"Wakey, wakey."

"Go away."

"Time to wake up."

"Did the alarm go off?"

"Not yet."

"Then it's still sleepy, sleepy."

Cal chuckled. He wormed his way closer to his wife, draping an arm over her diaphragm to hold her tight. He felt her struggle to take a breath but she didn't complain or try to shove him away. He eased up a little and she relaxed in to his shoulder. He kissed whatever part of her he could reach, somewhere in the neck/shoulder region. He felt her hair against his lips and nuzzled his nose in to it; breathing in the smell of her shampoo mixed with the scent of her and felt a tension spark gently in the pit of his stomach. He wanted her. How could she say she was gross? So what that she was squidgy around the edges, as she put it. So what that sometimes she smelt a little of breast milk (or when they had first started fooling around after Owen had been born that her breasts had leaked a little)? Cal wasn't complaining. Far from it. What had happened to his powers of persuasion?

Cal reached up with his hand, Gillian's fingers sliding along his forearm as if she didn't want him to let go, and brushed the hair away from her neck. He opened his eyes to make sure he got it all, then kissed her again, lingering his lips against her skin. She was warm and she smelt so good. His stomach tightened a little more. He should probably back off before he let himself go too far. But if he did, her lack of confidence might grow, she might think he really didn't want her and was just trying to tell her what she wanted to hear. Ugh, sucked to have an insecure Gillian in the house. It was too complicated and Cal was out of practice with playing games. It would wear off. It had been the same with their first baby. It would wear off right?

"Time to get up anyway darlin'," Cal told her gently.

At the end of their bed, in his crib, Owen snuffled in his sleep. The monitor had gone off three times in the night. The nights were the worst. And feeds. But Owen was fine with a little gentle nudging; he had taken up his rhythm again with ease. Still. Cal had woken every time. And Gillian as well, plus she had to actually wake up to feed him in the dead of the morning, which certainly involved more awareness on her part.

Cal heard the handle of their bedroom door and turned his head. Lewis peeked in so Cal gave him a wave to suggest he could come in. The boy pushed the door further open and quick stepped it across the carpet to his mother's side of the bed. "Lewis is here," Cal warned her and she groaned and turned slightly and pried open an eye to find her son standing beside the mattress.

"Hi baby," Gillian mumbled and shifted back to create more room while holding up the blanket to indicate Lewis could climb in next to her. Cal shifted back to make more room and Lewis climbed in to bed and Gillian dropped the blanket over him and they snuggled up tightly together. Cal felt the brush of his son's hand against his side. That felt a bit like a dismissal. He shifted over a bit more, readjusting the blanket so it didn't tent at Gillian's back and let her get cold. He listened for the soft click of the monitor measuring his younger son's breaths and realised that under that, was the soft murmuring of his wife talking to his eldest son. Certainly felt like dismissal.

Cal rolled himself out of bed and pulled on a shirt. He used the bathroom and when he came back he could see Lewis was wrapped up in a bear hug with his mother. Cal wondered again if it was possible to be jealous of his own children. When he leaned over Owen's crib to see if the baby was all right, he was surprised to find the little guy awake, looking up at him, or the mobile above his head. "Hey," Cal greeted him softly, reaching down to slide hands beneath his head and backside. "You're awake?" He whispered bringing his arms in against his body to cradle the boy with one arm; with his now free hand, Cal picked up the monitor. He glanced over at the bed, but nope he was still being ignored, and headed for the door, which was still open.

"You need changin' wee man?" Cal headed down the hall to what was now the boys' bedroom. Or at least it would be once Owen moved in officially. For now, his crib was in his parent's room and everything else was in Lewis's. Cal hit the lights as he entered the bedroom at the end of the hall and put the baby down on the changing table. Owen's legs curled up towards his stomach automatically and he managed to put fingers in his mouth. Even a month ago they had been paranoid about germs. His eyes crossed as he tried to focus on his father's face, even though Cal was too far away for that and Owen didn't have the orbital control to stop his eyes drifting in their sockets. After endless doctor's appointments and check-ups galore, it was easier to relax; couldn't get enough reassurance. His hearing was fine, his eyesight was fine, his immune system was holding its own. The monitor would stay though. After what happened with Lily, the monitor would stay.

Cal reached for a clean nappy and wipes and clothes and stripped Owen down to his undershirt and dirty nappy. He changed his son, congratulating him on actually leaving a deposit this time. Sometimes Owen would go a few days with nothing and that cause a whole new round of concern; his digestion wasn't always the best.

Owen waved a hand in his father's face, kicked his legs and then screwed up his face and started wailing. "What did I do?" Cal asked him, taping down the tabs of the clean nappy. Owen continued to cry as Cal dressed him in a clean light blue onesie. Even when Cal scooped him up in to his arms again the baby didn't quit. Cal moved across the hall, dropping the dirty clothes in the hamper in the bathroom and the nappy into the rubbish on his way out.

Cal pushed back in to the master bedroom and Gillian was already starting to sit up and pick the sleep from her eye and move Lewis beside her and comb her fingers through her hair. Then she held out her arms as Cal reached her side of the bed. "Breakfast time," Cal noted. Gillian took the baby wordlessly and asked Lewis to move further out of the way. "Come here," Cal held out his arms to his eldest son. Lewis got to his knees and opened his arms so Cal could lift him under his shoulders. Lewis wrapped his legs around Cal's waist. He was getting bigger and heavier by the day, it felt. "Shall we have breakfast?" Cal asked him, forgetting what the sign for morning was, but gestured 'eat'.

Lewis nodded. "Eggs," he suggested. He brought 'H' hands together then pivoted them down and broke them apart again.

"All right, eggs," Cal agreed. "Mum do you want eggs?" He called over his shoulder without turning towards her. He started for the door.

"Sure," Gillian's muted reply came.

Cal carried Lewis down the stairs carefully. He couldn't see his feet, so he held on to the rail and took his time. He walked around the living space with the boy still latched on to him like a starfish and had a sudden flash to February, to Owen's birth. It made him grip is son a little tighter as they opened the curtains together, Lewis holding on to the material while Cal walked down the length of the windows and glass sliding doors. After that, Cal sat Lewis on the bench and instructed him to crack the eggs open in to a bowl. Cal added salt and pepper, cheese, a little paprika, nothing too exciting because Lewis wouldn't eat it. Then he moved Lewis and the eggs to the other bench, next to the stove top and showed him how he was going to heat the skillet and put the eggs in when the pan was hot.

"Cal!"

Cal turned his head towards the kitchen door to listen for more but there was nothing. "What!" He yelled back. He turned to his eggs again while he waited for a reply.

"Caal!"

Cal's head whipped around this time, focussing on the doorway. He expected to see Gillian coming down the stairs but he knew with a sense of dread already that there was something wrong. Something was wrong. He twisted the gas off and dropped Lewis heavily to the floor and raced for the stairs. He pounded up them two at a time. "Cal!" Gillian called again as he rounded the corner and her voice sounded fearful and that just fed Cal's panic. He reached the top landing, aware somewhere in the back of his mind that Lewis had followed him up, and found Gillian, with Owen limp in her arms and tears on her cheeks. "I can't," she spluttered. "He won't."

Cal took the baby as he was passed over. The monitor was sounding its alarm and Cal felt the panic creep through his body. Owen was staring up at him, bordering on blankly. It was like he was checking out, but hadn't quite gone yet.

Cal strode in to their bedroom, why he didn't know, jigging Owen in his arms. The boy didn't respond. He shifted him upright and gave his shoulder a squeeze. That didn't work either. So he tapped the bottoms of his feet and when that didn't work he felt his chest tighten harder than before. He put Owen down on the bed, aware that in the background Gillian was crying, wailing, saying something he couldn't understand. Cal pulled Owen's onesie off to get to bare skin. He tapped the bottom of his feet again and picked him up, trying to keep his airway open. The monitor continued its alarm and Cal could feel Gillian's hand on his arm; he could hear her freaking out.

"How long?" Cal grunted, shifting Owen again, trying to unsettle him back into breathing. The monitor fell to the floor, taught on its wires.

"I was feeding him and..."

"How long!" Cal repeated louder.

"A-a-a-a about a minute."

Fuck.

Cal turned the baby over roughly. Owen was not responding at all now. They were going to have to call for paramedics. He would open his mouth to tell Gillian to do it but he felt the urge to throw up. He clamped his mouth shut tighter. Please God no. Cal shifted Owen up-right again, holding his chin between his thumb and finger; he was so small. He wanted to shake him, to beg him to stop it, to come back, to not do this to them; Cal wanted to hit him. He was going to have to start baby CPR. Don't shake him. Cal rested Owen against his chest, keeping a hold of his head. Gillian was wringing her hands, crying; Lewis was somewhere behind them, Cal could feel him there watching silently.

Cal freed a hand and pinched the soft skin of Owen's thigh between his finger nails. He did it hard. He had no idea what compelled him. He gave the skin a hard twist and Owen twitched against his torso. His head came up and he opened his mouth and he sucked in a short breath before letting it out and then another, longer, deeper one. And then he wailed and Cal sank to the floor and he was aware of Gillian pulling the little body from his arms. He let the baby go and sat back against the bed, feeling like he was shaking all over. Owen screamed louder and louder as he worked himself up and Gillian sobbed and cooed, pressing kisses against his head, dragging the monitor along the carpet as she paced; it was silent now.

And then cold little hands against Cal's head. He looked up and there was Lewis, in his batman pyjamas, forcing his way into his father's lap. He put his arms around Cal's neck and clung on silently. Cal wrapped his arms around the smaller body, noting, he wasn't so small anymore. Not like Owen was small. He smelt like sleep, while Cal smelt like fear. He was sticky with a panicked sweat but Lewis was cool and grounding him, letting his father anchor himself again.

This was exactly why the monitor was staying.