Decision time.
He could go right on up to the maternity floor, face the wrath he deserved for not getting back soon enough. Or he could go straight to the nursery, take a quiet minute to meet his new son.
In the end he swung by the gift shop, picking out a medium bouquet, not so big as to be an obvious "buy my way out of this" apology, not so small as to add insult to injury.
Had he had to go through this elaborate vetting to see his wife after Lee was born? He couldn't remember. He set the flowers on the counter of the nurses' station as he dug out his ID. The pursed lips and eye-rolls made him wish he'd skipped the flowers. They seemed to know he'd missed the birth of his second son. Shame-faced anger flashed through him. This close to a military base, Carolanne couldn't have been the only wife with a deployed husband.
Shame overtook the anger. He could have gotten emergency leave sooner, skipped the last briefing, begged out of the last mission. But the Major's pips were so close….
"About time." The courtroom-smooth voice hit him in the gut. His father stood by Carolanne's door, fingers fidgeting like he still had a cigarette there.
"The baby wasn't due for another two weeks. I thought—" The older man cut him off with a withering look.
"When your mother was pregnant with you, when Shannon had Tamara and Willie, you couldn't have kept me away from their side with an army."
Bill groaned to himself, his hand gripping the vase hard enough to whiten his knuckles. Should he point out that his father had always had a local practice, easy to break away from? Or that Bill served for the protection of the Twelve Colonies, his parents included?
He could hear "Break! Now now now!" in his head.
"I know, Dad." He sighed. His father had said this same spiel every time they got together after another deployment. Took him aside and told him he needed to spend more time with his family, with Carolanne. Sneered at his military career, scraping the never-healing wound of him and his brother seeing soldiers torture and kill their parents.
Bill had given up that argument long ago. It had taken two years for father and son to speak after he went back to the Fleet. Terse, brittle words were all that was left between them even now.
I'll never have a rift like that with my kids. No matter what.
He pushed past his father and stepped into the room. His mother held Lee in her lap as she guided the toddler's hand to touch his baby brother. "Be gentle, Lee. He's just a tiny thing right now. One day, though, he'll be your very best friend."
Carolanne looked up from the bundle in her arms. Her eyes began brimming with tears. "Oh, Bill…I wanted you here so much." She wiped the tears with the back of her hand, leaning in to him when he finally put the flowers down and wrapped an awkward arm around her shoulders.
"I'm so sorry, baby. I thought…" No. No excuses. "I'm so sorry," he repeated.
He barely heard the excited cry of "Daddy!" from his son (his eldest son now, he reminded himself) and the soothing grandmotherly words—"Let's just give your daddy a minute to meet Zak, okay?" as his mother carried Lee over for a hug then slipped out of the room.
Finally, finally, Bill was alone with his wife and new son. Carolanne carefully unwrapped the tiny infant, letting Bill marvel over the length of his fingers, the adorable toes, the scrunched-up face.
"He's beautiful, hon. He's got your eyes."
She beamed down at Zak for a minute, then tightened her lips.
"I really needed you, Bill. It took forever for the epidural to kick in, I was so scared he was too early…"
He took his son into his arms. "I've got two weeks' leave, and I'm gonna ask to be transferred closer to home for a while. I think I can pull it off." He kissed her brow. "I'll do my damndest not to leave you like this again."
For a minute, she looked like she believed him. Her features softened and she finally began to show the glimmer of a contented smile.
"I'm going to try real hard to believe you, Bill Adama. And if you want to even think about trying for a girl, you better keep your promise." She slipped her hospital gown off her shoulder, revealing a smooth pale breast tipped with beading liquid. "Hand him back. Let's see if I remember how to do this." She held Zak against her breast, guiding the infant's mouth to her nipple.
The Major's pips could wait. He wanted to stay right here, watch his sons grow up together, be a real family. They'd never know the melancholy of a father caught in a subtle but perpetual undercurrent of grief. Or a mother battling ghosts on anniversaries sacred to the memory of her husband's first family.
He watched Carolanne nurse the newest Adama and reached out to stroke her hand. He was not his father; they weren't living in his father's time.
The war was long over.
Bill studied the curve of his wife's cheek, the fall of her hair over her shoulder.
They were going to be fine. He'd make that come true, for his wife, his sturdy, handsome sons.
Maybe next time, they'd have a daughter.