Thank God for morphine. The burns hurt like a son of a bitch, and I had enough pain to deal with as it was. I'd woken yesterday feeling like Pax and Fortnea were having a wrestling match in my skull. That should have been the first clue that I should have called in and asked Gard to take a shift. I should have tapped out when my vision got blurry and I had to swallow back bile. The ringing in my ears had kept me from hearing the servitor's approach and I'd barely gotten a shield up in time to keep the worst of the acid deluge off me. What had hit had eaten into the muscles of my back. I wasn't sure who'd picked me up and brought me to Dr. Stafford and I didn't care. The absence of pain was enough.

I drifted in and out of consciousness, only vaguely aware of time passing. There was a hand in mine, but I wasn't sure who it belonged to. Big, calloused, and vaguely familiar. From the size and the coarse hair on the arm that brushed against mine, I was guessing male, but he didn't speak. The only sounds in the room were the monitors and the steady rhythm of his breathing. Marcone's staff were discreet. There wouldn't be a record of this, which meant the visitor had to be a friend. I had any of those left. Maybe it was Father Forthill and he'd come to give me last rites. I wasn't that far gone was I?

A pair of dress shoes clicked on the tile as a new presence approached. "How is she?"

If I hadn't been high as a kite, the voice would have made me tense. Marcone hadn't even glanced at me in months. He was still searching for Helen with no luck, and every failed attempt made him resent me more.

"Dr. Stafford says she'll need around-the-clock monitoring for several days. The acid didn't go deep enough to reach anything vital, but she'll be in pain for a while. They're keeping her under for now. She's regained consciousness a few times but she doesn't make much sense. She keeps asking for Daniel, so I assume she's having nightmares."

Warmth blossomed in my chest. I knew that voice too. Daddy was here. He was watching over me. Nothing could hurt me if he was nearby. I sank a little deeper into the covers. I couldn't lift my head, though I wanted to look at him. Then his words hit home and guilt washed away some of the contentment. I didn't remember dreaming about Daniel. Hearing me cry out for him must have been like a knife between his ribs.

"I don't know that she'd want you here," Dad continued. "I hear you haven't been friendly of late."

The chair made a squeaking sound against the tile when Marcone dragged it to the other side of my bed. He didn't move to take my hand. I was pretty sure Dad would have taken it off at the wrist if he'd tried.

"We had a misunderstanding and I've been childish about it. It won't happen again."

"Good. Now, why are you here?"

I was too high to feel the tension rise, but I was certain it had. There was an undercurrent of something between them, though I couldn't put my finger on what. Dad still had a bit of discernment left over from his days as a Knight, so he was probably picking up on something I couldn't. It was a clue to stay far away from my criminal boss. If only it was that easy.

"She's one of my people, whether any of you like it or not. I look after my own. She'll have the best care available, I assure you. The magic makes it a little complicated, but we'll manage."

"It's more than that," Dad said. I could imagine him fixing Marcone with a level stare. My boss would look away first. It was nearly impossible to meet his eyes when you were in the wrong. "We both know that. I see the way you watch her."

Marcone was silent for a moment. He'd looked away, I was certain of that. "It doesn't matter. That's not the nature of our partnership, and she won't have it otherwise. I don't insist on going where I'm not wanted."

"She's been hurt enough. If you contribute to that, there will be consequences."

It was the most threatening words I'd ever heard my father utter. I'd never known him to be so...cold. He didn't consider anyone beyond redemption. There was definitely something wrong here.

"Did she go for a weapon during her nightmare?" Marcone remarked mildly, either ignoring the threat or taking it in stride. "The last time she and I worked together, she had a knife to my throat. It was a flashback to her time in the Fellowship. I knew how to handle it. I did the same, once. Though it was a lamp to the head, not a knife to the throat."

So I'd been right. Marcone had his own episodes of PTSD. What nightmare had turned him into Colonel Mustard in the bedroom with the candlestick?

"No," Dad said quietly. "They're keeping her constantly sedated. I don't think she could open her eyes now, let alone reach for a weapon."

"Good. I'd hate for her to lose another family member. Watching Raith kill her brother had to have been enough trauma for one lifetime."

Dad didn't say anything to that, but something must have shown on his face because Marcone leaned forward, his weight pushing down on one side of the bed.

"What's that look?"

More silence and then, "It wasn't Thomas."

I was doubly grateful for the morphine because his emotions paired with Marcone's stunned reaction would have me bending double. It penetrated the haze as it was, an unpleasant weight that made me stir briefly.

"She..."

"Yes. She had to. I understand that."

"And you forgive her?"

"Of course I forgive her. Daniel was insane, so twisted by black magic that he was barely even human. He'd have killed her and two hundred thousand others after she was gone. My son died in Chichen Itza and that was not her fault. What she did took sacrifice. She made it for the good of others. I will never condemn her for that." Dad let out a shuddering breath. "It's more than I could have done in her place. More than I have done in her place. She's stronger than I am."

"What do you mean?"

"We fought once when she was still wielding Lasciel's coin. Or rather, Lasciel used her body. Molly broke free of her influence eventually, but there were moments..." The hand in mine trembled. I tried to squeeze it but couldn't. "You've seen her fight, so you know she's good, but I've been at this for decades. There were weaknesses. Openings. In theory, I could have...but I didn't. I couldn't. Not in practice. Nicodemus knew that. I wouldn't have been able to live with it. I'd have rather died, even knowing what was hanging in the balance. I couldn't sacrifice my child, even knowing I'd fail everyone. That the sword would fall into the hands of demons. Molly did what I considered impossible. She put the world ahead of her heart. She thinks she's a monster. All I see is a hero."

Dad kissed the back of my hand. I felt something wet slide across my skin. He was crying.

"I've seen her soul. Her burden is so heavy," he whispered. "And I can't shoulder it. I'd do anything to take even a fraction of her pain. Children aren't supposed to suffer. Parents shouldn't let them"

The hand in mine loosened and pulled away. I felt colder without it. Dad's chair squealed as he stood. He cleared his throat and it sounded painful.

"I'm going for water. Would you like some?"

"Yes, please."

Marcone waited until my father's footsteps faded before leaning in to whisper, "So, how much did you hear?"

I had to work to find my mouth. My eyes refused to cooperate, so glaring at him was out.

"All of it," I slurred. "He's wrong. I'm not strong."

Marcone squeezed my hand. "Strength is in the eye of the beholder. Don't forget that I've seen your soul too."

"And you're the only one who's ever liked it," I mumbled. The darkness was threatening to drag me back under. "What did you see?"

"A room full of mirrors. What you were. What you are now. The potential of what you might become. So many futures. I saw you as you see yourself. How false that really is."

"And what's the truth exactly?

His breath tickled my ear when he leaned in to whisper, "That you're someone worth fighting for. Heal, Carpenter. I'm not done with you yet."

He didn't give me much choice in that. He reached for the pump and pressed a button, and a moment later fresh euphoria wrapped me in its petal-soft embrace. I sank down into the dark and warmth and didn't open my eyes for the rest of the night.