Mr and Mrs Shaw (rewrite)

Chapter 38

The glory of the speakerphone, an invention that allowed Deckard to wail on a 'punching bag' and speak to his wife at the same time. Specifically, to listen to her rant about their mother's antics.

"I'm not exactly surprised, darling. This is Mum we're talking about," Deckard laughed before he flexed his hand and landed another combination on the bag.

"Decks, you and your inability to say no to the women in this family makes me nervous for when our daughter makes it to her teen years," his wife scolded.

Deckard grinned. "Well, you've only got yourself to blame for that, darling. We should've had a son."

His wife scoffed at him. "Please, you wouldn't know what to do with a son. And at least this way, you'll be the one burying bodies when she starts dating." And the mere thought of his little girl growing up and dating boys had his punching bag crying louder and his wife laughed wickedly on the other side of the phone. "Enjoying your workout?"

"It's a warmup for our real workout when I get home. It's Hats' night to babysit, right?"

Another musical laugh. "Yes. Why? Do you have any ideas as to how we can spend our few hours alone because that's all I can stomach after leaving for Tokyo for so long?"

Deckard's suggestive comment was replaced with a loving smile as he eased up on the punching bag. "How about I run you a bath, darling? Perhaps a massage. After all you endured giving life to our daughter, I figure it's the least you deserve."

Katrina gave a soft chuckle from the other side of the phone. "I won't say no to that. And I also won't say no to a nice home-cooked dinner."

"Whatever you want, Kats," Deckard said, and he could almost see her smile through the phone. "Let me guess...you want a nice flame-grilled steak?"

"Baby, you read my mind," she replied before she sighed happily. "I'm almost tempted to tell Hats to babysit next week and just keep her with us," Katrina admitted.

"Hattie spends too much time with her niece anyway."

"Hattie maybe sees her twice a week if you feel being nice."

"She still sees our daughter more than Mum or Owen. She can miss out this once."

Katrina laughed again. "How about you finish your workout and come home and then we can decide whether or not to cancel on Hats?"

"That sounds like a perfect plan."

"Mummy," came a distant voice from the other side of the line.

"Oh, hi sweet girl," Katrina cooed, and Deckard could imagine his wife scooping the girl up and into her lap. "Someone's still a little sleepy. Say hi to Daddy." There was a rustling sound on the other side of the line.

"Daddy?" asked the voice and Deckard's smile grew bigger. Katrina was his heart but Olivia, she was his soul. She was everything good in this world, she was everything to him.

She was more than everything to Katrina as well. Deckard treated her like the most precious princess in the world and watching him bond with his daughter had her jumping on him and trying for another one on more than one occasion. And he definitely wasn't complaining. Though, he couldn't imagine loving more than one person the way he loved Olivia, he knew that he could do it, but the idea that so much love could exist inside one person was baffling. But, much to his wife's chagrin, there was no doubt in his mind that their next daughter would be a daddy's girl just as Olivia was. However, making their family bigger was a dangerous thought in their line of work – but, if their mother could do it, so could they.

"Hi, sweetheart," Deckard said. "How's my favourite girl?"

"Daddy, come home," she said, her voice still sleepy.

"I will, princess. Very, soon," he promised before the punching bag cried out and Deckard muted the call for a second as he kicked the bag. "You better shut up. I'm trying to talk to my daughter. And if she hears you, I'll make sure no one ever hears you again." And his smile instantly returned as the punching bag went silent and he unmuted the call. "Daddy's gonna be home very soon, darling. I promise."

"Say, I love you, Daddy," Katrina encouraged.

"Love you, Daddy," she repeated, and Deckard beamed.

"I love you, Livs," he returned. "Love you, Kats."

"Love you too, Decks. Alright, it's back to bed with you, Livs," she said to her daughter before the call ended and Deckard's attention returned to the punching bag, the thought of Olivia Shaw still on his mind. Her name was so appropriate. Peace. She was peace for both her parents – for her entire family actually.

Livs also wasn't the only one to live. Katrina lived too as her newest scar stretched from one hip to another, across her stomach. Seeing that scar for the first time scared the life out of Deckard. the fact that she had healed from something so huge only made his admiration for his wife grow exponentially. He'd been so grateful for his family's help in those first three months after Olivia was born. It felt like they were kids again with all of them under one roof helping take care of not one, but two fragile people – not that Katrina was fragile, but she'd been severely limited in the things that she could do as her C-section scar healed. And despite that frustration – that scar was the proudest mark on her body. It was the mark that gave their daughter life. Livs lived.

Olivia Shaw would live to be as normal as possible, but she would also be a force to be reckoned with, just like the rest of her family. She was a Shaw after all.

Deckard chugged some of the water from his water bottle, as he dabbed some of the sweat from his face and his punching bag continued to cry. The eldest male Shaw turned towards the bag as he flexed his hands that were strapped into his boxing gloves. He dragged the small metal zip down the length of the bag.

The man inside the punching bag gasped as he was suddenly blinded by light and filled with fresh air – well air fresher than the stale air that was inside the leather punching bag.

"Thank you," he gasped, his face and nose covered in cuts and bruises and one of his eyes so swollen he couldn't open it. His teeth were crooked and his skin was ugly shades of purple and black. There was also a massive gap between his two front teeth, but Deckard was fairly certain that wasn't his doing. "Please," he begged. "I tell you where the drive is, the plans we stole. I'll tell you where it is."

"You mean this drive?" Deckard asked as he held up the small device. The man gaped at it. "These plans?"

"But you already got it," the man whimpered.

"Yes, mate. How else do you think I stay in this good shape? And keep a wife who looks hotter than a Victoria's Secret Model happy?"

The man whimpered again and was about to respond when there was a knock at the door.

Deckard rolled his eyes as if he was annoyed to be interrupted, but he still zipped the bag back up, forcing the man's face back inside. "Don't go anywhere," he said as the man screamed inside, and Deckard tapped the bag with his fist before heading for the door. "Oh, shut up. My baby girl cries less than you. And my brother when he loses a race."

And Deckard opened the door to see Han standing in front of him.