November 9th, 1999

Stan wouldn't lie, (okay, he absolutely would, but not in this case) having Nicola on the opposite side of the country from him was hard. Especially once business hours were over and the shack went quiet. It hadn't been that quiet in over a decade now.

Not that he was always alone. Em stopped by every Thursday for what she called "an empty nesters night". Sundays, he joined her at her place. And every so often the new Mrs. Northwest would arrive on his doorstep with a box of some fancy dessert or other. But Tuesday was by far Stan's favorite. Tuesday was when Nicola finally had enough time free to chat with his old man for a bit, tell him what was so great about this whole "college experience" thing.

Speak of the devil, the phone was ringing. Stan picked it up faster than an unattended wallet.

"You've reached the Mystery Shack, we put the fun in-"

"No refunds!" Nicola finished from the other end of the line.

Stan smiled. "It's always good to hear your voice kiddo."

"Yours too Dad."

"Juilliard treatin' you right? Cause I'm not afraid to come up otherwise, No-Fly list or not."

"I know Dad. And yes, just like last week Juilliard is great. The work is hard and never ending, but at least the music stuff is cool."

"Think you'd be willing to show off those new skills for the tourists? You know I've gotta keep the tours indoors during the winter."

"Sure thing Dad. Oh! Can you tell Cilla I'll be flying home for break the second week of December? She wanted to know my availability for something, not sure what."

Based on the announcement the Northwests had recently run in the local papers, Stan could guess why.

"I'll let her know."

December 17th, 1999

Nicola stood alone outside the front door of Northwest Manor, carefully inspecting the shiny silver streamers around the frame as if they could tell him what occasion they had been hung up for.

Despite her apparent desperation to know Nicola's schedule, Priscilla still had not informed him why she wanted him here. Based on his current observations, it appeared to be for some kind of party. Maybe for the holidays? He couldn't really be sure until they had the chance to talk.

A butler opened the door, gesturing for him to enter.

"Mrs. Northwest has been expecting you."

"Do you know w-" Before he could finish his question, he spotted a few of the many decorations inside.

A banner reading Congratulations, an ice sculpture of a stork, pastel pink and blue cupcakes, flowers arrangements with rattles mixed in…

"No way," he mumbled.

"Surprise?" A familiar voice said from his left.

Nicola turned to his friend, who would've looked exactly the same as on her wedding day were it not for her skintight shimmering dress pulling against a small curve on her stomach.

"You're pregnant?" He asked, still a bit in shock.

Priscilla nodded, a hesitant smile on her face. "About four months along."

"Seems a bit early for a baby shower," he remarked.

She shrugged. "I'm out of the first trimester and, according to my mother-in-law, no Northwest woman has failed to keep the baby past that. Guess that's all the assurance they need."

Nicola frowned. "And what if something goes wrong?"

"Then I was never fit to be a Northwest in the first place. But I'd rather not think about that possibility."

"Can I call dibs on favorite uncle?"

"Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you about." She began to walk away before calling over her shoulder. "Follow me."

Nicola walked after her until she had led them to a balcony overlooking the garden, far enough from the party to ignore the chatter of the many guests.

After a brief moment admiring the view of the ice-glazed trees, he spoke. "So how are you feeling about this whole baby business? Without any of the show."

Priscilla leaned against the balcony's railing, a hand on her middle. "You want me to be honest about how I feel? I'm excited, nervous, a little hungry at the moment, but more than anything, I'm worried."

Nicola pressed his shoulder against hers. "I think that's pretty normal in your situation. I mean, I'd certainly be worried if I was gonna have a kid. But I think you'll be a good mom."

She gave him a strained smile. "Thanks, but that's not really what I meant. It's Preston that worries me."

"He hasn't hurt you, has he?"

"No. He may be a bit rude at times but he's not a violent man." She looked out at the garden. "Have I ever told you exactly why I ended up here?"

Nicola shook his head. "Not that I can remember."

"My family makes yachts, the finest in North America, but they haven't been without their challengers. When I was eight, several rival companies teamed up and challenged my parents to a race. Our fastest yacht against all of theirs. My parents were so confident we'd win they offered me as a prize. I'm the heir to Cynosure Luxury sailing, so making me part of another family would give them the business. Preston was sailing on behalf of a small company his father owned. He won."

Nicola's eyes widened in surprise. "You were like eight!"

"And I'd be old enough for marriage eventually," she retorted. "In the meantime, my parents decided it was best to give me to the Northwests early, so I could learn what Preston wanted in a wife before we were bound in matrimony. My wedding was the first time I'd seen my parents since I left, and they hardly said two words to me."

"Okay so, arranged marriage. Not cool. Still not sure how this ties into Preston's fatherly capabilities."

Priscilla turned her eyes from the garden to him. "What if I have a daughter? Will Preston just see her the way my parents saw me? An asset with no use but business mergers? Something so worthless she's at risk of being gambled away?" She paused for a moment to carefully dab the tears from her eyes. "For this baby's sake I hope it's a boy."

Nicola cautiously placed a hand over hers. "Well, even if it is a girl, this kid's already got it better than you."

"You think?"

"Course I do. After all, they've got a Mom that worries about them, which means she cares. Plus, an aspiring Lake Ranger and Pianist totally qualified to keep them safe."

She laughed; the sound still choked by tears. "And that's precisely why I want to ask you to be their godfather, well, one of their godfathers. Tate called dibs."

"You told Tate already?"

"We get coffee on the weekends; he noticed my sudden switch to decaf. Now do you want to share the position or not?"

Nicola beamed. "I'd be honored. So," he finally removed his hand from Priscilla's. "When is this delightful godchild of mine due anyway?"

"June twenty fourth, so don't you dare sign up for any summer courses."

"Wouldn't dream of it." He shivered. "What do you say we head back inside before we become popsci-"

He was cut off by Priscilla wrapping her arms around him. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Being here."

He awkwardly patted her back. "No problem. Call me and I'll be there for your labor too."

"I might just take you up on that."

June 24th, 2000

"I'm blaming you for this," Tate grumbled as he parked his truck in the hospital parking lot.

"I intended it as a joke," Nicola noted from his place in the passenger seat. "How was I supposed to know Preston's such a jerk he won't keep his wife company while she's having their kid? Cilla needs a friend right now and that's what we're gonna give her."

"You woke me up at two am Nic!"

"Well I'm sorry, I assumed as fellow godfather you wouldn't want me one upping you this early on."

Tate groaned. "You have no idea what you signed us up for, do you?"

"Witnessing the beautiful miracle of birth?"

"There is nothing beautiful about childbirth, it's a horror show. Trust me, I once watched a cow do it on a trip to visit my Gamgam, the image is still burned into my brain."

Nicola opened the truck door and slipped out of his seat. "I had nightmares for about 80 percent of my childhood, I can handle it."

Tate rolled his eyes beneath his bangs, but followed his friend regardless.

As they approached the front desk, Nicola leaned over to whisper in Tate's ear.

"How bad of a horror show?"

"Slasher, but with more blood," Tate answered flatly.

June 25th, 2000

They had created a system for the whole thing after the first couple of hours standing at Priscilla's bedside. One of them stayed in the room to act as her support/human stress ball, while the other stayed in the nearby waiting room, usually getting snacks, napping, or icing their increasingly bruised hands. Whenever the current stress ball couldn't take it anymore, they switched. So Nicola was entirely unfazed to see Tate rushing in his direction.

"We're switching. Now. I refuse to be scarred for life a second time," Tate ground out, his jaw tense.

Nicola bolted upright. "The baby's coming?"

"In the next couple hours. None of this goes by quickly. Course, this part hurts the worst from what I understand."

"Then someone's gotta be there for Cilla."

Tate waved his arm in the direction of the room. "Be my guest, but don't say I didn't warn you."

Nicola had already sprinted down the short hall by the time he finished his sentence.

Tate had managed to read the waiting room's entire stock of magazines three times before Nicola finally emerged from the delivery room.

"It's a girl," he said with a strange mixture of fear and awe.

"Cilla's okay?" Tate asked.

Nicola nodded numbly. "Yeah, though I'm not sure how," His face paled. "There was so much blood."

Tate snapped his current magazine shut. "And that's all I need to know!" He stood. "Now let me meet our goddaughter."

They walked back to the room together, pausing outside the door.

Nicola cracked the door open. "Is it safe to enter?"

"My nether regions are no longer exposed," Priscilla replied in a hoarse voice.

Tate looked sharply at Nicola. "You didn't look, did you?"

Nicola lightly shoved him. "Absolutely not! I appreciate living without the knowledge of what my friends look like naked, thank you very much!"

"I just had to ask what with your belief that childbirth is beautiful and all that, thought you might be tempted to watch."

"I'm aware how wrong I was believe you me!"

Priscilla groaned. "Just come in and meet my baby already!"

The pair shuffled in, their awkwardness already dissipating into excitement. Priscilla smiled from her hospital bed, where a nurse was helping to prop her up, a bundled pink blanket in arms.

"You can come closer," She urged. "I don't bite, and this one doesn't have teeth yet."

The young men walked closer, until they could get a good look at the little red face tucked within the blanket.

Tate grinned. "Well, aren't you precious?"

Nicola peeked over his shoulder. "Yep, totally adorable and definitely distinct from all the other babies I've seen." He looked up at Priscilla. "Do you know what you want to name her?"

There was a mischievous glint in the new mother's eyes. "Well I wasn't sure before, but after you guys stayed with me for that, I'm really liking the sound of Kate Nicoletta Northwest."

They both gaped at her, but Tate recovered faster. "After us? Really?"

Priscilla chuckled. "Why not? You know anyone better?" She turned to the nurse. "I'd like to fill out the birth certificate now."

"No need," a voice said from the doorway.

The little group turned to see Preston enter the room, his styled hair and pressed shirt a sharp contrast to his wife's tousled appearance. He looked briefly at the baby before returning his focus to the two men.

"Since my wife was preoccupied, I took the liberty of filling out the certificate myself. Her name is Pacifica Elise Northwest. Elise after my mother and Pacifica…" He looked to Priscilla. "Well, you know why I'm fond of Pacifica, don't you darling?" He pressed a stiff kiss to Priscilla's forehead. "Well done dear, I'll send a driver to bring you home when the staff deem you fit for release." He turned sharply and left the room with a wave. "Until then."

Tate began spitting every curse he knew the second Preston was no longer visible. It was an impressive list.

Nicola couldn't tear his eyes from the stunned expression on Priscilla's face. "Why is he so fond of the name Pacifica?"

Priscilla slumped over, tears running down her cheeks. "Pacifica was the name of the yacht."

The thing about Preston winning Priscilla is actually canon. In Lost Legends, Pacifica makes a passing comment about her mom being a "literal trophy wife". Ever since reading that part, I haven't been able to stop thinking about what Priscilla's childhood would have been like if her parents were willing to use her as a prize. Thus, her portrayal in this story.

(If I've done my job right, Preston should seem extremely punchable now.)