Day 0.

"Colonel Henry. Lieutenant Colin," greets the man in blue. The colonel gives him a sharp nod in return, eyeing the thick lump of papers in the man's hands. What now? "There's a new case for you."

"Is there?" Lieutenant Colin swings his legs off his desk, a note of amusement in his voice. Henry rolls his eyes. Only Colin would think more work meant more fun.

"Always more filth to clean up," shrugs the man, echoing Henry's sentiments. "Here's the file."

It lands with an unceremonious thump on Henry's desk— the sound of years of hard-earned failure. Colonel Henry raises an eyebrow. "I hope you have better luck with it than the rest of 'em."

"Who is it this time?" Lieutenant Colin asks, opening it up. A charismatic man beams up at them - beside him is the darkened scowl of a young girl. They know these faces. "Benard and Ophelia Dun."

"Nastiest drug lords in the city," confirms the man.

"You call this girl a drug lord?" Henry squints at the paper. His eyes must be failing him. "She's hardly fourteen."

"She's got a body count higher than that. She and her father's evaded us for years. Stay sharp, colonel. They're slippery."

"You got it." He eyes the child —no, the criminal— that was now their target. A strong hand slaps his back, and he can feel Colin's grin.

"They're not getting away with anything."

Day 76.

There was laughter.

Such a bright sound, such a loud sound from such tiny lungs. It sounded like a lantern's glow and hummed as constant as a bullet, and it never, ever stopped. Not when the doors toppled down; not when the shots rang out; not when the men fell; not when the blood and sinew sprayed across the floor and the halls.

Even then, there was laughter.

"That's the last thing I remember," whispers the officer, (ex officer, ex officer, you can't be an officer if you don't have any arms) and Henry closes his eyes, because that's all anyone can remember. He doesn't open them. Not even as Colin claps him on the back, whispering, "We won't let them get away with this."

There was laughter.

Day 104.

Was it healthy to derive so much pleasure from shooting a human being?

Because the rush of watching the one bullet sink into Bernard Dun's arm was nothing short of thrilling.

"After him!"

If the alchemists were the dogs of the military, his men were the wolves, and they had just smelled blood.

Up one flight of stairs, two, three— Colonel Henry stopped counting when he stumbled over a body, cursing all the while. One body, two bodies, five — the stairs were slick with scarlet, smeared handprints along the sides of the walls — but there was only one he was interested in. All he knew was that he was after the one in white, white with red blooming all over his shoulder, and then it would be all over.

"Henry!" His head swivels to see Colin is pointing at the prone figure on the floor. There's a gorgeous paintbrush of crimson on the stairs, stroked on by her hair and the oozing matter from her head.

"Well, looks like she's Dun for," Colin mutters, and the wry humor wrings a smile from Henry's face.

"So's her father." Colin grins and claps Henry on the back, reading his firearm.

"He's not getting away with anything."

There was but one more dead body for the day.

Day 111.

"You don't have to go now, Colonel."

"What am I if I don't?"

"Grieving, Colonel." Henry shoots a sharp look to his subordinate, brisk pace increasing. "With all due respect, it makes you human, sir." The subordinate helps him out of his black jacket, back into the heavy blue coat. Henry buckles it up tighter than the lump in his throat. The doors at the end of the hall are getting closer.

"Those monsters aren't human. I can't afford to be, either."

The guards part, and he throws open the door to the lion's den.

"Out," he barks. The few attendants scurry away to reveal the monster herself, shackled and chained, trussed up in white from head to toe. One visible eye rolls around like a wild horse, and all Henry can think is good, good, good, because there's nothing he'd like more than to break her.

When he drops his body into a chair, he can feel the floor shake.

"Your daddy's got you in quite a bind, hasn't he?" His seat shrieks across the floor as he leans in. He's close enough that he can still see the flecks of crusted blood on her hair. Ophelia Dun quivers. "Now, you're gonna tell me everything you know so we can catch him. No funny business. I can make your life from here on out a living hell, so do not mess with me."

He can see beads of sweat slowly pooling on her forehead.

She opens her mouth.

"...Hello."

Day 120.

"Hello. Hello. Hello."

"Stop saying that!" The chair screams through the air and hits the opposite wall. Ophelia flinches hard.

"H-Hello, hello, I - I - hello-" Henry slams his hand against her bedframe, the whole of it trembling as hard as Ophelia.

"The only hello that should come out of your mouth is when you greet your God, if He'll even take you back!" Splinters rain down onto the child in the bed. "Or maybe when you crawl back into whatever cesspool pit birthed you into this world and cursed us to deal with the Devil in you-"

"That's enough!"

An arm yanks Henry around to face a woman. He hardly gets a glimpse at her face before a hand slaps his face to the right—he can see the doors are wide open—then slap him to the left—the guards that are supposed to stand post are stunned, on the floor—the hand grabs him by the chin, yanking him down to eye level with the woman and the spinning world.

"You're scaring her!" He feels his ear nearly torn off as he's dragged out of the room.

"What- unhand me-! Ma'am, that child is a criminal. She holds crucial information that could lead to the arrest-"

He only narrowly dodges her next slap, her hand releasing his ear not a second too soon.

"You should be ashamed of yourself, sir, ashamed!" Henry has to bob and weave out of her range. "You come in here, lock me out of my patient's room and terrorize a small child for hours on end—she can't even talk!"

The woman huffs, catching her breath. Henry stops and stares. "Some detective you are, can't even tell when someone has brain damage. The fall she took on the stairs cracked her head clean open! She can't remember who she is, where she is, or even who we are at times! Even remembering words is hard. She might never talk like you or I again. And, if she's scared, like you make her, all she can say is hello!"

The short doctor draws herself up to her full height. "I'm having security throw you out, and if you want to come back here, it will be during my hours, on my conditions, and under my supervision. Is that clear?" Henry opens his mouth to say something.

The woman raises her hand.

That day, the wolf of the military ran out with his tail between his legs.

Day 152.

"Now tell me, what do you-"

"Hello." Ophelia's voice gets more and more distressed, but then she starts up her laughter. His whole body tenses. "Hello. Hello."

"It's ok, dear." Henry flinches as he hears the doctor's voice behind him. "Take your time. Here. I brought you some water."

"He-He... Th...thhhank. Thank." Ophelia, now unbounded, takes the water in her hands gratefully. Henry eyes her with suspicion. "Thank. Thanks."

"Of course, dear. I'll take the bad man away now, m'kay?" Henry shoots her a look, but she sinks in her nails and drags him away.

It was the same repeat of the past few weeks. He came in, asked questions, got nothing, and the staff came in and elicited whole sentences from her in what he could only describe as torture in frustration. He'd had about enough of it.

"She's faking it," Henry says. The woman points back to the room, where the girl slurps noisily, clumsily, and then blows a few bubbles into her drink, sloshing it onto her shirt. "...faking that, too. She's the daughter of one of the worst masterminds in the city, Doctor—I daresay she's his equal—and if she's smart enough to transmute opioids, then she's smart enough to fake this. She's loyal to her father. She's laughing at us-"

"Colonel, how do you put out your cigars?"

"...Excuse me?"

"Do you have a child?"

"What - no, I don't, but why-"

"How many brain-damaged, abused children have you dealt with in your career, Colonel? I imagine it's quite a few, if you handle every case like you do Nerissa's."

"Neriss-"

"If you paid one ounce," continues the doctor, "one ounce of the brain cells Nerissa no longer has to just pay attention, you'd know everything you keep asking her. You'd know that her laugh is her nervous tic when she's afraid; that we call her Nerissa to protect her from her father; that he used her as a human ashtray; that the reason she flinches away from you and you alone is because you remind her of him." He stutters to a stop. The files on his desk, the ceaseless papers that came in - some of them must have been the hospital's, but he hadn't had time to read them. There was always more filth to clean up. He hadn't-

"But since you clearly don't care about any of that, then I'll have you know she can remember near everything about her father's operations—all he beat into her—but she can't say them all yet because she isn't fully healed. So!" The doctor puts her hands on her hips. "I'll have you know as soon as I get that information, it'll go to the State Military."

Henry blinks, and for once it's like the weight of a ghost has been lifted off his shoulders. "Oh, that's... that's excell-"

"Just not to you." She cuts him off. "I've sent a complaint to the office, and they're having you taken off the case. You no longer have jurisdiction to harass Nerissa."

The ghost crashes down on him like a slap on the back. "What? But you can't-"

The doctor steps close. "Now tell me," she sneers, a mirror image of his voice, "what do you think makes you entitled to hurt her? The fact you lost someone?" He falls silent. The doctor scoffs and brushes past him.

"Nerissa lost someone too, Colonel. Herself."

Day 179.

"And just what are you doing here?" Colonel Henry holds his hat in his hands and twists it, feeling fire and brimstone from the doctor's eyes.

"... I read the reports you sent," he says, finally. Finally. "Belatedly. And... and I came to apologize." Silence. "I should have paid more attention to what you were saying. And... what Op...what Nerissa was going through. I want to make up for it. If you'll let me. I know I ruined her chances at getting a good speech therapist, so I... I wanted to volunteer myself." There's only more silence. He stares at his shoes. "I know I haven't really dealt with abused, mentally handicapped children in my life before, but I want to start. Start over. Help her. So please, if you-"

"Are you coming?" He looks up, and sees the doctor halfway down the hall. Interrupt him she might, there's a half-smile on her face.

He hurries to her. "Thank you, I..."

"Don't thank me yet. I have to ask her if it's alright."

The doors open, and Nerissa blinks at him from her bed. He waits nervously. "Nerissa, there's a visitor for you. Do you remember Colonel Henry?"

She gazes at him, empty. He feels a shiver roll down his spine. "...No..."

"He wants to help you talk. Is that ok?"

"...Y...yes."

The doctor waves him over, and he finds himself feeling more close and more distant than he can believe. Nerissa blinks at him, and hesitantly extends a hand. "Hello."

He shakes it. "...hello."

Day 300.

"Who ... are you?"

"It's me, kiddo," Henry seats himself down next to her. "Henry. You remember me?"

A slow smile spreads across her face. "...Henry! I-I-I know..."

"You know me?" The girl's head bobs up and down, excitedly. "Careful, kid, you might nod your head off." She giggles. Henry smiles as he reaches into his bag. "I got a surprise. Tada!" He places a pink box on her lap, and Nerissa tears in. Her eyes widen.

"That is...a...cupcake!"

"Yes, it is," he nods. "It's for you."

"For... For.. me?" Nerissa points at herself. He nods.

"For you." Her grin stretches from ear to ear.

"...Yay...! Thank you...!"

"You're welcome," He hands her the cupcake. She takes it delicately and nibbles at it, beaming brightly.

"It-it-it is good!"

"I'm glad you think so." He smiles. "I'll be bringing you one every day."

Her eyes light up. "Every...day?"

"Every day." He nods. "Don't tell the good doctor, though. Our secret."

A gentle, dreamy smile graces her face. "Yay...! Yay...!" She gobbles up the rest of the cupcake with glee, and Henry feels something warm stirring. He never got to see such contentment in his job. This was always his favorite part of the day.

"Do you like chocolate?"

"Cho..co..." She trails off, trying to think. "I...think so... I don't remember." The last phrase falls out of her mouth easily. She's had a lot of practice saying it.

"...I'll bring you a chocolate cupcake. Let me know if you like it."

Nerissa nods. "Thank...you...!" He pats her head, careful not to touch the massive scar running down her skull. He knows better than that. "Doc- Doc! Lo-look...! Henry!"

Henry glances up as the good doctor herself sweeps into the room. She gives Nerissa a distracted smile, and then nods to Henry. "That's nice, dear. Can I speak to Henry, a moment?"

"Mmhmm!"

Henry gives her a puzzled glance, but follows the woman out of the room, where she shuts the door. She turns to him, and for the first time ever, Henry sees the fire gone out. His heart freezes. "What is it? Is it Nerissa? Is she-?"

"She's alright," the doctor cuts him off, heavily. "She's healing well. In fact, she's almost ready to be out of the hospital entirely."

"That's... that's great, isn't it?" He searches the woman's face. "It's not."

"There's no one who wants her, Henry." She drops the bomb. "To take her in. She's still a minor, but even if she wasn't, she's in no shape to go to court. Once we release her, she's... going in the foster care system. She'll end up with some state-appointed lawyer. She can only remember information on her father up until a few months before the accident. Things the State Military already know. They won't have any leverage in court. Even if, by some miracle, she stays out of jail, after that she's... on her own."

"What?" His mind races. "That can't be."

"It is. You know how high maintenance she is, Henry. Even if I took her in, between my job... I can't give her the care she needs to just survive. And if her father comes after her, she won't make it. I was hoping... you'd know what to do."

For a makeshift speech therapist, he had nothing left to say.

Day 330.

"Where, um.. ah...where are um, I, um, we going, Henry?" Nerissa sways in her wheelchair. She can walk, he knows, but she always has so much fun in her wheelchair, he thought he might push her one last time.

"Ah... Do you remember when... I said, you have to go somewhere safe?"

Nerissa makes a face, the same crinkled-up-nose, pouty-lipped, wrinkled-forehead face she makes whenever she concentrates hard. "...Nope!"

"Oh." They turn a corner, back onto Main Street. The hospital was waiting for them, a few blocks away. And at the hospital, Child Services was waiting. Henry dragged his feet, a little. "Well, we're going back to the hospital."

"But, but, today - special! I'm... Leaving!"

He laughs, sadly. "So you remember that, but not the hospital, huh, kiddo?" Silence falls. He broods silently as they wait for the cars to pass.

"Henry? Why, why, why sad? I'm ...going...good place. Home?"

"...yeah, kiddo. Yeah. Home. It... It's nothing."

Henry doesn't know how he managed that lie.

It's only a sudden resistance that makes him stop, skidding right in front of a line of wide-windowed shops. Nerissa had reached out and touched the glass.

"Nerissa? What's wrong?" He glances between her and the glass. There's a row of hats in the window. Did she want one? "What is it?"

"Is...that...me?" Henry follows her finger to the glass. There's nothing there, except...

Nerissa's eyes rivet on her reflection - a scrawny, pale, bug-eyed, lop-haired girl with a scar that was still somewhat visible. Massive glasses perch on her nose. She needs them to see well, after the accident. She can't even see straight on her own. And when she forgot her glasses... God, was she going to be ok?

Henry finds his hand covering hers. "Yeah. Yeah, that's you, kiddo."

"Is that why...people...hate me?"

The question jarrs him out of his stupor. For a second, he prays he really is old, and his ears are failing him. "What?"

"People...hate me." Her eyes furrow. "They send me...letters. Or post things. Newspapers write about... Stuff. Doctor tries to hide it. But... I...looked, um, through.. her, um, her trash, and it... They hate me." Her fingers - her frail, bony fingers - slip through his. "I was a...bad person." She draws the back of her hand against her eyes. She forgets her glasses are there; they smush against her face. "...is that why... I am going? Away? Not... Home?" She looks down at her hands. "To a...bad place. Because...they hate me. Because... I am.." she points back at her reflection. "That."

"...I... Nerissa, no, that's not..." But he can't do it. He can't lie to her again. He trails off, and looks down at the innocent, broken girl, pointing at the reflection that isn't a real reflection at all. What he'd give to shatter that without consequence. It can't be louder than the cracking in his chest.

"It's ok," she says, trying to sound cheerful. "I... Just want... to know. Before I go. Away. Bad place. It's ok!" she drops her finger from the window, and settles back in the chair. "...You...hate me...too."

"What? No! No, Nerissa, I don't, no, not at all. I..." His voice dies off. He couldn't believe she thought that. No, that was another lie. Maybe the worst part was that he could.

"... You ... caught, me. Caught me. Not Papa." She hugs herself, looking down. "Your friend...hurt. Dead. I'm sorry."

He pulls her back from the window, Nerissa's body lurching at the motion."-?!"

"Nerissa," he says firmly, kneeling in front of her, "I don't hate you. I hate who you used to be, but I don't hate you. The you that's talking to me now." He takes her hands in his. "I... care for you. A lot. I don't hate you at all. You're not the person you were, and that's all that's important."

Nerissa's eyes well up with tears, and he reaches forward and catches her - catches her for real - and they hold each other in a long, long hug. He can feel warm tears streaking through his jacket. He hopes she doesn't feel the same through hers.

He pulls back first, gripping her shoulders. She has her hands balled in his shirt.

"Nerissa," he says gently, "you... you need to let go. We need to go to the hospital."

Noiselessly, she releases him. She spends the rest of the walk back watching the cobblestones zip underneath her feet. Henry quickens his pace. He better get this over with soon as possible.

"You're late," are the first words to greet them. The officer holds handcuffs.

"On the contrary," Henry says, slowing to a saunter. "I'm right on time." The officer opens his mouth, but in true doctor fashion, he cuts them off. "I'm adopting this girl."

Nerissa's head jerks up. He smiles. "She's coming home with me."

Day 0.

"Alright, you can take it off, now." Henry steps back from where he'd been fussing with his mantleplace picture frames. Nerissa reaches up and fumbles slightly with the blindfold. She gasps as she sees the room. "Tada!"

"W-Wow!" She claps her hands, eyes shining. "It...! So pretty!"

Henry chuckles, spreading his arms. "I'm sure glad you think so! Spent the whole weekend cleaning this old place up." Nerissa runs into his arms, and he picks her up and spins her in a circle, the two of them laughing all the while. "Welcome home, Nerissa."

"Home!" She agrees, face buried in his chest.

He puts her down, smiling, closing his eyes. It felt like he was really happy, for the first time. Like he had something to live for again.

Like he was starting over.

It was Day 0 for the rest of his life.