Whoops, dropped the ball on reading and writing again.


The Crank – Miller petting farm was always a favorite location for a Quinn – Curtis family outing, and Happy was especially excited about taking the kids on this particular day. Things had been gloomy the past week, and not even the best of Toby's magic tricks could put much of a smile on their children's face. Ellie could be distracted by a change of scenery. Tad was a slightly different story – he needed a direct distraction for himself. At the top of the list of things he did was distract his little sister.

Happy watched as Ellie patted the shoulder of an animal while the employee watched and smiled.

"What's her name?" Ellie asked.

"This is Mollie," the girl said. "She's our oldest alpaca, as well as the one who has lived with us the longest."

"Does she have a baby?"

The girl bit her lip. "Well, she's had them in the past. Not this year."

"Did it die?"

"Oh, no, just older animals often don't have as easy of a time becoming pregnant…"

Ellie started to cry, shaking her hands and then putting them up over her face. Tad rushed to her. "Ellie," he said, "what sound does that goat make?"

"Blee," she said quietly through her hands.

"What does a cow make?"

"Moo."

Looking uncomfortable, the worker moved away, putting a smile back on her face as she approached another family. "Hi there! Come to see our mamas and babies today, have we?"

"Good boy, Tad," Happy mumbled under her breath. She stepped closer to her children. "Isn't it so nice to see Mollie having a nice retirement at the place she's lived for so long? That's very nice, isn't it, Ellie?"

"Did her baby die?"

"No," Happy said, although she honestly had no idea. "No, she probably is just too old to have babies, just like some people."

Ellie looked from her mother to Tad, then bit her lip and walked over to another pen. "Can I go in with them?"

"Just remember what we talked about with the goats, baby," Happy said. "Close the first door before opening the second. Sheep can escape too."

"I'm worried about her," Tad said when Ellie entered the pen and squealed with delight as a couple lambs approached her.

"About your sister? It's sweet of you to be worried, Tad," Happy said.

"She's worried about Tilly. She talks about her a lot."

Happy nodded. "I know. But we have to try and keep her mind off of it. You're doing a wonderful job of helping her."

Tad crossed his arms, staring down at the ground. "It's good the longer she's okay, right? The longer there aren't any problems?"

There had been problems. Problems that were entirely to be expected with how early she had come into the world. But Tad didn't know about them, because they had been handled. "Every day that she's still okay is a good sign, Tad," Happy said.

Tad took his mother's hand. "You and Dad worry, too."

"We do," she said. "We're just better at, adults are better at distracting themselves or fixating on something else. It's called compartmentalizing, if you want to get really technical. But basically it's just our way of handling things." She squeezed Tad's hand. "When you get big, you'll get better at it. To be honest, it kinda sucks too. It's what we call a no win situation."

She and Tad looked over, startled, at another shriek from Ellie. A lamb had knocked her over. She was laughing as she put her hands on its forehead. "See?" Happy said. "Sometimes it is better to be a little."

"I'm not very little or very big," Tad said.

"That's true, Taddy," Happy said. "You're stuck in the middle." Not quite old enough to push something completely out of his mind, and not quite young enough to forget about the little girl in the NICU just because a little baby sheep was nosing him. Maybe Tad had it the worst of the Quinn – Curtis clan.

"Hey," Toby said, approaching them with a drink carrier. "I got us slushies."

Happy watched as Tad solemnly took one, thanked his father, and sat on one of the chairs, slurping in relative silence.


One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Seven floors up. And…

Walter counted carefully, right to left, looking for window twelve. That was, by his and Sylvester's calculations, the window that was closest to where baby Tilly lay in the NICU. They'd figured it out the previous night, when he, Paige, and Amber had accompanied the new parents on their visit to their daughter.

Tonight, Walter was here alone.

Florence had gotten, to use her words, "worked up" the past two times she'd visited, and she and Sylvester had agreed it was probably better for her to stay home the next day and get some extra sleep. Walter didn't know for sure, but he suspected Toby had given her something to help her in that respect, since the feeble milk supply she and Paige had managed to create in the plane had disappeared almost as quickly as it'd shown up and therefore she didn't need to worry about medication endangering Tilly.

So, the Tipton – Dodds were at home, hopefully asleep. Walter had only told Paige he was going out for a drive to clear his head, an idea that she'd encouraged. "Just be careful of your speed," she'd told him with a playful wink combined with a look that told him she was in fact serious. After his awful car accident in the first year they'd known each other, and considering frustration and despair had been the factors that had resulted in him being in a place to be hoodwinked by a deer, and his subsequent head injuries, Walter knew he couldn't blame Paige for being worried about him.

But he wasn't driving like a mad man tonight, or even doing anything dangerous at all. He was simply sitting in his car, watching Tilly's window, feeling better for being there even though she had no idea anyone was watching at all.

He sipped his water. This was the same hospital his sister had died in. His sister. Sylvester's first wife. The one who very well could have been the mother this baby, if things had happened differently.

None of them, Team Scorpion nor the hospital, could have saved Megan. Walter could have done nothing differently, not focused more on his research, not spent more time with her in her last few months, nothing. He couldn't do anything for Tilly, either. He couldn't even properly visit her.

But he could do this. Sit outside, as close to the smallest and newest member of Scorpion as he could. Put out every effort, like he'd failed to do for Megan the last fall she was alive because he'd been in denial. Because he'd been scared.

He couldn't be scared this time. Sylvester and Florence were feeling that enough. This time, his job was to be strong.