"Gee , I thought you're 2021 new year's resolution was you were going to finish publishing unshackled before posting another multi-chapter story?"
So did I. but its my birthday shut up.
Sort of sequel in that you needn't have read Chirstmas Cards, cos the event's in that follow A Christmas to Remember. This fic take place a while after Aquanaught of the Year, so six months to the year after that episode. I still have no idea How old is the kid though in cannon so I've placed him here at about nine - ten ish? Like what ever age school years 6 to 7 are.
One day I will stop bullying Atlanta, but tonight is not that day. Eeeeh I know I joke about her being the mom -friend/only one with a brain cell sometimes? but I hope I'm not like just shoving her in a caregiver role if that make sense? IDK
Absolute mush. Sappy feelings and stepping up to be a parent jazz. It's the grief and love and feelings and unfairness and changes, and about father and daughter's and mothers and grandsons yah dah yah etc.
"The boy alright, 'Lanta?" The commander asked, coming into the kitchen. And when she looked up, elaborated. "He doesn't seem himself."
"Barry?" Atlanta frowned. She'd left him doing his homework at the lounge table, while her father sat opposite going over reports. The lieutenant herself was Up to her elbow in suds as she finished the washing up after dinner.
"Well, I'm not talking about Troy Tempest, am I?" The commander scoffed. "Speaking of which, what time are he and the others coming over?"
"About half past eight? Just as soon as they're finished their patrol, and Fisher's handed over to the night team. Well, if Stingray is on time and nothing's happened that is." Atlanta replied, drying her hands and untying her apron. then with a smirk added. "Another couple of hours yet. So, you've time to change out of uniform and call your physio-!"
"Yeah yeah." Her father grumbled suddenly and became very interested in starting the drying up.
"The kid's," he started, then cleared his throat. And corrected himself, "ahem. Barry's at the table still. He's just been kinda quiet is all."
"And You're thinking I better check on him, is that it?" Atlanta asked sarcastically. It was sweet though. She knew first hand gruff how her father could be and how much gruffer he became when something was genuinely worrying him.
"Well, I tried! I asked and he said he was okay, but something's up and I couldn't get it out of him." Her father said.
"Oh, And nice work for today by the way." He added. "That combined thing you did with the sound scanner with those old readings and photos saved the tracking station a whole heap of extra effort tidying up after Titian's men sinking those weather buoys. You did good."
"Don't I always?" Atlanta beamed.
"Yeah. but don't do it too much sweetheart or they'll complain you're putting them out of work." Sam retorted. "You keep it up and those goons will be expecting you to do the shipping forecast as well!"
"As if I don't do enough of their work for them already-!" Atlanta rolled her eyes fondly and squeezed his shoulder as she passed him. "Leave the pans to air dry, father. Barry can put them away later." She told him.
And went to find her waiting-on-the-adoption-papers foster son; the soon to be Barry Byrne-Shore.
(Or Shore-Byrne. Barry kept changing his mind to where he wanted his new half of surname to go!)