#yeahhhhh....

Johnny doesn’t answer right away. His throat feels like sand. Fiona, his cousin, more a sister really and her husband Calum... gone. And their baby girl, God she's not even two.

“Mum,” he manages. “What happens tae her now?”

“They’re looking for next of kin. Ye ken your da... takin a bairn... well... I said I’d ask ye. If—if you could maybe take her for a bit, till things are sorted. Foster her a while. I know ye’ve got the job, love, but…”

He stares at the wall, mind blank, heart racing. The job. The missions. The endless flights.

But there's a bairn. A wee bairn.

“I dinnae know if—” he starts, but Simon moves towards him, holding two cups of tea.

Simon waits until Johnny lowers the phone. “What happened?”

Johnny tells him, and when he’s done, Simon just nods slowly.

“We can take her,” he says simply.

Johnny stares. “Simon, she’s not two—we’re gone half the year—”

“We’ll make it work.” He's certain of it, somehow.

Johnny looks at the phone still clutched in his hand, his mum’s muffled voice calling his name through the line. He swallows hard.

“Aye, Mum. We’ll take her."

Even once they started driving the rain hadn’t let up. Johnny joked it must be following them.

The wipers squeaked, and the motorway stretched on in a blur of taillights and fog. Still... neither of them had spoken much, Johnny driving, Simon watching the scene blur past. Their hands stayed linked, only breaking apart when Simon would give Johnny's thigh a reassuring squeeze.

His mum had called again while they were driving. Her voice was gentle, trying not to break.

“You’ll need a few things, love. Just until we can get into Calum and Fiona's house, to help her settle properly.”

She’d listed them off while Simon scribbled them onto the back of a receipt: a proper rear-facing car seat, nappies, baby milk powder, soft food pouches, wipes, a blanket, a bottle. Something gentle for her skin.

They stopped at an all-night supermarket somewhere near Perth. It was still raining.

Johnny stared at the shelves like he’d never seen a store before, exhausted, the words extra gentle and soothing aloe swimming together.

Simon took the list quietly and pushed the trolley himself. He moved with the same focus he used on missions, check the list, grab the item, move on, but his hands shook a little when Johnny let him choose the blanket.

By the time the reached the hospital, trunk full of their new life, it was still raining.

The nurse met them in the corridor, clipboard hugged to her chest. “She’s been sleeping most of the night,” she said softly. “A few bruises, nothing serious. She’ll be needing rest, and lots of reassurance.”

Johnny nodded automatically, though he wasn’t sure what reassurance even looked like for a bairn that small. His mum and the others were already handling everything else though... the house, the service, the forms... All he had to do was show up, sign his name, and take her home.

She led them into a small pediatric room lit by a single low lamp. The cot looked far too big for its occupant.

Little Fiona, arely more than a year old, was curled under a pale yellow blanket, thumb pressed against her lips, one hand clutching a stuffed bear that had seen better days.

Johnny’s breath hitched. “God,” he whispered.

Simon stepped forward, removing his gloves before resting a hand on the metal rail. “She’s so small, Johnny,” he murmured, voice barely holding together. “Christ.”

The nurse smiled faintly. “You can hold her if you’d like. Just support her head, and she’ll settle easier if you hum or talk softly. She's liked when we talk.”

Simon hesitated only a heartbeat before sliding one arm beneath her, the other around her back. She stirred, blinked up at him with sleep-blurred eyes and then let out a soft sigh and went limp against his chest.

He looked down, absolutely gone. “She’s so small,” he said again. “How do you even hold somethin’ this small?”

“Very carefully,” Johnny murmured with the softest smile.

The nurse showed them how to tuck the blanket around her, how to adjust her little jacket so the seat belt wouldn’t rub. She handed over a small bag, medicine, paperwork, her photocopied birth certificate until they could get the original.

“All she really needs right now,” she said, “is a warm place and someone to hold her.”

Johnny nodded. “Aye. We can do that.”

Outside, the rain was finally easing up. Simon carried her all the way to the car, head bent protectively, only taking his eyes off her to ensure he didn't bump into someone. Johnny buckled the new seat in with trembling hands.

When he glanced back, Simon was seated with the bairn nestled against his chest under the blanket, her small breath steady against him.

Simon murmured, “She’s warm.”

Johnny exhaled, a shaky sound that might’ve been a laugh. “Aye. And you're a human heater."

They'd swing by her parents’ house on the way out, meeting Mr. And Mrs. MacTavish on the way and pick up what they could, clothes, toys, her bed, anything that could fit.