Jack and Clu dropped Molly off at the house to peruse her discoveries further under the supervision of Carey and Fi. They, it appeared, had promised Irene they would pick up some unnamed but necessary object and return it to her at the hospital. After Jack offered this weak explanation, they hastily drove away in Molly's car.

"Well, that was odd," Molly noted, but the excitement of finding the material she had found quickly overcame her again and she reclined in her own bed, studying every word of the new death spell, memorizing it to the best of her ability. This one wasn't like the deterrent spell, either--there were supplies to be gathered. She hated this feeling of physical powerlessness; it made her feel like an old lady for the first time, which didn't improve her disposition at all.

After making sure Molly was settled, Fi headed downstairs, where Carey was sitting, alone, in the silent living room. She pursed her lips and shook her head. "What is with you? I mean, we're all worried about your dad and the monster and everything, but... I don't know. It feels like you've been really distant. You barely even came to the hospital when Clu and me were there."

"I'm sorry," he said genuinely, but offered no further explanation.

Fi contemplated the situation for a moment, and developed a theory. She almost didn't articulate it; the idea seemed absurd. Of course, some of her reluctance to think about this particular theory had to do with her own personal ideas regarding Carey and the most suitable mate for him: namely, her. Her brief dalliance with Clu had really been a sort of test, to see if one brother would be the same as another. He wasn't. He was sweet, but he wasn't the same. Now the theory became a monster in her own mind, screeching and struggling for her to set it free; she had to rule out the possibility.

"It was her, wasn't it?" she finally said, more as a statement than a question, hoping that he would look at her quizzically and inquire, "Her who?"

He looked taken aback and her stomach sank. How could it be true? Out of all the weird possibilities she had embraced over the years, this was the one out-there idea she never believed would actually be true.

"Yes."

Her worst fears had been confirmed. She tried to keep the mental pictures and implications out of her head. Thinking about pink elephants now, yes, pink flying elephants, hmm, and their little frog friends, doing an Indian rain dance.

"I'm sorry," he offered, oblivious to the images of little green war-painted frogs riding giant pink blobs through the sky desperately running through her head. "I'm sorry that I let it interfere with my concern for you and Clu. I should have been more mature than that. I just didn't want to face her, I didn't want to acknowledge that something had really happened to you, I didn't want to think about any of it."

"It's, um, it's okay, because I understand."

"Do you?"

"Well, no, and frankly, I think it's more than a little bit gross."

He just shook his head and looked away from her. "But," she continued. "What I think isn't actually the point, is it?"

"What do you mean?"

"I think the point is," she said carefully, "that no matter what I happen to think of this... situation, it's something you have to deal with, and I'll support you no matter what you do."

"That's really sweet, Fi. Thanks."

She smiled and got up to leave. "Sure, no problem." He really didn't have a clue, did he? She was heading back up the stairs when he spoke again: "Fi."

"Yeah?" she said, a little too quickly, turning around.

"I'm sorry. I know that it's going to be hard on you, and on Jack if he finds out, but especially you because I know... I mean, I've felt... there's something, isn't there?"

"Yeah," she admitted. "Something."

He finally rose to join her on the stairs, placing both of his hands on her shoulders. Despite her revulsion and confusion and anger and sadness, she found herself feeling that same old thrill at the moment his hands connected with her body. Stop it, she warned her imagination. Just shut up. "I'm sorry," he said again. "It just isn't meant to be. I'm not sure how this happened, but it did, and, well..."

Fi tried not to let the disappointment show when she finally spoke up. "Do you love her?"

He paused. "Yeah, you know, I really do. Despite everything. Maybe because of it."

"Then that's all that matters," she said wisely, giving him a brave smile. "Don't you think?"

"Thanks, Fi." He pulled her into a hug and she tried not to hold on to the warmth of his body against hers, the smell of his light cologne mixed with a heavy amount of soap, the way his skin felt pressed against her; she tried to mind that he was squeezing a little too hard, flaring up her uncured joint aches, but she couldn't bring herself to object. She really just wanted to keep this moment forever, but she knew it was impossible, and when he finally pulled away and looked into her eyes, she knew that it wasn't her he had been thinking about at all.

She couldn't let him see how deeply she had felt that something; she wouldn't. But she needed to get away from him, to have some time to think about all of this, to be out of his presence, and she definitely didn't want to see Molly right now.

But there she was, standing at the top of the stairs, dressed, armed with a small backpack and grasping her photocopies. "Damn. I thought I could get out of here without anyone interfering."

"Well, you can't," Fi piped up. "Go on, get back in there. We're under strict orders from Irene and the police to keep you away from where you want to go. So come on," she ordered authoritiatively, heading up the stairs toward Molly, intent on using force if necessary to keep her from killing herself--although at the moment, she acknowledged, her concern for Molly's welfare wasn't quite as true-hearted as a daughter's concern for her mother should be. Still, she was a responsible girl, so she ignored the evil whispers in her ear and stood directly in front of Molly, who glanced at Fi, then back at Carey, then at her again. She rolled her eyes.

"Fine," she said. "You're right. Why should I want to rip this thing to pieces after it tried to kill my children, my friends, and me? I'm being totally irrational." She spun on her heel and slammed the bedroom door behind her.

"Well, clearly the pain medication is not doing wonders for her personality," Fi noted with more than a little amusement.

"I should probably go," he said. "I'm probably making her worse."

Fi considered this for a moment, and then willed herself the strength to ignore the screaming in her head, her ears, her heart, her stomach, her veins. "No."

"No?"

"You should stay. You have to talk to her now. She needs you to tell her that she doesn't have to do this. We're all okay. We'll all be okay. I think she needs you now," she repeated, kicking herself.

"You're okay with that?"

"No," she replied honestly. "But like I said, right now it doesn't matter what I think. Later, you better believe it's gonna matter. But not tonight. Not until this is over." She smiled at him sadly and retreated to her own room, locking the door behind her. Though he couldn't see her do it, she locked her window too, just in case the evil inner-Fi voices got the best of her...