This chapter is response to a request as to when Jay met Liam for the first time. And for the guest reviewer who enjoyed the Liam/Will chapter, there will be another one in the upcoming weeks. Jay will also make an appearance.

I have been posting in chronological order, which is not the way the chapters were written, hence the constant delays, but think of Jay just back from Afghanistan and uncertain where is future lies.

In The Beginning

My hand was shaking as I hit the buzzer. I had been standing on the sidewalk contemplating this for so long I couldn't believe that I hadn't been spotted and turned in for loitering. The door clicked and I walked to Bridget's door and put my hand up to knock but she opened it before my hand made contact with the wood, the chain stopping it before it opened too wide.

"Jay? Was I expecting you?" She asked, a look of surprise on her face. Of course she wasn't, I hadn't spoken to her in over two months. I contacted her several weeks after I returned home and then eight weeks ago. Our conversations had been brief, I was quiet and uncertain, and she gave me no demands, for which I was quite grateful. She somehow seemed to know that I wasn't ready to hear demands of any type, despite the fact that they were more than that—they—he was just as much my responsibility as hers and I had ignored his very existence as if I could just will it away.

I had no idea what I wanted to do, what I should do. It was my mother's illness that pushed me to this meeting as well as memories of friend that I had lost overseas. My motivation came from elsewhere, when it should have been at the center of my soul, and for that I was ashamed.

"No—I'm sorry," I begin to babble. "I can come back later—I shouldn't have just showed up." But in truth this was the only path that I could follow. I had to put myself in motion, one foot in front of the other. No planning, no opportunity to convince myself that I'd call next week or after the academy. Or some random time in the future, perhaps when he was in college.

"No, it's fine. Come on in," she said gently as she closed the door, took the chain off and opened it wide.

I saw that Liam was sitting on a blanket in the living room surrounded by toys as I entered the apartment. He had some kind of plastic duck toy crammed in his mouth, drool pooling around it. He immediately noticed me, but didn't bother to stop what he was doing.

"He's teething," Bridget said as I looked at him. "Two teeth just popped through on the bottom."

"He's sitting up well," I said, having no idea if this was a new or old skill.

"Yes, he has hit all his milestones on time or even early. He just started to crawl. He grabs his toys, eats his vegetables and babbles.

"Your mom stopped by a couple of days ago, dropped off a couple of outfits. She didn't say that you might come over." She explains as the last sentence just hangs in the air.

"She didn't know. Doesn't know, that I'm here. I'm sorry," I begin, my mind fluttering with shame and confusion. "I should have been here earlier. I should have at least sent you some money." As much as I wanted and needed to be there all I really wanted to do was disappear.

"Well, you're here now. Mary said you were heading to the police academy soon."

"Yeah. I wanted to see you—meet Liam, before I went." I said as I looked over at my son. "But once I'm done—I want to be a part of his life." There it was, I had said it and couldn't take it back.

"Of course," she tells me as if she knew I would say this all along. Liam looks up at her and throws his toy and reaches up for her, arms held high. "Come here baby. This is your daddy," she coos just as her phone rings. She hauls Liam up and picks her phone up from the nearby table. "It's work. Here, take him," she says handing him off before I can decline. Her efforts are so calm and casual, I feel like I'm a character in a book she wrote. That she knows the future because she created it.

I hold my breath, terrified that he'll start to cry. He is warm and fits into my arms better than I imagined. But I'm still scared. I didn't know what to do with a baby. What if he doesn't like me? What if somehow he knows of all my failures and holds them against me? But he looks up at me and smiles, his two tiny teeth showing. He garbles something that seems to make sense to him and then turns his attention back to me, reaching out for my face, grabbing onto my lower lip.

I looked at his blond wisps of hair, his bright blue eyes, and his chubby cheeks. My mother had showed me my infant picture next to Liam's and I was amazed at the likeness. My eyes were lighter, my hair darker, but the genetic imprint was undeniable.

I sit down on the floor and hold him in my lap and pick up a small stuffed lion and hold it close to him. He grabs it and throws it down. I pick it back up and tickle his face with it causing him to shriek with glee. I pull it back and do it again much to his delight. After several goes of that, I put him on the blanket across from me and play peek-a-boo. He is just as happy and impressed with this game as he was with the lion.

After several minutes, I'm beginning to think Bridget has climbed out the bedroom window when she pops back into the room. She put her hand over the phone and whispered an apology. She went into the kitchen and pulled out a jar of baby food full of mushy green beans, a bib and slides the highchair from its spot in the corner. "It's time for him to eat. Can you do it?"

I wasn't sure if the timing was a coincidence or she was trying to strengthen this bond in record time. I didn't feel as if I could say no so I nodded as she handed me a small, skinny spoon and the jar. She then scooped Liam up, plopped him in the highchair, snapped a bib around his neck and nodded before disappearing again. Apparently I was going to have to figure out how to do the rest on my own.

"Okay kid," I say as I unscrew the cap from the impossibly tiny jar, my hands looking gigantic in comparison. "Let's do this."

I stick the small spoon into the green glop and scoop out a healthy helping and aim it at his mouth just in time for him to move his head so that it smears all over his cheek. "Was that on purpose?" I ask him as I look for a napkin. I find some paper towels and use them to wipe his face off. I try again and this time got it in his mouth—only to see most of it slide back out. I wipe his face again and sighed. This was harder than it looked.

"I thought you were hungry? If you're hungry, you have to keep it in your mouth and swallow," I explain to him. He just looks over my shoulder without a care in the world. I scoop out another helping and get it about half in his mouth before most of it oozes back out. I just sit there pondering the situation when Bridget swings by, phone still to her ear and takes the green bean infused spoon from me and scrapes the beans from around his mouth and shoves them back in where they seem to disappear and then gives me the spoon back, wipes her hand on her jeans and keeps walking.

"So that's the secret," I say following the tutorial I had just been shown.

Twenty minutes later, Liam's hair was more green than blond, his eyelashes were stuck together with the vegetable and my eyebrow felt crusty.

"Sorry about that," Bridget says as she finally enters the kitchen area. "New project started yesterday and it isn't going smoothly at all. Ah, you got him to eat it all. Well done Daddy."

"I think most of it on him and the tray and maybe the floor."

"Typical. That's how babies seem to eat. Let me go get him cleaned up and you can give him his bottle before his nap," she tells me, not giving me much of a chance to back out.

I clean up the kitchen as best as I can and rub my eyebrow until all the foreign matter seemed to fall away. I wander into the living room and can hear Bridget talking to Liam from his bedroom as he fusses with her efforts. I pick up a recent picture of him, all smiles, no teeth yet. It sits next to another shot of him much younger and a pang went through me as if I had touched a light socket with a fork. I had missed so much already and I had no one to blame but myself.

"Here we are," she said bringing a newly wiped down and freshened baby back complete with a change of clothes. She hands him to me as she charges back to the kitchen. She busies herself preparing a bottle as I look down and realize just how much work babies are and how she had been doing it all alone, while working full-time.

Liam just gazes up at me, his pacifier working over time as he rubs his eye. "Getting tired buddy?" I ask as I look down at him. "I know I am," I whisper.

"Once I start getting a paycheck I can pay for his daycare," I offer, thinking how much of a loser I was. I had savings, but I hadn't wanted to dig too deep into it, but I guess that made me an even bigger loser.

"I get some help with his daycare since I'm a single mother with no child support coming in." She replies, no anger in her voice, just matter-of-fact.

"I swear I'll help, just let me get through the academy and on patrol. With my background I should be able to make detective in a few years and that pays a lot better. Plus, it comes with a lot of overtime. He'll have the best daycare."

"He's fine where he is Jay. It's right near my work." She says as she hands me the bottle. "Sit," she tell me, nodding at the couch. "Hold him like this," she models her arms like a hammock.

I do as I'm told and she hands me the bottle and guides my hand and the bottle to his mouth where he takes it greedily after letting his pacifier fall away.

"See, you're a natural," she exclaims.

"Can I come back next weekend?" I ask as Liam chugged away on his after dinner bottle.

"Sure. Anytime Jay. How long does the academy take?"

"For me, about twelve weeks. It varies, but I'm already accomplished in several areas. And after so many weeks I can leave on the weekends."

"Sounds good," she says quietly as she watches us. I wish I knew what she was really thinking. She had taken all this in stride and there was no way that she wasn't thinking of me as a deadbeat. But she was hiding it well. My guilt washes over me again and I am in awe of her strength.

After a lesson on burping, I pat his back until he falls asleep and spend several minutes staring at his quiet form in the crib before I leave, feeling completely overwhelmed, but lighter than I had felt in a very long time.

The next Saturday I go back. I didn't waste anytime standing outside the building like I had the previous week. In fact I couldn't wait to see my son again. I'm buzzed in and the front door is ajar so I make my way into the apartment to find Bridget buzzing around, clearly on a mission.

"I'm so sorry Jay, but there's a crisis at work. I can either take Liam with me, which is far from ideal or if you are comfortable enough, you can stay here with him."

I open my mouth but before I could say anything she continues. "He's been fed, cleaned up, and changed. His bottle is in the fridge, just warm it up like I showed you last week. Just a little play time and he'll be ready for it and a nap. You can text me with any questions."

"Okay," I finally say when she seems to be waiting for an answer. Clearly she notices my uncertainty and the panic in my voice.

"You can do this Jay. I know you can." She encourages. "But I have to go and I could really use the overtime."

She walks over and plants a kiss on Liam's head as he sits on his blanket chewing on a plastic ring. "Be good for Daddy," she coos and with that, she is out the door.

I stand there, a bag in my hand and a bewildered look on my face. I wasn't even sure what had just happened. I sit down next to Liam and open the plastic bag, pulling out the small hat and t-shirt I had purchased. "Look buddy, it's your first Bears shirt and Cubs hat. When you get a little—or a lot older, we'll go to some games." I put the hat on his head and he immediately pulls it right off and throws it on the floor. "Maybe later," I tell him as I put it on the nearby coffee table.

"Oh, I got you this too," I explain, pulling the soft bat and ball out of the bag. I offer them to Liam who grabs the stuffed baseball bat and immediately hits himself in the face and begins to cry. "It's okay buddy, you're fine," I soothe. But he still feels the need to cry it out and I have no idea what to do. Thankfully, he is easily distracted by the ball, and shoves it to his mouth were he chews for all he's worth on the plush covering.

I just sit and watch him, the smile on my face content and there without effort. After slobbering on the ball for a moment he throws it and watches it soar. "You have quite an arm there pal." I tell him as I grab it and toss it back to him. It hits him in the chest and he laughs, that beautiful and hilarious baby giggle. "Oh you like that do you?"

So we play that game for a bit, until he begins to rub his eyes. "You getting tired? Do you want your bottle?" I ask, shaking my head as the term bottle in the past had nothing to do about milk in my world. I get down and lay on the floor and look at Liam who grabs my hair and shrieks. "Strong grip kid," I tell him as my scalp feels a bit tender after he lets go. I sniff the air and don't like what I smell. "Oh boy," I say, understanding the challenge in front of me.

I see a stack of diapers on the coffee table next to a tub of wipes so I take a deep breath and grab them. "I can do this," I say out loud. "I've battled my way out of being surrounded by insurgents, I've avoided IED's with pure gut instinct. This is easy," I state trying to convince both Liam and myself. I pull him over and lay him down, where he instantly disagrees with my move by screaming his head off. He has on overalls—I have no idea why you would put an infant in something so complicated. I unbutton the top straps and fight to pull them down, Liam is straining to get away from me the whole time. I finally pull them off and figure out how to loosen the tape that holds the diaper on and find a huge mess.

"That's awful," I declare, wrinkling my nose. "And I've seen and smelled a lot of bad stuff," I tell him, but Liam doesn't seem to care at all about my opinion as he is working himself into a frenzy at being held in place. I grab a wipe and begin, but it doesn't take me far. I pull one after another out of the container, piling the used wipes in the used diaper wondering where all this mess could have possibly come from. When were kids potty trained anyway? Finally he was clean and screaming as if I was killing him. I try to wrap the diaper up in a neat little package, like I had seen Bridget do it last week, but came up way short.

"I'm going to throw this out and wash my hands, don't move," I tell Liam who was quieting down a little, now that our epic battle has ceased for the moment.

I go into the kitchen, toss the diaper, wash my hands, grab his bottle and begin to heat the water to set it into. But when I get back to the living room, Liam is gone. I have been gone one minute, the apartment is small and he is seven months old—where the hell could he have gone? I call out and look around and finally find him behind the rocking chair. He is analyzing a block of post-it notes that must have fallen on the floor. "Come here you speed demon." I say as I move the chair to pull him out. He had just begun to crawl when I saw him last week, but clearly he has mastered the skill in the last several days.

He was none too pleased about being busted and begins to fuss again as I lay him down and try to get the diaper on him. I was trying to figure out which way to put the damn thing when I felt something on my shirt. I look down to see he is busy relieving himself, the stream, an arc beyond what I thought he was capable of, and it's final destination is my shirt. I back up and pull my sweater off as if it were on fire. "Ha, didn't get my undershirt," I taunt him as I grab more wipes and begin to mop up the mess. I could see the advantage to having a girl right now as he rolls over and takes off again as I clean up.

"Dude, you need a diaper on, though you're probably good for a few minutes as you have to be completely empty right now." I chase him down and pull him back to the spot where the diaper was waiting. He howls in what I believe to be protest until I discover it is laughter as I had tug him back, but is once again upset that I am holding him down. He fights, twisting and turning, but I come out on top and manage to not only figure out which way the diaper goes, but get it fastened well enough that it doesn't fall off.

"Now to put these pants pack on," I sigh, looking back to grab them only to lose Liam again as he scoots away. I snatch him back, causing him to giggle gloriously, his little belly taut with glee. I put my face on his belly and he grabs my hair. It seems as if this has become a favorite game. After several rounds of this, I attempt to put his pants on, but finally give up when I can't get them over his back and button the straps on his wiggling body. I had no idea that babies were such constant motion.

"I give up—you win," I tell him as I scoop him up and I remember his bottle warming up. We head into the kitchen where I pull the bottle out of the pot and discover it is too hot. "Well, we have to let it cool down," I explain to him as I unscrew the top to speed up the process. "Let's find you some easier pants," I suggest, as we head towards his bedroom.

I walk into his room, the crib was against the wall, a dresser on the opposite wall and a bookshelf that already holds quite a few titles. I begin to open up random drawers and find what I am looking for. "Baby sweatpants, perfect," I state as he babbles away. I set him in the crib and he immediately begins to fuss. "Let's just get your pants on kid," I explain as he kicks and complains. "You only have one sock." I discover and am immediately exasperated. I am too tired to search so I head back to the dresser.

"How did you lose a sock?" I ask him as I begin to paw through the top drawer that held impossibly tiny footwear. I come across a pair of White Sox slippers and know my dad must have purchased them. I thought that was pretty sad that he had already bought things for my son, before I had. But that wasn't my father's fault, it was mine. He has still been hounding me concerning the DNA test, but after seeing his influence already sitting in the dresser, perhaps it was merely a formality, but one he was still insistent on. I continue to look and find some little blue slipper things and return to the crib where Liam is winding up to a full fit. I pick him back up and am amazed at how small and light he is. I fumble with the slippers and end up putting him back down so I can use both of my hands, causing him to scream his displeasure. I pick him back up and try to jiggle him a little bit as we walk back out to the living room, where I immediately find his sock so I bend down and grab it along with his overalls that I suddenly notice have snaps for easy access to the diaper area. Not helpful now. I have so much to learn. But I do discover that Liam loves me bending down with him and standing back up. He clearly is delighted to be on the move, in any direction he could get.

We go back into the kitchen where the bottle has cooled down and as I screw the nipple back on, Liam starts to get animated so we head over to couch where I sit down and find a toy that makes a squeaky noise and give it squeeze only to see Liam cry in exchange of this particular entertainment. I bounce him on my knee which he enjoys for ten seconds before he begins to fuss again so I sit back and tuck him into my arm like I had last week and give him his bottle—which he also enjoys for ten seconds before turning his head away and spitting up on my shirt.

"Oh, come on kid. I'm running out of clothes." I grab his overalls that I had tossed on the coffee table and mop up what I can as he continues to carry on. I try the bottle again, but he just turns his head away and keeps crying.

"What do you want buddy?" I try. I get up and walk with him, but he only cries harder. I try some of our other games, but he isn't interested and has worked himself up to the point where his face is beet red and snot is pouring out of his nose. He shudders as he inhales and I fear that I have broken him.

"I can't do this," I state suddenly, not even realizing I was thinking it. "I don't know what you want. I don't what you need." I tell him as he continues to howl in discontent.

After several more minutes, I tell him I'm out of whatever it is he needs: patience, knowledge, understanding and I'm calling his mother. I pull my phone out and scroll to her number and stare at it. If I call her, I'm admitting defeat—my seven month old son has beaten me. How could I handle him when he is two and having a tantrum? When he is eight and reaching for independence? When he is ten and being snotty? When he is twelve and disobedient? I want to be the father I had always desired when I was a kid, but giving up wasn't an option if I was going to see that to fruition. Fathers didn't give up, at least not the good ones. Hell even my father never gave up—but he did have my mom. But either way he didn't quit even though there were times I had wanted him to. So I put my phone away and look at my screaming child and tried the bottle again, only for him to suck on it for a minute and then turn away and pickup where he left off in the complaint department. I pat his back hoping he has to burp, but it didn't seem to make a difference. I was new at this, if you're new, it's okay to ask for help, I convince myself as I pull my phone back out, but as I did I realize I was sitting on something. I tug it out, to discover it is a colorful book with a train on the front. I hold it up and Liam sees it and seems to quiet just a little.

"Do you want me to read the book?" I ask as I shift him and open the book. I can feel Liam relax a little as his sobs begin to ebb. I open the book and begin to read.

Bridget came home and cautiously stepped into the apartment, unsure as to what she might find. At first she was happy it was quiet, but then it scared her a bit—did Jay take Liam somewhere? Was everything okay? But then as she walked into the living room she saw them on the couch. Jay laying on his back on the couch with Liam snuggled on his chest, both sleeping as Liam's favorite book lay on the floor, next to one of his little blue slippers. She couldn't help but smile as she knew that Jay was everything that she had believed he was.