Chapter 37.

Daddy's Eyes.

August 16, 2019.

It was one of those nights when she got to go home. Her schedule at the hospital and at the PCRC had been chaotic, with some nights spend at the hospital, and others avoiding her former friend while sorting through trial paperwork. She preferred being at the hospital in the morning and the research center in the evening, so she could monitor Juliet during her physical therapy, but lately the scheduler had been working against her. Cristina suspended she was allied with Pierce.

But tonight she was going from paperwork and casual business attire to pajamas. Home was a welcome sight, and even the sound of Evelyn screaming bloody murder could not dampen her mood. She walked right inside, dropped her bag by the door, and flopped onto the couch.

"How was work?" Owen asked, like he did every time he saw her. He even asked when they were working together that day.

Cristina stretched her arms up over her head luxuriously, like a cat that had just found a good spot to nap in. She caught one of his hands as he walked over, pulling him down so she could plant a kiss on his lips. "Quiet."

He smiled, leaning down over the back of the couch and wrapping both arms around her. His whole body was warm, and Henry was sleeping in the recliner in a bundle of blankets. He must have been holding him before he heard her car roll up.

"See you in the morning," he murmured, kissing her on the side of the head. He gave her a hard squeeze before drawing away.

Cristina turned to watch him go, wishing that he could also have a 'home' night.

When he was gone, the house went suspiciously quiet. Cristina did her rounds and found Evelyn trying her damndest to hide a bottle of chocolate syrup she had been pouring into her mouth. She screamed when it was confiscated, and followed Cristina all the way to the kitchen as if she could just get it back. Cristina countered her protest by pouring it all down the drain.

"You're the last one who needs more sugar," Cristina told her.

Evelyn hit the ground and wailed, and Cristina stepped around her to hunt down the other monsters. Noah was sitting in the dry bathtub while Collin pretended to pour water over his head with a plastic cup. She let them be, glad neither was trying to pretend drown the other.

She came full circle to Henry, who was awake and trying to wiggle out of the chair. Cristina scooped him into her arms and sat with him. Henry smiled, recognizing the way she smelled.

She meant to put on a movie, to attract the other kids to the room and let them all get sucked into the screen, but Henry distracted her. He cooed and smiled and ran his little hands over her neck and cheeks. She ended up sitting there, looking at him, trying to find parts of Shane and parts of herself in his face.

Henry was still too small. He was half the size he should be at his age, and far behind developmentally. His torso was stockier than his legs could hold, so he was only good at pulling himself up to stand. Walking would have to come later. His hearing had not been effected by the swelling in his brain, but he could only detect changing light with his eyes. He was only wearing a diaper, so the scars on his belly were clear – fat, ugly, pinkish lines from emergency surgery, stretching as he grew. Months ago it broke her heart to see those lines, but now it only hurt a little. Despite everything that had gone wrong, Henry was happy.

And he had never looked more like Shane. It was not in his cheeks or his nose, which seemed to have both come from her, but in his eyes. He had that distinct slant she passed on to all of her biological children, but his were not the same brown as hers. His were warm and dark. She had spent long enough looking at those eyes to recognize them in her son.

If she could see how much he looked like Shane, could Owen? Did he already suspect it? Cristina had to be sure this time.

Henry coughed, and then laughed, throwing his arm up and nearly punching her in the jaw. Cristina wrapped his blanket a little tighter. He had been fighting off a chest cold for a few days and it was screwing with his body temperature. Owen bought a microfiber blanket to keep him warm.

She spent most of the night in the chair with Henry. Her twins curled up on the couch and Collin went to his own bed, and she cut the TV off and sat in the dark. Henry woke her a few times by moving around, and Noah rolled off the couch and hit the floor in the middle of the night, but he never woke up, so Cristina put a blanket on him and left him there.

Dawn came, and the sound of tires in the driveway made them all stir.

"Wet diapers," she said, as soon as she was conscious. Henry was soaked. "Oh, gross."

She was changing him when Owen came in. He set his bag down beside the one she had dropped the night before and leaned over the couch, smiling down at the twins. "Long night?"

Cristina shrugged. "Nope. Quiet."

He came around and picked up Noah, who was trying to sit up. One side of his face was red from lying on the floor. Owen frowned at it, and looked at her questioningly.

"He looked so peaceful." Cristina set Henry on the couch, and went to work on Evelyn. "How was the night shift? Loony house lose any patients?"

"No, but we had another GSW to the chest come in. Almost the exact same entry wounds."

Cristina was surprised by that. "Really? Same area?"

"No, they found him in some bushes across town, in a busy area. Police said we might have a serial killer in Seattle."

"I'll be damned." Cristina whistled, and dumped Evelyn beside her brother.

"Do you have to-"

"Work today? Yes. In about an hour. So I should probably shower. I smell like pee."

"You can have it first."

"You shower before you leave work anyway."

"Can never be too careful."

Cristina was halfway to their bedroom when the thought struck her.

"Owen… I have to tell you something."

He set Noah down on the couch and put the TV on cartoons. His expression shifted to uncertainty. She had become familiar with this look since battling her addictions. No matter how long it had been, no matter how far they had come, his mind would always go there first. It always stung a little. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing is… wrong… per say. I think that… Shane might be Henry's biological father."

Owen's jaw stiffened, but other than that there was no change in his expression. It was eerie, how well her husband could control his face.

She started babbling, unsure if he was contemplating murder, or just not that bothered by it, "We were both drunk, and I barely remember it, but it was around the same time that… Well, I'm not sure if he is, but it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter, because you're Henry's dad. And you know Shane is my friend. Shane is a really good friend. We should just… keep this between us until I know for sure."

Owen only thought for a moment, making her lean toward the 'not that bothered' possibility, but his tone was icy, "No promises."

She had expected more, so she stood there like an idiot. "Is that it?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"I thought you were gonna… blow a gasket, or something."

Owen smiled. He actually smiled. In a moment it had turned into a tired frown, and she realized how tired he looked for the first time. Owen was gaunt, with deep purple bags under his eyes. He must have been in that GSW surgery for most of his shift.

"Maybe when I wake up," he said, letting his good nature show through. "You shower. I'll get the kids ready for daycare."

"Will you-?"

"Yeah, I'll be up to pick them up at 5."

Cristina was torn between suspicion that he might be placating her – so that he could go and murder Shane in peace – and joy that she had married someone as kind as him. If the situation were reversed, Cristina would have been spitting fire by now.

She went about her morning routine, pushing Shane out of her mind. It was a new day, with new challenges, and she was going to make the best of it.