The night was still dark when Matt returned to the guest room, his heart equal parts full, weary and relieved. He found Jane there, and to his surprise also her father, and to his even greater surprise a car‑sized hole in the wall Jane’s Dad was filling with expanding foam.

“What happened?” Matt asked, feeling the strain of his body shifting to a state of alarm again at yet another emergency, “Were we attacked?” He glanced around the room, taking in Jane, who was sitting on a packing box resting her elbows on her knees seeming neither concerned nor riled up, as well as the king‑sized mattress propped up against the adjoining wall and the carefully laid out pieces of a destroyed four‑poster bed. His panic subsided somewhat.

“Just an accident,” Jane replied. Her eyes flicked over to meet his for a few moments then shuffled awkwardly away, which Matt took to mean her agitation levels had fallen back down somewhere between ‘annoyed’ and ‘resigned’. Her Dad flicked a quick glance back at Matt, re‑holstered the spray can of expanding sealant in his tool belt, then turned to the both of them and clapped his hands.

“That should hold until morning,” he said, “Come sunup I’ll have the boys swing round to do repairs proper.”

“Thanks Dad,” replied Jane. She gave him a small, sad smile. Peter Walker opened his mouth as if to say something, then hesitated, glanced between Matt and his daughter, and after a second or two seemed to think better of it. He closed his mouth and stepped away from the foam barrier, walking back out the room with only a brief pause to rest his hand on Jane’s shoulder, and to flick Matt, who was standing beside the doorway, a short, nervous smile.

“Accident huh?” said Matt, once Jane’s father had left.

“Don’t start,” Jane sighed.

“I’m not,” he said, placating, holding up his hands.

There was a pause. After a moment, Jane blew out her lips. “Look, I’m sorry I was mad,” she said.

“Sorry I yelled.”

“Guess we were both a bit keyed up.”

“Yeah.” Matt paused. “Is your Dad okay?”

“Yeah,” said Jane, waving a hand, “He’s fine, we’re fine, no. We, ah… I don’t know. Don’t worry about it.” She shook her head and glanced over at him, still seated on a box. “Where’d you go?”

“Talk to Mom.”

“…and?”

“She’s going to be very sad when I die.”

Jane’s face twisted in pain. “Don’t joke.”

“Wasn’t.”

Jane shuffled over on the box she was sitting on, and Matt crossed the room to sit next to her. She was still dressed in the uniform of Dawn and still scowling slightly, though the intensity of her gaze seemed to be directed at the world at large now rather than him.

“So,” he said finally, gently poking her leg, “You want the good news or the bad news?”

Jane sighed and rolled her eyes. “Any. Either. Both.”

“Well the bad news,” Matt started, “Is that it’s 2am, I’m exhausted, and something has destroyed our bed.” A grunt was Jane’s only response. “Luckily, by my estimation, the mattress is the part of the bed you actually sleep on, and that seems to be intact.”

“Hngh.”

“Use your words. The good news it that I may have a lead.”

“Yeah that’s- what?” Jane suddenly sat bolt upright, her eyes widening and her face recoiling slightly like she’d just strode headfirst into a plank of wood. “Lead? What lead, what’re you talking about?” She leapt to her feet. “On the attackers?!”

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“First things first,” said Matt, holding up a finger, “Can you please change? It’s 2am. I feel like we’ve come back from a costume party and any second now I’m going to hovering over you in the bathroom, holding your hair as you throw up.”

“There’s no time for-”

“There’s time,” Matt sighed, exasperated, “Please, go, dress like a normal person, have a shower and- I mean you’re- the other way round- have a shower then put on clothes.”

“But-”

“And then, please,” he said, putting as much emphasis on the word as he could, “I would be forever grateful if you could, while I wait here in the designated safe room, go downstairs and find me some chocolate chip cookies.”

Jane stared at him, flabbergasted. “I’m not your errand girl,” she said, “And it’s the middle of the night, what do you need cookies for?”

“Because mine got destroyed,” Matt replied, doing his very best to keep his voice level, “And I am tired and hungry and I have had a very long day, and I just want this one thing, just this little something nice.”

The hard lines around Jane’s face softened. Her pulled-back chest deflated, her shoulders slumped and she ran her hands through her hair – and then before Matt could do anything she leaned forward and pulled him into a hug, bringing him to standing, holding him tight and warm and close.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, and in the soft words there crept the beginning of cracks. Matt held her in return.

“It’s okay,” he sighed. He slid underneath her cape with one hand and rubbed gentle circles atop the small of her back. “I’m okay. We’re okay.”

Jane let out a big sniff and pulled away, eyes wavering but still dry.

“Go,” Matt said, gesturing with his chin towards the room’s ensuite, “Change. And then please, I wasn’t joking about the cookies, Jesus Christ, I’m so hungry, I haven’t eaten all day.”

Jane rubbed her forehead, clearly torn between wanting to be caring and needing the lead right away right now give it. “What if it’s time sensitive…?” she asked, peering at him, though at least having the good courtesy to do it bracing through half squeezed eyes.

“What if it was time sensitive half an hour ago?” Matt replied, rolling his eyes so hard he rolled his head, “Lord have mercy, at some point you’ve gotta just take the risk. I promise, Jane, I promise, I will look at this with you right away, but if I do not eat something soon my stomach is literally going to consume itself.”

“But-”

“I am dead serious,” he repeated, “No shower, no cookies, no lead.”

Jane took in Matt’s immovable expression and hung her head in defeat. “You are an idiot,” she sighed.

“And you’re amazing. Now go be amazing in the shower, then get me food while I… I don’t know. Sit here with the door closed pretending I don’t exist.”

‘What if they don’t have chocolate chip?” Jane asked.

“You’re a big girl, think of something,” Matt replied, a tad impatient, “Use your phone, look up a recipe. Make some.”

“I don’t know,” his girlfriend retorted, sounding dubious. She paused and flashed a shy glance. “Morningstar’s already burnt down once.”

Matt’s next words died on his lips, and he was forced to stand there for a few moments staring at Jane in shock. “That,” he said finally, “Was actually really good.”

By the time Jane returned to their room some twenty minutes later, exactly as Matt had anticipated, a lot of her residual tension had subsided. Basic behavioural psychology – a shower and fresh clothes subconsciously marking to the brain a new chapter, and a simple selfless goal providing an easy sense of self‑worth and accomplishment. It was all about directing energy. So much, Matt knew, of what Jane was used to feeling was in terms of fear and anger – he had to occasionally give her permission to express herself in different ways.

“There weren’t chocolate chip,” she announced, walking back into their bedroom in grey track pants and a hoodie, her arms laden with blue boxes, “But there were Oreos. Are they alright?”

“At this stage,” Matt replied, happily relieving her of her burden and tearing open a packet, “I would eat Pop-Tarts slathered in dog poo.”

“Ew.” Jane frowned as she watched him devour a handful of the chocolate cream biscuits, making no move to sit. Matt raised a guilty eyebrow, his mouth full.

“You said you had a lead.”

“Yesh.”

“I got you your dumb cookies.”

“Shure.” Matt swallowed a mouthful of Oreo and cleared his throat. “One of the attackers gave me a USB.”

“What? Why?”

Matt explained what had seemed to be Lionel’s thought process. Jane looked stunned.

“So what’s on it?” she asked.

“How would I know?” Matt shrugged, “Haven’t exactly had time to sit down in front of the PC with a cup of hot cocoa.”

“Okay, well, we need to look at this. Immediately.”

“It’s like two thirty,” Matt complained.

“You can go to sleep.”

“Yeah right, like I’m going to trust you with detective work, Miss ‘Captain Dawn is so great and most definitely alive’.”

Jane’s face fell and Matt immediately regretted his words.

“Sorry,” he said, slapping his own cheek, “Sorry. That was uncalled for. My brain has lost its capacity for good jokes.”

“Ass,” Jane muttered, though a quick squeeze of her shoulder seemed to wipe away most of the hurt.

“Let’s go look at this USB.”

There was no objection. “Did they manage to save your laptop?”

“Doesn’t matter,” said Matt, “I don’t trust my eyes on this either. We need an expert.”