June 8, 7:22 A.M.
Washington, D.C.
"Where are my girls?" Monk called out into the apartment.
"Your girls are still asleep, " Kat replied from the couch, "and if you wake them, you're staying up with them all night like I did."
She was resting on a maternity pillow, her back still aching from the delivery three days ago. She'd been two weeks early, but all had gone well with the birth of their second child, a baby girl. Monk was now surrounded by women here in the apartment, which was okay by him. He had enough testosterone for the whole family and was certainly around enough testosterone at work.
He plopped down on the couch next to Kat and placed the white take-out bag between them. "Feldman's bagels and cream cheese."
She placed a hand on her belly. "I'm so fat."
"You just had an eight-pound three-ounce baby girl. No wonder she demanded to come out early. No room in there."
Kat made a noncommittal sound at the back of her throat.
He lifted the bag out of the way, slid closer, and put his arm around his wife. She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder.
"You're beautiful," he said, and kissed her hair-then, after a long moment, added, "but you sort of stink."
She punched him in the shoulder.
"How about I warm up the shower-for the both of us?"
She mumbled into his chest. "That would be nice."
He began to scoot up, but she pulled him back down.
"Just stay here. I like this."
"Well, you're going to get a lot more of this . Me, sitting around the house."
She looked up. "What did Painter say?"
"He understood, accepted my resignation letter, but he wanted me to think about it while I'm out on family leave."
She settled against him, again making that noncommittal sound.
They'd had long conversations about his resigning from Sigma. He had a wife and two children who needed him. After getting shot, having a bomb placed in their home, and seeing the devastation that had been wrought upon Gray's family, he figured it was time. He already had offers from various biotech companies in D.C.
The couple remained locked in each other's arms, simply enjoying each other's warmth. He refused to put this at risk any longer.
Finally, Kat swung around, and with a bit of effort, put her feet in his lap. "Since you're no longer working..."
He took her feet and began to rub them, one-handed. His new prosthesis wouldn't be ready for another four days, but apparently one hand was enough.
She leaned back, stretching, and made a sound that was definitely not noncommittal. "I could get used to this, too."
But such bliss could not last.
The small wail rose from the next room, starting low and rising quickly to an earsplitting pitch. How could so much sound come out of such a little package?
"She's definitely got your lungs," Kat said, and raised herself up on an elbow. "Sounds like she's hungry."
"I'll get her." Monk rolled to his feet.
So much for that hot shower.
He crossed to their bedroom and found the new joy of his life, red-faced, with eyes squinted tightly closed. He scooped her up and out of the crib, lifting her to his shoulder.
She quieted-slightly-as he gently bounced her.
She'd been born the day of the funeral for Gray's mother. Kat had gone into labor during the memorial service. He knew how hard that day was for Gray, how much guilt he bore for his mother's death. Monk had no words that could comfort that bone-deep grief, but Gray was strong.
Monk had seen a glimmer of that strength, and the eventual recovery it promised, later, when Gray came to visit Kat at the hospital, to see the baby. Monk had never told his friend what he and Kat had both decided. The revelation brought a sad, but genuine smile to Gray's lips.
Monk lifted his girl around to stare her in the face. "Are you hungry, Harriet?"