Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Last angsty chapter. Well, I mean... there are still lots of loose ends to tie up, but we're at a turning point in their relationship. I hope that reassures, I know lots of you have kind of hit a wall when it comes to sadness. :)

Enjoy! Thanks for the reviews!

Chapter Eighty Two:

I found Sara and Ayla both asleep.

Sara was leaned back against her headboard in only a bra and jeans, one breast fully exposed, Ayla cradled against her somewhat awkwardly because of how big she was. …It was a moment like I had dreamed of seeing for so long that I had to stop in the doorway, my breath catching in my throat as the emotion of it hit me. When I was able to force myself forward, I gently slid Sara down the bed, holding her head until it rested on the pillows. It was a testament to how exhausted she must be that she didn't even stir. I scooted Ayla into the open space on the inside of the bed and took a moment to adjust Sara's clothing so that she was covered before climbing into the other side.

I wasn't tired—I had slept the previous night, though I was willing to guess that Sara hadn't—but I knew that grief did exhausted the body and the mind and that even if Sara were sleeping as much as she ought to be, she would probably still feel spent. Instead I allowed myself to bask in the quiet intimacy of watching both her and Ayla sleep.

Sara woke first, and though I expected awkwardness if not open hostility, she merely seemed comforted that I was there. She scooped Ayla up to her almost-bare chest and rolled her over until her back was to me and Ayla was on her other side, and then she scooted both of them back until her back came in contact with my chest.

I wrapped my arms around them, feeling elated that she had chosen to initiate some contact no matter how innocent and gently ran my hands over her arms until she was more awake. In silence, she turned her head to look at me over her shoulder and when I leaned closer, almost unconsciously, just wanting that closeness, she kissed my lips softly and then turned away again with a heavy sigh, almost like she was resigning herself to something.

…What was that, exactly? Was she resigning herself to the fact that I wouldn't go away so she might as well submit? Was she resigning herself to the fact that she still loved me, despite feeling guilty for it? Was she resigned to accepting the comfort and intimacy I offered simply because she needed it and it was too hard to keep avoiding me? Was she simply resigned that fighting anything right now was beyond her, whether she wanted it or not?

She stretched after several more long moments and turned to me. "…Take out?"

I nodded, still rolling around my uncertainties in my mind and she sat up more fully. "…I, uh… I'm gonna grab some boxes from the basement. Start packing up."

I frowned. "…What do you mean?"

She gave me an utterly soft look. "…Without Jace's income, we can't afford to keep the house. Once the funeral is over, Ayla and I are going to have to find an apartment."

I positively scowled this time. I knew that she had been rejecting my advances, kind and comforting and well-intentioned though they were, but for some reason it had never occurred to me that she would stay in Boston. She didn't have any roots here… not really. I mean, she'd gone to school here for a while, but she didn't have family here… I guess I hadn't really thought out what she would do. I hadn't even considered leaving the lab to live in Boston and be Ayla's Daddy, and yet I hadn't pictured them moving to Vegas either. In my mind, I hadn't made the leap beyond the moment in which we were both here.

"…Move to Vegas with me." I said, impulsively, simply because that was simplest—I couldn't imagine leaving the lab, I already had a home in Vegas. She turned to me, startled, and I realized the folly of my bluntness. She had the wary look in her eyes again, no longer looking resigned to anything. Her lips in a tight line, she shook her head.

"No… I have a job here. Ayla loves her teachers at daycare. …We'll manage."

And then she was out of the room again. If only I could get her to stay in the same room with me for an extended period of time in which we were both awake.

With my own sigh of resignation, I moved out to the kitchen, found a Chinese takeout menu, and ordered for all of us, getting lots of rice and vegetables because I wasn't sure what else Ayla could have. …I would have to do some additional research to be up to par on this whole fathering thing. As I was hanging up the phone, Sara moved past me with a stack of collapsed boxes covered in dust, headed towards Jace's room. I followed her, knowing that it wouldn't be easy to pack his things away—my mother, to this day, had one of the closets in her bedroom filled with his things, including the presents she had given him for every birthday and Christmas and Father's Day after he'd died. I knew that Sara's relationship to Jace was not the relationship my parents had had, but still…

I sat on the bed while she moved over to the bookcase he had in here. It seemed like a strange place, but when I reflected back to the living room, I realized there wasn't any available space out there. She reassembled one of the boxes and taped the bottom for good measure, still not wearing a shirt and not speaking to me, focused on the task at hand. I watched her, noting the lines of stress on her face and the hard line of her mouth—clearly, she was just trying to get through it.

I briefly considered helping her, but the stern look that met my tentative, "Sara…" told me to let it go. She turned away and I bit back a sigh, watching as she opened a second and then a third box, sorting books between them. She had emptied three rows when she slowed. The moment was sudden—one moment she was moving fluidly and efficiently and the next she was carefully perusing each book, as if something had occurred to her. She even pulled out a book or two and glanced over them, paging through them, before replacing them in the box and continuing.

I frowned, uncertainly, watching her and wanting to ask what exactly she was looking for but also not wanting to disturb her again. I had just about worked up the courage to ask her when Ayla's cries broke the stillness of the room. She looked up at me, beseechingly, and I understood that whatever she was looking for was vital to her… she no longer looked irritated or annoyed or like she was simply forcing herself to complete the task—she was looking for something, and it was something she needed. I nodded and moved out of the room, leaving her to her task and moving to take the child.

Ayla was sitting up in Sara's big bed with large tears moving down her cheeks and a look at me had her wailing louder. "Da-Da!" She said, and screamed louder when I picked her up, her little hands pushing me away. From the way her little frame was trembling, I would have bet just about anything that she'd just had a nightmare… possibly about Jace's death. More than understandable, but I didn't know what to do about it. I pressed her to my shoulder and though her cries got even louder, she allowed it, no longer pushing me away, her little tears soaking their way through the shoulder of my shirt.

I bounced her gently and moved out to the living room, searching and finally finding a picture of her and Jace together. I sat on the couch and moved her until she was sitting with her legs between mine, still leaning sideways against my chest, and held the picture for her to see. Her cries stuttered and she hiccupped, her little fists coming to wipe the tears from her eyes repeatedly, her body still shaking and the occasional sob breaking through her lips, the tears still falling even as she wipes them away. And finally, she reached out and pointed a small finger at Jace's laughing face in the picture, her bottom lip stuck out. "Dada…"

I smiled and laid a kiss to her temple, speaking softly. "…You're right, Ayla. That is Daddy. …And he loved you… more than anything in the world, sweetheart. Daddy loved you and he misses you."

"Love." She repeated, and I felt tears welling up in my eyes again.

"Yes. Daddy loved you. …It's okay to be sad." I blinked at the ceiling, trying to reign in my own emotion—I hated knowing how much pain she was in. She looked at me, her big eyes creasing in a frown and then she gave me a hug, giving me the distinct impression that she had seen my own emotion and was attempting to comfort me. That knowledge had me clutching her to me, wondering if it were even possible for such a small child to be aware of such things…

I reigned in my emotions in time to hear the doorbell ring and go retrieve our food and pay the man. Ayla reached out for the bag and it wasn't hot so I let her carry it, with one hand still on it, of course, over to the kitchen counter… at which point I realized that sweet and sour sauce had spilled inside the bag and was not only all over my shirt but all over Ayla's pajamas and hands… which had once again gone to wipe her eyes, leaving red smears around her eyes like a parody of a raccoon.

I chuckled, unable to be upset when she blinked at me so sweetly, unaware. I quickly pulled the cartons out and set them on plates to contain whatever sauce was stuck on their bottoms and disposed of the bag and the cracked sweet and sour container and, once done with that, glanced over Ayla again.

"You need a bath." I informed her very seriously.

She gave me a cheesy grin, already recovered from the sadness of a moment ago. "Ba!"

I smiled, wondering if I were simply hearing words when she was only babbling or if she really knew this many. "Yep, let's go take a bath." In the hallway, I called, "Sara! The food's here. I'm gonna give Ayla a quick bath, we had a sweet and sour mishap, but you can go dig in…"

Her answer was a little delayed. "…Okay. Thanks." I wondered if she had found what she was looking for, and pursed my lips, considering making a detour from the bath to see her… but a moment later I heard her walk past the open doorway of the bathroom, headed towards the kitchen.

If she was getting food, she had to be okay. My questions could wait. I pulled off my own stained and sticky shirt and hurried through the bath, watching Ayla splash in delight, and then drained the tub and wrapped her up in a towel. I knew she didn't have any clean clothes in her diaper bag, but Sara had avoided Ayla's room and I had followed her example. I frowned, but finally decided that I could at least get her into a diaper and ask Sara what she wanted.

When we reached the living room, however, Sara was not eating… all the food was resting exactly as I'd left it, and I knew that she hadn't passed the bathroom door again. I frowned, glancing around the room one more time to be sure I hadn't missed her, and then took the dripping Ayla with me to check if she was in the basement, getting more boxes. That would be very like Sara…

But when I found the door closed and the light off… I knew she had gone. I didn't know where she was going and though I didn't believe she would ever leave Ayla, I had no idea when she would be back.