The box seemed innocent enough. Just a plain packing crate, nothing unusual on the outside. Inside, there were baby items, some old and some new. On top of it all rested an envelope with a letter, handwritten in what appeared to be an ornate but well practiced script. The box sat outside the door for a day and a half, undisturbed. When it was discovered and brought inside by C2, it sat in the entryway until Corso took a knife from his pocket to open the sealed tape. He looked at Miriah as he lifted the first object out: a painted thranta that moved on spring.

"Oh!" Miriah stood there, her hands over her mouth. "That was in my room when I was a girl. This has to be from my mother." He thought she'd refuse to look at anything else, or just tell him to throw the crate out. Instead, she went to her knees to pick up the silly thranta, tears glistening on her eyelashes. "My uncle, Mina's dad, gave this to me. I thought it was gone." She sat looking at it, and looked up at Corso. "What else is in there?" she asked him, and then gasped when he lifted out a worn, stuffed kath hound.

"Toby! Corso, this was my friend, my only friend for so long! He kept me company when Maura went to school. He's heard all my secrets for years!" She hugged the worn animal to her chest, wetting its patchy fur with tears. Corso went to her, unsure if this was good or not, but wanting to understand. He held her against him as she shook with sobs, only loosening his hold when she lifted her head. "What else is in there?"

Corso returned to the crate, lifting out gorgeous baby clothing, some hand sewn, all new. Deep blues and greens, definitely a boy's clothes, with ships and rontos and things on them. The last thing he drew out of the crate was the letter, and given the emotions Miriah had already gone through, he debated with himself on whether to give it to her now or save it. He realized he couldn't hide anything from her, though, and when she looked up at him expectantly, he handed her the envelope without a word. She hesitated, and gingerly took it, turning it over in her hands, and eventually placing it on the table.

"I'll open that later," she told him, hugging him to her. They sat like that, in the floor of the living area, until they heard Devin start to whimper in the nursery.

"I'll get him, love, want to get settled on the couch?" He helped her rise, felt the tremble in her hands, and sat her down on the soft fabric before going to his son. He changed the infant and placed the squirming baby in his mother's arms to be fed. He could see the change in his son's face when he sensed her, and it made him smile. Miriah smiled as well, feeding her son always seemed to calm her, centered her thoughts and relaxed her body.

Corso went to the kitchen to get a drink for Miriah, he was aware that she'd lost weight even since the birth, and was working with Akaavi to keep a constant flow of nutrition to her. She really can't afford to lose any more, he thought. As he returned to her, he saw that she was deep in thought, and absently took the bite of cheese he'd offered her in her mouth. They sat like that for a bit, Miriah feeding Devin, Corso feeding her, content to just be with each other.

It was only later, when the house was quiet, Devin sleeping in the nursery, that Miriah thought of the letter again. It seemed to mock her, its presence never far from her awareness. She finally snatched it from the small foyer table and ripped it open. She read in silence, fumbling her way to the couch to sit.

My dearest Miriah,

I've written this knowing that there is a chance I'll never lay eyes on you, my daughter. The Sith are become more aggressive, and the knights are called daily to defend the innocent. There is a darkness approaching that cannot be readily stopped. That should not concern you, however. I wanted to make sure that you knew, somehow, that I love you.

Your mother doesn't understand why I want another child, especially when we discovered we'd have another daughter. I can't explain it myself, other than I felt compelled to see you into this world. You must have something special to do, to achieve. I can only say that I've loved you since the moment you were conceived, and wanted you with all my heart. I feel a kinship with you that I didn't with your sisters, even though you haven't yet been born. Your mother has not had an easy pregnancy this time, and I am concerned about you both. Her force visions have become frightful, and the lingering darkness she had to endure as a young knight has shaped her fears, made her far more outspoken than most about what is coming, but she loves you in her way.

She is a very good woman, Miriah, but I fear that if I am not there she might see you as too much a reminder of us, of me, and you will suffer for it. I truly hope that is not the case, but if you are reading this letter then I have indeed become one with the force. I will continue to watch over you, dear Miriah, in death as in life. Go, my child, and become what you were meant to be, and know that no matter what I am proud you are my daughter. May the force be ever with you.

All my love,

Dad

Sarai had arrived at Magdalane's house that morning. She felt the ripple of surprise and heartache that moved through the force, and knew that Ian's letter had been open and read. She closed her eyes against the strongest of the emotion, and wanted desperately to go to her youngest, but knew she would not be welcome. Miriah has always had to digest things, rip them apart, before being able to accept them, she said to herself. She looked at Magdalane, knowing her daughter felt the force disturbance, probably more acutely than she did, since she had a soul link with her sister. Mags sat with her eyes closed, silent tears tracking down her lovely face. She opened her eyes, looked at her mother, and stood to go to her sister.

Felix went with Mags, since he wasn't sure she should be driving when she was upset. They arrived and Miriah met them at the door, knowing Mags had felt the emotion the letter had stirred. They said nothing, just embraced, and Miriah handed her sister the letter. When Mags had read it through twice, she looked at her youngest sister. "He really did love you, Mir, even I knew that. It does make a little more sense of Mom's behavior, not that it excuses it but makes it a little more understandable. " Miriah nodded, unable to speak past the lump in her throat. She'd known her father had named all his girls, but seeing her name in his handwriting had thrown her.

The men sat silently watching the sisters, waiting while they worked through the emotional turmoil. Miriah sat heavily, and put her head in her hands. Corso went to her then, gently stoking her back, just wanting her to know he was there. Felix stood and wrapped Mags in a hug, rocking back and forth with her. Their father had been gone for so long, but still affected them.

"What does this mean in relation to Mom, Mir? I know you are still angry with her, but she still cares for you, wants to see you. She's at our house now," Mags told her sister.

Miriah's head came up, and she looked at Magdalane, "Is she ready to admit she overreacted? Apologize to Corso?" she asked. Magdalane nodded, sure her mother was prepared to do just that. "Then she can come and see Devin, but my house, my rules, and if I ask her to leave, there will be no discussion."

Felix and Mags left, eager to take the peace offering to Sarai. Miriah had asked them to wait until tomorrow since she was worn out already and didn't want the addition of any more stress, and they'd agreed. Corso had her lie down on the couch and he held her, telling her over and over that he was there, would always be hers, and that he loved her. She drifted to sleep with his words in her ears. It was growing dark in the house when she woke, and Corso had just gotten up to get the baby. When he brought their son to her, he again went to get something for her to eat. When he'd brought it back, he sat next to her, again giving her bites of food while she nursed the baby.

"I'm starting to feel like a baby bird," she told him as he grinned at her. She did feel better after resting.

"Darlin' if you lose any more weight you won't be able to produce enough milk for this growing lad, and I know I can't, so we have to make sure you're getting enough to eat to keep up with him." He knew she'd place her son over any other concern. She nodded, and took every bite he fed her. Then he had an idea. After every bite, he kissed her, and gave her another.

"Well, I must say I like this variation better, makes me want to take more bites," she grinned wickedly at him, mometarily forgetting her son. She absently switched sides for Devin, then turned her attention back to Corso, who was waiting for her. "What do I get for a meal?" she teased. Corso blushed, as she knew he would, but cupped the back of her head and kissed her deeply.

"Soon, love, soon," he murmured to her, careful not to disturb Devin, but knowing he was rapidly approaching a point of no return with her, which he didn't think was a good idea, even after force healing. He sat back and waited for her to hand the baby to him, and watched as she drank a whole glass of juice. Devin kept his gaze on his father, grabbing his finger in his tiny fist.

Maura and Aric brought dinner over, leaving the twins with Mags and Sarai. They were going back to work the next day, so they wanted to enjoy a quiet visit. Of course, Miriah showed the letter to Maura, but instead of tears, Maura grinned at her sister. "How very neat that you have something to treasure from him, that you can have forever." They enjoyed dinner, and when Miriah and Maura were alone in the kitchen, Miriah asked the question she'd be dying to ask since they'd arrived.

"Maura, are you ok that I have something from Dad and you don't?"

"Oh I have a letter, but it wasn't written to me. It was written to his mother after I was born, telling her all about me. I'm fine with that, hon."

Miriah sighed in relief, since she'd worried about that ever since she'd seen the letter. Magdalane has her memories, but Maura only remembers bits and pieces of him, she thought. Maura hugged her then, and stepping back told her, "You'd better call me and tell me how it went with Mom, though. I have a feeling she'll be on her best behavior, but just in case." Miriah nodded, grateful her sisters were always looking out for her.