A/N: I also liked that episode, D. I know many were put off by the JLA "knock offs", but I enjoyed them. Hence why I kept Silver Sentry around, even if he's off living his own life for a bit. o

Zathura...as soon as I feel confident enough to tackle PTSD in the spotlight. *daunted* "The Distance" has been harder to start than any book I've written to-date... :/

December 25
10:11 A.M.

Almost five months, maybe a little more. That was the estimate Melody had given Gavin Anders before Christmas Day. During those months, Nia gained weight, yet her baby bump could be mistaken as a severe pop belly by most others. Not him, of course; although sometimes...it fooled him into believing the whole situation laid in their imaginations.

He needed proof, which Nia always supplied without hesitation. Mostly through sonograms, the last of which had been delivered no more than three days ago. He remembered her excitement because it hinted that the fetuses were likely female. They had no plastron—no visible one, anyhow—so Donatello felt adamant about their sexes

But little could be said with certainty.

Nia carried hybrids in her womb. A new race. According to science, they shouldn't be possible. Then again, that same science said Nia shouldn't be possible either. So what did science really know? Here he stood in a townhouse filled with humans, a cyborg, mutants, and, yes, a half alien.

In fact, fuck science. It obviously played no role in reason anymore.

The redhead scoffed, noticing the lightness of his beer bottle. Had that been his fourth or seventh?

...Whatever; he'd get another.

Pushing off the wall, he ceased watching Splinter, April, and Donatello by the live Pine tree erected beside the living room's fireplace. He could hear their clamoring over how to arrange gifts and wondered why his daughter wasn't front-and-center of the task. She loved handing out presents, much like the loud one in orange, Michelangelo.

Adeline and Sophia kept the mutant busy with breakfast, though, so Gavin paused before entering the kitchen. Did he need another beer that badly? Those three were boisterous to the point where sneaking anything out required Guerilla tactics. Now, he had missed the meals Mia's condition prevented her from cooking, which meant he was thankful more cooks lived close by.

But still. The effort…

"Oh, Daddy!"

Gavin blinked then glanced down at the pale girl who had almost run into his chest. "Nia. Where've you been?"

"Uh, well." Her hands fell to her belly, a notable bump beneath the snug Santa Claus jacket she wore. "All the food Mikey and company are making? Yeah, the twins don't agree with the smell."

"Have you been—"

Nia made a face. "Gargling, sipping lemon water, eating apples. Everything you and Mel-anechan agreed on. It helps my throat not hurt as badly, but it doesn't stop the nausea."

"It should've eased up by now."

"Ma—maybe it's an enhanced effect from a…hybrid pregnancy?" Shrugging, the young woman played with the fur along her jacket's hood. "Donny-niichan has another theory as well."

"The children could have a different blood type than you."

"Yup. Joy, huh?"

Nia laughed. It felt forced, though. And how could Gavin blame her? Insomnia lined her mismatched eyes with purple bags. She had to practically live beside a bathroom. Then, all the normal stress a first-time mother experienced was enhanced by the fact that these children were the first of their kind.

Who knew what would happen? If they would survive? Or if she would? Maybe the labor would go horribly wrong…

Raphael and Nia brought this on themselves. Technically, they should've been more careful in their activities—forget the chances. He hated the idea that Nia gave herself to anyone, let alone a mutant.

That said, his heart ached at her suffering. So he pulled her to his chest with one hand and kissed her forehead through her side-swept bangs.

"Wh—what's that for?" Nia asked. She didn't fight him.

"I can kick them out of me kitchen if you want."

"What? N—no! They're working so hard."

"If it makes you sick…"

"It's alright. I'm used to it. I"—tensing under her father's chin, Nia sighed—"I felt like this a lot when growing up, so…"

Did she? Gavin never sensed it. And when all he wanted was to be helpful…Figures. He never could save those who mattered, could he?

"Daddy, are you drinking?"

Gavin glanced at his beer bottle. "I ain't hammered."

"That's not the point." Nia pulled away, her brown and teal eyes wide. They reminded him of a little five-year-old, who used to watch in awe as he started campfires with something more than two sticks.

'Wonder if those survival skills are still in there somewhere…'

"Daddy!"

Gavin blinked. "You do what you need, Ni. I'll do likewise."

"But…"

"You want me tolerable, or not?"

More sighing from Nia. Was beer such a bother? It was a celebratory day. Besides, Raphael had one earlier.

"You owe me a present."

Gavin pushed his round glassed further up his nose then regarded Nia's pout with a frown. "What do you mean?"

"I got some good things for my twenty-first birthday," the artist continued. "Like this." She held up her left hand, on which an ornamental ring displayed a polished Yin-Yang symbol at its center. A wedding band, Raphael claimed. While there were still no papers, Gavin let the matter slide when his daughter's hand lowered. "But you got me a massive sketchbook? Really?"

"You said you needed another," Gavin said, toneless.

"Yeah, but it—it's not a statue. It's not a Daddy gift."

The redhead felt frozen in place under her glossy gaze. "You still want me to get those for you?"

"Well, yeah. It's a tradition. I—I look forward to it every year. Figured you just needed more time because of…everything. Then I asked April and she said you never brought it up."

"Thought you were over that part of your life."

"Why?"

The reason was too sentimental to face right now, so Gavin turned his head. If only his beer bottle could fill itself.

"Those statues are something only you and I share, Daddy," whispered Nia. Near tears, the soft tone almost wrenched the man's heart from his chest. "I get that you're the kind of person who needs someone's all or nothing. That's why Mama worked out so well for you. But normal people share each other. I've gotten better at that, and I want to keep our traditions alive."

"That so?" Gavin whispered in return. Really, it was the only articulate thing he could manage.

"I—I—I've been bullying Raph to find the others, too. From when the Lair…He's found some. They're sorta chipped, one's broken, but I'm being a little mean and pushing him to find the whole set."

"Raphael's digging through cement for them?"

"Him a—and Melody. Her strength comes in handy. I'd help, but…"

She rubbed her red and white belly, and Gavin knew just what the other Hamatos feared. "April and I must have a talk, it seems."

An instant smile lit up Nia's face, making it glow as she jumped up to kiss her father's cheek. She heard her name behind them, a cry from Donatello, so after a nod, she left Gavin to his original goal. He crossed the threshold, rounded the staircase, and then entered the kitchen.

It was a mad house. The blondes darted from one point to another, twirling Michelangelo with their haste, and the redhead grimaced. The fridge was nestled between the counters on the other side.

'For the beer,' he thought while cracking his neck.

He pushed up the sleeves of his dress shirt then floated through the cooking battlefield like a bobbing lure. Who knew he'd actually use the avoidance skills he gained from growing up with three siblings, two cousins, and an overbearing grandmother figure? Not him.

He smiled when he reached the fridge undetected then opened it. Knelt, he reached into the crisper for the monochromatic red cardboard container printed with the words 'Red Moon'. It was empty. But its twin in the second crisper was full, so he pulled one out from that, pausing only when he head Michelangelo speak.

"Dude, I may be confused, but I think we're making dinner too."

A scoff sounded; Raphael's scoff. "I'd rather be cookin' than deal wit' anoddah awkward conversation like I just had wit' Mia."

"Doesn't she want you calling her 'Mom'?"

"Ain't funny, Doofus. It's times like these where…where I wish Casey could help me out. It's the second Christmas wit'out him."

Michelangelo's tone lowered. "And our first without Leo…"

The conversation fell, just like that.

What a stark contrast from how people viewed absence in Gavin's Sect. They were gits, the lot of them…

Fuck.

Maybe the refrigerator's cool temperature jumbled the redhead's mind. Or maybe it rang because the Italians screamed across the kitchen. Guess in the end, reason didn't matter.

He picked up two more beers then rose. Wordless, he left them on the island beside the Hamatos before leaving. They damn well could use one…or seven.

A/N: No, Gavin isn't familiar with the concept of sharing. So this is a big step for him. I acutally enjoy wiritng drunk Gavin because he's just like "Why the fuck not?" XD