Emily lay in bed, trying to get a little extra sleep after the last case – she'd gotten in late the previous night, kissed Lucy, then turned off the baby monitor so she wouldn't wake her when she checked on Clara. The baby was sleeping through the night now, but had recently started cutting a tooth and usually woke up around three AM when her infant Tylenol wore off. Much as she hated seeing the baby in pain, she cherished those moments where it was just the two of them, snuggling together in the early morning hours.
In her half-wake/half-sleep state, Emily felt a little finger prod her cheek. Then, her closed eye. Finally, a little finger stuck itself up her nose.
Giving up on the idea of getting any more sleep, Emily opened her eyes to find Clara's little face peering down at her, barely an inch away. "Hello, Tiny Dancer," she greeted in a sleepy mumble. She yawned, wondering how it was possible someone who had been awake at three AM was already wide awake and getting into mischief.
There was stifled laughter from the doorway and she glanced up to find Lucy leaning against the door frame, smiling fondly as she watched them. "Sorry for the wake-up call," she murmured, approaching to sit on the edge of the bed. "She just wouldn't stop fussing until she saw her Mama..."
"Are you a Mama's girl?" Emily asked the baby.
Clara clapped her pudgy little hands together as if in reply. The smile she seemed to save just for Clara in place, Emily leaned in to kiss her, Clara meeting her lips for a drooly approximation of a kiss.
"She really missed you," Lucy answered for the baby. "Mommy couldn't do anything right the whole time you were gone..."
"Were you mean to your Mommy?" Emily addressed Clara.
"She kept spitting out the food I made, screamed all during bath time, and wouldn't go down for a nap."
Trying not to laugh, Emily turned to the baby and said seriously, "My goodness, you sure are getting a little attitude, aren't you, girly?"
"Perks of having a one year old, I guess," Lucy agreed.
Mussing Clara's hair, she said, "That's right, little one, you're a year old! Happy birthday!"
Clara squealed with glee, sensing their excitement, even if she didn't understand the words. Emily offered her palm and Clara eagerly patted her hand in return in a tiny little high-five.
"I'm so glad you made it home for her birthday," Lucy murmured, kissing the top of Clara's head. "I was so worried you wouldn't make it."
"There was no way I'd miss this," she vowed, "Even if I had to fly the jet home myself."
Leaning over Clara's head for a kiss, Lucy said, "Good. Now, get your beautiful butt out of bed because apparently I can't use a spoon good enough for a baby..."
"I just got off the phone with Garcia," Emily announced, entering the kitchen. (She'd had to leave the room to take the call because Clara seemed to find it hilarious to test her volume modulation – namely the loud part whenever anyone was on the phone.)
Clara squealed with joy upon seeing her again, hammering her high chair tray with her spoon, spraying every nearby surface with oatmeal in the process. "Mamamamamama," she chattered.
"Yes, beautiful girl," Emily agreed, "Mamama loves you." She leaned down to drop a kiss to the top of Clara's head.
"What did Garcia want?" Lucy asked, following after with a dish cloth to wipe up the oatmeal.
"What do you think?"
"Let me guess...she's planned some kind of secret extravagant party for the munchkin?" she guessed because she knew Garcia well enough to expect such a thing.
Emily gave her a well, duh look, then laughed. "Are you surprised? She seems to be under the impression that Clara hung the moon..."
With tender smiles, the both looked to Clara who had since abandoned her spoon and was jamming oatmeal into her mouth with her hands.
"Not even a little," Lucy confirmed, shaking her head at the messy baby.
When her gaze lingered on the baby, something unreadable in her eyes, Emily asked, "What about you?"
"Hmm?" She looked up, brow raised in question.
She reached for Lucy's hand, squeezing it gently. "It can't be easy to have to commemorate almost two years since Doyle..."
Lucy cut her off because even after all this time, she hated to hear the actual words. "I don't regret her," she interrupted.
"But...?" Emily prompted.
She shook her head. She didn't need to say anything; Emily understood her silence completely. Instead of words, Emily just wrapped her in a tender embrace.
Then, annoyed that no one was paying attention to her, Clara hollered, making her mothers laugh.
"Yes, birthday girl, we will pay attention to you now," Lucy assured her. "Everyone will pay lots of attention to you at your party." A momentary look of sadness washed across her face.
Emily didn't miss it, subtle as it was. She dropped a kiss on the top of Clara's now oatmeal-smeared head, then reached over top of her to stroke Lucy's cheek. "It's not too late to cancel – we can just have our simple little family day..."
They hadn't planned much in the way of a celebration – namely because they anticipated Garcia being, well, Garcia. They were simply going to spend the day as a family, enjoying the time they had with Clara that they both knew they could never get back.
Lucy shook her head. "People want to celebrate her, how can I say no to that?"
She couldn't argue with that, but she was still determined to have at least a few moments just as a family. Then, she noticed Lucy smirking. "What's so funny?" she asked.
"You have oatmeal on your face..." she said with a giggle.
"So, it's cute on the baby, but not on me?" she asked, teasingly.
She shrugged. "That a problem?"
Swiping her fingers through the oatmeal covering Clara's high chair tray, Emily reached over to smear some across Lucy's cheek. She stuck her tongue out childishly.
"I'm going to get you for that..." Lucy threatened playfully.
"You'll have to catch me first..."