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Francis hummed softly as he entered the house, closing a locking the door behind him before seeing Claire sunken into the couch cushions with a bucket of fried chicken on her eight month baby belly. She glanced over at him, chewing like she wasn't even enjoying it. "Hey, you're in a good mood." She sighed.

"It doesn't look like you are." Francis commented before sitting down next to her and resting his feet on the coffee table next to hers. "Did something happen today?" His eyes widened. "Wait, you had an appointment today? Is something wrong? Did the doctor say something was wrong with the baby?"

"Yes and no." Claire admitted. She slipped her hand into his though seeing the concern on his face. "She's healthy. Nothing is wrong with her. But, the doctor said that I haven't gained weight since my last appointment. In fact, I've lost weight." She lifted up another crispy wing. "With the lack of sleep and worrying about the fact that we have nothing for her, I guess it has affected my eating habits. So, he ordered me on bedrest until I go into labor."

Francis's eyes widened. "Bedrest? Claire, this is serious."

"Why do you think I'm forcing myself to eat greasy fast food?" Claire questioned him before tearing off another chunk. "I'm never going to look at fried chicken the same way again."

"Claire, we should get you into bed. You promised me that you wouldn't push yourself, and you would follow all the doctor's orders." Francis reminded her, standing up and taking the bucket from her. He ignored the glare she cast up at him and pulled her onto her feet. "I'll move the TV into the bedroom and bring the fried chicken, but you need to get into bed now. I will not jeopardize the health of you or the baby."

Claire rolled her eyes, rubbing her stomach as she waddled towards their back bedroom. "Like it will do any good. I can't sleep worth a wink. I constantly have to use the bathroom which defeats the purpose of bedrest. Your child is the one taking in all the nutrients."

Francis turned off the TV and grabbed the bucket before following her down the hallway, helping her get comfortable in their bed. "My child? As much as I loathe the moment now, I'm not the one who decided to keep this child."

"Yeah, throw that back in my face." Claire huffed out, crossing her arms over her chest as difficult as it was. "You probably won't want anything to do with her until she turns eighteen or can act like an adult. She'll have worse Daddy issues than you do."

"Not if I can help it." Francis bit back his tongue from what he really wanted to say. He knew that Claire's hormones were messing with her emotions, and the doctor now controlling her activities was causing her to lash out at him. She floundered when she was forced into something, did everything she could to get her way. And, she was focusing on one of his deepest fears. He didn't like kids, but he didn't want to have a child of his own for the fear of becoming his father. He watched the man drink until he couldn't stand, harm his mother and he himself until they found an escape. As much as he regretted it now, he denied pulling the trigger that would've blown his father's head off.

Despite the differences between himself and his father, he knew that it was easy for kids to become their parents. For as far as he tried to get away from that stigma, it would be easier to fall into that history than to continue building on the path he had already mapped if things got too off course. And, that's the last thing he wanted to be for his child. A regret that should've been ended, a life that wasn't worth knowing. His daughter, as Claire so adamantly predicted their child to be, would not be subjected to those behaviors from him.

Although he could easily turn Claire's worst fears into the light, he wouldn't. His fear of becoming his father was as deep as her fear was of becoming her mother. She was backed into a corner right now, and he was the only one around to bear the brunt of her frustration. He would not rub salt in the wounds and leave her raw with that fear he had spent months trying to convince her was unfounded. Because, one word from him about it would stick in her mind the rest of her days as a mother, and he wouldn't allow her fears to be echoed by his voice. He wouldn't allow one sentence of backlash to undo every other tearful conversation of confessing fears over being parents.

He was the one person who could unravel her, and she was the same for him.

Claire squinted when the TV woke her up, but she didn't move. Despite the glaring lights from the screen, the volume was nearly inaudible. What she could hear surprised her and made her remain on her side the way she was sleeping.

Francis laid beside her, facing her, with his nose grazing her stomach. His hand rested beside hers, feeling the small movements their daughter made while he spoke softly. "That kick was smaller. You must be tiring yourself out in there." He grinned when another move tickled his hand. "I know you're probably getting cramped in there. I'm sure you want to stretch out and see what's been going on out here. Believe me. Your mother and I have only wanted to see you the past seven months. You've probably heard some things, things you probably don't understand. But, I want you to know that we can't wait to meet you. I may have been against you at the beginning, but you've become so constant in our lives. I don't even know what you look like, but I can't imagine a world without you in it."

Claire smiled as he kissed her belly before he continued. "I didn't have a father I could go to. I'm actually glad you won't even meet him, but I promise you. I will try my hardest not to be him. I won't be like him. He was a coward. He tried to care for his family, but he just wasn't ever good enough. I know I'll never be good enough to be your father, but I'll be better than my father."

She felt a few tears slip from her eyes as she slipped her hand into his, catching him off guard as his eyes shot up to hers. "Francis, you'll never be your father. She's going to adore you."

"How do you know that?" Francis sighed, moving up the mattress to face her. He wiped away her tears with his thumb. "I grew up fearing the wrath of my father. What if she fears me, Claire? What if I frighten our daughter so much that I cause her pain?"

"You won't." Claire stated, leaning up to peck his lips. "She may become scared when you get angry. You make grown men shake in their three hundred dollar shoes when you get upset with them. But," she placed Francis's hand lower on her belly where their baby was moving slowly, "she will know that you love her, that you would do anything for her. We're both going to upset her and make mistakes, but we will do what our parents didn't. She will know that she is loved and protected and our whole world." She pressed her forehead to his. "I didn't mean to make you doubt yourself. I'm just emotional from everything going on. I know she's okay right now, but the doctor was very concerned. I'm not good just sitting around doing nothing."

Francis nodded. "I know. I didn't take what you said personally. You're worried. I am too. We went through this before, and we came out with no child. We ended our work at sixteen weeks. Now, we are fully committed and not in control. We're not our best when we don't have the reins, but we are doing this for our little girl. We are doing this so we can deliver a handful of a baby who we get to bring home and raise and screw up together."

Claire chuckled, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him close. "We've never tried this hard on something we couldn't completely control."

"That's what's scary." Francis breathed into her hair, caressing her back. "And, she's not even here yet."

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