"Do you ever wonder what your life will be like when you're older?"

Estélla was leant against the wall of the treehouse with a book in her hands, a jug of lemonade sat half-full on a pale blue tray with two glasses next to it and a plate of crumbs that had been crackers not long ago.

A fifteen year old Tony was trying to read too, though had far less interest in his book than Esté did in hers. He'd been sat beside her, then across from her, ultimately ending up lying on his back on the floor with his legs hanging out of the square window gap in the wood.

"Sometimes, yeah. You mean like a job, a house and all that?"

Esté folded over the corner of a page in her book and set it down beside her outstretched legs.

"Yeah. I wonder where I'll live, what kind of job I'll have, if I'll be on the phone all the time like my Dad or if I'll stay at home like my Mom."

"You don't have to do either of those things," Tony said, eyes scanning the pages of his book that he held above his head.

"I know, I just...wonder. Will I get married, ever have children?"

Tony scoffed, "I can't see myself ever getting married. I don't think I could ever like anybody enough to be with them forever."

Esté frowned, "Not even me?"

Tony glanced backwards and rest the book on his stomach, "You're an exception, I could definitely put up with you forever. If it comes down to it and we're both lonely and old, we'll get married."

She grinned and shook her head with a roll of her eyes, "Who says I could put up with you forever?"

Tony sat up straight and poured them both some more lemonade, handing her a glass, "You're my best friend and I'm yours, we could easily manage."

She took the glass and sipped on the sweet refresher, a light spring breeze being the only respite from the heat that drowned the Hamptons that afternoon.

"I can imagine myself surrounded by children," she said, leaning her head back against the wall and gazing out at the sky through the window, "Three or four of them, I'd like them to have siblings so they'd always have someone to play with."

Tony pulled his knees up to his chest, "I'm not gentle enough for kids, I wouldn't know what to do with one."

She laughed, "I don't think anybody does until they have them. But for the record, you are gentle, and you're kind. I think you'd be a great Dad one day."

He blushed a little at her words, smiling when she diverted her gaze to land on his face. She looked as pretty as ever that afternoon with her hair in a French braid and a white sundress, two gold studs in her ears and a matching necklace hanging at her chest.

"One day," he said quietly, having a split second of a glance into a future where he held a baby in his arms and slipped a ring onto a woman's finger, faces he didn't see, "Maybe."

Esté shivered when she heard footsteps climb the staircase, the familiar creek of the door opening behind her, though she kept her back turned.

She was sat on the floor by the dresser with all three drawers wide open, piles of baby clothes surrounding her that she'd folded, unfolded and was now re-folding for the sixth time in a week.

Katy had called round every day in the eight days that had passed and Steve for the first four of those until he and the team left to find Tony. Alicia had tried her best to be there for Esté when Katy couldn't be because of her new baby, but they were all met with a rather hostile reception from who was usually the most warm and welcoming person they knew.

"Esté? Why don't you take a break, honey. I made dinner."

Leonie's voice was soft and gentle as she lingered in the doorway of the nursery. She and George had practically moved in to their old home once Alicia had told them just how badly Esté had withdrawn into herself, worried not only for the health of their daughter, but for their grandchild, too.

"I'm not hungry," Esté replied, continuing to fold her baby's clothes and sort them back into size order inside the drawers.

Leonie sighed and sat down beside her on the floor with a contemplation of helping with the organising, but remembering just how obsessive she had become with it all before giving birth, and ultimately deciding to not intervene.

"You need to eat, sweetheart. Your baby needs to eat, too."

"My baby needs their goddamn father to come home, that's what my baby needs."

Over the time that Tony had been gone, Estélla had lived through every possible emotion. She'd been devastated, grief-stricken, worried sick to the pit of her stomach, but was now trying to navigate her way through red hot anger that she felt towards Tony.

Estélla understood, she always understood and she was always ready to fight his corner - that was the way it had been since they were children. But that time, as much as she supported him in his heroics and determination, she wished he'd made a different choice.

"He'll come home," Leonie said, rubbing circles on Esté's back lightly, "He will, he has to."

"And what if he doesn't?" She was quick to snap, holding up a tiny baby grow in her hands and staring at it, "What if he doesn't, and I'm left to raise a child that's half of him? How can I do that? I can't do that, I just..."

She imagined holding their child in the sleep suit in her fingertips, dreaming about whose eyes they'd have and what colour hair they'd be given. Esté thought about their first word or taking their first steps, their first family vacation or first day of school. There were plenty of things that Esté was capable of doing alone, but raising a baby, their baby, wasn't one of them.

"You know what the worst part is?" Esté continued, sniffling as she folded the sleep suit and set it down in the dresser, "I never even told him that I love him. I was so busy being upset, so busy being furious that I forgot to tell him that I love him. How am I supposed to live with that?"

Leonie watched Estélla's heart break behind her eyes. The bright blue became drowned in hazy tears and her lips fell into an unstable frown, a hand sinking to trace the curve of her baby bump while the other sat limply at her side, not having the energy to fold anything else.

As a mother, it felt obvious from an incredibly young age that Tony and Estélla had a relationship that would one day run deeper than two best friends. Leonie had witnessed them fall in love with each other as the years passed by, catching the longing stares and breath-taken, speechless moments on prom nights or birthday parties.

They were in awe of each other, obsessed and enamoured by the very existence of the other, never feeling whole without the presence of their other half. It felt right for George and Leonie to see Tony and Estélla together as adults, like they'd been waiting for it to happen their entire lives. And while they'd always known that both of those children would someday have the most wild and wonderful careers, neither of them would've guessed that the dark-haired boy would take on the role as the earth's defender.

"You won't have to live with it, because you can tell him when he gets back."

Estélla desperately wanted to believe her mother, but she had nothing left inside of her to pledge faith into. She didn't believe in promises or hope, probability or determination, all she believed in was the kicks from inside her body that kept reminding her of the one thing that was certain.

"I can't lose him," Esté whispered with a shake of her head, blinking back the tears from her eyes and keeping her face dry, "Not after everything we've been through, everything we're going through..."

"And you won't," Leonie affirmed, touching her daughter's face with a light brush of her knuckles before pressing a kiss to her cheek, "But please, please just come and eat."

Esté sighed heavily and nodded, "Let me finish this drawer and I'll come down."

Leonie left her with a kiss through her hair before disappearing, closing the door softly behind her. Esté sank back onto her palms and stared out of the window up at the sky, wishing for any sign of Tony to flash by.

The sky stayed dark, however, twinkling stars that now didn't seem as bright as they once were littered the blackness and seemed to taunt her for being closer to Tony than she was.

She felt her baby kick again and glanced down at her stomach, smiling softly with a hand laid across her bump as she felt the kicks against her warm palm.

"You miss him too, don't you? You're so much more restless than you were before," Esté whispered, "I don't like it when he's gone either, I can't sleep, can barely bring myself to eat but..."

She fell quiet as she talked to her child in a hushed tone, suddenly feeling the weight of guilt crush her shoulders and her heart.

"I'm sorry, baby. I'm not normally like this, I don't feel like myself when your Daddy isn't around, but that isn't your fault."

Hanging onto the side of the dresser, Esté pulled herself to her feet and brushed down her leggings and sweater, fixing her ponytail and dabbing her eyes dry.

There was a framed picture resting against the wall, one that she'd dug out the other day and decided to keep in the baby's room for the time being. Tony was sat on the log on the beach of the Goldwyn's Hamptons home with one arm around Esté's shoulders, gleaming smiles on both of their faces while the sun burned in their squinted eyes and ice cream stained their shirts. They couldn't have been any older than six, but Esté smiled at the way her little arms were wrapped around her best friend's middle, redness tinting her cheeks and sunburn across her nose, undeniable, undisputed happiness radiating from the picture.

"Come home, Tony," she whispered, "Please."

A sad smile lingered as Esté walked out of the nursery towards the staircase, hearing muffled chatter between her parents from the kitchen beneath her. It wasn't until her foot hit the first step that a strange sensation glued her feet in place and froze her limbs, turning her knuckles white as she gripped the bannister with every ounce of strength she had.

She stayed motionless until she felt warmth trickling down the insides of her legs, and only then did her heart ride up into her throat and fall from her lips.

"Mom!"