7:00

I am SO tired. My body aches, the rims of my eyes aches, and every bone in my body creaks when I move. Arnold tried to convince me to see the baby later, but I refused, so sure that I need to see him now. After much arguing, he agrees, finally realizing how much he wants to see the little boy himself.

"Is this what you really want right now?" he asks again before we went in, "You...seemed to babble a lot of screwy things and I don't know if you're...you know...well enough to be in there..."

"Well enough? Is that code for drunk? I had NOTHING Arnold. You sure put a stop to that! And..." I sigh, "I am really glad. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't. I guess..."

Suddenly Gerald emerges from the room, smiling wider then any of us has ever seen.

"Guys," he beams, "There is someone I would like you meet." I got up from my chair, almost bolting forward to see the small thing that caused all this drama. Arnold took my hand, tugging it so I would slow down.

"Are you sure you guys want company now? We can always come back."

"Nah, Arnold, it's cool. Come on in!" he turns around and goes back. We follow, too excited for words. The room looks just like mine had, mostly white save for a few ugly colored chairs on either side of my best friend's bed. Phoebe tries to get up to greet us, but can't, obviously too tired.

"You shouldn't get up for us, we're fine." my husband says.

"But...Kyo..." Arnold and I look at each other, then at her, wondering who Kyo is. It occurred to us, seeing at our more then tired friend that labor had been really harsh on her. Phoebe's normally light and creamy skin was now pale, and her eyes look bloodshot. Her hair is frizzy, loose strands going everywhere, making me wonder if I looked this bad after Phil.

"Um, Phoebe, who's Kyo?"

"Oh...Kyo..." she croaked again, trying to get up. Gerald went to her right away and handed her some water before tucking her in.

"Don't babe, you need to rest this off."

"But...But.."

"Don't worry, I got it." He turned from and walked to the corner of the room where the bassinet was. Carefully, he lifted up his son, making sure to gently hold it out so we can see him. We were speechless the instant we saw him.

"Oh...my..." I say in total disbelief. He looks like a perfect mix of them, Phoebe's poker strait hair, and her eyes. But the skin tone and nose were all Gerald.

"Everyone, I would like you to meet Kyo Martin Johanssen" Gerald says proudly, "We thought our dad's names was the best way to honer them. That, and we didn't like anything else."

"Well, I think it''s a wonderful name. Don't you Helga?" Arnold asks. I smiled, starting to feel happy for our best friends. "Yea," I say, "None better." For a while no one said anything, we just stood there, watching the small boy sleep in the arms of his father. It was the sweetest sight we ever saw, the way Kyo's small mouth twitched about, the way he seemed so comfortable nestled in the crook of hair-top boy's arms. I glance over at Phoebe who's fast asleep, sawing wood with her snore.

Arnold put his hands around me, hugging me close as the weather continues to roar outside. And then, just when we thought this crazy day was finally drawing to a much needed close, October 5Th's other shoe dropped.

"There you are! We have been LOOKING for you!" I turn, remembering that voice from lunch. It was Don the gossiping doctor with his busy-body buddy in tow. "I'm afraid we need to talk." My husband looks at me, confused. I try to explain, but can't, the white coats dragging us off before I have the chance to.

They take us down a maze of halls, turning a zillion different ways so we don't know where we are. The more zips we make, the more scared I get, wondering what this all could mean. Neither of the doctors speak, they just lead on, careful not to make our odd travels noticeable.

"Sorry about that," Don says when we stop. He leads us into a small office that I assume is his. There are stacks of paper everywhere, files cabinets open, and two chairs opposite his desk. I see a long couch behind our seats as Arnold and I sit.

"My office is kind of out of the way, which in most cases is a pain, but for today might just be the room we need." We look at the two white coats, curious. I notice that Don, like his TV namesake has perfectly carved out hair while the other has tiny spikes of blond. They're both in their mid-thirties.

"I'm confused. Why are we here?" My husband asks.

"Sorry. I'm Don, and this is Ron and we work the quarantine unit of this hospital."

"We have one of those?"

"Not normally, but when circumstances warrant it." Ron stands by the desk as he shuffles through a pile of files, stopping only when he comes across two photos. He passes them to Don who nods, prompting Ron to pass the snapshots over to Arnold.

"Do you recognize either them?" Ron asks coolly. I glance at the pictures with my husband , knowing who they were at once: Miles and Stella. Judging from how young they are it must be their passport pictures. Oddly, they look little like the picture Arnold has framed on our desk at home. They're both cold, stoic, and less happy. But then again, so is everyone in their government photo.

"These are my parents. Miles and Stella Shortman."

"If asked, can you provide the documentation to prove that?"

"I think so."

"You think, or you know? We can't continue unless we are sure you're the person we're looking for."

"Yes, I can prove they are my parents."

"May I see some ID please? Drivers License will do." Don asks. Arnold complies, almost too willingly, like he has done this all before. I try to charge in to find out where this is going on, but my sweet Arnold's wallet is already out before I can. Ron takes the license and inspects it, nodding his approval as he hands it back.

"Is this your wife?" Don asks.

"Yes." I scoff, folding over my arms as I cross my legs.

"Name?"

"Ok, what is WITH all these questions? God, I feel like we'd be probed less my aliens."

"Helga!"

"Don't Helga me! You have NO idea what they want and you're going along with it!"

"Well MAYBE if we are quite they can tell us." Arnold says, getting madder now, face flushing red.

"Mr. and Mrs. Shortman, we do apologize for all this. I can assure you, once we are done you'll see why we had to be so formal. Now...here comes the difficult part." Don pauses, taking in a deep breath. "As I am sure you wife has told you, we do have some details concerning your parents. However, those details have changed gravely since we last spoke."

"Spoke? What do you mean spoke? You saw these people before?" Arnold asks, shooting his eyes at me. I try to keep calm, doing my best not freak out again.

"Sort of. I was getting lunch when I heard these blabbermouths talking. At first it seemed like nothing, but then your parents names came up and I had find out more."

"And when were you going to TELL me this?"

"Well, I tried to...earlier...but it would not have been much anyway. Right when they found me hearing in I ran."

"What? WHY?"

"Calm down Arnold! You're getting all freaky!"

"Only because my wife is keeping things from me! What else have you been keeping from me?"

"Nothing! Look, I ran because I thought they'd want to me to keep quite. I mean, lets say they did talk to me, I couldn't use any of that for my column, and I am sure they would have put some sort of legal gag on me so I couldn't talk."

"Even to your HUSBAND!"

"I don't know! I've never BEEN in this situation before!"

"Well let me give you a little hint, YOU ALWAYS TELL THINGS LIKE THIS TO ME!" He stands up, chest heaving in anger as his eyes flash blood red. I shake a little, finding his hot emotion so unsettling. I can feel his frustration with me burn off his body, a wave of heat reverberating out of everyone of his pours. I slightly glance my eyes at the two white coats in the hopes that they can do something to sooth the monster they created.

"Mr. Shortman, please...I know this is hard, but you have to keep calm here."

"Oh yea! And why should I? My drunk wife lies to me on the DAY my parents left and you all act like it was the right thing to do!"

"But Arnold I didn't mean to!"

"Didn't mean to what? To Lie? To Drink? To cause drama wherever you go! WHAT!" Don tries to move from behind his desk as Ron stays back, waving his hands fearfully as his colleague reaches the mad man beside me. Don manages to get close, almost touching skin before my homicidal husband pushes him off. I back away, totally scared for what my Arnold might do next.

"Ok Mr. Shortman," he starts slowly, "I understand that you are mad. I would be too. BUT if you could please sit down we can explain why it was in every ones best interest to keep quite." I look at him, stomach churning rapidly as I began to realize that my Arnold might try snap the man in half. He lunges for him, Don thankfully darting out of the way. I look on in complete horror.

"They're dead."

"WHAT?" Arnold lowers his arms, looking over at Ron. He seems confused, and less angry as the two words sink in some. His body relaxes and soon Don is able to get Arnold into his seat.

"What did you just say?"

"I'm sorry Mr. Shortman, but your parents passed away today."

"What? How?" Ron sighs heavily, lowering his head as he looks at the file in his hand. I feel something cold wash over us as the doctor prepares what could be his last words.

"I wish I didn't have to blurt it out like that. Me and Don wish we didn't have tell this to you. In fact, this whole hospital who knows about this wishes it were different. But it's not. And we have to face facts. See," he pauses, gathering air again, "Your parents arrived in Hillwood about three weeks ago. How, I am not so sure. They had no passports with them, and the only things they DID have were some old clothes and a vile of something. The customs agent working with them had find a way to permit them some sort of way to legally leave the airport, yet he died before he had the chance to give them the news."

"H-how...did he die?" Arnold asks, now completely down instead of raged. His face starts to twist and contort in sorrow and I know this will not end well.

"We don't know the exact illness that killed him, or lat least, we won't ever know. All we DO know is that as soon as word got out that the agent died, your parents insisted they be quarantined here without telling us why. Now, we normally would not do such a thing, but seeing as the customs agent only met with them prier to his death, we had to trust them. That and they both have the medical credentials to bypass hospital protocol. This was also why no one tried to get any sort of information on their supposed illness. We assumed, being who they were, that they would come up with something to control what they had and give us more info then. Oddly, they didn't. All we had to go on were the homeless deaths and what we observed when we brought them food. They were quarantined for two and a half weeks before passing away this afternoon. I'm sorry."

Arnold starts breathing heavy again, and for a second I thought he'd snap like before. Instead he lowers his head, breaking out in guttural-deep sobs, his whole body shattering over in an unfathomable sadness.

"This can't be happening!" he shouts between sobs, "This can't! I can't!" Carefully I pull my arms around him, cradling my dear sweet husband as I try to be strong. And then, as Arnold continues to break down I realize that I, for the first time ever, have to push away my pathetic problems to help the one man who ever has loved me deal with Hell.