You Can't Handle the Pain (Isaac)

Isaac hurried off as soon as she had given him something to do for her and came back less than five minutes later with the water and aspirin. He'd charmed the glass to be cooler than the tap had let the water be as it came out initially. He wanted to help Mari to soothe her throat. He remembered all too well what it felt like to have pneumonia. You coughed and coughed, and nothing, absolutely nothing moved. It hurt so badly. And then when you did get something to move, it was so disgusting that sometimes it made you throw up. He didn't wish this on his worst enemy, much less his beloved daughter.

He sat next to her when he got back to her room and set the water glass on the floor, sliding the hand that had been holding the glass under her head to settle her on her pillow so she could attempt to take the aspirin.

"Here, Mari, I know that it might be cooler for you to lay like that, but trust me, it also makes all the phlegm congest in your lungs as well. Can you try and drink some water for me? Maybe take the aspirin?"

Isaac's phone rang from the chair and he glared in it's direction for a split second before realizing, it wasn't Kyle calling him, it was a different ring. He moved over to the phone and saw that it was the office's ground line. He instantly dropped the phone and moved back to his daughter, ignoring the ongoing ringing.

Mari took the water and sipped from it, taking a gulp only big enough to move the pills down her throat. She was so tired, and she did not like the way her father had adjusted her pillows however she knew that he was right to do so. She would get even more congested if she continued to lay like that. Leaning against him when he returned she almost didn't even realize what she was doing...and even when she did she was far too exhausted to fight it.

"I hate this..." she whimpered. "I...really...really...*cough*...hate this."

Cringing at the pain that burned in her chest after that particular cough she continued to lean on him. The sweat from her forehead rolled down her temples and onto her shoulder. She was so cold and yet her body sweat like she was in the middle of the Sahara.

"Ugh...this sucks!" she roared. "I don't have time for this!"

Breaking off into a fit of coughs she held her chest as she gasped for breath.

Isaac knew exactly how Marisol felt. He'd not wanted to be trapped in bed when there were other things that he needed to get done. Work had been one of them. He supposed that she'd have trouble with her employer if she didn't show for work for the next day or so, but there was no other remedy for her sickness other than rest at the moment. If he could prevent it, she was not going to end up in St. Mungo's. He'd barely avoided going there himself, and he didn't want her to have to suffer anymore than she needed with this.

His phone started ringing again and he wanted to throw the damn thing out the window. Why didn't they understand what he'd told them?! He didn't want to be bothered this week! He growled and went to the phone and turned the ringer off entirely. If they were going to keep calling, they could talk to his bloody voice mail!

He moved back to the bed and sat again.

"I know, Mari, it's horrible to have to deal with this, but I promise, it's not forever. In a few days, it'll break up and you can start coughing up the phlegm. Oh, word of warning, when it does start moving again and coming out, it's going to be really disgusting." He chuckled ruefully.

"But when it's coming up, you know that it'll be leaving you all together, and that means that you're getting better." He leaned over and felt her forehead. It seemed a little cooler, but he wasn't all together sure.

"Don't worry about your job. If your boss tries to fire you, he's going to have to deal with me, and I'll kick his ass. He needs to remember how much your clients love you, and from what I heard today, a lot of them won't go to anyone else for their tattoos."

Mari cringed at the thought of coughing up phlegm. As if vomiting wasn't bad enough she knew that phlegm lingered until she spit it out, and Mari hated spitting for any reason other than brushing her teeth. Sighing she rested her head back into the pillow and closed her eyes. They burned with fever and nothing she did seemed to change that other than irritate them more. She looked at her father and gently taking his arm rolled up the sleeves to his shirt.

"Dad," she wheezed. "You need to put lotion on your tattoo, otherwise it will scab over and peel."

She knew that he would probably want to put her before him, however she didn't want her work being thrown out the window. She had worked hard on his tattoo and if it got ruined there would be only so much she could do to fix it...even with magic. However at the moment she couldn't say anymore, her eyes were getting heavy and her breathing was starting to calm once more.

"Ugh...tired..." she whispered. "Sleep..."

And like that she was out once more.

Isaac leaned over his daughter and kissed her temple, gently tugging the blankets up to her shoulder. He smoothed her hair back from her feverish forehead and smiled. So much like Quinn. It never failed to amaze him how much his children took after their mother. He loved all of them with his heart and soul, he just hadn't been the best at showing them over the years. It had been a big mistake, and if it took the rest of his life, he would make it up to all of them.

He loved over to where his phone lay on the chair, picking it up and flipped it open, intending to call his wife and let her know where he was. He rolled his eyes when he saw that he had ten voice mails. He called that first, erasing each one that Kyle had left him until the last one, where his now former assistant had sounded absolutely frantcic. He sighed and left Mari's room, pulling the door half closed behind him. She was so exhausted with fever, he didn't want to disturb her.

When he reached the living room, he returned the call and was told that the client had decided that since Isaac couldn't be bothered with their complaints, they were going to go elsewhere with their business.

"Kyle, I thought I fired you. You know what? Never mind. If they don't understand that my family is more important to me than their ridiculous plans, they can piss off. Kyle, I don't care if they tell their friends not to come to us. If their friends are as petty as they are, then we don't need them." He sat on the couch and stripped off his shirt, looking at his tattoo.

"I'm not worried about this. We have more than enough customers to keep us afloat for the next three years. You need to stop panicking, Kyle. Why don't you close the shop for the day, and go spend some time with your girlfriend? How long has it been since you've seen her?" He snapped his pone closed.

Isaac stood and made his way to the bathroom, in search of something to keep his tattoo moist as Mari had said. She was the artist, and he was certainly going to listen to what she had told him to do. He found a small tube of moisturizer and gently applied it to the outlined tattoo on his shoulder with a slight hiss.

So that's where the pain came in. When it was starting to heal. Isaac chuckled to himself. Well, it wasn't too bad. He could handle it.

When he was finished, he made a quick call to Quinn and left her a message to bring him a few days worth of clothing, and the charger for his phone so he could keep in contact with her, because he was going to stay with Mari while she was dealing with pneumonia.

He closed his phone again and went back to his daughter's room, sitting next to her in the chair and watched her for a few minutes before sleep decided to come over his as well.

Marisol slept, she slept, and slept, and then she slept some more. As a matter of fact Mari was sure she had slept her life away right then and there. But when she woke and saw that it was merely four o-clock in the morning. Sitting up she pulled her her knees up to her chest and looked for her father. She really wanted to be held right now, and she supposed that it was because she was so sick. Normally Marisol never wanted to be held or coddled, but at the present moment she was more than up for it.

However her fever felt like it was burning a hole through her body and her stomach was all shaky and upset. Taking a shuddering breath she stood from the bed and began walking to the bathroom. She was sick of vomiting all over herself, but since she was more aware that she was about to throw up she was able to make her way to the loo.

Gently shutting the door behind her she lowered herself down to the ground in front of the toilet and lifted the lid. Resting her head on the rim she waited. She knew that she needed to vomit, why couldn't it just bloody happen already. Coughing softly she cringed as the burning returned. Coughing further the jolts managed to get to her tummy and she threw up into the bowl with little to know prompting.

Isaac woke up with a crick in his neck from being in the chair for so long. He stretched and looked over to the bed to see how Marisol was doing. She wasn't in the bed. He got up and went to look for her, wanting to make sure that she was all right, and not laying on the floor, hurt or passed out.

He looked toward the front of her flat, and heard the sound of someone being sick in the loo. He went to the door and listened. Poor Mari. He felt so bad for her. He wanted to hold her more than anything, just to comfort her. But he was afraid that she'd just push him away. He wished that he could do something to make her feel better, but having dealt with this before, he knew there was nothing. All that he could do was be there if she wanted him. Out of the way, to allow her the independence that she was used to, but close by if she wanted him.

He gritted his teeth, listening to her getting sick in the bathroom. He couldn't stand it anymore. He wanted to hold her. She was his baby and he wanted to comfort her.

He knocked softly on the door and waited a few seconds, then pushed it open and peeked around it. Seeing that she was decent, Isaac entered the bathroom and moved over to his daughter. He crouched down next to her and pulled her hair back from her face gently with one hand, rubbing her back with the other.

"I'm right here, Mar-bear. I'm not going anywhere."

Mari was surprised when her father came into the loo, but was happy that he had moved her hair from her face. It often did become an annoyance when it came to the obstacle of vomiting, but having her daddy there to hold it back kind of made it less of a chore. Closing her eyes she retched into the bowl once more, releasing what had to be the last of the bile and stomach acid that had to be in her system. Groaning she leaned back into her father's chest. Sweat rolled down her forehead and she was now so tired that she couldn't even see straight.

Swallowing hard she whimpered against him and shivered violently. She felt so cold, but sweat continued to flow from her pores like there was no tomorrow. Looking up at her father she snuggled herself farther into his chest. Just as she had done when she was a little girl.

"When I was little," she grumbled to herself, too sick to really care who was listening. "You were my hero...my hero...you always took care of me when I was sick..."

She swallowed, feeling cold tears slide down her face.

"You would take care of me...but when I got older...and you and mum had more kids...you forgot about me," Marisol paused. "You...you let mum take care of me...you didn't have the time too...you never had the time too..."

Isaac felt his heart shatter. She thought he'd not had time for her? Well, he didn't know the answer to her question. She'd been so young, he hadn't known how to exlpain to her that he'd been trying to get his business off the ground, and it had occupied most of his time. And unfortunately, it had left gaping wounds in his relationships with his children. Wounds that he now knew had not healed over the years.

Isaac knew that if he had to do it over again, he would more than likely still be driven to do the same things, to ensure his children never had to want for anything. But there would be one difference. He would change his own habits and spend all the time he could with his babies and wife. As it was now, he was going to spend the rest of his life making it up to all of them, if they would let him. Because he had no one to blame for the rifts between him and his children but himself.

"Mari, I'm not even going to try to make some lame-ass excuse. I was wrong, and I know that. I should have been there for you when you were sick. All the times you were sick. I wasn't, and I am so sorry. I fucked up your relationship with me all on my own, and I don't even hope that you could forgive me. But maybe, we could start again?"

He brushed her hair back from her eyes, and was now astounded to see that they were so like his. It made his heart swell to see a bit of himself in his daughter.

Marisol nodded, at this point starting over sounded good. Mostly because she was too delirious to really think straight. Whimpering once more she closed her eyes against him and snuggled into him. She knew that she wasn't five, but at the moment she was perfectly content with pretending to be so. Her father was here to take care of her and no one else was around. What more could she ask for? There were often times when she would do things to make herself sick, just so she could get attention from him. She would eat till her stomach hurt, or would drink potions that could give fevers and horrible stomach bugs. It was a pain in the ass to deal with, but she did it because she wanted her daddy to be near her and hold her.

Looking up gently at him she felt more tears fall down her face, and forcing her eyes closed tight she gripped him closer and hid her hurt expression into the fabric of his shirt.

"I...I love you daddy..." she whimpered. "I...I do..."

Isaac had never felt his heart swell this much, not even when his little girl had first told her than she loved him. Not when she gave him her first smile. Not when she had shown him her first drawing and told him it was for him. It felt as if his heart was going to burst right out of his chest. It hurt a little, but it was such a wonderful pain, he would gladly take more of it, for the rest of his life.

He tightened his embrace on Marisol, kissing the top of her head as he stood with her in his arms. She needed to be back in bed, it was cold on the bathroom floor.

He carried her back to her room and lay her on the bed, pulling the covers over her and smoothing back her hair with a smile. He moved over to his chair and sat down, scooting closer to the bed to hold her hand. He loved this girl so much. Had since the day he found out that she was coming.

"Mari, I want you to know that I love you with all that I am. You are my daughter, and I only want you to be happy. I know that I was a horrible father, but I do want us to start over, and have our relationship be a good one. I've missed you, Mar-bear. So much that it's been physically painful at times. I'm happy that you are giving me this chance to be a part of your life."

He winced slightly when his sleeve brushed against his freshly tattooed shoulder. He turned his attention to his sleeve and rolled it up, looking down at the outline.

"Well, I guess that since it didn't bother me too much during the process, I shouldn't be surprised that it's aching a bit now. How long does it do that?"

Marisol shrugged and just leaned against her father. The pain after a tattoo depended on the person. Sometimes it could last for only a day, sometimes a week or two. It all depended on that person and where they had chosen for the tattoo to go. Her father had picked a fairly common place to get a tattoo and it hadn't been all that big. So she would have guessed about five days, a week at the most. In all honesty it was going to itch more than anything. And her father had the pleasure of NOT scratching it until it had completely healed. Laying back down on the bed she closed her eyes.

"It'll take time to heal," she whispered. "Don't pick at it."

If her father ruined that tattoo she would be very upset with him. It hadn't been as hard as her usuals, but all artwork came from the heart. And sure, she would say that the tattoo she had given her father was from her heart.

Don't pick at it. That was easier said than done. It hurt a little bit now, and he had noticed for the last few minutes that as it was starting to get the fever that came from a wound, it was beginning to itch like mad! He knew that he couldn't scratch it, that would destroy the work his daughter had put into it.

"Any advice on what I can do to calm this irritating itch that's forming?" he asked, rolling his shoulder a little bit. It seemed to help, and since his sleeve was rolled up, he figured he could do it a little more, but stopped when the pain began to worsen. He chuckled softly. It looked like he was just going to have to deal with it.

It looked as if it were becoming dry again, and she'd warned him not to let it do that. Excusing himself for a moment, he went to her bathroom and looked at it in the mirror while he applied more of the ointment to it. He sighed with relief when the itch calmed, and the pain eased a bit. He looked at the lable and saw that it was just an ordinary moisturizer, so it made no sense that it would give him any kind of relief other than to keep his tattoo treated and moist.

He returned to Mari's side and showed her his arm.

"So, what do you think of the work you've done so far? Think your Mum will like it, and maybe let me get another one?"

Marisol really didn't know how to respond to that. OF course she was very proud of her own work, but she didn't know what her mother would think. Nor did she care for that matter. No, Marisol worked hard and she was very happy with the turnout. So long as her father kept it moisturized and clean it would heal properly and the coloring would begin. And as soon as Mari got the coloring and the blending done she knew that it would be even more beautiful.

"I don't know dad."

Closing her eyes she tried to fall back asleep, but the discomfort she felt was practically unbearable and she really couldn't bring herself to find a peaceful train of thought. Glancing at the tattoo once more she sighed. Her father only had one and he probably thought that meant he was badass, but Marisol had so many more. She gave herself a new one every year, her body was practically covered in ink. Of course all of her tattoos were beautiful...she had a thing for elegance when it came to females. She would never understand why girls would soil their bodies with even more vulgarity then what they had to.

Placing a fist to her mouth she began to cough again. Closing her eyes she gripped the comforter to her bed and tried to catch her breath. Merlin, it burned her chest so horribly...she could just barely stand it.

"W-w-Water," she croaked. "P-Please daddy...w-w-water..."

Isaac got the glass of water from the bedside table and handed it to Mari. While she drank, he looked over the skin he could now see since she'd changed her pajamas. Her arms were covered in exquisite designs, and he was sure that she'd inked them herself from the way they all appeared to have been done by the same artist.

He tugged the blanket back for a moment, his eyes shooting to hers for permission and examined all the tattoos that he was able to see on her frame.

His daughter was a walking art gallery. And the paintings were priceless. Isaac looked around for his bag and pulled out his sketch pad and colored pencils. After tucking Marisol back in, he began to draw one of the many pictures he had of his family. He did this mostly when he thought they weren't looking, when something they were doing caught his heart. This had caught him.

Isaac drew three pages worth of Mari. One page was just her arms and hands above the blankets, prominantly displaying her tattoos. The other two were of the rest of her, drinking her water, and the other of her just laying in the bed.

He never showed anyone outside of the family his art. It wasn't that he was ashamed of it. Not at all. Just that he wanted his heart's pictures to be kept where they belonged. With his family. But it had been a long time since he'd been able to draw his Mar-bear.

Isaac smiled when he had finished drawing. He didn't think he was a badass. That came from his crew. To him, he was just a father that had been trying to do the best he could for his wife and children.

"Is there anything I can get for you, Mari? I'd be more than happy to get whatever you want or need."

Marisol had been watching her father, but only briefly. It did not take her much to fall back asleep the moment she had drank most of her water. She woke up again to her father asking her a question and her eyes burned slightly as she opened them. Her body was coated in another thin layer of sweat and she almost felt worse than before. Closing her eyes she whimpered softly and tried to go back to sleep. Only it wouldn't come, and she found herself having to go to the bathroom again and being unable to get up. She looked to her father with pleading eyes, but knew he wouldn't know what she wanted or needed by just a look. Her throat was burning and it hurt to talk, maybe she could just wait it out a bit more and if she felt better in the next couple of minutes she could get up and start moving once more.

Whimpering again she wiped some of the sweat from her forehead with a quivering hand. Merlin, what she wouldn't have given for a cool washcloth to place there. But once again that required talking, and the pain was too great for Mari to be willing to utter another word. Closing her eyes she felt tears brim under the lids and tried to focus herself...but that was easier said then done. Merlin, how had her father been able to handle this. Mari could handle just about any type of pain. The pain of a broken heart, the pain of a needle stabbing ink into your skin, and the pain of utter humiliation...but the pain that came along with pneumonia was practically crippling.

Turning to her father, tears delicately balanced in her dark eyes, she rasped out.

"D-d-Da-ddy, h-h-help....*cough*... me."

Isaac looked into his daughter's eyes and stood from his chair. Throwing back her blankets again, he drew her into his arms. The pleading look that she'd given him told him one thing. She had to use the bathroom.

He got her to the room and set her down, holding onto her arm in case she was still weak in the legs and wouldn't be able to stand. As he was near the sink, he got a washcloth and wet it with cold water. His daughter was covered with sweat, and he knew that wasn't comfortable at any time, much less when you had pneumonia. He wiped the sweat from her face, neck and upper arms, hoping that it made her feel a little cooler.

He moved her over to the toilet, and stood, biting his lip, not sure of how to go about this. Mari as an adult, and it wouldn't be right for him to remove her clothing, but he could wait outside the room. He pulled his wand from his pocket and conjured a long string. He tied one end to himself, and the other to Mari's wrist.

"Princess, I know you can't talk too well without it hurting. When you are finished, or if you need my help in any way, you just pull on the string and I'll feel it. I'll be right outside the door."

He kissed her forehead and with a worried glance at her, he moved out into the corridor to allow her privacy.

Mari sighed with partial relief as her father helped her into the bathroom. She was much grateful for him leaving her in there alone, and as soon as she was finished she pulled herself together and sat on the floor of the bathroom. She was just so tired and the heat from her fever was starting to make her feel dizzy and horrid. Granted, she had felt pretty damn horrid to begin with. Closing her eyes she rested her head on the cool porcelain of the bathtub. It felt nice and helped to dull the pain in her head. Sniffling a bit, she almost forgot that her father was waiting for her outside. Gently tugging on the string she let her hand drop heavily upon the marble floor.

She had to admit that was a pretty smart idea on her father's part. She really wasn't up to talking right now, and the string was sure to get his attention far better than her weak, inaudible, voice. Shivering a bit, despite the fact that she felt like her body was on fire she coughed over the rim of the tub. She could taste phlegm, but it was too tight for her to really spit up...and God, from what her father had told her she wasn't sure if she wanted to.

Pulling down on the rope once more she cringed. Her head was starting to hurt from the bright lights, what was taking her father so long?!

Isaac waited patiently outside the bathroom door, expecting the tug on the string tied around his wrist any moment. He leaned against the wall next to the closed portal, thinking about when Mari was a little girl once more. She had been his little princess, and he wanted her to be again. He was glad that he was being given the chance to start over, and hopefully this time, he didn't let her down.

He felt a tug on his wrist, but wasn't quite sure if she had pulled it, or if it had been by accident, so he waited for a moment. He was hoping that she'd pulled on it and was ready to go back to bed, but he didn't want to go busting into the room and catch her in a position that would embarrass her.

A few seconds later, he felt another tug on the string and knew that she'd been calling him. He knocked gently on the door and opened it, peeking around to see where she was, just in case she'd been calling for help instead.

He found Mari sitting on the floor next to her bathtub. His heart contracted. He knew the pain of pneumonia. It was horrible, especially at the beginning, when nothing would really be moving through to break the pain.

He crossed to her and wet the washcloth he still held in his hand with the cold water of the bathtub, wiping her forehead to remove the sweat that didn't seem to want to leave her alone.

"Back to bed, Mar-bear," he whispered, untying the string from her wrist and lifting her into his arms. "And we're going to try to make it a little cooler for you in the bedroom."

Mari nodded, but rather than verbally agree with her father she just shivered. Her body was in such a vice at the present moment, she just wished that everything would sort itself out. She hated being sick, hated having her father baby her like this, hated looking weak. She just wanted to get better and be able to go back to work the next day. But she knew that it was far too serious now, and she would be lucky if she would have a job to go back too.

Resting her head against her father's shoulder she closed her eyes and tried to dream away some of her pain. However it just wasn't working for her. Allowing her eyes to open slowly she realized she had fallen asleep and was now in bed. Sitting up a bit she shivered violently. The room was so cold, but she supposed her father had done that to take her fever down. Coughing into her hand a bit she cringed as it pulled tightly against her lungs.

"D-Daddy?"

She felt so lonely, and since Chace wasn't around she wanted him to snuggle her. Mari knew that she was too old to be held, but at the moment she was pretty sure she had regressed to a three year old child once more. Her, dark, glassy, eyes glanced over to the clock and she cringed when she saw that it was already three am.

"D-Daddy? Where are you?" she croaked.

Isaac had woken up from his second nap in the chair, and realized he had to use the bathroom himself. He'd cracked the window slightly to keep the room cool while his baby girl slept, hoping that it would keep the sweat off her and let her sleep a bit more comfortably. He knew that it wouldn't work for long, but he didn't want her to feel the overwhelming weight of the blankets until she absolutely had to. He remembered the sweltering weight that had been piled on top of him, in effort to break his fever, and it had not been pleasant in the least.

He felt better after he'd used the facilities and washed his hands, then felt his stomach growl. Hmmm. He'd not eaten in quite a while. Wandering into Mari's kitchen, he didn't find anything appetizing to him, and he didn't really want to deplete her food supplies, so he decided to order a pizza from the all night shop around the corner.

While he waited for it to arrive, he checked his messages, finding five texts from Kyle about when he was coming back, three from prospective clients, (those he sent messages back that said he would get back with them when he could if they would please be patient, his daughter was ill and he was not willing to leave her side) and one from Quinn, to let him know that she loved him and to check his voice mail.

He called that next and smiled when he heard the hopes that Mari would be feeling better soon and that both he and Mari were missed. As soon as he hung up from the phone call, his pizza arrived and he paid for it, giving the delivery boy a rather large tip for having to work so late.

He set the box on the counter and went to check on Mari. He got about halfway to her room when he heard her calling for him. He broke into a run and entered the now frigid room. The window would have to be closed. He moved over to it, shutting it quickly and moved over to Marisol.

"I'm here, honey, I'm right here." He put his hand on her forehead. Oh, it was much better. She wasn't so hot anymore, but he didn't know if it was due to the temperature of the room, or that it had finally been brought down. He forgot about his pizza and crawled under the covers with her, holding her to his chest.

"I'm right here, baby."

Mari buried her face into his chest and snuggled as far into him as she could. He felt so cozy to her and the warmth from his body was so welcoming. Her daddy had always felt so warm to her, and even to this day a hug from him was all she needed to encase her body in warmth.

Breathing in the smell of his cologne she felt her eyes get heavy once more and begin to fall closed. She was so sick of falling asleep and getting back up just feeling worse. All she wanted to do was be able to wake up and possibly feel like she could breath. Rather then to wake up and be welcomed with a deep burning in her chest and an upset stomach.

"Thank you," she breathed. "I was so cold. I'm sorry if I interrupted anything you were doing...I just...I got lonely."

Isaac shook his head. It was nothing for her to have inturrupted his dinner. His daughter's comfort was more important to him than his stomach. He wrapped his arms more tightly around Mari and pulled her blanket up.

"It was nothing important, Princess. All that matters is that you get better."

He didn't want to make her feel worse by telling her that he'd ordered a pizza, it wasn't fair to her. She'd not meant to get sick, it had just happened, like it did for everyone sometime in their lives. It would pass, and he wanted his relationship with her to be rebuilt in this process.

He tucked the blanket around them and hugged her to his chest.

"Are you feeling any warmer now, baby? I don't want to have you overheat again, but it wasn't fair to leave the window open as long as it was. I'm sorry, I should have shut it earlier."

He pulled her up onto his lap as he kicked his shoes off under the covers, knocking them to the floor. There, now he could cuddle her properly.

Marisol snuggled into her father, still slightly shocked that she was small enough to fit onto his lap...but she supposed there were some things that one never grew out of. Her head lolled against his shoulder and she let out another dry cough. She loved that he was here, and she could not believe they had gone so long without trying to rekindle things sooner. All those wasted years, they both had no one to blame but themselves....more so her.

Pulling the blankets up so that her father was covered as well she snuggled farther into his arms and began to pass out again. She hoped her father was okay with this, because if he left she would not be able to sleep.

"Good night daddy," she whispered. "I love you."