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Daughter of Mine: 2

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Family is one of the most sensitive things that a Spy can have. It's something that gives a Spy hope and keeps them focused on their mission and the fact that they have to stay alive. That they have to get through this one mission and they can go home. But sometimes Family is the one thing that keeps a Spy away, family is the one thing that is the most dangerous thing for a Spy to have. It keeps them in place, keeps them following the rules; but sometimes it makes them reckless and very much a problem. If a Spy hasn't cut off all ties, then that is the most dangerous thing, because that signals that they aren't going to give up and that they will do anything they can to protect that loved one. Some Spies, if they're good enough will keep their family hidden—which becomes impossible when you're Burned—but becomes easily done if the action had already been taken.


 "Hello?"

 ". . ."

"Hell-o? Anyone there?"

 ". . . Dad?"

"Alex? How did you get this number?"

 "Daddy,"

"Alex? What's wrong?"

 "M-mom's dead!"

"What do you mean?"

 "I-I don't know! These men came and t-they k-k-killed her-her."

"Where are they now, Alex?" 

"I don't know, I don't want to look, daddy. Please don't make me look!"

"Okay, honey. Listen to me, very carefully."

 "Okay,"

"Are you listening?" 

"Mm-hm,"

"Good, now tell me where you are."

 "I'm at the house. Daddy, please hurry; I think they—"

"Alex? Alex!"

 Michael cursed as he snapped his phone shut and shoved in in his pocket, jerking from the stool and not even noticing that he had knocked over his yogurt cup in the process. 

"Michael?" Fi gasped out. 

"Fi!" Michael yelled, not looking back as he through his loft door open. "Get in the car and brings your guns!" 

Fiona complied, if only from simple shock. 

Michael was freaking out, his hands gripping the wheel so tightly he was sure that he might rip it off all together. This was the one thing that he wished and hoped would never happen. That they—anyone would never find out about Alex, so at the moment he still wasn't sure if it was completely true. He had tried to call Alex back, but the number was disconnect and the only thing that that would mean was that they—whoever they were—had found his daughter. At the moment Michael didn't care if Fiona found out about Alex or if his mother did, didn't really care how they would be mad and upset; all that mattered was that he got Alex and he got her back alive—killing all of those who had had done this bloody. 

Fiona sat in the seat next to Michael, for once staying silent and not asking questions. She could see the seriousness of whatever this was, and would find out later. All she knew at the moment was that whatever this was it was scaring Michael, and whatever scared Michael was never good. Fi just tried not to be jealous, this Alex seemed very important to Michael.

 When they got to the house, Michael to Fi to shoot anyone who wasn't a little girl, though keep at least one alive because he wanted to have a little chat. After the flash of surprise went through her, her face turned determent. There wasn't an unknown vehicle outside and that made Michael nervous; it could have meant that whoever had done this was gone and that Alex was with them. 

Michael went in through the front while Fiona went through the back, at the moment Michael had a calm anger about him; and that was a very dangerous mood to be at the end of. The kitchen was clear, but Michael froze when he entered the living room. On the floor was a body, a still body lying on the floor. He quickly made his way over to it and crouched, his hand on its shoulder as he turned it on it back.

 Michael drew in a sharp breath as he recognized Clare Dunphy, her eyes open and staring blankly. He checked for a pulse, but her heart wasn't beating; she was dead. It was a head wound, Michael realized; her blond hair clumped together with still wet blood. He looked at her face; he hadn't seen her since Alex was six, but she was still as beautiful as she was the day he had met her. He closed her eyes before standing up and making his way up the stairs. 

Fiona met him at the top and they each took a side of the hall, checking each room. Fiona had Alex's and deemed it clear, and all that was left was Clare's room. The door was ajar and he wasn't sure how he felt about that—Fi covered him as he entered, and he froze in his tracts, his blood turning to ice. Michael's stomach turned hallow and he had no idea what was going on with his heart at the moment. 

"Alex!" he actually screamed it—he never screamed—it seemed to break him out of it and he rushed towards his daughter. 

Alex was lying on the carpeted floor much like her mother was, face to the floor. Michael fell to his knees next to her, and carefully turned her onto her back and into his lap. Her eyes were closed and her glasses missing, her front was covered in blood, her shirt torn from a what looked like a stab wound. He checked for a pulse and gave a sigh of relief when he found one; though his was weak and thready. 

Fi quickly dialed for an ambulance and told them the address, carefully watching Michael. 

Michael cradled Alex, one hand putting pressure on the stab wound while the other one held her head, his fingers petting her hair. He wouldn't allow himself to cry, not now and not ever, especially not in front of his daughter and definitely not in front of Fi. The whole time Alex didn't move or make a sound. 

Not long after the ambulance arrived and so did a police car, the paramedics having to force Michael to let go of Alex and after Fi had to hold his arm to keep in his place. Under her hand she could feel how tense he was and she could feel sense slight anxiety coming off of him as they watched the paramedics load Alex onto a gurney and into the ambulance. And Clare eventually in a body bag. 

For the time being Michael and Fiona were held behind by the police, while the ambulance drove away with a critical Alex. Michael forced himself to answer the cops questions as best as he could, while forcing himself to to give in and knock these cops on their asses so that he go and see his daughter. 

Finally they were released and Michael peeled from the driveway. After hours in the waiting room—for all of which Fi was silent—the doctor came and said that Michael could go and see Alex—who was no longer in critical condition. She had been stabbed in the abdomen and had been taken into surgery to fix the internal bleeding, for loss of blood she had a transfusion. Curious as hell, Fi snuck passed the reception desk, going unnoticed the nurse and Michael as she stayed out of sight but in ear shot. 

He slowly approached Alex bed, actually somewhat hesitant now. He had actually never had to deal with something like this before, not with his daughter at least. Alex looked so small and slim in the hospital gown and under the thin blanket. Her skin was pale, paler than usual. Her hair splayed around her head like a mane. Her glasses were still gone, Michael never having the chance and barely the mind to look for them. He took a seat in the chair next to the bed and slid her limp hand into his. Alex's left eye was bruised, the darkness stark against her pale skin. 

Michael reach forward and gently traced her cheek bone, his touch feather light. Alex gave a small moan at the contact, the touch slightly waking her from the overpowering drug in her system. Michael watched her intently as she swallowed convulsively, her eyes lids fluttering but no opening. 

"Alex," he whispered softly, and her eyes fluttered again as her head tossed. "Alex, it’s dad." 

"Dad," she moaned, this time her eyes fluttered open, squinting at the bright light. Her head tossed back again before she found Michael in her view. 

"Alex?"

 "They killed mom," she whispered, her voice broken. Her mind may be fuzzy from the drug but she could remember everything, unfortunately. 

"Shhh, I know." Michael thumbed away a tear that strayed down her pale cheek. "Just rest and everything will be okay, I'll make sure of it." 

Alex nodded but didn't close her eyes, her brown hues glued on Michael's face like a life-line. "They weren't for you," she said, her voice faint as her eyes slipped closed against her will. 

"What?" Michael asked, his eye brows furrowed. 

And, as it turned out, Michael found out a few days later that the police had found the men who had done. Men that were wanted for multiple crimes. They were thieves, ones that had gone to multiple house in the neighborhood. At the time, Michael hadn't even notice that half of the stuff in the house was missing; his mind had only been on Alex. They were arrested and put to life in jail without bail—better than they deserved Michael was sure. 

"Father of mine?" Alex breathed out, her eyes still closed and her voice tired. "What's going to happen now?"

 "Don't worry, I'll fix everything, daughter of mine." 

Fi's brow shot up her forehead; this was Michael daughter of all things?