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"Released on bail? Are you kidding me?"

Carlton growled into the phone in unsupressed outrage. Assistant District Attorney Fenton replied with his usual blend of contrition and thinly-veiled despair.

"Sorry. We ended up pulling Walker for arraignment. It went downhill quickly from there."

"Walker? Dammit, I thought that idiot was retired by now..."

"Unfortunately, no. His wife left him last month - not exactly a surprise, given what a bastard he is - and he decided that without her, the job was all he had to live for, so he un-retired and everyone's still stuck with him. Fact of the matter is, though, even if I'd gotten a different judge, it's unlikely the outcome would have been any different. Frankly, most of the charges are going to end up dropped, anyway, and the judge knows it as well as I do."

"Drop them? Why? They're based on what actually happened, and when the DNA comes back, there should be more than enough evidence to make it a slam-dunk!"

"Yeah, look... I like your enthusiasm, and I want to fight against this kind of stuff as much as you do, but the simple truth of the situation is that there are fact that are true, and facts that you can sell a jury on. And some of the charges... well, I filed them on your request, but they're not going anywhere. The incest one, for example. Sure, it's on the books, but the last time anyone in this county was prosecuted on it was over two decades ago. I mean, let's face it - every week in this county, there's a case where a girl gets knocked up by a father or a brother or a cousin or an uncle, and most people don't care about it at all. If I put together a jury in this county, half the people on it are probably going to have a family like that, which means it's a charge that's not winnable."

"Rrrgh... fine, I get it. But what about the other stuff? That's gotta be a lock, right? Statutory, at least..."

"Yeah, about that... Thing is, in this state, it's a lot easier to prosecute that if the victim is 16 or under. The victim here is close enough to legal age that all the defense has to do is prove that she went through sex-ed and has enough knowledge about the risks and consequences to make an informed decision."

"An informed decision to be raped by her own father."

"I know, it sounds crazy, but the law is very specific on the criteria that have to be met to charge it. I checked with the school, and there's a written record of her passing sex ed, which means selling that charge is going to be basically impossible once the defense attorney gets ahold of it in discovery."

"That still doesn't change the fact that he kept the girl in his house and raped her over and over and over again. The evidence of that is literally growing in her womb. You're really telling me you can't charge that?"

"Again, Carl, it's the facts here that we have to deal with. It's not a crime to pull your daughter out to home-school her, and your own report confirmed that they were, in fact, providing her with a decent education at home. Keeping her in the house isn't something that's prevented by law, or I'd have to arrest parents every time they grounded their kids. And all the baby proves is that they had sex. There's no physical evidence to back up that it was nonconsensual, and it's hard to prove any rape based on witness testimony alone. Not to mention the complications trying to prove rape against a woman in heat. The only convictions I found for that situation were cases where there was overwhelming physical evidence of abuse. All I've got is one sister who might not even be willing to testify at all, and another that saw something that's maybe fourth-degree sexual assault at best, and heard some noises that sounded like two people having sex. No screaming, no yelling for him to stop, no nothing. I've literally got nothing to work with here. I could try and bluff, but even a public defender is going to see through it. Probably the best I can do with what I've got is push for a deal that gets him a few months in jail, a thousand hours of community service, and a guaranteed levy of child support. I know it's not nearly enough, but it gets a misdemeanor sex conviction on him, which is enough under the law to scuttle the parental-rights petition he was trying to file with you. Saving one of them is better than nothing, right?"

"You know that's not good enough, not even close. At least tell me the restraining order is still in place."

"The judge didn't mess with that, but there's also no imminent-threat clause in it, which means there's not going to be any priority for enforcement or extra patrols."

"No imminent threat? Seriously? You know what he'd gonna do when he gets back home!"

"Your own report said that the assaults likely occurred only during her heat, and have apparently ceased now that she's pregnant. I know that doesn't tell the whole story, but under the law, because further action isn't probable for now, it's not an imminent threat."

"And if he kills her? The guy has some serious issues with anyone he thinks might have betrayed him."

"You really think he went to so much trouble to make sure she got pregnant, just to kill her and her unborn child? You really want him kept away, you've got to give me something I can sell to a judge."

Carlton growled again, gnashing his teeth, but he knew the lawyer was right. Despite his best efforts, there wasn't enough to make the law work this time. And, thanks to his own gambit aimed at preventing violence, there was now an official report on file stating that Frand's home was a fit one for raising a child, tying his hands in terms of anything his agency could do unilaterally. Unless...

"Hey - has Frand been processed out yet?"

"No, I don't think so. They still have to transfer him back from court to the jail administration building, where the bond will be officially posted prior to his release. It sounds like the public defender already got the bond arranged, so I doubt it'll be long - maybe a couple of hours?"

"All right. Thanks, man."

"You're not thinking of doing anything... rash, are you?"

"No, I can assure you, what I have planned is entirely within the law. I have to fight for these people, though. I can't just let it go and leave that girl to her fate."

"Well, suit yourself. Just don't come to be for legal advice if you do anything crazy. Anyway, I'll get back to you on that other deposition, so..."

"Right, talk to you later." Carlton slammed the phone down, suddenly a whirlwind of activity as he spring up from his chair, grabbing his coat and throwing the door open in a single, hurried motion. The only way any of this worked out now was if he could get Elizabeth to open up to him, make the allegations, and file a formal complaint - even if a court case wouldn't go anywhere, if he had that in hand it would give him enough authority to pull her out and get her somewhere safe for a few months as the complaint wound its way through the bureaucracy. And after that, if the ADA could actually get Frand to sign the deal, it would mean that he would have an uphill battle getting her back if she wanted to stay away from him. Assuming that took several months as well, but the time all was said and done she'd be legally an adult, and completely out of his reach if she wanted him to be. For any of that to happen, though, she had to get over whatever conflicted feelings she had for her father and talk - the sooner, the better. If Frand got back before he had what he needed...

Carlton paused, then reached into his top desk drawer. The long-barrel revolver had been issued to his grandfather back in the Great War, and was probably a collector's piece by now, but it still worked on the rare occasions he took it to the range. He pocketed the thing, silently praying to himself that he wouldn't have to use it - but if the timing didn't work out and Frand got back too soon, it might be the only thing that would get him back out of that house alive.

--

Despite everything he'd done, Elizabeth found that she almost missed Frand when he took of for his meeting with the child welfare agent and didn't come back. As strange as it was, if you discounted what Frand had put her through, he'd been a much better father to be around since his... priorities had changed. Given his erratic comings and goings, she still wasn't convinced that Frand had a real job, exactly, but the money still seemed to come in. There was food on the table every night instead of just most of them, more and richer than had previously been the case, and the power and water were now reliable enough to be taken for granted. The books required for the home-school curriculum that the school sent over every quarter always arrived on time, and when the ancient TV finally went out in a burst of unrecoverable static, it was replaced with one that was still small, but with a modern, flat screen, and purchased new from an actual store. From any objective standpoint, it was a marked improvement from how things had been going before; add in the fact that Frand hadn't laid a hand on either one of them (in a violent way, at least) since Elizabeth's heat, and aside from just one major problem, it was just about as good as her family could get.

Now that Frand was gone, that one major problem was too - but all the other ones would soon return, she knew, unless the man from the child welfare agency actually came through and did something for them to make up for the money that Frand had brought in. Naomi, for now, just seemed to think that Frand had gone off to take care of some business, and would be back within another day or two; how she would react when Frand was gone for good, or if someone called her up and told them that Frand was locked away, Elizabeth didn't know. At least Frand had gotten to the point of "trusting" her enough that he hadn't moved anything heavy to block the door when he'd left, so they could get out if they had to.

On the third day after Frand had gone, though, there was a frantic-sounding knocking at the door. For a moment, Elizabeth froze, wondering if Frand had somehow managed to get out and come back to them - and if so, how much he knew about her involvement. If he knew that she had given him up, however involuntarily... she knew she couldn't think like that, though. Even if Frand didn't believe her, even if he was furious, she still had the baby he so desperately wanted growing steadily in her belly, and that in itself should keep her safe until she figured out another way to break free. Besides, if it was really Frand at the door, he would have just opened it and walked in - but who else would come all the way out there? It wasn't exactly like they were on speaking terms with their handful of neighbors, who preferred to keep their business to themselves.

Elizabeth got up, her balance still a little tentative from her body trying to get used to the extra weight she was carrying, and went over to the door, undoing the lock and opening it just a crack. Looking out, she saw the tensed, serious face of the welfare agent from before, and she knew in an instant what must have happened.

"Frand's out," she said, her voice an impassive monotone, even as the spike of dread she felt at the news was quickly muted inside her. The possibility that this would happen had been lurking in the back of her mind, so much so that she couldn't even say she felt surprised. After all, it wasn't as though the government had done anything to investigate or intervene for all those years of Frand and his fists, so it wasn't much of a change to recognize that they were just as impotent now as they'd surely been then. It had been smart, then, that she hadn't dared to get her hopes up too high, and had reacted cautiously with the idea that he might yet return.

"We need to talk, quickly," the man - Carlton, his name was? - said, gesturing for her to let him in. She did, reluctantly, glancing around for Naomi, but she was nowhere to be seen. Elizabeth led him into the kitchen, and he sat down at the table opposite from her, his fingers drumming nervously on the tabletop. Elizabeth realized, looking at him, that he wasn't just angry or disappointed that it had happened - he seemed actually scared.

She listened, feeling her heart sink a little, as Carlton relayed what the district attorney had told him about the charges, and how the justice system had, apparently, all but acknowledged that what Frand had done to her was somehow grudgingly acceptable in the eyes of the law. She looked down at the table as he made up some excuse about the "backwards, hick judges" in their town, but whatever excuses he had, it all sounded the same to her. It didn't matter who had failed - what mattered was that they had failed, and soon Frand would be back with her, with everything that entailed. Even if she'd half-expected it, even if her mind was screaming "I told you so," it was still a grim pronouncement that hung over everything, settling onto and silently smothering the few optimistic thoughts that she'd allowed to creep into her head in Frand's absence.

It was understandable, then, that her dejected, impassive expression remained unchanged when the agent begged her to file an official report with him anyway. Even though a prosecutor wouldn't even glance at it, or even care what it contained. All the man was promising was some byzantine, bureaucratic nonsense that was somehow supposed to save her when there wasn't a single law with enough reach to change her situation. Even if there was a law to hold Frand at bay, it still didn't change the fact that she had a baby on the way and no real prospects to speak of, not even a high-school diploma. No matter which option she chose, there was bound to be more than her fair share of suffering.

So she sat, regarding the man on the other side of the table as he looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to speak, waiting for her to buy into another desperate dream.

"I don't believe you," she finally said, her voice as blank as her expression.

"What? What do you mean? I've just told you what I-"

"I don't believe you can save me."

The man, Carlton, looked frustrated for a second, before sighing and slumping back down in his chair. "Of course. Hardly a surprise, what with me showing up here to tell you about how my first foolproof plan to save you from Frand came completely apart. I get that, but... look. This is the best thing I could come up with on short notice. It's the only thing I've got that has a chance of getting you out of here cleanly before Frand gets back here. And once he does... there's only so much more I can do. I'm not a cop. I'm not a judge. I can't force you to sign anything, I can't require you to come with me to a foster or state-run home where you'll be safe from him. At the same time, though, hearing what's happened, what you've been through... I don't want to fail you, I don't want to leave you here as his virtual slave, but this is the only gambit I've got left. Once Frand's got you under his thumb again, I don't think there's going to be another good chance. Please, I'm begging you - take it while you can!"

"And so I go with you, to some other person's home, or some awful place run by the state... and then what happens? My mo- Naomi's still here with him, taking him every day, and she'd never be brave enough to turn him in. Frand will still be out, and without me and the baby to focus on, he'll put all his effort into getting Jessica back here to be with him, some way or another. How is that any better?"

Carlton looked a bit taken aback. "Well, I-"

"You don't think I want to leave? You realize it's not that simple, right? I stay here, Frand focuses on me and thinks about the baby, and if I do it right, he thinks about Jessica less and less. Maybe by the time the baby arrives, he'll have focused enough on me that he'll give up on going after my other sisters, and we'll just have a nice, miserable rape-filled little family right here. It sucks, but it's a sacrifice I already made so that my little sister could be safe, right? If my life has to be intertwined with Frand's, if I have to take up that place so that Jessica can be free, then I'm gonna do it. If I just run away and let Frand focus on getting Jessica again, then what was the point of doing all this in the first place?"

"Wow, that's..." Carlton stammered, looking completely flummoxed - apparently, whatever response he'd been anticipating, what Elizabeth had said wasn't even close to anything he'd imagined. "I... I guess I can understand where you're coming from with that, given what you've been through, but... what about your own freedom? What about your own happiness? Don't you deserve to be free of him, too?"

"None of us deserved anything. None of us deserved Frand, but that's who we got. What I deserved... I don't know. I never thought things would turn out this way. I never thought I'd have to go through what I did. But that's the thing - I made it through. I handled it, somehow. Who else could? Not Natalie, not Jessica, and Naomi... I don't know about her, she's just broken or something, but there's no way she could keep him in check on her own. This isn't what I wanted, yeah, but now I know... now I know how to endure. If any of us are gonna contain Frand and keep everyone else protected, then it's gonna be me. I've already made that sacrifice. I'm already knocked up. I'm so used to what Frand does to me that it all just washes over me now. And if you can't offer me more than just a bunch of words, if you can't offer me a guarantee that Frand is going away and isn't coming back, then I have to stay here. For everyone's sake."

Elizabeth gestured towards the entrance to the kitchen. "You should go before he gets back. Seeing you here... I don't think it'll help anything. You understand, though, right? Why I can't go with you?"

"Yes, I do," Carlton said, sighing heavily again before he got to his feet. "You were more than clear about that. Your heart's in the right place, I know, but your head..." Carlton shook his own before continuing. "Look. Maybe this was a stupid, desperate play to come here, but I'm not giving up on any of you. That file's staying open, and I'm going to keep thinking of ways to help you. Your sister's safe for now, and given how important her safety is to you, I'm gonna make sure she stays safe and is legally free of Frand, somehow. And once that's done, and you know she's safe, I'm going to find a way to rescue you too."

Carlton walked over to the door, but turned back just before his hand settled on the doorknob. "I know it would be cruel, telling you to get your hopes up after what just happened, but... just remember that there are other people out there who care for you. And, unlike Frand, when they say it, they actually mean it." Then he opened the door and walked outside, closing it carefully behind him, and a moment later she heard his car start up and drive off into the distance.

So that was it, then. Frand was on his way back. Maybe, at least, a few nights in jail had scared him out of some of his crazier notions about stealing her sisters back. Now it was just a matter of waiting for him to return, and hoping that he wouldn't be like his old self when that happened. She knew how he reacted to betrayal, and while she hadn't really done anything against him, it was hard to tell how he would see it. She knew she probably should have been more scared, knowing just what he was capable of, but now that the reality of his return was sinking in, the depressive feelings of numbness and indifference had settled heavily over her once again. Whatever happened, she would just have to handle it, and as long as Jessica was safe, she knew that she could.

At that point, there was nothing to do but sit around and wait to see what happened when her father showed back up. Elizabeth retreated to her room and tried to lose herself in her books and her schoolwork, but it was hard to concentrate with the storm of Frand's return looming on the horizon. What if he really was furious with them for what had happened? What if he turned violent again? It was painful not to know, especially as the minutes turned to hours, and still no sign of Frand at all.

Elizabeth shared a silent dinner with Naomi, who still seemed somehow oblivious to the tension of recent events. Afterwards, they went over to the couch and watched some utterly forgettable made-for-TV movie, Elizabeth's hands fidgeting nervously in her lap before finally coming to rest on the ever-growing curve of her belly. She knew that the expansion was at least more limited than in some of those who had ascended from other types of animals - somewhere within her genes was some ancient imperative to hunt, and to be able to do so even while pregnant meant that her body would tent outward much less than some others, some of whom seemed to carry a beach ball beneath their expanded shirts. Of course, that wasn't merely an observation from watching television - whether or not Carlton had been entirely right in his ranting, there had been a significant minority of girls who had attended class with her in various stages of being with child. Back then, she'd always felt a little sorry for them, but hadn't asked questions - it had always been their problem, their burden to deal with. She'd never imagined, then, that it would be something that happened to her - or that her own father would be the one responsible for it. Elizabeth couldn't help but shudder a little as she thought about some of those pregnant, sullen, bleary-eyed classmates, wondering for the first time just how many of them had a father, or a brother, who had hauled them into their bedroom, pinned them down, and forced their way into their fertile wombs in an act of intimate cruelty.

Eventually, the movie's credits rolled, followed by a table full of amateurish reporters from the local news, and still no sign of Frand as Elizabeth sat nervously on the couch. In fact, it wasn't until the late-night host was well into his opening monologue when her keen canine ears heard the sound of a car pulling up outside.

She turned her head towards the entryway, hearing a car door slam, and then the sound of male voices in muted conversation. From the tone of them, one was certainly Frand, and the other, while she couldn't quite make it out, almost seemed like it belonged to the sketchy-looking private eye she'd heard him talking with before. She kept listening, with Naomi sitting passively beside her, as the car started up and pulled away. Then there was a thump against the front door, and she watched as the handle jiggled, first one way and then the other, before it finally turned and allowed the door to swing open.

Frand stood in the doorway, dressed in his usual worn jeans and lumberjack-style shirt, looking no worse for wear from his brief incarceration. In fact, he was grinning happily, like he was king of the world, and the figure that lay motionless in his arms was certainly the reason why.

Frand was holding a young woman, carrying her like a groom lifting his bride across the transom, one arm supporting her shoulder and one hooked underneath her knees. The woman looked dressed for a day at the office, wearing a professional-looking blouse that showed off just enough cleavage, and a plain, formal black skirt that hugged her form down to the middle of her thigh. When Jessica saw the distinctive cream-colored fur that extended down the woman's legs, though, with just the slightest hint of silver curlicues tracing through, her heart began to sink as she realized who the woman in Frand's arms almost certainly was. Dreading confirmation of what she feared, but unable to look away, it took no more than a glance at the woman's lolling head, even in profile, for the truth to finally sink in. Even from that angle, even with the changes the intervening years had brought, it was a face that she knew all too well.

Natalie, at long last, had come home.