The sunlight woke him, early the next morning. It was a wonder he'd managed to sleep at all, really, squeezed onto the couch with his knees tucked up close, but he had barrelled right over Liv's protests, insisted that she needed the rest more than he did, and maybe she'd been too tired to fight because she hadn't tried all that hard to convince him otherwise, and he had slept, some, in the still hours between midnight and dawn. The first light roused him, though, the way it always did; he never could sleep once the sun was up.

It was barely 6, and he could've lingered there on the couch, but Liv would need to be up soon, would need a cup of coffee and something to eat before she raced out the door and back to work, and he figured since he was awake he might as well get up. He decided to check on McKenna first, make sure she was still sleeping soundly, and then he'd make some coffee, and then he'd bring a cup to Liv. She was always more agreeable in the morning with a cup of coffee in her hands.

He'd slept in his boxers, but he'd kept his shirt close to hand, and he tugged it on now, covered his chest before he slipped silently through the apartment and into Eli's room. He had a lot of practice at that, moving softly enough to keep from waking a sleeping child, and it came to him easily, and he was smiling as he opened the door, thinking about that sweet little girl, but his smile vanished in a moment because inside that room he found the little toddler bed where McKenna should have been sleeping was empty instead, the sheets pulled back and no sign of her anywhere.

"Son of a bitch," he cursed, spinning on his heel. Where could she have gone? The main living area of the apartment was wide open, the kitchen and living room basically just one big space, impossible to hide in, and he'd seen no sign of McKenna there. Maybe she'd slipped out the front door while he was sleeping, and he was berating himself already for being so foolish. McKenna didn't know them, him and Liv, and she had to be scared, and she'd seemed to be a trusting little thing but what if she'd just been biding her time, waiting for a chance to run? He needed help, so he bolted across the hall and into his bedroom, his mouth open to call out Liv's name, to rouse her, to demand her assistance, but he stopped short there, too, caught off guard for the second time that morning.

Olivia was fast asleep, in his bed, her head resting on his pillow, her body wrapped up in his sheets, one of her feet poking out the bottom, seeming strangely vulnerable, given how invincible she seemed in real life. Olivia was asleep, in his bed, and she was beautiful, and she was not alone.

Sometime in the night, while Elliot had been snoring and dreaming and lost to the world, McKenna had slipped out of Eli's room, and into his, and now she was lying there safe and warm and apparently quite comfortable, wrapped up in Liv's arms. Liv had pulled the little girl in close, nestled McKenna tight to her chest, one of her arms draped protectively over McKenna's middle, shielding the girl from the darkness of the world around them. Both of them were fast asleep, bright eyes closed, soft lips parted; Liv was snoring, just a little, a light, soft sort of sound that Elliot found charming even though he probably shouldn't have.

For a minute or two he just stood there, looking at them, feeling something protective and fond and regretful twisting in his belly. The picture they presented was a sweet one, a gentle one; McKenna had no doubt come looking for comfort, and she'd found it there in Liv's embrace. They were a pair, the two of them, lonely, solitary creatures who should not have existed but did just the same, who had against all odds found one another, and found peace together. They looked good, lying there together. They looked right.

Nephilim can't reproduce, Liv had told him, and answered a question he'd been asking himself - but not her, never her, he wasn't a fool - for years now. For years he'd been wondering why Olivia didn't just have a baby, if she wanted one so bad. The adoption people had turned her down but she didn't have to adopt; it wasn't like sperm was hard to come by, either from a fertility clinic or from one of the long line of men who'd been banging down her door since the day Elliot met her, desperate for the chance to be with her. He could understand her not wanting to tie herself to one of those assholes forever, but it wasn't like she didn't have options. He'd always thought she could have gotten pregnant, if she wanted to, had always wondered if she'd resisted because she feared the consequences of passing on the darkness that lurked in her blood. Now he knew the truth, though; she couldn't have a child, even if she'd been willing to try, and it broke his heart, really it did. It wasn't fucking fair. She'd have made a wonderful mother, he thought; she had so much love to give, and she had all the skills, knew how to nurture a child, how to protect one. She'd longed for a family so deeply, and life had been hard, and cruel to her, and stripped away so many of the things she longed for. He'd always kinda suspected, always kinda hoped, that one day her luck might change, that one day she might finally no longer be alone, even as he'd recoiled from the idea of another man sharing something so personal, so intimate with her. It would've killed him, seeing her pregnant with some asshole's baby, worrying, constantly, if the prick was good enough for her, was looking out for her the way he should've, but he'd have been happy for her, too. Only now he knew it was never gonna happen.

Only now it had happened, hadn't it? McKenna was all alone; her mother was dead and her father, whoever he was, couldn't take responsibility for her, and she had found her way into the care of the one woman best suited to protect her, to guide her, to raise her well, to love her. Oh, it was early days yet, and there was no telling what might happen next, but looking at them now Elliot could feel it. That girl was Liv's already. They were making a little family, right in front of his eyes, a family he was not - could not ever be - a part of, and his heart was breaking in half even as he rejoiced for her. She deserved this, he thought. But Christ, he wished with everything he had that he could have been part of it.

Probably he should've gone and started the coffee like he meant to, leave the girls to their dreams, but Liv wanted to talk to McKenna and it might be better to do that now, before Liv left work, since chances were good McKenna would be asleep by the time Liv came home again.

Came home to him again.

He made his way across the room and stopped by the side of the bed closest to Olivia, reached out and gently brushed a lock of hair back from her face. The moment he touched her she stirred, shifting restlessly beneath the bedsheets, the delicate fan of her eyelashes fluttering until at last she woke, blinked up owlishly at him, sleepy and beautiful. Christ, she was beautiful like this, soft and warm and safe in his bed. She always had been, beautiful; every time he'd ever woken her in the cribs there had been a moment, just before her eyes opened, when he thought to himself how beautiful she was, and now was no different. Only it was, because this time they weren't at the station, and he wasn't calling her to come downstairs and join him at their desks. This time they were in his home, and while there was work to be done it was a gentler, more domestic kind of work than they were accustomed to.

"Morning," he said hoarsely.

"Morning," she whispered back. She started to move, but then seemed to remember McKenna beside her, her eyes darting down to the girl at once as if to confirm that she was real, that she was actually there, that she was still sleeping. A mother's instinct, he thought, to look for her child, to protect her.

"Thought we could try to talk to her before you have to leave," he said.

" 's a good idea," she allowed. "But I gotta pee."

Elliot grinned and stepped back, watched as Liv gently slid away from McKenna, stood up and stretched, still wearing the t-shirt and sweatpants he'd given her the night before, hanging loosely off her body and making his hands itch to reach out and touch her.

"I'll keep an eye on her," he whispered, and Liv just nodded, tiptoed off, yawning, to the en suite while Elliot sat down carefully on the edge of the bed beside McKenna.

Their attempts to keep from waking her had failed; as he looked she rubbed sleepily at her little eyes, but then she seemed to realize Olivia wasn't with her anymore and she shot upright suddenly, looking around in fear.

"It's ok," Elliot said soothingly, not touching her but holding out his hands in a comforting sort of gesture. "Olivia's in the bathroom, she'll be right back. You're ok, McKenna."

"Livia," McKenna said. It was the first word she'd spoken since she'd told him hi in the doorway of his apartment yesterday morning, and it sounded like a demand.

"She's right there," he said, pointing to the bathroom door. It was funny, really, how attached McKenna seemed to be to Liv, since she'd spent more time in Elliot's company so far, but if McKenna and her mother had been as isolated as Liv seemed to think they were the girl probably hadn't spent too much time around men; maybe Elliot was too different, and maybe that made her uneasy. At least he knew McKenna could speak, though. That was a start.

McKenna crossed her little arms over her chest and pouted until the bathroom door opened, and then she jumped to her feet, raced across the room and into Olivia's arms, little wings bouncing the whole way.

Had Liv looked like that when she was small, Elliot wondered; had she been a sweet little thing with big eyes and bright, undisguisable wings, eager and affectionate and lonesome? It hurt him just thinking about it.

Across the room Liv had settled McKenna on her hip, and she did it so easily, so naturally, adjusting her hold to account for the child's wings without a second thought, and as Elliot watched she bowed her head, touched her forehead to McKenna's once, gently, fondly, before carrying her back to the bed. Olivia sat down there, next to Elliot, and eased McKenna into her lap, her arms looped loosely around the girl's waist, McKenna's wings fluttering almost playfully. The girl seemed happy now, happy to be held in Olivia's arms, and Jesus, they looked alike. The dark hair, the big eyes, though McKenna's were blue; it did something to him, something he wasn't proud of, to see Olivia holding a blue-eyed little girl.

"There's something very important we need to talk to you about," Olivia said, and McKenna looked up at her expectantly, listening intently. "It's about your mommy."

The change in McKenna was immediate; her wings drew in tight to her back and she rolled forward, buried her face in Olivia's neck and hid herself from view, her little arms wrapping as far around Olivia's middle as they would go, clinging to her tightly. She was trembling all over, the feathers of her wings rustling together anxiously, and Olivia just hugged her, looked at Elliot over her head wordlessly, helplessly.

There was no way to have this conversation without scaring McKenna, but they had to ask. She was their only witness, their only real lead at present, and they needed to know what she knew, but Elliot knew already that Olivia was on the verge of giving up. Her heart was gentle, and this child had suffered so much, and Olivia was too close to her already, would not want to risk hurting her further. Elliot would have to do it.

"McKenna," he said, very very softly, "I know it's scary. I know you don't want to talk about it. But we want to help your mommy. We want to keep you safe. Can you help us?"

He leaned forward, and McKenna turned her head ever so slightly, peeked at him anxiously over the curve of her wing.

"Do you remember what happened that night you hid in your closet?"

McKenna nodded, once.

"Can you tell me?"

Olivia was running her hand in gentle, soothing circles low on McKenna's back, beneath the spread of her wings, and it seemed to help, that reassuring touch.

"Mommy said to hide from the bad man."

We're getting somewhere, Elliot thought.

"And you did," he said. "You did so good, sweetheart. Do you know who the bad man is?"

McKenna shook her head no.

Damn, Elliot thought. He wasn't really sure what he'd been hoping for; McKenna was only about four. What were the chances that her mother had told her the truth about where she'd come from? They didn't know that truth themselves, Elliot and Olivia; they were only guessing. Liv had said that in the old days some of the women who'd joined with the angels had been willing; maybe Andrea had been, too. They'd found a wing feather in the apartment and they were thinking that meant McKenna's father was the killer, but what if he wasn't? What if he was a good man - angel, whatever - what if he loved McKenna and Andrea, and someone else had attacked his family? What if there were two renegade angels on the loose?

There were too many questions, and not enough answers.

"Did you see the bad man?"

McKenna shook her head again; no, again.

"Did you hear anything?"

Liv was looking at him with a warning in her eyes, like she thought he was pressing too hard, but Elliot felt he wasn't pressing hard enough. They needed something, anything, to go on, and right now they had jack shit. Still, though, he wasn't heartless. If McKenna said no again, he would ask no more questions. For now.

McKenna nodded yes.

"Ok," Elliot said. "Ok, that's good. Can you tell me what you heard?"

"Mommy was loud," McKenna said. "She said Michael, no!" This last the girl delivered with an emphatic shout, mimicking her mother's cry, and as Elliot watched Olivia's face paled.

No fucking way, he thought. There was an angel called Michael in the bible, wasn't there? An archangel, an important one. The one who did battle with Satan, and cast him out of heaven.

It can't be, he thought. It just can't.

Maybe it was silly, his rational mind's refusal to accept this possibility; after all, he'd learned that his partner had been fathered by an angel, was even now looking at a little girl with glistening white wings sprouting from her back. Maybe it was stupid, to think anything was impossible, when the realm of the possible had been blown wide open. Still, though, his mind balked from it; surely it's not the same guy, he thought. Right?

The way Liv was looking at him, though, with fear in her eyes, left him with a sinking feeling in his gut.

Shit, he thought.