"It's time, moron."

The familiar voice was accompanied by a sharp, stinging slap to the back of my head. Pain pricked out from the point of impact, and I let out a surprised yelp, raising my hands to shield my scalp from further blows. I needn't have bothered. The culprit was already past me, dropping into the chair opposite me with a grunt. She straddled it, stance wide and aggressive. I couldn't fail to notice the Glock 17 in a holster at her waist.

The last time I'd visited home base, there'd been an infirmary setup as the many versions of me lay recovering from the psychic dogpile we'd undergone before Daniel's failed rescue. Now we were in an office that looked suspiciously like Marcone's. My id still looked pale, but the scars from that encounter were fading. She'd swapped her hospital gown out for a gray blouse and a charcoal blazer and slacks combo. She'd drawn her hair up into a no-nonsense bun and was giving me an arch look down the bridge of her nose.

I snorted in amusement. "Someone's lifting Gard's look."

"That woman has her priorities straight," Id Molly sniffed. "If you decided to emulate her for once, maybe we wouldn't end up in so many boneheaded scenarios like the one with the Skavis. Seriously, what were you thinking?"

I glowered at her. "He had to pay for killing Rosie. You wanted him dead too."

"Of course I did," she said hotly. "But for once I agree with Ms. Spock. We should have gotten a hold of his hair and turned him into vampire origami from a nice, safe distance. Getting up close and personal was impulsive, bloodthirsty, short-sighted, and dangerous."

I laughed bitterly. "Since when have you minded being impulsive and bloodthirsty? That's your schtick, isn't it?"

"Once upon a time. We have different priorities now, and it's high time you got on board."

It took me a moment to understand what she meant, and then I was on my feet. There wasn't a door in this little office setup, and that had probably been by design. The Council of Molly didn't pull me into a dream like this unless there was a real problem. The barrier between my conscious and subconscious had to remain relatively solid, or things got messy in a hurry. I had enough problems in my waking life without adding their burdens in as well. If we let the wall tumble, I might as well stitch my own straight jacket.

"Sit back down," Id Molly sighed.

"No," I said, feeling along the walls. There'd be a weak point. There always was, and I could use it to create a door and get the hell out of here. "You can't force me to do this."

"Maybe not, but you need to do it anyway. They're your kids. After that saccharine exchange with Marcone, I thought you'd finally come to terms with the fact you're going to die trying to protect this city. Are you really going to bite it without ever meeting them?"

"I asked him to ID my body," I snapped, digging my fingers into the drywall. It was unusually firm, and I only managed to peel away a few flecks of white paint from the wall. "I can't think of anything less saccharine than that."

"You think so?" Id Molly asked. Her smile was mocking. "Because here's what I heard: 'I trust you to protect my family from emotional harm.'"

I paused, craning to look at her, my mouth swinging in the wind. Lines fanned out at the corners of her eyes as she watched the bombshell land.

"Really? I... I didn't think of it that way."

"Not consciously, no," Id Molly acknowledged. "But the thought had to go through the others, trust me. Ms. Spock was shrieking about it for weeks after the topic came up. I personally don't understand the holdup. He's good-looking, strong enough to be a protector, and doesn't tolerate harm to children. Seems ideal for your situation, and you've seen the way he looks at you. Go for it."

"He's a drug lord!" I spluttered. "And a murderer! He's responsible for so much devastation!"

"So are you. If you want to get technical, your rap sheet is as bad as his." She began ticking off fingers. "Possession with intent to distribute. Trafficking illicit substances across state lines. Bribery. Forgery. Kidnap. Gunrunning. International terrorist attacks. Attacks on sovereign supernatural nations. Murder. Attempted patricide. Conspiracy to commit genocide. Not to mention all of the things you can do that he can't. As far as I know, Marcone hasn't broken the Laws of Magic. So, if you want to talk moral superiority, he might actually have you beat."

I opened my mouth to protest...and shut it a moment later. She was right. Damn it, how had that happened? How had I ended up on more or less equal moral footing with John Fucking Marcone? That seemed...fundamentally wrong.

"Fine," I huffed. "I'm a dirty, dirty sinner in the shadow of Saint John. That doesn't mean I'm going to hop on top and ask for a ride."

"Fine, be a bottom. He's got top energy anyway."

"Oh, for fuck's sake! I am not sleeping with Marcone. End of story! Can we get back to the topic at hand please?"

"So, you're willing to meet the kids?" she asked innocently.

I ground my teeth. She'd brought up the one subject that was potentially thornier than my kids on purpose.

"You're a real bitch, you know that?" I hissed.

Id Molly smirked. "I know, and someday you'll thank me for it. A part of you wants to meet them, or you wouldn't be entertaining this conversation in the first place."

"I hate you."

Id Molly stood and paced over to a newly forged door, opening it before waving me through. "I know. Now, let's get going. There's only so much time before dawn."