Papa is mad.
Philia can tell.
Normally, when he picks her up from daycare, he'll turn on their favorite playlist and they'll sing and dance, and then after that he'll ask her about what she did today. She did something big today, too, that she really wants to tell him about.
Instead, his face has no look at all. When she asked him why he wasn't playing their music, he said that he wasn't "okay, today". So, she stays quiet. Papa and Daddy taught her that sometimes people are not feeling okay, and they don't want to play, and that's not a bad thing.
Still, he gives her a kiss on her forehead when he lets her out of her car seat, so everything can't be bad! Philia runs upstairs to her room, and on the way she passes her Daddy's office. Daddy makes Papa happy, and he's a grownup- he can fix it!
Uh-oh.
Daddy's mad, too.
It's easier to tell when Daddy's mad, because his brows get scrunchy, his cheeks get puffy, his eyes get red and very... angry. Her heart pounds a little faster, until he realizes it's her and calms down. He only apologizes and says that he's not in the mood to play right now, but he'll go make her a snack and call her when it's time.
Okay.
Philia closes the door to her room and throws her bookbag on the floor, turning to play with her toys. The sun is low in the sky by the time she throws her doll into the wall and folds her arms in a huff, cheeks puffed.
This stinks.
Now she's mad.
And she's hungry, because Daddy is late with her snack.
She doesn't have time for them to be angry, she has good news!
Wait! That's it!
Philia ruffles through her bag until she finds her paper. She wrote her whole name ten times today, without the helper lines! She even finished an advanced addition sheet- ten problems, by herself! There's even a giant golden star sticker on both pages! This usually makes Daddy and Papa happy!
As Philia makes her way into the kitchen, she sees Daddy chopping something on the island. It smells like bananas and peanut butter. Her snack! Her tummy rumbles once more, but no- she has a mission!
Before she can walk in and say something, Papa enters the other side of the kitchen. He doesn't look at Daddy, and Daddy doesn't look at him. Daddy keeps chopping, and Papa goes to the fridge. Once he has his water, Papa looks like he's about to leave, but then he stops and looks at the bananas.
"She doesn't need that many, or she won't eat her dinner. It's late."
Daddy scoffs. "Another mistake, right? Question- did you make something for her any earlier? No? Okay. Don't tell me how to take care of my daughter."
Philia cringes, and Papa's eyes narrow as he folds his arms.
"Your daughter? Hm. Intriguing update. So, is she someone else's seed, then?"
In a flash, the plate of bananas has been tossed off the island in a fit of fury, shattering onto the floor, and Philia chokes on a cry. There are tears rushing down Daddy's face as he shouts and cries at Papa. Papa stands stiffly with a scowl on his face, the bottle of water looking like it's going to burst, as he cuts back.
Philia doesn't want to be here anymore.
They don't want to see her worksheets. They don't even want to feed her- that was her snack that Daddy just threw onto the floor!
Choking on her own tears, Philia runs back up the stairs and to her room. She packs her worksheets back into her bag, and grabs one of the baggies of Oreos that she didn't eat for lunch and puts it in there as well (she was saving them for an extra snack at school, but now...)
Philia makes her way back down the stairs, determined to make it to Grandmother's house because it's closer than Nana's. Nana has a House Phone, and Philia wishes that they had one because otherwise she'll have to ask her fathers for their phones and they're too busy being angry at each other to ask. Stupid fathers.
Once outside, she remembers something and rushes back around to the pool. The pool has a pretty blue light inside it, and sometimes Daddy and Papa will go swimming at night- she even gets to join if she wears her floatees! Yesterday when they went swimming, Papa and Daddy were full of hugs and kisses and laughter... she wishes they were like that today. That means they love each other.
Inside the pool, there's a really pretty new ball that Papa got her- in the right light, when she spins it, it shows all the colors on the rainbow on the ground! It's so pretty! She doesn't have on her swimsuit, so she grabs the heavy pool net and starts trying to pull it towards her. Just as it's within reach, she steps forward to grab it, and-
It's cold.
She can't breathe.
The water is in her nose, it's in her mouth too.
It burns, her chest hurts!
Her bookbag is so heavy, she can't move her arms.
There's so much light and yet she can hardly see.
She's so scared.
Daddy taught her how to swim. She's been swimming near as long as she's been walking. So why is this so hard? Why can't she move her legs, her arms, something, anything?!
She tries her best to calm down, to do what Daddy taught her as she flailed around, holding onto his arm with a death grip.
"Fear won't save you, sweetheart. You have to relax your body in order to float. See! You've got it! That's my girl! Philtatos- come, look! Watch her."
Looking back on it, it was all so fucking trivial.
Patroclus is furious, glaring at Achilles as they both pause in their wrath to breathe heavily. It had been a bad day overall, a small issue triggered into something much larger than it ever should have been. And now, the guilt from seeing the shattered look on Achilles' face as they both shouted things they didn't mean, he's had enough. He just wants to stop.
"She looks just like you," petulantly sniffles Achilles. "I'm sorry that I said what I did... it was wrong, it was all wrong, but don't ever think..."
Patroclus sighs- his husband and his inability to not have the last word. Besides, it's the most obvious thing in the world, that Philia is his, and that so is Achilles. They own his entire heart and soul.
"I know that Achilles. Of course, I do. I was- I was speaking out of pocket to piss you off. I would never think any differently. I just- I'm frustrated. We've both been frustrated today, and it blew up. I shouldn't have picked at you that way, it was very insulting. I'm sorry. We should... we should sit down and actually talk about today. Please. Let’s… let’s work it out."
Achilles sniffs, agreeing. "Okay. Yeah. We should."
They stand in silence for a couple more moments, awkwardly looking around, until Achilles sighs at the broken plate. He grabs the trash can and a broom.
"We're going to have to make Philia feel better. I know she heard all of this. And I didn't finish her snack on time. I feel terrible."
Exhausted, Patroclus runs a hand through his locs. Achilles' earlier accusation hadn't been wrong; he was used to Achilles preparing her after daycare snack while he made dinner later, so he hadn't bothered to check in. They haven't been on their best parenting today, and he knows Philia is sensitive. He's just about to pull away from the fridge when something moves out the side of his eye.
Patroclus turns, peering out of the glass towards the pool. It was unusually active at the surface, not splashing energetically, but it wasn't unusual for a squirrel to fall in and cause ripples. If he can, he likes to save them, so they don't have dead animals in the water. He steps closer.
"What is it?"
"Shh." Patroclus expects an animal to jump out at the edge. Instead, he watches what looks like a boogie board float to the surface, followed by one of Philia's baby dolls. His brow furrows. It's large. A baby doll wouldn't cause that much-
The glass door shatters with the force of impact as he hurtles it open and sprints out to the pool.
Patroclus hasn't run this fast in years.
Physical therapists, including his husband, have told him he shouldn't move like this anymore, at risk of triggering acute pain and potential damage to himself.
Instead, the only pain he can feel is overwhelming panic and blinding terror as he leaps into the frigid water, grabbing his unconscious child and hurtling back to the edge. A half second behind him, a horrific scream spills from Achilles when he sees Philia, limp, her lips ashen from lack of oxygen.
"How- how did she-" His face pales when Patroclus places an ear to her mouth, his voice rising in volume. "No... don’t tell me, she's not, not my baby-"
Patroclus is no less terrified, but he has to- he has to think, he has to be quick to save her life-
"Achilles, calm down! Go get a towel and the car keys," he commands. With a tearful nod, Achilles is gone in a flash. Patroclus presses his fingers to Phi's sternum, starting breaths for CPR. He's got to calm down, too; if he presses too hard, he could crack bone, but he's so scared-
"Come on, baby girl, I need you to spit it up, I need you to breathe for me-"
Once, twice, four times...
She's not moving, she's not breathing, what have they done-
Patroclus near succumbs to his own panic when Philia finally vomits up the water, followed by sharp, painful coughs as her body twists in his arms. So relieved that he sobs, Patroclus turns her over, patting her back to help expel the water. Achilles, back with a large beach towel, leans down to wrap her up to stop her shivering.
"Thank you, god,” Achilles fervently prays. “Thank you..."
Achilles is only wearing flip-flops; somewhere in the back of his mind, Patroclus notes the blood on his feet.
They race her to the car, Patroclus holding her tight to his chest like a prayer as he jumps in the back. "Don't kill us," is all he says to Achilles, who accelerates to 90 in a 60 the moment they hit the nearby freeway, weaving through remaining traffic like a madman.
There have been many times Patroclus has been both enamored and embarrassed of his husband's dramatics, but right now he feels blessed as Achilles storms into the emergency room and loudly commands to all who need be concerned that their daughter is dying and needs immediate attention.
Patroclus' own chest is tight with fear, tongue locked, and he growls defensively when the doctors reach to take Philia away. It's hard to let her go, even though they know the doctors they demanded to help have arrived. It feels like they're ripping his heart out as they finally soothe both fathers enough to pull her away to a stretcher.
It isn't until they're sat still in the hospital room- catatonic, silent except for a tiny Philia's breathing machine and the slow beep of a heart monitor that comes nowhere near the tempo of the painful, high-speed drums that is their own heartbeats- that the reality of the night sets in for both of them.
It takes Achilles a couple minutes to realize that the burn in his chest and the loud, heaving noise he keeps hearing is his own hyperventilation. His husband gently leans him backward, rubbing his back while he works through it. Patroclus’ voice is muffled as he speaks to… someone? Somewhere in front of him, there’s movement- Achilles immediately tilts his head down to attention, glaring maniacally at whoever dares to approach his child. The doctors, again. A wave of shame overcomes him, and he allows himself to be gently pressed back once more. It takes a moment, finally recognizing the thumb on his cheek, before he realizes Patroclus has been trying to get his attention.
“She’s going to bandage your feet, okay? You cut yourself on the glass earlier.”
Something is wrong. What is it? Why does Patroclus sound like that? Still thinking, Achilles slowly turns down to watch as the doctor kneels with the antiseptics and bandages, as well as a tetanus vaccine.
Why does his husband sound so… stoic? Patroclus rises, and Achilles swiftly grabs his forearm in a panic.
“I’m just going to go change.” He shows Achilles the scrubs and the towels. “My clothes are still wet. I promise I’ll be right back.”
Again- flat. Gentle, quiet, but emotionless. Alcohol stings the small lacerations in Achilles’ feet, and his momentary flinch is enough for Patroclus to slip away from him. He won’t look Achilles’ way.
Turn around. Please.
Achilles raises a hand to stop him, when- there- just before he slips around the corner, Patroclus visibly limps.
The doctor finishes bandaging and offers Achilles an ibuprofen and a small cup of water. She says some other things, none of which have to do with his daughter, and so he nods along like he cares before she sighs and leaves. Once she’s gone, Achilles pulls his chair closer to Philia’s bedside, fruitlessly tucking her in some more. Her color is already better, lips no longer ashen and her skin returning to its healthy bronze.
“Philia,” he starts, voice wavering. “Daddy and Papa are sorry. We should have been paying more attention, we shouldn’t have fought like that while you were there, I shouldn’t have thrown the plate, I just-” Achilles bites his lip, stopping his voice from rising so that he doesn’t frighten her anymore. Instead, he changes direction- at least one of them ought to have sweet dreams.
“When you wake up, I promise you’ll have whatever you want to make up for this. Desserts for dinner? Of course. You can have ice cream with caramel and all the sprinkles you want. The wizard robes you wanted, with the rainbow checkers, long white beard, and magic wand? It’s yours. Just…” Please forgive us. God, forgive us, if Patroclus hadn’t noticed-
Patroclus.
Concerned, Achilles gives Philia’s hand a long, comforting squeeze, then rises to find his husband. The first step he takes sears, his adrenaline now run out, and he growls with every step as he makes his way to the bathroom. It’s a well-deserved pain, he thinks. Perhaps it’s habit, perhaps he was too worried to be considerate, but rather than knocking, Achilles simply opens the bathroom door.
Patroclus, now changed into green scrubs, huddles against the wall, body shuddering with pain as he death grips his calf.
“Fuck,” whispers Achilles, swiftly limping over and falling to the ground. “Why…why didn’t you tell the doctor?” he whimpers, incredulous. Patroclus, face hidden in his knees, only shakes his head. Tears burn Achilles’ eyes once more, but he knows that he needs to speak up. He slowly reaches for Patroclus’ calf, gently laying his fingers on it- may I- before stretching it out. Patroclus hisses, but he allows Achilles to deeply massage it.
“I am so sorry that you felt the need to hide your pain from me,” Achilles quietly sobs. “I am ashamed, because you still took care of us, and then… You don’t have to be strong for all of us, you know that; you’ve told me that. You can cry if it hurts. You can still trust me.”
Patroclus huffs a laugh, finally revealing the tears running down his cheeks.
“I know. And the pain, it’s excruciating, and yet it’s preferrable to the thought of losing our child.” He painfully laughs a couple more times before they become sobs, his head falling in shame once again. “If I hadn’t seen her, we would have been discussing something stupid and our daughter would have… in such a…a…”
Achilles pulls Patroclus close in a warm embrace, allowing them both to finally cry it out together. Fear, pain, heartbreak, relief, hope; all of it finally spills onto the other’s clothes and onto the cold floor until there’s nothing left. When they quiet down, Achilles places his hands on the sides of Patroclus’ face.
“Hey. You did see her, Philtatos,” he whispers, offering a watery smile. “You saved our girl and I’m so thankful. All that drama today, and I don’t even remember what I was upset about. How could I after something like this?”
Patroclus laughs, his expression peaceful as he smiles. “We both saved her. Thank you for being by my side through this, I don’t think anyone else could have understood me and trusted me like that. And I hurt your feelings this morning; I know that much. I’m still sorry. Please let’s just hash it out the moment it happens… please. I can’t- I’m terrified of this happening again.”
“Of course. And I apologized to Philia. She can have anything she wants.”
“Including the ugly wizard robe?”
Achilles snorts in amusement. “She thinks it’s delightful, okay? She shall have it. Maybe Mom will see it and ‘make it fashion’.”
Patroclus chuckles, then sighs. “We have to call our parents. And her daycare.”
“We can handle it, yeah?”
Achilles leans against the toilet to push himself off the ground, holding down a hand to help Patroclus stand on his one foot so they can re-enter the hospital room.
“Someone might also be robbing our house,” Patroclus admits with a cringe as he hops forward, “now that I’ve shattered the back door.”
“Fuck that house,” Achilles scoffs. “They should take the pool, too.”
Patroclus laughs again, pulling him in for a couple kisses on the cheek, and Achilles glows with happiness. They’re standing in the doorway, smiling gently at each other, when-
“You love each other again?! I’m so relieved!”
Philia glows with happiness and relief, as though she simply hadn’t faced a near death experience just an hour before. It’s a reminder to them that they really couldn’t have asked for a more loving child, that they can’t ever forget to value her.
And then she goes to yank off the oxygen mask and the IV while sliding out of the hospital bed half dressed, and they remember that she’s still four.
“No! Philia! Baby girl, you have to leave on the mask and please don’t jump with that IV!”
“Phi! Shit! Please, we love you too, but you have to get back in the bed before you hurt yourself!”