The phrase they created in the hospital room so long ago did not match the joy of the hospital room they shared now. The sorrow of then did not match the joy of the now. And when she finally held the source of her joy between them, it was all Anna could do not to lose herself in the ecstasy of it all.

He told her once that when he was locked in the dark and stuffy, windowless cell, he wondered where she was. The same kinds of thoughts ran through both of their minds in the year it took them to start healing. To say they were ever fully healed would be a lie and even as they shared the moment of exquisite joy they knew the truth. There would be more days they would need to use their phrase. More days they would lose themselves in the thoughts of what they endured. When they would lose themselves to the past.

Each time he was "underwater", as they said, Anna held his hand. The boundaries that kept him away from her would fade through the shared connection until he would tell her. Sometimes they were memories he shared before. Brought to the fore by bright lights or loud music or extreme temperature differences. The moments he feared being alone and without her.

And once he only asked for her hand on his. Then for her to sit near him so their bodies could touch. And, until this moment, for him to put his ear to her protruding belly to try and hear the second heartbeat that reminded them that those horrible times were in the past.

She was no different. Especially with the signs of life growing in her once again. Their ecstatic attitude over the announcement carried her through days but sometimes, in the dark of the night, she remembered their first baby. The ashes they spread over the ocean. The reasons they had to spread the remains of their first precious baby to the waves she loved so much. Then there was only darkness.

Whenever she lost herself, drowning "underwater" John held her. His touch comforted and the sensation of his larger frame surrounding her was not suffocating but protective. While all else in her life threatened with its massiveness, his form was a shield to her. One that always brought her back. Brought her out.

They did not count those moments. When they started therapy together, a lifetime ago, they did. They tallied their days to watch the dark ones dwindle while the good ones grew. Now they waited, knowing the light would shine through the dark and they could return to the present. The past no longer haunted them and the future beckoned like a gleaming treasure.

The treasure they held between them in the hospital room. The treasure with requisite golden hair and the dark eyes of his father. The treasure they debated naming after the people who helped them, those who saved them, or the things they loved. In the which case, Anna won out.

Johnny Bates was named for his father. For the government auditor who went to work in a regular car and came home to help cook meals and change nappies and speak to his son when the baby babbled at him. For the man who loved his wife, cared for their house, and sometimes had days where he did nothing but stare at the sea while his wife held his hand in silence.

But that was not all.

Johnny Caspian Bates was also named for the sea. The only sea his father allowed his mother to name his after. The mother who kissed him so she had more excuses to smell the pure scent of baby on him. The mother who occasionally held him too tightly as she thought of Hope. The mother who clung to her father when her fears overwhelmed her and she cried through her nightmares.

The same mother who, when asked if her silence meant she was "underwater" only smiled at John. Smiled and shook her head before showing him another positive pregnancy test. Giggled uncontrollably with her husband as he lifted her off the ground and spun her about.

This time he won. Respecting his wife's wishes, John conceded to her middle name being oceanic in origin but her first name was his mother's. And thus Margaret Adria Bates joined the family with her dark hair and her blue eyes. Although the argument that her name was a cheat, John swore up and down that Adria was for the Adriatic Sea and Anna, eventually and with no end of a grudge, conceded.

Their little family grew by the oceanside. Away from the fears and the cares that took their parents from their patch of paradise years ago. Away from the tears and the nightmares that occasionally reared their ugly heads to plague them in the dark of the night. Away from all but the promise of the future they had together.

The future born of Hope.