Jake slowly goes down the stairs, minding each of his steps not to wake anyone in the house, walking barefoot on the creaking wood.

The morning is so young still, he can see through the window that the moon is shining high outside, hidden behind the clouds. It's not entirely dark, though – there's snow falling down in millions of huge flakes, whitening the sky and bringing some light in. Everything is quiet around him, a surely most welcomed contrast to the bustle of the rest of the day, when all of Amy's numerous nieces and nephews are up and running, excited, around the place. Jake's never really been one for waking up early, but ever since he became a father, he's come to understand – and fully appreciate, even – the true beauty of mornings, with his precious little girl calling for her parents at hours he would have considered inconceivable in the past.

For sure, it's exhausting. More than once did he let out a desperate groan before leaving his bed when it's his turn to check on their crying baby in the middle of the night, especially after a long day at work. But, once he has his daughter all curled up against his chest, falling back to sleep with her blinking eyes stuck on him and her tiny hand gripping one of his fingers, all tiredness is quickly forgotten, replaced with a blissful feeling. He finds then that there's something really soothing about these moments – how they're the only two awaken souls in the house – the whole building, probably –, the sun itself not having risen up yet either, surrounded by nothing but silence as he paces back and forth the nursery, his calm whispers and Ana's breathing, turned quieter and quieter with every second passing by, the only audible sound.

This morning, though, he's not alone. The girl's cries aren't even what woke him up so early – rather the odd absence of them, or any other possible noise as simple and quiet as her or his wife's catch of breath next to him, did. He was surprised to realize his room was empty, when he first opened his eyes, and decided to go look for his family.

He hears Amy's presence before he can see her, her humming voice resonating through the walls as he goes downstairs, mingling with the crackling sound of flames burning inside the fireplace. It's only when he enters the living room that his gaze falls upon her silhouette – she's sitting there, on a couch in front of the chimney, wearing his NYPD hoodie and an extra blanket, their daughter comfortably lying in her arms. His expression immediately softens at the sight, an endearing smile forming on his face. He stays there, watching, for a while.

She doesn't seem to have heard him coming in, her whole attention drawn onto the baby against her chest, too concentrated on singing her a lullaby to notice anything else happening around them. Jake recognizes the melody, despite not being able to make out the words – Amy's lullabies are all Spanish ones, a language he unfortunately doesn't speak (not that he never tried to learn – he actually did, once, when he started dating the love of his life, though quickly had to give up). He knows it from a darker time, when he'd wake up in the middle of the night after one of his all too vivid post-prison nightmares, and Amy helped him back to sleep this way.

Thankfully, everything's resolved now; life has taken a much joyous turn for them, and he's more than happy to hear his now wife and mother of his child's singing voice again, especially on such occasion.

When she eventually falls silent, sure that Ana is deeply asleep and won't wake up for a while, she looks up, finally meeting her husband's eyes. Her face lits up immediately and a tired, though loving beam slightly curves up the corners of her mouth. Jake takes this as his cue to come closer, taking a seat by his favorite girls' side, instinctively wrapping an arm around Amy's shoulder, watching the tiny peaceful baby on her lap. Their baby.

"Did we wake you up?" The woman whispers, making him look up at her.

"No. I didn't even hear her cry," he admits.

While he speaks, Jake skims his fingers over the infant's head, gently stroking her already darkening hair. "I'm sorry," he adds apologetically.

"That's okay. You looked like you needed the rest. That's why we came here – not to disturb you. And also because I was getting cold."

Jake quietly chuckles. "Yeah, your nieces and nephews are so exhausting. They always want to play, never leave me alone one moment."

It's not a complaint, though. In this rented cabin, with both his and his wife's whole families reunited together, he's finally having the holidays he wished for since he was a child. And, the fact that it's also his daughter's first holidays makes it all the more perfect.

Amy reaches for his hand, squeezing gently, smiling back at him amusedly. "That's because they love you. You're amazing with children."

With babies too, she doesn't add but means it, and her husband can read it in her eyes, his own smile growing wider as his heart fills with warmth.

There was a time, not long before Ana's birth, when he began to wonder if he'd be able to do it – be a good dad. After all, he'd spent most of his life without one.

(And, when he was there, he wasn't the best example either.)

All it took to calm down his worries, along with Amy's soothing words, was a glance at the newborn. He knew instantly then, that he wouldn't screw things up.

He couldn't.

Because he loved her so much already, the simple thought of her possibly being hurt crushed his heart, and he instinctively held her closer, as if to protect her.

I promise I'll always be there for you.

Minutes pass, and the couple stays silent, watching over their sleeping daughter, a matching beam spread across their features and Amy's head now resting against Jake's chest, surrounded by nothing but the relaxing sound of the still burning flames inside the fireplace. They watch as the sun starts to rise, slowly flooding the room in bright light, the floor outside now completely covered in the white powder. It's only then that Amy talks again, putting an end to the quietness that had fallen upon them.

"We should take her back to bed before anyone wakes up and wake her up."

Jake nods his agreement, and both parents head back to their room, carefully laying the baby back in her crib. Again, they take a moment to stare at her, unable to draw their gazes away from her as their fingers intertwine together on their own accord. When they finally look up and exchange a glance, they can read in the other's glowing eyes the same expression of awe and love.

Jake's the first to make a move, his free hand coming up to cup his wife's cheek, breaking the distance between them to peck her lips before pulling back, marveling at her.

"This is the best holidays ever."

It makes her smile in return. She's about to say something, but doesn't even have the time to open her mouth that the door suddenly, though quietly, opens and a small head appears in the frame – it's one of Amy's nephews.

"Uncle Jake!" Mason calls, thankfully in a whisper. "Remember how you told us we'd get pancakes for breakfast this morning?"

He does, yes, and now regrets his promise – because it's barely 7am during the holidays, but of course the youngest members of the Santiago family are already waking up. And they're excited and hungry.

Witnessing the scene, Amy laughs, urging him to go with a quick encouraging kiss, telling him she'll join them soon. Jake lets out a sigh, though feels as happy as he's ever been when he follows the boy downstairs, where a horde of children is impatiently waiting for him, all greeting him with huge grins and a hug.

It is the best holidays indeed, he thinks, then – spent with his whole, grew bigger, family.