#oh... right... because I bought both collections on Steam so I could Platinum it all over again...

[fell-maverick]

Beating Gate with the Shadow Armor is so satisfying...

[wishfulfanficing]

Tiffany

Harrison walked through the double doors of Tiffany and Co. as he had many times before. This time was different, though: he had his girls with him. Well, two of them anyway. Carrie had been burning through her energy lately between writing a new novel, editing a screenplay, and undergoing a new course of treatment. She’d cried in his arms the night before, and had tearfully asked him to take the girls out to the movies for the day over breakfast. He obliged, but decided to use the time for another purpose.

“Good afternoon Mr. Ford,” the attendant greeted him. The Ford family, and Harrison in particular, were frequent visitors to the Beverly Hills Tiffany and Co. “Shopping for Ms. Fisher today?”

“Yes!” his older daughter, Emma, piped up.

“We’re getting something for our mom,” her sister Billie added.

The attendant smiled at the precocious children. “Any occasion?”

Harrison shook his head. “Just because,” he said with a smile and wink in his daughters’ direction.

“Right this way,” the attendant said as he led the three coconspirators over to a display case full of colorful gems. “These are some good ‘just because’ pieces.”

Billie broke away from her father and pressed her tiny nose up to the glass. “Billie!” her sister exclaimed, pulling the back of her shirt.

“Careful, love, you’ll smudge the glass,” Harrison said gently, putting one hand on Billie’s head and the other on Emma’s shoulder. He turned back to the attendant. “Can I see the blue… the sapphire one? The solitaire with the diamonds around it?” His mother in law had taught him some of the language of fine jewelry, but he still wasn’t fluent.

“Absolutely. Here’s the sapphire solitaire with the diamond halo on a platinum chain.” Harrison bent over the table to get a closer look; in an instant, Emma and Billie were on their tip-toes next to him.

"Do you really think Mom will like that?" Emma asked, cocking her head to the side. 

Billie did the same. "Yeah. Do you?"

Harrison looked down at the necklace. "I mean, she wouldn't mind it..." He tapped on the glass thoughtfully, then turned around, lips pursed, to look at his daughters. It struck him in that moment how much like their mother they were growing up to be. Both had her dark eyes; Emma had her mother's face, and Billie had her laugh, her smile, and her singing voice. But there were deeper similarities: they had her wit, her sense of humor, her deep kindness and compassion. “You two have a better idea?”

“We can go the Rainbow Room,” Billie said with a shrug. Harrison stifled a laugh - clearly this had been their plan the whole time, and Billie’s attempt at a casual suggestion made that more obvious than anything.

“They have weird stuff there. Mom LOVES it,” Emma chimed in.

“Mom loves it, huh?” He snorted and turned back to the attendant. “I’m so sorry, sir, I think I’m being outvoted.”

“No problem at all Mr. Ford… I’m sure we’ll see you soon,” the attendant said with a smile.

“Oh, I’m sure you will,” he called behind him as the girls dragged him out of the jewelry store and toward the thrift shop.

Harrison held his breath every time they entered, not out of fear or disgust, but as a way of preparing his senses for the all out assault that was The Rainbow Room. “Eclectic” was one way of describing it, but that word didn’t go far enough. Strange things were plucked from their contexts and brought here. The first time he’d been there was with Carrie to help her decorate her apartment. She’s bought a red sign that said “Beware of Trains”; it still hung in their home and earned a chuckle from Harrison every time he saw it.

“Dad… look at this.”

Harrison followed the sound of Billie’s voice to find her and Emma staring up at a painting of a child. Or, at least, that's what the tag said it was.

The head was round and bulbous - and took up half the painting. Beady, lifeless eyes stared down at Harrison and the girls. The body was tiny in comparison, with hands drawn like claws at the end of tapered arms. Judging by the costume, the artist must have been attempting some kind of medieval look, but failed.

It was grotesque. It was hideous. It was perfect.

"Jackpot," he said with a smirk as he took the painting off the wall. "Let's go purchase this monstrosity."

The girl at the checkout stand seemed genuinely surprised that anyone had bought the painting, but she knew that Harrison Ford was a celebrity, and that celebrities could be strange. Besides, she was too excited to be waiting on him and his adorable little girls to really care. Still, she wrapped it in twice as much butcher paper as one normally would, just to make sure no unsuspecting people would see it between the shop and their car. Harrison thanked her, took each of the girls by the hand, and walked out with the painting under his arm.

"Do you think she'll like it?"  Harrison asked as the girls buckled themselves into the car.

"Dad," Emma said in a matter of fact, dry tone that reminded Harrison of his own, “It’s so ugly. She's gonna love it." Sitting next to her, Billy nodded vigorously and craned her neck to sneak excited peeks at the package in the passenger's seat.

While Harrison, Emma, and Billie drove home, each one excited to give Carrie the gift they found for her, Carrie sat at the kitchen table seeping her tea. She’d been going so fast for so long, it felt strange to sit down. The doctor had started her on a new medication and therapy regime, and the effects were taking  little getting used to.  She sent Harrison and the girls to run an errand not because she didn’t want them around - in fact, the opposite was true - but because she didn’t want them to be around her when she was like this. They don’t deserve this, she thought, inhaling the steam from her mug. Sighing deeply, Carrie pulled her knees to her chest and curled into herself. She didn’t feel depressed, or manic, or out of control - she felt numb. She was used to feeling either all her emotions at once, or just one extremely deeply, but feeling nothing was new for her. The medication worked faster than the therapy, her doctor had warned. She’d have to practice emotional regulation and other cognitive behavioral techniques before she felt the full effect.

Still, she smiled when she heard the car pull up to the driveway, and her smile widened when she heard three sets of footsteps pad down the hallway. Billie reached the door first and threw it open, running to her mother and throwing her arms around her shoulders. Her sister wasn’t far behind. Carrie scooped both girls into her embrace as best she could, then spotted Harrison, grinning and effortlessly carrying a bulky package. “Hey, beautiful,” he said with a wink. “Miss me?”

“I did,” she cooed, reaching past Emma and Billie to slip her arms around his neck. “I missed all of you.”

“We brought you something!” Billie squealed, barely able to contain her excitement. Harrison felt a twitch of pride in his heart. That was another thing Billie, Emma, and their mother had in common: they loved giving gifts and took care to find things the recipient would truly enjoy.

Carrie seemed to share this observation. “I don’t know who’s more excited: me, who’s getting the present, or you, who’s giving it.” She shot Harrison a loving glace as she kissed Emma’s forehead and reached for the package, which Billie now held in her tiny arms. “Thank you, baby,” she said, stroking her youngest child’s cheek before turning to open it. The sisters giggled excitedly, and Harrison, too, grinned both at his daughters’ excitement and the anticipation of his wife’s joy.

“Oh my God.” Carrie gasped as she tore through the paper to reveal the masterpiece underneath. At first she just stared, but then she started to laugh. It was one of Harrison’s favorite sounds, and he loved it even more when he was its cause. “It’s so ugly,” she wheezed between cackles. “It’s exquisite… where did you find this?”

“At the Rainbow Room,” Harrison said.

“They have the ugliest stuff,” Emma added with a smile.

“Does she have a name?” Carrie asked, removing the last of the packaging and holding the painting away from her to fully take in its glory. The girls giggled again and looked at their father.

Harrison smiled his lopsided smile, his real smile that only his family ever really saw. He leaned into his wife and placed one hand on her cheek. “Tiffany,” he said, then kissed her deeply. “I love you and I’m proud of you,” he whispered to her. 

They ignored their daughters’ chorus of “ew!” and “ick!” as she kissed him back. — AN: Carrie really did have a collection of ugly paintings of children, and she named each one.