There had been nothing for her to say before.

And there was still nothing for her to say now.

Sonya felt like all she could do was watch and offer whatever help that she could, even if Kenshi didn't take it.

Which put her into an awkward position.

She wasn't a shoulder-to-cry on kind of person.

At one point she had been, but the Special Forces had forced her to dull her emotions.

She had been forced to accept early on that she couldn't save everyone.

The Tournament really drove that one home on her.

Still, it wasn't in her to just leave people high and dry either.

Sonya had no issues setting up connections for people in need of them.

If someone needed their yard mowed, or needed someone to throw a load of laundry in, she was still the one to call.

God knows that after Jax's accident, she had been a leech at his side.

But that had been different, that had been Jax.

And... this was different too.

Standing in the doorway, looking into the next room, Sonya watched as Kenshi slowly paced the perimeter of what was once her living room. She had rearranged things to make it easier for him to get around. Not because she didn't think he could, but because he was distracted enough with other things; the last thing he needed to focus on was worrying about where a stray chair possibly was.

She felt compelled to say something, to do something.

But nothing stuck out as the right thing to say, or the right thing to do.

So she just found herself here, watching in silence instead.

What exactly was there to say to a man who just found out that he had a son?

And what was there to say to a man who, in exchange for that information, also found out that the woman he loved had died trying to protect their child?

The longer she watched him, the more Sonya felt that persistent knot in her throat.

Three weeks ago, she got a hit on Red Dragon movement.

And without knowing what it was going to lead to, she investigated it.

She wondered now if it would've been better to have just left it alone.

Sonya still couldn't scrub the image of how Kenshi showed up after two weeks of lost contact, looking like he had been torn apart.

Nor could she scrub the image of the equally bloody infant in his arms.

"I think I'm getting better at this," Kenshi spoke, breaking the all too evident silence in the room.

Sonya wanted to kick herself.

She had no doubts that he had picked up on her arrival, and had picked up on her watching him. Given his telepathic abilities, Kenshi had more than likely noticed her struggling on what to do as well, and had opted not to pay her any mind at first; at least until he was compelled to speak himself, and offer her an easy way out of her conundrum.

"He hasn't cried as much today."

The remark was enough to bring her attention to the infant cradled against his chest, seemingly slumbering now.

Takeda.

Sonya had told Kenshi time and time again that he needed to put the child down and let Takeda sleep in his own crib. And while her voice of reason was usually enough to win in the end, Kenshi's stubbornness always gave the same sense of resistance to the idea. She couldn't blame him for not wanting to put the child away, especially given everything that had happened.

He just looked so anxious, like he didn't know what to do with himself if Takeda wasn't with him.

Despite rearranging rooms and furniture, even having a crib in the same room didn't help alleviate his anxiety.

Sonya figured that if Kenshi was holding Takeda, then he knew for sure where the infant was.

And even though his heightened senses could locate the child anywhere, there was still that physical disconnect.

Kenshi couldn't see his own son.

But he could touch him, he could hold him.

And that was all he had.

"Well, he also ate like an hour ago," Sonya reminded, as she forced herself to step into the room with him now.

She caught Kenshi just as he started to pass by on another perimeter rotation, which forced him to pause for her. Sonya touched a hand to his shoulder, alerting him to how close she was, before she craned her neck over his arm to take a quick glance at the sleeping infant.

Kenshi always removed his armor to make it more comfortable for the child.

And the fitted bodysuit underneath kept any and all fabric from bundling around the child's nose and mouth.

Takeda was wearing one of the onesies she had bought the day before.

And he was bundled in one of the few blankets that wasn't currently soaking in her washing machine at the moment.

A small tuft of black hair on top made her think of the swordsman.

"He also projectile vomited like twenty minutes after that," she continued.

"Sorry about that," Kenshi replied, despite looking amused by her reminder. "I didn't realize how much distance he could get - but at least it wasn't me throwing up on you this time."

"Tell me about it," Sonya chuckled. "It must be a family trait."