Day Three

Luis

Twin headlights cut through the darkness of the living room, painted a startling, fluid picture against the wall Luis had found himself staring at for the last several hours, since Sheridan's strained phone call, since Gilly's tears. Giving the watch on his wrist a passing glance, Luis realized it was a few minutes past midnight, technically Thursday, and Sheridan would be dead on her feet, the girls beyond exhausted.

Gilly was the first to see him, breaking free from the rest and racing headlong in his direction. "Papa! Papa, I missed you!"

Luis pressed a kiss into the smooth caramel strands of his little girl's hair, hugged her back equally as tightly as she was hugging him, lifted her up into his arms. "I missed you, too, Gilly Nilly. Chilly Gilly Nilly."

"Papa," Gilly giggled, pressing her cold little nose in the crease of his neck and shoulder and hooking her short legs around his waist like a clinging monkey.

Luis peppered her face and every piece of her that he could reach with noisy kisses, shifted her weight to one arm so he could offer to help shoulder the load when Gwen came around the side of the car, duffel bags bearing down on either of her slender shoulders, Gilly's small suitcase at her feet. "Here, let me," he held out his free hand.

Gwen stared at him long and hard before she shook her head in dismissal. "I got this. Take care of your wife."

Luis nodded, took a step forward, only to have Gwen grab him by the arm and not let go until she was sure she had his undivided attention.

"Don't you think Gilly should get out of this cold air?"

His daughter's skinny arms squeezed tighter around his neck in response to Gwen's suggestion, and Luis couldn't help but wince, both at the chokehold Gilly had on his windpipe and the look of warning mixed with challenge shining clearly in Gwen's brown eyes. Accepting the gauntlet thrown at his feet, Luis carefully removed Gilly's arms from his neck and placed her on her own two feet. "Go with Gwen, Sweetheart. Papa will be right behind you."

Gwen gently prodded the little girl forward when it seemed her feet had grown roots. "Come on now. Turn that frown upside down. What kind of example are you setting for Patrick?"

"Who's Patrick?"

Sheridan turned to him, Bella swaddled snugly in fleece so only her wispy dark peach fuzz peeked out, and took her time answering the simple question in a voice that was noticeably thin. "Gwen bought Gilly a pumpkin. He's in the back seat."

"He?" Luis couldn't help smiling.

Light flickered in the blue pools of Sheridan's eyes then dimmed, almost disappeared completely. "Yes, he."

Slowly, Luis's good humor dissipated, and his hand gravitated toward his wife's elbow in concern. As he'd anticipated, she looked tired, to the point of exhaustion. Emotionally and physically wrung out after the long day of travel with two children under the age of five and its many stops along the way. But it was more than the deep bruises her light make-up couldn't hide. She was pale in the moonlight. The end of her nose was pink, and she wouldn't meet his eyes, not directly. Some deep-buried instinct of Luis's led him to pull her closer, shield her from the autumn wind that whipped and wound around them, whistled hints of an early winter. "Hey. You okay?"

Sheridan's answer was a non-answer at best. "It's been a long day."

"It has," Luis found himself agreeing with her. "Why don't we leave the rest of this stuff here tonight? It'll wait 'til morning." His hand slid from her elbow, hovered over the small of her back.

Sheridan nodded without another word, left him standing there as she followed the thin slice of light cutting across the lawn and the walkway, carefully negotiated the unfamiliar porch steps.

Luis lowered his hand, powerless to do more than watch her go, her name dying on his lips.

Gilly's sharp little elbow dug into Luis's ribs as she twisted and turned underneath the blankets, rolling toward the back of the sofa and wedging her short legs between his body and the few cushions that remained through what had truly been one of the most restless nights of sleep (or lack thereof) that Luis had ever experienced. Silky soft strands of her hair, unencumbered by any braids or hair ties, gravitated to his lips with every deep breath in, fanned in front of him with every exhale. And Petal? From her perch midway down his abdomen, the bunny's glassy eyes watched Luis with more petulance and judgment than any mere stuffed animal should possess. He resisted tossing the plaything across the room only because of Gilly's extreme attachment to it.

"You look like you're plotting somebody's murder," Gwen's wry voice nearby startled Luis. "I hope it's not mine."

In the gray light of early morning, Gwen looked rumpled but comfortable to Luis in a pair of navy sweats all but hanging on her slim hips. The ponytail from the night (this morning) before had been replaced with a messy blond knot at the nape of her neck, and she had a new accessory cradled carefully in her arms, a quietly fussing infant who was merely warming up for her first operatic performance of the day.

Bella's tiny fists waved about in her agitation, her uncoordinated fingers grabbing and pulling at the loose t-shirt engulfing Gwen's shoulders.

Luis frowned when he recognized the shirt as one of his own. "It's one thing for you to steal my bed."

"I didn't see you putting up much of a fight," Gwen retorted.

Luis didn't appreciate the cutting undertone to her voice and opened his mouth to call her on it, but Bella chose that particular moment to inform them all that her patience was quickly evaporating.

"Where's the kitchen?" Gwen asked. "I don't really remember much from the drive-by tour last night."

Luis didn't immediately answer her. Instead, he carefully eased Gilly over and off of him, swung his legs over the side of the sofa. When he was satisfied his daughter was all tucked in, he beckoned Gwen to follow him. "It's this way."

The appliances in the kitchen were mostly updated, some even new, but the rest of the furnishings were a motley collection left behind by the house's previous owners, including an aged Kit-Cat clock that Luis wasn't particularly fond of. He knew Gwen wouldn't be able to resist comment; she didn't disappoint.

"Well, this is…charming."

Luis ignored her, busied himself with warming up Bella's bottle in the microwave.

"I have to admit, though, it is a step up from your previous accommodations, which really isn't saying much."

Bella latched on to the pinky Gwen presented to her.

Luis spared them both a glance over his shoulder as he tested the milk's temperature. Finding it to be a little warm still, he set it aside and turned to face Gwen, folded his arms across his chest. "If I'd wanted your input…"

"How about Sheridan's?" Gwen cut him off. "Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot. Her feelings are of little importance to you, or else you would have kicked me out of your bed last night. She cried herself to sleep, you jackass."

"I let you stay here last night because you're Sheridan's friend," Luis grit out.

"Spare me the good guy routine," Gwen tossed back angrily. "I'm not buying it."

Bella whimpered in response to the charged, combative quality of the two adults' back and forth, blinked frightened blue eyes up at Gwen. She let go of the finger she'd been suckling to release a faint cry and wave her small fists in the air.

Luis grabbed the bottle from the counter behind him, offered it to Gwen, and for his trouble, suddenly found his arms full.

"You're her father," Gwen took a deliberate step back when mindless protests threatened to erupt from Luis's lips. "Start acting like it."

From the living room, Gilly called out for him, sounding near tears herself, as Bella's wails built rapidly to an ear-splitting crescendo. "Papa! Papa, where are you?"

With a headache already building, and a long day stretching ahead of him, Luis released a resigned sigh and tucked Bella against his shoulder as he answered his daughter's call. "In here."

"I don't like the Kitty Cat clock, Papa," Gilly announced after a full minute of staring at it in fascination. "He's watching me."

Luis glanced at the clock in question, had to agree (again), silently of course, that he shared his daughter's opinion. Aloud, he said, "I bet nobody ever told him it was rude to stare." He gave his daughter a moment to digest that little tidbit of information. "He needs a name. What do you think it should be?" Naming was a tried and true tactic he and Fancy has used since Gilly'd been very small; putting a name to a face she feared or felt uneasy about had always seemed to help keep her fears at bay. He didn't see why this time would be any different.

Gilly's brown eyes narrowed in thought, and while she considered her options, she returned her attention to her cereal. "I'll be thinking about it," she promised him wholeheartedly.

"I know you will," Luis smiled. Growing serious, he decided now was as good a time as ever to approach the sensitive topic of what had happened the day before. "Gilly?"

"Papa," Gilly answered back with a silly smile curling her lips as she lifted her loaded spoon to her mouth.

"What you said to Sheridan yesterday," Luis murmured as he reached over to tuck a heavy strand of his daughter's hair behind her ear. "You know it wasn't very nice."

Gilly stopped mid-slurp, looked up at her father with wounded dark eyes. "But she's not my mommy." Her spoon clanged against her bowl, disappeared into the multi-colored sea of her cereal as she pushed it aside.

Luis didn't argue the little girl's very valid point. "You're right. Sheridan's not your mommy." He slid his large hands up the flannel-covered legs, marched a retreat to the knobby little knees and tickled lightly behind them, earning himself a reluctant smile and helpless squeal from his dour-faced little daughter. "That doesn't mean you don't have to respect her. Do you remember what I told you about respect? Gilly?" he pushed, amazed at how quickly the half-smile faded.

A tiny, beleaguered sigh fluttered past the petulant lips, and Gilly nodded.

"And Bella," Luis tried.

"I don't like Bella," Gilly pouted, folded her arms across her small chest. "All she does is cry."

"That's because she's a baby, Sweetheart," Luis explained. "She doesn't have any other way of telling us how she feels yet. So she cries when she's hungry."

"And when she has a pee-pee diaper," Gilly helpfully supplied.

"And when she has a pee-pee diaper," Luis agreed with a betraying twitch of his lips. "But Bella…" he paused as he searched for the right words, ultimately came up empty, because words wouldn't be enough to convince Gilly to accept Bella as her baby sister, especially his words. "She's not so bad. She's just little. She'll be lots more fun when she gets bigger. I bet you'll even be her favorite sister."

Gilly's arms wound around her father's neck, and she giggled. "Silly Papa. I'm her only sister."

Luis pressed a kiss into the sweet-smelling hair, took her innocent teasing on the chin. "You got me." Milk splashed over the rim of her cereal bowl when his elbow bumped into it, and he gently tweaked her nose as he reminded her, "Finish your cereal."

"I'm not hungry anymore," Gilly blithely informed him. "Can Petal have it instead?"

Luis followed her bright brown gaze to the opposite kitchen counter where Petal and Patrick flanked Bella and her carrier on either side. Seriously, he told her, "I don't think Petal likes Fruit Loops."

Gilly frowned, as if the mere idea of someone else, Petal especially, not sharing her love of the cereal, were unfathomable. "Can she have one of Sheridan's baby carrots instead?"

"You'll have to ask Sheridan about that." Luis bit back a smile as he watched her mull over and rapidly dismiss his words, turn on the charm.

"Just one, Papa. Just an itty bitty one. Please."

"You'll have to ask Sheridan," Luis repeated as he plucked her from the countertop and deposited her on the kitchen floor. "Why don't you head upstairs, see what she thinks about the idea?" He made a last-minute addition to his suggestion. "And while you're at it, tell her you're sorry for yesterday. She may not be your mommy, but she still cares a lot about you. I'm sure she'd really appreciate it. A little hug wouldn't hurt either."

Gilly didn't look too pleased by the prospect, but her beloved bunny's survival was at stake. "Okay," she drew the word out with a sense of exasperation more befitting her future teenage self than her current preschooler version.

"Petal and Patrick will be safe with me until you get back," Luis vowed.

Gilly glowered at the Kit-Cat clock as its eyes shifted to her and seemed to get stuck. "Pedro, stop being so rude!"

"Pedro, huh?" Luis grinned.

"Uh huh," Gilly nodded her head, her caramel hair tumbling over her shoulders. "Tell him, Papa."

Luis did as she asked, long after she'd left, and it was just him, Bella, and the unlikely trio in the kitchen. "Stop staring, Pedro."

Unsurprisingly, Pedro ignored him.

It was approaching noon before Luis got his first glimpse of his son.

Sullen and silent and completely ignoring Luis's presence, his mere existence, Marty walked into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and let his blue eyes linger over its meager contents for a long moment before closing it up again in obvious disappointment.

Luis ended his phone call with Quinlan, adopted a tone of civility he didn't quite feel when he addressed the mulish boy. "I'd say good morning, but…"

Marty flicked icy eyes at him briefly, gave him a wide berth as he walked past the kitchen table and the temporary workstation erected there en route to his baby sister.

Bella cooed happily when she saw her brother, reached for him clumsily from her carrier.

Luis watched his teenaged son unbuckle the baby and carefully lift her into his arms. A fierce ache clenched and clawed at his chest as he watched Bella's little fingers stretch toward her brother's stubbornly set chin, and the slow, gentle smile that overtook the boy's face as he nipped playfully at the tickling fingertips. "She loves you." Luis sighed heavily when Marty turned his back on him in response, headed out of the kitchen with his sister cradled in his arms. He pushed his chair back and followed, catching up to them in the dimly lit hallway. "You can ignore me all you want, Marty. It still doesn't change the fact that what you did yesterday was wrong and deserved punishment. If it were solely up to me, you wouldn't just be grounded. Theft is a serious crime. You're lucky Chief Bennett didn't press charges."

For the first time, Marty spoke up, his shoulders rigid, his voice tight and biting. "That's me. The luckiest guy around. I guess that makes Bella lucky, too, having such an upstanding guy as her dad."

"Marty," Luis blew out a frustrated breath.

"I wouldn't step in that quicksand if I were you," Gwen advised dryly as she walked up behind Luis, startling him enough that Marty was able to make his escape without further incident.

"I thought you'd be halfway back to Boston by now," Luis grumbled as he continued on toward the living room and the stacked boxes still littering its various nooks and crannies.

"She didn't tell you?"

Luis could hear the smile in her voice. "Didn't tell me what?"

Gwen laughed, shook her head at him. "Those boxes out there? They're not just the rest of Sheridan's things. I've got everything I need 'til I can find someplace more permanent."

Luis refused to believe he'd heard her correctly. "Someplace more permanent?"

"You're not the only that's got family here," Gwen reminded him, watched him noticeably pale. "Besides, Sheridan needs somebody on her side, and I'm not sure you count. Although, I will say, that hug was a nice touch."

Luis mounted the stairs, took them two at a time in search of his wife.

"I don't know, Sam. If she tries something with Jonathan…" Luis trailed off when he noticed his old boss wince, favor his side. "Forget I said anything. You don't need to hear this. Not when you're still recovering. Why don't we head back inside?" Luis suggested.

Sam shook his head, took a couple of slow, deep breaths. "It's fine. I'm fine. I need the fresh air."

A smile tugged at the corners of Luis's mouth. "Ivy keeping you cooped up?" He slowed his steps to match the older man's as they moved around the perimeter of the enclosed back yard, picking up and straightening the various toys littered about. When they came to a pair of Adirondack chairs, Sam braced his hands against the back of one, and Luis pointedly focused his attention elsewhere as his friend took the moment's respite to catch his breath. His gaze caught and lingered upon the old Lenox place. "Ever hear much from Tabitha these days?"

"She keeps a pretty low profile," Sam told him. "Wish I could say the same for Endora."

Luis raised an interested brow, to which Sam shrugged.

"Trouble just seems to seek her out. You'll see what I mean once you officially take over at the station."

"I'm not taking over," Luis protested lightly. "Just filling in."

"Taking over if Ivy has anything to do with it." Sam grunted as he lowered himself into the deep seated chair, and the abused muscles of his abdomen clenched protectively. "She thinks I should go ahead and retire, spend the rest of my days working on home improvement projects and spoiling grandchildren."

"Not many bullets involved in retirement," Luis reminded him as he seated himself, stretched his long legs out in front of him. "She's just worried for you. Fancy always worried for me, and she knew the score, better than most." He sobered, lost himself in thought, the memory of the last time a bullet grazed his flesh still too close, the memory of Fancy's angry tears echoing faintly in his bones.

"Worry comes with the job," Sam agreed. "It's even harder when you're a parent, especially of young children."

Luis nodded, his thoughts automatically straying to Gilly, and he felt the old familiar guilt swell up within him again, because he was the only natural-born parent the little girl had left. What would happen to him if…

"Speaking of young children," Sam ventured.

"Gilly's real excited about being closer to you guys," Luis smiled fondly. The little girl had wanted to look her absolute prettiest for her Mimi Ivy, had even gone the extra mile in charming Sheridan into braiding her abundant hair. Luis had no doubt she was inside soaking up the attentions of the grandmother that already adored and doted on her. "I think Harmony will be good for her."

"And Marty?" Sam questioned, grimacing when stretching out his own legs only seemed to heighten the lingering soreness left behind by major surgery.

Luis sighed, covered his face with his hands as he considered his son and all the emotional baggage the kid was lugging around. "Marty? I don't know if I even know where to start with Marty, Sam. He's grounded, indefinitely, for what he did to your boat."

"The boat's fine," Sam replied. "Stop apologizing for the boat. I'm just glad Marty and Little Ethan weren't hurt. I wasn't talking about Gilly or Marty, Luis. I was talking about the baby. You haven't said anything about her. Now, where are those pictures?"

Though the Bed and Breakfast still bore Grace's name, Ivy's influence was everywhere, and in his trademark leather jacket and wrinkled tee-shirt, Hank Bennett stuck out like a sore thumb in the midst of all the casual elegance. "Looking for a room already, Man? I thought you bought the old Winchester place."

Luis allowed himself to be drawn into Hank's hearty bear hug, pulled back to grin at his old friend. "Caretaker of an off-season ski resort I can see," he said, recalling the summer Hank had spent out West romancing a local sheriff's daughter before moving on and resuming his nomadic ways, eventually finding his way back to Harmony. "This place? Doesn't really do anything for your manhood, Buddy."

Hank smirked, cast a look around him, agreed. "That's what I told Ivy, but the woman doesn't really take no for an answer. It's just until Sammy recovers. There hasn't been much demand for the P.I. biz lately anyway."

"No philandering husbands?"

"Not enough wives that really care I guess," Hank shrugged as he walked back around the front desk, scribbled a note on a yellow post-it, and stuck it to the computer monitor that had long-ago replaced the old-fashioned ledger. "I'm taking five!"

Luis followed Hank out onto the Bed and Breakfast's wrap-around porch, leaned against the railing, and gazed out at the tree-lined street as a gentle breeze fluttered the fiery leaves.

"Why do I get the feeling this isn't a social visit?" Hank bravely breached the silence when it stretched out between them past the point of comfort. "Everything okay on the home front? How's Gilly adjusting to having a new baby sister?"

"I don't even have a picture of her in my wallet," Luis answered without turning around. If the revelation were surprising to Hank, he hid it well, no trace of judgment in his voice, his stance relaxed and open as he responded.

"The kid's young, practically brand-new," Hank rationalized. "There's still plenty of time for pictures." He leaned against the rail beside Luis, studied his strong profile. "So you don't want to talk about either of your girls. What about Marty? What was the kid thinking? Taking the Amazing Grace out for a midnight joy ride like that?"

"That's just it. Marty's not thinking," Luis muttered. "At least not about anything but how much he hates me."

"He's a teenager," Hank said. "Of course, he hates you."

"I wish that were the only reason," Luis sighed. Facing Hank full-on, he admitted, "You're right, Hank. This isn't a social call. I've got a job offer for you."

"I tried the police force," Hank's brown eyes were wary. "Didn't really work out for me."

"Too many rules?" Luis joked lightly.

"Something like that," Hank smiled back at him. "You know I never liked coloring in the lines."

"You like your freedom," Luis stated. "I know. I'm not asking you to rejoin the police force, Hank. This is a different kind of job." It was readily apparent he had his friend's full and undivided attention, given his next impatiently delivered words.

"Well, lay it on me," Hank encouraged.

"Gwen Hotchkiss is going to come to you soon, looking for a place to stay. I want you to rent a room to her."

"I don't know, Luis," Hank hedged, looking the slightest bit uncomfortable. "The Boss Lady's not going to like it."

"That mean you won't do it?" Luis questioned.

Hank grinned, and the devilish twinkle Luis was so familiar with appeared in his brown eyes again. "Hell no. So I rent a room to her. Then what?"

"I want you to keep her close," Luis said, pushing away from railing and offering his oldest friend his hand.

Hank took it, and they shook on it.

"I won't let her threaten my sister's happiness again."

Dusk had crept in from the purple harbor by the time Luis turned onto Elm Street. A silver moon's reflection kissed Gilly's delicate features as she dozed in the back seat, her slight weight straining against the loose restraints of her belt, her face smashed up against the side of her booster seat. At the end of the street, the house loomed tall and dark, only a few lights glowing behind its windows, including a weak glow high up in the attic. Luis made a mental note to check out the space soon, verify it was fit and sound for the occupation of his son, if Marty insisted on calling it his. Parking his car curbside and killing the engine, Luis announced, "Time to wake up, Gilly Nilly. We're home."

Gilly moaned in her sleep but was otherwise non-responsive, completely exhausted from her long evening of play with her energetic young cousins. Her skinny arms hung loosely from Luis's shoulders when he unbuckled her and lifted her easily into his arms, traveled up the paved, flower-bordered walkway, climbed the porch steps.

Luis swore, stumbled underneath his daughter's slight weight when a black shadow tore in front him before he reached the front door. "Damn cat," he muttered when he heard the telltale feline screech, discovered the yellow eyes staring back at him from the other end of the darkened porch.

"Papa," Gilly murmured sleepily. "You said a dirty word."

Luis chuckled as he pushed the door open, apologized with a kiss to the cool little cheek pressed against his own. "T'was an accident, Sweetheart."

"M'kay," Gilly mumbled, promptly dozed back off. She continued to sleep as he settled her on the sofa, tucked the blanket from earlier that morning around her shoulders.

Straightening once he'd made sure she was snug and secure, Luis took a look around the room, discovered that most of the boxes had disappeared and quite a transformation had taken place in his absence. A floorboard creaked underfoot, and his dark eyes snapped to Gwen's slim figure, again standing in the middle of the hallway, again giving him that look that seemed to go right through him, find him severely lacking.

"Look who finally decided to come home."

"You're still here," Luis muttered dryly. "Not that it's any of your business, but I had some business to take care of."

"And this business?" Gwen questioned. "It just happened to take the entire day?" When Luis didn't answer her, she shook her head, dropped her arms to her side, walked away from him.

This time, Luis found himself following her.

Pedro tracked their progress across the kitchen and to the table, where an open box of pizza and his scowling son sat.

"I don't know why I even care enough to ask this," Gwen sighed, "but have you eaten? What about Gilly?"

Marty scooped up another piece of the Hawaiian pizza and his paper plate and left the two adults alone. His sneakers thudded heavily up the stairs, and without thought, Luis found himself yelling.

"Your sister's sleeping."

"Not anymore," Gwen rolled her eyes at him when he declined a piece of pizza, shutting the box and stowing the entire thing in the near-empty refrigerator. "There's a baby sleeping upstairs too. At least there was. Aren't you even going to say thank you, Gwen for cleaning up the mess out there? No?" She shook her head at him, shivered when Pedro's knowing eyes lingered on her a second too long before sweeping back to Luis. "Just when I think my expectations can't drop any lower."

"You're not sleeping in my bed tonight," Luis snapped, tired of her relentless needling.

"Finally, something smart comes out of your mouth."

Luis wisely refrained from further comment, left her there alone.

Luis found Bella's baby monitor on a scarred nightstand beneath an oddity of a lamp, which cast elongated shadows and eerie shapes that mingled and danced with the pattern on the ancient, fading wallpaper against the far wall. He lifted the monitor to his ear, listened to the sounds of the baby's soft, even breathing, before gently setting it back down, going in search of his wife. He found her in the bathroom, her arm stretched high over her head as she stood on tiptoe to reach the malfunctioning shower head.

"I can't reach it," Sheridan huffed in frustration, one satin sleeve of her robe slinking down over her shoulder. "Gwen, do you think you can bring me that chair over there?"

"You don't need a chair," Luis told her, shooting her an apologetic look when he realized he'd startled her.

Sheridan sank back down to the floor, adjusted the short hem of her robe over her thighs, closed off her expression to him. "Luis," she swallowed. "I didn't know you were home."

Luis watched the pulse at her neck flutter as he stepped closer, so close that they were almost touching. He didn't say anything right away, just smiled at her as he extended his arm, inspected the shower head himself. "What seems to be the problem?"

Sheridan wrapped her arms around her waist, drew her bottom lip between her teeth. "The water pressure's not very good. I don't know if it's the shower head itself, or the plumbing," she shrugged. "All I want is a hot shower before I go to bed. Is that too much to ask?"

She sounded tired and bone-weary, but there were traces of her old self in the tremble of her tone, glimpses hidden behind the blue of her eyes of the woman Luis had first felt the need to protect all those years ago, the woman whose dragons he'd fought so valiantly to slay for so long. She looked on the verge of tears, and Luis didn't think he could handle that. "Let me see what I can do," he offered, toeing off his shoes and climbing into the claw-foot tub.

"Thank you," Sheridan murmured.

"I think you just…" the rest of Luis's words were soon drowned out as the harmless trickle of water coming from the shower head turned into a pounding torrent, drenching him within seconds.

Sheridan gasped, covered her mouth and her smile with her hand as he turned to her, the water still beating down his back, soaking his jeans. "Luis, I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Luis found himself smiling back at her. "Problem solved." He held out a hand to her, curled his fingers in invitation. "Care to join me? The water's nice and warm." He didn't give her a chance to change her mind when her smaller hand slid over his, just tugged her into the tub with him, covered her satin draped hips with his large hands.

Sheridan looked up at him with laughing blue eyes, hooked her fingers in the belt loops of his jeans and held on. "You're crazy." The smile she'd tried to keep hidden valiantly fought free, and she threw back her head, darted her tongue out to catch a droplet of water.

Some forgotten piece of Luis's heart clenched and eased painfully with her laughter, his gut tightened with the glimpse of her playful pink tongue. Without thought, his mouth descended on her chin, soaked up the moisture from her tantalizing skin as his fingers dug almost painfully into the curvaceous swell of her hips. "Maybe I am," he agreed. "Maybe I am," he repeated as her blue eyes found him again, no longer laughing, but just as bright, just as burning to his throbbing heart.

"Luis."

The uncertainty in her voice, the hope she couldn't quite bury deeply enough, undid him, and Luis lunged forward, captured her mouth with his own, drank of her deeply while his frantic fingers scrabbled for the sash of her sodden robe. He peeled the clinging material from one golden shoulder, mouthed her breast as her shaking fingers tore at the constricting buttons of his shirt. They pinged against the porcelain of the tub, and Luis groaned against the generous swell of her flesh as her hands swept over the rippling muscles of his abdomen, slid around his back, only to claw at his shoulders as his mouth worked her harder, his hands went on a seeking mission of their own. His fingers had just breached the silken barrier of her underwear, molded over the smooth curves of her buttocks when a breathless, stuttering scream had them scrambling apart.

Sheridan grabbed hold of the gaping edges of his shirt when the scream came again, her blue eyes stark with fear. "Bella. Luis, that sounds like Bella."

His own heart residing somewhere within the vicinity of his throat, Luis ground out an order he knew she'd ignore. "Stay here."

The moon peeked through the dark curtains, pale and mysterious, and Luis studied them in the silver shine, two such beautiful creatures, peaceful, finally, after such a long and strange night.

Dark lashes kissed the flush of Bella's rounded cheeks, her sweet mouth parted, the peach fuzz of her hair dark as a crow's wing in the midnight hour.

Sheridan's hand covered her daughter's small chest, measured, even in her own sleep, each welcomed rise and fall. The top few buttons of her cotton nightgown remained unfastened, and the blankets rest carelessly across her waist.

The chill of the night pebbled her unblemished skin, and a part of Luis ached to cover her with the warmth of his own hands, but he refrained from doing so, forced himself to go over again, the memories that were only a few hours old.

Bella's nursery window had been open, its pale, gauzy curtains whipping in the blustery October night. And, on the window sill, the black cat stared insolently at them, its topaz eyes unnerving.

Luis still remembered the quiver of the vulnerable little body against his damp chest, the fragility of the delicate bones, the sweet lavender scent of the silken skin. He remembered the relief, vividly, of finding her whole and unharmed, of seeing those eyes blink up at him, indigo in the moonlight. Then clear like the ocean when Gwen had reached the nursery just behind them in her own panic, doused it with the weak yellow light of a single bald bulb, the rest having burned out in a shower of sparks. The cat had escaped then, jumped clear of the window sill, and Luis had closed the windows again, locked them down.

Gilly, thankfully, had slept clear through all the drama.

Marty had not. The boy had pulled Bella from Luis's arms, delivered her to his mother, and stayed by their sides, along with Gwen, until their mutual trembling had subsided. He'd been a comfort to Sheridan where Luis had not, and though the boy had all but condemned him with his baleful stare, Luis couldn't help but be grateful to him, couldn't find it in himself to dismiss him from his mother's side.

Gwen had finally lured him away with her stern but kind words.

Luis couldn't help but feel gratitude toward her, either, for accomplishing what he'd been too weak to attempt. And so they'd come back to this room, to this bed, the three of them, and Luis hadn't complained, hadn't protested as he had in the past. He'd watched his wife take the mewling infant to her breast, watched her give of her heart and her body, and wondered how he'd never realized just how much had been taken from her by Beth, taken from them both, and he wondered how different a path their lives would have taken if only he'd believed. He watched them both for a long time, until he, too, finally fell into a fitful sleep.

So...there you have it.

Day 3.

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And to the lovely reviewer of chapter one...Kay and Endora will make appearances in this fic, but that's pretty much all I'm giving you, lol. I hope you keep reading to find out for yourself. ;) Thanks so much for your feedback.

And to anybody officially and unofficially following this story, thank you, and I hope you continue to enjoy it. :D

Like I said, feedback is love!

Please, keep it coming.

And thanks so much for reading!