Friday, April 3, 2020

"Sam! Oh, I'm so glad I caught you." Thirty-four-year-old Cassandra Fraiser Fletcher pushed her auburn locks out of her hair with a hand bespeckled with flecks of paint.

There was something off about the graying astrophysicist as she blinked and sat up on the couch. "Hi, Cassie. What's going on?"

Cassandra craned her neck forward as far as she could to study the video, her pregnant bump getting in the way of, well almost anything these days. "I'm sorry, Sam. Did I wake you?"

The corner of Sam's lips lifted into a sardonic half smile as something soft clattered to the hardwood floor. She bent down and picked it up, and for a moment Cassie was incredibly envious of the woman's slender figure. "Apparently, I fell asleep while I was reading." Sam stretched her back, a slight wince on her lips as something seemed to crack. "I'm gonna feel that tomorrow."

Sometimes it was hard to remember that the legendary SG-1 was getting older. Sometimes, it was painfully obvious. Cassie blinked away an irrational fear of being left behind by this extended family she'd grown to rely on. "What were you reading?"

Sam lifted the book to the screen. "Stephen Hawking's A Brief History of Time. It's been years since I read it, but I had a few minutes, and I thought maybe I'd give it a whirl."

Cassandra couldn't tell if the frown growing on Sam's lips was a reaction to being awoken or if it was because she was trying to figure out why she'd fallen asleep. "Should I call back later?"

The question seemed to ground the closest person Cassie still had to a mother back to earth. "It's fine. What's going on?"

Before Cassandra could respond, Sam's analytical eyes ran the length of the screen. "It's good to see you."

Thank goodness she hadn't tried to say, You look good. Cassandra was many things, including frazzled, stressed, and busy. There was no way she looked good. "You know how I've been working on that abstract commission I got a couple of weeks ago?"

Sam nodded. "What about it?"

"Well, it's due tomorrow, and I'm so behind. I know you're probably busy working on something for the Air Force, so if you can't—"

Sam chuckled, raising a hand to the screen. "Cassie?"

"Hm?"

"Breathe."

Cassandra massaged her temple as she closed her eyes and inhaled. Then, she exhaled.

"Better?"

Cassandra sighed. "Only a little."

"Now, what do you need?"

Cassie grimaced. "You wouldn't have a few minutes where you could help Carson with his math, would you? I'd do it myself except you know how I am with numbers, and I've got this commission, and Greg's on the phone every minute trying to keep up with the ever-increasing demands for disinfectant wipes."

Sam raised a hand again. "Cassie?"

"Yeah?"

Amusement twinkled in Sam's blue eyes. "I'd be happy to."

Cassie raised a wary eye, not willing to give herself the freedom to feel relief until she was absolutely certain that this was going to work. "Are you sure? He's got a big unit test coming up, and he is my child after all, so this might not just be a fifteen minute commitment. If you've got some important Air Force project in the works, I really will understand."

Sam folded the blanket Jack had probably draped over her as she slept. "Yeah, I've got real, pressing Air Force commitments, Cass."

For the first time in weeks, Cassandra felt like she could breathe again. She clapped her hands together and gave a slight bow in gratitude. "You are my hero. Thank you."

"Tell you what? How about I take turns with each of your boys and help them with their homework a couple of times a week? What I can't manage, I'm sure Daniel would be happy to help with."

Cassandra gaped at her. "Seriously?"

Sam nodded. "Of course. We've got your back."

Cassandra slumped backward against the back of her dining room chair. "You don't know what a weight that is off my mind. I love them, but having them home with all the changes going on right now, it's rough."

"I'll bet." Sam hesitated for a moment. "You know, I was going to have a girls' night with Vala next week. It's become something of a tradition. Nothing fancy, just the beverage of your choice. Some laughs. I might even paint my toenails."

That unpleasant jealousy reared its head again. Oh, to be able to touch her toes again. Greg had always been good at paying for her to get pedicures when she was pregnant, but he'd gone a step further during quarantine and started painting them for her. She was lucky, she knew, but she still would have given anything to be able to do it herself.

Apparently unaware of Cassandra's wandering mind, Sam turned questioning eyes to the screen. "Do you want in?"

Cassandra sat back, her hands on her pregnant bump. "Why not? I could use an extra shot of estrogen in my life."

"Aren't you expecting a girl?"

Cassandra nodded as she smoothed her smock over her belly. If she was honest, this was the source of her anxiety. Having a baby in the middle of a global pandemic. The Air Force Academy doctor she saw because of her alien physiology would allow Greg to come with her for the delivery, but no one else. "Not long now."

Sam leaned forward, her innate ability to read Cassandra's thoughts seeming to activate again. "You know I'd be there if I could, right?"

That had never been in question. Sam had taken the first flight fifteen years ago, too, when Cassandra's grades did more to prove that she was struggling with her adopted mother's death than she cared to admit. Two weeks after Sam's own father had died. That wasn't even counting when Sam had risked her own life to stay with Cassandra in a nuclear testing facility when she was twelve.

Cassandra swallowed down emotion, refusing to think of how different this baby's birth would be from all the others. "Greg and I, we kicked around a lot of names for this little one."

Sam's eyebrow twitched in interest. "Yeah?"

Cassandra nodded as she rubbed her belly. "I mean, Lara after my biological mom. Janet after my adopted mom. Susan after his mom."

"All of those are great names, Cass. Your daughter would be lucky to have any of them."

She nodded. "Yeah, she would, but the more we thought about it, the more none of them seemed to fit. Last week, we realized there was only one name we could possibly give our daughter that wouldn't minimize any of the contributions our mothers made on our lives but would still have that personal connection we wanted for our kids."

Sam's brow was furrowed as Cassandra looked back into the camera. "Would you mind if we named our daughter after you?"

Shock replaced confusion on Sam's face. "What?"

"It would be her middle name to avoid confusion, but we were thinking Addison Samantha."

Sam's lips lifted into a smile. "That's a beautiful name."

"Then, we have your blessing?"

Sam's eyes shone with happy tears. "Of course. I'm honored."

Another weight lifted from Cassandra's shoulders. "Well, we had to do something. Without you, Greg and I wouldn't have met."

Sam rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right."

Cassandra awkwardly leaned forward into the camera again. "No, Sam, I'm serious. And I'm not just talking about when I was twelve. If you hadn't come to Nevada, I would have dropped out or been kicked out of school. I wouldn't have been there three years later on graduation day, sitting next to a guy I'd never met in school, who was as analytical as I was artistic."

Sam's blue eyes danced with amusement. "You mean, the guy who asked you out as you stood in line to get your diploma?"

Cassandra laughed. "I guess he didn't see I'd switched commencement programs with him and left him my number."

Sam shook her head. "You two are too cute."

"Says the woman whose husband bought her a cello to celebrate her homecoming."

Sam leaned forward, her fingers steepled under her chin. "What can I say? I've got a keeper."

"Who's a keeper?" There was a creak in the floorboards, and Sam grinned onscreen before she turned the camera to include the beaming gray-haired Jack. "Hey, Cassie."

Cassandra smiled though worry over her commission pulled at the back of her mind. If she wasn't careful, she could spend all her painting time talking to old friends. "Hi, Jack."


Cassandra stretched her back as she sat on the wooden stool to finish the commission. Something about the interplay between the darkness and the light—the chiaroscuro—wasn't right yet, but she couldn't figure out what it was.

Her husband knocked at the door to her garage studio. "Boys are in bed."

She didn't look back at him, still just stared at the painting, willing her mind to conjure up how to fix the problem. Unfortunately, other than naming where the problem occurred, she couldn't identify what it was. Were the darks too dark? Were the lights too light? Was there too much gradient middle between them?

She almost jumped when Greg's arms wrapped around her middle, his lips brushing against the back of her neck, just under where she'd twisted her hair up and out of the way. "You should come to bed. You need your rest. It's not going to be long before we're back in the land of midnight feedings."

Her mind still on the problem at hand, Cassie chuckled. "You say that like I don't already have midnight bathroom trips interrupting my sleep."

The vibrations of his chest told her he was laughing soundlessly as he rested his chin on her shoulder. "Problem?"

She put one hand, the one without the paintbrush currently in it, atop her husband's which rested right where her breastbone and her bulging belly met. "It's done—I mean, it could be done—but there's something about it that I just can't quite—"

She leaned forward, Greg's hands falling from around her middle in order to give her the freedom to move, and got to work. A little yellow ochre mixed with platinum white. A streak here. A dusting there. The slightest hint of light in the corner.

She sighed in pleasure as she cleaned her brush. Perfect.

"Done now?"

Cassie nodded as she let her husband's strong but unsculpted arms help her off the stool. She'd sat there longer than she probably should have, her back and hips protesting as she walked toward the house.

"Thanks for letting me work."

Greg shook his head, and his short strawberry blond hair ruffled back and forth. "I still can't believe you took a commission this close to your due date."

"I took the commission before the quarantine, and if I hadn't had the boys underfoot, I would have—"

She stopped, grabbing hold of her husband's arm to stop him.

"Cass?"

She rubbed her belly with one hand, blinking in an effort to clear the pain from her mind.

Greg bent his knees to try to catch her eye, his concern shining even in this cloudy, moonlit backyard. "Breathe. Inhale. Exhale."

As her muscles relaxed, Cassie exhaled long and low.

"Contraction?"

She nodded.

His eyebrows shot up, the folds of his forehead creasing in worry. "First one?"

She nodded again as she started walking back to the house.

He kept pace with her as he checked his watch, probably making note of the time.

Despite the fear which tugged at a corner of her heart, reminding her how different this delivery would be, her heart swelled with love for this man who had joined his journey to hers for the last twelve years or so.

She stopped, and he readied himself for another contraction. She just smiled as she leaned in and kissed him. "I love you."

He relaxed as he smiled back at her. "I love you, too."


It was almost three the next morning before Cassandra heard the wail that told her it would all be over soon.

Her daughter.

Greg held her hand, his attention focused on the baby the obstetrician pulled from her and placed on her chest. "She's here."

He kissed her temple, the yellow paper mask standing between their skin, but it didn't matter. The gesture was appreciated as Cassandra brought a hand up to the baby who railed against the cold, attempting to soothe her with a maternal touch. "Hello, little one. Welcome."

She could almost feel her mothers smile down at her from wherever they were watching over her.

"Nice job, Cassandra."

Cassie looked over at the video call they'd started with Sam several hours ago. "What do you think of your namesake?"

Sam blinked away tears. "I think she's perfect. Just like her mama."