The bruising all across Dahlia's body was too sore to get her far from the bed. It felt good to finally stand though, as wobbly as her legs still were. She trudged over to her duffel bag and examined its contents. There were some toiletries, some fresh undergarments, and ... that vial. She'd forgotten about it. For a fleeting moment, she thought to show him. But right away, she felt cowardly at the idea, and tucked it back into her bag. It didn't feel like the right time or place.

After perhaps an hour of fussing around with showering and with changing, she emerged from the main bedroom and walked out to greet him. As she did, Nightmare chittered a greeting from her sitting room perch. Dahlia detoured briefly to walk over and say hello.

Having a cop for a father meant things were never just swept under the rug. After stroking Nightmare's back several times softly, Dahlia wondered if her father had looked up Crane's address and done any investigating. It would have been a surprise if he hadn't, given his occasional temper and his obvious distaste for Crane.

Speaking of, she soon explored the area and found Crane in the kitchen, carefully pouring some tea. Leaning against the door frame, she asked, "Did my father come by while I was out?"

He motioned for her to take a cup. "No. But we did speak on the phone."

Curiously and gloomily, she inquired, "Oh. What did he say?" She reached out and took a cup by its handle.

It didn't escape her notice this morning, but at this particular moment, Dahlia confirmed that Crane's tone of voice was sounding more relaxed today. "Numerous expletives towards my character. Most pretty true." Dahlia tittered at the comment. "I managed to talk him into giving you some time and space to clear your head and think on things."

It must have been some damn good convincing on Crane's end to talk her father off a ledge. "He used to have a mean temper, ya know. Nowadays, he's better at controlling it. You must have been lucky to survive his fury."

His brows briefly raised suggestively, and he said nothing else. She raised the cup to her lips, blew, and took a careful sip.

That afternoon, back in Crane's corner office, he sat at his desk scribbling notes of some kind. She had taken a spot in the book corner, comfortably nestled on the floor in a knit blanket that he pulled out for her. While he worked, she helped herself to his collection and had grabbed something to read. The Power of Now by Kenneth Drowler.

While reclining against one of the shelves, Dahlia realized she was distracted and not actually taking in any of the words on the page. Without lowering the book, she glanced past it to the corner desk Crane was leaning over. It was difficult to resist staring, but she admitted that she enjoyed just ... looking at him. His hair was a bit messy and falling just over the eyes, sleeves shoved up past the elbows, forearm muscles contracting as he wrote, and eyes very much alert and focused on a task. A good work ethic was attractive. And so was the unyielding drive for success. There was so much precious comfort in just his presence.

Before long, Dahlia found herself too fatigued to stay up much longer. After noticing her dozing off, he escorted her back to the main bedroom to get a nap in. Fleetingly she wanted to invite him to join her, but was shy to pull the trigger on the thought. Probably for the best - In mere seconds after her head hit the pillow, Dahlia fell asleep.

And was eventually awakened by Crane, who looked yet more disheveled than earlier. He repeated her name and shook her shoulder to get her up. The pain medication must have done a number on her system, since her head was throbbing for whatever reason. Still, she didn't waste any time and asked, "Jon? What's wrong?" Something under the floor was shifting, like a vibration. When her sleepy vision cleared up, she got a better look at the expression on his face and felt worried.

"A fire broke out at your building. It's being contained by the fire department right now."

That was alarming news and took a few moments to accept. A few major questions came to mind, such as the extent of the fire, and if any animals were trapped inside. Poor Cat, she figured he was smart enough to keep away and stay safe. But the concern for her father vaulted to the top of her list of stressors. "My dad ... ?"

He shook his head. "We don't have the details yet." The comment physically ached her chest.

The shifting vibration of the floor had faded, but picked up again. "What time is it? And what's going on?" Pushing the blanket aside, Dahlia pivoted her feet to the floor and sat at the edge of the bed.

After a glance to his wristwatch, Crane replied, "12:23am. And ... as a cautionary move, long overdue, we're moving the lab to a more secure location."

That too was concerning news. "... Why?"

A flash of rage crossed Crane's eyes, and a muscle in his temple twitched. He took steps back from the bed until he bumped into the wall. Then, angrily, he threw an elbow into it. The blow had shot Dahlia's shoulders up to her earlobes in surprise. The move seemed really ... out of character. She worried that her question upset him.

He sighed and shook his head, as if trying to shake away a thought. His lips parted to say something, but closed again before he threw another elbow at the wall before sliding down to collapse on the floor. She felt the panic well. Before it boiled over, he finally spoke, voice shaken. It caught her incredibly off guard. Instead of standing, Dahlia carefully slid off the bed and crouched down towards the floor. She listened intently.

"Building an ... 'enterprise' ... has been the primary focus of my existence for the last ten years." She slowly maneuvered closer to him. "It hasn't been without setbacks. Any endeavor is going to be accosted by any myriad of problems. And like anyone with half a head on their shoulders, I anticipated it all and stopped it all. All of it. And every step of the way, everyone involved has regarded me as nothing more than ... just another 'freak' with misplaced ambition. Regardless of the obscene, irrelevant profits earned. Regardless of the results dropped in their laps." Dahlia was directly in front of him now, seated on her ankles between his outstretched knees. Moisture had formed in his eyes. She thought he could weep at any moment.

"I will never escape the pathetic reality that I will always be a 'freak'. I'm too far past the point of wanting acceptance now; that's done and over with. People like us don't need validation from those that serve us.

"But the one thing I didn't want to consider ..." The sentence trailed off as Crane's gaze shifted between both of Dahlia's eyes and her lips. She could see so much sadness and anger behind those blues. He was so good at comforting her, and now that she had the opportunity to reciprocate, she was blank. After a moment, Crane swallowed and seemed to collect himself a bit. He said, "I think Richard Dodge and Carmine Falcone are attempting to cut us out. And I think the fire at your building was an attempt to kill you."

The idea incurred worry, fear, confusion, anger, and disgust. But the emotion that loomed over all the rest was bright and glimmering. Dahlia couldn't push it aside to focus on the seriousness of their situation, as it stood firmly rooted in the center of her vision. It was the most terrifying, wonderful feeling she'd ever discovered.

Crane's breathing had become heavier. As did Dahlia's. And before apprehension got in the way, she leaned forward and tenderly kissed him. Lips locked, he sat forward and held her head and neck with both hands, and passionately kissed her several more times. Pulling away for only a moment, he said under his breath,

"I will kill anyone that means you harm, in any way."