It's a late night. Clara is a few months pregnant with Michael, and the requested snacks cannot be denied.

January 11th, 1969, 1:56 AM:

Clara groaned next to William, eyes shutting in frustration.

"What is it, dear..." her husband questioned from besides her, noting her obvious discomfort as he read over some documents from work.

She huffed.

"My back hurts and I can't find a comfortable position to sleep in," she complained. She paused for a moment before speaking again as an afterthought. "...And I'm hungry."

"Hungry?" Will questioned, looking at her with a raised eyebrow. "You had a snack not two hours ago-" he spoke before he stopped himself at the terrifying glare his wife was giving him, and he cleared his throat. "What, ah... can I get you, love?" He asked in only a slightly frightened voice.

Clara thought for a moment. "I want some Havarti cheese with crackers... dill pickles... and lemonade. With ice," she asserted.

William looked at her with a strange expression. Her requests had been becoming stranger and stranger, and this was no exception. "Lemonade-?" He questioned doubtfully. "We don't have any lemons."

"I need some lemonade." Clara affirmed with a neutral expression.

"At two in the morning..? I'm not sure the market is even open at this time..." her husband pointed out awkwardly, not sure how to handle her insistence.

She looked at him dead-pan and pointed at her swollen belly.

"I don't want it. He wants it."

William looked at her strangely.

She continued in a much more sinister tone at his bemused silence. "And if he doesn't get it, he's gonna be upset and let me know in some very not-nice ways," she spoke dangerously. "And then I'll be feeling upset. Which I'm not sure you want."

She crossed her arms as she looked at him with narrowed eyes.

"It's up to you."

William gulped.

"I'll be back soon, dear..." he finally murmured, getting out of the bed, abandoning his documents that had seemed so important just a few minutes ago.

Clara sighed as he left the room, trying to ignore the throbbing in her back as her eyes fluttered closed, arms wrapped around her abdomen. She must have fallen asleep for some unknown period of time, because she later woke to the sound of glass clinking in the kitchen not far from their bedroom.

She sat up, and after a minute, her husband entered the room balancing a plate and small cup in one hand and a tall glass in the other. He rounded to her side of the bed, setting the items on the nightstand.

"Cheese and crackers..." he checked off aloud. "Pickles... and lemonade with ice, as requested," he said tiredly, straightening with hands on his hips.

Clara couldn't help but smile, feeling a little guilty for making him go do all of this for her, but she found herself grateful for it anyways. She looked up at him with a smile, beckoning with one finger, and he leaned to her level.

She tilted up to him and kissed him gently. "Thank you..." she said softly. "You're so good to me, doing all of this."

He looked at her with a gentle expression. "All worth it," he smiled.

Clara sighed as he resumed his spot on the bed while she ate, feeling much better with the strange, but apparently necessary food in her body and later turned onto her side to sleep. Noticing, William set his things aside and turned off the lamp illuminating the room. After a moment in the darkness, Clara felt his chest press into her back as his arm looped over her side, hand resting on her stomach.

She smiled, covering his large hand with her much smaller one.

"Thank you, honey. I love you." She whispered.

"Keep holding on, little mama." He said softly. She could hear the smile in his voice as he sighed, drifting off to sleep.

"I will."