AN: This chapter is a little dark and possibly triggering. I've tried to keep it just vague enough, but keep that in mind and feel free to skip this chapter if you're worried.

Ian answered his phone on the second ring with an annoyed groan, given that it was the middle of the night and he'd only just fallen asleep.

"Daddy?" Charlotte's voice came across the phone line, small and broken.

Instantly wide awake, he felt panic climb the back of his throat like bile. She hadn't called him Daddy since she was six years old. "Are you okay, mo storín?" he asked, struggling to keep his voice level and his tone quiet so he wouldn't wake Emily who was fast asleep beside him.

"Can you come get me?" she whispered.

He was out of bed and grabbing his keys before she'd finished the question.

When he pulled up to a screeching stop outside Charlotte's best friend's house, noise of the graduation party spilling out into the night, Charlotte was sitting alone on the curb, knees pulled into her chest, body heaving with sobs.

He tried not to let his imagination run away with him, not to jump to the worst possible scenario – perhaps she'd had a fight with her friend or had a little too much to drink and gotten sick. Perhaps this was all an overreaction, a misunderstanding...a histrionic teenage melodrama.

"Lottie?" he said quietly, trying not to startle her with his approach. He settled himself next to her on the sidewalk and reached out a hand to rest on her shoulder. "Charlotte?"

She jolted as if only just realizing he was there. "Daddy..." she cried, throwing herself into his arms. Noisy sobs wracked her body as he held her and he could do nothing but whisper soothing words in her ear, telling her everything would be alright, though he was no longer certain that was true.

"What happened?" he asked quietly, stroking her hair – her dark curls had come loose from the elaborate up-do that Emily had pinned them into.

"He hurt me, Daddy," she whispered, voice and body trembling.

"Who hurt you?" he growled, anger racing like ice through his veins. "Tell me what happened."

"I didn't want to," she sniffled, "I told him no, but he didn't listen..."

That's when he got a good look at her – the black eye, the hand prints on her wrists...who knew what he couldn't see. "Tell me who did this," he said, voice as calm and level as he could make it while nearly blinded by anger.

"He said if I loved him I'd do it..." Her fists clenched in his shirt, her tears soaking the material where her face pressed into his chest.

Truth be told, Ian had never liked her boyfriend. Emily said it was because he would hate anyone who wanted to take his daughter away, but he knew. He'd always known there was something off about that boy.

Silently, he vowed that come hell or high water, that boy would rue the day he ever laid a hand on his daughter.

He gently lifted Charlotte into his arms like he had so many times as a child when she'd fall asleep in the car and he'd carry her to the house so he didn't have to wake her and make the look of angelic peace on her face disappear. "Let's get you to the hospital," he murmured. "Everything is going to be alright."

"No!" she insisted, eyes going wide. "No hospital!"

"Lottie," he said gently, "You have to – for tests and police and..."

"No!" she nearly screeched, "I'm not going to the police, I won't... I can't... Daddy, please."

"Okay," he soothed, settling her in the car, "No police." It was better that way anyway – he would be free to make that boy suffer in the most inhumane ways imaginable without the law getting involved.

"Where are we?" Charlotte asked when the car pulled to a stop.

The fear and suspicion in her normally trusting eyes made Ian's heart ache. "The drug store," he said as soothingly as possible. "If you won't go to the hospital, you at least need a morning after pill..." He hated saying those words, the way they made his gut twist.

"I can't go in there," she whispered, eyes wide in terror. "Everyone will see – they'll think I'm a slut..."

Ian took stock of her injuries, her torn dress, her red eyes...she looked like a victim. And he'd known Emily long enough to know Charlotte – who took after her in every way – would never be seen as a victim. "I'll go."

She considered that for a moment, then shook her head. "Please, don't leave me," she begged.

Cautiously, he reached out a hand and waited for her to take it. When she did, her palms were clammy, her grip like iron. "You know I'll always protect you, right? If I could stop every evil in life, I would." She nodded. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you from this one." He knew it would haunt him to his grave. "I promise nothing is going to happen, okay? I'll be back in five minutes."

Slowly, she nodded.

He squeezed her hand, pressed a kiss to the back of it, and gently eased his hand from her grip.

Ian handed Charlotte a glass of water and the pill, then waited expectantly as she brought the pill to her lips, then paused. "I can't," she whispered, ashamed. Even in the darkened kitchen, he could see the fear in her eyes.

Concern creased Ian's brow. "Why not?"

"I'm scared," she rasped, tears shining in her eyes.

"You don't have to be afraid," he vowed. "Whatever happens, I'm going to be right here. All day and night until you feel safe again."

"I meant about the pill," she explained. "Am I doing something wrong?"

"Absolutely not," he insisted vehemently. "You've done nothing wrong. This isn't your fault. God knows that." He wasn't certain he believed in God most days – certainly not now, because how could a loving God allow this to happen to his baby girl? But if there was a God, he had to believe He wouldn't want Charlotte to carry that bastard's child. "And any God that would condemn you for this is no God of mine."

Charlotte chewed her lip, considering that.

He sighed softly. "But if you don't want to take that pill, I won't force you. It's your choice. I'm here for you, whatever you need." Her attempt at a smile was forced, but genuine. He changed the subject then, "I think we have half a container of ice cream and I know where your Ma stashes the good chocolate..."

That got a real smile out of her and she nodded before taking the pill.

"Now, do you want me to draw you a bath?"

"I don't want to be alone right now," she said. "But can we watch Cinderella together?"

"We can watch anything you want."

As they settled in front of the TV – volume low so they wouldn't wake anyone – Charlotte rested her head on his lap and, after a moment of hesitation, he gently started stroking her hair the way he'd done when she was a child curled up in his lap and fighting sleep, insisting she 'wasn't tired'. Even now, her eyes kept fluttering closed.

"Daddy?" she asked, voice barely there.

"Yes, mo storín?"

"Would you sing to me?" Her eyes were closed and he knew she was on the verge of sleep, but afraid to fall and not be safe when she awoke.

In a raspy whisper, he started singing the only lullaby he knew, the one he'd sang to all his children just as his mother had sang to him.

Slowly, her breathing evened out and he felt the tension bleed out of her as she nodded off, safe in her father's arms...at least for a little while.