"Dad, you shouldn't be here."

"I'm fine."

"You got shot. That qualifies you as not fine." He grins and continues to flip through the paperwork.

"I heard you went to Frank's."

"It was all hands on deck. I'm the undersheriff. I needed to be there."

"Mom thinks your insane."

"That's nothing new." I take another step into his office, finally sitting myself on the chair across from him. He looks up, surprised. I pick up a framed photograph from his desk. I'm no older than Ash, twelve maybe, lying on my back in a meadow with a butterfly on my nose.

"You took me for a picnic," I say, recalling the day of the photograph. "Out near the river. School had just let out, so we went swimming. Remember?"

"You were so young. I remember how happy you were."

"Do you also remember that you were called out to a scene in the middle of lunch? You promised me your phone was off. 'No work today,' you said, 'Just my Morgan.'" I snort a little, placing the photo back on the desk.

"I was a pretty awful dad, I guess." He sighs and puts the paperwork away, leaning into his chair. I think about it for a moment.

"Not always. When my appendix bursts, you took a full week of just to stay with me. And when I broke my curfew by two hours, you defended me. And some nights, I would sit with you and we would go over your case files. I guess I sometimes forget sometimes. I was so angry with you, though. After the divorce. What I don't understand is how you can stand to be in the same room with me after how I've treated you." He smiles at me.

"There's nothing you can say or do to make me love you less, M."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Keep that in mind, then." I reach into my pocket and pull out a series of photographs. He looks at me confused as I slide him a picture of a newborn baby girl with brown eyes and curly blonde hair.

"Cute little girl." He comments, examining it. In the next picture, she's laughing, only a year old. He smiles.

"This one's my favorite." I say, handing it to him. Ash sits in my lap, three years old. I'm tickling her sides, and she's giggling, her tiny arms wrapped around my neck. A scar peeks out from under her baby blue dress, but its barely noticeable, her long blonde spiral curls cover it up.

"Morgan, who is this?"

"My daughter." I simply state. His eyes widen and he drops the photo.

"How..."

"Her name is Åshild Rose Brody. I was eighteen when I had her. I never could locate her dad. We were both..." My cheeks flush. "drunk. I gave her up when she was five."

"Why?" He chokes out.

"I got on the bad side of a serial killer, dad. And he was targeting Ash. So I gave her up as an act of desperation. It was the only way to save her." "Why are you telling me this now?"

"Ash is in Vegas. She was the sole survivor of a massacre that left ten dead. And I am positive she was the intended target of it. Greg wants to keep her for tonight. He has no clue about any of this. No one does, except for you, Sara, Mom, James and the LA team. I'm pretty sure Greg will want to foster her. If he does, he puts both Ash and himself in danger. I can't do anything. I gave up my custody." He stares down at the picture."

"She's beautiful, M." He whispers, and despite everything, I smile.

"I know."

"Looks like you."

"She has her fathers eyes, though. But someways with her, it felt like I was just talking to myself. A sweeter, goofier, better version of myself. She's just the perfect little girl, dad. You would love her. But you can't tell anyone about her, okay?"

"I won't, M. And it might be smart to keep her in the area. We can see anything suspicious and keep her protected. And I can meet my granddaughter." He passes the photo back to me, and I stare at it for another moment, the tears in my eyes turning it into one big amorphous blob.

"You'll love her. Everyone loves her. She's perfect."

Meanwhile...

Through the window of IHOP, the man can see Ash and two adults laughing over cake. A blonde haired lady, tousles the mans spiky hair while Ash giggles. A sick smile spreads across his face as he examines his reflection in the gleaming knife. "Not tonight," He tells himself. "Everything will fall into place. Just wait." And with that, he disappears into the dark night.