You're so grown up now, Thirty-eight year old Johnny Gage leaned against the bar counter, sipping on a rootbeer and watching his daughter dance with a young man, her skirt whirling gaily and boot heels clacking happily on the wooden floor as the young man held up his arm and twirled her around.

The young man's name was Jack Taylor, Jack Taylor from Wyoming.

When the dance ended and a second, slower tune began, the two young people drew closer together and Ellie placed a hand on Jack's muscular shoulder as her other one was enveloped in his big one. Johnny felt something inside of him twist; he wasn't sure if he hankered to the idea of that young man holding his daughter. But the look on Ellie's sweet face melted away all feelings of misgivings about young Taylor. It was obvious that Ellie adored him; Johnny could see it written in her big blue eyes that she turned up to Jake's face when he spoke, then falling shyly to the floor when he complimented her.

To the two out on the dance floor, they were alone in the room; nobody else was even existent. Johnny inwardly sighed. He remembered the day that the white shoebox had been delivered on his bed while he was out on a run, eighteen years ago last month. Inside was a piece of his future, a medicine that helped him heal from past wounds, a tiny bundle of joy that had taught him to love.

He reminisced about the first time he held her in Rampart Hospital, about the first time she smiled at him. She was about the size of a loaf of bread, he remembered, and weak, but she was a fighter. As she had gotten older, every night she would insist on him reading the same book for a bedtime story; Cinderella. But first he would chase her around the room, growling like a bear as she screamed with laughter until he grabbed her around the midsection and threw her gently on the bed.

I knew this would happen someday. Johnny swallowed some more root beer. But I didn't expect it to happen so fast! Now she's a beautiful young woman, not the tomboy-kid who wanted to race cars. An unfamiliar ache in his chest caught him off guard. He didn't want to cry, not here anyway.

In his mind, the paramedic challenge Jack Taylor. You take good care of her, Jack Taylor, or there'll be heck to pay. Don't you ever hurt my little girl, or I'll come after you guns a'blazin'. I can see in her eyes that you're the one, and I'm not gonna stand in your way, but you just know that you can never take her away from me. She's my baby girl.

Almost as if telepathy worked, Jack Taylor turned his head, his hazel eyes meeting Johnny's brown ones. He gave a slight nod of appreciation, the brim of his cowboy hat ducking for a moment and shading his face. But when Jack's face was visible, Johnny saw no malice in it. All he saw was gratitude and love, love for the young woman who danced in his arms...my little girl.