Author's note: Thank you to NicoleR85, NotMarge, KEZZ 1, partygirl98, Luna von Rae, and ZabuzasGirl for the reviews! The phone number referenced in today's chapter is a nod to the Tommy Tutone song. Anyone else remember that? My mom loves that song! And the Easter Trifecta is why that happens to be my favorite holiday :-D

The Note

"Livie, aren't you a little too old to be participating in the Easter egg hunt?" I asked tentatively.

It was Easter Sunday, and the annual school egg hunt was about to begin. Alex, Gwen, and some of the older students like Piotr Rasputin had woken up at dawn to hide plastic eggs with money and candy inside all over the school grounds for the occasion.

Some of the hiding places were easily found, but others were slightly ridiculous. From my spot next to Zoey on a picnic blanket I spied an egg balanced on a branch over halfway up a twenty-foot tall tree.

You'd only find that at a mutant school, I'm sure.

"Nope. You know, Marcy says 'you're only as old as you feel,'" Olivia replied in a lofty tone, clutching her egg basket. "How old are you now, Uncle Hank? Twenty-eight going on fifty?"

I scowled at her, utterly stone-faced, but Zoey betrayed me by giggling right along with her niece.

Oh my traitorous love, why hath thee forsaken me?

"What? She has a point," my wife said when I gave her a reproachful look. "You've been so worried lately, darling, you're going to make your hair turn gray before you're thirty."

I sighed. It had been a week and a half since the attempted mugging, and ever since then I hadn't been able to relax. I didn't usually believe in premonitions or anything of that sort, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible was coming. Those punks attacking us was just the beginning.

Zoey tried to assure me that everything would be alright, joking that my protective instincts were turning me into a worried mother hen. But I couldn't help it.

Even the fact that our paper on the causative link between cancer and heterocyclic amines had just been published in that month's edition of Scientific American didn't cheer me up, though Zoey was understandably ecstatic. She'd never had her work circulated in such a public forum before.

"And besides," Olivia said now. "I'm on a mission for Auntie."

"What sort of mission?" I asked curiously, glancing over at Zoey.

"Chocolate acquisition. I'm going for the Easter Trifecta," Zoey replied seriously, like it was an actual concept. "Chocolate, deviled eggs, and ham."

Please don't tell me you want those things in a sandwich.

Her pregnancy cravings had thus far been comprised of basically anything (though preferably something sweet) that could be stuck between two pieces of white bread. Last night dinner was a mashed potato sandwich, dessert was an M&M and peanut butter sandwich, and this morning breakfast was a biscuit sandwich- something that I found to be a little redundant. I mean, why did she need a bread product between more bread?

But I kept my mouth shut and made whatever she wanted, anyway.

"So we have a deal," Olivia explained. "I get the cash eggs, Auntie gets the candy. It's a win-win."

"Sweetheart, if you want candy I can go buy you some," I patiently told Zoey.

"But it's Easter and everything's closed," she replied, pouting. "And besides..."

Her expression turned sheepish, her eyes darting over to her niece. "Can't we just pretend for a day that Livie is seven again?"

Ah ha. Your real motivation is finally revealed.

Olivia rolled her eyes. "I'm right here and can hear you, you know."

"Yeah, I know, but-" Zoey's eyes suddenly became over-bright, to my alarm. "You're getting so grown up, and- I just want you to stay a little girl forever."

And then she burst in to tears.

Olivia and I exchanged looks of horror, for a moment utterly at a loss of what to do. This was our first encounter with wild pregnancy mood swings.

"Apologize, now," I mouthed to Olivia, pulling Zoey into my arms before she turned into a puddle of tears.

She started really crying now, sobbing into my chest like it was the end of the world. I made soothing sounds and stroked her hair, awkwardly trying to comfort her.

Olivia made a face at me, but still made an attempt.

"Um, I'm sorry that- I'm getting older, Auntie?" she said uncertainly. "I can't really help it."

Zoey cried harder.

I gave Olivia a disapproving look. She could do better than that.

"Just think though- soon you'll have your very own baby to watch grow up," she offered brightly.

Zoey stopped crying immediately. "Th-that's true."

Olivia and I both sighed in relief as Zoey pulled away from me and started wiping her eyes. But the respite was short-lived, because as soon as her face was clean Zoey gave each of us murderous glares.

"But how do you know about the baby, Livie?" she asked. Her suspicious eyes were fastened on me.

Uh oh. Talk fast, McCoy.

"It wasn't my fault," I said defensively. "She read my mind because she was worried about you."

"Way to throw me under the bus, Uncle Hank," Olivia muttered. "I'm sorry, Auntie. Congratulations, though! I'm so happy for you!"

She leaned in and hugged her aunt, who melted immediately. Zoey could never stay angry at the people she loved for long. It just wasn't in her nature to hold onto a grudge, pregnancy hormones or not.

"Thanks, Livie," Zoey said as she pulled away and cuddled against me. "And I'm sorry for glaring at you, darling. And for getting your shirt all wet."

"It's fine," I assured her, kissing her curls. "Being a Kleenex is in the job description."

I wrapped an arm around her, holding her close as she giggled. My hand drifted down to her stomach, where there was just the tiniest hint of a bump now.

"I wish my parents loved each other like you guys do," Olivia said suddenly, fiddling with her basket again.

Zoey and I exchanged surprised glances.

I wondered for a moment if she felt a twinge of deja vu, remembering the way Olivia baldly parroted her father's opinions about education for females in the cafe so many years ago. It was the reason I started buying Zoey's mochas for her in the first place...

But now we were faced with another uncomfortable statement that we needed to address diplomatically, just like Zoey had back then. We still made it a policy not to demean Olivia's parents in front of her.

"Livie, every couple is different," Zoey said tentatively. "Not everyone is as affectionate and-"

Olivia shook her head and sighed. "Whenever I go visit them I can see it. I think Mama blames me for being stuck with Daddy, and Daddy- he's so mean to her. I wish she would leave him. I wish you and Uncle Hank were my parents."

These were not the complaints of an angsty teenager. These were the heartfelt admissions of a young woman who had grown up too fast and had had a front row seat- exacerbated by her telepathic ability- to the dysfunctional relationship between her parents. Nothing could take away what she'd seen, what she'd felt because of their mistakes.

Zoey, please say something. I've got nothing.

"I wish you didn't have to see that," Zoey said quietly. She reached out and took Olivia's hands in hers, looking straight into her niece's eyes. "But Livie, don't think for a second that their problems are your fault. Some things are just the way they are, ok? And I don't think you can do anything to fix what's broken between them. Just know that your uncle and I are always here for you, and we both think you're a spectacular person. Right, Hank?"

"Definitely," I agreed cheerfully. "Our favorite niece, hands down."

Olivia gave us a watery smile and rolled her eyes. "I'm your only niece, but thanks."

I shrugged. "Lack of competition doesn't change the facts."

She hugged both of us at once before standing and picking up her egg basket. I could practically see the effort she made to shake off her vulnerable moment.

Hmm. Wonder where she got that from? I joked to myself, glancing down at Zoey.

"Love you guys," Olivia said, blowing air kisses. "Auntie, I'm off to go get you chocolate."

Once she was out of earshot, Zoey slumped against me with her head in hands.

"Zoey, you handled that perfectly," I told her, rubbing her back soothingly.

"You really think so?"

"Yes," I replied honestly. I turned her face towards mine, so I could see her eyes. "You're going to be a wonderful mother, you know."

And then I pulled her in for a kiss.

That Friday I was in a good mood as I left the Institute.

For a second week in a row there had been no sign of the thugs who'd attacked us as we drove home from the cafe the night before. Zoey's morning sickness had yet to make a reappearance, so we had hopes that it had officially passed.

And we'd decided to officially announce her pregnancy that night at dinner with our friends.

So there was an extra pep in my step as I entered our building that afternoon, primroses for Zoey in hand. I even smiled and said "hello" to Ms. Peterson when I saw her in the lobby.

Rather than returning my greeting, her expression turned sour.

"Just because your wife's the landlord, doesn't mean it's alright for you two to make all that ruckus upstairs," she scolded.

"Beg your pardon?" I asked blankly.

"Earlier- it sounded like there was a circus going on up there," Ms. Peterson explained, glaring at me. "I've half a mind to call the police-"

What?

Icy cold dread suddenly gripped my insides, eclipsing all other sensation.

I darted away, taking the stairs two at a time and not caring one jot if that crazy cat woman saw my superhuman speed or complained of my rudeness.

Our apartment door was hanging open at the top of the stairs.

No. No no no-

I burst inside, dimly noting the scent of blood and smoke in the air as I frantically looked for Zoey.

The kitchen was a disaster area- scorch marks and blood streaks all over the place, a dented frying pan thrown haphazardly on the floor, and the makings of a grilled cheese sandwich scattered on the counter top.

But no Zoey.

There are no suitable words in the English language for my horror in that moment.

My eyes zeroed in on a note, propped up against our telephone. I snatched it up eagerly, praying for some glimmer of hope-

"We have your wife, mutant scum.

867-5309

Call this number if you ever want to see her alive again."

My heart stopped beating.

Zoey...