Weariness of Minds

For disclaimer, see chapter 1.

A/N: Voilà, this is it, a sugary little excursion that blatantly ignores any London/San Diego issues, and Mattie never had an accident (my perfect little world)! I hope you enjoyed this story, and thanks to everybody who reviewed!

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Epilogue

A little over one year later, two weeks before Christmas

"I'm home," I yell when I open the front door, just like I do every time I come home later than she. Ever since she transferred out to the judiciary, her schedule is much more regular, and I can't always make it out of headquarters at the same time, unfortunately. Today it's different though, because she took the afternoon off; said she had some things to do.

Looking around our house now, I realize what it was: She has been decorating for Christmas. Our living room is glowing in the yellow lights that adorn the huge tree and the golden sparkle set off by the ornaments. Stockings hang on the fireplace – there's one for Sarah, one for me, plus Chloe and Mattie in case either one or both of them might be able to visit, and even one for Salem, our sleek black cat that wiggled her way into our lives half a year ago when she showed up on our back patio, half-starved to death. Said Salem is now much fatter and is currently rolled up in the corner of the couch where she spends most of her days. My wife, however, is nowhere to be seen.

I turn and want to head out of the living room when I step on something soft. The object turns out to be a pair of tiny socks. Odd, I think. Has Harriet been by today and forgot them? But they are still stapled together, I notice. Maybe Sarah was wrapping presents as well and just dropped them. I put them on the table and move on. But then I notice something else dropped on the floor, close to the staircase leading up to the first floor. And when I look up the stairs, there's another object in the middle of them, plus one more on top… like a trail.

I move to pick up the first one. A baby bib, with a print that says, "Feed me, Daddy." I chuckle at that. The one in the middle of the stairs turns out to be a tiny yellow hat. By now, my heart is accelerating. Hope is soaring that this means what I think it might mean.

I remember vividly that first doctor's appointment we went to together, where her doctor had told us in no uncertain terms that our chances of conceiving were less than five percent. She was heart-broken, but like a trooper, she talked her way through it, and we decided to get a second opinion. Things were looking decidedly better after that, as we were told that the infertility rate is generally about 25-35 percent, and while we might be in for a long haul, we were not to give up hope so quickly yet. It was a good sign that, even though her endometriosis was severe, the surgery had managed to remove all her symptoms. She was to continue taking birth control pills for another six months, which seemed very counter-productive to me until the doctor explained that they thin out the endometrial layer and that it was a common treatment after surgery. After the six months, we'd discuss our options with regards to natural conception versus insemination or in-vitro fertilization.

We had later decided to give ourselves some time and consider any treatment after the next January 1st. The beginning of a new year has become a decisive marker for our lives, because, you see, we got married on New Year's Eve of last year. After that fateful night that finally brought us together, things were going really well until we got our next shock on Christmas Eve, when Sarah had a car accident. Her car was totaled but miraculously, all she had were a few bruises. That was the point when I decided we had lost more than enough time, and asked her to marry me. She said yes, and it was the happiest day of my life, well, until the day she actually married me, that is. There was no stopping us after that, and we set the date for December 31st, to appropriately start the New Year with our new life. I still have to smile when I remember that her biggest worry was whether her bruises would fade until then, so she'd be a beautiful instead of Frankenstein's bride (her words, not mine!) They did, though, and she was so stunning it took my breath away.

She happily moved on to be a judge, stating that she had enjoyed it before, and that it'd be great once we had a family because of the more regular working hours. After some hunting, we found the perfect house for us, and now I am climbing up the stairs of this very house with my hopes soaring.

On top of the stair-case, I find a tiny body-suit, and see that the trail leads to our bedroom door. Anticipation is making me faster now, picking up all the small objects she has laid out for me – a pacifier, a t-shirt, a rattle, a pair of minuscule gloves and, right in front of the door, this cute little pair of jeans. I can't wait to see her now, and push open the door.

First thing I notice is that it is really hot and a bit dim in the room; the fireplace is crackling and its flames provide the only illumination. Then I know why it is so warm, and my breath catches in my throat like it does every time when I see her like that. She's laying on top of the comforter on our bed, clad only in a matching set of bright red, satin underwear. Topping off the ensemble is a wide strand of ribbon in the same shade of red that she has tied around her waist, with a huge bow that is resting on top of her belly.

"Hey Sailor," she greets me with a smile that makes my knees go wobbly; "you wanna come over and see your present?"

On shaky legs I make my way over to the bed.

"But Christmas is not for another two weeks," I point out, not that that matters right about now but I needed to say something and this is what came out first in a very pitiful croaky voice.

I've reached the bed now and squad down to give her kiss. She's smiling at me, her warm sweet Sarah-smile, and her hand is wiping away the tear that has escaped down my cheek and that I didn't even notice. Oh my, am I getting sentimental in my old age.

"I thought you deserve an early present this year," she whispers, "we both do."

I look at the bow, and now I see that tied to the ribbon is a tiny Christmas stocking, with the word 'Baby' written on top, and inside is a piece of paper. She extracts this now and hands it to me. All I can really make out on the picture is fuzzy black and white patterns, and this bean-shaped dot in the middle of it. Wow, so this is it…

"How far along are you?" I ask, still staring at the bean.

"Nine weeks." My head snaps up at that; quite long for me not to have known about it.

She interprets my look right away.

"I didn't know either until today. Ever since I'm off the pill, my periods have been quite irregular, and I didn't think about it much. Today I had a regular check-up, and that's when I found out. So far, everything is developing just fine."

"Wow," I mumble, "I mean, wow…" Ok, not very articulate here…

"We're having a baby?" Gee, that's no better at all. I'm trying to wrap my head around the reality of all this, because, well, it is just unbelievable… I mean, there's this picture, but you can't see anything going on with Sarah's belly yet, and I mean, it's in there right now, already…

She sits up and slides her hand through my hair. "Yup." She nods and I can watch her smile getting wider and wider.

"We're gonna have our baby!" I suddenly yell, and I jump up and snatch her off the bed and lift her up and twirl her around. She's laughing and crying at the same time now, and I hold her tightly to me while I kiss her cheeks, her eyelids, her nose, finally sinking onto her mouth.

"I love you so much," I murmur between kisses.

"I love you too, Harm."

And then we melt onto the bed and engage in our own, passionate celebration.

Later, I lay with my head cradled on her belly, and her fingertips are drawing circles through my hair. I think in a while, we will make our way downstairs and hang the tiny stocking where it belongs, right next to the five that are already there. But right now, we're content with laying here. I listen to the crackling of the fireplace and wish that I could feel the baby already, but I'm told that that won't happen for another couple of months. I imagine this tiny bean forming into this wonderful little combination of the two of us – he or she, her looks or mine, my brains or hers, no matter what way it works out, it'll be perfect.

FINIS

(And they lived happily ever after. smile)