Chapter Text
Faroe had been sneaking up the fire escape the first time it happened.
It wasn't that her father didn't want her being out late, he'd probably be alright with it if she asked, it was just that she liked sneaking out. It made her feel like a spy, crouching around corners, gathering intel, scaling buildings, she liked to imagine that this was what her father did.
She was crawling on her stomach under the window of his office, the metal grate pressing into her palms and chest. Faroe had seen that her father was in his office from the street, and had planned accordingly.
She was directly under the window sill when he spoke.
"What are you doing?"
Faroe froze. She slowly turned her head up to look at the window, certain her father would be looking back at her.
There was no one there.
"Newspapers? Why?"
Faroe let out the breath she'd been holding. He was talking to someone in the room.
"What about Parker?" His voice was gentle, sorrowful almost, "I know I was blamed for his death,"
Parker? Faroe knew all of her father's friends, but she'd never heard of a Parker. Apparently this mystery friend was dead and, not only that, but her father had been blamed for it!
"Not our-- hold on, hold on! John, what are you saying?" Her father was silent for a long while, Faroe strained her ears to try hear what this "John" person was saying. She didn't know that name either.
She couldn't hear anything, John must be using sign language.
"That's... But what about the letter from Daniel?" Faroe couldn't risk leaning up to try see what John was saying. It was starting to get cold.
"Well, it mentioned Oscar."
Oscar. Faroe knew who he was. He was a priest in New York that her father had clicked with strangely fast. She'd met him both times she'd been to New York, he was nice enough. There wasn't much Faroe could get from only one side of the conversation. She moved very slowly, inching her way forward.
"Faroe? What does she--? Yes she's in her room, why?"
Faroe stayed completely still for a second, before crawling as fast as she dared. She could not have her father checking on her only to find an empty bed.
He'd been strangely protective over her since his return from New York. And touchy, hugging her every chance he got.
She slid up her window and ~tumbled~ _rolled_ into her room. Faroe kicked off her shoes and pulled her clips out of her hair before tossing them on her desk.
She threw herself under the covers and pulled them up around her chin, hiding the fact that she was very much not wearing her pyjamas. She was just in time.
Her father gently opened her bedroom door, "Faroe?" He called softly.
He took a few steps into her room.
"Shit!" He whispered as he tripped on one of her shoes.
It took all of Faroe's willpower not to laugh. It was almost enough. She bit down on her duvet in an attempt silence her snickers.
She cracked one eye open, her father picked up both of her shoes and set them neatly next to her door.
She shut her eyes quickly as he came over to her. He pet her head gently, pulling softly at her curls.
"Oh sweetie, I'm sorry I was gone for so long," he pressed a little kiss to the top of her head, like he always did when she was small. He had only been gone for two weeks, sure it was the longest he'd been gone for, but still. Faroe thought he was over reacting.
She opened her eye again, only half way this time.
Her father stood above her, silhouetted by the bright moonlight. The light played tricks on her tired mind, making his eyes seem to glow a fluorescent yellow.
He rubbed her cheek with his thumb.
"Sleep well, dear,"