Disclaimer: The Witchblade Movie, Series, Comics, and characters belong to Top Cow Productions. I own nothing but the idea here.

I know this is a tad short, but I've been hit with writer's block. Anyone out there who has a fic idea they want to share...lend me a hand, won't you? ^_^

Life's Little Miracles

He sits not too far from me, but his eyes are on her. I can't read the look in those dark depths. The way they remind me of old days and dark alleys frighten me. It tells of distance...hints of indifference. His face is the same, devoid of expression and emotion. He just holds her in his arms as if he's not certain how to handle her and I'm sure he doesn't. He's not ready for this and yet I've thrust him into it with my selfishness...my need. I wonder... Does he hate me for this? Or have I scared him with those recent shouts of hate? They echo in my mind as I remember how I blamed him for what was my own fault. Sure, it takes two to tango, but it only takes one to turn push into shove. I can still remember his resignation turn first to fear for me, then to pain at my harsh words. I hurt him because in my pain, I had to lash out at someone and he was the only one around to act as scapegoat. It was so easy then and now... Have I pushed him too far this time with my presumption of his devotion? He continues to sit there with her in his arms. Then, suddenly she stirs and murmurs some words in her sleep. He starts in surprise. But, when she settles down, he relaxes and slowly draws her closer to him. Then, he bends down and brushes her cheek with his lips and whispers words - no doubt of love - to her. And I can almost imagine that she smiles in her sleep. She shifts in her sleep and clasps upon his hand. It seems so small and delicate in comparison to his own. When he is certain she will not wake, he at last looks up to meet my eyes. Now, they are filled with love and warmth. As I chide myself for doubting his devotion, he slowly stands and comes to sit at my side. He still holds her with his capable arms as if she were a piece of porcelain. He looks at me for a drawn-out moment then back at her. Slowly, his lips turn up in a small smile. I can't resist raising a hand to trace it on his face and reflect it with one of my one.

"She's beautiful - like her mother."

A simple smile...a child... Those are life's little miracles.