I'm back, now that the show is! Not my best work, but I'm getting back into writing again, so constructive criticism is welcome.

It struck me as odd that Penny was playing hockey, as it's not a typical sport for a preteen girl (at least in my experience). So I decided to explore why she'd pick it.

With several blue briefing folders to your left, Penny and her homework to your right, and Leo tapping on his phone on the couch behind you, you can almost pretend you're back home at Hartford Drive; three Kirkmans waiting for Alex to arrive home from court.

Almost. The clock, ticking on the wall at the far side of the room, sounds different.

You glance up at Penny as you finish the fourth briefing folder in your stack. She's not busy with schoolwork. She's got a math workbook open in front of her, but instead of working through the assigned problems, Penny's staring off into space.

You rap gently on the table in front of her. "Little P?"

She blinks rapidly several times, shaking her head as though clearing it, and blurts, "Daddy, can you sign my sports permission paper?"

You take the sheet that Penny hands you and look it over. It's letting you know that next year, as a sixth grade student, your child will be allowed to join up to two of the following after-school sports leagues, with a parent's signature on the note absolving the school of responsibility for any related injury that occurs on their premises, and promising not to sue. Standard permission slip. You glance through the list: softball, baseball, football, hockey, tennis, soccer, basketball; with notations for which sports were open to boys or girls or both.

"I don't think the Secret Service would be thrilled if you picked a sport with a lot of potential for injury. Like... hockey. Or maybe soccer. Anything else, though. Which team did you want to join?"

Penny looks into her lap and fidgets for a moment, quiet. Oh.

"You wanted to play hockey, didn't you?" She nods. "Why? Are your friends all joining the hockey league? I didn't think it was a popular sport in D.C."

"Guess I'm still a New Yorker." Penny offers, with a false-sounding giggle. She makes it sound like a question.

You level her with a stare over your glasses. What. "Really? After living in Washington half your life?"

She twists her fingers, looking at her lap, at Leo, at the photos on the walls, the bookcases, the clock, anywhere but you, and mumbles something at high speed and low volume. You can't quite catch it.

"Want to try that again?" You gently prompt her and Penny looks over your head, at the picture of Alex framed on the wall behind you.

Quietly, sadly, mournfully, "Mommy loved watching you and Leo play, back in New York, and I just..." her voice is thick as it trails off and Penny swallows hard. Her eyes glisten.

Alex. Grief slams into your heart and catches your breath on its way out.

Alex, your heart beats. The room is silent. Frozen. Still.

Behind you, Leo's fingers stop their movements. The three of you are suspended in loss and memories; of once was and of what could have been.

Alex. The clock ticks on.

"Oh, sweetheart," you sigh, and suddenly your arms are filled with your little girl. You wrap Penny up in a hug, stroking her hair and back while the clock counts the passing seconds. "You miss Mom, don't you? Hockey would give you a connection - you'd feel close to her?"

There's a nod against your chest, your heart, where Alex lives on. You can't take her mother away from her again. Secret Service would have to adapt.

"OK."

Surprised, Penny shoots upwards so fast that her head bangs your chin. "Really?" she asks in disbelief.

You nod, rubbing your chin, and the smile that shoots over her face is one that you haven't seen in a while.

And several weeks later, you're helping Penny drill on skates midsummer, one night after day camp, to prepare her for next year. She looks at you, beaming her blinding smile that reminds you so much of Alex's, and you turn to wave at the bleachers. And - pause in memories, because she's not there.

You're both skating, pretending Alex is watching is watching from the empty bleachers, in a rink cleared by the Secret Service. You imagine she's cheering her daughter like she used to do her son, and your heart fills with grief and love.

Penny steals the puck and glides away.