artifact, and then proudly holding it up.

"Sock!"

"Good job, baby," Bobby said automatically, still focused on the road. Then Naomi flung it. It hit the back of Athena's seat with a wet slap. Athena froze. "Is that—was that wet?" Bobby's eyebrows furrowed. "Maybe condensation?"

"From what? Her feet?!" Naomi giggled maniacally. "Sock bye bye!" Athena took another long sip of her coffee. "You know what, I'm not even engaging. Not today." Bobby rubbed her thigh. "Parent of the year right here."

"Don't," she warned, eyes closed again. "You're driving. Focus on that."

"Hey, I'm driving and parenting. Multitasking."

"You're about to be driving and walking home if you don't stop."

That shut him up—for a few seconds, anyway. When Athena finally drifted into a light nap, Bobby kept one hand on the wheel and the other occasionally reaching back to pass a toy, adjust a shoe, or intercept a flying goldfish cracker. Naomi had apparently decided her juice box was "bad" now too, which led to a full five-minute monologue of "NOH JUU! NOH JUU!" punctuated by slaps on the cup holder. Elias grumbled, "Daddy, she doin' too much," and Bobby just said, "Yup," in the same tired tone all fathers eventually master.

By the time they pulled into the park's gravel lot, Athena stirred awake. "We there?"

"Yeah," Bobby said, easing into a parking spot. "And you missed all the fun." Athena stretched, blinking the sleep from her eyes. "What'd she destroy?" He looked over, lips twitching. "Let's just say there's a sock under your seat, a goldfish graveyard in the cup holder, and Elias might never want siblings again." Athena turned slowly in her seat to look at her toddler, who was now smiling sweetly like an angel, crumbs on her chin, curls haloed by sunlight. Naomi waved. "Hi, Mama."

Athena stared at her for a long moment, then looked at Bobby. "You deal with her first." Bobby nodded. "Fair. I got it." He turned to Naomi, softening his voice. "Alright, bug. We're here. You ready to see the market?" Naomi nodded eagerly. "Snak?"

"Of course." He opened the door, unbuckled her, and lifted her into the crisp fall air. She wriggled immediately, wanting down, already squirming to run. Athena got out on her side, taking a deep breath of the cool morning breeze, straightening her jacket, and muttering, "Okay. Fresh start. New environment. New attitude." Naomi immediately tried to sprint toward a stand full of apples. Athena sighed, catching her by the hood. "And there goes the new attitude."

Bobby laughed under his breath as he slung the diaper bag over his shoulder. "It's gonna be one of those days." Athena gave him a look that could cut through concrete. "It already is."

 

⸻

 

The farmers' market looked like a postcard—bright tents, baskets of fruit, fresh bread, the smell of cinnamon and and apple cider. It should have been lovely. But Naomi had other plans. She wanted to walk, not be in the stroller. Then she wanted to be carried, not walk. Then she wanted to push the stroller herself. Every time Athena tried to redirect her, it turned into a small battle. "Naomi, hold my hand."
" Noh. "
"Naomi, don't touch that."
" Noh! "
"Naomi, stay with Mama."
A louder " NOH! "

It was like reasoning with a tiny lawyer who hadn't had a nap. At first, Athena handled it like the seasoned mom she was—calm, patient, smile tight. She offered snacks, pointed out flowers, even crouched to Naomi's level and spoke softly. "Baby, you can walk next to Mama, okay? But you have to hold my hand." Naomi stared at her, eyes wide and wet. "Noh han." Then she bolted. Athena's heart dropped as her toddler made a break for a pile of pumpkins, yelling random babbles that if someone who hadn't been a parent or worked with toddlers wouldn't understands what shes saying. Bobby caught her before she got far, scooping her up mid-run while Elias and Gabrielle stared like they were watching a live-action show.

"That's it," Athena said, taking Naomi back and setting her firmly in the stroller. "We are done negotiating." Naomi screamed. The kind of scream that turned heads three booths away. Her little fists banged on the stroller tray, tears and fury all tangled together. "OUT! NOH STOWAH! OUT!"

"Naomi Grace Nash," Athena hissed through her teeth. "You are staying right there."

The nearby jam vendor winced in sympathy. Bobby rubbed the back of his neck. Gabrielle whispered to Elias, "I think Mama's gonna be mad." Elias nodded solemnly. "Uh-huh, NayNay bad." Athena had reached the end of her rope. The market was crowded, the noise of vendors and other families blending into a chaotic symphony of overstimulation, and Naomi was still wailing about everything and nothing all at once. Apples were too red, the pavement was too hard, the wind was too strong. Everything, somehow, was wrong.

"Alright, girl," Athena said firmly, lifting Naomi from the stroller and hugging her close. Naomi flailed for a second, then wrapped her arms weakly around her mama's neck as the first drops of rain began to patter against their heads. Athena groaned, tugging her own jacket tighter around them. "We're going, okay? Time for a break."

Naomi sniffled, hiccuping, but made no move to fight her mom. The second they stepped out of the market, the drizzle turned into a proper rain, soaking Athena's jacket and curling Naomi's frizzed-out curls against her forehead. Athena groaned audibly. "Perfect." She ducked her head and quickened her pace toward the car, shielding Naomi as best she could under the hood of her jacket.

By the time they reached the car, Naomi was breathing hard, cheeks flushed pink, and Athena's patience was fraying at the edges. She unlocked the doors, sliding into the driver's seat and dropping Naomi onto her lap. The child immediately buried her face against Athena's chest, her little hands clutching the fabric of her mom's shirt.

Athena started the car and turned the AC on high, the humid mix of sticky rain and a sweaty toddler in her lap making the car feel stifling. Naomi's tiny body trembled, hiccuping between sobs, and Athena could see the exhaustion pooling behind her daughter's wide, tear-streaked eyes.

She wiped Naomi's wet cheeks with the corner of her sleeve, brushing damp curls back gently. "Shhh, it's okay, baby. Mama's got you." Her voice was soft, but even through her calm tone, her frustration was evident. She had done everything—she had tried distractions, snacks, conversations, explanations—but Naomi's nineteen-month-old brain had reached its absolute limit.

Naomi whimpered, burying her face further into Athena's chest. "Mama...nuh-nuh," she mumbled through hiccups, and Athena sighed, a mix of exasperation and tenderness washing over her. "Yeah, baby," Athena murmured, leaning back in her seat and settling Naomi against her chest. She unbuttoned her top just enough to let Naomi latch, holding her daughter close as the rain pattered against the windshield. The toddler's tiny hands gripped her mom's shirt, already relaxing slightly as she found the comfort she desperately needed.

Athena felt the tension in her own shoulders start to ease just a little. Naomi's cries slowed to quiet little hiccups and soft suckling noises. She rubbed circles along her daughter's back, murmuring soothing words between gentle shushes. "You're okay, baby. Just relax, fussy girl, hm?" Outside, the rain drummed steadily against the car, a white noise that somehow made the cabin feel even more like a sanctuary from the chaos of the morning. Naomi's eyelids drooped, the tantrum giving way to exhaustion. Athena could feel the subtle, even breaths that meant her daughter was starting to drift off, finally succumbing to sleep.

Athena shifted slightly in her seat, careful not to disturb Naomi. She wiped a final tear from her daughter's cheek, tucking damp curls behind her ear. "Lord, this child needs a nap," she muttered softly, half to herself, half as a commentary on the storm that had passed through the market and now through her car.

For a few minutes, it was just quiet. Naomi's head rested against her chest, her little body rising and falling with gentle breaths, and Athena felt a soft, bittersweet pride mixed with pure exhaustion. She had survived. She had calmed the chaos. Her baby girl, frazzled and overstimulated as she was, finally found rest. Athena leaned back, letting herself relax for the first time since sunrise, holding Naomi close. "Shhh...just sleep, baby. Mama's right here." She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the warmth of her daughter against her chest, the soft patter of rain, and the faint hum of the car blend into a fragile moment of a calm hard-earned reprieve in a morning that had felt endless. But at the end of the day, that was still her baby.

Chapter Text

(711 words)

November—2011

Bobby had been through fires, explosions, and emergency rescues—but bath night with two kids under four? That was the real danger zone. He'd gotten the tub running, warm and bubbly, the air filling with the smell of baby soap and lavender shampoo. He'd even laid out everyone's pajamas in advance, feeling proud of his early organization.

‘Maybe tonight'll be smooth for once, ‘

he thought. Ha. Famous last words. "Alright, Gabrielle," he said, crouching beside the tub. "Let's get in before the water gets cold." Gabrielle giggled and climbed in—well, more like launched herself in—splashing half the water onto Bobby's shirt.
"Gabby!" he sputtered. "Sorry, Daddy!" she said through uncontrollable laughter, holding up two pruny fingers as though that made it better. Bobby shook his head, smiling despite himself. "You're lucky you're cute." He turned to grab Elias, who was supposed to be waiting right behind him.
"Alright, your turn, buddy—" Silence.

He blinked. The space where Elias had been standing was empty. "Elias?" Bobby turned in a slow circle. Nothing. Then, faintly, from somewhere down the hall, came the mischievous giggle of a toddler on the loose. "Oh my gosh," Bobby groaned, grabbing a towel as he bolted out of the bathroom. "Elias Robert Nash, you get back here right now!" The chase was on. Down the hallway, across the landing, Elias was sprinting full speed, completely naked and squealing like a happy little greased piglet. His tiny feet pattered against the hardwood floor, echoing through the house.

"ELIAS!"

Athena, who had been folding laundry in the living room, looked up just in time to see her son appear, all smiles and giggles, barreling straight toward her like a cannonball. It was almost like that show naked and afraid. "Eli—wait—!" she started, but before she could move, he collided headfirst into her very pregnant belly. "OOF!" Athena gasped, catching herself on the couch arm. Elias plopped backward, stunned for a moment, then burst into tears. Bobby rounded the corner, panting, towel in hand. "Oh my—babe, are you okay?!"

Athena straightened slowly, one hand over her bump. "I'm fine," she said, breathless but laughing. "But your son just tried to tackle his unborn sister." Elias hiccuped through his crying, reaching for his mama. Bobby scooped him up before Athena could, giving the toddler a once-over. "You alright, linebacker? Maybe next time you go for the soft tackle." Athena smirked, rubbing her belly. "He's lucky this baby's built like her mama." From upstairs came Gabrielle's voice, echoing down the hall,

"Daaaaddy! The bubbas are gettin’ out of the tub!" Bobby froze. "...What?"

"I said…THE BUBBAS AWRE EBWERYWHERE!" Athena groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Lord, give me patience." When Bobby got back upstairs, it looked like a scene from a sitcom. The floor was slick with foam, Gabrielle was sitting proudly in a sea of suds, and the bath toys were floating into the hallway.

"GABRIELLE RENÉE NASH!" Bobby said, absolutely baffled. "How did this even—?"

"I just adds a lil more soap!" she chirped. "A little?" Bobby held up the empty shampoo bottle. Athena waddled in behind him, one hand on her back, the other holding a clean towel. She took one look at the bubble-covered chaos and chuckled. "You know, you're the one who said you could handle bath duty solo."

"Yeah, yeah," Bobby muttered, fishing for the rubber duck. "Next time, it's a two-parent operation. I'm calling for backup." Gabrielle giggled, Elias leaned against Bobby's leg sniffling, and Athena bent carefully to wipe some bubbles off her daughter's nose. When the bubbles were finally rinsed away, pajamas on, and kids corralled into their beds, Bobby and Athena collapsed onto the couch like they'd just survived a marathon. Athena rested her head on his shoulder, smiling softly. "You know, someday we're gonna laugh about all this."

Bobby gave a tired grin. "Oh, I'm laughing now. I'm just too exhausted to make the sound." They sat there in silence for a moment before the baby kicked. Athena sighed. "And to think, we're adding another one to the team." Bobby chuckled, pressing a kiss to her temple. "At this point, I think we qualify as our own fire crew."

Chapter Text

(18189 words)

June 15th—2008

6:00–7:30 a.m.

The sun had barely started peeking over the horizon on June 15th, 2008, but the Nash house was already alive with anticipation. Bobby had been pacing the living room in his pajamas since before 6 a.m., a mix of nerves and excitement making him fidget with his coffee cup. "Today's the day," he murmured to himself, glancing every few minutes at the clock, as if time might miraculously speed up just for him.

Athena, meanwhile, sat at the kitchen table, eating a light breakfast, her hands resting on her swollen belly. She felt the weight of nearly nine months of pregnancy in every movement. She gave Bobby a calm, slightly amused glance. "Don't get your hopes up, Baby. Gabrielle might not even come today," she said, sipping her tea. Her voice was soft but steady, a stark contrast to the palpable energy buzzing around the room from her soon-to-be father. Bobby tilted his head, pretending to be serious. "You don't know that. Could be any second."

Athena rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the tiny smile tugging at her lips. She had been through this dance before—Bobby's excitement at the thought of becoming a dad, her trying to stay grounded. "Alright, alright," she said, standing up and stretching. "I need to run into the station for a few things, maternity leave forced me to take a break, but I have to grab a couple of supplies. Don't start celebrating until I get back, mister."

___

8:00–9:00 a.m.

The morning air was warm but gentle as Athena drove to the station, the city still quiet with that sleepy, pre-dawn calm that she always loved. As she walked from the parking lot into the station building, her steps faltered slightly. A subtle, almost teasing cramp pulsed through her lower abdomen. She paused, hands resting on her hips, brow furrowing. "Huh. That's...weird," she murmured under her breath. It was a peculiar kind of ache, almost rhythmic, but she shook it off.

"Growing pains," she muttered to herself, though she didn't fully believe it. After all, the baby was supposed to be fully cooked by now, a healthy, wriggling little human inside her. Yet the sensation was there, undeniable. Athena took a deep breath and continued walking. She chalked it up to her frame—only 5'5", with Bobby towering at 6'1"—really this baby could come out the size of her thigh if she were measuring by her and Bobby's height plus the size of her belly, and the added stress her petite body carried with such a large baby at full term.

Inside the station, Athena moved at a steady, measured pace, each step echoing softly in the near-empty hallway. Sunday mornings were always quiet here in the small open offices—the kind of quiet that made her think too much. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, a sound she had learned to tune out years ago. Her desk still looked like she'd only stepped away for lunch—pens in a mug, a half-used notepad sitting off-center, a photo of her and Bobby propped up against the monitor.

She ran her hand over the desk's cool surface, then began gathering what she needed, a couple of personnel files she'd been meaning to read through, a box of pens that would inevitably disappear within a week at home, and a slim leather-bound notebook full of half-finished notes. Her movements were deliberate, careful—not because she was uncomfortable, but because her body simply didn't allow quick motions anymore.

That's when she felt it again. A faint tightening deep in her abdomen. Not sharp, more like a firm squeeze that took her by surprise. She froze mid-step, one hand automatically bracing the edge of her desk as her other went to her belly. The tension lasted maybe ten seconds, then melted away, leaving a faint warmth in its wake. Athena frowned slightly. "Hmm," she murmured, quietly enough that her voice barely filled the space. Her rational mind tried to brush it off. "Probably nothing," she whispered again, shaking her head as if saying it out loud might make it true.

But Gabrielle responded before her thoughts could settle. A strong, deliberate kick pressed against her ribs, not painful, but solid. Athena exhaled through her nose, rubbing small circles over the swell of her stomach. "Are you agreeing with me or arguing?" she said softly. The baby shifted again, her movements smooth and sure. Athena smiled to herself. "That's what I thought. Better watch how you talk to me." She resumed straightening her workspace, shuffling papers from one tray to another, aligning pens, organizing things she didn't really need to touch—all just to give her hands something to do. The cramps came and went as she worked, irregular and inconsistent. Still, there was a rhythm beginning to take shape, subtle but there, like the steady rise and fall of ocean waves against a shore she couldn't quite see.

Her phone buzzed in her jacket pocket—twice, then again. She didn't need to look to know who it was. Bobby had been calling or texting every few hours for days now, his nervous excitement spilling through every message. She smiled faintly but didn't answer, not yet. Instead, she focused on her breathing, slow and even. For a few minutes, she lost herself in the quiet hum of the building—the distant rumble of a copy machine, the ticking of the clock, the soft hum of air conditioning. It was peaceful, and for a moment, she almost forgot she was supposed to be on maternity leave.

But as she bent down to grab her bag, another cramp rolled through her, stronger this time. It made her pause, one hand gripping the arm of her chair. She breathed through it, calm but alert, waiting for it to fade. When it did, she straightened slowly and muttered under her breath, "Okay, maybe this isn't just nothing." The drive home was slow and careful. She kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting protectively over her belly. The city outside her window was already waking up—joggers on the sidewalks, shop owners unlocking doors, sunlight glinting off windshields. Every now and then, another tightening would sweep through her midsection, enough to make her shift in her seat but not enough to worry her. Not yet.

Bobby's words from that morning echoed in her head, "Today's the day." She could almost hear the excitement in his voice, that quiet certainty he carried when he knew something big was about to happen. She smiled faintly, remembering the way he'd been practically buzzing with energy while she sat calmly at the table. By the time she turned onto their street, her heart was pounding. Not from fear, but from the strange, electric anticipation that came with knowing something monumental was about to change. When she parked in the driveway, Athena stayed seated for a moment, hands resting on her belly. She could feel Gabrielle shifting, pressing outward like she was testing her boundaries. The morning light spilled across the hood of the car, warm and golden, while birds chirped in the oak tree that shaded their yard.

"Alright, little one," she whispered, her voice barely more than breath. "If you're ready, we're ready too." The baby gave one last firm nudge against her palm, as if to answer her. Athena let out a soft laugh—half nerves, half awe. She reached for her bag, pushed the door open, and stepped out into the gentle warmth of the morning, the world feeling suddenly sharper, more alive.

9:30–10:00 a.m.

Athena walked toward the front door, unlocking it and going inside. She set her bag down by the door and stood there for a moment, hand pressed against the small of her back, breathing through another cramp. Still irregular. Still not enough to say it's time..but it's slowly—very slowly getting stronger.

"Hey, you're back!" Bobby's voice floated from the kitchen, cheerful and easy. He appeared a moment later, a dishtowel slung over his shoulder, coffee cup in hand, wearing that grin that always made her chest ache in the best way. "Yeah," she said, kicking her shoes off carefully. "Just grabbing a few things I left behind." He leaned against the doorway, eyes scanning her face with quiet fondness and maybe a touch of suspicion. "How are you feeling?" Athena gave a small shrug, trying to sound casual. "Fine." Bobby raised an eyebrow. "Fine?"

"Mmhmm," she hummed, wandering toward the kitchen like it was no big deal. "Little crampy, but that's normal at this stage." He raised an eyebrow. "You sure that's not how labor starts?" She gave him a look. "Don't you start with me." He chuckled. "Hey, I'm just saying. Today's the day."

"That doesn't mean she's coming today," Athena countered, trying to sound light. "Babies don't come on cue."

"Maybe ours does." She shot him a wry smile over her shoulder. "You're too optimistic for your own good, you know that?" He grinned. "And you love it." She moved to the counter, poured herself a glass of water, and took a slow sip, focusing on the coolness of it against her tongue. "Sometimes," she said, sipping her water. The ache in her belly pulsed again, firmer this time. She pressed her hand to it and took a slow breath, forcing herself not to react. Bobby didn't need to know. Not yet.

He'd only worry. And truthfully? She wasn't ready to face what came after that conversation—the drive to the hospital, the calls, the questions, the waiting room. Her mother. Beatrice Carter. Even just thinking the name—Beatrice—made her shoulders tense. Beatrice Carter loved her daughter. That wasn't in question. But she also loved control, and appearances, and the quiet rules of "How things should be."

It wasn't that Athena wasn't ready—she was. Every cell in her body ached for this baby. She wanted to hold her, see her face, count her tiny fingers and tiny toes, whisper her name and feel the weight of her in her arms. But there was another part of her, smaller but stubborn, that wanted just a little more time. Because the closer this baby got to arriving, the more Athena found herself hearing her mother's voice in her head.

 

"You're too young to be this sure, Athena."

 

"You don't know what you're doing with that boy."

 

"Love doesn't raise a child, stability does."

 

Her mother's words had been sharp, even when spoken out of fear. Beatrice Carter had been her north star for most of her life—firm, proud, unshakable. But when fifteen-year-old Athena had met Bobby Nash during that one fateful day at Disney, that bond had shifted. Beatrice hadn't fought Athena on that back then. They were in Florida and that little boy was all the way up north in Minnesota. Beatrice brushed it off as puppy love—it was sure to die off in a few months—especially since it was long distance.

But when Athena had brought him home for the first time after graduating highschool—ontop of giving short notice she would be moving to LA with him, Beatrice's face had gone still, like her smile had frozen midair. She'd been polite enough. Offered sweet tea, made conversation—but afterward, she'd pulled Athena aside and said, "You really think that's going to work, baby?"

At 15, Athena had been too young to argue. But now at 18, she could. But she'd known even then that what her mother meant wasn't about Bobby's choices in moving away to LA, or job choice as a firefighter, or even his incredible midwestern manners. It was about his skin. The more Athena defended him, the wider the gap became. It wasn't that Beatrice hated Bobby—she just didn't accept him.

Beatrice never said it outright in front of Bobby—not in those words..or at least of what Athena knew of. But she didn't have to. The way she'd purse her lips when Bobby came by. The way she'd ask if he was "comfortable" in certain neighborhoods. The way she'd look at their wedding photo years later and murmur, "Well, I suppose love really is color-blind." Athena had learned to swallow those moments, to file them away in the part of her heart that already ached from missing the closeness they used to share.

And now, standing in the kitchen nine months pregnant, she couldn't help thinking about what would happen after Gabrielle arrived. Would Beatrice look at her granddaughter and see Athena's baby—or see the pale skin, the curls that might come out sandy instead of dark, and decide the child was "more his than hers"? That fear—the quiet, unspoken one—sat heavy in her chest.

She felt Bobby's arms slide around her from behind, warm and steady, his chin resting on her shoulder. "You okay?" he asked softly. "Yeah," she said, nodding once. "Just thinking."

"About?"

"Everything," she murmured. "Life. Family. What kind of world she's being born into." Bobby stayed quiet, just rubbed his thumb along her arm. He didn't ask for details. He didn't need to. Bobby, of course, knew about all of it. He'd heard enough of Beatrice's comments over the years to know where her mind went. He never spoke poorly of Beatrice—not once. When things got tense, he would just reach for Athena's hand, rub his thumb across her knuckles, and say, "She loves you, Thena. She'll come around."

But sometimes, late at night, Athena caught that flicker of worry in his eyes—the one that came from his own ghosts. Bobby had lost his father at 13. He still carried the ache of that absence..and the trauma that came with it. Not from the death alone but what had occurred when Tim Nash was still alive. And that ate at Bobby. The fear of becoming the kind of man who disappeared—whether by choice or by fate. Alcohol or death. He was good, and kind, and he tried harder than anyone she'd ever known. But Athena could feel the quiet worry underneath it all, 'what if I mess this up too?'

She leaned into his chest now, resting there for a long, silent moment. Maybe that's why she didn't want Gabrielle to come just yet. Maybe it wasn't the pain, or the change, or the exhaustion she feared—it was the weight of everything that would follow. The visits, the comments, the unspoken expectations. The feeling of standing between the man she loved and the mother she'd always wanted to please. Just a little more time, she thought. Just a few more hours where it was still just the two of them, standing in their kitchen, imagining instead of living it.

"She's gonna be loved," he said quietly, taking her away from her thoughts. "No matter what anyone else thinks." Athena closed her eyes, leaning back against him. "I know. I just..." She trailed off, hand instinctively rubbing her belly. "I want her to grow up knowing she belongs. That she doesn't have to choose between sides of herself."

"She won't," Bobby promised, his voice firm. Another cramp rolled through her, strong enough to make her catch her breath. Bobby noticed—of course he did. He started to ask something, but she waved him off with a small smile. "Not yet," she said softly. "I just want to hold onto today for a little while longer." He smiled, uncertain but trusting her, pressing a kiss to her temple before stepping away.

When he left, Athena stayed where she was, one hand on her belly, one on the counter to steady herself. "Just wait a little longer, baby girl," she whispered under her breath. "Mama's still got some things to sort out." Outside, the sunlight shifted. Inside, the air hummed with something new—not panic, not quite excitement, but the quiet, unstoppable sense that time was running out. And deep in her belly, Gabrielle moved again—a tiny, deliberate stretch as if to say, 'ready or not, Mama, I'm coming.'

_______

10:30 a.m. –1:00 p.m.

By early afternoon, Athena was in full-blown nesting mode. It started innocently enough, just like all the other times she nested throughout her pregnancy—she'd gone into the nursery to grab a blanket and somehow ended up reorganizing the entire closet by color. Then the closet led to dusting the bookshelf, which led to her kneeling on the floor, wiping down baseboards like a woman possessed. Bobby stood in the doorway, arms crossed, watching her. "You know," he said, voice careful, "I think the baby's not gonna care if the baseboards are clean." Athena shot him a look over her shoulder. "You don't know that." He chuckled, stepping into the room. "I'm pretty sure I do."

"Babies can smell dirt," she said, half-joking, half-dead-serious. "They come out judging everything." Bobby grinned, crouching down beside her. "Oh yeah? You got that from a medical journal or Hen?" Bobby asked, knowing that Hen would look at Athena weird if she saw his wife, 9 months pregnant and on the floor cleaning the baseboards? "From experience," she muttered, still scrubbing. "What experience?" Bobby asked confusingly.

"Because if this house isn't spotless, my mother will walk in here and tell me the dust is why the baby's crying." There it was again—that quiet edge in her voice whenever Beatrice came up. Bobby didn't say anything for his own good, because if he had made the obvious mention of that not happening anytime soon because his in-laws live across the country—she would definitely have his neck. So he just reached for the rag she was using. "Here, let me." She snatched it back immediately. "No. I need to finish this wall."

"Athena," he said softly, putting a hand on her shoulder, "you're nine months pregnant."

"And?"

"And maybe sit for a minute."

"I can't sit. If I sit, I'll stop, and if I stop, I'll start thinking, and if I start thinking, I'll cry. So unless you want me to cry all over these clean floors, hand me the Windex." He exhaled a quiet laugh, half in awe, half in worry. Then he did the only thing he could think of—crouched behind her and wrapped his arms around her belly, trying to gently anchor her. "Then I'll help you not fall over while you clean, deal?" She sighed, half-exasperated, half-melting. "Bobby Nash, if you don't get off me—"

"Can't. Doctor's orders."

"You're not a doctor."

"Doesn't mean I'm wrong."

She tried to wriggle free, but he just held her a little closer, his cheek brushing the top of her shoulder. "You're nesting," he murmured, grinning. "It's kind of adorable."

"Adorable? I'm sweating like a sinner in church." He laughed softly. "Still adorable." She rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her. "You are so lucky I can't bend over far enough to hit you right now."

"Yeah, I'm counting on that." The banter faded when another cramp hit. Athena froze mid-reach, hand gripping the side of the crib as she breathed through it. This one was sharper—definitely not the "maybe it's gas" kind anymore. Bobby's arms tightened around her instinctively. "That was a contraction."

"No," she said quickly, though her face said otherwise. "Just...a really strong cramp." He raised an eyebrow. "Uh-huh. The kind that makes you stop talking and hold your breath?" She glared at him but couldn't keep the smirk from twitching at the corners of her mouth. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Only a little," he teased, kissing the back of her head. "You still want to wait before we call anyone?" Athena hesitated, rubbing her belly as Gabrielle shifted beneath her skin. "I just..." Athena sighed, trying to stand up before Bobby effortlessly stood her up. "I don't want to rush. If we go now, we'll just sit in that hospital room for hours. Let me finish up here first." He nodded, even though his gut said otherwise. He'd learned long ago that Athena didn't like being told what to do—especially not about her own body. So instead of arguing, he just smiled, kissed her temple, and said, "Alright, but I'm timing them." She shot him a warning look. "You're impossible."

"And you love me." She smirked, brushing a curl from her face. "God help me, I do." When she turned back to the shelves, Bobby quietly slipped out of the room. He grabbed his phone from the counter, glancing back to make sure she wasn't watching. First, he called his mom. "Hey, Mom. Yeah, it's happening. Don't say anything yet—she's still pretending it's just cramps. I'll keep you posted." He kept it quick and simple, still slowly rekindling his relationship with his mom.

Then, after a deep breath, he scrolled to Beatrice's number. He hovered over it for a second, rubbing the back of his neck. He didn't dislike her—he respected her, in a way. But he also knew the tension that name carried. Still, this was Beatrice's daughter. She deserved to know.

 

He pressed call.

 

"Hello?"

 

"Hi, Mrs. Carter. It's Bobby."

 

A pause. "Bobby. Everything alright?"

 

"Yes, ma'am. Everything's fine. Just—uh—wanted to let you know Athena's having some contractions. Nothing major yet, but...it's starting."

 

Silence. Then, a clipped, "I see. And you've called the doctor?"

 

"Not yet. She wants to wait a bit."

 

Another pause. He could almost picture her frown through the phone. "Well, you make sure she doesn't wait too long. Some women think they can just tough it out until the last minute."

 

"Yes, ma'am."

 

"God knows she can't tough it out."

 

"I.."

 

"And tell her I'll be praying."

 

He nodded faintly. "Thank you, ma'am."

 

When he hung up, he leaned against the stair railing and blew out a slow breath. The second call—to Samuel—was easier. Samuel was steady, kind, the kind of man who'd always made Bobby feel like family, no questions asked. And in a way, like an actual father. "Hey, son," Samuel answered warmly. "How's my girl?"

"She's...nesting. Hard. And having contractions she won't admit are contractions." Samuel laughed. "Sounds like Athena."

"Yeah. I just thought you should know. Might be time."

"Well, keep me posted. And son?"

"Yeah?"

"You're doing good. Just keep her calm."

Bobby smiled. "I'm trying."

When he hung up, he took one last look down the hallway where Athena was now fussing over the baby mobile. She was humming under her breath, one hand braced on her belly, still determined to act like nothing was happening. He crossed his arms, shaking his head with a grin that was equal parts love and worry. She was strong. Stubborn as hell. But strong. And he had a feeling that by the time the sun went down, they'd be holding their daughter. Athena had been mid-fold on a pile of impossibly tiny onesies when it hit her—a sharp, low pull deep in her belly that made her pause mid-motion. She breathed through it, slow, controlled, pretending it wasn't what she knew it was.

"Thena?" Bobby's voice floated down the hall. "Fine!" she called back, a little too quickly. He poked his head into the room, eyebrows lifted. "That didn't sound fine."

"It's fine," she said again, standing and smoothing her shirt. "I just realized I'm late."

"For what?" She glanced at the clock, cursed under her breath, and reached for her purse. "Lunch. With the girls." Bobby blinked. "You mean Hen and Karen?"

"Yes, and Maddie too. I told them I'd meet them at that new café by the river. We've been planning it for a week." He frowned. "Athena, you're literally having contractions."

"They're not regular."

"They're getting stronger." She gave him a look that could've curdled milk. "And? They could go on like this for hours. Days even. I'm not sitting around waiting for something to maybe happen." He crossed his arms. "Pretty sure that's exactly what labor is."

"Bobby."

"Athena."

They stared at each other, a silent tug-of-war between reason and sheer willpower. Finally, Athena exhaled sharply and reached for her car keys. "I'm going. I'll be fine. I'm not even five minutes away." Bobby stepped forward, blocking the doorway. "At least let me drive you." She brushed past him with a smile that was far too calm. "Nope. You'll hover. You'll stress me out. And I'm not spending my last peaceful lunch before motherhood listening to you breathe like a worried paramedic."

He raised an eyebrow. "I am a worried paramedic." She shot him a look. "Exactly my point." Bobby sighed, running a hand through his hair. "At least take the hospital bag."

"I'll be back in two hours."

"Uh-huh. That's what every woman says right before she has her baby in a grocery store parking lot." Athena chuckled, shaking her head as she slipped on her sandals—bending carefully, a little slower now. "I'm not having this baby at the farmer's market, Bobby."

"Not the point, and that's not funny." Bobby frowned. "It's a little funny." Her hand paused on the doorframe as another contraction hit—stronger this time. She gripped the wood, steadying herself, and breathed. Slow. Controlled. She could feel Bobby's eyes on her, could almost hear the way he was counting her breaths in his head. When it passed, she stood upright and forced a smile. "See? Still standing." He didn't smile back. "You're scaring me, you know that?"

"I'm fine, baby," she said softly, reaching up to touch his cheek. "You've done this long enough in the field to know—when it's time, it's time, and I'll know. But right now? I just want to feel normal for a little while longer." He looked at her and in that moment, his exhale came from somewhere deep. "You're not gonna listen to me, are you?"

"Nope."

"Didn't think so." He leaned in, kissed her forehead, and murmured, "Then I'll be ready when you change your mind." By the time she made it out the door, Bobby was already in motion. It was the only way he knew how to manage his worry—action. He hauled the hospital bags from the hallway closet, double-checked the list taped to the door, car seat, phone chargers, baby blanket, snacks. Everything got checked again, then again. He opened the car door, adjusted the base of the car seat for the tenth time, muttering under his breath, "You're not being overprepared, you're being smart."

Inside her own car, Athena eased herself into the driver's seat, took a slow breath, and started the car. Her hands trembled faintly on the steering wheel. The contractions were steady now, not close enough to panic, but close enough to make her wince every few minutes. "Okay," she whispered to herself. "You can do this. You've got this. You've driven through worse." She pulled out of the driveway just as Bobby came running out with her water bottle. "You forgot—" She waved it out the window. "Got one in my bag!" He stopped at the curb, shaking his head as the car disappeared down the street. He had half a mind to follow her. But instead, he grabbed his phone and texted Hen.

 

Bobbei🧑🏼‍🍳: Heads up, she's on her way. Might be more than lunch today.

Inside the car, Athena turned up the radio, letting Whitney Houston fill the silence. It helped drown out the pulse of discomfort in her belly. The streets were busy—it was a warm June afternoon and sunlight flashed across the windshield as she made her turns, one hand steady on her belly. Another wave came, rolling through her. She exhaled sharply through her nose, remembering every breathing technique from those prenatal classes she swore she didn't need. "Alright, Gabrielle," she muttered, wincing but smiling, "I know you're eager, but can we not do this on the freeway?"

Her voice trembled, half laughter, half disbelief. When she finally pulled into the café parking lot, the world seemed to tilt for a second. The cramp eased, leaving her with that dull ache that said, this is happening. She sat there for a moment, hands gripping the wheel, breathing slow, the sound of her heartbeat loud in her ears. Outside, she spotted Hen and Karen standing by the entrance, laughing about something, Maddie waving when she saw her car.

Athena managed a deep breath, pasted on her calmest smile, and muttered under her breath, "Showtime." She pushed open the car door, grabbed her purse, and stepped out into the sunlight—looking every bit the woman who definitely wasn't in early labor. At least, not if she had anything to say about it.

 

_________

Before Athena Arrived: 12:30 p.m.
_________

 

Hen was leaning against the hood of her car outside the café, sunglasses on, scrolling through her phone while she waited for the others to arrive. Karen was beside her, reading the menu posted by the door, debating whether it was too early for mimosas. Maddie had just pulled in, waving as she locked her car. Hen's phone buzzed.

Bobbei🧑🏼‍🍳: Heads up, she's on her way. Might be more than lunch today.

Hen frowned. Her thumbs hovered over the screen.

Hen👸🏾: Define more than lunch.

The response came fast.

Bobbei🧑🏼‍🍳: Contractions. She says they're "not regular." You know how she is.

Hen blinked, groaned softly, and immediately called him. "Tell me you're kidding," she said when he picked up.

"I wish I was," Bobby sighed. "She's nesting like she's getting paid for it, then suddenly remembers she has lunch plans. I tried to stop her."

"Let me guess—she gave you that look?"

"That look, the 'I'm fine, don't start with me' one. Yeah."

Karen, catching the tone, turned around. "You on the phone with Bobby?" Hen nodded, pressing the phone to her ear. "You think she's in early labor?"

"I know she's in early labor," Bobby said. "But you know Athena..she's gonna do it her way. Just...keep an eye on her, please? If it gets worse, call me. I'll be ready to go the second she admits it." Hen sighed, shaking her head. "You got it. But you owe me coffee for this stress."

"Deal," he said, already half-distracted. "Thanks, Hen. I appreciate it." When she hung up, Maddie was looking at her expectantly. "Okay," she said, "what was that face about?" Hen slid her sunglasses down her nose. "So, Athena's on her way."

"Okay..." Karen said slowly. "And?"

"And she might be in labor." Maddie's eyes went wide. "Wait, what? Like, actual labor?"

"Contractions," Hen confirmed. "She told Bobby they're 'not regular,' but we all know what that means." Karen crossed her arms. "It means she's been having them all morning and doesn't want to admit it."

"Exactly." Hen pocketed her phone. "She's stubborn as hell." Maddie laughed, a little nervously. "She's gonna walk in here, order a sandwich, and pretend she's not having a baby in the next six hours."

"Oh, you mean like the last time she had the flu and still went to work because 'there were reports to file'?" Karen said, rolling her eyes. Hen groaned, already feeling the secondhand stress building. "This woman's gonna have us delivering a baby between coffee refills." Maddie, ever the optimist, smiled. "Maybe it's false labor! You know, Braxton Hicks?" Karen gave her a look. "Maddie. You've met Athena." Hen snorted. "If she says she's fine, she's absolutely not fine." The three women exchanged glances, half amused, half bracing themselves. "Alright," Hen said, exhaling. "We'll just...keep things calm. Pretend we don't notice. If she wants to talk about it, she will."

"And if her water breaks?" Karen asked. "Then we smile, grab some napkins, and call Bobby." They all laughed—but there was an edge of nerves beneath it. A few minutes later, Maddie glanced toward the street and pointed. "Speak of the devil..." Hen turned to see Athena's car pulling into the parking lot, steady and slow, like she was trying to convince herself she had all the time in the world. "Okay," Hen muttered, straightening her shirt. "Everybody act natural." Karen arched an eyebrow. "Define natural."

"Like we're not about to have brunch with a woman in active labor."

"Got it," Maddie said, though her hands were already fidgeting. Hen's phone buzzed one last time.

Bobbei🧑🏼‍🍳: Thanks again. Keep me posted.

Hen typed back quickly.

Hen👸🏾: Don't worry. We've got her.

As Athena parked and turned off the engine, the three women shared one last look—the silent, knowing kind exchanged between friends right before something wild inevitably happened. "Okay," Hen said under her breath, watching Athena step out of the car. "Showtime."

_______

1:30–2:30 p.m.

The café patio was already buzzing with the Sunday morning crowd. Clinking coffee cups, low conversation, and the occasional bark of a dog tied to the railing. The smell of espresso and warm pastries floated through the air as Athena crossed the parking lot, her steps slow but steady, her hand gripping her purse strap like it was the only thing keeping her upright. She could feel another cramp beginning—low, deep, that unmistakable pull that wrapped around her like a belt tightening. She froze mid-step, closed her eyes, and breathed through it.

In for four. Out for six. She'd done this a thousand times in Lamaze class. Easy. Controlled. Fine. The moment it passed, she straightened, smoothed her shirt, and kept walking. Hen was the first to meet her halfway, that knowing little smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Hey, Mama Nash," she greeted, voice too casual to be casual. "You're glowing." Athena gave her a look. "I'm sweating." She chuckled softly. "Same thing," Hen said quickly. Karen stepped in for a quick hug, feeling Athena's round and taut bump press into her own stomach. "How you feeling?"

"Good," Athena said with a shrug that fooled absolutely no one. "Just needed to get out of the house for a bit. Bobby's hovering."

"Hovering?" Hen echoed, eyebrow raised. "Or trying to keep you from having a baby on the street?" Athena's lips twitched into something that might have been a smirk. "Tomato, tomahto." Behind them, Maddie emerged from the café doors holding a tray of drinks. "Look who finally made it!" she called cheerfully, then paused when she saw Athena's face more closely. "Oh. Uh...you okay?" Athena took the iced tea offered to her, held it against her wrist, and nodded. "Peachy." Hen's eyes flicked toward Karen, who subtly mouthed 'she's lying.'

The four women moved toward a shaded table on the patio, the one tucked in the corner near the planter boxes full of lavender. Athena lowered herself into a chair with exaggerated ease, every movement measured. The contraction that hit as she sat nearly made her bite her lip, but she covered it with a sip of tea and a bright smile. "So," she said, tone deliberately casual. "What'd I miss?" Karen exchanged a glance with Hen before answering. "Oh, you know, the usual. Work gossip, bad drivers, Hen thinking she's the only person who knows how to properly fold a fitted sheet—"

"That's because I am," Hen said smoothly, leaning back in her chair like a queen on her throne. Maddie laughed, stirring her coffee. "She's been on a crusade about that for weeks. She cornered one of my dispatch trainees the other day to give a folding demonstration. It was so random—I-I don't even know why she was there?" Hen pointed her straw toward Maddie, unbothered. "You're welcome, by the way. Life skill." Athena smiled, shaking her head. "You three never change."

Hen's grin softened, and she exchanged a look with Karen—one of those quiet, knowing glances that said more than words. Karen reached over, lacing their fingers together on the tabletop. "Well," Hen said, her voice a little quieter now, "some things are changing." Maddie perked up. "Oh?" Karen smiled, her eyes bright. "We've actually been meeting with a few people—talking clinics and a few agencies. We're starting the IVF journey."

Athena's tired face broke into a wide, genuine smile. "Oh, that's wonderful!" Maddie leaned forward instantly. "Are you serious? Oh my gosh, that's amazing!" Hen tried to play it cool, but the little twitch at the corner of her mouth gave her away. "Yeah, well...it's still early. Nothing set in stone yet. But it feels like the right time to start trying, and looking at any adoption agencies in case the IVF doesn't work."

"It's more than that," Karen said softly. "It feels right." Athena reached across the table, resting her hand gently on theirs. "You two are gonna make the best moms," she said, voice steady and full of warmth. "That baby's gonna hit the jackpot." Karen's smile faltered for just a second—the emotional kind of falter—and she squeezed Athena's hand. "Thank you, Thee." Maddie nodded. "Seriously, this baby's gonna have a whole village. I mean, between you two, me, and this one about to pop"—she gestured toward Athena's belly—"that's a support network." They all laughed softly. Hen took a sip of her drink and smirked. "Speaking of popping...how's this mama feeling?"

Athena let out a long, theatrical sigh. "Oh, you know. Nesting like I'm being graded on it. And—like I said, Bobby's hovering like I'm made of glass." Karen chuckled. "He's just excited. First baby energy."

"Mm-hmm. Excited is one word," Athena said, rolling her eyes affectionately. "I told him this morning I'm fine, just a little crampy." Hen raised a brow. "Crampy?" Athena waved her off. "Not that kind of crampy." Maddie leaned forward, eyes narrowing slightly. "You sure?" Athena hesitated, forcing a breezy smile. "Positive." And then Gabrielle reminded her she was there. Athena's hand drifted back to her bump, thumb rubbing slow, soothing circles. The baby pushed back—firm, rhythmic. "Baby's active today," Maddie said softly. "Mm-hm." Athena smiled faintly. "She's excited to meet everybody." Hen's brow furrowed. "You sure she's not trying to meet everybody?"

"Henrietta," Athena said, that warm but warning tone only she could manage. "Don't start." Karen chuckled, shaking her head. "You really drove yourself here, huh?" Athena took a slow sip of her tea. "I wasn't about to sit around waiting for something that might not happen." Hen blinked. "Athena, that's literally how labor works."

"Crampy isn't labor," Athena said, waving a dismissive hand. "I've had cramps for days. Nothing new." Hen leaned back, unimpressed. "Mmhmm." Maddie glanced at her phone under the table, then at Hen—who mouthed,

'Bobby texted me.'

Maddie's eyebrows shot up. Hen typed back quickly, one-handed, keeping her expression casual.

Hen👸🏾: ok so she's here. looks fine. pretending not in labor

Bobbei🧑🏼‍🍳: pretending?

Hen👸🏾: contractions every few mins. not strong yet but definitely coming

Bobbei🧑🏼‍🍳: i'm on my way

Hen👸🏾: no. give us a bit. she'll bolt if she sees you too early

Maddie caught Hen's eye and subtly shook her head, whispering, "Let's not freak her out."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Hen whispered back, though her foot tapped under the table.

Athena's eyes were closed for a second, the breeze brushing her cheeks. For that one sliver of calm, she could almost forget the tightening deep in her abdomen. Almost. Then another wave came stronger. She tensed, hand gripping the edge of the table. Karen noticed first this time. "You okay?" Athena nodded, slow, exhaling through her nose. "Fine." Hen arched a brow. "Fine like 'nothing's wrong,' or fine like 'I'm ignoring reality'?"

"Henrietta. Please."

Karen bit her lip to hide a smile. "She said your full name. You're in trouble." Hen muttered, "She's in labor, that's what she's in." Athena opened one eye. "You three always gang up on me like this?"

"Only when you're being ridiculous," Maddie said lightly. Hen leaned forward, elbows on the table, and her voice softened. "Look, Athena...Bobby's worried. And honestly? He has every right to be. He's your husband. This baby is his too. He wants to be there for both of you—not because he thinks you can't handle it, but because he wants to share it with you." Athena looked away, jaw tightening. "I know that. I just...I don't need everyone hovering. I can handle a few cramps."

"Contractions" Karen corrected through a cough. Maddie's voice was quiet but firm. "You've been handling everything for nine months. It's okay to let someone else step in now." Athena smiled faintly, but the words didn't quite land. They just hovered there between them—true, but too heavy for her to admit out loud. Then another contraction hit—harder this time. Her eyes squeezed shut, and she gripped the table like it might hold her steady. The conversation melted away to background noise, replaced by her own breathing and the thudding of her heart.

Karen's eyes widened. "Okay. That was definitely not just a cramp." Athena exhaled sharply, voice tight. "It's manageable." Hen stood up, already moving to her side. "Manageable's not the same as fine. Come on, Mama, time to go."

"Don't—" Athena started, but another wave cut her off. Maddie was already texting under the table again.

Madds🧚🏼‍♀️: Bobby, get in the car.

Athena cracked one eye open, glaring. "Don't you dare call him."

"Too late," Hen said, slipping an arm around her shoulders. "He's probably halfway here." Karen was already digging in her bag. "Keys. Hand them over." Athena hesitated—another sharp roll of pressure stole her breath and she shoved her keys across the table with a muttered, "This is ridiculous." Hen scoffed with a smile. "So's your pain tolerance." Maddie grabbed her purse and the half-drunk coffees as they guided Athena toward the parking lot.

"I told him not to get his hopes up," Athena muttered, half walking, half leaning on Hen. Karen smiled softly. "Too late for that girl." They paused at the curb as another contraction washed through her. The world seemed to hold its breath. Hen squeezed her shoulder. "Okay," Athena whispered finally, voice breaking a little. "Maybe...call Bobby."

Hen smiled knowingly and looked at Maddie who was already on the phone. "Already did." Athena gave her a glare so sharp it could cut glass—but she didn't argue. Not this time. She just stood there, hand over her belly, breathing slowly as her friends surrounded her, steady and ready.

___

3:00–3:30 p.m.

The ride back was a blur of stoplights and worried glances. Hen's car smelled faintly of coffee and disinfectant wipes—comforting in its own oddly sterile way. Athena sat in the passenger seat, reclined slightly, one hand gripping the edge of the seat whenever another contraction rolled through. Karen followed close behind in Athena's SUV, Maddie trailing in her own car, hazard lights flicking like tiny heartbeats in the rearview mirror. "You're awfully quiet," Hen said finally, eyes flicking toward her for a moment.

Athena's jaw worked as she exhaled slowly through her nose. "Trying not to say something I'll regret." Hen blinked. "Like what? 'You were right, Hen'? Because I'd record that and make it my ringtone." Athena side-eyed her. "Try it and I'll throw your phone out the window." Another contraction tightened her belly, and she gripped her thigh, breathing sharp. Hen's teasing softened instantly. "Okay, breathe, Mama. You're doing good," Hen said, voice low, that calm tone she used on panicked patients. "You said they're what—five, six minutes apart?"

"Closer to four now," Athena admitted reluctantly. Hen whistled. "Mm-hmm. Sounds like someone's about to meet her daughter."

"Don't start with me." Hen smiled, eyes on the road. "Just messing around." The streets blurred past, rows of jacaranda trees spilling purple petals across the asphalt, sunlight catching on windshields, the city pulsing around them like it didn't even notice one of its own was about to bring new life into the world. When they turned down Athena and Bobby's street, Maddie's car horn gave a quick double-tap—the quiet signal that they were all still together, all still steady. And then Hen saw him.

Bobby was in the driveway, standing beside the car like a man on a mission. The trunk was open, hospital bag perfectly packed and zipped, a folded blanket tucked under one arm. The passenger door stood wide, engine running. He looked like he was waiting for a green light in the middle of a race.

"Oh wow," Hen muttered, grinning. "Your man's ready to launch." Athena sighed. "Of course he is." When Hen parked at the curb, Bobby was already jogging toward them. Maddie pulled in behind, and Karen eased Athena's car neatly into the driveway before climbing out to meet them. Hen popped her door open. "Alright, Mama, end of the line. Your chariot awaits." Athena groaned, bracing her hands on the seat to push herself up. "If he says 'I told you so,' I swear I'll—"

"Punch him in the face?" Hen offered. "Exactly." Hen laughed and slipped an arm around her waist, helping her to her feet just as Bobby reached them. He didn't say a word at first, just looked her over, checking her face, her posture, the way her hand gripped her belly. His eyes softened, all that nervous energy folding into quiet focus. "Hey," he said softly. "Hey yourself," Athena replied, trying to be casual but her voice was tight. "Contractions close?" She glared at him. "Don't start." He gave a small smile, kissed her temple, and murmured, "Yes, ma'am." Then, without missing a beat, he turned to Hen, Karen, and Maddie. "You three are saints."

Hen smirked. "Don't thank us yet. We almost had to drag her out of the café." Karen nodded. "She threatened us twice."

"Three times," Maddie corrected helpfully. Athena shot them a glare. "Traitors."

"Accurate," Hen said cheerfully. "Now go have a baby before I have to deliver her in the back seat." Bobby chuckled, guiding Athena carefully toward the car. "Already on it." Athena paused halfway, turning back to her friends with a shaky smile. "Thank you. Really."

He gave a quick, grateful nod as he helped Athena into the passenger seat. She exhaled slowly, resting a hand on her belly, feeling another contraction building. Bobby closed her door gently, jogged around to the driver's side, and slid in, one hand already on the gearshift. Hen leaned down by the open window. "Text when you get there, okay?" Bobby nodded. "Will do." Athena muttered, "He's been waiting to say that all morning." Bobby grinned, eyes still on the road ahead. "And you've been pretending all morning. Guess we're even."

Hen stepped back, smirking. "Go on, lovebirds. We got the house locked down. You just focus on bringing my niece earth bound."

"Will definitely try and bring her here on her due date," Bobby said and Athena rolled her eyes so hard it made Hen laugh all over again. As he pulled out of the driveway, Athena rested her head back against the seat, hand still rubbing her belly, contractions steady now. Hen, Karen, and Maddie stood in the street, watching as the car disappeared down the road—the sound of the engine fading into the summer air.

Karen exhaled, smiling softly. "Think she's ready?" Hen shook her head. "Ready or not, that baby's coming. And if anyone can handle it, it's Athena." Maddie folded her arms, still watching the disappearing car. "Yeah. But something tells me Bobby's the one who's about to see just how strong she really is." Hen grinned. "Oh, he already knows." The three women shared a look—proud, anxious, and full of love as the newest member of their little found family was about to arrive.

__________

4:00–4:30 p.m.

The hum of the car filled the silence between them. The city rushed past in a blur of gold and green, palm trees bending in the late afternoon light, the skyline hazy against the horizon. Athena shifted in her seat, one hand gripping the door handle, the other planted firmly on her belly. She was breathing carefully now—slow, measured inhales through her nose, steady exhales through parted lips.

"You okay?" Bobby asked quietly, glancing over. She shot him a look that said 'what do you think?' but softened it with a small sigh. "I've been better." He nodded, his hand gripping the wheel a little tighter. "We're making good time. Twenty minutes, tops."

"Ten, if you stop pretending you don't drive like a firefighter," she muttered. He cracked a grin. "Don't tempt me, Thena. I already ran one red light." Another contraction hit, harder this time. Athena's breath hitched, her nails digging into the armrest. Bobby immediately reached for her hand, his thumb brushing circles against her knuckles. "That's it, baby. Just breathe," he murmured. "In and out, like we practiced." She gave him a withering look between breaths. "You...are...way too calm."

"Someone's gotta be," he said softly. She exhaled sharply, then leaned her head back against the seat, eyes closed. "You're lucky I love you."

"Yeah," he said, voice low, eyes still fixed on the road ahead. "I really am." For a few minutes, the car was quiet again except for the rhythmic sound of her breathing and the faint hum of the AC. Bobby kept glancing at her, taking mental notes—how long between contractions, how intense they seemed. He wasn't a doctor, but years of crisis calls had taught him to read people's faces, and Athena's told him they were close. Still, she was holding on—stubborn and strong, as always. Another light turned red ahead. Bobby eased the car to a stop. Athena groaned softly, rubbing her belly. "You know what's funny?" she said, eyes still closed. "What?"

"I spent all week telling you not to get your hopes up, and now I'm the one hoping this baby waits till we get there." He chuckled, the sound low and warm. "You said she's punctual. Maybe she's just proving it." Athena opened one eye, smirking faintly. "You mean stubborn. That's your side." He laughed. "That's debatable." The light turned green, and he accelerated gently, eyes flicking between the road and her face. And that's when it hit him—the secret sitting heavy in his chest.

He'd called Beatrice.

And Samuel, too, though that part didn't bother him. Samuel had been kind, calm as always—the peacemaker. Actually he accepted his relationship with his daughter. But Beatrice? He could still hear her sharp intake of breath when he'd said the words 'Athena's in labor.'

Her tone had softened eventually—she'd said she'd pray. But Bobby knew what Athena would hear first, the intrusion. The breach. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, glancing at her again—sweat beading at her temple, jaw tight as another contraction rolled through. She breathed through it, slow and deliberate, one hand pressing low against her belly.

'Not now' , he decided. 'Not while she's like this.'

But guilt has a way of seeping through silence. Athena cracked an eye open, watching him. "What's that look?" He blinked. "What look?"

"That one," she said, gesturing vaguely, "the 'I did something stupid and I'm about to regret it' look." He tried to laugh it off, but she was already narrowing her eyes. "Bobby Nash," she said slowly, voice low, dangerous. He swallowed. "I might've...made a couple calls." Her brows shot up. "Couple?" He nodded cautiously. "My mom. And...your parents." The car went dead quiet. The sound of tires against asphalt filled the void between them.

"Robert."

Oh, that was it. The shift from Bobby to Robert landed like a gunshot. He winced. "In my defense—"

"In your defense?" she cut in sharply, turning toward him as much as her seatbelt and belly would allow. "You thought calling my mother was a good idea? While I'm in labor?" He gripped the wheel tighter. "You were in denial, Athena! You didn't want to admit you were in labor, and someone needed to let them know."

"I didn't want her to know!" she snapped, her voice cracking at the end—from pain, anger, maybe both. "You don't get it, Bobby—" Honestly, how did Athena think she was going to get away with smuggling a whole human being and not tell her mother until the baby was what, 1–2 years old?

"I get more than you think!" His voice rose before he could stop it. The sharpness surprised them both. He blew out a breath, trying to steady himself. "I get it, Thena. I know your mom makes things hard. I know she says things that hurt you and says shit about me—hell, I've heard some of them myself—and she's said some straight to my face. But—"

"But nothing!" she shot back. "You don't invite Beatrice into a delivery room! She'll be too busy judging to actually care!" Bobby's blood was slightly starting to boil. It seemed like pregnancy brain was slowly getting to Athena since her mother would most likely not be here today for the delivery due to—I don't know—that the fact that she's on the other side of the country?!

Bobby's knuckles whitened on the wheel. "You think I don't know what that's like?" Athena blinked, thrown for a second by the edge in his voice. He exhaled shakily, jaw flexing. "You're not the only one with a complicated parent, Athena. I haven't exactly had a Hallmark family either." She stared at him, chest rising and falling fast, another contraction beginning to build, but his voice didn't let up. "Five months ago," he said, eyes fixed on the road ahead, "when we found out Gabrielle was a girl, I called my mom." Athena frowned. "You—what?"

"Yeah," he said hoarsely. "I called her to tell her she was gonna be a grandmother." He let out a humorless laugh. "And you know how that went? We ended up screaming at each other. I said things I shouldn't have said, she said things that—" he stopped, shaking his head. "Didn't help. I hung up and just sat there on the couch crying like a damn kid." Her expression softened despite herself, but he didn't look at her. "I'm not proud of it," he went on. "But that's what it took to make her understand. I told her she could either be part of this—part of Gabrielle's life—or she could keep pretending like none of it existed. I told her if she let that little girl down even once, she'd never see her again. I meant it, Athena. Every word."

He finally looked at her then—eyes glassy, voice trembling. "I'm not trying to fix things for me. I'm trying for her. For Gabrielle. Because she deserves a family, even if it's messy. Even if we have to build the bridge one splinter at a time. It's not fair that she has to suffer for my lack of communication."

Athena's jaw clenched. She was quiet for a long beat, staring out the window, breathing through another contraction that hit harder than before. Her voice came out low and rough. "You don't know what my mom's like when she gets going. She can take the happiest day of your life and turn it into a lecture."

"I know," Bobby said softly. "And I'm not saying you have to forgive her. But...maybe just try. Not for her and maybe not even for yourself. For our girl." She turned toward him slowly, eyes tired, wet around the edges. "You really think that woman's gonna suddenly turn into Grandma of the Year?" He huffed a small laugh, shaking his head. "No. But I think maybe she'll show up. And that's a start." The car fell quiet again, save for Athena's uneven breathing. Her hands rested protectively over her belly, the baby shifting beneath her skin. Finally, she whispered, "You should've told me about your mom."

"I didn't want to dump that on you," he said, voice soft again. "You already carry enough." Athena sighed, a shaky exhale that trembled somewhere between anger and exhaustion. "You still shouldn't have called mine."

"I know," he admitted quietly. "But I'd rather have you mad at me than have you go through this without the chance to at least try." She looked at him then. His shoulders were tense, eyes rimmed red, hand gripping the wheel like the car might fall apart if he didn't hold it together. Another contraction rolled through her, stealing her breath. She reached out instinctively, and he caught her hand before she could even ask.

They didn't speak for a long moment, just breathed, together, through the pain. When it finally eased, she leaned her head back, eyes half-lidded, voice soft. "You're still in trouble, Robert." He smiled faintly, brushing a thumb over her knuckles. "Yeah. I figured." She sighed. "But...I get it. I do." He looked at her, his eyes warm and wet all at once. "That's all I needed to hear." Athena turned her gaze out the window again, sun high in the sky. "She's gonna make this hospital a circus," she muttered. Bobby chuckled quietly. "Yeah, probably."

"Good," she said dryly. "She can keep the nurses distracted while I give birth." He laughed, and this time she almost did too. Outside, the freeway signs glowed green—Cedars-Sinai Medical Center: 2 Miles—and Bobby reached over, squeezing her hand once more. "Almost there, Thena," he whispered. She squeezed back. "Almost there."

___________

The drive ended in a blur of stoplights and shallow breaths. By the time Bobby turned into the Cedars-Sinai Medical Center parking loop, Athena's knuckles were white against the door handle, her breathing rough but steady, counting through every contraction the way she'd practiced. "Almost there," Bobby said, his voice calm but tight. He parked so fast the tires squealed a little. He was out of the car before the engine stopped humming, rounding to her side, opening the door, and offering his hands like she might break if he moved too fast.

"I can walk," Athena muttered, already trying to stand, but another contraction hit before her foot hit the pavement. She gasped, half-bent over, one hand gripping the doorframe. "Hey, hey," Bobby murmured, steadying her with an arm around her shoulders. "Easy. I got you." She nodded, breathing through her nose, jaw tight. "We've got this, Bobby. I've got this." He smiled faintly, though worry flickered behind his eyes. "I know. But we're still doing this together."

5:00 p.m.

The automatic doors of Cedars-Sinai Medical Center whooshed open, and the cool blast of air conditioning hit them like a shock after the heat outside. It was early afternoon now—just past noon—but the day already felt endless. The sterile brightness of the lobby, the echo of voices and squeak of sneakers on tile, it all seemed louder than usual to Athena, whose world had shrunk to the rhythm of her breathing and the tightening waves rolling through her belly.

"Hi, she's in labor," Bobby said to the front desk, voice tight but polite. He had one arm around Athena's waist, the other holding their bag strap tight enough that his knuckles were white. "Athena Nash. Pre-registered." The woman behind the counter smiled calmly—she'd seen this exact panic a hundred times. "Alright, Mr. Nash. We've got you here. Labor and delivery, third floor. I'll page the nurse." Another contraction hit, hard enough to make Athena double over slightly. Her breath caught, and she grabbed the counter edge for balance. Bobby instantly leaned in closer, his voice low and frantic. "Breathe, baby, breathe—slow, slow—"

"I am breathing," she hissed through clenched teeth, "you don't need to narrate it." The nurse arrived with a wheelchair, cheerful and unbothered by the tension. "Let's get you upstairs, honey."

"I can walk," Athena said immediately, straightening her spine. Her pride kicked in hard—she was a cop, a mother, not some fragile woman who needed rolling around. But when she met Bobby's eyes, she saw the quiet plea there—soft and desperate, the kind of look that said

'please, just let me take care of you.'

And for once, that stubborn armor cracked. "Fine," she muttered, lowering herself into the chair. "But only because you're giving me that face." He exhaled a shaky breath, pressing a kiss to her temple. "That's my favorite face." They wheeled toward the elevators. Athena focused on the rhythm of the nurse's sneakers squeaking softly against the linoleum, the quiet beeping of distant monitors, the low hum of conversation from behind closed doors. It was all so...ordinary. And yet her entire world felt like it was teetering between normal and not.

By the time they reached the third floor, the contractions were coming sharper, more insistent. Nurses passed them in quick blurs of scrubs and ponytails, calling out updates to each other in that calm, efficient tone that belonged only to people who dealt with chaos for a living. Their assigned nurse, a woman with kind brown eyes and a name tag that read "Jenna," guided them into Room 317. The lights were soft, the air cool, the walls painted a gentle cream. A monitor blinked quietly beside the hospital bed, and a rocking chair sat near the window. It was all too peaceful for how fast Athena's heart was beating.

Bobby set the hospital bags down on the couch and turned just in time to see Athena push herself out of the wheelchair. "Wait—baby, maybe just—"

"I'm fine," she said, brushing him off. She wanted to stand, to move. Sitting still made her feel caged. She took one step forward. Then another. And on the third, it happened.

A sudden, warm gush soaked her pants, splattering onto the polished tile with an unmistakable sound. The world seemed to pause for half a heartbeat. Athena froze. "Oh...no." Bobby blinked, eyes darting down, then back up. "Did—did you—?" She looked at him, mortified. "My water broke." For a second, he just stared, like his brain was trying to buffer. "Like...broke broke?"

"Like go get a mop broke," she said flatly, cheeks burning. Jenna moved with calm precision, already laying down towels. "It's completely fine, sweetheart. Happens all the time." Athena groaned, covering her face with both hands. "You sure? Because it looks like I just destroyed your floor." The nurse laughed softly. "Trust me, I've seen worse. You just focus on breathing, okay?" Bobby was hovering helplessly at Athena's side, looking equal parts horrified and fascinated. "Are you in pain? Should I—should I get someone? More towels? An epidural?"

"Robert," she said, voice sharp enough to slice through the room. He froze instantly, posture snapping straight. "Right. I'll just...stand here." Jenna chuckled as she tossed the wet towels into a bin. "Don't worry, Dad. Happens to all of them. They can handle fire, blood, bugs—but when it's labor? Poof. Logic gone." Athena smirked through a grimace. "He's lucky he's cute."

"I heard that," Bobby muttered, running a hand through his hair. "Good," Athena shot back, another contraction beginning to tighten through her abdomen. She gritted her teeth, one hand bracing against the bed frame. "Okay...okay. That one's strong."

"Alright, Mama," Jenna said gently, touching her arm. "Let's get you into a gown. Once your water's gone, we want to keep things clean and get you monitored, okay?" Athena nodded, still catching her breath. "Sure. Yeah. Just—uh—sorry again for—"

"No apologizing," Jenna interrupted, handing her a gown. "You're literally doing your job. You're having a baby." Athena managed a small smile, following the nurse into the bathroom. The light in there was soft and yellow, humming faintly. Athena leaned against the counter for a moment, her reflection staring back at her—hair frizzed from the humidity, skin glistening, eyes fierce and tired all at once. "Alright," Jenna said gently. "Let's get you out of those clothes, okay?" Athena took a deep breath and peeled off her soaked pants, wincing at the mess. "God, this is glamorous."

"You'd be surprised," Jenna said with an easy grin. "Half the moms say it's their favorite part of the story later." Athena huffed out something between a laugh and a sigh. "Yeah, we'll see about that." She reached down to tug off her underwear—and froze.

"Oh," she said softly.

The nurse crouched immediately, professional but kind. "You see something?" Athena nodded. "I think...that's the mucus plug." Jenna checked, nodding with a small, approving hum. "Sure is. Well, Mama, looks like your body's not wasting any time today." The words sank in slowly. Her throat felt tight. "So that means...?"

"That means," Jenna said with a warm, knowing smile, "you're officially on your way to meeting your baby girl." For a moment, everything stilled. The hum of the lights, the echo of voices in the hall, even the pressure in her belly—it all seemed to fade under the weight of that sentence. Athena looked down at her hands, still trembling slightly. She'd waited nine months for this. Dreamed about it. Worried about it. And now...it was real. She rested one hand over her stomach, feeling the faint kick beneath her palm. "You really couldn't wait, huh?" she whispered.

The baby moved again, as if in answer. When Athena stepped out of the bathroom a few minutes later, she was in the hospital gown, her hair pulled back, her face pale but calm. Bobby was pacing near the bed, running through every possible emergency scenario in his head—until he saw her. Their eyes met, and something in both of them shifted. This was it. No more pretending it wasn't happening. Gabrielle Nash was on her way.

______

5:30 p.m.

The nurse's gentle voice floated through the soft hum of machines. "Alright, Mama, let's get you situated." Athena sat carefully on the hospital bed, legs swinging over the side, the thin fabric of the gown brushing against her knees. The sheets were crisp and smelled faintly of disinfectant and linen spray. Her heart was still racing, half from nerves, half from the steady pulse of contractions that kept reminding her this was no drill.

Jenna returned with a cart loaded with supplies—monitors, wires, IV tubing, a blood pressure cuff. The metallic clink of instruments filled the room, sharp and precise. "We're just going to hook you up to a few things, okay? Nothing too invasive. I'll start with the fetal monitor." Athena nodded, breath hitching slightly as another contraction rippled low across her abdomen. She breathed through it, jaw tight, eyes shut. "Okay...okay, that one's strong."

Bobby hovered beside her, hands twitching with the desperate need to do something. He'd pulled the chair closer to the bed and set their bags in a neat line on the couch like it would somehow help. He reached for Athena's hand, his thumb tracing circles across her knuckles. "You're doing great, baby." She cracked one eye open, voice dry. "You say that like I have a choice." Jenna smiled, looping two wide elastic belts around Athena's belly. "These will help us track contractions and the baby's heart rate. One for you, one for her."

The monitors beeped to life—one high, fast rhythm like a hummingbird's wings, and one slower, steadier heartbeat. The sound filled the room. Bobby's eyes widened, soft and reverent. "That's her?" Jenna nodded. "That's your little girl." For a moment, everything else fell away. The noise, the nerves, the clinical chaos—gone. Just that sound, steady and alive, proof of the tiny person they were about to meet. Athena's eyes softened. "She's strong," she murmured. "Like her mama," Bobby said, squeezing her hand.

Then came the IV. Jenna disinfected Athena's arm, tying a band around her bicep. "This might pinch a little, okay? Just a saline lock for now, in case we need fluids or meds later." Athena nodded again, exhaling as the needle slid in. She'd seen worse—but at this moment, it wasn't about pain. It was about surrender. Letting go of control. Letting herself be taken care of.

Bobby, meanwhile, had positioned himself awkwardly at her side, holding her free hand and trying not to flinch when the nurse taped the tubing in place. His firefighter brain cataloged every piece of equipment automatically—IV gauge, fetal monitor placement, blood pressure cuff—but none of that prepared him for this. Watching her. Jenna finished securing the line and smiled up at them. "Alright. You're all set for now." Another nurse appeared at the doorway with a clipboard. "Hi! I'm Melissa, part of the L&D team. I just need to get a few details for the chart, okay?" She turned to Bobby. "Dad, you can help me with some of these."

He straightened instantly. "Yeah, of course." Melissa perched by the counter, flipping through the intake sheet. "Do you have a birth plan? Any preferences—epidural, natural, positions, music, consent to any medical medicines such as pitocin or medical procedures like an epistiomsty, that sort of thing?" Bobby looked at Athena. "Uh...we talked about it, but I think the plan was more of a 'see what happens' plan." Athena sighed through a fading contraction. "We'll decide when I'm not busy contracting." Melissa chuckled. "That's fair. Any doula or support person besides you?"

"Just me," Bobby said firmly, a small tremor in his voice. "Always her and me."

"Got it." Melissa jotted it down. "And your OB is Dr. Anjali Patel, yes?"

"Yes," Athena said through a breath, shifting on the bed as another contraction began building. "Oh, I love her," Melissa said. "You're in good hands. Dr Patel is finishing up with another delivery and will be in soon." Jenna came over again, adjusting the monitor belt as the contraction peaked. "Okay, deep breath, Mama. In through your nose...out through your mouth. You've got this." Athena followed the rhythm, gripping Bobby's hand so tightly he thought his fingers might pop. He didn't say a word—just kept breathing with her, matching her rhythm, grounding her in silence.

When it passed, she sagged back against the pillows, breathless but still stubborn. "That one was worse." Bobby brushed a damp curl off her forehead, his voice gentle. "You're doing incredible."

"I look incredible too, I bet," she muttered. He laughed softly, voice thick with love. "You always do." Melissa finished typing and stood. "Alright, everything's updated. We'll give you both a few minutes before Dr. Patel comes in. If you feel pressure or your contractions start coming closer, just hit the call button, okay?" Athena nodded, exhausted but steady. "Got it." The nurses slipped out, the door closing behind them with a soft click. The beeping monitor filled the silence—that perfect duet of heartbeats, mother and child.

Bobby sat on the edge of the bed, their hands still linked. His thumb brushed across the tape of her IV without thinking. "You okay?" he whispered. Athena turned her head toward him, eyes glassy but warm. "I'm scared," she admitted quietly. "Excited. But scared." He exhaled, leaning down until his forehead touched hers. "Me too." The monitor beeped, steady and bright, like it was keeping time for them both.

________

6:00–6:30 p.m.

Dr. Patel knocked softly before entering, her expression calm but focused. "Alright, Mrs. Nash," she said, pulling on gloves. "Let's see where we're at." Athena, flushed and breathing hard, nodded and let herself be guided back onto the bed. Bobby stood beside her, one hand gripping hers, the other rubbing slow circles on her shoulder. The monitors hummed quietly, one tracking her contractions, another recording Gabrielle's heartbeat. The sound filled the room, steady and reassuring.

Dr. Patel checked quickly, inserting her hand inside Athena—checking her cervix as quickly as possible to not keep her patient in pain or discomfort, before taking her hand out, throwing the glove away and glanced up with a small smile. "You're at about five centimeters. Things are definitely moving along." Athena blew out a shaky breath. "Five?" she asked, incredulous. "That's it?" Bobby smiled softly, brushing a damp strand of hair from her forehead. "Halfway there, babe."

She gave him a look that said

'don't you dare sound so optimistic, '

But before she could respond, another contraction surged. This one didn't build slowly like before, it hit sharp and deep, rippling through her entire body. Her hands clenched the rails, and a low sound—somewhere between a groan and a growl—escaped her. "Breathe, Athena," Bobby murmured, his voice low, steady. "In through your nose, out through your mouth." She tried. God, she tried. But her body was tensing against the pain, her instinct to hold her breath stronger than reason. Dr. Patel placed a hand on her knee. "Let it out, Athena. Don't hold it in—the baby needs that oxygen." Athena exhaled shakily, tears stinging her eyes, frustration and pain and determination all tangled together. "I'm trying!"

"I know," Bobby said, his hand finding hers again, fingers locking tight. "You're doing amazing. Just breathe with me, okay? We'll do it together." He exaggerated a long inhale, slow and deep, then exhaled, and she followed, mirroring his rhythm. It wasn't perfect, but it helped. The tension in her shoulders eased just a fraction, enough for her to ride it out. When the contraction passed, she sagged back against the pillows, sweat dampening her temples. Her whole body trembled with exhaustion. Bobby leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "You've got this," he whispered.

Athena gave a tired laugh, though it sounded like she wanted to cry. "You say that like you've done it before." He smiled faintly. "Hey, first time for everything." But the truth—the unspoken part was written all over his face. Seeing her in pain twisted something in him. This was Athena, fierce, unbreakable, always in control..and right now she was vulnerable, raw, human. And he couldn't fix it. He could only hold her hand and keep her breathing.

When the next contraction hit, she was already half off the bed, instinct making her move. "I can't lie down," she gasped. "I can't—it hurts more that way." Dr. Patel nodded to the nurse. "Let her move. Upright positions can help the baby descend." Bobby slipped behind her, strong hands bracing her hips as she leaned forward against the edge of the bed, rocking slightly. Each contraction tore through her with sound. Deep, guttural, the kind that came from somewhere ancient. Bobby could feel her trembling under his palms. He whispered close to her ear, voice breaking just a little, "I wish I could take it from you."

She shook her head, jaw tight. "No, you don't," she rasped between breaths. "You'd never make it." He laughed softly despite the tears in his eyes. "You're probably right." The nurse moved around them, checking monitors, adjusting cords, while Dr. Patel scribbled notes into Athena's chart. The steady thump of Gabrielle's heartbeat filled the silence between contractions. Strong, rhythmic, constant.

Bobby closed his eyes for a second, grounding himself in that sound. Every beat reminded him what this was all for. Then Athena's grip tightened again. "Bobby—" she gasped.

"I'm here."

Her next contraction made her cry out, not a scream, but a raw, unfiltered sound of effort and endurance. Bobby held her tighter, murmuring small, steady things in her ear, nonsense words, promises, love, anything to keep her anchored. When it passed, Athena slumped against him, her breathing uneven. "If I say I changed my mind," she muttered weakly, "tell everyone this was your idea." He let out a wet laugh, forehead resting against her shoulder. "Deal." The door clicked shut behind Dr. Patel, leaving the room dim except for the amber glow of the monitors and the soft rhythmic beep of the fetal heart line. The steady thup-thup-thup filled every breath, every pause between contractions.

Bobby stood at Athena's side, one hand gripping hers, the other rubbing small circles at the base of her spine. She was on the birthing ball now, leaning forward against the edge of the bed, rocking slightly with each wave. Sweat glistened along her temples, stray hairs sticking to her neck and forehead. "Okay, okay—just breathe through this one, Thena," Bobby murmured, his voice steady but low, like he was afraid to break whatever fragile focus she had.

Athena let out a long, low sound that wasn't quite a scream, but wasn't quiet either, something raw, pulled from deep inside. She gripped his wrist hard enough to make his fingers tingle. "It's getting stronger," she managed between breaths. "Way stronger."

"I know. You're doing great. Just keep breathing." He guided her inhale, exhale, counting softly with her until the contraction ebbed. The nurse, a calm woman named Danielle, entered quietly with a tablet in hand. "You're doing beautifully, Athena. I know Dr. Patel said you wanted to try as natural as possible and just go with the flow. Do you still want to stick with your birth plan, or are you open to medication if things keep progressing like this?" Athena's eyes were half-lidded, her breathing uneven. "No meds," she whispered hoarsely. Then another contraction started rolling in, and she bit down on a groan, fingers clawing at the bedsheet.

Bobby started to say something, maybe to offer a break, but she cut him off with a breathless, "Don't—don't talk right now." Danielle nodded with a knowing smile. "Alright, no talking. Just breathing." She crouched to check the monitors, then glanced up. "You're in that middle stretch now—contractions are close, and it's normal to feel restless. You can move, change positions, whatever helps." Restless was an understatement. Athena couldn't stay still for more than a minute. One moment she was swaying on the ball, the next gripping the bed rail, then leaning into Bobby's chest as if his weight might somehow anchor her to earth.

Every hour, Danielle, Jenna, Melissa or another nurse would come in to check her dilation—and every time, Athena tensed before it even started. It wasn't the pain of it so much as the loss of control. The way the contractions didn't wait for permission.

 

At 7:30, she was at seven centimeters.

 

At 8:15, eight and a half.

 

"Almost there," Bobby murmured, brushing a damp curl from her forehead. "Don't say that," she hissed between clenched teeth, a sharp gasp catching her voice. "Every time you say that, it gets worse." He smiled, despite everything. "Then I won't say it. You're just—"

"Don't. Say. Anything."

Another contraction hit hard, sending her forward into his chest. Her breath came in shallow, uneven bursts, and Bobby felt his own chest tighten in response. He glanced at the monitor—Gabrielle's heart rate steady, rhythmic—and whispered, more to himself than her, "She's okay. You're both okay."

___

The room was heavy with sound now—the steady pulse of the monitors, the sharp click of instruments being set up, and Athena's voice breaking the rhythm of it all. She was no longer quiet, every contraction came with a sound she couldn't hold back—a low, guttural cry that started in her chest and tore its way out. A moan here, a groan there. "Bobby—" she gasped, fingers clawing for him as the next wave hit. "I'm here, I'm here," he said quickly, taking her hand, pressing it to his heart. "Just breathe through it, Thena."

Her head fell forward, tears slipping down her cheeks as she fought to ride it out. The pain burned, rolled, peaked, and for the first time, panic crept into her eyes. "I can't—" she started, voice cracking. "I can't do this, Bobby, I need something—please, I can't—" Bobby looked up fast,pressing the call button. "She's asking for an epidural. Can we get someone in here—now?" Danielle came into the room soon after, glanced at the monitors, then back at Athena. "She's almost at nine centimeters. It's too late for that, Dad."

"Too late?" Bobby repeated, like the words didn't make sense. "She's in pain, she's—"

"I know," Danielle said gently, moving closer. "But she's progressing fast. The anesthesiologist wouldn't even make it up here in time for it to help. At this stage, it's safer to keep going naturally." Athena's head snapped up, eyes glassy. "Naturally?!" she nearly shouted, her voice shaking. "You call this natural?" Danielle gave her a sympathetic look. "You're doing beautifully, Athena. I promise, this is the hardest part. Once you're at ten, you'll start pushing, and you'll meet your baby soon."

Athena let out a raw sound—half sob, half anger. "I don't care about soon! I want it over!" Bobby knelt beside her, hand steadying her leg as she shifted on the bed. "Hey, look at me," he whispered. "You're doing this. You are doing this. You've gotten through everything else in your life—you can get through this too."

She gritted her teeth, another contraction cresting. "That's—" she broke off on a sharp breath, "that's not helping!"

"Okay, okay, sorry," he said quickly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Forget the pep talk. Just breathe. Squeeze my hand, yell, curse, whatever you need—just keep breathing." She did—loud, unsteady, desperate breaths that hitched between cries and curses. The bed rails rattled beneath her grip, her voice breaking through clenched teeth as another contraction surged.

Danielle and another nurse moved around the room, checking monitors, prepping the warmer and the delivery tray. The air had shifted, the kind of quiet chaos that meant it's almost time. Athena sagged back against the pillows, chest heaving, eyes fluttering closed as the pain finally ebbed for a moment. Bobby stayed beside her, brushing her arm, his voice low. "You're almost there," he said softly. "Just a little more, baby." She cracked one eye open, tears still clinging to her lashes. "If you say 'almost there' one more time, I swear—"

He smiled faintly through the ache in his chest. "Okay. Not saying it." The monitor beeped steadily. Somewhere down the hall, another woman cried out. The world had narrowed to this room—to her voice, her breath, the sound of life pressing closer.

_____

8:30

The room had fallen into a rhythm now—nurses moving in soft choreography, machines humming low, the muted rise and fall of Athena's breathing between contractions. Athena was 9 centimeters now, almost time. Bobby sat close beside her, one hand tangled with hers, the other brushing damp curls from her forehead. It had been hours since they arrived, but time didn't feel real anymore. Everything was measured in contractions, in seconds of calm before the next storm.

Athena's phone, forgotten on the counter next to the monitor, suddenly buzzed. Once. Then again. The sound sliced through the low hum of the room. Bobby glanced at the screen, his chest tightening when he saw the name, ' Mom. '

He hesitated. Then, before he could decide whether to ignore it, Athena cracked an eye open. "Who's that?" she rasped, voice hoarse. He froze. "It's—uh—your mom." Her face went still. "You're kidding."

"Nope."

Athena closed her eyes and groaned. "Of course she calls now." She took a deep breath, then winced as another contraction started to build. "Decline it."

"Thena—"

"Decline. It."

But the buzzing didn't stop. Beatrice Carter, once again, proving her persistence was genetic. Athena clenched her jaw. "Put it on speaker," she muttered through her teeth. Bobby hesitated, then did as he was told, setting the phone on the tray table. "Hello?"

"Robert," came Beatrice's voice—crisp, sharp, and unmistakably irritated.

"Why hasn't anyone updated me? I've been calling all day."

Athena let out a low, disbelieving laugh between breaths. She knew how to detect a half-assed lie from a mile away with this woman. Calling all day—or deciding whether to call took you all day?

"Because maybe—oh, I don't know—I've been a little busy, Mama!"

Beatrice paused. "Well, you don't need to take that tone. I was simply asking if you've had the baby yet."

Athena's head fell back against the pillow. "Does it sound like I've had the baby yet?" Bobby winced, torn between ending the call and knowing better than to interfere. Beatrice sniffed. "I just assumed someone would have the decency to keep me informed. Your father's been pacing the house for hours—"

"Mama," Athena interrupted, voice tightening as another contraction started to build. "Not now. Please."

"What's that noise?" Beatrice asked sharply. "Are you crying?"

"She's—uh—laboring," Bobby said carefully, keeping his tone neutral. "Well, obviously, Robert," Beatrice snapped. "That's what happens when you go into labor."

Athena groaned, clutching Bobby's hand so tight his knuckles turned white. "Mama, I love you," she ground out between breaths, "but if you don't hang up this phone right now—"

Jenna, the nurse, quietly reached over and ended the call for her. "There," she said gently. "We'll call her after the baby's here." Athena slumped back, gasping as the contraction faded. "Thank you," she whispered. Bobby stared at the phone like it might ring again any second. "She's probably already complaining to Samuel," he murmured. "I don't care if she calls the president," Athena muttered, closing her eyes. "She's not doing this with me."

But as silence settled again, Bobby looked at her—really looked at her—and saw it wasn't just anger under the exhaustion. It was sadness, too. He reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. "Hey," he said quietly. "You're not doing this alone, okay?"

She opened her eyes, tears clinging to her lashes. "I know," she whispered. "I just...I wish she knew how to be here without making it worse." He brushed his thumb over her palm. "Then we'll show her. We'll do better." Athena nodded faintly, her chest rising and falling in shaky breaths.

________

9:00 p.m.

The air in the room had changed, heavier somehow, electric with the kind of quiet that comes before everything tilts. Athena was shaking now, her whole body running on instinct and exhaustion. The nurse had just finished checking her, murmuring something about "almost ten" before slipping out to tell Dr. Patel. Bobby sat close, one hand gripping hers, thumb brushing slow circles into her skin. He could see the tremor in her lips, the strain around her eyes.

"You're doing so good, Thena," he whispered, voice low, steady. "Almost there." Athena didn't answer at first. Her breaths were sharp, uneven. Then, suddenly, her expression changed—her eyes went wide, her body curling inward. "Bobby," she gasped. "Oh—oh God." He straightened instantly, panic flickering across his face. "What? What is it?" Her voice cracked, raw and urgent. "I have to push." Bobby blinked. "What?"

"I have to push!" she half-cried, half-growled, one hand clutching at the bedrail, the other cupping her lower belly. "I can't—not—oh my God—" The monitors spiked, the steady rhythm of Gabrielle's heartbeat filling the room as Athena bore down against the feeling. Bobby shot up, slammed his thumb against the call button. "Hey! Somebody get in here—she says she's ready!" The intercom crackled, calm and clipped. "We're on our way." He turned back to her, hand instantly on her shoulder. "Hey, hey, just breathe, okay? Just—try to breathe—"

 

9:01 p.m.

 

"I can't," she hissed, face twisting with the next contraction. "It hurts so—oh, God—Bobby!" He held her hand tighter, trying to anchor her as his own heart hammered against his ribs. Then the door burst open. Dr. Patel swept in, followed by two nurses and the midwife. The air filled with soft urgency, drawers opening, gloves snapping, calm orders exchanged in practiced shorthand. "Okay, Athena," Dr. Patel said quickly, voice steady but kind. "We're here. Don't push just yet, all right? Let's see what's happening." Athena's response was a strangled, breathless sound. "She's coming!" Dr. Patel checked fast, then looked up with a sure, knowing smile. "Ten centimeters. Fully dilated. You're ready."

Bobby exhaled like he'd been holding that breath for hours. The nurse adjusted the bed, another prepped a small tray, and the midwife moved closer to Athena's side. "Okay, Mama," the midwife said softly, touching Athena's knee. "You've done all the hard work. When that next contraction comes, we're going to help you bring your baby into the world." Athena nodded weakly, her face glistening with sweat, jaw trembling. Bobby reached out, brushed a damp curl from her forehead, and whispered, "You got this. You hear me? You got this, baby." Another wave started building —deep and low—and Athena's whole body tensed. She looked at Bobby with a mix of fear, pain, and something fierce underneath it all.

"I can't do this," she whispered. "Yes, you can," he said, his voice breaking even as he smiled through it. "You already are." The monitors beeped steadily, the team moved into place, and time seemed to fold around them. The midwife caught Athena's eye and nodded once. "Whenever you're ready, Mama. It's time."

 

9:05 p.m.

 

Dr. Patel stood at the foot of the bed, calm and unhurried, voice soft but steady. "Okay, Athena," she said, smiling just slightly. "You're almost there. When the next one comes, I want you to breathe deep, tuck your chin, and push right into it, all the way down. You've got this." Athena's fingers clutched the bedrails. Bobby was right beside her, one hand bracing her shoulder, the other held firmly in her grip. He'd been a firefighter for almost a decade, seen people through the worst moments of their lives—but nothing had prepared him for this kind of power. For her power.

The next contraction rose before she could catch her breath—a deep, rolling wave that pulled every ounce of focus out of her. Her jaw tightened. Her chest seized.

Then she pushed.

 

9:10 p.m.

 

Her cry broke through the silence — raw, low, vibrating somewhere deep in her chest. The sound filled the room, grounding everyone in the moment. The nurse at her side nodded encouragingly. "Good, good. That's perfect, Athena. Just like that. Keep breathing."

But she wasn't breathing—not yet. Her face was flushed, her muscles taut, the air caught behind her teeth. "Don't hold it," Dr. Patel urged gently. "In through your nose, out through your mouth. Breathe for her, okay? Baby needs your oxygen." Athena gasped, the breath ripping back into her lungs. It came out shaky, broken, but real.
Bobby leaned in close, his forehead almost touching hers. "That's it, sweetheart. In and out. You're doing amazing."

She fell back against the pillows as the contraction passed, panting. Her hair clung to her face, damp with sweat. Bobby smoothed it away, his hand trembling slightly. Her eyes met his—tired, glassy, but still blazing with that same fire he'd fallen in love with all those years ago. "Already?" she whispered, voice rough when another contraction started building. Dr. Patel's smile was warm, reassuring. "Already. That means she's close."

 

9:13 p.m.

 

Athena let out something between a groan and a laugh—a sound threaded with disbelief and pain.
"Of course she is," she muttered, bracing herself. The nurse adjusted the monitors, speaking softly. "She's moving down beautifully, Athena. Just listen to your body." And then it hit again, harder this time. Her body arched; her fingers clamped around Bobby's hand so tightly that he almost swore out loud. He didn't let go. Her voice broke on the next push, a long, low sound that filled the air. "Good, that's it," the nurse murmured. "Push through it. You're strong. You've got her."

Athena's world narrowed to three things, pressure, heat, and Bobby's voice beside her. He was counting, coaching, whispering through clenched teeth even as his own eyes watered. "Breathe...you're right there, Athena...she's almost here."

 

9:15 p.m.

 

But inside the chaos, other things started to surface—flashes of memory, vivid and uninvited. Her mother's face, the way her voice sharpened whenever Bobby's name came up.

"You're throwing away your future for him, Athena."

"You think this man will give you the life you deserve?"

 

9:18 p.m.

 

Every argument replayed itself like echoes bouncing off the walls of her mind. The ache of those old wounds folded into the ache of her body now, one kind of labor layered on another. She remembered standing in the kitchen 9 months ago, hands trembling while holding the phone as she told Beatrice she was pregnant. How her mother's silence filled the other line, unreadable, before she said, "Don't come to me when it falls apart."

That pain had sat with Athena for months—but so had something else.

The memory of Bobby's face when she told him.
The way his eyes filled with tears, his hands shaking as he touched her belly for the first time, whispering, "We're really doing this."

 

9:19 p.m.

 

The way he'd built the crib one night, refusing to read the directions, muttering under his breath about Allen wrenches and cheap screws while Athena laughed so hard she cried.

She'd spent whole afternoons sitting in the nursery, palm against her belly, watching the tiny movements beneath her skin. The soft thump of a heel here. The flutter of an elbow there.

She'd whispered Gabrielle's name a hundred times into the quiet—testing how it sounded, letting it become real.

 

9:20 p.m.

 

All of it—every sleepless night, every moment of doubt and hope, it all came rushing back as another contraction gripped her.

She groaned, bending forward, pushing with everything she had. Dr. Patel's voice was calm, cutting through the noise. "Perfect, Athena. Beautiful. Keep breathing. Don't fight it—work with it." Bobby was whispering steady encouragements. His face was pale, his jaw tight, his heart visibly breaking and swelling at the same time. "You're almost there, Thena. You're doing it. She's coming. You're so strong." Athena gasped, her voice cracking mid-breath. "Bobby, I can't—"

"Yes, you can," he said instantly. "You are." Her head fell back against his shoulder, a mix of sweat and tears streaking her face. She breathed through the next wave—short, sharp bursts, exactly like they'd practiced in that one birthing class she swore she didn't need. He counted along with her, his hand never leaving hers. The room hummed with quiet energy—nurses moving efficiently, instruments clicking, monitors steady. Outside, it was late, the hospital quieter now, as though the world itself was holding its breath. Dr. Patel looked up, eyes meeting Bobby's for just a moment. "She's progressing beautifully. It won't be long now."

 

9:23 p.m.

 

Bobby swallowed hard, nodding. His throat felt tight. He pressed a kiss to Athena's temple, whispering, "You're almost there, sweetheart. She's almost here." Athena closed her eyes, whispering back, voice small but steady. "I waited so long for her." And then another contraction hit, fierce and consuming. Athena cried out, gripping Bobby's hand and the bedrail, her voice filling the room again—pain and power woven together.

Every push brought her closer.

Every breath was a promise.

 

9:24 p.m.

 

She didn't know it yet, but the next time Dr. Patel spoke, it would be to say the words she'd been waiting nine long months to hear. "She's about to crown."

Athena felt it instantly—a downward pressure so intense it nearly stole the air from her lungs. A sound tore out of her throat, raw and involuntary, and Bobby instantly tightened his hold, his arms a brace around her shoulders. Dr. Patel's voice cut calmly through the noise. "Okay, Athena. Good. That's the pressure we like. The next push—the baby's going to make an appearance, alright?" Athena's breath trembled out of her. "Oh God—"

 

9:25 p.m.

 

"That's it baby," Bobby whispered into her hair. His voice cracked on the word. "I'm right here. I've got you." Another contraction surged, monstrous and undeniable. Athena folded forward, gripping the bedrail so hard her knuckles went pale. Her voice rose, a deep, guttural groan that pulled every muscle in her abdomen tight. Dr. Patel lifted her gaze."That's it, push-push-push, keep going—I see her head. Athena, she's crowning." The room went still—nurses pausing just for one breath, Bobby freezing, Athena's eyes flying open. Time pressed in around them.

The burning hit a second later. A fierce ring of fire, stretching, searing, demanding everything from her all at once. Athena gasped, a sound half-panicked, half-furious and Bobby felt his whole world crack. "Breathe, sweetheart—breathe," he whispered, though tears were already streaming down his face. He'd never heard her make a sound like that. Never seen her this vulnerable, this powerful, this alive. Athena panted hard, jaw shaking. "I can't—I can't—"

 

9:26 p.m.

 

"Yes," Dr. Patel said firmly, "you can. Athena, you are. She's right there. The hardest part is almost over. Just ride this out with me." The burning intensified—a hot, tearing stretch that made Athena cry out again, gripping Bobby's wrists as if he were the only thing anchoring her to the earth. "One more breath...good...now push for me." Athena bore down with everything left inside her. "She's out!" Dr. Patel announced. "Head is out—you did it, Athena!" Athena collapsed back against Bobby, shaking, sobbing, panting. Bobby pressed his cheek against hers, tears pouring down freely as he whispered, "You did it...oh my God, you did it..." Down below, Gabrielle's tiny shoulders began to rotate naturally, turning for her final descent.
Dr. Patel supported her carefully. "She's perfect. Just one more big push and you'll meet your daughter."

Athena nodded, tears streaming from her eyes.
Her entire body trembled with exhaustion and adrenaline. Her heart felt too big for her chest. The next contraction rolled in, sharp and merciless.
Athena gripped Bobby's arms, bent forward, and pushed—Hard. Harder than before. Harder than she knew she could. A strangled scream left her lips—a sound of pain, effort, love, and every memory she'd ever carried.

And then—

A slippery weight.
A sudden release.
A wet, warm presence entering the room.

Dr. Patel's voice rose, triumphant and soft all at once. "She's here!"

 

9:27 p.m.

 

Athena's head shot up, her eyes wide and shining. She didn't see everything—not every detail—just the general shape of her daughter being lifted, small and covered in the messy evidence of birth, the nurse's hands supporting her.

Gabrielle didn't cry right away. Her first sound was a tiny, uncertain mewl—soft as a kitten, trembly, confused. Athena sobbed. "Oh—oh God—Bobby—"

"I see her," Bobby whispered, voice completely undone. "Athena...she's here, she's here—" The nurse gave Gabrielle a firm rub on her back, clearing her lungs—and Gabrielle's tiny face scrunched, turned red, and she let out a cry.

Not weak.
Not hesitant.
A loud, strong, furious newborn wail that filled the entire room.

Athena broke. She crumbled—tears spilling down her cheeks, sobbing so hard her whole body shook.
Her hands opened, reaching without thinking, instinct taking over. "Bring her—please—bring her to me—" The nurse smiled, swift and gentle, placing the tiny, wet, vernix-covered newborn onto Athena's chest, just below her collarbones. Skin to skin. Gabrielle curled instinctively into the warmth, her cries shifting into softer, breathy whimpers against Athena's heartbeat.

Athena touched her daughter for the first time.
Her fingers trembling as they traced the damp curls flattened against her scalp. Her hand cupped Gabrielle's back, feeling the tiny bones, the tiny breaths. Athena's face broke open with awe so pure it almost hurt. "Hi, baby...oh my God...hi..." She sobbed, laughing and crying, pressing soft kisses to Gabrielle's forehead. Bobby leaned over them both, one arm around Athena, the other trembling as he touched Gabrielle's tiny hand. The baby's fingers curled around his immediately—impossibly small, impossibly certain.

Bobby choked out a sound that didn't even feel like a word. Just a rush of emotion breaking through years of fear, hope, doubt, and love. "Oh, sweetheart..." he whispered, voice cracking open. "She's perfect." Athena rested her forehead against his, both of them shaking, crying, laughing breathlessly. Their daughter lay between them, warm and new and real.

This was it. This was the moment. Everything they had fought through—every doubt, every argument, every fear—melted in the presence of this tiny, screaming, beautiful miracle. Bobby whispered, "We did it." Athena whispered back, voice trembling, "She's everything." And Gabrielle—their Gabrielle—cried and breathed and lived in their arms.

__________

The world didn't snap back all at once.
It softened. The lights seemed dimmer. The voices grew quieter. The room, moments ago full of rushing footsteps and quick commands, became something gentler—like everyone collectively understood this was sacred time. Gabrielle lay on Athena's chest, skin-to-skin, her tiny cheek pressed against her mother's damp collarbone. Her cries had softened to little squeaks and whimpers, her fists kneading weakly against Athena's skin.

Athena was still crying, tears dripping into the soft curls on her daughter's head. She didn't bother wiping them away. These tears felt like they belonged here. Bobby hovered close, one hand supporting Gabrielle's back, the other stroking Athena's hair as she caught her breath through occasional aftershocks of pain. Dr. Patel's voice was quiet, warm.

"Athena, sweetheart...whenever you're ready, I need one more little push for the placenta." Athena nodded, exhausted but compliant. She tightened her grip around Gabrielle for emotional grounding rather than physical strength. Bobby pressed a kiss to her temple. "I'm right here." With a mild cramp and one tired push, the placenta slid free. The nurses moved swiftly, gently, placing it in the tray. No fanfare—just quiet professionalism.

A nurse murmured, "Beautiful, healthy placenta. No signs of retained tissue." Another added, "Great job, Mom." Athena let out a shaky breath. "Thank God..." Dr. Patel handled the rest—checking for tears, giving Athena a few numbing injections and sutures. Nothing major. A small first-degree tear, common and manageable. Athena winced but didn't complain. All her focus stayed on the baby on her chest. Through it all, Gabrielle stayed tucked under her chin, completely unconcerned with the medical routine happening inches away.

Bobby stayed glued to both of them. His face was blotchy from crying. His shirt damp with sweat and tears and birth. When the sutures were done and everything was finally quiet again, Dr. Patel smiled. "I'll give you three some time," she said gently. "She's perfect, Athena. Absolutely perfect." The room cleared to only two nurses—soft-voiced, slow-moving—beginning the newborn routine.

One nurse approached gently. "Dad? Whenever you're ready...it's time to cut the cord."

Bobby froze. Athena looked up at him through tear-filled lashes. "Go on," she whispered. "Do it." His throat bobbed. He stepped forward, hands trembling more than he wanted anyone to notice. The nurse held the scissors, guiding his fingers.
Gabrielle let out a soft sigh, completely unbothered. "Right here, Dad. Nice and clean snip." Athena nodded at him, breathless, still half-laughing and half-crying. "Go on, baby...you can do it." Bobby inhaled, bracing himself.

He leaned forward. He snipped. And Gabrielle let out the loudest, angriest newborn wail yet. A full-body, indignant scream. Bobby froze, scissors still mid-air, eyes going wide like he'd just committed a federal crime. "Oh my—I—Athena, I hurt her—I—didn't mean to—" His voice cracked so hard it barely formed words. Athena blinked at him, dazed but confused. "Bobby, what—? You didn't hurt her!" But he was already crying again, big messy tears falling fast.

"She—she screamed, Thena—oh my God, she screamed—I scared her—I made her cry—" The nurse actually bit back a laugh—kindly, gently—as she reached out to pat his arm. "Oh, Dad...I promise you, you didn't hurt her. Babies cry when air hits their lungs. Cutting the cord doesn't hurt." Gabrielle wailed louder, like she was in full agreement that life was very rude. Bobby sniffed, wiped at his eyes uselessly, and hovered anxiously over the baby.

"I'm—I'm sorry, sweetheart," he whispered to her tiny, furious face. "Daddy's right here. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Athena let out a soft, watery laugh.
"Bobby...she's okay. She's perfect." The nurse smiled warmly. "Honestly? That's a great cry. Strong lungs. Healthy girl." Bobby's shoulders loosened—but not completely. He leaned down and pressed a trembling kiss to Gabrielle's forehead.

And when she quieted for a second—that tiny newborn hitch of breath—he let out another sob of pure relief. Athena reached for his hand, squeezing it. "You didn't hurt her," she whispered. "You're her dad, baby. She just wanted you to know she's got opinions already." Bobby sniffed again, laughing through tears. "She sounds just like you."

Athena gave him a watery smile. "Keep talking. See if she gets her first eye roll from me or you." And finally Bobby exhaled. He touched Gabrielle's cheek gently with one knuckle, voice soft but certain, "Daddy's got you. I'm right here."

And this time Gabrielle let out a tiny little squeak that sounded almost like a sigh...and then settled. Bobby leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of Gabrielle's head. "That's my girl," he whispered.

 

__________

 

After about twenty minutes of skin-to-skin, the nurse asked softly, "Mom? We can do her weight and vitals now. She'll come right back to you." Athena hesitated, her arms tightening a little. Bobby saw it instantly. "Hey," he murmured, brushing a tear off her cheek, "I'll go with her. She won't leave my sight." Athena swallowed, then nodded. "Okay...go with her. Stay with her the entire time." Bobby gave her a look—the kind that said always.

The nurse carried Gabrielle to the warmer just a few steps away. She fussed at being lifted, giving a tiny outraged squawk, but once laid down, she blinked up wide-eyed, limbs curling instinctively. The nurses cooed softly.

"Oh, she's alert."

"Look at those long legs."

"She's got her daddy's chin."

"And mama's eyes."

Bobby stood right beside the warmer, one hand gently keeping contact with Gabrielle's tiny foot. The first weight readout blinked:

6 pounds, 8 ounces.

"Perfect size," the nurse said warmly. Length:

21 inches.

Head circumference:

13.5 inches.

"Healthy girl," the second nurse confirmed. "Beautiful Apgars, too." Bobby wiped at his eyes again—useless, really, because they kept filling. When she finished her quick newborn exam—vitals, reflexes, temperature—Gabrielle let out a few high-pitched cries at the indignity of the cold air and being handled. The nurse put her in a diaper and wrapped her in a warm blanket and handed her immediately back to Bobby.

His whole body softened. He cradled her as if she were made of spun glass. He pressed her forehead to his lips. He closed his eyes. And for the first time in his life, Bobby Nash whispered, "Hey, peanut..." with the voice of a man who had just found his reason for breathing. Bobby handed Gabrielle back to Athena, who took her like she'd been waiting her entire life for this moment. Gabrielle settled instantly, resting her head above Athena's heart—calm, warm, safe.

Bobby climbed into the bed beside them, careful and reverent. Athena leaned her head on his shoulder, their daughter between them, wrapped in the soft hospital blanket. They stared at her like she was the first child ever born. Athena whispered, voice full of awe and disbelief. "She's...she's perfect."

"She is," Bobby whispered back, unable to stop smiling. "She's so perfect, Athena." Gabrielle blinked slowly up at them, eyelids fluttering as she adjusted to the world. She made a tiny sound—something between a sigh and a squeak—and Athena laughed through her tears. Bobby reached out and stroked Gabrielle's cheek with one knuckle. "We should tell them her name," he murmured. Athena nodded, brushing a curl back from Gabrielle's damp forehead. Soft. Loving. Certain.

"Gabrielle Renée Nash,"

Athena whispered into her daughter's hair. Her voice trembled with love. "Hi, Gabrielle..." Bobby murmured. "Welcome to the world, sweetheart." And for a long, quiet stretch—time didn't exist. No phone calls. No visitors. No interruptions. Just the three of them. Athena whispered stories into Gabrielle's hair—who she was, how long they waited, how loved she already was. Bobby kissed Athena's forehead, then Gabrielle's, then both again, overwhelmed. Every breath felt like a prayer. Every heartbeat felt like a promise.

Their daughter. Their miracle. Their new beginning. The world could wait. Right now, Gabrielle Renée Nash was everything.

Chapter Text

(6791 words)

April—2015

The last few minutes of his shift dragged like syrup. Bobby leaned against the lockers, idly spinning the zipper on his duffle bag, keeping an eye on the clock above the bay doors. He could hear Hen laughing loudly at something Chimney said, Eddie fumbling with his phone, Buck pacing in slow circles like he was trying to invent a new workout mid-shift. "Think the bell's gonna ring before we get out?" Bobby asked, half to himself, half to Chimney.

"Probably," Chimney said without looking up, grinning. "But hey, someone's gotta make it exciting, right?" Hen sighed, wiping a tear away that managed to slip. "Don't tempt fate Bobby. Just sit back and watch the clock crawl." Bobby smirked, but his eyes kept darting toward the seconds ticking closer to the end. He wanted out. Wanted to get to his truck and drive home. Pick up Gabrielle, Elias, and Naomi. Athena was working a late shift at the precinct tonight, it was his turn. The thought made his chest tighten in that familiar, quiet way.

He grabbed his duffle from his locker, shouldering it with the practiced ease of a man who had done this a thousand times. The strap dug into him just enough to remind him of the weight of responsibility, but it was nothing compared to what awaited him outside the firehouse doors. "Finally," Buck said, watching him sling the bag. "Freedom."

"Almost," Bobby muttered, adjusting the strap. "Almost." The door to the bay opened, and Bobby stepped toward his truck, the sunlight catching the edges of his uniform shirt. A small rush of relief hit him—he could almost taste the quiet of the car ride, the little hands waiting in car seats, the chaos of daycare and school that would feel nothing like the controlled chaos of the firehouse.

 

"Bobby."

 

The word landed like an anchor dropped straight into his chest. He froze mid-step. Great, Vincent Gerrard. Captain Gerrard, leaning against the ladder rack, arms crossed, eyes narrowing in that deliberate, calm way that made it impossible to argue. "Captain," Bobby said carefully, nodding, one hand still gripping the duffle strap. "We've got an issue," Gerrard said, gesturing toward one of the bays. "Truck 4's engine temp has been fluctuating since the last call. Could be nothing, could be something. I need you to run a diagnostic before you leave."

Bobby exhaled slowly, frustration pricking at the edges of his patience. "Gerrard, I've got...kids. I gotta pick up my littlest from daycare, my two eldest from school. Athena's working a late shift tonight—that's why I'm picking them up." Gerrard cocked his head slightly, like he was considering something. "Shouldn't Athena pick them up?" he asked, voice mild, almost casual, almost like a suggestion. "Because, she's working late, Gerrard," Bobby said, holding back a sigh "She can't. That's literally why I'm leaving."

The captain didn't move. Didn't blink. Just stood there, that eternal weight of authority in his posture. "I hear you, Nash. I do. But Truck 4 needs you. Just thirty minutes. Shouldn't take longer." Bobby's jaw tightened. Thirty minutes. The clock in his head was screaming. The kids. Athena. Car seats. Snacks. Permission slips. Bedtime routines. Thirty minutes suddenly felt like a lifetime. He dropped his duffle onto the passenger seat of his truck, muttering a low, frustrated curse. Chimney, Hen, Buck, and Eddie were watching, leaning on the counters, grinning a little at his reaction but also aware he had no choice.

"He literally could've asked anyone of us," Hen blinked at her captain. "Thirty minutes, Nash," Gerrard added, calm as ever. "Do it right. I don't care about the clock." Bobby exhaled through his nose, slapping the hood of his truck lightly. "Thirty minutes," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. He shot Gerrard a look that promised revenge in the future, then grabbed his tools from the truck bed and started toward the bay, already counting in his head how long until he could leave for his kids.

Bobby dragged his feet back across the bay floor, the familiar scuff of his boots echoing louder than usual, probably because irritation sharpened every sound in the room. Hen raised an eyebrow as he approached. "Oh boy," she murmured under her breath. "The Captain-strikes-again face." Chimney leaned in, whispering too loudly, "He got you again, didn't he? What is that now—the fourth time this week?"

"Fifth," Buck corrected, munching on a muffin that was gifted to the station. Eddie, barely older than a kid himself at this point, lifted his gaze from coiling a hose. "You want help?" he offered, genuinely. His voice respectful of Bobby's ticking stress. Bobby exhaled, long and slow. "Yeah. Let's get it done fast."

The four younger firefighters fell into motion around him without needing explanation—an unspoken acknowledgement that they all knew exactly how it felt to be at the end of a shift and be forced into extra work by Captain Hardass. Truck 4 sat in the bay like a stubborn old bull—engine compartment open, diagnostic panel blinking. "Gerrard could've had the next shift deal with this," Hen muttered quietly as she held the flashlight steady for Bobby. "He's just being a—"

"Hen," Bobby warned gently. "A difficult human being," she corrected with a smirk. "But seriously, either next shift deals with it or call a handy man. Does he really think every man knows how to fix a car—let alone a firetruck?" Chimney climbed into the cab, flipping the ignition halfway. "You know he does it on purpose, right?" he called. "He waits until right when you're about to leave." Buck added, "He gets this...look. That 'I'm doing something important and managerial' look." Eddie snorted a soft laugh. "Can't relate. I don't think I've ever seen him do any actual work."

"Shh," Bobby hissed, though a reluctant smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. "I still need this job." Hen hummed. "You mean you need this job and to not murder a superior officer? Fair." Bobby leaned into the engine compartment, brows drawn tight as he checked the diagnostics module. The engine temp readings were, in his professional opinion, fine. More than fine. The kind of "fine" that meant Gerrard definitely dragged him back for absolutely no reason.

Tick.
Tick.
Tick.

He didn't have to look at the clock. He could feel it. He needed to leave in—God, ten minutes ago. "Everything looks normal," Bobby muttered, scanning again because he was nothing if not thorough. "No coolant leak. No pressure build. No sensor faults."

"So...this could've waited until the next crew," Hen said slowly. Bobby didn't answer—because yes, it absolutely could have. Buck peeked over his shoulder. "Want me to go tell Gerrard—"

"No," Bobby said quickly. "No. If he hears I let any of you talk to him on my behalf, he'll keep me here another hour." Hen scoffed. "Okay, but why'd he even pull you back? You literally said you needed to pick up your kids." The emotion flickered across Bobby's face—frustration, paternal urgency, worry stitched together into tight lines around his eyes. "He asked why Athena couldn't do it," Bobby muttered. Dead silence. The whole group froze, collective disbelief hitting like a wave. Eddie slowly straightened. "He...said that? Seriously?"

"He suggested it," Bobby corrected, voice tight. "Athena's pulling a late shift." Chimney pressed a hand to his chest dramatically. "Ah yes. Because the year is 1952 and child-rearing is exclusively the wife's responsibility." Hen shook her head, disgust and humor mixing. "Gerrard needs to retire. Or evaporate."

"Preferably both," Buck added. They finished the diagnostic checks quickly, efficiently—partly because the work was simple, partly because they could all feel Bobby's anxiety humming beneath the surface like a live wire. Finally, Bobby sealed the engine panel shut with a decisive snap. "That's it?" Eddie asked. "That's it," Bobby confirmed. Hen crossed her arms. "You telling him or should we?"

"I'll tell him," Bobby said, already sighing because he knew how this would go. Gerrard stood by the office like he'd been waiting for the exact sound of Bobby's boots approaching. His expression was unreadable in the worst, most superior way—a man who believed still being physically present meant he was contributing. "Well?" he asked with a pointed lift of his chin. "It's fine, Captain," Bobby said. "Everything's within normal parameters. Truck 4 is good to go." Gerrard hummed like he wasn't satisfied. "And you checked the auxiliary coolant line? The backup temp sensor? The auxiliary battery connections?"

"Yes," Bobby answered, even though he very much wanted to say, 'I checked everything ten times because I wanted to leave.' Gerrard gave him a long, appraising stare. "You can go." Just like that. As if Bobby had been waiting around for permission. As if he hadn't told him he needed to leave almost twenty minutes ago. As if Bobby's kids weren't waiting. He nodded stiffly. "Thank you, Captain." Gerrard added, with that tone only people who never have to rush home use, "It's important to finish what's started, Nash. Your family can wait ten minutes." Bobby's jaw clenched so hard he felt it echo in the roots of his teeth. Hen's eyes widened behind Gerrard, her whole face flattening into the tense, 'silent are you kidding me?' expression that only another parent could make.

Chimney mouthed 'oh hell no' so emphatically his lips looked like they might fall off. Buck stared like he was watching an active dumpster fire unfold—both horrified and utterly fascinated. And Eddie—gentle, twenty-two-year-old Eddie, still new to the 118, still learning how this family moved—actually took a step forward before Hen caught his sleeve and pulled him back with the tiniest shake of her head. They weren't reacting just because Bobby was their friend.

It was because they knew. Hen knew what it meant to race the clock to get to Denny before the last teacher started shutting lights off. She knew the gut-tightening pressure of traffic on days when Karen was stuck at work, and she was the only parent on the hook. Eddie knew it too, in a different but even heavier way.

He knew what it meant to be late and have Christopher waiting—small backpack on, breathing hard from excitement or effort, balancing on unsteady legs, scanning the parking lot for his dad. A kid who couldn't stand in a crowd without getting overwhelmed or jostled. A kid who needed consistency, safety, familiarity. A kid whose mother recently walked out and didn't know when she would be back.

Both of them understood, bone-deep, that Bobby wasn't being dramatic. He was being a father. Bobby forced a breath. A steadying one that hurt. "They've been waiting longer than ten minutes, sir," he said, but sharpened enough to make even Gerrard blink. Gerrard blinked...then rolled his eyes. Actually rolled his eyes. "Well, it's not like whatever school they go to is going to toss them out onto the street if you're not there at the exact second the clock strikes three," Gerrard said with a dismissive chuckle—the kind older men use when they think someone is making a big deal out of nothing. But Gerrard wasn't finished.

"Young parents always think the world will end if pickup is a little late. Your kids will survive. You don't need to sprint out of here like the building is collapsing." Bobby just stared at him. Because it wasn't about the daycare kicking them out. It wasn't about a policy. It wasn't about rules. Gerrard clearly didn't understand the real issue, traffic.

Pickup lines that wrapped around the block like a feral, uncontrollable serpent. Parents who knew if you didn't hit the timing window perfectly, you'd be trapped in the slow-moving gridlock for forty minutes behind minivans and SUVs, everyone inching forward like the asphalt was molasses. Naomi's daycare closed at five. Elias's school got out at three. Gabrielle's too. If he didn't leave right now, he'd hit the exact tidal wave of after-school traffic that made grown adults cry into their steering wheels.

But Gerrard didn't have kids—and if he ever had, he clearly didn't remember the reality—or better yet, never did any pick ups. That is if pick up was the same back then too. He waved a hand like Bobby was overreacting. "Go on. Get it together, Nash. It's not life or death." Hen muttered under her breath, "Actually, for some of us, it kind of is." Eddie murmured, "Yeah. If someone shows up late for Chris..." He didn't have to finish the sentence. Bobby knew. They all knew.

Chimney made a low noise in his throat. "Pickup traffic is a nightmare. This guy thinks it's a myth." Chimney knows, picking up Denny after school so Hen and Karen could have a date night all night? Nightmare. Buck nodded solemnly. "People have fought wars over less." Buck knows, not as the driver, but as the student. Waiting hours and hours because his parents were too busy and Maddie would be late at school tutoring kids below her grade or working stage crew.

Bobby finally walked off and gave his team a grateful glance. The look said everything, thanks for understanding. Thanks for seeing me. Thanks for not making me feel like I'm asking too much. Hen squeezed his arm as he passed. "Go. The kids come first." Eddie added softly, "Tell them their tío Eddie says hi." Chim and Buck saluted like a bunch of dorms, Beavis and Butt-Head.

Bobby couldn't help a tired smile as he walked toward his truck—the weight of fatherhood, work, guilt, love, responsibility all pressing on his shoulders at once. He'd already wasted too many minutes. And every single one felt like forever when his kids were waiting. The second Bobby's boots hit the asphalt outside the station, he broke into a jog.

Not a panicked sprint—he was too seasoned for that, but that heavy, determined, ground-eating stride of a parent who already knew he was cutting it way too close. The sun was dipping at that angle that made every windshield in Los Angeles shine like a weapon. His truck beeped as it unlocked. He slid behind the wheel, turned the engine, and—"Come on, come on, come on..." The dashboard clock glowed back at him like it was mocking him.

4:07 PM

Naomi's daycare closed at 5:00 PM, twenty-three minutes away without traffic. With traffic? God only knew. Bobby pulled out of the station lot, tires crunching over gravel, heart already thudding in his throat.

 

The First Wave of Traffic (Denial Stage)

 

The moment he turned onto the boulevard, it hit him. Brake lights. A glowing, unbroken sea of red stretching down the road like someone had spilled molten lava. Bobby groaned. Loud. Like a man mourning something precious. "Not now," he muttered, smacking the heel of his hand gently against the steering wheel. "Not today, please..." He inched forward three feet. Stopped. Two feet. Stopped.

A full minute. Nothing. A minivan to his left had two kids in the back screaming at each other about probably an ipad. A Tesla in front of him kept tapping its brake, for no reason. A woman on a bike rode past faster than all of them. Bobby leaned forward, forehead nearly against the steering wheel. "Why is everyone in this city on the road right now?" The universe did not answer.

The Second Wave (Anger Stage)

Ten minutes passed. He'd moved maybe half a block. He checked the clock. 4:17 PM "Are you kidding me?" A convertible next to him rattled with bass so heavy it shook his truck. A dog in the backseat of an SUV stared directly at him with the pity only a Labrador could manage. Bobby sighed through his teeth. "Don't look at me like that. I'm trying." He flicked on his blinker and attempted to merge into a faster lane. The car beside him sped up immediately. He tried the other side. That one sped up too. He dropped his head back against the headrest and let out a humorless laugh. "Unbelievable."

The Third Wave (Bargaining Stage)

4:26 PM

He was still stuck. Still trapped in the slow, creeping hellscape of Los Angeles afternoon gridlock—every parent's mortal enemy. "Okay," he said aloud to no one, "new deal. If I make it by 4:50, I will never complain about paperwork again. Ever. I'll even file it early." The traffic did not care. "4:53," he tried. "I can make 4:53. That's still not terrible." He exhaled hard. "Five o'clock exactly, and I'll—I'll...I'll vacuum the house. The whole house. Even the parts under the couch."

Nothing.

Four cars ahead of him turned into a school parking lot that was clearly overflowing with frantic parents. "Oh come on," he groaned. "This isn't even my school!"

The Fourth Wave (Depression Stage)

4:31 PM

He was at a full stop again. A full stop. Not creeping. Not inching. Just parked on a city street that wasn't supposed to be a parking lot. His head dropped forward until it thunked against the steering wheel. "I'm a terrible father." A beat. "No. I'm a good father stuck in a terrible city." He scrubbed a hand down his face. "Why does the entire population of Los Angeles County decide to move at the exact second I have to pick up my children?" The car in front of him moved six inches. He moved seven, out of spite.

The Final Wave (Acceptance)

4:37 PM

A break—traffic finally began to loosen, thinning into merciful gaps. He took a sharp turn onto a side street, then another, weaving through residential roads like a man possessed. When he finally parked in front of Naomi's daycare, he looked at the clock.

4:46 PM

He sagged back into his seat and exhaled. "Thank God." He barely remembered to put the truck into park before he unbuckled his seatbelt, slammed the door shut, and jogged toward the small, colorful building with decals of rainbows and block letters on the windows. The moment he stepped into the lobby, the familiar scent of baby powder, disinfectant, and crayons hit him. Miss Lila—young, cheerful, eternally patient—stood behind the desk sorting worksheets. She looked up and smiled the instant she saw him.

"Oh! Mr. Nash! We were just about to call you!" Bobby winced. "Traffic. I'm so sorry. I left on time, I swear." She laughed softly and waved it off. "It's L.A. You don't owe anyone an explanation." Then she leaned forward slightly, lowering her voice like she was telling him a secret. "She's in a mood today." Bobby blinked. "What kind of mood?"

"Clingy." A sympathetic tilt of her head. "Very clingy." Before he could even respond, he heard it. A wail. A very specific wail. One he knew better than his own heartbeat. Miss Lila sighed. "Yep. That's her." They rounded the corner into the playroom, and there she was, little Naomi, tiny curls fuzzy from nap time, red-cheeked from frustration, clutching a stuffed elephant by one leg like she was holding a hostage. The moment her eyes hit Bobby, she froze mid-cry. Then her whole face cracked open in a weepy, relieved gasp.

"DADA!!" He felt his chest drop and lift at the same time. "Hey, baby," he murmured, scooping her up as she clung to his shirt like she was afraid he'd disappear again. "I'm here. I'm here, peanut. I'm sorry I'm late." She tucked her face into his neck, sniffling into his collar. Miss Lila handed him her little backpack, her sippy cup, and a piece of paper with a yellow crayon scribble on it. "She made you this. Apparently it's a fire truck."

Bobby stared at the chaotic swirl of yellow lines. "Of course it is." her crying ramped back up into little hiccupping sobs—the kind that start in the throat, wobble in the chest, and spill out in wet, dramatic gasps. Her little fists were balled tight in his shirt, and every few seconds she'd let out a furious whine, burying her face in his neck like she was personally offended by the world. He rubbed slow circles between her shoulder blades.

"Okay, okay...sweetheart, what happened?" he murmured gently. "Why are we so sad today, huh? What's going on?" Naomi jerked her head back to look at him, eyes huge and glossy, lower lip trembling with righteous fury. She took a dramatic gulp of air. "Buh—Buh—Bubbbbaaaaaas!" she wailed.

Bobby blinked. "Bubbles?" Miss Lila, who looked like she'd already lived twelve lifetimes today nodded from behind the sign-out desk. "It was Bubble Time," she said wearily. "But another little boy popped one of her bubbles. And...well..." Naomi cut in with a guttural cry, throwing an arm toward the playroom as if recounting war trauma. "He pops it, Dada!" she sniffled. "Miiine bubbaaa!"

Her whole body sagged dramatically against him like no one in human history had ever suffered more. Bobby bit back a laugh—not at her feelings, but at the sheer enormous toddler-ness of it. He kissed her damp cheek. "That's very frustrating," he told her seriously. "Very, very frustrating. I'd cry too if someone popped my bubble." Naomi nodded vigorously, satisfied that at least one adult understood the intensity of her pain.

Miss Lila handed Bobby the clipboard. "She was fine all day," she whispered. "Bubble Time just...went off the rails."

"I see that," Bobby murmured, shifting Naomi so he could sign his name with one hand—a skill only parents ever mastered. Once she was officially signed out, Miss Lila crouched down and gave Naomi's shoulder a little rub. "See you tomorrow, sweet pea. We'll make extra bubbles." Naomi's tears paused just long enough for her to dramatically consider the offer. Then she sighed and pressed her face back into Bobby's neck.

Outside, the late-afternoon sun hit them in a soft, golden wash. Naomi sniffled like the light itself offended her. Bobby bounced her gently on his hip as he walked to the truck, her arms wrapped around him with toddler-strength desperation. "I know," he murmured. "Rough day. I've had one too." She mumbled something into his collar that sounded like "bubba pop."

"I know," he said again, trying not to smile. He opened the back door and set her into her car seat. The second her bottom touched the padding, she whined, reaching for him again. "Noooo, Dada, no seat—"

"I know, honey, but we gotta buckle so we can go get your brother and sister." That gave her pause. "Gabbee?" she whispered.

"Yep."

"Eyi-yas?"

"Mhm. Both of them." She sniffled, still frowning but now reluctantly cooperating. Bobby buckled each strap carefully under her watchful, teary gaze. As he clipped the last buckle, Naomi reached out and patted his cheek. "Dada sad?" she asked. He blinked—surprised. "No, baby. I'm okay." She squinted at him like she didn't believe it, then whispered, "Bubba?" trying to comfort him now. He laughed softly. "Yeah. Bubbles can ruin a whole day sometimes." She nodded sagely, as if imparting ancient wisdom.

Bobby closed her door gently and exhaled, leaning one hand on the truck for a second. He let his shoulders settle, rolled his neck, and blew out a steadying breath. "Okay," he murmured to no one, "one down. Two to go." He got in the driver's seat, turned the ignition, and glanced in the rearview mirror. Naomi was staring at him, eyes tired but calmer, hugging her stuffed giraffe that she had left earlier in the car with both arms like it was a life raft.

"You ready to get Gabby and Elias?" he asked. She nodded once. Very serious. "Let's go," Bobby said, shifting into drive and pulling away from the daycare.

______

The elementary school sat on a hill that always felt like it existed in its own weather system. By the time Bobby finally turned into the pick-up lane, the sun had dipped behind a few clouds, and the parking lot was a mess of brake lights, waving parents, and kids weaving between legs like loose marbles. Naomi was half-asleep in her car seat at this point—bubble trauma exhausting the soul, her thumb tucked firmly in her mouth. She stirred as the truck slowed, blinking herself awake.

"Gabbee?" she croaked. "We're getting her," Bobby said softly, easing into the stop-and-go line. "Almost there." He scanned the clusters of teachers and students waiting behind the gate. He could always spot Elias first—the kid couldn't physically stand still if threatened with it and sure enough, there he was, a little whirlwind in sneakers.

The crowd of kids lessened by the second as they spitted their own parents, and the minute Bobby's young boy spotted him, Elias exploded forward like the start of a race. "DAD!" he yelled across the blacktop. His backpack—which had begun the school day zipped, now hung open like a broken jaw. Papers flew out behind him in the wind of his sprint, one worksheet actually lifting into the air and performing a slow, tragic flip toward the parking lot. Bobby leaned halfway out the window.
"ELIAS! ZIP—YOUR—BAG!"

"I TRIED!" Elias yelled back, which was a lie, and both of them knew it. A teacher behind him sighed, already picking up two fleeing drawings. Elias reached the truck first, breathless, face lit up like seeing his dad was the highlight of his universe. "Naomi!" he squeaked, climbing into the back seat. Naomi perked up instantly and reached for him. "Eyi-yas," she mumbled with total toddler relief. Elias kissed the top of her head. "Why do ya gots your sad-eyes on, NayNay? Who hurt you? Point at dem." Bobby shook his head with a sigh but had a smile on his face. "Nobody hurt her. Just mad that somebody popped her bubbles."

Elias gasped like it was a personal attack. "Who pops sumbodys bubble? That's, like...rule number ONE." Naomi nodded vigorously, happy someone understood. But then Bobby's smile faded as he looked back at the pick-up gate. Elias followed his gaze. "Where's Gabby?" he asked, immediately worried. Elias just shrugged as he tried stuffing his loose papers back into his bag.

Gabby wasn't running. She wasn't even walking fast. She came out last, holding her teacher's hand, head down, backpack tight to her chest like she was trying to fold herself small. Seven-year-old heartbreak is quiet, but Bobby felt the punch of it even from a distance. The moment she saw the truck, she let go of her teacher's hand and tried to wipe her face quickly, but the motion only smeared the tear tracks across her cheeks.

"Aw, baby..." Bobby murmured under his breath. Bobby was already out of the truck by the time she made it halfway. "Hey," he said softly, crouching. The second he got close enough, the dam broke. Gabby threw herself into him and buried her face in his shoulder, sobbing in a way that didn't sound angry or dramatic—just deep and tired and hurt. "Oh, sweetheart..." he murmured, wrapping his arms around her back. "Hey, hey, I got you. I got you." Her shoulders shook under his hand. He held her tighter.

Her teacher approached carefully, offering a sad, knowing smile. "She had a rough afternoon," she said gently. Bobby nodded. "Thank you. Is she okay?"

"She will be. She just...needs her dad today." That sentence hit him harder than it should've. Gabby sniffed, clinging to his shirt. "Baby," he whispered, brushing a curl from her cheek, "what happened?" She didn't answer. She shook her head and pressed her face back into him like she couldn't speak yet. "It's okay," Bobby soothed. "You don't have to talk right now." Behind him, Elias leaned over the seat to look out the open door, his face twisting with brotherly worry. "Gabby?" he called softly.

Naomi reached out a tiny hand in solidarity.  "Gaaabee sad," she whispered. Gabby turned her head just enough to see them—both siblings peering at her like her sadness was something they could fix with pure concern. Her lip trembled again. Bobby scooped her up fully, one arm under her legs, one around her back, kissing her temple as he carried her toward the truck.

"It's alright," he said softly. "You don't have to tell me right now, we can talk when we get home." He buckled her in gently—slow enough for her to feel secure, brushing her cheek with his thumb each time another tear slipped loose. The car felt smaller now, filled with three different kinds of kid emotion. Bobby shut the door softly, circled the hood, stopped, then turned back.

Because something in his chest wouldn't let him sit down and drive away without knowing exactly what had reduced his bright, fearless daughter into quiet, shaking tears. The teacher was still standing near the gate, checking off a list on a clipboard of kids who got picked up and kids who are still waiting to be picked up. Bobby jogged back toward her, slowing as he got near.

"Hey," he said, voice low, careful not to let anything sharp slip into it. "Excuse me, uhm, Ms. Jodi?—Sorry—can I just...ask what happened? She didn't want to talk yet." Ms. Jodi sighed, folding her hands in front of her. She looked tired from the long school day but still had a soft smile on her face. "It was the boys again," she said gently. Bobby's stomach tightened. "What boys—w-why am I just hearing of this?" he asked with confusion. She nodded. "Just a group of boys from recess. They've been teasing her for a few weeks. Today it got worse. They were calling her names, grabbing her backpack, running off with her hair ties—" Bobby's nostrils flared. "Did anyone stop them?"

"We tried," she said carefully. "But you know how boys this age can be." No. No, he didn't. Or rather—he did, and that was the problem. She continued. "They said it was just harmless teasing. Y'know, 'Boys being boys.'" Something hot lit in Bobby's chest—not explosive anger, but that cold, wide, protective fury that comes from a place deeper than logic. "But it's sweet though, just means they've got a little crush on her, no harm intended." The teacher nodded with a little smile. Bobby looked back toward the truck.

Gabby was staring out the window, eyes red, face small, her siblings watching her like she was a fallen hero. Yeah fucking right? Harmless teasing his ass. "Okay," he said, his voice so even it almost scraped. Bobby knew better than to cause a scene while his kids were watching. It was better to just inform Athen of the situation and schedule a meeting. "Thank you for telling me."

The teacher nodded. "She's a really good kid, Mr. Nash. Sensitive. Kind. Sometimes that makes her a target." He swallowed hard because he knew that too. "Yeah," he murmured. "Yeah, it does." He turned to leave, but the teacher called gently after him. "She just needs a little extra love today." He nodded once. "That," he said, "I can do."

Bobby walked back to the truck with a different energy, not rushed, not frantic, but solid, anchored, heavy with a father's resolve. And when he climbed into the driver's seat, he didn't start the engine right away. Instead, he twisted around, met Gabby's swollen eyes, and said softly, "Baby...Daddy talked to your teacher. And I know what happened."

Her breath hitched. But she didn't look away this time. He reached back, palm open. She placed her hand in his. "Don't worry," Bobby whispered. "I'm right here. Daddy will handle it. Nobody's gonna bother you again." Only then did he start the car. Only then did he pull away.

 

_________

 

At the house, everyone tumbled out like they always did. Bobby unbuckled Naomi and she toddlling determinedly up the walkway, announcing she was going to play with "blocks—and dollies!" while Elias shot out the back door yelling, "I'm gonna do goals!" as if he had a stadium waiting for him. But Gabby stood on the driveway beside the truck door, still staring at the ground. Bobby stepped beside her. "Come on, sweetheart," he murmured. "Let's go inside." She followed him quietly.

The house echoed with normal kid sounds—Naomi babbling happily in the playroom, arranging blocks and dolls in a way that made perfect sense only to her. "Blocks! Blocks! Bwooocks!" Bobby heard his littlest upstairs from all the way on the first floor. Elias kicked a soccer ball outside, shouting commentary to himself like he was both teams and the commentator. Outside, Elias yelled "GOOAAAL!" to an audience of no one.

But Gabby didn't move more than two steps.
She just stood there, backpack straps tight in both fists, eyes still shiny. Bobby felt something twist sharp in his chest. "Come here, sweetheart," he said softly. She followed him to the kitchen table and sat down in one of the chairs, turning it to face him directly. When she sat, she curled into herself a little—knees up, shoulders hunched like she was trying to make room inside her tiny body for feelings that were too big.

Bobby sat beside her, elbows on his knees, hands clasped loosely. He didn't crowd her. Didn't rush. Just waited. Eventually, he brushed her hair gently away from her forehead. "You wanna tell me what happened?" The question cracked everything open. Gabby's lip trembled. Her breathing jumped. She sucked in a sharp breath and tried to hold it—tried to stay strong, stay quiet—until it hurt. Then it all came out.

"They—" Her voice broke. "The boys at recess...they kept grabbin' my backpack." Bobby's face didn't move, but something behind it did. "They kept callin' me names. 'Crybaby' and 'slow' and...they said I talk funny." She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "And they kept...pullin' my hair. They took out my favorite sparkly beads last week and didn't give em back." Her voice dissolved. "They did it a lot." Bobby's jaw locked.

"And I told Ms. Jodi," Gabby whispered. "But she just said..." Her shoulders shook as she cried. "She said they probly just like me. And that I don't have to make a—a big problem outta it."

Bobby froze. Just...froze. For a full second, the world stopped moving. He didn't hear this part—the teacher had been completely vague on what really happened—not to mention it had been going on for quite some time? For all he knew is that this could have been going on since the beginning of the school year and that Gabrielle crying today mustve been her breaking point. Then he inhaled sharply and muttered, "Oh, for fuck's sake—"

Gabby gasped softly—a little "Daddy!" that was half surprise, half scandal, half heartbreak because things had to be really bad for Daddy to say that. His eyes widened instantly. "Oh—sweetheart, I'm sorry. I shouldn't—I shouldn't talk like that around you." She sniffed but shook her head. "It's okay..."

"No. No, it's not." He cupped her cheek gently. "You deserve better than hearing me lose my cool like that." He had to breathe once. Twice. He rubbed his face roughly, dragging the frustration down and away so he could be fully present. Then he turned toward her, voice low but firm. "Gabrielle, look at me." She lifted her wet eyes. "You never," he said slowly, "never have to let someone make you uncomfortable because a grown-up says it's 'because they like you.' That's bullshit." Her eyes widened again, another tiny gasp and he winced. "Sorry. I'm trying." He exhaled. "It just makes Daddy a little upset."

"A little?" she whispered, unsure if she should giggle at her daddy for saying a cuss word—or if she really should be worried because he is saying a cuss word. He laughed softly, sad and warm. "Okay. A lot." He pulled her gently into his lap, kissing the crown of her head. "What they did was wrong," he murmured. "Pulling your hair? Taking your stuff? Calling you names? That is not how anybody treats someone they like. That is how someone acts when they haven't learned how to be a decent human being yet." She nuzzled into his shirt, gripping it tight enough to wrinkle the fabric.

Bobby kept rubbing slow, steady circles on her back, letting her breathe out the worst of the hurt before he went on.  "You know how I treat mama?" he asked softly. Gabby blinked up at him, eyes still wet. She nodded a little. "Do I pull her hair?" Gabby shook her head.

"Do I take her things? Call her names? Make her cry?" Another small shake of her head—firmer this time. Bobby smiled sadly. "Right. I treat her kind. I listen when she's upset. I help her when she needs me. I make her laugh. I try to make her feel safe, always." He brushed a curl from Gabby's cheek. "Do you see the difference, sweetheart?" She nodded, a tiny thoughtful movement. "And Elias," Bobby continued. "Does he treat his friends at school like that? Does he say mean things or pull their hair?" She sniffed and shook her head again. "Does he treat you or Naomi like that?"

"No..." she whispered. "How does he treat you?" Gabby thought for a moment, wiping her eyes with the heel of her hand. "He...um...he helps me find my jacket. And he shares his snacks. And when I had a bad dream last week he...let me sleep in his bed 'cause I was scared." Bobby's heart squeezed at that—Elias had told him, but hearing Gabby say it was different. "And how does that make you feel?" Bobby asked. "Safe," she said quietly. "Loved."

He nodded, pride swelling in his chest. "Exactly. That's because Eli loves you. Brother love. Real love." She leaned into him a little more, her breathing steadier now. "And you know Mama loves you," he went on. "Daddy loves you. Naomi loves you in her...own little stubborn way." Gabby giggled softly. "And your friend Maya loves you too, right? Friend love?"

Gabby nodded again, slower this time, like she was sorting something out inside herself. Bobby softened his voice. "So tell me something, Gabs...do any of the people who love you pull your hair? Or call you names? Or make you feel small?"

"No..." she whispered. "Never."

"Right," Bobby said gently. "Because that's not love. Not friend love. Not brother love. Not Mama-and-Daddy love. None of it." He tipped her chin lightly so she'd look up at him. "You already know what love feels like, sweetheart. You feel it every day in this house. You're not wrong. Your heart knows the difference." Gabrielle blinked, eyes clearing, expression shifting in that slow, dawning way little kids get when something finally clicks into place. "So...if someone likes me...they're supposed to be nice?"

"Yes," Bobby said firmly. "Yes, baby. Exactly. Someone who likes you makes you feel happy. Not scared or sad." He wiped her cheek carefully with his thumb. "And if someone makes you feel small or hurt or uncomfortable? That's not love. And you don't owe them anything. Not a smile. Not your time. Not the incredible amazing little girl you are."

Gabby nodded hard, gripping his shirt again, but this time the hold was different. Steady and grounded. "Daddy?" she whispered. "Yeah, sweetheart?"

"I don't want people to be mean to me because they 'like me.' I want them to like me...the good way." Bobby's breath caught, just for a second. Then he hugged her tight, arms wrapping around her entirely. "That's the only way that counts," he murmured into her hair. "And I'm so proud of you for knowing that." Gabrielle closed her eyes, finally settling against him—not crushed by the day anymore, but held above it. It was nothing but the truth. Gabrielle was only 7. She should be learning how to spell ‘elephant’—not how to justify someone hurting her. Bobby rocked her gently, promising silently—in the fierce, unspoken language only fathers know. That nobody was going to teach his daughter the wrong kind of love ever again.

Chapter Text

(8044 words)

November—2015

Saturday mornings in the Nash household were usually a blur of chatter, cereal bowls, and missing socks. But today felt different—slower somehow. The kind of morning that started with a chill in the air and sunlight sneaking through the kitchen blinds, cutting across the hardwood floor in pale gold stripes.

Athena was already up, her hair tied back in a small ponytail, dressed in jeans and a soft cardigan, sipping coffee while flipping through paperwork on the counter. Every so often she glanced toward the living room where Gabrielle and Naomi sat on the rug—Gabrielle humming along to a cartoon theme song while her little sister tried to copy her every move though still groggy from not wanting to wake up today.

"Alright," Athena said, running down her checklist aloud. "Insurance cards, vaccination forms, snack bag, extra pair of panties for Naomi—Lord help me if we forget that." Bobby emerged from the hallway, still buttoning his shirt sleeves, smelling faintly of soap and aftershave. "You got everything?"

"Almost," she murmured, sliding the forms into a folder. "You sure you don't want to come with me? It might take a while, but we could tag-team." He smiled, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Nah. I'll take the boy today. Let you girls have your clinic trip in peace." Athena gave him a dry look. "Peace? You're taking the one who listens." Before Bobby could respond, Elias came running into the kitchen wearing mismatched socks and a grin too big for his face. "Mama! Daddy said I get to come with him today! Just us!"

Athena smiled despite herself. "I see that. You excited?" Elias nodded. "Uh-huh. We're gonna do errands. That's man stuff."

"Man stuff, huh?" Athena chuckled. "Well, just make sure your man stuff includes lunch that isn't from a drive-thru." Bobby put a hand to his chest in mock offense. "I'm offended you think so little of me."

"Last time," Athena reminded him, "you two came home with chili dogs, slushies, and this one," she nodded towards her son. "Was throwing up."

"I told him not to play after eating," Bobby said, shaking his head. Elias gasped that he was being framed. "But they tastes good!" Athena chuckled, shaking her head. "Exactly. Case closed." Naomi toddled into the kitchen next, rubbing her eyes and holding a stuffed giraffe by the neck. "Mama..." she mumbled, stumbling over to her mother's legs. Athena knelt and kissed her daughter's cheek. "Good morning, sleepyhead. You ready to go see the doctor?" Naomi frowned, clutching tighter to her giraffe. "Noh." Athena smiled gently. "I figured."

Gabrielle, already dressed in jeans and a long sleeve light pink shirt, was brushing her doll's hair. "Mama, do I have to get a shot?" Athena looked at her with that careful mom diplomacy. "We'll see, baby. Depends on what the doctor says." Gabrielle groaned softly. "I hate shots."

"I know," Athena said. "But you're brave, remember?" Bobby glanced at his watch. "Alright, sounds like my cue. Come on, buddy—let's hit the road before it gets busy." Elias grabbed his jacket and zipped it up, practically vibrating with excitement. "Where are we going first, Daddy?"

"Well," Bobby said, ticking off on his fingers, "we've gotta grab groceries, pick up the dry cleaning, and maybe stop by the hardware store. Real dad stuff." Elias's eyes went wide with pride. "Real dad stuff," he echoed like it was a sacred oath. As Athena gathered the girls' jackets, Naomi tugged at her pant leg, eyeing Bobby suspiciously. "I goh?" Athena smiled sympathetically. "Not today, baby. You're coming with Mama and Gabby." Naomi pouted instantly. "Noooh. I goh Daddy." Elias, standing by the door, smirked just a little—like he'd won the best prize.

"Hey," Athena said lightly, catching the look. "Don't gloat. In a few days you'll be the one getting dragged to the doctor." Elias immediately changed his face into innocence. "I wasn't goating." Bobby laughed, reaching for his jacket. "Alright, give Mama a hug, partner." Elias ran over and threw his arms around Athena's waist. "Bye, Mama. Bye Gabby. Bye NayNay!" Naomi's lip quivered. "I goh too." Athena sighed softly, brushing a curl from Naomi's forehead. "Baby, you can go next time, okay? Mama needs you with me today." Naomi sniffled. "Pwomise?"

"Promise." Bobby leaned down to give Athena a quick kiss. "I'll text you when we're on the way back."

"Uh-huh," she said, though her lips curved. "Be good. Both of you." Elias saluted. "Yes ma'am."

"Not in the military, baby," she teased. They all laughed, and just like that, the front door closed behind Bobby and Elias, the early November air brushing in for a moment before the latch clicked. Athena exhaled, then turned to her girls. "Alright, ladies. Let's get this show on the road."

Meanwhile, out in the driveway, Bobby helped Elias climb into his booster seat and buckle up. The November air had that crisp bite to it, the kind that nipped gently at the ears but smelled like woodsmoke from someone's fireplace down the street. The morning sunlight was pale and soft, still low enough that it streaked across the windshield in watery gold. Elias grunted as he tugged the seat belt across his little body. "I can do it," he insisted, tongue poking out with concentration.

"You are doing it," Bobby encouraged, smiling as he leaned in to give the buckle a final click. "Nice work, buddy." Elias lit up like he'd just been knighted. His legs swung under the booster seat in rapid little kicks—that constant hum of kid energy that had no off-switch. He clutched his stuffed firetruck, Truckie, under one arm, and the plush toy's ladder poked awkwardly into the side of his jacket.

Bobby closed the back door gently and slid into the driver's seat. He turned the ignition, the truck rumbling awake, and glanced at his son in the rearview mirror. "Ready?" he asked. Elias sat up straight, shoulders squared like a tiny soldier.
"Ready."

"Okay," Bobby said with a grin, putting the truck in gear. "First stop—coffee. Because Daddy doesn't do anything before caffeine." Elias tilted his head. "Can I have coffee too?" Bobby barked out a laugh as he backed out of the driveway. "Not unless you want to run laps around the house until bedtime." Elias giggled with a mischievous spark. "I already do that."

"Yeah," Bobby said dryly, merging onto the road. "That's the problem." Elias laughed harder, that high-pitched, hiccupy little kid laugh that bounced around the cab of the truck like a bubble. Bobby felt his chest loosen, warm, like the morning itself had softened the entire world just for the two of them. As they drove down the quiet street, the neighborhood was still half-asleep—porch lights flickering off, sprinklers misting lawns, a few early walkers with sweaters. The sky overhead was bruised-purple and gold at the edges, the sun still deciding whether it wanted to rise fully.

Inside the truck, though, everything felt alive. Elias pressed his forehead to the window, breath fogging the glass instantly. "Look," he whispered, pointing at a leaf tumbling across the road. "It's dancing." Bobby watched him in the mirror, something tender swelling in his chest. Kids made the world magical in ways adults forgot. "It is," Bobby murmured. "It's doing a pretty good job, huh?"

"Yeah," Elias whispered, fully entranced. They hit a stoplight. Elias let out a dramatic sigh like the red light was personally oppressing him. "Daddy?" he said suddenly. "Why you need coffee?"

"Because," Bobby answered, leaning back in his seat, "your little sister wakes up at five every morning. Your older sisters hair takes some time to do. And your mama goes to work early. And Daddy needs...a little help." Elias scrunched his nose. "A little help...from a drink?" he asked skeptically. "Yes," Bobby said in a mock serious tone. "Exactly that." Elias giggled again. "Maybe you need a nap."

"Oh, trust me," Bobby muttered, "Daddy always needs a nap." The boy hummed sympathetically like he was eighty years old and wise. "Yeah. I get tired too."

"You do?" Bobby played along. "Mhm. Big kids get tired," Elias said, patting his own chest proudly. "I'm five."

"That is pretty big," Bobby agreed, chuckling. Traffic was light at first—but as they got closer to the commercial area of town, cars started multiplying, like everybody collectively realized it was a weekday. Weekend mornings tended to be busy, last minute birthday gifts to buy, school games to attend, catching up with friends. But Bobby didn't mind it. Not today. Today was different. Just him and his boy. A whole day to themselves.

Finally, they pulled into the Starbucks parking lot—the one with the big windows that always glowed warm like a lantern. Elias perked up instantly, lifting Truckie in approval as if the plush toy approved the choice. Bobby parked the truck and turned in his seat again. "Alright, bud. Let's fuel up." Elias nodded solemnly. "Fuel. Like fire trucks."

"Exactly like fire trucks." Bobby got out, rounded the truck, and unbuckled Elias, hoisting him down onto the pavement. The boy's sneakers made a little pap sound when they hit the ground. He immediately reached up, and Bobby took his hand, their fingers locking like they had done since Elias was tiny.

Bobby held the door open for Elias as they stepped into Starbucks, the warm air wrapping around them instantly. The smell hit both of them at once — roasted espresso, vanilla, toasted bread, and that faint sugary hint of pastries warming under the counter. Elias inhaled so dramatically that a couple seated near the window actually looked over and smiled. "It smells like..." Elias paused, scrunching his nose in concentration, "like...like if cookies had a house." Bobby laughed, the sound soft but warm. "Yeah? That what it smells like to you?" Elias nodded, wide-eyed. "Mhm. Cookies and...books."

"Books?" Bobby tilted his head, genuinely curious. "Why books?" Elias shrugged, swinging Truckie in a small arc. "Dunno. It just does."

"Well," Bobby said, "that's a pretty good smell." He placed a gentle hand on his son's shoulder as they stepped into the short line. Elias hopped, tile to tile, avoiding the cracks with exaggerated precision. "Step on a crack," he said breathlessly. "And you break your Mama's back."

"Yeah," Bobby said. "Wouldn't want you to break your Mama's back before breakfast." Elias kept hopping and Bobby watched him. He loved this age—the unfiltered imagination, the honesty, the way Elias saw the world as something magical and brand-new every single morning. And Bobby wasn't about to miss any of it. A few minutes later, they reached the counter. The barista, a young woman with a green apron and a nose ring, smiled brightly. "Good morning! What can I get started for you two?"

Bobby straightened slightly, shifting into polite, composed mode—but with a softness in his eyes that only appeared when he was with his kids. "Yeah," he said. "Can I get a grande dark roast, two pumps of vanilla, extra hot? And the bacon Gouda breakfast sandwich."

"Of course." She tapped it onto the screen. Then Bobby looked down at Elias like the boy was a full-fledged adult making an important decision. "Alright, buddy. What do you want?" Elias lifted his hand halfway, as if raising it in school. "Um...can I have...the banilla cake pop?" The barista's smile grew, her expression turning to something close to awe. "Of course you can." she replied, typing in an order for a vanilla cake pop. "And..." Elias leaned forward conspiratorially, eyes huge, "choc'late milk?"

"You got it," Bobby added before the barista even finished nodding. "And a kids' breakfast sandwich, please. No spinach." Elias gave a visible shudder. "Yeah—no pinage."

"Yeah," Bobby murmured, amused. "We heard the anti-spinach stance loud and clear." The barista chuckled as she finished ringing them up. "Alright, it'll be ready at the counter." Bobby paid, thanked her, and guided Elias over to the pickup area. Elias immediately stretched up onto his tiptoes, gripping the counter edge like he was hanging off a cliff. His eyes tracked every drink, every bag, every clatter of cups with the intensity of someone watching their favorite superhero movie. "That one's mine," he whispered as a hot chocolate slid across the counter. "It's not," Bobby said gently. "Oh." Elias repositioned. "Okay. That one's mine."

"Not yet, buddy." Elias sighed dramatically like waiting was a personal offense. Finally, their order came out—coffee steaming, milk cold, sandwiches warm, tiny cake pop perched like a jewel. Bobby gathered the tray and nodded toward an empty table by the window. Elias scurried ahead, climbing onto the chair with a little huff of effort. Bobby leaned over and tugged the back of his son's jacket down so he wouldn't slide backward.

"There you go," he said softly. Elias immediately began swinging his legs under the table in nonstop motion, humming again, the rhythm of a child whose joy had no off switch. Bobby set the chocolate milk and sandwich in front of him. "Hung—ry?" Bobby asked, dragging out the word like a monster voice. Elias lit up. "I'm starving!"

"Oh no," Bobby gasped. "We better fix that fast." a smile plastered on his face. "Yeah," Elias nodded seriously. "Like a...like a..." He paused, eyes darting toward the ceiling as he searched for the right comparison. "Like a dragon."

"A dragon?" Bobby echoed with raised eyebrows. "Wow. That's...intense."

"Dragons eat a lot," Elias informed him, widening his eyes meaningfully. "Oh, trust me," Bobby said, unwrapping his own sandwich, "I believe you." Elias took a quick sip of milk before he took a giant bite, cheeks puffing like a chipmunk. Crumbs immediately sprinkled down onto his shirt and onto Truckie, whose plush ladder now had breakfast debris all over it. "This," Elias announced with authority, "is the best breakfast ever."

"Is it?" Bobby asked, taking a long, slow sip of his coffee. Elias nodded so hard his hair flopped. A chocolate milk mustache stretched across his upper lip. "Uh-huh. 'Cause it's jus' me an' you." Bobby froze mid-sip. Something inside him softened—melted, even. His face gentled in a way that few people ever saw except his children and wife. He reached across the table, his hand completely engulfing Elias's small fingers. "Yeah, buddy," Bobby said quietly. "It's just me and you."

Elias grinned so big it wrinkled his whole face.
Truckie sat beside him, crumbs all over its plush body. Elias kicked his legs faster, humming something cheerful. The world outside the window moved—cars, people, routine but inside the coffee shop, time slowed. Just them. Just a warm table, a chocolate milk mustache, a cake pop waiting patiently in its wrapper. And Bobby felt it sink in, heavy and warm.

These were the mornings he'd remember forever.
The ones he wished he could bottle. The ones he'd replay decades from now when Elias towered over him and no longer swung his legs under café tables. But for now? For now, he got this.
His boy. His morning. His moment. And he savored every second.

Elias finished the last bite of his mini sandwich with a satisfied groan, the kind grown men make after a steak, and wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve—completely ignoring the napkin Bobby had handed him three separate times. Bobby shook his head, amused, and leaned over with a napkin of his own. "Come here, buddy." Elias stuck his face out obediently, cheeks puffed, eyes crossing a little trying to watch the napkin move. Bobby wiped away crumbs, sauce, and most of the chocolate milk mustache.

"Hey," Bobby murmured, lifting his chin gently, "you still have—" He swiped one last spot. "There we go. Now you look less like a raccoon." Elias giggled. "A chocolate raccoon!" He finished off his sandwich and took the last sip of his coffee, feeling that slow, grounding warmth settle into his bones. When Elias grabbed his cake pop, holding it with the reverence of someone handling a priceless artifact, Bobby couldn't help it. He reached for his phone. "Hey, buddy," he said. "Look over here." Elias looked up, pink frosting already on his lip, eyes bright, legs still swinging. "Cheeeeese."

The picture came out perfect. Too perfect. Elias mid-smile, Truckie sitting beside him, sunlight washing over the table like a blessing. Bobby snapped one more—a selfie of the two of them, Elias leaning into his shoulder, cake pop held joyfully in frame. Bobby's smile was soft, relaxed, the kind he only wore around his family. He sent the selfie to Athena.

 

Bobby: Breakfast with my little man this morning. He says hi.

 

He added a second message.

 

Bobby: And yes, he already has frosting everywhere.

 

His phone buzzed in under a minute.

 

Wife💍🩷: Lord, look at y'all. My baby looks so handsome❤️

 

Another message followed right after.

 

Wife💍🩷:...The little one. You look alright too I guess. 🤷🏾‍♀️

 

Bobby huffed out a laugh. "Your Mama's roastin' me again," he told Elias. Elias didn't look up from licking the cake pop. "She always roasts you."

"Yeah," Bobby sighed with exaggerated suffering, "I know." Another buzz.

 

Wife💍🩷: Make sure you eat too. Don't just drink coffee and call it breakfast.

 

Bobby rolled his eyes with so much affection it almost hurt.

 

Bobby: I ate. Real food. Not just coffee.
Promise.

 

A beat.

 

Bobby: You and the girls eat too, okay? Don't let Gabby run out the door with just a yogurt tube again.

 

Wife💍🩷: That happened ONE time and you will NOT let it go.

 

Bobby: Because she tried to take the yogurt to school in her pocket.

 

He could hear her groan through the text.

 

Wife💍🩷:...okay fair.

 

Bobby smiled, slipping his phone into his jacket pocket. He loved her. He loved this. This tiny exchange. This ordinary moment. Across from him, Elias licked the cake pop stick clean and held it up triumphantly. "Daddy," he said, "I'm done!" the boy smiled. "You sure?" Bobby asked. Elias nodded with full-body enthusiasm. "Mhm!"

"Alright, then." Bobby stood, gathering their trash into one hand. "Let's clean up and go have ourselves a day." Elias beamed and slid down from the chair, landing with a little whump. He grabbed Bobby's free hand without hesitation. And Bobby's heart melted all over again. "Just me and you, right Daddy?"

"Just me and you," Bobby echoed, giving his small hand a gentle squeeze. The morning air hit them the second the Starbucks door swung shut—crisp November coolness that smelled like pine, chimney smoke, and the tail end of autumn. Elias immediately sucked in a big breath like he was about to make a wish. "It's cold," he announced. "That's because you're not wearing your gloves," Bobby said, adjusting the collar of Elias' jacket with one hand.

Elias looked down at his hands like this was brand-new information. "Oh." Bobby laughed softly. "C'mon, bud." They walked across the parking lot, hand in hand. Elias held onto Bobby's fingers in that loose, trusting way only little kids do—like Bobby was the safest, surest thing in the world. And Bobby held on just as tight. When they reached the truck, Bobby opened the back door and patted the booster seat. "Alright, kiddo," he said. "Climb on in." Elias clambered up with all the chaotic effort of someone scaling a mountain. Bobby steadied him with a hand on his back, guiding him into the seat.

"Feet in...good job...arms up—whoa, careful, don't bonk your head—" Elias giggled and dropped into place with a fwump. Bobby leaned in and buckled the straps slowly, making sure everything was snug but not too tight. He tugged each piece twice, because that's the kind of dad he was. "You comfy?" he asked. Elias nodded so hard his hair shook. "Yes! I'm super comfy."

"Good," Bobby smiled, brushing a curl off his sons forehead. "We've got a few stops before the fun stuff." Elias perked up. "Where we goin'?"

"Grocery store," Bobby said. "We need a few necessities." Elias gasped dramatically. "Nesessitys?! For what?" Bobby tapped his nose with a wink. "You'll see." Elias squealed with excitement, already kicking his legs against the booster seat. Bobby kissed the top of his head—quick, gentle, automatic—then closed the door and walked around to the driver's side. When he climbed in, Elias was already narrating something to Truckie. "Daddy," he said as soon as Bobby buckled his seat belt, "Truckie says he's excited for groceries."

"Oh yeah?" Bobby said, backing out of the spot. "What's he excited for?" He started the car. "Um..." Elias thought very hard. "The...apples."

"Good choice," Bobby said. "Truckie has excellent taste." Bobby pulled out of the parking lot and into the street. "And the cereal."

"Also a classic."

"And the gold fishies."

"Okay, that one is definitely you," Bobby teased, glancing at him in the mirror. Elias grinned wide, exposed. "Maybe." Bobby reached a hand back without looking and wiggled his fingers. Elias grabbed them instantly, his tiny palm warm against Bobby's. Just for a moment, Bobby let their hands sit there—a quiet, grounding touch—before gently pulling his away to turn the wheel.

He glanced in the rearview again and smiled. "Alright, buddy," he said. "Let's go get those groceries." They drove off into the late-morning glow, the world soft around them, father and son moving toward their next small adventure. Elias immediately pressed his palms to the window, fogging it with little bursts of warm breath. Outside, the November morning looked like someone had painted it fresh—crisp air, pale sun just stretching over the rooftops, trees lit up in shades of gold and ember.

"Daddy," Elias said suddenly, eyes huge, voice serious, "the trees are on fire." Bobby snorted. "Buddy, they're just changing colors."

"But they look like fire," Elias repeated, turning his whole body to stare. "Pretty fire."

"Yeah," Bobby said softly. "They kind of do." A few quiet seconds passed. Elias hummed to himself, drumming his heels lightly against the booster seat, the way kids who can't stay still try to stay still. "Daddy?"

"Yeah?"

"Do trees get cold?" Bobby smiled. "Yeah I guess so. When they're cold, their leaves change color and fall, but when they're warm—the leaves stay on the branches and turn green." Elias gasped as if hearing a story for the very first time. "That makes so much sense." Bobby shook his head, charmed and helpless. "Glad the science checks out for you." They turned into the shopping plaza, the grocery store standing tall beside the small row of shops. "We're here," Bobby said. "We're here!" Elias echoed, already tugging at his seatbelt with wild enthusiasm.

Bobby climbed out and walked to the back door. Before he could even reach for the buckle, Elias blurted, "Wait! I can do it."

"Okay," Bobby said, stepping back. Elias gripped the buckle like he was attempting defusal protocol.
He tugged. And tugged. And—CLICK. He froze, staring down at his hands like he'd just performed magic. Bobby raised an impressed eyebrow.
"Look at you."

"I'm strong like a t-rex," Elias declared. "T-Rexes don't have...never mind. Yes. Strong like a T-Rex." Bobby lifted him out of the truck and set him down. Elias immediately jumped twice—a ritual he did every time his feet hit the ground, like he needed to "activate" them. Then his hand found Bobby's without even looking. And Bobby squeezed back.

They walked toward the cart corral, where rows of shiny metal carts stood like a lineup of stubborn animals. "Can I pick the cart?" Elias asked, eyes sparkling with purpose. "You absolutely can," Bobby said. "But it needs to have good wheels. No squeaky ones." Elias nodded gravely. "I am the cart king." Bobby bit the inside of his cheek to hide a grin. Elias pushed the first cart.

SCREEEEEEEEEECH.

"Nope," Bobby said immediately. "That wheel is bad." Elias tried the second cart. It drifted to the side like it was drunk. "This one's gonna have us gliding everywhere," Bobby said. "This one..." Elias announced dramatically, pushing a third. It glided smoothly, like a dream on wheels. "Yes!" Elias cheered triumphantly. Bobby tapped the handle. "Perfect. Good eye." Elias climbed into the cart basket, crossing his legs, sitting tall like a captain on his ship. "Ready, co-pilot?" Bobby asked. "Yes," Elias said. "Let's go middle-fast." Bobby nodded. "Middle-fast it is."

The automatic doors slid open with a soft whoosh, ushering them into the warm, grocery-scented air. Fresh bread. Vanilla candles. Citrus cleaner. The comforting, familiar quiet hum of a store just waking up. Elias' eyes immediately widened. "Daddy!." Bobby followed his gaze. Christmas aisles. Bright red bows, strings of lights, gingerbread kits stacked high, a mechanical snowman waving like it had business with them specifically. "It's Christmas," Elias whispered reverently. "It's getting there," Bobby chuckled. "We're in November."

"Does that mean..." Elias leaned in like he was telling a secret, "we get hot chocolate?" Bobby tapped the cart handle. "Yeah, buddy. We'll get some later." Elias pumped his fists and whispered, "Yes," like he had won a prize. They rolled toward the apples first. Bobby handed Elias a flimsy plastic produce bag. "Okay, co-pilot. We need six apples." Elias scanned the bins with dramatic expertise. "That one," he pointed. "And that one. And defenly that one—it looks shiny. Not that one," he wrinkled his nose, "it has a bump. That one. Ooh and that super red one." Bobby placed each apple into the bag with ceremony. "High-quality selections," he said. "Nice taste."

"I know," Elias answered, proud. They moved on, aisle by aisle. Bobby pushed slowly so Elias could see everything at eye level, the cereal mascots on the box, the walls of canned soup, the towering dairy fridge. "This is my food castle," Elias whispered. "Pretty good castle," Bobby agreed. "Daddy, look!" Elias pointed at oranges. "They look like tiny suns."

"They do." Bobby picked up a few. "Want to get some?" he asked, turning towards his son. "Yes," Elias said, nodding hard. "Suns make you strong."

"Then we'll get extra." They made decisions together—yogurt flavors, pasta shapes, which vegetables looked like it had the most "hero-power." When they left the produce aisle behind and drifted toward the front of the store, the cart practically overflowed. Elias sat proudly among the grocery items like a tiny king on a rolling throne, humming off-key while Truckie the stuffed fire engine peeked out from under a loaf of bread. Bobby steered them through the last aisle with one hand, the other resting lightly on the cart handle whenever Elias wobbled excitedly.

"Almost done, buddy," he said gently. Elias nodded, curls bouncing. "I'm ready to help." He said it the way a firefighter might announce they were ready for deployment. The checkout lines were busy, but Bobby found one with only a few people ahead. The cashier was an older woman with soft gray strands and a calm smile that said she'd been scanning groceries longer than Bobby had been alive. When she saw Elias, her whole face brightened instantly. "Well, hello there," she said cheerfully. "Looks like you're in charge today."

Elias straightened up and lifted his chin. "I'm the helper," he announced with great dignity. "He is," Bobby laughed, unloading items onto the conveyor. "Takes the job seriously."

"I do," Elias confirmed, nodding firmly. The cashier chuckled as she began scanning. Elias watched each item pass the red scanner light, eyes huge, fascinated like it was magic. When half the groceries were scanned, Bobby crouched down to his son's height. "You wanna help bag?" Elias' mouth fell open. He gasped softly, like Bobby had just offered him a place on the moon. "Yes," he whispered. Then louder, "Yes!"

Bobby helped him hop out of the cart, and Elias rushed around to the end of the checkout lane. He placed both hands on the counter edge and nodded intensely as if reporting for duty. The cashier slowed her pace a little, handing him the light items first—boxes of pasta, a bag of chips, paper napkins. Elias picked each one up carefully, placing them inside the reusable bag with the focus of a surgeon. "How's that look, Daddy?" he asked. Bobby examined the bag like he was giving a performance review. "Looks like a professional packed that."

Elias' chest puffed out with pride. Then came the apples. He held the bag like it was full of diamonds. After that, the loaf of bread. Elias touched it lightly and whispered, "I won't squish it."

"I believe you," Bobby said seriously, fighting a smile. When the last of the groceries slid through, the cashier leaned over and whispered conspiratorially, "You're a very good helper." Once everything was paid for, Bobby thanked the cashier, and they headed outside into the crisp November air. The breeze was gentle, carrying that holiday-season smell of woodsmoke and cold. "Okay," Bobby said as he opened the truck bed, "teamwork time." Elias took his place beside him, serious as ever. He held out his hands. "Give me the light ones."

"You got it." Bobby handed him the snack bag first. Elias carried it like a proud little soldier, lifting it with both arms and placing it in the back of the truck with a small grunt of effort. He returned for the next bag. And the next. "Strong like a T-Rex," Bobby teased as Elias lifted another. "Yeah," Elias agreed. "But with better arms." Bobby chuckled. "Can't argue that." Piece by piece, they loaded everything—Bobby handling the heavier stuff, Elias taking the lightweight cargo. Each time the boy set down a bag, he loudly announced, "Another one!" like it was a mission log entry.

Finally, all that remained was the bread. Elias accepted it reverently, cradling it in both arms like it was a newborn kitten. When he placed it gently on top of the other bags, he turned around with triumph shining in his entire body. "We did it!" he declared. Bobby clapped, laughing. "We make a pretty great team."

"We're the best team," Elias corrected, hugging his dad's leg tightly. Bobby's hand came down to cradle the back of his son's head, thumb brushing gently through his hair. "Yeah," he murmured softly. "We are." He helped Elias climb back into his booster seat, buckling him snugly. Elias immediately grabbed Truckie and whispered, "We put the groceries away together," as if proud of the accomplishment.

Bobby climbed into the driver's seat, checking the mirrors, checking the clothes in the back, checking Elias in the rearview with a warm half-smile. "Where to now, Daddy?" Elias asked. "We have one more stop," Bobby said. "Dry cleaning. Gotta pick up Mama's uniforms."

"Mama uniforms," Elias repeated with great interest. "She looks like a superhero." Bobby smiled softly. "Yeah, she kind of is." The drive was short—just a few lights, a turn, then into a small plaza with faded awnings and a hand-painted sign that read Sunshine Cleaners. Only the "u" had burned out, leaving it to read Snshine, which Elias always giggled at. Inside, the door chimed with tiny bells. The shop smelled like warm cotton and starch. The woman behind the counter—older, kind eyes, floral sweater—lit up when she saw Elias.

"Well, if it isn't a handsome young man," she said. "You helping your daddy today?"

"I'm his partner," Elias declared solemnly. "Ohh," she said delighted. "Then I better get your partner his things." She disappeared briefly and returned with Athena's neatly pressed uniforms and one of Bobby's dress shirts, wrapped in crisp plastic. "Thank you," Bobby said, taking them carefully. "You boys have yourself a good day," she said. Then to Elias, "You keep helping your daddy now."

"I will," Elias promised, lifting Truckie in salute. Back outside, Bobby buckled the clothing securely into the backseat so they wouldn't slide around. Elias watched in awe. "That was very grown-up stuff," he said reverently. "Yep," Bobby smiled. "And you handled everything like a pro." Elias beamed from ear to ear. As Bobby closed the truck door and rounded the front to the driver's side, he glanced at his son—cheeks rosy from the cold, curls peeking from under his hood, hands patting Truckie softly. These were the kinds of mornings he wanted to hang onto forever.

"Ready for the next stop?" he asked. Elias nodded eagerly. "Ready." The drive to the hardware store wasn't long, but it had that cozy midday feel—soft light coming in through the windshield, the heater humming low, Elias in the back singing a very off-key, very passionate version of "Row, Row, Row Your Boat." He paused halfway through to ask, "Daddy? Why does rowing make your boat dream?"

"Gently down the stream," Bobby corrected, smiling. "Oh." Then a pause. "Does the stream dream?" A laugh slipped out before Bobby could stop it. "Depends how tired it is." Elias nodded as if this made perfect sense. The truck rolled into the Home Depot parking lot, the orange sign reflected in the shiny hood of the car. Bobby parked, came around to unbuckle Elias, and lifted him down gently. "Okay," he said, adjusting the strap of his wallet and keys. "We need a few things for around the house. You ready to help?"

"I'm always ready," Elias declared, puffing his chest out like a tiny recruit. They walked through the sliding doors, hit with that familiar mix of lumber, fresh-cut plywood, and cold warehouse air. Elias grabbed Bobby's hand immediately—though he tried to pretend he was doing it for Bobby's safety, not his own. The cart wheels clacked loudly as they moved inside. And the moment they turned down the lighting aisle, Elias froze.

"Wh..." His little voice cracked into a squeak. "Whoa!!" Because the ceiling above wasn't just lights—it was a galaxy. A glowing universe of lamps and chandeliers and pendants and hanging bulbs, every shape and size, every color and brightness. Gold ones, copper ones, glass ones that shimmered like bubbles, giant industrial domes, tiny fairy lights glowing in strings.

It was overwhelming in the kind of magical way only children could truly feel. "Daddy..." Elias whispered, still staring up. "Are we...in the sky?" Bobby smiled and crouched down beside him.
"It does look like stars, doesn't it?"

"It looks like...like heaven." Elias' voice was hushed. Reverent. "But more shiny." He walked forward slowly, one hand still clutching Bobby's fingers, the other lifted toward the lights like he wanted to touch the glow hovering above them. "Why are there so many?" he whispered. "Because people like different kinds of light," Bobby murmured. "Some people want bright lights. Some want soft ones. Some want ones that look fancy. Some want ones that feel warm." Elias turned that over in his mind. "Which one do you want?"

"The warm ones," Bobby said. "The ones that make home feel like home." Elias nodded like this was a very grown-up answer. They stood like that for a moment—their hands linked, surrounded by hundreds of lights, warm glows reflecting off the shiny cement floor. Then Elias looked up, eyes still wide but softer now. "Daddy?" Bobby looked down at his son. "Yeah, buddy?"

"I have a big question." Bobby shifted, immediately attentive, that gentle father-alertness sliding into place. "Okay," he said quietly. "Ask me anything." a soft smile spread his cheeks. Elias kept looking at the lights when he spoke—like he needed the bravery of the glowing ceiling to get it out. He swallowed. Then looked Bobby right in the eyes. "Do you like being my daddy?"

He blinked once, stunned by its smallness, its bigness, the raw sincerity that only a 5-year-old could deliver without knowing its weight. "Hey," he said gently, cupping the back of Elias' neck. "Come here." Elias scooted closer, shoes squeaking on the polished floor. Bobby took both of his tiny hands in his. "Elias...I don't just 'like' being your daddy." His voice thickened. "I love being your daddy. More than anything." Elias' brows lifted. "More than coffee?" Bobby let out a breathy laugh, his eyes warming. "So much more than coffee."

Elias thought that over—it was, after all, a very high compliment coming from Bobby Nash. "And more than being a fire fighter? And more than pancakes? And more than...than Mama's police car?"

"More than all of it," Bobby said, smoothing a curl behind his son's ear. "Being your dad—being Gabby's dad, Naomi's dad—it's the best thing in my whole life. Okay?" Elias' lip trembled the tiniest bit. He leaned forward and wrapped his arms tightly around Bobby's neck. Bobby closed his eyes and hugged him back—slow, firm, grounding. He pressed a kiss to Elias' temple. "I love you, Daddy," the boy whispered, voice muffled into Bobby's shoulder. "I love you too, buddy," Bobby murmured. "Always." Elias pulled back just enough to look up at him. "Even when I wake you up super early?"

"Even then," Bobby chuckled. "Even when I spill cereal?"

"Even then." Elias tilted his head. "Even when I...accidentally...break stuff?" Bobby kissed his forehead. "Always."

"And—" Elias hesitated. "Even when I'm big? Like...like Buck-big?"

Bobby's chest squeezed. But he couldn't decide whether that meant a big ifiot like Buck, or the man his son will one day become—like Buck. "Especially then," he whispered. Elias smiled at him—a shy, glowing smile that looked like one of the lights above them.

Elias finally let Bobby guide him forward, though he kept glancing over his shoulder at the lights like he was leaving behind an enchanted kingdom. The cart wheels squeaked as they transitioned from the lighting aisle into the more practical rows—lumber, screws, tool kits, the quiet scent of sawdust giving the store a warmer, earthier smell.

Bobby's hand stayed on the cart handle, but every few steps he slowed, making sure Elias was close enough to keep a hand against the metal frame. Five-year-olds wandered like satellites—drawn in a dozen directions at once. Elias tugged the sleeve of Bobby's jacket. "Daddy, what're we gonna get first?"

"Well," Bobby said, scanning the aisle numbers, "we need wood glue, replacement light bulbs, and a new wrench because someone"—he lowered his voice dramatically—"put my old wrench in the sandbox at school and now it's gone." Elias gasped. "Who?!" Bobby raised an eyebrow. "Who do you think?" Elias placed a guilty hand over his little chest. "Oh. Yeah. Maybe me."

"Maybe," Bobby echoed with a smirk. They stopped in the adhesives aisle. Bobby reached for a bottle of wood glue, and Elias reached for one too—except his tiny hand grabbed the biggest bottle possible, nearly the size of his head. "This one?" Elias offered proudly. Bobby huffed a small laugh. "That one might glue our whole house together."

"Is that bad?"

"Well...we only need a little." Elias considered this, then carefully placed the giant bottle back, tongue sticking out slightly from concentration. He grabbed the smaller one and placed it in the cart like it was precious cargo. "Good job," Bobby murmured. The praise made Elias brighten, his chest lifting in that unmistakable Dad-saw-me way. Next they made their way to the tools aisle. Rows of shiny metal glittered under the harsh overhead lights, everything neatly hung or boxed. Elias' eyes flicked between wrenches and pliers and screwdrivers like he was looking at treasure.

"Daddy, what's that for?" he asked, pointing at a ratchet set. Bobby crouched down and pulled one from the display. "This is a ratchet. It helps loosen or tighten bolts." Elias blinked. "Like...like when the sink makes that glurpy sound?"

"Exactly. Tools help us fix things like that." Elias leaned in, studying it the way some kids study dinosaurs or trucks. "Can I try?" Bobby hesitated only a second before nodding. "Yeah. But use both hands." He placed the ratchet gently in Elias' palms. The boy held it proudly—his tiny fingers barely wrapped around the handle, the weight of it pulling his arms downward. "It's heavy!" he complained. "Grown-up tools usually are," Bobby said. "But you'll get stronger. And one day you'll help me fix everything."

"Everything?" Elias grinned. "Everything." Elias straightened, shoulders squared like he was already ready for the job. They moved on, grabbing the wrench they needed, then a pack of lightbulbs. Elias held the bulbs like they were fragile baby birds—two hands, slow steps, tongue poking out in concentration. "Careful," Bobby reminded. "I am careful," Elias whispered, like loud noises alone might break them.

It was small. It was fast. It was so five-year-old that Bobby saw it coming half a second too late. Elias spotted a bin of bungee cords—bright red, green, yellow—and his curiosity pulled him like gravity. He leaned toward them...but forgot he was still holding the box of lightbulbs.

The box slipped.

Time slowed.

Bobby reached—Too late.

CRASH!

The bulbs hit the floor, scattering glass in a delicate, glittering mess. Elias froze. His hands flew to his mouth. His eyes widened, instantly glossy with panic. His breaths hitched. "Daddy..." His voice was small and trembling. "I—I didn't—I d-didn't mean—" Bobby immediately pulled Elias back away from the broken glass by the shoulder. "Hey. Hey." His tone softened into that warm, deep reassurance that had always been reserved for his kids. "Look at me, buddy." Elias' chin quivered. He looked. "It's okay," Bobby said gently. "Accidents happen."

"But...but I broke it..." Elias whispered, tears threatening. "It's glass," Bobby said. "Glass breaks. That's what it does." A couple shoppers glanced over but moved on quickly. A store employee headed their way with a broom. "I'm so sorry," Bobby told her. "No problem at all," she replied kindly. But Elias was still shaking, cheeks red, little fists balled against his sides. Bobby turned him slightly, hands warm on his arms. "You're not in trouble," he said firmly. "Not even a little." Elias swallowed, blinking fast. "I shoulda...held it tighter."

"Or Daddy should've carried it," Bobby countered softly. "You were helping. And I love that you help. Okay?" Elias sniffed. "Okay." Bobby reached out and brushed a tear from the corner of his cheek with his thumb. "You're learning," he murmured. "That's what kids do." The employee began sweeping the glass into a dustpan. "See?" Bobby said quietly. "It's all taken care of. No big deal." Elias' voice wobbled. "You're not mad?"

"No," Bobby said immediately. "Never mad at you for trying. Maybe next time, I'll hold them, and when you do want to help—lets be more careful." And he hugged him—not a quick hug, but a grounding, safe one. Elias melted into it like every muscle in his body had been holding tension. When Bobby pulled back, he kissed the top of his son's hair. "Come on," he whispered. "We'll grab another box and be extra careful this time." Elias nodded, eyes still wet but calmer. He slid his hand back into Bobby's—small fingers curling around the larger ones. They quickly grabbed new light bulbs before heading towards the checkout line.

The checkout lines at Home Depot were long in the way only late mornings ever were—carts full, tired parents, the low hum of scanners and conversations overlapping into white noise. Bobby guided the cart into line, one hand steady on the handle, the other reaching out automatically when Elias drifted an inch too far toward a display of keychains. "Stay with me, bud," he said softly.

Elias nodded, immediately pressing his side into Bobby's leg like physical proximity was the safest landing place. He peeked into the cart, eyes scanning their collected treasures with satisfaction, the wood glue, the wrench, the new lightbulbs, and a small packet of screws Bobby hadn't planned on buying but Elias had insisted were "for backups."

The cashier smiled when they reached the front. "Did you help shop today?" she asked Elias. Elias straightened like he'd been promoted. "Yup. I picked the glue. And I didn't break these ones." He nodded solemnly toward the lightbulbs. "Well," the cashier said warmly, "sounds like the job's in good hands." While Bobby paid for their items and the expenses of the light bulbs his son had broken, Elias helped bag—carefully placing lightweight items into the reusable totes, narrating each move like a very serious professional. "This goes here...this one is sharp...this one needs space."

"Good thinking," Bobby murmured. When they finally wheeled the cart back into the parking lot, the November air carried that crisp promise of sweater weather. Bobby loaded everything into the truck. Elias stood nearby, offering commentary and the occasional helpful warning like, "Careful, Daddy," when nothing dangerous was actually happening.

Once Elias was buckled back into his booster seat, Bobby glanced at the clock and smiled. "That appointment must've been fast," he said. "Looks like Mama and the girls might already be home." Elias perked up instantly. "Can we show them?"

"That's the plan," Bobby said, starting the engine.

 

⸻

 

The house was louder when they got back. The sound of life lived by small people, Naomi's delighted shrieks drifting from the living room, the muted hum of daytime television playing something animated, Gabrielle’s voice narrating something important in that authoritative way seven-year-olds developed.

The front door barely had time to close before Naomi came barreling toward it—curls bouncing, socked feet skidding slightly on the hardwood. She stopped short when she saw them, face lighting up. "Daddy!" she cried, arms up immediately. Bobby scooped her up without hesitation, kissing her cheek. "Hey, Sweetpea."

From the couch, Athena looked up, a smile already forming—relief easing her shoulders when she saw them safe and home early. Gabby popped up beside her, eyes darting curiously to the bags in Bobby's hands. "You're back already," Athena said, surprised. "That was fast."

"Efficient teamwork," Bobby replied, nodding toward Elias. "I had help." Elias grinned. "I helped at the store. And the lights," he added proudly.

"The lights?" Gabby echoed, immediately interested. Bobby set the bags down on the table. "All right. Presentation time."

The kids gathered around like little ducklings as Bobby unpacked the items one by one. Elias narrated each object like a museum guide, what it was for, why they needed it, and how careful you had to be with it. Naomi hovered nearby, trying to grab the wrench until Athena redirected her with a cracker. "This is the glue I picked," Elias explained seriously. Athena smiled at him. "Good choice, buddy."

"And Daddy taught me how tools work," Elias added. "That so?" Athena said, catching Bobby's eye. "He's a fast learner," Bobby said quietly. Gabby leaned closer, inspecting the screws. "Did anything cool happen?" Elias hesitated, then looked up at Bobby. "We dropped some lightbulbs," he admitted softly. Athena sighed softly, lifted Elias’ little hands to check for any cuts. "And Daddy wasn't mad," Elias added quickly, glancing between them. "He said accidents happen."

Athena's gaze softened immediately. She reached out, brushing a hand through Elias' hair. "That's right. Accidents happen." Bobby felt the moment settle warmly into his chest—the quiet confirmation that he'd handled it right. Naomi held her cracker like an offering. "Mine?" Bobby laughed and rubbed the top of her head. "Yeah, yeah. You can help too."

The house felt complete again—all of them in one place, errands done, stories shared, no rush pulling them in different directions. Bobby slipped an arm around Athena's waist as the kids drifted back toward play. "Good day?" she murmured. "Yeah," he said softly, watching Elias build something imaginary with the wrench. "Really good." And for a moment, with the smell of home and the sound of their children filling the space, nothing else mattered.