He knows, when the phone rings late at night, that it's her.

It can't be anyone else.

It's not allowed to be.

Because it's supposed to be her.

And she needs him.

And it's been so long since he's felt needed.

Kyle...Kyle pretty much runs on his own. Worries about his dad like a good son, but doesn't *need* anything. Doesn't depend on him for help, for support, for advice. And Tess...Tess...well, he doesn't quite know how to raise an alien girl and he's glad he doesn't have to.

They leave him be. They keep their own hours and make their own meals. They don't go out of their way to find trouble or to save the world. They never go out of their way to involve him in their personal dramas. And they never have to call.

He likes to hear her whisper his name. It comes out in one long rush of breath, like she wants to squeeze in every syllable as quickly as possible. Like she wants to make sure she says it all because that's the only way he'll agree to help her.

Little does she know that he is much easier than that.

And he likes the twenty-eight seconds of silence after she says it. He always pictures her chewing the pale pink lipstick off her full lower lip as she tries to figure out what words to use...how to explain the latest crisis in a way that will keep him safe and still convince him to come.

Little does she know that he is much easier than that.

When she'd told him she would catch a ride with somebody to Tucson, he'd wanted to reach through the phone lines and shake her. Grasp her shoulders and rattle her until her pearly white teeth tingled from the pain. And he'd tamped down the urge by telling himself that he didn't quite know how to raise an alien girl...that he was glad he didn't have to.

But he'd thought about her alone, standing in the rain, getting in some stranger's car, anyway. He'd thought about the thousand dangers that could befall a beautiful teenager on an American highway. He'd thought about them...and cursed himself for picturing an attacker with blue eyes and graying blond hair and a careworn face.

All dirty old men don't look the same, he thinks.

He hopes.

He'd told Agent Duff they needed the plane to catch Sorenson.

He'd told her to draw her gun as they entered the Dupree house because Laurie might need their help.

But it was another girl he'd looked for.

And he'd breathed a sigh of relief when neither of the two fair heads and the frightened faces were her. Or had it been disappointment?

And later, much later, when Isabel had arrived safely, soaking wet from storm and tears, he'd managed to keep drinking with the good agent. To keep talking shop.

He'd watched her bolt down to the cellar, grief and guilt in her big brown eyes. And after fifteen minutes of idle chatter and one more shot of the Duprees good bourbon, he'd gone looking. Citing the neutral concern of a good Sheriff. Of someone who didn't quite know how to raise an alien girl and was thankful he didn't have to.

He'd rubbed her back, gently, as she cried, slumped next to Sorenson's still, violated, body. He'd tried not to look at the blue crystals sprouting from the man's chest--tried to ignore the warning any sensible human being would take to heart--and let her whimper into his shoulder. She'd *sobbed*, really. Murmured something about it being all her fault and he'd told her it was nonsense. He'd almost touched her hair...almost...pulled back his fingers at the last possible second...and said, "There, there. You couldn't have known. You couldn't have known."

*You couldn't have known that any man who meets you is a goner. That any man and every man is slated to die the first time you say their name. That any man and every man will always..._always_ answer your call.*

She'd needed him.

She needs him.

The sharp wail of the telephone ringing cuts off his wandering thoughts.He stares towards the general direction of the wall unit, in the dark, and wonders if he should let the machine get it just this once. If he should just, this once, let it wait till morning.

He's much easier than that.

"Sheriff Valenti?"

"Hello, Isabel. What can I do for you?"