"Shhh." Striker cooed, stroking Jake's cheek tenderly. "I know ya miss yer mama, my boy. Daddy misses her very much too." Jake's crying diminished as he glanced at his father with glossy eyes.

"Mama..." he mumbled, grasping Striker's finger.

"You would have loved her, kiddo. She was as indomitable as she was sweet in her own unique way: Often, it was me who kept us out of trouble." Jake sneezed in 'reply', making Striker laugh softly. "Yer momma didn't want to admit it either."

"Mama..."

Striker thought for a moment before going to one of the nearby drawers. Jake whimpered as he lost sight of his father.

"I got somethin' for ya, my boy." Striker kneeled down next to the cradle, holding out a photo above Jake's head. It was a photo of Jane sitting over a fence, a warm smile on her face. "This is yer momma. She's pretty, isn't she? It's one of my favorite photos." Jake reached out for the picture, gurgling. Striker smiled. "Alright, pup, ye can keep it. Daddy's got a bunch, anyway," he whispered, attaching the photo to the mobile where Jake would see it. "There ya go."

Jake stared at the photo curiously. "Mama..."

Striker got to his feet and planted a kiss on the impling's forehead. "Sweet dreams, Jake."

Jake kept staring at the photo for a while after the lights went out. Eventually, his eyes shuttered and he fell asleep, dreaming about his mother.

"Jake?" The impling jumped and quickly turned away in an attempt to hide his puffy, teary eyes. Striker sat down at the edge of the bed. "What's wrong, pup?

"N-Nothing, I'm fine!" Jake said, quickly wiping his tears with his arm. However, his father's hand on his shoulder let him know that it was too late to hide it, so he ended up murmuring. "...It's dumb."

"Ya know you can talk to me about anythin', my boy."

After a moment of hesitation, Jake finally spoke up. "Mother's Day is coming up." Jake sniffled. "I got thinking about mom... I don't remember anything about her... I d-didn't get to know her before she... And I... I know I'll never have a chance..."

Striker said nothing. He merely pulled Jake into a hug as he cried, his own eyes welling up with tears. Father and son stayed like that for what seemed like hours; Jake's sobs diminished little by little, but he still sniffled every now and then. Soon, Striker pulled the impling onto his lap and cradled him in his arms, just like when he was a baby.

"Shh. It's okay, Jake."

"Dad?"

"What is it, pup?"

"Why aren't there any photos of mom?"

Striker took a deep breath. "I... I tucked them all away before yer first birthday."

"Why did you never talk about her?" Jake inquired. Striker was silent for a long moment.

"I wanted to, my boy. I really did, but... Just thinkin' about yer momma... it hurt. I put her photos and any mementos of her away because they reminded me of her, and then I'd realize that we'd never have any more happy moments together. For me, it was easier to... bury it all away so it wouldn't hurt." Another sigh. "Jake, I didn't tell you about yer mother because I didn't want you to hurt the same as I did with her absence."

Jake wiped some of his tears with the sleeve of his pajama. "You know, dad... I don't think that having memories of people you love can be worse than having no memories at all..."

Striker thought for a moment. "You do have a memory of her, my boy."

Jake was momentarily puzzled as his father started humming. Something stopped him from asking what he was doing; a feeling of dejá vu, as if he knew that tune. He was sure he'd never heard it before, but something in his subconscious told him that he had. It made him feel... safe.

Let me sing a lullaby

As you close your eyes

And as you're drifting off to sleep

How I hope that dreams that you find are bright

Love, can we meet again soon in the bluest of skies

Where a tomorrow awaits for you and I

So hold me tight one more time, but don't kiss me goodbye

Cause I know that I'll see you on the other side

I will think of our song when the nights are too long

I'll dream of you, for that's where I belong

Love, can we meet again soon in the bluest of skies

Only... in my dreams

Do we meet again...

"Sounds familiar, doesn't it? Yer mother used to hum it to you when you were inside her tummy." Striker smiled a bit as he wiped some tears from his son's eyes. "I'd sing it to you too when you were a baby. You always soothed down as soon as you heard it."

Jake sniffled, mirroring his father's smile. "...Thanks, daddy."