The bunker had been calm all day, just the steady hum of machinery and the muffled sound of rain hitting the surface above. Lou had followed both you and Sam around in her usual toddling way, giggling when Sam lifted her onto his shoulders or when you knelt to play with her toys on the floor. She seemed content, until night came...

At first, it was a soft, pitiful whimper that made you glance over from the cot. Lou rubbed her tiny fists against her mouth, tears pooling in her eyes before spilling down her flushed cheeks. When Sam tried to hand her her favorite plush, she shoved it away, face scrunching as the whimper turned into a sharp, ear-splitting cry.

Her cries grew louder, echoing off the metal walls until the whole bunker felt filled with her pain. She squirmed in Sam’s arms, wailing against his chest, drool soaking through his shirt. He rocked her slowly, his gravelly voice rumbling against her ear.

“C’mon, Lou… I know it hurts, but you’re tougher than this. Just teeth, kiddo.”

But the screaming didn’t stop. She shoved away the teething toy you offered, tossed aside the cold rag Sam tried to give her. Her gums were sore, and nothing seemed to help.

Hours dragged on. Lou’s tiny voice grew hoarse, her cries turning to hiccupping sobs. You and Sam took turns holding her. Sam pacing back and forth, bouncing her against his chest, you rocking her slowly while humming. Still, the tears kept coming.

Sam eventually collapsed onto the Bed with Lou curled against him, her face red and damp, fists tangled in his shirt. He glanced up at you, his eyes heavy with exhaustion, hair falling into his face.

“Don’t think I ever fought somethin’ this stubborn,” he muttered, his voice half a joke, half pure fatigue. He was exhausted, its a miracle that he was still able to hold her.