"Kate! Where's my mallet?" Shepard leaned on the post he'd just wrestled into place and wiped sweat off his face. "C'mon, Katydid! I want to get this fence finished before your mother gets home."
"Mom isn't going to be back for ages," the six-year-old admonished, handing him the mallet. "Maybe not even in time for your birthday, she said."
"Ah, my darling girl, my soldier-Kate," Shepard responded, pounding the wooden post into the ground. "I love that you don't let me get away with exaggerating. But do you have any idea how long it takes to build a giant fence?"
"No."
"And that is why I am the parent, and you are the child." He handed the mallet back to her. "What do you think, Katydid? Should we try to get in a couple more posts, or should we call it a day; head back to the house?"
Preoccupied with trying to climb the newly installed post, Kate didn't answer. Shepard smiled—the post was at least a foot taller than his daughter was—and lifted her up. "Hey, you, did you hear my question?"
"I could've climbed it myself," Kate grumbled.
"So do you think we should stay out here and work a little longer, or do you want to head home?"
Kate placed her hands on Shepard's shoulders and carefully stood up, her feet close together on the narrow post. She peered down at her brother, secure on her father's back. "Artie's sleeping," she pointed out.
"I know; that's why I'm asking you and not him."
"I think we should call it a day, Dad."
"You're the boss. Do you want to jump down, or should I carry you?"
"You can carry me." She obligingly wrapped her arms around Shepard's neck, and let him carry her to the truck.
"Buckle up," he ordered, gently undoing the pack that held his son on his back. "Can you move the car seat straps for me?" Carefully, he lowered the sleeping infant into the car seat and strapped him in. It was funny to think of all times he'd yelled at recruits that seatbelts could trap and kill you if your rover was hit by enemy fire. Now he'd yell just as loudly if Kate undid her straps when he was driving. Parenting, he thought, and went to collect his tools.
Mercifully, Arthur woke up in a good mood, staying quiet during the ride home and dinner preparation, increasing Shepard's hopes that Arthur would go to sleep after dinner without too much fussing. After an appropriate amount of time spent making ridiculous faces as a bald-faced bribe to persuade both his children that eating steamed carrots wasn't really that bad, Shepard set a plate of food aside for himself, and went to get Arthur ready for bed. "If you have a story picked out when I get back, I'll read to you while I eat, Katydid."
Kate was uninterested in a story however. She opted to tag along while Shepard gave the baby his bath. "Why do you call me Katydid?" she asked, as Shepard hesitantly shampooed Arthur's blond thatch of hair.
"It's a nickname. You know that." He looked at her. "Don't other kids in kindergarten have nicknames?"
"Mrs. Major says 'Kate' is a nickname. She keeps calling me Katherine."
"Well, Mrs. Major doesn't know what she's talking about." Shepard put one hand over Arthur's eyes to keep the soap out as he rinsed his hair. "Your name is Kate. Just Kate."
"Mom says I'm named after her."
"Hand me the towel, would you, Katydid?" He lifted Arthur out of the tub and wrapped him in the garish yellow towel, tucking the baby's wet head into the duck-shaped hood. "Sometimes we let your mother think things." They made their way into the master bedroom, where Shepard kept the crib tucked into a corner while his wife was away.
"Want to pick out his pajamas?" Shepard grinned at his son and laid him down on the changing table, trying his best to distract him so he wouldn't resist being put in a diaper.
"Here you go." Kate pushed a onesie onto the changing table.
"Thanks, Katydid." Shepard took the tiny piece of clothing and smiled when he saw the red stripe. "Good choice."
"That one's my favorite," she told him.
"Mine too. You know, you used to wear this one."
Kate laughed. "Artie's wearing girl's clothes?"
"No! It's a copy of an Alliance Marine uniform. See the N7 designation there?" Shepard tucked Arthur into the crook of his arm and tapped the insignia on the boy's chest. "And the stripe?" He lifted Arthur's right arm and waved at Kate. "Boys and girls can both be soldiers. Plus, I'm too cheap to buy you two fancy new clothes," he teased.
"Say goodnight, Boy-o," he ordered Arthur in a singsong voice. "Give your sister a kiss? No? I don't suppose you want to kiss this tiny hooligan, do you?" Shepard asked Kate. She smiled and planted a loud kiss on her brother's forehead. Shepard lowered the baby into the crib and covered him up. "Night, Boy-o," he whispered, as he and Kate backed out of the room.
"You don't call Artie by his name either," Kate pointed out as Shepard finally sat down to his dinner.
"You're very critical of me today. Do you not like your nickname, Katydid? I can just call you Kate if you want. It's a nice name. I mean, I picked it out."
"I thought Mom did."
"I told you, sometimes we just let your mother think things." Shepard took a sip of water.
"You don't have to drink milk," Kate said accusingly.
"Neither do you, if you're willing to take calcium supplements. Milk is full of vitamins. You're going to get those vitamins one way or another."
Kate made a face. "Who am I named after then?"
Shepard thought. "Well, a lot of people, I guess. Your mother, a little. And an old friend of mine. And a poem."
At his last words, Kate dropped her head dramatically into her hands. "A poem?" she moaned. "Daddy, poems are terrible."
"Some of them," he agreed. "But I liked this one. Help me clear the table. I'll read it to you."
"I don't want to read a poem." Despite the threatened reward, Kate started piling empty cups in the sink.
"You are going to love being a parent, Katydid."
"Why?"
"When you're a parent, you get to ask your kids if they want to do something, and when they say 'no,' you can do it anyway."
"You're going to read me the poem, aren't you?"
"Smart girl. You take after your mom that way. Can you put those in the dishwasher for me?" He handed her the freshly rinsed silverware.
When the kitchen was finally clean, Shepard scooped up his daughter and carried her into the living room. "I can't wait until Arthur gets a little bit older and doesn't wake up every time we make noise," he admitted. "Don't get me wrong, I love him, but I miss the piano." He ran a hand lovingly across the top of the instrument. "You sure you don't want to learn how to play?" Kate made a face, and Shepard sighed. "Someday you'll change your mind."
"No I won't."
"You love breaking your father's heart, don't you?"
Kate laughed and nodded while Shepard pulled the title he'd been looking for off of the bookshelf. He lowered himself into a chair by the window and adjusted Kate on his lap. She immediately rearranged herself, tucking her head under his chin and jamming her elbow into his solar plexus. With effort, he managed not to whimper in pain. "Careful, Kate," he grunted. "Daddy's fragile."
She twisted around and looked up at him skeptically. The movement made him lose his page. "You are not."
"Old people break easily, Katydid. Just be glad you're so young and spry."
"What's 'spry?'"
"Flexible."
"Oh."
Shepard flipped through the book again. He used turning the pages as an excuse to tickle Kate from time to time, manfully ignoring the painful elbow jabs her squirming won him. "Okay, I've got it. You ready?"
Kate heaved an impressive sigh. "I guess."
"Good girl. Here we go:
"I know her by her angry air,
Her brightblack eyes, her brightblack hair,
Her rapid laughters wild and shrill,
As laughter of the woodpecker
From the bosom of a hill—"
"What's a 'bosom?'"
"It's a fancy way of saying your chest. Where your heart is."
"So the woodpecker is in the hill?"
"Sort of. Imagine that the hill is covered in woods, and that the woodpecker is at the center—at the heart of the hill. Does that make sense to you?" Kate nodded. "Great. Can you hold on to the rest of your questions until the end? I'll start again.
"I know her by her angry air,
Her brightblack eyes, her brightblack hair,
Her rapid laughters wild and shrill,
As laughter of the woodpecker
From the bosom of a hill.
'Tis Kate-she sayeth what she will;
For Kate hath an unbridled tongue,
Clear as the twanging of a harp.
Her heart is like a throbbing star.
Kate hath a spirit ever strung
Like a new bow, and bright and sharp
As edges of the scimitar.
Whence shall she take a fitting mate?
For Kate no common love will feel;
My woman-soldier, gallant Kate,
As pure and true as blades of steel.
Kate sayeth "the world is void of might".
Kate sayeth "the men are gilded flies".
Kate snaps her fingers at my vows;
Kate will not hear of lover's sighs.
I would I were an armèd knight,
Far famed for wellwon enterprise,
And wearing on my swarthy brows
The garland of new-wreathed emprise:
For in a moment I would pierce
The blackest files of clanging fight,
And strongly strike to left and right,
In dreaming of my lady's eyes.
Oh! Kate loves well the bold and fierce;
But none are bold enough for Kate,
She cannot find a fitting mate."
Kate looked skeptically at her father when he finished reading. "I'm not a soldier," she said.
"Is that all you got out of that?"
"I'm six, Dad."
"You make a very convincing argument, there." Shepard smiled. "Fair enough. Well, I like this poem because this Kate is so strong. She tells people what she thinks, she's brave, she's loyal. She's got dark hair and dark eyes, which I happen to think means she's very pretty," he playfully tugged one of his daughter's dark curls.
"Daddy!" she squealed.
"Shh! You'll wake up Arthur."
"Is Arthur named after a poem too?"
"Nope. Your mom named him after your grandfather."
"Grandpop's real name is Arthur?"
"Don't you call him Arthur, or you'll get me in trouble with your mother."
"I won't."
"Good girl."
"Why did mom name him after Grandpop?"
"She said there were too many names starting with 'k' in the family already."
"There are?"
"Well, there's you, for one. And me, what's my name?"
"Mom calls you Kiss."
Shepard rubbed the back of his neck, "She does, doesn't she?"
"And you call her Red, which doesn't make any sense."
"Well, those are both nicknames. And Kiss starts with 'k,' doesn't it?"
"I don't know."
"You're a liar. I've heard you read. How do you spell 'kiss?'"
"Kay-eye-ess-ess."
"There you go."
"I don't think there are too many 'k' names in our family."
"Just wait until you're in high school. You'll be glad then."
"High school is forever away."
"Glad to hear you think so. Don't grow up, Katydid." Shepard stood and started carrying Kate to her bedroom. "Time for bed now, I think."
"I didn't even get any dessert!"
"You had a wonderful poem, and now you want dessert too?" Kate nodded. "We'll compromise. If you go put on your pajamas, I'll make hot chocolate. Sound good?" He put her down, and Kate took off running. "Quiet, quiet!" he hissed after her.
After a few minutes, Kate came back barefoot and in her pajamas, hair disheveled by her hasty changing. "No slippers?" Shepard asked. "I can't believe you forgot the rules about being barefoot in this house. I'm sure you remembered to put your clothes away though." The girl gave an impatient squeak and ran back to her room, returning improbably soon, albeit at a sedated pace. Shepard was sure he'd find her clothes stuffed into the bathroom hamper when he collected the laundry tomorrow morning.
"Cocoa?" she asked.
"Right here." He placed two mugs on the table. "You can't have the one without marshmallows. That one's mine."
"I like cocoa with marshmallows better anyway."
"I know. Careful. It's hot."
For a while there was silence in the kitchen as the two of them drank their cocoa. After a while, Kate put her mug down with a satisfied "Ah!" and studied her father. "You look tired, Daddy," she yawned.
"I'm not the only one, Katydid. I think it's time to hit the sack."
"I'm not tired," Kate protested as she led the walk down the hallway to the bathroom.
"Keep telling yourself that," Shepard smiled. He leaned against the bathroom doorframe watching with an absurd sense of pride as Kate pulled out her stool and purposefully brushed her teeth. After exactly two minutes, she rinsed her toothbrush and climbed off the stool. "Dad, go wait in my room," she ordered. "I have to pee."
"Sorry."
Shepard used the time Kate was in the bathroom to pull down the covers of her bed and toss the boots she'd worn in the fields today back into her closet. "Goodnight, Katydid," he said, pulling the covers up over her head to make her laugh.
"Stay with me until I fall asleep?"
"I'll stay for a little while," he conceded, flipping off the lights and lying carefully down next to her. Kate immediately snuggled up to Shepard, abandoning her pillow in favor of his arm. He absentmindedly stroked her hair, waiting for her to fall asleep. Just as he was about to sneak out, his daughter stirred and spoke.
"Dad?"
"Yeah, Katydid?"
"What about the third Kate?"
"What about who?"
"You said you named me after Mom, so that's one Kate, and the poem, so that's two Kates, and your friend, the third Kate. Tell me about the third Kate."
"What about her?"
"Was her name just Kate, or was it Katherine?"
"Neither."
"Then how'd you name me after her?"
"She reminded me of the poem too. Especially the second part."
"The second part?"
"The second part says Kate needs a soldier to love."
"How did you know her?"
"We were in the Alliance together."
"Like you and Mom?"
"Like me and Mom."
"Did she call you Kiss too?"
"Nope." Shepard hesitated. "She called me 'Skipper.'"
"What does—"
"No more questions, Katydid. Time to sleep."
Author's Note: Although I love K.S. and Ashley, lately I've been thinking that their relationship can't last. Shepard wants to leave the Alliance ASAP and go back to being a homesteader, and I don't think Ash would be ready to go with him when he leaves. Nor do I think she'd be willing to do the long-distance thing. Sad, but that's the way I see it.
The poem Shepard reads to Kate is, of course, Tennyson's Kate, which I have no rights to.