Cadence ( Part 2 of Rhythm ) Completed*

Chp 7: Reprise

"Mother fucker," Mickey curses before pushing forward on his knees so he can expel whatever he still has in his stomach. When he's finished, he coughs twice and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He's so much sicker than he ever was when he carried Mikayla. It makes his mind spin to think about it. Logically he knew it could happen, he just hadn't anticipated it.

Sitting back on his heels, he props his elbow on the toilet seat so that he can rest his forehead in his cupped palms. He doesn't trust himself to move just yet and, judging by the seasick feeling in his gut, that's probably a wise decision.

This kid doesn't seem willing to go easy on him, not even for a minute. Hell, the baby's existence even came as a struggle. Mickey supposes nothing this kid can throw at him should surprise him.

Still, it's worrisome. He's throwing up more than he can keep down and the toll is starting to show on his body. Though his stomach has started to show signs of pregnancy, the rest of his body is paying for it. It sends shivers down his spine to think of all this leading in a spontaneous miscarriage. He dry heaves loudly but nothing comes of it other than watering eyes.

"Tata?" Mikayla's tiny voice squeaks, her eyes peering into the thin opening where Mickey didn't close the door all the way.

"Crap," Mickey whispers to himself. "Hey Princess," he calls while forcing his voice to sound relatively normal. "Tato isn't feeling good right now, okay? How about you go into the kitchen with daddy."

Of course, his words do nothing to prevent Mikayla from pushing the door open, her bare feet padding across the tiles tentatively. "Tata?" she says again, rubbing sleep out of her eyes with a chubby fist. Her other arm is clutching onto the tail of a plush kitten, dragging it behind her. Her bow lips are pursed in confusion while she takes in the scene in front of her.

"Hi baby," Mickey says and, despite feeling like death, he can't help but give her a smile.

Mikayla makes her way over to her father, cocking her head at him, her bright blue eyes blinking a question at him. "Tata sick?" The words come with an expression that Mickey can't read. It almost looks like she's about to cry but it doesn't go further than a pout.

"Yeah baby girl. Tato's a little sick right now. But I'm okay. Promise." Mickey tries to get up but fails completely when his world spins, causing him to sink back to the floor. Mikayla makes an alarmed chirp sound but he holds out a palm to her. "I'm okay baby."

His daughter stands there, expression eerily similar to her father's, and stares at Mickey while trying to make heads or tails of the situation. She doesn't have much time because her eyes widen when she watches Mickey pitch forward and vomit. She clutches the stuffed animal to her chest until she sees Mickey sit back on his heels. "Tata's tummy hurt?"

"Yeah," Mickey huffs out. Before the word is fully out of his mouth, Mikayla is launching herself at him, plopping down on the ground beside him and burying her face in his middle. "Oof, baby," Mickey exclaims, catching her so there really isn't much of an impact.

"It okay Tata," Mikayla soothes. "Kiss better," she states then presses a kiss to Mickey's clothed middle.

The act makes Mickey's heart explode. He's watching his daughter, his perfect child, get down on the floor and try to comfort him. His sweet angel trying to reassure him. Sure, she's mimicking things he and Ian have done to her, and she knows that vomiting can come with illnesses that pass in time, but she's putting it all together and cuddling into him. He feels like he's suffering from whiplash when the sick feeling passes and his eyes well up with the sentiment of the moment. He doesn't cry, but it wouldn't be hard to shove him over that line. Instead, he runs his fingers through Mikayla's messy red bedhead hair and rubs his thumb gently along the curve of her neck. "Thank you baby. That makes it so much better." And it kind of does. His whole body seems distracted by what is going on.