Notes: This is a two-part side-story for Grasping Liquid. It starts soon after chapter thirty-three of the main story and, if you're following it, then I'd recommend having read at least up to that chapter to avoid spoilers. Though honestly, if you're not following Grasping Liquid then this fic could easily work as a stand alone story about the Miracle Mask cast and a baby as well. Also, the name of Dalston's dog is a reference to The-Mocking-J's fanfics featuring him.

Dalston may have broken one or two traffic laws on his way back to Monte d'Or. For once he couldn't blame Gonzales for keeping his eyes covered as he cowered in the passenger seat. Because Dalston on a mission was something to be feared.

Of course he knew fine well that even if he had the fastest cars, trains, planes, coaches or... or magical desert-trekking boats in the world that there was no way that he could get back home in one day. He had to resign to the fact that he was going to be late. Not that there was truly a "late" in this context. No one had been sure when Angela was going to have her baby, it wasn't due for another few weeks, and on top of that Dalston hadn't told them that he'd be there to visit at any specific time after the baby was born. It was more a matter of pride for him. His friends were having a child, a new addition to their family. So he wanted to be there as soon as he could.

It was early evening, more than a whole day after he'd left Southampton, by the time that Dalston made it back. Poor Gonzales was shaken and tired, so Dalston told him to take the rest of the day off. Gonzales simply nodded and disappeared somewhere to calm his nerves down.

But Dalston didn't want to hang around longer than he needed to, so he dumped down his bags, grabbed the gifts he'd bought from those charming swindler kids and then made his way to the Ledore Mansion.

When he got there he found that the outside of the building was crowded, even at this hour of the day. Word had obviously gotten out already. As Dalston approached, he could see Sheffield and the rest of the police force trying their best to keep them back.

Not that Dalston needed to worry about that. He was a friend of the family, so of course they'd let him through. There was a moment where a brave officer stood before him, but Dalston's glare was enough to make the man think twice about stopping him, so he instead stepped aside to let him pass. It caused some complaining from the crowd as Dalston broke away from them and headed up towards the house, but he wasn't concerned about that. The police would undoubtedly send this lot on their way before too long.

It didn't surprise him to find a weary Henry opened the door just a crack, to check who was there, before hastily ushering him inside.

"You should have called before you came, it's been a nightmare out there," said Henry.

"'ello to yer too," Dalston snorted, "Would o' thought they'd 'ave given up by now. The baby were born yesterday, right?"

"Word only gotten out today," Henry answered, "Anyway, I'll show you through to where Angela and Mas- ...Randall are resting." Even after all these years and much insistence from Randall, Henry hadn't full gotten over calling him 'master' just yet. It wasn't frequent, but it did slip out when he was on edge. Which he obviously was now.

"Thanks 'enry. This is fer yer, by the way," said Dalston.

With that, he dumped one of the three sticks of rock into Henry's hand. Then he watched in amusement as Henry tried his best not to turn his face at such a tacky gift, muttered a quick thanks, set it down on a side table to be forgotten about and finally motioned for Dalston to follow him through to Angela's room. Along the way he talked about how Angela and Randall had opted for a home birth, which didn't surprise Dalston to hear. The family was wealthy enough to be able to do this in relative comfort (or at least as comfortable as you can get when child birth was involved) and the best doctors Henry could find had been brought in for them.

"There were some worries about the child being premature. As well as... well, none of us are the youngest we've ever been, so there was concern for Angela's health," explained Henry, as they walked.

"Yeah, we talked about it a bit when she last came oveh," Dalston replied, "But she were adamant that if they waited any longeh then it'd be too late."

"We've all done more than enough waiting. I feel that they made the right choice," stated Henry, loyal as always.

"Hey, Henry. Is that Dalston I hear?" Randall's head popped out from around the other side of the door. "I thought so! What took you so long?"

"Bratscot," Dalston greeted, "I were down in Southampton on business. 'ere, got yer summit."

He tossed the next stick of rock to Randall, who caught it with much more enthusiasm than Henry had done. It didn't take him more than a few seconds to unwrap it and take a bite off the end.

"You're not going to give one of those to Angela, are you?" Henry asked.

Dalston looked down at his hand. He hadn't thought about it much, but now that he was here it did seem that this probably wasn't the best present he could give to her. She'd just had a child and was probably too exhausted to be bothered with trivialities like sweets.

Seeming to get what he was thinking, Randall cut in, "Never mind, I'll just have hers. And what's that other thing you've brought?"

"That's fer the baby," replied Dalston. But he did give the last stick of rock to Randall, who seemed to appreciate it.

With that, the three of them headed into Angela's room. She was sat in her bed, propped up against several pillows. Even though it had been more than a full day since the baby was born, she still looked a little weary. Regardless, she was just as radiant as she always was, Dalston felt. Upon seeing them, she gave a warm smile.

"Glad to see you could make it, Alphonse," Angela greeted.

"Wouldn't miss this fer the world," Dalston assured, "So where is the little tyke?"

"In his cot over there," Angela said. She pointed across to the window, where a fancy purple cot decorated with replicas Monte d'Or's famous Mask of Chaos lay quietly. Only the best for this family, after all.

"We've only just got him to sleep though, so try not to wake him up," Randall added.

"A bit o' a crier, eh?" chuckled Dalston, "Just like 'is old man."

"Hey!" Randall called. He gave a pout, but the effect was ruined by the two sticks of rock that were hanging out of his mouth like candy walrus teeth.

Despite his teasing, Dalston was quiet as he walked over to the cot. Although he didn't have much experience with kids, he didn't need any to know how hard it could be to get a newborn baby off to sleep and poor Angela looked as if she deserved the rest. He peered over the edge of the cot and saw the baby for the first time. It looked like he was dwarfed by the massive cot, with his tiny, fat limbs curled up around a cream blanket. Even now you could tell he was Randall's son, with little tufts of ginger hair pasted across his head.

"He's great, isn't he?" Randall chimed, as he joined Dalston, "We were all so happy he was born healthy after all. Maybe he doesn't do too much now, but once he gets old enough I'm going to take him on digs with me, to magic shows – everything. I'm gonna spend all the time with him that my father never spent with me."

"That sounds like a plan," agreed Dalston, "Speakin' o' yer parents, where's yer mam?"

"Mrs. Ascot is resting," Henry told him, "She's been a wonderful help to Angela while she was having the baby, but she's not as spry as she used to be and deserves a rest as much as anyone."

"Fair enough," said Dalston, "So future plans fer 'im aside, what do yer call this young 'un?"

"His name's Oscar. We went back and forth with different names for a while, but finally agreed on this one. Tell him why, Randall," Angela said. She gave a knowing little giggle to Randall and in that moment it almost felt as if the two of them were once again a couple of lovestruck kids back in Stansbury.

Her smile was returned with a massive beaming one from Randall, who explained his joke as if it was the funniest thing in the world; "Our little Oscar's going to win all the Oscars some day. Destined to be a star, that one."

Dalston laughed. It was a terrible joke, but a good enough reason as any if they both liked that name.

Unfortunately, his booming laugh was enough to make baby Oscar stir. As soon as Dalston realised this he silenced himself, but it was too late for that. The four of them stayed silent and looked down at the cot. There was a fussy little murmur at first, but it didn't take long to descend into full-blown wails.

"Great. Here we go again," Randall sighed.

"Maybe he's hungry," reasoned Angela, as she made to push herself up from the bed.

"No, it was just too noisy for him," muttered Henry. He shot Dalston a look.

"Sorry, that were my fault," Dalston said, "Let's see if I can fix this."

"It's no use. Last time he woke up it took us hours to settle him," Henry replied. From the way they were talking it sounded more like they'd been putting up with the baby for months, instead of one single day.

But regardless, Dalston reached into the cot. He put down the soft toy weasel inside it, then carefully lifted Oscar up and out of it. At first Oscar kept on crying, with tears and snot running down his face, but then Dalston started to hum a little tune that his own mother used to sing for him and Oscar opened his eyes.

As best he could tell from a baby's face, Oscar looked shocked. He blinked a few times, the wailing trailed off to the occasional confused sob and then he just stared at Dalston in silence.

"There now, no need fer this silliness," soothed Dalston, as he finished his tune.

Randall smirked; "That's the first thing that's shut him up so far, save for when he's tired himself out from crying. Guess he's never seen anything like Dalston before."

"One o' a kind, that's me," joked Dalston.

"I think it's wonderful that you're so good with him, Alphonse," Angela said, having walked over to join them now, "And is that a gift you've brought for the baby?"

"Yeah... it's nowt special though," Dalston admitted.

With that, he passed Oscar over to Angela, who took him gently from Dalston's arms. All the while Oscar's eyes stayed fixed on Dalston, still looking just as surprised as before. In an attempt to draw the attention away from him, Dalston took the toy weasel back out of the cot and held it up towards Oscar, who weakly reached up for it with one of his tiny hands.

"I think he likes it," Angela said.

"Then my work 'ere is done. But seriously, I reckon yer all deserve some rest afteh goin' through all that, so I'll 'ead off in a moment. If there's still any o' those reportehs around I'll scare 'em off fer yer," Dalston concluded.

"As much as we'd appreciate it, I doubt they'll be gone for long anyway," Henry replied.

"Don't they eveh get bored?" Dalston muttered.

"Not from our experience," answered Henry, "But for this in particular, well, I'm sure in time the news will die down. It's not a scandal to have a child, after all, regardless of what some may think."

"True. Eitheh way, I 'ope they back off about this soon," said Dalston.

"Don't worry, it'll be fine," Randall assured, talking to the room at large, "But we'll let you get going. Thanks for the rock, Dalston. And for getting Oscar to stop crying. Ever fancy a babysitting job?"

"Only if yer paid me," snorted Dalston.

The payment part had been a joke, of course. He didn't know a lot about kids, being more of an animal person, but if his friends ever wanted him to look after their child then he'd be glad to do that for them.

He just hadn't expected it to come about the way it did.

Several weeks after visiting Angela, Henry and Randall saw Dalston where he usually was – in his château. The world didn't stop for anyone and while he had taken that short break, Dalston was now back on track with organising his business. Because that was what he did. Perhaps running all these hotels and caring for whatever animals he came across might mostly be to fill a void in his life, but it kept him occupied and he was glad of that.

Everything seemed to be going well. Even with the group of construction workers he'd sent to Southampton to help those Black Raven lads with setting up their shop. At first Dalston had received a few complaints that the one called Crow was a harsh master, but once they'd gotten used to his strict work methods it sounded as if everything had smoothed over. Which Dalston was glad of. Somehow he felt as if there was enough potential in this upcoming business for him to want to be in good favour of it.

Having sorted out all his accounts for the day, Dalston was prepared to settle in for a quiet night at home, as usual.

It was late, so he'd dismissed Gonzales to head home, made sure his dog, Prince, was feed and watered, then settle into his armchair. He hadn't yet decided if he was going to read or listen to the radio, but it turned out that he didn't have time to think about doing either.

There was a loud knock on the door.

Dalston frowned, pulled himself up out of the chair again and went to see who it was. His expression quickly changed from mild annoyance to concern when he realised it was Angela. She was wrapped up in a thick coat, undoubtedly to avoid being spotted by anyone, her face showed a great deal of worry around red-rimmed eyes, and in her arms she clutched Oscar.

"A-angela...?" Dalston mumbled.

"Please, Alphonse... can I come in?" she whispered.

"O' course," he replied, and stepped aside to let her through.

Once inside, Angela took off her coat. It wasn't easy with Oscar held in her arms, so Dalston took him from her for a moment. She then hung the coat up on the rack, as if she lived here herself. In all honesty, Angela had been over enough times for that to almost be the case. Ever since Randall had returned to their lives, the friendship all of them once had was entirely rekindled. Angela would often come to visit Dalston, to check up on how he was and to say hello to his various pets. Sometimes they'd even have a casual game of snooker, since Dalston had a pool table. He had no shame in saying that she usually won against him with ease.

But the Angela who was stood here right now was not in the mood for a nice chat or a game of snooker. She looked as if she was on the verge of tears. So, still holding Oscar, Dalston led her through to the living room, where she took a seat on her usual chair.

"Can I get yer some tea or summit?" he offered.

"No, thank you. I just need... someone t-to... listen..." Angela replied.

Upon hearing that, Dalston lowered himself into the chair opposite hers; "I'm here fer that."

"Thank you, Alphonse... I'm sorry to turn up out of the blue like this, but I just needed to get away for a while," said Angela.

"Do 'enry and Randall know yer 'ere?" Dalston asked.

"I'm afraid not... They don't even know that I have Oscar. I-I should have told them before I left, but everything has been so stressful for them lately. I thought that... that if I took him away for a while that they would have a chance to rest. They deserve that..." explained Angela.

"From the looks o' things, I reckon yer need t' rest just as much as they do. If yer don't mind me sayin'," said Dalston. As he spoke he rocked Oscar, because it felt right to do so, even if the baby seemed to be fast asleep.

"We're all at the ends of our ropes, Alphonse," sighed Angela, "We knew that having a baby was never going to be easy, as much as we dearly wanted to, but we never expected it would be anything like this. Between the four of us we should manage, but dear mother is very old now, Henry has a city to run, Randall... Randall is struggling to adjust... and I... I'm a-afraid I'm not as good at this as I'd h-hoped..."

With that last remark she buried her head into her hands and let herself cry. Probably not for the first time.

"Now 'ey, none o' that," Dalston said. He got up and went over, still with the baby in hands; "Look, I reckon yer doin' a fine job. Lookin' afteh this young 'un and yet still bein' considerate o' everyone else enough t' bring 'im 'ere with yer. Afteh all, yer couldeh left 'im at 'ome, but yer didn't."

Angela looked up from her hands. She stared at the baby Dalston was holding, with sad, watery eyes.

"He's my child, I have to be with him at all times. But is it... wrong that part of me wants away from him? Just for a while..." she admitted.

"Not at all," Dalston answered, "This little guy is going t' get oldeh fast and yer can't be there t' keep an eye on 'im every step o' the way. Remember what they used to say in Stansbury, that it takes a village t' raise a child? Well that's just it. Yer can step back and let people 'elp yer."

"But there's no one else to help..." Angela whispered.

"There's me."

"No, I couldn't put that on you. It wouldn't be fair."

"Why not? I'm yer friend and I'd be glad t' do what I can. If that means 'avin' this tyke oveh a few evenin's a week so that all o' yer can 'ave a break, then I'll be more than 'appy t' do that," assured Dalston.

"Alphonse... that would be a great help," said Angela, "That way maybe we could sort everything out. I-I'm sure that Randall will get better about all this once he's had some time to adjust."

"Yeah, I think so too," Dalston replied, "Tell yer what, why don't I look afteh 'im tonight fer yer? I didn't have owt planned. So then yer can get yerself sorted and go back to spend some time with Randall and 'enry. Yer all deserve it."

"Thank you. That would mean so much... Though I haven't brought anything for him other than his bottle and the formula," she said, "They're in my coat pocket."

"That should be fine fer one night. Afteh that we can plan this betteh and I'll get an extra cot and what-like 'ere, in case we need it," assured Dalston.

"All right... That sounds good," Angela agreed, "If you don't mind, I'll just sort myself out in the bathroom. Then I'll head off home. Hopefully they haven't been worrying too much."

With that, she got up and headed out of the room, leaving Dalston to look down at the child in his arms. Oscar was beginning to wake up now. And although Dalston wasn't sure how well babies could make things out at a few weeks old, it did seem like he realised that he was in unfamiliar surroundings. But then his big eyes fixed onto Dalston and he began to gurgle cheerfully to himself. Dalston wasn't sure why Oscar seemed to like him so much, but if it stopped him from crying then that was a good thing.

After a few minutes Angela came back, having gotten herself prepared to go and looking almost as if she was completely fine. He knew that she wasn't, this whole situation had shaken her, but he also knew that she was going to do the best she could. That was Angela's way.

"Are you sure this is okay?" she checked.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Do yer want me to walk yer back 'ome?" Dalston replied.

"I should be fine, but thank you for the offer. And thanks for... all of this," said Angela. She nodded towards Oscar.

"Yer welcome. Say goodbye t' yer mam, Oscar. She'll be back t' get yer tomorreh," Dalston cooed, in that voice reserved for talking to babies and animals.

Oscar didn't look at Angela, but his arm raised in what they could fool themselves into believing was a wave, which was good enough for the both of them. So Angela mouthed a final 'thanks' to Dalston before she got her coat from the rack and headed out the door. A small part of Dalston worried about her walking through the city at this time of night. But then Monte d'Or was a tourist town that came to life more in the evening than during the day. The whole place was brightly lit and there were always many people around. On top of that, Henry would never let anything happen to Angela in their city.

So then Angela was gone and it was just Dalston on his first night of babysitting her son. And it definitely wouldn't be the last.