Ghosts that Haunt—32
Riah was pale when Casey burst into their living room and skidded to a stop just inside the door. She looked at him and struggled to get to her feet. She had never really gotten all that big, but during the last several weeks, she found it harder to maneuver her body. He was beside her in a moment, helped her up from the couch, and would have just scooped her up and carried her out the door if there hadn't been something in her expression that stopped him. While he tried to decide what to say, she told him, "It feels like bad cramps, but they're about five minutes apart."
As it always did, anything not related to her pregnancy but related to female functions he'd really rather not think about made him want to mentally if not physically run away. Maybe it was important for him to know, but he'd really prefer not to. He spied the bag she'd packed earlier in the week on the coffee table, and he considered whether to grab it or her. She gave him a look that told him he'd better take the bag. He snagged it and wrapped an arm around her before he started to steer her out the door. She planted her feet, though, and he wondered what was wrong.
She lifted a brow. "You are not meeting your daughter for the first time dressed for the Buy More."
Of all the things she could have insisted he do in that moment, asking him to change clothes had to be the lowest priority on his list in this particular situation. "Riah—"
"Change your shirt at least, John," she said, and when he heard the weary note in her voice and realized she was serious and unlikely to budge voluntarily—and he certainly didn't want to waste time arguing with her—he raced up the stairs and did as she asked, traded the green polo for a blue one.
When he came back downstairs, she had her hands cupped around the sides of her abdomen and bit her lower lip, her eyes screwed tightly shut. She was clearly in pain, and he nearly panicked. Casey reminded himself that he did not panic, that this whatever-it-was definitely was not panic. He fought for breath himself as she breathed in and then slowly out. He slid his arms around her, and buried his face against her hair and only really relaxed when her tensed body did. "Riah?" he asked.
After a moment, she pushed against him, and Casey shot a look at the clock. She leaned back against him. "I think we should go," she said, and she sounded exhausted.
She wouldn't let him use the lights and sirens, reminded him that they still had plenty of time. He refrained from telling her she didn't know that. The extent of his medical experience was related to dealing with burns, bruises, broken bones, sprains, cuts, stabbings and bullet wounds, but he searched through his memories of the first aid and emergency medical training he'd had for anything related to delivering babies. He came up blank other than what he'd read in her pregnancy books, which had been negligently vague. He supposed that was largely because they all seemed to assume pregnant women would have a midwife or doctor handy at all times during their last trimester. He wondered which government agency's job was to look into the accuracy and quality of information contained in those books.
A hissed in breath told him Riah was in pain again, and Casey took her hand and held it while he drove, glanced at his watch and realized it had been five minutes since she had the last contraction. It wasn't that he doubted what she'd told him, but he was glad it wasn't any closer than the others had been since he felt queasy at the idea of having to wing delivering his own child.
He focused on the road, tried to remember if he had ID beyond his driver's license with him when he spied a policeman. He was speeding, and if the cop tried to stop him, he wondered if he should pull over or keep going toward the hospital. He wondered if his wife having a baby could be considered a national security emergency. It was definitely a personal emergency, and he thought he could justify the other designation as it left Bartowski less protected since he now only had Walker watching his back. It turned out to be a non-issue since the cop didn't pursue, and Casey relaxed a little.
If he could have thought of anything to say that wouldn't make him sound like a complete imbecile, Casey would have talked to Riah so that she was more at ease. From the tense way she gripped his hand, she could use a distraction. What he found wasn't much of one, but he seized on it anyway. "Did you call your parents?" he finally asked. She didn't answer, so he shot her a quick glance.
She shook her head. "Let's see if the baby is really coming," she told him.
There was a split second where his mind went blank. She had called him, was ready to go to the hospital when he got home, but she wasn't sure the baby was coming? "Riah," he said carefully, "you're overdue, and you're having something very similar to what they described the early contractions being like."
She breathed in deeply, and ignored his response entirely. "Did you call your mother?"
"I didn't even call Walker," he said. It was true. He'd been on the phone with her, had hung up on her when he realized Riah was on Chuck's phone. He was pretty sure Bartowski had since told Walker what was happening.
"John?"
He shot her another glance, the note in her voice putting him on alert. "Yeah?"
"What if something goes wrong?"
It was her greatest fear, he knew. Casey didn't know what to say to that. Riah had never been entirely comfortable with this pregnancy, so he understood her fear, felt it himself. Casey was not an optimist at the best of times, but this was one of those moments when he needed to be. "Nothing will go wrong, Riah." If it were at all possible, he wouldn't let it.
He parked the car when they arrived and came around to open her door for her. Yet another contraction hit about the time she released her seatbelt, and he crouched beside her open door, slid a hand over her rounded abdomen as she rode out the contraction. Casey didn't like how helpless he felt. He was much better when he could do something about a given situation, and there was absolutely nothing he could do here but be with her, wait with her. At least Casey was good at waiting when the mission was important enough, and this one was.
"Come on," he said softly as she relaxed. He helped her out of the Vic and walked with her toward the emergency room and through the opening doors. She told the man at the reception desk she thought she was in labor.
They put her in a wheelchair, and Casey filled in the paperwork as quickly as he could. Riah answered questions about her doctor and how far apart the contractions were coming. After they signed the paperwork, he walked beside her as they took her to maternity.
The two of them were shown to a room, and Riah was told to undress and handed a hospital gown. Casey helped her out of her clothes and into the gown, and then he helped her onto the bed. She asked him to find her phone so she could call her parents. He fished it out for her, but before he could give it to her, a doctor and nurse entered. Riah was examined, interrogated by the doctor, and they confirmed she was in labor. They smiled at Casey, congratulated both of them, and basically left them to get on with it.
Finding that completely unacceptable, Casey followed them out into the hall. "Where's my wife's doctor?" he demanded.
The nurse smiled at him. "We've notified Dr. Pentangeli's practice," she told him in a soothing voice. The doctor who had been with her was disappearing around a corner at the end of the hall.
"Get him back here, now," Casey ordered.
The nurse's smile vanished. "Mr. Casey, women do this every day, and for the most part, they don't need a doctor hovering over them for most of it. This could take many hours, and we do have other patients who need us. Your wife's doctor or one of the doctor's in her practice will check in on her periodically, and so will I. Right now, she needs you more than she needs us."
Astonished, he watched the woman walk away. He started to go after her, but that would leave Riah completely alone. He strode back into his wife's room and tried not to mind the slightly amused expression on her face, certain she must have heard every word.
Riah called her mother, who, apparently, promised to call her father and Emma. Casey called his mother, who told him she would get a flight out as soon as she could. When he hung up, he called Beckman and told her his leave had started.
Progress, if it could be called that, was slow. As she said she would, the nurse checked back in fairly regularly, but Riah's contractions were only a little closer. Casey knew because he carefully timed them. The nurse assured him that was normal, and after an hour and a half of obvious discomfort, Riah asked him to help her up. She went into the bathroom and threw up. As he helped her back to the bed, she told him she felt a lot better. He told the nurse when she returned, and she told him that sometimes happened and checked to see how far Riah was dilated.
The contractions started coming a little closer together, and although Riah seemed to be in more pain, she still refused an epidural. Casey began to wonder if she would break his fingers when she ground the bones together each time she had a contraction. He was also pretty certain he was going to be black and blue where her fingers dug into him when a contraction hit and she wasn't holding his hand. Puncture wounds were a very real possibility, he thought, given how deeply and painfully her fingers sank into him, and he wondered why hands as small as hers were capable of that much pressure.
The nurse came and checked her again, asked how she was feeling. Riah's right hand traced a line just below her breasts, and she told her, "I'd feel a lot better if you just amputated everything below here."
Her voice sounded a little weak, and Casey looked closely at her, studied her wan face. She appeared ill, and he wondered if she needed to throw up again. She'd made him help her up a couple of times to use the bathroom, but she hadn't puked again.
Laughing, the nurse told her most women put the amputation mark lower. Riah shook her head slowly and insisted she'd chosen the right spot.
Casey began to worry about how tired she seemed to have grown. He knew how little she had slept lately, and this was very obviously sapping her strength. He wondered if he should talk to the doctor—who was not Lydia Pentangeli, and he certainly intended to let his wife's aunt know what he thought about her dereliction of duty when she finally put in an appearance—about a cesarean, but he had a feeling Riah would be pissed off if he did. Even Casey cringed when the doctor finally broke her water. He considered punching the man since it was the first time Riah reacted badly to pain since this began.
It was about half past three in the morning when they finally took her to the delivery room, made him dress in a surgical gown and mask, and from that moment on, things happened quickly.
When she had made her last push, Riah had looked sleepily up at him and said very softly, "Victoria's here."
He leaned in and kissed her, glad it was all over, especially since her voice had been weak when she said that. He would never tell her how nerve-wracking this night had been for him, worse than any firefight or any torture. He declined to cut the cord, and the tiny, bloody, wriggling thing looked a little repulsive, he thought, another thing he wasn't about to say to his wife, especially since Riah was smiling happily. Actually, it was a rather drunken smile, and he would far rather have dealt with a drunken Riah than this. He was told to follow the nurse who carried his daughter, and he intently watched her every move even as he listened very closely to what was happening behind them with Riah while the woman cleaned his daughter and did some other things he didn't really care about. The nurse diapered and dressed her, put a stupid-looking knit cap on her, and turned to tell him to wash his hands. He did as ordered, considered the surprising number of bossy women in his life while he did so.
Victoria was handed to him, the nurse briefly telling him how to hold her as she laid the baby in his arms. He looked down at the tiny thing, and she lay there, red-complexioned, curled in on herself, nothing special. He worried that he didn't seem to feel anything for her, especially after that flood of emotion he'd felt during that first ultrasound, worried that he was more concerned about what might be happening to his wife than about the tiny girl he held, but then his daughter wriggled and those eyes very briefly opened, closed almost immediately, and he found himself suddenly grinning like a complete and utter idiot.
The woman told him his daughter was five pounds thirteen ounces and nineteen inches long. Casey knew only that she was under normal weight. He had no idea if nineteen inches was normal or not. Frankly, he wasn't sure he cared.
He walked back to where his wife lay and sat on the edge of her bed. He handed Victoria to her, and Riah's smile was worth everything. She looked up at him and asked sleepily, "I suppose you counted all her fingers and toes?"
Casey snorted. "All accounted for," he told her. He hadn't, but he wasn't about to argue. Riah stared at their child, and when she looked up at him, he smiled at her and leaned in and kissed her. "I love you," he whispered.
One of her hands came up and cupped his cheek, and she whispered back, "I love you, too."
She was taken to a room, and he followed. They were left a while with their daughter, and Casey slid onto the bed with his wife. He pulled Riah into him, and they both lay there watching their daughter sleep in Riah's arms. Casey covered one of her hands with his, and neither of them said a thing. He knew their relationship would shift, that Victoria meant changes, but looking at the tiny girl, he didn't think he'd mind.
With any luck, she'd be the kind of baby who cried little and learned to sleep the night through quickly.
Even as he thought it, he doubted they'd be so lucky.
A nurse came and took the baby, and Riah rolled into Casey, settled her head on his shoulder. She was worn out, and she dropped off to sleep almost immediately. He, however, couldn't quite shut down yet, so he lay there and held her, wondered what they were doing to their daughter and whether or not he ought to go see. He only dropped off himself after the nurse returned with a hospital bassinette holding Victoria and left it where Riah could reach her.
He snapped awake when the door opened again, admitted Lydia Pentangeli and a nurse. They woke Riah, checked her vital signs, but before he could berate the woman for not having been there when she should have been, his wife told her aunt, "I told you so."
The other woman laughed. "And as I told you, Mariah, many women know better than we do."
After her aunt and the nurse checked her over, they left them alone once more, and Riah drifted off again. Casey was on the edge of sleep when the door opened again and admitted Ellie Bartowski. Woodcomb, he reminded himself. He always forgot her married name. Ellie wore a huge smile as she put a finger to her lips. "When I came on duty, I checked to see if she'd delivered yet," she whispered. She leaned over Victoria and watched her a moment with a soft smile. "Congratulations, John," she said with a brief touch on his forearm where it draped over Riah's hip. "I'll come back later when Mariah's awake."
He gave up on the idea of sleep when Ellie was followed not long after by a nurse's assistant bringing Riah breakfast. He helped her sit up, and watched as she ate. Casey would have to eat something himself, and he decided that when her family arrived, he'd go home, shower, change and do so. She wanted to hold Victoria again when she finished, so he pushed the table away and helped her out of the bed. They both washed their hands as the nurses had told them to do before touching their daughter, and Riah climbed back in bed while he lifted Victoria carefully and handed her to her mother.
Riah was more alert now, and Casey envied her what rest she had managed to get. Considering she had done the hard part, he didn't hold it against her.
"I expected it to hurt more," Riah said, and he shot a look at her. "Everyone always talks about how god-awful the pain is," she explained, and her expression read earnestly honest. "It was never all that bad, more like an extreme case of cramps."
He wisely said nothing. Given the way her fingers dug into him as she endured a contraction, there was a hell of a lot more pain involved than she admitted. He wondered if there was something like labor amnesia that made her either forget that or dismiss it. Then it dawned on him that it hadn't been what he expected, either. Riah had moaned and groaned some, but she had never screamed or looked like she was in extreme pain despite having clearly hurt. He felt a ridiculous pride in that.
Victoria made a squeaking noise and shifted, waved a little fist a time or two, and then stretched. She made another squeak, and Casey watched a frown cross her tiny face. "Is she supposed to do that?" he asked.
Riah lifted a brow. "How would I know?" He was nonplussed for a few seconds, but then she confessed, "Emma's the only baby I was ever around, and I don't really remember too much about that since I wasn't there all the time." She gave a slight laugh. "Just because I'm a woman, John, it doesn't mean I know any more about this than you do."
It was all he could do to stop himself from saying she was supposed to know, that women were genetically bred nurturers, but then he realized not all women were. He had depended on her knowing what to do when their daughter was born, and it was more than a little disconcerting to realize she was as much in the dark about all of this as he was. He considered that, wondered how to solve that little problem. Uncomfortable though it made him, he remembered their mothers had both been through this, so he decided he'd suck it up and talk to his mother. He dismissed Ariel. After all, by her own admission, she had been an absent mother, so he doubted she could provide much useful guidance.
Two women, one obviously a nurse, joined them a little later, and the one who didn't appear to be a nurse talked to Riah about whether she intended to breast or bottle feed Victoria. Casey was more than a little uncomfortable with the discussion, but he remained and remained silent. Riah told them she planned to breastfeed, and they started talking about how to do it.
Casey felt a morbid fascination and an equally morbid repulsion while they talked about it right in front of him. The next thing he knew, they unsnapped the shoulder of Riah's hospital gown—he had wondered why it was different than the hospital gowns he was used to—and put a pillow in her lap. The non-nurse talked the whole time, explained what to do while the nurse handed their daughter to her mother, and Casey watched as Victoria finally latched onto Riah's breast.
He thought about the times he had done that to Riah, thought about her reactions to him when he had, and he squirmed inwardly. There was no evidence this felt remotely the same for Riah, though, and he wondered if he would ever be able to take her nipple in his mouth again without thinking about his daughter feeding.
Casey watched, mesmerized, as Victoria suckled, her tiny mouth moving against her mother's pale breast.
When she was finished and the two women finally left, Riah blushed prettily, and Casey leaned in and kissed her.
"Christ, Casey, she just gave birth, and you can't even leave her alone long enough to recover."
He lifted his mouth only far enough away from his wife's to say, "Go away, V. H." He kissed Riah again and then sat back.
Riah's father carried a huge bouquet of roses, a small teddy bear and a bottle. He leaned down and kissed his daughter's cheek and gave Casey a mock glare. "Make yourself useful and find some cups," he told him. Casey knew he wanted some time with Riah alone, and he didn't begrudge the other man that, so he went, stopped at the nurse's station to ask about getting some paper cups. The nurse he spoke to asked why, so he told her. She gave him a look and said that Riah was not to have alcohol. He assured her it wasn't, and she grudgingly found cups for him.
When he re-entered the room, V. H. sat in the chair beside Riah's bed and held his granddaughter. Riah's bed was raised so she could sit comfortably, and she leaned against the raised part, lay on her side watching her father and daughter. Casey put the cups next to the bottle of sparkling cider on the table and slid behind his wife on the bed so that he was spooned up against her.
"You two do good work," V. H. said.
Casey grunted, and Riah slid a hand over his and linked their fingers.
Riah's father lifted a dark brow and asked, "Are you still going to name her Victoria?"
"Yes," Riah said.
V. H. smiled at her. "I'm surprised you're letting him name your daughter after his car."
"We aren't naming her after the car," Riah said testily.
Casey stayed out of the bickering exchange that followed. He must have drifted off because the plastic cork coming out of the bottle startled him enough he instinctively reached for a weapon. V. H. laughed. "You've got a lot of sleepless nights ahead of you, Casey. Sleep while you can."
He accepted a cup of the cider as did Riah. Victoria was back in her bassinette, sleeping. Casey was glad it wasn't sickeningly sweet when he drank in response to V. H.'s toast. He enjoyed the taste more when he leaned in and kissed his wife. "Seriously," V. H. said in a mock-cranky voice, "I really don't need further evidence that you molest my daughter."
Once more Casey opened his mouth over Riah's, kissed her deeply. Her hands crept up his chest before she slid them into his hair. She was deeply flushed when he released her mouth, and she went a darker shade of red when he told her father, his mouth a fraction of an inch from hers, "I don't molest your daughter."
"I'll amend that to I'd really rather not think about what you've done—will continue to do—to my daughter."
"Dad," Riah groaned, and Casey heard the embarrassment in her voice. He assumed her father did as well, since he dropped that line of discussion to ask if they would stay in their apartment or would move somewhere bigger. That had been a very long series of conversations early in Riah's pregnancy, but they had both realized that because Casey had to stay close to Chuck, especially since Bartowski's fake relationship with Walker was off again every three to four weeks, they would have to stay put. Riah had pointed out that the NSA had spent a small fortune turning theirs into a fortress, and that would be not only difficult to undo but expensive. Beckman had seconded that when it came up during a briefing.
"We'll stay where we are while we're in Los Angeles," Riah told him.
Her father didn't stay much longer, and when he left, he told them he'd be back later in the day. V. H. told her he'd spoken to her mother, who intended to come as soon as she could but had warned it might be evening before she made it.
Casey considered calling his mother again when V. H. was gone, but Riah snuggled into him, and he held her, kissed her forehead. She ran a hand up over his jaw, scratched at his stubble with her nails, and said, "I like you scruffy."
He snorted. "Don't get used to it." He'd rarely been anything but clean-shaven.
She stretched along him, settled even closer to him, and mumbled sleepily, "You should go get some food, maybe some real rest."
"Later," he promised. He figured Ariel would bring Emma with her, and he'd leave them to gush over Victoria. He should probably find out when his mother was coming in, and he should probably call Walker and let her know what was going on.
Somewhere during his mental checklist, he went to sleep.
Déjà vu was his first thought when he roused to a cranky nurse telling him he shouldn't be sleeping in his wife's bed. He growled at her before he could stop it, and she looked taken aback. She stammered that the chair was a recliner, and he could sleep there if he wanted. Riah placated her, but Casey stubbornly stayed where he was. He'd take a play from Riah's visit to him in Germany, he decided, and if the nurse wanted to make a federal case of it, he'd oblige her.
He shifted though, since Riah needed to get up and wash her hands. Apparently, they were going to make her nurse Victoria on a strictly regulated schedule.
As he watched Victoria latch on, he found it less uncomfortable to watch his wife nurse their child than he had the first time. When she shifted Victoria to her other breast, he stroked a light finger over his daughter's cheek and wondered when they could take the stupid pink, white, and blue striped hat off her.
He heard voices in the hall, and he recognized both of their mother's voices, Emma's, too. Easing off the bed, he went and intercepted them. Emma flung her arms around him before he could fend her off. Catching Ariel's amused expression, as he awkwardly held his arms out while Emma squeezed the hell out of him, he considered appropriate revenge. Riah would kill him, though, so he let it go, patted Emma's back a couple of times and was greatly relieved when Emma let him go.
His mother's hug was much easier to accept. Ariel, thankfully, decided not to test her luck. Instead, she smiled, and said, "You look like hell, Casey."
Regretfully, he couldn't honestly tell her she did, too, so he ignored the dig, certain his sleepless night, rumpled clothes and unshaven face gave credence to her statement. Instead, he gave her a mildly sarcastic, "Thanks."
Emma's irrepressible grin appeared. "How're my sister and niece?"
"Riah's feeding her," he admitted with a grin of his own. "You can go in when she finishes."
When the nurse left the room, he spied Bartowski and Walker getting off the elevator, so he sent their mothers and Emma inside while he went to intercept his partner and the Intersect. Walker carried a small duffle she handed him as he met them. "Clean clothes and a razor," she told him. He nodded thanks, remembered the last time she had done this and was completely grateful the circumstances were not remotely the same.
"How are they?"
There was something on Walker's face that reminded him of the day Riah had told her and Bartowski she was pregnant, and Casey wondered again what that pinched look meant. "Fine," he said. "Riah's sister and Ariel are in there at the moment." He was so used to not admitting to a family that he had to make himself add that his mother was there as well.
Bartowski gave him a look that told him the kid still, deep down, believed Casey had probably been hatched rather than raised by actual people. He buried the instinctive comment. While Bartowski and Walker looked at Victoria, chatted to Riah, he dropped the duffle in a corner and stood back and watched. When Riah told Chuck what they were naming their daughter, Walker simply shot him an amused look, but Bartowski's urge to babble kicked in. "Seriously? Victoria Reagan? What kind of torture made Mariah agree to that?"
Casey let loose a feral grin and said with careful menace, "You really don't want to know, Bartowski."
After all, if Riah's father could insist he'd seduced her into that name, he could work with that when it came to Bartowski. The kid didn't need to know it had been the other way around—at least where the Victoria part came in. Something in his expression apparently made Chuck decide to leave it at that.
Walker gave him a more genuine smile this time, touched his shoulder and said, "Congratulations, Casey," before she took Bartowski home.
He decided he'd let his wife bond with the women in the room, so he drew Emma aside, told her he was going to get something to eat while they kept Riah company. He headed to the cafeteria. He should probably go home, but he didn't want to go far. The food was edible, though they were serving nothing that particularly appealed to him. He ate because he needed to, and then he made his way back to his wife's room. There was a shower in the bathroom off her room, and he'd use it when everyone left. The pissy nurse could just deal.
His mother held Victoria when he re-entered the room. Riah lay back in the bed, and Emma had staked a claim on the chair. Ariel stood next to her daughter's bed. His eyes met Riah's, and he nodded. His mother handed him his daughter when he'd washed his hands and kissed his cheek. "She's beautiful, Johnny," she told him softly.
Casey looked down at his daughter and agreed. He crossed to Riah and sat on the edge of her bed.
When they left, Casey hoped that was the last of the company for a while. He could use the quiet, and, looking at Riah, he suspected she could as well.
After settling Victoria into the bassinette once more, he lay down beside his wife, breathed in, and said, "Let's sleep while we can."
In the early evening as Riah finished her dinner, Ellie turned up once more, her Ken Doll in tow.
Casey had already figured out they would have no peace in the hospital, so when her aunt had checked in once more, he'd followed Lydia into the hall and asked how long Riah would have to remain in the hospital. Her aunt had told him a couple of days at a minimum. Then she'd drawn him farther from Riah's door and talked to him about her concerns for postpartum depression. She warned that given Riah's predisposition to depression under normal circumstances, she was worried about her niece. She gave Casey a list a things to watch for, urged him to call her if anything seemed remotely wrong, and then told him her niece might well be fine but he needed to be vigilant.
When he finally took a shower and shaved, Riah griped, mainly because they wouldn't let her do the same—shower that was. Toward eleven, she suggested he go home, get some sleep. Casey had already figured out they were going to wake her periodically, and he didn't think it fair that he'd get to sleep the night through but she wouldn't. As a result, he stayed.
Their family were in and out the next day, and Casey learned to change diapers right alongside Riah, to her amusement. He knew she thought he'd dodge the job as much as possible, but since he'd be the one in and out at irregular intervals, he decided he'd do his share when he was present.
Mostly, though, Victoria slept the first few days of her life away. He was surprised she rarely cried, and he wondered if his daughter was simply lulling them into a false sense of security before they took her home where there would be no one there to help.
When he said as much to Riah, she had grinned and then laughed. "Babies aren't insurgents, John."
He snorted then cocked a brow. "Sure about that?"
She blinked and her face blanked. He could see the wheels turn. "No," she admitted.
Casey tried to figure out if she was humoring him.
The morning they were to be released, Casey realized neither he nor Riah had remembered to buy a car seat. He kissed his wife and left her to go do so. Then he had to figure out how to get the damned thing buckled securely into the back seat of the Vic. It irritated him that he had to resort to reading a poorly written set of instructions to figure it out—especially since the drawings were little help. He decided then he'd buy a second one for Riah's car rather than have to move it back and forth.
Riah moaned in pleasure when they let her take a shower that morning. Casey was amused by that reaction, and he held his daughter while her mother took the longest shower he could remember her ever taking. Victoria was a little more active, moved more, and her eyes remained mostly open. Casey watched her as he held her against his chest. He'd noticed she seemed to like being held closely. Riah claimed she liked hearing another heartbeat. He didn't know if that was true or not, but Victoria seemed happiest against one of her parents.
His mother rode home with them. She'd decided to stay the first couple of days, and Casey was grateful even though he had looked forward to having his wife and daughter to himself.
When they were inside, Riah refused to go upstairs. "No more beds for a while," she told him, and since she coupled it with that look of hers, he said nothing further, took their things upstairs and left her in the living room with their daughter and his mother.
If he thought being home would stop the visitors, he was mistaken. Ellie and Woodcomb turned up that evening, and so did Bartowski, Grimes in tow. Casey's teeth gritted when Riah let the Bearded Barnacle hold their daughter, but then he watched, amazed, as the kid turned into someone else. There was no baby talk out of Grimes's mouth. Instead, he talked to Casey's daughter as if she were an intelligent being. What made it worse, though, was that Victoria seemed to like "Uncle Morgan," since she did that squeaking thing she seemed to do when she was content. She wasn't happy when Grimes handed her to her mother.
After they settled in for the night, Casey pulled Riah close. Since it was the first time they were alone—if he didn't count Victoria asleep in the cradle on Riah's side of the bed—he told his wife, "I'll be here when I can. I'll do what you need."
Riah snorted sleepily. "I knew that, John."
"I won't leave you to do this alone if I can help it."
"I know."
Her tone said she was humoring him, and he was only mildly irritated by that. Then he realized he wasn't getting to the point very well. He breathed in, gathered his courage, and simply spilled. "I want us to have as normal a life as we can, and I want our daughter to have a normal life. I can't tell you everything, and we can't tell her much, but I want this to work—without endangering you or her."
She moved, lifted her head and searched his face. "John, what are you trying to tell me?"
There was a tinge of fear there, and he realized he was making a complete mess of this. He breathed in, let it go, did it again, and searched for the words. Why he suddenly felt the need to confess sins, he wasn't sure, but he did. Then he stepped back. Some of those sins couldn't be confessed or absolved, and he would be wise to let them stay hidden. He regrouped and simply told her, "It all changes now."
"Does that bother you?"
"Not you, not Victoria," he admitted, glad that was true and he could admit it. "Riah, I worry about when I can't be here."
"There will always be a Gray Laurance, a Delaney, a Finley, a Fulcrum or a Ring," she said quietly. "I know that. But I'm not a player in this game anymore, John, and that should provide some protection."
"Some," he conceded, "but you and Victoria will always be leverage, and I'm never going to be completely comfortable with that."
"You don't have to be," she said quietly, "because I won't be, either, but at least unlike many wives of men who do what you do, I'm a little better equipped to handle the possibilities."
She had the training, he admitted, and then he caught the hidden amusement and switched gears. "Yeah, well, that arsenal is what might help keep you both alive."
His wife kissed him before she settled back against him. On the edge of sleep, he wondered if that might be prophecy.