"Are you sure you're able to handle tonight?" Cassie asked as she grabbed the heavy duffel bag sitting by her feet. Irene could hear her the engine of Cassie's uncle's car running outside.

"I know how to parent," Irene grumbled as she waited with Cassie by the doorstep.

"I didn't mean it like that!" Cassie exclaimed. "I was just making sure you wouldn't be too overwhelmed. I'll be back in two days. And Marc will take care of everything tomorrow, but you can ask him for help if you need to."

Irene crossed her arms and nodded, wishing Cassie would get a move on back home. After Irene's embarrassing outburst to Cassie on Christmas, Cassie had suggested Irene watch Elijah for one night while she headed home to see her family during the holidays. Irene was thrilled to have been given the chance, but she was getting anxious for Cassie to leave so she could finally have some alone time with her son. She interacted with him slightly on a daily basis, but she hadn't taken care of him for an extended period of time. She was surprised Marc had even agreed to letting her watch Elijah for the evening.

"Well, good luck," Cassie said, turning to the door. Irene awkwardly waved good-bye as Cassie exited the cabin.

Irene let out a sigh and shut the door, jumping as she found a child standing directly behind her, his eyes so similar to her own gazing back at her.

"Mommy gone?" Elijah asked.

"Yes, but she'll be back soon. You already said good-bye to her a few minutes ago, right?" Irene asked.

"Yeah," he responded. The child's head looked down to his socks as he awkwardly shuffled his feet over the hardwood floor.

"Well, I'll be watching you tonight," Irene stated, trying to break up the awkwardness. This was her son, after all. Why should she be feeling nervous around him?

"Daddy busy too?" Elijah wondered.

"He's very tired. So I'm going to take care of you tonight," she said, crouching down near him. She grabbed ahold of his tiny hands. They were still minuscule compared to hers, but much larger than when he was an infant. She stared at them curiously, noticing they were short and stubby, just like hers.

"We can play games, and eat your favorite food, and I can even show you baby pictures," she teased, trying to lighten the mood some before her own sadness caught hold of her.

"Okay," Elijah replied, his eyes lighting up excitedly.

She grinned and tousled his hair before grasping his hand and leading him to the kitchen to prepare him some staple Kraft Mac & Cheese, also known as his favorite meal. As the pasta cooked, she chased him around the living room, only pausing their playtime when she had to lower the heat or add some milk and butter.

She noticed the others were strangely keeping out of the kitchen. Irene wasn't sure if it was because they were still awkward around her, or because they knew this was valuable time for her. Either way, she savored the privacy and dropped a bowl in front of her son and one in her own place on the table.

Elijah dug his spoon into the meal, humming in satisfaction as cheese sauce got on his cheeks and lips. Irene quietly laughed and ate silently. She rarely got this much alone time with her son and was trying to eat up every moment of it. Before she knew it, Cassie would be back home, and Elijah would go running to her again.

Irene ignored the jealousy arising. She had wanted Cassie to take care of Elijah in the first place, not seeing herself as the most model parent. She had little to offer Elijah these days besides some company. He was too young to understand their separation, and it was even harder when he asked where his real father was. Irene hoped he would never meet Miguel.

"I full," Elijah said.

"Let's get pajamas on," Irene suggested. She led him up to his bedroom, letting him pick out which pair he wanted to wear. After he got into his bright blue pajamas, she made sure he brushed his teeth and brought him up a glass of milk before bedtime.

Irene realized that she didn't want her time to end so soon. As he took a seat on the ground, trying to get in a few more minutes of playtime, Irene briefly headed to her room to retrieve the one picture she had brought back with her.

It was a picture of her, looking exhausted as she had just given birth. The tiny blonde hairs on her face were damp and curled from sweat, and the bags under her eyes showcased how tired she was. But overall, she looked happy as a tiny newborn baby was placed against her bare chest. Her hand was curled around the infant carefully, and her eyes were only staring at him, the life that she had created.

Irene felt herself growing emotional as she stared at the picture. It had felt like almost yesterday when he'd been born, but now he was four years old. She coughed, trying to break up the tears, as she headed back into Elijah's room. He was crouched on the floor, continuing to play with some toy cars.

Showing him the picture could wait. She set it to the side and knelt to the ground with him, guessing it was okay to let one more playing session slide.

"You can be green car," he suggested, handing the plastic car to her.

"Okay," she said, racing it across the floor with him. He broke nearly all of his rules for the racing game they played, but she let him win anyway, just to see the joy on his face. That awkwardness didn't fill the room as much as before. Elijah truly seemed to treat her as a friend. He even let her hold his very special purple car that he only reserved for himself. Irene felt touched to have been given such an honor.

She noticed the alarm clock on Elijah's nightstand growing late and quietly told him it was time to put the cars away. He was reluctant at first, but agreed once she told him they could play more in the morning. The cars went back in their box, and Irene's gaze went back to the picture frame she had brought in.

"Do you want to see something cool?" she asked as she pulled the picture frame out from under her arm. She knelt down, showing it to him.

"Who that?" he asked, pointing to the infant in the picture.

"That's you as a baby," she told him. "Look how tiny you were. You had just been born."

Elijah stared at the picture curiously, piecing it together. His eyes lingered to Irene in the photograph, and then slowly they came up to stare at her in real life.

"And that you?" he asked, pointing to her.

She quietly nodded.

"You look older now," Elijah said.

Irene chuckled. "Well, I am older." But she knew that wasn't what he had meant. The stress and depression she had gone through surely had aged her. Even though the picture was only from four years ago, she looked a decade younger. She was nineteen in the photograph, but Irene could have sworn anyone else would have thought she was sixteen.

"Do you have pictures of my real daddy?" Elijah asked.

"No," Irene said, almost too fast.

A silence grew between them.

"I-I told you earlier. He was not a nice person," she said. "That's why Cassie and Marc started taking care of you." It was partially true. It was mostly to keep him away from the cruel regime of the Preservers, but Miguel was certainly part of that decision too. After they had cut things off, she wanted to make sure he never got his hands on his son, despite the love he supposedly had for him.

"Are you a nice person?" Elijah asked quietly.

No, Irene thought almost instantly. She had betrayed her friends and acted cruel to almost all of her old acquaintances. But she couldn't tell Elijah that.

"I love you very much," she told him. It was true. Out of all the spite, Irene had always had a soft attitude toward her son. Even when she was debating her love between Miguel and Lillian, she had always loved Elijah more than anyone else.

"You look happy," Elijah said, pointing to the photograph.

Irene was surprised how he managed to get that from her mostly blank expression. She looked exhausted in that photo, remembering the pain and exhaustion of labor. There was peace on Irene's face, content over her new son.

"I was happy to be a mother," Irene stated.

"Do you think Mommy will have kids?" Elijah wondered.

Irene realized he was talking about Cassie, not her. That was fine with Irene. She barely wanted any more children after all she had been through with Elijah. She chuckled a bit, moving the photograph away.

"Maybe one day. Are you hoping for some more playmates?" she asked.

Elijah nodded.

"I think it will probably still be a little while," she said, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair. He sat quietly as she ran her fingers through his hair, just as she'd done when he was only an infant. She missed the way his soft hair felt on her fingertips.

"Do you want me to read a story to you before you go to bed?" she asked.

Elijah quietly nodded, and she removed her hand from his hair.

"Will you pick a book for me to read?"

He got up and rummaged through his bookshelf until he settled on a picture book. He grabbed his cup of milk and wandered over to her. Irene was shocked as he settled comfortably in her lap, waiting for her to begin reading to him.

Irene paused for a few moments before beginning to read to him. Elijah was quiet, sipping his milk in between pages. She read to him, just as she had done when he was an infant. He listened intently and stared curiously at each page. Irene dreaded coming to the end of the storybook, but soon enough, her hand closed the book.

Elijah remained sitting, and Irene, admiring the silence, leaned forward and kissed the top of his head. She expected him to react, but he made only a tiny sound. Slowly, he turned his body toward her, to perhaps tell her his cup of milk was empty, Irene supposed. Emotion overcame here, and she wrapped her arms around him, holding him close to her body.

Elijah did not shout or struggle. He simply let her hold him. Irene was shaking as she held her son close to her, missing the days that she held him when she was tired or upset. She was envious he wasn't only hers anymore. She wished she could raise him on her own. She wished he thought of her as a mother. She wished he remembered her...

"I-Irene," he said quietly. "Can I go to bed now?"

"Yes! Sorry," she said, releasing her arms. He crawled up into bed and under the covers. She retrieved the empty milk glass and tucked him in, trying to keep any tears from arising.

"Are you comfy?" she asked.

He nodded.

"Have a good sleep, then," she said, turning off the light.

"Good night," he replied.

Irene slowly shut his bedroom door as she exited and immediately bolted to her room, breaking down in tears as soon as she had entered it. She leaned her back against her door and placed her face in her hands. She wasn't sure why she was crying. Irene couldn't tell if it was frustration or joy. Her son had let her hold him and kiss his hair, but he would not accept her as his real mother. She wasn't sure whether to be content or not.

Irene stifled back sobs as she tried to keep herself upright. Maybe her son would never view her as a mother, and maybe he would never know her as well as she wanted him to, but she hoped one day she could express to him how much she loved him.