Chapter 21: Malcontent.

"You could stay."

"What an idea. What a mad, crazy, wonderful idea…"

-Linda Woolverton, Alice in Wonderland (2010 movie)

Fall had come. The trees were reluctantly changing color, and the rain was constant. There were two Misfits down with the flu, and both of them had taken refuge in John's flat, forcing him to sleep on the living room floor again. The dinners went on, the stories went on, and Jim cleaned up by John's side every night.

It was just another typical weekend. Poor Will was throwing up again, and John had quarantined him to the bathroom. Tessa had a fever, which John was keeping an eye on. And Sammy was horribly, terribly… better.

John watched her walk around the flat, telling her to jump or drop to one knee. She didn't wince at any of the movements, and she had regained at least a normal child's strength, although it was below-average for a Misfit. After a few more rounds of the living room, he called her over to check on her leg and stomach. The penny-sized bullet holes had healed over into puckered white marks, the only signs of what had once been life-threatening injuries. Sammy lay on the couch, shirt pulled up to show John her stomach, and the scar there. As he sat beside her, he realized that it was over. There was no more he could do for her; she was almost as good as she was going to get. He couldn't bear to say it out loud, and so they sat in silence for a while.

"Daddy?" John looked up. "It's time for me to go now, isn't it?" Sammy asked, shifting up into a sitting position. John pressed his lips together. "It's a happy thing, it means you made me good again."

"You don't have to go," John said quietly. "You could always stay. I've got enough money to feed you. We could get M to make you a fake ID, he'd let you go if we wanted. You could stay," he repeated, even though he knew the answer.

"I know I could," Sammy said. "And I want to. But I'm a Misfit. That's what I am, and I can't not be that."

"You could be something different," John said. But he understood. When something struck a chord with you, you couldn't really leave it behind. It became a part of your identity, as surely as your favorite book. Whether he was practicing or not, John was a doctor. And whether he had a weapon or not, he was a soldier.

"I like being a Misfit. And I like working for M. It's important." Sammy looked up at him with big blue eyes, that had grown so familiar over the weeks they had been together. "I love you."

"But you can't stay," John finished. "I do understand. I just… I don't want you out there getting shot at again."

"It usually doesn't happen like that, and you know it. I'll come to all the dinners, and I'll be really careful, I promise."

"Pinky swear it?" John asked, and held out a finger. Sammy grinned and hooked her little finger into his.

"Pinky swear it," she said, and even though John knew she couldn't keep that promise, it made him feel a little better.

"I guess you'd better text M and tell him that you're back in business. I've got to make a few calls. You send the text and… pack your things." It was hard to say; it sounded so final. "You can keep whatever you want. The books, the toys, the clothes. Or I can keep them here for you, if you want. And if you want to spend the night sometime, I'll be here."

"I'll do that," Sammy said, and hopped up to get her phone. John sighed quietly, watching her move around, and then went into the bathroom. He gave Will a bucket and booted him out of the bathroom politely so that he could have some privacy for his call. Speed dial.

"Hey, Johnny. What can I do for you this fine day?"

"Not in the mood, Jim." The attitude on the other end dropped, and when the criminal mastermind spoke again, he sounded serious.

"Sammy's ready to go, then?"

"Unfortunately."

"I assume you asked her to stay, and she told you she couldn't be anything other than a Misfit?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"I see. Well, I just got her text. Are you just calling for confirmation? Doctor's note, that sort of thing?"

"I guess," John said, but he didn't really think that was it. To be honest, he didn't know why he had called Jim. Looking for some sort of reassurance? Something else?

"Ahh, you want to talk about it. Well, go on. How does this make you feel? Abandoned? No, probably not. You understand how she's thinking and that makes it worse. You can't stop her without feeling like a hypocrite, but you can't let her walk out without feeling like you're sending a child off to war. You're scared for her, you don't want to see her hurt."

"I'm not much of a puzzle, am I?" John said drily. Jim laughed.

"Oh, I haven't solved you yet, John Watson. Don't start doubting yourself now."

"Well, you got all of that spot on."

"If it's any comfort, I'm not going to throw her in head first. She'll have group missions and background jobs to start. She's still got a bit of a limp, and that could be memorable. No good for undercover work. And besides, I wouldn't stretch her so soon after an injury, not unless I had to, which I don't." And there, there was the comfort John had been seeking.

"She'll be alright, then?"

"I can't guarantee that, and you know it. I'm not going to lie to you. Misfits die sometimes. It happens. Their lives are dangerous, but they're a little less so because of the safe houses, and their training, and my men, and you, their doctor. So yeah, I'll start her off easy and slow. Get her back into the game. But it's not always going to be like that, and you need to stop being attached to her. Because if she dies, a few months in the future, I don't want you being completely wrecked. Understand?"

"You know, ordinary people can't do that. Just… not get attached. I can't do that."

"That's not true, Johnny boy. You've done it before, in the war. Don't let yourself get attached to the patients, or the soldiers around you, don't allow yourself to care about anyone, because you don't know who's going to live to see tomorrow, and who's going to die before you see them again. This is a war, John, it's just a lot quieter." Even when he sounded serious, Jim stretched his name into an odd shape.

"I already care, Jim. It's impossible not to."

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

"I'd never say that. You warned me, and I'll remember."

"Add it to my future list of 'I told you so's."

"Will do."

"Sammy's job, then. I think I'll put her with the Jim-Leo-Socks trio. She's already close friends with Leo, and Socks is the one who brought her here in the first place, so it should be perfect for her first assignment. Something easy, something that even those three couldn't get into trouble with."

"Good luck with that," John said, rolling his eyes. Moriarty admired little-Jim, who was always getting into some sort of trouble. John had become very familiar with the blond boy, with all the times he was coming to the flat with scrapes, and twisted ankles, and once, a dislocated shoulder.

"I'm sure I'll find something. You know, we should make a cake to send Sammy off. With a party, you know, and another M story, we haven't had one of those in a while. I can tell it to you, and then you can tell it to them."

"That sounds perfect…. I can't believe you just volunteered to bake a cake with me."

"Any excuse to steal the icing, you know me."

"Ah, yes, of course. I really don't understand how you keep so thin."

"That's a secret, Johnny. I'll see you at five o'clock. Go and say good-bye to Sammy, I'll get her to meet her team to discuss the job. That'll get her out of the house so that we can surprise her with the party. The job will start tomorrow, by the way. She'll be missing from the meetings-slash-dinners for three days, and then she'll be back after that for around a week, which she can spend with you."

"Okay. Thank you, Jim. Really."

"Didn't do it for you."

"Doesn't matter. It was still a good thing."

"Oh, that's great, now I'm good. Excuse me while I find an innocent kitten to murder."

"Jim, don't you dare."

"Now, would I really do a thing like that?"

"…"

"Yeah, right. Sorry. I'll hold off on the kitten-murdering. I like them better than people. They're cute. And they don't tell lies."

"I am so not having this conversation with you. I'll see you tonight. And I don't want to see your murders on the news."

"Don't watch the news this Friday, or next Thursday, then."

"Note taken. Goodbye, Jim."

"Bye!" The word was sung in that trademark Moriarty way, and John smiled as he took the phone away from his ear. The easy, familiar banter had been exactly what he had needed. He no longer felt full of despair, or as though today was the end of the world. Even though Sammy was gone, the Misfits would still be here, Jim would still be with him. And she was going to be safe… Or as safe as she could be out there.

He went to say goodbye.

Ooooo0000ooooO

That evening was the best yet. The Misfits had brought torches, on Jim's orders, and the story was told in their jittery light, as the kids tried to keep them steady. The story was about the origin of the Misfits, a small girl that Moriarty had met on the streets while his men were fighting one of the London gangs. Her name had been Sarah, and although she died several months later, she had been the first Misfit.

As promised, there was cake, chocolate and vanilla and mousse, and a lactose-free cupcake for poor Desmond, who was often given a separate meal. So they ate, and they laughed, and when it was time for them all to go, they trickled out one by one, and the last ones in the flat were the sick Misfits, Jim, and Sammy. Sammy stood in the doorway with her pink backpack, dressed in typical children's clothing. John knelt beside her and pulled her into a tight hug.

"Be safe out there, okay?"

"I will," she said certainly.

"I love you," said John.

"I love you, too," she said, putting one small hand on his face. Then she walked over to Jim, and stared up at him with her hands on her hips. "You take care of him, okay? Be nice to him and give him hugs. It's very important." Jim laughed, and looked at John over Sammy's head.

"I can do that, if it's really important. Make sure little-Jim doesn't get in too much trouble, okay?"

"Deal," Sammy said, and held out a hand. Jim bent to shake it firmly, while John looked on in silent disbelief. "I'll see you in three days, daddy," she said, turning back to him.

"And I'll see you." Everything else had already been said. He wished he could just stand there and keep repeating things. I love you. Be careful. But she had to go, and he couldn't stop her, so when she walked out the door, it was just him and Jim. And poor Will, puking in the bathroom.

A/N: I'm baaack! Thanks SO much for all the reviews throughout the week, they kept me thinking about the story and what I'm going to do with the ending (I still haven't decided yet). You guys are all amazing, seriously. Well, it's the weekend, so I'm probably going to post again tomorrow, if not twice. As per usual; reviews make me more likely to post more. They're a spectacular motivator. See you soon!