Breakable
By Skylar

--

There is no such thing as an omen.
Destiny does not send us heralds.
She is too wise or too cruel for that.
--Oscar Wilde

--

He sat on the front steps of his porch, watching contentedly as his daughter attempted to run across the lawn and feeling both too old and too young at the same time.

It's what he'd heard his whole life, that children keep you young and energetic, but sometimes watching her he couldn't help feel his life had been a long, drawn out journey and that this was only the beginning. Watching her playing, so tiny and innocent, barely able to run, he couldn't help feeling ancient.

She squealed and tripped on the uneven ground and began to fall on the grass face first, but her mother quickly caught her by the armpits and lifted her up, and the child giggled happily as Natalia blew a raspberry across her neck.

Horatio smiled, watching them, feeling his heart expanding and elevating him like a hot air balloon. Hard to believe that mere years before he'd been the most miserable man in Miami, a bonafide workaholic, so obsessed with chasing after bad guys, the corrupt, that his own house was but a mere group of bare walls he rarely thought of as 'home'. Hard to believe there was a time when he thought that would never change. Hard to believe it actually did, and so drastically, too.

Sometimes he wondered if he was actually asleep.

Natalia put the child on the ground and whispered something in her ear, and with her hands in her mouth little Violet Caine began to run towards her father. As she neared him she tripped again, but Horatio quickly came to her aid and she giggled as she sucked on her index finger. That was another thing about having children, they're a constant and surprising source of energy. Well into his fifties, he never thought he'd find the strength within him to keep up with a toddler, but he did, every day, and though sometimes he lay in bed at night, completely exhausted, he found himself doing it again, day after day, and the day after he did it again.

Mr. Mom. That's what they liked to call him now and the found the title to be very apropos. When Natalia announced she was pregnant he was forced to sit back and analyze the situation from all angles. They didn't exactly have the safest jobs in the city, nor the most reliable, and the idea of bringing a child into the mix had created an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. It seemed like every week he found himself barely fleeing a fleet of bullets, a chorus of explosions, a bank of surprise attacks. The more he worked, the less gratitude he received and the more threats, the more enemies he left behind. He was fine fending for himself. He did relatively okay keeping himself and Natalia safe. But to bring a child into the world, an innocent, defenseless child, had unnerved him beyond belief.

And so when the county offered him a very generous retirement package he took it, said goodbye to the chases and the shootings, to the arrests and the sneers, and said hello to diapers and two am feedings, to Dora the Explorer and finger painting.

Natalia remained at the lab and he was fine with that. She wasn't a detective like the rest of them were, and so rarely found herself having to deal with the suspects, making her job relatively safe. Still he couldn't help calling her throughout the day, because you don't become a lieutenant for one of the biggest cities in the country without adopting a great deal of paranoia, but for the most part he felt himself at peace for the first time since he'd been a child.

It'd been hard to get used to at first, but knowing all this peace, feeling this love for his family, he was sure he wouldn't trade it for the world.

Natalia walked over and sighed, somewhat out of breath, flinging a blanket over her shoulder.

Horatio smiled at her disheveled look. "You alright?"

"Where does she get all this energy?" she exclaimed humorously.

Horatio chuckled. "Her mother has often been described as a category 5 hurricane, and they say the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

Natalia narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you talking about me?" she said innocently and smiled. "I still think you're putting coffee in her milk."

With a dramatic gesture, she let her butt fall on the front steps of the porch and she ran her hand through her sweaty forehead, reveling in the ocean breeze that reached the small house. Horatio sat next to her and Violet immediately squirmed out of his arms and seated herself on the plastic tricycle she found on the porch. Horatio kept a close eye on her as she began to wheel herself through the small space.

"I like Sundays."

He looked at his wife and found her smiling at nothing. She looked at him, her eyes bright and full of energy, and he couldn't help planting a soft kiss on her lips. She smiled and let her head rest on his shoulder, where it'd always belonged, threading her fingers through his.

"Me too," he said contemplatively.

Still felt like a dream sometimes. He supposed it was only rational and not prognostic that he lived in fear of waking up.

to be continued...