Robert Walker had died a month prior and Miles still hadn't talked about it.

            Or gone to work.

            Which meant that Miles had spent four weeks in their house being more positive than Jensen had ever seen him in her life. And it was driving her insane because she knew it wasn't real but told herself she wouldn't pry. Jensen hated crossroads.

            "Does this look okay?"

            Jensen turned from where she had been eating breakfast with Rocky. And nearly dropped the fork she'd been eating pancakes with.

            "You think that doesn't look okay?"

            Miles looked down at himself. Blazer over his rose-printed shirt and fitted slacks, a pair of pristine black Converse on his feet. He looked up, eyebrows knit together. Even his hair looked perfect. Not a hair out of place. "Rhodes, I can't tell."

            "Considering that's my favourite shirt of yours," Jensen said, "I'd say you look—"

            "Pretty!" Rocky said, her mouth full of chewed pancakes.

            Jensen took a drink from the apple juice glass that had been on the counter. "Definitely pretty."

            "Are you sure?"

            "I've seen you go to virtual meetings in your boxers," Jensen said, "what's the occasion?"

            "I just..." Miles looked down again before looking at Jensen. "If I don't look normal, they'll think something's wrong."

            "You're allowed to feel—"

            "Nothing's wrong."

            Jensen swallowed hard. "Babe, you look great."

            "I—" Miles sighed. "I'm sorry."

            "It's okay."

            "It's not."

            "You're stressed out." Jensen took another long sip from her juice. Ran a hand up his chest, gave a couple taps. "And you look good."

            "Pretty!" Rocky said. Through another mouth full of pancakes. Which she subsequently coughed out onto her plate.

            "Pretty," Jensen corrected, wrinkling her nose. Likely not selling the message, although she thought it was true. Hard to convince someone they looked good while their daughter was spewing pancakes all over the counter.

            Miles walked forward. Kissed the top of Jensen's head. Tucked his phone into his back pocket. "I'm going to try to spend the day there."

            "Do your best," Jensen said. "We'll be here."

            "You're sure you're okay with this?" Miles ran a hand up and down Jensen's bicep.

            "Babe. They're my kids too."

            "I know, I just—" Miles sighed. "I'll probably be home around six. And Rocky's—"

            On cue, Rocky coughed another mouthful of pancakes onto her plate. And sneezed on them for good measure. Jensen didn't know what she'd deserved to have Keira be so understanding of her taking the day off from filming. (If Liberty hadn't been teaching and Dayna hadn't been in dress rehearsals for a show at the Queen Elizabeth Theatre and Maddox hadn't been filming, Jensen would've been home free.) (Instead, Jensen was home.)

            "—That." Miles made a face. Which convinced Jensen further that he should go to work and not stay with their sick toddler.

            "Miles, you've taken care of me when I'm sick."

            "Yeah," Miles said, "because you don't sneeze on me."

            "She doesn't do that." Jensen wished. Knowing full well Rocky had sneezed on her the night before. Like she always did when she was sick. Which meant Jensen had about a week until she caught whatever flu Rocky had.

            "Sure."

            Rocky sneezed again.

            "Rock, cover your mouth, please," Jensen said. Knowing it was far past the point of prevention to keep her and Miles from catching it.

            "I'm gonna go," Miles said.

            "Have fun," Jensen said.

            "I won't, we're plotting the next five years."

            "Try not to infect your coworkers." Jensen took another sip of juice from the glass.

            "Not funny, Rhodes."

            "Book movies!"

            "That I can do." Miles kissed the top of her head again. "Call me if you need anything."

            "Um, NiQuil?" Jensen asked. "No rush."

            "Got it."

            "Thanks."

            Rocky coughed. "Mama, barf."

            Miles' eyes widened as they met Jensen's.

            "Have fun at work."

            "You've got this."

            A quick kiss before Jensen scooped Rocky in her arms and Miles ran toward the door. Managing to get Rocky over the sink in the nick of time, Jensen pushed her daughter's hair away from her forehead as she vomited.

            "Oh, little queen," Jensen said once Rocky had finished. "Let's get you to bed."

            "No sleep." Rocky coughed. In Jensen's face.

            "Cover your mouth, please, Rocky," Jensen said.

            Rocky put a hand over her mouth. When she didn't have to cough. Or sneeze. At least she was listening. Which Jensen mostly appreciated but if it had been seconds before, she might've appreciated it a little more.

            "Your elbow would be better," Jensen said, "but keeping your hand there is okay."

            Rocky nodded.

            "Thanks, little queen."

            Jensen sighed softly. "Sleeping will help you feel better."

            "No."

            "Rocky—"

            "No."

            "Yes."

            Arguing with a three-year-old likely wasn't Jensen's best move. Rocky could say No until she was blue in the face—Jensen had seen her do it. But, God, Rocky was sick and Beckett wasn't going to stay asleep all day and Jensen would hate herself if he got sick because of her and she was so, so tired.

            "How about," Jensen started, hating that she had stooped to that level already. "If you go to sleep now, I'll take you for ice cream when you feel better."

            "Okay!" Rocky pulled her hand away from her mouth and coughed.

            Jensen made a face. "Not if you don't cover your mouth when you sneeze or cough."

            Rocky went to stick a finger up her nose and Jensen caught her wrist before she could.

            "Or if you do that."

            "Okay."

            "So, are we going to go to sleep?" Jensen asked. When she was already walking up the stairs. Past the family pictures. The ones that Jensen loved ever so dearly. Because they looked happy and people weren't sick and Jensen wasn't being constantly sneezed on. (Jensen loved her kids even when they were sneezing her.) (Maybe not in the moment, but she did love them.)

            Rocky nodded.

            "Good."

            Walking down the hall once she'd reached the top of the stairs, Jensen made her way to Rocky's room. Rocky's room—despite Miles' best efforts—had not a pair of boxing gloves in sight. (Jensen was convinced there was a pair of toddler boxing gloves in her closet that Miles hadn't told her about.) Potentially unknown boxing gloves aside, Rocky's room was very her. Her unicorn sat on the bed she hadn't made, a Batgirl blanket strewn haphazardly across the mattress. There were superheroes on the walls, surrounded by scribbles that Rocky did no matter how many times Jensen told her not to—Miles put labels next to each drawing and said they were her "masterpieces."

            How could Jensen argue with that?

            Putting her hand on the back of Rocky's head, Jensen laid her daughter down in her bed, tucking her under the Batgirl covers. Rocky hadn't changed out of her pyjamas that morning but maybe when she woke up, they'd put on something fresh.

            Jensen ran a hand through Rocky's hair as she sat on the edge of Rocky's bed. "Think you can sleep?"

            "Number song?" Rocky sniffled loudly. "Please?"

            Jensen smiled and sang softly. "Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes..."

            Rocky closed her eyes, a smile on her lips. Hands poking out from the top of the blanket, pulled up to her chin. Jensen kept running her hand through Rocky's hair. Delicate curls wrapping around her fingers.

            "Five hundred twenty-five thousand moments so dear..."

*

"Mama?"

            Jensen's eyes opened slowly. Facing a teary-eyed Rocky. It didn't take more than a second for her to realize she'd fallen asleep beside Rocky, but Jensen was far more concerned with what was wrong with her daughter.

            "Baby, what's wrong?"

            "Too hot," Rocky said, tears falling down her cheeks.

            Jensen pressed the back of her hand to Rocky's forehead. And her eyes widened. "You're burning up."

            "Hot."

            "Let me get the thermometer, okay?" Jensen jumped up from the bed. "One second, baby girl. I'll be one second."

            Running down the hall, Jensen went into the bathroom and started rummaging through the cabinet under the sink. She knew they had an ear thermometer somewhere. There were soaps and cleaners and baskets and—

            "Bingo." Jensen took the ear thermometer in her hand.

            "Mama!"

            Jensen closed the cabinet door and opened the medicine cabinet, grabbing the bottle of ibuprofen she knew was there. Tucked that into her front pocket. "I'm coming, Rock!"

            Jensen ran back to Rocky's room in time to hear Beckett start crying.

            "Um, shit—or, shoot," Jensen said, biting back a bad f-word that wasn't fart. "Rock, let me grab your brother."

            "Too hot, mama!"

            "I know, baby, I'll be right back."

            Jensen ran across the hall to where Beckett was. Scooped him into her arms and bounced him as she walked back to Rocky's room. Rocky continued to yell her name. Increasingly louder, increasingly more frantic.

            Adjusting so she could hold Beckett in one arm, Jensen took the ear thermometer in her hand. Sticking it into Rocky's ear, Jensen waited until she heard the beep that confirmed it had taken Rocky's temperature. Looking down at it, Jensen's eyes widened. 103.

            "Shoot—shit—shoot, um." Jensen tucked the thermometer into her pocket. Awkwardly pulled her phone out of the other one. "What time is—"

            6:20.

            God, how long had they slept for?

            And where the hell was Miles?

            A text came in as Jensen's phone connected to their wifi: nobody can agree on anything. have to stay until something comes through. i'll grab the niquil whenever i'm allowed to leave. i'm sorry.

            "Oh good," Jensen said. "Good, good."

            Beckett let out a shriek in Jensen's ear while Rocky continued to say how hot she was. Which Jensen was incredibly aware of thanks to the number on the thermometer. She had to figure out what to do about it with two crying children in her midst.

            "Mama, hot!"

            "I know, I know."

            Rocky sniffled through tears. "Mama."

            "Baby, I know," Jensen said. She sighed softly. "Can you put your shoes on?"

            "Why?"

            Beckett wailed again. Jensen bounced him as best she could. "I know, baby boy. Take a breather, please."

            "Why shoes?" Rocky coughed, covering her mouth with her blanket. A step in the right direction.

            "We gotta go to the hospital, Rock."

            "Hosp-tall?"

            "They can make the hot go away."

            "They can?"

            "They'll try."

            "Mama, hot."

            Jensen pulled out the bottle of ibuprofen, probably squeezing a crying Beckett too hard to get it open. She poured the pills onto her hand, keeping one and dumping the others back in the bottle. "Do your dad get you a cup of water last night?"

            Rocky pointed to the cup on her bedside table—a Spider-Man design printed on it. Jensen pocketed the ibuprofen before holding her hand out toward Rocky.

            "Take this, please."

            "Mama—"

            "Please?"

            Rocky crawled out from under her blanket and took the pill from Jensen's hand. She hated how warm her fingers were. Grabbing the cup from her nightstand, Rocky put the pill into her mouth and washed it down with the water.

            She got off the bed slowly while Jensen bounced Beckett and tried to get him to calm down. Rocky found a pair of Velcro Converse that Miles had bought her and put them on slowly. Jensen looked at Beckett, feeling his forehead. At least he wasn't burning up like Rocky. Jensen walked over to Rocky's closet and grabbed a jacket for her.

            "Mama, up." Rocky reached her arms toward Jensen, who stuffed the jacket into them.

            "Rocky, please put this on. It's cold outside."

            Rocky dropped the jacket to the floor and coughed. "Too hot."

            Jensen sighed softly. "Can you please bring it with you?"

            "Up, Mama, up."

            "I have your brother."

            "Up."

            "Rocky, please," Jensen said, "can we get to the car?"

            "Up, up," Rocky said, "please."

            "I'll carry you into the hospital if you walk down to the car by yourself." At least Jensen knew she could take Beckett out in his car seat at the hospital and carry Rocky. How was she meant to get the car open when she had two kids in her arms. Likely being sneezed on, as a little added bonus. "Please?"

            Rocky frowned. But nodded and picked up her jacket.

            "And can you bring your water with you?"

            Rocky nodded again and took a long, slurpy slip. Jensen offered her a hand after adjusting how she was holding Beckett, who was just beginning to quiet down. Walking likely too quickly for Rocky's little legs, Jensen made her way down the stairs. Slid into a pair of Crocs she didn't want to admit she owned for bad days. She had to let go of Rocky's hand to grab her keys.

            After wrestling Beckett into his car seat, Jensen made her way around the car to help Rocky in. Buckling the clip on her car seat to make sure it was secure. Pressing a hand to Rocky's forehead in false hope that maybe she wasn't burning up anymore. Jensen wished that miracles could've happened.

            Closing Rocky's door, Jensen threw herself into the driver's seat. She'd never sat on an ear thermometer before, but would not recommend anyone ever try.

            "Dammit," Jensen muttered under her breath, awkwardly pushing her hips up to grab the thermometer and toss it into the passenger seat. "Okay. Okay. Um. Seatbelts buckled?" Jensen sighed. "You buckled them, Rhodes."

            "Mama, hot!"

            "I know, baby," Jensen said, backing out of their garage and pulling the car onto the road. "Keep drinking that water and we'll be there soon."

            "Where's daddy?"

            "He's at work."

            "Can he come?"

            "I don't think so, Rock," Jensen said, pulling her phone from her pocket and placing it into the cupholder beside her. "But I have to call him so you can ask, okay?"

            Jensen looked in the rear view mirror and saw Rocky nod.

            "Call Miles," Jensen said to her phone. "On speaker."

            It didn't shock Jensen that she got his voicemail. But it did make her panic a little more than she already was.

            "Hey, Miles, um—" Jensen hated how breathless she sounded. "So, no rush, but I wanted to keep you in the loop. We're on our way to BC Children's. Rocky has a fever and—and I don't know, the ibuprofen didn't do anything. Or—or it hasn't done anything. Yet. And I don't know if we have time to wait and see. We're going to make sure she's okay. You're probably tired from work, so you don't have to come."

            "Please come!" Rocky said.

            "We'll see you at home," Jensen said. "I hope agreements get better."

            "Come!"

            "I love you."

            "Love you!"

            Jensen stole a quick look down to hang her phone up. Letting out a loud breath as she drove down the crowded street. BC Children's Hospital wasn't the closest to them, but they had always been great when it came to dealing with anything Jensen needed for her kids. Rocky had a runny nose at six months that Jensen was convinced was something awful and they'd been patient and kind and made sure that she left feeling better too. She didn't want to go anywhere else.

            Driving to hospitals was one of Jensen's least favourite things to do in the world. There was always panic and dread and she couldn't stop her brain from asking whether something awful was going to happen. Her chest started heating up at the thought of it. She gripped the steering wheel to try and keep her hands from shaking.

            "Are you still sipping that water, Rock?" Jensen asked, trying to take her mind off her impending panic attack.

            "Yeah."

            "Still too hot?"

            "Yeah."

            Jensen twisted the stud in her nose. "We'll be there soon. I promise."

            And by soon, it was evident that Jensen meant twenty minutes driving, five minutes trying to find somewhere to pay for parking—which she thought was appalling, and an hour and a half waiting with a feverish toddler and her occasionally crying brother in a waiting room. If there was ever a time Jensen considered using her name and fame to get into somewhere, it was the children's hospital. But she never would. Other people were waiting too.

            Rocky sat on Jensen's lap. She coughed often, but Jensen appreciated it every time she used her elbow to cover her mouth. Absentmindedly, she ran her hand through Rocky's hair. Her foot rocked Beckett in his carrier, trying to calm him down. Jensen tried her best to ignore the stares she was getting for the crying. What else was she supposed to do? She couldn't leave Rocky by herself to take Beckett outside and calm him down.

            Rocky pulled at the bracelet around her wrist. Rhodes, Rocky Irina in capital letters that were almost too large for her tiny wrist. Seeing Miles' mom's name with Rocky's always made Jensen calm down. If only a little.

            "Be careful," Jensen said, "don't break it off. They need that."

            "Sorry." Rocky dropped her hands.

            Jensen kissed her temple. Still too hot. "It's okay."

            "Rocky Rhodes?"

            Jensen looked up as Rocky hopped off her lap. She made eye contact with the nurse as she got up from her chair. "Hi."

            "Follow me."

            Jensen picked up Beckett's carrier and took Rocky's hand, following the nurse down a hallway and into a room. She put Beckett down for a moment to help Rocky onto the hospital bed and then sat down herself, her foot continuing to rock the carrier. If Beckett could stay quiet while they were in there, Jensen would have to buy a lottery ticket.

            "So," the nurse said, "what seems to be the problem today?"

            "Hot," Rocky said. She sneezed into her elbow.

            "Um, she has a cough, a sneeze," Jensen said, "a fever."

            "Did you take her temperature?"

            "One-oh-three," Jensen said. "That's why we're here."

            "Right." The nurse scribbled in her clipboard. "Mind if I take her temperature again to see if there's been any changes?"

            Jensen jutted her chin toward Rocky. "It's her body."

            "Rocky," the nurse said, "is it okay if I take your temperature again, hon?"

            Rocky nodded.

            The nurse took her temperature and looked at the result. "Okay, so, no need to panic."

            Jensen snorted involuntarily. If she could not panic, she wouldn't be Jensen Rhodes.

            "But we're going to have to take her for testing," the nurse said, "right now."

            "What's going on?"

            "Fever over one hundred three could mean sepsis," the nurse said, "and it's better if we find that out sooner rather than later."

            "What does that mean?"

            "We don't know if that's what it is at this point," the nurse said, "but we can have that talk if that's what it turns out to be."

            Jensen took a deep breath. "How long will testing take?"

            "We have to run a blood test," the nurse said, "and a strep throat test. It shouldn't be too long,  but if it's sepsis, we're going to have to keep her here to monitor her."

            Jensen tried to ignore the similarities between her hospital visit in London and the visit they were on right then. She prayed Miles didn't get her voicemail until she at least had some kind of answer. "Can I come with you or should I go to the lobby?"

            Beckett let out a loud whine.

            "If you want to help him, we're perfectly capable of making sure Rocky's okay and helping her with the tests," the nurse said. "You can stay here if you want some privacy, or go back to the lobby and we can come get you when we have an answer."

            "Rock," Jensen said, "are you okay to go by yourself?"

            Rocky looked at the nurse. Then back to Jensen. Back to the nurse. "You help?"

            "I can help," the nurse said.

            "I can go," Rocky said. "Big girl."

            Jensen gave Rocky a small smile, lips pressed together. "Okay."

            The nurse nodded. "Ready to come do some tests with me, Rocky?"

            Rocky nodded and hopped off the hospital bed. "Bye, mama!"

            "See you soon, little queen."

            The nurse closed the door behind her and Rocky after they walked out. Jensen let out a deep breath and carried Beckett back out to the lobby. She took him out of the carrier and bounced him. Tried to get him to quiet down.

            "Rhodes?"

            Jensen turned. "Hey." She adjusted how she was holding Beckett to wrap her newly free arm around Miles' shoulder when he walked up to her. "What are you doing here?"

            "I—" Miles ran a hand through his hair as he pulled away from Jensen. She hadn't noticed the tears in his eyes up to that point. His voice cracked when he spoke again. "Rocky asked me to be."

            "You didn't have to." Jensen wrapped her arm around Beckett to hold him more comfortably.

            "Yeah," Miles said. "I did."

            Jensen looked down at Beckett to make sure he wasn't fussing. She looked back up to Miles. "We don't know much yet. But she's with the nurse getting a blood test."

            "She wanted to do that by herself?"

            "Beckett was starting to act up," Jensen said, "the nurse offered and she seemed fine with it and left with her. I don't know."

            Tears fell from Miles' eyes. "Okay."

            "What's going on?"

            "Our kid's in the hospital, Rhodes, I—" Miles practically slapped himself rubbing the tears off his cheeks. "What do you think it wrong?"

            "I..." Jensen frowned. "I never said anything was wrong. I asked what was going on."

            "That's..." Miles took in a shaking breath. "That's the same thing."

            "We both know it's not."

            "I didn't want to have this conversation here."

            Jensen motioned with her head to the empty chair not too far away. Miles walked over to it and sat down, running a shaking hand down his face. She sat beside him, gently adjusting Beckett in her arms so she could put a hand on Miles' leg.

            "You can talk to me," Jensen said.

            Miles looked around. Eyes already red. "I feel like I don't have control of my own emotions. And now this is happening, and I feel like I swallowed cement."

            "You're allowed to be worried about our daughter," Jensen said.

            Miles swallowed hard. Leaning his chin against his fist as he looked to her. "We both know I love our kids, right?"

            "Of course."

            "And we both know this—" Miles motioned to his tear-streaked cheeks before replacing his fist under his chin. "—isn't because of Rocky, right?"

            Jensen ran her hand up his bicep. And nodded.

            "I spent so..." Miles swallowed hard as his voice broke. "I spent so long trying to get that man to love me. And now even if he wanted to admit it, he can't."

            "He didn't deserve you, Miles."

            "No, he didn't." Miles sniffled. Loudly. "But I still needed him."

            "You are so much more than him."

            "Do you think he even loved me?"

            "I only met him once—"

            "God." More tears fell down Miles' cheeks. Jensen had the feeling wiping them away wasn't going to help matters. "How do you hate your kid so much you don't even tell him you're dying?" He let out a weak laugh. A sad laugh. "I've been trying to figure out what the hell I ever did for a fucking month now. Well. My whole life, really. But I haven't been able to ignore it for a month, Rhodes."

            "I..." Jensen frowned. "I'm sorry."

            "Did you know he threw a script at me once?"

            "You never told me that."

            Miles nodded. Tears dripped down his chin into his palm. "I don't even remember why. Probably 'cause I wasn't enunciating enough... or properly... or—or something. Something stupid that doesn't justify throwing something at your kid."

            "Nothing justifies that."

            "Then why was it the only time I actually felt like he was paying attention to me?"

            "Miles—"

            "I hate him so much."

            "You should."

            "How do I hate someone I feel like I barely knew?" Miles asked. "I haven't seen him in six fucking years."

            Miles raised his voice a little too loud, earning him a glare from a mother who was sitting next to her young daughter.

            Sighing, Miles looked at her. "She's going to hear it eventually."

            "Miles," Jensen chided.

            "I'm sorry."

            Miles shifted so he was closer to Jensen. She didn't want to be the one to point out that wouldn't mute him from those around him. He sighed, knitting his fingers together. They both elected to ignore that he was shaking.

            "I miss my mom, Rhodes."

            Jensen had enough. She carefully put Beckett down in his carrier and made sure he was secure before wrapping her arms around Miles. His shoulders shook like his hands, head buried in her chest.

            "I've spent more of my life without her than with her," Miles croaked. Arms wrapping around Jensen's waist lightly; like he was already floating away from her. "And I can't wrap my head around how that happened."

            Jensen's hand rubbed between his shoulder blades as she felt tears soak into her shirt. "Your mom loved you so much."

            "I miss her so fucking much."

            Jensen watched the mother look over in their direction again. She mouthed an I'm sorry but also swatted a hand in the other woman's direction.

            "Tell me about her," Jensen said. "As long as you want."

            "You want me to cry harder?" Miles let out a weak laugh.

            "If you need to."

            "I just..." Miles held her tighter. "I'll never understand why she stayed with him."

            "It was probably for you."

            "If she did it for me, she was mistaken, because if she thought we deserved that— deserved him—" Miles drew in a shaking breath and pulled away from Jensen's hug. Punched tears off his face with balled fists. "She was twenty when she had me. I mean. He was thirty-four. I know I was... awful when I was twenty. I know that. But you can't tell me that was normal. That it was okay. That she was okay.

            "Miles," Jensen said slowly.

            "Someone who spent her free time watching John Hughes movies with her son until the day she died deserved so much better than eighteen years with him."

            "Why are you here? In this hospital? Right now?"

            "That has nothing to do with—"

            "Please answer the question."

            "Rocky asked me to. And you sounded..." Miles shook his head as he looked for the words. "Stressed. I don't know."

            "Did everyone at work come to an agreement?"

            "Do we ever?"

            "So you sacrificed something—"

            "I wouldn't call leaving work a sacrifice."

            "—because someone you love needed you."

            "Jensen."

            "Am I wrong?"

            "How come he got eighteen years with her and I only got fifteen?" Miles asked. "It doesn't seem fair."

            "From what I've heard," Jensen said, "from what I know... Miles, those were the best years of her life too. She loved you."

            "She would've loved you so much, Rhodes."

            "I don't think—"

            "She would've made you watch Planes, Trains, and Automobiles over... over Christmas morning coffee," Miles said, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth despite the loud sniffle he inhaled. "Interrupted a party for... for an impromptu showing of Sixteen Candles. Or stolen you away from anything for Ferris Bueller's Day Off. That was her favourite." A weak laugh escaped. "Ferris fucking Bueller."

            "What can I do to make this better?" Jensen asked.

            "I don't—"

            "Missus Rhodes?"

            Jensen turned and saw the same nurse walking toward her. Rocky walked beside the nurse, looking to the side. Clearly, she hadn't noticed Miles sitting there with Jensen, or she would've already been in his arms. Ever her father's daughter.

            "Hi, um," Jensen said. "Everything okay?"

            "Tests were negative for sepsis." The nurse smiled. "Rocky's just caught a bad flu bug. Keep her hydrated and it shouldn't turn into anything serious."

            Rocky finally took notice that Miles was there and grabbed onto his leg. "Daddy!"

            "Hi, little queen," Miles said, scooping her up in his arms.

            "Ouchie," Rocky said when Miles' hand skimmed her forearm.

            Miles pulled his hand away from her. "I'm sorry, kiddo. What'd I do?"

            "We had to take a blood test," the nurse supplied. "Her arm will be a little tender for a day or two before the soreness goes away. Nothing to worry about."

            Miles hugged Rocky to his chest. "Thank you."

            "Anytime," the nurse said. "Of course, if anything gets worse. Feel free to bring her back and we'll be happy to treat her."

            "Thanks," Jensen said, picking Beckett's carrier off the floor.

            "Lots of sleep, Rocky, like you promised, okay?"

            Rocky nodded before coughing into her elbow.

            "Have a good night, parents," the nurse said. "I hope she gets better soon."

            The nurse walked back behind closed doors and Miles looked to Jensen, who let out a deep breath. She took his hand in her free one.

            "Home?" she asked.

            "God," Miles said, his voice still crackling from tears. Ones that didn't dare spill with Rocky around, but still threatened to. "I thought you'd never ask."