Gaius wasn't one to dwell too much on things—well, it depends on the types of things, but generally speaking he just watches things carry on and enjoys the show. He doesn't make that huge of an effort unless he needs to, or feels like he should, or his wife bribes him with sweets; so it was startling to him when he realizes this whole time-traveling-children business was really bothering him.

Not that the concept of time travel was what it was (although even that had its own can of bitter dumplings he wasn't exactly willing to taste) but mostly the way the people around him just accepts what it is and carries on.

Maybe he was making this difficult, but Gaius finds himself more and more bothered by these turns of events as more 'second generation' folks join. Not that the kids were bad folks, but in watching how the parents-to-be interact with their to-be-kids, Gaius can't wrap his head around it. These people just got married and somehow a kid is guaranteed from the future? They just began to think of each other as husband and wife and now they're just perfectly fine with speaking to a stranger and saying things like "You're just like your mother" or "I'll talk to your father for you"?

Maybe because Gaius likes things in a laidback way cause that's how he was, but it was just weird. As more and more kids join the army, Gaius finds himself having a difficult time going to bed besides his own wife. It wasn't that he's scared or anything, if a kid pops from the future then whatever, but it was still odd to think. He wasn't the type to really want kids right now, and thinking about it puts him a little on edge. He can't put his finger on it just yet.

But then they come across some ruins, and before he knows it, Robin comes to him when its over and clinging to her jacket was a little lanky kid with shockingly orange hair and an innocent smile. He stares at the kid, and even as Robin speaks and tries to explain, Gaius doesn't hear her. He just stares at the apparent child before him and while a part of him simply says 'Yeah that's my kid,' there's a loud part of him that just yells, 'This is too weird!'

Robin is too busy commanding the army with Chrom to really watch after Morgan, their future kid with apparent amnesia, so it falls to Gaius naturally since he's the father. It numbs him at first, because it just feels wrong in a sense. Shouldn't there be a day when Robin comes to him, blushing and nervous, and drops the pregnancy bomb on him? Shouldn't there be the days and weeks and months of stress, anxiety, acceptance and anticipation? Then there's that day where the baby comes out and there's celebrating and sweets and happy people everywhere?

Skip all that and Gaius stares at a near full grown person who's supposed to be his and Robin's kid, and he just doesn't feel too connected. He doesn't really jump at the times Morgan calls him Father like Henry does, and he just sort of shrugs it off when Morgan refers to Robin as Mother. Not that he doesn't believe the kid—Morgan definitely believes Robin is his mother and Gaius is his father, even if Morgan doesn't remember Gaius apparently. But right now, Gaius can't say he has a 'fatherly' connection.

It gets harder as he sees people like Donnel or Lon'qu or even Kellam warm up to their future kids so easily. Gaius watches them fall into the parental role almost immediately, liking being called 'father' and referring to their wives as a 'mother' even if they were practically newlyweds. After a while, Gaius starts to wonder, Am I doing something wrong?

He bonds with Morgan the best he can. Robin was busy and the least he could do was help with their 'family.' He tries to help Morgan remember him in ways that don't involve the kid slamming his head into walls, but it was hard to help anyone remember memories he himself hadn't had yet.

"Just stare at me," Gaius says to Morgan once. "Just stare really hard."

Morgan stares and struggles and can't remember a thing, and slowly Gaius starts to wonder if he's just that expendable in this family. There's a fleeting thought that he and Robin don't work out and some other man raises his kid, but Gaius shakes that out of his head. That was way too far into the future, just like Morgan was.

Even after Morgan has some glimpsing memory of him, Gaius still finds it hard to get used to being called 'Father' by the kid. Everyone else falls into their roles, even Robin, but Gaius just finds himself being as nonchalant about it as possible. It was a weird situaiton and Gaius needs time to get used to it.

"What if this messes us up?" Gaius blurts to Robin one night as she curls up at his side. "We get used to having Morgan like this that we don't have Morgan."

"What in the world are you going on about?" Robin replies sleepily, yawning a bit.

"People have kids cause they want kids. We got a kid now, technically. That itch is scratched—the cookie's eaten. So what happens if we just don't really have Morgan?" Gaius stares at the roof of the tent, his mind tired but his mouth moving. "What if he just vanishes because of this?"

If I don't accept Morgan now, maybe I can at least secure his existence.

Robin groans and snuggles closer, letting out a huff. "You're making this more difficult than it is."

"It's time travel, it's already difficult," Gaius argues. "That's like saying milk chocolate is like white chocolate."

"Even if this Morgan vanishes, we'll just have our own Morgan."

Her sounding so certain was a little weird in itself, but Gaius keeps that to himself. "That easy?" he asks, uncertain of it and everything else.

"Yes. Now go to sleep." Robin commands.

Normally Gaius would argue when Robin commands, but a part of Gaius doesn't really want to argue. What was there to argue? He can't even decide how he feels about Morgan or any of the other kids himself. If he can't decide that, what makes him think he has some weird duty to keep Morgan's existence possible? If he doesn't think or feel like he's the kid's dad, why does this thought bother him just as much as the rest?

Maybe Robin was right. He was making this difficult. I need a bon-bon.