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At eight months pregnant, Riyo has decided the nursery is unsafe.
This is unfortunate because three weeks ago the Guard decided the nursery was the safest room on Coruscant.
“The shelf is too high.”
Fox looks at the shelf.
It is bolted into durasteel studs.
“It can't fall?”
“That isn't what I said.”
Riyo stands in the nursery with both hands beneath her stomach, glaring at an innocent shelf.
Fox, who spent the morning coordinating surrender corridors around three sectors, approaches this problem cautiously.
“What's wrong with the height?”
“What if something falls off it?”
“We could move the objects.”
“Then why have a shelf?”
Fox pauses, reconsidering.
Padmé, sitting in the rocking chair with Leia against her shoulder and Luke beside her, makes no attempt to help him.
“Don't laugh,” Riyo says.
“I'm not.”
“You are.”
“I reorganized the twins' nursery at 37 weeks because I became convinced the changing table was facing the wrong direction.”
Fox looks at Padmé.
“Was it?”
“No.”
Riyo points at her triumphantly. “See?”
Fox doesn't understand how this supports Riyo's argument.
He's learned not to ask.
Riyo turns toward the crib.
“The blankets are wrong.”
“They're blankets.”
“They're too soft.”
Fox blinks.
“I thought blankets were supposed to be soft.”
“Not that soft. What if she gets tangled?”
Fox's expression shifts.
“We remove them.”
Riyo stops immediately.
“No.”
Now Fox looks confused.
“They're pretty.”
Padmé presses her lips together.
Fox looks between them, recognizes an engagement he cannot win, and retreats tactically.
“All right.”
Riyo sighs and lowers herself onto the bed.
“I want her out.”
Fox is beside her instantly.
Padmé snorts.
“Not like that,” Riyo says. “I'm tired of waiting. I want to meet her.”
Fox's hand settles over her stomach.
The baby kicks.
His red mechanical eye blinks in perfect sync with the gold one.
“I agree.”
Riyo looks suspicious. “Because you want to meet your daughter?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
Fox glances toward the stack of Defense Office reports on the dresser.
Riyo narrows her eyes.
“And,” he admits, “paternity leave.”
Padmé laughs so suddenly Leia startles.
Fox looks offended. “The war has been unreasonable.”
“You're the Chief of Defense,” Riyo says.
“That is why it keeps finding me.”
Another kick presses against his palm.
His face softens.
Then Riyo's eyes drift toward the window.
“The latch.”
Fox follows her gaze.
“The latch is secure.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“What about when she can climb?”
“She won't reach it.”
“What if she's tall?”
“She will be an infant.”
“For a while.”
Fox exhales through his nose.
Padmé smiles knowingly.
“Nesting,” she says. “It's real.”
“I know,” Fox whispers. “I'm trying to survive it.”
Riyo elbows him.
He kisses her temple.
Then he looks around the reinforced nursery, seven evacuation plans inside the closet, massiff-proof crib, medical kit, secured window, and furniture inspected by five clone commanders.
“The room is safe,” he whispers.
Riyo studies it.
“For now.”
Fox closes his eyes.
Padmé starts laughing from the chair.