fic: Something New

[bonnefois]

Title: Something New
Series: TF2
Pairing: Scout/Miss Pauling, Spy/Scout's mom, ensemble, OFC child, eventual mentions of Heavy/Medic
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 8313
Summary: After the gravel wars and the robot wars, they find new challenges in fatherhood, motherhood and the act of gift giving.
Author's note: notes under cut. kidficstory. The art is by the fantastic Multiversecafe,


Contains character names as it is post-series.

Miss Pauling: Charlotte
Scout: Liam Dempsey
Spy: often referred to as simply Spy as he has many names.
Scout's mother: Colleen
Heavy: Dmitri
Medic: Erich Humbolt
Sniper: Mick Mundy


It's part of a larger fic verse entitled Dreaming Of Our Journey's End which I had hoped to finish all at once, but alas it decided to go on much further as I went along. Next part is a Spy/Scoutma arc, followed by more Scout/Pauling family antics.


Prologue:
She always thought the scrapbook was a bad idea. After all, it gave ample evidence, and her job was to destroy evidence, a habit she retained long after she was no longer an employee of TF Industries.

But he had loved it, loved to look through it and keep pieces and parts of their time together. He was always reckless like that.

After the wars, pictures were donated from some of Spy's blackmail files. (Scout said he'd donate his fist to Spy's face for that one, though he'd yet to fulfill his promise). The first few were taken around corners. Pictures of a kiss obscured by bushes, of his hand slipping into hers, him standing too close in a group picture, his adoring gaze fixated solely on her.

The next photos were from years later, with one of him grinning at the unseen photographer, sitting on the mangled remains of a particularly large robotic Heavy, and holding up its head as a prize.

Near the end of the first part was her in white lace, flowers braided into her hair and him pulling at his suit tie again, but looking jubilant. Thumbs up for the camera, a hand up in the air triumphantly after the wedding vows.

After that, there many pictures of her at shaky angles. Her looking up from a pile of bills, caught in the middle of a sigh, her pulling the purple robe closer about her. He was never the photographer Spy had been, his hands shook too much from his constant nervous energy.

And finally, a picture of her swollen belly, while he pointed to it with both hands and a particularly smug grin while she looked back at him with a mix of affection and irritation.

It was the last picture of just them. Sometimes she would linger at that one, the closing of that part of their lives.

-Part one-
Something New

April 2nd, 1975. A blurry Polaroid of a small empty box taken in poor lighting that he refused to throw away.

First the paper instructions fell, then the test itself right into the sink, then her glasses fell to her nose, completing the adage of bad things happen in threes.

She wasn't superstitious by nature, but that one seemed to happen quite often. Except for her, it was multiples of threes. Nines, usually.

"Oh, damn," she said.

She balanced on the balls of her feet as she retrieved the plastic piece from where it'd fallen. Glasses back in place, she reeled from the vertigo-like nausea that she'd been experiencing all that week. This certainly hadn't been according to her plans, but here it was. In five minutes, her life could change.

She leaned on the sink for support, only then remembering that she'd forgotten the instructions already.

"Hey, gorgeous!" Liam called from the other room. The door slammed behind him, not so much as an act of anger, as that he simply couldn't do anything quietly.

She heard his voice taper off and some kind of rustling. Given that she didn't like broadcasting every single thing to the neighbors, she didn't respond immediately. He'd find her, he always did.

"Did you bring home dinner?" She said, when he was a few doors closer.

"Yeah, I got some leftovers from ma right here. Hey, what's thi–a—a Pregnancy test?"

Liam was quiet a few moments. She opened the edge of the door to peer out, but she couldn't quite see him. Three years ago, she would've suspected his reaction to be the sound of the door slamming as he took off on a run.

"Pregnant? You're Preggers?" Liam said.

"Well, I'll know in a moment." The color on the test had finally started to materialize. She frowned as she turned it over, attempting to remember what each sign meant.

"You've got the box. What's two blue lines?"

"Baby!"

"What?" She said.

"No, baby!"

He pushed through the door and held the box up high. "Baby," he said again. He had a huge grin on his face, and even before she could ask him how he felt about this, he lifted her up and spun her so fast that they nearly fell into the counter. The test fell back into the sink, and she nearly did as well. Her dizziness returned in full force, and she clung to him tight enough to hurt.

"Liam! Come on, we're about to tip right over here," she said.

"Oh, yeah, that would be no good for the kid," he said. He put her down with some reluctance, and settled for staying close, instead of staying close while being mid-air.

"I take it you're happy about the results," she said.

"Damn right I am! Oh, this will be great!"

She tossed the test into the trash basket, and bent to wash her hands.

He bent to retrieve it. "We should keep it, for memory's sake—"

"It's covered in urine. That's how the test works," she said.

"—Yeah, I'll just keep the box," Liam said.

He put his arms about her waist again, his hands lingering at her stomach as she dried her hands.

"You won't be able to feel anything for months," she said.

"Hey, it's never too soon to try."

And here she'd thought he'd be worried or ready to run. Then again, she'd also thought that he'd be the type to never commit and he was the one begging her to marry him three dates in, and she was the one who had to make him slow down.

Though she'd said yes. Eventually.

"Hmmm," she said.

"What?"

"I have a history of being wrong about you, it seems," she said.

"Ain't your fault. I'm a man of mystery. Too awesome for just words. God, a kid. This is goin' to be great."

"Yes, I can't wait to have three AM feedings and swell up like a balloon while I eat everything in sight." Charlotte sighed. Considering how her family kept on post-pregnancy weight, she would just have to get used to being pear-shaped for the rest of her life.

"Correction, you're finally goin' to be eatin' enough. We'll eat out at allll the restaurants in town, maybe several a night. It'll be like one big date that never ends."

"I will grow enormous and crush you," she said. She couldn't quite manage menacing, so it came out as more of a dread prophecy of things to come.

"Babe, I got sat on by Heavy once when I stole his sandwich. Bring it."

"You know what this means, don't you?"

"You goin' to drag me shoppin' for little baby stuff after I track down all the guys and give them the news?"

"Well, that too. We're going to have to tell my parents eventually," she said.

Without fail, her parents always managed to make several mentions that there were very nice divorce lawyers in the area, and many acceptable men who weren't ex-convict thugs from the slums of Southie and practically unemployable outside of TFI. Their disapproval was so strong that even he got it, and considering just how dense he could be about other people's issues with him, that was saying something.

"We could put it off. If we put off telling your mother, however, we'll never hear the end of it."

He chuckled. "You better call her in the next ten minutes, or she's never goin' to forgive you. In fact, I'm callin' her now."

He bent one last time to kiss her neck before he left. From the other room she could hear him Hey, ma, guess what?

She was fairly sure the entire apartment complex could hear him as well, but it was hardly the most embarrassing thing overheard because of Liam's lack of an indoor voice.


*

April 12th, 1975 an old pen.

She'd filled out the papers the day after she'd found out for certain, but it took ten days for her to actually submit them. Liam had enough joy for both of them, which left all the worrying to her. TFI wasn't an institution anyone quit, or left without some form of loss. Memories, money, reputation, or even their life.

Most people would have to deal with weeks before they knew; she'd known before the hour was done. An orderly with a screen over his chest strode in. He closed the door, his hands shaking, as he swallowed, like it was a bomb attached to his chest, and not the Administrator.

Charlotte had just finished putting away her sole potted violet into a little box to straighten out what few possessions she kept at her desk.

"Explain," the Administrator said in a terse voice. Her hands were steepled, her impeccable manicure looked like some sharp, deadly weapon in this light.

"It's simple, really. I'm pregnant."

Administrator's lip curled, as if she'd said something repulsive.

"I know the company's maternity leave policy, or lack thereof. And I'm giving my two-week's notice."

She lifted her chin, and put another pen in her box. Administrator's eye twitched.

"Marley, give her the papers."

The beleaguered assistant swallowed, and looked from side to side, as if someone might be lurking there. He handed her the papers with an unsteady hand; she had a feeling she was one of the assistant that was on their way out the usual TFI way of being let go: six feet under.

She waited for the usual I'm disappointed in you, Miss Pauling. The same discussion that had happened before her wedding, but the Administrator just scrutinized her.

She looked over the papers; she'd never seen this kind before, despite years of working there. The way the Administrator looked at her was like a dare, eyes narrowed, a tight grip on her cigarette.

Every once and a while, the Administrator would show a human side. Of course, she'd never let the Administrator realize she'd thought of her as anything but an iron queen with a ruthless grip on all her holdings and employees.

"I'll have these notarized before the day is done," she said.

She didn't say thank you because the Administrator never wanted thanks. It would be beneath her, an insult to the faint kindness, which was more likely simply that she hadn't outlived her usefulness yet.

The screen went dark, and the assistant let out a long breath.

She nodded to him. There was no use in taking in the details, of thinking of the family he'd leave behind when he had to be killed. That was life working for TF Industries, and she had accepted it.

*

July 5th, 1975. A Polaroid taken by Spy of a white hospital room.

"One of these days, I'm goin' to take you out for dinner," Colleen said.

"You takin' her out without me?" Liam said.

"It's a girls night, honey. We'll be talkin' about scary girl things," she said.

Liam didn't seem remotely mollified, but the elderly nurse had come back.

"Now, everything's in order?" The nurse said cheerily. She had a habit of ending sentences with a questioning note, even when they weren't questions.

"Mostly," Charlotte said.

"I had a ton of these, nothin' to worry about," Colleen said.

"I wasn't worried," Charlotte said.

"Me neither," Liam said, less convincingly. He bent down next to the bed.

"Your legs are going to get sore," Charlotte said.

"Babe, I have run over the whole earth at least three times total with all the runnin' I've done. I can deal with a little stiff knees."

He tugged on her purple button-up sweater. "No sexy hospital gown? Not like you aren't knockin' that sweater out of the park..."

"Only you would think a hospital gown is sexy," Charlotte said.

"Excuse me, backless to the extreme? That's pretty sexy," Liam said.

"It's good to have some fire in your marriage. It tends to fall away when the children come, don't you think?" the nurse said.

"Ain't goin' to happen," Liam said. He watched as the liquid dripped over the slight bulge. He reached out to the gel.

"No touching until the test is done," Charlotte said. She flinched. "Ah, it's cold."

"I never did get used to that part," Colleen said.

She rubbed the tranducer over her abdomen. Liam provided a few comic sound effects for the device; some things never changed.

"This won't take long. We've upgraded our technology," the nurse said. She brushed her hand through her thick gray curls.

And it wasn't a lie. Liam had barely gotten into some barely believable–and she knew from experience, largely exaggerated–story when the nurse returned. A screen in the back flicked on. The screen was gray, and through it a little blob of a shape could just be made out. Liam looked up, wonderstruck. His hand squeezed hers tightly.

"My baby looks like an alien," Liam said in wonder.

"Liam, she does not," Colleen said. She frowned down at him, though he was too entranced with the picture on the screen to notice.

"No, it's awesome. I'm goin' to have an awesome kryptonite superbaby!"

"Actually, I'm going to be having the kryptonite baby," Charlotte said dryly.

"I helped! A lot, in fact, you could say she couldn't have done it without me," Liam said.

The elderly nurse looked at him sternly. "Do you want a wave of angry pregnant women and nursing mothers coming your way for waking them up?"

"Oh shit, no—!"

"Then I advise you be quiet," she said.

"Awesome alien superbaby," Liam said in a loud whisper.

Charlotte shook her head and took his hand. He had such wonder and whimsy. Without her there to tether him, he probably would've lost himself to his idealism and fancies. She squeezed his hand back.

"Everything looks healthy so far, and it looks like you're going to have a little girl," the nurse said. "However, these things aren't positive."

"A girl," Colleen said, her voice full of wonder. "I never got one of those."

"Well, now you sort of do," Liam said.

She smiled to herself, and took Charlotte's other hand in hers. "No, you're right. I already did."

*

September 5th, 1975. A blurry shot taken in poor lighting. Liam smiled up at the camera, while Charlotte simply looked weary of it all.

"I'm just glad your dad didn't put a shotgun to my back," he said.

"We're already married," she said.

"Still, that man don't like me at all."

He slipped into his chair with a sigh. She'd lost the fight of looks versus comfort, and now the entire decor of the apartment was marred by one plaid chair among the muted blacks and tans. She had eschewed the current fashion choices of bright oranges, floral decor and patterns that looked more at home in a kaleidoscope. She never was one to follow the trends, always settling for something safe and classic in the end, but it had come pre-furnished.

He patted his lap.

"Have you seen me lately? I'll crush you to death," she replied.

"Come on, you ain't that big."

"It looks like I'm trying to steal a watermelon," she replied. "Besides, I need to get something."

"Hungry again?" He said.

She nodded. "Eating for two."

"What, more pickles and ice cream and like, whipped cream on fried rice?"

"That was one time," Charlotte said.

Liam chuckled. "It's good to see you eatin'...you always eat like a bird, and that's no good. Bring me some while you're out there!" He called after her.

"I don't have your metabolism," he said. "Though I'd kill for it. You could eat a whole carton of ice cream and not gain a pound."

She hadn't gotten far when she paused and put her hand to her belly.

"Oh..."

"Wait, is the baby kicking? Lemme feel!"

He leapt up, nervous and excited all in one. She guided his hand to her stomach. "Hey, I feel it! This one's bound to be a runner!"

He fell to his knees and rested his head against her swollen stomach. She ran her hand through his hair in gentle strokes as he listened to her body.

"Y'know, I like you like this," Liam said.

"Chubby, with bloated feet and eating everything in sight?" she said.

"We're goin' to have a ton of kids. Just imagine it, enough of them to have a whole baseball team together—fightin' and terrorizin' the whole city. A new age of Dempseys."

"We'll start as soon as you start helping out with the carrying of them," she said.

"Piggybacks count?"

"No," she said.

"Damn. Well, Babe, if I could, I would. Just for you. It'd be the manliest frickin' baby ever."

She rested her hand on his head. "If that didn't break all laws of science and nature, I'm sure it would be," she said, soothing and tender.



*

October15th, 1976. A scribbled doodle of a baseball and sun on yellowed paper.

She awoke to a strange scent. Pregnancy had made her sense of smell many times more potent. Just the smell of coffee and eggs in the morning would make her stomach turn.

He smiled lazily up at her. There were several scribbles across her stomach. A sun at her navel, a little field and house on the side, and what she thought was a dog on the other side. It was hard to tell, given that Scout wasn't exactly a gifted artist. In fact, she'd seen kindergarteners with neater lines than him.

"What are you doing?" she said.

"Playin' with the kid," Scout said. He laid his head on her stomach, smearing color on his cheek.

"It's a little early to be stocking up on balls and jerseys," she said.

"Hey, I can wait. I waited for you, after all. And I had to wait a loooong time. Was worth it, though."

He never came home without something for her, and now something for the child growing within her. She already had a pile of sports supplies and shoes they wouldn't need for years to come. At this rate, they'd have to move just to find enough room for the child's things.

If she didn't already keep a tight grip on the purse strings in their family, he probably would've put them into debt over tiny baseball cleats.

*

December 17th, 1976 A small hospital bracelet for a little hand.

She'd been trying to count the rising arc of pain for the past few hours as Liam paced the room. Three AM wouldn't have been her preferred time to be enduring this much agony, but their child was coming, and at a spiteful ungodly hour.

"How many?" Liam said. He stopped in his pacing to face her. His whole body was tense with worry.

"I just lost count again," she said. She cringed. Oh, they didn't call it labor for nothing.

"Can't we just get Engineer to like, build a teleporter in there?" Liam said.

She couldn't tell if he was joking or not. She didn't have the strength to deal with it, either way.

"We should get to the hospital," she said. She took a deep breath, and tried to stand. Pain made her feel wobbly, her knees giving out from under her. He reached for her and helped her back into the chair. She was counting the breaths and moments between contractions, just as the book had said, but his hyperventilating kept making her lose count.

"Okay, I got this, I got this I–shitshitshit what do I do?"

"Call your mother!"

"Right! Calling ma now!"

She heard his panicked voice as she reached to pull the overnight bag she'd packed in advance a little closer. She a sharp thud, and the sound of the phone dropping. She didn't have to look around the wall to know that he'd fainted.

Charlotte tried to rise. The door from the kitchen opened, and Spy came in, with Liam's unconscious body sprawled behind him.

"I was in the area," Spy said. "She's going to meet us at the hospital; it's closer to her."

"Just how much time do you spend spying on us?" Charlotte said.

Spy smiled just a little. "A magician never reveals his secrets."

*

She'd miscounted, despite attempting to remind herself. She'd been in this hospital bed for some time, though the signing in process had gone through with such ease that she was fairly sure either bribery, blackmail or outright threats had been given, either by Spy, Colleen, or both.

She was quite sure that had Liam been conscious, he would've joined the fray as well.

As of now, there was an IV drip and the promise of a return from a couple nurses. She'd been scrubbed with some kind of antibacterial gel, and had to bite her tongue to not protest and do the prep herself. As Charlotte found out, they didn't call it labor for nothing.

She closed her eyes, waiting for the epidural to kick in. It was only when she heard Colleen's voice that she roused, only somewhat drowsey.

"Well, that was all taken care of," Colleen said. She bent beside Charlotte's hospital bed. "You'd think they'd have a chair in here. Anyways, I sure hope she don't pop 'em out like I did, he can't take many more knocks to the head at this rate," Colleen said. "I never dropped him on his head as a kid, for the record, though his brothers did a time or two."

She squeezed Charlotte's hand. "You're doin' great, honey. Just keep rememberin' to breathe, and pushin' when they say," she said.

"Oh...hell, it hurts," she said.

"Tell me about it. Just be lucky that you don't got any twins in there," Colleen said. "George and Luke about killed me. And that ain't an exaggeration."

The doors pushed open and Liam stumbled in, a bandage over his head, and his cap placed awkwardly over the bandage.

"For the record, I didn't faint, I passed out from lack of air," Liam said.

"You fainted, sweetie. Ain't no two ways about it," Colleen said.

"Passed out! Faintin' is for girls, passin' out is what guys do. Guys like Tavish, though that usually takes a lot of Scumpy," Liam said.

"This is going to take a while. You might want to go home," Charlotte said.

"You kickin' me out?" Liam said, a tremor in his voice. "Like, on the couch for weeks because I got you here kicked out?"

"Of course not," Charlotte said.

"I'll just go get some water," Colleen said. She was much more adept at reading the subtext than her son ever was.

He leaned beside her bed. The blankets were bunched up. He looked down at the space, the bed too small for him to curl up beside her like he had the last time she'd been sick, and he'd gotten the cold just about the time she'd started to get well. His grip tightened on the bedsheets as he looked around, anger making his angles more drawn.

"Shouldn't there be a nurse in here? Some kind of doctor, something? What kind of crap hospital is this anyways—!"

Whenever she was hurt, when he felt powerless, he tended to take it out on whoever was nearby. He'd pick fights with men twice his size. Sometimes he'd win, and sometimes he'd come back with a bloodied knuckles and new breaks and bruises for her to bandage up and fix.

"Liam, I need you to do two things, all right?"

He jerked his head around and gave her his whole gaze. "I'm listenin'."

"First, I need you to steal some chairs. Bring them from the halls, bring them from somewhere else, I don't even care where you get them."

"—to beat the frickin' doctors senseless with, right," he said.

"No, because we're all going to be in here for a while. These things take a lot of time."

"Hours? Friggin' hours? Who do I have to beat up to make this painless and quick and not so bad for you?"

She shook her head. "It won't work."

He let out a long sigh. "Sure the teleporter thing can't work?"

"Just get the chairs," she said.

He came back in a few minutes, with new bruises which she didn't think the furniture had given him, and a chair.

"I'll go get more in a sec," he said.

"No, that's—enough," she said. She cringed, and he reached out to touch her.

"Look, I'm here through thick and thin—you get to punch me if you want," he said.

A couple nurses came in behind them, interrupting him. He wrapped his arm about the stolen chair and looked back at them in a harsh glare, the sort of expression that whoever saw rarely lived long afterwards.

"I'm stayin'!"

"He stays," Charlotte said.

"Ma totally threatened to rip someone's throat out, I bet," he said in a loud whisper.

"She's strong, she'll kick this thing's ass," Liam said. "I totally believe in you, Charlotte. We should get you some awesome birthin' music."

"Not happening," Charlotte said.


*

Her daughter was born at 5AM, surrounded by worn out, caffeine fueled family. Her own parents had been accidentally left out in the hurry, but it was for the best for now. Her mother never did care for Colleen, and the last thing she needed was a hospital room smackdown.

Her daughter was screaming at the top of her lungs, her face utterly red, as the doctor held her.

"Aww, she's screamin' almost as loud as Liam did," Colleen said.

"Ma's gonna move in with us for a while to help take care of her and you," Liam said.

"You got a name for her?" Charlotte said.

"Me? I thought you were goin' to name her," Liam said.

They'd discussed names, though never come to much agreement, only that she'd in some way, be named after his mother.

"Hey, ma....c'mere!" Liam called.

Colleen came in a little closer. Despite everything, not a hair was out of place. She had to use industrial-level hair spray, possibly infused with Australium.

"You never did get to name any girls, so you name this one," Liam said.

"The doctor lied to me, you know. Said little Liam here was going to be a girl, and it turned out he was a boy. I went out and bought all pink for nothing, though of course I couldn't just take it back. You had the cutest little pink onesies with clouds. His brothers never let him live it down, of course."

"Maaa, come on," Liam said.

"How about Alice, just like the books you used to love, huh? He always loved the white rabbit, probably reminded him of himself. Back then I had time to read to him," she said.

"Alice Colleen Dempsey," Charlotte said, testing the name on her tongue.

Alice let out another throaty scream.

"Goin' to need ear plugs for that one. Trust me, Liam cried for two years straight."

"More like twenty-seven years straight," Spy said. He pulled off his doctor's mask and stepped out from the side—she hadn't even realized he'd been infiltrating at the time, though she should've guessed.

"Ahahhaha, shut up," Liam said.

"Be good or I'll send you both to time out," Colleen said without looking up. She picked up Alice, who quieted slightly as she began to speak softly to her.

"I've already got some ear plugs for you...but I'm bettin' you'll need to buy some for the rest of the apartment buildin'," Colleen said.

The camera flashed and caught the moment of Colleen, Liam, her and the new addition to the family wrapped up and still ruddy. Through all of tired tenderness, a first moment was hidden away.

"Suprise," Spy said.

*
March 29th, 1976. A crystal ashtray, large enough for two.

There were several cigarettes pushed into the ashtray at the middle of the table, though oddly enough, none of them were from Colleen for once.

"I like this one. Monsieur Fantôme has just such a ring to it," Colleen said. She was a breath away from gushing. Her eyes always lit up when she talked to Spy, and even now, there was a youthful, pleased flushed to her cheeks that showed past her rouge.

Liam rolled his eyes, and emptied his glass of pop before speaking. "You do know that just means 'Mister Ghost'? The whole name is another lie," Liam said. He lifted his chin defiantly. Charlotte was pretty sure those were the only words he knew in French.

"Oh, of course. He don't give out real names. It's romantic! I gotta keep a notebook to keep track of 'em all, though. I never have to worry about him thinkin' I said the wrong name in be—"

Scout choked on his drink. "Ma!"

"Oh, hush. You're not a baby anymore," she said.

"That's not a mental image I need!"

"This one was always drivin' my men away," she said.

"They sucked," he said. He gave a sour look to the man just coming out from invisibility at the edge of the table. "This one sucks the most, though."

"That he does," his mother said. She had a bit of a dreamy expression as Henri lifted up her hand to kiss the back. "You know they say about the French–it's true."

"I'm going to go scrub out my ears and pour bleach down them until I can get rid of that," Liam said in disgust.

"And you never will forget it," Spy said. He leaned down to light Colleen's cigarette.

"You ever gonna marry her, you rat? Or you just gonna be like all the others and leave her cryin' in the end?"

Colleen smacked him with a newspaper.

"Ow, jeez, shit oww!"

"Now you be nice to him, you hear? He's some fancy agent, he don't got time to be sittin' around the suburbs! Besides, who said I need a husband? I had four of them, and none of them were as good as your father, may God rest his soul."

Liam clutched his dog tags, and the room filled with silence. She'd seen the one black and white picture left of him, faded and dotted with tear stains and yellowed from age. Liam bore a passing resemblance to the man who hadn't come back from after the war.

"If I married her, my past might affect her even more than it already has. And that far outweighs the stain of leaving her an unmarried woman," he said.

"That don't mean–"

"Liam," Charlotte said. She touched his shoulder.

"Babes, I gotta say this," he said.

"Liam," Charlotte said again, with more force.

Henri snickered. "It looks like you've met your match."

"Henri," Colleen said. She gave them the sort of glare that made grown men twice her size cower beneath her. Colleen was used to keeping her boys in line—having often employed a similar look to nine very unwieldily mercenaries, Charlotte had to admire her skills.

"Of course, cherie," he said.

"Well, pally. Looks like we just hit Pussywhippedville, population us."

Charlotte raised her eyebrow at him. "Pussywhippedville?"

"I didn't mean it like a bad thing," Liam said, flashing his bucktoothed smile. "I like bein' whipped."

"Do you also like sleeping on the couch?" Charlotte said.

"No," Liam said. "That's about my least favorite thing ever. It's way too small, and—oh. Yeah. Um, shuttin' up now."


*

March 30th An old baby monitor.
Charlotte had always been a light sleeper. She couldn't say what woke her–the flutter of a drape, the slight chill of wind. Liam lay on his side next to her, murmuring in his sleep. There was no fear he'd wake up; he'd slept through bombs exploding and tornados before.

She rubbed at her eyes to wipe away the sleep. The baby was floating, with only a trail of smoke visible going outside the window.

"I had hoped to let you sleep," said the voice. In a moment, he uncloaked, and was visible.

"She'll ruin your suit if you're not careful," she said.

"I've had enough suits ruined by blood and that idiotic bushman's jars to keep entire families of tailors in business. Your child would have to outdo nine grown men to even make a dent in my suit collection."

"She's his child, so you might be tempting fate," she said.

"I can tell. She got his lungs," he said.

She began to fuss, threatening to turn into a full out scream again. He put a bottle in her mouth, and she sucked noisily. He held her with the kind of experience she hadn't guessed he would ever posses. Spy never kept anyone around who might be a weakness or a liability.
Except for Colleen, but even she was fairly well-hidden and guarded away by her boys.

"Did you ever have any of your own?" Charlotte said.

He gazed out the window. She could just see a tightening of his jaw at this angle.

"Once," he said. "......But it was a long time ago."

"I see," she said. She knew well that he wouldn't answer anymore questions. She was surprised he'd even answered this one.

He had the scent of gun smoke on him, a speck of blood he'd missed on his sleeve. Barely home from the hospital and her daughter was already being exposed to death. It was inevitable. Loving Liam was one thing–he had Respawn to deal with his recklessness. Knowing that he'd be back in less than a minute numbed any worries of seeing him blown to pieces on the battlefield.

But this new child brought out sides of her she didn't realize she had. She felt on edge, with a new protective fervor so intense that it took some getting used to, like every nerve was rubbed raw.

"You can go on back to bed. I've already had several cups of coffee; I won't be sleeping until she wakes up."

"Thank you," she said. She ended on a pause, as if something else should be there, but nothing came. Spy never was one to open up, least of all to her. If anything, they were wary allies as always. Bound only by keeping safe the ones they loved.

*

April 15th, 1976, an old knitted onesie.

"We've got enough onesies to clothe a small army," she said.

"One made entirely of babies," Liam said with a big grin.

She had a decent amount of maternity leave. Well, more like a begrudging amount of maternity leave by the Administrator, who was unwilling to quite let her go from the company, even if she strongly disapproved of her choices.

"Hey, look what Tavish sent," Liam said. He held up a little tartan knitted onesie, with Boom Boom stitched on the back.

"I bet his ma knitted it. Pretty good for a blind lady," Liam said.

"No, I think Tavish did it. Apparently Mick taught him before everyone went their separate ways again," she said.

Liam snickered. "Great hobby. I bet he has drunk knitting parties with Jane all the time."

"He would, if he still drank," Charlotte said.

Liam shook a cardboard box which had seen better days, and smelled like it'd been taken straight from the alley—one which had a very large population of male cats, and that saw a lot of rain.

Charlotte reached in and out from the debris of packing material made from many old fruity cereal boxes, she pulled up something wrapped in newspaper. She unwrapped the egg-shaped thing, wondering why on earth Jane of all people would be giving her some Russian egg faberge.

What she held was decidedly not Russian art, or art at all. It took her several seconds to process just what Jane had sent her.

"A Grenade? Naw, it's probably some fake joke—it's plastic or somethin'—oh hey, it's from Jane! I wonder what he's gettin' up to. Still livin' in a cardboard box in the alley, I bet," Liam said.

Charlotte handed him the child, and with as much calmness as she could muster, dug out her clutch and shoved the grenade in. Seconds after she closed it, the metal tines of her purple clutch shuddered as a loud noise went off inside. The purple clutch wasn't even dented, let alone destroyed by the considerable blast.

"You have a grenade-proof handbang?" Liam said.

"Of course; It's come in handy quite a few times," she said.

She'd had to give Jane the weapons talk more than once on base. Then it hadn't been quite as pressing, when it was just a waste of resources and her time. If he snapped someone's neck then, it was unfortunate, collateral damage.

Now, her child sat on Liam's lap, just inches from where he'd shook the box above her head.

"The fuck was that about? A real live grenade? Jeez, I'm going to smash his face in!"

She lifted up the card. She skimmed over the poorly spelled card wishing them well in what was either his own—or someone else's––blood, or particularly messy red ink that had turned a brownish shade with age.

"Sending us supplies for our... bunker," Charlotte said. "And congratulating us on our new uh, recruit."

"Right, punchin' his damn face in it frickin' is!" Liam balled his fists, ready to push himself up. She picked up Alice before she could be unseated in Liam's rage—a good call, as Liam sprung up and began to pace.

"I can't frickin' believe it. What's next, Friggin' Medic showin' up and askin' if she needs to be customized with a pair of friggin' bird wings on her back?"

He paced, his words blending together in angry fits and starts.

Alice laughed, and he looked down.

"Sheesh, you aren't scared at all, are you, you little Alley cat?"

Years ago, she wouldn't have guessed him capable of such tenderness towards anyone. Now she knew better; he could be as kind to those he loved just as much as he could be cruel to anyone else who didn't fall into that narrow scape.

He bent down before her, and rested his hand on her knee. "It's new....and weird. I mean, God, what if she pulls half the shit I did as a kid? I used to jump roofs to impress girls! It's how I broke my arm the first time!"

She touched his shoulder. With every bit of calm she didn't feel. "It's going to be all right," she said. Even breath in, even breath out.

Alice made a gurling sound, but had remained surprisingly content, even amused by his outburst.

"—we'll get used to it," Charlotte said.

If she kept telling herself this, then it had to be true.

"I'm still punchin' Jane in the face," Liam said.

"I'll help you," Charlotte said.

Liam climbed up on the couch, still seething, but with a new calm edge. He rested his head against her shoulder, she rested against him. They were just two new people, trying to find their way in a confusing new world of tenderness and feedings.

After all, all they'd known for years was killing.

"We—We'll knock this out of the park," Liam said.

*

May 30th, 1976. A picture caught of Liam covered in baby powder.

Everything out of Liam's mouth had been nothing but one long string of curses, so quick and close together that not even she could make out anything he was saying. Charlotte stood at the kitchen, ready to move and take over. He'd promised he'd shape up enough that they wouldn't have to hire a nanny. Then again, his choices for nanny included an ex-military man with a proclivity for snapping people's necks.

"I could take over—" Charlotte said.

"I can do this," he said. He squared his shoulders and took a deep breath, one which he regretted a second later.

"Ugh, hell! It was easier takin' on ten Heavies at once than this!" He gagged as he stepped closer, baby powder ready.

He heard a chuckle behind him, and turned just in time to get a face full of baby powder. Liam let out a shriek, his vision blinding to white as he was nearly pushed over. In that moment of distraction, Spy had not only changed Alice, but disposed of the dirty diaper, and put her in a clean new onesie with little knives and boomerangs stitched on, courtesy of Mick.

"I swear to—the fuck did you just do? Are you a friggin' magician now?"

"Yes," Spy said.

"I was goin' to do it! I ain't afraid of a little....toxic nuclear stuff—"

"I might teach you how, but there'd be consequences, and pay," Spy said, in a way that could only promise embarrassment for Liam.

Liam scrunched up his face. "You stupid asshole with that stupid suit—"

"Now, if you're done bein' twelve year old boys, are you goin' to come in for dinner, or not?"

Colleen leaned against the doorframe, flour dusting her in her dark hair, oil stains spread across her new blue and white apron.

"I still ain't callin' him dad, even if you did get a fake drunk marriage signed by an Elvis impersonator."

"I prefer papa," he said.

Liam glared at him.

"Sweetie, it was just a bit of fun. I did get a pretty ring out of it. Besides, I thought you wanted him to marry me."

Liam scrunched up his face. "It don't count. And he's still an asshole."

"Some people are never happy," Spy said.

Spy handed Alice over to Tavish, who had been quietly sipping apple cider in the kitchen, keeping his good eye on Jane. He patted Alice on the back, and she let out a loud burp.

"Good one, lassie," he said.

"I suppose it takes a group of mercenaries to raise a child," Charlotte said.

Colleen shook her head. "That one's goin' to know how to do a chokehold before she's out of kindergarten."

"Damn straight she will," Tavish said.

*

June 28th, a business card with LeCroix and sons printed on the front.

The noise of the game was drowned out by a little whimper, then a loud cry. Without looking up from his position on the couch, Liam put a bottle in her mouth. Liam took a sip, and frowned. He took another before he looked to see that it was a plastic bottle with duckies in his hand, not a glass one.

"We're not tellin' your ma about this, all right?" Liam said.

Alice let out a burp that would put Tavish to shame.

"Jeez, you reek. Can I give babies mints?"

With one eye on the game, Liam inched to the phone, and dialed a much hated number.

"I need some help, no questions asked—is there a way to make a baby not stink of alcohol? "

He heard a sigh on the other side of the phone. "Do I even want to know?"

"I said no questions asked," Liam said.

Another sigh. "All right, all right, I'll be there in a moment. Mon Dieu, I've done a lot of cover ups, but this one takes the cake."

"They were alike, okay!"

Silence on the end of the phone.

"Okay, they weren't alike, but the game was on!"

"I'll be there in a few," Spy said curtly.

And when he said a few, he meant a few. It wasn't five minutes before Alice was being lifted out of his hands.

"It ain't like I dropped her on her head, I just—I just was watchin' the game."

He let out a sigh. He'd promised Charlotte that he'd do this right, that she wouldn't have to give up her job. And he really thought he could, it'd seemed easy. He'd always been good with kids in the neighborhood. Just take them out for a game, out for a run, tell them a story. They weren't that hard.

But Alice was fragile. She cried and sometimes he didn't know how to fix the crying. And he hated not being able to fix this, not having an easy answer, and the gripping feeling that he might not be good at this.

"They should give a manual with this," Liam said.

Spy flipped a card towards Liam as he lifted her up.

"Think about it," he said.

"Leacrawxic and sons," Liam read out loud. "Difficult jobs made easy...hey, what's this?"

Spy cringed. "I have never heard someone butcher the French language like you."

"You hirin'?"

"I've decided to take on some local work for a while," Spy said. He didn't look back. He had something in his hand, and in a second, he'd given Alice some kind of black pill.

"I always keep extra pills around," Spy said.

"But, for babies—"

"She'll be fine," Spy cut in.

"You think I'll ever get the hang of this?" Liam said.

"Of course. Even you can manage to learn with enough practice," Spy said.

He lifted up the bottle from Liam's side, and stuck it in Alice's mouth. She sucked noisily, no longer reeking of booze.

"This—it's just goin' to be between you and me. All right?"

"Excellent blackmail material, I could threaten to bring it up at every family gathering," Spy said.

"I'm friggin' serious here!"

"Hmmm. I'll think about it," Spy said. His mischievous smile wasn't exactly making him seem more trustworthy.

"Geez, you ass....What kind of work is it?" Liam said.

"Occasional work of the sort you used to do," Spy said.

"Like?" Liam said.

"The usual. Laundering money, hiding bodies, destroying documents. You'd be in for 'grunt work.'"

"Funny to hear you say somethin' like that out loud—you're always such a clam about stuff like that. All man of mystery and stuff," Liam said. He punctuated 'man of mystery' with appropriately wiggly mysterious finger waggles.

"No one checks for bugs more than Charlotte. If there's anywhere in the world where we wouldn't be overheard, it's where she lives."

"Yeah, she's pretty awesome," Liam said, with a big grin. "I'll need to have somebody take care of Alice, though—"

"I've already taken it over. Colleen would be delighted to, besides, she's staying in for the next year."

The door opened with a jangle of keys, and Liam's grin froze as he saw Charlotte come in, with Colleen just behind her.

"We've got a couple rotisseries—I know Liam can eat about three whole ones in a sittin'––and some fresh potato salad," Colleen said.

"Should I set a wine glass for you?" Charlotte said.

That was his girl. She sure caught on fast.

"Oh no, it's makin' me sick these days. I won't be havin' anymore wine for quite a while," she said, with an enigmatic smile.

He remembered one thing his brothers had told him over the years: it never failed, if wine made his ma sick, there was going to be another brother soon. He could only gape as his mind processed the information.

"You son of a—"

"Now be nice to him, Liam. He's goin' to be around a lot more now. He promised, and even said that you get to beat him up if he breaks it. Now isn't that nice of him?"

"I'm already goin' to beat him—"

Colleen frowned at him. "Don't you dare."

Liam sputtered, looking from Spy to his mother. Charlotte had put away the rest in record time—nobody was more efficient than her, Liam would fight on that, and several other things—and in a moment, she was beside him.

"Isn't this what you wanted?" she said in a low, comforting voice.

"No!" Liam burst out.

"I still ain't callin' him papa," Liam said.

"No, you'll be calling me boss," Spy said. He leaned down to kiss Colleen on the cheek.

The ring on Colleen's finger may have been a fake from a fake marriage, but even Liam had to grudgingly admit that the feeling behind it wasn't.

*

She missed the first words Alice ever said. Liam assured her that the latter was a particularly foul curse word, though papa was her second word. New photos appeared in their life: Spy and Liam at the newly founded LeCroix and Sons business, with Alice balanced on her father's knee.

Jane and Tavish were in many pictures, in the back, holding Alice—they'd managed to forgive him the grenade incident and move on, after enough punches, that was.

He wouldn't have had it any other way, and would happily punch Liam back, leaving many a picture with all the men–save Spy—with black eyes, bloody knuckles and big smiles.

Life moved on faster than she ever thought. She kept close every moment she could, never as sentimental as now, with her daughter growing up faster than she ever could have imagined.