A/N: In comparison to my other chapters, this chapter is quite short. I can't apologize because this is where I felt this needed to end and I also wanted some Valentine Day cuteness. Don't worry, the next chapter will of course be longer.

I hope you enjoy! Happy Valentines day.

"Mommy…"

Elliot turns his head at the sound of the voice to find Ella, bleary eyed and frizzy haired, sitting up in bed. Her tiny hands rub at her eyes and her bottom lip trembles, she looks as exhausted as he feels. He's slept maybe four hours. Olivia's tossing turning next to him on the cot barely big enough for two bodies, along with his constantly roving mind made it almost impossible for him to get any good shut-eye.

"Momma." Ella cries again.

He looks down to see Olivia, snoring softly against his side. Deep in sleep, she doesn't stir at the sound of her daughter's voice. Elliot can't blame her either. She'd sat by Ella's bedside for hours, checking and rechecking the sleeping toddler every thirty or so minutes.

"Mommy." Ella's voice cracks, and while Elliot's experience with children is limited to Kathy's nieces and nephews, he knows she's getting ready to cry.

Somehow, he manages to extricate himself from Olivia's hold and he gets to his feet. His bones crack and his back aches. Damn cot.

"Hi, Ella, 'member me?" He whispers as he walks towards his daughter.

The little girl's eyes brim with tears. She doesn't speak.

"Elliot, momma's friend…" after being referred to as dad and daddy for the last two days, he feels silly introducing himself as Elliot to his daughter.

Ella wipes at her eyes and nods. "Momma...I want momma."

He glances over at Olivia, sleeping soundly. Her hair is messy, and she's curled on her side, still in her work clothes. The thin hospital blanket is tangled around her legs. She looks so peaceful and serene. He can't bear to wake her.

"Momma's right there," he points to Olivia, "but she's asleep. Wanna let momma sleep?" He asks, softly. Ella's eyes follow her father's gaze.

"Momma seep?"

"Momma sleep." Elliot repeats. Carefully, he crosses the room and comes to a halt at the foot of the hospital bed. He sits down, his eyes catching the oversized stuffed mouse in overalls with the book attached to its paw he'd bought late last night.

"Hey, I have something for you. Do you like books?"

Her frizzy dark brown, almost black locks bounce as she bobs her head up and down. Elliot has to stop himself from wiping away a stray tear that slips down her cheeks because he doesn't want to scare her; he's still a stranger.

A strange bout of adrenaline courses through Elliot's veins as he leans over, his fingers closing around the stuffed mouse. Nervous energy threatens to swallow him whole. All he's doing is giving his daughter a stuffed toy; he should not be this nervous.

But what if she doesn't like it? What if mice scare her? What if she hates it?

What if she hates him? Well, he's about to find out.

"I got you this." Nervously, he holds out the mouse for her to take.

He watches with baited breath as Ella eyes the mouse, her blue eyes scrutinizing, appraising. Tentatively, one of her tiny hands reaches out and pokes at the mouse's stomach.

"Mouse?"

"Mouse." Elliot confirms with a nod. "Take it, he's yours."

The little girl sniffles once more, yawning and rubbing her nose before she reaches out and grabs the mouse. She folds it into her hold and immediately sticks a thumb into her mouth.

Elliot breathes a sigh of relief, a smile crossing his face. "You like the mouse?"

She nods and then pulls her thumb from her mouth. She reaches out to grab the book stuck to the stuffed animal's paw and then holds it out to him.

"Read?"

Read. He's never heard a sweeter word.

"Sure baby, sure." He agrees, taking the book from her tiny hands. His heart flutters in his chest and he's afraid he won't be able to remember how to read; his tongue will have suddenly forgotten how to form words. Ella makes him nervous. No other girl's ever been able to make him this nervous before aside from her mother. But thankfully she doesn't catch on to how insecure she makes him; nope, she just cuddles against the pillows used to prop her up with the mouse that's almost her size gripped tightly against her chest.

He starts to read, his voice wavering just a little. "If you give a mouse a cookie, he'll ask for a glass of milk. When you give him the milk, he'll probably ask for a straw." He pauses to show her the pictures that accompany his words, and then pushes on. "When he's finished, he'll ask for a napkin. Then he'll want to look in a mirror to make…"

"Piture!" Ella yells. "Piture!"

Confused, Elliot's eyebrows knit together in the middle of his forehead and he holds the book up. Ella gives him a quintessential Olivia look of frustration and before he knows it, she's crawling out from underneath her blankets. Apparently he isn't lingering on the pictures long enough for her liking because before he knows it, Ella is crawling underneath his arm and into his lap. Her tiny feet dig into his thighs and she comes dangerously close to kicking him in his groin. Nonetheless, she manages to settle against him, her head tucked underneath his chin, her back against his chest. She smells like lilac and lavender; her hair tickles his chin and his eyes fall on the IV sticking out of her arm. He's thankful she's not paying attention to the tube that drags along the pillow. She grabs the book and looks up at him; those ice blue eyes that match his, smile brightly back up at him.

"Mouse?" She asks, pointing to the book and then her mouse as she restarts the book from the beginning. He notices for the first time that her nails are a bright purplish pink color. He smiles; imaging how long it must've taken Olivia to get her to sit still to paint each nail. Probably as long as it took to do her toes, he notes as he glances down at her small feet as they knock against his knees.

"Uh huh, and if we give him a," he points to the giant chocolate chip cookie in the illustration.

"Tookie!" Ella declares triumphantly soliciting a laugh from Elliot at her flub of tookie for cookie.

"He'll ask for a glass of…"

"Milk!"

Her voice is like his favorite melody, music to his ears. He's so in love with her already. She's everything he never knew he needed. His heart beats wildly as she mumbles unintelligibly and looks up at him, smiling. He fights the urge to hug her tightly and tell her how much he loves her. How much he's always loved her.

The pages of the book turn as he continues to read. Ella's hands brush against his as he turns the page and she giggles when the mouse's demands become more outrageous.

He becomes so engrossed in the book and his daughter that he doesn't realize Olivia's awake until he hears the cot creak. She sits up, her expression mimicking that of their daughter's only moments prior. Ella's eyes light up when she sees her mother and she shouts, "momma!"

"Hi baby." Olivia smiles, rubbing at her eyes. Her tone is lighter, easier; seeing their daughter awake and breathing on her own has definitely helped improve her spirit.

"I read! The mouse he have the tookie and then he wants milk and a mirror for a piture and and and…"

"Woah, woah, woah, slow down there, Care Bear." Olivia coos softly, shuffling to her feet. She stretches and then yawns. Her once freshly pressed work uniform is disheveled and rumbled; pieces of lint cover her black shirt, and her hair is frizzy.

Ella shifts in Elliot's lap, her mother now the focus of her attention. "Mama, Ewiot read; see!" The little girl whacks at the book in Elliot's hand and points to the images on the paper. "Mouse mama, mouse!"

"I see baby, I see…" Olivia assures her daughter, crossing the room. Her brown eyes meet Elliot's and she smiles a smile that stretches from cheek to cheek. "You two look comfortable…"

"Should've seen her about thirty minutes ago; she wanted you. I thought she was gonna wail the whole hospital awake."

"Somehow, I think you two would've managed," she tells him, dropping a kiss against her daughter's slumber mussed hair.

Suddenly a warmth blossoms in Elliot's chest at the sight. The genuineness of the moment and the uninhibited joy that blooms across Olivia's face as she fingers her daughter's dark strands causes something to crack inside of him. He's overwhelmed, taken beneath a current of a love so profound, he feels intrusive watching the scene unfold before him. There's no doubt in him that, even knowing Olivia once left their daughter ages ago, that she couldn't be more in love with the tiny being prattling along in his lap. He's so in love with them both. So overcome by the ardent need to love and protect them at all costs.

And then he remembers. Yesterday, before all hell had broken loose, the question he'd wanted to ask Olivia; the question he felt that he needed to ask her. The question that had led him to waking his mother at the crack of dawn to ask her for his grandmother's wedding ring.

Inside his pocket, the vintage ring box digs into his thigh as Ella re-situates herself. He stares up at Olivia and she looks back at him.

"You okay?" she asks as, continuing to comb through their daughter's hair with her fingers.

His mouth is dry and his palms are sweaty. He chastises himself silently. Just ask her dumbass. You didn't wake your mother up at six in the morning to find your grandmother's ring just to stare at Olivia like a gaping fish.

"Elliot?"

Ask.

"El?"

Now!

Gracelessly, the words tumble from his lips. "Marry me, Olivia?"

"What?"

He isn't allotted the opportunity to respond to her question. Dr. Prasad enters the room, his clear spectacle perched perfectly on his nose, and flanked by a nurse pushing a cart.

"Good morning you three!"