I'm blaming Father's day and insomnia for inspiring this one shot...mainly insomnia. There's really no other reason for me to write yet another story when I have others waiting to be edited.

This focuses primarily on Eric and Alan and also on Eric as a father. So while it takes place in the same universe as a few of my other stories (Where You Least Expect It, Good Things Come, Doesn't Fall Far, and a couple of one shots) you don't have to be familiar with them to understand this. All you'd need to know is in this world is Eric married Angela (not a big surprise if you're one of my readers, lol) and they have a daughter named Georgia.

Enjoy!

"Alan?"

"Mmm?"

Amy shook her husband's shoulder. "Wake up." He only burrowed deeper under the blankets in response. "Alan!"

"Ow," he grumbled. "Don't hit me. Why are you yelling?"

"I heard a noise downstairs."

"We're in our seventies. Isn't this game old for you by now? I know it's not fun for me anymore. Actually, it was never fun."

She turned on the lamp on her nightstand. "I don't think I heard something. I know I did. Go check it."

"It's probably those stray cats that chase each other through the alley."

"Oh, did those stray cats also sneak in and turn on our television because I can hear that from here."

He groaned before kicking off the covers. He was watching TV before coming up to bed. It's possible he left it on. Not that he'd ever admit it out loud, however. "Fine, but the next time there is a middle of the night noise to check, you're the one going down there."

She smiled in the dark. He said that every time. "Whatever you say, dear."

When Alan came down the stairs he thought he had simply left the television on at first. Then he noticed a dark figure on the couch. "If you're a burglar, you're doing a really crappy job at it."

"This is your fault, you know."

"Eric?" He blindly reached for the light switch and slowly made his way down the rest of the stairs. "What the hell are you doing here? It's one in the morning. You have a house."

"Yeah, I do. And why do I have a house? You," he reiterated, his gaze never leaving the television. "It was all you and mom. Graduate high school, go to college, get a job, get married, have kids, buy a house. You made me do it. Now look at me."

"You did a few of those in mixed up order. But it all worked out. You've got a good life: wife that loves you, four great kids, job, house, zoo full of pets. You have it all."

He sank deeper into the couch. "Blah, blah, blah."

"I've got it all, too, including a fifty year old son who broke into my house in the middle of the night to have a temper tantrum."

"I am not fifty," Eric exclaimed. He jumped up from the couch to look his dad in the eye, almost immediately regretting it when his right knee didn't move as fast as the rest of him. "I'm forty-nine, six months, one week, and five days."

"Yeah and how old's the knee?" He smirked and patted his son's shoulder. "Sucks getting old, huh?"

"Shut up. The point is I'm not fifty. But Angela said when I do turn fifty I get a party- a big party, one that will make the girls jealous."

"That sounds like something to brag about." He sighed, wishing he was back in bed. "Eric, why are you here?"

"I want to know how you did it. How did you force me to move out and go to college? Because I just got home from driving Georgia and all I want to do is turn around, go get her, and bring her home."

Now it made sense. There was a going away dinner for his granddaughter last week before she left for North Carolina. Smiles, tears, and laughter mingled together as the girl alternated between being embarrassed by her family and seeming to cherish the last few moments. "Let's go to the kitchen. Mom made cake earlier and there's still some left."

"Why would she make cake if it's just you two?"

"You of all people are complaining about getting free cake? Wow, you are upset."

"Hello, of course I am! My firstborn is now a seven hour drive away."

"And?"

"All I'm saying is since I'm going through a crisis this cake had better be chocolate," he said as he trailed along after his father.

They were both onto their second pieces of cake before Alan picked up the thread of conversation again. "I pushed you out the door because it was the right thing to do. But if you remember it wasn't something that was easy for me. It was hard to let you go. I didn't want things to change between us. I liked being buddies and hanging out all the time."

"You still did it."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because it was what you needed. If I kept you where you'd be safe I would've not only been sheltering you from the world, I would've stunted your potential. Do you really think you would've done anything with your life if you stayed with me at the store or stayed a security guard?"

"Yeah, I do. It would be different, but I would've done something."

"Would you have Angela and your daughters?"

Eric was quiet, mindlessly stabbing at his cake with the fork. Angela and their girls were everything to him. He couldn't imagine his life without them. "I don't know. It does open up a never ending game of 'what if' that I really don't want to play right now. Me and Angela…it's funny because we didn't talk when we were dumb kids in college. We always said we found each other later when we needed someone the most."

"The timing wasn't right when you were kids. You were different people then, too different to even be friends."

"Yeah."

"Timing and luck…that's pretty much life. Change one thing and risk changing everything."

"I definitely wouldn't change everything. There are a few bad times I'd like to forget, but we did eventually make it out stronger."

"And you'll make it stronger out of this adjustment period. It's not bad. Your family's growing and changing. Georgia's becoming independent. Those are good things, but it's going to take a while to figure out a new family dynamic."

"But I like things the way they are. I don't want them to change."

"Eric-"

"I remember the day we brought Georgia home from the hospital. I sat down in the recliner with her and she curled up into a ball on my chest." He leaned back in the kitchen chair and mimed holding a sleeping baby. "She used to be small enough to fit in my hands."

"I remember those days. I used to hold you the same way," Alan said gently, a ghost of a smile on his face.

Eric was lost in the memories and barely paying attention to his father. "It was just the two of us in the room and I told her that I'd always take care of her and that she could stay with me for as long as she wanted. It didn't matter if she was eighteen years old, forty-five years old, or eighty years old." He stared at the remnants of his chocolate cake and choked back the lump in his throat. It was taking all of his concentration to not break down right now. "Hell, I'd keep her with me forever. She's my baby girl."

"She chose eighteen."

"She just turned eighteen a few days ago. I'm not supposed to move my daughter into her dorm on her eighteenth birthday. Those are separate milestones that got smashed together. I got screwed out of a celebration."

"She was born right before the birthday cutoffs for the school system. What do you want me to say?"

He sighed and propped his head in his hand. "Nothing. I know I'm being ridiculous and not making sense. But how am I supposed to protect her from so far away? I work in a news studio. Every night I have to hear about all of the terrible things that happen. Now she's all alone out there."

"You'll just have to trust that you and Angela have done your job as parents and trust that Georgia's a good kid with a good head on her shoulders."

"I do trust her. It's the rest of the world…What if she needs me?"

"She'll call you."

"But what if-"

"I can almost guarantee sometime in the next week or two that Georgia will call you upset and wanting to come home. Do you know what to do then?"

"Get in my car and break every speed limit between here and Durham?"

"No. You'll talk her through the crisis and convince her that tomorrow will be better, because it will be. Then the next crisis will come and you'll get through that one, and then the next. And then one day she'll be talking to you on the phone and mention off-hand a situation that, just a few weeks ago would've been something she had to call you for but now can handle herself and tell you about later."

"And that's good?"

"That's great. That's what you want. You don't want to keep those kid gloves on too long like I did with you. You turned out great, but for a while I wasn't helping you. I was holding you back. You don't want to do that with your kids."

"When does this fatherhood stuff get easier? Cause I keep waiting and the terror is just as strong as it was before Georgia was born."

"You never stop worrying about your kids. I don't think I'd call it terror, but there's always going to be worry and fear. And that's forty-nine years, six months, one week, and five days of experience talking."

"You're not making me feel better."

"I thought you wanted the truth. I can either be honest or pat your head and tell you that life is rainbows and puppies. Which do you want?"

"I want rainbows and puppies, but I don't think that's what I need to hear."

"That's a very mature response."

He crossed his arms and a pout formed on his face. "You don't have to rub it in."

"There's the Eric I know."

"I think grandchildren are making you soft."

"How do you mean?"

"You don't offer rainbows and puppies, life is wonderful speeches. You're like…the king of tough love."

"What do you expect when you bring the girls around once, twice a week? Georgia and Lucia broke me in when they were younger and now the littles? Between Sidda's creativity and bossiness and Rosie's sweetness and charm I don't stand a chance. I have glittery unicorn tattoo on my hand that I'm not so convinced is temporary because no matter how many showers I've taken the damn thing is still here. I think Sidda tricked me to be honest." His son's expression grew more serious. "What now?"

"Lucia, Sidonie, Rosalind; they're going to do the same thing. They're going to leave, too."

"If you're lucky, yeah. On the plus side by the time this happens with Rosie you'll be sixty-two. You'll probably be over it and ready for peace and quiet."

"Dad…"

"What? You, Cory, Morgan, Josh- you all moved out and got your own lives and mom and I got through it and survived."

"I don't see how it doesn't drive you nuts. I know I came back home after New York didn't work for me, but Cory's still there. Morgan was in California for the longest time before moving to Florida and Josh is in Indiana. Isn't it hard with them so far away?"

"Well, yeah, sometimes, but that's where the trust part comes in. I have to trust that mom and I did our jobs and that they paid attention and are good people. It's no different than what I hoped for you."

"But what if something bad-"

"Eric, something bad could happen even if no one ever left this house. Life's a risk. Hell, you take a gamble every time you set foot out of bed."

"Don't you mean the front door?"

"No, I mean bed. Maybe it's age catching up but I've heard of more than a few people slipping in the shower or falling down the stairs. So see, you don't even have to leave the house. Bad can get you anywhere. You can't hide from it and stop living."

"That's comforting," he said sarcastically. "Thanks, dad."

"Hey, I didn't put those stupid flower decals on the bottom of the tub because I like how they look."

"Gee, when do you put in the guard rails?"

"You're helping me do that Wednesday. That's when they're being delivered."

His jaw dropped. "I was kidding."

"I look at it like buying a car: the safety features might not look cool or be all that attractive, but they keep you alive."

"I prefer to look at it as baby-proofing for seniors."

"No offense, but are we done? Is your crisis over? Because even for owls this is late."

"I can't believe how much I miss Georgia already. It's driving me crazy that she's not safe in her bed. I'm not going to see her in a few hours at breakfast. No more lectures about being nice to Bear and not locking her out of their bedroom because it's not their room anymore. Lucia's got it all to herself now. No more yelling at her to get off her damn phone and engage with the rest of us at dinner or do her homework or go to bed." He grabbed his plate along with his dad's and went to the sink. "I might not see her in person again until Thanksgiving, maybe Christmas. That kills me."

"Drive down for the weekend every once in a while, every other month or so."

"But you said she needs her independence."

"Yes, but that doesn't mean you have to lose her completely. No matter where she goes or what she does Georgia is still your daughter. She is your firstborn, the one who made you a father. Nothing will ever change that. That will always be special. That bond is forever."

"You think?"

Alan got up to stand beside his son. "I know."

For the first time since leaving Georgia, Eric mustered a small smile. "Thanks, dad."

"You're welcome. You know you can spend the night if you need to. Mom loves any excuse to cook for more than me."

"Thanks, but maybe I'll stop by for lunch. I kinda want to go check on the rest of the kids. I need to see them with my own eyes and know they're safe in their beds."

"Understandable." He followed Eric into the living room, turning off lights as he went.

"Oh, before I forget, here," he picked up a bag from the couch. "Georgia wanted me to give you and mom these."

Alan held up the shirt with the school's logo and smiled. "I'm hoping she got a sweatshirt for her grandma. You know how cold she gets."

"You each got a t-shirt, a sweatshirt, and hats."

"I will wear them with pride." He yawned. "I better get upstairs before mom thinks I'm eating the whole chocolate cake myself."

"Yeah, I should go before Angela sends out a search party. Thanks for listening to my temper tantrum," he said, remember his father's words from earlier.

"That's why I'm here. Just try to arrange future meltdowns for a more decent hour, will you?"

Eric chuckled and nodded. "Sure thing, old man. Next time I'll schedule it during a Matlock rerun. I'll even bring you prune juice and tapioca pudding."

"Watch it. You're not too old for me to ground you."

"I don't even live here anymore."

"Then I'll tell your wife to ground you."

"What are you going to do, tell her I have to sleep on the couch for a week?"

"Two weeks."

"Meanie."