Chapter Twelve
Gloomy
Pre-series

The sharp squeal of his daughter's laugh breaks him from his reverie, and he shakes his head to clear his mind, to tuck away his dark thoughts. For now.

He can't wallow in his depression, not when he has a child to take care of.

"Up we go, Alexis," he hears his mother say, and when he looks up she's lifting his daughter onto the short slide and guides her to the ground. Martha finds him with her gaze and she lifts her brows, a pointed expression on her face.

He gives her a small smile and nod, and although she turns her attention back to Alexis, he knows that she'll be paying close attention to him. It's been that way since she moved back to the city, after Rick had come home to find divorce papers on the kitchen counter, which had included a document giving him sole custody of his two-year-old.

I can't do this, he'd pleaded with his mother. His whole world fell apart, still feels like it sometimes, and although he'd been doing most of the caregiving anyway, Meredith leaving him had felt like a final nail in the coffin that was his mid-20's.

In hindsight, his relationship with Meredith had been doomed from the beginning. What was meant to be a short fling had turned into a surprise pregnancy followed by a whirlwind wedding and, finally, a foreboding sense of an expiration date. She'd made it clear from the start that having kids was not in her five year plan, so she'd gone back to work almost immediately, leaving him as the stay-at-home dad with almost no say in the matter.

He didn't mind it then. He can work from home, can easily write around feedings and diaper changes. But he'd always thought that his twenties would be spent either married with the love of his life, or dipping his toes in the dating pool. Not living with his mother - no, having his mother live with him - trying to figure out how the hell to calm his daughter when she's crying for her mommy.

"Richard, can you come here?"

Rick looks up from the blades of grass he's studying to see his mother waving him over, and he panics for a moment before he notices Alexis playing in the dirt under the monkey bars. "What is it, Mother?" When Martha just gives him another look, he sighs and pushes himself up from the bench.

Martha reaches for him when he's close enough, and loops her arm through his. "Play with your daughter," she instructs in a firm voice, and gives him a little shove after letting go. "It'll be good for you."

He lets himself get lost in Alexis' laugh, her smile, her unbridled joy as she scrambles all over the playset. By the time she falls asleep in his arms the sun is starting to set, and he holds her while Martha puts her hat and gloves back on.

"I got her," Rick insists in a quiet voice when she motions to the stroller, and he shifts her higher onto his shoulder for the three-block walk back to his loft.

Later, after putting Alexis to bed, he joins his mother on the couch, a glass of scotch in his hand. "Just this one," he tells her when she looks at it. "I promise."

Martha settles back into the cushions. "Today was good. You needed the time with Alexis." She takes a long sip of her own wine.

Rick sighs. "You're right."

"What was that?" she teases.

"Yeah, yeah, don't rub it in." He rolls his eyes and smiles, but it fades when he glances towards the stairs. "I can't help but wonder if Meredith ever regrets what she's giving up."

Martha leans over and shoves his shoulder. "No," she snaps, her voice firm. "That woman doesn't deserve any more of your time. She made her choice. It's her loss. You are a great father, Richard. Alexis is lucky to have you." When Rick looks up he sees her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "So am I."

Rick stands and pulls her into a long hug. "Thank you for everything, Mother. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You would have figured it out." She pulls back and cups his face in her hands, and suddenly Rick feels like a kid, like it's one of the few times he received praise. "I'm proud of you, kiddo." She taps his cheeks before stepping away and reaching for her wine. "Good night."

Rick takes his scotch into his office after making sure the door is locked and turning out the lights, and as he boots up his computer, he leans back in his chair and stares at the ceiling.

He doesn't have good days very often, but yeah, today was one of them.