"You're not going to let go, right, Daddy?" came the small, unsure voice of a heavily helmeted and padded Lizzy.

"Uhh…"

Well, that had been Newkirk's plan when teaching his daughter to ride a bike. He'd heard that that was how Carter had taught his oldest son, and it had worked like a charm, so long as the kid didn't catch on that you'd let go until they were on their own. However, the whole trick rested on the kid not knowing, but somewhere along the lines someone had let that bit of top-secret parent information slip.

"Cause Mr. Stephenson let go when Ida was learning to ride her bike, and she crashed into a tree," elaborated Lizzy.

"Oh my. Well, love, I'll try my best to keep you from hittin' any trees," said Newkirk, looking down at how tightly Lizzy was gripping the handlebars of her new bike, which was only recently sans-training wheels.

Lizzy, it turned out, was very nervous when it came to certain new things. She was fearless in the food department, and would go anywhere, but things like rollerskates and bikes seemed to frighten the poor kid. Thought, with the amount of padding on the girl, Newkirk didn't think she had anything to be worried about.

It was Hogan who had outfitted her with the old air raid helmet, elbow pads, knee pads, shin guards, gloves, and tied two pillows around her middle. It was only after being so outfitted that she agreed to clamber on her bike, but the expression on her face was similar to one she might have worn had she just climbed on a rodeo bull.

"Promise?" asked the heavily padded girl, looking up at him.

"Yes. Now why don't you try takin' your feet off the ground and putting them on the pedals," he encouraged.

With a big breath, Lizzy followed his instructions, taking her feet off the comforting solidness of the ground and balancing on bike he was holding. It was only a couple of seconds later that her feet came off the pedals, and they were soon firmly planted on the ground once more.

"There. I had my feet on the pedals. Are we done for the day, daddy?"

Newkirk sighed. This was going to be a long afternoon.

x

x

x

When Hogan got back from the station that day, he would have almost swore that he had returned to the base of a defeated army. Both Newkirk and Lizzy looked extremely worn out, the former more so than the latter.

"Blimey, I spent the whole day running behind her while she got the hang of that thing. I've never seen a kid more afraid of fallin' off a bike," Newkirk had elaborated to him later in the day.

Hogan didn't say anything while Newkirk filled him in on his grueling day as a bike instructor, but but the end of the monologue, he decided to speak up.

"You should be glad she wants you to hang on. Before you know it, she won't want our help any more," he said, leaning back in the kitchen chair he was currently occupying.

Newkirk seemed to ponder this for a while before letting out a sigh.

"I guess you're right," he said after a while, staring distantly into his cup of tea.

"Yeah, I am. Just wait until you're teaching her to drive or cleaning one of your guns when she brings home her first boyfriend. You'll probably be wishing you were teaching her to ride a bike then," Hogan said further, getting up and putting his mug in the sink.

Newkirk mumbled something in agreement as the other man left and went off to bed.

Suddenly, various scene began to play out in his head.

Lizzy, all grown up, learning to drive, learning to sew, cook, not needing him there to constantly check up on her, adjust her clothes, tie her shoes, put her to bed...before he knew it she would be off on her own, doing who knows what...she would probably get married, have a family of her own…

Hogan was right. He was going to hold on as long as he could.

So, this short (sorry!) chapter is the last one for this story. But don't worry - there is a sequel to it coming soon.