Lights out. Story-time.

These days she was old enough to pick and choose what stories she wanted. Some of the time, it was all right to tell her stories of far off lands and princesses and elves, maybe hobbits, things like that. The nights that were hardest were nights when she wanted a story about Daddy.

And the woman didn't know where Daddy was, or what he was doing. It was safer that way.

So she made things up. Adventures, excitement, all the glamorous parts of what they had done, what he did, and none of the scary parts. Nothing that would give the girl nightmares. Nothing that would make her ask the hard questions, either, that would come sure enough, and probably sooner than either of them wanted. Just, the fun stuff. Spy stuff. James Bond stuff, even though she hadn't wanted the little girl to stay up that late or sneak out in time to see James Bond at the dinner party.

"Does Daddy look like that?"

She laughed. "No, honey. Daddy doesn't look like that."

In fact, she didn't think she'd ever seen him get dressed up like that. Which was all right. She wouldn't know what to do with him in a tuxedo.

"What does Daddy look like?"

Telling her Daddy looks like Warren Zevon wouldn't really help. She described him as best she could, keeping it still a bit vague especially since she didn't know what he did look like lately, hopefully the poor girl wouldn't go looking for him. Now or when she got older. "But he hasn't come to see us in a few years, baby. You might meet him tomorrow on the street and you might not recognize him."

But she would. She'd know him anywhere.

"Why hasn't he come to see us?"

The hard question. Well, one of them. She sighed. "Because ... long before you were born, sweetie, Mommy and Daddy did some pretty bad things. Got into some pretty big trouble. And Daddy, he still lives in that kind of place, like James Bond, or like a police officer, but the kind that goes after the really bad guys. And they don't like that. So they want to hurt him."

"But why..."

"Because, well. If someone hurt you, I'd be really sad. And if someone hurt us..."

"Ohhh..." Comprehension, and a tiny frown. "But you and Daddy wouldn't let anyone hurt us..."

"No, we wouldn't. But that's why he has to stay away. So that no one knows where we are, so that they can't follow him when he comes to visit..." If he came to visit. Ever. "And find us, and hurt us to hurt him. That's the way bad guys like that think. And because he did some bad things once, he knows how they think. So he can beat them. But he has to stay away."

And you, baby girl, you have to stay away from him. You can't talk about him in the school yard. You can't talk about him ever. She didn't have the heart to tell her daughter that. Not now. Let the poor girl have her Daddy the super hero, now.

And she was trying to understand, too. "Mommy?"

"Yeah, sweetie?"

"When he stops all the bad guys, can he come home?"

She had to swallow to answer that one. It shouldn't have hurt the way it did, not after so many years, but the fist still clenched around her heart. "I hope so, baby. I really do."

Long silence. "Mommy?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think he still remembers us?"

"I'm sure he does, baby."

"Do you think..." The little girl's small, smooth face scrunched up, one eyebrow puckered above the other completely unconsciously. She bit back the laugh. "Daddy still loves us?"

Oh, baby girl. She hugged her daughter tight, chin on top of her head, closing her eyes and remembering the last time she saw him. "I know he does, baby. He loves us both, very, very much."

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