A/N: Here it is! This is the last chapter of Chasing Cars, though if I'm being honest I already have some ideas a-brewin' for a possible sequel, and of course there is another story in the making. You have all been so wonderful with your kind words and lovely reviews, and god knows I couldn't have done it without you.

Any last words are very much appreciated, and until next time, take care =]

Don't you worry there, my honey,

We might not have any money,

But we've got our love to pay the bills.

"You & I", Ingrid Michaelson

Chapter 9

Five Years Later…

Twining is there when I get to room 1258, and he rises when he sees me approaching.

"What happened?"

"We were in a stand-off and Eric was trying to talk the guy down, but Newbie got trigger-happy and fired. The guy fired right back. He went down like a rock."

"Is he in there?" The door is closed.

"The doctor just went in. They already stitched him up and everything. He was awake the whole time."

"Okay, thanks, Charlie." I don't know what the protocol is here, but I'm not going to wait outside. He's my husband for Christ's sakes, so I knock and peek in with a 'hello'.

"Yes?" The doctor looks up from the wound in my husband's thigh.

"Dr Winters, this is my wife," Eric provides as I step in to move to his bedside. I feel – or rather hope – that it looks worse than it is because it looks quite bad, even though it's not a huge wound. Eric's quite pale though, and less significantly his hair is a mess so I finger-comb it back from his face as I turn to the doctor.

"Is he okay?" I ask as Dr Winters begins covering him back up.

"He's fine. It'll take him a few months to fully recover and he'll need some physiotherapy, but the bullet didn't hit anything major. Nurse Joan here can bandage you back up." He shoots a smile over to the nurse.

"When can I go home, doc?"

"Tomorrow, if you promise to stay off it, sergeant." The doctor gives him a knowing look.

"Oh he will," I say rather ominously, eliciting laughter from all three of them.

"I'll see you tomorrow afternoon before you go home." The doctor gives us a nod in acknowledgement and we thank him before he heads out. Nurse Joan immediately begins cleaning his wound with some saline and covers it up with a square pad, cutting out some fancy adhesive strips to keep it on. The wound itself is bright and irritated from having recently been stitched up and Eric hisses when the nurse carefully wipes away some dried blood. It's also just a bit too close to the jewels for the nurse to be so touchy.

"Are you okay?" I ask him quietly, still stroking his hair with the hand not holding his.

"It hurts like a bitch," he chuckles rather humourlessly.

"I imagine it would," I grimace.

"At least the bastard was a terrible shot."

Nurse Joan pats his knee once she's done. "You're good to go. Stay off of it, okay? We'll get you some crutches tomorrow."

"Thank you, Joan."

"You're very welcome. Press the Call button if you decide to stop being a hero and I'll bring you some pain meds, alright?"

"Will do." The smile he offers her makes her blush and I roll my eyes once she's gone.

"Hittin' on the nurse right in front of me," I mutter and bend down to kiss him just as Twining steps back in.

"Hey man. What did the doc say?" My husband gives his friend a quick rundown and Twining nods. "You're good here? Do either of you need anything?"

"I'm good, thanks for staying. Do you need anything?" Eric asks me.

"No, I'm good too. Thanks Charlie."

"No problem. Call me if you change your mind, yeah?"

Once he's gone, I perch on the edge of the bed and cover Eric up with the blanket, not meeting his gaze until he stops my hand from its nervous fluttering. I've been doing such a good job of acting like I'm okay but now the depth of the situation is finally hitting me.

"Come here," he tells me quietly and I shake my head because my chin has started to quiver. "Hey, come here," he insists, tugging me down and I finally go with it, laying myself down to rest my head on his chest. "What is it? Did I scare you?"

"Yeah." The word breaks on a sob and I turn my face into his chest as tears fall.

"Shhh, it's okay. I'm okay." His arm tightens around me and he kisses my hair, stroking the arm I've laid across his abdomen.

"It was like my worst nightmare come true. I kept waiting to wake up when Charlie called to tell me you were in the hospital." I take my arm back to cover my face with my hand and wipe the tears that have already left a wet spot on Eric's chest.

"Shit." He had clearly not thought about that, but now I know he's remembering the conversation we had before Finn was born.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me." That's a lie, I know exactly what's wrong. Sitting upright, I wipe hastily at my face and sniffle, feeling bad that I'm having a breakdown when he's hurt and in pain.

"It's okay." My husband rubs at my back in an attempt at soothing me, and smiles when I meet his eyes again.

"What's going to happen to Chow?"

"Nothing major, since he's a newbie and it's not like he personally got me shot. The captain will make him cry and I'll drown him in paperwork for a couple of months, and we'll all get over it."

That gets him a laugh and I bend down to kiss him, my hand rubbing his chest. "I'm really glad you're okay."

"Me too." My husband smiles at me. "Who's picking Finn up?"

"Tara. She's bringing him here." I check my watch; but she won't be here for another couple of hours. "But uhm, I guess this would be a good time for us to talk."

"What's going on?"

I might as well just blurt it out. "I'm pregnant."

"Seriously?" He grins so widely that I can see he has no wisdom teeth. We'd been trying for almost a year, which had been a head-trip in itself since I accidentally got pregnant twice in one year, five years ago. Gingerly sitting up, Eric pulls me forward for a toe-curling kiss that has me thinking of several other disadvantages his injury presents.

"You make me so happy."

I can't help grinning into his mouth. "I do try." The smile doesn't last long though, because my husband getting shot the day I find out I'm pregnant is just another reminder of how hazardous his job is. He's forty-one now – as of last week – and I don't know how much longer I'm going to be able to handle the stress. I just want him to do something low-hazard, like manning the cash register at a diner, or the drive-through at Starbucks. Something that doesn't give me anxiety. Or maybe he can just work from home, like I do, I think to myself with an internal chuckle. He could be my very own personal bubble boy.

"I booked an appointment for next week to confirm," I tell him.

"I hope it's a girl. Not that the boys aren't great, but really, statistically it's time for me to make a girl."

"Well, I'm sure if it's a boy we can cause some pretty deep psychological issues by raising it as a girl, so that's worth a try."

"Sound legitimate," my husband deadpans and we both crack up. We end up calling Natasha a while later to let her know about Eric's hospitalization, but make sure to emphasize that he's okay. Nate will no doubt be worried though, so she asks if they can visit us tomorrow once we're home. Adrian is next, and Eric has to spend a fair bit of time promising his older brother that he's okay, he'll be fine, it's not a big deal, really. Adrian still insists on visiting later tonight, perhaps whenever I have to take Finn home for the night. That's something I'm not too comfortable doing; leaving Eric here while I go home to sleep alone in our bed but he promises me it'll be okay, continuously until I begrudgingly accept the inevitable. I tell Adrian we will probably be leaving around six, since I don't see Finn lasting more than a couple of hours here before he gets bored.

I'm curled up at Eric's side, dreamily discussing what it would be like to raise two kids when there's a light knock at the door.

"Oh, am I interrupting something?" I sit up, noting the hand Eric's resting on the small of my back, and invite in the young man at the door.

"Not at all, come on in."

"Hello, Mrs Northman. I'm Chow, it's very nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too." He looks awfully young, and awfully nervous right now, which is understandable considering he got my husband shot. He hands me the gorgeous bouquet of flowers he has brought and I thank him to place it on the bedside table.

"Sarge, I just wanted to apologize."

"I'll just step outside," I offer brightly but Eric grabs my hand.

"It's alright, you can stay." Chow looks like he'd much rather I wait outside, but I stay with my husband who adds, "There's a reason why we don't run in guns blazing, because chances are we can resolve the conflict without bullets. I know what it's like to have a gun in your hand when you're knee-deep in adrenaline, but you need to control yourself. You need to be on an adrenaline high and still be able to follow orders, you got that?"

"Yes, sir."

"You got lucky. I have a wife and two kids so technically we both got lucky. Don't test your luck again."

Chow nods, looking properly chastised. "Please let me know if there's anything I can do."

"Will do." I smile, hoping to alleviate some of his obvious discomfort. "Thank you for coming by." He nods, wishes Eric well and says good-bye.

"I was totally expecting you to be more harsh."

"He feels like shit, he doesn't need me to tell him that he fucked up." Eric shrugs.

"Hmm. So, you have two kids, eh?" I wink, lying back down.

"Do you want to wait to tell people?"

I consider that and nod, slowly. "I think so." I think the miscarriage is always going to weigh on my mind, and I already went through the months of terribly sympathetic condolences with my first pregnancy. "Until the second trimester."

"Thought you might say that. You know I'm here if you need to talk." His hand strokes up and down my back soothingly.

"I know you are. I'm okay, it's just the paranoid what-if."

"Gotcha. I can't wait until you're all pregnant." His hand slips to my stomach and then briefly up to cup my breast.

"Oh, for two particular reasons, huh?" I grin.

"Among others," my husband laughs. "You looked really beautiful when you were pregnant. Not that you don't always look beautiful," he corrects hastily. "But when you're pregnant-"

"It's a biological thing. I get it," I laugh.

Tara shows up at four with a very upset Finn who, despite no longer considering it cool to hold hands, still crawls up into Eric's arms and stays there for quite a while. My husband murmurs to him quietly and he nods into Eric's chest, looking a little relieved.

"What happened?" Tara asks quietly and I take her outside to tell her everything. "Jesus," she mutters afterwards. "Are you okay?"

"No, not really. I'm also pregnant."

"Oh my god, Sookie, that's great! Congratulations!" She had been the only person to know we were trying.

"Shhhh," I laugh. "Finn doesn't know yet and we're not going to say anything for a while. Keep it on the down-low."

"Okay, okay, sorry. So did you tell him?"

"Yeah, he's really happy about it too."

"But?"

"I just don't know how it will be having him be a cop when we have two kids." I shake my head. "You know what, this is not the time for this. Don't worry about it, I'll figure it out."

"Of course you will." Tara smiles sympathetically and gives me a hug when I thank her for picking Finn up. "Anytime, hon. I should go though, I have to pick Jess up from dance."

"Alright, I'll see you later."

"Call me if you need anything." She gives my arm a squeeze before leaving and I go back inside to find my boys still snuggling.

"How was school?" I smile at my son, sitting at the foot of the bed.

"It was okay," he shrugs. "We coloured. Ms Acorn put them up on the wall." He's totally downplaying that because he definitely loves colouring. It's actually pretty cute, how dedicated he is to it. About as dedicated as Nate had been when we had first gotten to meet him. The two of them are actually pretty similar, in looks as well as demeanour, and Finn really adores Nate. Nate is pretty protective of him as well, and has always made a point of involving Finn in his plans, whatever they may be. They're inseparable the weekends Nate spends with us and it's all I can do to keep from awww-ing non-stop as Finn follows his older brother around and does his best to mimic him exactly. It's actually a huge blessing that Nate isn't a spoiled brat, but someone I'm okay with my son idolizing.

"That sounds fun," says Eric and Finn shrugs.

"Dad, when can we go home?"

"Well, you and mom can go home tonight but I have to stay here until tomorrow."

"Why?" His little brows furrow.

"So the doctors can keep an eye on me."

"Can I see your bullet wound?"

Eric looks at me, unsure. "Maybe later, Baby," I step in and, despite looking disappointed, Finn nods. By the time Adrian gets here Finn has had his fill of snuggling and is playing on my phone and trying his hardest to not ask me if we can go home for fear of hurting his daddy's feelings. Eric and I can practically see it in his eyes. Finn jumps up when Adrian walks in and the latter scoops him up to mess up his hair.

"How you doing, baby brother?"

Finn grins, completely entertained as always at the thought of his daddy being somebody's baby brother.

"Good enough to kick your… butt."

"Yeah, I somehow don't see that happening." Adrian rolls his eyes before focusing his energy to get me home. I would argue to stay but Finn is looking at me with interest.

"You ready to head home, kid?"

"Will Dad be alone?" He asks, looking concerned.

"Nope, your uncle's staying with me," Eric tells him and eventually manages to convince Finn that he'll see him tomorrow after school. While Finn gathers up his things I kiss my husband goodbye and promise him that I'll see him in the morning. He tries to tell me that I don't have to run back to the hospital but I tell him to shut up and kiss him a second time, ignoring Adrian and Finn as they chorus "ewww".

"Thanks for staying with him, you butt," I grumble to Adrian as he hugs me goodbye.

"You're very welcome, Sötnos. I'll see you guys later, huh?" Both brothers hug Finn goodbye and I take his hand as we walk out. He's not being very talkative, even though I decide to break a couple of rules by picking up Wendy's for dinner. He smiles and asks for a frosty too, pushing me to my fastfood-buying limits.

"Mom, is Dad going to be okay?" He asks once we're out of the drive-thru and I wish I weren't driving so I could really look at him and make sure he understands.

"Yeah, honey. He'll need some help getting around the house for a while, but he's going to be fine."

"You promise?"

"I pinky promise," I smile and hold out my pinky, and he hesitates for a second before wrapping his pinky around mine. I continue being the fun parent for the rest of the day, figuring that he deserves a little lax parenting after the trauma of seeing his usually strong dad in the hospital. It had been a little disconcerting for me too, if I'm being quite honest with myself, since he's usually so strong and has the tendency to take care of us, rather than the other way around. I don't even remember the last time Eric was sick or incapable of doing something so this is a bit of a jarring reality check that my husband, as good of a cop as he may be, is not anywhere near infallible.

I nudge Finn upstairs at around eight for his bath, and read him one chapter of the first Harry Potter book before tucking him in. Downstairs, I pour myself a glass of not-wine and put on an old episode of Supernatural, which is my guilty pleasure when the boys aren't around, before calling Adrian.

"What's up, sister-in-law?"

"Hey, I was just hoping for an Eric update."

"Well, he's right here, why don't you talk to him?"

"You're still there?"

"Yeah, I was going to leave but he started crying…" He bursts out laughing when Eric cusses and smacks him. "Threw a bit of a tantrum," Adrian continues. "It was all a bit pathetic."

"Can I talk to my husband please?" I ask, laughing.

"Sure, here ya go."

"Hello? You can't hit the cripple! Adrian!"

"What is he doing?"

"Being a jerk," Eric laughs. "But the nurse just told him off so he's pouting in the corner now."

"Sounds like you guys are having a lot of fun," I smile, sinking lower on the couch, and take a sip of my not-wine.

"You know how it is, you get shot and the fun begins."

"I know, I might shoot myself out of sheer jealousy."

"I can lend you my gun," he chuckles.

"You're a pal. So how are you doing?"

"I'm good. I gave in and let them give me some meds so the pain is better."

"Hey, that's good. Not being in pain tends to be a bonus."

"I certainly think so. And I can even put up with Adrian now." Adrian calls out a complaint from the background but Eric ignores him. "Is Finn in bed already?"

"Yeah, I bought him Wendy's and took him to the park, so that buttered him up."

"Quite literally," my husband laughs.

"He ran around a lot at the park though, so I feel less guilty."

"Well done. How are you feeling?"

"Good. Missing wine already. And missing you also."

"Miss you too," he murmurs, probably hoping to avoid getting mocked by his brother. "Jag älskar dig."

"I love you too," I grin.

"Adrian wants you to know that he speaks Swedish too, so you shouldn't be too impressed."

"Tell him I'm impressed by his ability to be such a huge jerk." Eric passes on my message and I can hear Adrian wishing for his phone to die on us. We end up saying goodnight not long after, and I finish my episode before crawling into bed.

The next day I get Eric home just before two, which is a bit earlier I had anticipated but fine regardless. We pick up his prescription for industrial-grade painkillers and an antibiotic on the way, and I chuckle at the disdainful he shoots the crutches when I hand them to him to walk the distance from the garage to the living room. Once inside he parks himself on the couch where I can keep an eye on him as I cook some chicken and veggies, which is when Natasha calls to see if she can bring Nate over after school.

"Yeah, of course. That should be fine," my husband shoots me a look and I give him a little nod before suggesting that Natasha and Nate stay for dinner. Eric relays my message, but the plan ends up being for Natasha to drop Nate off after school and pick him up around Finn's bedtime, since otherwise Finn will not be going to bed until Nate is gone and tomorrow is still a school day. I'm done cooking by the time Eric hangs up and I tell him to sit his ass back down when he tries to take his plate to the kitchen afterwards because, as I plan on reminding him often, he needs to stay off his feet. He grumbles something about not having lost the leg, which I ignore to bring him his pills and a glass of water. That of course instigates more grumbling over having to take the damn things because Eric has some unresolved issues with conventional medicine, but I tell him to man up and do as his wife tells him.

"I love it when you're bossy," he smirks and pulls me closer for a kiss, refusing to let me pull away.

"Eric." I break the kiss but his mouth moves down to my neck.

"We didn't get to celebrate you being pregnant." He presses an open-mouthed kiss below my ear and that's enough to turn me on, even though my brain is not on the same page as my body.

"You're hurt, how can you be thinking about sex?"

"Easily. Come on, you can be on top," he cajoles softly, trailing kisses back to my mouth, his hand dropping to rest at the inside of my thigh. I know he loves that he knocked me up – it's some masculine, virility thing to him – so it's really not that surprising that he wants to celebrate by having more sex. Not that having sex with Eric is a chore in any way.

"I'm afraid of hurting you."

"I'll tell you if you are." My husband tucks his fingers under my shirt and pulls it off and a couple of minutes later he's naked on the couch as I straddle him.

"Is this okay?"

"Yeah."

I carefully lower myself onto him, watching his face carefully for any signs of pain. We have to stop once when he moves his leg a certain way and gasps in pain, but he insists he's fine and I hesitantly keep going until we're both sated and happy. By that point I have to get ready to go pick up the tiniest Northman. Which, on second thought, is a title he will lose by June. I grin to myself as I drive, thinking about what it was like to have Finn. He'd been such an amazingly happy baby and it had been so fantastic to watch Eric, My Husband become Eric, My Child's Father. It had also been pretty fantastic to watch him realize that he could do this, the fathering thing, to witness him become the kind of man my son could look up to. Finn has always looked at Eric like he hung the moon, which is pretty easy to understand. I think I look at Eric the same way too, sometimes, and now I'm wondering if this baby will as well.

Finn is on the playground when I get there, which is what I've told him to do instead of stand by the side of the street where he could get bored and walk off, or worse. Regardless, I find a place to park and go to fetch my son, pleased to see that he has managed to not get paint on his shirt today. He does, almost daily, which would be almost impressive in itself were it not completely frustrating.

"Is Dad home?" This is why the little butt is so excited. And I thought it was because of me.

"Yes, he is! He's waiting for you," I smile at him in the rearview mirror and he gives me the widest grin he can manage, this tiny adorable version of my husband. I'm such a sucker for his tiny grins. It would only be fair for us to have a girl so Eric could experience what it's like dealing with a tiny adorable version of your spouse. I put on Ingrid Michaelson which makes Finn infinitely happy because her voice makes him think she's a children's singer, though I suspect he has a secret love for nerdy-looking women that I'm sure is going to make his nerdy female classmates very happy once he becomes more of a heartbreaker than he already is. To my surprise, Eric isn't doing anything he isn't supposed to when we get home, and I'm pleased until I realize there's chili in the slow-cooker. I give him a dirty look over Finn's head and he shoots me a boyish smile before letting Finn crawl all over him on the couch.

A while later Finn races me to the door when the bell rings and I let the little brat win, standing back as he pulls the door open.

"Hi Nate."

"Hi Finn," Nate grins down at my son. They might as well be carbon copies of each other, even though Nate's version of Eric's face has Natasha's dimples and green eyes. I follow my son's lead and smile at Natasha, inviting her in. Even though Natasha and I are perfectly pleasant to each other, I'd be lying if I said I like having my husband's ex-wife around even after all these years. It has nothing to do with my trust in Eric – which is implicit – or my own insecurities, well maybe it has something to do with my insecurities. But mostly it's because whatever his part may have been in the destruction of their marriage, she still broke Eric's heart and stomped all over it, and then withheld a pretty crucial truth for many years. It makes me all protective of him even though he doesn't need me to protect him, because despite the fact that he has been a part of Nate's life for over five years, every now and then I catch him looking at Finn like he wished he could have seen Nate when he was this little too. And Nate is such a little man already; it feels like yesterday that Eric was explaining his first marriage to him in terms of fairytales. Now, Eric hauls himself to his feet and perches on the back of the couch to hug Nate, even though they're not really very hug-y.

"Mom said you got shot."

"I did. In the thigh. This is what becomes of all that rap music you young'uns listen to."

"Funny, Dad." Nate rolls his eyes. "You're not even that old."

Eric narrows his eyes. "What do you want?"

"Mom won't let me go to a concert."

"Yeah okay, I'm heading out." Natasha rolls her eyes and adds, "Ask him who he's going with. I'll pick him up at eight?"

"Sounds good, thank you." I walk her to the door and return just in time to hear Eric say, "You want to go to a hardcore rap concert, that your mom said you shouldn't listen to in the first place, with another 11-year-old and no chaperone? Okay."

My jaw drops as Nate's face lights right up. "Really?"

"Nope." Eric smiles and hops on one leg over to the kitchen to get Finn a before-dinner snack while I hide a smirk. My son is watching this exchange with interest so I tell him to remember this and save himself the trouble in five years. He just gives me a look like I'm a moron and tells me he doesn't like rap before taking the banana Eric is handing him and going to his room. God bless.

"Dad, come on. Mom said if you say 'yes' I can go, and Mike's dad told him he can go if my parents say yes." I almost feel bad for Nate, with the way he's pleading, but he is a tiny person expecting to go to a concert at the Saddledome unsupervised. I remember the severity of the pushing and shoving at my first concert, when I had been fourteen. Although, I guess if Nate doesn't get floor tickets, there's less to be worried about.

"Then I guess you're not going, Nathaniel." Eric pulls out the Nathaniel card when he's trying to look more displeased than he is but can't really help. Nate doesn't even bother pointing out that it's not even his name.

"Dad, please. I'll mow your lawn for a month. That's good, right Sookie?" He turns his huge green eyes to me and I waver, feeling like I should play the fun step-parent card like I do sometimes, for the sake of our relationship.

"Nice try, Nate. It's going to snow by mid-October."

"So, I'll shovel your driveway. Sookie, help me out here." He pouts. He's such a good-looking little kid that the pout is really unnecessary.

"Eric, what if he doesn't get floor tickets?"

Nate looks like that's not okay with him but wisely reconsiders the protest. Eric gives it some thought.

"Seat tickets and Mike's dad and I have to come with you. And you're shoveling our driveway and your mom's."

"Seat tickets, you can come with us, I shovel your driveway and, I'm throwing in an extra month of cleaning your pool this summer if you don't tell mom that I'm shoveling your driveway." He's totally not going to be here often enough to shovel our driveway and we all know it. Actually, on second thought, with Eric out of commission it's going to be me this year. At least I can make sure he cleans our pool in the summer.

"You've got yourself a deal, Mini Me." I smile at the nickname my husband has given his son, and Nate throws his arms up in the air.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you." He throws his arms around Eric before running over to hug me as well. "Can I text Mike?" He's only supposed to use his cellphone in an emergency; that was the deal when we got it for him.

"Don't push it. You can tell him tomorrow." Nate doesn't even look fazed, but nods and tells Eric he's glad he is okay. "Just so I could give you permission to the concert, huh?" Eric is doing his best to look unimpressed.

"No, 'cause you're the best dad ever." He grins. "Will you tell Mom?"

"Yes," Eric sighs. "And burn me a disc of this rap group I'm going to have to endure two hours of."

"Yes, sir."

"Now go do your homework before I change my mind." Nate promptly runs off, leaving Eric and I alone in the kitchen.

"That was some pretty sneaky bargaining you did there," I smile, ushering him back to the couch. He's looking a little pale from all the standing. "You know he's not going to actually shovel our driveway, right?"

"Oh yeah. And like I would want to spend two hours with Mike's dad." The man is about as interesting as a bowl of Cream of Wheat.

"But you're willing to sacrifice two hours of your life to terrible music?"

"How bad can it be, I listen to your music all the time when you take the iPod port hostage."

"Asshole." I backhand him.

"Watch it, Mrs Northman. There are young children in the house."

After dinner Eric and I read downstairs while Nate and Finn watch Toy Story 3 until Natasha shows up to pick up Nate. Afterwards, Finn cuddles up on the couch before eventually falling asleep against his daddy. I watch them discreetly for a second as my husband absently stroking Finn's hair, and even manage to whip out my phone and take a photo before he notices.

"What?" He smiles at me.

"You were just having such a Kodak moment I had to immortalize it." I quickly make it my background and put the phone away. "We should wake him up. He needs to bathe."

"Aww, leave my boy alone, he's comfy here." He pouts, sees the amused look on my face, and wakes Finn up. He grumbles and begs me to let him skip his bath to no avail, but cheers up when I promise to read him two chapters of Harry Potter. The joke's on the tiny human though, because he's asleep halfway through the first chapter so I kiss his forehead and slip out, leaving the door ajar on my way out. I ask Eric if he wants to just sleep on the couch but he gives me the frigging puppy dog eyes and I roll my eyes at him, helping him make his way upstairs with the crutches, even though it takes him forever.

"Jesus, that was a pain in my ass."

"Bitch, bitch, bitch-bitch-bitch." I roll my eyes and grin when I catch his dirty look. Eric makes a stop in Finn's room, bending down to kiss his forehead before we proceed to our room and get under the covers once Eric has taken his pills and we've gone through our respective routines.

"How's your leg?"

"Hurts a bit, but that's kind of a given." I scoot closer to him, tucking myself against his non-injured side.

"I missed you last night." I hate spending nights apart, even though I've been on a few book tours since we've been together. The last one had been two years ago, and I'd been so miserable that Eric and Finn had surprised me by showing up in San Francisco. So last night the bed had felt incredibly empty without the six-foot-five presence of my husband, and I'm pretty grateful to have him back tonight. And of course, incredibly grateful that the shooting didn't turn out nearly as badly as it could have. Now, my husband pulls me close for a kiss and slips his hand under the back of my shirt to rest it on my skin.

"Missed you. Does that make us suckers?"

"Probably." I'm okay with that.

"I can't believe you're pregnant."

"I know. And at 40, too. This is not going to be pretty."

"But you're always pretty," he smiles flirtatiously and earns himself a little smack to the chest.

A few months later, once the wound on my husband's thigh has healed to pink scar tissue, I'm sitting on the couch doing some research for my next book when Eric lets himself into the house.

"Hey, what are you doing home?" A glance at the clock confirms that it's barely noon.

"I got the rest of the day off," he tells me, hanging up his coat and kicking off his snow-crusted boots.

"How come?" This has never happened before. I can't think of a single reason why it would unless something terrible has happened, but I'd say he looks more apprehensive than anything else. I hoist myself up, resting a hand on my bump as I go over to kiss him on cheek.

"I got a promotion," my husband tells me.

"What?" He doesn't want a promotion; he passed one down last year because he likes what he does and has no interest in getting involved with any of the bureaucratic bullshit. Even if he didn't make enough money to support our family, I do, so we're both lucky in the sense that we can do what we love to do best without having to worry about money.

"To Captain. It's Captain Bartlett's last week and I'm going to be his replacement."

"Shouldn't Edgington be his replacement?" Since he is Lieutenant and a bit of a shoo-in for Captain, especially since he would want the promotion.

"He would be if he hadn't put in for a transfer to Edmonton."

"But you never wanted to be Captain." I say and he just shrugs, leading me back to the couch. "Eric," I say sharply.

"Things change, Sookie. Me getting shot…" He shakes his head. "This is a big deal; I'd be the youngest police Captain on the west coast."

"You're doing this because I'm pregnant," I say, not quite believing this.

"I'm doing it for all of you."

"But you always said you would hate doing what Bartlett was doing, because it was all bureaucracy and paperwork."

"Sure. I liked solving cases and cleaning up the streets," he chuckles at the cliché. "And technically I'll still be contributing to that, but in a different way. A safer way that makes it less likely for me to get hurt again."

"Eric…" I don't know what to say. He loved his job and this promotion would mean giving up on everything he enjoyed; it worries me that he's giving it all up because as much as I've always kind of wanted this, I don't want him to resent us for it. I want him to do what he loves because it makes him happy and I'd refused to ask him to stop because it was part of him.

"It's okay. I prioritized and picked you guys over my job, since you're kinda the obvious choice here. I don't want you to get another phone call telling you that I'm in the hospital." He moves to sit closer and presses a kiss to my forehead. "You can be happy, Sookie. I know you want this."

"I want you to be happy."

"You make me happy. You and the kids." His hand moves to rest on my six-month-old bump and the baby moves towards him, probably alerted by the sound of her daddy's voice.

We'd found out about the gender of the baby a few months ago and I'd squealed, clapping my hands and exclaiming that now we had te whole set. I'm pregnant with a tiny female Northman, which had thrilled Paige to no end. Now, Eric grins at the movement and looks up to meet my eyes.

"Are you sure?" I ask.

"Do you love me?"

"Of course."

"Then yeah, I'm sure."

I search his expression and find sincerity, much to my relief. If he's sure, there's no reason why I shouldn't be happy. He's practically giving me everything I've ever wanted but had refused to ask for; his safety.

"Lighten up, wife of mine," he squeezes my hand and I offer him a tentative smile. "Good girl. Now, I'm not too sure but I think promotions are cause for a celebration, correct?"

I smile. "Correct."

"Will you come help me celebrate? I can't do it without you."

"Technically you could, it would just be a really sad celebration," I laugh and he stands up, leading me up to our bedroom where the celebrations continue for quite a while.