A Piece of History: Bringing Home Baby

                The city lights of Brandenburg, Virginia were a familiar, and welcome sight to the former death mage and hit for hire’s dark eyes. He scanned the glittering line eagerly, squinting in the early morning darkness. A faint noise drew his gaze away almost instantly, and he smiled down at the pink cashmere bundle in his arms. “…almost home, angel,” he whispered, in a tone that had never before been Jonas Foster’s to use. The infant in his arms moved a bit, her perfect rosebud mouth pursing before she subsided. He watched her, enraptured, and lifted her a bit, unable to resist nuzzling her satiny, milk white skin with his own rough cheek.
                “Almost home, baby girl,” he murmured, brushing a wispy white-blonde curl away from her cheek. The dimples by her chin shifted as she seemed to frown in her sleep. Concerned, Jonas rocked her gently, whispering endearments in her tiny ear, and he only relaxed when her face smoothed out. He carefully tucked a soft white cotton blanket closer around her, nestling her more securely in the pink cashmere blanket. “We have such a room for you, sweetheart,” he said, his dark eyes aglow. “I painted it myself. Books, clothes, lots of toys. I was thinking of getting you a pet, baby. Something…cuddly, maybe a cat.” The irony of Jonas Foster, former death mage and hit for hire, talking about getting something ‘cuddly’ to an infant would have sent Kyle or Brad into gales of laughter. As it was, Jonas himself only knew that this was the second time his life had been utterly centered around someone else, and it was, in a roundabout way, the same person.
                It was odd, the way the human mind worked. Jonas himself could no longer think of this child, this precious infant in his arms as being another version of Dia. He hadn’t actually thought of her as that for…months now? Had it been months? Long, tedious weeks of red tape, annoying bureaucrats and bribery, arguing in a language foreign to him, calling Betre night after night, double-checking paperwork he himself hardly understood. He hadn’t, in fact, thought of her as the woman he’d loved since the last day in France. Must send a thank you note to Sister Nota, he thought, staring at the seatback before him absently. The baby moved a bit, drawing his thoughts back, and he smiled. “We’re almost home, Iris.”
 
                Her name had been utterly accidental, as poetry often is. It had, point in fact, been something he’d utterly forgotten to consider. When Sister Nota, the only English speaking nun at the orphanage, and that damned official Francois-Something had found him in the orphanage’s garden and asked him what her name would be, Jonas had drawn a complete blank. He had, in fact, looked at the sister with huge questioning eyes, wondering why on earth they wanted that now. The sister had smiled at him kindly, her blue eyes soft, and leaned down, murmuring in quiet, heavily accented English. “Perhaps you haven’t thought it important, Mr. Foster, but we do need to know that you’re considering everything for her welfare.” She’d winked almost impishly and squeezed his shoulder. “Now give us something so Francois can go finish his paperwork, and you can take your daughter home.”
                My daughter… Jonas’s mind had abruptly ceased working when she had said that, and he’d felt the warm spring breeze ruffle his hair. It was an odd feeling, and when he lifted his face to the mid-morning sun…by all that was holy, it felt warm. Time paused, and for that eternal moment, Jonas basked in the feeling of simple warmth. When he opened his eyes, his smile made the sister draw a quick breath. It was a smile only one woman had ever seen before, and she would have said Yes to anything accompanied by it. His eyes shifted, and he found himself watching the flowers in the garden bob with the breeze, petals brilliant in the sunlight. Jonas watched the blossoms for a moment, and then another smile dawned on his face, one of pure happiness. With that single decision, he had severed forever the connection in his mind between the long-dead Dia Rothwell and this new life that was now inexorably tied to his.
                “…Iris,” he said, his eyes soft. “Her name is Iris.”
 
               
                “…fasten your seatbelts. We’re on approach for landing.”
 
                The pilot’s voice made Jonas blink, and he hastily glanced down at his daughter, reassuring himself that she was still asleep. Her eyes opened briefly, focusing on his face, and he smiled into them, rocking her momentarily. “See, baby? We’re almost home.” Her opalescent eyes, glimmering with blue-violet and rose pink, shifted to his eyes, and she laughed, a light, burbling sound that drew an answering laugh from him. “We’ll be home soon, Iris.” Carefully shifting the infant, he drew the child’s seat the airline had providedcloser and carefully transferred her into it. While he buckled her in, testing the straps to ensure they wouldn’t be too tight, Jonas felt an elation he’d never known before. He was bringing his daughter home.
                The airport was busier than he remembered it being at four in the morning, and he stood still, momentarily at a loss. It was eerie, how much seemed so familiar and yet completely changed in the same moment. As he shuffled through the busy terminal, he watched an exceptionally beautiful redhead stroll languidly towards the front doors. A tingle of recognition occurred when he saw her lean down to a large pet carrier and fasten a leash to something inside. Jonas nearly laughed when the lazy panther emerged from the plastic cage, blinking emerald eyes blearily and sitting down, its’ sleek black coat shining as it yawned hugely and scratched at an ear. The redhead smiled at the cat and said something he couldn’t hear before turning and looking…hell, she was looking at him. In the same moment that Jonas realized that, he found that he felt no fear, no instinctive desire to hide. Iris burped faintly, waving a pink-clad fist, and he looked down, putting a finger in her open hand. Something in his chest clenched when her tiny fingers wrapped around his callused digit.
                “She’s beautiful.”
                Jonas blinked, looking up at the redhead standing in front of him, her leaf-green eyes shifting from the baby to him. Her smile was inviting, and the perfume she wore, some interesting mingling of cinnamon and sandalwood, made him feel a bit more alert. Something like a purr was underlying her voice, and she stepped closer, motioning toward Iris. “May I?”
                Feeling as though he was handing over something unspeakably precious, he nodded and laid Iris in her arms. The woman smiled at the baby’s face, jostling her gently. A loop of gold hung from her wrist, and Jonas traced the leash to the panther, who sat at the woman’s feet, looking mildly disgruntled. “Is that your…pet?”
                She laughed, a throaty sound, and nodded, looking over Iris’s head at the panther. “Bagheera, make your manners.” The big cat gave her a thoroughly disgusted look, then bowed her broad head at Jonas. The former death mage smiled, offering the panther his hand to sniff.
                “She’s lovely. Where did you get her?”
                “Oh, a gift from a lover of mine,” the woman said, her smile clearly indicating that such a thing was commonplace to her. She looked at Iris, then offered her back to Jonas. “I think she wants her daddy.”
                Taking the baby back hurriedly, he felt an unnamed settling in his chest, something quieting when Iris looked up at him and smiled, closing her opalescent eyes. “I think her daddy wants her,” he said, almost too quietly to be heard, but the woman had the ears of a lynx.
                “Proud new father, huh?”
                Jonas looked at her quickly, almost certain she was mocking him, and then relaxed at her expression. He smiled, almost sheepishly, and quickly felt in the diaper bag hanging over his shoulder with a couple of fingers. “Only a month or so, actually.”
                The woman waved his hand aside, feeling about until she produced a soft pink pacifier. Holding it up questioningly, she smiled when he nodded and offered it to Iris. The baby eyed the woman askance, an expression which made Jonas chuckle, and then accepted it. Her eyes half-closed as she settled down, sucking gently and drowsing.
                “She looks older than that,” the woman said, tilting her head. Jonas glanced at her, noting again how beautiful she was. That perfect ivory skin and not a freckle in sight. He didn’t doubt that her flame-red hair was entirely real, and when her green eyes shifted to him, he thought that she looked rather cat-like herself.
                “Adopted, from France. I was only able to bring her home two days ago.”
                The woman blinked, then laughed softly. “You must have wanted her very much.”
                Every sentence seemed laden with meaning, and the former death mage wondered if perhaps this was some trick of Death’s. “I didn’t catch your name, I’m sorry.”
                “Kearna Tierney,” she said, offering one fine-boned hand. “I’ve only lived here about three years, myself. I’m planning on opening a restaurant in the next six months.” Her white teeth flashed when she smiled at him, lashes dropping flirtaciously. “It would be a shame for you to miss it.”
                “…Jonas Foster,” he replied, shaking her hand gently. “A restaurant? Do you cook?”
                Kearna laughed, that same sultry sound, and smiled at Jonas chidingly. “I don’t cook. I create. There is a difference.”
                Jonas laughed with her, and found himself feeling oddly light. He smiled at Kearna, rather warmly, and hugged Iris to him. “I would love to be there. Can you send me the date it opens? And where?”
                She nodded, and a moment passed while they exchanged phone numbers. Kearna looked down at Bagheera, noting the panther’s increasingly irritated expression, and chuckled. “I’d best get my miss home before she claws me. I look forward to seeing you.” She winked, taking a few steps away, obviously quite aware that he was watching her. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Foster.”
                “Call me Jonas,” the former death mage said, lifting his carry-on luggage and adjusting Iris, checking to make sure she was still drowsing comfortably.
                Kearna’s laughter slid after him. “Very well, Jonas.”
 
                It was cool enough outside, cold rather, a sharp pre-dawn chill which would warm later to the balmy April day. Jonas paused, setting his bag down to readjust the blankets around Iris. He fretted, tucking them closely around her, and fished in his pocket, finding a fine cotton handkerchief. It was difficult, holding her and draping the cloth lightly over her face to keep out the chill, but he managed, and smiled rather smugly when he felt she had enough room to breathe. Picking up the diaper bag, his own luggage and managing to not jostle the now-sleeping baby was nearly impossible, and Jonas cursed under his breath when the diaper bag slipped for the third time. He shifted Iris gently to one shoulder and reached for it, then jerked when a suit-clad arm lifted it from the ground.
                “I would have thought you had enough sense to ask for assistance,” Betre said, looking perfectly dapper, even at the crack of dawn. He handed the bag to the eager Ax standing impatiently behind him, and took an imperious step forward. “Let’s see her, then.” Jonas eyed the demon darkly for a moment, and then Iris made a soft noise, twisting in his arms. Hastily, the former death mage drew the handkerchief away, and the two demons crowded around him to look at her.
 
                Perfect milk-white skin shone in the pink dawn light, and her white-blonde hair curled in tiny ringlets around her cherubic face. A faint blush of rose tinted her plump cheeks, and when she opened her eyes, the opalescent colour flashed blue-violet and faint green. Rosebud lips opened in a soundless yawn, and the dimples in her cheeks appeared, dents in smooth cream. She looked up at the three men gazing down at her, and put up her tiny hands, laughing in her soft, burbling voice. Jonas felt the tiny, silvery wings he’d seen the moment they’d brought her out to him shift against his arm, and realized that his vision was blurry. Blinking rapidly, he looked up to disguise the welling tears, and saw to his astonishment that Betre’s face was utterly serene. With a quiet assurance, he put his finger in Iris’s grasp, and nodded solemnly when her chubby fingers clutched at him. Ax put out his hand as well, touching her soft cheek with a single fingertip, and made a sound Jonas thought might have been a sob. It was poignant, watching the reactions of the two demons, and Jonas felt his heart shift unnervingly. Iris looked at the men again, and sighed, her eyes closing. Ax, with a touching hesitancy, picked up the discarded pacifier, and carefully held it until the infant had begun sucking placidly. He looked almost lost, and Jonas nudged him with his shoulder gently, giving the demon a smile when Ax looked up. He didn’t return the look, but merely gazed back at Iris with an odd longing in his eyes. Betre cleared his throat, and picked up Jonas’s carry-on bag.
                “I think we’re overdue at home,” he said gruffly, looking at Jonas through cloudy grey eyes. The former death mage and hit for hire, Jonas Foster, smiled a bit as he nodded.
                “Yeah… I think so, too.”
 
                The three men walked side by side towards the simple grey sedan, trailing a wisp of pink cashmere blanket over the tallest’s shoulder. Without a word spoken, they opened the doors and fastened the sleeping baby into the car seat. Betre climbed into the driver’s seat while Jonas and Ax took their spots on either side of the car seat. The demon looked over his shoulder at the three in the back and nodded again, wordlessly. Turning to face the road, he started the car, the quiet strains of Mozart filling the air, and pulled out of the parking lot.
                Jonas turned a puzzled look to Betre, one eyebrow lifting. “Since when do you like Mozart?”
                “It’s good for babies,” Ax said, looking up from Iris, his fingers still gently playing with the curls of her hair. Jonas laughed softly and nodded, then settled next to his daughter as Betre drove them through Brandenburg’s April morning towards home.