Ben loved you. He really did. But if he loved anybody more, it would be your two-year-old daughter, Aria.

Aria, your sweet little girl, looked just like her father. Same bright green eyes. Same dirty-blonde hair. Same nose.

Always carrying around a stuffed eagle—her father’s symbol.

She’s his little girl. He’d kill anybody for her.

So that’s why now, you have to hold him back from hunting down a five-year-old after hurting your little girl yesterday.

Aria had gone to daycare like every normal day. Her green backpack with an eagle stitched into it. The stuffed eagle she always brings around. Yelling “Love you!” to both her parents.

Just to come running into your office, where Ben sat for lunch, screaming.

With a huge red bite mark on her arm and blood trickling down.

“Daddy!” she had screamed. “Daddy, he bit me! An’ he hurt Eagle! An’ he won’ give Eagle back!”

Ben didn’t know what to do other than storm down. Threaten to teach the kid a lesson in front of his parents.

And now, you sit with Aria curled up in the pile of blankets on the couch, a mug between your hands. Ben sits next to you, unevenly stitching Eagle’s wing back on for his daughter. Because that was her best friend who she brought everywhere.

You rest your head on his shoulder, watching as he stitches the wing back on, when all of a sudden, you smell something burning.

“Ben? Do you smell that?”

“Yeah,” he replies, tying the string on the stuffed animal.

And then you feel more warmth on the blanket. You turn to Aria, seeing the shine of heat emanating off of her forehead.

Shit.

“Ben. She’s burning up,” you say. He quickly tosses the stuffed animal onto the couch and quickly picks her up.

And his chest goes red from her temperature.

Because she’s half Ben, she’s half supe. Meaning she can burn you from how hot she gets during her fevers.

Ben sprints to the bathroom, and you follow.

“Hey, chicken,” he whispers when she wakes. “Daddy’s gonna cool you off, okay? You’re burnin’ up.”