The day his sister returned, the carpet was pulled out from under his feet again and any balance he'd managed to find in her absence was gone.

That was not to say that he resented her return. But after so long, believing her dead, grieving for the loss of someone he had loved so much, it was hard to accept.

It had been Dr. Jacobs behind the knocking at the door, back in early October. He'd greeted them, said he had news, and then he'd stepped away to reveal a young woman they hadn't recognized at first. She'd been so thin, thinner than he'd ever seen her, and her hair was shorter than she'd ever cut it, curling gently around her cheeks. Maybe it was his imagination that put that strange weight behind her dark eyes, but there was something there he hadn't seen before.

There had been a lot of crying and hugging, a lot of rapid questions and demands or answers. He'd raged at her, and at their father when he'd tried to restrain him, but eventually the wistful smile on her had smothered her fire and then he'd been the one crying, his arms around her waist as he squeezed her tight. Dr. Jacobs said he had found her wandering down the sidewalk on his way home, lost and confused. He'd brought her to the clinic for an exam, but there had been nothing outwardly wrong with her besides malnutrition and some new scars on her hands and forearms. She wasn't able to remember anything of where she had been or who had taken her and the doctor explained amnesia was common after trauma. She might remember, given time, or she might not. There was nothing to do about that but wait, and it tore at him that whoever had done this was going to get away with it. Only her hand on his arm had kept him from yelling at Dr. Jacobs more and he'd subsided with ill grace.

There wasn't anything that could be done about it, in the end, after reports had been filed with the police. 'Just let them do their job' seemed to be the consensus, but in Destiny City, he didn't trust that to go real far. Not when there were probably a dozen more cases like Orah's, of people disappearing and unexplained happenings. He was unlucky enough to know what was really going on, and that made it all the worse... it had probably been one of his fellows that had taken his sister, held her for months before she had somehow escaped. And even if he knew who, what could he do about it? His superiors wouldn't be happy with him killing one of their own.

So anger at loss shifted into anger at impotence, and all of it mixed strangely with a relief and joy so sharp it was painful. Orah was home, safe and sound, and their family was whole again. He was determined that no matter what, he wasn't going to lose her again.

Turning away from his grumpy perusal of the sky and memories of that day two months ago, Matthew headed into the mall with his hands shoved into his pockets. Last Christmas had been a sad affair and he remembered the lights and singing had driven him mad. This year though... there was a new twinkle to everything, and a sense of a weight lifting.

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