12 years old

"Race you home!" Lizzie shouted as soon as her feet hit the road as she jumped off the bus. This was their routine during the school week. Dembe would be there at the mailbox to meet her after school since he got out of school before her, and she would turn the walk back home into a race. When she did win, it was because he let her, and she knew it. But she didn't care.

"Elizabeth! Wait!" He yelled, before huffing in exasperation as she was already half way down the drive and began trotting after her, his long legs eating up the ground.

"Dembe! Daddy's here!" She yelled, having spotted his car.

"I know that, dummy. You would too if you had just waited so I could tell you. But Elizabeth—"

He gave an 'oompf' as she punched his arm before picking up speed to run into the house. Dembe followed after her, shaking his head. This wasn't going to be pleasant.

"Dad! Dad! Where are you? Pop!" Lizzie searched the downstairs, and upon finding no one there, she took the stairs two at a time to Dembe's room, which moonlighted as Dad's room whenever he was home. Bursting through the door, she came to a sudden halt. Her torso flying forward at the sudden stop before she regained her balance. Lizzie's mouth hung open in shock at the sight.

"Lizzie! Get out!" Both Sam and Red yelled from where they both sat on the bed, Red with his shirt off, and Sam with a bloody gauze pad in his hand and a needle. Lizzie couldn't move, frozen at the sight of so much blood. Her dad's blood. There was bloody gauze and bandages and a bloodied up dress shirt that must have been her dad's was scrunched up on the floor at their feet.

"Come on, Elizabeth. Let's go. I'll help you with your homework." Dembe came up behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders to guide her away from the scene.

Lizzie couldn't do her homework. She couldn't focus. Half of her wanted to go back up stairs and demand answers, the other half was sick with worry and fear. She couldn't stand the thought of her dad being hurt. Not again. Dembe tried to do his own homework but the sight of Lizzie looking so frightened had him setting his pencil aside.

"C'mon. Let's go practice. Get your mind off things." He stood, motioning for her to do the same. Lizzie just stared at him dumbly. "I promise he will be fine. It looks worse than it is, Lizzie. Come on."

She slowly nodded and stood up, following him down to the basement and over to the sparring mats. Taking her shoes off, and waited for Dembe to take his shoes off as well and put on the punching mitts.

"Your left hook still needs work. Let's work on that."

She squinted at him, her nose twitching in annoyance, and took position, aiming for the right mitt.

"Good! Now don't forget to put your whole body into it, move with it Elizabeth."

/\/\/\/\/\

They came up from the basement, panting and sweaty. Well, Lizzie was panting and sweaty. Looking up after re-doing her ponytail, Lizzie stopped at the top of the stairs at the sight of Red and Sam sitting at the kitchen table, both staring at her in worry.

After a moment's pause, Lizzie ran over and wrapped her arms around her dad, hugging him tightly until she heard a hiss of pain.

"Oh! Sorry! Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" Red chuckled heavily, like it took all his energy just to laugh.

"I'm fine, Sweetheart. It's just a scratch. I promise. Looks worse than it feels."

"Bull—"

"Lizzie!" Sam reprimanded, causing Lizzie to sigh and roll her eyes.

"Sorry, but seriously Dad. That was a lot more than a scratch worth of blood. What happened?"

"Don't worry about it, Love." Red went to grab Lizzie's hand but she shook him off, making him frown, his brow crinkling in hurt.

"No, Dad. I saw it. That was a knife wound. Where were you? How did that happen?"

"I was in Colorado. On business." His jaw clenched. "I was mugged."

"Lie."

"Lizzie—"

"You guys think I'm stupid, don't you? I'm just the stupid little girl that needs protected." She gestured wildly with her hands in anger.

"God, dad. You're the one that wanted Dembe and I to learn to fight. You're the one who's teaching me how to pick locks, crack a safe..." Lizzie looked around the room at the three men who now refused to meet her eyes. "Ugh! You're unbelievable. You! I've seen you fight, even just in a spar, you can kick ass. And you think I'm going to believe that some random mugger did that?"

Her voice got progressively louder until her own voice rang in her ears. Only silence met her questions.

"That's what I thought." She murmured angrily and walked away. Moments later, the three men cringed as her bedroom door shut.

"I told you she was too smart for you to get away with not telling her."

"Shut up, Sam."

/\/\/\/\/\

13 years old

"Lizzie, it's your—"

"Don't care." She breezed passed her Pop on her way to the kitchen, ignoring the phone in his hand as he tried to pass it off to her. She hadn't spoken to Red in three months. He hadn't come to visit on her birthday.

That wasn't why she hadn't talked to him. In fact, he hadn't come because she had told him she didn't want him there. He refused to tell her what had happened the night he'd been stabbed. She was afraid to know the truth but she knew she needed to know anyway. Her whole life felt like a bad math problem. Like trying to add up 2 + 2 and getting 3. It just fell short. Why was he always gone? What did he actually do for a living? Why was he always making her practice picking locks and brush passes? Why he always came to them, and was so unwilling to do anything together. He would rarely even go into town with her.

She rummaged in the fridge for a soda and could hear Sam still on the phone.

"I'm sorry Ray. Just… give her some more time."

"Yea, alright. Bye."

He walked down the hall, leaning against the kitchen doorway.

"Lizzie, you've got to talk to him sometime. He's still your dad. He loves you more'n anything, Butterball."

"No. I will talk to him when he's willing to talk to me." She said, pulling a cookie out of the jar and taking a bite.

"He was just on the phone! He wants to talk to you."

"Not about anything that matters!"

Later that night, Lizzie was heading to the bathroom when she heard Sam talking on the phone again.

"I don't know, Dembe. I'm at a loss. I wish you were here, kid. You always talk some sense into the girl." Lizzie frowned at that. Well that was rude. She did miss Dembe though. He was a freshman at Notre Dame. Maybe she should talk to him.

/\/\/\/\/\

"Hello?" Silence. Holding his finger out in front of him to shut his associate up, Red quickly walked into the other room, then closed and locked the door. "Lizzie? Is that you, Sweetheart?" He heard a definitive sniffle before her garbled voice came over the line. It was the most beautiful thing he'd heard in months.

"Hi Daddy."

"Oh Sweetheart. It's so good to hear from you. I've missed you so much." His voice came out in a sigh as his eyes closed, his body finally relaxing from months' of tension he didn't know he'd been holding onto.

"I'm sorry, Dad." She choked out over a sob.

"No, Darling. Don't cry. It's okay. It's alright. I'm just so happy to hear your voice again."

"I've missed you too." She managed around her heaving breaths as she tried to calm her sobs.

"Breathe for me, Lizzie. It's alright. We're going to be alright."

"Can you come home?"

"I'll be there in 8 hours, Lizzie. I just… I have something I need to wrap up and then I'll catch the first plane, okay?"

"O-okay. 'Til next time?"

"Until next time, Darling."