He hadn't seen so much pain in physical presence before. It was a strange thing. He had broken Ariadne's ankle, shattered her shoulder blade, even ruined Anji's shoulder. Yet somehow those levels of pain paled in the presence of this one. There was something deep about it. The sense of betrayal. The loss.

Then there was the fear.

Melmarc met the man's eyes in the mirror and held it. It was the least he could do for the man. They stared at each other while Ark sat silently on his side of the car, intentionally saying nothing.

"Do I want to know?" the man said, breaking the silence.

Melmarc nodded very slowly. "I think you do."

The man blinked and more tears ran down his cheeks. His eyelids trembled a little. "Was she telling the truth?"

Holding his gaze, Melmarc nodded silently as he felt tears roll down his cheeks. The pain was crushing. He understood why people called it a broken heart now. The feeling was suffocating. Your heart felt like it was being crushed, then it felt as if it was being ripped apart, drawn in different directions. It was a significant level of discomfort.

The discomfort lessened as his head moved slowly. The discomfort vanished as he nodded.

Jesuit sniffled, then chuckled, then laughed a little. He went through the motion again, cleaning his eyes with the back of his hands and looking away.

Melmarc could breathe easier now. The feeling he had just gone through had been terrible. For some reason, 'terrible' felt like a very gross understatement.

Who gets their heart broken without getting their heart broken? He thought to himself, resisting the urge to clutch at his chest and pant. Somehow it felt as if doing that would relieve him faster.

Ark let out a low whistle. It carried with it the weight of relief.

"That," he announced breathily, "was intense."

Jesuit laughed awkwardly. "It was, wasn't it?"

Melmarc could only imagine how important this had been to the man for him to have put himself through the possibility of it.

With a sigh of relief, Jesuit drove the car forward. He cut into a parking space, and brought the car to a stop.

"Alright," Ark announced happily, opening the door. "Thank you very much for the ride, Mr. Jesuit. And the very intense moment. I can only imagine just how…"

His words trailed off as he looked down at his phone with a gravely confused expression. After a moment, still confused, he looked up at the mirror.

"You canceled the ride?" he blurted.

Canceling the ride meant that they would not be charged for the ride. Mr. Jesuit had ultimately brought them to the airport for free.

Melmarc looked at him. "Don't you, sort of, need the money?"

Mr. Jesuit chuckled. "Just think of it as my show of appreciation to you kids for what you've done for me."

Melmarc's eyes widened in confusion. What had they done for him? Shown him that his daughter was now a child who was a consistent liar to him? Shown him that he can't trust his daughter anymore?

"But the—" Ark began only to be cut off by the man.

"I'm a taxi driver in Tatelat, kids, I'm far from poor," he said with a smile. "I complained about my daughter's spending because I'm the kind of man who wants to know where his money is going. I grew up poor so I tend to spend poor."

Melmarc opened his door and stepped out of the car, still a little confused. Ark did the same.

Standing in tattered clothes in the parking lot, Mr. Jesuit wound down his window. "I hope you kids get what you're trying to do done right."

Then he wound his window back up.

"Wait." Melmarc's hand reached out and grabbed the window before it went all the way up. "I'm sorry, I just…"

Mr. Jesuit waited. "Yes?"

"I just don't…" Melmarc scratched the back of his head, confusion warring with logic in there. "I just don't get it."

"Get what?"

"Your daughter's been lying to you about everything," he said, not trying to sound rude yet feeling as if he sounded rude. "Everything. How are you okay with it?"

Mr. Jesuit paused. "Even the last part?"

Melmarc felt a sting of fear that was not his bite at his heel, threatening to pull him down. He shook his head. "That was the only truth on the call."

"So, my daughter loves me," the middle-aged man clarified.

"Yes."

Mr. Jesuit smiled once more. Melmarc felt the bite on his heel disappear as if it never happened. His heart felt larger all of a sudden, stronger. He breathed better. The feeling threatened to throw away his confusion. He did not let it.

"I'm happy," the man said, "because my kid loves me, and I know it for a fact."

"But she lied," Melmarc said. How didn't that matter?

The man shrugged. "Kids lie all the time. Even before they know how to pronounce words properly and string coherent sentences, they lie. It's what they do. What matters is that they love you. Even if it is not as much as you love them, at least they love you. When you become a parent you'll understand it. All a parent ever really wants from their kid is to be loved by them. Knowing this as a fact is just…" his lips pressed into a thin line, yet they were smiling as he tried to find the words. In the end, he shook his head. "It's too satisfying to put into words. You'll feel it one day, kid. And I hope that when you do, you'll remember that random taxi driver that picked you and your brother up and took you to the airport."

Melmarc felt that warm and fuzzy feeling rising again. He stepped away from the car, still slightly unsure.

"Alright, kids." The man wound his windows back up. "Be good."

With that, he pulled the car into reverse. In a matter of moments, he was gone. Melmarc was left standing alone in a busy parking lot with Ark. People looked, some stared, but no one said anything to them about how they were in tattered clothes.

Melmarc shook his head. "I don't get it."

"It's illogical," Ark said cheerily, throwing an arm around Melmarc's shoulder. "You've never done very well with illogical."

Melmarc's mind went to church and all the things the priest liked to teach. Was this the concept the man had been trying to push forward about the love of God? The undying unconditional love of God?

He frowned slightly. They liked to teach that no matter what you did, God still loved you. Melmarc had only been easily accepting of that because he'd been hearing it since the day he'd been born. Hell, he was sure that he'd been hearing it since he'd been in his mother's womb. It was just a truth of life that he couldn't question.

He could doubt it but shaking it off was not as easy. It was just something that was, because he'd been told all his life that it was.

But this—what he'd just witnessed—it was…

Ark tapped him on the side of his head. "Stop thinking too hard. You'll hurt yourself."

"I just don't get it."

"Was she lying?" Ark asked.

Melmarc paused. "What?"

"The daughter, was she lying when she said she loved him?"

Melmarc shook his head. "No."

"Then I don't see what the problem is." Ark shrugged. "He's happy. She's happy. Everyone's happy."

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"She loves him but lies to him over everything? How do you love someone and still lie to them over and over again." Melmarc shook his head. "I just can't…" he drew in a deep breath and let it out. "Is it bad of me that I hate her?"

He looked at Ark.

"Nope." Ark didn't seem the least bit worried. "I hate her, too."

He pulled cheerfully on Melmarc's cheek and laughed. Melmarc let him.

"But her father loves her, and that is all that matters." Ark released his cheeks and removed his arm from around his shoulders. "Alright then, let's go struggle through the process of proving our identity and that we were in fact on the flight that landed so that we can get our luggage and a change of clothes." He clapped, rubbed his hands together with a positive smile. "This should be fun."

Then he started walking forward.

[Optimum Existence 39.00% > 39.90%]

[Optimum Existence is now 39.90%]

Melmarc looked at the notification. A very minute growth.

He understood it, though. Feeling it even as he followed after his brother, he could understand why the growth was so small. He felt as if he had almost gotten something. Like an equation that you almost understand but not quite yet, and you just couldn't put your finger on it. Or like something you were about to say only for it to slip from your mind. Gone with a possibility of returning when you no longer needed it.

He sighed as he walked.

A father's love?

"I love, mommy," he muttered to himself, voice so low that only he would hear.

Mommy? he thought, then shivered in sudden embarrassment. The last thing he needed was to call his mother 'mommy' in public. That cannot happen.

Still, shaking off the embarrassment, he waited.

Waited.

Waited.

"I love my dad."

He waited, again. Waited. And waited.

"Huh."

No dissonance.

…

Felix sat with a frown on his face. It had been a few hours since the plane had landed. All the passengers were accounted for. No fatalities. No critical injuries. All except the two boys that had jumped off the plane and the terrorist.

He tapped his pen against the metal desk in an annoying rhythm.

Posture rigid, he chewed heavily on the butt of another pen. He was uncomfortable. His left foot tapped against the ground in an equally annoying rhythm as the pen against the table.

He'd never lost a passenger. Worst, now it was kids, and all because he had been stupid enough to use the restroom at the wrong time.

Black walls encased the room he was in on all four sides. It's only source of light were from the four orbs of white light affixed to each corner. This place was usually used to interrogate questionable fliers, arriving or departing. Today, it was his place of solitude, where he stewed and berated himself in his mind.

Images of the boys flashed in his mind and he fought back a grimace. They would haunt his dreams. He knew this as sure as he knew his own rank.

He sighed, taking in a deep breath and letting it out. It did nothing to calm him. It did nothing to help him forgive himself.

"You've got to give it up, Felix."

Felix turned his head, looked at the only other person in the room. Josh was a good catholic boy who was now a good protestant man. He kept his hair cut short and his face beardless. He had a tattoo of a single, black tear drop beneath his left eye that stood out on his almost pale skin. It was the only seemingly wayward thing about him. A single drop of tear.

They'd been friends long enough for Felix to know what it meant. They'd gone to high school together where Josh had said that whenever he lost a family member, he would tattoo a teardrop for them. A touch of waywardness to stain his seemingly perfect persona. The next year, he had lost his younger brother to a Gifted on Gifted conflict.

"Sometimes, you just have to accept it," Josh said solemnly. "We should be working on informing their next of kin."

"We will," Felix said, practically biting out the words. "But I need to be sure."

"Why?" Josh asked. "A drop from over thirty thousand feet would—"

"They're Gifted!" Felix snapped at his friend, sadness and shame masquerading as rage. "They were Gifted." His voice was calmer now. "They fought the terrorist off. Only Gifted would do that."

Josh nodded gently. If Felix's outburst had offended him, he didn't show it. "I know."

"Gifted are walking miracles. They can be."

The first thing he had done when the plane had landed and he had submitted his half-hearted report was to check the plane's manifest. He'd gone through the camera's, watched everything that had happened, staring in disbelief as both boys fought back the terrorist. According to their identification, they were brothers. The older one had a class he had never heard of before: [Demon King]. The younger was a [Faker].

He could see some hope for the [Faker]. Their opponent had been a [Pyromancer]. If he could somehow fly with the skill, maybe the [Faker] could copy it and do the same. His hope for the [Demon King] class was in the uniqueness of it. The unknown could always pull anything out of its ass and shock you when you least expected it.

After that, he'd entered their faces into the city's database. Every city owned video camera would ping him the moment they walked into view.

But if he was being honest, he didn't have hope. Josh was right. A drop from over thirty thousand feet? If they hit the ground, there would be nothing left of them to even identify.

Josh placed a consoling hand on his shoulder and said nothing.

Felix sucked in another breath and it hooked in his throat. He fought with it, struggling to keep the tears that threatened to well up in his eyes at bay—the tears that had choked his breath.

This was hard. This was—

The laptop on the table in front of him pinged and he shot forward on his chair. He threw his face so close to it that it was a surprised he did not smash the screen with his face.

His eyes widened. His mouth opened in disbelief. He had hoped.

"You have got to be kidding me," Josh muttered in disbelief.

Felix's breath came faster and he started laughing.

Fuck grief!

He shot up from his chair and Josh got up with him.

"We should hurry," Josh said, looking down at the screen.

Felix had no answer for him. He was already barreling out of the room. Sometimes, God reminded him that he existed and, if he prayed hard enough, miracles happened.

He'd left the laptop behind. On its screen, two boys with tattered clothes and almost naked were trying to explain something to four security men.

"I could go to church!" he barked in relief, pumping his fist in the air in ecstasy.

But he knew himself. He would probably attend a service or two before falling back to his non-church going ways.

…

"That's what I'm saying," Ark was explaining to the three unkind looking security officers. "We were on it, things happened, now we're not."

He held up his phone to them, showing them a picture of his identification. Then he swiped to a soft copy of his ticket.

"That was our flight."

Melmarc stood behind him. Ark was the better talker so when they found themselves in a situation that needed talking, he led the way. Melmarc only stepped in when tempers started flying and Ark started getting angry. Right now, Ark was frustrated not angry.

"Alright," one of them said with a sigh. "How about we take you to client services, have this checked out and verified, then have you wait for someone who'll have all this sorted out."

Ark groaned as the security officer gestured for them to head in a specified direction. Ark complied, tired, while Melmarc followed.

Melmarc understood the officers. Regardless of whatever stress it was placing on him and Ark, they were just doing their job by not even allowing them into the building.

"HOLD!" somebody bellowed from inside.

Everyone froze, not from the authority in his voice but the urgency. All of them turned to look inside, only to find a man running with a badge held out in his hand.

Ark turned an aghast look to the nearest security officer. "You called the authorities on us? Dude!"

The security officer ignored him, standing and watching as the man drew nearer, another man running fast behind him.

The man got to them and pulled to a stop. He wasn't breathing like someone who had run hard.

"Marshal," all three guards greeted in unison.

The Marshal nodded. "These kids are with me."

The officers looked at each other, then Melmarc and his brother, then back to the Marshal.

"You sure, sir?" one of them asked. He was a man of average height and build with a forgettable face. He was neither ugly or fine. Just…. There.

The man behind the marshal nodded. "They're with us."

The hand off process was very easy and straight to the point. A confused set of guards handed over two confused teenagers to two happy looking marshals.

"Let's hurry," the marshal who had held his badge out said quickly, guiding them. "My name's Felix, and this is my colleague, Josh. We've got all your things offboarded this way. I sincerely apologize for…" His eyes settled on Ark—truly settled on Ark—and his words trailed off. He shook his head. "As I was saying, I'm very sorry about what happened. I hope you can understand that the kind officers were just doing their jobs."

He spoke fast and quick, as if he was always running out of time.

"It's fine," Ark said, looking back at Melmarc with a shrug.

In a matter of minutes, they were in a spacious room. Although it was completely void of furniture or windows, it was illuminated by white glowing orbs stationed at its four corners just floating in the air.

"Buddy!" Ark celebrated, arms held out in cheer as he approached a cage with Spitfire in it. "Tell me you've missed me."

Both Marshals shared confused looks as Ark left them for Spitfire.

The second Marshal, Josh, leaned into Melmarc. "Forgive my asking," he said. "But what kind of familiar is that?"

"A salamander," he answered without missing a beat.

Dissonant.

Melmarc fought the urge to roll his eyes.

Felix clapped loud enough to draw everyone's attention, including Ark who now had Spitfire positioned comfortably on his head.

"How about a change of clothes." He said the words as if he was offering instead of telling them to get dressed.

Melmarc nodded, heading straight for his luggage. His and Ark's were the only luggage in the room.

"That would be very pleasant," Melmarc said.

Melmarc picked out a comfortable shirt and a pair of jeans. Ark wore a green shirt with the words 'Dumpster fire' written across the front in flame colors and cargo pants.

"Uhm…" Felix looked around, as if just discovering that there was no furniture to use, no chair to sit on.

"You didn't think this true, did you?" Josh asked him in a low voice and a little snicker.

Felix frowned at him. "I didn't think this scene would happen."

They were speaking in very low voices so Melmarc didn't think they knew that he could hear them. Judging by the looks on Ark's face, he could hear them, too.

Felix turned back to them. "Uhm…. My colleague is going to go get us some chairs that we can sit on, then we'll try and finish up this whole process as quickly as possible."

Josh gave him a befuddled look, then pointed at himself.

Me? He mouthed.

Felix shot him an imploring look, and he rolled his eyes. He turned and opened the door immediately.

The moment Josh was gone, Felix returned his attention to them.

"Let me get the first and most important thing out of the way before he gets back," he began, talking as fast as Melmarc was now beginning to think he only knew how to.

"Is it the scars?" Ark asked. "Don't worry about it. It's no…"

His words trailed off into silence.

Felix was standing in front of them with his head down. He was bowed at the waist.

"Thank you," he said in a slow, cracking voice. "For your sacrifice. Thank you, for saving three hundred lives."

Ark moved, taking a step forward, wanting to say something when the man raised his head. The tears in the man's eyes stopped him in his tracks.

The man bowed his head again.

"And thank you," he sniffled, voice cracking, "for being alive."

Ark looked at Melmarc. The Marshal had just made him feel a little embarrassed and awkward.

As for Melmarc, he could appreciate it because he could feel it.

It was great and big. Overwhelming. Unadulterated.

As simple and basic as the action was, it carried the weight so strong it was a tidal wave in Melmarc's soul.

This was gratitude.

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