Thinking back, Philippa was still a little bit mad at Arthur for ruining her sixth birthday. Of course, if you were perfectly honest and fair, it wasn't really his fault that he came down with a ruptured appendix approximately four hours before her great day began.

It was half past six, and Philippa had jumped out of her bed and raced to her parent's bedroom the minute she was awake enough to do so. This was her day, and hers alone! And there was so much to do…!

"Mummy! Daddy!"

Mummy and Daddy were not exactly delighted to be woken up by an excited little girl throwing herself onto their bed. Dom groaned, turning from his back to his stomach and pulling the blanket over his head. Mal blinked and rubbed her eyes with a hand. "Philippa, no, honey…"

Philippa pouted and crossed her arms. "It's my birthday!"

"Yes, we know, love." Mal yawned. "But it's also very early in the morning."

"It's not early!" Philippa protested.

"Yes, it is," her father grumbled.

"Listen, why don't you go wash your face and dress while Mummy and Daddy get up?" Mal suggested.

"'Kay." At least they were going to get up. Sleepy grown-ups really were no fun at all!

Leaving the room, Philippa heard her father mumble: "Remind me again why we decided to have kids?"

"Because you thought it was a good idea and they would be kind of cute," Mal replied promptly.

Dom groaned.

Just then, the phone rang. "I'll get it! It's probably for me anyway!" Philippa called out happily. "Maybe Grandma is calling to wish me happy birthday!"

"I doubt your grandma would call at this hour," Mal remarked, but Philippa barely heard her, she was already racing down the stairs to the living room.

To her very great disappointment, her mother was right, though. Instead of to a well-wishing grandmother, Philippa got to talk to a seriously discomposed Eames as she picked up the phone.

"Dom? Mal?"

"It's Philippa."

"Phil… I need you to get your parents. Now."

"They are just getting up," Philippa informed him. "You didn't even say hello!"

"Philippa, please. It's important."

"It's my birthday," Philippa said, upset by this lack of consideration.

"Yeah, well that's nice. Now go get your parents." He sounded very upset, Philippa pondered.

"Are you hurt?" She asked. "Did you catch the measles?" James had caught the measles a month ago, and he had been difficult and unfriendly for five days, so Philippa supposed that being sick maybe caused people, who were usually nice and easygoing to get all grumpy and upset.

"The…? No, I'm fine. It's Arthur who's sick."

"Arthur!" Philippa said in surprise and sudden concern. She liked Arthur a lot; she did not want him to be sick. Especially not on her birthday, because he had promised to come and bring ice cream. "Does he need to see the doctor?"

"Actually, he's at the hospital right now."

"At the hospital? That's bad, isn't it? I'll get Mummy."

Eames breathed an audible sigh of relief, but before he could say anything else, Philippa slammed down the receiver and rushed back upstairs to alert her parents.

It took Dom twenty minutes to get a hold of Eames again, due to the fact that he was at the hospital with Arthur and had had to turn his cell phone off. He turned the phone on speaker then, so that Mal, who was standing next to him with sleepy James on her hip, could listen in.

"… complained about abdominal pain, and I told him to see a doctor, but you know Arthur, he's so goddamn stubborn…" Eames' voice wafted across the miles. "He insisted on finishing his work, and by the time my plane landed, it had gotten so bad that I took him to the hospital right away. Doctors say it's a ruptured appendix."

Dom cursed under his breath. "Listen, Eames, how bad…?"

"Bad." Eames' voice sounded strained.

"We'll come right away," Mal decided. "It's a two hour drive, but we'll be there, okay, Eames?"

"Okay." He sounded relieved, but still very worried.

Philippa tugged at her mother's sleeve. "But Mummy… it's my birthday! We can't go there!"

"Hush, dear, Arthur is sick. We need to go see him… I promise you we'll make it up."

"But… that's not fair!"

Strangely enough, nobody cared about that. Philippa then threw a temper tantrum, but it only served to make her mother snap at her, so she sat in the back of the car, pouting.

Why did Arthur have to get sick on her birthday?

The hospital was huge. White-robed medical staff bustled through the hallways, and Philippa felt intimidated by all the strange people, strange smells, strange sights and the hushed atmosphere. A helpful young nurse led the entire family to a waiting area, as white and impersonal as the rest of the hospital.

Eames, looking even more disheveled than usual, which was probably due to a combination of jetlag and worry bordering on panic, stood up to greet them.

"He's in surgery."

Dom nodded. Mal proceeded to lay a hand on Eames' arm.

"Did the doctors say anything?"

Eames snorted. "They said a lot, most of which I didn't understand. The gist of it is that Arthur's an idiot for not doing something about this sooner and that it's acute… but I was able to see that without any medical expertise… Arthur's never incoherent, unless there's something seriously wrong with him." He tried to smile and failed miserably.

They all sat down, Philippa climbing onto her father's lap. Dom was too preoccupied to really notice it, but he absentmindedly put an arm around her.

Eames slumped down into his chair, and suddenly, Philippa saw that his cheeks were wet.

"Why are you crying? Mum? Why is Eames crying?"

Her mother exchanged a look with her father over the top of Eames' head. Philippa didn't quite understand the meaning of that look, but there were a lot of things about grown-ups that she did not understand.

"He is upset, because he really likes Arthur," Mal told her kindly. "If James were really sick, you would be upset, too, wouldn't you?"

"More sick than last time?" Philippa inquired.

"A lot more sick than last time."

"Oh." That sort of made sense. Poor Eames, though. Philippa considered the matter for a moment, then leant her head against Eames' shoulder and reached up to touch his cheek with her small hand. "I also like Arthur a lot," she told him. "But I'm sure, he will get well again, and then we can all have ice cream together."

There, that was bound to cheer him up, wasn't it?

Eames looked down at her, a watery smile crossing his face.

It was another eight weeks before Arthur was well enough to have ice cream with them, but they had an unforgettable afternoon. Eames actually beat Philippa by one chocolate sundae, but she didn't hold a grudge. And when she saw Arthur and Eames share a banana split, she knew that what she was seeing had to be true love. After all, people didn't voluntarily share ice cream if they did not really, really love each other, did they?

Trying to write from a six-year-old's point of perspective is surprisingly challenging, when you're twenty two... still, I hope you enjoyed this.