Peter had been in fights before. Lots of fights, with lots of different monsters.

This was different.

He'd always known for absolute sure that his dad could handle anything the dungeons could throw at them. No matter how crazy things got, he'd never seen them come even close to...

But today something fundamental had changed, maybe forever.

He'd seen his father about to die. Heard his mother's desperation in a way he'd never imagined could be directed at the immutable unstoppable rock that was Levi Morrison.

Turned out, that rock wasn't immutable after all.

That terrified Peter like nothing else had, made him question everything he thought he knew about his family, his place in the world, their approach to the dungeons and monsters.

When his dad could always be relied on to save them, when he could charge into any danger and always triumph, that meant something. The world may be dangerous and scary but in the end everything would be okay. Just like when they'd been locked up here. It had been terrible and awful, but he'd come to save them and everything would be fine.

This was entirely different.

Watching a monster maul someone he'd considered the foundation of stability, knowing there was nothing he could do.

It left him shaken in a way he'd never imagined.

Yes, he'd accepted responsibilities before now. Yes, he'd come to see himself as a warrior to stand between the innocent and the monsters. But those fights were a foregone conclusion. Monsters were like wild animals: dangerous if you were careless, but not able to pose a real threat to someone properly prepared.

You readied for the hunt, you found your targets, you fought and won. That's how it was supposed to be.

This was not how it was supposed to be.

"Pull up the shirt, I need to look at it." Mom's voice startled Peter into looking down.

He'd taken a slice across the stomach in the final rampage of the second round with the monster dog-deer, but it had already healed itself. His health was good at fixing things quietly and well. He thought he'd avoided drawing attention, but the red-stained torn fabric of his shirt made it hard to hide what had happened.

"It's fine," he protested, but he did as she said.

She ran a hand across the faint line, her eyes going that pale shade of silver they did when she was using her healer magic.

Peter flinched when her hand pressed at a spot that wasn't as fully healed as the rest, over his stomach.

"Hold still, I'm almost done."

He wanted to protest, to demand to know why poking him would change anything. He knew they didn't have any more healing potions left, she'd used the last one to save Dad. Peter's health would take care of it in another few minutes anyway if she left it alone.

But while she was busy checking him over, Peter's eyes were focused on the subject of his own concern.

He'd been so used to thinking of his father as a complete entity in his mind, when he stopped to single out specific details, he looked like a stranger. The way his hair was long and tangled under the magical crown he wore, the tightness around his eyes.

In the time they'd been apart, nothing had changed. The most dramatic changes had already occurred, when they first started going to dungeons and learning magic and swordfighting.

It wasn't the shift from office worker to warrior that had thrown him. That change seemed obvious.

After all, that's just what happened when supernatural danger threatened, wasn't it? The people who'd never known they were heroes all along transformed, showing the world their hidden destinies.

So why was it that when Peter looked at his father's face, the scruffy hint of an unevenly trimmed not-quite-beard and the intensely focused eyes looked like the face of someone he didn't know at all?

The intensity with which his father met his eyes was unnerving. As though Peter were the one under scrutiny. As though almost dying hadn't shaken Levi Morrison in the slightest.

"You'll be fine." Mom’s voice broke the silent exchange, and Peter was surprised to hear relief.

Had she thought he wouldn't be? He had barely been sliced, compared to most of the others. "Told you."

She laughed, and Peter wondered if there had always been so much tension in it. Was he only noticing it now because he was so on edge from the recent fight? Or was she as worried as he was?

"And Dad'll be fine too, right?"

Instead of answering immediately, she turned to look, her eyes shifting color to silver as she went into healer-mode again. Peter hadn't seen that in anyone else. More evidence that his parents were special.

"He's fine, yes." She turned back to Peter with a tight smile. "Still as reckless as ever."

Peter ignored the slight edge to her voice at that part. They hadn't really had a chance to yell at each other yet about the past month, but once they did everything would be fine. "What do I need to do next?"

Dad shook his head. "Just rest and recover. We're going to be doing this again as soon as everyone's ready."

"But..." Peter looked at Mom, with her emergency spell on cooldown and no health potions left, then at the heavily damaged chest of his father's armor. "Will you..." back at Mom. "He's...?" He couldn't seem to get the words to fit together. His throat felt tight, but he swallowed back the childish urge to cry. He was a warrior now, not a kid. Warriors were stronger than that.

"I've got Bolt now." Dad gestured to the giant deer-wolf he'd almost died to tame. It lay asleep on the floor beside him with its head flopped over on the floor, its legs folded under itself. "It won't be nearly this close next time."

It didn't look like much, but Peter had seen the frenzied violence of its rampage. It wasn't weak.

And neither was he.

"Don't worry. Bolt and I will protect you this time."

“I’ll do my best to see you don’t need to.” Dad promised.

“I’m going to go check on the others.” Mom kissed Peter on the head.

“Mooom…”

She refused to stop however many times he asked her not to. This time was no different. She only smiled and walked away, leaving the two of them alone.

Alone in silence.

Peter wasn't sure what he should say. When they'd first been rescued, everything had been chaotic and emotional. Peter had been entirely focused on making sure they rescued Mom before anything happened. Then in the preparation time leading up to the fight to catch Bolt, it had been focused and frantic, all strategy and planning and contingencies.

This was the first time they'd had in over a month just the two of them without some other emergency overhanging them, and he didn't know what to say.

"I've been practicing a lot while you were gone. I'm usually better than that." He waved at the knife. "I'm much better with my scythe."

He was embarrassed now by how he'd lost his head in that fight, no semblance of strategy at all, just wildly stabbing and, worse still, crying. Hopefully no one had seen that part in all the chaos.

"Next time I'll do better."

"I know you will. But the most important thing is that you survive. Bravery is one thing, recklessness is another."

"But you're reckless." Mom said so, and the more Peter thought about it the more sure he was that she was right.

"There's a time and a place for throwing yourself wholly and unreservedly into a fight. I have years of experience. I know when I can survive and when I need to pull back. You don't."

Peter slumped. All his practice, all the dungeons he'd led newly Awakened warriors through, dismissed just like that.

"Not yet," Levi continued. "And if you are going to live long enough to learn, you have to pay attention and not lose control just because someone is in danger. We've discussed this before, and it doesn't matter whether it's Henry or me, your top priority has to be your own survival. Getting yourself killed trying to save someone else doesn't help anyone."

"So I shouldn't try?" Holding back emotion, his voice came out sharp. "Didn't you say I'm supposed to be a protector?" If it had been Mom he'd have gotten a lecture about tone or respect or something. Levi didn't even notice.

"Yes, try. But always be aware of what's going on around you. Don't get hyperfocused on one thing and forget the rest of the battle. And always, always, make sure you survive."

"Okay. I will. But you need to survive too."

"You don't need to worry. I've always been good at that." He hesitated then, eyes scrutinizing Peter with that unfamiliar intensity. But when he finally spoke again, it was only, "I'll be fine."

Peter couldn't help wondering what had almost been said. "Promise?"

"Promise."