"I love you, buddy," Elliot said quietly into the phone.

"Love you, daddy," Eli answered in a sing-song little voice, long on the you.

"Be good for mommy, ok?"

"Yes, daddy."

"Ok. Night-night, bud."

"Night-night."

Elliot hung his head and scuffed the toe of his shoe against the hardwood floor, feeling guilty, feeling guilty for so many different reasons it was hard to pick just one, though for the moment it was this; he felt guilty for being away from his son, for letting Kathy go, for doing the one thing he'd tried so hard not to do, for breaking his family in half. He was loitering in the hall outside the bathroom, a clean towel clutched in his hands and the phone caught between his ear and his shoulder, saying good night to Eli while Olivia gave McKenna a bath, and he felt as if he were being torn in half. As if a great canyon had sprung up between his feet, Kathy and Eli on one side and Olivia and McKenna on the other, and no safe way to bridge the gap, and if he didn't pick one side or the other, soon, he'd tumble into the abyss.

There was a shuffling sound on the other end of the phone, and then Kathy's voice filled his ear.

"Thank you," she said. "He misses you."

"I miss him," Elliot answered earnestly, miserably.

"When are you coming back?"

Back, she said, not home, because his home wasn't with her, not anymore, because she'd given him an ultimatum - if you don't come home now, don't come home at all - and he'd gone to Olivia instead, and maybe the choice that was tearing him apart right now had already been made months ago.

"Don't know," he answered honestly. He hadn't told Kathy where he was going, or why, or for how long; he didn't want to put her in danger, and anyway there was no explanation for the predicament he found himself in that Kathy would believe.

"Are you…ok?" she asked him carefully. Probably she thought he'd snapped, taking off like this, thought that the loss of his family and his job had been one loss too many; probably she thought he was even now sitting on the edge of a bed in a shitty motel room with his gun on his knees.

"Yeah," he said. "Honest, Kath, I'm fine. I'm safe, I'm good. I just…I got something I need to take care of."

"Remember when you used to tell me things?"

Remember how you spent years yelling at me for not telling you things? Wisely he kept that thought to himself, but still. No, he didn't remember a time when he'd told her everything, not really. When they were young he hadn't wanted to worry her, wanted her to think he was strong, and by the time they grew up there was so much shit in his head that scared him he hadn't even known where to begin unburdening himself to her. He'd told Liv things, though. He could always talk to Liv.

"I'm sorry," he said. He figured that was what she wanted to hear, anyway.

"Come back in one piece, Elliot," she said. "Good night."

"Good night."

She hung up the phone and he tucked it in his pocket, wondering if he'd be able to do what she'd said, if he would come back from this nightmare in one piece. He wasn't really sure that he could.

But Liv was in the bathroom waiting for him, so he gave his little head a shake, and stepped inside.

Liv was kneeling on the floor beside the tub - and regretting the pressure on her knees, probably - and she was gently washing McKenna's hair, and the girl's eyes were closed and her head was swaying under Olivia's hands and Elliot could tell at once that McKenna was tired. Maybe not as tired as him and Liv, but still tired, and hopefully she'd go straight to sleep tonight. Hopefully they all would; he and Liv needed to be on their A game, and couldn't afford another night only halfway spent in sleep.

"Hey," he said as he came in, sat himself down on the closed toilet lid and set the towel down on his knees. "How's it going in here?"

"We're almost done, aren't we, sweetheart?" Olivia said, half to him and half to McKenna. She'd brought in a cup from the kitchen, was using it to gently sluice warm bath water over McKenna's hair to rinse the shampoo suds away, one hand resting on the girl's forehead to keep the soap out of her eyes.

She's a natural, Elliot thought, looking at the pair of them together, his pretty, dark-haired partner and that sweet, dark-haired little girl.

"I'm just going to wash around your wings now, sweetheart," Olivia told McKenna in a soft voice, picking up a washcloth and beginning to gently clean around the joints of McKenna's shimmering white wings.

Who does this for you? Elliot wondered, watching her. He didn't think Liv could reach that spot on her back herself. But she kept her wings tucked away most of the time, through some mechanism of biology or sanctity he did not understand. Did it hurt her, he wondered; did it cause her discomfort, not being able to let her wings hang loose and free?

"Livia," McKenna said drowsily. "Why wings?"

"Why do you have wings?" Olivia asked, searching for clarification. McKenna had a tendency to speak in short sentences, only two or three words at a time, and sometimes Elliot and Olivia needed a little help to figure out her meaning.

"Yes," McKenna said. "Why?"

"Because you're special." It wasn't the whole truth, but it was the only answer Olivia could give her, and Elliot knew it.

"You don't. Elly don't. Mama don't."

Elliot winced at the word mama, and felt guilty all over again, for sitting here with McKenna, for having survived Michael's attack, when the girl's mother had not been so fortunate. McKenna was pouting, just a little, and her voice sounded sad, as if she had noticed how different she was from the people in her life, and didn't like it.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Olivia said, leaning in close to McKenna as she spoke. "I do have wings."

Mckenna turned to her sharply, set the bathwater to lapping at the edges of the tub.

"Show me," she demanded, and Elliot swallowed once, hard.

Liv had shown him her wings, once. She'd had to take off her shirt to do it and the sight of her bare skin had nearly stopped his heart, and the full glory of her wings had changed the course of his life forever. Would she do that again here, now, just to set McKenna's fears to rest, just to prove to the girl that she was not alone?

"Ok," Olivia said. "I'll show you."

She rose slowly to her feet, pointedly ignoring Elliot's gaze as she turned her back on him. She slipped her shirt carefully up over her head, and then unfastened her bra, and he hated himself for it, for the warmth he felt when he saw the smooth, tan skin of her back, for the longing he felt to reach out and touch her there. Olivia carefully held her shirt against her chest, covering her tits and her soft belly, and turned again, turned so that McKenna could see her back as her wings slowly unfurled, and all the while Elliot watched her in profile, his eyes tracing over the proud line of her jaw, trying not to stare at the curve of her breast, only half hidden beneath her crumpled up t-shirt. Christ, she was beautiful, more beautiful than anything he'd ever seen in his life, and in the next breath her wings were there, just there, graceful and vast, taking up so much space in that tiny bathroom that he had to lean back to avoid getting a face full of feathers.

"Pretty!" McKenna cried, clapping her hands in delight.

Olivia had been facing the bathroom door with her back straight and her eyes closed, but when McKenna spoke she smiled, and looked back over her shoulder.

"See?" she said. "I'm just like you."

"Livia pretty," McKenna declared.

Olivia smiled, and Elliot couldn't help himself, then.

"Yeah," he said, looking up at Olivia, at her soft mouth raised in that sweet smile, at her dark eyes, at the wealth of dark hair tumbling over her shoulder, at the elegant curve of her neck, at the transcendent beauty of her magnificent wings, moved by the vision of her. "Pretty."

Olivia's eyes darted to his face, a question there, though he wasn't sure if it was meant for him, or if she were questioning her own heart, in that moment.

"Beautiful," he said, very softly.

For the space of a few heartbeats her gaze held his, and he did not breathe - could not breathe, for the beauty of her, for the way his heart ached for her, for the grief he carried for her - only looked at her, and wished, with everything he had, that she would only relent, and let him love her the way he longed to do.

"I have to put them away now," Olivia said, maybe speaking to McKenna but looking at Elliot still.

"Do you have to?" he asked. It would really be something, he thought, to watch Olivia walking through the world with her wings spread behind her. To watch her be free.

"I do," she said. She did; she could not leave her wings loose forever, and she could not let go of the restraints that had been placed on her, by fate, by her own hesitant heart. Slowly her wings disappeared once more, and once more she turned her back on him, dressed herself while he kept his eyes on McKenna.

"Ok, sweet girl," Olivia said when she was presentable again. "Let's get you dried off."

Liv lifted McKenna out of the tub and Elliot handed her the towel, went to drain the tub and then sat down on the edge of it while Olivia helped McKenna dry off, helped her into her nightgown, careful, so careful, as she tugged it down, fitted McKenna's wings through the opening in the back. How many nights, Elliot wondered, had he and Kathy done this same thing, sat in a cramped bathroom and tenderly bathed their children, got them ready for sleep with hearts full of love, in a home that was warm and safe? More times than he could count, and this felt like that, a little; Olivia wasn't his wife and McKenna wasn't his child and they weren't any of them safe, but there was love in that room, and warmth, and it felt good but it hurt, too, like being given a taste of a future he'd never be allowed to enjoy. Like God himself had place a gift into Elliot's hands, and yet was standing by, ready to snatch it away again.

"Go lay down," Olivia said to McKenna. "We'll be there in a few minutes."

The bedroom was right next to the bathroom, and even if Michael burst through the front door right now he couldn't get to McKenna without going through Elliot and Olivia first; McKenna was safe to travel that short distance by herself, but still Elliot couldn't help but wonder why Olivia had sent her off alone instead of going with her. He got his answer in a moment.

"Something's coming, Elliot," Olivia told him quietly, fearfully. She was leaning back against the sink, worrying the damp towel between her hands, and he was still sitting on the tub with his forearm's resting loosely on his knees. "I can feel it."

"You think Michael will come tonight?"

There was no logical explanation for it; Olivia had told Elliot everything she knew about Michael, and that wasn't a whole hell of a lot. It had taken the angel more than one day to find McKenna at Elliot's apartment, and there wasn't a soul in the world who knew their current location, but Elliot trusted her. If Olivia said something was coming, he believed her.

"Yes," she said. "I don't know…I don't know why, but I think…I think this is it."

"Ok," he said grimly. "Whatever happens next…I'm here, Olivia. We'll face him together."

The expression on her face was fearful, and sad. She didn't have to say what she was thinking; Elliot knew it already. They'd barely made it out of their last encounter with Michael alive, and they had no reason to believe their luck would hold this time. Still, though, they had to try.

"We'll put the guns in the bedside tables," he told her. They'd agreed not to leave the weapons out where McKenna could see them; even with her sleeping sandwiched between them, it was a risk they didn't want to take. They needed the guns close, though, and so had come to that compromise.

"There's hunting knives in the closet," Olivia told him.

"Bring them all," he said.

They went through the house together, then, checked that every window was locked, dragged furniture in front of the doors in a feeble attempt to slow Michael down. They checked that their guns were loaded, and slipped extra magazines into their pockets. Olivia pulled down the knives from the closet, and when they were satisfied they'd done all they could they returned to the bedroom. McKenna was already snoring, splayed out in the center of the bed like a starfish. Olivia stored the weapons in the bedside tables while Elliot heaved the old wooden dresser in front of the door, and then they sat down on the bed, one on either side of McKenna.

Let him come, Elliot thought. God help us all.