On Christmas Eve, a week after Tommy's second birthday, they brought Molly home from the hospital. She was three weeks old and home a week ahead of schedule. She was still on oxygen, but the doctors did not anticipate she would need it for more than a few months.

They celebrated a quiet day with Logan, Barek and Sean. The next morning, Goren went to visit his mother, who was having a bad time, and the afternoon was spent at John Eames' house with the rest of the clan. When they returned home that night, all three children went right to sleep, happy and exhausted.

Eames recovered well from the trauma she suffered the day Molly was born as well as the c-section. Goren's arm was healing, although he was facing painful physical therapy once the cast came off. But he did not let it slow him down.
The day after Christmas, he went out for awhile, checking on the rookie who had been shot the night he and Logan had taken down Hampton. He followed up on Hampton as well. Both men were going to survive but the FBI was in the middle of it, since it involved their own. Deakins was ready to fight for the case, but Goren told him to let the feds have it. Testimony would be given, if needed, to ensure Hampton would never see the light of day again.

The light in the room was dim, but he had enough light to see the magazine on the table in front of him. A half-full tumbler of scotch sat within arms' reach; it was not his first, but the pain in his arm was finally beginning to abate. It was because of the pain he was sitting there and not in bed with his sleeping wife.

After sitting there for awhile, he heard her in the kitchen. The scuffing of the stool from the corner, a cabinet door opening and closing, the refrigerator, liquid being transferred from container to glass...

A book was set on the table beside him, and then the glass...a chair moved...and he smiled. It wasn't Alex. Turning his head, he watched her climb into the chair. Settling on her knees, she opened her book and read, "It was late. Froggy was too pooped to pop..." she giggled.

He smiled at her. "You like that book," he said.

"Santa knowed I would."

"Yes, he did."

"What are you reading, Daddy?"

"Just a magazine."

She climbed over into his lap, looking at the picture on the page in front of her. "It looks like a pirie-mid."

"Very good. It is a pyramid. But this one isn't in Egypt. It's in Mexico. A place called Palenque."

"What did they do there?"

"A long time ago, the Mayan Indians lived there. This pyramid is one of the structures they left behind."

"Does anyone live there now?"

"No. It's a historical site. Archaeologists and people who study the Indians who once lived there spend a lot of time there."

She turned the page and pointed to a drawing. "Who is that?"

"One of the leaders of the Maya who lived at Palenque, a king named Pakal. He was buried there."

"Are there any kings there now?"

"No, baby. The site was abandoned in the 800s."

"Wow. That was a long time ago...even before you and Mommy was borned."

He laughed. "A long time before, sweetheart."

She leaned over and grabbed the tumbler she had poured for herself, taking a drink. "I gots apple juice, too," she announced.

"So I see. Tell me...what are you doing up?"

"I couldn' sleep. So I'm gonna keep you comp'ny."

He smiled and kissed the side of her head. "I can't think of anyone I would rather have keep me company."

"What is this place again?"

"Palenque."

"P'lenkie."

"Good try."

"Can we go there?"

"Someday...sure."

She settled back against his chest. ""How is your arm, Daddy? Does it still hurt?"

"What do you mean?"

"It was hurtin' you today."

He leaned forward, drawing her back so he could see her face. "How do you know that, Maggie?"

She shrugged. "I dunno, Daddy. I jus' do."

"It's okay right now."

"Did you take your medicine to make it better?"

"Yes, I took something to make it better."

She looked down at the magazine and pointed to a second drawing of a different man. "An' who's that?"

"That's another king, Pakal's son, Chan Bahlum, the Jaguar King."

"What's a jaguwar?"

"Jaguar. It's a cat like a mountain lion or a leopard that lives in Central America. A lot of the natives in that area thought jaguars had supernatural power. By associating themselves with the animal, they thought they could absorb some of that power."

"Really?"

"That's what they believed."

"And was it real? Could they be like a jaguwar?"

"Maybe they could. I don't know."

"Could I be like Mischief, then?"

"I wish you wouldn't. One Mischief is enough."

She giggled and hugged him. "Oh, okay, Daddy."

Turning back to the magazine, she continued to look over the article before turning the page. Then she sat up straight. "A shark!"

"That article is about sharks."

"I like sharks."

He kissed her head. "So do I."

For the next hour, they looked over the magazine articles. She asked a hundred questions and he answered every one. When she started to yawn, he convinced her to go back to bed. After tucking her in and giving her a kiss, he returned to the table, finished his drink and set both glasses in the sink. Leaving his magazine and her book on the table, he headed back to his bedroom, stopping to check on Maggie and Tommy on the way. They were both sleeping.

Once in his room, he walked over to the crib to check on Molly. Making certain the tiny cannula was in place so she got the oxygen she needed, he leaned over to kiss her. Finally he undressed and slid into bed. Eames snuggled into him without waking and he welcomed her closeness. For him, life didn't get any better than this.

fin.

A/N: The book Maggie was reading is Froggy Goes to Bed by Jonathan London. My 5 yo son loves it.

Okay, now that this one is finished, I am open to suggestions for the next installment, because I have nothing in mind yet. So if anyone has any ideas, send 'em my way :-)