Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

1984

The moving truck had pulled away two hours ago, leaving behind only the hum of a new beginning and stacks of labeled boxes crowding the kitchen floor like miniature cardboard mountains.

Nina Hayes-Bitsui stood barefoot at the window, coffee in hand, sunlight streaming through the glass and casting golden bands across the tile beneath her feet.

Outside, in the backyard, Awan was mid-chase, three giggling shadows darting around him in the afternoon heat. Zora Nizhoni (8), Maya Doli (6), and Toni Haseya (3) shrieked with delight as he scooped one up and tossed another over his shoulder. Zora, of course, clung to his leg like white on rice, determined not to be left out.

Nina couldn’t help but smile.

I didn’t know it then, but I married a whole girl dad, she thought, watching the love of her life wrangle children like it was just another field op. And then gave birth to three miniature versions of him.

The girls were obsessed with their father. They loved sprawling across the living room floor reading comics with him, noses buried in panels and pages. Toni’s favorite article of clothing was a red cape she wore constantly, because of Awan’s lifelong love of Superman. Maya had taken to puzzles, the more complicated the better, just like her father. And Zora, their oldest, had recently started joining him on “fox hunts,” trailing her dad through the brush in search of hidden radio signals like it was a top-secret spy mission.

And Awan? He was obsessed with them right back. He always affectionately referred to Nina and their daughters as his special girls.

He’d protested earlier when Nina told him to take the kids outside. Said he didn’t want her unpacking alone. But she insisted, the girls had pent up energy, and she knew she wouldn’t get anything done with them underfoot.

Now, the house buzzed with potential. A new chapter. A bigger home. More room for special moments and memories to be created.

She wiped sweat from her brow and turned back to a kitchen box labeled “utensils + miscellaneous” her thoughts beginning to drift.

12 years ago, she and Awan had been strangers, paired up in the Phoenix FBI field office. He was always sweet, very chatty, but also sharp, with a knack for details and a gift for cutting through the noise. He had this way of getting into the weeds, spotting patterns and connections that others missed. Sharp enough, in fact, to piece together things even she sometimes overlooked.

Nina had figured out pretty early on that he was crushing on her, even if he did his best to play it cool. But she’d catch him staring, watching her with a quiet, steady longing he maybe never expected to be returned.

He tried his best to be just her partner. Only her friend. Until he simply couldn’t anymore.

He told her he loved her a year after they met. She’d told him she loved him too, and that she’d just been waiting for him to finally work up the nerve. Something they can laugh about now. And two years after that, they were married.

She smiled at the memory; their wedding celebrations, two ceremonies honoring both of their cultures and heritages, had been the happiest two days of her life.

They’d had to figure it all out, careers, marriage, cultural differences, babies. It wasn’t always easy, but they got there. Eventually, Nina left the Bureau with the intent to still pursue truth and justice but just in a different way. She now worked as an investigative journalist for The Arizona Republic and a part-time consultant for the Phoenix Police Dept. Awan stayed, rising through the ranks. He was now Special Agent in Charge, a title that looked damn good on him, even if he sometimes felt buried under paperwork and bureaucracy. But even on his worst days, Awan told her, all he had to do was look at the framed picture of his special girls on his desk, and everything felt right in his world again.

Not long after Toni's birth, Nina had told him she was done having kids. Three was plenty enough. He’d nodded, kissed her forehead, and never pushed. But still, she could feel it, especially in the way his hand would come to rest on her belly as they slept, gentle and instinctive, like some part of him wasn’t ready to let go of the possibility. Or in the soft, faraway look he gave their daughters when he thought she wasn’t watching.

She sometimes wondered, too, what if their fourth child happened to be a little boy, with his father’s expressive eyes? Would he be just as sweet? Just as loyal? Would he have that same laugh that crept up from the belly and lit up the whole room? Would he be gentle, patient, the kind of boy who noticed when someone felt left out and offered them a seat beside him?

Nina liked to think so. She hoped he’d inherit Awan’s steady heart, his sense of justice, his quiet way of making people feel safe just by being near.

Or what if they had another girl?

Nina knew Awan would be just as happy either way. He was a family man through and through, hers, always and there was nothing he loved more than being surrounded by his special girls.

Nina peeked outside again. Awan had Toni slung over his back, Maya twirling in dizzy circles, and Zora planted firmly at his side, like always.

She leaned against the doorframe, heart swelling, full to the point of ache.

Maybe she'd tell him tonight, that perhaps there was room for one more.

Chapter Text

The girls were finally asleep.

He’d checked on Maya and Toni first. Toni had insisted on keeping her cape on, even in bed, and Maya had sent him on a mission to find her Gizmo plush toy, the one he’d bought her for her birthday. Oddly enough, it had been mispacked in the box with the pots and pans.

Then he stopped by Zora’s room, crouching at her bedside to prep her for the inevitable, Toni and Maya would probably end up in her bed by morning. Zora, ever the protector, simply nodded, already half-asleep, a hand resting beneath her cheek.

Awan always made it a point to kiss each of them goodnight. Even on the nights he came home late from work, when they were already asleep, he’d still lean in and kiss their foreheads. A ritual. A promise.

He padded down the hallway barefoot, the familiar creak of the floorboard beneath the hallway vent greeting him like an old friend. Funny how quickly a place could start to feel like home, especially when the people you loved filled it up like sunlight.

Wherever his special girls were, that was home for Awan. And for him, that was enough.

The kitchen was dim now. The overhead light was off, but the small lamp by the sink cast a warm glow that pooled around Nina’s silhouette as she leaned over a half-unpacked box.

He just stood there for a moment, watching her.

Twelve years in love. Nine years married, he thought. And somehow, she still looked at him the same way she had that first time he told her he loved her, equal parts surprise, mischief, and certainty. Like she’d already known.

And Awan still looked at Nina the same way too, all wonder and quiet awe, like he couldn’t believe she was his.

She sensed him there without even turning.

“I thought I told you to rest,” she murmured, lips curving faintly.

“You did,” he said, stepping forward, looping his arms around her from behind. “But the bed felt kind of empty without you.”

She leaned into him, fitting there like she always had, like she was meant to. He crouched down and pressed a kiss to her temple, just beneath her hairline, then rested his chin on her shoulder.

They stood that way for a while, wrapped in the quiet hush of the house, the creak of cooling walls, the hum of the fridge, faint laughter from a neighbor’s yard drifting in through the screen door.

He didn’t say it out loud. But he was thinking it. He loved this life.

Not in some distant, abstract way. Not in the way people say it over polite dinner conversation. He loved this. The chaos and the calm. The bedtime stories and the cereal bowls. The little shoes left under couches. The hum of Nina’s voice reading aloud. The smell of her shampoo lingering on his pillow.

He loved being a father. A husband. Nina’s partner in all things.

And yet...

There it was again. That quiet ache he never quite shook. The one that settled in his chest now and then, uninvited but never cruel.

Not long after Toni was born, Nina told him she was done. And he’d accepted that, honored it. She was the one who’d carried and labored their children, three times over. He would never ask more of her than she was willing to give.

He told himself three was enough. Three was joy. Three was a miracle, considering the long nights, the exhaustion, the field reports and diaper bags.

But sometimes, when he looked at their girls, all wild curls and scraped knees and glitter glue, he felt it.

Like a chair pulled out at the table that no one sat in. A room left open. A name not yet spoken.

Maybe a son…or maybe even another daughter.

Either way, Awan felt it deep in his chest, there was room for one more.

He never said it aloud. Would never ask. But sometimes, after Nina fell asleep, he’d find his hand drifting across her belly, gentle and slow, tracing invisible circles. And in the quiet of those moments, he’d whisper promises to someone who wasn’t there. Someone who maybe never would be.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Nina asked softly, breaking the silence.

Awan blinked, pulled from the drift. He kissed her shoulder and offered a small smile she couldn’t see but would feel.

“Just…thinking about how lucky I am,” he said.

She turned in his arms then, her hands resting on his chest, eyes lifting to meet his.

“You know,” she said slowly, voice unreadable, “I’ve been thinking too.”

“Oh yeah?”

She hesitated, just a breath.

“Maybe…maybe there’s room for one more.”

His heart skipped. Then it soared. He didn’t speak right away. Couldn’t. Just pulled her closer, voice low against her ear.

“Are you sure?”

Nina laughed gently, the sound soft and full. “Yes. I thought you wanted more.”

“I do,” he said quietly. “But only if you’re absolutely sure.”

“I am.”

Awan exhaled slowly, holding her like something precious.

And just like that, the room that had once felt quietly open, felt full.

Chapter Text

1985

The ultrasound room was quiet, save for the hum of machinery and the faint swish of the wand moving across Nina’s belly.

“There we go,” the technician said with a smile. “Everything’s looking great. Baby’s right on track.”

Awan sat beside Nina, his hand wrapped gently around hers, thumb brushing the side of her palm in slow, steady strokes. His eyes were locked on the fuzzy black-and-white image, his breath caught somewhere in his throat.

“You two want to know the sex?” the tech asked, glancing between them.

Nina looked at Awan, brows raised.

He nodded once. “Yes, please.”

The tech leaned a little closer to the monitor, adjusting the angle. “Well…looks like you’re having a little boy.”

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then Nina laughed, soft and full, and Awan let out a quiet breath, almost a laugh himself, though it trembled on the way out.

A boy.

He squeezed Nina’s hand a little tighter, eyes still on the screen. Somewhere in all that grainy static was a new heartbeat, a new name, a new story waiting to be written.

“Our son,” Nina whispered, as if speaking it made it real.

Awan was quiet, almost reverent. He kissed her temple and nodded, eyes brimming with tears.

---

A few months before, once Nina confirmed the pregnancy with her doctor, she and Awan told the girls over dinner.

Zora was the first to react, her eyes wide and sparkling. “Really? We’re having another baby?”

When Nina nodded, Zora sat up straighter, practically glowing. “I can help more this time,” she said. “I’ll do bottles and rock the baby and, can I help fold the diapers too.”

“You’re already such a good big sister,” Awan told her. “This baby is lucky.”

Toni, seated with her legs swinging under the table, gasped so dramatically she almost tipped over. Her wild curls bounced as she popped up onto her knees, eyes round with wonder.

“I’m gonna be a big sister?” she asked, voice rising with excitement.

“That’s right,” Nina said, smiling.

Toni clapped once, then leaned over to press her small hand against Nina’s belly with careful curiosity. “Hi, baby,” she whispered. “I’m Toni. I’m gonna teach you stuff.”

Then she sat back, suddenly serious. “The baby can have my Care Bears,” she announced. “But not my red cape.”

Awan grinned. “A reasonable compromise.”

Toni nodded like a general declaring her terms, clearly pleased.

But Maya, quiet, thoughtful Maya, had stayed silent.

She pushed her peas and carrots around her plate, her little shoulders tense.

“Maya?” Nina asked gently.

“I’m not hungry anymore,” she murmured, sliding off her chair and padding down the hall without waiting for permission.

Later that evening, Awan found her in her room, cross-legged on the rug, working slowly on a Star Wars jigsaw puzzle, the kind they always did together. Maya picked up a corner piece, turning it over and over between her fingers as she worked silently.

He knelt beside her. “Oh, this is one of our favorites…and you’re starting over without me?”

Maya sighed. “I mean…if you want, you can help, I guess.”

Awan smiled gently. “Maya, we always do puzzles together. Of course I want to help.”

She didn’t look up. “Do you even have time for that anymore? What about after the baby comes?”

His heart clenched.

He pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her small frame.

“When I found out you were coming, I was nervous too,” he said quietly. “I didn’t know how I could love another baby as much as I loved Zora.”

Maya looked up at him, eyes wide. “Really?”

“Yup...but then you were here,” he said. “And my heart just got bigger.”

She let out a deep, shaky exhale as she leaned into him, as if all the fear she'd been carrying finally had somewhere to go.

“You’ll always be my Maya,” he whispered into her hair. “And I will always make time for you. No one takes your place. Ever.”

---

Now, walking to the car under the Arizona sun, Nina slipped on her sunglasses and let out a long, steady breath.

“A son,” she said softly, almost in disbelief. “Awan, you are about to be a boy dad."

Awan laughed, almost bashful. “Yeah. I am.”

But there was something in his voice, something tender and uncertain.

Nina looked over at him. “You don’t have to be torn about this. It’s okay to be excited. Loving our girls doesn’t mean you can’t love the idea of a son too.”

He stopped, just for a second, and hugged her, full-bodied, arms wrapped around her like he didn’t want to let go.

“I am excited,” he murmured. “I really am.”

He opened the car door for Nina, helping her inside. Then, as he rounded to the driver’s side, he touched his shirt pocket briefly, where the sonogram photo rested like a folded promise.

“The girls are going to be so excited,” Nina said as he started the engine.

He smiled. “Especially now.”

“We’ll tell them tonight?”

“After dinner,” Awan agreed. “Let’s take them out for ice cream and tell them then. Let them make their guesses first.”

“They’ll probably fight over it,” she joked.

“Toni will insist it’s a girl. Zora will have charts. Maya…”

“She’s asking if the baby will like puzzles,” Nina said, smiling gently.

Awan reached for her hand, lacing their fingers together.

A boy.

Their family was already rich with love. But somehow, it was growing even deeper, fuller.

And as they pulled out into the slow drift of traffic, Awan felt it settle in his chest, not just joy.

Something steadier.

Wholeness.

Chapter Text

The warm desert night wrapped around them as they strolled hand in hand, the glow of the movie marquee fading behind them.

“Okay,” Awan said, giving her fingers a playful squeeze, “you have to admit, Witness was solid.”

Nina tilted her head. “It was good,” she admitted. “That barn scene had me holding my breath.”

“I saw you flinch when the kid dropped the toy.”

“That was maternal instinct,” she said, placing a hand over her belly. “Speaking of which… I’m starving.”

Awan grinned. “Taco stand’s still open.”

They veered toward the corner, toward the same little taco stand they used to frequent in their early days, back when every case felt heavier and every glance between them felt like a secret.

“Napoles tacos,” Nina murmured as they neared the glowing chalkboard menu.

Awan laughed. “It only took me five months to convince you cactus wasn’t trying to kill you.”

“I was skeptical,” she said. “Now? It’s a top-tier pregnancy craving. Right next to your dad’s antelope stew.”

Awan grinned. “Funny how you used to make fun of my taste buds, only to end up inheriting them… even more once you started having our babies.”

Nina laughed. “Yeah… I met you, and it’s almost like you imprinted yourself on me,” she said, smiling playfully, though there was a wistful softness beneath it. “I guess that’s how love works.”

Awan paused, his breath catching as the mood shifted. He stared at her, caught in the way her words settled between them, light, but full of meaning.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his thumb tracing slow circles against her hand. “I suppose so.”

Then he leaned in and kissed her, soft and unhurried. The kind of kiss that said I feel it too. The kind that lingered.

When he pulled back, he didn’t say anything more. He didn’t need to.

They ordered and found a spot under a string of soft lights at a dented metal table. Nina took one bite and exhaled like she’d been waiting all day for it. “Hmmmmm still magic,” she mumbled.

Awan unwrapped his own, glancing at her sidelong. “So… names.”

She looked up.

“For the baby,” he added, smiling.

She chewed slowly, then set the taco down and reached for her napkin.

“I’ve been thinking about that,” she said, folding it neatly, like she was working her way toward something bigger.

Awan waited, patient.

“You know I chose the girls’ names after my favorite authors - brilliant, resilient Black women,” she began, her voice warm with pride. “And you gave them their middle names, with your dad. We’ve always done it together.”

“And it worked,” he said. “They all have beautiful names.”

There was a pause. Then she set the napkin down, expression soft.

“But this time… I want you to name him. First and middle.”

Awan blinked. “You serious?”

She nodded. “I trust you. He’s your son... and he’ll be your only son. I want you to take the lead on this… completely.”

He sat back slightly, taking her in, not just her words, but the weight behind them. His voice was quiet, steady.

“Okay...I promise I’ll do right by him. And by you.”

“I know,” she said softly, her smile faint but certain. “I feel good about it. You’ve got this.”

She meant it, not just as a gesture of trust, but of love. This was her way of honoring Awan, of saying: I see you. I love the man you are. I love the father you’ve been to our girls. And I want our son to carry that forward, your name, your spirit, your strength.

Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones, God knows they’d made her cry at a cereal commercial last week, but more than that, it was just him. Sometimes, when they were doing nothing at all, just brushing their teeth side by side or folding laundry, she’d look at him and feel overcome with affection, with gratitude, with love that felt too big to name.

Awan looked down at the table, quiet for a moment as her words settled into him.

“That means more to me than I know how to say,” he said softly.

She reached for his hand and laid it gently over her belly. “Name him however you see him. However you want him to carry the world.”

---

Over the next week, Awan thought constantly about the task Nina had given him.

At work, he scribbled names in the margins of case files. At home, he tested how different syllables sounded under his breath. None of them felt quite right.

So he went home, well, to his first home, bringing the girls along for a day at the rez.

He sat with his father on the porch, dusk stretching wide around them, the girls running in the dirt just beyond earshot.

“What name would you give a boy who needed to carry both worlds?” he asked.

Thomas didn’t answer right away. Just took a slow sip of coffee, eyes on the horizon.

Finally, he said, “A name with shadow and sun. One that moves forward and remembers.”

That was all Awan needed.

---

When he told Nina, it was late.

The girls were asleep. She was stretched across the couch, her feet propped in his lap, a book resting on her belly.

Awan was gently massaging her feet, his fingers moving in slow, steady circles when he said, almost quietly, “I have a name.”

Nina looked up, her expression soft. “You sure?”

He nodded, eyes steady. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

Awan gently moved Nina’s feet from his lap, then stood and knelt beside her, like the moment carried a different kind of weight.

She closed the book and shifted to sit upright, her heartbeat quickening just slightly. She knew whatever he was about to say would stay with them both forever.

“Malcolm,” he said. “For the first name.”

Her brows lifted in quiet surprise. “As in...?”

He nodded. “Malcolm is a good name. Strong. Grounded. Clear. Sharp...direct when it needs to be. I want him to carry that.”

Nina exhaled slowly, her voice warm. “I love that.”

For a moment she thought of her daughters, each carrying a name borrowed from women whose words had shaped her life. Hurston, Angelou, Morrison. She hadn’t expected Malcolm to fall into that same quiet pattern, but of course he did. His name carried a writer’s gravity too: the autobiography that had shaped her, the sharpness of his speeches, the power of a voice insisting on Black dignity. It felt like a bridge, not just to history, but to the words that had always been her compass.

Awan, then added, “His middle name will be Ashkii.”

“What does it mean?”

“It means ‘boy,’ or ‘son,’ in Navajo. Simple. But ancient. Full of memory.”

He watched her take it in. She repeated the name softly under her breath.

“Malcolm Ashkii Bitsui,” she said, tasting the shape of it. “That’s beautiful.”

He nodded. “He’ll know where he comes from. All of it.”

Nina leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder.

“You did good,” she whispered.

Awan wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, the sonogram photo still tucked in his wallet like a promise.

“So did you.”

Chapter Text

Nina shifted in bed, propping herself up with a soft grunt. “I feel like a planet.”

Awan looked up from his comic book, smirking. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. Planets are powerful. Whole worlds orbit them.”

She shot him a look, but her lips twitched. “That line worked better before I had swollen ankles and heartburn.”

He set the book aside and leaned over to press a kiss to her shoulder. “Still true.”

Nina rolled her eyes, but she didn’t pull away. If anything, she leaned into his touch.

She was in her third trimester now, round and heavy, all curves and stretch marks and warmth. And Awan? Awan looked at her like she was the sunrise.

He always had.

Every pregnancy, every stage, he never stopped making her feel beautiful. Whether she was glowing or exhausted, dolled up or walking around the house in one of his T-shirts, he never looked at her with anything less than admiration.

And his desire for her? That never wavered either.

Even now, when she felt most unlike herself, when her back ached and she couldn’t see her own feet, he still looked at her with that same quiet hunger, tucked beneath his tenderness.

But he never pushed.

That was something she’d always loved about him.

Even when his touch lingered, even when his gaze grew darker, he waited. Patient. Soft. Letting her lead.

She reached for his hand, lacing their fingers together as he settled in closer.

“You know,” she said softly, “you’ve never once made me feel anything less than beautiful. Not during any of it.”

Awan met her eyes, his expression unchanging. “That’s because you’ve always been beautiful. Especially now.”

Nina bit her lip, heart tugging. “You’re such a softie.”

He grinned. “Yeah…I am”

She kissed him then, slow, unhurried, her fingers curling around the back of his neck. His lips answered with equal warmth, deepening when she tugged him closer, when her hand drifted to his chest, grounding them both.

And he understood. He always did.

Because her comfort came first. Her body was already doing enough work growing their child, intimacy, for them, had never been about pressure. It was about closeness. Trust. Letting love move through the quiet moments.

He helped her ease gently onto her side, settling in behind her, his body curving protectively around hers. One arm tucked beneath her head, the other draped over her middle, his palm spreading wide over the swell of her belly. The baby shifted beneath his hand, a flutter that made Nina’s breath catch, part surprise, part wonder.

They moved together like that, slow, quiet, sure. His lips traced her shoulder as they rocked in sync, her sighs soft against the hush of the room. She reached back to tangle her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer until his breath was warm against her neck.

His hand slid lower, from her belly to her thigh, lingering, coaxing. His touch was firm but reverent, every motion careful. Each slow thrust drew a soft gasp from her lips, and her body answered him, easing into the rhythm.

“Nina,” he breathed against her skin, voice low, strained with feeling. “I love you.”

The words sank into her, wrapping around the heat already pulsing through her. She closed her eyes, her chest tightening with something that went deeper than desire. “I love you too,” she whispered back, the words catching as he moved within her, as closeness overtook them both.

For a long while, they stayed like that, wrapped in the amber glow of the bedside lamp, their bodies moving together until the tension rose sharp and bright, then broke, quiet but no less intense, the kind that left them trembling in one another’s arms. When they finally stilled, he held her close, lips brushing over her shoulder, fingertips drawing idle circles across her belly as if already speaking to their child.

Later, as Nina shifted onto her back, breath now steady, skin warm, Awan leaned down and pressed a kiss just above her navel, whispering something she didn’t quite catch.

“What was that?” she murmured sleepily.

He smiled against her skin. “Just telling him to keep being good to his mama.”

Nina laughed softly, her fingers threading through his hair. “All he has to do is follow his father’s lead.”

Chapter Text

The front door clicked open just after six.

As always, the sound of Awan’s keys in the lock triggered a stampede, small feet slapping against hardwood, high-pitched squeals echoing through the house.

“Daddy!”

Toni reached him first, launching herself into his legs, her red cape fluttering behind her like a flag.

Maya wasn’t far behind, arms full of macaroni art and camp handouts. “We went swimming today!”

“We made friendship bracelets!” Zora added, holding up her wrist proudly.

Awan laughed, crouching to hug them all at once, letting their voices wash over him like something he’d waited all day to hear. “Okay, okay, I want to hear all about your girls' day at camp,” he chuckled. “But first, I need to talk to your mama.”

Zora gave him a knowing look. “You always say that when it’s serious.”

“Yes,” he said gently, brushing her braids back, “but it’s nothing for you to worry about, I promise. I really do want to hear everything… and I brought something.”

From the paper bag under his arm, he pulled out a small white box and handed it to Zora, who opened it with practiced glee.

“Cookies!” Toni gasped.

“From Sweet Crumb!” Maya added.

“Only one each,” Awan said, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t want to get in trouble for ruining your appetites.”

He rested a hand gently on Zora’s shoulder. “Take the cookies outside with your sisters for a bit, okay? "

She nodded, already slipping into big sister mode. Awan guided the girls from the entryway into the kitchen, where Zora then took the lead, corralling Toni and Maya toward the backyard. The sliding door clicked shut behind them.

Awan turned toward Nina.

She stood at the counter, making the final preparations for dinner, Toni’s pick tonight: spaghetti & meatballs. She stirred the pot slowly, methodically, but hadn’t said a word since he walked in.

She knew.

She’d felt it the moment he stepped through the door, just like she’d noticed how he hadn’t been sleeping well the past two nights. How something had been sitting on him all week, too quiet, too heavy.

Now she turned to face him, eyes sharp and searching. “What is it?”

Awan exhaled and rubbed a hand down his face. “I got a memo from D.C. on Monday,” he said quietly. “Mandatory SAC meeting. All regions.”

Nina stilled, her fingers tightening around the edge of the counter. Her breath hitched slightly as she pressed a hand to her belly, feeling Malcolm’s quiet kicks, a reminder of what she couldn’t bear to miss.

“I leave on the 16th,” he added. “I’ll be back on the 20th.”

A moment passed.

“Malcolm is due on the 25th,” Nina said, her voice flat.

“I know.”

“Maya came a week early,” she said. “Toni came ten days early.”

“I know,” Awan repeated, softer this time.

She crossed her arms, her whole body taut with emotion. “You’ve never missed a birth.”

His jaw tightened. “I tried to push back, Nina. That’s why I’m telling you now. I’ve been trying all week to get out of it. I even requested for Dennis to go in my place, they wouldn’t budge. It’s all the SACs. No exceptions.”

He hesitated, voice darkening. “Fucking Webster,” he muttered under his breath.

Nina looked away. Her shoulders began to shake as tears welled and spilled, quiet but unmistakable. Awan’s heart broke.

He stepped forward, hand resting gently on her arm. “I’ll be back in time. I swear....hey....Nina, please look at me."

She looked up at him finally, her eyes glassy.

"When have I ever broken a promise to you?”

“Never,” she whispered. “But the timing’s always been on our side with the girls. This time...”

Her voice cracked, trailing off. Then she stepped into him, pressing her forehead to his chest, hands curling into the fabric of his shirt.

“I need you with me, Awan. For Malcolm.”

He held her close, one arm around her back, the other resting protectively over the curve of her belly.

“And everything in me wants...needs to be here. For you. For all of you,” he murmured.

There was a pause. Then Awan added softly, “I called my father. He’s coming to stay while I’m away. And I called your mom too, she’s flying in a few days earlier than planned.”

Nina closed her eyes, her breath catching. Of course he did.

Even when the world pressed hard, even when things didn’t go to plan, Awan made sure she was never alone. He took care of her. Always had.

And that, more than anything, helped her breathe.

Chapter Text

The house was still and quiet, just after 5:15 a.m., the kind of hush that only came before the day truly began.

Awan sat on the edge of the bed, watching Nina sleep. The room was dim, touched only by the faintest gray hint of dawn pressing against the blinds. His hand rested gently on her belly, fingers splayed across the swell, feeling the faintest shift beneath.

Nina stirred, her eyes fluttering open. “Awan… you’re already dressed,” she murmured, voice low and heavy with sleep.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Just called my cab. It’ll be here in about twenty minutes.”

She pushed herself upright with a quiet groan. “Wait… it’s already time? Why didn’t you wake me sooner?”

Awan offered a faint smile. “You looked so peaceful. I couldn’t do it. And you need your rest.”

She blinked, then noticed the splash of color on his wrist, one of Zora’s friendship bracelets, neatly tied in red and yellow thread.

“She gave it to me this morning,” he said, following her gaze. “I made my rounds to kiss the girls goodbye. Figured they’d all be asleep, but Zora was wide awake, like she was waiting for me. She said it was for luck.”

Nina reached over and touched the bracelet lightly. “She’s something else.”

“She is,” Awan agreed. “All three of them are...like their mama” he smiled.

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her forehead, then another to her lips, slow, steady, lingering. When he pulled back, his hand returned to her belly, warm and grounding.

“Hold tight, little man okay? Just a few days. I’ll be back before you know it. Just… wait for me.” Awan said softly.

“He’s already showing off,” she said, smiling ,“Kicking like he’s trying to wave goodbye.”

Awan chuckled, his palm still resting over her belly. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I can feel him. Strong already.”

Then, careful not to shift the blankets too much, he climbed onto the bed beside her, still fully dressed, and curled close, one arm draped gently around her as she leaned into him.

“I’ve got a little more time,” he whispered, forehead to hers, palm resting over her belly.

They lay there quietly, breathing in sync, holding onto the last moments.

Fifteen minutes later, a soft honk outside broke the silence.

Awan kissed her one last time. “I’ll be back in time,” he said. “I swear it.”

Nina nodded, brushing her fingers along his jaw. “Go. Be safe. Come home.”

---

The days passed gently, stitched together with small comforts and routine.

Thomas arrived that afternoon, suitcase in hand and a warm nod as greeting.

“Smells the same in here,” he said as he stepped inside, voice dry but fond. “Chaos and crayons.”

He slipped into the rhythm of the household like he’d never left, cooking, sweeping, keeping the girls entertained with old stories and dry humor.

One night, he made antelope stew with fry bread. The next morning, blue corn pancakes sizzled on the griddle. Nina ate them with a kind of reverence, fork slow, eyes closed after the first bite.

“I’ve always told you,” she said, dabbing her mouth, “this is the closest thing I’ve had to my grandma’s hoecakes.”

Thomas’s smile was soft, touched with memory. “My grandmother used to say food’s how we remember the ones who raised us. You’re family, Nina. Cooking for you, it brings some of that back.”

The girls adored their grandfather and always loved when he would come over for extended visits or even going out to the rez. This time was no different, he took them on evening walks, let them braid his hair on the back porch, three sets of tiny fingers working carefully, and taught them the old Navajo names for the stars.

After bedtime, Nina would join him outside with a pitcher of iced tea and two glasses. They sat in the warm hush of twilight, cicadas humming low, grounded by shared presence. Sometimes they talked, about Awan as a boy, happenings on the rez, about Nina’s work and motherhood. And there were moments when they let the silence stretch comfortably, not out of absence but fullness, the kind that didn’t need filling.

Awan called every night without fail. Sometimes, if he timed it right with the three-hour difference, he’d call in the morning too. He never missed a chance to speak to Nina and always made time to catch up with the girls too.

He asked Zora about the latest issue of the Spiderman comic, listened patiently as Toni sang camp songs off-key, and let Maya walk him through her puzzle progress, piece by piece.

To Nina, his voice was balm. Steady. Loving. Present, even from miles away.

By the 19th, she felt calm. Her body ached, sure, but everything was in place. The girls were cared for. Thomas was here. Her mother would arrive that evening from Baltimore. And Awan would be home by 4:00 p.m. the next day.

The morning began as usual. Breakfast, camp drop-off, a little writing. Nina finalized an article for The Arizona Republic and set her notes aside with a contented, accomplished sigh.

But around 11:00 a.m., a sharp tug low in her belly made her pause mid-step. She braced a hand on the kitchen counter, the other on her side. It passed quickly, but not without recognition. She knew her body. Something had shifted. She eased herself into a chair and took a breath. Then looked down at her belly.

“Okay, Malcolm,” she murmured. “Just one more day. You can do that, right?”

Another breath. Another wave, not quite pain, but pressure. Persistent.

Thomas came in from his morning walk and immediately saw the tension in her shoulders. Her jaw was tight, lips pressed together, eyes flicking to the floor and back to her belly as if measuring time itself.

“Nina,” he said. “How far apart?”

“They’re not regular,” she said quickly. “And I can talk through them.”

“But they’re real,” he replied, already grabbing her overnight bag from hallway closet. “We’re going to the hospital.”

“Thomas, I really think I...”

“Nina, we’re not waiting till your water breaks on the kitchen floor,” he said stern yet gentle at the same time.

“Let's get your shoes on.”

She didn’t argue. Just grabbed her shoes and purse, following his lead.

At the hospital, it didn’t take long to confirm what Nina already suspected,early labor.

She was only a few centimeters dilated, but the contractions were steady now. Not strong, but enough for the doctor to admit her for monitoring. “Could be hours,” he said. “Could be days. But it’s happening.”

Nina nodded quietly, lips pressed together. She lay back against the pillow, one hand on her belly, the other curled loosely at her side. Her eyes brimmed, but she didn’t let the tears fall. Not yet.

She hadn’t called Awan. Couldn’t. Not with her voice still thick and her chest too tight to speak. Thomas stood nearby, quiet. Then he stepped into the hallway and found the nurses’ station. It took a few calls, but eventually he got through to Awan’s hotel in D.C. it was sheer luck that he was able to reach him, as Awan was catching some rest in his room between meetings.

When the front desk transferred him, he didn’t waste time.

“Coming home tomorrow is no longer an option,” Thomas said. “You need to come home. Now.”

There was a pause. Then rustling, and Awan’s voice sharpened. “She’s in labor?”

“She’s holding on, but it’s real. She didn’t want to call you, not like this. But you need to be here.”

“I’m on my way,” Awan said. “Tell her...just tell her I’m coming.”

By the time Thomas returned to Nina’s room, she was sitting up a little straighter, eyes dry but distant, watching the monitor’s steady peaks.

“Did you get him?” she asked.

Thomas nodded, settling into the chair beside her. “He’s coming.”

She didn’t speak, just nodded once, hand resting protectively over her belly.

Later that afternoon, with contractions still spaced out, Thomas made a few more calls. Arrangements had to be made for the girls.

Nina and Awan’s old colleague and friend from the Bureau, Jessica, now married and raising her own kids, agreed without hesitation.

“I’ll pick them up straight from camp,” Jessica said. “They’ll stay with us for however long you need."

When Thomas relayed the message, Nina exhaled with relief. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank her for me.”

“I will,” he said. “Everything’s handled. You just rest.”

And for the first time since being admitted to the hospital, Nina let herself close her eyes. Not because everything was perfect, but because she wasn’t holding it all alone.

Chapter Text

The hours passed in waves.

Each contraction came sharper than the last, folding Nina in half with its intensity. Still no word from Awan. No updates. Just the silence between phone calls and the steady ticking of the monitor.

She breathed through the ache, the worry, the grief blooming in her chest.

She wasn’t alone, technically. The nurses were kind. Thomas had been steady. The doctor checked in regularly. But Awan’s absence cast a long shadow, one she couldn’t ignore.

She wanted to meet Malcolm. She was ready. She was grateful. But she also wanted Awan’s hand in hers. His voice in her ear. His calm. His warmth. The ache of him not being there cut deeper than the pain clenching her spine.

Labor with Zora had been long and grueling. Maya and Toni came early and fast. Malcolm was going to be early too, but his arrival felt more like Zora’s, slow, building, intense.

Around 6:00 p.m., Thomas left to pick up her mother from the airport. He’d bring her to the hospital, then head to Jessica’s to get the girls and then head back to the house. Before leaving, he took Nina’s hand in his.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” he said, voice low and certain. “If there’s one thing I know about my son, it’s that he’ll move mountains to get to you.”

Nina gave a small nod, almost too choked up to speak, but managed, “Thank you, Thomas… for everything. And please, give the girls an extra hug from me.”

Thomas offered a warm smile. “No need to thank me. And I will.” With that, he left.

When the door shut behind him, the quiet swept in, too full, too loud.

She lay back against the pillow, one hand resting on her belly, whispering to Malcolm. Telling him how loved he already was. Promising she’d be strong for both of them.

A little over an hour later, her mother arrived, Annette Hayes, a quiet pillar of strength and grace, whose presence had always meant safety.

Warm arms. The scent of home. A voice that could calm Nina’s nerves with just a few words. She hadn’t realized how much she needed her until that very moment. Annette pulled up a chair, brushed back Nina’s damp curls, and held her hand through the next contraction, steady, unshaken.

And in that still, aching moment, Nina silently thanked Awan, for making sure his father was here… and for asking her mother to come early. He knew there was a chance he might miss the beginning, or all of it. So he’d made sure the next two best people would be there in his place.

---

By midnight, the contractions were coming faster, sharper. Nina’s body was telling her what she already knew, it was time to push. The doctor entered the room with a calm, practiced presence and a firm but gentle smile.

“Mrs. Bitsui, it’s time. We need to get you ready.”

Nina’s heart sank.

She closed her eyes, willing the moment to stall just long enough for Awan to walk through the door. But it didn’t. Malcolm was coming. And Awan wasn’t there.

The tears came suddenly, deep, heavy sobs that rattled her chest. Not out of fear. Not because of the pain. But from the grief of doing this part without him.

Annette moved instantly. She wrapped her arms around Nina, pressing her daughter’s head to her shoulder like she had when Nina was small and the world felt too big. She stroked her hair, whispered low, steady reassurances into her ear.

“I’ve got you, baby. You’re not alone. He’s coming. And until he gets here, I’m right here.”

Nina clung to her mother’s hand, grounded by her strength. And though the ache of Awan’s absence lingered, the weight of her mother’s love steadied her just enough to breathe again.

And then…

A blur dashed past the doorway.

A second later, a nurse called out, “Uh… Mr. Bitsui? Your wife’s in Room 12. You just ran past it.”

Moments later, breathless, shirt wrinkled, face drawn from the journey, but finally, there he was.

Awan.

“I’m here,” he gasped, stepping to her side. “I’m here.”

Nina laughed through her tears. “You made it.”

He reached for her hand like it was the only thing tethering him to solid ground. “Nothing was going to keep me away.”

And just like that, everything was right again.

Behind him, Annette stepped forward and rested a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Good,” she said warmly, her voice calm and kind. “She needs you.”

Awan turned to her, gratitude etched deep across his face. “Thank you for being here.”

Without hesitation, Annette opened her arms, and Awan stepped into her embrace. He held her tightly, a brief but meaningful hug, full of comfort, respect...and love.

“You’re welcome, baby,” she murmured, smoothing a hand over his back. “Now go be with your wife.”

She leaned down, kissed Nina’s temple and then quietly slipped out, murmuring something about getting coffee, but they both knew she was giving them space.

Awan was beside her now, just like he had been with Zora, Maya, and Toni. She labored nearly twelve hours, body aching and spirit stretched thin, but then he came. Kissed her sweetly. Held her hand. Spoke steady words that gave her breath.

Malcolm came fast, three pushes and he was here. Red-faced. Wailing. Perfect.

Awan cut the cord, just like always, his hands trembling as he cradled his son for the first time. Then he passed Malcolm to Nina, and she broke.

Tears from exhaustion. From joy. From the simple truth, Malcolm arrived safely, and Awan had made it home just in time.

Awan cried too. Quiet tears he didn’t bother hiding.

---

A few hours later, as early light crept through the window, Nina stirred in her hospital bed.

She spotted them across the room, Awan in the recliner by the window, Malcolm resting on his chest. Awan’s shirt was still wrinkled. His hair tousled. But his eyes never left their son.

He spoke softly, unaware Nina was awake.

“You gave your mama a hell of a day, do you know that?” he murmured. “Twelve hours, and she did it like she always does, with strength so quiet you don’t realize how much she’s carrying.”

Malcolm shifted, a tiny hand curling into Awan’s shirt.

“You showed up early, just like your sisters, Maya and Toni,” Awan murmured. “But I made it. Just in time.” He let out a quiet chuckle, the sound tapering into something more solemn.

“I’m gonna be here for you, little man. For all of it, the milestones and the quiet in-betweens. You’ll never have to question where you come from or who you are. That’s my promise.”

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to Malcolm’s forehead.

“Your name carries weight, Malcolm Ashkii. You’ll grow into it, learn what it means bit by bit. And no matter what, you’ll always know, you belong.”

Nina blinked back fresh tears. Her heart felt full, so full she could barely breathe.

And then Awan looked up, as if sensing her gaze.

“Hey there,” he said.

Nina smiled. “Hey.”

He stood, walked over to Nina and gently placed Malcolm into her arms, pulling a chair beside her bed.

“ So,” she said, nestling their son close, “you were able to catch an earlier flight afterall?”

“Yeah,” Awan nodded. “But out of JFK.”

Her brows lifted. “What?”

“Luckily, the hotel had a travel concierge. As soon as my dad called - around 3pm DC time -  I asked them to help me get home. It gave me time to pack and call the higher-ups. Nothing was available out of D.C., Maryland, or Virginia. But there was one direct flight out of JFK I could possibly make, if I caught the 4:10pm train to New York City.”

“You took the train to New York?” Nina asked, eyes widening.

“Yep. Three and a half hours,” he said, exhaling. “Then a 40-minute cab ride to JFK. And...remind me to tell you about that cab ride later....the driver...what an odd man” He laughed as if he was replaying the cab ride in real time in his mind.

She laughed softly.

“Anyway,” he continued, “I made the plane by the skin of my teeth, just minutes before they closed the gate.”

Nina shook her head, a wide smile blooming on her face.

"And then, coming from the airport to here, there was a car accident a few blocks away. Traffic was a mess, detours everywhere... so I just ran the rest of the way."

“Wow,” she said, eyes softening. “You really did move mountains.”

"I made a promise to you and Malcolm. I had no intention of breaking it."

He glanced down, his smile tinged with warmth, fingers brushing the friendship bracelet Zora had given him for luck just a few days ago.

Chapter Text

The house felt different now, softer, slower. As if everyone inside had instinctively adjusted to a new rhythm.

Malcolm was only a few days old, but already the Bitsuis had fallen into a quiet orbit around him.

Nina moved with practiced grace, her body still sore but her hands sure. She knew how to swaddle, how to soothe, how to sway just enough to lull him back to sleep. But this time, it was different. This time, there was no first-time uncertainty. No frantic 2 a.m. whispers or second-guessing. It wasn’t easier, necessarily. Just… deeper. Calmer. Like the roots had already been laid, and now they were simply growing wider.

Awan had managed to take a three-week leave from the Bureau, no field calls, no paperwork. But Nina could still sense his frustration, the quiet ache of a man who wished he could press pause a little longer.

He cooked most nights, rotating through meals that were simple but meaningful, green chile stew, fry bread, spaghetti, grilled cheese with tomato soup, and smothered chicken, a dish Nina’s mother had taught him to make years ago, as it was Nina's favorite. He took the midnight feedings when he could, careful not to wake Nina as he gently scooped Malcolm from the bassinet and rocked him in the chair by the window, humming low and soft.

Toni had decided Malcolm was hers. She hovered nearby at all times, her superhero cape trailing behind her like she was on assignment.

“I think he likes me best,” she announced one morning, gently patting Malcolm’s swaddled chest as he lay in his bassinet.

Zora, ever the eldest, rolled her eyes but smiled. “That’s only because you never stop talking to him.”

“I’m giving him a head start on words,” Toni replied, hands on her hips.

Maya kept her distance at first, quiet, observant, unsure. But one night, Nina caught her slipping a drawing into Malcolm’s bassinet. A crayon sketch of their whole family, Zora, Maya, Toni, and the two of them, Malcolm in the center, bundled in red with stars drawn above his head.

Nina knelt beside her. “Is this for him?”

Maya nodded, not quite looking at her. “Sometimes when things are new,” she said softly, “it helps to have a picture.”

Nina’s heart clenched. She kissed the top of her daughter’s head and left the drawing where Maya had placed it, right beside her baby brother.

Awan continued to affectionately refer to Malcolm as “Little Man.” He’d say it with a soft grin, lifting him gently into his arms like he weighed nothing at all.

“You’ve got a full house, little man,” he whispered once, as Malcolm blinked up at him under the dim lamplight. “But there’s always room for you.”

On the fourth day home, they took their first walk as a family of six. Malcolm nestled against Nina’s chest in a wrap, his tiny breaths warm against her skin. The girls walked ahead with Awan, laughing as Toni tried to name every dog they passed. The sun was setting, casting long shadows on the sidewalk, the sky painted in streaks of pink and gold.

Nina watched Awan with the girls, Zora tucked against his side, Maya holding his hand, Toni darting ahead, and felt a swell in her chest that had nothing to do with hormones or fatigue.

She looked down at Malcolm. “Look what you were born into,” she whispered. “All this love. All this life.”

He yawned, curling closer.

That night, after everyone was asleep, Nina stood in the nursery doorway, watching Awan rock Malcolm under the soft glow of the mobile.

“You okay?” she asked quietly.

Awan looked up, tired but glowing. “I am. Are you?”

Nina nodded. “Getting there.”

He stood and crossed the room to her, pressing a kiss to her forehead before handing Malcolm over.

“Four,” he murmured, brushing his knuckles against the back of Malcolm’s head. “Four makes a whole.”

Nina looked down at their son, then back up at her husband. “Yeah,” she whispered. “It really does.”

Chapter Text

1986

A year had passed, and just like that, it was Malcolm’s first birthday.

What began as a small backyard get-together quickly blossomed into something bigger. Summer had a way of making people more flexible, and word traveled fast. So Awan and Nina leaned into it and turned it into a full-blown barbecue.

Family and friends filled the yard, laughter rising over the scent of grilled corn, burgers, hot dogs, and ribs. Nina’s mother, uncle, and a few cousins had flown in from Baltimore.

Awan’s father came down from the rez, joined by his childhood friend Darrel Yazzie and his family. Jessica,  her husband, along with their son and daughter arrived with their usual bubbliness and warmth, and several neighbors dropped by with their younger children in tow.

Each of the girls, Zora, Maya, and Toni, had been allowed to invite one friend, adding to the joyful swirl of voices and motion.

Even Nathan Abbott, Nina and Awan’s former boss at the Bureau, showed up with his wife, Joan, who absolutely adored Nina. And then there was Kelly, one of Nina’s mentees, once a cleaner at the Bureau office, now an agent in her seventh year, beaming with pride as she pulled Nina into a hug.

And of course, there was Jim Ellis, “Uncle Jim” now, and his daughter, Luna. Nina watched them from across the yard with a soft smile. If someone had told her back in 1972 that Jim would one day be sitting in her backyard, laughing with her children, folded into her family like he’d always belonged, she would’ve laughed. But life had a way of surprising you. Some people became family not by blood, but through time, trust, and love. That was true of Jim and Luna, and many of the people gathered that day.

Malcolm, blissfully unaware of the day’s significance, toddled between arms and laps, a paper crown crooked atop his curls, a wide grin lighting his face. He wouldn’t remember the cake, the bubbles, or the tangle of cheerful noise, but Nina, Awan, and the girls would. And that was what mattered.

As Nina looked around, at kids darting across the grass, folding chairs filled with people they loved, and Awan flipping burgers at the grill, she felt the full weight of everything they’d built. This was home. This was theirs.

---

Later that evening, the party began to wind down. Some guests had already said their goodbyes, but the house still brimmed with energy. Out back, clusters of people lingered, their voices and laughter floating in through the open kitchen window.

From where she sat at the kitchen table, Nina could hear a lively card game in full swing in the living room, each round punctuated by bursts of laughter, cheers, and the occasional dramatic groan.

Upstairs, her mother had taken Malcolm for his bath and then bed. Meanwhile, the girls tore through the house in a blur of giggles and footsteps, playing hide-and-seek with a few other kids, their joy echoing off the walls.

She didn’t mind the noise. Neither did Awan. This, laughter in the halls, music spilling through open windows, joyful chaos, was why they’d bought a bigger house. Not just for their children to grow into, but so they could open their doors wide. So friends and family could gather, feel welcome, and belong.

They loved having a full house, filling it with warmth, food, music, and people who mattered.

Awan stood at the counter, quietly packing leftovers into containers and sliding them into the fridge, while Nina sorted through a growing stack of Polaroids Jessica had taken with her new camera. She was making two piles, one for the family album, the other for the kitchen bulletin board.

Eventually, Awan joined her, exhaling as he sat. He picked up a photo, Zora with frosting on her nose, Toni mid-cartwheel, Maya holding Malcolm’s hand, and smiled.

“Today was good,” he said.

Nina nodded. “It really was.”

Then Awan let out a deeper breath, one that lingered. Nina turned toward him, sensing the shift.

“What’s wrong?”

He hesitated. “This past year… so many good things happened...great things. Watching Malcolm grow. Seeing the girls step into their big sister roles again, Toni for the first time. Us continuing to settle in, turning this house into a home. But work’s been… heavy.”

She set the photos down, giving him her full attention.

“I still think about those last few days before Malcolm was born,” he said. “What if I hadn’t made it back in time? I don’t think I would’ve forgiven myself.”

“But you did,” Nina said gently, reaching for his hand.

“I know,” he said. “But I hate that I was ever in that position.” He paused, then corrected himself. “That we were.”

His voice dropped. “It put so much stress on you. On Malcolm, too. Seeing you cry like that… it broke me. I’m still not over it.”

They sat quietly for a moment, the hum of voices drifting in from the other rooms.

“Feels like we were just throwing Zora’s first birthday,” he murmured. “Now she’s ten.”

Nina gave his hand a light squeeze.

“I want more time,” he said. “With all of you. I used to balance it better. But lately…” He shook his head. “I feel like I’m missing more than I’m showing up for.”

She studied him, her voice calm but sure. “You’ve shown up for us in every way that counts. The kids couldn’t ask for a more present, more loving father. And I couldn’t ask for a better husband. But if something in you is shifting… I want to know. I’m here. I’m listening.”

She added, “We’re partners. I’ve got your back, and you’ve got mine.”

The words echoed something she’d once said when they were just two agents chasing leads. They meant even more now.

Awan nodded slowly. “I know… which is why I want to tell you something. I’m thinking about leaving the Bureau.”

Nina blinked, caught between surprise and relief. Before she could speak, he continued.

“There’s still a lot to work through. But… seasons change. And I think my time there is coming to an end.”

Nina took a slow breath. She’d watched the toll the job had taken. How Awan struggled having to go back after his 3 week leave was up. She’d quietly hoped this day would come, and now, it had.

Awan glanced at her. “When you left the FBI… that was really your choice, right? I didn’t push you?”

Her expression softened. “Awan, we talked about that to death, seven, eight years ago.”

He nodded, "I know....but just thinking about leaving the Bureau makes me think back to when you left."

“You were always supportive. That’s one of the reasons I fell in love with you. You never boxed me in. You saw all of me… and loved me anyway.” Her smile was faint but full. “But I wanted this life. With you. With our kids. And I knew we couldn’t both stay in that world and build the kind of home we dreamed of.”

She added, “You were always more invested in the Bureau than I was. The choice wasn’t that hard. Not really. And now, I love what I do with the newspaper and the police dept. But more than that, I love this life we’ve built.”

She paused. “I’ve never regretted it. Not for a second.”

Awan’s shoulders eased, like something long-held had finally been set down.

Nina leaned closer. “You’re brilliant, Awan. If I found my fit outside the Bureau, you will too. And I’ll be with you. Every step of the way.”

His voice dropped, thick with emotion. “Nina… I’m incredibly lucky to have you.”

There was awe in his tone. Gratitude. Love.

“I don’t know how I ended up with someone who sees me the way you do. Who keeps choosing me, again and again, and still makes me feel like I’m the lucky one.”

Nina smiled, eyes shining. “That’s because you are.”

He chuckled, brushing a kiss across her knuckles. “Yeah… I really am.”

Her voice was quiet, but sure. “And I’m lucky too. Every day.”

They sat there, hands still entwined.

Nina reached for another Polaroid, and stilled.

Labeled in Jessica’s neat handwriting: The Bitsuis, 1986.

In the photo, Nina sat cross-legged on a picnic blanket, Malcolm in her lap wearing his glittery paper crown, crooked but proudly worn. Frosting smeared his chin, one hand gripping a balloon string. Awan knelt beside them, one hand braced on the blanket, the other resting on Nina’s back, his smile easy and full.

Zora stood behind them, tall and self-assured, hands tucked into the pockets of her jean shorts, chin lifted like the leader she was growing into. Maya sat to Awan’s left, legs stretched out, holding a bubble wand, watching her baby brother with quiet pride.

And Toni, ever in motion, was mid-jump at the edge of the frame, hair flying, arms raised, mouth wide with laughter. One foot blurred from movement, the other pointed skyward. You could almost hear her shouting, “Look at me!”

They were sun-kissed, slightly rumpled, and radiant.

A family, frozen in time.

Nina held it out. “Look.”

Awan took the photo, his eyes softening. He rose and crossed to the bulletin board above the kitchen counter, their patchwork of memories, and pinned it right in the center.

Nina joined him. Together, they stood in silence, taking it all in, first birthdays, sleepy mornings, muddy shoes, holiday grins. A life built one moment at a time.

Awan slipped his arm around her shoulders. “We’ve done good, huh?”

Nina leaned in. “We really have.”

They stood a little longer, the summer breeze drifting through the window, the soft hum of their loved ones still filling the house behind them.

The seasons were shifting. They both felt it.

Transitions ahead. New choices. A new rhythm waiting to be found.

But for now, in the hush of this warm evening, they were exactly where they needed to be.

Together.

Looking forward.