Gavin had only been to Iceland briefly, but he'd never forgotten it. That first and heretofore only visit was during his years of "semi-retirement", when he only took a smaller number of excellent paying contracts. It had been a memorable experience for a number of reasons: it was the closest he'd come to failing a job in years, Gavin had almost died, and it had probably been the tipping point in his decision to offer to step back and stay home with Aurora and Will. 

He'd always meant to go back, sensing that there was something there worth exploring, but life got in the way. 

When he'd headed out to Sicily for Aurora, unsure whether he'd find her alive, dead, or somewhere in between, he'd made a phone call during one of the points where he was stuck in the airport. Tara had arranged things for him, procuring exactly what he'd wanted.

It was a small cabin in the Krýsuvík region, located higher up in the mountains than most travelers would go. It offered extreme solitude. The drive up to the cabin was treacherous; the road had been made very recently and wasn't paved. Once the rented car settled into place next to the cabin, Gavin knew it would be foolish to try to move it again until they were leaving for good, barring an emergency. 

The sky above them was wide, a vibrant blue or murky grey depending on the weather. The mountain air was cold, but crisp and refreshing, when the sun was out, but dangerously chilled at night. The mountainous area was surrounded by several hot springs, and a letter left inside detailed which were generally safe to visit. The cabin itself was simple and very recently assembled; it had only three rooms. The main room had a large fireplace, two very comfortable chairs by the fire, and a small table with two decks of cards, a stack of books, and a case of Irish whiskey on it. The bedroom was small, but had an extremely expensive, brand new mattress and bedframe. The bathroom had obviously just had the plumbing installed and still had fresh paint on the walls; there was only a tiny shower and toilet.

As the car slowed to a halt, Gavin exited quickly and grabbed the bags of various appropriate clothing they'd purchased in Reykjavík; leading Aurora into the room, he had a grim look on his face that surprised his daughter, but after a deep breath his good humor returned. 

Aurora trusted her father, that said, he'd never taken her out into this sort of situation before with so little explanation.  Oh sure, there had been many trips to the forest and even a test or two in which Gavin left her somewhere to see her sort out what she'd do in a position of finding herself in the woods without gear.  He was a very big fan of practical real-world tests... but she was pregnant and he knew it and this was a freaking mountain in the god-damned tundra!  Surely the news of her planning to marry and being with child hadn't driven him to lock her away in some Icelandic mountain prison for the rest of her natural life?

Well, as humorous as that thought was, she didn't really know what he hoped to accomplish here.  Yet, she had to admit, it was nice that she didn't have to face her mom yet.  Or anyone else really.  If she was honest, despite being colder than a witches tit, it was beautiful up here.  It was the sort of place she might lose herself in, if only for a little while.

Rora looked around the tiny cabin and tilted her head to the side as her father's grim look melted into something lighter.  "So... this is it?"

She looks around the room.

"It's no Hollowood but... it'll do for a while."  she arched an eyebrow at him.  "How long are we staying?"

Gavin flashed a subdued smirk.

"Hollowpoint has its charms, but it doesn't have everything. And we're staying for at least 48 hours- and then you'll decide when we leave. If you want to head out in two days, fine. If you want to head out in two weeks, that's fine too."

He paused, tossing his coat over the case of Irish whiskey to cover it. Then he walked over to the fireplace and began the process of lighting it. Three minutes later the small room was well on its way to being heated by an increasingly blazing fire.

"How far along are you?"

Aurora's eyes had been locked on the whiskey, but as soon as her dad's coat covered it, she looked away.  She knew better.  It wasn't there for her.  It might even hurt the baby.  So, no matter how much she wanted a taste to dull the ache in her chest, she'd avoid thinking about it too much.  

Instead, she took off her own coat and hung it on a peg by the door.  She marveled at the lack of dust in the place and the new construction smell.  It was as if someone had walked up the mountainside and built this place just for them - but who?  And why?  And when?  The expense involved would have been extreme to be sure, even in the best of times, not that her parents couldn't afford to make a bolthole on a mountain in Iceland.  It just seemed... well, odd.  Surely her father didn't have this place built for her on the spur of the moment?  For a two day trip?  So how and why had he come into possession of it?

Then she furrowed her brow as he asked her about the pregnancy & she feared she knew why they were here... perhaps it was to get things settled between them.  He could be angry and disappointed here, work through it, then take her home to support her when Mom lost her collective shit.

The thought of Gavin being upset or disappointed was an ache she could hardly stand. 

"Two months."

She turned around and walked back to a chair and sat down to warm herself.  She laced her fingers and stared at her father working on the fire and the nagging words of Nonna crept back into her head.  Part of her wondered now if her father would see this baby as a mistake she made, a screw-up, a failure. 

Aunt Tara wasn't living the life of a nun and she never came home with a baby... and Aurora had learned her tricks.  It was possible her Dad knew that and the thought of him thinking she ended up this way by accident stung worse than him thinking she'd been whoring around with men for years.  She needed to own this, to let her father know she hadn't messed up.  She'd made a choice and she'd take responsibility for the consequences.  She didn't expect him and her mother's pity.   

"I know when and where it happened."

The silence between them, for the first time in her whole life, didn't feel comfortable.  Instead, it was a weight.  Maybe it was created by both of them or just imagined by her, but it was a weight none the less.  Aurora shifted in her seat and found herself offering information Gavin didn't ask for just to fill the quiet with something other than the thoughts rattling around in her mind. 

"I knew I couldn't talk with mom about it so... a few years back I went to Aunt Tara for advice.  She got me in touch with someone when I thought I might be ready to  ... with Anthony Russo."

Her voice trailed off. 

She'd always been honest with Gavin, and he never shied away from the tough topics, but this wasn't the same as talking about how it felt to kill a man or anything of that sort.  In this moment, she wasn't a protege with her mentor, she was just a daughter answering her father's questions about a topic she suspected he might not REALLY want to know much about.  Yet, she felt like if she didn't say more, there was a chance that he might make assumptions and her father's approval of her and her choices had always been of primary concern to Aurora.  She could bear her mother's disapproval, Lord knew her mother did it often, but her father's?  

She spoke again,  "Billy was the first, though, and... on our last visit to Chicago I knew where things were going for us and I decided to let thing happen as they would.  I just never expected things would work out so fast." 

She sighed.  She realized, only then, that it was probably Nonna and the villager's reactions to her bold behavior which left her feeling so raw that she was now over-explained things to the one person on the planet she never had to.

She looked down at the ring on her hand and stared at it rather than look at her father.  

"Two months."

Gavin nodded. Good to know. Something he could plan for. He listened as she spoke, since she seemingly felt the need to. The fact that she had to go through this without Billy.... Gavin swallowed his anger, achieving a state of calm.

"You don't need to explain yourself to me. I approved you of and Billy. I wish he was here to help you through this. But you're going to have a lot of help. Me. Your mother. Will. When he told me... I don't think I've ever seen him so torn up about something."

Gavin stared down into the fire.

"You know how he is... bullshitting everything and everyone. But for that... he seemed really upset. Not by you being pregnant, but him telling me. I don't know if you're pissed at him- or if you understand why he did it and agree. But I'm proud of him. I think he chose to hurt himself there by breaking your trust because he loves you- and he loves that kid. And he didn't want my ignorance to result in injury or death to either of you."

He glanced up at Aurora.

"That's the attitude you want from people, and it's the attitude we're all going to to have- to help you, regardless of what it means for us. And that's not a burden- that's a choice that we'll gladly make. You're always going to miss Billy, but you'll never be alone."

Gavin looked at his daughter, his gaze focused.

"The way that this happened... with Billy. It's horrible, and I wish you didn't have to deal with this. But the world, as you know, can be hell. Regardless of the circumstances... you are going to be a wonderful mother."

"I told William the night before I left about the baby.  I told him what I'd do to share the news with you and mom and how excited I was to not only tell Billy after he proposed but especially you."  

"Hating Will over this isn't going to make anything better.  I just have to suck it up,"

Like everything else.

"... cause the alternatives are pretty shitty if I'm being honest.  There's not a single scenario where I go home and do the shit I've been thinking about since we left Sicily that doesn't end poorly for us."

She looked past her father into the first bits of flame consuming the wood, listening to the sound it made as it struggled to come to life.

"Figured that's the real reason why you brought me up here to Santa's Summer Home."  She tried to joke, it felt forced as hell.  "To cool off a bit before returning home.  I'm fairly confident that me spitting in Louis Mezzo's face and calling him 'una piaga per il buon nome di suo padre e l'onore di suo nonno'  wouldn't be received well, and that's one of the less colorful things I've thought up since the plane left Sicily."

She knew it was an ugly thing to say to a man whose family had been as close to blood to hers, but this was the second time Philly had stolen happiness right out of her grip - third if you considered that they had helped to kill Marie too.  Louis Mezzo more than any other knew, he had to know what he'd do to her by supporting this war & gaining from it. 

Despite all the years of loyal service from the Byrnes, his choices had left the next generation of Byrnes without a father.  His choices had left her to face this alone.  Sure, she'd have help with the baby from her family, but returning to the life she'd begun to build on her own would be the cost of it.  And one day that help would be gone too - unless her parents' uncanny luck held and they died old in their beds, a fact she long believed would never come to pass. 

She would finish out the school year, graduate, all as planned - maybe, I suppose that depends on if mom knows I'm pregnant too - and then return to Philly.  Mom would probably insist she move into Hollowpoint again.  Aurora knew she'd have to pitch a fit in protest or suffer her mother's constant involvement in every aspect of this process & that she knew she could not bear.  Her mother didn't know how to NOT take control of everything.  Dad would probably bring about the compromise of remodeling the guest house, or something similar, to give her a sense of independence while also keeping her and the baby both close to him and safe.  It seemed like the sort of suggestion he'd come up with.

She'd relent to their demands, of course, it was probably for the best.  After all, as Alucard stated:  he'd be there to help her too but what the fuck did he know about babies?  Moral support and a way to keep herself sane, that was what Alucard would be.  A way to remember she briefly had a glimpse of a future outside of Race Street, one that looked oh so different than the one in front of her now. 

With Bella being a Godmother, the truth was a pregnant daughter and a new grandchild read as liabilities, assets which demanded protection.  She'd be a target now and so the dragon would do as she always did... her claws would close tight around that which she feared losing.  With that thought in mind, there weren't a lot of choices not unless she wanted to stay in hiding forever.  

Life as I've known it these last two years is done.

Aurora sunk into her chair a bit deeper, folding her arms across herself as her father insisted she wouldn't be alone.  She let her chin fall so he couldn't see her eyes dampen at his sincere expression of love and desire to help her.  This cabin, she realized, felt very small now.  He'd see her in here, no matter where she went.  At some point, unless she could get him to let her go for walks alone, he'd likely see her cry.  She didn't think she could fight it off for days.  

It wasn't that he hadn't ever seen it.  He'd kissed wounded knees, helped build her back up when she failed to secure a solo routine or had bullies giving her shit endlessly, and he held her all night after Bo had been hit by that milk truck and she had cried for hours then.  She used to cry over every funeral they went to as well ... until the pier.  After that, Aurora had decided there was no point.  No point to prayers.  No point to tears.  Grief was a waste of precious time better-spent living.  Anyone, no matter how strong they were like Uncle Will, or how powerful they were like Grandpa Jack, was Death's to claim.  And embracing that truth had brought her peace, until now.  

She stared into the flames.  Grandpa Jack wouldn't have let this happen.  He wouldn't have made war on Billy, not knowing that she and Billy were in love.  He valued the Byrne family contributions to Philly and would have done everything possible to stop the war.  And again there was that quiet nagging thought...

Would he really have done that? 

Did Grandpa Jack get mom out of Detroit out of love for Tara and her father and their loyal service... or because her mother had moved and counter moved into the perfect position to be poached?  Had Gavin's romance with Bella been nothing but convenience for Jack to do something to benefit Race Street?  Had the contents of the room in Port Huron at the top left of the stairs been evidence that mom had hedged her bets by courting two of Philly's most beloved Soldato?  Could Bella really be capable of seeing so far ahead & manipulating people & events to have escaped the fate that befell Detroit or was she attributing too much to the woman?  

She warned me.  She warned Billy.  Begged us not to be together because THIS would happen. 

She knew, but was it a talent for seeing the motion of things or knowledge of plans?  Surely the prior, not the later.  Her mother blessed them and their relationship before the end.  Surely she wouldn't have done that if she knew... unless she needed Billy to not see it coming?  Had Billy begun to worry about an impending war?  Was her blessing given to hide a secret move against Philly's allies the way one sacrificed pawns to win at chess?  Was that sort of thing in her?

What do I really know about what she's capable of doing to get and keep what she wants in life?  What any of them are capable of?

She rubbed the bridge of her nose. 

This was not who she was.  It never had been and perhaps that was her mistake.  Yet, wishing that she had been smarter or more capable of seeing things coming wasn't going to undo what happened to Billy.  She knew damn well she was falling into a trap that death always set for those who survived.  She'd learned to not let herself feel this way after the pier.  Even with Anthony, once she got to pound the shit out of someone, it passed.  And yet, half a dozen people were dead and she felt no different.  Not even a small bit. 

Aurora hated to not be in control of herself.  Her father had taught her about self-discipline, of being able to control her emotions when she needed to and she needed to now.  For herself.  For the baby too.  Yet the thoughts that bombarded her mind were not easily dismissed.  Anger, accusations, bone-deep guilt, memories of lovely moments she'd never have again and of all the future ones she'd anticipate for years with a sense of dread.  All those things that kids do that Billy will never know, and now a child who would grow up like her, never knowing the face of the person who gave them life.  Her son or daughter would never hear Billy's laugh, see him dance, or share a big breakfast with him.

Her hand slid down to her mouth, her eyes closed, the small bit of flesh on her chin quivered and she winced as if struck.  She shook her head no as if this would ward off the tears but like so much she felt she'd tried lately: Aurora failed.  A tear slipped out of clenched eyelids and slid down her cheek.  She swallowed but the anguish felt like forcing knives down her throat.  Defiantly she pulled her hand from her mouth and scrubbed the tear away, clearing her throat loudly before she could speak.  

"I need to stop."  Her voice was a choked growl of self-loathing.  

She glanced at Gavin and she tried to focused on her anger at the situation rather than all the things she'd lost.  She tried to let that be the thing she wore on her face so her father did not have to see how empty and hollow she was feeling now - that the warrior he'd built was shattered into a thousand tiny shards as if she'd been made of glass, not steel. 

I have to bury it.  The same way they buried Billy in Sicily today... deep, never to be seen again.  I can't let this break me.  I can't hide and I can't self-destruct.  I need to crush this until it has no more power over me.

The rage she wasn't scared to let her father see.  Rage wasn't a weakness, so long as it was controlled.  And she was trying her best to think of how she would control it when next she had to smile at the men and women who gunned down her friends and the father of her unborn child - the love of her life. 

"I just don't know how yet, but I'm trying."  

"Santa's Summer Home? Didn't we handle that when you were seven?"

Still, Gavin leaned back and listened as his daughter spoke. Mostly. He still didn't really speak Italian, but everyone just seemed to assume he did. Or German. Or French.

Sometimes he missed Tara.

But his eyes and heart were with his daughter, and he prevented interrupting her. Sometimes, you just had to let people talk. He'd learned that lesson particularly well with Bella. So he listened, and considered his responses. Her comments about Louis... those can wait. Honestly, Gavin didn't care if Aurora and Louis ever talked again- or at least not for a while. But he kept listening, as he saw a thousand thoughts flash through Aurora's eyes and roll down her cheek. 

Gavin took his daughter's hand and willed her eyes to meet his.

"It's okay to cry.... I can't even remember the last time I cried. I don't even think I cried when my mother died, between the shock of it happening, the rush of killing my father, the fear over the future for Aunt Tara and me... I can't remember. When I was a boy, crying almost always meant I'd get another scar. So I just never did, and I can't rightly tell you whether I have in the last four decades..."

He took a deep breath, narrowing his eyes for a moment as he considered something. Then he seemed to reach his decision.

"Aunt Tara had this cabin built in the last two days. I don't want to know how much money it cost her to throw everything up on such short notice, but... I was always going to come here. At first, when we heard you were in trouble, there was no word if you were alive or dead. If you were dead, I was planning on avenging you and then coming here for a while. And if I was here by myself, I'd probably be crying right now. I'd like to think my body hasn't forgotten how to do that."

Gavin frowned.

"Normal people cry. Only fucked up people try to deny their emotions. There's just a time and a place where it's appropriate. But you're not on the job right now, Rora. Give yourself a couple days to let everything out. I'm here to talk, advise, or just sit here and keep you company. You tell me what you need."

He stood, releasing his daughter's hand.

"I'll leave you alone a bit. Take a day or two to just wake up, cry, look out the window, read... whatever. The weather is supposed to be shit for a little while anyways. But once the sun breaks, let's take a couple walks together. We're going to have to..."

Gavin nodded at the pair of bows hanging on the wall; two quivers of hunting arrows were hung underneath them.

"... because right about then, our food'll run out and we'll have to hunt if we want to eat."

"I always wanted to be just like you."  She said quietly after her father finished talking, she looked up to his eyes. "My whole life, but especially after William was born, I just lived for those moments when someone who didn't know us would say how much I was like you."

She smiled despite the pain in her eyes.

"I tried to not think about it, but I couldn't forget Marie and Sal, even before I met him.  I always knew there were parts of me that even I hadn't met yet.  I wondered about them, their lives, and ... I thought alot about how Marie died."

She furrowed her brow.

"I told myself it didn't matter.  I know whose daughter I am - I'm yours.  I thought if I pushed myself hard enough to be the things you were that I could be as good or better than any kid you would have on your own.  I think that's why I fought with Will so much when he was little.  No matter what I did, I couldn't undo who made me.  He would always have something of you that I don't."

The tears came now, hot trails down her cheeks.

"I know how stupid that sounds but it's why I told myself I'd never have children.  You were the best father anyone could ask for and still I felt ... broken, like I was a pretty cup with a small chip in its lip.  Never quite right even in the cupboard with all the other nice bits.  You and mom have this charmed life that no one else but you has ever had, not so far as I know.  I just... I couldn't put my own kids through that.  People die.  I could die a minute after having this baby and then where would it be?" 

She shook her head.

"Billy told me about his dream for us and I got scared cause it looked nothing like what I saw my life being.  He wanted this big family and so I took him to Chicago.  I showed him this orphan train and tried to make him understand what it was you saved me from & what I didn't want: the life that might have been mine, the life that could easily be our child's.  We're all just one bad decision, one unlucky or off guard moment away from it and what sort of parent doesn't think about that?"

She sobbed, she felt like she was attacking his life choices, but it wasn't that - not at all.  It was her choices she was angry with, scared of, terrified of now.

"You should have seen him with those kids," She said with a choked voice, "He was mobbed by them... he carried them around and played with them... fed them all and then he..."  she scoffed and shook her head.

"He paid the train conductor to take the train to Detroit."  she laughed through tears.  "I told him he was a moron!  Did he think he could save them all?  Would he have his operation working to find upscale orphanages all across the United States?"

She shook her head.

"Billy never met a problem he was afraid to grab hold of and over-power."  Her body shook as folded in on herself eeking out, "He was too good for this ... and he made me believe, just for a moment that maybe there was some plan to it all.  That everything ... from us being the children of Marie and Lordian to you & mom and your impossible lives - that it wasn't wrong to want it.  That maybe I didn't have to be... this... this thing that I am.  Maybe there was more to me too?  The parts I didn't know."

She shook her head.

"And now... our baby won't know him.  Our baby won't know parts of itself and I can't save it from that.  I did just what Marie did.  I may leave this baby without anyone if I stay in this life and if I go away... I have no one!"

The cry became ugly then, her pretty face a twisted mess of tears and snot and drool - contorted into a near impossible rictus of pain.  "IT'S NOT SUPPOSE TO BE THIS WAY!  WHY!?!  WHY IS HE GONE!"

She shook as she screamed at Gavin. 

"THIS WASN'T MY DREAM!  WHAT KINDA... KIND OF MOTHER WILL BE TO A CHILD THAT I DIDN'T WANT?  HOW CAN I DO THIS WITHOUT HIM!?!  I'M A KILLER, THE DEVIL'S DAUGHTER, I'M NOT FIT TO BE SOMEONE'S MOM... I'M ... I'M... I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHO I AM - HOW CAN I?!?  WHAT IF IT GETS SICK OR NEEDS MOM THINGS I NEVER BOTHERED TO LEARN?  HOW CAN I DO THIS?!?"

All her false strength was shed.  All that seemed left behind of the girl that had once been, was a flurry of emotions and fears she didn't know what to do with.  So she threw them at him.  She barely reasoning what she was saying or why she just had to get it out.

Gavin's face was his usual steady expression, but perhaps only Bella could have perceived that this was a difficult, even painful conversation for him, even though he was fully engaged with it and not interested in turning away from it. There were a few places where he bit back sentences just before they left his mouth to interrupt her. Instead, he forced himself to silence and waited until she was done.

"My father was the worst man I ever met. I have his blood. It doesn't define me. Blood doesn't matter as much as people do. I'm sorry you grew up feeling that way. My head says that that's a normal thing to have happen, but I still wish I could have done, could do, something more."

He was quiet for a while, thinking, as he absorbed the weight of her screaming. 

"Some of the questions you have- some of the rage you have... they're unanswerable things. Bad things happen to good people all the time. And we're not even particularly good people, depending on most interpretations. Life can be hell sometimes, and I wish I had been in a position where I could have stopped what happened to Billy. But no one was. Wars happen, and maybe someone way up the chain makes a decision, but for just about everyone else there are no choices involved- it's just weather."

"I'm going to miss Billy. I wish I could have got to know him better...."

"Your baby won't know parts of itself.. okay. I'm not going to tell you how to feel about that when you've lived it and I haven't. But a couple things. First, I think it's better to be alive and have questions about your origins than to not be alive at all. Life is happening here, and it's never perfect, but it's better than the alternative. Second... you've still got Billy with you. He's a part of you now- his thoughts, his ideas, his life. Sometimes I still hear Will's voice about something. Or Jack's. Or Adonis'. Or.. others. It sucks, compared to having them alive and standing here... but it's something. And maybe part of Billy will be there in that child, maybe not."

He paused, thinking.

"I don't believe in blood. The worst man I ever met was my father, and I reject the idea that anything running in my veins makes me more like him. So I dunno, it seems wrong for me to believe that and then say that this kid will have this link to Billy. I don't think it's true, in their blood at least, but this kid will have you. And if you remember Billy, then maybe that kid knows a little bit about themself that they otherwise would."

"I just... think everyone is broken. I am. Your mother is. Will is. Everyone you've ever met has been chipped or shattered or crushed, and sometimes you can see it and sometimes you can't. If you're trying to shield your child from brokenness, you're destined to fail... I think it's part of being human."

Gavin felt an eerie sense of deja vu.

"If it would make you feel better, we can line up logistics. The 'mom things' don't matter. The first time I saw you... I'd actually never held a baby in my life before. I figured it out with you, and you've got a lot more of a head start than I do. But we can get you the knowledge you need. Set up a trust fund. Set up, in advance, a family where your child would go to if something happened to you and all of us. You can't plan for everything, but there are things you can act on, and maybe that will help you feel better. If you get through this tough stretch and decide this is something you don't, we can explore other options. "

"You're not the devil's daughter. You're my daughter. And your mother's. You're a Byrne... moreso than Will, right now. Byrnes aren't identified by our blood, but our scars. We learn to live with them. We learn to heal. And we don't let them define us."

Gavin nodded toward Aurora's midsection.

"That pain? Of not having Billy? Your child will live with that scar too. And they'll make their own way, and you'll help them however you can. Aurora, Sal and Marie didn't make you. Your mom and I didn't make you. The only 'parts of you' that matter are the ones you choose. You made yourself, and you make yourself again every day."

Gavin stood up, took Aurora's hands, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her head towards his chest. His voice was soft, but determined.

'You're going to be okay."

He stood there for a long while as Aurora held onto him, crying into his chest, before he added under his breath.

"If you can handle me talking as much as your mother does, you can handle anything... now sit down. And I want you to tell me the funniest story about Billy that you can think of. Then I'll tell you how he asked for my blessing. We'll toast his memory. And since you can't drink... I suppose I'll have to drink for two.... or three."

Aurora nuzzled Gavin as she clung to him, calming herself slowly.  

For one of the very few times in her whole life, Gavin offered information about his own Father and Aurora listened intently.  The little she knew of her father's childhood was horrible and she hated how he & Aunt Tara must have suffered.  Of course, that suffering had made him who he was, he wasn't wrong about that part.  And yet, she wouldn't have wished his scars - literal or figurative - on anyone.  

"I'm sorry.  I never thought about how messed up it was to think that way when you're nothing like your own father."  She rose up and kissed his cheek before slipping out of his embrace and back down into her chair to try and compose herself.

"I never wanted to ask you about that stuff.  I didn't want to hurt you."  she admitted, "Seems kind of foolish when you realize I've spent all this time thinking about what it meant for me to be Salvatore's blood & here you were with a father who would have given him a run for his money."

She wrinkled her brow.  

"Aunt Tara told me a bit about your childhood and mom has hinted at things, but I can see with my own eyes that you're not like him so, it's clearly true.  We're who choose to be, that's something I guess."

She sighed, feeling tired and oddly better after venting a bit.  She pulled her legs up into the chair, still sniffling and wiping a tear from time to time.  "Please don't think I didn't feel your love.  I never told you how I felt because I did.  And I love you, though we don't say it as much as some people I suppose I just always assume that you know it - but I wish I had said it more to Billy."

She touched her belly and looked down at it, "And I'll say it to the baby every day... twice sometimes, once for me and once for Billy since he can't."  She smiled and began to tell her father the story about how Billy had spent an entire night searching a huge political fundraiser for the hitman who he was supposed to hire - not realizing he'd been drinking and dancing with her all night.  Aurora laughed and for the first time since meeting up with her dad, there was a hint of joy in her eyes as she recounted the tale.

"If you could have seen the look on his face when he found the tattoo on my thigh and realized I was the professional he was looking for... oh Dad!  It was something right out of the funnies!  He looked like a cartoon!"

Aurora went on and on about Billy that night - about him cutting in on the tango with her and this other fellow, and about what a great dancer he was.  She told Gavin about how after Lordian went with Marie to Chicago he was left with his alcoholic mother who wasn't very kind to him and so Billy took a lot of jobs as teen to stay out of the house.  How one of those jobs was as backstage security at a theatre where the motion picture star Fred Astare was just getting his start.  Billy, as it turned out, had gotten Mr. Astare's attention and affection and so dance was something she and Billy both loved and did uncommonly well.

"I think it will be a while before I want to dance again."  She sighed, realizing her dad had gotten up and gotten whiskey at some point.  She'd been so into telling her story that she hadn't paid much mind to anything else.  The memory was as vivid to her as if it happened yesterday but it had been more than a year now.

She looked at the ring on her hand.  "I tried to get a priest to lie and say we'd been married in secret."  She chuckled.  "I must have found the only priest in the world unwilling to lie for an unreasonable sum of money."

She sighed again.  "Well, if it's a boy, I'll name him for Billy.  If he can't have his last name, at least he'll have the first bits. Benedict Joseph Michael - a mouthful but not a bad name I suppose."  

She arched an eyebrow and admitted, "Though my first inclination was to name him for you."

She got up then.  "I don't suppose Aunt Tara left some tea here since she did this for you?"  She knew the answer to that.  Gavin wouldn't have drank it.  There would be no point to even looking.  Instead, she got a glass of water.

"I'm glad he asked you if he could marry me."  she smiled at her dad as she walked back with the water, "I kept telling him not to worry about mom so much... when you make up your mind she always comes round."

She sat down to listen to whatever her Dad would share.

Gavin frowned for a moment, then he walked over to the table and poured himself a larger drink. It wouldn't be there worst thing in the world for Aurora to hear about how a child born into a nightmare could grow beyond it. As he talked, a part of him left the room to be with the memory. 

"The first memory I have is trying to kill my father; it's the night I got my first scar. Tara's first memory too, actually. My father had just knocked my mother down by punching her in the face. And I just... snapped. I grabbed a knife and tried to kill him. I was five. Maybe I should have waited a few more years before I made my move, but I wasn't thinking. He knocked the knife away easily, knocked me out, and then when I woke up he was pinning me against the table in our cabin, holding my neck to keep me from jerking around too much as he drew the knife along my back. I remember fighting, but it not being any use. Mostly, I remember my mother. Just her expression when she watched it happen, and her powerlessness to protect me. I used to get a new scar every time I failed him, and I failed him often, in ways that I could never totally anticipate. He taught me how to hunt, how to fight, how to kill, but for every success I had there were dozens of failures."

Gavin was quiet for a while.

"Even my failures were sometimes successes, though. Sometimes he'd go a few weeks without anything happening, and you started to see the rhythm. The warning signs. As I got older, I started to recognize them- to take advantage of them to make sure it was always me that set him off, instead of Tara or my mother. He'd still hit them... but I like to think I protected them from the worst of it. Or maybe I just tell myself that to find some meaning in what happened."

"I think I tried to kill him about twelve times... usually once a year or so... until it finally worked. He just always seemed to read my mind and know what I was thinking. I finally got him, but it wasn't until he'd killed my mother. I got so angry that I went for him, and I'd like to say that that anger gave the edge I needed, but it didn't. I fought hard, and I lost. I was... 16 or so. He'd beat me and he was about to kill me; I was starting to become a threat. I remember looking up at the gun, and thinking I'd lived a shit life, but it was better than nothing. That I'd at least had a few good memories. Then Aunt Tara planted an ax in his back, and I grabbed the gun and killed him."

He was quiet for a while, thoughtful.

"I never wanted children. Ever. I figured that I was so fucked up as a kid there was no way I'd be a good parent. So when your mom had gotten shot and couldn't have kids, I thought it was perfect. I figured that Tara would have a family, that I'd be Crazy Uncle Gavin, but that I'd always be an arm's length away from the kids. Far enough away where my own fucked up childhood couldn't touch them. And then there was a war, I was running through Chicago with Bella to get to Marie's house... and there you were. And I suddenly felt... possessive. There were other people who would want to take care of you- friends, extended family, whatever- but you were just this tiny, screaming, scared thing. And I didn't know shit about babies, but I remember Bella had to do something and handed you to me. And you looked up at me and you stopped screaming and it just..."

Gavin waved his hands- unable to describe a feeling beyond words.

"... you were mine. And I was going to try my hardest to figure out what I needed to do to take care of you. And I fucked up a bunch, but I tried. I tried hard. As long as you're willing to try... you're going to be fine."

Aurora watched as Gavin got more drunk, the two of them occasionally sharing stories - first about the things she feared and more about her own childhood.  Still, the haunted look Gavin had while talking about his past lingered until at last, she wasn't sure if he was drinking more because of his past... or hers. 

He was the quintessential father, looking at his little girl now as a woman and she was seeing his scars as something much more than what they'd been to her all these years.  Now, she knew why her mother touched them as she did and those quiet moments with Billy where she emulated the tenderness she sometimes briefly caught passing between her parents, stung just a little more.

In time, Gavin was laying on the bed, a good dent having been put into his whiskey.  Aurora watched over the fire.  Unable to sleep.  She was exhausted, but the thoughts kept her mind going still.  She stared at the embers glowing red, halos forming around them.  It was so pretty and then Billy came to sit in her father's chair.

For a moment it felt the most natural thing in the world, and as he smiled at her, some part of her mind tried to struggle awake - wanting to know he was really with her.  Exhaustion won out and he spoke, "You're tired."

"I don't want to dream."  She said half-muttered/whispered softly between overly drowzy yawns.  She turned to his chair then, laying the side of her face against the back of her chair, hugging her knees tight.  Her body relaxed more and she slipped deeper into the place between dreams and consciousness. 

She stared at him.  He was wearing that blue shirt, the one he had a million of, and she could smell him.  That cologne, she inhaled deeply and he filled her senses.

"You should go to the bed.  There's room enough.  Let your dad hold you, profondità della mia anima, as I would."

She felt the ache in her chest again.  She lifted a hand towards him, but he was just out of her reach.

"I'll make you a deal.  If you get up and go to bed, then we can dance the tango all night again.  If you don't, I'll be forced to dance with the pretty red-head I saw on the way in.  I think she might have really liked the look of me..."

Aurora chuckled in her half-sleep state, eyelids rising and falling slowly as her amber eyes struggled not to roll back into her head.  "Liar."

"I'd never lie to you."

"I'm dreaming..."

"You are, but is that such a bad thing?  Would you rather be dreaming about ...?" 

For a moment she was standing in a great dark woods.  Fear rose up in her.  Billy was nowhere to be seen.  Someone was chasing her and she began to run.  She could hear Aunt Tara calling out for her.  And soon Tara's voice was her mother and it wasn't the Canadian wilderness she was fleeing for her life on - but the streets of Philly.

"Roar?" 

Her eyes fluttered and she tried to fight awake.  The chair was empty as she blinked once, twice, and then... she smiled.  Billy returned.  Somewhere in the room she could hear music playing softly.  

"Where'd you go?"

"I'm here."

"It's our song."

"Come to bed."

"I'll never dance again."

Billy held out his hand as he rose from the seat.  He began to sing the words to her until she pushed herself up from the chair, stumbling sleepily.  She felt his hand take hers and they swayed.  Nothing fancy, just him holding her near and that gentle rocking motion - back and forth and back again.

She yawned and moved with him towards the bed without realizing that was where he was taking her.  When she finally reached the bed, he kissed her forehead & she closed her eyes.  Then he whispered, "You'll dance again, Kid.  I promise."

When her eyes came open, Billy was gone & the song had ended. 

"Billy?"  Aurora looked around and remembered.  Billy was gone.  He wasn't really there.  It was just a dream.  She sighed and settled down into the bed next to her father, snuggling up close to him as she used to do when she had a nightmare as a little girl.  She felt his arms wrap around her on what she assumed was instinct and then a deep and dreamless sleep seized her.

Gavin had only meant to lie down for a few minutes and recharge, but he was woken up much later when Aurora stumbled into the room. She climbed into the bed, and he rested a reassuring arm on her the way he used to when she'd have a nightmare and crawl in bed with him and Bella. He waited until her breathing slowed and she was sleeping deeply before silently extracting himself and going to restart the fire in the living room.

Settling comfortably into one of the large chairs, Gavin looked down at the fire. He watched it devour the wood, and he tried to silence his thoughts. Moderately successful, he fell asleep.

_______

The next day, he awoke with a start. He'd dreamed, and he'd remember the dreams had been terrifying, but his mind was mercifully blank as he awoke. Throwing more wood on the fire, he put the coffeepot over it and went to check on Aurora. Still sleeping. Good. 

Walking outside, Gavin shivered in the cold; judging by the sun it was... 9? 10? He turned back inside. 

When Aurora woke up, he had a cup of coffee ready for her and some bread. As she slid across from him to sit at the table, he smiled up at her. 

"Not the best breakfast we've ever had... but good enough to get us started today. Today I think the weather will keep us mostly inside. Anything else you wanted to talk about? If not, there are some books here...

Aurora looked down at the coffee and bread and stared at it for a long while, on the verge of tears again.  For a little while she sat in silence with her father, she staring at breakfast and he drinking his coffee.  Finally, she found her voice.

"It's probably all I could keep down anyway."  She picked up the bread and ate small bites, chewing a lot before swallowing. 

"Breakfast was sort of Billy's thing..."  she finally said.  "We'd get up in the morning and he'd be insufferably happy no matter how early I had to leave.  No matter how late we'd been out.  I'd wake up smelling coffee and pancakes and... you get the idea."

She shook her head.

"It's not just the food.  That's what he told me.  It's the idea of it.  Just making it, that time spent together."  she stared down into her coffee cup, her bread gone.  

"I think I'm just going to go read for a while."  She stood up and kissed her Dad's forehead, and taking her cup of coffee she pulled the chair to the window where she rested her cup on the sill.  She curled up into the chair with a blanket to cover herself and a book to read. 

The books on the shelf had all been the sort of books her father enjoyed.  High adventure, action, fictional stories meant to help the reader escape into another life for a time.  Candy for the mind.  Aurora didn't mind so much.  Right now it was precisely the sort of reading she needed.  Nothing too heavy or burdensome.  So she grabbed the first book she saw on the shelf, not caring much for the title and found herself reading Peter Pan.

Lost in a world of mermaids and pirates, flying boys and no responsibilities she lingered all day.  She might not have remembered to eat at all were it not for her father bringing her a bit of something at what was likely a late lunch time. 

The snow had fallen all day from thick gray clouds which mirrored her mood.  There was a heaviness about her today.  She felt no energy, just a desire to return to sleep ... and dreams.  She barely had drive to care when her father started fixing dinner.

Only when the light from the window became too dim to read by, she closed the book. 

"I'm ... not real hungry."  She said looking at the table.  "If you don't mind, I think I'm just gonna turn in tonight.  Maybe tomorrow ..."

Maybe what?  Maybe it won't be snowing?  It probably snowed nine days out of ten her.  Maybe she wouldn't be a wreck?  Doubtful.  Maybe sleep wouldn't feel like the only good part of her life?  She couldn't say it.  That wasn't true, even if it felt that way in this moment.  She put a hand on her father's shoulder.  

"Maybe I'll be better company then."

With that, she walked silently back to the bed, crawled back into it, and shut her eyes.  In moments the dreams came, but unlike last night it wasn't dancing and sweet words.  Tonight her father's stories of his childhood featured prominently, as well as the tales of Peter Pan and his lost boys, and bits of what she imagined Billy's death looked like.  Aurora's sleep was far from peaceful.  Soft moans, whimpers, tossing and turning all before she finally woke in the middle of the night hungry and got up to relieve herself and eat something.

Gavin was sleeping in the chair and Aurora came over to make sure he was covered up.  She put a bit of wood on the fire and then, put on her jacket and went walking out into the frigid night air.  She looked up to the moon, sky now clear of the heavy clouds that had hung about during the day and she found herself wondering again about the God that Billy and her mother prayed to.  

"I want to be wrong about this too..." The whispered words left her mouth in a cloud of mist.  "I want to believe in things that should not be, that can not be.  I want to... but this world isn't like that."

She expected as with the other night that Billy would join her but the truth was she was far too awake for such delusions.  Wrapping her arms about herself, she enjoyed the night only a few moments more before returning inside to find her father watching over her through the window.  She stomped the snow off her feet at the door.

"It should be a good morning for going out.  We should rest more."  She walked towards her Dad, "I'll take the chair for the second half of the night... go... get a good rest in a bed.  Okay?"

"I'm ... not real hungry."  She said looking at the table.  "If you don't mind, I think I'm just gonna turn in tonight.  Maybe tomorrow ..."

Gavin nodded.

"You're perfect company."

He cracked an eye open as she walked outside.

"We'll go out in the morning, assuming the snow stops.

"I'll take the chair for the second half of the night... go... get a good rest in a bed.  Okay?"

"Sure, I'll take the bed. As soon as I'm pregnant."

He looked at her with a small smile, and she knew it was useless to fight him. The best she could do would be to sit in the chair across from him, because there was nothing in heaven or hell that would make Gavin Byrne get up and sleep in that bed. Besides, the chairs were comfortable enough.

________

Gavin was already awake when Aurora walked in from the bedroom. The snow had stopped sometime in the late morning, and the surrounding area was still and peaceful. Gavin was sitting at the table, checking one of the bowstrings.

"You know, I used these fairly often when I was younger. Part of my training. I don't think I've touched one in 35 years... well, I had to improvise on one job, but that doesn't count. I actually considered using it here in Philadelphia. There's something elegant about the bow; every time you pull it back..."

He tightened the string.

"... it's like you're echoing people who lived thousands of years ago. Have some breakfast- same thing as yesterday, I'm afraid. But you'll need your strength, since we might be all day. Unless we're lucky, of course. There are some caribou here as well... I'll have some deja vu from my own childhood, and we'll see how much I remember. If we don't see any of those we'll have to hope for a duck or a goose or something. There should be some good cold weather gear in the closet; once you're ready, get dressed and meet me outside. It might be a little big for you... for now."

With a grin, Gavin took both bows and both quivers and headed outside. Aurora followed a short time after, having eaten her small breakfast and gotten dressed.

As she emerged, she saw her father standing several feet away, aiming at a tree twenty yards or so away. He lifted the bow carefully, exhaled, and.... struck the tree, not in the dead center, but close enough. Grinning, he turned to Aurora.

"Well... you didn't see my first couple misses, so we'll pretend that's the first shot, eh? Just like riding a bike. Come here and I'll talk you through it."

Gavin sat on a tree stump as he watched Aurora pick up the other bow. Occasionally, he popped up to reposition her.

"try to line up your feet, perpendicular to the target. Hold the bow in your hand- no, just above the palm, it has to carry the weight... good. You hold the arrow like this... no, like this... good. Make an 'L" with your finger to... right, good. Now you draw back and inhale... and exhale on your release, just like shooting."

The string was taut, not hard to pull back per se, but the longer she held it, the more she felt it.  The bow required confidence guns did not require.  A sureness of self and intention that Aurora found herself not having much of to spare and she, from time to time, glanced to Gavin leaning up against a nearby tree giving his instructions with some annoyance.  He'd chosen bows instead of guns for a reason.  For as cunning as her mother was, her father was ten times as wise as she thought this thought, her eyes noted the scar peaking up just under his collar.  

The sky was brilliant blue, and Aurora was sure if not for trees she'd see for miles and miles.  The crunch of her foot breaking through the layer of ice that lay atop half a foot of powder snow was oddly satisfying, the air was sharp and burned in her nose, but she'd never breathed so easily in the city of brotherly love with her tall smokestacks and factories.  She could hear a variety of birds, many she'd never heard before, singing or calling out the presence of predators whom they were unfamiliar with.  Aurora wondered if their prey would flee at the sounds, could animals communicate in such a way?

The sound of rushing water drew her attention, "Is that..." 

Gavin wordlessly nodded in the direction of the sound and Aurora veered away from the woods.  Into a small clearing they went, a place where she could see a break in a shelf of ice along a cliff's edge.  She'd never seen such impossible blue before as where the ice was melting away.  The water flowed down into a newly made stream that, in spring, would no doubt be a rushing river.  The small falls created there was breathtaking, water plummeting thirty feet or so down to the earth where it washed over rocks and carried away the earth cutting into it, reshaping it.

Scarring it. 

Gavin motioned and Aurora took her eyes off the natural wonder and followed her father down a treacherous path towards the stream below them.  It was slow going.  For as beautiful as it all was, as perfect as it could be, death was one wrong foot placement away.  Grab onto the wrong stick or rock to steady yourself... and this place was merciless.  Aurora noted the remains of some long dead animal on a rock where a bird or some other animal had been picking away at it, and thought to herself, this place of great wonder could swallow a person up and leave only your bones behind to tell of your passing... and even those, in time, would soon be gone.

And yet, the birds sang and upon coming to the stream's edge her father found what he'd come seeking.  She could see it in his smile as he knelt down and waved her forward to look.  The earth here wasn't virginal but trampled but what appeared to be a thousand hooves.  

"Caribou?"  She asked him.

He nodded and stood up, looking first into the wind and then in the direction the wind was moving.  She did not understand what he was looking for but instead waited for him to explain.  Gavin was moving a moment later.

"They came here to drink then?"  She asked.

"Likely.  They migrate in Canada, hundreds of miles, fast moving... if we were in Canada, we'd have already lost them.  Here..."  Gavin paused and pointed to a tree which had a good bit of bark missing.  Aurora came close and looked at the oddity.

"See that, the males and females have horns.  Not like the White Tail deer.  Caribou all have them and this time of year they get real itchy.  See how much is gone here... these Caribou don't travel much.  Don't need to.  They're a bit ahead of us but they aren't moving fast and they aren't going far today.  We can follow this run..."

"A run?"  

Gavin motioned to the well beat down path through the snow into the woods.  "It's a path they follow daily, to water, to food, and to where they sleep.  Creatures of habit."  He smiled and Aurora instantly remembered his lessons on tracking men based on habits.  How much, she wondered, were his lessons on hunting men based on hunting animals?

Through the tall trees they wandered, squat little things beneath the giant limbs of the evergreens' shady arms.  Aurora noted the occasional squirrel and rabbit and wondered why they had not hunted smaller game which they might have taken dozens of back to the cabin without going far or breaking a sweat. 

The truth was that the walk, while beautiful, wasn't easy, but she could see her father was enjoying himself.  Every now and again he would pause and just look at her and then look around.  She supposed that was his way of making sure he wasn't pushing her too hard, but also to absorb the truth: he wasn't off in the woods alone but instead he was actually here with someone.  More importantly, he was with her and that thought appeared to make him happy.  Maybe it was the fears he'd had about coming here to be alone, about her possible death.  Instead, he got to share this thing with her, this part of his life that even mom hadn't cared to be a part of, so far as she knew at least. 

As they came to the edge of the woods opening onto a vast snowy plain, a flat vista dotted with bits of dry grass struggling to push up through the frozen earth, she could see them.  A herd of the most amazing creatures she'd ever seen.  Dozens of them.  She smiled to herself as her stomach growled unexpectedly.  The mere thought of meat and a real dinner inspired her to want to take a shot straight away but before she could remove her bow and prepare an arrow, her father motioned her to follow him.  Silent, she did as instructed.  

It was then, as they came around to another side of herd that she realized the ones she'd first spotted were young.  So much smaller than these over here!  The others were... children.  The creatures they hunted had little ones among them and her father had stopped her from killing a baby.  She looked at him and watched him analyzing the herd with an intensity that she hadn't seen on his face in a while.  She looked back out to the Caribou and watched them for a time.  She began to pick out signs of age on some, saw some with scars and even a limping one.  For all the set backs and injuries, the herd had pushed on.  The elders protecting their young from the path ahead as best they could, the old and weak outlying on the edges, prepared to take on the worst predators to buy the young time to live and the herd to go on.

Not so different from us.

She looked back to her dad only to find he wasn't watching their prey now, instead, he had been watching her watching them.  As their eyes met, the thin smile & sad eyes he had for her melted away into a warmth that was neither mischievous nor coy as it often was.  And this was how they were for nearly a minute, which isn't so long really - until your crouch down in half-a-foot of yards from a herd of some of the most powerful animals on earth and you're starving for something more than bread. 

Whatever thought had captivated her father, whatever place he'd gone to in his mind, she did not know the path there.  Perhaps Isabella would have... but not her.  Suffice to say she took it to be fatherly affection as he extended a hand and touched her cheek brieflly. Then he rose up from his position and took off his bow.  Aurora matched his actions, as she had when she was a girl.  Careful to not make a sound.

Only after he'd pulled an arrow, and had it nocked, did he risk a whisper, "That one passing the big rock now."

Aurora watched this massive beast her father indicated and for a moment she wanted to know if he'd gone mad.  First off the creature had to be a few hundred pounds more than they both could carry.  Secondly, if she fucked up the shot, it would run.  She'd once shot a monster of a man in LA who she'd put three slugs in before he did her the favor of actually realizing he was dead.  Powerful beings, in mind and body, have a strange way of refusing to die when they should especially if they have something to live for, something to protect.

She looked past the old Caribou and it's massive antlers to the herd it watched over.  He was grayer than all the others combined.  He'd even lost a little of his fur in places.  He was magnificent to watch but in his day, he likely had no match.  He was the patriarch of this herd, easily she could see that the longer she watched him - and if she didn't draw on him soon, they'd have to move to get a shot.  He constantly paced around the edges of the others, watching, waiting for what he was old enough to know was never far away: death.

Her heart was racing as she lifted her bow to sight the elderly caribou in.  The fear that always rose up in her when she took a shot came again, a familiar friend with whom she was so intimately acquainted.  For a second there was no Billy Mastrosimone, no Gavin, just her and the target.  The world faded at the edges of her vision as she waited for the beast to move in just the right way.  Her arm quivered slightly, she thought to let up on the bow, give it more time - but no.  She didn't want to chase the thing all day waiting for a shot.  She could hold it.  She would. 

It looked at her then.  As if it knew she was there.  Aurora's heart stopped.  She was terrified.  She never wanted something more, not at that moment at least.  She found herself praying, Strike true...  For her father to see her succeed, for their bellies to be filled, but primary among her reasons: that creature wouldn't just run if she hit it.  It really and truly would come for her and Gavin and they would not outrun that thing.

She loosed the arrow.  For a moment she thrilled as it stuck hard in the side of the creature near to where she meant to hit it.  Then it roared, that was the only word for the noise it made - part grunt and snort and all horrifying as its family ran one way and he did the unthinkable. 

It charged.

It HAD seen her!  Aurora fumbled for another arrow, "Dad?"

She had one but dropped it and grabbed another.  "DAD!"  She found herself screaming in terror, sure they were both going to be gored or trampled by this monster whom death had not caught yet. 

One followed instantly by a second arrow flew free from Gavin's bow.  The first didn't slow it, the second brought it down, first to it's knees skidding through the icy tundra and then, finally stopping a short distance from them.

Aurora began laughing even through the tears that had, at some point, filled her eyes.  Gavin, she realized then, was laughing with her.  They looked to each other, "Nice shot."  he offered.

"IT WAS GOING TO KILL US!"  she accused her father, sure he'd hesitated shooting for some reason she could not fathom.

"Were you scared?"  He asked.

She gave him a look that said, 'does a bear shit in the woods' but didn't reply, stunned he even had to ask.

He didn't respond more than to look at her with happiness... and relief?  He nodded, slung his bow on his back and said, "Now the real work starts.  Come on."

Aurora was trying to slow her heart, normally after a kill, she had a strange peace, but not this time.  Aurora was bouncing around as she walked looking more like the little girl she used to be as she followed her father out to the caribou.  They weren't being quiet anymore, Gavin poked the monstrous thing with his bow before getting in close.

"My God, look at that thing... Dad, it's huge, we'll never carry it back."

"No.  We'll take some of the best parts.  Leave the rest.  It'll help the herd."

"Help?"  She asked.

"The weak and old die so the strong can live.  If predators and scavengers eat this one, they're not hitting a young one that wanders off.  Animals aren't like people.  They take only what they need.  They don't kill for the thrill, rage or jealousy - they kill only when they need.  We leave our scraps here and it buys the herd another day."

Gavin pulled out his knife, pushed up his sleeves, and began to cut open the Caribou from its ass to neck along its belly.  Without hesitation he stuck his arm inside and began pulling out the organs, steam rising from them in the chill air.  

"Get that stick over there, the one about the size of a broomstick,"  Gavin instructed.  Aurora went for the stick and her father kept talking, "If we wait long, the thing will freeze and it will be much harder to dress."

Gavin worked efficiently as he began to insert his hand between the hide and flesh of the monster buck and seemed to be separating it from the meat down the hind legs.  She could see him sweat, just a little as he worked with a knife and hand to remove the hide from the legs and then put the stick between two of the smaller leg bones on each leg.    

"I'll need your help here."  He said taking out a length of thin rope.  Once attached to the stick at both sides she and her father moved the beast - painfully slow - to a tree where they were able to hoist it up out of the dirt.  It was a massive effort, most of which her father tried to shoulder, but the beast had a few hundred pounds on them and so there was no avoiding that it was a two-man job.  By the time it was hung, the two were sitting on the ground sharing water from a canteen staring up at their accomplishment.  This was a different kind of hard from the hard of the last few days, but it felt good.  It felt really good to see a win today.

After a bit of rest, it was up and at it again.  The sun high in the sky above them, the day dragging on, Aurora found herself sweating as she worked to help pull the hide off the animal and then begin flaying away the best bits of meat to eat.  Then they began their long trip back up to the cabin.  It was nearly dark by the time they'd finished.

"I think I've found my appetite again."  She as they reached the door.

Gavin chuckled.  "Knew you would.  You should sleep good tonight too."

Aurora nodded, remembering the nightmares from the night before taking off her gear as they came inside. 

"When we get home, I won't tell mom right away.  I need her to let me finish school.  I'll take whatever protection detail she wants... but I want to finish.  I'm so close, Dad.  It would feel terrible to leave school now and I won't even be showing before I get my diploma.  No one will know but you and Will and Alucard.  The day I get my diploma, I'll tell her.  Sooner if we have to, but ideally the day I graduate."

She looked at her Dad now free of his own gear.  "I didn't get to tell Billy, or you, but I need telling her to be a positive thing.  Just ... this one person, you know?  Mom is sure to be a little sad but we both know how she is.  She's gonna go way overboard on everything.  She'll worry about every detail, my life will come to a screeching halt, she'll wrap me in gause to protect me and the baby and she'll fill the house with more baby toys than any child could ever dream to play with or clothes to wear.  And... part of me dreads it, but I also hope maybe I can feel even a small bit as excited as she will be... ya know?"

Gavin felt comfortable as his feet crunched softly through the fresh fallen snow. He'd never admit it, but he felt his age sometimes in the concrete and cabs of the city. But here? Never. He breathed deeply, slowly, like a man in his dream; his only concerns were the hunt and his daughter. He glanced around often, appreciating the scenery and checking that she was comfortably following him. He didn't want to push her, but he also felt lucky to be with her. 

The hunt was a blur: instincts that took over after decades of ignorance. In the midst of it, he found himself looking at his daughter and feeling his heart leap for her. It was a pure love, one that he'd never expected to find, and it had changed him utterly. What would Gavin had done, if he'd lost her? 

Would he still be alive?

He supposed he would be. Bella needed him. Will needed him. Gavin Byrne would never take his own life while his family lived... but he could sense how something like that might change him, darken him, and make death a more attractive option as he danced closer and closer to it.

Gavin cleared the thoughts with a blink of his eyes as one of the caribou snorted and drew him back to the world. No use wasting time on what ifs. His daughter was alive, and she was here with him. More than that, she had life itself within her. 

And that was worth protecting; Gavin had no doubt that Aurora would be okay, especially once she held her child. He could only hope that the same magic that him imbued him in that moment would transfer to her as well. He just had to get her through these dark days to the time ahead, and it seemed that the hunt was helping. He could see her excitement as she readied herself for the shot. Gavin nocked an arrow as well. When the beast charged, Gavin was ready; he dropped it in two shots. He'd also been ready to jump in front of Aurora, but that was fortunately unnecessary. It had been worth the risk; Aurora seemed... better.

The dressed the animal before it froze, taking many of the best cuts over the course of most of the day. Hard work, but not stressful work. Work that was good for a mother, for a provider. 

As Aurora started to take off her gear, Gavin nodded to get her attention.

"Leave that on. We're going for a walk. A short one."

Aurora was curious, but did as Gavin asked. Gavin packed a change of clothes for each of them, along with some blankets and enough meat for four people to eat well; he combined this with some of his other equipment that she couldn't see. As they walked through the twilight, Gavin led Aurora in the opposite direction: not toward the forest, but the wider, open rocky ground. As they traveled, Aurora's body temperature began to rise until she started to sweat. At that point, Gavin stopped her, and she realized where they were. 

The steam rose from the geothermal spring under the surface in irregular clouds, but there were a few places where the water had gathered in large craters. Gavin tested a few of them with his hand before he found one he liked: a perfect temperature. He walked back to a nice flat spot nearby and dumped his gear, handing Aurora a bar of soap.

"I think both of us could probably use a bath. Normally with a temperature like this, it'd be dangerous to get wet. But I'll get a fire going. When you're done, towel off with the blankets and get into the fresh set of cold weather gear. You should be fine if you sit close to the fire when you're done. I'll start the cooking, and you can finish it off whenever you're done."

Nodding, Aurora took the soap, blankets, and the change of clothing and headed toward the geothermal pool. Her father was staring in the direction opposite her, down at the fire he was coaxing to life. She could hear his voice as he spoke, focusing on the flames.

"Don't worry. Alucard isn't hiding in the bushes. I checked."

Aurora got out of her clothes quickly, dumping the dirty ones in a pile and shivering before stepping into the pool: it was at the perfect point between hot and warm, and found herself sinking down comfortably to rest against the soft mud, more relaxed than she'd been in... she couldn't remember when. Aurora sank down to cover as much of her body as possible in the hot water. Almost completely submerged except for her head and the occasional toe or knee, she found a comfortable place to rest her head... and then she experienced a moment of profound, abiding peace. 

Aurora inhaled, and she entered a sort of trance. In terms of focus, it was similar to the 'zone' she got into during a fight or during particularly passionate moments with Billy... but those things demanded action, and this was... contentedness. Her breathing slowed and she suddenly looked up, as if she were truly seeing the stars for the first time in her life. Thousands of tiny points of light, more stars than she'd ever seen due to the light pollution of Philadelphia.

Aurora saw the stars, both in the sky and in their reflections on the still waters that covered her. She moved her hand to her womb, and she saw the stars ripple with the movement. She watched her father as his fire roared to life, and she could tell he was smirking even though she couldn't see his face. She closed her eyes and saw her mother, Will... Billy. She exhaled. And she found the quiet place where her soul could rest and be at peace. 

Aurora might have lay there for five minutes or an hour before she spoke again- she wasn't sure. Watching the stars, smelling the cooking meat... her mind had been gently wandering. She stood, shivering like crazy but unwilling to shout; instead, she dried off and dressed quickly, moving to sit by the fire. Soon, she was comfortably warm again. As she finished cooking the meat, she realized she'd never been more hungry in her entire life. And the smell of the meat was... well, fortunately her father bathed much quicker than she did.

They sat close to each other near the fire, eating the roasted meat and speaking in between chewing. 

"When we get home, I won't tell mom right away.  I need her to let me finish school.  I'll take whatever protection detail she wants... but I want to finish.  I'm so close, Dad.  It would feel terrible to leave school now and I won't even be showing before I get my diploma.  No one will know but you and Will and Alucard.  The day I get my diploma, I'll tell her.  Sooner if we have to, but ideally the day I graduate."

"Sure. Whatever you want. It's your life, kid. We're just here to help. You've only got a little while left, right? Or maybe we'll make a special donation and they can give your final exams early. We'll give enough money where they can build The Aurora Byrne Hall of Contraceptive Medicines or something."

He grinned as he rested back on his elbows. 

"I didn't get to tell Billy, or you, but I need telling her to be a positive thing.  Just ... this one person, you know?  Mom is sure to be a little sad but we both know how she is.  She's gonna go way overboard on everything.  She'll worry about every detail, my life will come to a screeching halt, she'll wrap me in gause to protect me and the baby and she'll fill the house with more baby toys than any child could ever dream to play with or clothes to wear.  And... part of me dreads it, but I also hope maybe I can feel even a small bit as excited as she will be... ya know?"

"Yea, I get that you want to be able to tell people the way you want to. I was wondering how you'd tell me, if things were different."

Gavin shrugged.

"Not that I regret anything. We didn't know if you were alive, dead, wounded... I needed to know everything to protect you. And him. Or her. Whoever. And you don't need to worry about your life coming to a screeching halt... but things'll change, for sure. You tell your mother however you want... but tell her as soon as you'll can."

He frowned.

"She'll feel like everyone knows except her. And then she'll probably feel guilty she didn't notice. How about this... you tell her soon... and I promise you that my primary job is going to become making sure she's giving you space as she supports you. Think it over. She'll understand about finishing school. Just... trust her, and trust me to handle her. I can play her like a fiddle- almost as well as she plays me."

Gavin relaxed, leaning back with his hands behind his head; Aurora mirrored his pose. 

"Oh... shit. Look at that."

Gavin quickly leaned forward and doused the fire. As the two Byrnes looked up at the stars, they were treated to a vision of the northern lights. The waves of green danced and shimmered in the air, and the two of them just sat quietly for a long time. Realizing that Aurora would be getting cold soon, Gavin stood and packed the camp, leading them slowly back to the cabin. When they arrived, he rested his hands on his daughter's shoulders and looked into her eyes.

"Aurora, you can be a mother and still be a badass. In fact, I don't think you can really be a mother without being a badass. You're going to be great. And you're not alone. I had to deal with a lot of shit in my life. It should have killed me. I kept fighting... first for Tara... then your mother... now you and your brother too. If I'd been alone... well, I don't think I'd be alive right now. And even the people that have died, they're still with me."

Gavin paused, thoughtful.

"... the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. Be there for your family, and we'll always be with you too."

With a rare serious expression on his face, Gavin forced a smile and led his daughter inside.

_______

The next few days were mostly the same. Aurora spoke more, and she seemed less weighted down. She was still sad, of course, and sometimes her grief overwhelmed her, but she spoke a lot about Billy. Gavin also told Aurora more stories from the 'old days' than he ever had before. The unabridged stories of Montreal, Jamaia, and a few others; he never revealed anything that Bella might hold off on sharing, but he didn't hold back when it came to himself. He told stories about Jack, Tara, Will... but mostly they were the stories of her family. 

Amidst the stories, the reading, the walks, the geothermal springs, and the caribou meat, Aurora slowly built herself back together. In the midst of one particularly embarrassing story, Gavin noticed Aurora laugh- and she didn't immediately feel guilty about it. Knowing she was ready, he packed up that night. When Aurora awoke, Gavin was ready to drive them to the airport. After another day of travel, they'd be home.

Although neither one knew exactly what they'd find there, they both knew they were ready to face it.