He wishes he were dead.

His Paula is gone and his daughters need so much more than he can give them.

It's more than he can face—he's a killer, a hunter, a villain. He's robbed. He's killed. He's done so many terrible things that he can't remember them all.

The only good things he's ever done—the only good things he's ever been a part of—are his daughters.

And—somehow—he has to do right by them.

And he doesn't know how.

And it kills him that he doesn't know how.

"Why, Paula? You could do this so much better than me. If one of us had to die last night, why didn't you let it be me?"

He doesn't want to get up. He doesn't want to leave this bed. He wants so badly to die that he can taste it like water to a man dying of thirst.

"Daddy?"

Artemis is looking at him from the doorway. In his mind's eye, he can still see her hands stained with blood … "Are you okay, Daddy? I heard you screaming …"

"I'm fine, baby." He's not fine. He'll never be fine again but he can't tell her that. "I just had a nightmare. Have you had breakfast yet?"

"No. But there's oatmeal. Can I have oatmeal?"

He laughs at the eagerness in her voice. "Yes, baby. You can have oatmeal." He forces himself to sit up and his jaw aches as he fakes a smile on his lips. "Let me see what we've got to eat."

Artemis comes over and grabs his hand to help him out of the bed, and he has to force himself not to cry again. How long had it been since his youngest daughter—since either daughter?—had felt safe in touching him? When did he become such a monster that it was no longer safe for him to allow them to touch him?

Artemis leads him into the kitchen where Jade is already up and dressed for the day. She's wearing a Disney shirt with a disappearing cat on it and she's scrambling some eggs. "Artemis, drink your orange juice."

"Yes, Jade." Artemis sits down in a chair and gestures for him to sit down as well.

He does so.

"There's more juice in the refrigerator. The toast will be ready soon."

"I want oatmeal!" Artemis pipes up. "Daddy said I could have oatmeal!"

"Then he had better make it. As soon as you're fed I'm going to go out and check this town out."

"Drink your juice, baby. I'll make your oatmeal." He gets up and finds the oatmeal—the real kind, he's pleased to see—and checks the fridge for some milk. "I used to make Jade oatmeal all the time. And eggs too. In fact, I taught her how to scramble eggs."

"It's not rocket science," Jade replies softly, not looking at him.

"Mom never really liked to cook," Artemis says softly. "She always had Jade fix me breakfast."

He winces slightly at the thought. How many times had they put Jade in charge of Artemis? Made her look after her little sister while they ran off on some caper? "Jade always takes real good care of you, baby."

"Yes. I do." Jade picks up a plate and put some eggs on it. "Eat your eggs, Artemis."

"Go on, baby," he tells his youngest. "Just save some room for your oatmeal."

While the oatmeal is cooking, he pours himself a glass of orange juice and drinks it. "Back when you were little, Artemis, I used to make breakfast with Jade all the time."

And he had.

Paula had never really liked to cook— if they didn't have a microwave, she would eat out or depend entirely on him to do the cooking. She could kill a man with a butter knife, but she could barely use it as it was intended.

"Do you remember, Jade?"

He remembers. He remembers those moments, creeping out of bed while his wife slept, going to Jade's room. The two of them would sneak stealthily out and make breakfast as quietly as they could—barely speaking though Jade had giggled a lot as he held her in his arms, teaching her how to scramble the eggs just so—and then carrying the tray in to Paula to feed his wife breakfast in bed.

Those moments were the closest he had ever come to feeling like he was almost a good father.

"I remember," Jade says softly.

She looks at him for a moment, and he can almost see something other than disdain in her eyes. She's almost his little girl again …

"Sit down, Jade," he says softly. "Sit down with your sister. I'll finish making breakfast."

Please.

He doesn't say the word because it doesn't come easily to him, but he tries to show her with his face, with his eyes.

I'll be better, Jade. I promise. You don't have to give up any more of your childhood. Let me try to be a good father, Jade. Please.

"Sit with me, Jade." Artemis reaches over and grabs her big sister's hand and pulls her down to a chair. "Sit with me

For a moment, Jade seems inclined to fight off her little sister, to walk out the door on them both, but then she slumps into the chair as though she's lost a fight and lays her head down on the table.

It's not a surrender. It's not acceptance. He's fought too many battles—had too many arguments with her mother—to know that.

But it's a start, and he'll take it.

And for the first time since he lost Paula, he feels something like hope.