Her mother. God, he had to know the questions would come, after everything, but he spent so long trying to forget, getting rid of every last vestige of her from his life, it was hard to find the strength to dredge those memories up.

But she, of all people, deserved to know whatever he could tell her.

"Mary Anne DeWitt," he finally said, murmuring the name into her hair quietly. It had been so long since he'd said that name. "You have her eyes. And her curiosity. She always wanted to learn things."