Chapter Text
Root was managing motherhood the way she managed most things in life; she was accepting the newness of her role and going with the flow. The tech genius had juggled multiple projects, and found that skill set came in handy when she was required to dress, feed and play with their adorable baby daughter.
Her partner in life and crime was tackling motherhood the way she tackled life: full force and head on.
The baby was eight weeks old and had already stolen their hearts. By all accounts, the dark haired, light eyed baby was happy and content. The charts on the kitchen refrigerator provided the proof that the two mothers were doing everything right.
“How long at the four o’clock feeding?” Sameen asked as she entered the answer in the app on her phone. “Still no solids, right?” asked the woman who couldn’t imagine how a human could sustain herself on just liquids.
“Not for a while,” Root assured her anxious wife.
“Did you read to her?” Sameen asked, worried that the baby’s intellect was not being stimulated. “Or maybe, you should hold her on your lap while you work on the computer,” she thought out loud.
Their chef and confident, and now, top on the list of preferred indoor baby sitters – but only because her fingerprints came back clean, was watching the two interact. Isabelle knew there was a more pressing issue at hand. She didn’t mean to clear her throat, but she did – and it made Root think.
Sameen was grabbing one of the many books that were piled on the counter top. “When can they use those tiny little hands?” she wondered and looked it up.
“Sweetie?” Root said as she held their bundle of joy in her arms as she slept.
“They are like… useless,” Shaw said as if this were a surprise. “It’s amazing we have made it this far.”
The baby’s natural helplessness was perhaps the thing that frightened Shaw the most. This would explain why she wanted to rush off that morning to conduct her early morning class on martial arts to anyone who was on the list of potential babysitters.
Isabelle was ever so grateful to have been excused from that requirement.
“Sweetie?” Root said, as Sameen leaned down and kissed the baby’s forehead. Root, in turn, kissed the top of Sameen’s – and Isabelle all but melted. Shaw was too busy kissing her two favorite girls to notice anything else.
“I’ll see you two at work,” Shaw said in such a high voice that it even surprised her. She coughed and cleared her throat, thankful that Reese and Fusco weren’t there to hear that.
Root gave a knowing look to Isabelle as she gently handed her the baby. “I’ll be right back.”
Root followed Sameen into the entryway that was now adorned with not one, but three, carriages. Sameen had determined which one they used on any given day, depended on wind velocity, debris, and the condition of the streets in the direction they were walking.
“Does that tire look like it’s losing air?” she asked, bending over and pressing the rubber wheel. “Don’t take this one until I check that,” she instructed her wife.
“Sameen?” Root said, because she knew that Shaw knew what that day really was.
“I know, I know,” Shaw said, pushing her hands in her pockets. “I thought – you know – it would happen by now.”
Root smiled sympathetically, because her wife’s idea sounded good in theory. But it hadn’t blossomed in practice and now their fifty nine day old baby – still had no name.
“We only have until tomorrow,” Root gently pointed out because they were nearing the legal limit of sixty days to name a child.
“Okay, then,” Shaw said, “She’s got less than twenty-four hours.”
Sameen wasn’t shifting responsibility to the newborn as much as she was hoping to use this as her unconscious message that life was not fair and you had to be tough to survive it.
Apparently, the ‘new recruit’, as Shaw sometimes referred to her as, wasn’t cooperating.
For her part, Root had done extensive research on possible names, but each one was met with a lack of confidence.
‘Ruby?’ she suggested once.
“As in ‘Tuesdays’?” Sameen asked horrified that her daughter would have a name like a restaurant.
‘Phoebe?’ came next.
“Is that with a P or an F? See? Too confusing,” her mother responded.
“Moonbeam?” Root even tried.
“No hippie names,” Shaw answered seriously.
“Ann?” she then suggested. “That’s a good solid name,” Root proffered.
Shaw couldn’t argue that, but she looked at the baby. “Are you an Ann?” she asked.
Whether it was the delayed burp from her feeding that caused her to spit up or not, Shaw took it as a sign that she was not pleased with the name.
And so, the hunt continued.
“Look, Root, if she’s as bright as you are, then just – you know – tell her. I mean, she won’t understand it all yet, but maybe a little pressure will help her do something that will tell us what her name is,” Shaw theorized.
“Most people just pick a name they like,” Root pointed out.
“Yeah, but we’re not most people,” Shaw said –using one of Root’s mantras back on her.
“I’ll tell her,” Root smiled and kissed her anxious wife goodbye.
Satisfied that everything was in order and everyone knew what their jobs were, including the youngest member of her team, Sameen went off to work.
“You’re not worried at all, are you?” Root said to the infant when she returned to her in the kitchen. The baby’s reflex smile was giving way to her real one and she flashed it up at her mom.
“Which finger do you want me to use?” Isabelle asked in all seriousness.
“For what?” Root asked uncertain.
“To put the string on that she’s got Sameen wrapped up in?” Isabelle laughed, enjoying her own joke.
“You do, don’t you?” Root laughed and took her daughter’s tiny hand.
There wasn’t a person in the early morning group that wasn’t concerned for their friend. They had been informed that after an extensive search, their names were selected to be potential baby sitters. Root let Shaw handle this because truthfully, it kept her busy.
The only one on the list who refused to take the mandatory class was Joss Carter. “Don’t be a damn fool, Shaw. I know what I’m doing. I’m a mother and a cop,” Joss had reminded Shaw. Joss’ name had an asterisk next to it after that. Sameen understood her point, but was concerned, nonetheless.
“Okay people,” Shaw shouted as she walked in and was met with crack of dawn groans. She looked at the only person who was already there and then at her watch. The others had five minutes before mandatory pushups would be issued.
“Could you keep it to a low roar?” Fusco begged.
“You of all people are going to ask me to be quiet?” Shaw asked as if he committed a sin.
“At least let the coffee reach my stomach,” Fusco begged and fell back on the mat.
“Good morning!” shouted an enthusiastic Ayala from the doorway.
“Why are you so cheery?” Fusco asked from his horizontal position.
“I was in the army,” the younger woman shared. “I’m used to cruel hours and unusual drill sergeants. Or is it the other way around?”
Martine followed the woman and shot Shaw a nod. Now, this woman understood what needed to be done. She took her place and started to do her stretches. Sameen wondered why the entire world didn’t think the way Martine did.
“I brought donuts!” shouted Janine as she walked in looking like something out of a Lululemon active wear catalogue.
“Will you marry me?” Fusco asked because the coffee wasn’t enough to get him going.
“What happened to your diet?” Shaw asked pointedly. She couldn’t have babysitters that couldn’t run.
“Just one, Shaw,” Fusco begged because he was so tired and it was a couple of hours until his other full time job started.
“Just make weigh in,” Shaw warned him.
“Ladies,” Reese said on purpose, because he knew it would bother Lionel.
“I’m not partnering with him,” Lionel said, taking the bag and grabbing the donut.
“Don’t be silly,” Janine said because she was the only one in class who took notes. She flipped a couple of pages in her notebook. “Babysitters will be assigned to teams of two,” she read verbatim. “Babysitter A will be chosen for their nurturing skills; Babysitter B will be chosen for defensive capabilities and brute strength.”
Her smile at being able to recite her boss was only slightly smaller than that of the boss she recited.
“Right!” Shaw said, pleased the woman had written that down. “Okay, I’m going to put you in groups of three,” she informed everyone.
Reese was the first one to look around at the motley crew of five people. “We’re short a person,” he pointed out.
And then, Shaw’s secret weapon walked through the door, evening out the number.
“Good morning, Sameen,” the woman greeted the instructor.
“Good morning, Mommy,” Shaw replied back.