Philip rubbed his eyes before turning the door knob. He yawned as he entered the modest one bedroom house. After a 24 hour shift of surveillance, all he could think about was sleep. He entered the bedroom, already unbuttoning his shirt. As was customary, he announced his arrival with a whisper, "you awake?" She always was. This time, the question was met with silence.

Tired eyes scanned the room, wondering how his brain failed to alert him of her absence. "Elizabeth?" He called out into the night as he made his way to the living room. "Elizabeth?" He called her name again to no avail. Anger mounted in the pit of his stomach as he realized that his nine month pregnant wife wasn't home at three in the morning. Again.

He swallowed hard. As was routine, he checked the safe box, breathing a sigh of relief to find nothing missing. He convinced himself that she wouldn't run without taking at least a few provisions. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes hard, wondering how it all came to this. Just go to bed, he told himself. He headed toward the kitchen instead, hoping a nightcap would dull his racing thoughts enough that he could fall asleep.

Philip retrieved the hidden bottle of vodka and poured a shot. It went down easy, so he poured another. He lowered his head and something caught his eye. He picked up the small piece of paper, his eyes scanning the neat handwriting. His tired brain struggled to make sense of the words.

P -

At the hospital. It's time.

- E

His heart began to race and his mind went fuzzy. He could barely recall his frantic drive to the hospital. Philip struggled to appear calm as he walked up to the receptionist and asked about Elizabeth. The receptionist called for a nurse, who informed him that the baby hadn't come yet, but that Elizabeth would be fine because she was "strong." He unintentionally grinned, knowing that Elizabeth would have been pleased with the adjective used to describe her. He was escorted to the waiting room and took a seat in one of the chairs, relieved that the room was empty. He really wasn't in the mood to feign happy conversation with some over anxious fathers-to-be. He had enough of his own anxiety to work out.

He exhaled, leaned his head back, and closed his eyes. What seemed like only a minute turned into an hour when the calm was interrupted. "Mr. Jennings?" The voice asked.

He opened his eyes and jumped to his feet, "That's me. How is she?"

"Both mom and baby are doing great. Come on now," the nurse motioned down the hall, "let's go meet your daughter."

His daughter. The reality of the situation hit him, stealing his oxygen. He recalled Elizabeth's musing, You'll make a good father. With only the faintest memory of his own father, Philip wasn't convinced. Regardless, he didn't have much of a choice. The Centre was already questioning him about "his progress in that area" – it wouldn't be long before they expected results.

Given the difficulties in their relationship, the irony of how easily the child was conceived wasn't lost on him. The first couple of months were spent arguing about the role of a pregnant KGB officer. The Centre knows I'm pregnant, Philip. They wouldn't give me this assignment if I couldn't do it. If it wasn't important, she'd argue. He'd ultimately drop the issue. Thankfully, when the small bump in her midsection appeared, the Centre limited her duties to surveillance and checking a few, relatively safe, drop sites. Still, as the tiny person he created grew inside her, so did the tension between them. He spent more time with work. She spent more time outside of the house. He knew she would lie when he'd ask her about it, but he never pressed it more than that. He could see behind her calm demeanor that she was terrified. He was too.

"Hi, mom! You have a visitor!" The nurse announced in a sing-song voice as they entered the small room.

Elizabeth looked up from the small bundle in her arms only for a second to give the nurse a tired smile, "thank you."

Philip remained frozen as the nurse left the room. The beauty of the scene took his breath away. He never saw Elizabeth look so happy. She looked tired, but she glowed as her long hair cascaded freely down her shoulders. He held his breath, as if his slightest movement would spoil the moment.

Finally, he spoke in a whisper, "How are you?"

She responded without looking up from the bundle, "Good."

"Good." He repeated, trying hard to keep his voice steady.

Elizabeth looked up and locked eyes with him, "Come here."

He moved next to them, his eyes fixated on the sleeping person in her arms.

Elizabeth looked up at him. "Do you want to hold her?"

He nodded. The baby stirred as Elizabeth shifted her to her father's arms.

"Shh. Shh. It's ok. You're ok." Philip cooed in an effort to calm the now squirming child. When she settled, he looked down. The baby opened her eyes for a second, locking them with his.

Minutes passed before Elizabeth broke the silence. "You smell like vodka, " she continued, "and look like shit."

He laughed loudly, but quieted quickly, mindful of the baby in his arms. "It's been a long day," he smiled at the girl, laughter still in his voice, "hasn't it, little one?"

Elizabeth responded with a long yawn, her eyelids heavily, "Paige."

"Paige," He repeated. The name was chosen by the Centre and he was aware of it long before today. But, this time, as the name left his lips, he felt something different. It wasn't just a name anymore. It was more than just a lie to protect their cover. It was more real than that. His daughter. His hand reached out and grazed wisps of the baby's fine red locks.

As if reading his mind, Elizabeth commented, "That hair."

"It's from my side." He responded proudly. It was more for his own sake than for her information, so he chose to ignore Elizabeth's evident frustration at the exposure of a forbidden secret. Just then, almost as if the child sensed the tension in the room, a small fist emerged from the blanket. Philip reached out for the tiny hand and the baby responded by grasping his index finger. He smiled, giving his full attention to the tiny person in his arms, "welcome to the world, Paige Jennings."