Disclaimer: I do not own.
A/N: There might still be another one coming up tonight. Hopefully. Please review, I'm attempting to spoil you lovely readers again. :) Enjoy!
Chapter 28: Tucking In
I hurried Hal' upstairs and into the tub, because her bedtime was fast approaching, but she was talkative tonight, as she usually was when she'd been worked up by something. I supposed finding a new friend in Lindsey would have that effect. She chattered happily about her and Lindsey chasing Hank and playing Barbies in her room and how Lindsey said her mommy and Gil and I touched dead bodies every day and wasn't that yicky?
I chuckled softly, listening intently, and told her that it was yicky at first, but you learned not to be grossed-out because you were trying to find the bad guys. I told her about how I found tiny clues about bad guys on those people, and it was their way of telling me who to put in jail. This seemed to satisfy her curiosity, and she didn't seem so revolted by the idea of our jobs.
She asked me about the bad guys again—but the trail had gone cold. Nick had fingerprints and shoe prints and all sorts of evidence… but no name, no suspect to compare it to. I told her we were still working on it, but even if we never caught him, I would never ever let anyone hurt her again.
This seemed to satisfy her.
And then she started a line of questioning that was harder, if it was possible to be more difficult than dead bodies and the lack of justice she'd received for the death of her parents.
"Lindsey said it's weird that I call you Sara."
My lips pucker in thought. I smile softly. "Well, I just don't think Lindsey understands the situation, honey."
"No, she knows. She said her mommy said you and Gil made me, and my mommy and daddy were taking care of me. But she said that my mommy and daddy weren't my real parents, you were. She didn't know my mommy and daddy are dead though. But she said that—"
"Halle, honey…" I brush my hand over her wet curls and cup the side of her face gently.
She nods, and there's a flicker of the emotion I know she had been hiding, even if there had been no outward signs.
"Honey, there's no such thing as 'real' or 'fake' parents, okay? Your parents were your parents, and Gil and I are you parents, we just had different roles in your life. All that means is that you have more people who love you like a daughter…"
"But Lindsey said that I shouldn't call you Sara and Gil. That it probably made you sad and that I should call you Mommy and Daddy but… but…" Her big, blue eyes are full of tears and her bottom lip quivers.
"Baby, hey, don't cry, okay? Look at me…" She hesitantly lifts her gaze to mine, and I try to smile as comfortingly as possible. "I promise you, cross my heart, honey, that it doesn't hurt Gil or I's feelings that you don't call us Mommy and Daddy. I promise." I emphasize, because she looks a little uncertain. "And, Halle… I know that, for you, the words 'mommy' and 'daddy' mean your parents… the parents you grew up with. Gil knows that too. It only makes sense that you wouldn't call us that… Maybe there's… even a small part of you that feels like it would be a… betrayal… to call us that?"
This might have confused most nine year olds, but I knew Halle would understand my words. She was as intuitive as she was smart. The tears spilled over as she nodded, and I clucked my tongue softly, reaching for her purple towel.
"Come here, sweetheart, stand up…" She stands with trembling feet and I wrap the large fluffy towel around her, scooping her up into my arms rather than helping her step out. Wordlessly I carry her through the doorway into my bedroom and tuck her into my covers, sliding in behind her and wrapping my arms around her. She snuggles against my chest as the sobs begin to break from her lips.
"Halle honey…" I soothe, rubbing her back softly, pressing soft kisses to her wet, dripping head. "Listen, baby… your mommy and daddy loved you so much. And they would never, ever be mad at you for calling somebody else mommy and daddy. Ever. They would want you to be happy. But, Halle… if you don't want to call us that, it will never ever hurt our feelings or disappoint us. Okay?"
She nods through her tears but remains wrapped up in my arms and within minutes has cried herself to sleep. I hold her tightly, running my hand over her hair, trying to send as much love and reassurance into her dreams as possible.
It isn't long before Gil appears in my doorway, looking confused at first, but even from the doorway the red streaks from her tears are visible. His head tilts and an expression of remorse crosses his face, his eyes so much softer in this expression than at any other time. He moves into her bedroom and I hear him opening and shutting a drawer before he returns, a nightgown in tow.
I smile and sit up slowly, her small body still cradled against my chest. Slowly, gently, he pulls the towel away from her body and spreads it over the pillow, to absorb some of the water still clinging insistently to her curls and dripping down her back. He bunches up the nightgown and slips it over her head, and then lets her head fall back to my breast, pulling the rest of her body gently away from me to pull it down and slip her arms through.
His fingertips brush over my body in his efforts, but I don't react the way I would expect—it still thrills me, but not as a new or exciting touch… it feels natural. It feels the way you would expect the father of your baby's touch to feel… comfortable. And I react to it simply—enjoying but not expressing surprise or embarrassment or overt pleasure at his touch… it feels like the way a wife would respond to the gentle, accidental caresses of her husband.
He pulls the nightgown the rest of the way down her body and I slide back down into bed, pulling her to lay with me. Her eyelids flutter, but she doesn't wake, and I look back to Gil and smile softly. He gives me a soft smile too, but it's almost regretful… and I realize that normally we'd be curled up on the couch spending some time together… and that he has to go in to work in an hour and a half.
I feel my eyes soften too, and I tilt my head, gesturing to the open space on the bed behind me, because Halle is curled up against the edge of the bed. He smiles wider, and no words are needed. He slides into my bed, wrapping himself around me and Halle, a protective force around us, keeping us warm and safe.
I don't mean to, but I feel myself starting to drift off as we lay basked in the comfort of the moment, our own little family. I slip in and out of sleep, waking to feel Gil's fingertips running gently over my bare arms in a caress that raises goose bumps, and again to feel him squeeze both Halle and I tighter to him, and a final time to feel the press of his soft lips to the back of my neck, where it curves into my shoulder. As they break contact, he slides out of bed, leaving for his shift… leaving a soothing stillness behind him, Halle's warm breath coming soft against me, reminding me of his breath on my neck.
My last coherent thought is of his lips… and how, just maybe, he could still want me.
