Macey Irving sat up from her bed and smiled.
"Dad!"
"Shhhh," Irving hushed his daughter even as he moved in to hold her close. She clung to him, and he gave her an almost comically surprised look that made her giggle.
"Thought you said you were too big for this kind of thing?" he teased.
"Well, uh, you know. I haven't seen you since … since forever, and—"
Macy stammered to a halt and stared worriedly at her Dad.
"Dad, why'd you run away from the hospital? You have to go back!"
Frank sighed.
"It's, well, it's a long story, Little Bean," he said hesitantly.
"I just wanted to see you one last time."
"Last time? Dad, what's wrong?"
Macey started to cry. Frank reached out and hugged his daughter tightly. He wiped the tears away from her cheeks, but his hand was already going transparent, like the rest of him.
"I love you, Little Bean," the fading spirit of frank Irving whispered.
"Don't ever forget that. What I did, I did for you."
Macey looked at her fading Father, and began to scream.
"No! Dad, don't go! Daddy!"
Her Mother, Cynthia, rushed in to her daughter's room just as the doorbell began to ring in earnest. The woman ignored the doorbell and held on to her hysterical daughter, instead.
"Dad's dead! Dad's dead!" Macey was wailing as Lieutenant Abbey Mills and Ichabod Crane, hearing the girl's screams, forced their way in to the house. Cynthia Irving, still holding her shrieking daughter close looked up at them as they entered the room. Them being there did not surprise her. It only made her feel sick.
"Is he really?" was all the woman could choke out.
Abbey came over and put an arm about Macey and her Mother. Tears were beginning to pour down her own cheeks again, and that was all the answer Cynthia needed. She collapsed next to her daughter on the bed and wailed.