Layla had broken into a sprint before she was even off the phone. Monk called after to ask where she was going, but she ignored him. Her mind acknowledged only two things: the people in front of her that she only narrowly avoided and the hospital halfway across town. As she got closer and closer to the exit of the main building, her attempts to avoid running into anyone in her way got sloppier and sloppier. Eventually, Layla practically fell through the double doors leading outside the parking lot. Her hands were already fumbling through her pockets as she continued running. Finally, they made contact with her car keys, and she yanked them out, slightly ripping the seam connecting her pockets to her pants in the process. Layla's body was practically on autopilot by that point. She barely even registered the fact that she was fully in her car and driving out of the lot, speeding into town.

Thanks to the myriad of things hijacking Layla's train of thought, she was entirely oblivious to the damage around her as she drove through the suburbs. Fire trucks sped by with ambulances in tow, sirens blaring as they made their way toward pillars of smoke dotted across the city. Families stood huddled together, bracing themselves from the brisk April winds as they looked at the rubble of what was once their apartment complex. Still, Layla ignored all of this. She ignored the sirens, the crying, and the crowds of people on the sidewalk. She ignored everything except the road before her as she drove on, ever focused on one goal.

Despite the chaos that Layla was nearly entirely oblivious to, the downtown area of Durant seemed remarkably unscathed, all things considered. Most importantly to her, the hospital near the center of town was completely untouched. If she looked at the massive brick building on its own, rather than the battered and bruised city as a whole, she never would've guessed that the city was under attack just a few hours ago, even though she had been one of the pilots fighting the battle. It was entirely too calm for the circumstances the city was in, and that was perhaps the best thing Layla could ask for at the moment. She skidded to a halt in the parking lot, only narrowly avoiding crashing into two separate cars as she slid into one of the last open parking spaces that she could find. Then, Layla sat there for a moment. Every part of her brain told her to get out of the car and start running into that hospital, but her muscles refused to move no matter what. She had been ignoring it as best she could up until that point, but that's when she finally felt the visceral feeling crawling up from her heart: the feeling that came with the knowledge that she was potentially one hospital visit away from becoming an orphan.

Layla tried to avoid thinking about her mother whenever she could. Although, it wasn't easy with how often her father brought her up. Whether it was how Layla supposedly looked more and more like her with each passing day or how proud she would've been of the woman Layla had become, she tried her best to tune it out, not because of any ill will toward her, but because she was too scared to confront the fact that if she hadn't been born her mother would still be alive.

Layla was 18 when she told her father this for the first and last time. It was the same day she told him she wanted to join the Air Defense Force. A blistering summer afternoon gave way to a chilly evening, and she was sitting at the kitchen table, reading a novel her creative writing teacher had recommended on her last day of class. Her father walked in after a day out with some of his friends from work, and it only took him a few moments to notice the application form for the Osean Air Defense Force, sitting neatly on the table next to Layla.

"What's this?" he asked as he sat down across from his daughter.

Layla slipped her bookmark in place and set the novel down on the seat next to hers. "Need you to sign it," she explained.

"Hold on, hold on, slow down. The Air Defense Force? Since when were you interested in that? I thought you wanted to get your Bachelor's in education?" he asked, holding up the form.

"I still do," Layla replied with a shrug. "I just figured since we're a bit tight on money after your surgery, I'd get one hell of a burden off our back by letting the ADF pay for my college."

Her father frowned. "First of all, watch your language." Layla opened her mouth to protest, but he carried on. "Second of all, you can apply for student aid. We were putting money away before you were born specifically for that."

Layla avoided eye contact with her father, knowing that when he said 'we,' he didn't mean him and Layla. "But think of how much better off we'd be if you could take that money and put it into something else- all in exchange for just a few harmless years as a pilot."

Her father glanced between his daughter and the form in front of him. "I just- why the Air Force? Why a pilot of all things?"

Layla looked out the window, continuing to avoid eye contact. "I figured if I'm gonna end up in the military, I might as well get a modicum of enjoyment out of it by flying fighter jets I think are cool." It was perhaps one of the most naïve answers she could've given, and she knew this completely, but she stuck with it.

"It's not the easiest job, and it's still plenty dangerous," he warned her. "Allen told me about his time in the OADF, and some of it wasn't pretty. I just don't know if I want you to go through that- putting yourself at risk to that extent."

Layla cocked an eyebrow. "Mr. Kingsly was a fighter pilot?" she asked.

"Yep. He flew in the Belkan War," her father replied with a nod. "Like I said, it's not the easiest job, and it could be really dangerous."

Layla waved her hand dismissively. "Dad, the Circum-Pacific War just ended three years ago. We won't be at war again for a long time. Besides, even if we somehow did go right back to war, I'm a Nadir, ain't I?" she asked with a smirk, finally meeting her father in the eyes. "Fighting's in my genes. You wouldn't have to worry about me one bit, I promise."

Her father nodded. "That's my girl. Your mom would be proud to see the woman you've grown up to be."

Once again, Layla felt her heart sink. Her expression darkened, and she looked back out the window. "Yeah… if you say so," she murmured.

"Hey, hey, what's the matter?" Her father asked, trying to meet his daughter's eyes despite her attempts to look away.

Layla tried her best to wipe the tears beginning to flow down her face. She hated crying in front of other people, especially when they were her father. "I just… am I worth it? She'd still be alive if I hadn't been born, so am I worth her life?"

Her father frowned, and for a moment, he just sat there. It took him quite some time to process what she said and what she meant by it, but eventually, he stood up slowly and sat next to her, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Listen, Starlight." Layla cracked a small and ever so brief smile at the use of the nickname he'd used for her since she was at least six. "Your mother loved you so very much. She didn't need you to be born to know that she thought the world- no, she thought the universe of you. When she was pregnant with you, she would always tell me how she was confident that you'd grow up to do great things. Starlight, she loved you so much that if you told her how things would turn out- if you gave her a choice between giving birth to you and her own life, she would choose you in less than a heartbeat, so don't, for one minute, wonder if you're worth it or not, because you are."

Six years had passed since that day, and now, Layla was working up the courage to leave her car and walk through the doors into the emergency room.

'Maybe it won't be so bad,' she thought to herself. 'Maybe it's just a complication with his condition, and he needs another surgery or something.' She didn't do a very good job of convincing herself, but it did at least allow her to muster the courage to step out into the parking lot and take one step after another toward the hospital.

"Hi. Can I help you?" the receptionist asked in the same cheery voice she always used to ask that question.

Layla straightened her posture as she approached the woman at the desk. "I'm here to see Saleem Nadir. I'm his daughter."

"Of course. The doctor will show you to his room right away," the receptionist told her. "Go ahead and have a seat."

'Great. More waiting,' she thought as she sat down in one of the remarkably uncomfortable plastic chairs. Her eyes wandered the room as her leg bounced so fast it seemed as if it was hardly moving at all.

Fortunately, she didn't have to wait for long, as an older man in a lab coat entered the room a minute later. "Miss Nadir?" he asked nobody in particular, waiting to see who would respond.

Layla practically jumped out of her seat, rushing over to the man. "Hi. I came as fast as I could. What happened?"

The doctor turned back around and started leading her through the halls of the emergency room. "During the attack, your father was in a building that was hit by a falling aircraft. One of the people that brought him here says he pushed them out of the way to protect them from the rubble, only to get caught in it himself."

'You stubborn bastard. You just had to go and be a hero, didn't you?' she cursed silently. "He- he's alive, though… right?" She could feel her voice faltering as she asked the question she almost didn't want to ask.

Layla's heart sank with the doctor's next words. "There's been uh… a complication." He rounded another corner, and Layla followed. "When we brought him in, he was unconscious and suffering from moderate internal bleeding. Fortunately for us, we had a new medication on hand that had just gotten certified, which treats this, and it did. However, what we didn't expect was that your father must've had some kind of severe allergic reaction to the medication. From what we can tell, he's experiencing serious inflammation in his respiratory system. It…" He paused as he came to a stop outside a room with its curtains drawn. "It may end up being lethal to him."

Layla felt as if her head was spinning. She leaned against the wall, hoping to stabilize herself. "Is- is there anything you can do? Anything at all?"

The doctor pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "We've tried giving him several antibiotics to combat the inflammation, but nothing seems to be working. We suspect it might be a side effect of the medication, but we can't say for certain. What we can say is that there's this brand new medication we're fairly certain will help reduce the inflammation. However, we can't administer it until you get it confirmed by insurance. In fact, we don't even have any on hand. It's all at the pharmacy."

Layla felt herself growing more and more impatient by the second. Her dad was dying, and she was sitting there, talking about medications and insurance. "I'll be sure to call them as soon as I'm done here," she assured the doctor, hoping it might finally put an end to this conversation.

The doctor seemingly picked up on her desperation and gave an understanding nod. "I'll give the two of you some time alone," he said as he walked away.

Layla took several deep breaths. She reached out to pull the curtains aside, but her muscles wouldn't let her. She was terrified of what she'd see on the other side, and she knew this. The only movement she could get out of her hands was their vigorous shaking- all while continuing to grip the curtain as if her life depended on it.

Finally, she worked up the courage to yank them aside, and there sat Saleem Nadir, lying in a hospital bed. Dust and bruises covered his body, and his breathing was infrequent, but despite this, he grinned from ear to ear as soon as he set eyes on his daughter. "Thank goodness you're safe!" he exclaimed. "I've been worried sick about you ever since I first heard the news."

"Me? You're dying, dad!" Layla replied as she sat down next to him. "I was the one in the most danger. I was the one fighting the UAVs. You were just working at the docks. Why am I not the one in a hospital bed instead-"

"Stop that," Saleem ordered as his chest heaved in and out, fighting for what little breath he could manage. "You blame yourself, and you'll just drive yourself crazy. It's not your fault."

"You don't god damn get it, Dad! It probably is my fault," Layla insisted. "I could've been the one that shot down the UAV that crashed onto you. You could be in here, dying, all because of me."

Saleem shook his head. "First of all, watch your language."

This time, Layla did manage to object. "Dad, I'm 24 years old. I don't think swearing is the worst thing in the world."

Saleem ignored her. "Second, did you intend for me to get hurt when you shot that drone down?"

Layla's gaze moved down to the floor, inspecting each tile beneath her feet. "Well, no, but-"

"Then it's not your fault." He reached out and put his hand over hers. "Layla, I don't blame you, so you shouldn't blame yourself."

She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping to keep tears from streaking down her face. She failed. "I just… I don't want you to die. What am I supposed to do then?"

"You don't know I'm going to die," Saleem pointed out. "This isn't my first time on a hospital bed, and I don't think it'll be my last."

A sudden flash of determination filled Layla's eyes. "No. You're not going to die," she decided. "Whatever it takes, I'm going to make sure you live, I promise."

Saleem frowned. "Don't make that promise, Layla. I don't want you doing something you'll regret out of desperation. If it is my time, then there's nothing that can be done to stop it. It's how things are meant to happen." He could see how distraught his daughter was, though, and what kind of father would he be if he didn't try to comfort her? "Listen, Starlight." Saleem smiled gently, knowing that name still got her attention. "I am so, very proud of you, and I want you to always know that. You said yourself: you're a Nadir, and not just that, but you're the best daughter I could've ever asked for." He reached up to put his hand on her cheek, and Layla held it there. "I know you don't like it when I say it, but you've turned out so much like your mother. You're practically a spitting image of her, and you've got that same fire she had- that same fire she used to make sure you'd be able to live." He took another series of deep, scratchy breaths. "Go on, now. I'm sure they'll need you back at the base. Don't you spend all your days worrying about me, either. I'm sure I'll be out of here and back home in just a few days, and when I am, I'll call you. You just focus on keeping everyone here safe that can't keep themselves safe."

Layla straightened up, nodding solemnly. "I… I will." She leaned over and gave Saleem the warmest, tightest embrace she had ever given him. "I love you, Dad."

Saleem held his daughter just as tightly. At first, he thought about making a remark about how this wasn't going to be the last time they saw each other, but even he wasn't so sure about that anymore. All he could manage to say was what he wished he could tell her a million times over- until the sun stopped spinning. "I love you too, Starlight."