Hello, loves! I hope you are all doing well, and staying safe during this world health crisis. As many of you know, I work in the medical field, so I'm still out there in the thick of things, but we are taking all the necessary precautions and safety measures to ensure that both medical staff and patients remain as safe as possible. The latest CDC numbers indicate that the county I live in only has 4 cases, so far; however, for every 1 known case, there are at least 10 unknown (people who have contracted the virus, but have not been tested). And, of course, no one can find any toilet paper, but that's another issue entirely. ( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°) Remember to keep practicing your social distancing and hand washing, but I hope this chapter gives you all a bit of entertainment while most of you are stuck inside.

Chapter Forty-Five

It was only a few hours later when Jim was awakened out of a deep sleep by the sound of blood curdling screams, which were quickly followed and intermingled with the terrified cries of his baby daughter.

"Oh, God, what—" Claire gasped, throwing herself up into a sitting position in their bed, looking around frantically for the source of both the cries and the screams, respectively. Her hair was sticking up every which way, which would have been adorable in any other circumstance, and the front of the shirt she wore (one of his, that she often wore as a night shirt) was quickly developing two wet spots as her milk let down. Claire seemed to notice this at the same time that Jim did and cursed under her breath as she threw the blankets back and pushed herself from the bed. "Oh, it's okay, Pumpkin. Mama and Daddy are here."

"Must be Sarah," Jim surmised, sitting up, stretching, and absently tugging one of his horns to twist his head in a way that allowed the crick in his neck to crack loose. He watched as his mate pulled the crying baby from her bassinet, and then walked back over to the bed, handing little Ellie over to him, while she removed her shirt. Ellie cried loudly as another scream echoed from the next room, and he rocked her soothingly, licking her face clean. "Shh, shh."

"Have some milk, baby," Claire soothed, holding her arms out again, but Ellie cried and shook her head, one of her little hands fisted tightly in Jim's scruff.

"No, no, no, no, no!"

Claire gave Jim a wide-eyed look of shock, which Jim mimicked, because Ellie never rejected the offer of food.

"Please, Ellie," Claire practically sobbed, using the dirty shirt to press to her chest. "I'm leaking like crazy over here."

Another shriek from the next room, this time accompanied with the sound of shattering glass, startled them, terrifying Ellie into gasping out her own screaming sobs.

"I have to…" Jim started, growling in slight frustration as he was caught between the desire to go fend off the disaster in the other room and the instinct to comfort his distressed mate and child. That, and Ellie still had an incredibly tight grip on his scruff. "Pumpkin, let go. Daddy has to go help Aunt Sarah."

"No…!" the baby wailed, throwing her head side to side, and then coughing and gagging with the force of her cries.

"Oh," Claire gasped, dropping the shirt and reaching forward to try and pull Ellie into her arms. She gently rubbed and patted the baby's back with one hand, while trying to disentangle her little fist from Jim's hair with the other. "Oh, baby, you're making yourself sick. Come to Mama, mi amor. Shh, shh."

Claire continued to speak soothingly, switching absently between English, Spanish, and Trollish, the tone of her voice calm, despite the tears streaking down her cheeks. After several minutes, Ellie's cries were stifled into keening whimpers, and she finally let go of Jim's hair, and Claire was able to pull the baby back into her arms.

"I have to check on Sarah before anything else gets destroyed," Jim said quietly, standing from their bed quickly as another crashing sound came from the other room. Someone called his name, the sound strained, and he took a step toward the doorway, before turning back to his mate. "Are you—"

"We're okay," Claire assured him, gently rocking Ellie as the baby finally turned into her mother's breast and started to nurse. "Go on."

Jim nodded, turning away and moving through the curtain that separated his and Claire's room from the rest of their cave. Almost immediately, there was a crunching sound and feeling under his bare feet, and when he looked down, he was grateful for his thickened skin, though a little annoyed that his and Claire's photo frames were being used as frisbees. Bending down, he dusted the broken glass from his bare feet and brushed it to the side, in case Claire came out, barefooted as well. He picked up the crinkled photographs — one of Ellie, only a few days old, sleeping soundly against Jim's bare chest as he lay sprawled and drooling across the too small couch, and the other of him and Claire, both human, holding hands and smiling at each other on stage, she in her Juliet costume, while he remained in his Daylight armor, under the guise of his Romeo costume — and placed them on a high shelf carved into the wall, safely out of the danger zone.

"Jim," Barbara gasped as she saw him enter the room, panting and struggling desperately to hold Sarah's arms down as the younger girl cursed and kicked. "Help me."

"Sarah," Jim said in a calm voice, moving quickly to her side and taking her wrists as his mother let go. Sarah continued to struggle, her eyes wild and darting, her pupils almost completely blown, but his strength held better than Barbara's, which only caused Sarah to become angrier. "Please, calm down. We're trying to help— ugh!"

Jim grunted, gasping in pain as one of Sarah's loose legs came up and kicked him hard in the chest. His wounds flared, and he felt the deepest wounds cracking open again, and then his sister screamed in fright as blood got on her foot.

"Get off, get off!" she screamed hysterically, thrashing from side to side and struggling desperately to get away from him. "Stop it! You're killing me, get away! Get away!"

"Can't you sedate her?" Jim growled at his mother, but she shook her head, her expression miserable as she eyed his bleeding chest in concern. He was wearing loose pajama pants, but hadn't bothered with a shirt, so there was nothing to stem the slow ooze of blood seeping from the cracks over his chest.

"She can't fully experience the detox, if she's under the influence of another medication," Barbara said, shaking her head. She pulled a towel out of her duffle bag and reached between Sarah and Jim to wipe the blood from Sarah's foot, and then pressed the cloth painfully hard against his chest.

"Perhaps there is a potion or something that can ease her distress?" Anson's voice said, and Jim turned to see the Changeling rounding the corner from the kitchen, wringing his tail anxiously in his hands, his expression pained and concerned. "No one should suffer like this."

"She needs to fully experience the detox," Barbara insisted, and Jim suspected that his mother was purposefully avoiding the question.

"Mom," Jim ground out, cringing when she pressed harder against his chest. "There's got to be some—"

"She needs to experience it," Barbara repeated in a hard voice, and Jim growled and swore in Trollish under his breath in frustration, which was drowned out by Sarah's rising shrieks, threats, and begging.

"Please," she sobbed, thrashing vainly against Jim's iron grip. "Please, please, please… I just need — I need something. Just a little. Please, you have to have something. Just a little. Wh-what about that alcohol? Glug? Give me some of that. I just need a little — just a little."

Jim thought that was actually a valid idea (though, Glug wouldn't be his particular choice), but before he could say anything, Barbara dropped the towel that she had been using to press against Jim's cracked chest and reached forward with both hands to smack against Sarah's cheeks, holding her head still between her palms. The hit hadn't been violent, but from the startled look on Sarah's face, accompanied by the pinking of her skin, it had been hard enough to sting and get her attention.

"No," Barbara said in a firm, no-nonsense voice. "You will not prolong this by adding more toxins to your body. You will experience this now, and when it's over, you'll think twice about ever doing this again, won't you?"

"Mom…" Jim breathed in astonishment, and then he hardened his expression, glaring the woman down, though she refused to look at him, and he could not risk letting Sarah go, knowing that she would fight as soon as she was free. "Are you punishing her?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Barbara replied, but she let go of Sarah's face and Jim could see her hands trembling as she reached for the towel again. "This is what's best for—"

"Is there something that she can take that will ease this?" Jim asked point-blank, silently daring his mother to lie to him, but before anyone could say anything else, Strickler (in his Troll form) burst in through the front door, panting as if he had run a mile. Behind him, Merlin — also panting and wheezing — came through the door, only taking a moment to brace himself against his staff and survey the situation before he was marching forward, passed Strickler, and toward Jim, Sarah, and Barbara.

"What are you—" Barbara started, but Merlin swept passed her, dropping his staff against the wall, and gently grasped Sarah's head in his hands, his thumbs rubbing soft circles over her temples. The girl started to struggle en force again, but the wizard murmured an incantation under his breath and a subtle light flared at his fingertips. A second later, Sarah's eyelids drifted closed drowsily, and then she slumped back against the couch, fast asleep.

Jim breathed a sigh of relief, releasing his tight grip on his sister's wrists and moving her hands to lay folded in her lap. Looking up at Merlin as the older man gently lifted his hands away from Sarah's head, he smiled gratefully. "Thanks."

"No!" Barbara practically shouted, standing up and throwing her hands down to her sides in exasperation. She turned to glare at her still panting boyfriend. "Walt, I told you to get someone to help!"

"I did!" Strickler gasped out, his expression incredulous. "I figured Merlin could—"

"I meant," Barbara interrupted, her teeth audibly grinding together. "…someone to help hold her still! Like Blinky or AAARRRGGHH!. She can't sleep through this!"

"Forgive me, my dear," Strickler responded in a slightly baffled tone, standing to his full height as he finally caught his breath. "But why not?"

"Studies show that a person is less likely to revert to their using tendencies, if they fully experience the negative aspects of the withdrawal," Barbara explained in an exasperated voice, rolling her eyes and stomping one foot.

"That's bullshi—"

"Jim!"

Jim growled in muted fury, his hands clenched angrily at his sides. Before he could even think of what to say next, Anson spoke up, his own voice and expression angry.

"Everyone is different," he said with a glare. "I'm sure your studies have their place, but they will give a general answer to a personal problem, and…" Anson hesitated, his angry expression breaking to shoot Jim a slightly apologetic look, and then he glared at Barbara again. "…and I think you might be taking your feelings out on the only one left to feel the brunt of it."

The silence that took over was deafening, not even the sound of breathing audible, not that Jim suspected anyone actually was breathing after such an accusation. Strickler's eyes were wide and panicked, darting between Anson and his girlfriend, the latter standing rigid and pale as she stared back at the blonde Changeling, her mouth half opened in shock.

"I…" Barbara tried to speak, her breathless voice breaking the tense silence like a sledgehammer. She snapped her mouth shut, her face turning bright red as she shot a glare between Anson and Jim. "Fine. Walt, we're going home."

"Barb…" Strickler said in a hesitant tone. "Perhaps…"

"Home, Walt," Barbara insisted through clenched teeth, her hands curled into fists at her sides. "We're obviously not wanted here."

Jim could tell that Strickler disagreed with his girlfriend, but he clearly was hesitant to argue. Instead, he shot Jim a helpless look, and Jim nodded slightly, showing that he understood. Swallowing thickly, the older Changeling moved to Barbara's side, taking her hand in his. "Okay."

"Mom," Jim said, right before Barbara could activate her transportation charm. She glared at him, but he continued hesitantly. "…I'll call you, okay?"

He half expected her to soften, but cringed back when her eyes went wide, her lips pursed, and her nostrils flared. "Don't bother."

And then she and Strickler disappeared in a flash of blue light, and Jim stood in shock, his stomach twisting with grief and anger.

"Well, that was entertaining," Merlin said, breaking the tense and awkward silence with his usual tactlessness. "Redheads always have such a marvelous temper, don't they? Why, I remember once, Morgan wouldn't speak to me for a whole month, because I accidentally killed her rose garden. Well, 'accidentally' is maybe stretching it… I hated those roses. I told her Lilies were far more lovely, but—"

"Merlin."

"Right, time and place. Sorry."

"I'm sorry, Jim," Anson said, his voice cracking in guilt. "I just—"

"It's okay," Jim replied with a pained sigh. Turning back to the Changeling and wizard (and knocked out and drooling sister), he gave a weak shrug, reaching up to anxiously tug on one of his horns. "You… were probably right."

"But I didn't mean for her to become angry with you," Anson tried again, wringing his tail nervously. "She's your mother and—"

"…and we're always disagreeing about something lately," Jim said, shaking his head. "She'll hold a grudge for a couple of months, but it won't last."

"Well," Merlin interjected again, butting his staff lightly against the floor a couple of times. Jim looked over, a bit surprised to see that — despite his dismissive tone of voice — the old man's expression was twisted in an awkward look, like he was uncomfortable to have been dragged into the middle of this. "I, uh… your alien friends—"

"Don't they prefer to be called interplanetary beings?" Anson asked, cocking his head to the side curiously, his lips pursed like he was trying suppress a slight smile. "The girl kept correcting me."

"Yes, yes, whatever," Merlin said, waving his hand dismissively.

"Hey, yeah," Jim said, suddenly noticing the distinct lack of everyone who had been crowding his living room the past few days. "Where is everyone?"

"Ah, well," Merlin started again, brightening considerably. "Their home… ship… whatever it is… it's quite remarkable. It can reconfigure itself to have as many rooms as they want — without magic!"

"Oh?" Jim asked, the notion seeming somehow familiar, though he knew he'd never been to Aja and Krel's house — er, spaceship. "So… everyone went back to Arcadia? I thought—"

"No, no," the wizard interrupted, grinning almost in a slightly insane way. "Well, yes, briefly, your aliens and I went back—"

"Interplanetary beings."

"Yes, whatever," Merlin waved his hand again, and Jim and Anson shared an exasperated eye roll. "They chose a lovely place up above for me to transport their house to — yes, yes, ship, whatever — so, we went back to place the anchor charm, and then came back here to pull it over. After the transfer, their ship took over reconfiguring itself. I was just coming back, when Strickler found me."

"So… I guess the others are going to stay with Aja and Krel?" Jim surmised, unexpected relief flooding through him. He hadn't realized before everyone was stuffed in his cave how used to he had been of just himself, Claire, and their baby.

"Yes," Merlin affirmed, absently tapping his staff against the floor again. "I imagine that might be easier on Tobias's grandmother, at least. As for Steve and Eli — their stays might be less permanent — at least until they graduate their schooling. As Claire's mother pointed out before, all of them disappearing at once would be too much of a tip off."

"How did things go with Eli and the Elders?" Jim asked, remembering with a guilty twist of his stomach that he had left poor Eli to more or less fend for himself. "They didn't—"

"I believe things went well," Merlin assured him. "I did not attend the meeting, but he and Steve were joking and laughing, so I assume everything is fine. I know you have reasons to be wary of the Council, but they are not as they were when Usurna was in control. They trust you — and frankly," the old man added with a sarcastic chuckle. "I think the revelation of actual aliens is shocking enough to even Trolls that they would be willing to overlook this incident; though, I imagine that he probably got quite the scolding."

Jim laughed weakly, knowing very well how scary being scolded by huge rock creatures could be. Eli, being especially frightened, would probably be very careful with his information from now on. "That's a relief."

"Jim, is everything okay?"

"Be careful," Jim said, turning quickly toward his mate as she made to step passed the curtain that separated their bedroom from the rest of the cave. Ellie was asleep in her arms again, and Claire had thrown on another of his shirts and some loose pajama pants, but her feet were bare. "There's broken glass on the floor."

"Oh," Claire gasped, pulling her foot back before she stepped down. She looked down at the floor at her feet and absently shifted the baby to her side, cradling her with one arm. With the other, she waved her hand over the ground, muttering something under her breath. A subtle, white light glowed briefly in her palm, and then the space around her shimmered and sparkled as the broken glass rose into the air. The pieces hovered for a moment, almost like they were considering what to do next, but then they flew toward the shelf where Jim had placed the thrown pictures and almost instantly reformed into their whole form, slipping seamlessly back into the frames. When the magic dissipated, Claire relaxed and stepped forward, the floor clear. "There. Now, what's going on."

"Family drama, of course," Merlin said before Jim could reply, and he shared another exasperated eye roll with Anson.

"Oh, well, what else is new?" Claire sighed, giving Jim a concerned look while also pushing an intense feeling of concern and worry along their bond.

"It'll be okay," Jim assured her, calm despite feeling emotionally drained. It would be okay, he knew; his mom was stubborn, and she would hold her grudge for a while, but it wouldn't last — especially when she learned that she would be a grandmother twice over. Although, knowing his mother, she would probably find something to disapprove about that too. "How's Ellie?"

"Cried herself back to sleep, poor baby," she replied, pressing a soft kiss to the sleeping baby's forehead. Jim saw that Ellie's cheeks were wet and red, her closed eyelids swollen. "We need a vacation."

Jim laughed, and then gasped, cringing in pain as he was harshly reminded of the reopened wounds on his chest. "Damn it…"

"Really, James," Merlin rolled his eyes, stepping around the couch and pushing the glowing gem of his staff against Jim's bare chest. "You must be more careful, boy; you've got two children to look out for now."

"How did you— ow!" Jim started, but then gasped in pain again as Merlin's magic seeped into his flesh, sealing the wounds once more.

Merlin scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You two are nothing, if not predictable."

"Um… congrats?" Anson said in an awkward tone, clearly not sure how to respond. Jim could see his hand twitch toward his left pocket, like he wanted to reach for his pack of cigarettes, but Jim realized that he couldn't smell them on him. In fact… Anson's scent didn't reek of cigarettes, like it normally did; it was still there, but faint, like he hadn't smoked in a few days.

"Did you quit smoking?" Jim asked, resisting the urge to scratch his chest as his skin knitted together again slowly, the sensation transitioning from sharp pain to healing itch.

Anson huffed, grabbing his tail and wringing it anxiously again. "Yes. Well… sort of. I'm trying, okay? My tail used to have more hair than this. And that gum is bullshit, okay? And those patches can go fuck thems—"

"Anson," Claire said sharply, giving him a pointed look as she nodded her head toward the sleeping Ellie. "She's been picking up a lot of words lately, so could we please keep them clean?"

"Sorry, sorry," the Changeling replied, cringing back from the harsh look, but then he twisted his tail again. "God, I need a cigarette. Oh, and those stupid pills? Don't even get me started on—"

"How about I make some breakfast?" Claire offered, surprising Anson by forcing the sleeping baby into his arms, and then disappearing into the kitchen before he could say anything. The Changeling sputtered, holding Ellie slightly away from himself and shooting Jim a wide-eyed look.

"What do I do?" he asked in a hoarse voice, and Jim couldn't help but laugh again, this time with significantly less pain.

"Well, I would suggest cradling her, instead of holding her like she's a bomb about to go off," Jim said, still chuckling.

"I have never held a baby before," Anson whispered back in trepidation, his wide eyes staring down at the infant in his arms as he brought her closer to his chest, cradling her more comfortably.

"Well, it seems like you have everything handled," Merlin said, stretching lazily and turning to leave. "Sarah will sleep for at least another 48 hours. That should give her mind and body enough time to calm themselves."

And without another word, the old man disappeared out the door, leaving Jim and Anson alone with the passed out Sarah.

"You can sit down, if you think you'll be more comfortable," Jim suggested to the Changeling, trying to suppress the amused smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

"Right, right. Good idea," he replied, walking stiffly over and taking the small, vacant spot on the couch, next to Sarah. He was still staring down at Ellie, like she was about to explode.

Jim laughed lightly under his breath and shook his head. Assured that his daughter was safe — if not being stared at in terror — he followed after his wife, into the kitchen. Claire was standing with her back to the entryway, and Jim could smell the slightly acidic scent of freshly chopped tomatoes and garlic.

"Huevos rancheros?"

"There's nothing better than midnight huevos rancheros," Claire replied, humming happily as she popped a bit of tomato in her mouth and chewed in delight.

"Is Aiden giving you cravings already?" Jim teased, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. Pressing his face into his mate's neck, he hummed playfully, making her laugh.

"No," Claire giggled, cringing back from his tickles. "Thank Deya for that, because if he's anything like his sister, I'll be starving and puking for at least 3 months."

"Maybe not," Jim shrugged, watching as his mate calmly went back to dicing the tomato on the rock counter in front of her. "We won't be crossing the country this time, and you won't be stuck walking through the desert. It probably won't be so bad this time."

"That's true," Claire conceded, stepping back, which made Jim release his loose hold on her to allow her to move. She gathered her chopped tomatoes, along with the other salsa ingredients that she had already chopped, and scooped them into a wooden bowl. Drying her hands with the loose fabric of her shirt, she then grabbed the bowl of salsa and another bowl that was on the counter that contained 6 medium-sized eggs. "Would you get a skillet, please?"

"Sure," Jim replied, pressing a quick kiss to his mate's cheek, and then he went to fetch the requested skillet. He met her back at the fire pit, placing the cast iron skillet in the midst of the low flame. Going back to the counter, he grabbed the small jar of oil from the shelf and brought it back, handing it over to his mate.

"Jim…" Claire said after a minute of comfortable silence, her eyes fixed on the skillet as they waited for the oil to warm. Absently, she mixed the salsa together, and then set it aside, reaching for the eggs as the oil began to sizzle and snap in the pan. "…I, uh… I guess we won't be speaking to your mom again for a while."

"You heard all of that, huh?" Jim sighed, his voice deadpan as he sat down on the floor and propped his chin against his upturned knee.

"Yes and no," she replied, cracking the eggs into the pan, one by one. "I heard all of you speaking, but I couldn't make out much what with Ellie crying, but I could feel that you were really upset, and… well, you really only get upset like that when you're fighting with your mom."

"She's just so…" Jim started, growling in frustration and also muttering a few Trollish curses under his breath, to which his mate gave him a very disapproving look. "She's… stubborn. She's ridiculously stubborn. And hard-headed. And… and… she's just so angry."

"Hm," Claire hummed thoughtfully, a smile twitching at the corner of her mouth, and Jim raised an eyebrow at her clear amusement. "Kind of like you, when you're frustrated."

"Hah," Jim huffed a laugh, shaking his head tiredly. "Well, I guess I know who I take after."

"Not entirely," Claire said, quickly scrambling the eggs in the pan, moving them around to keep them from burning. "I think being the Trollhunter has eased your temper."

Jim laughed, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, but do you remember how angry I was?"

"Was being the key word," she replied, leaning over to peck a chaste kiss to his cheek. "You've gotten better. I think Ellie helped with that, too."

Jim cringed, guilt bubbling in his stomach as he remembered fighting with his daughter in the future. "Maybe not enough."

"You were being protective," Claire reassured him, reaching over to grab his hand and squeezing it lightly. "She knew that. And you didn't hurt her."

"I scared her, though," Jim admitted, his throat tightening in emotion. "I scared the boys and Sophie, too."

"You had a right to be upset," Claire assured him. "And it's not like they'll remember. That won't happen for them, and you won't be under the pressure of suddenly being a father to 5 kids. We are only 17, mi amor; it was a huge and sudden adjustment."

Jim sighed, bringing up a hand to tug anxiously at one of his horns. "I… I just don't want to mess up."

"And you might," she replied, leaning into his side, still carefully watching the eggs to make sure they didn't burn. "I might, too. No one is perfect, but our children will be loved and protected, and that is the most import thing. Ellie will be brave and caring and kind, and so will Aiden."

"I love you," Jim sighed, turning his head to smile adoringly at his wife.

"You're just trying to seduce me," Claire teased in response, sticking her tongue out playfully at him.

"Is it working?"

"Maybe," she hummed thoughtfully. "If you can get Anson to babysit for a couple of hours, I might show you how much."

Jim did laugh loudly at that. "Honey, I think he would kill us, if we so much as suggested that he be alone for five minutes with her, let alone a few hours."

"I would!" came Anson's petrified voice from the next room, only slightly raised in order to be heard. That was enough to wake Ellie, though, who started whining and sniffling in distress. "Oh, Deya above, it woke up! She woke up! Someone help me!"

And Jim, laughing hard enough to cause his sides to ache, rose to his feet and went to rescue his friend from the perils of a crying infant.

To be continued...

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