Barbara Lake had no reason not to consider herself lucky. Her life, even with its ups and downs and long stretches of rough waters, was happy, and all that joy overshadowed even the hardest of times.

She was mother to three. Her oldest son arrived when she was much younger, barely able to raise him. It didn't help when his father left to be with another woman. Her other two children came much later – perhaps a bit too late, depending on who you asked – but the man she was with now loved her and all three children more than anything, and he did his best to help support their family.
As Barbara rinsed another plate, she looked out the back kitchen window. Her two younger children chased each other around the yard. Emil was already ten, and Valerie eight. They shared her and her husband's slight frame, but the siblings had more energy than both their parents combined.
She glanced at the clock above the refrigerator. Five twenty-two. Barbara set the plate in the drying rack and strained to see the back gate, hidden by the corner of the house. She turned off the faucet.

There he was. At exactly five twenty-seven, the gate clicked open and a gray-haired gentleman appeared. He dropped his briefcase in the grass as both children raced to him and threw glad arms around his neck as he knelt to receive them.

"Dad!" they cried in unison.

The almost-daily occurrence always made Barbara smile.

To look at him, most people wouldn't guess Walter Strickler had such a carefree side, but Barbara knew how much her husband enjoyed his time with their children, and they loved it too. Emil's – and Valerie's – favorite game was trying to win against their father in a play fight, and he always indulged them – though they seldom won. Even with all their tricks and clever plans, they couldn't beat him. Walter always applauded their efforts and offered encouragement.

How Walter kept such a pace was a mystery to her. Even with a full-time job, tutoring sessions with high school students, house work and cooking and cleaning, he still made it a priority to spend time with his son and daughter.

Outside, Emil and Valerie tried to flank Walter – a strategy she watched them practice several times today.

Walter looked from one child to the other and stepped out of the way just as the pair lunged for him. Instead of catching their father, the brother and sister bumped straight into each other. Walter chuckled.

Undeterred, Valerie launched at Walter's leg and caught him just as he tried to take another step. He toppled over into the grass and both children swarmed him with triumphant shouts and uproarious laughter, which Walter gladly joined.

Emil shot a glance over at the window and saw Barbara watching them. He waved to her, and she chuckled at the scene.

Once the game was over, Walter came through the back door and dropped his retrieved briefcase in the corner as Emil and Valerie followed him inside, still laughing.

"All right," Walter said. "Do either of you have homework you need to finish?"

"No, Dad. I already did mine," Emil boasted.

Valerie hesitated. "I… erh…"

"You haven't finished your math? Bring it to the living room, and we'll look at it," Walter instructed.

"Okay," Valerie replied.

Walter headed to the living room, and Barbara followed him. She came in just in time to see her husband sprawl across the couch, exhausted.

"Hello, sweetheart." Barbara went over to him and offered her most loving smile. "Welcome home."

"Hello, Barbara." Walter smiled back as his eyes drooped.

"You doing okay?" Barbara asked.

Walter nodded and held a hand over his eyes. "It was just… a rather long day. Two separate school classes visited the museum – neither one particularly well-behaved."

"Oh, you poor dear," Barbara teased.

"I'll be fine; I just need…" Walter's sentence trailed off as he closed his eyes.

"You want some coffee?" she offered.

Walter didn't reply.

"Walt?"

A quiet snore escaped Walter's mouth. Barbara held back a laugh – not an easy feat after watching her husband fall asleep in less than a second.

In walked Valerie, math book, paper and pencil in hand. "Got my homework," she announced.

"Sssh." Barbara held a finger over her lips. "Your dad is sleeping, sweetheart."

"Huh?" Valeria blinked at her father. "Dad, seriously?"

"Hush now," said Barbara. "Your dad had a long day. He works very hard, and he needs some sleep right now. He'll help you with homework a little later."

"Okay." Valerie sighed and set her book on the coffee table.

"Or, you could try to work on it yourself," Barbara encouraged. "I'm sure your dad would appreciate that."

"But it's hard!" Valerie complained.

"You'll have to do it on your own eventually," Barbara said with a sigh. Maybe her younger son and daughter were too spoiled. Jim always managed to do homework on his own – then again… Jim also ended up acting like a parent half the time, and that wasn't right. "For now, try to be quiet."

"Okay…" Valerie trudged away.

Noise blared from upstairs. Barbara raced to see what was going on.

"Emil!" She opened her son's bedroom door to find his video game console on and his TV blaring.

"Yeah, Mom?" Emil sat on his bed and looked over his shoulder at her.

"Turn the volume down. Your father is sleeping," Barbara said.

"Oh. Okay." He nodded and cranked the sound down then turned his attention back to his game.

"Emil, what is that?" Barbara asked, horrified as her son's character ripped the head off an NPC, taking its spine with it in an impressive show of gore.

"Mortal Kombat," her son replied.

"Where did you get it?" Barbara crossed her arms.

"It was on sale; Dad said I could get it," Emil replied.

Barbara covered her face with one hand and shook her head. Really, Walt? Really? This was suitable for their ten-year-old? Young trolls enjoyed watching things torn limb from limb, but – Well, that was her answer right there. She sighed. "Emil, what does the box say?"

"Uh." Emil paused the game and leaned over the bed. He picked the discarded box up off the floor. "It says, 'M.'" He tossed the box back on the floor.

"Right. You know what that means – eighteen," Barbara said.

"But that's eight years!" He protested. "And Dad said–"

"Well, he shouldn't have," Barbara said. "Honestly, what is he teaching you kids?"

"Always do our homework?" Emil tried.

"Well, I suppose that's something," Barbara huffed. A series of loud bangs erupted from downstairs. "Valerie!" Barbara exclaimed. "This conversation is not over, young man," she said to her son and then rushed back down to the living room. She caught a glimpse of Walter, still asleep on the couch as she dashed outside to find her daughter kicking a soccer ball against the back of the house.

"Valerie!" Barbara chided.

"Yeah, Mom?" The girl caught the ball and looked up.

"Be quiet, honey. Give your dad some time to rest."

Valerie sighed. "He's still sleeping. Is he sick?"

"He needs more than ten minutes of sleep," Barbara countered and planted her hands on her hips. "And no, he isn't sick; he just had a very long day."

Valerie frowned. Barbara knew her daughter had more energy than any of them and didn't grasp the need for extra rest.

"Did you know your brother got that video game?" Barbara changed the subject.

"Mortal Kombat? Sure. He saved up for it," Valeria replied. "Dad said it was okay."

"Your dad and I need to have a word," Barbara muttered. "Is there anything else I should know about?"

"Like what?" Valerie asked and changed her expression to one of pure innocence as Barbara gave her a look.

Barbara debated whether she should pry or continue in blissful ignorance. She knew he husband's highest priority was keeping their children safe at any cost. However… they didn't always agree on what constituted "keeping them safe."

Walter wanted his son and daughter to be prepared to fight for their lives. Barbara wished her children could avoid fighting. After all, they didn't live in a war zone anymore, but Walter's reasoning was sound. They couldn't prevent Emil and Valerie from encountering serious trouble, but they could give them the tools necessary to get out of it unharmed. Every time Walter reminded her of this, he said it with such calm sincerity that Barbara knew he only meant the best for their children.

"Mom," Valerie said as she tucked the soccer ball under her arm. "Bill said something really crazy at school today."

"Oh?"

"He said his dad is stronger than my dad. Can you believe he said that?" Valerie rolled her eyes.

Barbara stifled a quiet chuckle. Bill's dad, a foreman for a construction company, was twice the size of Walter. Broad shouldered, and nearly six inches taller than her slight husband, the other man would win a fight under normal circumstances. But Barbara knew better. If Walter and Bill's father were ever to meet… well… Bill's dad wouldn't even know what hit him.

"It's really stupid isn't it? Dad is way stronger than him." Valerie insisted.

"Valerie, we talked about this. Your dad is… special – in the same way you are, but we can't talk about it. It needs to be a secret," Barbara said.

"But why?" asked her daughter.

"Because troll-kind and their existence are too important to tell everyone about," Barbara said. "If humans knew there were trolls, it would be very dangerous for them. You have to keep it a secret – to protect your Uncle Blinky."

"That's really stupid," Valerie set the soccer ball down and crossed her arms. "Why would humans want to hurt trolls?"

"It is stupid, sweetie, but that's just how it is." Barbara sighed.

"Well, no one believes me anyway. People are just dumb," Valerie muttered as she picked the soccer ball back up.

"No, they aren't; they just… don't know any better," Barbara said.

"Isn't that the same as being stupid?" Valerie raised an eyebrow.

"No. It just means there are things they don't know," Barbara said. "It–" She struggled for the right words. Walter was so much better at explaining these things.

"Dad says people are ignorant," Valerie said. She tossed the soccer ball aside and folded her hands at the base of her back. She stood up straight and in an informative tone said, "Sometimes people prefer to live in their own little faraway world, seeing only the things they choose to see. It's stupid and ignorant, but good for our situation. Let them remain blissfully ignorant; then, we hold all the cards."

Barbara immediately recognized her daughter's imitation of her husband and shook her head as she smacked a hand to her forehead.

"What does 'blissfully' mean?" Valerie asked.

"It means 'to be happy.' That isn't the point though." Barbara leaned against the doorpost as the evening shadows lengthened. "It's not…" Barbara wanted to object – to tell Valerie what her father said wasn't true, but, as usual, Walter stated the cold facts. But why did he have to be so condescending? And teaching that tone to their son and daughter too?

Valerie's face brightened. "Oh! I know! I can bake Dad a cake! Then maybe he'll feel better."

"No!" Barbara blocked the door, keeping Valerie from darting into the kitchen. The horrific memory of the child's last rampage was still fresh.

Valerie tried to bake a surprise cake a few months ago. The kitchen looked like an atom bomb went off. Flour, sugar, cocoa powder and egg plastered every surface, and standing in the middle of the chaos, covered in flour with an egg oozing through her hair, was Valerie, a wide grin on her face as she held up a little cake. The creation tilted so far to one side, Barbara wondered how it stayed upright.

Barbara knew her own cooking skills were… less than stellar, but she was sure they were never as bad as Valerie's.

"But Jim always cooks when he visits," Valerie pointed out. "And everybody's so happy."

Barbara wanted to say that was because Jim was a skilled cook. She rubbed the bridge of her nose. "You're not old enough." She settled for an easy write-off.

"Dad says I'm almost old enough to have a weapon. When I get one, I should be old enough to cook too, right?" Valerie prodded.

Barbara did another face-palm – the third in the past half an hour. "Valerie, you're not getting a weapon."

"But Dad said–"

"I said, 'No!'" Barbara cut her off. "And I'm having a word with your father." She whirled and strode straight through the kitchen and into the living room, ready to shake Walter awake and light into him.

When she saw her husband again, still asleep on the couch and looking more exhausted than he had in years, she stopped. Should she do this now? Right now? She bit her lip and crossed her arms.

Five minutes later she shook her head and retreated into the kitchen. Back to the dishes she went. She snagged a plate and stuffed it into the cupboard with a wince as the grating clink of porcelain hit her ears.

She went back to the drainer and picked up a glass. Then she stopped. The house… was quiet – too quiet.

Dread curled in her stomach. Two children being this quiet – unless they were asleep – was never a good sign.

Barbara set the glass back down and left the kitchen. She peered down the hall and up the stairs, then she looked into the living room and stopped short. Walter still slept on the couch. In front of him stood both their children. They stared at their father, faces expressionless.

Barbara took a step toward them.

Valerie looked up and so did Emil.

"Mom." Her son tucked his hands in his pockets.

"Is everything okay?" Barbara whispered as concern rose in her throat.

"Dad has a weird look on his face." Valerie pointed at Walter. "Is he okay?"

Barbara approached the couch then she caught a glimpse of Walter's face. Fear twisted it; his eyes were shut tight, and a hiss escaped his grimacing mouth as he tossed from one side to the other.

She laid a hand over her heart as it pounded. There were nights Walter woke in a frenzy. He never said anything, but when it happened, she always felt his racing heart as he hugged her close for a moment before he left their room to go check on Valerie and Emil. He always returned a few minutes later, his footsteps less frantic, breathing more even.

Her children's green eyes turned to her in confusion and concern. Barbara smiled sadly at them. "Your Dad's fine…" she whispered.

Her assurance didn't dispel their bewilderment.

"Valerie." Barbara wrapped an arm around each child and looked down at her daughter. "Remember, last week, when you had a nightmare? It seemed so real when you were asleep, right?"

Valerie gaped at her mother. "Dad is having a nightmare? But… he's Dad!" She protested, as if that one simple fact were reason enough for her father to never suffer such a thing.

Emil nodded in agreement, also finding this absurd.

Barbara's heart melted a little at her children's sentiment. "Sweetie, before you came along–" she looked from Valerie to Emil, "–either of you. Your Dad went through… a lot of things. And he fought in a war – a bad one. And sometimes… when people have seen something terrible, it comes back to them when they least expect it – like when they're asleep."

Both children gasped.

Valerie's eyes teared up. "Dad's been through bad stuff?"

"Did he see someone die?" Emil asked, wide-eyed.

Barbara drew in a sharp breath and bit her lip.

Her children stared up at her in expectation.

"Well… um…" Barbara's eyes fixed on Walter.

"Is Dad going to die?" Valerie asked. Her lip trembled, and tears ran down her face.

"No! No, of course not, sweetie." Barbara hugged her daughter to her side. "The war's over," she whispered. "All he wanted after that was to live a peaceful life." She smiled and looked down at her dear children. "And have you two."

"Then why does he look like that?" Valerie stared at her troubled father in fear.

Barbara's face turned sad again. "He'll be fine. Remember how I told you nightmares can't hurt you?" She looked down at Valerie.

The girl nodded.

"Well, they can't hurt your Dad either. As long as we're here for him when he wakes up, he'll be all right."

Valerie let go of her mother and crawled up on the couch. She curled up next to her father, who lay on his back now. The girl rested her head on Walter's stomach, determination set in her eyes as she stood guard over him while he slept.

Barbara wanted to smile but couldn't as her throat tightened and tears welled up. "Oh, look at the time," she choked. "I've got to get something ready for dinner." She gave Walter one last, long look and dabbed her eyes on her shoulder. He was calmer now, and she didn't have the heart to wake him just to cook. "I'll order some takeout. What do you kids want?"

Emil shrugged.

"Steak and baked potatoes," Valerie piped up.

Barbara smirked. That was Walter's preferred choice from the local steakhouse. He wasn't much for fast food or cheap Chinese, and his choices usually costed a little more, but tonight Barbara let it go. "You've got it." She pulled out her cell and went into the kitchen to make the call.

When she hung up, Barbara turned around to find her son standing two feet away, staring up at her. His green eyes looked so much like his father's. "Emil? Is everything all right?"

"Dad did watch someone die… didn't he?" Emil said.

Barbara looked away. Sometimes her younger son was a little too clever for his own good. The boy was far more perceptive than other children his age. Sometimes, if she was honest, it was a little frightening. She forced her eyes back to Emil. His face was serious.

"Emil…" Barbara sighed. "Your Dad – he was… in a bad situation. He…" She looked away again.

"I know," Emil assured as he laid a hand on her arm and Barbara met his gaze as he continued, "War is really bad… Lots of people die. I'm glad we're not at war. And if something bad happens, I'll protect Dad, and Valerie, and you, Mom. Dad said I should always look after Valerie. And then he told her to always look after me, but it's okay. I can handle it, so don't worry."

Barbara gave him a soft smile. "Now, Emil, remember what Dad always tells you."

"Never go out there alone," Emil echoed Walter's constant warning.

"And?" Barbara asked.

"Everyone is ready to help; we are not alone," Emil stated.

"Exactly." Barbara ruffled Emil's hair. "The thing that scares your Dad the most is seeing either of you get hurt. Trust me on that one." She pulled her hand away. "He's here to protect you, and so am I, and Jim, and everyone else."

Emil nodded and then declared, "I can help set the table."

"Thank you, sweetheart. That would be lovely." Barbara ruffled Emil's hair and smiled at him.

Fifteen minutes after Emil set the last place at the table, the food arrived.

Barbara ventured back into the dim living room. Father and daughter were both asleep. Barbara smiled and crouched beside the couch. She took Walter's hand and gave it a firm squeeze.

Walter cracked open one eye.

"Sleep well?" Barbara asked.

Walter nodded. "Wonderfully." He glanced down at Valerie, still draped over him. "Woke up to quite a surprise though." He chuckled as Valerie let out a short snore. "Valerie?" Walter gave his daughter's shoulder a gentle shake. "Valerie."

"Hmm… Huh?" Valerie blinked bleary eyes. "Dad!" She threw her arms around Walter's neck.

"What's this now?" Walter smiled at his daughter.

"I'm just glad we're not in a war," Valerie replied.

"Huh?" Walter raised an eyebrow at Barbara as Valerie let him go.

"Don't think about it," Barbara suggested. "Dinner's ready."

"Okay then." Walter stretched and then stood, still mystified by Valerie's statement, but he didn't pry.

When dinner was over, Walter helped Valerie with her homework. In thirty minutes, they finished it. Afterward, Walter settled onto the couch with one of his beloved books. Barbara sat next to him. He reached an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. "It's always wonderful coming home," he said, still looking at his open book. "Mundane life is surprisingly… extraordinary."

Barbara shook her head and poked his near arm. "I have a bone to pick with you, mister."

"Oh?" Walter stuck a finger in the book to mark his spot and then held it closed. He turned his full attention to Barbara.

"Where to start?" Barbara sighed. "You let Emil buy Mortal Kombat? Seriously? Have you seen the violence in that game?"

"Yes, I saw it. Cartoonish and unrealistic – only a moron would mistake it for reality," Walter replied.

"That's not the point!" Barbara protested. "That game isn't for kids."

"He saved up for it with his own money. Fair is fair." Walter opened his book again. "Even if it is a rather pointless item, for now, it makes him happy."

Barbara sighed again. "Well, if Emil gets nightmares, it's on you. And he'd better not get into any fights because of this."

Walter chuckled. "I trust he won't. I do always tell both of them never to search out fights, and I don't think they'll ignore that."

"Oh, really?" Barbara crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. "Valerie says she's almost old enough for a weapon. She's eight years old!"

"It'll be blunt, of course," Walter replied as he turned the page. "No more dangerous than a stick or a pipe. As I said, they've been instructed to avoid fighting. If I see either of them getting into an unnecessary fight, they'll lose their practice weapons. To be honest, I'm not concerned for Emil at all. Valerie… can be rather hot-headed though."

"You can say that again," Barbara said and then huffed.

"What?" Walter set his book on the couch arm and took Barbara's hand. He smiled at her.

"I was so mad at you, but you seem to have everything under control. Now I can't stay angry with you," Barbara said.

Walter chuckled. "Oh, that's a relief. I'm not as good at handling a broomstick to the head anymore."

"Hey, watch it," Barbara scolded as she wagged a finger at him and pushed him away. He laughed and held on to her, his grip never slipping.

"Mom? Dad?" Emil stepped in.

Walter let Barbara go and picked up his book again.

"What is it, honey?" Barbara still held on to Walter's other hand.

"Valerie is trying to bake a cake again," Emil said. "I thought you'd want to know."

Barbara's eyes flew wide. "Oh, no…" she muttered and let go of her husband's hand. "No! Valerie!" she shouted as she leapt off the couch and flew into the kitchen.

Walter smirked and leaned back into the comfortable couch.

Emil stared after his mother for four or five seconds and then noticed the look of amusement on his father's face. "I really don't know how Valerie managed to get egg in her hair again."

Walter flipped another page. "It's a skill," he replied. "I should probably go help clean up." He tucked a bookmark into the volume and set it aside as he rose.

"Dad?" Emil asked as Walter passed him.

"Yes, Emil," Walter stopped and turned to face his son.

As the boy looked back at him, Walter saw Emil's eyes sharpen, as though he were about to say something, but then he shook his head. "I'll help too."

Emil followed Walter into the kitchen where Barbara was already sweeping up a small pile of flour. She pointed to another section of floor, slick with vegetable oil. "Make yourselves useful."

In lieu of cake, when the mess was cleaned up, Barbara pulled out a frozen apple pie and popped it into the oven. Ten minutes later, Walter rushed back into the kitchen and flipped the heat down from five hundred to three-fifty. When it was ready to eat, Barbara scraped off the slightly charred top layer of crust, and all four of them dug in.

Emil polished off the last piece twenty minutes later.

Barbara started to get up, but she was so tired she slumped back into her chair.

"You should go to bed," Walter said. "I'll handle the dishes."

"Sure, honey." Barbara nodded. "Thanks."

"Time for you two to head up to bed too," Walter told Emil and Valerie.

The children complained but did as they were told and headed to bed, their eyes already drooping halfway up the stairs.

With the children tucked in, the dishes washed, and the house dark, Barbara slipped into bed. Walter soon joined her. As always, she took great comfort in his presence.

He laid a warm hand on her side. She always enjoyed her husband's light touch, even when it was just to assure himself she was still there.

All things considered, Barbara was, in fact, quite a lucky woman.

Editted by dtill359