A/N: I'm back - and with the epilogue, too! I know it wasn't as long as it could have been, and I'm sorry about that. (I really loved writing this fic.) But, all the same, when I wrote this, (a couple of weeks ago) I had nothing more to write as far as what seemed proper. So, here it ended. The good news is that I have a ton of Beka/Rosto oneshots bounding around in my head, as well as another short story that will be posted soon! So, until then, enjoy, and don't forget to review!
A smile graced Rosto the Piper's face as he gazed down at the small bundle in his arms. Pride glittered in his eyes as he turned his attention to his wife, who was sweat-covered but smiling as she, too, watched. Rosto couldn't think of a better moment in his life just then.
It had been just over four years since the failed attempt on his life had been made. He had his sight back, albeit not nearly as good as it had been before. He had to use spectacles to read and to see clearly more than about three and a half feet in front of him, but he could see! That alone was enough for him.
It had been a slow process; first he had been able to distinguish shadows in the darkness, where someone was standing in the light. It had taken months for him to be able to fully see light and dark, and then several more before most of the darkness faded and his sight had become simply blurred. Slowly, the world had come back into focus for him, in more ways than one. Beka had forced him to see that just because something bad had happened to him didn't mean that the world was all darkness and misfortune. She had made sure that he saw the good things, too. She had loved him wholeheartedly since the day she had made him see reason, and probably before that, too.
She really had been his angel for the past four years. Even two years before, when the healer had told him that his sight was as good as it would ever be, she had been there to support him. She had known how much it had hurt, because she knew that he had finally begun to nurse a small hope that maybe it would get better, and maybe he could go back to the Rogue. When he hurt after that, she had made it better. He honestly didn't know what he would do without her anymore.
But really, Rosto was just glad that he could look down at his newborn daughter and see her perfect little fingers wrap around one of his. He was just glad that he could look over at Beka and see her face and her beautiful sparkling blue-grey eyes.
"What should we name her?" Beka asked softly. They had only briefly broached the subject in the previous months, and it had been decided that they would wait to find out if their child was a girl or a boy. Rosto looked over at her, using his free hand to stroke her sweaty face.
"Grace. I think we should name her Grace," he replied. He turned his gaze back to the tiny little girl in his arms.
"It's perfect, Rosto. It's a beautiful name for her," she said. A smile settled on her face before she promptly fell asleep, completely exhausted from the labor. Rosto reached down and tucked a strand of hair behind his wife's ear, watching her while she swept.
"A beautiful name for a beautiful baby girl," he told the infant, looking down at her already dark blue eyes. "Sleep well, my little Grace," he said quietly, leaning down to kiss his daughter's forehead. This was a good life; he wouldn't trade it for the world. He wouldn't even trade it to be able to see perfectly again.
He had been falling in his little world of anger and self-pity. Now, he could simply walk across that canyon and he didn't mind. He had Beka and Grace – nothing was more important to him than his wife and daughter. Nothing.