Ridiculously short one-shot, but it wouldn't leave me alone, so of course I had to write it. Please don't hate me.

"I miss her, Dad."

The older man, at a loss for words, simply squeezed his son's hand. He felt the thrum of the boy's heartbeat in his palm, steady and strong. He shakily exhaled at the reassurance of life.

"Me too, kiddo."

Sniffing, the boy looked up at his father, eyes wide. "She didn't really like to celebrate her birthday, did she?"

The man beside him let out a deep laugh that rocked his frame. It was the first time in a while he had really cracked a smile. Wiping at the unwarranted tears that sprang upon the memory, he said, "No, she didn't. She hated it, actually."

The boy cocked his head, pondering. "I thought everyone liked parties. Why not?"

A dark cloud passed across the blue eyes, a glimpse of storm in an otherwise clear sky. The grey quickly dissapated to the steely blue resolve, and the man looked down at the curious son.

He shrugged. "It's just who she was." A simple answer that revealed nothing and everything about the woman he had lost his heart in.

His son, though obviously unsatisfied with the vague answer, directed his attention back towards the landmark in front of them in a huff, his breath rolling off his lips in a thick fog.

The soft cry of the winter wind was the only sound breaking the next few moments of silence that passed between them.

"She probably didn't want people to know how old she was."

Again, the man chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm sure that was it," he encouraged, tugging down on his arm playfully.

After glancing at his watch, he turned to face his son.

"We better head out soon, buddy; can't make you late for school."

"Okay," the boy pouted. Readjusting his grip, he slid his gloved hand back into the leathery palm as they turned to leave. The father cast a misty glance over his shoulder one last time, tipping his lips as beams of light snuck through the white-capped treeline, casting a warm glow over the slushy expanse.

After a few weighted steps, the youngest dug his heels into the ground, halting their trek to the suburban.

"Wait! I forgot to say goodbye." The boy broke his hold on the man, sloshing back across the melting snow. The warm pulses left his grip as chilled air replaced the small hand.

The son dropped to his knees in front of the headstone, picking a nearby dandelion stubbornly peeking through the frost. Cautiously and gently, as though it was the most important task he'd ever been assigned, he blew it, and the seeds twisted and tumbled through the air, finding rest on top of the smooth marble coated in ice.

"Happy birthday, Mom. I made a wish for you."

Picking himself up off the ground, he dusted the slush resembling poorly-crafted snow cones off his sweatpants as he stepped back over to where his father leaned against the car.

Reaching to open the rear passenger door, the man asked, "What did you wish for?"

The boy flashed a toothy grin, smirking as he pulled himself up into the backseat. "If I tell you, it won't come true."

Shutting the door on a smug expression that mirrored one he'd laid eyes on for years, the older man smiled. He was definitely Olivia's son.