I had a dream this week where Erza and Irene had a showdown on the roof of a train, circling each other, until Irene pointed at Jellal, going "This is the guy you chose? Why the hell would you do that?" And I was so offended on Erza's behalf that I woke up.

Erza heaved a sigh when as she went to open the door. Meredy was not that fast – had she perhaps forgotten something? Erza hoped it was the case; she was not yet ready to see someone else, and neither was Jellal. She wondered how long it would take him, and she was beginning to think the baby would be quicker to adjust to his absence than he would to hers.

Confused, Erza merely blinked when faced with two short, wrinkly old people. And she meant wrinkly.

"Uh," she forgot to greet for a moment, a protective alarm going off in the back of her mind, distracting her.

"I'm terribly sorry, Miss Scarlet, we didn't mean to disturb you," the old man began. She was puzzled enough not to bark a 'Mrs' at him.

"Mr and Mrs Osorion," Jellal appeared behind her, the baby closely held against his neck. He sounded unbothered, so Erza forced herself to relax.

"My, and there it is," the old man said with a fond smile. He was missing a tooth.

"We heard the scream and wanted to congratulate you," the old woman – Mrs Osorion, as Erza had learned – explained. She held a present in her hands, the lack of a bag making Erza realise that they were their neighbours that Jellal had already met.

Receiving the in silk wrapped item, Erza uttered her thanks. She glanced at Jellal, and he nodded, smiling.

"You really shouldn't have brought us a gift," he said. "If anything, I still owe you some sugar," he gave a grin. His mood was as fickle as hers had been during pregnancy, but for the most part, the variations went from overjoyed to fascinated to peaceful. There was panic for sure, but it abated in tandem with Rosemary's wails.

Coming to think of it, the old couple did not need good hearing to have noticed the baby's arrival, Erza concluded.

Undoing the bowtie, she gasped lightly when a small glass bottle was revealed. A baby bottle. Jellal leaned with his head over her shoulder, so she held it higher. She could feel Rosemary breathe next to her ear, already a little jealous of Jellal being the one holding her.

"It's beautiful," Erza smiled.

"Is that nacre?" Jellal asked. The old woman nodded, so Erza inspected the bottle again, in particular the two simple strings wrapped around. Attached to each, there was a button made from nacre.

"I remember you admiring our lamp, and I'm afraid the only thing I had were these old buttons," Mrs Osorion said. "The glass might be a wee bit heavy for her at first," she added. Her eyes wandered up to where the baby was sleeping safely in her father's arms. A frown creased her already wrinkly features.

"We didn't get a chance to buy nappies yet," Erza excused, slightly embarrassed.

"We might still have some spare ones," the old lady said without missing a beat. Also without commenting on bad planning, accidental pregnancy or anything of the likes. "Come on, Amos," she shoved her husband in the opposite direction as one would with a stubborn horse, "it's time to put the kettle on," she decided. "I can show you how to fold a nappy and how to swaddle," she offered, although Erza got the impression that it was less of a question – the theory supported by the way her husband obediently shuffled back to their house. She would get along well with the old woman, she foresaw. And the henpecked man with Jellal.

Erza and Jellal exchanged a glance, then followed. They realised why Mrs Osorion had sent her husband to get a head start – they would have arrived before him had they not slowed down and put on their shoes.

The house was warm, perhaps a tad too much, but it felt cosy the instant Erza stepped into the entrance. She regarded the bust on the side table, then the abundance of carpets, rugs and tapestries. Nonetheless, the target her eyes dwelled on most often was her baby, who did not seem to notice a change of setting.

"I always used these cotton cloths – I kept them as dish rags, but I could never bring myself to use them as such," Mrs Osorion said, showing them the way to a room Jellal had never been to. A sewing room, now apparently used for embroidery.

From a massive oak closet, she got out a woven basket, revealing several square shaped cloths. Erza sat down first on the ground, following the instructions of folding. She took turns with Jellal, and afterwards, they changed their still – and luckily so – calm baby.

Not half an hour later, they were sitting in the living room. Rosemary had woken up during swaddling, but not yet complained about hunger. Erza and Jellal passed her every ten minutes, the slightest of sounds of discomfort erased when the other parent reintroduced themselves into her tiny world.

Jellal had noticed a bucket of plaster in the corner, and for once, Erza was glad that he loaded someone else's problem onto his own back – they could repay them immediately for their kindness. With a sword, Erza had cut a small hole into the wall. Instead of going back to her chair, she had crouched right next to Jellal as he had reconnected the cable and closed the wall. He had glanced over so frequently to Rosemary, it had been the right decision to stay close.

"Healthy and chubby," Mrs Osorion had said, reminding Erza of her rounded belly. "Oh, no, dear, that's not weight you've gained – it's the womb that needs to shrink again," she had elaborated, soothing them significantly. The same had been the case with the umbilical cord, which she had promised would fall off my itself around the second week if kept dry.

Porlyusica was not too amused to see the couple return from someone else's house, but they were quite content with their excursion and knowledge gained. Asking the grumpy healer anything prompted a reply so acerbic, it made Rosemary cry. That in turn made Porlyusica hiss with irritation.

Meredy went out again to shop for groceries, washing powder and – with the greatest care and enthusiasm – a couple of baby clothes. She insisted on buying at least one piece with her own money. She sent pictures to Erza's lacrima, and Jellal evaluated them while sipping a fresh cup of tea, his back against the kitchen counter.

It was not until a different name appeared on the screen that he was reminded of work. The work where he had announced to arrive a good nine hours ago.

"I see you're still alive then," Ambrose's voice carried a grin. "I do hope nothing happened," he said, and he said it with anticipation. He must have guessed, though how, Jellal did not know.

"It did," he affirmed. His own tone was laced with excitement, the giddiness rising up, bubbling in his stomach the second he thought of his newborn. Unable to restrain himself, he tiptoed into the bedroom. Both Erza as well as Rosemary were sleeping soundly after the fuss of a sponge bath that had tired both out. "Here," Jellal held the lacrima down.

Slow, quiet breathing was all that could be heard, perhaps only arriving as a mild swishing noise. Ambrose frowned on the other side of the connection, then even more when Jellal returned the device to his ear.

"That's my baby," Jellal proudly declared.

"Baby?" Ambrose almost gasped, keeping from yelling. Jellal left the bedroom anyway, not trusting his own volume to stay low. His skin was prickling, lips rubbing against one another with how abuzz he was. "Here already?" Ambrose asked. He must have assumed pregnant-Erza to have hindered a journey to Era, it dawned on Jellal.

"Yes, we didn't see it coming either," he disclosed. "Precipitate labour."

"Oh, I've heard about that – if I recall correctly, my aunt had it, too. How is Erza then?" Ambrose asked, keen as always. And not mentioning work once – not that Jellal noticed.

"Alright," he said, "tired but alright. A little nervous from time to time – as if it's still happening," he retold. Ambrose gave a pensive hum.

"As is normal, the poor thing," he mumbled. "In that case I'm glad you stayed in Magnolia; your doctor must have known what to do," he said, and Jellal inwardly added that they had not exactly had a choice in the matter. "Or was it that angry old lady in the forest you told me about?" He went on.

"Actually," Jellal scratched the back of his head, "we didn't make it to the hospital," he grimaced as he wandered back into the kitchen. It was surreal, talking about it already, everything still so vivid. Not even the notion of what it would have been like to give birth on a train could worsen his fidgetiness from the past night. It twisted his guts for a moment, so to took a conscious, deep breath in an attempts to untie the knot.

"You didn't?" Ambrose sounded as if someone had smacked him right into the face.

"Did it all by ourselves," Jellal said, feeling even more proud than before. "And it worked out fine – they're both fine," he sighed, not for the first time during the call.

"And is it keeping you awake at unholy hours and eats well?"

"Like a harvester," Jellal nodded. "She gets that from Erza." Ambrose laughed, broadening the grin on Jellal's face. "She's perfectly healthy – the angry forest lady came by today," he added. His feet had already carried him back down the hall without him noticing, eyes scanning the darkness for the tiny silhouette. "She's so beautiful," he whispered. Then cleared his throat, turning towards the kitchen again. "I mean, she looks like a baby – any baby, but still…" he threw another glance around the corner, watching her sleep.

He forgot that he was still on the phone, but Ambrose patiently waited for another minute until speaking.

"I'll file in your absence," he reminded. "You take care of your girls now, and I'll take care of the old geezers here," he said, despite perhaps being older than anyone but Warrod.

"My girls…" Jellal breathed, unaware of how enchanted he was until Ambrose chuckled. Clearing his throat again, he made it back to the kitchen this time and with striding steps. He picked up his tea as if the steam would justify his blush – not that anyone could see.

"I'll send you the signed forms for your records," Ambrose informed. He gave his greetings to Erza and the baby, then pronounced his congratulations to her and 'a wonderful father'. It made Jellal's body surge with fresh heat, prompting him to take another deep inhale once the call ended.

He stood there for a minute, staring at his cup, then at the baby bottle on the counter. With that, he too could feed his baby, he thought to himself slightly guiltily. Erza nursing was truly a sight to behold, and one he could not look his fill of, but here remained a hint of longing in his eyes.

One thing was for sure – the days passed without him sitting down at his desk even once.

Erza stretched her arms above her head, her spine giving a satisfying pop. Sleeping in; lying around in bed had been her strong suit, but by now the desire to move and go out was growing drastically again. She was glad that they had gone out to find more baby clothes the day before – not only had it made them to leave the house, but they were now fully equipped. At least for the coming weeks.

A week, she thought to herself, hardly grasping it. As of that day, her baby was already a week old. She looked out the window, the sun already having risen. She could hear Jellal in the kitchen, just like every morning. Equipping socks, she crept down the hall to eavesdrop.

"… and if you don't salt it, you can reuse it to water your plants. We still have to buy some – flowers for outside, you see?" He was pointing out the window, turning slightly away from the counter for her to see. Rosemary – expertly wrapped to his torso – hardly followed the motion, rather observing the finger he pointed.

He had strapped her to him – back to chest – so that she would be able to watch his cooking, but with her head too heavy for her to hold yet, he had switched back to the other way. And anyway, she seemed to prefer staring at his face, rather than food, heartbeat to heartbeat.

Erza leaned against the doorframe, quietly listening to him babble. He did so non-stop, always narrating his every action, digressing, at some point drifting into talking about his wife and his wife only. At least some things had not changed.

She wondered how it would be once Rosemary went to school or kindergarten. Jellal working hard on not being too overprotective with Meredy was a huge relief. Ever since Rosemary's birth, he had stuck to her so much, watching her sleep and breathe and stare back at him, talking to her, holding her – Erza was beginning to wonder whether he would be capable of letting her go for half the day, not to mention mentally stable.

"… make it extra creamy, because Mama likes it that way," he was chattering. Letting go of the whisk, he picked up the glass bottle he had become attached to. "One day, I'll be the one— well, you'll still drink milk then, but one day," he restarted dramatically, "you will be ready to eat my cooking, and I really hope you'll like it," he said.

His words and movements slowed when he carefully, gently nudged his daughter's fingers with the bottle. Rosemary gaped at it, clueless, so he manoeuvred her fingers towards the string.

"Nacre," he whispered once she touched it. "Friends gave it to us – well, in a way, it's yours," he smiled. "You know, Erza might have more friends than me, but all my friends already had babies, so they can give me advice," he puffed out his chest, and consequently Rosemary too. She wiggled her freest arm slightly aimlessly. "Technically, our neighbours are Mama's friends too, and now that you mention it – which you didn't, but I can see it in your eyes—" he nodded, returning her innocent gaze, "I suppose she can count Ambrose as her friend too.

"Your mommy is very popular. She's pretty, charismatic, cute – like you but different," he went on, causing Erza to stifle a giggle. Caught up in his monologue, he did not notice for even a second. "She's pretty great, your Mama, at everything actually. She's the strongest woman in the guild, I daresay the entire continent, and she brought you into the world. She made you," he said with a light gasp, his eyes sparkling with delight when those of his daughter widened slightly at the odd noise of his gasp. "She gave you the single best hair colour in the world," he boasted, kissing the top of her head for emphasis. "And your appetite," he grinned, rubbing her belly.

Rosemary tried a bit of movement again, the single arm poking out of the wrapping lightly prodding his chest. Edgy and unpractised; weak yet not without intention. Not opposed to his actions in the slightest, so it was rather evident.

His own hands were by far less clumsy now, daring to touch her, to hold and caress her, knowing what she liked and when.

He had mastered any and all nappy folding or swaddle techniques over the past days. He had practised on the baby, of course, but also on rolled up towels, pillows or whenever Erza got up too slowly for breakfast, with a glass and napkin in the kitchen. Sometimes, he had gotten up at night, burped the baby while Erza had turned back around, and after he had brought Rosemary back to bed, vanished in the bathroom again. Erza had caught him practising at just about any unholy hour, but she had let him.

With the flawless command of his new skills, peace had returned. His sleeping rhythm was that of Rosemary, but by now because she woke them, not because of the mere anticipation that she would do so at some point. He refused to let her sleep in her crib, always needing to be within reach. He blamed that one night when masked assassins had broken in through the window, but Erza knew he was struggling to let go of his overprotectiveness.

"Now if you make one in later spring, you'll want to place the strawberries on top," Jellal lowered his voice as he passed his secrets of preparing fruit salad. "Erza likes them best, but this way, she doesn't immediately see that there's other fruit too," he whispered. Erza raised an amused brow behind his back. "Make sure to hide a few strawberries at the bottom though to reduce disappointment," he added. She could not keep from snorting this time.

Jellal winced, his lips clamped shut when he turned around in slow motion. Then spun back swiftly to the task at hand. Erza's smile only widened, and she stretched the tease by approaching him at a threateningly slow pace. Annoyance was long in coming however, seeing as he had finally found someone to talk to without restraint.

Tirelessly, he had worked on his honesty with Erza – and other people, so he reported from time to time, crestfallen – but with the baby, he would never bore someone with the endless conversation topic that was his wife.

"Good morning," Erza smoothly said. He shivered when she ran a hand up his arm, but relaxed once she leaned against him. "I see you two are busy as always," she quipped. He beamed at her with the most innocent, most adorable rapture. 'The two of them' was something he could not hear enough, so she had noted.

Something else had not slipped her attention either, and she could have burst into a million pieces with happiness. Not on the very day, nor the one after or throughout the entire week after the birth had Jellal done what she had adamantly expected. He was not blaming himself. The lack of preparation for labour and its aftermath had been clouded with baby care, and fortunately so. The automatism of self-loathing; of being responsible for anything bad – as if gone.

"I also see that someone's keeping you awake again," Erza gently remarked, caressing her wrapped-up daughter's cheek with the back of her finger.

"I'm sorry," Jellal almost spooked when realising. Erza shook her head.

"No, it's good," she soothed. "Maybe she'll sleep longer tonight then."

"I doubt she will."

"I know," she sighed. Her smile returned quickly. With her arms slithering around him, she edged between him and the counter. "Can she sleep in her crib tonight?" She asked – rather proposed. She could see the protest written plainly across his forehead. "She needs to learn sooner or later, and we don't want her to become too attention spoilt," she raised a brow. Her expression remained soft though, luring out a pout from him.

"I… suppose…" he vaguely affirmed without consenting.

"We don't have to put the crib together, and she can stay on your side," Erza bargained to make the loss easier for him. He was terrible with separation, but so was she, and she missed holding him close without restraint. The constant fear of unconsciously squishing Rosemary made Erza sleep uneasily, but with Jellal it was not an issue. He was trained to endure.

"No, I think your side is better," he reluctantly agreed. "She'll have better access to food when she wakes," he reasoned. The window, Erza knew, was his actual number one drive this time, seeing as his half of the crib was right below it. It would have to do, she decided. It was not only the baby who had to learn to be apart for brief periods of time.

"Thank you," she rose to her toes, pecking his lips. His own smile eased, arms winding around her to tug her closer. She used the chance to kiss him again, then dropped her head to his chest. Turning it to the side, she was met with another pair of dark green but rounder eyes.

"I love them," she whispered. He knew what she meant without having to follow her gaze. "So much for dominant traits," she quipped. Tenderly, she ran a hand over the indeed dominant proving scarlet hair, then down Rosemary's cheek. The latter gave a stronger breath that was almost a coo – nothing intentional, but a reaction nonetheless.

"What was I expecting? Anything short of a miracle would have been unrealistic," Jellal smiled, rubbing Erza's side. "She's yours after all." He kissed her crown.

"Ours," Erza corrected mellowly.

"Yes," he let out a breath of content, "ours."