Ingrid loves her job. Especially in times like these, where everything seems to be falling apart, it provides her with a stability that nothing else can offer. With her dissertation coming further and further – she needs to work her nervous energy off somehow – you might think that she would rather spend her time in the office doing archive work. But she doesn't. Even though she's over qualified for shelving. She could very well ask Barb or their new assistant, Drew, to put the books back into their place. To dust of the books, collect those people have been too lazy to put back – that kind of stuff. Those unappealing tasks that nobody wants to do, especially when you could be chatting about books or offer an extra reading hour to the kids who against all odds choose imagination over Hollywood.

Yet those little things are those Ingrid cherishes the most. Before she became aware of her witchy heritage she would re-sort her own bookshelves (yes, shelves; problem?) every couple of months. Now she lacks the time. It pains her to think of those books still hidden away in boxes at her apartment. In between all the deaths and the brand new life she never got to unpack them. Poor babies.

A hand flutters down to her belly. Baby. It never meant so much to her. It never meant so little.

Barb is well into her 8th month now and only working on her own insistance. Apparently, sitting at home doing nothing is very exhausting. Therefore, Barb has chosen to keep up the reading hour until- well. She's never clarified it, probably till her waters break.

Ingrid knows her friend is anticipating the birth, the baby. Barb has never wanted anything more than a family. Her own was never so close knitted as is Ingrid's, which added to the wish. It's good to know that she could help her friend with that. She's asked Ingrid to be the godmother right after announcing the pregnancy. Ingrid has accepted, of course. That's what you do for a friend. Besides, she's been looking forward to it. Being a godmother is kind of like motherhood, only without all the smelly diapers and arguments over homework. Godmothers, Ingrid knows, are only for fun – giving presents, going to the cinema – that's what they do. No responsibility.

Only now, there's no choice for her. She will have to take responsibility whether she likes it or not.

"Ugh!" Wrapped in her train of thought, Ingrid hasn't been watching where she's going. The air is knocked out of her lungs as she falls onto her back from the impact of running into someone quite tall and muscular.

"Oh, Christ, are you alright?" The voice sounds familiar somehow, but Ingrid is sure she's never seen this man. It's more like a deja-vù kind of feeling. Everything is happening so fast, she's astonished to find herself sitting on a bean bag, a cup of steaming tea resting on a table next to her in the blink of an eye.

The guy, whom she doesn't know but somehow does, is sitting on the opposite side of her, flanked by Barb and Drew. "Look who's back", Drew jokes. He's charming. Hudson would have liked him.

"What happened?" She tries to sit up a little, as she's pretty much slouched. Her lungs hurt.

"Well, you had your nose deep down in the book – as usual – but – unusually – this gentleman crossed your path and pretty much knocked you over", Barb adds jokingly.

"Not on purpose", the 'gentleman' adds.

"Of course not", Drew jumps in, a wicked grin on his lips, "And you owe him one. Practically saved your life."

Rolling her eyes, Barb slowly gets up with highly complicated motions – Ingrid dreads that stage of pregnancy just by watching her. „He's overdramatizing. Anyway, we must be on our way. You drink your tea and don't come back before you're finished!"

They walk/waddle off and Ingrid is left with her personal knocking air out of lungs gentleman. She tries a smile. "I guess a thank you and sorry for running into you is in order? So, er. Thank you and sorry."

" No worries. I'm just glad you're alright." He replies with a smile. "Troy Overbrook", he adds, offering his hand. Nodding, she shakes it. "Ingrid Beauchamp."

"Ingrid", he repeats, "That's pretty."

"Yeah? I always thought that my sister got luckier, Freya is such a pretty name with a nice meaning..." She shaked her head. "Sorry, that's not exactly a 'thank you' talk..."

"No, it's fine. I'd like to hear it, really."

"Really?"

"Really. Actually, I'm glad you ran into me."

Now she's lost his train of thought. "Really?"

"Yeah, gave me an opportunity to ask you out for coffee."

Her head is spinning, from lack of air or what he just offered, she doesn't know.

"Or dinner? Lunch? Or If you don't do eating, maybe a book recommendation." He smiles. Full teeth. It looks lovely.

Ingrid doesn't answer right away and when she wants to, she's interrupted. "I..."

"INGRID!" This time she's sure whose voice that is, her mom's. And the sounds of heels on the floor tell her she's not alone. Her mom has not touched high shoes since Wendy and Freddie died.

"Mom?" Without any help, she's not as far along as Barb after all, she gets up. Her head is still spinning a little, her hand goes to a chair to assist her in keeping upright.

"Ingrid, Barb told us you fell? Are you okay?" The second woman is Alex, she's looking worried. Ingrid lifts her hand in greeting then the newly found air leaves her again by her mom's crushing hug. "Mom-"

"Are you in any pain? Have you checked on the baby?", Alex adds.

"Baby?"

The croaked sound reminds them that it's not just the three of them. There's Troy. They all look at him, Ingrid with a half-smile.

"Thor?", Joanna asks.

For Ingrid, the line's been drawn. She faints.

A/N: Thank you guys for reading. Let me know what you think and have a nice weekend. :)