"Mom," Susan hears her daughter say as Fu tucks the key to the cage containing the Huntsclan agent back into one of his folds, "what did you mean when you said we can't put this off? Can't put what off?"

Everything, Susan wants to say, but how can she? She didn't tell them earlier, still wouldn't if she had the opportunity to go back and do it again. Even now, she doesn't have proof, and that's the danger. It has always been the danger.

But now she has no more time, and she must settle this, danger or no.

She should have known better than to propose a meeting place a mere block away from the shop, and she can't help but feel that this mess is her fault. She hadn't wanted to avoid the area entirely, fearing that she would draw attention here if the boy noticed her avoidance of it, and now…. Now, her fears have been realized. She can't pretend that she wasn't risking everything in a gamble that she still isn't sure is worth the price they'll pay. The terror she'd felt when Haley had called….

Haley has been silent since then, waiting until now to ask her questions. The cage has been hastily reassembled in the back room, and the last of the fumes from Fu's potion have been cleared out. There is no more reason for her to wait, though Susan isn't sure she'll ever be ready for this conversation.

Susan turns away from the unconscious Huntsclan agent—99; she's certain of that—and crouches and holds out her arms to welcome her daughter into a hug. Haley comes forward and grips her tightly, burying her face in Susan's shoulder.

She's shaking.

Susan can feel each tremor as it passes through Haley's body, and her tears come without further warning. This is her fault. She'd known something and kept silent, thinking it was meant to protect, but Haley hadn't wanted more secrets. She hadn't wanted any secrets between them.

Susan's silence has been laden with those secrets, growing heavier each time she met the dragon and held her tongue afterwards.

"Do you remember," Susan says softly as Haley's tears continue to soak into her shoulder, "when your dad and I first told you about your brother?"

Haley sniffs and pulls back. The confusion is enough to offset some of her shock, some of her horror at the idea of the shop being discovered by the Huntsclan. She frowns, sniffs again, and wipes at her nose with her sleeve before Susan can stop her. "I was three or four. I asked Dad why he was sad."

It's said so matter-of-factly that Susan knows it's not a real memory; it's simply a memory of the story Haley's been told in the years since. Some dragons retain clearer memories of their childhood for longer—certainly longer than ordinary humans—so Susan hadn't been sure. But if Haley only remembers the story and not its happening, she might not remember everything.

Susan shifts so that she's sitting cross-legged on the floor and leans back against a bookshelf as Haley crawls into her lap. "You asked your dad why he was sad," she agrees, "and he told you about your brother."

"And then you told me the family secret," Haley says, "and I had to promise not to tell Dad."

"That was later, another day, but yes. I wanted to make sure you'd know to come to me or your gramps if you thought anything might be wrong." Susan hesitates, but Haley hasn't brought it up, and Susan doesn't know if she doesn't remember or if she thinks it unimportant. "What do you know about your brother?"

"His name was Jake," Haley says. "You and Dad both liked that name."

It had been the first name they'd both agreed upon without reservation, and she isn't even sure if the Huntsclan has taken that from him, too. It makes entirely too much sense to think they have—she doubts they'd risk anything that could tie their victims to their birth families, even a name—but she still wants to hope. All it would take is one person making a decision with their heart and not their head, with warm compassion instead of cool logic. It's a small thing, allowing a kept name, but maybe, knowing the grief they would be putting the families through, they'd deign to allow a ghost of the child that could have been to grow up with them, different in every way but their name.

There's no point wondering now. She doubts the boy they've secured will answer to anything but his number once he wakes.

"Yes," Susan says instead. "That's right. We'd thought he was a healthy baby boy when he was born—" Her voices catches, as it always does. This isn't the first retelling. It won't be the last, especially if she's right.

Haley snuggles in closer. "But he wasn't, and he died," she whispers. "You buried most of the ashes with Grandma and Grandpa, but Gramps took some to scatter at Draco Isle."

Haley hasn't been to the cemetery where Jonathan's parents are buried often, but Susan isn't surprised that she remembers that.

Still, Susan's usual affirmative response to this sort of comment sticks in her throat.

Her son might not be gone. To her, perhaps. When this is over, once she tells him the truth, he might still turn away. Once he believes it, assuming she can convince him of that, he might reject them as a family even if she does all she can to welcome him. But even if he doesn't choose to stay, knowing that he's alive is a comfort and a worry and a tangled mess of emotion she'd happily take over that numb certainty she'd once felt.

"Yes," she whispers. It's difficult to force the word past her lips. "We cremated the baby and buried most of his ashes. But…." But that might not have been your brother.

Can she say that when she hasn't even brought up the possibility to Jonathan? She'd had the opportunity. After he'd found out about the family secret, he'd pressed her for details. He'd wanted to be sure that Haley was safe, that this wasn't more dangerous than it ought to be—especially considering what had happened. Susan had reassured him as best she could. She knows it isn't quite enough; she sees the worry etched in every line of his face, though he's careful to hide the worst of it from Haley. He's convinced that there will always be danger, that enough isn't being done to mitigate that danger.

What she'd been doing at the time, what she's doing now, only furthers his point.

This is dangerous, and she's dragging Haley right into it.

"But what?"

The prompt is quiet but spoken with an insistence that makes Susan thinks it is not the first time Haley has said something. How long was she lost in her thoughts? Susan takes a slow breath and continues, "I've been thinking on this for a very long time now, and I'm still not sure." Her heart is sure. Her head wants to be sure. Still, she doesn't dare pass that certainty on to Haley, not with everything being wrong would mean. "I might be wrong, but I…. I think I might know what happened to your brother."

"Why he died?" There's confusion in Haley's voice, even though she knows they were never wholly sure of the cause. "I…. I'm not—"

"No." Susan cuts in swiftly, not wanting that thought to take root in Haley's nightmares. "No, you aren't. You're healthy. And…. I think your brother was, too. Is."

Haley goes still. At the other end of the room, Fu stops leafing through a book at the desk and her father stumbles, catching himself against the chair they'd had to move to make room for the cage and making every effort to appear to have tripped over that. She knows better. Both of them have a better idea of what could have happened than Haley does, and hearing Susan herself suggest it….

"I think he was taken by the Huntsclan."

Haley lets out a little gasp, but Susan wouldn't take her words back even if she had the opportunity.

"I think he's the dragon who lured you into Huntsgirl's trap." Each word is more difficult to say than she'd expected. "You said he didn't know how to fly properly, and it puts Huntsgirl's questions into a new light."

"He'd be about the right age." Fu is no longer making any pretense about ignoring their conversation and instead looking over at them. "It's difficult to tell based on size, but from what I saw, that dragon wasn't an experienced one."

"You think he's my brother." Haley says the words like the concept is foreign to her. "But the Huntsclan wouldn't…." She trails off and bites her lip. She is much too aware of all the things the Huntsclan would do. "Do you think they know?"

"No." Susan doesn't explain her certainty, and Haley doesn't ask, merely pressing closer to her. "I think most don't, and the ones who do are those he trusts the most."

"Like Huntsgirl."

"Yes. Like Huntsgirl."

"And the other agent. 99."

Susan glances toward the boy lying unconscious in the cell that has been squeezed into the back of the shop. Neither Fu nor her father miss the look, judging by their faces, but neither comments. "Yes," Susan says again. "99, too."

"What are we going to do? How are we going to help him?"

I don't know. She can't admit that. "We have to be careful," she says instead. "We'll have to tell him the truth, but not all at once. It's a lot to hear all at once." He might not believe them. Even if he does, she doesn't know what he'll do with it.

Haley frowns. "Mom?" She is asking so many questions with a simple word. Susan isn't sure how to answer any of them.

"We should call your father," Susan says. "He needs to know what's going on. Do you want to do that for me and ask him to come down here as soon as he can?"

Haley opens her mouth but closes it again without asking any questions, instead nodding and getting up to head upstairs to use the landline there.

"I'll keep her company," Fu says. He slips off his chair with his book and follows.

Susan stays sitting on the floor, looking away from their captive only when her father appears in front of her. "Are you certain?"

She's frightfully certain. "I have no proof, but I think I'm right."

"Daughter—"

"I'm not rushing into this." It is an old accusation. She is sick of hearing it, especially now that it is no longer true. "I haven't rushed into anything for a long time."

"I do not wish to see your heart broken again."

She is willing to take that risk. A mended heart, a whole family…. But carefully. She has to go carefully. Convincing her son of the truth and asking him to turn his back on the Huntsclan are two very different things, and neither would end the danger they are all in.

The danger she is putting them in.

"Please, just trust me to take the lead on this. I can do it."

She isn't sure her father won't argue, seeing his lips press into a line like that, but after a few painful heartbeats, he nods. "Very well. I will make tea. But I advise that you do not tell your husband until you are certain. He is not as strong as you."

"He is," she says, but her words are ignored. She supposes she cannot be surprised; even knowing that Haley chose to tell Jonathan the family secret and that he took it well is not enough for her father. Experience has taught him that betrayal comes at the worst of times, the moment you feel most comfortable.

He expects it to happen again. With Jake, if not Jonathan.

The realization is a bitter one. Lao Shi is not known for often being wrong.

Susan is not as confident as she wishes she were that he is wrong this time.