Leo was released from the hospital the following morning, and Mouse and Henry took him home. He was still groggy from the medication, and spent the cab ride home drowsing in Henry's arms.

Henry was in turmoil. First and foremost, the knowledge that Leo was hurt, and could have been hurt much worse, ate away at him. Even though Leo had only been in his life for five short years, Henry couldn't remember what it was like not to be his father. His years in college, getting established as a photographer, his meteoric rise in his profession, even knowing his first wife, all of those things paled in comparison to being parent to this marvelous little boy.

Knowing that this child of his heart, if not of his flesh, was injured, was in pain, was awful. Knowing that he'd been driven to his dangerous behavior because he was afraid of being a burden was even worse than that.

Henry held Leo as the taxi navigated lower Manhattan, trying to absorb the bumps and bounces from the potholes in the streets. Mouse sat next to him, exhausted and quiet. She seemed to know how turbulent his insides were.

"Henry, he's okay, he's going to be fine," she assured him.

Henry just nodded.

After they got up to their apartment, he laid Leo down in their bed, so he could sleep off the rest of his anesthesia, and Henry and Mouse put clean sheets on Leo's bed and cleaned up the mess in the hall. Henry took the precaution of drilling holes in the wall so he could attach the shelves this time. They were no longer free floating, and would not come down again.

When he was finished, he joined his wife in the family room. She'd made coffee for him, and had tea for herself. It was nearly ten A.M.

"You know, I was thinking, we should probably all get blood work, so we know our type and all that," he said, taking a grateful sip of his coffee. "If Leo were to get in an accident where he needed a transfusion or whatever, I wouldn't want to give him mine if we're not compatible or whatever." He looked at Mouse for her opinion.

Mouse sighed. "Henry, they check that stuff beforehand, they don't just blindly go around transfusing people with non-compatible blood."

"Oh." Henry sat back, taking a deep breath. "That's good to know. I mean, considering the fact that Leo's, you know, not--not--" He couldn't continue, and set his cup down so he could cover his face with his hands.

He felt Mouse scooting closer on the couch, and leaned into her without uncovering his eyes. He took a deep, shuddering breath.

"Jesus, Mouse, he could've died," Henry said, finally giving voice to his fear. "One of those shelves could've hit his head just a little harder, and he could've died. Or one could've landed on his stomach and caused internal injuries and bleeding, I mean--"

"Shh, nothing like that happened," Mouse soothed, smoothing his hair. "Kids are so resilient, you know? When I think of the things I did when I was little, the things my brothers did to me, I mean, it's a miracle I survived."

Henry put a hand on Mouse's belly, where his daughter was growing, the slight rise in her flesh where his child lived. "I don't know what I would do anything happened to someone I loved again," he admitted. "When Josie died, it was so awful, the amount of pain she was in, the fact that our baby died with her--"

"I know, I know, and I can't imagine what that was like," Mouse agreed, her voice quiet. "But we're here now, the bean and me, and Leo, we're with you, we are."

"But Leo's not my child!" Henry burst out. "I don't know whose he is! And there's no one I can even ask. But there are so many questions. Should I try to find out what happened? Should I be worried that someone's going to come and try to take him away from me? Does he have other parents out there who are missing him?" He lifted tortured eyes to his wife. "What if he has another accident and does need a transfusion? Or an organ transplant? What if he gets cancer or something else awful like that? Mouse? And needs a bone marrow transplant?

"You can say biology doesn't matter, Mouse, but these are all legitimate questions, you know they are." Henry tried to keep his voice down. "And what if there's another child out there, somewhere, who needs me, is missing me?" He put his hand over his eyes again.

"And I don't know what happened, that's what's killing me," he said. He looked up, out the patio doors to the New York skyline. It was a bright December day, blue sky with puffy clouds scudding across the horizon. "I don't know what to do."

Mouse took a deep breath.

"Henry, I honestly don't know," she told him. "Maybe you should talk to Felicia." Felicia Givens was Henry's attorney. Her son went to school with Leo. "Just do some prep work, get her advice? It might make you feel better."

Henry considered her words, nodding finally. "That's a good idea. I need to talk to her anyway about the baby." At Mouse's look he continued. "I've made provisions for Leo already, and he has all of Josie's money, but I'd like to set up an educational trust and all that for her." He gestured toward Mouse's tummy.

"I'll call Felicia," he said, nodding.

"Maybe wait until after Christmas?" Mouse suggested. "It's only three days away, everyone's probably really busy right now."

"I don't know, I won't be able to sleep or anything until I at least talk to her," Henry said. "Speaking of which, what are we going to do about all that?"

They were supposed to drive down to Virginia the following day, to spend the holidays with Mouse's family.

"God, I don't know," Mouse answered, drinking her tea. "I do want to see them, but maybe we should just hang out here for now. It's a long trip for a kid in a cast, and he won't be able to go sledding or ride the pony or anything, not with his arm like that."

They decided to cancel Virginia, and spend a quiet Christmas in their apartment, which suited Henry just fine.

He called Felicia's office and left a message, and just that simple action did indeed make him feel better.

As a surprise for Leo, Henry went out and got a tree from a nearby lot, and the three of them spent that afternoon and evening decorating it. Leo was sad, of course to miss out on Virginia, but seemed content to be with his parents and dog.

Henry and Mouse sat down to talk to him that night at bedtime.

"Leo, wetting the bed is such a normal thing, a thing that happens to lots of kids," Henry began.

At his words, Leo's face tightened, his expression darkening. He shook his head. "It's not normal, it's not normal at all," he said. "It's something babies do, and I shouldn't have done it. It was bad."

Mouse put an arm around Leo, taking care not to bump the arm with the cast. "No, you need to stop saying that," she told her son. "Please, Leo, this is so upsetting.

"Look at me," she entreated. "The fact that you wet the bed doesn't bother us at all, not at all. What we're so sad about is that you worried about hiding it from us, to the point that you were badly hurt."

Henry nodded his agreement. "We don't care about what happened, we don't," he told Leo. "We just don't want you to feel bad about it, and we for sure don't want you to ever feel like that again, like you have to try to hide it from us."

Leo looked between his parents' faces.

"I just didn't want to be a bother," he finally said. "I tried to be a big boy and not be a bother, and I just made it worser, didn't I? Now I can't even eat by myself." During dinner he'd nearly had a meltdown because he couldn't cut his own meat.

"Leo, we don't mind, honestly," Henry said again, his frustration evident. "Just promise us you won't do anything like that again, please? Promise us that if you need us in the night, you'll come and wake us up?"

Leo could hear the impatience in his father's voice.

Leo's not mine. Not mine.

"And we're really staying here for Christmas?"

Mouse nodded, adding, "But that's not punishment, big guy, okay? We just didn't want you to travel all that way with your arm like that, that's all."

Leo looked at his parents' faces again, his mistrust evident.

Henry and Mouse finally left his room and went to their own.

"Maybe he should see someone," Mouse finally said when they were in bed.

"See someone? What do you mean?"

"Like a psychologist."

Henry turned to look at where Mouse's face would be, though he couldn't see her.

"Really? You think he needs that?"

Mouse shrugged in the darkness. "Something's really bothering him, Henry. You know he's been sucking his thumb again, right? And there's other stuff, too." She skated around the subject of Amya, not wanting to betray Leo's trust. "And now the bedwetting. It's been a tumultuous year for him, that's all I'm saying. He's gotten a new mother, he's getting a new sister, he started Kinder, it's a lot."

She patted Henry's arm. "I'm just saying maybe we should think about it, that's all. It's obvious to both of us that he's been different these past few months, right?"

Henry sighed and nodded.

"Okay. Let's look around for someone, then."

He turned on his back before addressing his wife again. "I want you to know that I'm so glad you're here, Mouse, so happy you're with me." He pulled her close, so close her hair tickled his nose. "It's nice to be able to talk this stuff over with someone, someone who loves Leo, I mean."

"It's nice for me, too, Henry," Mouse assured him.

They finally fell asleep, both worried so much about the little boy sleeping across the hall.