Nick's stomach roiled. He'd decided the weekend was the right time to tell Sammy about the baby because he would have time to process everything and come to terms with it before he had to go back to school and deal with everything there. It had been the right decision at the time, and Nick stood by his choice. Knowing it had been the right decision didn't make doing the job any easier.

Nick and Tom waited in the living room at Tom's condo. They could have changed the routine and stayed over at Nick's place, but Nick figured that minimizing disruption would be best. Maybe he should have stayed at home, though. Maybe he should have broken the news himself.

No. They were a family, all three of them. It might be an unconventional family, but they were a family and their family was growing. They would handle this like a family, too.

Sammy emerged from his bedroom to find both of his parents sitting on Tom's leather couch. Nick knew they looked suspicious, but that didn't stop him from smiling brightly. "How was your night, sweetie?"

Sammy side-eyed him. "Okay, Dad. How was yours?” He shuffled into the kitchen to grab a bowl of cereal.

"It was okay. Listen, Sammy, Tom and I have something we'd like to talk to you about.” Nick put his coffee down and folded his hands in his lap. Tom's arm was wrapped around his shoulders, warm and reassuring, but Nick couldn't quite accept it yet.

Sammy shuffled back into the living room. He'd never been a morning person. Had it been a cop-out, to spring this on him before he was firing on all cylinders? Nick couldn't say it hadn't been.

Then again, even firing on five, instead of eight, cylinders was enough to keep Sammy moving. "I kind of figured that out, Dad," the boy explained. "It was the whole thing where you suddenly sat up like you were getting an electrical shock thing that tipped me off."

Tom muffled a snicker with his free hand.

Nick glowered. "Do you want to do this?" he hissed.

"No, no, keep going. I think it's going swimmingly.” Tom beamed at him and relaxed.

Nick rolled his eyes and counted to five. He should have known better. "Anyway, Sammy. I know you've been enjoying hanging around with Mal and helping him out with Danny. And I know you've had fun hanging out at Noah's place and helping out with his new little brother, too."

Sammy sat down and poked at his cereal. "Yeah, I guess. Babies are cool. They giggle and they like to cuddle, and they fall asleep on you and stuff. It's nice."

Tom squeezed Nick's shoulders. "Okay. Well, that's good," Nick said. "Because Tom and I, well, we're going to have a baby. A new baby, a little brother or sister for you. It doesn't mean we love you any less, far from it. It means our family is growing, and you'll have a new little brother or sister to teach and play with and have fun with."

Sammy blinked and looked down at his cereal. He poked at it again.

"Sam? What do you think about that? You can be honest.” Tom cleared his throat. "Even if it's something you think we'd rather not hear."

Sammy blinked again, his face blank. "I'm not really sure what I think, I guess. It's not like what I think matters."

Nick's heart shattered. "What you think matters, Sammy. You're the most important person in my life, and you have been since before you were born. What you think always matters."

Sammy pursed his lips, like he was thinking about something. "Maybe I should have said it differently. It's not like what I think changes anything. You guys have already decided to have a baby."

Tom's sigh sounded relieved. "Sweetheart, it doesn't necessarily work like that. For some people, yeah, it does. For us, we weren't planning on having another kid right now. I was looking forward to getting to know the kid I already have, and I wasn't into the thought of making another one. I'll be honest. But with alphas and omegas, you can take as many precautions as you like to avoid it, and sometimes stuff still happens."

Nick cringed. He wouldn't have worded it quite like that. Sammy was a smart kid and it wouldn't take him long to figure out that he, too, had "still happened."

Sammy frowned. "So you're not happy about the new baby."

Nick licked his lips. "I wouldn't go that far. I wasn't thrilled when I found out. Tom and I haven't been back together for very long, and I was kind of scared when I found out. But I spoke with Tom, and we decided, together, that we're going to be happy about this baby and we're going to love this baby.” He smirked. "Apparently, we make pretty awesome kids, so that's not something we're worried about."

Sammy knit his brows together again. "So you didn't plan for this. You made a mistake, but you're happy about it anyway."

"We're excited to grow our family.” Tom tensed beside Nick. "It's a little complicated. Sometimes life hands you something that's a little tough, at least on the surface. And you want to scream and yell and maybe cry a little because it's so hard, and it's so unfair. It's like when I got sent away from our hometown.”

"But then you find the things you can be happy about. I found my place with the SEALs. Am I mad I didn't get to go to college and become an engineer? Yeah, of course I am. Am I happy I got to meet up with this amazing group of guys and save a lot of lives? Yes. Absolutely.” Tom unhooked his arm from around Nick's shoulders and leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

"It's the same with this baby. Am I mad that I missed out on the past ten years with you and your dad? You betcha. Am I happy that I get to know you now and know about you now? Absolutely, positively, yes. Am I happy that I have the chance to know another baby right from the start? Sure I am. Does that change the fact that I'd rather have waited a little longer, until we'd gotten our family situation stabilized, just the three of us? Nah. But I'm going to enjoy what I've got instead of being upset about what I don't."

Sammy scratched his tousled head. "What if you could find a time machine?"

"I would absolutely get into a time machine and go back in time so I could know my amazing son right from the start.” Tom grinned that heart-melting grin that had probably stopped actual wars. "But until you build one, Sam, I'm just going to have to enjoy you now."

Sammy nodded and contemplated his cereal again. "Okay," he said at long last, and shrugged.

Nick pulled his head back. "Okay?"

"I'm probably going to have a lot to say about it later but, right now, I'm okay. I don't know if I'm upset, or worried, or happy. So I'm okay.” He frowned. "And kind of hungry. Can I eat my cereal now?"

"You bet, kiddo.” Nick had to laugh.

Tom turned to him. "Someday, that kid is going to discover coffee. And his life will get so much better."

Sammy retreated to his room for much of the weekend. He popped out a few times with questions, and these were burning questions too. Some of them were comical. "Will the new baby have your nose?" he asked Tom one day. "Because I don't think that's a very fair thing to do to a baby. I inherited your nose, and that wasn't very fair to me."

Nick snickered and returned to making dinner.

Tom frowned and rubbed his nose. "I happen to like our nose, thank you very much!"

Another more serious question for Sammy was logistical. "So where will the new baby sleep?”

Nick frowned in confusion. "How do you mean?"

"Well, our house has two bedrooms. Tom's house has two bedrooms. Where will the new baby sleep?” He bit his lip. "I know it's selfish, but I don't want to have to only sleep at our house and give up my room here for the new baby. I got to pick out all of the stuff here, and it's not fair to just have to give it to the new one."

Nick hugged his son. "Sweetie, you might have to share your room, but we're a family. You're going to live with me, no matter what. And so will the new baby. The new baby will probably sleep in my room for a few months at least, because I'm going to need to be able to get to it quickly."

"Oh. Well, that makes sense, I guess.” He headed back to his room. "The new baby can't have my Star Wars sheets. They're mine."

"Fair enough.” Nick laughed.

The question of housing did loom in Nick's mind. He didn't want to move again. He didn't think he could afford to move again. The Portsmouth house was exactly what they could afford, and he had to consider the issue of making Sammy change schools yet again. At the same time, the house in Portsmouth was too small to entertain in. It was too small for two adults and one child, at least to fit them comfortably. It was definitely too small for two adults and two children.

Apparently, the subject was on Tom's mind, too, because he approached Nick during one of Sammy's periods of silent contemplation in his room. "So, ah, Star Wars sheets and new siblings aside, I kind of feel like we should have a serious talk about the housing situation.” He tugged at the collar on his tee shirt.

Nick sighed. "Yeah, I suppose we should. I just don't know what there is to say.” He flopped down onto the couch. "I'm a little iffy on selling the house less than a year after we moved in, and I'm not sure where we could move anyway. I don't like the idea of pulling Sammy out of school, either."

Tom nodded. "I've been wondering myself. I mean, I was already thinking about inviting the two of you to move in, but I didn't want to scare you off. It was kind of soon, you know? And I figured you wouldn't want to move from someplace you worked so hard for, into a place that wasn't exactly an upgrade.” He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "But now there's a baby."

"There is.” Nick put a hand on his belly. He was still a good eight weeks away from having any kind of a baby bump, but he knew where it would be at least. The baby changed a lot of things for them.

"We can find a new place, together.” Tom met his eyes. "I've got enough saved, between hazard pay and my base pay, for a down payment. We could both rent out our places without a problem, which would give us some side income if things got tight.” He took Nick's hands. "I know it's soon, and maybe not the way either one of us wanted to go about it, but it's an option. Something we can do."

Nick took a deep breath. It was definitely something they could do. "Can we hold off on moving until Sammy's done with school? I at least want him to finish the semester.” He grimaced. One more move, one more change of schools, and a little bit of a thicker file for poor Sammy. "I'd rather he finished the year, but it's not like I can do the move myself if I'm giving birth in June."

"Oh, God no. And I want to promise I'll be here to help, but God only knows where I'll be in June.” Tom's face tightened. Nick knew the uncertainty was hard on him. "How about this. Why don't the two of you move into my condo at the end of the semester? He likes it here anyway. And then we'll try to stay in the area with the next move. We'll try to find a townhouse, too, so someone else has to worry about the lawn and maintenance and stuff like that. You don't need to be dealing with that stuff while I'm away, and with a new baby to boot."

Nick wiped his hands on his pants. "This all seems so overwhelming. But it might be what's best for all of us.” He chuckled. "I wish I'd known, when I'd taken this job, what it was going to lead to."

"I'm glad you took it.” Tom brushed a stray lock of hair out of Nick's face. "It's not like I was sitting there pining, thinking, Oh, I wish I'd gotten to start a family with Nick like we'd always planned. I figured it would be nice, but this isn't something that ever occurred to me in my wildest dreams.” He leaned in for a kiss. "I'm glad it's happened."

Nick rested his head on Tom's shoulder. "I'm glad too. And I think—I hope—Sammy will be, once he gets used to it."

"He's coming around.” Tom chuckled. "We both love you and want you to be happy, so there's that."

And indeed, at dinner on Sunday Sammy announced that he was "ready to love the new baby.”

"I think me and Sammy Junior are going to get along just fine," he told them over spaghetti. "I'm going to teach him how to use the computer, and how to swim, and how to read."

Nick and Tom exchanged glances. Nick couldn't contain a snort of laughter, but he hid it with his hand. "Sammy Junior, huh?"

"Of course. What else would you name him?” Sammy grinned, and Nick knew his son had been teasing.

They spent the rest of the meal discussing potential names for the new baby. They didn't come up with any definite winners, but they all had their favorites, and they had fun tossing ideas out into the world. As it turned out, Sammy liked the idea of transferring schools, too. "Noah goes to school in Virginia Beach," he announced with pride. "And besides, I don't like Portsmouth. The teachers are boring and they keep giving me weird looks."

"How do you mean 'weird looks?'“ Nick frowned and leaned forward. "Do they make you feel unsafe?"

"No. Well, kind of. It's like they’re just sitting there and watching me. It's creepy. I don't like it.” Sammy shivered. "I can't wait to change schools again. Virginia Beach schools will be a lot nicer, and we'll be close to Noah."

Nick smiled and shifted the conversation to the subject of Noah, but he couldn't shake the uncomfortable subject of the teachers from his mind. Why would the teachers be keeping an eye on Sammy?

***

Tom had invited Nick and Sammy to come and live with him, and he meant it. And he truly intended for the three of them to move out of his small condo and into a larger townhouse just as soon as the opportunity presented itself. The only problem with that was that Tom had to get his condo into rental condition, and soon.

He asked Buelen, who had done a lot of carpentry work with his dad before joining the Navy, to come by and take a look at the place. Buelen took a look around and then shrugged. "The cabinets are dated," he said, "but they're in decent shape otherwise. I'd get a plumber in to take a look at that dishwasher, because I'm pretty sure it's leaking, but so far it hasn't caused dry rot. Other than that, you're doing good."

Tom blew out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Well, that's good news at least. Thanks for checking the place out, man. I appreciate it."

"What's this all about, anyway?” Buelen stuck his hands in his pockets. "What's going on? Are you selling?"

"Nick's pregnant again.” Tom chewed on his lip and watched his comrade carefully.

"Dude's like a powder keg, isn't he?” Buelen let out a whistle. "Are you okay with that?"

Tom considered for a second. "You know what? I am. I was kind of iffy, because it was so soon, but, I mean, I never got to see Sammy grow up, you know? At least, this time, I'll get to be around for the cute and cuddly part."

Buelen nodded. "So you guys are all moving in together."

"We'd like to. We're going to rent out our own places, so we've got a side stream of income. It's going to be nice, you know? I didn't think I'd see the day when I'd look forward to coming home to someone at the end of the day, but here we are."

Buelen chortled. "I guess it can happen to anyone. Well, good luck, man. Hopefully it will go better for you both this time around.” He patted Tom on the shoulder and took off.

Tom wasn't satisfied with the state of the condo even with Buelen's assurances. He made preparations to hit the walls with a fresh coat of paint before Thanksgiving, just to make sure everything was in order.

None of that impinged on the family's usual living situation. Tom did his painting on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays. The condo kind of stank of paint, but they could all tolerate it for the time being. In the meantime, they were all together and that was the important thing.

It was on a Wednesday night, while Tom was at the Portsmouth house watching another documentary with Nick, that the whole country was rocked to its core. The broadcast was interrupted by an alert from one of the local news channels, interrupting the cable feed with a loud, shrieking sound. "We apologize for the interruption, but Sunshine Stadium in Orlando was just the scene of a horrific explosion. The Orlando Oranges were at home tonight, before a crowd of eighteen thousand fans, when multiple explosions tore through the stadium. The explosions were caught on tape and broadcast to viewers watching at home until the last camera feed cut out. We now bring you to our commentators, Butch and Mickey, who were outside the stadium in the van waiting for their segment to start. Butch, are you there?"

The camera cut to a pale-faced white man whose suit was streaked in blood. Tom recognized him. Butch Bayer was a popular basketball commentator who'd once played in Boston. He looked like he'd just stepped through a minefield. "Cindy, it's a horror show out here. First responders are trying to control the, the, the crowd but everyone is in a panic. They should be.”

Tom hit mute. He couldn't help himself. All of that screaming was setting his teeth on edge.

"Are you okay?” Nick's voice was small as he turned to Tom.

Tom took a deep breath and tried to steady himself. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm as okay as anyone could be, I guess. That's a lot of carnage for such...” He trailed off as the camera cut to a still, most likely dead body lying on the pavement. "Aren't there laws about that? Like not showing dead people on camera and stuff?"

Nick sighed and turned the television off. "Someone would have to enforce them. That's...I don't even have words for that."

"Me either.” Tom stood up and paced around the room. "I've seen a lot of bodies, you know? I've seen a lot of people doing some awful things to a lot of other people. But this kind of takes the cake.” He turned away. "You know what this was, of course."

Nick closed his eyes and pulled the throw blanket over himself. "I don't suppose you're planning to tell me it's a terrible accident caused by a huge gas main running underneath the stadium and a careless peanut vendor."

Tom stopped his pacing for just a minute. "Um. Would that make it easier to deal with?"

Nick curled into a little ball under the blanket, so only his head stuck out. "Probably not. I had to try, though."

"Yeah, I guess you did.” Tom shook his head. "Those mains aren't designed so just anyone can just go in and mess around with them. Even if a sloppy roast peanut vendor triggered the explosion, someone would have had to go in and individually sabotage any individual mains. That assumes they put a place like that over anything that could blow up. It's not too likely, is it?"

"Not really.” Nick wiped a few tears away. "How bad do you think the death toll will be from something like that?"

"Thousands.” Tom didn't even have to think about it. "Come on. Let's just go to bed."

"Don't you want to stay up and watch the news come in?” Nick angled the little fetal ball he'd made of himself so he could see Tom better.

Tom hated to break any of Nick's illusions, but he wasn't up to being soft or gentle about this yet. "Not really.” He held out his hand. "Most of the news that comes out of something like this is going to be hopeful at first. They'll be talking about pulling people to safety, and people pulling together. That'll be great. And then they'll realize that there aren't many of those stories to go around. Most of the news stories, most of the estimates of the dead and the injured, will turn out to be wrong. For every heartwarming little story about bravery and miracles, the death toll will go up by a hundred.”

Nick sobbed. "It can't be that bad. I can't believe that.” He buried his face in his hands.

"Honey, I love you, and it can be that bad and worse.” Tom had been the guy to cut the mains. He hadn't done it to a civilian facility, and it had been with a damn important objective in mind, but that didn't mean it felt good. It felt less good now. "I'm sorry. Let's just go to bed and wait until they have more information, okay?"

Nick stared into space for a long moment, but then he got up. "Yeah. Let's do that."

They retired to bed. They lay in the dark and pretended to be asleep. Tom knew he wasn't asleep, and if the stiff way Nick was lying beside him was any indication, Nick wasn't sleeping either. Tom couldn't blame him. They were both horrified at what they'd seen and what they knew. The scale of the tragedy was beyond Nick's comprehension. It might have been beyond Tom's, and he hadn't thought that was possible.

Security on base was extra tight the next day, but Tom expected that. He expected the drawn faces and haggard looks he saw from everyone, too. He picked up on the way the darker-skinned sailors got the side-eye from the lighter ones, especially those with Arabic names, and he just shook his head.

Did they just not remember that the last massive bombing had been pulled off by white supremacists, or was that just not a concern anymore?

He hurried over to the area where his platoon met to work out and got settled in. Chief called them to order pretty quickly. "Men. Is there anyone here who doesn't know about the bombing in Orlando last night?"

Everyone exchanged glances. No-one was going to admit to anything. Finally Tom raised his hand with a roll of his eye. "I know there was an explosion. I suspected a bomb, Chief, but it hadn't been confirmed where I could see it.” He gave a smirk. "Until now."

Chief rolled his eyes at Tom. "Good catch, Fitzgerald. There's a fine career ahead of you in public relations. While no confirmation has gone out to the general public about this having been a bomb, the method seems to be similar to one we used in Congo two years ago. The FBI still can't get into the site to be a hundred percent sure, but so far it looks like someone damaged the gas mains under the stadium some time ago. When they settled on a target, they set up their bombs, hit the timer and got out of Dodge."

Floyd frowned. "Why wait until the fourth quarter, though?"

Baudin turned to Floyd. "You were watching the game?"

"That's my team, man. At least they were, until some fuckup redneck decided to blow them up.” Floyd's mouth twisted for a moment. "They found the center's remains this morning, just as I was pulling into the parking lot."

"Aw, geez.” Van Heel bowed his head. "He was a good one. Hated it when the Mavs played them, you know? He just dominated."

"He did.” Floyd nodded. "But there's nothing we can do for him now.” He rolled his shoulders. "So. What do we do about this?"

"So far our orders have not changed.” Chief's face had gone wooden. "We're training. We're going to continue to train. Our regimen includes increased attention to demolitions, no additional language training, and preparation for desert conditions."

"Sandbox play.” Kelly scowled. "Not that I don't love to go out and hunt our actual enemies and everything, but I can't be the only one who thinks it's odd that our response to this is to go over someplace where people who almost certainly didn't do it are and go after them."

Chief raised a snowy eyebrow at him. "You got information we don't, Kelly? You want to share it with the rest of the class?"

The rest of the SEALs snickered, but Tinker wrinkled his nose. "Chief, it's not exactly a state secret that, the last time this happened, it was domestic terrorists. Not ISIS."

"That doesn't mean ISIS goes away.” Chief cracked his knuckles. "That doesn't mean we can let our guard down, not even a little bit. We go where the job takes us, boys. We don't just decide on our own orders. That would be dangerous. I'm sure we will deploy at some point. I'm cautiously optimistic that we won't deploy before the new year, but I can't be sure. Until then, keep at your training. Hug your families tight."

"Aye aye, Chief.” They responded with one voice as they prepared to leave.

The Feds shut down every public building in the country, pending inspections of the gas mains. Priority went to hospitals and prisons, which couldn't be shut down and had to be inspected first. Local gas companies and building inspectors went through every building in search of any indication that someone had tampered with gas lines. Once the hospitals and prisons were done, they moved on to other public facilities.

It was a huge undertaking, but pushback turned out to be minimal. Two professional basketball teams had been wiped out in a minute, along with eight thousand of their fans. Nine thousand other fans had been injured. Survivors had been transported as far away as Savannah to find trauma care.

Tom wanted to go out, right now, and find the bastards that had done this to his country. He wanted to make sure they never got the chance to try it on anyone again. He knew that wasn't reasonable. They weren't cops. They weren't investigators. Their job wasn't to dig around looking for justice. They might be out there following up on something actual investigators had found, but the whos and the wheres were all determined by someone else.

The SEALs were warriors—weapons, really. Weapons that aimed themselves were weapons that should probably be taken offline.

The team headed out to Arizona to train in the desert for a little while, and then they came home again. By this point the Portsmouth inspectors, facing a threatened riot from parents, had inspected the schools and kids had gone back. "How did you cope with him underfoot all of the time?" Tom whispered to Nick. "Don't get me wrong, he's the best kid ever, but that's got to wear on you after a while."

Nick just grinned. His grin was still tired, and there was a tinge of sadness to it too. A lot of people had that look to them these days, with the carnage so fresh in people's minds. The Douglass University bombing hadn't aroused nearly as much grief. "The hospital actually made care available. It wasn't top of the line or anything. There wasn't enrichment. It was just a supervised room where kids whose parents worked at the hospital could hang out. Sammy kept an eye on Danny, which was awesome, and then they came home. I couldn't have asked for better."

"Well, that's good. How are you doing?" Tom put a hand on Nick's belly. He probably wouldn't start showing until January, but it was still exciting to know the baby was under that sweater and those abs somewhere.

"I'm okay.” Nick blushed. "I'm still kind of shaken up, you know? Everywhere you look it's somewhere. You can't get away from it. And I feel bad because I shouldn't want to look away from it. Every one of those eight thousand twenty-eight people was a human being. They went out for a fun night watching basketball, and what they got was hell.” He sniffed.

"But then," he continued, "it's like, I can't decide if I'm more in danger of letting it get to be old hat, and getting inured to it, or if I'm just going to get obsessive about it. I don't know. All I know is that I went to open up a can of beans the other day and all I could think of was that picture they showed of center court in the stadium."

"I'm going to have to recommend you take a step back from looking at those pictures.” Tom took Nick's hand. "It's like scratching at a scab. Trust me. This is something I know a little bit about.”

Nick kissed Tom's knuckle. "I know. I'll take your word for it. It's hard to avoid all news media, but I'm going to have to do my best. I don't want to get too used to that kind of carnage."

Tom grimaced. "Hopefully, you won't have to."