From Last Time:

He looked at her face. A dark bruise surrounded one eye, but her expression was peaceful, as though she were merely asleep. And yet, he didn't even know if she would ever wake up. His eyes flooded with tears as his gaze swept her small body, lying perfectly still in the middle of that large bed, except for the rise and fall of her chest. Why hadn't he kept her safe? He should have stayed by her side. He should never have let her go. He should have prevented the entire catastrophe in the first place.

They had both been right – he to suspect the damage control engineer, she to encourage him to look at who would benefit from Nor's escape, but it hadn't been enough. He hadn't been smart enough or fast enough to stop Sur Ahn before she could unleash hell on the main colony.

Six hundred and seventy one people had died in the attacks. Six hundred and seventy one men, women, and children had been sacrificed in Sur Ahn's single-minded drive to protect her husband. He didn't even know if she'd succeeded. For all of his anger toward her, Lok Sim did hope Sur Ahn's husband was alive. He knew of Rae Et's cruelty and could not imagine a man suffering through four years of it. He'd been suffering less than four days, living and dying between each one of his wife's labored breaths. It was not quite four days and he was certain he was a hair's breadth from oblivion. She'd lived four years like this, knowing that her husband was being slowly tortured. He didn't doubt that it had driven her mad, that those fours years had wrecked and warped who she once was.

What would he have done? In her place, after four years of such horror, four years of such unimaginable pain, what would he have been capable of? Would he, too, have become an agent of death? Would he have given himself to everything evil in this world to spare his love unspeakable torment? He didn't know.

He didn't want to know.

Despondent, he lowered his head to the mattress, right by where he still held her hand, feeling the soft blanket under his cheek. He closed his eyes and let the tears fall, silently at first, but he was soon sobbing. Breathe in and then out. Over and over again. It was all he could manage at the moment.

********

New Stuff:

"You gave us quite a fright, young man," Tao Scion said as he checked the monitors.

"Believe me, I'm sorry I got shot, too," Clark grumbled as he struggled to sit up.

"Would you just lay back and hold still?" the old physician chastised. "Those incisions will never heal if you keep moving about needlessly."

"Yeah, well I have a pretty strong aversion to lying still in hospital beds." Tao Scion harrumphed and injected something into Clark's IV. "What is that?" Clark demanded.

"Pain medication," the doctor replied simply. "You'll be a far less irritable charge if those wounds don't hurt quite so much."

"How much longer do I have to stay here?"

"Here in this hospital? A few more days, at least. But it'll be more than a month before you're well enough to travel back to Earth." Clark closed his eyes. Another month. Dammit, another month here. "The First Minister and Commander Talan have both requested to be updated about your condition, is it all right if I speak with them?"

"That's fine," Clark replied, his tone flat.

Tao Scion continued about his business of taking measurements and readings and poking and prodding him. He lifted up Clark's right hand. "Any numbness in the fingers?"

"No."

"Good, then it's not likely you suffered any significant nerve damage. Squeeze my hand," he instructed. Clark did as he was asked. "Good. The commander, especially, seemed particularly worried about you."

"She considers that part of her job description," Clark responded, knowing that was entirely unfair.

"She turned one of our offices into a command post so that she wouldn't have to leave the hospital to do her job." Tao Scion continued. Clark shouldn't have been surprised. Talan was as good a friend as one could hope for, and certainly a better friend than he deserved most days. She'd stood shoulder to shoulder with him in every fight since the day he arrived. But he was tired of fighting and tired of the reminders of the fight. He was just so ready to go home.

********

"How is he?" Ching asked as she walked into his makeshift office behind the command center.

"He's alert and the doctors are controlling the pain," Talan replied.

He gestured toward the two chairs in a corner of the office. "Does he know about Nor?"

She nodded grimly as she sat down next to him. "He does. He doesn't actually remember it, but he knows that he killed him."

"I imagine he isn't taking it well," Ching mused.

"Should he be?"

"I suppose not," he replied with a sad shake of his head. "I asked you here because Commander Kayden will be formally assuming Commander Flad's responsibilities as Chief of the Ground Forces. Kayden's promotion leaves the position of Chief of the General Staff open. Zara and I were hoping you would accept the responsibility."

It was quite a promotion he was dangling in front of her - an immediate jump of two ranks, making her the direct subordinate of the Chief of the Ground Forces and second in command.

And yet, she couldn't have been less enthusiastic about it.

"I...really did not expect this..." she began. "There are certainly still other general commanders who outrank me."

"But there are none better suited for the job. And there is no one Kal El, Zara, or I would trust more."

"Sir…"

"Don't call me 'sir,'" he said abruptly. "Kal El is still the First Minister, I don't outrank you," Ching finished, his tone softer. Talan nodded in understanding. Kal El was Ching's friend, too, and he had no desire to push the other man aside.

"I know this isn't what you wanted," he continued. "That's why you left Joint Command to lead the Scientific Research and Exploration unit."

"It wasn't exactly an intelligent career move," she confessed.

"Unless you were looking for a graceful way out of the military," he said with a faintly detectable smile, one that did not reach his eyes. He leaned forward in his chair. "I am sorry to have to ask you to do this."

"There's no need to apologize," she replied, though deep down, she couldn't help but feel disappointed. Over the last year, during the stretch of quiet after Nor's capture and the rebellion's apparent collapse, she'd realized just how tired she'd been of war. It had given her life form and structure and purpose and it had exhausted her, leaching the life from her soul. The weariness went straight down to the bones. She'd only just started to regain any semblance of hope for the future, when the fragile peace they'd started to rebuild their lives on was destroyed. Talan didn't know where she was supposed to get the strength to put back on the heavy armor she'd cast off. "I knew the nature of this responsibility when I first took my oaths. I made a decision to serve, just like you."

"You've given more than enough to this world."

"Life asks more from us than it should," she said simply, knowing her voice lacked conviction. She could talk all she wanted about sacrifice and the virtue of service, but her spirit wasn't in it anymore. "But I'm not certain how much more there is in me to give."

"We won't ask you to remain a moment longer than is necessary. We'll begin the search for a permanent candidate. Until then, we'd be grateful if you accepted the position."

"I'll do my best," she replied with a somber nod.

********

In the silent hospital hallway, he dropped to his knees in front of his little niece, covering her shoulder with one large hand. "My mother is going to take you home," he said quietly.

She looked directly at him with wide green eyes, the height difference between them having been eliminated. "Are you going to stay with Aunt Enza?"

Lok Sim nodded. "I'll be home in a little while." Thia wrapped her arms around his neck as he hugged her tightly. He kissed her temple.

"I love you," she said in a small whisper.

"I love you, too," he replied. Reluctantly, he let her go and rose to his feet. Thia turned away from him. With small steps, she walked over to where his mother was waiting, her hand outstretched. He watched his niece go, her tiny, slim shoulders sagging. A sigh escaped his lips. His chest felt tighten, his heart aching.

Back in Enza's room, he took up his seat beside her bed, listening to the hum of the monitors and machines, watching her breathe. For over an hour, he sat silently, just watching her. He felt his eyelids begin to droop; he was losing his battle with exhaustion. It had been days since he'd slept – trying to spend time with his niece during the day and keeping nightly vigils by his wife's bed.

A soft sound startled him. He sat up straighter, straining his ears to listen. There it was again – the tiniest moan, the distress clear in her voice.

"Enza?" her name crossed his lips as a strangled cry. Her eyes remained closed, but she started to stir, ever so slightly. The corners of her mouth turned downward in a frown. Lok Sim stood up and reached for the call button, frantically pushing it over and over again.

He knew that mere seconds passed between the time he called for the doctor and when Tao Scion arrived, but those seconds may as well have each been an age. The old, gray physician rushed into the room. "What is it? Is everything all right?" His attention turned immediately to his patient.

"I think she's waking up," Lok Sim said, feeling his heart slamming against his ribcage. He watched nervously as Tao Scion tapped the bubbles out of a syringe before injecting something into Enza's intravenous tube.

"What is that? What are you giving her?" he asked agitatedly.

"Something to help her sleep," the old doctor replied.

"Why? She's finally waking up." The tension coiled inside him to the snapping point. He was certain something in him was going to break.

Tao Scion removed the needle and turned toward him. He gazed unblinking at Lok Sim, his blue eyes hard and unyielding. "She is in a great deal of pain, young man," he said bluntly. "With all the different medications she's on, we cannot control that pain while she's awake. The best thing we can do for her is let her sleep a while longer."

Lok Sim's entire body tensed as he folded his arms across his chest and sighed. He struggled to find the words to express the myriad fears and concerns and frustrations tearing him to bits.

"Listen to me," the physician began again more gently. "I know that there is nothing in the world you want more than to have your wife open her eyes and see you and hear you tell her how much you love her, but she is in pain. Let her rest."

His jaw clenched, Lok Sim nodded in silent understanding. He knew, of course, that the doctor was right, but it didn't make the words any easier to hear. He looked at his wife, his heart aching.

Tao Scion put his hand on the younger man's arm. "Her scans looks good and we have every reason to be hopeful. Tomorrow night, we'll let her wake up."

Lok Sim swallowed roughly. "All right," he managed.

The doctor gave him a slight smile before quietly retreating from the room.

********

Lok Sim opened the door to his apartment and slipped in as quietly as he could. Thia ran toward him, throwing her arms around him. He lifted her up, holding her tightly. "You should be asleep, little one," he murmured.

"I wanted to wait for you," she replied. He kissed her temple as he smoothed her soft hair with one hand.

His mother entered the room from the kitchen. "How is everything?" she asked obliquely.

"Better," he replied. "She's doing better."

"I'm glad to hear that," she replied. His mother gave him a sad smile. "I will see you tomorrow," she said as she touched his arm gently.

"Thank you," he said. He turned his head to kiss his mother's cheek, still holding his niece in his arms. His mother left silently.

"Come on, it's late," he said softly to Thia, who was already dressed for bed. "Did you wash up?"

She nodded her head but said nothing. He carried her to her room and tucked her into bed. Lok Sim kissed his niece's forehead as he stood up straight.

"Would you stay here until I fall asleep?" she asked plaintively.

He nodded. "Of course," he said, his voice soft and low. He turned off the lights and pulled up the chair beside her bed. Thia reached out her hand to him and he took it in his much larger one.

"Is Aunt Enza going to get better?"

"She is," he replied. "The doctors said she's going to wake up soon."

"Then she can come home?"

"I don't know," he replied. "But we'll go see her in the hospital, all right?"

"All right," she agreed.

"Good, now try to get some sleep."

"I love you," Thia said with a yawn.

"I love you, too," he replied. Lok Sim sat silently in the darkness, waiting until he was certain Thia had fallen asleep. He couldn't have loved her more if she were his own daughter. He hoped so desperately that his little family would be all right. It was almost impossible to imagine that only a few weeks ago in the bedroom down the hall, he and his wife had been talking about having a baby. That conversation took place a lifetime ago, in a world far removed from this one.

But now, he had reason to hope again. They couldn't go back to the life they had before all this happened, but maybe they could build a new one together. Enza was going to wake up. She was going to be all right. She had to be all right, because his life didn't make any sense without her. The world didn't make any sense without her.

********

"Thank you for everything, Ultrawoman," the firefighter said as he removed his helmet.

Lois gave him a curt nod. "I'm just glad I could help, Tom, was it?" Behind them, the rest of the fire crew cleaned up the equipment.

"Yeah, Tom," he confirmed with a grin. He dragged a hand through his sandy brown hair. "Look, could I buy you a cup of coffee? I know it's late, but there's this diner down the street that's got the best peach cobbler…"

"I'm afraid I need to get going," she replied stiltedly, trying not to bristle. It wasn't his fault; it wasn't as though Ultrawoman wore a wedding band. And he certainly hadn't been crass or rude. He seemed like a perfectly nice guy and he had no way of knowing she found even the slightest attention from a man thoroughly unnerving. It didn't help matters that he smelled the way Clark did when he came home from a rescue. The smell of smoke coming from his skin brought back the memories of nights during that year after she learned Clark was Superman, when he'd come to her place right after a tough rescue. When he'd mumble a halfhearted 'hello' before disappearing into her bathroom to take, what was for him, a very long shower.

He'd come back out dressed in the old sweatpants and soft t-shirt he kept at her place, murmuring quiet apologies about not being able to get rid of the smell of smoke. They'd sit together for hours in each others' arms. In his embrace, she'd tuck her head under his chin and breathe in the faint scent of smoke and soap that would mingle on his warm skin. Sometimes he'd tell her about what happened, the words rumbling in his chest. Sometimes he'd just remain silent. As much as it would hurt to listen to the heartbreak in his voice when he talked about people he couldn't save and lives he couldn't put back together, she was always glad to know that he felt like he could come to her – late at night, no invitation required.

The memories were too vivid, too sharp, recalled too easily by everyday sounds and smells. Any other woman could be politely flattered, but she had to fight off an anxiety attack whenever she was paid a simple compliment. And it was only getting worse with time. As a major celebrity, she got more attention than other women, most of it polite and well meaning. Mercifully, the tabloids didn't create nearly as many stories romantically linking her to the latest A-list entertainers and athletes the way they had Superman. But then, she'd had less patience for the gala events and charity functions that the paparazzi liked to cover and no one expected her to engage in small talk in Kinwara or at other catastrophe sites. What little they did run was so silly and unbelievable that it could easily be ignored. Now that she spent more of her time handling smaller crises and non life threatening calls she was expected to be sociable.

Tom smiled a polite, if disappointed, smile at her. Even under all the soot and grime, it was obvious that he was handsome, probably one of the firefighters they got to pose for those hokey charity calendars. And he lived in a city that put Metropolis to shame when it came to image consciousness. In a town full of actresses and supermodels, superheroes were perhaps the last novelty in dating. "Well, thanks again for your help," he said. With an awkward, tight lipped smile, she took off, heading away from L.A. and back toward Kansas.

In her ordinary, everyday life, she found other ways to avoid attention. Lois Lane wore an engagement ring and the unfortunate circumstances of her marriage were well known. She wasn't treated like a widow, exactly, but it wasn't all that different. After all of this time, people didn't really know how to act around her. It wasn't as though she was grieving, waiting for time to work its ways and help heal old wounds. She wasn't seeking closure and it wasn't time to move on.

She was trapped in her own, existential limbo – unable to grieve, unable to make sense of her loss, because the very act of defining it would be a betrayal. It didn't matter if she spent the rest of her life waiting – she would keep waiting. Nothing would ever make her give up on the hope that he was coming back, no matter how long it took. But now, after all of these years, there were finally moments – dark, isolated moments – when she wondered what she would do if she knew Clark wasn't coming back. If something had happened to him and the Kryptonians got word to her, what would she have done?

It was an ugly train of thought and one she derailed whenever it crept up, unwanted and unbidden. And no matter where the terrible hypothetical tried to take her, one thing was clear – there would never be anyone other than Clark. He wasn't the sort of man you got over.

********

Lok Sim stood at attention, trying not to let his exhaustion show. The door opened and the general commander entered the room. He saluted smartly and she stopped to return the salute. "How is your wife, Lieutenant?" she asked.

"Better, ma'am," he said quietly. "The doctors expect her to wake up tonight."

"I'm glad to hear that," Talan replied as she stepped behind her desk. Even though she'd been working off and on out of General Command since the attack, she'd just assumed the role of Chief of the General Staff. All of General Command seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief at her appointment. Her stern and sober presence in the hallways was oddly comforting – a reminder that someone was in charge and that chaos would not be allowed to reign over the military, even for a moment. "I'm making your promotion permanent and returning you to active duty." Her eyes locked with his as she spoke. She certainly delivered bad news directly.

His heart sank. This was the last thing he wanted or needed. Especially now. He wanted to protest, but it wasn't only forbidden, it was pointless.

"General Command has been completely crippled and we desperately need engineers with your abilities to restore the systems. I promise that you won't be sent away from the main colony. And I know that you need more time with your family before we can ask you to begin." Her expression unclenched just the tiniest bit as she seemed to struggle to inject some degree of humanity into the chain of command.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied. Her choice of words was odd: *asking* him to begin. As though the military was simply extending an invitation to him and hoping he would be agreeable. He tried to bite back his anger and frustration.

"I know this situation is not ideal. You were recommended for promotion to officer three times during your service and each time you declined. You don't want a career in the military and I understand that, which is why I have no intention of allowing this assignment to turn into open ended service," she assured him.

Lok Sim nodded in silent agreement. "Thank you," he managed. As relentless and demanding as she may have been, she was also scrupulously honest. The general commander did not make promises she didn't intend to keep.

"There's just one more matter remaining," she began. "I understand you are to command the honor guard for Faral's memorial."

"Aye, ma'am," he confirmed.

"It would mean a great deal to me if you allowed me to serve in the guard," she said.

He frowned, confused by her words. "I'll step aside…" he began.

"I'm not asking you to give up your command," she interrupted. "I just want to say goodbye to my friend." A look of sadness settled on her normally impassive face.

"Of course, ma'am," he replied, trying to regain his balance. He knew that people all around him were grieving and mourning, some numb from shock, others feeling raw, shattered, and exposed. Even the powerful had been laid low by their grief; such was the magnitude of their wounds. But he'd been too enveloped in his own anguish to really notice.

"Thank you," she said gratefully. "That will be all, Lieutenant."

Lok Sim saluted before leaving the office.

********

"Clark?" Zara called out his name as she entered his room. She looked around – he was nowhere to be seen. "Clark?" she repeated. Perhaps he was in the washroom, she thought. She sat down to wait, but minutes passed with no sign of him. Zara knocked on the washroom door. "Kal El?" There was no answer. She tried the door. It was open and the washroom was empty.

Rushing into the hallway, she stopped the first staffer she saw. "Has Kal El been moved?" she asked breathlessly.

"No ma'am," the young man replied with a shake of his head.

"He's not in his room," she said, anxiety growing inside her.

"I'll call his doctor," the orderly responded, fumbling for his communicator. Tao Scion found them within moments.

"Do we know how long he's been gone?" Tao Scion said, short of breath, as he approached.

"I just went by his room a few minutes ago, he wasn't there," Zara explained. She could feel her chest growing tight. Her heart was threatening to burst against her ribcage.

"Half the hospital is looking for him," Tao Scion assured her. Except it wasn't terribly reassuring. She tried to tell herself that he was fine. He was healing well and there was no reason to believe he was in any danger in the hospital, but she had no idea why he wouldn't be in his room. Where could he have gone?

She started to pace and did the only thing she could think of.

********

"Repairs are proceeding on schedule," Talan explained as they walked down the corridor. She realized that Ching had fallen out of step with her. She turned around and noticed the frown on his face as he looked at his communicator.

"It's Zara," he explained as he held the communicator up to his ear. The color drained from his face. "Kal El is missing," he croaked.

"What?" Talan demanded.

"They're searching the hospital for him," Ching continued.

Calm down, Talan told herself. Think clearly, breathe. She closed her eyes, trying to imagine where she would have gone if she were him. "Tell her to check the morgue," she said at last.

"What? Why?" Ching responded tersely.

"Just tell her to look for him there," Talan insisted.

********

The lights overhead bathed the cold, sterile room in a haunting glow. Clark opened each of the vaults one by one, feeling his insides tie themselves in knots. He wanted to throw up, and the sickly sweet smell of the chemicals wasn't helping, but he kept going, he had to know. He pulled out the drawer and uncovered another body. It wasn't him. Clark closed the door and tried another of the refrigerated vaults and then another. His body ached from standing for so long, the muscles in his back seized and cramped with every movement, but he couldn't stop. Not yet. He pulled open another door.

It was him.

Clark looked down at the livid, rigid corpse – bloodless, lifeless, colorless. The wound in the center of his chest contrasted starkly with his pale, almost yellow skin. He stared down at Nor's body, his jaw clenched so tightly the muscles in his face and neck hurt. He could feel his teeth grinding together. His right hand curled into a fist, tensing his arm until the injured muscles started to fray and rip. He could feel the sutures in his wound begin to tear, blood oozing between the stitches and soaking through his clothes.

His hand and then his entire arm began to tremble. He fought it, like he had for more than a year, trying to control his uncooperative body. Suddenly, violently, he slammed his fist against the shelf right beside Nor's body.

"Damn you!" he shouted at the corpse. "Damn you!" He lowered his head as he beat his shaking fist against the cold, metal table once again. His body quivered with rage. Fire burned through every cell in his body. He had hated before, but never like this. Clark wanted to despise Nor for forcing his hand, for putting him in a position where he'd had to take a life.

But he knew, somewhere in the darkest part of who he was, that that wasn't the source of the hatred raging inside him. He wasn't angry about killing Nor.

He was angry because he hadn't killed him sooner.

Almost seven hundred people were dead because of the failed attempt to break Nor out of prison. Seven hundred people who would be alive if Clark had simply killed Nor when he had the chance, back when he'd first been captured. The blood of all those people, how could he not acknowledge that it was on his hands?

He stumbled backwards, still shaking. Tripping, he tried to break his fall by reaching backward for the exam table behind him. Instead he knocked the table over, sending the coroner's instruments clattering to the floor. He followed immediately after, falling to the hard ground. Wincing in pain from the reopened wounds on his arm and back, he sat up.

"Clark?"

He heard Zara's voice behind him, but he didn't acknowledge her. He wondered just how pathetic a tableau he must have made. Lowering his head, he closed his eyes, wondering if perhaps she might not notice him. What was she doing looking for him in the morgue anyway?

"Clark?" she repeated his name again. He could hear her footsteps as she approached. She sunk to her knees beside him, placing her hand on his arm. Keeping his head down, he managed to avoid eye contact. A sigh shuddered through his body. Her arm came around his shoulders, but he didn’t respond.

"It's all right," she said softly. "You did the only thing you could," she continued, absolving him of a different sin from the one that plagued his conscience. She wouldn't have been able to understand. She couldn't have known what he was thinking. And he would be doing her no favors by enlightening her. So he remained silent, and allowed her to continue believing a more tolerable lie.

********

Lok Sim crossed the hallway in long, rapid strides. The physician met him outside the door to Enza's room. "How is she?" Lok Sim asked, not bothering with pleasantries.

There was kindness in the doctor's sapphire blue eyes. "She should be waking up any moment."

Lok Sim let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding in. "Thank you," he murmured.

"Let's go see her," Tao Scion said with a warm smile.

He could hear his heart pounding in his ears as he stepped into his wife's room. His throat was dry, his breaths rapid and shallow. He sat down in the chair beside her bed as Tao Scion checked the monitors. The other man moved about unobtrusively in the background. Lok Sim had gotten so used to the doctor's presence that he could comfortably ignore him. He covered his wife's hand with his own, letting his thumb trace the soft underside of each of her fingers. "Come on, love. Please, wake up," he whispered.

The minutes seemed to stretch out into hours as he waited and searched for some sign, any sign that she could hear him. Every change in her breathing, every slight movement caused his heart to stop. Was this it? Was she finally waking up? Each moment ended in let down.

"Be patient, young man," Tao Scion counseled gently.

Lok Sim looked up, his eyes meeting the old physicians. He nodded, tight lipped, trying to keep up hope. Beneath his hand, her fingers slowly curled around his thumb. He didn't move, he couldn't move. He had to stay perfectly still in order to prove to himself that he wasn't imagining it, that she was actually holding on to him. She squeezed gently and his heart stopped.

"Enza?" he managed, his voice a small whisper. He heard her moan faintly as she turned her head toward him. "Please, wake up, love," he murmured.

Her eyelids fluttered. An eternity seemed to pass in the mere seconds that passed. He thought he would die from the waiting, but finally, her eyes opened. It took her a moment to focus on him, but her mouth turned up in a faintly pained smile. "Lok…Sim," she whispered his name softly and his eyes flooded with fresh tears.

"I'm here, love, I'm here," he said hoarsely. He lifted her hand to his lips as he tried to blink away the tears.

"How are you feeling?" Tao Scion asked his patient as he came to stand beside the bed.

"Head…hurts," she rasped.

"I imagine so," the old doctor replied sympathetically. "I want to check a few things, but your husband can stay here."

She nodded slightly. Lok Sim stood up and stepped back, allowing Tao Scion to do his job. Trying to make himself useful, he crossed the room to get her a glass of water.

"Now, can you tell me your name," Tao Scion asked as he shined a light in her eyes. Lok Sim held up the glass to her lips. She took a small sip, coughing weakly.

"Enza," she managed.

"Good," Tao Scion replied. "Do you know who the First Ministers are?" He continued with frustrating questions that she answered one by one as her husband stood impatiently by, crossing and uncrossing his arms over his chest.

"Everything looks wonderful," the old doctor said. "I know that you're uncomfortable. I will give you a pain killer, but it is likely to make you drowsy."

"Thia?" she asked. "Is she all right?"

"She's fine," Lok Sim confirmed. "She's eager to see you." He stepped back out into the hallway to find his mother and his niece. He brought Thia into the room. Her little face wore a look of anxiousness as she took small, hesitant steps toward her aunt's bed. Enza stretched out her hand to her.

"Hello, little one," she said softly. Thia stood beside the bed as Enza touched her cheek gently. "I am so happy to see you."

Thia started to cry. "I was so scared," she whimpered.

"So was I," Enza replied. "But everything is going to be all right," she promised.

"Does it hurt?" the little girl asked as she regarded her aunt with wide eyes. Enza's face was still covered it bruises and cuts.

"It does," she confirmed. "But I feel much better now that I know you're all right." Enza looked up at Lok Sim, where he was still hanging back by the doorway. She smiled at him and for the first time since the attack, he knew everything was going to be fine.

He walked toward the bed, putting his hand on Thia's shoulder. Enza took his hand once more. Her skin felt so soft and warm against his, so full of life and promises they would get a chance to keep. "I love you," he said.

"I love you," she replied.