George hadn't worked late the night before. Whatever information had reached him, it had been while he was home—and it was after that call that he'd told his assistant to clear his morning schedule.
Which meant the clue Hawk was looking for was almost certainly in George's study.
But for now, he couldn't leave. After all, as the saying went, a son-in-law is half a son.
Gwen turned as Hawk finished his call and came back over. She threw herself into his arms, tears welling up in her eyes.
"Hawk… my dad—"
"He's going to be fine," Hawk said softly, holding her close. "Don't you remember the Christmas present I gave him?"
Gwen blinked, her tear-streaked eyes searching his face as the memory surfaced—back when they returned from Falls Town, at the family dinner, Hawk had given her father a strange feather instead of a tie.
"That feather?"
"That was a Phoenix Feather."
Hawk smiled faintly. "It's part of my divine authority. The Phoenix doesn't die—it is reborn."
Anyone holding one of his feathers could undergo rebirth once if they died.
Because Rebirth was his divine right.
When the Heart of the Phoenix had fully merged with him, immortality and rebirth were powers he could only apply to himself.
Ordinarily, granting that ability to others would only be possible after his Phoenix Universe had fully materialized.
But he'd cheated.
Using the Reality Stone, Hawk had forced his Phoenix Universe into a quantum state—half real, half conceptual—allowing him to bend the rules just enough to share its blessing.
Still, such divine energy was finite.
Even with the Reality Stone, his universe had only produced two feathers imbued with rebirth.
When they'd come back from Falls Town and George was still struggling with that unfinished case, Hawk had switched the tie he'd prepared for him with one of those feathers.
George had been surprised, but in the end he accepted it with a smile.
To him, it was simply a beautiful ornament.
To Hawk, it was a safeguard.
So George wouldn't die—he would reborn.
"Except…" Hawk murmured.
"What?"
Gwen froze, her brief relief faltering. "You mean Mom put it away as a keepsake? Did he not bring it with him?"
As she turned to rush home, Hawk quickly caught her hand. "That's not what I mean. For the feather to work… there's a condition."
Gwen blinked. "He has to… die first?"
"Exactly. How can you be reborn if you never die?"
Hawk shrugged.
The Phoenix didn't avoid death—it transcended it.
Just like that battle at Stonehenge against Malekith. He had died there; Mephisto could attest to that. And yet, he had returned through rebirth.
So for George to awaken, death would have to come first.
But Hawk could sense the boundary between worlds—and the Underworld had not called for George's soul.
That meant he wasn't close enough to need rebirth at all.
Gwen sniffled. "Underworld?"
"Of course."
Hawk explained calmly, "I made a deal with Mephisto. Everyone connected to me is now under my Underworld's jurisdiction. Your father—my future father-in-law—belongs there too."
He raised an eyebrow. "So even if something happened, he'd go to our realm, not Hell. See? Bright side."
Gwen stared at him, speechless.
Hawk went on, grinning. "It's not like I'd toss him into the Frozen Pits with Alexander Pierce and make him experience eternal frostbite, right?"
That earned him a tearful laugh.
"Hawk."
"Yeah?"
"If you ever sent my dad to the Pits, I'd bite you to death in your sleep."
She glared at him through a smile.
"Then he'll be fine?" she asked again, voice trembling.
Hawk met her reddened eyes and nodded firmly. "I promise."
If it were anyone else lying in that operating room, Gwen would've believed him the first time.
But it was her father.
And love made reason tremble.
A sharp click echoed—
Helen gasped, staring at the operating room as the red light above the door suddenly went out. "Gwen!"
Gwen turned, eyes wide. She looked back at Hawk once, then both hurried to Helen's side.
Moments later, the doors opened and the surgeon stepped out, pulling down his mask.
Helen, Gwen, and Detective Hale rushed forward.
The doctor looked tired but relaxed. No suspense, no theatrics—he knew better than to mess with cops' nerves.
"The operation was a success," he said. "The patient lost a lot of blood, but he's stable. The next twenty-four hours are critical—if he makes it through that, he'll be fine."
"Oh, thank God!"
"George!"
"Dad!"
Hale gasped in relief; Helen and Gwen embraced tightly, their fear dissolving into shaky laughter and tears.
Soon, George was wheeled out—unconscious, intubated, but alive—and transferred to a VIP recovery room.
As captain of the 21st Precinct, he wasn't rich, but he carried weight. Enough to warrant private care.
The room buzzed softly with medical machines.
Helen sat beside the bed, holding George's left hand, her gaze locked on his pale face.
Detective Hale had already left to rejoin Mahoney at the scene. After tense negotiations, the 21st and 12th precincts had agreed to a joint investigation—Detective Kate Beckett from the 12th would handle the on-site evidence, while Mahoney coordinated surveillance review.
Hawk and Gwen returned carrying lunch boxes.
Gwen walked to her mother's side. "Mom, you need to eat. Dad's going to be fine. The doctor said the surgery went perfectly."
"I know."
Helen smiled faintly, the panic fading from her eyes. She looked at Hawk. "Thank you."
Hawk smiled back. "Mom, this is the least I could do."
Helen arched an eyebrow. "You're brave enough to call me that, but not in front of George?"
Hawk shrugged. "If he hears me and wakes up, that'd be even better."
That made her laugh softly. "Fair enough."
Hawk's smile lingered as he turned toward the bed.
Through his Sixth Sense, he could feel George's life force slowly but steadily recovering. By morning, he'd likely wake up again.
Just as the surgeon had said.
Helen, guided by Gwen, finally sat down and opened the meal. Then she froze.
"Right—what about Howard and Simon?"
"Don't worry, Mom."
Gwen smiled, opening the soup container. "Hawk already handled it. He ordered food for them from the restaurant."
Helen let out a long sigh. "Those two still need someone watching them. If you and Hawk are free this afternoon, go home and check on them for me."
Gwen glanced at Hawk.
He nodded. "Of course."
"Then we'll come back tonight to relieve you, Mom," Gwen added.
Helen shook her head. "No. I'm staying here."
"But—"
"I'll be fine."
Before Gwen could argue, Hawk stepped forward, his voice gentle. "Then we'll bring you dinner later."
Helen smiled, glancing at Gwen. "See? Hawk understands me."
Hawk grinned silently.
Of course he did.
Because in the end, parents were the real love story—and children were just the happy accidents that followed.
One thing was certain:
If Helen and George weren't truly in love, she never would've given him two more sons, Howard and Simon, eight years after Gwen was born.
Yes—Helen and George were the real thing.
(End of Chapter)
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