"Well, sure, for now," Grace conceded as she unwrapped her sandwich. Using it to point towards the baby in his arms, she nodded. "Girl knows where her dinner is, and she's got her priorities straight." Grinning crookedly, she bit the pointy end off her sandwich as she watched him adjust and then finally relax into place, an affectionate smile drifting across her features.

She was two or three bites into her grilled cheese before she noticed that, no, actually, she no longer had a drink handy. There had been a glass in the holder on the nightstand earlier, but one of the women must have taken it to the kitchen while she was in the shower. Frowning with a mouth full of bread and melted goodness, the diminutive mama shook her head.

Forcing herself to swallow, Grace reluctantly set her food back down on its wrapping and then slipped out from under the covers. The dress she wore was a lot like a robe, a soft fabric that was wrapped across her midsection to hold it closed. "Apparently somebody cleaned up my drink. Want something?" she asked as she made her way to the door, ostensibly to rectify the situation. His commentary on the outside world drew a deliberate gaze towards the windows. "I knew it," she said solemnly. "The whole world is out there looking terrible without me."

"Well, she might be tha first generation tah get it right tha first time around," he smiled at her at tha talk o' priorities and mehbe the idea that she were gonna be a straight shooter. There was a look down tah the little one as he spoke, "If I were a bettin' man, tha, I think she gonna give a little bit o' Hell before it settle down tah something. Got that on both sides o' her family sah there naht much hope fer her." He grinned and reached, unable tah help but poke at the hand which was outta tha blanket. Since there weren't no reaction he nudged it again. Tha time she wriggled, her eyes stayin' shut as her eyebrows come tahgether in tha most serious look of concern before relaxing.

He didn't push his luck, he weren't wanting to start a crying fit or nothing.

She asked about the drink and looked up at her and nodded, "Some juice or water or somethin. Been running around." Whut he said tah her playin' along with his world assessment came when he grinned a bit more deeply, "Well, o' course it is. I can't verrah well be hoping to accidentally wind up near the shop tah get your attention anymore. Anytime I'm naht here I'm sure naht tah see yah."

"I don't know that her priorities will stay in line," admitted Grace a moment later. "I mean... yeah." Smiling at him from the doorway, her expression was soft, and full of love, despite the words she was saying. "Looking at her parents, they probably won't, but. For right now? Pretty much all she cares about is food, warmth, and sleep."

Watching them a moment longer, the tiny woman shook her head and slipped out into the kitchen.

She was only gone a couple of minutes, and when she came back she had two glasses of lemonade in hand. "You'll run into me out there again eventually," she laughed. "...Well, maybe," she added a moment later as she thought it over. Mark had said something about wanting an entire football team, after all, and though she never doubted for a second that he loved his daughter, no Gypsy king in the world would be fully satisfied without a son. Probably his Queen would find herself confined at home for quite some time for to come.

Funny, she'd expected to hate that. She'd loved her job, and the connection it gave her to the outside. Now, though… now she found she didn't care what happened with the outside world so long as Mark came home.

"Mehbe." He repeated aftah her and then smiled, nodding to the night stand. He weren't at all sure about the whole one-armed holding thing jist yet. Seemed like there were jist tah many ways to screw up a kid. Couldn't live with himself if it were him.

"Sah, I was thinkin," he said, swallowin' and then lookin' from her down tah the little one, "eventually someone's gonna need tah know her name. I mean, likely we will cause she's not a pineapple or anything." No way around the fondness that he got for her, but Grace knew like anybody having a boy was different. Havin' a girl was different. Most of 'em came from big families, Mark's had been cut short with his mother's passing.

Grace's family had been cut short, too, so she knew all too well the tribulations of being both an only child and a girl. She came deeper into the bedroom again, drinking from her glass as she did, and when she reached the nightstand she set both drinks down there for safekeeping. Crawling back into bed, she settled into her nest on the mattress once more, arranging pillows and covers to her liking. Once she was in place, she tipped her head in a way to let him know that she'd take the baby back whenever he was ready.

"Mm, yeah. Guess she's gotta have a public name that isn't 'Pineapple'," Grace smiled fondly. "Got anything particular in mind?"

"A couple, but mah mom's name was kinda... nah, I dun like it much." There was of course some sense o' their relationship being complicated. Plenty put those complications to tha side, especially when it came time tah remember the dead. Mark couldn't have really said why, jist that he was hoping tha between their shortened families that they could make something more healthy, more like it shoulda been. Lots o' siblings and jist the sorta noise and love a family were supposed to be.

"Pineapple isn't gonna be her name. I thought mehbe jist name her aftah you but then I was thinkin'," there was a small shrug as he looked from her tah the babe, and then back tah her, "when we was datin' I kinda weren't real sure but it was music tha got me through the parts I weren't confident of. Same like with da and mom and getting through that part that hurt. Music got that for me and I figure she'll be like that for us both. Be there when we don't know how it's gonna turn out or when things are hurtin'. Sah, I was thinkin' Mirela. Like the music? Yeah?" One of his eyebrows hiked up when he looked at her, tryin' tah see iffin she approved or not.

For a time, Grace said nothing, only adjusted the sheets around and underneath her so that she was comfortable. Wide green eyes remained fixed on the two of them, flickering back and forth between her husband and her daughter, taking in the true heart of her family. Briefly, her mind reflected back on all that had been previously -- the child memorialized in the slightly distorted tattoo on her hip, the things that could have been with Josh had fate and Silas not intervened. Even so, this felt right, this moment, Grace and Mark and their little baby girl pressed between them, the new beginning that both of them had been searching for their entire lives.

Her face cracked in a smile that spread like sunshine, and Grace leaned forward suddenly, first kissing his cheek and then laying her head on his shoulder. "Baby, that's beautiful", murmured the girl, her attention shifting to the child in his arms as she tried the name on herself. "Mirela," she repeated, softly. "I love it."

"Yeah? It's a bit, you know, old school." Mark and Grace weren't the most traditional of names tah be given, tha were fer sure. He weren't certain if she'd be wanting somethin' more like whut was heard in town, iffin the Romanian names felt more weird than natural. Her approval caused his smile tah crack with some ease. He leaned his head against hers, "Well, looks like yer even more stuck with me than you was plannin'. Anything happens to me, Mirela's gonna be carrying half o' me around tah keep you company."

He chuckled and turned his head, kissin' tha top of her head. "Yah eat enough?" Then he felt her wiggle up against him and the baby give out a cry. He moved tah adjust her better, but she jist cried a little bit harder. Mark weren’t gettin' it right, apparently.

"And Grace isn't?" Giggled Grace, the girl who'd once joked with him that her name sounded like an old Hollywood starlet. It might not have been traditional Roma, but it certainly qualified as old. "Plus, I mean... that's who we are, isn't it? We live in the real, modern world but always with a nod to our roots."

Lifting her wide green eyes to his face once more, she laughed again, the sound like quiet Christmas bells. "I was planning on being stuck with you forever, Barlow," she chided him playfully. "Barlow curse, remember?" Brows quirked in mock defiance, her gaze fell to her daughter once more. "Maybe we let outsiders call her 'Rela'," she added softly. "But what do we do about a middle name?"

“I’d say we’re both pretty freakin’ lucky,” she said thickly, swallowing the lump in her throat that had come up from nowhere. “Granted, it was my obligation as a Gypsy girl to imagine myself married with children to every man who smiled at me, but…” Trailing off, she had one hand arm wrapped around their child and the other was bent at an angle so she could draw her fingers lightly over his face. “You were the first --the only -- I can remember that I actually wanted all this with.”


“Oi, is tha sah? Lucky me. Well, even more lucky, I mean.” He smiled though she couldn’t see it and kissed her atop tha head again. Mark sometimes saw her eyes swimming whether it were for a song or a song she was remembering or whutevah it was. She got sad sometimes like tha too. Then happy. He figured the role he had here was tah make her know she weren’t alone, that all o’ the work she’d done tah make their babe wasn’t nothing to him. He’d been told about the ups and downs but sometimes he wondered if one could really say it were jist hormones. There was, aftah all, a whole new person in the world now.

If tha weren’t worth gettin’ your heart and head rocked, what were?

Grace couldn’t see his smile but she could feel it, hear it in the way he exhaled against her hair. Long lashes fluttering when he kissed her head, she drew a star on the baby’s back with the fingers of one hand and curled the other into the fabric of his shirt somewhere over her head.

“Nah, I mean. I wanted this from the beginning, yeah, but I guess I’m still pretty surprised that it actually happened.” A rueful smile touched her lips. Her heart was full to bursting with love for her husband and her daughter both, but there were shadows there in the corners of her eyes, faint but permanent stains on her heart. Ghosts of the husband that had been and the son who had never taken his first breath -- they were all scars that would never quite heal.

“I love you,” she said suddenly, emotional. “So much.”

“I’m surprised it happened like it did. Some things are jist inevitable,” he woulda shrugged then if it weren’t fer her bein’ leaned into him and him being propped by an elbow. He wet his lips when he spoke, “But jist cause you know somethin’ is gonna happen one way or the other doesn’t mean that it’s gonna be good. Like owning a car can be tha best thin’ tah happen to you or a burden every day you gotta manage it. S’half tah do with you and half tah do with the otha person.” That weren’t even mentioning the instability he’d seen in the relationships around him. Quinn and Levi had been volatile, Molly seemed taken with otha men and Keirra were all ovah tha place. Mehbe there was something tah be said for the old way of doin’ things.

“Glad I have it with yah.” He didn’t feel like she were gonna betray him and most tha time, it felt like they was on the same side instead of facin’ each other in battle. He liked tha. He liked tha she felt like part of him and that she liked bein’ there with him like she did. While he weren’t sah emotional that it crept intah his voice, Mirela had a way of makin’ him feel different about stuff. It weren’t like babysitting or looking aftah his kid sis, tha was fer damn sure.

Brows inching together on her forehead, Grace tilted her head back to look up at him, twisting as much as she dared with the baby on her chest. “Did you just… compare our marriage to a car?” She gave him a look again --Mark earned himself a lot of looks-- then shook her head. “Better be a Ferrari or somethin’, then.” These last words came out in a grumbled half-threat as she settled against him once more.

“Glad I have it with you, too.” She went on a moment later. “I mean, so long as it’s not some junkyard lemon…”

“Look, iffin yah wanted poetry I was naht the man for you. I’ll give yah that, the analogy was a little crap but yah know whut I meant, yeah? Sah maybe it’s naht on point but I got there. Sorta.” He were grinning, kinda likin’ the look she were giving him. Little but fierce, the little nickname fer her had withstood tha test o’ time.

He had just been settlin’ in, quite happy with himself when she gave him the comment about ‘lemon.’ He gasped, makin’ tha show of it since she couldn’t very well see the melodramatic expression, “Did yah jist compare our undying love tah a lemon?”

“It was your analogy,” countered Little But Fierce herself. “I was just trying to work with it.”

Tipping her head back again, she did the extremely mature thing and stuck her tongue out at him. That would show him, right?

Just then, Mirela woke from her slumber, most likely due to her mother’s squirming. She issued a single grumpy noise of complaint, screwing up her face as though she were deciding whether to make a real cry of it, but Grace let go of Mark and ran her index finger along the baby’s tiny little knuckles until the fist opened and then squeezed shut again, holding fast to her mother’s fingertip. Seemingly satisfied, the baby settled, but Grace blamed it on Mark anyway. “See? Mirela says you shouldn’t call us a car.”

“I didn’t even defend it all tha way. Jist a little. But, all right,” he exhaled deeply after his shirt were released and Grace was soothing the babe. The admission came low and the tone of it were such that if Grace didn’t know better, she mighta thought he meant it, “I deeply apologize for comparing my two most favorite people in tha world tah a car. I were clearly under the stress of having less sleep and, um,” his attempts to sound as if he were surviving his own trial were starting to falter. He was gettin’ himself into hot waters again, whut with complaining o’ his sacrifices to a new mother and all. He summarized it all with another kiss on the top o’ her head, “you’re so beautiful.” Case closed.

“Good answer, Barlow,” she said, at least temporarily mollified. In the two and a half years or so that she’d been with him, Grace had come to know her man fairly well, even to mostly understand his strange brand of humor. She knew already that any sentence he spoke starting with I deeply apologize had to have been meant for the most part in jest, and all it warranted him was an affectionate roll of her eyes.

“Sleep would be so good,” she murmured a moment later, her voice whisper soft like they were discussing something forbidden, something illicit. “Almost as good as ‘um’,” echoed Grace, alluding perhaps to the thing he hadn’t said aloud.

“Well, iffin she’ll let meh take her I can maybe give yah a few winks if you like. Lemme get this food offa tha bed and intah the kitchen.” He slowly got to his feet, the one leg stretched along the edge of the bed catching the ground and helping him back up tah standing. He rolled his head because it ached a bit with how he’d been laying at that peering angle for sah long. Once up he began pickin’ around the bed, closing up containers and feedin’ them back into the plastic bag. Tha part was a little tricky. Tha plastic bag wasn’t so forgiving, or in the mind tah be quiet. Lucky for them Mirela didn’t seem tah be of the mind tah care too much about it.

“And fer the record,” he whispered, as though the babe knew enough English tha she might parrot whut he’d say iffin he weren’t careful, “nah way is sleep better than sex. Nah way. Iffin it is I’m gonna get a book and do some reeducating. Nah. Way.” He lifted the plastic bag offa the bed.

“I said almost as good,” countered Grace. She couldn’t really help him with the clean up without risking waking the child, so instead she endeavored to hold as still as possible, one hand cupped lightly over the baby’s head as though to block out the noise of rustling plastic.

Giving Mark a smile of thanks for his efforts, she shook her head, a sleepy grin displacing the earlier smile as she teased him. “I didn’t say it was better, but I don’t want to discourage you from your education. By all means, go get your book. I should be ready to see what you’ve learned in another week or two.”

“Uh huh. Uhhhh huh.” He went and gave her a pointed look befer stepping out of the room tah put things up in the fridge or tah throw away the extra bag because it weren’t needed anymore. He checked his back pocket fer his phone and, naht seeing anything that called fer him tah do anything immediately, he stepped right back intah the room with Grace and the babe.

“Yah need anythin’ else?” He stepped tah tha nightstand to reclaim his lemonade fer another swallow. He set the glass down and then sat on the bed beside her again, tugging some on the blankets to straighten them out around her. “I think Jenny plans on comin’ by here in a bit.” His eyes widened cause tha older woman had been relentless with tha intention to help. She were like Grace’s groupie or something now.

“Yeah, I dah love. Yah jist take tha heat for me,” his voice were gentle, mostly cause he hadn’t felt her hand on his chest, naht like tha, fer days. That’s whut a new babe meant though and he got no bitterness about him because o’ it. He was just enjoying whut it felt like tah feel her hand roam. He didn’t let his mind wander off ontah the paths of whut such a hand could be doing. There were time for that, later.

“Shhhh… yer mouth needs a rest.” He knew that might get her going by saying it, but he couldn’t help himself. Tha arm he got around her gave a squeeze, jist in case she weren’t aware o’ tha fact he was jokin.

Mark had a way of talking, half in his head and half in his teeth, that sometimes even his wife still couldn’t understand. Grace didn’t respond to the first thing he’d said because she had no idea what he was talking about, and it didn’t seem important enough to ask. She listened to the gentle thump of his heartbeat where it pulsed steadily below her ear, concentrated on the texture of his skin as she drew her little circles there in its surface, tracing patterns or song lyrics or who knows what in invisible ink.

She might have drifted off completely, lulled by a moment of quiet peace shared between them, were it not for his second smart ass comment. That particular phrase was a variation on a theme she’d been hearing her whole life. From her Dad. From Jasper. From Silas. From Josh. Brows furrowing, Grace opened her eyes, frowning. The tightening of his embrace, the reassurance that it was meant as a joke, took away some of the sting, but not all of it.

Her fingers slid out from underneath his shirt as she pulled away from him, rolling back onto her back.

He felt her withdraw and his body followed her, naht lettin’ it disappear as he turned intah her. He kissed her cheek, more than aware tha she might be sensitive. Sensitive or righteous? Was hard tah say, and he didn’t wanna claim it tah be one or tha other.

“Never needs tah if you got something tah say. Yer hear me, yeah?” He knew whut it meant tah have a woman turn away. His arm around her squeezed that shoulder, feelin’ tha winter of her from having turned away. Mehbe she had only been tired and tha were whut made her turn away. Nah matter, he said the rest anyway, “I make tha sorta grilled cheese sandwich tha makes anyone forgive meh.”

Relax, Grace reminded herself as Mark intuitively closed in around her. This is Mark, not anybody who came before him. She hadn’t really been aware of the sudden tension in her shoulders until it gave again, her body sagging into the mattress even as she wound her arms around his neck, hugging him close up against her. “Thanks,” she whispered against the side of his neck, and like his words to her had been, it was an apology. “We all got our sore spots. I’m still working on that one.”

It was her way of saying that she knew he wasn’t like the others, that she knew not to hold what anybody else had ever said against him. Turning her face into his neck again, she pressed a kiss there lightly, and then --maybe because he really was forgiven, because there really wasn’t anything to forgive -- she bit him just as lightly.

“Yah should be sleepin’,” he warned her, a cock of his brow jist after her bite. Grace knew she coulda got away with murder, that he was in a place to excuse whutever it were she said or did. His body stayed settled, undisturbed like he were already sleepin’. He let her wriggle around, struggling in tha space o’ wanting to spend time with him and feelin’ sah desperately tired.

Mark didn’t mind it none, she could struggle all she liked and he’d enjoy himself tha same. It were the first time since her birth tha he felt like they was jist being two people around each other. The minutes fer that was small, precious. The babe might cry or Grace might succumb tah the sleep he were telling her tah.

“Probably,” she cheerfully agreed, without actually making any initial move to let go of him or settle down. After a moment, she did relax her grip again, easing back into the mattress on her back. Bending her closest arm back at the elbow, she let the backs of her knuckles play lightly over his shirt. “I both desperately want to sleep more than anything else in the world ever and… also don’t want to sleep, like at all.”

Glancing over at the crib, the baby still sleeping peacefully inside it, she shifted closer. A memory came to her suddenly, the night he’d quite literally crawled in the window to come to her while Mason was sleeping on the couch. Her expression was somewhere between a smile and a blush as she thought of everything that ensued afterwards, but what had made her think of it was the trying to be quiet, to escape detection, like teenagers in the dark hiding from their parents.

The ‘parent’ now was a tiny, fragile thing who didn’t even have any words yet, but she had lungs on her like a fire alarm. It paid to be careful and quiet.

Taking a deep breath, Grace let it out slowly, trying to redirect the train of her thoughts. “Hey, is your tablet handy?” She said suddenly. “We could curl up an’ watch, y’know… five or ten minutes of a show before we pass out like we used to in your old camper…”

“I think I got it on tha nightstand,” he scratched the side o’ one brow and then craned his neck tah check fer it. Most times it was there on account of that also being where the charge cable was. He didn’t just wander around camp with it, it were more or less his television set. Everything else he got he got by the phone.

There was one nudge tah her befer he twisted around, checking the spot. Aftah some careful shuffling and no little frail creature gettin’ up in arms, he had the tablet cradled by one hand as it were propped up on his stomach. One arm, o’ course, was around her, hugging her up tah his side, “Whatcha wanna see, love?” There were a time that they was watchin’ each other on text messages and video screens, sayin’ hi and connecting when things was new and awkward.

Grace remembered those times, too, trying to answer his questions, feeling self conscious about her pigtails as she held the phone in her hand, keeping her voice low to talk to him. How she'd learned to tell the difference in his smile when he was fighting sleep long before she'd learned the shape of his mouth for herself. Maybe that was part of it, all the things that had developed between them. The strange intimacy that her time away from camp had paradoxically mandated, inviting each other into their own private spaces before they'd had a chance to hold hands or see a movie. It was awkward and at times embarrassing, but she remembered it fondly now.

Settling against him once more after he had everything situated, the little gypsy had turned on her side again, her head cradled in the soft hollow of his shoulder. “Ummmm, hm. I really like that cartoon with the dragons, but I feel like we should watch something more… age appropriate while we still can?”

“Oi, we all grown up nah?” He said tha words absently, the arm which was around her sent his fingers tah stroking the outside o’ her arm. He hunted through tha movies, trying tah look all expert though they been too busy tah really know whut tha latest and greatest were anymore. Sah much o’ whut he was seeing was new. He felt like he shoulda done research befer this moment.

“How about tha Breakfast Club? An oldie but a goodie? Yah can fall asleep knowin’ whut happens next but enjoy seein’ it again aftah sah long?” His head caught an angle to where he could look at her a little better.

“All grown up?” Grace laughed, tilting her head. She caught his shirt in her teeth, nipping him playfully, as though to illustrate how ‘mature’ she was. “Nah. I just hear about the little ones wanting to watch the same show so many times that the parents slowly go insane.” Giggling quietly again, she was content to let him pick something from the lists.

“Breakfast Club?” She thought about that for a moment. “I don't know that I've ever seen the whole thing, actually… sure, let's watch that.” For Grace, it wasn't the movie itself that mattered near so much as the simple act of curling up with Mark.

His shoulders went up in a show of pain at her bitin’. He squeezed the hand of the arm around her on tha shoulder like a man who were gettin cauterized. His grin nevah went away, tho. Mark weren’t known for his acting abilities. Eyes went back tah the screen as he hunted through the options tah find tha movie. “Repetition how we learn, yeah? Keep tryin’ tah walk, keep tryin’ tah talk until one day yah do.” If anything, Mark had learned tha value o’ being persistent.

Softly, as if tah himself, “There it is.” His fingers tapped, a soundless dance on the screen until it darkened only to illuminate with the movie’s introduction clip.

She slipped her lead hand underneath his shirt again as she settled into his side once more, fidgeting only a little bit more until she found a comfortable spot where she could also see. The screen went black as the first strains of the movie’s most famous song came on, and as the opening credits rolled, the little dancer whispered the words almost unconsciously underneath her breath. Won’t you come see about me, I’ll be alone, dancing you know it baby…

Grace probably wasn’t destined to see it all the way through this time, either. With the steady thrum of his heartbeat underneath one ear and the catchy tune quietly filling the space between them, she let out a long sigh of contentment as her fingers curled into his skin. “This is pretty perfect.”

“Mmm.” Tha sound of agreement followed when she spoke. He could hear her little whispering of singing jist about half way. He liked it, how it were kinda ghostly but still sweet. In a moment like tha it was easy tah think back to when they first started. He weren’t feeling like he could fall asleep, but more like a comfortable meditation. That movie played, Grace’s little voice wove up intah tha sound of the movie and then her figure’s tension eased like the grasp she got curled up intah his shirt. She was right about a lotta things, especially about it being perfect.