I know it's been a while again. I'm sorry. Thank you for everyone who makes my heart sing with reviews.


"I know a song that gets on everybody's nerves! Everybody's nerves! Everybody's nerves!" Tad skipped around the sofa. "I know a song that gets on everybody's nerves, and this is how it goes! I know a song that gets on everybody's nerves! Everybody's nerves…"

Florence felt like telling him to be quiet was letting him win.

"Shut up!" Ellie shouted, clearly disagreeing with her aunt on strategy.

Tad grinned, hopping in the air before resuming his skipping. "I know a song that gets on everybody's nerves, and this! Is! How! It! Goes!"

Tilly had had to go back on oxygen the previous night, and although she'd been weaned off it now, Florence still needed a distraction from the panic. "It's going to be okay," Sylvester said. "She just needed a little extra help. They were never too concerned."

"I know that they're medical professionals and that's supposed to make me feel better," she'd told him. "But it doesn't."

Florence still couldn't get the first images of Tilly out of her head. She imagined that she never would. The faux-womb, the incubator, all the wires...the little girl looked more like a baby now, a tangible, thriving baby, but Florence still feared she'd never be able to look at her without seeing the tiny, skinny creature that had been born too early for generally accepted science to believe she could live.

But Scorpion. But Scorpion's accomplishments. Scorpion had saved her, or at least saved her long enough for the hospital to continue saving her. And now, providing she had no other complications in the next month or so, she might get to come home, congratulations, mom and dad, you may now return to regular life.

Except that 'regular life' wouldn't exist again. They couldn't go back to the Florence and Sylvester that weren't parents. And Florence hated herself as well as the circumstances for being so conflicted. Part of her felt like she was grieving the life they used to have, the just us that they would never be again. And then, just when she was questioning if they'd made the right decision to have a child, something would happen that would leave her sobbing and shaking and terrified that they would once again become just us.

"It's okay," said one of the women at Linda's group. "That's normal. Don't feel guilty for it. I know that's easier said than done. But try your best."

What she felt most guilty for was that she hadn't bonded with Tilly yet, not in the way Sylvester had. She still didn't feel that overwhelming love. She was still afraid, on top of everything else, that it might never come. She was an ambivalent mother, and it made her self-loathe even more.

So when Happy and Toby asked if she was willing to watch Tad and Ellie for a few hours, she jumped at it. She was too much of a coward to go to the hospital, so Sylvester went alone. She planned to go herself once he got back, and could personally assure her that the little girl was okay.

"I'm sorry I'm such a fraidy-cat," she said to him in a small voice before he left.

"Lori, it's okay."

"No it isn't. I should be better than this by now and I know it. You know it too, you're just being nice to me."

"Being nice to one's spouse is bare minimum," he said. "If me visiting her first so you're less anxious to visit her is a big ask to you, you're a lot less difficult than you think you are."

Florence appreciated it. Once they'd proven his vasectomy took she'd show him how much she appreciated it at his earliest interest.

"...and this is how it goes! I know a song that-"

Ellie grabbed one of the decorative pillows off the sofa and threw it in the general direction of her brother.


Fifteen photos, two videos, and about twenty minutes of verbal reassurance later, Florence stepped out of the arms of her husband, smiled, and headed to the hospital. She got her pass, and headed to Tilly's room. It was decorated. She wondered if it had already had those balloons and cards and origami swans the last time she visited. She was perfectly willing to believe that she hadn't noticed.

Tilly was finally starting to spend more time in the open crib. They'd apparently be doing a hearing test in another couple of days, providing she continued to tolerate the open crib. According to her charts, she was gaining weight the way they wanted her to, even though to Florence she still looked impossibly small.

"Can I hold her?" she asked a nurse who stopped in to say hello.

"Yes," the nurse said. "Be careful of her wires. And make sure when you put her back down that she's on her back. We fed her recently, so she should be okay about that."

Florence nodded. "Can you transfer her to me?" She was afraid to pick up her own child. What a horrid mother she was.

But the nurse didn't even bat an eye. She lifted Tilly gently out of the crib, shushing her gently when the baby grunted and gave a tiny cry. "Mama is here," she told Tilly, "look, look, it's Mama!" Smiling, the nurse lowered Tilly into Florence's arms. "There you go, see? Mama's here."

Tilly started to cry.

"She cries sometimes when we move her from one place to the next," the nurse said. Once she realizes she's safe, she should quiet down just fine."

Florence didn't fully believe her, but the nurse was right. Within just about two minutes, Tilly relaxed, lightly smacking her lips and staring up at her mother. She brought her hands up to her face, sucking on her fingers.

"Daddy told me how well you're doing," she said, "but it's good to see it for myself. You scared me yesterday, even though I know that you still sometimes need the oxygen and that's normal. It's why you're here, so they can make sure that everything is perfect before we take you home."

Sing to her, was the advice from Allie, and from Paige, too. But the only song she could think of was the one Tad had been singing earlier, and it would not be good for their bonding process if she got on Tilly's nerves.

Florence's eyes shifted around the room, looking at the children's drawings that were taped to the walls. She recognized Ellie and Amber's scribbles, and Tad's slightly more refined scribbles. She saw flowers, and could tell even from several feet away by the handwriting on the card that they were from Allie and Cabe.

Whenever her eyes went back to her daughter, Tilly's own eyes were open, staring upward at her, her lips moving as she continued to suck on her fingers.

Florence cleared her throat. She hadn't tried to sing in a long time, and even then, it was only in the car. She was no Paige. But she supposed it didn't matter. Not to Tilly.

She shifted her hold on her daughter, staring off at nothing.

"Love, look at the two of us.

Strangers in many ways.

We've got a lifetime to share.

So much to say,

And as we go from day to day

I'll feel you close to me.

But time alone will tell."

She looked back down at Tilly, giving the little girl a small smile.

"Let's take a lifetime to say

'I knew you well'

For only time will tell us so.

And love may grow, for all we know."