Author's note: This piece is a gift to Christine Hunt, Defender of the Nick&NatPack and imminent mommy-to-be. It is quite probably the most unmitigatedly sentimental thing I have ever perpetrated in my life, for which I make no apologies whatsoever. The song used is "I Watch You Sleeping," written by Mike Batt and sung by Frances Ruffelle on the Save the Children benefit Christmas album. REVERIE by Valerie Meachum I watch you sleeping Little angel face And on behalf of the human race Welcome to this crazy place I watch you sleeping Innocent and free I don't know what your dreams may be And you don't know what you mean to me... She was just so incredibly tiny. Out of all the miracles, his mind kept circling back to that simple observation. Or maybe not so simple, for indeed all the miracles were somehow contained in this seven-pound, nine-ounce package. Seven-pound ten-ounce, he corrected himself, glancing at the most recent entry on the chart attached to her bassinette. He'd been a basket case the first time he'd noticed those numbers, a day ago when they'd been lower than her birth weight; but Natalie had laughingly assured him that all babies lost a little weight the first couple days before embarking on the rapid growth that would double it before the dazzled parents even knew what had happened. Nick would know. He would notice everything, just as he had noticed with a swell of pride that Miranda had started gaining weight earlier than average. He would watch without blinking as she grew strong and beautiful and free, the brightest sparks of her extraordinary mother together with whatever best Nat had somehow rooted out in him. They hadn't always been certain that would be the case. Three times they might have lost her, impatient little adventurer that she was; and that last, twelve weeks ago, had threatened to take Natalie from him too. If there had been any doubt just whose genes prompted the baby's restlessness, they had been effectively obliterated when enforcing bedrest on a certain fiercely independent coroner. He could think jokingly of it now--Nat already did, even in the exhausted aftermath of a long and rather rocky labor--for at the end of the ordeal they had a stunningly perfect daughter. So many wonders had defined his life the past nine months: walking in the sun, almost commonplace in his mind again; the still-puzzling apparent acceptance from his vampire "family"; sleeping nights with the warmth of the woman he loved beside him, and knowing he could give her that warmth in return. Yet, at this moment, the tiny being in his arms outshone and embodied all that and all the world. ...You have never heard the thunder You have never seen the rain But you can still feel wonder And you can still feel pain And sometimes you look at me So wise and so sure I could easily believe You have been here before I watch you sleeping Little angel face And on behalf of the human race Welcome to this crazy place... Miranda, child of his "brave new world." They had agreed they didn't want to name her after anyone they knew, that she should have her own name to match her own spirit, one that would not call up memories of someone else to cloud their view of her. But for Nick, with eight hundred years of memories to stir, that had proved nearly impossible. They had been about to give up on the idea, and it was Natalie who had hit on the perfect choice, inspired by a play she admitted she'd never much cared for while systematically devouring Nick's library to stave off invalid insanity. And indeed, out of the tempest Miranda had come, miracle of love, to make their world bright and whole again. Mostly bright, he amended to himself. There was still Janette. She had swallowed her anger, come to wish them well and--perhaps inadvertently, perhaps not--remind Nick by her very presence of his substantial part in cheating her of the very miracle he now enjoyed. Yet her smile had been genuine, the wonder in her eyes momentarily outweighing the sorrow as she accepted Natalie's nodded permission and brushed her fingertips over the soft golden fuzz on Miranda's head, then let her little finger be captured in the baby's tenacious reflexive grip. "That's right, _petite_, you hold on to what you want. Don't let anyone tell you it isn't your right. And if they try to take it away, they will answer to your maman...and to me." Exchanging with Natalie an amused glance Nick didn't think he entirely understood, she added, "And heaven help them then, right, Nicolas?" There was still some awkwardness between Nat and Janette, and no doubt always would be; but it seemed that something was settled that had never been before, an understanding that excluded him. He couldn't really complain about that, though, not when Janette was at least speaking to him, and when Nat had ceremoniously designated her Miranda's "fairy godmother" before the brief visit was over. ...I won't be here forever But as long as I'm around I promise you I will never Let you down To help make a world You can feel worthy of I will teach you to fly On the wings of my love I watch you sleeping Brave and unaware You don't know yet so you don't care I want you to know that it's hard out there... Janette had come to the hospital and been welcome, though Nick doubted they would see much of her in the future. LaCroix, on the other hand, had shown remarkable courtesy-- and prudence--in congratulating the new father at home and steering safely clear of mother and child. Nick suspected that his former master's feathers had been more ruffled than he cared to admit by the one discussion he'd had with Natalie since the miracle began, in fact just after they'd learned she was pregnant, when she had informed him that she would make a very pointed exception to their understood truce if he ventured anywhere near her baby. However LaCroix might have estimated her ability to actually make good on the threat, he had been wise enough not to laugh at it. Just two nights ago--arriving at the loft with a very formal and neutral card for Mummy, a cigar in pink-printed cellophane for Daddy, and an insufferable smirk for his own cleverness--LaCroix had claimed that it was actually what she hadn't said that prompted him to honor her "request." She hadn't attempted to bar him from Nick, only from the child; "Nick is a grownup," she'd said, "and if I try to force him to make the choices I want, it's just going to blow up in both our faces. But I hardly think I need to tell you that...do I?" Nick didn't know what to think, but one thing was certain: whatever the motivation, LaCroix had given his solemn word never to approach Miranda under any circumstances. Both letter and spirit of the promise were crystal-clear, and made without hesitation--more than Nick had really expected, and certainly all he could ask for now. Beyond that...well, they'd get there when they got there. The world was an uncertain place, vampires and all; and now Nick's responsibility was to make it as certain for Miranda as it could be, and still prepare her to someday deal with what was not so certain. "Mr. Knight?" Nick looked up as the charge nurse poked her head into the nursery. "Natalie just woke up, and it's about time for the baby's breakfast. Would you like to bring her?" He nodded. "She's still sleeping, though." "That's okay. Enjoy it. She'll wake up hungry soon enough." Carefully levering himself out of the rocking chair, Nick murmured, "Yeah. I'll enjoy it." ...I watch you sleeping Little angel face And on behalf of the human race Welcome to this crazy place