Rose hadn't meant to fall to pieces.

She hadn't realized she was so close to her breaking point until she couldn't recover.

Jake's father—it's really Jake's father—holds her gently, and it doesn't feel like a trap. She's not caged. He'd protest her leaving if she tried, she's sure, but she's equally sure he'd let her go.

It's not a feeling to which she's accustomed.

He's ever cautious of her injuries as well, though they've been waning in severity with every minute that passes. The burning itch in the worst of her injuries is a painful reminder of what the Huntsclan thinks of her, but the remedy she was coaxed into taking is undoubtedly working its magic.

Still, Rose is exhausted, and she isn't foolish enough to think it's the price of the healing alone.

She is no longer Huntsgirl, but she may not be considered 93 now, either. She is compromised. After Jake's apparent defection, he's compromised. 18 assumed Rose knew more than she was saying, but while that's true, she didn't know any of this.

She doesn't know what might be on that footage the Huntsclan has, either, if it even exists.

If it's evidence of Jake's family, why would 18 so boldly claim that Rose knew? She hadn't known. Jake hadn't told her.

He'd found his family, his real family, and he hadn't told her.

She doesn't doubt Jake's father when he says his wife has met with Jake for months. As far as Rose can tell, Jake's been withdrawing from her for those same months. She'd known he was keeping something from her, but she hadn't imagined this.

Knowing Jake, it hadn't been a malicious decision when he'd chosen them over Rose—he always wanted to protect her—but she can't fathom that he'd choose to leave without telling her anything.

Without saying goodbye.

Without asking if she'd go with him.

Yet, if Jake's father is being truthful about everything, Jake had— He'd—

He went on his own.

The tears threaten to overwhelm Rose again, but she doesn't try to stop them this time.

Jake's father's shirt is already wet.

"It'll be okay," he's saying, even though it won't be okay, just like it isn't already okay. "It'll be okay, I promise."

He can't promise anything.

Well.

He shouldn't promise anything.

It's not a promise he's likely to be able to keep.

"When this is over," he adds, "I'll help you look for your family. You might have more out there than you realize."

If her family is there to find, then she's not wanted. If they'd wanted her, then they're already dead. She was born with the Mark of the Huntsclan. That's true of all of them.

Except Jake.

Maybe that's why he hadn't told her. Dreaming of being the exception to the rule is a fool's fancy she'd long since given up on indulging. She's happy that another impossibility has found Jake—especially since that first impossibility was his dragon nature showing in a hunter's body—because this impossibility is a pleasant one, but she'd be lying to herself if she claimed it didn't hurt.

It does hurt.

And it's worse that he can't even enjoy it. She can't live through him, listening to his stories and questioning until she has every detail of what it's like to have a real family, every high and low and plateau in between. He's found himself the impossible—a loving, living birth family—and he cannot be part of it.

Just like she cannot be part of it.

Or part of her own.

"There isn't any point," she whispers.

"There is," he says, and there's a stubbornness in his voice she's heard in Jake's before. "We'll follow every lead and turn over every stone, whatever it takes to get a name, and then we'll see about getting you back to them. Scout's honour."

She takes a steadying breath to compose herself before pulling away. He lets her withdraw and even shuffles back a couple of inches, a consideration she hadn't expected—and one she isn't sure she wants. It had been nice, feeling like she wasn't alone in this.

But she is, and she will be until she can find Jake.

"There isn't any lead to follow."

He holds up a finger. "Actually—"

"Even if there were, what would you say to them? What do you expect me to say to them? If they're there to find, then I'm unwanted." Her voice is fierce and unrelenting, but she doesn't want to hear more stories from him. They have to stick to truths or she— She might not figure out what she needs to do. Hoping that she might have family out there who might still want her is foolish. It's a distraction.

She can't afford to be distracted.

He winces. "I don't think the situation is quite that bleak. If your family had been unable to take care of you, you would have been put up for adoption. It's more likely that they think you passed away as an infant. With Jake—" His voice falters. "We had a funeral. We buried his ashes. At least, we— We buried someone's ashes."

The idea makes her stomach turn.

Jake is the exception.

He must be.

If he's not, then the Huntsclan—

The Huntsclan—

No.

She can't think about this right now.

She can't.

She can, however, pull herself together long enough to make a bargain. She doesn't want to be in the debt of someone she doesn't know. He might be Jake's family, but he's not Jake.

"It doesn't matter." She's not sure her tone is particularly convincing, but it's the best she can do right now. She needs to strip away her last layers of pretence, and she isn't sure she'll be brave enough to do that if he keeps talking like finding her family is a real possibility. "It wouldn't be safe anyway. The Huntsclan has to be keeping watch on the families."

His face pulls into another frown, mouth twisting and brow furrowing. "I doubt that. If they were keeping tabs on us, wouldn't they know about the American Dragon? Surely they would have done something by now."

He's right; the American Dragon has been active long enough that there would at least be whispers of a plan to capture her and her protector, and Rose hasn't heard anything about their identities being uncovered.

It's not like the Huntsclan to ignore a possible complication, though.

She doesn't want to assume they are.

"They might be watching for changes in routine," she offers. "Something shifting without apparent cause."

"If they are, we'll find out before it's any trouble to us," he says with an easy, undeserved confidence. "The others have connections. They might even be able to cover up anything particularly suspicious."

Rose purses her lips, but even if it's true that Jake's family could trick the Huntsclan once, she doubts the same trick would work twice. Still, she doesn't think she'll be able to convince him of that. "Look, never mind about all of that. Keep helping me stay clear of the Huntsclan and I'll tell you more about your son. About…Jake. And then we can see about finding him, wherever he's gone."

His expression softens at her use of Jake's name. "Of course I'm going to keep helping you. You're his friend."

He doesn't understand, but at least the change in topic has settled her stomach. She'll need to eat more than she already has in order to keep her energy up. "Pretend that he isn't. Would you still agree?"

His eyebrows go up. "Do you really need to ask? You're hurt, even if you keep pretending you're not hurt as badly as you are, and you're already in my care. I'm not going to throw you out on your ear."

She shouldn't be surprised, but it's more proof that he hasn't been lying to her. He's human. More than that, he's not even a wizard or someone of their ilk. He's unfamiliar with the workings of magical world, not just the ways of the Huntsclan, even though he knows of their existence. He's not used to a world where bargains need to be made, where strategies and alliances and information can mean survival as much as success.

Rose reaches for another carrot, her stomach aching again at the earlier reminder of food and her previous lack of it. "That's what we'll do, then. Thank you."

"You don't need to thank me. You— Please don't thank me. Not for this."

Rose takes a bite of the carrot, letting the loud crunching of it between her teeth fill the silence between them. She doesn't know the best place to start. If she weren't marked as a traitor before, what she's doing now will certainly make up for that.

Something in her stomach sours as she thinks of what 18 would say if she knew, but Rose swallows down the feeling—and her mouthful—before asking, "What should I call you? If we're going to be allies, I need to call you something other than 99's father." It's not as dangerous a position as being the father of the American Dragon, but it's not a safe one, either.

Even if Jake weren't already compromised, the Huntsclan would hardly want to let it get out that he's an exception to the rule.

He blinks at her. "Jonathan. Didn't I already say that?"

He hadn't.

She lets it go with a dismissive tilt of her head. She suspects he just gave her his real name, and it makes her wonder if trusting him is a smart move on her part. Even if he could help her, his ignorance could get them both captured, and once they were—

Being branded a traitor will only guarantee that they'll be make a bloody spectacle of her before the end. Compromised agents are typically dealt with quietly, but nothing about this will be quiet. 88 and 89 surely would have contacted someone by now even if they hadn't found 18—wouldn't they? Announcing her defection wouldn't net them the same glory as capturing the American Dragon, but….

But they might not have realized what happened, especially if they hadn't found 18 or spoken with anyone else from the Huntsclan. They might still be looking for her, perhaps wondering if they've mistaken the meeting spot, or they might have skived off entirely and searched out snacks instead of information. She wouldn't put it past them. They could have planned to claim that they'd lost track of time—or simply gotten lost—or that they hadn't felt safe parading around in their uniforms when any magical creature might see and report them. It's a forgivable albeit punishable offense, the first time, and this is their first time.

She can't worry about them right now.

If it comes to a fight, she'd rather face them than anyone else.

She might even be able to talk them into renouncing the Huntsclan.

If she could, if she did, if their little scouting party disbanded and vanished….

It would buy her precious time.

Unfortunately, without finding them—before they find her—she won't know if it's already too late for that.

"93?"

She starts and focuses on Jake's father. Jonathan. She hadn't realized her thoughts had drifted so far. She takes a breath to steady herself before whispering, "Rose." Telling Jonathan is foolish, but it feels right, and she is desperate for something that feels right after everything she's done.

There's still blood staining her skin at the edges of her nails, despite how long she'd scrubbed at them before continuing her search for Jake, and it's not all hers.

"Pardon?"

"Call me Rose." She's able to put some strength behind her voice this time. "That's what Jake calls me."

His smile is wide and brilliant and heart-achingly similar to Jake's. "Thank you, Rose." He pauses, and the smile falters and shrinks to nothing. "Would— Would you be willing to tell me what name my son prefers?"

"Jake." Jonathan looks like he doesn't believe her, hope fading to hesitancy in his expression, so she adds, "He's always been Jake."

"They kept his name? I never thought— Why? After everything else?" He shakes his head, clearly not expecting her to answer.

That's just as well, as she has no idea why, either. It doesn't make sense to her. Such a kindness is hardly encouraged in the Huntsclan. She can't imagine an elder making such a decision, but no mere initiate would be sent on a retrieval mission like that. It would have had to have been someone higher up within the ranks of the Huntsclan to be trusted with such a thing. Perhaps it was someone permanently on a field assignment?

Perhaps it was someone whose very field assignment led to their being compromised?

Rose can't imagine they would have gone undiscovered for very long, but neither she nor Jake ever tried to find out more about when they'd first been brought to the Huntsclan. It hadn't occurred to them. The agent's name, if they were indeed discovered and deemed compromised, wouldn't have been stricken from the records, but there would have been a note for cross-referencing purposes, and—

It doesn't matter.

It's not like she can find them and ask if her name is also her true name. She'll never get back into the Huntsclan stronghold undiscovered long enough to find their records. Even if she did, even if she had the luxury of that pursuit when so many other things would take precedence, even if the agent in question weren't already compromised— Even if all that were true, Rose's interest would endanger them.

Months ago, before she herself was compromised, before she knew Jake's secret, it would have seemed treasonous to even contemplate letting someone compromised continue to act. Now, Rose can only hope that they are still active, somewhere, quietly making choices that serve the stolen children rather than the Huntsclan itself.

She would do the same if she didn't know it was already too late for her to try.

Rose's throat tightens again, and she eats the rest of her carrot to try to keep the tears at bay.

"Eat what you can," Jonathan says, and Rose suspects he is as grateful for the subject change as she is. "You'll heal faster if you do, and you'll want to be on your feet again as soon as you can. Properly on your feet, I mean."

He must think she's shored up by determination and grit.

He's not exactly wrong.

Rose eats.

He lets her do so in silence, and she hasn't any idea what he's thinking until she's cleaned up half the tray and he says, "She might have been your sister, you know."

"I'm sorry?"

"The girl I met last year. The one I thought had been you."

She wishes he wouldn't keep bringing this up. It hurts in a way she can't entirely define.

"Let's focus on Jake," she says. She doesn't want to think about any of the other implications right now. The idea that she might have a sister—

A family—

A family who might have wanted her—

That Jonathan might have met them—

No.

If she lets herself think about it, she'll break down all over again.

"Did he say anything to you at all?" she presses. She has her doubts, but he has more reason to elaborate now than he had before. "Even if you don't think it's a clue, if he thought I might find him, he might— He might have said something."

Jonathan shakes his head. "He didn't say two words to me. Su— My wife spoke with him before they left, and he might have said something to her, but she didn't tell me anything like that."

He doesn't trust her with his wife's name.

She shouldn't be surprised that he's more careful about the others than he is about himself.

"I don't know," Rose finds herself saying, "if Jake would go somewhere he thinks I'd look for him."

She doesn't know if Jonathan can hear everything she doesn't say. I don't know if he still trusts me. I don't know if he'd risk trusting me even if he does. I don't know if he'd guess that I'd be tasked with finding him and do everything in his power to make sure I don't have to be the one to turn him over to the Huntsclan to face the consequences we both know will be severe.

"No harm in looking, is there?"

"There is if I'm followed, and I— They're looking for me. I abandoned my mission. I've done exactly what it was believed Jake did, and…."

And she isn't even sure if she can blame 18 for it, not when she would've made this same choice if she'd known with certainty that there was any truth at all in 18's words.

I've seen the footage.

What footage? What does the Huntsclan know? What had they missed? They'd been so careful, but they must have missed something. 18 had been so certain. She's a good liar, but Rose isn't confident that was a bluff.

99 has defected.

Even with what Jonathan has told her, Rose isn't sure that's wrong, exactly. What Jake had been doing would be seen that way even if they didn't know that Jake's contact was his mother or a part of the magical world, both of which would be seen as damning evidence. But Rose hadn't known any of that, and 18—

You already knew.

The only thing Rose had known was Jake's true nature, and it makes her sick to think that that is what 18 meant.

It's much better for both of them if the Huntsclan had found out about Jake's meetings and 18 had assumed that Rose had known all along. If the evidence is simply Jake sneaking back from one such meeting—

No. That alone wouldn't be enough to immediately mark him as a traitor. He'd be watched, certainly, but it's not like chronic tardiness had set in; looking back on it, she can't see anything that would be a dead giveaway to those who don't know.

They'd been careful not to talk where they might be overheard, but what if they were wrong about that possibility? What if Rose had missed something when reviewing the tapes? What if they'd left something behind that only confirmed already-aroused suspicion? What if—?

"It was the right choice." Jonathan's voice is fierce and firm. "You've made the right choice."

She's turned her back on everything without even trying to get answers.

What if doing so was the confirmation the Huntsclan had sought but not yet had?

What if her actions, her reaction to 18, her dealings with 88 and 89— What if all of that is all the Huntsclan has needed since their discovery of the evidence 18 had alluded to?

Worse still, if they have discovered Jake's meetings with his mother— What if they know who she is? What if they suspect Rose has been doing the same? What if they plan to punish the families to draw out the children who had found them again?

No, she doesn't know that. That's just borrowing trouble. Jake might have found his family, but she hasn't, and the Huntsclan has no reason to go after them.

Except—

What if it hadn't been Jake's habits that had initially tipped off the Huntsclan?

What if it had been his mother's?

A change in her routine without apparent cause, only for further investigation to reveal that contact with Jake was the cause? Contact with her son?

That would be reason enough to go after Jonathan.

They would be thrilled to find Rose here, waiting for them.

A sitting duck.

"I don't know that I have," she says, though she isn't sure what she means, isn't sure she's made any right choices. Perhaps her words refer to everything that's happened. Coming here with Jonathan, where she might easily be found; telling him anything, let alone as much as she has; openly siding with Jake; searching for him on her own even after she knew the Huntsclan was on to them; leaving her fight with 18 unfinished instead of having the assurance that it's over—

She's trembling.

She can't seem to make her body stop.

She can't pretend it's an effect of Jonathan's serum, either, not when he looks so concerned.

Maybe 18's knives had been painted with something after all?

Or maybe she's just coming apart, piece by piece, and this is another part.

"I can't stay here," she whispers, but she can't summon the strength to move. She is weak and tired and sore, and she wants to fall asleep and wake up to find that this was naught but a dream. It would be so much easier.

This difficulty isn't nightmarish, though.

Not yet.

She needs to keep it that way if she can.

"This is foolish," she says, trying to make her voice stronger than before. "Dangerous. For both of us."

"It would be more dangerous and foolish to go alone," he counters, and she isn't sure if she wants to laugh or cry.

It might already be too late, but he is trying to protect her, someone he barely knows. From the little she knows of him, he can't. He isn't like her. He isn't like any of them. She has been trained to hunt from birth, to think through strategy, to weigh sacrifices and risk against reward. In his ignorance, he might make a mistake she wouldn't think to warn him about because she is so used to working alongside people who—by now—inherently understand the situation.

They are both human, but his knowledge of the magical world feels pitifully new, something of which he is still unsure, whereas she wears her knowledge of it like a second skin.

She shouldn't, not now that she isn't sure how much of what she was taught is true.

What she does know is that Jonathan is kind. What she doesn't know is if it's a kindness born of softness or a kindness forged in darkness, sharpened by determination, and wielded with cheerful spite.

Listening to him talk around his family, letting her feel the shape of them and how he hopes Jake will fit with them, she wants to guess the former, but she doesn't think that's the case.

He spoke of things he didn't need to tell her, didn't need to share with her, yet he told her of them to try to support her, to help her understand.

He spoke of burying the ashes of the child he'd thought was his son.

His kindness might have been rooted in softness, but it has flourished despite everything that's happened since.

She wants to be like that.

"I know you're afraid. I am, too. Running off without any idea of where we're going might not be the best option, though, so think about it for a minute. Would we be better off staying here for a spell and watching the local news for clues or striking out and seeing what we can find?" He pauses. "We could find you a proper, hot meal. You should eat more. I used to think I was tired after a few doses of that home remedy because I was recovering, but now I suspect the reason I was always encouraged to eat was because it would work best that way. Unless that's just because I was usually coming down with colds H—my daughter would bring home from school or daycare. Feed a cold and all that. Does that actually hold true? Do you know? I have to admit I've never tried to find out."

She can feel the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. This feels like Jonathan's true talent. Deflection and distraction are useful tools to have in one's arsenal. "There won't be anything on the news. We're too careful to be caught out that way."

Unless 18 is lying dead in the alley and someone else found her body and called it in.

Unless they want Rose's fingerprints to be all over the situation.

They would find a way to conveniently leak the information—and her picture—to the right places.

It would be easy enough for them to make her disappear once they found her again.

"So, should we hit the streets, or do you feel safe enough to get some sleep here first?"

She's exhausted, but this isn't the first time she's felt weariness settle in her bones and weigh her down.

"Let's go out," she says.

If it becomes too dangerous, she can leave him behind. That will give him more of a fighting chance than her trying to defend him. If she defends him, anyone she fights will wonder why. If he doesn't have a target on his back, she doesn't want to put one there. And if he does….

Well, if he does, then she has to hope that he blends in so well with everyone who doesn't know about the magical world that he's difficult to find.

"I'll get you another dose of that first," he says with a nod to the empty shot glass, "and then we'll see about getting more into you than just finger food. How do you feel about pizza? There's this one place in Little Italy my daughter absolutely loves…."

Rose lets him talk.

He's not like Jake—Jake doesn't ramble this much—but the cadence of his voice is comforting. Frankly, she needs what comfort she can get when it feels like she's coming apart at the seams, stitch by stitch.

If she closes her eyes, she can almost imagine that this is what it's like to have a family who values you for who you are and not for the skills you've been honing all your life.

A family that doesn't punish failure but catches you if—when—you misstep and fall.

It's nice.

She isn't so sure she deserves nice any more than she deserves to be Huntsgirl.

(18 was right about that, if nothing else; if Rose were still worthy of the title, she wouldn't be doing any of this.)

She'll pretend for as long as she can, though.

It hurts too much otherwise.