ZorraVixen: Saints Row does not belong to me, but belongs to their perspective party members, I only own the plot and some of the characters to an extent. This story takes some time before the Cyrus Temple, but well after Saints Row III.

He couldn't help but admire his homeland's countryside, the winds billowing around him, teasing his fringe, the cars driving by him at the required speed limits. The former Decker stood out like a sore thumb in this area. How did it end up like this, oh yeah, he fancied the Saints' 'benevolent' leader. A smile graced his lips, recalling how he fell for her. Despite her abrasive exterior, she had what she explained to him a heart of gold, she helped out complete strangers, granted they owed her favors in returned, but she never really asked for them in returned. It was just a trade, a mutually aware pact.

A soft croon interrupted his train of thoughts; he gave a weary grin as he went over towards the out of place frilly basinet. His smiled at the mirror image of his love's green eyes staring back at him, begging him to pay attention to her. The former Decker picked up the three month old child and gently rocked her throughout the room. The crickets played a soft tune providing him a tune, and Matt smiled hearing his daughter murmuring, fighting a losing battle against sleep. "A gentle breeze from Hushabye Mountain, Softly blows o'er lullaby bay." He knew his singing abilities weren't the best, but it was enough.

Once he heard the soft, light breathing he gently put his daughter back into her basinet. He was pleased just seeing her content, tranquil sleeping face. Matt let out a sigh of his relief as he went back to his computer, he watched the American qualifications for Presidency, Celia managed to qualify and would be butting heads with the other candidate Monica Hughes. He let out a groan, Celia really needs to calm down, and glared at the stark white ceiling.

They were both pacing back and forth from her loft. She bought numerous tests and drank half a gallon of cheap juice. These were the most agonizing minutes he ever felt, more than having lag ruin your dominating kill streak. He observed the nervous older Latina; she couldn't sit still, and kept herself in motion trying to make time flow faster.

"That won't help," he explained, but quickly shut up when he was met with her infamous cold glare. His phone went off, signaling the end of their agonizing wait. "Well let's see the results." They both went to their designated area and took out the variety of tests neatly aligned. Their eyes widen all of them displaying the same result, Positive.

"Mierda," she swore in her second tongue. Celia refused to meet his gaze but instead looked forward. "Listen I'll find a way to fix this, so you don't' have to worry." She was about to leave the stunned teen, but he held her back when he realized her implication.

"You are not getting rid of it," he yelled. He tried to look her in her eyes, but she kept dodging, her arms wrapped around her curvy frame. "Don't it isn't their fault."

"What are you talking about," Celia inquired the British teen, relishing his lithe figure. "I was referring to you Mateo, you don't' have to do anything." She looked towards him in a calm smile.

"I want to." He declared, stunning her.

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She didn't get the infamous morning sickness until well into her second trimester, near the third trimester. Which made them realized how far along she was and she was expecting. He always knew the Saints leader to be cold and a psychopath, but he never expected her to be motherly and warm; must be the hormones. Celia managed to tell only Oleg, but ordered him to keep it secret and he was made temporary leader until she was well enough, she doubted she would be able to lead when she was in Britain, waiting for the child to be born.

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Pride bloomed in his heart when he gazed at the innocent baby. He met his daughter for the first time, after ten hours in labor and a broken wrist later, Felicia Janice Miller was here. He looked towards the Saints Leader snoring signaling she was in a deep sleep; he couldn't help but smile and wince in pain at her uncharacteristically purely relaxed form, Beautiful.

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Celia sighed, unsure of how to say this, "I want you and Felicia to leave." The atmosphere grew tense and he looked at her in disbelief.

"You're kicking us out," he felt his mouth go dry, and wide in shock at her flat tone.

The Saints leader sighed and looked towards the flabbergasted Brit. "No what I meant to say is that I am leaving to go home to America, and I want for you and Felicia to stay here in Britain, but to leave London." She looked towards the London skyline.

"They may use both of you as bait against me, and I already lost way too many people," She looked towards him. Her mask was gone as the brutal leader of the 3rd Street Saints, revealing the real Celia Patrona Dos Santos; Kind, Warm, Motherly, Gentle, Generous, everything that wasn't within what she portrays herself.

"She can't grow up without her mum," he argued, eyes pleading for her to stay.

"Matt," they were close together and immediately began to kiss, their names dancing between heated kisses and lustful moans. They haven't had time to themselves and he wanted here and now. A loud cry rattled the flat, shattering their moment and they quickly composed themselves, both of them sporting blushes on their cheeks as they went towards their daughter.

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The decision was final, Celia returned back to America and he and their daughter had to stay in Britain. It was their last night together. He laid on her chest, listening to the soothing rhythm of her heart beat. "Matt," he glanced up. "I managed to get in touch with MI6, Oleg use to work with her, former KGB agent, who was in the same ship as you are. She was granted asylum and her sentence was diminished after she served her country, and she is looking for an assistant." Their positions' shifted and they were staring at each other. "They are offering you the same offer she was given, serve your country and with each successful mission your punishment will be lighten, and will eventually diminish."

"But what about Felicia," he looked back and forth, from her face to his hands.

"Who will take care of her, doing God knows what?" She knew he was nervous, hell she was too, but she glared at him ordering him to settle down, which he eventually did.

"Oleg also hooked me up with former KGB friends of his, who will be acting as staff for Felicia." She explained. 3…2…1…

"KGB!? What the hell are you thinking, Celia, they could murder her for Christ's say," he screeched and threw his head back into the covers. He heard fits of giggles and looked over to see the Saints Leader laughing at him, like a school girl. "What's so funny?"

She shook her head, "You, just because their past is questionable, but everyone deserves a second chance." Celia looked towards the Brit's tense form. "I gave you a chance and look at how that turned out, besides you can keep the flat, but Felicia will be living out in the countryside, I bought a villa for her and the staff." He was questioning her. "They will protect her when I am doing mi cosas, Mateo."

"What are their names," he dared to ask.

"Roberto Rubin, Fabian Cisnernos, and Kate Jaegar," she listed.

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"The tea is ready sir," bowed Roberto. He smiled at the elder Cuban and following him to the dining hall. The former Decker took a sip, smiling at the Earl Grey tea. He heard a chime and noticed an email from Asha, explaining their next mission, stopping the ex-STAG commander-turned-terrorist, Cyrus Temple; it also mentioned that the 3rd Street Saints will be tagging along for the mission. He smiled into the tea, and looked out towards the sky. Celia.

Read and Review, and will I update or make a new one-shot, possibly, but we shall see.