It's late when Beckham leaves the cafeteria, but with how crazy things are, he figures it's possible Horn's girls are still awake. He knocks on his friend's door and is greeted with a sort of whisper-yelled “Come in.”

Beckham eases open the door, already expecting what he sees from the way his friend had answered: Horn is sitting on the bed, Tasha and Jenny on either side, both fast asleep as he strokes their hair. He looks up at Beckham, a frown creasing his features. “Something important, boss?”

Beckham huffs a quiet laugh. “Not as such, no.” He pulls the small napkin-wrapped bundle from his pocket. “Managed to snag a few extra cookies at dinner and thought the girls might appreciate them more than me.”

Horn smiles. “Thoughtful of you. They'll love that.”

Beckham sets the cookies on the nightstand. “Well, you look like you're settled in for the night, so I'll just–”

“Hang on a minute.” Beckham turns back, and Horn's eyes are on him, intense blue. “There's something I've been wanting to talk to you about. Now seems as good a time as any.”

Something in Beckham's gut rolls. He's been expecting this. “You've a good man and a good soldier, Horn, and I love having you by my side. But, your girls–”

Horn makes a face. “I'm not trying to quit, Beck. Not to sound big-headed, but I know I'm needed now more than ever. But it is about the girls.” His eyes drop, and he looks first at Jenny, then at Tasha, and the softness in his affectionate gaze makes Beckham's heart ache.

“There's always been a chance I wouldn't make it back to them after some mission or another,” he says when he meets Beckham's eyes again. “Before, they had Sheila. Now...” He swallows, the pain of losing his wife still fresh. “If I die in the field, they have no one. I'd be...relieved knowing they had someone to take care of them if it happened. Someone who loves them like I do.”

Oh. Beckham's breath catches. “Parker...”

“You'd be a great dad,” Horn pushes on. He quirks a lip. “Just look what you've been able to do with Riley.” He quickly sobers again. “You're my best friend, Reed. There's no one I trust with them more. They love you and Kate, too. You'd all be happy together.”

Beckham swallows at the trust there, deep and unquestioning. “There's every chance if you were gone, I would be too.”

Horn cracks a grin. “Come on, buddy, we all know you're charmed. Look at all the shit you've survived since the world ended and even before that.”

Beckham rolls his eyes. He doesn't trust in luck; it always runs out eventually. But he pulls up a smile for his friend. “I won't argue that I'm anything to them like you are, but you know I love those girls like they're my own. You three are the closet thing I have to a family. If you want this...consider it done.”

“I want it.” Looking utterly relieved, Horn sags onto the bed, wrapping his big, tattooed arms around his daughters. “Thank you,” he says, softly but with so much feeling.

Beckham can only nod, suddenly choked up. “It's no problem, Bighorn,” he manages, voice rough.

Horn's eyes slide away, the emotion of the moment too much. “We should all sleep while we have a chance,” he says. “Get the light on your way out?”

“Yeah. Sure.” Beckham backs out of the room, doing as he was asked. “Goodnight, Horn.” Then, more softly. “Goodnight, Tasha. Goodnight, Jenny.”

A trio of softly mumbled responses follow him into the hall.