Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Watchmen characters.


NEW YORK

She stared down at her newborn son while he nursed. The sun had yet to rise. The only light came from the dim nightlight plugged into the socket beside the door. She sat on the cushioned seat of the rocking chair and let it sway her, back and forth. She didn't say a word. Didn't try to sing a lullaby or even hum. She gazed down on her newborn son and wondered how something could be both ugly and beautiful. Laurie never saw much appeal in babies, especially newborns with their pruny skin and oddly shriveled features, like little old men. Yet she couldn't keep her eyes off of this particular "little old man." Every grimace and twitch fascinated her. The tiny fingers of his tiny hands curled into fists that punched the air at random. The squinting eyes. That weird patch of hair at the back of his head that resembled a bald man's fringe.

And so demanding! Laurie's days were measured out in changings and feedings, interspersed with brief catnaps and hastily grabbed meals. Her hair was a tangled mess and she had yet to wear anything beyond rumpled pajamas. She'd never felt more exhausted in her life. She'd also never felt more needed.

Little Walter released her nipple with a contented sound. Laurie buttoned her top closed, then dutifully brought the baby to her shoulder to burp him. Once that was over with, she returned him to his crib. The baby snuggled into the warm cocoon of his blanket and almost instantly fell asleep. Laurie checked the baby monitor to make sure it was switched on, then quietly exited the room, shutting the door behind her.

The house was eerily silent. Laurie padded down the hall to the bedroom she shared with Dan, slipped beneath covers that had lost the heat absorbed from her body. Dan was absent from the other side of the bed. He was out patrolling. Out searching for clues on the Banshee. Thinking about this clouded Laurie's mood. Not because he was out there, but because he was out there without her. She missed the partnership they shared as Nite Owl and Silk Spectre, the camaraderie and the way they watched each others' backs. Now her husband was out there alone, chasing after a homicidal maniac who could kill without lifting a finger. He could be hurt or…or worse, and she wouldn't even know.

Laurie wiped her face against her pillow, leaving damp streaks on the pillowcase. Damn hormonal changes. She hated when she got all weepy.

Her ears picked up the muted tread of soles on carpet. Laurie forced her body to relax as the door swung open and the familiar silhouette of her husband stepped through. Daniel closed the door, tiptoed to his side of the bed, and sat. The mattress sagged under his not-inconsiderable weight. Laurie listened to the sounds of him undressing, then felt the mattress lurch gently beneath her as he stretched out, pulling the covers over himself. His arm encircled her waist. "Hey."

"Hey," she responded, wondering how he always seemed to know when she was awake.

"How's our boy doing?"

She smiled in the darkness. "He's fine." Laurie curled against the comforting bulk of her husband, grateful to have him safely home.

When morning came, she found herself alone once again. Laurie sighed at the empty space beside her, then hauled herself out of bed with a grunt and stumbled to the bathroom. She took care of all her necessities, took a quick shower, and threw on a baggy sweatsuit. That was when she noticed that the baby monitor had been switched off. Laurie frowned and went to the baby's room, found the crib empty. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

The aroma reached her before she even made it down the stairs. Dan was making French toast. How a man who used to eat most of his meals from the microwave learned to make such heavenly French toast, Laurie could not begin to guess. She viewed it as one of life's great mysteries.

She found her family in the kitchen, Daniel busy at the stove, little Walter lying in his baby carrier atop the dining table. The tip of the baby's tongue poked out of his rounded lips. Even sated all he thought about was nursing. Laurie bent down to place a light kiss on his tiny brow.

Dan looked over his shoulder. "Hey. Almost done here."

"Take your time." Laurie took a seat near the carrier. The baby stared, face expressionless save for his eternally working mouth. Laurie prodded one tiny fist until her son's hand clamped down on her finger. It amazed her how strong his grip was, considering he couldn't even support his own head yet.

The phone rang, startling everyone.

"I'll get it." Laurie rose from her seat to retrieve the cordless phone from the living room. She punched the answer button. "Hello?"

"Laurie!" The unnecessarily enthusiastic blare of Sally Jupiter's voice stabbed into her ear. Laurie winced. "Hi, Mom." She should not have been surprised. Since her grandson was born, Sally had phoned them each day to check on him, often several times a day. It was enough to make Laurie relieved of their geographical distance, otherwise her mother doubtless would have been "dropping by" at all hours.

"How's my grandbaby?"

Laurie made her way back to the kitchen, resumed her seat. "Same as yesterday. Babies grow fast, but not that fast."

"Oh, cut your mother some slack! I never thought I'd live long enough to be a grandma."

Laurie wondered if there was some veiled criticism in that statement, or if she was just being paranoid.

"Tell Sally hi for me," Dan called over his shoulder.

"Dan says hi." Laurie frowned. "You got the TV on or something? I keep hearing voices in the background."

"That's just the couple across the aisle. They've been chatting away since we took off."

Laurie stiffened. "'Took off'? Where are you?"

"On a plane," Sally answered, offhand, "They've got these new phones on the backs of the seats. Isn't that nifty? Of course, they charge you through the nose to use them—"

"You're on a plane?" Laurie exclaimed, startling her husband and causing her son to whine, "You're coming here? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Relax, cupcake. I promise not to be an imposition. I'll even help out around the house."

Oh god. "No! I mean, we're not ready for any house guests right now."

The smugness in her mother's voice was unmistakable. "Well, I'm afraid I don't have any pull with the captain to turn this plane around. Don't fret, honey. You'll hardly know I'm there."

Laurie and Dan shared troubled looks.


To say the staff at the retirement home was shocked by Sally Jupiter's sudden announcement that she was going to visit some old friends in New York was a bit of an understatement. Some days it was all anyone could do to convince the old woman to leave her bed. Nevertheless, Sally loaded a steamer trunk and whisked herself off to the airport in record time, leaving everyone else reeling from her abrupt departure.

Hours later, she burst through the Dreibergs' front door warbling, "Where's my grandbaby?" She swept through the living room, a vision in poodle-permed hair and a well-preserved mink coat, and scooped the newborn infant from his mother's arms. "There he is! Oh, you sweet little dear! You precious little burden, you!"

Wally goggled at this strange, cooing monstrosity with the overly reddened lips and sagging jowls. He was too astonished to even act fussy.

"Mother," Laurie said in that weary, put-upon voice that so irked Sally, "Stop that. You'll traumatize him."

"Oh, nonsense, Laurie! Babies are the most resilient creatures on earth." She passed the infant back to her daughter with obvious reluctance. Meanwhile, Dan risked a hernia as he struggled with the trunk. "Just put that anywhere, dear. Now," Sally shed her mink coat and draped it over the back of a chair, then took her daughter's elbow, "why don't you give me the grand tour?"

While Dan continued his battle with the luggage, Laurie showed her mother around their home with the same sense of obligation one displayed towards a visit to the dentist. Sally oohed and tutted, squinted and touched, but all the while she peeped at her daughter from the corner of her eye.

They rounded off the impromptu tour back in the living room. The baby made his all-too-familiar hungry sounds and Laurie took a seat on the couch and began to nurse him, modestly shielded beneath a small blanket. Sally seated herself beside them and shook her head. "I still can't believe you let Dan name your son after that lunatic."

"They were friends, Mother," Laurie retorted absently. It bothered her to be feeding her son in front of her mother, but Sally showed no discomfort. The old woman had seen far more outrageous things in her time. Hell, half the time she was the cause. Still, nursing the baby in front of company made Laurie self-conscious. She hated that feeling. It was the same emotion that haunted her in her teens when she began her superhero career in that ridiculous costume her mother designed for her. What was it with women masked adventurers and those skimpy, impractical outfits anyway?

Sally cleared her throat, interrupting her daughter's reverie. "So, how're you holding up, kiddo?"

Frown lines creased the space between the younger woman's eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, you know. Getting up in the wee hours, changing diapers, feeding, that sort of thing."

"Well, I'm used to getting up at weird times."

"Still, having kids can be pretty demanding."

Laurie snorted. "Well, good thing you had plenty of hired help to dump me off on." She regretted her snide remark the instant it was out of her mouth. She really wanted to move past the bitterness that had fallen between them, but old habits…

Sally pretended to be unaffected by the remark. "There's no shame in getting a little help, sweetheart," she replied, hoping it didn't sound defensive. She'd done the best she could for her small, admittedly dysfunctional family.

Laurie buttoned her top closed, set the blanket aside, and moved little Walter to her shoulder to burp him. "I won't be needing any help."

"Perhaps not now, but when you go back out on patrol—"

"I'm not going back. I've decided to quit."

Sally found herself at a loss for words, a remarkable condition for her. Laurie had brought up the subject before, but— "You were serious about that? We both know how well you handled retirement the last time."

"Last time it was me and Jon. Now I have someone to take care of, someone who needs me." She settled the baby into a more comfortable position against her shoulder. Wally uttered a faint squeak that Sally recalled her daughter made as a newborn when she was sleepy.

"Well," Sally licked her lips, "if that's what you think is best."

"It is."

"But," she placed a hand on her daughter's knee, "humor your mother and keep in mind that I thought retiring was best for us as well. In hindsight, I think it was a mistake. But then, there really weren't that many working mothers in my day." Save extremely poor and/or single women. "It's different now."

Laurie finally looked at her. "I know you're just trying to help, Mom. But really, we're okay. This is the best thing for Wally. I know it." At the back of her mind, she winced. God, she just called her son Wally! If Dan got wind of it, she'd never live it down.

Sally nodded. She knew there was no point in arguing. Laurie had inherited her contrariness; the harder she was pushed, the more she dug in her heels and held her ground.

Laurie lowered her son from her shoulder, then tentatively held the half-slumbering infant out towards the older woman. "Wanna hold him again?"

Sally grinned. "Do you really have to ask?" She took the baby in her arms, gazed down at his round, soft features. "Such a darling. He looks like you and Dan both."

Laurie's smile brought out the tired lines around her eyes. "Better hope he inherits Dan's temperament, otherwise we're liable to drive each other crazy."

The two women looked at each other and shared a wry chuckle.


JUBILATION

Walter woke to a horrible sound; Danny was crying. A loud, long wail that sent an icy finger into his heart. He jumped out of bed before Chloe even threw the covers back and dashed across the hall to the baby's room. He found her standing in her crib, mouth gaping, tears and snot streaming down her round face. He quickly lifted her out and felt her little arms encircle his neck. Her cries were like a shrill klaxon in his ear. He didn't know what was wrong and the helplessness he felt from his ignorance nearly brought tears to his own eyes.

Chloe entered the room and hurried to them. "What happened?"

"I don't know," Walter croaked, his answer barely audible over their child's distress.

Chloe gently pried the baby away from her father. "Shh-shh. It's okay, sweetie. Momma and Daddy are here." She gave Danielle a quick once-over, checking for signs of injury or illness, but the girl was fine and her cries were already beginning to subside. Chloe dared to let some of her tension ease. "I think she's okay."

"Bet it was a nightmare," Elsie stated from the doorway, startling the couple.

Danny sniffed and snuggled into her mother's arms.

"See? She's calming down."

Chloe couldn't hide her relief. She smiled at her husband, who still looked fretful.

"You sure?" He leaned in to gaze at the infant's tear-streaked face. Watery blue eyes met his own. Danny had her thumb in her mouth. What could such an innocent possibly dream about that would make her wake up screaming? He placed a gentle hand to the back of her head, feeling the heat radiating from her. She'd almost driven herself to a fever with her hysterics.

Elsie shrugged. "Happens t' everyone, Walt. You didn't think you had the corner market on bad dreams, didya?" A little of her signature mischief shined through in her smile. But mostly there was relief, like Chloe. For them nightmares were ephemeral things that faded in the daylight. But for Walter they were something more substantial dredged up from his deeply troubled memories.

He took his daughter into his arms. Chloe relinquished her without a qualm. Walter hugged the sniffling infant and swayed back and forth, one hand rubbing against her back in slow circles. Elsie came into the room, reached out to gently stroke her grandniece's downy hair.

"Hush little baby, don't say a word. Momma's gonna buy you a mockingbird. And if that mockingbird won't sing, Momma's gonna buy you a diamond ring…"

Chloe smiled at her aunt's lullaby. After a moment, her voice joined in. "…And if that diamond ring turns brass, Momma's gonna buy you a looking glass…"

Walter felt a tightness in his throat that had nothing to do with worry. He turned his head away, eyes blinking. As a child, no one had ever comforted him when he woke in the night. He'd suffered from recurring nightmares even then. Once, when he was perhaps three or four years old, Walter had a dream so horrific he woke up screaming for his mother. Even at so young an age, he'd known better, but Walter wasn't thinking rationally at the time; he was just a little boy in desperate need for comfort. Sylvia Kovacs had stormed into his room in a rage at being awakened at such an ungodly hour. She'd screamed even louder than Walter and slapped him so hard his ears rang. She just kept hitting him, screeching, "Wake me up, you little bastard? Shut the hell up!" He finally managed to silence himself by biting the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. He never cried for his mother again, just smothered his screams into his pillow and suffered through his fears.

Walter felt a yawning emptiness inside himself. He wanted to hold his daughter tighter, but didn't want to risk upsetting her again. Already he felt her tiny body relaxing against him as the women's song soothed away her night terrors. Soon, her deep breaths signaled that she'd fallen back asleep. With infinite care, Walter lay her in her crib and pulled the covers over her. Danny curled into a fetal position, thumb still firmly in her mouth. The adults made as quiet an exit as possible.

"Well," Elsie sighed, "That's it for my beauty rest. Guess I'll head downstairs and make some tea. Care t' join me?"

Chloe shook her head. A yawn stretched her mouth into an O. "No thanks," she managed to say, "I'm goin' back to bed."

"Me too," Walter murmured, surprising himself as much as them. Once he was awake, no matter how late or early the hour of the night, or how tired he was, he was rarely able to get back to sleep. But Walter didn't want to sit up in the kitchen this time; he wanted to be with Chloe.

Sensing this, she took his hand and, wishing Elsie a good night (what was left of it), the two of them returned to their bedroom. The room was dark, but they negotiated the short distance to the bed without mishap. Chloe lay down with a weary sigh. Walter lay beside her. After a moment in which the tension failed to leave his body, he rolled over and put his arms around Chloe's waist, rested his head against her stomach. Chloe smiled and stroked his short hair, slowly.

"Know what I do when I have a bad dream?" she asked, a hair above a whisper, "I think about something good. Something that makes me feel happy and safe, so I'll dream of that when I go back to sleep."

"Does it work?" Walter murmured.

"Mostly." Stroke…stroke…slender fingers through his graying red hair. Walter felt his eyelids grow heavy and his muscles slowly relax.

"Can't go back to sleep," he whispered.

"That's because you let yourself get restless. You should try just letting go."

That tightness in his throat again. "Don't know how."

"You're doing it now, baby." He could hear the smile in her quiet tone. "Hush little baby, don't say a word…"

Walter smiled. "Not a baby."

"You're my baby. Momma's gonna buy you a mockingbird…"

His eyes drifted shut. He gave himself over to his wife's sweet voice, her gentle hand, and thought of this life he had with his family. He slept, and his dreams were not of his dark past and troubled childhood with a loveless mother, but filled with images of Chloe, Elsie, and Danielle. And in his sleep, he smiled.