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The girls turn six months old on Father's Day, and Caleb has an assignment due at midnight. Of course he does.
The summer classes were Nahla's idea. Caleb suspects the professors who happily offered to teach a summer semester would not have agreed so eagerly if they knew the reason behind the change; if Caleb is taking summer classes, then he has a reason to be on campus.
He's still adjusting to the phrase our children. The girls know it--they babble and coo for him, they reach for him when he enters the room, they fall asleep in his arms--but the knowledge that he has children with Nahla Ake still settles in his stomach sour on occasion. God, he's so glad he has children with Nahla Ake; Ashani, Neeomah, and Amna are the most beautiful creations the universe will ever encounter, the most precious organisms alive, the ultimate representation of his ability to do good. But God, he has children with Nahla Ake, the woman who roared him down with her fiery breath all those years ago. She had felt so large in the moment, like a dragon from the stories he reads them now, valiant and malevolent and sly. So much bigger than him then. So small now, still so chaotic. It takes longer for flesh to knit itself back together than one thinks; healing is similar. The scar on the back of his neck isn't going to go away.
Eye for an eye, skin for skin. It's all symmetrical--Caleb loses a mother, Nahla loses a son. Caleb gets his mother back, Nahla gets another child. Caleb's flesh is cut up and bruised and burned, then kissed and stroked and molded up into something entirely new. The sun is the focal point of the Sol system; Nahla is the warming fire that comforts at a distance and eviscerates when you get too close, the only thing available for Caleb to orbit around. There's so much to think about, so much to breathe in.
And it's Father's Day.
The weekends are nice. To the Academy staff, Caleb is simply a very dedicated student, eager to suck up to the Chancellor by babysitting and helping out. It allows him to visit their children more often without raising suspicions, but of course, that only works up to a certain point. Nahla is still expected to keep a safe, professional distance.
He doesn't get to be with them enough. He'd quit the Academy and spill the truth to the public and openly adore his children if there weren't consequences, if he didn't have a sentence to complete, if it wouldn't destroy Nahla's standing with the Federation entirely. When he graduates, the secret will follow him, and he'll have to---
He doesn't get to be with them enough, but Nahla tells him to make the most of the time he does have; it's infuriating when she's right. Today he wakes up and heads to Nahla's quarters at nine sharp, his xenoanthropology textbooks weighing his shoulders down heavy as he walks. When he reads them to Ashani, he begins to truly understand life.
The doors pull open, and Caleb's chest is immediately wrapped in strong, bare arms. He nuzzles his face down into hers and deepens the embrace, spearing down every ancient ghost of instinct wailing at him to shiver and fight. She makes a small, pleased moan at the contact, the vibrations tickling against his clothing. When she finally leans away, she takes his hand and squeezes it.
"I'm glad you're here," she says. "I was worried today would be hard for you."
Caleb laughs her off, and they walk in. Ashani is fast at work in her activity jumper, batting at the toys dangling from its frame; her laughter is symphonic. Amna, in her own jumper, quietly bounces, and Neeomah sleeps peacefully in the small leather swing Lura had gifted them.
"Nope," he replies, giving a dramatic fall down onto her chaise. "Trying not to brood as much lately. I think it was aging me."
Nahla smiles at him. "Caleb Mir has absolutely no complicated feelings about Father's Day whatsoever."
"Exactly. See, you get it."
"And, in other news, the sky is green."
He groans. "Come on. I can't go one day without you trying to--" he brings his fingers up into air quotes "---impart your wisdom."
"It's because I have a lot of it." She pauses, studies him. "You're almost serious."
He watches as Nahla walks over and plucks Amna from her jumper, rocking her back and forth in cradled arms. Amna's small hands reach up and entangle themselves in Nahla's hair, pulling and stroking the strands, and even as Amna yanks, Nahla only smiles wider and carefully guides her hand away, humming a soft song under her breath.
She's ethereal like this.
Caleb stands up and approaches her, wrapping his arms around Nahla from behind as she bounces and rocks their daughter. For once he doesn't see his small, trembling childhood self reflected back at him from the sway of her bracelet charms.
"I'm serious," he says. "I know how I came to be. Someone hurt my mom." Caleb pauses. "But they exist because I felt safe with someone for the first time in my life, and that's all that really matters."
Nahla looks up at him. Beams. "I'm so proud of you, son."
He laughs. "Ew, stop."
Nahla turns to face the front of him, gazes with an expression like a universe banging itself into existence. Amna reaches out in his direction, tiny fingers fluttering and grasping. He feels tears crawl from his eyes.
"Happy Father's Day, Caleb."
