The real work began after the war was won.
Julian was hospitalized, his leg set and pinned,under the heavy influence of painkillers. The doctors said he would walk again, but he would always have a limp—a permanent reminder of the night he lost their sister and fought to get her back.
The mansion was quiet, holding its breath. Juliet, after being fed and bathed by a tearfully diligent Maria, had finally fallen asleep in her crib, exhausted by terror and relief.
Elijah didn't sleep. He sat in a chair in the corner of her nursery, a sentinel in the dark, his ears straining for any sound that wasn't the soft, puff-cake rhythm of her breathing.
Then, at midnight, it came. Not a cry, but a whimper. A shaky, frightened sound from a baby whose dreams were no longer just of bananas and bunnies.
He was at her side in an instant. Her eyes were wide open, glistening with unshed tears. She wasn't fully awake, just trapped in the aftershock.
Without a word, Elijah scooped her up. He didn't try to put her back in the crib. He carried her to his own large, austere bed, lay down, and settled her against his chest.
Her tiny fist clutched the fabric of his t-shirt. She let out a shuddering sigh, her body going limp against him, and fell into a deep, secure sleep.
***
Elijah woke to the pale morning light filtering through his windows. The first thing he felt was a profound sense of peace, followed by the distinct, twenty-pound weight of a baby sprawled directly on his chest.
Juliet was still asleep, her head turned, one chubby cheek squished against his sternum, her mouth slightly open. Drool had pooled on his shirt. He had never felt more content.
The door creaked open and a small head of messy hair peeked in. Enzo.
"Elijah?" he whispered, his eyes wide. "Where were you guys? Leo said you were on a business trip but it sounded scary."
Elijah, without moving a muscle, brought a single finger to his lips. His eyes, soft from sleep, darted down to the sleeping baby on his chest. Quiet.
Enzo understood, his face breaking into a grin. He mimed zipping his lips.
The small movement, however, was enough. Juliet stirred. Her long, dark eyelashes fluttered, and she opened her eyes.
She was disoriented for a second, blinking up at the unfamiliar ceiling. Then she tilted her head back and saw him. Her giant. Her protector.
A slow, sleepy smile spread across her face, pure and unguarded. "Ijah," she cooed, her voice thick with sleep.
Elijah's heart, a muscle he usually kept clenched like a fist, melted completely. He smiled back, a rare, genuine sight. "Good morning, mi sol."
He carefully sat up, cradling her. "Enzo," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Tell Maria the boss is awake and needs breakfast ready."
***
The dining room was a portrait of their new normal.
Riven was at the table, demolishing a mountain of food—a pile of bacon, toast, baked beans, and six scrambled eggs, washed down with a thick protein shake. Fuel for the machine.
Leo was beside him, sipping black coffee, his eyes scanning a tablet. He was already back to work, securing their digital empire.
Enzo was parked in front of the television, a bowl of cereal in his lap, watching Spider-Man swing between New York skyscrapers.
Timothy stumbled in, grabbed a family-sized bag of chips and a bowl of popcorn, mumbled "Gaming all day, don't bother me," and vanished back upstairs.
It was chaotic. It was messy. It was alive.
Elijah sat at the head of the table, Juliet in a highchair beside him. Maria served her a small bowl of cut-up fruit, which she happily squished in her hands.
***
Later that afternoon, after her nap, lunch was served. Spaghetti.
It was a massacre.
Juliet, fascinated by the slippery strands, immediately grabbed a handful.
She tried to put it in her mouth, but most of it ended up smeared across her cheeks, in her hair, and on the tray of her highchair. She beamed, a tiny, sauce-covered tyrant, utterly pleased with her artwork.
Riven snorted into his water. Leo glanced up from his tablet, a rare, genuine smile touching his lips. "The data suggests she enjoys the tactile sensation more than the taste."
"Ya think?" Riven laughed.
Later, she sat wedged between Enzo and a weary-but-amused Riven on the big couch, watching Avatar: The Last Airbender.
"See, that's Aang," Enzo explained seriously to Riven, who had settled on the floor to lean against the couch, with Juliet tucked securely between his legs. "He's the Avatar, so he can control all four elements. But he's just a kid, like me."
Riven, who was pretending to be bored but was secretly invested as the cartoon boy rode a flying bison. "So the fire guys are the bad ones?" he asked, pointing.
"Most of them," Enzo said wisely. "But not all."
Juliet, mesmerized by the colorful animation, babbled along with the dialogue, pointing a sticky finger at the screen.
***
The final mission of the day was the evening bath. Enzo, now officially her favorite bath-time companion, helped Maria.
The bathroom was a tropical paradise of bubbles and rubber ducks. But as soon she was clean, the real escape artist emerged.
The moment the diaper came off, she was a blur of pink, giggling flesh. She scrambled out of the tub, evaded Maria's towel, and made a naked, dripping dash for freedom, her little feet slapping against the marble floor.
"Juliet!" Maria cried, chasing after her.
She ran straight into the hallway, where Elijah was discussing security with Viktor. She collided with Elijah's leg, wrapping her wet arms around it and looking up at him with a mischievous, toothy grin.
Viktor coughed, trying and failing to hide his smile.
Elijah looked down at the tiny, naked, bubble-covered Little Houdini clinging to his leg.
He sighed, the sound heavy with a feigned exasperation that fooled no one. He scooped her up, ignoring the water soaking into his clothes.
"This," he said to Viktor, his voice dry as dust, "is the most formidable enemy I have ever faced."
But as he carried a giggling Juliet back to a frantic Maria, the ghost of a smile played on his lips. The empire was secure. The threats were gone. For now.
The real war was here. And it was messy, chaotic, and perfect.
END OF SEASON 1.