A/N: Requested on tumblr as a sort-of followup to the scene in "Bus Tour" where April and Chris have their little conversation about depression, only far later in the future. I wrote something on the April and Chris depression dynamic before, in Chapter 46, but this is a little different and I think a nice sentiment. Also, tangentially, related to Chapter 114.

I missed yesterday because I was writing an episode fic/smut fic that, if you're interested in, is on my profile page and you can find tons more on AO3 (handle: opti)!

The first time they talked about it, hidden and like they were both skirting around it, was much the same as it was with Andy that first time, but with Chris she knew that he understood it more from his own eyes. He'd seen and felt it, and she could tell then. It was almost an unspoken vow never to say another word about that conversation, but somehow it seemed to crop up here and there. When Chris started his therapy, April made a card out of simple printer paper and wrote on it, inside the folded bit, in capitalized, red marker:

Hope therapy makes you suck less.

April didn't bother decorating it with anything else and left it on his desk without a word. Before he could say anything to her, she had retreated back to the Parks department offices to pretend she didn't just do something nice. The next week, she saw the card sitting a bookcase in his office when she had to do the lamest job in the world - delivering paperwork because the stupid City Hall was still stupid-behind-the-times - and, for some reason, that gave her a tiny spark of something she guessed was happiness. Maybe something about it felt that she'd done some good for him, and so she only dropped the folders off with a scoff instead of an insult.

The next time the topic even came up was years later, and then again at the reunion that Ben had put together. They manage to make it out to see everyone at Andy's begging, and Jack still hasn't seen some of them yet. He only met Ron once and, really, her son has to know, fear, and respect the name Swanson. In reality, April did miss people but, as far as people that weren't Andy were concerned, she just did it because how could she miss a chance to make fun of Ann (and see her kids, who are surprisingly amazing) or to show off the second greatest person on the planet that they made. At the little party, after disentangling herself from Andy, thoroughly smitten by Jack and showing him off to everyone that would listen which was everyone because her son is freaking cute okay, April catches Chris just after he returns to the offices.

"April Ludgate-Dwyer," Chris says with that broad grin of his, emphasizing the hyphenate for reasons April isn't quite sure. "It is, as usual, lovely to see you! It's been so long since we've talked."

"Ugh, now I remember why," April says with a sour trill but doesn't move away from what used to be the permits counter.

"Your wit was always so delightful," he shakes his head but his smile never falters, creating the appearance of some sort of mannequin or human flesh doll. She'll have to ask Ann where she sticks her hand later. "And what is new with the greatest person on Earth?"

"I guess I'm telling people I'm pregnant again," April shrugs.

"That is wonderful news!" he almost screams, cheerful but not in the same way that Andy's jovial picking her up and spinning her around while yelling makes her smile and feel on top of the world. No, this just makes her grimaces. "Do you know the sex? When are you due? You should ask Ann about how she handled her second pregnancy because, honestly, she is an amazing woman and I think you two are-"

"Oh God, please stop," walks forward and shuts him up with a very brief hug that barely gets her arms around him. "There, you got a hug. You congratulated me. Now we can never speak again."

Andy walks over, sans-child as Leslie fawns over him with, ugh, Ann right there to join her (though, if April's being honest, Ann should like her kid since he's basically the best) and wraps his arm over her shoulder. He's got that look like he's just seen something that's supposed to be a secret and April lets out a sigh.

"Did I just see you guys-?"

"No," April snaps, interrupting Andy and burying herself further into his side.

"But you-"

"No."

"Oh, April just gave me a hug," Chris clarifies with a shaky voice and, if she's not mistaken, a little more excitement than he should have.

"Wow, babe, you are so sweet," Andy coos and kisses the side of her head. His rough movements require her to push her glasses back into place on the bridge of her nose, but she doesn't mind whatsoever.

"No, I'm not sweet," April whines. "I'm a demon."

"You could be a sweet demon!" Andy suggests, looking over to the corner where Leslie's now holding Jack. "Like a demon but with cotton candy."

She gives him a look and smirks. "Deal," she agrees, leaning up on her toes to kiss him. Andy leaves after another, longer kiss to go get their son.

"Now that is beautiful," Chris remarks and then seems to get an idea when his eyes flash open and he points at April. "Ah! There is one thing I wanted to give you after our little chat."

He fishes in his back pocket and produces a startlingly simple piece of paper. It's thick, almost like printer stock, and is folded in half. April rolls her lips, trying to remember what he was talking about. Then it hits her what he's talking about. Months before this, April had a relapse.

She couldn't explain it, but the birth likely spurred it on. Hormonal imbalance and natural causes and all of that, but the chemical exchange fired off a response to seeing her son that was normally fit only to be aimed at her, and April loathed it. Hating how it felt, she just called people. She called Leslie in a panic at four in the morning and, surprisingly, Chris answered. As it turns out, they were hosting the Perkins-Traegers and he happened to be returning from a late brisk walk and answered so that no one would wake if they already hadn't. April, in her fit, didn't care. It might have been the first time anyone other than Andy, that one counselor in high school, and her Psych professor in college heard her cry.

That was when Chris gave her the number to a psychologist that Ann knew, who could help.

Months later, she really has. April grabs the card with two fingers almost clinically, like she doesn't really want to see what's in inside, and she remembers the card she gave him years ago. Opening it up, there's a single line in simple, flat print:

You are incredible and strong, and a brave person and mother.

April stares at it for a moment and then blinks rapidly before putting the card down on the permits desk. She looks up at Chris and he gives her that winning smile, and she returns it as best she can.

"Thanks," she mutters.

"No, thank you," he rebuts and she just cocks her head curiously. "You cared, and you talked with me, and you showed that you cared in whichever way you felt comfortable doing so and that-" he jabs a finger in the air at her. "Is why you are a wonderful person."

"I just-"

"Even the smallest gestures mean the world to people in their darkest places," Chris interrupts with an almost soporific tenderness.

April stops speaking and closes her mouth. By now, Andy's returning with their son for Chris to join in on telling them how amazing he is. Seriously, Andy could spend the entire day telling people why the way that Jack giggles is the funniest thing in the world. When he's made it there, Andy notices that specific lilt in April's voice and holds Jack's hand, standing himself up awkwardly, and slips his other into hers automatically.

The subject changes instantly, Chris asking about his diet, and then the mood changes from thankful and oddly close to something that reminds her why April never really liked him. Andy, too, just groans and his eyes glaze over when nutritional tables are mentioned and Chris drones on and on.

When they get home, April puts that simple folded card on her desk in her office. It's way in the corner, where no one could really see it and the kids wouldn't be able to reach it for a while, and it definitely wasn't going to replace the pictures of her and Andy, and Champion and Jack, or the ones with the three of them and Leslie. Either way, it has its place in the corner.