Moira could barely see through the unshed tears that blurred her vision as she clasped her sons' hands. People passed by, politely offering them their condolences. But all she could do in reply was nod and hope to god it'd all be over soon.

She'd been to funerals before, but never to one of a person so close to her heart. Moira had never had to say goodbye to someone she loved more than herself. The intense feeling of grief made her feel numb all over, like she was floating a small distance away and looking down on herself, silently observing the sadness in her eyes and the heaviness of her soul.

The ceremony had been equally heart-breaking as beautiful. They were remembering the life of a person who had died, it really was no wonder the ambiance in the church was tense -with speeches from Moira herself, Cassie, a poem written by Ollie and a song sung by the boys.

On her left side, sat Dorian, who's 3-years of age made him their youngest son. He held his mother's hand tightly as he gazed around the church with no clue of what was going on. He knew his grandma Emmie had gone to heaven, though not the precise definition of a funeral. Moira ought it better that way. Ignorance is bliss.

Like all the other kids, safe for Ollie, Dorian too had been an accident. But either way, they were all priceless gifts. Dorian was probably the funniest of the bunch, with his starling green eyes and everlasting smile. He'd laugh at the silliest of things and find the positive side in the darkest of situations. He was their little sunshine.

Next to Dorian was the now 8-year-old Ollie seated, looking like he could handle all the pressure in the world as he constantly handed his grandma Cassie tissues to dry her tears. Through the years, he'd grown into a very intelligent, mature young boy. He was rather shy, the opposite of what he was like as a toddler, but a bright kid nonetheless. And very creative, unlike his brothers. He'd rather draw and read books than go outside to play with his friends. Hence why he'd written a poem for his grandmother, an extremely beautiful work at that, and when he was finished reading it aloud his parents had been soaring with pride.

On Moira's right side, sat the twins. Noah had both his hands laced with two other hands. Mommy held his left hand to give him the typical motherly support while Gabriel clasped the other. Gabe was four minutes older than his brother and surprisingly, he acted like it. He'd always watch out for Noah, whether it was when crossing the street, putting his floaties on before going in the pool or telling him to be careful when drinking a hot cup of chocolate milk.

It was adorable, really, seeing them grow into two entirely different boys. Noah was rebellious, carefree and impulsive, while Gabriel tended to act more sensible, reserved and protective of his brother. Their parents had always made it a point to treat them like two unique individuals, which they were. They had the special connection only twins were able to have, yes. But just because they were identical twins, did not mean they were identical on the inside. Moira and Harry never dressed them the same or assumed they like the same food, toys, etcetera, nor did they always treat them the same. Simply because Noah needed a much firmer hand than his brother did.

Suddenly, the sound of shuffling feet resounded nearby, and seconds later, Harry handed Moira their four-month-old daughter as he occupied the spot next to her and settled Dorian down on his lap.

"False alarm, there was just a little pee. She probably farted." He said, hoping his comment would blossom a smile -to no avail. With an expressionless face, Moira stared down at their sleepy baby girl. Her little mouth opened as she yawned and whereas every other person would have aww'd at the sight, his wife continued to have that same, blank look in her eyes.

Emelia's death had destroyed her, half their family actually, but Moira had suffered the most. It was hard to watch your mother waste away in a hospital bed as the most detestable disease took its toll on her body.

Hardly a year ago, disaster struck as Emelia was diagnosed with stage four of breast cancer. Her daughter and son-in-law had arranged for the world's top specialists to take care of her, and even flew her out to Switzerland for treatment. But no amount of money could have saved her. Each of the doctors had only given her a small amount of time. Four months at most. But eventually, she'd thankfully battled long enough to experience the birth of her fifth grandchild and first granddaughter; Scarlett Emelia Stones.

Four months after little Scarlett was born, she passed peacefully in her sleep. And now here they were, saying their last goodbyes.

Moira had cried so much in the past month. First because of the despair and the prospect of her mother's death and then, because Emelia's heart had stopped beating. Her best friend no longer walked the earth and she couldn't fathom it. How could a person be there one second, and then the next, they weren't? The tears were there but she just.. she couldn't cry. Crying no longer helped, so why would she give in to it when it only made her feel thirsty.

Emelia wanted to be cremated. She liked the idea of her ashes being thrown into the sea and for her to wander the salty ocean until the end of time. And whenever her daughter would look out at waves, she'd know her mother was somewhere out there, as well as up in heaven; watching over them.

By then, the crowd had flowed outside the church and the Stones family of seven and the three other Stones ladies were left. Lizzy and Bella had flown in from New York to attend the funeral and would stay at Cassie's place for a few weeks -who'd followed in Moira and Harry's steps a year prior. They now lived mere miles apart from Grandma Cassie, sharing the same coastline, to the kids' greatest joy.

Moira stood up, indicating it was time to leave as the others walked closely behind. She cradled Scarlett to her chest with one arm and clasped Dorian's hand with the other. Harry held the hands of the twins and Ollie walked right next to his aunt and Grandma Cassie. They looked around the church for the last time before exiting. Moira, however, would be back here in a few days to pick up the ashes.

"Moira King?"

Moira stopped in her tracks, turning to face an unfamiliar man, eyeing him warily. "It's been Moira Stones for nearly six years now, actually."

For once, they wanted to be completely left alone without flashing cameras or obnoxious screaming to ruin it all. Luckily, Harry had succeeded in taking care of the paparazzi aspect, making it one less thing to worry about on this day. And so, Moira truly hoped that this man wasn't some low-life journalist, hankering for juicy gossip.

"Your mother contacted me a couple of months ago, to talk about you and what would happen when she passed. She wanted us to meet and restore our relationship.. or rather build it."

Moira shook her head in confusion, "I'm sorry, who are you?"

"Richard James. I-uhh I'm your father. Your mother said she told you about me but I guess-"

His voice faded to the background as soon as 'I'm your father' left his mouth and Moira froze like a human statue. Her husband came to her rescue as he took Scarlett from her hold and Dorian by the hand, leading them away and granting them some time to talk.

Quickly trying to handle the situation, Moira took one of her business cards from her purse and handed it over to the man -her father. "Now is not the right time to talk, I'm already stressed about this day and to be frank, I don't want to possibly feel worse. Call me tomorrow and we'll discuss a time for you to come over to our house, the address is on the card."

"Okay.." Richard uttered dumbfounded, as he had not expected this kind of reaction. He had quite evidently underestimated the woman in front of him -his daughter. "I'll talk to you soon then."

Richard turned around, held a cab and disappeared out of view -leaving a somewhat restless Moira behind.

What the hell had just happened?

There was no doubt in her mind the man's claims were correct. She had his eyes, after all, that was clear as day. Not to forget her mom had told her his name and shown several pictures of him throughout the span of her life. But it had taken a proper introduction for the realization to dawn upon her that he truly was her father.

Emelia and Moira had no secrets for each other, or barely. Which meant Moira also knew how big of a coward her father was, and that he'd never tried to contact his daughter until now, more than 35 years later. She refused to forget that 'teeny tiny' fact, perhaps forgive him one day, but never forget.

Moira was momentarily distracted from her inner turmoil as Harry softly nudged her shoulder, trying to capture her attention. "Sorry?"

"I said that my mom is taking the kids home in our car so we can take hers and chat for a bit."

She frowned, "What about Scar?"

"She's tired and will probably sleep the whole way. She hasn't had her nap, remember?"

"I don't know, Harry-"

"Too late, they already left. Mom has the keys, so we're going for a little drive." He stated, leaving to space for argument as he walked off to the car.

Wordlessly, Moira approached the car, opened the door and sat down in the passenger's seat of Cassie's car.

"Seatbelt." Harry reminded her as the engine rumbled to life.

For a while, it was completely silent. The lack of talking didn't bother Moira, her irrevocably curious husband however? It did bother him.

"Are you going to tell me what you talked about or what."

"Gee, I apologize, Mr Impatient."

"Just tell me, woman."

"Well, well, well." Moira tutted. "We aren't curious, are we?"

Harry sighed, solely focusing his attention on the road and only answering when they neared the traffic lights. "Is it that obvious?"

She giggled, "A little."

Another silence settled over them, although this one didn't last as long. "I gave him my business card and told him to call tomorrow so he could come over."

The brakes squealed loudly as Harry swerved to the side of the road, protectively shielding his wife with an arm as they came to an abrupt stop, a cacophony of car horns following them in their wake.

"What the fuck was that?" Moira screeched at the same time that Harry said, "You did what?"

"You don't even know the bloody man, Moira. What were you thinking? Inviting some stranger to our home?" he shot her a pointed, stern look, seeming rather angry.

She scoffed. "I know what I'm doing. Mom's told me his name and showed me pictures of him plenty of times. I'm about 300% sure it's him. And besides, mom contacted him with the intention of restoring our father and daughter relationship or something like that. So don't look at me like.. like I'm some stupid little bitch, Harraël Stones. If this was her last wish then I am planning on fulfilling it."

"This is one of those moments where I wished you wouldn't listen to your mother. He treated you both like shit, he doesn't deserve your attention. And Emelia had first-hand experience with that so I really don't get how she could be so selfish."

Moira inhaled sharply. "Don't you dare talk about my mother like that."

He was about to say something back when he noticed the unshed tears shimmering in her eyes. "Shit, I.. I'm sorry, baby, I don't know why I said that it must be today's stress but that's not an excuse. Fuck. I can't believe I said that. I'm so sorry. I.."

She puckered her lips. "I understand."

Harry's warm breath washed over her face, smelling of his cologne and the familiar masculinity, like always. One of his hands lifted away from the wheel and cupped the side of her face; she leaned in to the angel-soft touch, the comforting warmth his palm provided.

"What I said, it's not alright. I shouldn't talk ill of her. I'm sorry. When we get home I'll make you some California Rolls."

Her face screwed up as she thought about what he was saying, her fingers creeped up to tenderly trace the outlines of the swallow tattoos on his collarbones. "Sushi? But that takes ages..."

"I'll do whatever it takes to make Mrs Stones happy again."

Smiling slightly, she lifted her head at him. "I love you."

"As I love you."

"So cheesy."

"You love it."

"No I don't."

Harry didn't smile, he didn't say anything - not that she expected him to. But his eyes brightened for a moment before slowly fading to a fake-offended gaze. His lips fell to her nose, then her cheek, then her other cheek; he continued to press light, lingering kisses to the skin of her face until every facet had been touched by his mouth except for her lips. When his pink lips reached there, he pursed them slowly against hers, pulling her in for a gentle but amorous kiss. Harry's tongue rolled across her bottom lip, playing on the edge of slipping into her mouth and staying flat against her parted lips. Moira sighed into him, body relaxing as she molded hers against his. They fit together perfectly.

Finally, with a slight noise and a soft nip at her bottom lip, he pushed her tongue out of the way with his, bringing their faces closer together as their mouths glued themselves to each other, tongues rolling around inside of her mouth. Instantly, her body began to crave more of him, and she knew that Harry felt the same as his hands tensed up the lower they slipped down her back, but she also knew that now was not the time. Moira pulled away, catching up with her heaving lungs to drag in air. Harry did the same, leaning back into her seat, hands around her waist now.

"Let's go home," he said, voice low, throaty and husky. His fingers dance along the bare skin of her knee and remaining there as they drove.

--------------------

"Where on earth have you two been? Good heavens, Harraël, this feels like your adolescent years all over again. We called you a thousand times and nobody would pick up the damn phone, do you have any idea how worried we've been?" With her hands on her hips, Cassie glared down at them in disapproval while Lizzy stood beside her looking equally troubled.

But before Moira and Harry could so much as muster up a worthy reply, a small army of thudding feet approached them rapidly. Four overjoyed boys appeared in the doorway and acted like they hadn't seen their parents in years, when in reality, it had only been hours. They exchanged hugs, kisses and I love you's, pretty much resembling some cliché movie's ending scene.

Eventually though, they managed to put each of them to bed. With a wink and a look that said 'you better go to sleep', since it was well over their bedtime. Especially Dorian's.

After that, they ventured off to the nursery to check on Scarlett. Who by then, had napped long enough to be her good old, energetic baby self again.

Two hours later, they'd finished eating the sushi rolls Harry had promised to make and were in their bedroom, getting ready for sleep.

Dressed in just his boxers, Harry crawled into bed. He observed her through heavy-lidded eyes as his wife brought their baby girl up to the head of the bed -where they'd created a baby-friendly space in between them for her to sleep. The moonlight brightened the room dully, and from its weak lighting, Moira could see him turning on his side to look at the both of them, an elbow propping his head up.

They shared a goodnight kiss as Scarlett jolted a little in her sleep, looking like a small puppy having a nightmare, making her mother softly coo her into a deeper sleep.

Within no time, Harry -too-had fallen asleep. Presumably tired from the day's events.

Moira thought about all the things that filled her head, her mother, her father, but especially, Harry. She'd come to realize how lucky she was to have found him. And how thankful she felt for what Dr Patel had done; having introduced her to not only the love of her life but the father of Ollie and now her other children as well.

Over the years, she'd put so much mind to their relationship. About the ups and downs and how in the end, they'd always be okay. The simple answer, and the only one in fact, was that they felt right together. They fit together like a jigsaw puzzle. She could feel it in her heart whenever he was near or looking at her with that certain glint in his eyes he only had for her; it was a natural instinct kicked in and that told her this was how the universe had planned it all out.

Moira didn't know who what or why. Why her? You might as well compare the two of them to the question 'why is blue your favorite color?'. Because you don't know why. It just is.

The Song Of The Wolf