Ryan hadn't fallen asleep in over a week.

The constant thought of his not-any-longer baby girl, alone somewhere out there, kept him awake. He went through the motion, trying to remember something, anything she had told him, but with little to no success. He and Lily hadn't been exactly on spoken terms lately, and yet, everything he knew had been right under his nose. Part of him knew what had probably happened- because he was a cop, ostie, but also because he was Lily's father, and he had already gone through this.

Maybe detective Andrew Ryan didn't know exactly where his daughter was, but he could guess what kind of place it was, and whom she was with. Lily was probably in some hellhole getting high with her pusher/boyfriend.

His daughter. Alone. Out There with that piece of crap. The daughter who had just left rehab. The daughter whose room he searched as soon as she didn't make it back home when she was supposed to, finding drugs. Heroine.

The phone ringed yet again, and Ryan, hysteric, looked at the screen, and even if he knew the name he saw, he didn't answer. That name didn't belong to the only female he wanted to talk with right now. And as much as he had always hoped to make things right with Temp, right now it wasn't the time.

The phone ringed again. It had ringed for days, and yet Ryan hadn't answered, not once. It wasn't like he didn't care, he knew what Temp was probably thinking right now- that this time it was over for real- but he didn't know how he was supposed to do it. What did he have to say? How was he supposed to start the conversation? Was she going to think any lesser of him, consider him a lesser man if he cried?

You don't say something like that over the phone. He couldn't do that to himself, nor to Temp. He knew how her mind worked-despite the work and the miles (and the border) separating there, if he knew he felt bad, that he was upset, she would have kept the first flight back, screw Carolina.

And then, what was he supposed to do? Take her in his arms? Ask for comfort sex? Promise her a future he wasn't so sure they could get?

No. Crying over the phone wasn't going to solve his problem, and what he had to tell her deserved something… just different. Face to face, he guessed -after all, wasn't it the same thing he did on the job?)

He ran his hands through his hair, and once taken the canary he shared with Temp- and the passport, and few packs of cigarettes - he jumped in his car, direction: south. Ryan didn't even bother changing. After all, why? He hadn't done so in days, and a few more hours with the same suit wasn't going to change reality. He didn't want to look at his best for Temp, it wasn't like they were still in a relationship, he just needed to tell her in person.

And then… Andrew Ryan didn't know.

When he finally made it to her place, he didn't talked, Ryan wasn't even looking really at Temp. The bird's cage was still in his hand, and he stared right before him. A whole room- tabernacle, a whole house was right before him- and yet it was like everything was either black, withe, or blinding.

Temp had to drag him by sheer force to her couch, and only then, when he had the cigarettes on her coffee table, a tea in his hands and Temp sitting before him not pushing him- because that was how sweet and good she was – it suddenly was too much. It was the proverbial last drop. Everything he had kept buried in the last couple of weeks erupted with a strength he had never felt before.

"She's dead." He said, between sobs, and then, he added. "Lily. She died last week".

And then she was there, at his side, holding him like he was a baby – probably the same way she had held her daughter when she told him that daddy had left them, that he wasn't going to live with them any longer- and it was too much.

He was a grown up man. He was a cop. He was… he just… he couldn't cry in her arms. It wasn't fair. Temp was too good with him. Too good for him. It was his fault, he hadn't been a father to Lily because he had never knew of her existence, but they had had few years, and yet he had ruined everything. And while he was here with Temp, his baby girl was no more.

He couldn't do that to Lily. Temp. And even himself. He still cared for the woman right before him. Sometimes, he even thought he could even love her, but this wasn't the way. Nor the place, or the time. They both deserved better, and Lily deserved respect. It hadn't been even a week, and yet, here he was, thinking… thinking…. No. He just, he couldn't. Not now, and maybe, never.

"I'm sorry, it was a mistake" he told her, forcing Temp to release him, and when he saw her eyes, he wished to take those words back. No, reaching out for her hadn't been a mistake. Getting involved with her – both on the job and with his heart and body- hadn't been a mistake. But it had been a mistake getting so close in that moment, when he still remembered how soft her skin was, how sexy her body still was, even if she was closer to fifty that she liked to admit. He even remembered how her lips, her body tasted, smelled, even if she had more products in her bathroom than a spa.

But now, it was too late. He had said the words, and he couldn't take it back. Maybe it was a sign- even if he didn't believe in them- or maybe… maybe it was just the right thing to do. That sentence had probably ended their story once and for all, and maybe it was for the best. He hadn't been able to keep his daughter safe, he hadn't been a good father; did he really deserve to be loved, and to love?

Ryan just shook his head and left, without turning back.

Yes. It was for the best- he deserved suffering, after all.

He wanted to drive to Mexico and maybe die there, starve to death, or who knew, maybe getting drunk every damn day until his body gave up, but at the end, he found out that he couldn't. Funny thing was, he was just few feet from the border, he had already his papers ready, and yet, as soon as he saw the line, he decided to drive back.

Back home, in Canada? To Temp, in Carolina? He wasn't sure. He just knew that, despite all his intentions, despite everything he thought of himself, he couldn't drive past that line. Escaping wasn't going to solve his problems. Lily wasn't going to return and be the clean girl he had always desired her to be- not just because she was his daughter, but because she had such a great potential… And yet, she had wasted it all thanks to the needle.

And, the big idiots that he was, he was going to waste an opportunity too- not to be with Temp, but to… to set things right. He didn't want to have, as a last memory of one of the most important women in his life, her sad expression after he had broken her heart calling her a mistake. She needed to know, he had to set the record at least with her. He had made his daughter suffer by not being the best dad he could have been, he wasn't going to break Temp's heart too.

He didn't deserved happiness, maybe not even closure. But Temperance did. That, and much more.

He had driven for over a day, barely stopping, when he finally reached her home. He knocked on her door with a strength and a fear he didn't know he had, a desperation Ryan had barely felt in his life. He couldn't have the empty shell of Temp as her last memory. No way.

When the door opened, he almost tripped on his feet, looing his balance, and it happened yet again when he saw her. His heart broke at the new, and yet familiar sight before him. Temperance liked to get into troubles, and the cast on her hand and wrist seemed to be indication that yet again she had done something she wasn't supposed to.

And this time, he wasn't there to help her.

He had abandoned her, neglected her in the hour of need. Just like he had abandoned Lily. But Lily was no more, while Temp was still there, alive, breathing.

He sniffed, and crying silently he took her in his arms. Ryan nuzzled her hair, while she buried her nose in his shirt- still the same he had worn at her place few days before, the same one he had had on at Lily's funeral.

And then, he talked. About Lily. About Temp. Their lives. Their jobs. And he remembered why the trip to Hawaii had always been on his mind those last few weeks. Because it was an happy memory to cherish. Of all of them.

Maybe, a foundation for the future.