Three days wasn't a long time to plan a complete life overhaul. Given that David was also finalizing the details for Charles' mission, had more children to test, had project reports to review, and had to ensure that he had all of Madeline's notes and materials, time passed in a blur punctuated by trips to pick up Mark from the daycare and bring him to his mother in the hospital. If Celia hadn't stepped in and taken the boy overnight, David might have lost his mind entirely.

When the call finally came that Charles' plane had gone down, David didn't have to feign shock. Had time really flown that fast? He'd never gotten a chance to talk to Charles about anything outside of the mission. 

At this point, everything was in motion, his own part in Charles' disappearance already taken care of. His new priority, then, became Madeline and Mark. As a dutiful friend, he told Rona to reschedule his appointments and left for the hospital. Delivering the news by phone would look too callous, despite the fact that she was expecting it, and there were public conversations that had to follow. 

On first sight, she looked rested. The moment he stepped into the room, though, and their eyes met, the color drained from her face. He paused, confused. Was she acting? Or had she momentarily forgotten this was coming?

They both had parts to play. David came forward, taking her hand, and was surprised to find it trembling in his. "Madeline …"

"What's happened? Is it Mark?" 

A mother's first concern. That's what any staff within earshot would expect to hear, at least. David kept his voice gentle, continuing his part in what was feeling less and less like a charade. "No, it's not Mark. Charles' plane went down over the ocean. They're still searching …"

Madeline's face went ashen. Until that very moment, it hadn't occurred to him that she'd hope Charles changed his mind. Her mouth moved, but no words came out, and the monitors showed her pulse racing.

Damn you, Charles …

He gave her a moment to let it sink in. Should he have tried to hold Charles back? Looking into tear-filled eyes, David squeezed her still shaking hand. His mind went uncharacteristically blank, causing him to hesitate, before remembering the next step in this charade. "Let me speak to the doctors. You don't have to do this alone."

Stepping into the hall gave him some much needed air. It took little time to track down her doctor, and not much longer to subtly steer the man toward the desired conclusion. 

"She'll become very weak," the doctor warned. "She won't be able to care for the boy. If she remains in the hospital, someone will have to take him for her."

David nodded and stared thoughtfully at the wall for a moment, though mostly for show. "Is home care possible?"

"Yes. But as I said …"

"Madeline is a very close friend, as is … was … her husband." Fortunately such a slip was common under the circumstances. David paused, as though gathering himself in his grief. "Let me talk to her."

The doctor excused himself and left, allowing David to return to the hospital room, where he found Madeline still speaking softly to her tearful child. He hated to interrupt, but this had to look unplanned and natural. 

"Madeline," he said, pausing until he had her full attention, "I'd like to move the two of you in with me. If you stay in the hospital, you won't be able to spend much time with Mark, and if you stay at home …"

David knew he didn't need to spell that out. Her lost expression said she understood perfectly.

"But your place is so small …"

"Yes. I could upgrade to family housing." David stepped in closer. He hadn't actually discussed this with her before, there had been no time. Plus, the last thing they needed was to sound rehearsed. "Let me do this, Maddie."

Madeline's mouth moved again, but no sound came out. In the end, she just nodded, letting out a quiet sob. 

He searched for something to say. What could possibly reassure a dying woman whose husband chose a mission off-world over her, and whose four-year-old son would be raised by a man who might exploit him? After a moment of standing there in silence, David gave up and cleared his throat. "I'll make the arrangements. And … I haven't forgotten my promise."

It was an empty reassurance — they both knew intergalactic security came first — but Madeline regained a bit of color. Still cuddled next to her, Mark just stared at him, his blue eyes full of apprehension. David wished he could reassure the boy, at least. Again, what could he possibly say?

Instead of saying anything, David returned to the hall. He flipped open his phone and called Rona, making sure she understood his requirements. The apartment had to offer a hospital room for Madeline, a bedroom for Mark, a bedroom for himself, and a sizeable home office that could accommodate two — at least for a while. 

A nurse approached as he hung up. "Madeline needs to rest. She asked if you'd take Mark back to daycare until the apartment's ready."

If David was a praying man, he'd send up a small prayer of gratitude to whatever divine force created on-site daycare. Instead, he made a mental note to ensure Celia and her staff felt appreciated, then returned to Madeline's room. 

"It's just for a little while, Munchkin," Madeline was saying as Mark clung to her hospital gown. "David will bring you to me after work."

"Back here?" The boy's voice trembled.

"No." She smoothed his unruly hair. "Someplace more comfortable and less scary. Be good for David and Celia, okay?"

Mark hesitated and then nodded, allowing David to pick him up. The boy stared back over David's shoulder as they left, then was quiet throughout the drive, just clutching his stuffed plane. After all the chatter on the way there, the silence was eerie. 

With some relief, David handed Mark off to Celia, then got back to work. First, he assigned trusted staff to oversee the move. Getting two families' things moved intact, then making sure they were arranged in the new place much like they were in their original homes, would take some doing. 

By the time he'd requested the necessary security enhancements, medical equipment and care, and other essential upgrades, the day was almost gone. In this first quiet moment alone, he took a second to breathe, and to wonder. Was he a monster for following through with his plans? In an ideal world he'd have chosen another to go to Riga, but if there was someone better suited, he wouldn't have chosen a man with a wife and young child in the first place. 

With a start, he realized said child was still in daycare. Madeline might not be working, but she couldn't watch over him from the hospital, so she'd chosen to stick with Mark's usual routine. Dread filled David as he closed up his office. Why had Madeline chosen him? The profiling portion of his project would soon launch into its next phase. If luck was with him, he'd find the children he needed. He'd be so busy, far too busy to raise a child, let alone one dealing with so much loss.

But what was done, was done. He headed down to the daycare, finding the normally exuberant boy sitting off by himself, holding his stuffed plane. 

Celia, the daycare manager, approached with a sad smile. "How's Madeline?"

"More bad news, I'm afraid." David didn't have to fake a touch of awkward grief as he shifted into a whisper. "Charles' plane went down." 

Her face fell even further. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Actually," he said, mentally checking his list, "Madeline wants me to care for Mark when she's gone. With my busy schedule, I might need help."

As though there was any "might" about it. Ceilia's gaze warmed, though tears shimmered in her deep brown eyes. "That's good of you. I'll send a list of names and references by the end of the week, babysitters and nannies."

Was it very good of him? He wasn't so sure. In his darker moments, he'd noted that he was well on track toward exactly what he'd wanted: Charles on his long-term mission to Riga, and Mark in the program, unhindered by Madeline's objections. How many times had Chief Paulson claimed that — however unfortunate — the ends at times justified the means? How many times had he insisted there had to be another way?

David fought back a wave of anger, but it wasn't Celia's fault that she trusted him too much. Neither was it her fault that an alien planet wanted to conquer not just the Earth — along with enslaving its population and taking all of its resources — but the entire Federation. 

"Shall I get Mark ready to go?" Celia watched him with eyes full of understanding.

David nodded, grateful for the time to collect himself. All too soon he was presented with a tired four-year-old, staring at him with naked disappointment.

"Where's my mama?" Mark clutched his stuffed plane tight to his chest.

For a moment, David wondered why Mark didn't assume she was still in the hospital. Then he realized those big blue eyes were still fixed on him as Mark waited for an answer. Fortunately, Madeline had offered a suggestion when David visited. 

He crouched and spoke to Mark at eye level. "She wasn't comfortable at the hospital. I've moved the two of you in with me."

The moment the words were out of his mouth, he realized he'd wandered off script. 

Watery eyes flew wide. "And my daddy? Where's my daddy?" 

David fought back a groan. Under no circumstances, on pain of death, was he to deliver that news himself. He reached for the boy, but Mark slid behind Celia's legs. 

"Mark," she said softly, crouching as well, "Mr. Anderson's going to take you to your mom. That's what you want, right?"

She stroked her fingers over the child's flyaway hair, waiting with serene patience. Mark glanced uncertainly from one adult to the other, then shrugged, still looking unsure.

Celia picked him up. David rose with them, and accepted the four-year-old as she passed him over. This time he'd need no help. He'd never removed the car seat. 

With Mark's cheek resting on his shoulder and those blue eyes closed, David shot a look of gratitude toward Celia, then headed out. He'd heard that Madeline had the staff hopping, determined that her room would look welcoming instead of frightening. Somehow, he was dubious about her chance of success, but he wouldn't stop her from trying. 

It was a fifteen minute walk from the ISO building to the nearby apartment complex. After the first five minutes, David's back started to ache. Not wanting to wake the boy, he kept walking, and by the time he reached their new home his arms were screaming.

Musing over the unexpected fitness benefits of handling children, David keyed in his security code, then entered the apartment. While some boxes remained unpacked, the place already looked tidy and lived in. His own furnishings had mixed in well with Madeline's. He'd visited her and Charles enough that the combination formed an unsettling atmosphere, staring back at him in accusation.

At least Madeline looked relaxed. Tired, but relaxed, waiting in the living room in a plush chair. When she saw them, she placed a finger against her lips, then gestured for David to bring Mark to her.

He'd never been happier to comply. Leaving Mark to snuggle against his mother, David examined the familiar trappings of his room and the new home office.

Their home. 

At one point in his life, he'd hoped she'd choose him, but not like this. While he'd long since accepted that his role would forever be "friend," he hadn't realized how deeply his feelings had remained, ruthlessly buried as far down as he could shove them. He had no illusion — or even desire — to unearth them completely, but it was truly no hardship to be here for her now.  

Perhaps that's why she chose him to raise Mark.

###

David was working when a shriek and crash propelled him away from his desk and into the living room. There he found Madeline sprawled on the floor, with Mark scrabbling wide-eyed out from under her.

"Mama?" Mark squeaked, shaking her shoulder.

David knelt beside them, feeling her pulse. Shallow but steady. "What happened?"

"I made her fall!"

"She's sick, Mark," said David, keeping his voice calm as he examined her for injuries. "She's not as strong as she was. Sometimes she's going to fall."

His words didn't calm the boy's trembling and tears. Seeing Madeline stir, though, had Mark whimpering and sliding close to his mother.

David took her hand. "Maddie, are you hurt?" 

"No," she said softly, her voice drained, then turned her attention to her frightened son. "Munchkin, it's okay. I just fell."

Slowly, carefully, David helped her up. She gestured toward the bedroom, so he walked her toward her bed, supporting her along the way. Mark trailed behind them, sniffles and hiccups hounding their steps. 

As David settled her into her bed, Mark tugged his pant leg. "When's my daddy coming home?"

Frowning, David glanced to Madeline. Had she not told him? 

She just let out a sigh. "He doesn't understand. He's too young. Come, lie down with mama, Munchkin."

The bed was set low for the moment, so Mark was able to scramble up next to her. Looking into the boy's liquid blue eyes, full of fear and confusion, was almost enough to make David call Charles home. Unfortunately, the price of that mission's failure was too great. If Spectra caught them unawares, many more children would lose their families, and all of them would end up slaves.

One day, he hoped, Mark would understand.

###

David spent the next few weeks fighting. Time and time again, fought the urge to update Charles on Madeline's condition, when it would risk the entire mission to make contact too soon. He fought with schedules, too, trying to make time for a frightened child while pushing his project forward. 

Then there was fighting a four-year-old who associated him with loss. As Madeline weakened and withered, Mark withdrew into himself, only coming alive when his mother had the energy to pay attention to him. 

More than once, looking into those sad eyes, David fought another urge: to make Madeline choose a new guardian. Instead, on the suggestion of her private nurse, he took up new reading between meetings and appointments: child psychology and grief. The reading also made it easier to fight his own dwindling spirits, and the pain of watching the only woman he'd ever truly loved fade into a wisp of her former self. 

And then … it was time to turn off the machines. Madeline hadn't wanted Mark to witness that, so Celia had taken the boy to his room, leaving David to silently witness the final moments of a life cut far too short. When the pulse monitor settled into a flat hum, a terrible weight settled over him like a shroud. It was odd that he carried so many responsibilities already, but parenthood was the one that made him want to run screaming.

Ironic, given that his project required children. 

With a sigh, he gave the staff leave to proceed with what had to be done, and then went to his room and shut the door. Only when he'd pulled himself together did he go to find Mark. He found the tearful boy in his own room, on Celia's lap, being rocked amongst blue sky and biplane wallpaper. 

To his surprise, small arms reached for him the moment he stepped through the door. Celia stood, handing Mark over with a sad smile, then left them alone.

Little hands fisted in his shirt. With a sniffle, Mark said, "I want my daddy."

"I know." Not knowing what else to do, David just held him. Madeline had always been good at shoving him into situations he'd have never entered on his own. This truly had to be the culmination of her efforts. Somewhere, one day, she'd hopefully look down and laugh.

David thanked his lucky stars that he wasn't expected to do this for all of the project's children. Him and six orphans. That would be a disaster.