Up to Now
I am the proud father of four genius kids, husband to the most beautiful woman in the world, and currently at the end of a very loaded gun. I knew this day would come eventually, but I'd always hoped I would be the one with the finger on the trigger.
I hadn't realized I'd wasted six years pining over the wrong woman until one day the right one slapped me in the face, and all I could think was her hand was so soft and her lips tasted good. We'd thought we'd been keeping our relationship secret, but Jai told me later that everyone had known for months. It doesn't really matter now though.
We were married six months to the day after I not so much proposed as stated we were engaged to the entire Domestic Protection Division's bullpen.
One of the dimmer agents from downstairs had been flirting with my Annie, and after listening to his pathetic attempts to get her to have a drink with him, I hadn't been able to ignore it any longer. I'd yanked off my headset and stood up. I think I said something to the effect of, "She can't go on a date with you because she's engaged!" but I'm not completely sure, because it had been a long day and I'd been both pissed and tired.
The guy had sputtered for a moment before replying. "To who?"
I was just coming to my senses around then, but I was still too angry to answer. Annie, apparently, hadn't been because I distinctly heard her speak. "To him."
An hour later I'd come back into the building with a ring.
We had a medium-sized wedding. All my brothers had come along with my parents (even my father, though our relationship has always been a bit rocky) and a hundred or so long-lost relatives. Annie didn't have nearly as many family members, both her parents being only children and her father having been dead for ten years, but her sister and husband were there. Michael had walked her down the aisle.
Annie had worn a sparsely decorated white silk dress that felt like water (I think, but I wasn't really concentrating on the fabric, if you know what I mean) with her hair pulled up into a delicate bun. The moment she'd stopped next to me at the end of aisle, I'd missed my sight more than anything, but I knew she was beautiful, even without Rick, my oldest brother and best man, whistling gently in my ear as she approached. How could my Annie be anything else?
We'd been married for almost a year when Annie's old professor from Georgetown told us he was retiring. He wanted Annie to be his replacement. Annie had been thinking about his offer for about a week before she started coming down with a bug.
The next week she accepted his offer and turned her resignation into Joan. I don't think I need to say how secretly relieved I was to hear she was retiring from the field (it'd become more and more stressful to hear her voice on the other end of my com). Of course, my relief was quickly exchanged with surprise when she confessed that the teaching position hadn't been the only reason she'd resigned.
Two days after her official last day at the CIA, Annie informed me that I was to be a father.
Call me stupid, but the only thing I'd been able to say was, "I always thought 96 percent was a good odd."
The months leading up to Nora's birth were some of the toughest of my life, and that includes my time in rehab after my run-in with the bomb. Part of the torture came from Annie's constant cravings and hormonal shifts, but the most of it was the result of my perpetual fear.
I was terrified of being a father. Annie had tried more than once to convince me that I'd be great, but I kept thinking of all the quintessential things fathers do with their sons (we'd been expecting a boy. After all, there hadn't been an Anderson girl in three generations). Everything seemed to involve sight.
As strange as it may sound today, after my accident I hadn't wanted to have a family. I'd been positive any children I might have one day fostered had died the moment the countdown had hit zero on that bomb.
All my fears disappeared the moment the nurse put my newborn girl in my arms. I'd never held something so small or so delicate. I collapsed into the chair next to her mother's bed and gently ran the tips of my fingers over my beautiful baby. I'd never felt so complete in my entire life. I didn't even care that I couldn't see the wrinkled little bundle of joy in my arms.
Nothing ever quite compares to the first time you hold your newborn baby. Before Nora was born, I'd thought the first time Annie and I made love (not had sex, but made love) was the greatest moment in my life, but even that feeling of finding your soul mate can't shine a light on kissing your own flesh and blood for the first time.
Annie gave me three more firsts. A year after Nora came Thomas. During his nine months, Annie had the worst mood swings I'd ever encountered. Nora was celebrating her third birthday and Tom had just turned eighteen months when Annie again found herself pregnant. If I'd thought our first was hard, the third was a diamond.
Those eight and a half months were nothing short of hell. Annie was constantly waking me up to get strange foods or kick me out of the bed because she was too hot. It wasn't until almost the fifth month that we found out why. Annie was carrying twins.
I don't think I have to describe our surprise. Not only was Nora the first female Anderson in three generations, but Annie was carrying the first pair of Anderson twins in living memory (which considering my Great Uncle Harold's memory, is a long time).
The twins were born two weeks premature. They were smaller than either of their siblings, but as both the nurse and the doctor patiently assured us, perfectly healthy. I held them both in my arms, Jake in the right, Benji in the left.
After the twins, Annie said she was done. I'm not going to lie and say I wasn't a little disappointed, but I agreed. She was right, it was getting dangerous. She was already almost forty. To continue would be irresponsible. I had four wonderful children; I was more than content.
It didn't take us long to realize that our children were special. Every good parent says that, but most don't have a seven-year-old speaking three languages fluently, a six-year-old decrypting a geometric algorithm (albeit a relatively simple one), or five-year-olds that could be Robert E. Lee's incarnate. Needless to say, my kids have talent.
We'd planned to teach the children Spanish (the only other language Annie and I share) along with English, Annie being a firm believer in early language exposures, and while we'd known Nora had inherited her mother's gifted tongue after she'd said her first compound sentence ("I not eat cookie, but Tommy did.") at two, we didn't know just how gifted.
At four and a half, my baby girl was not only randomly switching between Spanish and English, but also routinely interspersing German, which she'd been picking up from the nanny. By the time she was six, I'd gotten fed up with having to ask Annie to translate and started learning German. From my daughter. I guess it serves me right for hiring Nanny-Stein.
I wasn't the one who noticed Tom's reasoning abilities first, but it's kind of obvious when you let your son play with your favorite logic puzzle to keep him busy for a few hours while you work only to have him reappear five minutes later with the solved puzzle. I started teaching him basic math the next day.
As for the twins, well, we're not quite sure which one is the mastermind and which one's the executor, but it really doesn't matter now. When they work together, they're unbeatable.
Which leads me back to the loaded gun.
I throw my empty weapon aside. "I surrender. Just don't hurt them."
I hear the trigger squeak faintly as pressure is applied. I brace myself-
Freezing water hits me just above my gut.
"You got me!" I grab my killer and toss him under my arm. "But I got you!"
"Daddy!" Benji cries. "You're dead!"
I hear rapid footfalls and another voice joins Benji's. "We got you first!"
"That so?" I strike before Jake can run around me and hoist him under my other arm, facing his twin's bottom and my back.
I drop my load on the nearest couch and proceed to tickle them. I listen to their happy squeals and my grin grows wider. I pull back after a few moments and hold out my hands. "Come on, Double-Oh-Squared. Mommy will be home soon and she'll be expecting dinner."
A/N: Well? The first Auggie/Annie parent-fic. If you like it, this will become a series, but I won't bother if no one likes the idea. I must admit, after yesterday's episode (definitely the best so far, right?), I'm more inclined to have Annie and Auggie remain friends - heresy, I know - for the time being, hence setting this twelve years into the future. On another note, if someone can figure out why I named the kids the names I did, they get a sneak peak into the possible sequel. So remember to review!
A/N2: Trish47 caught a couple of wording mistakes. They have now been fixed.