Precious Cargo

The first thing Roderick Cranston heard upon waking up was the soft tone of a cello in the next room. He blinked wearily, sleep coming off of him rather slowly as he laid there. He paused, taking it in: it had to be Don Quixote: he knew that was next in the concert series, and for once the New York Phil was not outsourcing to an outside cellist.

Of course it meant she would have to warm up more diligently at home, but Roderick did not mind: if anything, it was the best thing he could possibly have woken up to.

He thus sighed, rolling his considerable weight on his side so he could listen better. The bed did creak rather loudly after this, however: even despite how big the bed was, Roderick was so big he could not help the loud creak. It was at this that he heard the cello playing stop: a wave of embarrassment overtook him, and he found his shoulders retreating up to his head quickly.

After a second, the door opened: Roderick saw the light splay across the bed, framed by the silhouette of a small woman.

“You're finally awake, huh, you sleepy giant?"

Roderick sighed. “I wanted to hear you play some more, Ally," he said. “I'm always afraid I'll disturb your playing if I walk in while you're doing it."

Allison Cranston chuckled, before walking forward and kissing Roderick on his scaled crown. “And I keep telling you, my endpin has been through worse things than a massive crocodile stomping through the room," she said. Her delicate hand brushed over his head, and she smiled at him. “Come out of bed, it's kind of late in the morning."

Roderick nodded. With a grunt, he turned, sitting up in bed. The huge crocodile sat there, looking down at Allison as she looked up to him. Even seated, Roderick remained towering over her: it was a sensation he was never fully used to, but seeing the way she looked up at him every morning was worth it.

He smiled, reaching forward with one of his big clawed hands. “Good morning, sweetie." He leaned forward, gently licking up the side of Allison's neck.

“Morning to you too, big guy." Allison walked out the door again. “I hope you don't mind I helped myself to one of your leftover croissants this morning!"

Roderick smiled at this. “Not at all, sweetie," he said. He stood up, ducking as he made his way out of the bedroom. “Those things'll go bad fast if you don't, after all!"

“Good," she said. “Just going to keep it to making that massive egg sandwich this morning?"

“Yup." He exhaled. “Had to make my own sized croissants for a reason, after all!"

“I know you do!" Allison then turned to her cello, picking it up from where it had laid on its side and sitting back at her chair. “Hope you don't mind my practicing while you prepare your own breakfast."

“Oh, not at all," Roderick replied. “You do your thing." He then looked to the clock. “Rehearsal will be soon anyway, right?"

“Yeah," Allison replied. “About an hour. I'll be there by then, don't worry."

“I won't, I know how you get there."

He then turned, looking out the window of their penthouse apartment. The view always amazed him: all of New York sprawled about underneath them, with all of its moving parts flitting about beneath. It always struck him just how vibrant the city was, and even from how high up his and Allison's apartment was they could see the whole city moving from up there.

Roderick took a second to look outside, reflecting on his situation in life: all things considered, he could not have asked for anything more. He'd left his old life behind, after all, and with that he could safely say things had turned out for the better: beautiful wife, beautiful home, but most of all nothing was pulling him back, and he knew not everyone had that luxury.

He nodded, before turning to his fridge, picking out the specific croissant he would use to make his trademark morning breakfast sandwich.

----**----

The scales of Greta Cranston's tail brushed against the underside of the seat as the plane pulled into the gate. It was a slow approach, and Greta could feel the roar of the engine where she sat back in the plane. It was quieting down now, and her eyes turned up to the seat belt sign, tapping a claw against the seat rest in front of her.

She flinched as soon as the accompanying beep sounded, and she looked up in great relief to see the sign was off.

She almost jumped out of the aisle seat as soon as she saw this, and she quickly opened the overhead compartment. The duffel bag up there was the only thing she had been able to think of the entire flight: this was a fear unlike any job she had ever taken on before. If things were to go wrong now…

Greta immediately unzipped the duffel bag, scanning its contents with wide green eyes. She sighed in relief as soon as she saw its cargo survived unscathed. She exhaled, before pulling it out into the aisle carefully.

Now that the cargo had gotten through in one piece, now there was the matter of getting out of the plane and into the city of New York. She had one of multiple destinations to find, but she had to speak to her brother.

The cargo was too valuable to go to anyone else.

Thus, she took deep breaths, calming herself as she waited for the plane to empty out.

----**----

Allison had headed out for rehearsal soon after Roderick had finished his sandwich. With this done, Roderick had decided it was time to head out for his daily rituals. Thus, he exited the apartment building, his hefty frame standing out amongst the crowd as he made his way south.

After about ten minutes, he passed the main branch of the New York Public Library on his left: that was his signal that he was almost to his bakery. He had bought the little place just after getting to New York, and while it'd had its uses before now it was a fine establishment. He'd already heard stellar reviews of the bakery, and he'd even had it featured on Eater one or two times (where he'd been more than happy to make one of his breads), and it was really coming into its own.

He'd never thought a hobby he'd picked up to pass the time between jobs would become so lucrative, but New York was a food city, and it paid off bigtime.

Finally, he turned the corner around the public library, and there it was: his bakery, right out in front. He was able to see a line going out of the bakery towards the next building. It brought a smile to the crocodile's snout to see it was doing so well, although he wondered just what was going on inside, where it no doubt was hectic. He only wished there were more employees to help inside, though: that was why the help wanted sign stayed constant out there, after all.

Thus, he pulled on his tank top, moving straight past the line. Most would normally have balked at it, but he noticed a few of his regulars, and those that weren't seemed to recognize him as the chef of the establishment. However, he knew going in that there would be a different face greeting him there, considering this was the first day of his weekend, as he dubbed it.

And thus, at the counter, he saw the greying fur of Harold Lauter as he was taking stock on pastries. The older rat's brown fur still stuck around, but it was definitely fast disappearing. But he still stood pretty tall, pointing the end of his pen at a half-empty tray.

The rat turned to a younger-looking hawk. “Have we got lemon lavender meringue tarts going, Lizzie?" he asked.

“Yup," the hawk replied. “Just came over here to let you know I started the meringue for a new batch, and the curd has been cooling in the blast chiller for about ten minutes. Should be ready to go in about five minutes from now."

“Good, you'll have it out then," Harold replied. “Don't forget to torch it this time when you put it on."

“Of course." The hawk went to the back, her talons clacking on the floor slightly.

Harold nodded, and then turned back to the counter. He then paused, his eyes turning up to look at Roderick. His two buck teeth showed almost immediately, and he smiled, putting the clipboard down.

“Roderick!" Harold said. He placed a hand on top of the glass on the counter. “Good to see you again this morning! I thought you would be off for the gym today."

“I am." Roderick pulled at his tank top. “What do you think this is for?"

Harold laughed, his quiet, crystalline laugh still projecting over the bustle of the crowd. “Fair enough, fair enough." He then exhaled. “Well, you'll be happy to know the new chocolate-chamomile croissant is taking off really well. First batch has sold out, Nadiya is in the back making sure more are ready by the time lunch rush starts in a few hours."

“Good, good," Roderick replied. “Any other important updates?"

“Not really," said Harold. “Things are moving smooth as can be around here!"

“Good to hear," Roderick replied. He heard the door to the bakery open, the bell jingling rather loudly. With this, he turned towards the door, making his way out. “I know you've got it under control, so I'll be heading—"

He felt a slight bump on his left arm. As soon as he looked down, he saw a draft horse move past, his left shoulder pulling back slightly from the impact. The horse's dark blue eyes widened, and as he pulled back he brought a hand up to his shoulder.

“S-sorry, sir!" he said.

Roderick smiled. “Oh, it's alright," he said. “You're fine, don't stress too hard."

The horse nodded. “Thanks." He then looked up, blinking at the large crocodile. “Actually, uh…" He glanced at the crocodile. “Are you the owner of this place?"

“Indeed I am, kid." Roderick nodded, crossing his arms. “I'm assuming you've seen the help wanted sign?"

“A couple times, sir," the horse replied. He then glanced to the floor, before turning his gaze to Harold. “Actually, I've technically already submitted an application, I just wanted to check in on the status of that."

Roderick nodded, turning back to Harold. “Have you processed it?" he asked.

“Just finished doing that this morning," Harold replied. He then reached under the counter for the information, frowning. “One… Gerald Miggs, yes?"

“Yes, sir," the horse replied. He looked down at Harold. “Sorry if I'm being nosy."

“Oh, not at all!" Roderick smiled at this, his eyes quickly turning to the customers before he looked to Harold. “Maybe we should pull this away from customers for now."

“Right." Harold leaned out towards the back. “Lizzie, can you handle the front of house for a couple of minutes?"

“Coming!" The hawk piled right out, adjusting her apron as she came rushing out.

“Thank you," Harold replied.

The rat then scooched further down, the hawk immediately nodding to the anole at the front of the line and helping him out. Roderick and Gerald followed suit, the two of them looking down as Harold looked at the paperwork in Harold's hand.

After a second, Harold nodded. “Oh right, there it is." He then exhaled, pulling up some papers as he looked to Roderick. “Criminal record."

And at this, Gerald's eyes widened. Roderick noted the horse's expression, saw the way his arms tensed and the way his ears flattened hard against his mane. Roderick looked on, Gerald swallowing hard as he looked on.

“I-I know," said Gerald.

“Then I'm sure you know why we can't take you on," Harold replied. “It says you have a record of petty theft as a kid."

“Please, I really need this job," Gerald said. He placed his hands delicately on the glass of the display case, and Roderick could see his eyes water up. “Nobody else will take me, I've tried all throughout the city."

Harold opened his mouth, but before he could say anything else Roderick held up his hand. “Hold on, Harold," Roderick replied. He looked down. “I want to ask him some things first."

Gerald gulped. “Sir?" he asked.

Roderick bowed his head towards Gerald, looking down. “What was the charge for?"

“Uh, petty theft, like he said." Gerald exhaled, Roderick noticing that he was shaking some tension out of his fingers. “Nothing else."

Roderick nodded, tapping a single finger against his bicep. “And I'm assuming you did your time?"

“Yes, sir," said Gerald. “It's… a long story. Just friends roped me into—"

“I'm going to stop you there, you don't have to tell me anything." Roderick placed two more fingers onto his bicep at that. “What's important is, you're trying to go straight now, right?"

“Yeah," said Gerald. He shook his head, the tears welling in his eyes. “I'm…" He gulped nervously, his gaze turning to the floor. “I'm trying really hard. It's hard when nobody will take you, you know?"

Roderick nodded. He uncrossed his arms, looking down at Gerald as kindly as a seven foot tall crocodile was capable of. “We've all got our crosses to bear," he said. “But the important part is, you're trying to get out of that. I know how hard it is, that you just need someone to believe in you. Right?"

“Yeah…" Gerald nodded, and in the sparkle of the horse's eyes Roderick could see how his pupils began to shrink, relax a little bit.

Roderick bowed his head forward. “When can you start?"

Gerald blinked, looking up at Roderick in shock. “U-uh…" He ran a hand through his mane, his ears perking up just as he passed his hand over them. “I can do any time. I don't really have a lot to do, you know."

Roderick smiled. “Come in tomorrow, I'll be in the office then, and I can show you the ropes," he said.

Gerald's shoulders immediately fell, and Gerald's smile seemed to brighten up the whole room. “O-Oh… Oh my God!" Gerald reached forward, enthusiastically shaking Roderick's hand. “Thank you! You'll see me there right at opening, I promise!"

Roderick smiled at this. “Welcome to the team, Gerald."

Gerald nodded, turning to Harold. “I'm not going to need anything else, am I, sir?"

Harold sighed, his ears drooping slightly. “We'll take care of the paperwork tomorrow when you come in," he said, his voice expressing his exasperation. “For now, just be sure to show up on time."

“Alright, then you'll see me there! I won't let you guys down!" With this, Gerald exited the store, and Roderick could see him almost skipping his way out and even high fiving a customer in the line.

Harold exhaled, folding the papers up and putting them in the breast pocket of his suit. “I don't know about this, Roderick," he replied. “It's a bit of a slippery slope, letting a petty thief into the store."

Roderick nodded. “I understand your concern, but if nobody ever gave anyone a break the whole world would stop dead." He then patted the display case. “And besides, if nobody ever got second chances, well…" He shrugged, bowing his head pointedly towards Harold as he pointed a finger into his own chest. “You and I both know where I'd be today."

Harold's tail stiffened in response, and he backed up against the wall. “Yeah, I guess I do," he said. He nodded. “I'll give him a chance, then."

“Good." Roderick smiled, before turning to the door. “Anyway, mind the store for me, it's gym time. I'll see you tomorrow!"

“Of course." Harold turned back to Lizzie, although Roderick could tell that Harold's movements were not as lively as they usually were for a man his age.

Roderick nodded, and with this, he turned to the door. The bell chimed behind him as he left, and he nodded to some of the customers before turning away from Bryant Park, to the nearest Metro station and to his usual gym spot.

----**----

Greta stepped out of the first gym she had attempted to enter. It was a dud: the rather musclebound human owner of the gym had no problem chewing her out with the duffel bag, and when he had calmed down enough to listen to her question about Roderick, he mentioned he had never heard of a man by that name, nevermind a tall crocodile that was just over her height, before threatening to call the police over her duffel bag.

She exhaled gently, holding her cargo close at hand before she walked off. It was clear this gym was a bust, that was for certain.

She adjusted her sunglasses on her face after this, exhaling as she brushed off some of the hey from her black suit jacket. That meant there were only two more gyms she could check in this part of the city, and she had to do it quickly.

The thought made her blood run a little cold, in a way that caused her muscles to constrict somewhat. If this owner had been this hostile about seeing her cargo, then who knew what the owner of Roderick's actual gym would be like? She might not even get to see him, and everything she had done to get there would be for naught…

She looked down to her duffel bag. She also had to face the possibility that he would not want to see what was in there to begin with: this was a possibility she had not yet confronted, but after the gym owner's treatment of her she began to wonder: would he really do the same thing?

She exhaled. No, she had to believe he would at least listen. They were related by blood, after all: he had to, even if they had not spoken in almost a year.

She thus steeled herself, looking down at her next destination. It was a bit of a ways away, but Greta knew she could not risk a cab in her line of work. Thus, she began the long walk to her next gym, hoping against all hope that it was the one Roderick frequented.

----**----

It was a little bit of a trek to get to the nearest gym that supported anthros: there were none on Manhattan, and that meant he had to go elsewhere. He was lucky that Brooklyn was only a short ride away, and that the area had been seeing a lot of development over the years: it meant lots of varied new businesses were opening up there, many in ways that the island couldn't provide. Thus, his most trusted gym: he'd started going along to a gym that had opened in a former warehouse, probably the only place that could reasonably fit all varieties of anthro in there.

It still took a while, but Roderick was in no hurry: after all, on gym days, he tended to stay in there for a long time.

Thus, Roderick inhaled as he walked through the double doors of the gym, ducking his head under the entrance briefly. He could hear the sounds of weights clacking against each other deeper inside the gym, enough that Roderick knew it would be a full day. He was certain he would get looks from everyone, but he had no plans to show off, not with Allison waiting at home by the time he got back.

Of course, there was only one other person he would show off for.

“Rod, there ya are! You're late!"

Roderick turned to his right, and there stood a massive rhino with a broad smile on his face. The sight brought a smile to his face: Anton Maxon always looked quite cheerful for somebody Rod had met in his old line of work, and now that they were both out he seemed even cheerier than ever.

“Hey Anton!" Rod came forward, patting Anton on the shoulder. “Sorry about that, I had to deal with something when I checked in on the bakery this morning."

“One little thing makes the trains go by without a word, right?" Anton asked. He shrugged. “It wasn't anything bad, was it?"

“Oh, no, just some kid who wanted a job," Rod replied. He shrugged, “Harold needed to be convinced a bit to take a petty thief on, give the kid another chance."

“Or start your own speakeasy down in the basement," Anton replied. He winked, nudging Roderick on the side. “Can you imagine the comments sections on YouTube if that were to happen?"

“I don't even want to go down that train of thought," Roderick replied. He pulled away, shrugging as he looked at Anton. “You slept OK on that rock last night?"

“Yeah, just a bit," Anton said. He bent over, stretching his legs briefly. “Wouldn't have come in today if I wasn't feeling it."

“Yeah, I hear you," Roderick replied. He then rubbed his hands. “Anyway, shall we get started? I've got an entire day's worth of gymming to do, and we're not going to do it out here."

“Nope," Anton replied. He then nodded towards the front desk, dangling a key from an outstretched hand in front of Roderick. “Took the liberty of signing you in when I got here, all you need to do is get to the locker and do stuff."

“Thank you!" Roderick took the key. “I'll try not to take too long."

Anton chuckled at this, leaning against the wall. “With those arms, I'm surprised you can pick up any speed there, Rod!"

“You'd be surprised!" Roderick replied, twirling the key ring on his finger. “You'd be very surprised!" He chuckled. “I'll be only five minutes!"

Anton smiled at Roderick as he retreated into the locker room. “Good luck!" he said.

Roderick flashed Anton a wink, before he retreated into the locker room. As he went to get his stuff out, Roderick was thankful the rhino had thought to check him in first: even if he had only been about nine minutes late (a record for lateness, really), it only reconfirmed what he knew: Anton was still the world's best work-out partner, and it was a partnership that Roderick could not do without.

Thus, he opened his locker, pulling his water bottle and towel and moving towards the water fountain to fill his bottle up for the first hour of the workout.

----**----

About three hours in, and Roderick was only then beginning to feel the burn in his triceps. Roderick was usually in the gym for all his muscle groups at a time, and most of that took six hours. His legs were already burning, and it was only just then he had started work on his torso. His arms barely felt the first hour of the work-out even at the highest possible weights, and…

Anton was not too far away, his arm held in a curling machine: sweat was pouring off the rhino's brow, and as Roderick slowly lifted the lat bar up until he could release it and started to shake his arms out, he looked over, grinning.

“Sweating over there, big guy?" Roderick asked.

Anton growled, midway through another curl as he glared. “Grrrrh…"

Rod grinned at this, looking down. “You know, I hear sweat's supposed to weaken your grip on certain items," he said playfully as he crossed over, intentionally walking to the pull up machine next to Anton and pulling himself up. “You think that's happening here?"

Anton slowly let the machine down, growling up at Rod. “I dunno, is it the same as how your skin always sheds?" he asked.

Rod simply pulled himself up, grunting from the effort. “At least it comes off once and it's over with," he replied. “You just keep producing it."

“Sure, but I don't have to explain to the gym owners why their trash bins are suddenly full when it happens here." Anton pulled on the curling machine again, before lowering it again. “You know, like what happened in January. How does the missus even handle that?"

“With dainty hands, the way she does everything else," said Rod.

“I'll bet," Anton replied. “She'd have to be in order to handle a tool like that."

“Oh, I'm sure you'd know," Rod replied. He did another two reps, grunting as he held himself in place. “Lucky for me, my scales haven't started shedding yet, so I'm good for a while now."

“Well, that's a relief." Anton exhaled before pulling up on the machine. “You think that—"

And then, Anton paused, Rod also pausing midway through his rep as he looked down at the rhino. The rhino slowly lowered the weight, before he pulled away from the machine.

“Greta?"

Rod very nearly let go on the spot: as it was, he let himself gently, turning back towards where Anton's gaze was trained. Indeed, there she was: Greta was nearly as big as he was thanks to that Cranston gene, so he imagined she had no trouble holding the duffel bag in her hand. She was dressed in the suit that Rod knew she had not been ready to give up yet, with its all-black jacket and tie.

Rod's tail smacked the ground, his eyes widening as he regarded her. He opened his jaw to say something, but clamped it shut. As soon as he looked her over, he noticed that her expression was not nearly as stern as it usually was: the sunglasses were held on her face, but even past that he could see the way her lower jaw quivered very slightly. As soon as he saw this Roderick knew something was off.

“Greta?" asked Roderick. “Odd time and place for a family visit. How did you know I lived here?"

“Long story," Greta replied, glancing over her shoulder. “It's important."

Roderick frowned, before turning back to the pull-up machine. “What could possibly be important enough for this?" he asked.

“I can't say, not here." Greta breathed in, her breath rather shaky. “Please, Rod, hear me out. I need to talk to you, bad."

Rod paused, regarding Greta. The members of the Cranston bloodline had never been particularly close with each other: it was hard to be close in the criminal underworld, with Roderick stuck as an enforcer for the Kaiser nearly as long as Greta had been one of his runners. Roderick had gotten into the Kaiser's good graces enough to leave on at least amicable terms, but he had a feeling he did not hold Greta in quite so high a regard.

And now there she was in person, with a duffel bag in tow.

Roderick took a deep breath, and looked over Greta again. When he did, he noticed then the way her arm trembled, the way her jaw quivered. It was only then he seriously took note of all those things, and the way she held the duffel bag almost protectively. And just under the sunglasses, she saw the single tear that was visible.

Finally, Roderick sighed, before gesturing with his head towards the locker room. “Let's talk in there, nobody's in there at this hour."

Greta breathed in deeply. “Please," she said, her voice sounding a little more desperate.

The two of them sauntered off, Anton watching nervously as he went to pick up his water. It was a short walk to the locker room, and as soon as Roderick closed the door he made sure to lock it behind him.

“Alright, what do you want?" asked Roderick.

Greta gingerly placed the duffel bag on a nearby bench, almost as if making sure that whatever was inside was perched there safely. Probably some kind of payment for one last job, Roderick was sure of it. He felt his tail stiffen as his hands clenched into a fist.

“Greta, why do you think I'd go back to the Kaiser for a job?" he said. “He knows I don't want back in this life, he wouldn't force me to—"

And then, Greta opened the bag. In the light, there were no ingots of gold or platinum that sparkled, or even much of anything else in there. What it was full of, however, was straw, enough straw to fill a farm, and he could faintly see a heating pad underneath.

But framed in the straw was a white, ovular object, one that remained unmoving in the light: Roderick would know that shape anywhere, and indeed he had seen it in many photos of his youth from his parents. And as he looked back at the heating pad and then at the straw that held it in place, everything came together.

Roderick paused, his eyes widening in shock. “Greta…?"

Greta took a deep breath, finally pulling her sunglasses off. In the light, Roderick could see how red her eyes were.

“His name was Michael," Greta replied. “We'd delivered some cocaine successfully that night, almost got killed by authorities. We got on so well, and we were just so relieved that one thing led to another, and…"

She then gestured to the egg in the bag.

Roderick nodded, looking up at Greta. His heart tightened as he thought to how he had addressed her earlier. In hindsight, he should have known something was unusual just from how she had carried herself. And with the tears now running down her cheeks, he felt a small pang of guilt take place in his heart.

Still, he breathed in, looking at her. “I see," he said. “And you don't want it to grow up in that life?"

“No," Greta replied. “Lately, things have been hard. I don't want that for this one. He's…" She exhaled. “I can't do that to him." She then paused, before turning to him. “And I don't feel comfortable putting him up for adoption either, you know no human couple would be willing to take in a baby crocodile."

Roderick blinked, his limbs stiffening at what Greta was implying. Indeed, she stepped forward, grasping his wrists in her claws as she looked up at him.

“Please, Roderick," she said. “You're the only one I trust with him. Please."

Roderick paused at this, his gaze turning back to the egg. Fatherhood was not something he had ever seriously considered, and now that it was in front of him, he could not help but think about it. He had not dealt with a child in ages, would he be good with one? How would he know what to do?

Most of all, he knew how estranged from his sister he generally was, but the fact she came to him over an actual adoption agency… He knew how much this meant to her. He could not fail her on this, or he knew even if she was not around he would have to answer to her.

And what of Allison? As she came to mind, Roderick realized she probably had no idea how to handle a crocodile baby. Would she even want that, and how would she take to it? Roderick did not know, and even if he wanted to he could not drag an egg into the house without that.

Roderick inhaled. “I… don't know," he said. “Let me ask Allison."

Immediately, Greta scoffed: Roderick saw the frown come onto her face almost instantly, and Greta backed away.

“Her again?" she asked. “Why does it matter what she thinks?"

“Because I'm not going to force her into this level of responsibility," Roderick replied, his voice remaining at its usual volume. He looked down at the egg, exhaling. “You know better than anyone a young crocodile is a lot to handle, it wouldn't be fair of me to foist that on her if she didn't want it." He shook his head. “Just… I'll need time to think about it, even without her input."

Greta nodded slowly, pulling away. “I see," she said. She nodded, walking back to the duffel bag. “Honestly, I expected you'd need to think about it first." She exhaled, splaying her fingers out. “I told the Kaiser I would be off in Mexico City early to talk to a mob enforcer, but I made a detour here first. I should be good for a little bit."

She then went to her suit jacket, pulling out a small slip of paper and handing it to Roderick. Roderick took it, immediately opening it up and seeing a phone number written on it just above where a coffee stain was. He looked at it, before turning his attention back to Greta.

“This isn't your usual number," he said.

“It's too risky," she said. “It's the hotel's number. I'll be here for three days, and then it's off to Mexico City for me."

She closed the duffel bag, giving a staggered exhale as she turned to Roderick. “I'll be waiting for your call," she said. She then turned, exhaling nervously. “Please don't make me have come out here for nothing."

With this, she pulled her sunglasses back on. As fast as she had crept up on him, she was out, leaving Roderick with a thousand thoughts scattered around him. The silence in the room in the wake of her departure was almost deafening, and he was left to try to gather them.

And after about a minute, he exhaled. He would have to go on a grocery run after he finished with Anton, there was only one way he could think to break the question to Allison.

----**----

“Oh goodness, you shouldn't have! First the scallop starter, then the steak, and now this? Roderick, dear, you really went all out!"

“I know…"

Allison smiled at this, waving her spoon and looking down at what he had put in front of them: he was not much for being compared to other bakers in New York, but he did not mind replicating some of their recipes at home. Thus, he'd decided that would be a perfect time to replicate Christina Tosi's cereal milk panna cotta, complete with chocolate-hazelnut bark and sweetened avocado puree and everything. That, combined with the full English roast and a small starter of scallop ceviche had rounded the night off, and it had been a pressure cooker in his kitchen while he'd made it.

At least it kept his mind off of Greta's visit to the gym.

Still, now that Allison's spoon was sinking into the strip of panna cotta he'd set on the plate, he felt that conversation starting to creep its way in. Even the fact that the avocado puree actually turned out delicious this time was no small comfort, and as Allison smiled upon taking a bite, Roderick felt the coming storm looming overhead.

“Mm!" Allison finished her bite. “I guess that reminds me we should swing by Momofuku sometime, right? Which one are you thinking?"

“Maybe…" Roderick glanced to the side. “I was thinking I'd be more of a Red Rooster person myself."

“Marcus does strike me as a character, I guess," Allison commented. “Alright, I'll bite with that."

Roderick nodded. “Good." He exhaled, his shoulders visibly shifting as he dug his spoon into his own avocado puree.

Finally, though, Allison nodded, brushing some hair out of her face. “Alright, out with it," she said. “What's on your mind, big guy?"

Roderick closed his eyes, setting his spoon down. “I got visited by Greta at the gym today."

Allison's smile instantly vanished, and her head tilted to the side. “Not to pull you back into your old life, I hope," she said.

“That's what I thought at first, but no," said Roderick. He then exhaled, turning from Allison and placing his head in his hands. “God, how do I even start to phrase this…"

Allison immediately stood up, before walking just behind Roderick and delicately placing her hands on his broad shoulders. “Take your time," she said. “We don't have anywhere else to be tonight, just take your time…"

Roderick nodded, exhaling and shaking out some tension in his hands. He then sat up, centering himself on the way Allison's hands pressed into his shoulders gently. His worries started melting away, although by the time he breathed in again he still felt his throat stopping. That last exhale would do it, he figured, and he closed his eyes as he exhaled.

“She… laid an egg recently," Roderick replied. “Wasn't close to the father. And…" He inhaled again, feeling his heart rate increase a hair. “She doesn't want to raise him. Not in that world. So she asked me to take care of him."

Allison blinked. “Really?"

Roderick nodded. “Yes," he said.

“I'm ready!"

Roderick opened his mouth to say something, but as soon as Allison's words registered in his mind, his eyes widened. His jaw went slack, and he turned to her, finding Allison absolutely beaming when she looked at him.

“W-what, really?" he asked.

“Yeah!" Allison smiled at Roderick, pulling her hands off his shoulders and sitting down next to him. “Why not? I don't think your sister would come to you if she didn't trust your judgment on this, Rod."

“But are you really OK with it, or are you saying it for my sake?" Roderick asked.

Allison chuckled good-naturedly. “Roderick Cranston, you should know by now I don't just say things for your sake." She stood up, leaving a gentle kiss on his snout. “I've been thinking about it for a little bit, honestly."

“Really?" Roderick's eyes widened more than even Roderick thought was possible.

“Yeah, I'd been meaning to ask you about it," she said. “I've always wanted to be a mother, but I figured the question would be more complicated with two parents of different species, so I wanted to talk to you, explore our options."

Roderick blinked: of course she would have thought about it before he did. He wondered what kind of sense of humor the world had that it dropped this right when Greta had asked, and he was not about to look it too hard in the mouth.

But there were still his own doubts, and he looked down. “Do you think I'd make a good father?" he asked.

“Oh absolutely," said Allison, reaching for his hand and squeezing it. “You've got a kind, forgiving nature to you, and honestly I think you keep proving it in ways you don't even anticipate." She shrugged. “Hell, think about that horse who asked for a job today that you mentioned when I got home!"

“Gerald?" Roderick glanced away, thinking about how easy it had been to give the kid a chance. The more he thought about it, he realized that actually, she had a really good point. And if that translated to child rearing…

“Yeah, I guess so," said Roderick. He then looked to Allison. “And you don't mind the staring of a reptilian child?"

And here, Allison smirked, squeezing his hand a little harder. “I married the best reptile in the world," she said. “What's one more kid into the mix?"

Roderick nodded, all tension gone from his body as he leaned forward, gently licking Allison's cheek. “I guess you do bring up a compelling point," he said. He nodded. “Alright, then we're taking him in?"

“Yeah," said Allison. She stood up, walking back to the opposite end of the table. “But first, we've got this cereal milk panna cotta to eat. We don't want it getting warmer, do we?"

Roderick chuckled, turning back to the plate and realizing how much more inviting it looked. “No," he said. “Let's not insult Christina like that."

Allison shook her head as she sat back down and picked up her spoon again. “Would she really be insulted by that, though?" she asked.

And here, the alligator chuckled, shaking his head. “No, she wouldn't," he admitted. “She is all about being as unpretentious as possible."

“There you go," Allison replied. She dug her spoon back into the panna cotta. “We'll call your sister afterwards."

Roderick nodded. “Of course," he said.

With this, he too finally dug into the dessert in earnest, taking a bite and savoring the way the cereal flavor just peeked through.

----**----

Greta's hotel room was rather dirty, but then again that was what was expected out of a roach motel in the middle of the city. Greta's tastes usually aimed much more high-class, but she did not think it was worth pursuing that considering she was there undercover: she had to cover her tracks, and paying for the cheapest thing she could find in cash was the best way she had to do that.

This was not why she was losing sleep, of course. The reason for that was laying on the ground next to the space heater: her mind was racing after her conversation with Roderick. She had always felt there was the possibility he would have refused to have anything to do with the child, and it was a huge gamble to make her way to New York City with that in mind. The fact Roderick was considering it to begin with was good news at least, but she still worried about it.

Thus, she exhaled, looking down at the duffel bag. She opened it again, looking down at the egg. How delicate it was, but how precious it was as well. It was the most precious kind of cargo there was, and while she hoped Roderick would ultimately say yes she felt a pang of sadness come to her: it was ultimately still her baby, and here she was putting herself in a position that she might never see him grow up. While she was sure Roderick could provide a better home now that he was out of the criminal underworld, a part of her still wished to see him grow.

And as the phone rang, the possibility she might be denied that mercy rang ever so louder.

She turned back to the phone mounted on the night stand, picking it up and leaning forward. “Hello?"

“Greta." Roderick's voice was as gruff as she remembered, but there was a distinct soft edge to it. “How are you doing?"

Greta exhaled, her limbs relaxing somewhat as she sat on the bed. “As good as I can be," she said. “What is it?"

“I talked with Allison about your egg," he said. “And we've both agreed to take him in, on one condition."

Greta's eyes widened somewhat. “And that is?"

“You can't see him while you are still part of the criminal underworld."

Greta felt her throat tighten, leaning back in shock. She blinked, looking at the egg again. She had expected it, of course, but even hearing the words out of her brother's mouth took her breath away.

She took a second, closing her eyes as the first of the tears spilled down her cheeks. “Not even in pictures?"

“You and I both know people in the underworld would track that, and then all this would be for nothing," Roderick replied. “This is for his safety, you know."

Greta nodded, sniffling rather loudly. “Y-yes, I guess," she said. She inhaled sharply. “It's just… it's my baby…"

“I know," said Roderick, his voice just the slightest bit breathier. “But if you can get out of this life, I will be more than happy to let you two meet. That's a promise."

Greta inhaled sharply, nodding gently. “Okay," she said. She took a few more seconds to let this thought sink in. “Okay."

She then turned to the nightstand, grabbing her planner. “When would be a good time to come around?"

“After I'm done at the bakery," Roderick replied. “You know where to go, I hope?"

“Yeah, I do," Greta said. “Thank you."

“I will see you tomorrow," Roderick replied. “Take care of yourself, Greta."

“Of course."

With this, the call ended. Greta inhaled, looking down at the egg that was still exposed to the air. She wondered briefly what it would have been like to see his first birthday in person, what that would look like in the busiest city in the world. How wonderful it would have been to see it…

She sighed, petting the egg gently. She closed her eyes, wondering where to even begin trying to get out of her life. She nodded, though, and wiping the remains of the tears away, she looked at the egg intently.

“Someday, I'll come back to you, baby," she said. “I'll see you someday."

----**----

One Month Later…

Roderick pulled the rolling pin away from the mound of dough, exhaling as he looked at it. There was another lamination in the puff pastry, another layer of buttery Italian goodness. He figured Claire would be proud about that, even if he was not necessarily making a Hot Pocket out of it.

He exhaled, the sound of Allison's cello practice wafting over the kitchen as he glanced over to the incubator. They had set it up close to the bedroom so they could keep an eye on it: the light glow of the lamps inside had proved almost comforting to the two of them as well as to the egg it carried, and it was a comfort that they could come back to quite incessantly. It had not hatched just yet, although they had a feeling it would come any time.

Thus, they had made it a point to spend as much time at home as they could: they did not want the baby alone when it hatched. At least this time it was relatively later in the day, after Allison had been done with rehearsal and Roderick was just preparing the dough for the next day's croissant sandwiches. Roderick's eyes remained on the egg whenever possible, his eyes widening with a slight twinge of fear and excitement every time he looked over.

Part of him wished it would hatch already so they could get the pleasantries out of the way. But he knew not to rush it, and so he grabbed the tray, and pulled the refrigerator opened. It did need to rest the entire night, and it would have plenty of time for that that night.

Roderick had just the pastry into the refrigerator when he saw the egg wobble in the incubator. He paused, his eyes widening for just a second as he looked on at the egg. He had to have been seeing things just then, he had to…

And then, it wobbled again.

In his scrambling to get over to the incubator, Roderick almost smashed the tip of his snout head-first into the refrigerator door. Still, he immediately rushed to the incubator. “Allison, I think he's hatching!"

The cello music immediately stopped, and after a couple of seconds Allison was at the incubator next to Roderick, just in time for the egg to wobble more. And then, after a second, a crack formed right at the top.

“Oh, there it is!" Allison leaned towards the egg.

After a little more effort, a tiny snout peeked through the crack. It did not take much longer for the rest of the egg to crumble around the little crocodilian baby, and soon, there he was, eyes still closed and his limbs still moving about. He looked so delicate laid out on the straw at the bottom of the incubator, and then he opened his mouth to let out a quiet squeal. His scales were a little lighter than the Cranston's scales were, but otherwise

Roderick remained frozen in place. He had been excited about the egg hatching, but now that the baby had actually hatched, he could not move. Suddenly everything ran through his head at once: how would he handle being a father? Would he be good to the little boy? Would his sister come calling anyway? Would he be too busy to care?

He felt his muscles freeze in place, and no matter how much he willed it he could not move them at all.

Fortunately, Allison took him into his arms. “Ah, look at him!" she said gently. She held him far more delicately than he could ever have hoped to.

And that was when the little baby opened his eyes. They shone the same green as his mother's eyes, and they contracted slightly as he saw light for the first time. He squealed at this, extending his little limbs a little more forward towards Allison. She extended a finger out, meeting his grabbing claws halfway and pressing gently. This was met with a somewhat quiet series of chirps from the little baby.

“Oh, you're adorable!" Allison whispered softly, just enough that Roderick almost did not hear it. She then turned to Roderick, smiling. “I think you'll like this big guy, won't you, kid?"

Roderick blinked, finally able to move his arms. When he did, he leaned forward, picking up the little crocodile from Allison's arms. The little baby let out more chirping, looking up at Roderick with those wide eyes that seemed to pierce into his soul. The little guy felt so delicate and so light in his arms, with those little limbs that reached for him and everything.

Roderick finally smiled, before leaning closer and bringing his other hand towards the little baby. He chirped even louder at this, Roderick bouncing him slightly in his one arm.

Allison leaned forward, placing her hand on the edge of the incubator. “You've thought of a name for him, right?" she asked.

Roderick nodded. “I was thinking of Lucas," he replied. “After our father. I think Greta would've done the same."

Allison nodded, and she leaned in close. “Welcome to the world, little Lucas Cranston."

With this, she leaned in close to Roderick, the whole family engaged in a hug. Roderick glanced up at the clock: in the back of his mind, he knew they would have to call several people, get the legalities out of the way. For now, though, there was just the three of them, in that space, together, forming one small family.

Roderick could not remember the last time he felt so at peace with the world, and he intended to do his best by his nephew as much as he could.