Finally five o'clock rolled around, and he did his best to deflect all attention away from himself and back to the caller. It worked well, until his last call.

"Hello, this is—"

"The man I need to apologize to."

He went to hang up, but was stopped by Desmond's small hand on his arm. "Man from the rock with letters."

"I'm sorry I cornered you into giving away your identity. But, I think you should have a little more faith in the world."

"Faith?" he spat. "You lecture me on faith? I have plenty that this world is going to Hell in a hand basket. I have faith that once my picture is leaked, I'll have stalkers and all sorts of crazies on my ass—idiotic fans and nightmarish people."

There was silence for a moment. "I'm sorry."

"No, you're not."

"I actually have a problem this time, if you're even willing to help me out."

"Heaven knows someone must. You've all ready ruined everything else. What is it? Don't waste any more of my time."

"Fine. I've met this man, and he doesn't know it that I'm calling in about him."

"Get on with it."

"I've all ready ruined his life once, and now I've done it again."

"Keep going, idiot. I don't have all day."

"And I've fallen in love with him."

Malik laughed bitterly. "I think you deserve it."

"I know, and every time I see him, all I can think about is how much I deserve what's happened to me."

Malik was silent for a bit. "How long ago was the second time you ruined his life?"

"He doesn't know it was me."

"Has he forgiven you for the first time?"

"I don't think so. I don't think he ever will—not that I deserve it."

Malik frowned. "Well, trollface, you've got me stumped. Give me some time to think on this one. I'm not sure if a relationship is even possible. The man would have to have the forgiveness of a saint."

"Okay."

Malik nodded.

"And don't worry: I'll troll you tomorrow, too."

Malik scowled. "Asshole."

And there was that beautiful laugh again before the line went dead. Malik was as flustered as he could get, but he held took the offered hoodie from an intern and pulled it on, covering his face. He had Desmond bury his face in the crook of his neck and had Lucy draw a cloak over her face. He'd have to rethink her school. They walked into the street, and he flinched at the sudden onslaught of flashes and questions. At least the police were keeping a ring around them.

Even Lucy whimpered and clutched closer to his side as Desmond squished the stuffed tiger between them. He let the police guide them into the car and drive them home. It felt like the entire world had shown up in hopes of getting a glimpse of the famous "Doctor Love." Malik never really understood his popularity: he spoke simply and used common sense. He followed a good set of morals and ethics (which didn't include not cursing) and only wanted to help others as he knew Kadar would've done. Neither of them would've cared for this fame.

He ushered them into the building. The news that night was chalk full of stories about the "mysterious Doctor Love and his hidden children," and he kept the TV off. He fixed them a meal and put them to bed, reading to them to get them to calm down and stop worrying about all the cameras. Neither one of his kids liked them. As he settled down after he thought they were asleep, he felt Lucy lean up and kiss his cheek.

"Night, daddy."

"Nigh-nigh, daddy."

He smiled for the first time in several days.

"Good night, kiddos."

It was several days later (and plenty of careful hiding) before he realized he'd just have to suck it up and give the media what they wanted. If he ignored them, they'd go away. He almost kicked himself at the thought—especially since he had sat and talked with his brother once about how if the celebrities would just stop caring, the media would be left "up the creek without a paddle" in the middle of piranha infested waters. Besides, it was the anniversary of Kadar's death, and he'd be damned if he let some picture-taking, frog-hopping toad scare him away from his brother. He called in that he'd be several hours late and packed a picnic lunch for him and his kids. When Lucy came stumbling out, she yawned and stared blearily at him.

"What are you doing?"

He paused in creating a turkey sandwich for his girl. Looking over his shoulder, he smiled before turning around and picking her up to set her on the counter.

"We're going out for a picnic at Kadar's grave."

She glanced out the window. "It's foggy and grey."

"I know, Lucy, but Kadar will be lonely today."

"Why?"

"It's been four years since he died. He was my only family here in America."

Lucy was silent as he pulled out two apples from the refrigerator. Finally, she said, "Dessie told me something yesterday while you were talking to Mister Trollface."

"Really now?" he said while grabbing a thermos.

After filling out the papers, he realized Desmond wasn't more than two and a half. He felt blessed to have such a complacent and quiet two year old.

"He said that Mister Trollface was the quiet guy at Kadar's grave."

"Really?"

"Yeah, he said it sounded just like him."

"And why didn't I realize this?"

Lucy pursed her lips briefly as she swung her legs against the cabinet doors. "Because you were afraid for us when you should've realized it."

"Is that so?"

"Mm-hm. You were panicking because you gave up your identity."

Malik stopped spreading peanut butter on a slice of bread and looked at his daughter, his eyebrows furrowing at what she said. She was staring at him, her head tilted and a determined look on her face.

"I think you should forgive him."

Malik startled, then turned aside to finish the sandwich. There was no incredible feeling of realization, just a horrible knot in the pit of his stomach and some residual anger as the details and phone calls clicked into place. "That is easier said than done, Lucy."

"I know. But, maybe he's really sorry. And lonely, just like you were before you got us."

When he had put the sandwich in the basket, he shook his head. "Then he should look elsewhere for company."

"But we like him!" Lucy shouted.

"Shush, Lucy: your brother's still asleep."

She clapped her hands over her mouth and fixed him with a stern frown-like pout.

"You should invite him over," she stage whispered.

"Really?"

"Yeah, and the camera people will give him lots of unwanted attention, too."

Malik could help but laugh. For a seven-year-old, she was crafty. "Tell me, Lucy, do you just want another person here?"

He glanced at her, and she blushed and looked out the window. "Maybe…"

"So you want another mommy?"

"No." came the quick response. "I don't want another mommy. My mommy was the best one, and now that she's with Kadar and we can visit her today, too, I want another daddy to replace my old daddy. I don't want someone to replace my mommy. I want lots of good daddies."

Malik blinked: he wasn't quite sure what to think of her request. Finally, "Am I not good enough?"

He almost kicked himself for saying that. She looked at him, her eyes wide, and he grimaced.

"No, no! I just mean: I don't want another mommy. But Mister Trollface seems like a good guy. I think you should forgive him so he can come live with us too."

"Why?"

"Because I want lots of daddies to replace my daddy. I want you, and I want Mister Trollface, and I want that man from yesterday who had the two kids, and I want the guy on the street who was kissing his wife. There are lots of good daddies out there. I want them all."

He found himself smiling and shaking his head at her. "So, you want Trollface to come live with us?"

"Yes."

"Does Desmond?"

"I don't know. I'll go ask him if he's awake."

He watched her hop down and walk off. Over the course of the past few days, he had come to enjoy the Troll's calls. He would bitch at the man and mercilessly tease him, and the man would quietly deflect it back at him. He had had a good time talking to him, and as the media continued to stalk him, it gave him something to look forward to.

He surprised himself, as he connected the dots, that despite this whirlwind of activity, he didn't feel anger. He felt almost cheated: he should be furious, like in the movies. He wasn't hurt and angry at the thought of the Troll. Time had taken its own course and soothed him.

He was still upset that Troll had been the one that caused all of this to happen, and he did feel slightly happier at the thought of dragging Troll into the media hype (although they were all ready having a field day with them), but he couldn't find it in him to hate him for everything he'd done. He sighed and leaned against the counter: Troll was a man, a man who made terrible decisions, but still just a man nonetheless. Perhaps this was why these two kids were here: to teach him how to forgive. He had realized, when he held the small funeral for their mother, that it was because of Troll that he had adopted the two kids, and he felt much less lonely now.

And, in all honesty, he hated to admit to himself, he had started to enjoy Trollface's company. The grave seemed less foreboding with him there. The comebacks he would plant during his call and the sheer asshat-ery they indulged in was pleasant. Perhaps there was something to what Lucy said.

He watched her come back out, Desmond waddling behind him with the stuffed tiger dragging behind him and his thumb in his mouth. He pulled it out long enough to make a grabbing motion at Malik, and he scooped the boy up.

"Desmond says yes."

Malik smiled drily. It was amazing the innocence that was lost as adults. "Okay then, let's go have a picnic at the graves, and I'll tell Trollface I've forgiven him."

Lucy perked up. "And he can come live with us and be our daddy?"

Malik shook his head. "That might take a little longer. Grab the basket."

"What about the camera people?" she asked, and Desmond leaned against him, hiding his face in the crook of his neck, his tiger dangling from his other hand.

"Let's just try ignoring them today. Let them get their pictures, and be done with it, okay?"

"But what about the crazies?"

"I'll protect you: I promise. I could never let the two best people in my life be hurt."

Lucy smiled warmly and grabbed the basket, swinging it as they walked out. Before he opened the door, he had to take a deep breath and relax, not realizing the protective look he had when they entered the city. As they walked down the street, he saw several flashes from alleyways and cell phones, giving them all a warning glare when the photo went off. Lucy was dancing down the street.

"Can we go pick Kadar some flowers? And mommy?"

He tried his best to ignore the whispers from passersby, but the crawling feeling of paranoia was causing him to tense. He wished he could hide as simply as Desmond. "Sure thing. I think it's been a while since you've given him flowers, yes?"

Of course, the thick blanket of grey fog limiting his view probably didn't do much to quell his paranoia. Lucy was dancing around the first corner, eager to get to the park to pick the flowers. He snarled when he saw his girl come running back, felt her hug him and watched her bury her face in his side as a reporter woman came out of the fog.

"You're out! Tell me, Doctor Love—"

"Scare my child again, and I swear you'll see no love from me."

The woman backed off a step, looking surprised. He saw the cameraman emerge beside her. "M-my apologies… I didn't mean to."

He was bristling with distrust as she stood there awkwardly. "Well? Do you have questions or not? You'd better be able to walk quickly, because I've got shit to do."

He pushed past them and kept walking. Slowly, Lucy let go of him. He saw the reporter and the cameraman appear on his other side.

"Tell me, why have you been trying so hard to avoid the cameras?"

"Isn't it obvious? I don't want the attention."

"Why? Most people would kill to be this popular."

"Because with popularity comes stalkers and even more idiots than what I hear on the show."

"But many don't worry about those. There aren't many stories about celebrities getting killed."

"But there are enough. And that is all I need. Lucy, leave the basket here. Don't wander too far off: the fog makes me nervous."

"Okay!"

She ran off, and Malik watched her closely as he saw her flit about. When Desmond nuzzled closer and drew the tiger between them, he shushed him and tried to look at him.

"Tell me: why did you take this job then?"

"To be the be the voice of reason for some. I don't enjoy attention though. It's hard enough with just one arm, and that arm always being full."

She nodded. "Then why do you continue?"

"Because I make good money and can support the two kids."

"How did you happen across them?"

"I'm not giving you their life story."

He saw a figure squat down beside his girl, and he started walking toward it, only to stop when she hugged the figure.

"Who is that?"

Malik frowned and jogged toward her, surprised to see Trollface hugging Lucy. When she saw him, she waved, and Trollface looked over his shoulder, rising quickly when he saw Malik and stepping back.

"Look! It's Mister Trollface!"

The man frowned and looked at him. "You told them my name was Trollface?"

Malik shrugged. "It seemed appropriate."

"You don't even remember my name."

"I tried not to remember."

"Altair."

He frowned. "I still don't want to remember it—"

"Daddy!"

He looked at Lucy, who had a small handful of flowers. "What?"

"We talked about this earlier. Don't you have something to say to him?"

"No."

"Daddy!"

Malik sighed, defeated by his own daughter. "Altair, I'm not mad at you."

Altair looked cautious.

"I promise. I'm not sure how it happened, because I really hate idiots, and you're the worst of them all, but somehow, I've forgiven you."

He met Altair's gaze, and neither looked away when Lucy hugged Altair tightly.

"And now you can be our daddy, too, and come over all the time and eat dinner with us and play with us and read to us and—" She stopped and looked at him, excited. "Please?"

Altair looked down at her and lightly ran a hand through her hair. Malik was ready to attack if necessary. "I suppose."

Malik frowned, but his anger wasn't there. Altair looked back at him when Lucy screamed in victory. The cameraman was eating this up. Altair picked her up and let her cling to him as they stared each other down. The fog was starting to lift as they stared.

Lucy who broke the silence: "Are we going now? I wanna see mommy and Kadar."

Malik looked at her and nodded. "Of course. Are you coming, Trollface?"

Altair scowled and nodded. They walked in silence to the graveyard, Altair carrying Lucy and the basket, and Malik carrying Desmond. The woman chatted happily with Lucy.

"So tell me, how long have you known Doctor Love?"

She giggled. "Forever! He's old!"

Malik sighed when Altair smirked.

"And how old are you?"

"Seven and a half."

"How old is Desmond?"

"Two and half."

"Is he your brother?"

"He is now!"

"Do you enjoy living with the Doctor?"

She nodded vigorously. "Yeah! We get away with a lot of stuff."

"Lucy," Malik began, "why don't you stop telling her that, or else I'll have all kinds of people think I'm a softie. And I can't have that."

They entered the small graveyard as the fog lifted. Altair and Lucy set up the picnic, and Desmond watched them from Malik's arm. He was watching his daughter fondly, and he cast a glance over his shoulder to see the cameraman and the reporter a ways off. When they settled down on the blanket, Desmond sat in his lap, and Malik couldn't help but smile softly.

"I missed you, Kadar, but I hope you like our new family."

The day passed quickly as they picnicked, and Malik found himself on his back by the end of the day with Desmond standing on his feet. He had both of the kid's hands in his, and was laughing when he squealed as Malik would bend his legs and pop them back up. Eventually, he slipped, and Desmond crashed into Malik's chest, winding him briefly before two bright brown eyes were staring at him, inches from his face, and Malik ruffled his hair, laughing.

Desmond stood, grabbed his tiger's paw, and waddled off after Lucy, who was picking wild dandelions and occasionally bringing them over and decorating the grave or Altair. The man had chains of flowers around his neck and head, and several poking out at odd angles in his clothes. When the cameraman came closer, before he could deck the man, Altair spoke:

"Robert is dead."

Malik looked at him, frowning. "Good. And the others?"

"Addicted to drugs. I haven't contacted the other."

Malik bowed his head so Lucy could put a chain of flowers on him. His mind flashed to images of the trial from years ago. He was just released from the hospital, and Robert's parents had hired the best lawyer around. Altair and the two other passengers had gotten away with community service and treatment for alcohol addiction, and Robert, who had been driving, got several years in prison. Justice was nothing more than a game for lawyers to win, and Robert's lawyer had definitely won.

He didn't actually remember much about that night, other than waking up in a hospital, his arm gone and his brother dead. He knew he and his brother had been making a grocery run since they had been roommates and run out of the honey buns Kadar enjoyed so much. He figured that they had been listening to pop music since every time he heard the cheerful music, he got depressed and angry.

Now, staring at the man who had been in the car who had gotten away with so much, all he could do was appreciate him. Without the loss of Kadar, he wouldn't have agreed to do the radio station. Without the grave, he wouldn't have bought the flowers. Without the loss of his arm, he never would've appreciated everything he could now do. Altair's gaze met his as Desmond came waddling up, his tiger dragging behind him. He settled in Malik's lap and hugged the tiger close. Malik looked at him briefly and kissed his head as he stuck his thumb in his mouth. Those bright brown eyes looked at him, and he smiled softly.

"Love you, daddy."

"I love you, too, Desmond."

Desmond smiled around his thumb and settled back into his lap. Malik glanced at Altair again and had to stop his jaw from dropping in surprise at the pained look he had. Shifting so he could reach across the blanket, he set his hand a small distance from Altair. His eyes flickered to the hand, then met his gaze again.

"I told you: I have forgiven you."

Altair nodded. "I know. You have said."

"Then why do you—"

"Mister Trollface!" Lucy shouted.

They both looked and watched as she ran to the man. She stopped and smiled.

"You are moving in with us, right?"

Malik blinked. "That's quite an assumption, Lucy."

"What is?"

"And when was it decided that he would move in with us?"

He blinked again. "It's my house. I say he won't."

"It's our house," Lucy said, stomping her foot. "And I want more daddies. Please?"

"There is no way I'm letting strangers move in with me. That house is hardly big enough for the three of us, and there is only one spare room. What happens when you and Desmond need different rooms?"

"Desmond sleeps with you, and I get the room!"

"And if Altair moves in, where will he sleep?"

"On the couch! Or! We could get that cool bunk bed thing with the big mattress below and the small mattress above! And then, Dessie could get the bunk, and you and Altair could get the bottom!"

Malik smirked. "I like the idea of him on the couch."

Lucy put her hands on her hips. "No, that's bad for him. All his bones will get achy and creaky like mommy's when she slept on the couch."

"An even better—"

"No. Now that I know we can give him something better, you should do that."

Malik raised an eyebrow. "What if I don't want to live with the man that killed my brother?"

Lucy frowned. "It will help you learn to live with him. He may be old, but he's not going anywhere for a long time."

Malik and Altair looked at each other, then back to his daughter. "Are you sure?"

"If he's here every time you are, then you might as well get used to him. Besides," she grabbed his open side's shoulder sleeve and tugged, "you said you'd get me another daddy!"

"I said nothing of the sort," he snapped.

"Yes, you did!" she whined, stomping her foot.

"I asked if you wanted another person to live with us."

"See? I told you!" She was pouting, and Malik frowned.

"Lucy, this man is not living—"

"Yes! Yes, he is!"

"Will I have to put you to bed early tonight?"

Lucy's eyes grew wide, and she scowled and stomped her foot again. Malik sighed.

Yet, three months later, he found himself moving Altair into the guest bedroom. As he looked at the few boxes, he had no idea how he had been persuaded, but he had the idea it was all Lucy's doing. She was happy digging through the boxes, trying her best to help Altair settle in as he watched from the doorway.

"It's not my fault," Altair said, looking at him.

"Yes, it is," he snapped, scowling.

"If it's any consolation, I was stopped by a team of reporters today."

Malik smirked, feeling a small victory. He knew the man was quiet by nature, and after the footage from the graveyard had been released, they had pestered him for more answers, since Malik had giving them a resolute, "No."

He felt a tug on his pant leg and looked to see Desmond hold up his tiger, a tear in it. He nodded and took the tiger carefully, walking out into the small living room to fetch the sewing kit he kept. Desmond had settled beside him, sitting in his lap. He pulled out the needle and thread and began stitching. He was good for having one arm, and by the time he was done, Desmond was asleep in his lap, one arm dangling precariously as he held onto one of the tiger legs and the other falling down Malik's chest, still curled to suck his thumb, his mouth open slightly.

He tucked the tiger into his boy's arm and watched the other wrap around to hold it tightly. He smiled softly when the boy shifted. A smear of papers was scattered across the coffee table: the result of the book he was publishing and co-authoring with Altair. A few requests for interviews were falling off, and Malik intended to decline, even though "Doctor Love" was more popular than ever. He looked up to see Altair walking in with Lucy in his arms, asleep as well from all the unpacking and excitement, and he watched as he sat beside him on the couch.

"You're a lucky man to have these kids," Altair murmured.

"They are no longer just mine. You live here, too."

"But you will always be their savior."

And as the sun set, the last rays of light found the two kids asleep in their guardians' arms, one of the older men leaning against the other, his unprotected side covered by his partner as they slept on the couch.

Malik is the Doctah of LURRRRRRV.