It wasn't until the highway signs started to read Tacoma that Ruby finally spoke up. She didn't move, as her head in Cinza's lap was the most comforting and safe place she could imagine.

Instead, she watched the street signs high above through the faux-windows in their carriage. They didn't allow wind through, with the way they'd designed the spells, so it actually reminded her a great deal of riding in a car. She'd never gotten to drive, of course, since she'd run away before she could get her license—if her father would ever let her, anyway.

"They wanted to take me away," she murmured.

"I assumed as much," said Cinza softly, still brushing Ruby's hair with her fingers. "They could never take you from me."

I'd never let them. Aloud, though, Ruby couldn't bring herself to be quite so fierce. She was too shaken by the experience, by the sheer threat she'd felt, the overwhelming sense that they might have been ripped apart. "I was so scared."

"I wanted to come to you, every second," said Cinza. "I'm so sorry that I didn't."

"No…" she murmured. "It's okay. I agreed to talk to them. You were there when I needed you."

Cinza continued to brush her hair in silence, while Ruby relived the moments again. She wondered if they'd even been telling the truth about how much he'd changed. Obviously there were photos of him, but… what good was a photo? They all knew about how Natalie's story had been twisted and confused, and how the photos of her didn't tell the whole story.

Photos of me wouldn't show anything either. He never hit me in places that would show… Is he really different now? After all that?

"Do you—" she started, but cut herself off. It needed another moment to properly fit into her mind. "Do you think people can really change?"

"What do you mean?"

"That's one of the things they talked about," said Ruby. She closed her eyes, doing her best to relax in Cinza's presence. "That my dad's… changed. They said he went to counseling, volunteers at schools and charities, even like… awakened charities. That he's totally different now."

Cinza didn't respond immediately. Ruby peeked one eye open to see her clearly contemplating the question, lost in thought. She closed her eyes again.

"Yes," said Cinza finally. "I cannot speak for your father, but I believe anyone can change. I've changed in more ways than I can imagine, more than once in my life even. My whole identity was broken down and renewed time and again. Sometimes, I felt like there wasn't a true core to my being until you came along and found it.

"You've changed too," she added. "The Ruby I know is very different from the girl I met two years ago. You were broken, and I was broken, but together, we healed one another. We both changed for the better."

"So you think…" Ruby trailed off, unwilling to voice it. Cinza gave her a few moments to finish the thought, but when it became clear she couldn't, her love filled in the space for her.

"I can't say if he's changed. That's something we'd have to see for ourselves. One thing I can say is that… despite everything, he is your father and shares your genes, and he raised you. By some measure, he is an influence on your life, and I could not be more in love with the end result."

Ruby smiled slightly, but it had brought up a new thought, one she couldn't stop herself from voicing. "Same for your parents."

Cinza nodded. "Whomever they might be."

She hesitated, but she had to ask, and she hoped it wouldn't feel too intrusive. "Do you wish you had parents?"

"I did, for a time," said Cinza. Ruby's eyes widened. She hadn't expected much of a response, and certainly not that, based on what she knew of Cinza's past lives. "It was a very patchwork relationship, abruptly gained and abruptly lost, but I might call them my parents if anyone ever really filled that role for me."

"Did you get along with them?"

"We did not believe in the same things," said Cinza. "But they were good people, and they cared for me and sheltered me for several years. We were total opposites in faith and ideology, but we still managed some kind of relationship. It didn't last, but… they taught me many valuable things. From them, I learned tolerance. I learned acceptance for the world, of the infinite variations in people. We were close for a time, but… we were driven apart."

She trailed off in a melancholy tone, obviously not wanting to speak of it further. Ruby was shocked how much she had revealed, and in a way, wish she hadn't. The memories obviously pained Cinza, returning to a past life she'd long-since buried.

"I don't know what I learned from my dad," said Ruby quietly. She took Cinza's hand and held it. "But… I used to like him. We were close. Then stuff with my step-mom happened, and then dad found out about… about me. I don't know why it was so much to him."

"We may never know what those around us believe in their hearts," said Cinza. "Some keep it locked up tight, so deep they don't even know themselves. Some are in denial about what they believe, and throw up walls of self-deception that must be broken down until the truth emerges."

"...Do you think that's him?" asked Ruby, opening her eyes again. "Maybe… I don't know. I'm…"

"You should try," said Makoto, startling them both. While he could usually hear them whenever they traveled, he'd never jumped into their conversations before. Cinza trusted him without reserve, and after a while, Ruby had done the same. Still, into one of their personal conversations… Ruby felt like it was an intrusion somehow.

On the other hand, he was always there for her. No matter what happened, Makoto was supportive. She couldn't deny how much he meant to her, and if he had something to offer, she ought to listen.

"You think so?" she asked.

"Give him one chance," said Makoto. "Only one. We will both be there. No matter what happens, it's your choice."

"But what if he…" Ruby trailed off, too afraid to voice it again.

"We won't let him," he said simply.

Cinza nodded. "Nothing," she reminded Ruby. "Neither man nor magic, no force will keep us apart."

Ruby nodded. "...Okay."