Addison had never been this nervous before. Not when giving the valedictorian speech at her high school graduation. Not when handing in her thesis after she completed her post-graduate program. Not even when awaiting the response to her grant proposal when she first pioneered the Matchmaker program at Waystation Helios. None of those moments compared to the agonizing, stomach-turning agony of standing aside and allowing someone else to fit her child with an implant.

It wasn't even that she expected any trouble. They had long since solved the issue of tampering, and the sect of radicals that once threatened the very existence of all human and Karuvar kits was no longer functional.

No, this worry was purely illogical. As much as she knew it was a routine procedure--with as many kits as she'd fitted for implants over the years--she still couldn't stand the thought of the less than one percent chance that the doctor handling the procedure would be completely incompetent simply because they weren't her or Kor'ven.

Naturally, her mate was like a gentle summer breeze: calm and warm and willing to adjust to whatever life offered. This was not his normal state, of course. Part of her was convinced he had adopted this state just to vex her, just as he had done when he'd been so damnably calm while Addison struggled through over fourteen hours of labor.

That, too, was illogical. And irrational. Kor'ven was acting calm, but she knew a tempest of emotion raged beneath. She knew the very second the doctor made some kind of misstep, he would transform from a summer breeze to a winter storm.

For now, though, he was standing beside her, one arm about her waist. She wanted to be annoyed with him--mostly because it was so enjoyable to work off that aggravation later--but she was grateful for his presence, and she found herself leaning against him, in part to keep from crossing the room to fuss with the equipment.

Aveline, like her father, was also perfectly calm. She regarded the room with wide, inquisitive eyes. Violet, just like Kor'ven's. When they had first brought her to the exam room, she took in the sight of the scanning equipment and the table of surgical supplies. Then she'd regarded the people who'd been kind enough to witness this moment: Meg, who was very, very pregnant with her second kit. Ash, of course. Even Drann had stopped by to support her and Kor'ven.

Finally she'd taken in the medical staff who were going to do the procedure. Addison had taken them in, too, and that was largely where her gaze had rested ever since. Now she watched as a surgeon prepared to cut open her precious, perfect baby girl.

"I'm just going to make a very small incision," he said, though to whom, Addison did not know. "It won't hurt a bit."

And indeed, Aveline didn't even flinch as the laser sliced a small cut into her arm. Addison drew in a shaky breath and nestled closer to Kor'ven as blood beaded at the site. It was ridiculous, really. She'd seen plenty of blood in her lifetime, and she wasn't squeamish in the slightest. But when it came to her daughter, she had a difficult time handling even the mere suggestion of pain or injury.

So much for thinking she would never want a family of her own. She loved her career, and she and Kor'ven had both made great progress, but their daughter was their world, and if anything ever happened to her… hell hath no fury like two scientists scorned.

"Now we will insert the implant, sew up the incision, and activate everything," the doctor continued.

Addison humored him, assuming he was speaking for Aveline's benefit. Even though she was barely thirteen months old.

She held her breath as the implant was passed to the bio-engineer--the woman currently occupying her usual role. It was inserted quickly, but carefully, and Addison had to admit the woman did a very good job.

Once everything was sewn up, the only thing left to do was to activate the implant. That, she suspected, was going to be the most nerve-wracking part for Kor'ven.

For years he'd been working on finding a balance that would allow both Karuvar and humans to thrive without creating unnecessary adaptations. He'd finally found something that seemed to work, and as Addison believed in him and trusted him implicitly, she had agreed that the code should be uploaded into the batch of implants that included their kit's.

She was not the first, no. But for Addison and Kor'ven, she was the most important.

Heavy keys clanked, and Addison watched as the assistant activated the implant. She turned back to her daughter just in time to see the first tendrils of her tattoo as they radiated outward from her new, working implant.

A relieved smile spread across her face, and she slid an arm about Kor'ven.

"Congratulations," the doctor said. "The implant has officially taken."

Everyone in the room responded in kind. Meg and Ash hugged them both, Drann shook their hands, and Addison even managed to thank the medical staff before they left to move on to one of the many other implant procedures being performed that day.

As the others started to follow suit, Addison went to pick up her daughter. Having her in her arms, healthy and whole, seemed to soothe the part of her mind that had experienced some manner of temporary insanity, and she smiled brightly up at Kor'ven as he approached.

"You did it," she whispered.

"We did it," he corrected, pressing a kiss into her hair.

And for once, she didn't mind him contradicting her. He was right. They had worked hard to get to this point. Over the years, Addison could remember so many late nights, so many arguments, so many failures before they'd found success.

But this was who they were. Failure was not a loss, but a chance to re-evaluate, re-iterate, and try again.

And the love they'd built, along with the child who came from it: this happy, healthy kit who would grow up in a new world?

This was their best success by far.