Never let them hurt you.

There was always something about Dantalaois. We met in a bar in Prague, and I just knew that he was trouble. No man dresses like that without being a mischief maker, but from my lonely corner of the bar, I wasn’t anything but amused. I knew right away that he wasn’t human. We non-human species can usually spot each other pretty quickly, and I wanted to see what would become of this demonic manwhore that was leaning across the bar counter to whisper into a woman’s ear. Her laughter was sickening, like the texture of vegetable oil, bland and slimy. It was with that oozing background noise that the vision flickered across my eyes: Dantalaois, in a back alley, being raped by the woman and her posse of grotesque men. Something told me to change the future, and so I did.

I didn’t know then, that I would be gaining a best friend.

After I saved him that night, we travelled together. He found out that I was a thief, and he made a wonderful partner in crime. He has a charming tongue, and could sweet-talk a tiger out of its stripes. He is all flash, and I am all danger. But even off the job, Danta is the perfect friend. He can always cheer me when I’m down, and he is always good for a hug when I need one. Yes, Danta is a wonderful friend. He’s a good lover, too. Not that we would consider ourselves to be lovers collectively, but there are times when I can’t help but label him that way. I’d never hold him back- after all, I don’t believe in clipping people’s wings, but while he’s mine I enjoy him, and when he isn’t I can still smile and savour his friendship.

That’s why I’m doing this. If my mother or the Harpy Council knew that I have given him the amulet, they would slaughter him for defiling our most ancient artifact. Even the mates of the council are not allowed to touch it. But I won’t let them hurt Dantalaois. I won’t ever let anyone touch him. Even if it means killing my own mother, in the least honourable way that I can find. After all, as Dantalaois says, that’s why I have wings. At least, that’s what I will keep telling myself forever, once I’ve killed my mother in cold blood.

Because I will never say it out loud, never admit it to anyone. But I love Dantalaois.

Oh, but be prepared to bleed.

The girl was back. According to Cori’s calculations, the girl had been in Anthony’s room four times in the past two weeks, and no other woman had been in there at all. As far as Cori was concerned, this was a bad sign. Cori always knew when the girl was in Anthony’s rooms. She could hear her brother’s voice, and nothing in response. The girl couldn’t talk without putting people to sleep, which Cori considered to be a good thing. If the girl could talk to her, and tried to, Cori would be tempted to do something that would only upset Anthony.

Normally when Anthony’s company bothered Cori, she could put on her headphones and go back to work with her experiments. Not when the girl was there. Nothing could drive the silence out of her head, but the silence drove Cori instead. Without a word, or putting anything away, or picking anything up, Cori left. Rain was drumming against the roof, and Cori wished that it could wash her mind clean from the hateful thoughts that swirled in the familiar emptiness. Tonight there was no relief.

There was only one place Cori could go in this dimension that hadn’t been ruined for her, that the girl couldn’t take away. Pushing out of a door and into the rain, Cori made her stumbling way to her greatest friend in the world. It was still quiet, but a silence filled with water, and movement, and cleanliness rather than the ugly hatred that was swamping her at every turn.

“Ezra.” Slowly Cori clambered onto the base of the forgotten statue that lurked in the shadows of the school. Fortunately, he was here, and she perched at the base of the statue, her head leaning against his leg- mindless of his undressed state. “I am a very screwed up individual.”

It wasn’t a plea for pity, but rather a cold fact. She sighed, rubbing her cheek against the wet metal, as though she were seeking comfort from the inanimate object. Which, she supposed, she was. “I’m broken, you know. It happened when Mom fell down the stairs. I could have reached her. Could have stepped down one step, and grabbed her hand. But when I stepped, I tripped the line. I stepped out of the dimension, and Mom died because of me. That lady laying in bed isn’t my Mom. The fall changed her.”

Cori dropped her arms, filled with disgust and shame. “On the inside, I’m still nine. I can’t seem to grow up, or even want to. I’m like stupid Peter Pan. I can’t do experiments- I don’t even know how! I only ever made it through physics. I can’t even read that well. My notes might as well be gibberish. I wish Anthony were still thirteen sometimes. I wish I could be nineteen.” With an irritated motion, she flung the lab coat she wore to the ground, shivering in the cold rain.

“I knew I couldn’t be a good student, or a normal adult. I just wanted to be a good sister, you know? I wanted Anthony to be proud of me, so I helped him with the girls. I made his little black book, and buy him stuff, and wash his sheets. I worried that he would get sick. I wanted him to find love. I never wanted him to have a reason to leave me.” Cori slid off of the statue, her dark blue eyes as watery as everything else that was outside.

“He loves the girl. I know he does, because until the girl showed up nobody knew Anthony better than me.” She sniffled, rubbing her arms. “He wants me to like her. He wants me to be happy. But I can’t, Ezra. Because for me to be happy, he can’t be. I’m only good at being a sister. That means he has to be happy, and so I have to leave.”

Cori reached up, her hand caressing her friend’s leg. “I bet you think you’ve been violated again. I only wanted to say goodbye, ‘cause I have to go home. I need to learn how to grow up. Anthony needs me to. Maybe someday, I can come back to see my nieces and nephews. Maybe by then I can love you like I want to. For now, though, I have to find a way to fix me. I can’t stay nine forever.”

Reaching into her back pocket, Cori produced a letter wrapped in plastic, Anthony’s name scrawled across the front. “Can you see that he gets this?”
Then she smiled, stepped back, and disappeared.

---------

Anthony,
I’m glad you found her. Really. I decided to go home, by the way. I needed you to be happy, and you needed me to grow up. I can’t do that around you. I love you, you know. I love you because you’re the greatest big brother in the world, and you didn’t mind that I was broken. Enjoy the girl. Love her, and treat her right. I know you can. Give Mom and Dad my love at Christmas. Sometime when you’re sleeping, I’ll drop by with my present for them.
My love always,
Agatha.
P.S. Give the girl my room. Just tell her to mind the Chemistry set. I can’t remember what I put in there last.

Jellybean

The snow was falling thickly across the city, and though she knew in a few hours it would be brown and gross, Ainsley couldn’t help but feel that it was beautiful. Snuggling into her coat to brace herself from the cold, she strode across the seven city blocks that were between the apartment of her oldest brother, and the apartment she had just begun to rent. The pleasant walk and relatively short distance were the reasons that Ainsley’s parents had allowed the eighteen year old to move out of the family home. Naturally, Madeline had let her baby go with much weeping, and even Jonathan hadn’t denied the sadness that passed over his face. Still, Ainsley knew it was about time that her parents had the place to themselves, and she’d promised to see Christian at least twice a week, and to come home for Sunday dinner.

Tonight, she was walking to her brother’s for dinner. Ainsley had always been close to this brother, in spite of the nine-year age difference between them. The grocer’s bag filled with chocolate and marshmallows swung easily in hand, and her pace quickened as she neared the proper building. Christian was blessed with a small fireplace in his apartment, and Ainsley planned on roasting s’mores. She’d not inherited her brother’s gourmet cooking talent, and so she nearly always brought something simple when it was her turn to provide dessert. The doorman nodded at Ainsley with a smile, knowing that any greeting he passed to the quiet woman would be returned with only a smile in kind, anyway. Ainsley took the stairs, and raced up the three flights- thanks to track and field, she barely lost her breath, and Christian greeted her at the door to his apartment with a loose hug.

“How was your walk?”

“Pleasant.”

Christian took her bag while she removed her coat, and she could nearly feel his perceptive gaze lingering over her waistline. Ainsley raised her eyebrow, and her brother shrugged helpless, saying only the word ‘Mom’. Ainsley knew what he meant- their mother wanted to make certain that there was enough meat on little Ainsley’s bones. Ainsley rolled her eyes, hanging up her coat, and then following Christian into the kitchen, perching on the island stool. The kitchen was beautiful, and state-of-the-art. Cookbooks were occasionally scattered here and there, but Ainsley knew that her supper hadn’t come from any of them- Christian liked to try his new recipes on her. Unlike his twin, Ainsley wouldn’t cushion the truth from him, but neither would she rip the cooking to pieces.

It was only a matter of a few moments before Christian set two plates on the island, one in front of Ainsley, and one in front of himself. It was some sort of chicken, a lovely and bright coloured sauce, and a rice pilaf concoction. Christian watched as Ainsley lifted her fork and knife, holding it over the plate, before she paused and glanced at his face. Christian, well-used to the silent communication, laughed at her expression.

“I won’t tell you what’s in it, until you’ve tried it.” The girl cut some of the chicken, and took a bite. For a few minutes, there was only the sound of her thoughtful chewing.

“Don’t bother to tell me, Chris, just get me a glass of water.”

The faucet cut on over the sound of her brother’s laughter, and the meal continued with continued laughter and conversation- most of it surrounding Christian’s employees and staff at ‘Madelynn’s’ which was the restaurant Christian had named for their mother- and also, which Ainsley frequented. After the meal was finished, and the two siblings had playfully washed the dishes, they settled in Christians lounge, in front of the fireplace.

“So, tell me. How are things with Izzy and Reuben?” Ainsley asked, sticking a marshmallow on the end of the roasting stick. Christian chuckled, watching the methodical and smooth movements of his baby sister, amused at the fact that of all of the friends and family surrounding Reuben Hughes, only Ainsley didn’t refer to him by a nickname.

“They’re alright. Little Dawson was drawing pictures on your invitation to his birthday party next week. He says you promised to be there.”

“My nephew’s fourth birthday is hardly something I can miss.”

Christian chuckled, adding his own marshmallow to the fireplace, nudging his elbow against Ainsley. “Have you gotten a good look at Isobel’s waistline lately? I think she’s trying to hide it from us that she’s expecting again.”

“She’s hardly hiding anything.”

“You know for sure?”

“She promised me I could come up with the middle name.”

Christian’s face was surprised, and he blinked a few times. Often he shared things with Ainsley that he didn’t tell Isobel, but seldom did Isobel share her secrets with anyone other than him. After a long pause, Christian relaxed, smiling wryly as his marshmallow erupted into flame.
“Have any ideas?”

“I was going to tell her Christine or Christopher, but I’m saving that for my first kid, or yours.”

“You’ll have children before I do, Ains.”

Ainsley didn’t reply that remark, removing her marshmallow from the fireplace, gently placing the sweet treat on a bar of chocolate, and with great precision removed the marshmallow from the roasting stick by pushing on it with her graham cracker.

“Well, it’s true. You and Izzy are way ahead of me and Jakie-cakes.” The nickname given to their other sibling by Isobel sounded odd, from Christian. “I mean, you two have someone in your life. We men fail at getting the women.”
Ainsley snorted, and her older brother’s dark brown eyes raised to hers, and he chuckled.
“Uh-oh. Is there something that Jacob neglected to tell me?”

“Her name is Hannah Cooper.”

“Your best friend from before you went off to France and met S.S.?”

“She’s still my best friend, silly.”

“Mhmm.”

“She is. It’s just that Sarah is more of my best friend. Anyway, it’s not official. Hannah just knows she loves him.”

“That means Jake’s a goner. I know that Cooper family- Julie’s got stories about them.”

“She’s Hannah’s biological mother, after all.”

“True. So….I guess that just leaves me.”

Ainsley shuffled over to her brother, one arm sliding around him, and the other hand daintily held her rather sticky s’more. “It’s okay, Chris. I know you’re happy without a partner.”

“I wouldn’t turn it down, you know. I just haven’t found someone like that.”

“As long as you aren’t lonely, Chris, don’t let it get to you.”

“Mom wants grandkids, Ains. She harps on it all the time, especially ever since Dawson was born. She’d love more.”

“Which is why she has Isobel, who’s already on baby number two; not to mention Jake, because once he wakes up and realizes he loves Hannah too, they’ll start a family.”

“What about you?”

Ainsley arched her eyebrow, a clear look on her face that warned him not to go there. Christian knew that look, and he knew that he was exempt from the danger it indicated.

“Come on, Ainsley. You and Avery have been official for a year now. When does he intend to make an honest woman of you?”

“You’d have to ask him.”

“I plan on it.”

For once, Ainsley did not react as he was expecting. Rather than another pointed look, her face took on a hurt and surprised appearance, and rather than speaking to him sternly, when she spoke her voice was begging.
“Chris, please, don’t do that!”

His hand smoothed her hair, holding her close.
“I won’t, Jellybean. I won’t.”

Ainsley relaxed against her brother, popping the last of her s’more into her mouth.

“So, when can we expect you to add to the grandchild list?”

Ainsley scooped up a handful of marshmallows, and lobbed them at his face. Christian grinned, wrapping his arms tight around Ainsley, so that she couldn’t throw any more.
“Love you, Jellybean.”
“Love you too.”

Can't hold you like I want to, so I can feel you in my arms.

“Where have you been, Adrie?” Adrienne leaned against the door frame, watching her husband wash the dishes. She hadn’t made him dinner before she’d left, so Adrienne could only imagine that he’d cooked for himself. Her backpack and hiking gear were set just behind her, in the entryway of the home that she’d shared with Tsubaki for four years. Tsubaki knew where she’d been. It was where she always went: hiking once a month, conveniently during the full moon. Without answering his query just yet, Adrienne moved to stand next to him, taking a towel to dry the dishes, and kissing him on the cheek. She could tell that he wanted her to answer the question, but she couldn’t decide what he wanted to know.

“I went hiking, Tsu. You know that.” Her husband didn’t look convinced, and he grunted softly as he handed her a dish that needed to be dried. Adrienne took it silently, unused to the silent disapproval radiating from her husband. Adrienne and Tsubaki had known each other since the fourth grade, when they’d competed head-to-head in science fairs. Always, they ran first and second, alternating who won. From that friendly rivalry, true friendship had sprung. The two had attended birthday parties, and school dances as they grew up. Their Junior year of high school, they had determined to go to the same University, so that they would be able to see one another. Their bond had run fast and deep. At University, both found that dorm living was not to their liking, and eventually agreed to room together in a small apartment. They could only afford one room and one bed, but with the innocent trust left from the age of nine, they shared the bed.

The innocent friendliness didn’t last long.

It had been a late night, finals and exams were over, a summer of fun had been planned….and the celebratory mood had gone to bed with them. The next morning, the two were horrified to realize what had occurred, not because they regretted their feelings, but because they had not intended to use each other in such a way. The next week had been the first and only awkward time in their relationship, and after much thought, both concluded that they loved one another. Within four months, they were engaged to the smiled and bemused happiness of their families. Indeed, their life had been blissfully happy. Until five weeks until their wedding. That had been at the bachelorette party her sister had insisted on throwing. That had been when Adrienne had been bitten by a young man. When she had become a werewolf; of course Vivi had figured it out. Her ‘boyfriend’ had promised that he wouldn’t bite anyone. She promptly dumped him of course, but by then the damage had been done. She had helped her beloved older sister get back on her feet, and hide the secret; the secret that Tsubaki came dangerously close to uncovering once a month.

Adrienne took another plate from him numbly, awaiting his response. When it came, it was not the response that she had been looking for. He turned his head to her, dark eyes taking her in, almost painfully. “Who is he?”

This blew Adrienne away. She had always loved Tsubaki, always loved him, and no one else. Never had the idea of cheating occurred to Adrienne. Never had she even felt the desire to be with another man, the way that she was with Tsubaki. Very slowly she dropped the towel she’d been using to dry the dishes with, reaching out to touch his shoulder, and caressing his skin. The way that he didn’t move away gave her courage, and she leaned her weight against him, her arms sliding around him and her head coming to rest on his shoulder. “No one. He doesn’t exist, Tsubaki. There is only you, there has only ever been you, darling.”

“Then why do you leave me so much? Why wouldn’t you want to be around me?” Adrienne moved away from her husband, as the weight of four years of lies came crashing down upon her. She didn’t want to lie anymore, didn’t want the shame or the guilt that filled her every full moon, every new moon. Her arms went around herself, as Tsubaki spoke with increasing volume, begging her to tell him. This time, Adrienne recognized that what she had felt to be anger or disapproval had really been fear- the fear of rejection. “Adrie, why can’t I ever come with you?!”

That was the breaking point, and she began to cry. Tsubaki took her into his arms, holding her and offering strength and support, whispering sweet nothings into her ear. Adrienne pulled away. “I just don’t want to kill you, Tsu.”

The man blinked, filled with shock. “What? Why would you kill me?”

“Because I am a werewolf.”

For 48 hours, I don't think that we left my hotel room.

The airport was entirely too crowded, and he didn't see her anywhere. He was tired, and worn out, and somewhat drained from the emotions of the past day. Lucas Yates had not slept, had not done much of anything but make plans for the past twenty-four hours. Frankie's call had set his whole week in an uproar, a chance to spend three days with his wife before she left for Israel. Before she left to get herself killed. Of course, Yates had jumped at this chance; he'd called Olivia to see if she could pull the strings to get him a ticket, and to see if she and Jason were in the country. Since they were, he'd left his two children with them. This was not going to be child-friendly weekend; not if he had his way. And he would. But first....first he had to find his wife. Frankie had promised to meet him, but he didn't see a uniform anywhere, much less one that clothed a gorgeous, though probably very tired, woman. A soft sigh of disappointment escaped him, and he turned in the direction of the men's room.....and stopped dead in his tracks.

That was no Army uniform, and if it was, he'd missed out by not enlisting.

Frankie....no, she didn't need a masculine name in a dress like that....Francesca stood in front of him, the dark brown dress that she wore set off her olive skin, her warm eyes, her soft hair....and every single asset that she possessed. Yates hadn't seen his wife in well over three months, and here she stood before him, wearing a dress that was a very adult and beautiful version of the dress that she'd worn when they first met. Before he could stop himself, he reached out, sliding his hand behind her neck, bringing her closer for a long kiss.
"I've missed you."
Her only answer was a smile, and she stepped back, taking his hand in hers. Yates wished that they weren't in the middle of the airport. He really wished that there weren't so many people around. This woman was his greatest and only love, and he didn't know how long he could look at her without re-enacting their first meeting.
"So, Lucas, would you rather get a bite to eat, or go and get some sleep. You look tired."

He wanted to laugh. There was no way he was sleeping, not when she was laying beside him again. Not when she was where she belonged. The laziest of smirks stole across his face, as he leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Let's go to a hotel somewhere."

He was only mildly surprised that she already had a key.

-----

Room service was a wonderful thing, Yates decided much, much later. He and Frankie had not left this room for....around forty-seven hours, to the best that he could figure. Yates had made sure that Frankie didn't have a reason to want to leave. The empty trays and dishes were piled by the door, and Yates didn't feel like moving them. Frankie was sprawled against him, their naked legs tangled up with one another, and her cheek pillowed against his chest. Nothing was softer than the dark brown hair that he ran his fingers through, and the sensation of her breath across his chest was one that he wouldn't forget for a very, very long time. Yates didn't know when this would be possible again, when he would be able to hold his wife while she slept again. Their time was slowly running out, and the wonderful high that he'd been on for the past forty-seven hours was also fading.

He was going to have to bring up a sensitive subject soon.

They were sure to fight over it, he knew.

Frankie was beginning to stir in his arms, and Yates kissed the top of her head, slowly rolling her over, and leaning over her to trail gentle kisses down her cheek and jaw.
"Lucas..."
Yates sat back, a sweet smile on his face in place of the usual grin. He wanted her, one last time. Just in case...he knew that after their argument nothing would be the same, and he wanted one last memory of her, in case she...wasn't able to come home to him. Pressing a gentle kiss to her lips, he whispered in her ear.
"I'm going to grab a shower..."

Frankie had laughed softly, following him into the bathroom.

------

Frankie was towelling her hair dry when Yates stepped out of the bathroom. She'd put her brown dress back on, though she was still barefoot and her hair was still an absolute mess. Yates thought she looked just as beautiful now, as when she'd met him at the airport. He came up behind her, sliding his arms around her waist, and placing a gentle kiss upon her neck.
"Come home with me."

Frankie pulled away from him, turning to glare at her spouse. They'd been through this, Yates knew, and he also knew that bringing it back up would anger Francesca. But he couldn't live, knowing that he hadn't done everything that he could to keep her home, and to keep her safe. Her eyes were angry looking across the room at him, but his eyes were devastated. He was losind her twice over, after all.
"Lucas, we've been through this!"
"But...Frankie..."
"Stop it!"

She was in denial. She wasn't even trying anymore! She had resigned herself to this awful fate, and she wanted him to stop to make it easier on herself! Well, Yates couldn't take it anymore. He was tired of Luke quietly mentioning that mom cooked better than this, and he was dead tired of Felicity screaming for her mother every night when he put her to bed. He hated having to be a part of the PTA; he loathed that he crawled into a cold bed every night alone. Most of all, he hated knowing that his wife was out in danger, and that all he could do was sit back with the children, and pray to a god that he didn't even believe in all that much.
"No, Frankie. I won't. Your little girl said her first word last month. Yeah....we found out when she started screaming for you at bedtime, because she misses you. Luke lost his first tooth last weekend. The tooth fairy didn't come, because I didn't know it existed! Frankie, we need you more than the military does. Come home...we'll invent an excuse. Maybe you're pregnant? It is possible..."

His voice was begging, and he hated that too.
"Yates, I can't alright. So just drop it."
"I can't. I can't do this without you, Francesca."
"You aren't making this any easier! Do you think that I want to leave all of you at home? Do you think that I wanted to miss Luke's first tooth, or Felicity's first word? Don't you think that I miss all of you, and the life that we have? I do, but I have a higher calling right now-"

"Then you aren't the woman I thought you were."
"What?"
"The woman that I married thought that nothing was a higher calling than her family."

Francesca froze for a solid minute, before she let the towel fall to the floor, picked up her shoes and her purse. Then she stalked towards the door.
"What are you doing, Francesca?!"
"Since I am not the woman you want me to be, I'm leaving. Oh, and while I'm gone, maybe you can find the one you lost!"
She worked furiously at her hand, yanked off her wedding ring, and hurled it at Yates, who caught it, if only barely.

"Fine! It's not as though I loved you, or anything!"

The only problem was, he did.

Yates spent the next twelve hours, curled on the bed he had shared with his wife, holding Frankie's ring close, and trying his hardest not to cry.

It was the last time he heard from his wife.

I want to vanish inside your kiss

(A/N: So, Cali and I have had fun with Jake and Hannah (Trace and Elliot's daughter); We decided that they should have babies (because we like babies), and they were adorable, so we had them grow up. Phillip is in love with womankind as a whole (a bit of a player); Edward claims to have no attraction to women, but falls for a woman dying of cancer (whom he never even kisses); Devin is in love with his twin sister (looooon story); and Delilah is in love with the idea of love (So far). In this scene, Sandrilene (who has less than a month left to live), is speaking with Edward's older brother and best friend (Phillip), and writing a letter to release Edward from his love for her after her death. Enjoy, and grab som chocolate and tissues. You have been warned.)

The soft whirring of medical equipment surrounded him, the noises lulling him into a steady sense of dread as he approached the frail figure lying in the bed. It hurt, just looking at her, knowing how she had once looked, knowing that she had once been a vibrant young woman, so full of energy and passion. Right now, her pale skin was stretched over thin arms, the bones nearly perfectly outlined, and the steady pulsing at her wrist visible even at this distance. He approached her, trying not to cry, as he watched the woman that his brother loved sleep so lightly. He was frightened to see the thin blue veins on her eyelids, and the way that a scarf had been tucked around her head to hide the prominent hair loss. She looked like a small waif.

Patiently he settled on the edge of her bed, knowing that she had asked to see him. He was here to take her to his home, where Edward was getting things ready for her; his father, Jake, was waiting outside to help him move Sandrilene, but before they could, she had asked to see him. Slowly Phillip touched her hand, waited for her eyes to open, and focus on him.
“Phillip.”
She sounded genuinely pleased to see him, though her voice was so soft that he had to strain to hear it.

“You wanted something, Sandry?” This woman was the one his brother loved, and she was his sister-in-law in all but legality. The gentle curve of her lips broke his heart, because he knew it must tire her greatly to smile- she didn’t smile as often as she used to.
“I want to you write something down for me. I don’t think I can do it myself.” Phillip frowned, but took the pad of paper from her table, and the pen. “I want you to deliver it to Edward after I’ve….passed.”

Phillip froze, his heart shattering under the impact of her gentle words, knowing that it would kill his gentle brother to hear her talking like this.

“Dearest Edward,” She began. “Eight months ago, I would never have imagined that I could feel like this. You have changed my life, and made me feel more alive in my death than I felt in my life. I have never loved or been loved so deeply, and I have you to thank for it. My only regret is that I am leaving you here alone. So walk in our place, my darling. Hold our butterflies, and with each gentle touch they give you, think of me holding your hand instead. If you’re reading this letter, it’s all over now, and I am no longer in any pain. For you, that may be the only good news. I hope that it isn’t. I hope that you never forget me, but I hope that you move on. I want you to be free, my love. Free to love, and to laugh, and most of all, to live.” Here she paused, crying too much to be understood. Phillip was weeping too, and he knew that it would kill his brother to read this letter. Finally, she went on.

“Don’t tie yourself to my memory, Edward. Please. Find someone who will make you happy, who will love you as I cannot- it seems that this is the only gift I can give you. To urge you on with your life. I beg you, accept my brother Lucas into your family, as he has no one else in the world. I want him seen to, beloved, and I know that you will. Life has been wonderful, and you have helped me to accomplish my dream. I know that I am dragging this letter out, and probably embarrassing your poor brother as he writes this, but that’s in the past by the time you read this. Know this: I will love you, until the end of time. Not of my time, or yours, but of all time. I will be waiting for you on this side, watching you, hoping that you will live a full and happy life. I love you. Your beloved, Sandrilene.”

Slowly Phillip folded the letter, tucking it into his pocket. He kissed the girl’s forehead as she faded out of consciousness, and called for his father…

-A month and two weeks later-

She had been gone for two weeks, Phillip wanting his brother to have some time to grieve, had postponed delivering the promised letter, but he could wait no longer. He took Edward aside, handing him the letter.
“It’s from her.” He whispered in his brother’s ear, clapping his shoulder supportively, as he moved away to offer the man some privacy.

If you feel so empty, so used up, so let down...start a riot

The anger ran deep, welling out of him with each every breath, filling his lungs, beating his heart, coursing his blood. Yet deeper than the anger, ran the real cause of his emotional upheaval, deeper than any pain caused by anyone ever before. Frankie, his Frankie, had betrayed him. Of course, Yates couldn’t entirely blame her. He was the one who had pushed her away, not because he didn’t want her or the child (though he had to admit, he was not father material). He was reeling from the shock- but it had been the worst reaction to have. He had hurt her first, and that meant it was inevitable that it would come back to haunt him.

She’d gone out for something to make her feel better, and had made love with someone else while she was out there.

At least she had the courtesy to confess, to tell him herself before rumours spread and he learned from someone else. She’d cried, and the regret had been laid out for him to see. What choice had he, but to forgive her? Whether or not he’d ever admit as much, he loved her. He had taken her into his arms, softly kissed her hair, whispered that he would forgive her. He had asked only for a name, and in her state, Frankie hadn’t thought to withhold it from him. Personally, that was fine by Yates.

He lit a cigarette as he walked, holding the stick of nicotine between his fingers, dragging lightly on the small roll. It wasn’t what he really needed to calm himself- walking into a potential fight, he wanted his wits about him. His nerves were buzzing angrily under his skin, and he felt the need to really release all of the emotions he’d been holding back around Frankie. He knew about the history of abuse in her life, and he didn’t want to be like her father. He didn’t ever want to raise a hand to her in that way. Lately, he had to admit, it had been harder than usual. Turning onto the street, he approached the bar where Frankie had said she’d picked up the older man.

Once inside the dim, smoky, bar it didn’t take Yates long to figure out which guy ‘Hunter Collins’ was. His buddies were all laughing, drinking, and asking about the ‘little hottie’ that he’d scored last week. He could hear the guy talking about how she was probably waiting for his call, and wouldn’t she be surprised when she never got it? Yates could feel his blood begin to boil in his veins, knowing that had Frankie not desired to maintain a relationship with him, she would have been waiting for that call. He cleared his throat.
“Hey, Hunter- maybe you should forget about her. Do you even remember her name?”

The other man turned around, a smirk on his rather handsome features.
“Forgetting her would take out half of the fun. She had a masculine name…Frankie, I think. Yeah, but there wasn’t anything masculine about that girl, if you know what I mean!” The friends of Hunter all laughed, making perverted sounds. Yates was the only one who was unamused.
“Yo, Hunter, was she any good?” Yates wanted to kill these guys for talking about Francesca like she was nothing more than a piece of tail. He clenched his teeth.
“Man, was she! The worst part, though, was that she kept whispering someone else’s name. But, the way she writhed underneath me…Mmm. She was good alright, maybe a little too good. She felt like she’d had a lot of practice, like a proper little whore. Actually, maybe I should look her up? She looked like a girl who is up for anything.”

“You stay away from her!” That loud, furious voice ripped away from him before he could stop it, but he wouldn’t take it back. Even if he could. Hunter and his crew all turned very surprised looks to Yates, and he clenched his fist.
“Ahhh.” Hunter crooned, leaning closer to Yates. “Her little betrayed boyfriend came to defend her cheating, whoring little honor. I wonder how he’d feel if I mentioned that I was the one who heard her whisper your name in that tone of voice.” Before he could even think, he had the collar of the older man, pulling him close.
“Leave. Her. The frick. Alone.” Hunter pushed himself away from Yates, laughing.
“Why? She cheated on you once.”
“She’s carrying my child, you prick! I saw the bruises you left on her skin, and I swear to god if you ever touch her again, I’ll kill you!”

Hunter blanched, stumbling away from Yates.
“I banged a pregnant whore? You sure that the kid is yours? For all you know, she’s been screwing men behind your back for a long time, the little bi-“ Yates’ fist landed somewhere on Hunter’s cheekbone, sending him staggering back.“I told you to stop.”

With a roar, Hunter flung himself at Yates, and the two continued their scuffle on the floor, fighting until two very strong bouncers separated them. Hunter wiped the streaming blood from his nose and mouth, his face and chest would be horrifically bruise the next morning. Yates was sporting a cut above his eyebrow, and a bruise that spread down and around his eye. As far as he was concerned, he had won. As the bouncer dragged him out, Yates grinned, and spit on Hunter, shrugged the bouncer off, and walked back to school in much better spirits than when he had left.

Facing a dying nation of moving paper fantasy

(A/N: This is a story arc that I would like to continue, with Jesseh's permission, as I have loads of drabble ideas for it, or even role-playing ideas.)

“I won’t let you do this, Frankie. If I have to sit on you, I will. You can’t go.” Yates looked relaxed enough, as he stretched out on their couch, holding his daughter on his chest, his fingers softly stroking her head. “This isn’t your fight, and you have a family here. I won’t let you go.”

For all his seeming relaxed state, Frankie knew better. He had the look on his face that said he wanted a cigarette and hard liquor, and her to sit with him. It was his nervous, terrified, expression. A very soft sigh slipped from her lips, as she settled to the couch, leaning over to kiss Felicity’s soft head. Her daughter was beautiful, and Frankie was going to miss her. But she didn’t have a choice.
“Lucas…” she sighed again, turning her body so that her back was snug against his hip. “I don’t have a choice. We agreed on this two years ago- I would join the National Guard, to help make ends meet. I have to go.”

He looked like he either wanted to cry, or throw something, but Frankie knew that while he was holding their daughter, he wouldn’t do either one. Instead, she felt his hand take hers gently, lacing their fingers together. He didn’t know how long she would be gone, how long he would be left alone with Luke and Felicity. More importantly, he didn’t know when, or if, Frankie would return. He took a very deep, shuddering breath, lifting his left hand to rub over his face.
“Francesca, please. Don’t do this…it’s dangerous, a-and I need you.”

She didn’t think that she’d ever heard him speak like that to her before. Their relationship was a lot of things, but it had never been this. Frankie turned, gently lifting her daughter from Yates, and carrying her into the little nursery; normally, Frankie was a gymnastics coach, who taught a little breakdancing on the side. Yates worked with troubled teens- those who had bad home lives. He didn’t counsel them, he offered a listening ear, and helped them find safe places to stay. Neither one of them made a ton of money, and after they had taken their son, Luke, back in two years ago Frankie realised that they were going to need more money. That was when she had joined the National Guard.

Eighteen months ago, a small war had broken out between Israel and its Arabic neighbors. It was a fierce war, and the other countries were stepping in as Peace Keepers, and Frankie’s National Guard had been called up. Once she had settled Felicity for sleep, she returned to the living room. Yates was still on the couch, now sitting up with his elbows on his knees, fingers laced and his forehead lowered to touch them. He wasn’t crying, Frankie knew, but she did fear that he was upset enough to do so. Slowly she lowered herself to sit beside him, lightly rubbing his back. How could she have known all those years ago, in that dark alley, that the strange man would become her husband, the love of her life? She leaned her forehead against his shoulder.
“I will come back, Yates. I promise.”
“Don’t make a promise you can’t keep, Francesca.” He stood, stepping away from her, running his hands through his hair in agitation. “You can’t promise me that, and leave me to wonder, or leave me alone. You can’t.”

She didn’t know what to say to that, and she sighed deeply, standing and heading towards the door. Yates got to her first, pulling her roughly against him, burying her face against her neck.
“I love you, Francesca. I can’t live without you…” She felt them then, the hot tears that poured over his cheeks, and down her neck. She held him for a long time, letting him cry on her, and not commenting about how he wasn’t acting like a strong man. She loved this side of him just as much as she loved the side of him that had pushed her against a wall and had his way with her. They were two sides of an extraordinary man.

“Lucas believe me, there is nothing that will keep me from coming back to you and the kids.” She kissed the top of his head, relieved as the tears slowed and stopped. As a gentle kiss was pressed to her neck, she closed her eyes.

“And I will come home.”

When moonlight crawls along the street...

It had been a beautiful night, one spent with his closest friends, one spent doing the things that he did best. It had begun simply enough, with his friend Jason, J's girlfriend Olivia, and himself going out for drinks. Of course, since Liv had a drinking problem she'd had nothing but water all evening, but Jason and himself had enjoyed several different drinks, among other things that Olivia didn't necessarily need to know about. By the end of the evening, both he and Jason were in high spirits and Olivia was left with the chore of getting them both home. However, Yates doubted that she was minding all that much. Jason seemed rather...attentive as the two of them began to stroll back towards the school. His hand was on her waist, slowly stroking her skin through the fabric, placing little kisses along her neck. Frankly, Yates felt a little envious as Olivia's soft laughs and indistinguishable murmurs reached him on the quiet evening breeze. Clearing his throat, he'd told them he felt like taking a walk before walking back to the school. He just needed some space, and some person. Before long, he found both.

He could see her in the entrance of an alley, dancing to some music that apparently only she could hear. She was a b-girl, and the athletic prowess was astounding. He leaned against a building, just watching her with his hazy eyes, enjoying the play of muscles beneath the tanned skin. She was wearing a skirt, and she looked as though at one point she'd been dressed up. He would suppose that her night, like his, had not ended as had been hoped. After a long time of him watching, and her dancing, the girl stopped. She shook out her skirt, smoothed her mussed hair, and glanced around, looking as though she was ready to leave. As gorgeous and athletic as she was, as needy as he was, and as lonely as they both were, Yates wasn't going to let it go at that. There was an empty alley at her back, and he planned on using it to his utmost advantage. Several long strides took him up to her, and the sound of his steps drew her attention. Her hazel eyes watched him approach, and he smirked as he came to a stop before her.

They stood there, chests heaving, as small sprinkles of rain began to fall to their shoulders and hair. Without a word, Yates' hand came to rest on her waist, slowly sliding around her, and up the small of her back, bringing her closer. Still smirking and watching her eyes, his hand crossed her shoulders, and plunged into her thick brown hair, grasping it, and tugging on it gently, tilting her head back. Just as slowly, he leaned in, pressing his lips to hers, slipping between her lips. Surprisingly, the girl kissed him back, her arms wrapping around his neck, returning his kiss. Satisfaction began to fill him, making him need more of this girl, more of the woman in his arm. Yates brought his other arm around her, propelling her slowly into the alleyway as he kissed her, not moving his line of thought until her back came to rest lightly against a wall. He moved from her lips, trailing kisses down her jaw, and neck and shoulder, sending little goosbumps racing across her skin. She leaned her head back against a wall, one leg lifting, and hooking around his waist, bringing him even closer as she tipped his chin up, and began to kiss him. The rain was falling steadily now, soaking them to the bone as Yates' hand slid down to the thigh of her other leg, bringing it up to hook around his waist also. With that, he began to make his move...

...after what felt like the longest time ever, Yates slowly came to a stop, once more lightly kissing the girl's neck, attempting to ease the pain from the bite marks he'd left there, though she made no such efforts to soothe his scratches. His palms were flat against the brick wall, supporting all of their combined weight. Slowly, she unhooked her legs, lowering them to the ground once more, lightly kissing Yates as she ducked under his arm, and made her sodden way out of the alleyway. He pushed himself away from the wall, watching her with intense interest.
"Can I have a name?" He asked, speaking to her for the first time, with his voice hoarse from suppressed sounds.
"Francesca."

With that, he watched her walk away, the first girl to have satisfied him in a very, very, long time.

My little girl

Breakfast was quiet that morning, and Madeline Munroe wished to heaven that Isobel had been home this morning, or Christian. Her two oldest children had been out of the house for some time now, but things were always lively when they came home for a visit. She wished, too, that Jake was home. Her middle son had also not lived at home in some time, and was actually visiting his uncle in Scotland, where he had gone to school. That left only Madeline, Jonathan and their youngest child. Ainsley was seventeen years old, and Maddie always smiled when she thought of how beautiful and talented her little girl had grown up to be. But then, that was the problem with this quiet breakfast this morning. Ainsley was growing up.

Jonathan was a late-night person, and he never really came to bed until the children were home. Isobel had nearly driven the poor man mad, as she loved to break the midnight curfew, though almost never intentionally. Inevitably, Christian would head out at 11:45, a wry grin on his face, to remind her that it was time to come home for the night, and shortly after midnight they would return, Isobel chagrined and apologetic. And even Christian had, on his own accord, broken curfew a few times. It was almost a rite of passage, and Jake had his own share of late nights, usually from studying with someone and forgetting to call or check his watch. Yet it seemed, that this one had bothered her husband more than all of the others, and Madeline thought that she knew why. While Jonathan loved the twins, they had a father, and he worried over them, and gave them all of that concern. Jonathan never really wanted to take that away from Morgan. Jake was his son, and he loved him immensely, as Jake was his firstborn, his pride and his joy. But, Jake could take care of himself, and Jon knew it.

But Ainsley, she was Jon’s little girl. There was a special bond between a man and his daughter, and Madeline knew that quite well. She herself was her father’s little princess, much as Isobel was Morgan’s. While she had never heard Jon call Ainsley ‘princess’ she knew that there was much of a similar bond between them. Ainsley just wasn’t a princess-y girl, nor was Jonathan the sort to call her that. In fact, they often didn’t say much of anything, with Ainsley’s quiet manner and Jonathan’s understanding of that. Often, Madeline would see the two of them sitting on the couch, Jon’s arm around Ainsley while they watched some programme or another. Sometimes, they simply took walks together, or played games. Theirs was a tight bond, and Ainsley always ran to her father first. That had to be the reason that this was hitting Jonathan so hard, though he wasn’t showing it.

Ainsley had not come home until well after one o’clock last night. Jonathan hadn’t been sleeping, of course, but he’d waited in the dark for her to say something. She hadn’t, and Jonathan had come to bed quietly, worrying Madeline a great deal. Even more unsettling for Madeline, had come when she’d gone into the girl’s room this morning with clean laundry. Brushing fondly at her sleeping daughter’s hair, she’d noticed the hickey on her neck. She hadn’t told Jonathan, but she knew that he suspected something of the sort. Which was why Madeline was anxious to see how the breakfast would play out, as she settled a plate of bacon next to the bowl of scrambled eggs, and the stack of toast. Her daughter still hadn’t come down to breakfast, though she could hear the slow footsteps upon the stair.

Ainsley came to the table, wearing an old turtle-neck sweater, her hair neatly braided, her brown eyes exhausted. She smiled thinly at her parents, and took her seat. Madeline held her breath while she waited to see what her husband would do. To her surprise, Jonathan said nothing. He merely set the newspaper to the side, and smiled at both girls.
“Good morning, Ainsley.”
Ainsley looked stunned, but then she paled and tried to smile back at her father, picking up her fork to toy with the eggs that her mother had dished onto the plate.
“Morning, Daddy.” Her voice was quieter than usual, and Madeline expected Jonathan to comment on it, but he didn’t. Instead he stood, and walked to the refrigerator.
“Ainsley, Mads, would either of you like some juice?”

Ainsley shook her head, not lifting her eyes from her plate, though she didn’t eat any of the food that she pushed about there. Madeline smiled reassuringly at her husband.
“I would, Jon.” Jonathan poured juice into two glasses, and returned to the table, setting one glass in front of his wife, and keeping the other for himself. Silence took the breakfast once more, and Madeline found herself squirming. She hated the awkwardness, hated that Ainsley was feeling so guilty that she couldn’t even look at her father. She was about to open her mouth and say something, but Jonathan caught her eye, and shook his head. Sighing softly, Madeline bit into her toast, chewing on it slowly.
“Ainsley?”

Both female looked at Jonathan, though Ainsley was much slower in doing so than her mother. When Ainsley met her father’s eyes, he paused for a long moment, letting their eyes remain locked before he pointed to the salt, sitting by her elbow.
“Pass the salt, please?” It was more than the girl could take, and she dropped her eyes, passing the salt to her father. Now, she refused to look at either of her parents for some time, and the table returned to the silence that Madeline dreaded so very much. Finally, the silence broke.
“DADDY, I’M SORRY!”

Startled, Madeline dropped her knife, and looked at her daughter. Ainsley rarely spoke, and when she did it was always done in such a quiet manner. Madeline couldn’t recall ever having heard her daughter use such a loud or forceful tone of voice. It was nearly a bellow, and it was accompanied by a torrent of tears. Her hands rose to cover her face, and she turned away from both of her parents.
“I-I-I didn’t m-mean to be out so late! I was j-just with Avery, and w-we lost track of time.”

A low sigh escaped Jonathan, and Madeline- halfway around the table to Ainsley, stopped. Jon moved from his seat, kneeling next to Ainsley’s chair as he had when she was a child, slowly wrapping his arms around his daughter. Madeline didn’t hear what was said between the two, because she decided to give them the time and space that they needed to restore their relationship. What she did know, was that when Jon returned to the kitchen to help her clean up, there was a smile on his face, and he was in a much better mood, evidenced by the way he stood behind her, slipping his arms around her waist, and pressing a soft kiss to her neck.

I held on to you for as long as I could

(A/N: This sucks. It takes place the night after Bethel and Mireille return to Jerry's life.)

He was leaning in the doorway behind her, watching her brush her hair with slow, meticulous movements. She was beautiful, more beautiful than he recalled, or than he had dreamed. It was so good to see her standing in his bedroom, looking for all the world like she belonged there. He pushed away from the door, and came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her small body, nuzzling against her soft, red hair. Bethel laughed softly, laying the brush down on the dresser, and leaning back against Jerry. His arms were warm around her t-shirt clad body, and it felt so nice to have someone touch her in a sweet, intimate way. Even just by having his arms wrapped around her tightly.
“Is Mireille asleep?” She asked softly, tilting her head back against his shoulder.
“Mhmm. I was reading her a book- she was sound asleep by the time that I left her.” Jerry leaned forward, pressing a light kiss to her lips, before slowly spinning her in his arms.

Bethel slipped her arms around Jerry’s neck, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him. Jerry returned her kiss, lifting her off of her feet, and settling her onto his lap as he sat on the edge of the bed, deepening their kiss. It had been so long since they had kissed, since they had touched. Bethel found herself melting into Jerry, remembering slowly how it felt to be loved. Jerry lowered her to the bed, leaning over her, and slowly slipping his shirt off. However, as his weight settled against her, Bethel panicked. Tears welled up in her eyes, and her breathing was ragged. Her hands pushed at his shoulders, and she begged him under her breath to not hurt her. Jerry quickly moved away from her, concern written across his features.
“Bethel…are you alright? Was I hurting you?” Her haunted hazel eyes watched him, and after a minute the panic faded from them.
“No…it wasn’t you.” She slid closer, and curled into his arms, lowering her head to his chest.

“What did Elliot tell you, Jerry?” His arms wrapped around her, stroking her hair slowly, not even caring about sex, or anything remotely like it. He was worried to death about Bethel, and wondering what had happened to her that could make her fear him so much.
“He didn’t tell me much of anything, just that you were coming home.” He lightly kissed the top of her head, wishing that she could just come out and tell him what was bothering her, tell him what had happened.
“My husband was….angry. All the time, and the only thing that could placate him was…” She couldn’t bring herself to continue.
“He hurt you.” It wasn’t really a question, and her silence was more than enough to answer that question for him.

“It’s alright, Jerry. I-I just wasn’t ready for this. We can try-“ He lightly kissed her lips, but then pulled away, shaking his head. He couldn’t do this to her, he couldn’t be anything like this man who had hurt her so badly. He just couldn’t do it. Jerry pulled away from her, standing and pacing the floor of his bedroom; he could feel himself shaking in anger, and he knew that seeing it would frighten the woman sitting on his bed. He took a deep breath, heading into the bathroom, placing his hands on either side of the sink and leaned against the counter. Someone had hurt her. Had laid his hands on her, and left marks of pain and shame. His hands clenched against the porcelain and tile beneath his hands, resisting the urge to throw something. Bethel had seen enough violence.

“Jerry? I’m sorry…I guess I should have told you…I’ll go join Miri on the couch.” Her cool hand landed briefly on his shoulder before drifting away. He turned, catching her with an arm around her waist before she could leave him. His free hand touched her face, trailing his fingers down her skin, across her lips. Then he pressed a kiss to her forehead, stroking her back through her t-shirt. “You don’t have to, Bethel. I am not a monster, and I’m not going to cast you out, because you’re not going to have sex with me. I love you. I am angry on your behalf, and I know you’ve seen too much anger. Go to bed- I’ll be there soon.” He smiled at her, sliding his arm from her waist as she nodded and turned back to the bedroom.

Jerry waited until he knew she was out of earshot; then he picked up a glass bottle and flung it to the ground, cursing the man with every foul word that he knew, both regretting and relieved that Bethel’s former husband lived in Spain. After he had calmed down, he cleaned up the mess; checked in on Mireille, and then joined Bethel. As she snuggled against him, and he wrapped his arms around her, Jerry reached a conclusion. No one would hurt her again- he didn’t know the details that he was sure he would learn in time. He hadn’t seen any of the scars yet…but he knew she had been hurt enough. He had a family now, and they had someone to look after them.

The first time you yelled at me

She frowned in the mirror, laying her hand against her belly, wishing that she hadn’t chosen this exact day to have her monthly cycle begin. She was heading out to a [i]party[/i] soon, and it was no fun to feel cramped and bloating when she was trying to party, and to enjoy herself. Skipping out wasn’t an option, of course, because she was hoping to see Roo at this party, since it was all older students. Vivianna and Danica were going to be there too, and Isobel was looking forward to the fun. Sure, there was likely to be alcohol, but it was unlikely that any of these people Isobel had known her whole life would be letting her drink, or if they did, they would keep a close eye on her. No, the main issue for Isobel lay in whether or not she looked good enough to attract the attention of her sort-of boyfriend, Reuben Hughes.

Her dress was pretty, a short pale-blue strappy dress, flowery and cute. It had been a gift from Tetsu a few weeks ago, simply because he had seen it, and thought that it would look beautiful on her, so he had picked it up. Isobel hadn’t worn it yet, but she figure that now was the perfect time to try it out, during a sweet little fun party among friends. She picked up her brush, running it through her hair, and finding a smile to practice in the mirror. She was supposed to meet Danica Hughes in about an hour to head out to the party. It seemed as though her day would be alright, and she smiled once more to her reflection. And then she heard something that pierced her smile and caused it to fall quickly.
“ISOBEL MARIE HEARST!!!”

Immediately, she scowled, and turned away from her mirror to move to the hallway, looking over the railing to the first floor, where her mother was rising from the floor with the help of Izzy’s younger sister Ainsley. Izzy’s shoes lay to either side of her mother, and she feel her ire rising already.
“What is it, Mom?”
“Your shoes. I [i]told[/i] you to pick these up over an hour ago! People are going to [i]fall[/i] over them, like I just did. Now get down here and pick these up. Right. Now.”
Isobel rolled her eyes, not in the mood for this just now, and she stamped down the stairs, crossed to her mother with a flourish, and swept the two shoes up.
“[i]Happy[/i], now?”
“What on earth are you wearing?”
“Um…a [i]dress[/i] what else would it be?”

“That thing is too short. Go change it right now.” Isobel raised an eyebrow and rolled her eyes, giving a brief shake of her head.
“No. T-chan gave it to me, and I will wear it if I want to.” Her mother shook her head, and crossed her own arms.
“Go take it off, you are not leaving my house dressed like that.”
“No! I am going to a party, and I want to wear this dress!” The two women stood glaring at each other, both of them quite red in the face. Though they wouldn’t listen to it now, they were acting and looking so much alike, it was comical, at least Ainsley thought it was.

Alerted by the shouting, Jake had slipped into the front room of the house, and taken Ainsley’s hand, trying to tug the younger girl along so that they could leave the room. Jake knew both his mother and his sister, and he knew that it would be getting ugly rather soon. Ainsley herself seem more intrigued in the argument than was healthy, and eventually Jake just picked her up, and with a little squeak from her, carried her to the backyard and safety. Meanwhile, things were getting worse between Madeline and her oldest daughter.
“A party? Is that what I just heard you say?”
“Yes, a party!” Isobel snapped at her mother, tossing her head rebelliously. “I am going with Dani Hughes. I’m supposed to be meeting her anytime now.”
“Not tonight you aren’t.”
“What?!”

Maddie propped her hands on her still-slender hips, a sure sign of trouble. Isobel’s enraged exclamation drew Christian from his room, perplexed by all the sounds of shouting and anger. He paused on the steps, brown eyes flickering back and forth between his twin and his mother. He heard steps on the stairs behind him, and glanced over his shoulder at his step-father, who looked equally perplexed.
“Mom, that is not even fair! Why can’t I go?”
“Because you’re failing Gym!”
“SO?!”
“Isobel, your best friend’s mother is your teacher. It’s an easy class, you have absolutely no reason to fail it! And until you start passing, you are [i]grounded[/i]”
“Itsuki is failing too, for the record!” Isobel pointed out hotly, livid that her mother would bring up such a narrow-minded view as grounding.“Yes, he is, and Maire is dealing with that too. Itsuki isn’t going out either.”
“That’s not fair! Mom, Roo’s going to be there!”
Madeline only looked sternly at her daughter. From the stairs, Christian and Jon could practically feel the air charge with anger, and fearing escalation, they both moved at once, rushing to the women, who were so angry that it was a miracle that they had not burst into flames on the spot.

Jonathan got there first, settling his hands on his wife’s shoulders, leaning his mouth close to her ear.
“Mads, calm down. Let her go tonight, and we can all discuss this tomorrow. It’s not fair to spring grounding on her so suddenly…”
Christian, still torn between his mother and sister, joined Isobel, rubbing her shoulders soothingly.
“Relax. If you talk nice, you know Jon will talk Mom into letting you go. Yelling is just making her more mad.”

Slowly, and under her twin’s soothing ministrations, Isobel began to relax, seeing his point. Yelling only made Maddie more angry, and Izzy really didn’t want to do that. She nodded to Christian, who released her shoulders.“I’m sorry, Mom- I just really want to go. I promise I’ll do better in gym…please?”
Madeline considered Isobel, and took a deep breath, nodding to her husband.
“You can go…if you change clothes. That dress really is too short.”
“B-but T-chan bought it for me!”
“Well, either he didn’t realize how short it would be on you, or we’re going to have to have a long talk. Now, go change, and I’ll give you a ride to meet Dani so you won’t be late.”
“I AM NOT CHANGING!”
“Young lady, don’t you [i]dare[/i] take that tone of voice with me!”

Isobel moved then, faster than Christian was predicting. Madeline, however, saw the move coming, and as Isobel began to move away and towards the door, Madeline grabbed her daughter’s wrist to pull her back towards her. Furious, Isobel turned on her mother, and raised her fist. This precipitated two responses: Jonathan, who pulled Madeline towards himself and away from her suddenly violent daughter; and Christian, who pulled Isobel into his arms, holding her close.
“LET ME GO! CHRISTIAN, PLEASE!”

Christian kissed his sister’s hair, whispering into her ear to try and calm her, though it didn’t seem to be working, as she just struggled against him, clearly angry and upset. He looked at his mother, who was wrapped in Jon’s arms. All of her anger seemed to have evaporated in the instant that her daughter took a swing at her, and Chris ached for her, just as he felt Izzy’s sorrow at her own temper and actions buried under her anger.
“Let her go, Chris.” Madeline eventually whispered, sounding tired and weary. Christian let his arms fall, and watched as his sister stalked out of the house.

Madeline turned into her husband’s chest, letting him stroke her hair, and comfort her. As she did, Jon raised an eyebrow at Christian, who smiled faintly, and took off to follow Isobel. He’d give her space, once he knew exactly where she was going to be, and that it was safe. It was all he would ask, and he knew that for his mother it would be enough.

Some hours later, Christian let himself back into the house, pausing to talk to his mother and Jon, who were seated on the couch.
“Where is she, Chris?”
His mother’s voice was hoarse, he assumed from crying more than from shouting earlier. He smiled for her, giving her a kiss to the forehead.
“Maire’s. She and Itsuki went to the party, and then back to his house. She says she’s staying the night there, and she might go to Dad’s in the morning.”
Maddie nodded, lowering her eyes, and leaning her head against Jon.
“Thank you, Christian.”

He nodded to his mother, and walked up the stairs to his bedroom. He was still torn between his mother and his sister, and the stress was very hard on him. He just wanted to sleep, and forget about it all. He’d just collapsed on his bed, when his door pushed slowly open. A small silhouette stood in the doorway, and Christian slowly smiled as he recognized who had interrupted his sleep.
“Come on in, Jellybean.”
Ainsley shut the door behind her, and picked her way carefully to her brother’s bed, curling up beside him.
“I’m sorry, Christian.”
The boy blinked, surprised that she had spoken first- or at all.
“What for, you didn’t do anything.”
“I’m sorry that you’re sad.” Christian smiled again, kissing the pale forehead.
“Thank you, Jellybean. I think I needed to hear that.

Breathe in Breathe out

She was so quiet, and it worried him. He had never had to wonder if Isobel was still breathing- the child was constantly making happy little noises, seeking a response to her sound. It had been encouraging, because he’d never been scared that she was going to die on him. Christian had never been a problem, either. As an infant, he’d been constantly moving, even in his sleep. Even in Madeline’s womb, there had been near-constant movement for the last month- once the babies had been born, everyone had assumed that the little mover and shaker had been Christian. His own son, Jake, had been a combination of the two, humming and moving, albeit neither one as fast as his older siblings. But then there was Ainsley, and she just watched him with those big brown eyes of hers.

In the night, there was never the rustling sound of movement coming through the baby monitor, never the reassuring sound of a whimper, or a hum. Madeline just smiled at him, and told him that not all babies were so vocal. Her own little sister hadn’t made many noises as a newborn, and Ainsley probably wouldn’t, either. It didn’t keep him from worrying, and often he would get up in the night, to go and check on his little girl. There was some sort of driving instinct that pushed Jonathan to look after his little girl. He would steal into the room she shared with her brother, lay his large hand lightly on her chest, just to feel the rise and fall of her chest. Sometimes, he would pick her up, and cradle her against his own chest, waiting for the small flutter that was her steady heartbeat. She occasionally woke up, though she never cried. Now and then she would jerk in surprise, and sometimes whimper, but she never cried out.

Her brown eyes would look into his face, and Jon would wait for the moment when recognition set in. It was odd, how babies worked. Izzy had only ever needed to hear the sound of her parents’ voices, and she knew them. Christian seemed to know by the very way that they held or touched him. Jake was unusual, he always just seemed to know. But Jon had to admit, he liked it when Ainsley had to look into his face, and watch it for a moment before lighting up, in recognition that Daddy was the one holding her.

Tonight was a bad night, filled with worries and nightmares, and concerns. It seemed that holding his little daughter while she fell back asleep was as soothing for him as it was for her, and he sat in the living room for a long time, watching the delicate face, discerning the little blue veins on her eyelids, the way her little mouth pursed, and the deep and steady rise and fall of her chest. It was nights like this that reminded Jon of why he’d wanted a large family, so that there was enough love and comfort to go around several times. He was looking forward to his little girl growing up and becoming a grown woman. For now, however, he was content to sit here, and old his little girl.

What's this about?

"...and then, the teacher continued to teach, as though the whole incident hadn't occured. Well, you know that the rest of us were simply dying. And then, I mentioned playing basketball, and a boy from the front row-" Madeline paused in her sentance, watching her boyfriend as his eyes drifted over her shoulder, following to the left, and pausing. Slowly her arms crossed, and she leaned back in her seat.
"Have you even listened to a thing I've been saying?"
"Hmmm?" Madeline set down her napkin, turning over her shoulder. Behind her, stood a young...woman (Maddie couldn't bring herself to think the word lady), with long legs and a short skirt. Maddie pressed her lips together, turning back to her boyfriend who was clearly staring at the girl.
"Morgan? Does she have something I don't?"
"...a distinct lack of morals."

It was obvious that he hadn't meant to say it, as he immediately looked back at Maddie, his blue eyes serious.
"Madeline, I didn't mean it that way, I-I, I mean she- she's younger, and...no! You know what. I don't have to explain myself to you." The brown eyes across the table narrowed, and Maddie levered herself out of the chair. She stepped back, slamming the chair under the table, grabbing her purse from the floor, and turning to walk away.
"Maddie! Wait!"
"Oh no, Morgan. I'll let you stay here with your little hussy. I'm certain she'll fall into the sack with you immediatly!"
She turned on her heel, and walked out the door; Morgan glanced at the other girl, and then hurried to follow.

"That is not a fair statement, Madeline!" The brunette turned, and Morgan stopped, crossing his arms. There was a space between them the length of a person, and it might as well have been the length of the sea.
"Oh? Isn't it? You've been after me to go that little bit further the entire time we've been together!"
"I have not!"
"Maybe not with words, Morgan, but it's in your eyes, and every time I say 'not yet', your eye starts to wander! If you don't want me, fine! If you don't want me because I won't sleep with you, that's fine too. But do me the honor of at least telling me!" At this, Morgan stepped closer, closing the distance between them.
"I have always been fair with you, Madeline. I really resent you implying such things about me."
"You have not! Morgan, you were practically undressing her with your eyes!"
"What, would you rather I looked at you that way?! I respect you too much."
"That's some respect!"
"You want me to treat you like her? Fine?" He let his hot gaze run slowly down her body, and back. Her face was flushed, and he felt sick for doing this, though he knew he needed to make his point. She looked livid, and she actually reached out to slap him.

Morgan caught her wrist easily pulling her close. "What, you didn't like it?"
"No! Of course I didn't Morgan Hearst, I felt...cheap. Is that all women are to you?"
"My god, Maddie, will you not get the idea? I don't look at you like that, because I respect you. I care about you! Heck, I don't look at you that way because I think you're better than that. You clearly don't think the same of me." He let her go, nearly pushing her away as he turned.
"Morgan, stop! I LOVE you, darn it!"
A slow smile took hold of Morgan's lips, and he turned back around. In two steps, he had Madeline in his arms, slowly kissing her.

Arguing soon became something of a hobby for them. Morgan had to admit, he liked the results.

Do what you say

(A/N: So, it sucks, and the formatting went wonky, but at least it's done and out of my system! And to warn you - please read all the way through this before you decide to kill me,)



"Stewart, watch yourself."

Ainsley looked up, her brown eyes settling on her new partner, one brown eyebrow arched. Though she didn't say anything, it was plain to see that she was, in fact, displeased with the warning that came from someone she barely knew. Her old partner had transferred, or so everyone had been told. The night he'd left, he had come to her apartment, warned her he was going undercover, and kissed her gently. Ainsley hadn't known what to make of it at the time- Rob had never hidden his love for her, though she couldn't claim to return his love.



Ignoring her new partner, Ainsley let her gaze fall back to her kevlar vest, securing it, and making sure that everything was in place. Though she didn't know where Rob was now, she'd been briefed that this call-out was to help an undercover in a sting. Apparently, she'd been specially requested, and that led her to believe that Rob was the one they were going after. Slamming the locker door shut, she walked past Aaran Clarke, her new partner, and into the hallway. She didn't think too highly of this person. He made her feel as though she couldn't trust him, though she wasn't sure why that was. She'd have to think about it later, though, as it was time to act.



Less than an hour later, she and Aaron were waiting on either side of the door that led to the warehouse. The goal was to stop the three top drug lords, caught in the act of dealing with the undercover cop. On Ainsley's soft count, they kicked the door open, and strode into the room, guns drawn.
"NYPD, get down on the floor!"

Three of them stared at her, while the fourth moved around Ainsley to stand at her back. She'd been right in her deduction that Rob was the undercover.

"Aaron, let's cuff 'em."



Before Ainsley could make a move closer, Aaron shot them, each one. He turned again, and raised an eyebrow.
"Out of my way, Stewart."

Ainsley shook her head, raising her gun. She knew that Rob was unarmed- it would have been a stipulation for the meeting.

"Look, Stewart, I want him, not you."

"When did you go dirty, Clarke?"



The other man never replied, he fired his gun, catching the edge of Ainsley's kevlar vest. She flinched, but despite the blood pouring over her vest, she didn't waver, and fired in turn. Aaron dropped, the bullet clean through his head. Then she fell backwards, gasping. Rob caught her easily, lowering them to the ground. He used her shoulder radio to call it in, before stripping her vest off, and applying pressure.
"Ains-" His voice was taught, and stressed.

"Love...you..."



--------



Jake leaned against a wall, sipping his coffee. He was a surgeon, the best in the hospital, which meant that he often got the hardest cases and had the least amount of time to himself. A call had come in from an ambulance, a gunshot victim who needed immediate surgery. The flashing lights appeared, and he set aside his coffee, taking long strides to the unloading area. He was horrifed when he saw his little sister's former partner jump out of the back, and make his way forward.

"Rob..."

"Jake, I'm sorry....she's pretty bad. She lost a lot of blood. I don't think you should do this surgery."

Jake shrugged him off, but tossed his phone over to the man who loved his little sister.

"Can you make the calls? This is a tricky surgery, I don't know if anyone else is qualified."

"And you are?"

"After all the gang shootings I patched up in Brooklyn, and Harlem and the Bronx....yes."



------



Madeline sat in the hard gray chair, her brown eyes glued to the floor in an effort to keep herself from crying. A warm hand was splayed across her back as she leaned forward, and she felt grateful for the human contact. So grateful, that she reached her hand over for her husband's free hand, lacing their fingers together. Neither one of them said anything, because they didn't have to. Seated to her right was Christian, Isobel perched on his lap. Again, nothing was being said, but it was clear from his arms around her waist, that they were comforting one another in their own way. The fear in the room was palatable, and it only increased as time wore on.



------



His hands were shaking as he wiped off her face, and adjusted the hospital gown to hide the ugly mark from the shot and surgical incision. Tears were flowing freely down his face, and he bent down to kiss her forehead. He couldn't believe that this was happening. Despite his best efforts, his little sister would never be waking up. It was all his fault, and he'd let his baby sister down. He ran his hand over his face, and turned to see his family.

"Mom?"



Madeline stood, walking over to her son, pulling her husband with her. When she stopped, Jon slipped his arm around her, and pulled her close, both of them taking comfort in the presence of the other. Jake looked at his parents, and shook his head.

"I'm sorry....I tried."

"Jake, your mother and I know you-"

"She's gone, Dad."

Jonathan pulled his son into his arms, allowing him to cry into his shoulder. Maddie wandered past the two, into the ICU, and the room that held her daughter.



Gently she ran her fingertips over Ainsley's face, a sweet farewell, and she kissed her daughter one more time.



--------

It was the saddest funeral in a long time. The small chapel was packed, and the sniffling, and even sobbing, sounds echoed throughout the room. In the back of the room sat a man with blond hair, and an icy face. Most people knew him as the incredibly intimidating Professor Labeau. The young woman in the casket had called him Mister Labeau, and made it the mission of her earliest years to follow him endlessly when she had seen him, or spent any time with Sebastian. despite the cold anger in the depth of his eyes, there was pain too. The child's time hadn't been wasted. He had grown to love her.

A few rows from the front, Jake was sitting apart from his family. Jon had argued, wishing he could simply order his son to join them, but Jake's guilt was simply too much. Shayn had intervened, and invited his nephew to sit with him. Jake had taken the blame to himself- including quitting his job without any notice, and avoiding the subject of his sister. Without Ainsley, there was no one to look at him, and know what he needed. Hannah sat next to him, and his hand clenched around hers, clinging to her hand like a dying man clinging to the last piece of life.

Seated directly behind Madeline and Jonathan was Isobel. Her husband, Reuben, was seated next to her, his hand on her knee as he coped with his own sense of loss. On her other side was her twin. Christian hadn't said much since the death, and he'd become much like Florian in the back row. His face was like stone, and while he didn't push Izzy away as she cried on his shoulder, neither did he make any move to comfort her. He was like a stone, and his grief for his little 'Jellybean' ran deep.

Madeline stood behind her daughter's casket, the words dying on her tongue. Her eyes were taking in the forms of grief, Morgan sitting beside Jonathan, one arm around Tetsu, the other on Jonathan's shoulder. As for her husband, Jon couldn't take his eyes away from Madeline. Their mutual grief was intense, and she felt a little bit better knowing he was there to go through this with her.

Madeline's gaze rested on one final figure before she began to speak, on poor Rob, standing at the Honor Guard that the NYPD had provided for Ainsley. He stood at attention, and his eyes weren't looking at anything in the room. Tears of pain, and loss, and grief streamed down his face. Madeline's heart went out to him as well. She remembered the day he'd approached Jonathan and herself, asking permission to court Ainsley. He was a brave man, and this had to have shattered him.

"Friends, and family, and loved ones. We thank you for coming here today, to help us honor one of the most important people in any of our lives. This loss has shaken our family to it's core, and though we are grieving, we know that Ains-" She stopped, suddenly unable to go on. She lowered her head to the lectern, and sobs shook her frame. As she cried, a warm hand touched her shoulder, and turned her into his chest, stroking her hair-

-------

"Mads! Madeline, sweetheart, wake up!" Madeline managed to pry her eyes open through the tears, and she burrowed closer against Jonathan, sobbing out her pain. She didn't know what she was going to do.

"Is she okay? Is my little girl okay? Oh, Jon, don't tell me she's dead....." Jon stroked Madeline's hair, making soothing sounds as he held her close. It was clear that Madeline had been dreaming. He didn't know whether or not she was talking about Isobel- who was staying over at the Hughes house, as it was Christmas Eve, or if she meant Ainsley, who was sound asleep down the hall.

"She's fine, Mads. She's safe...go back to sleep. I won't let anything happen." He pressed a soft kiss to his wife's hair, waiting for her to fall back asleep. She might have only been sleeping, but the sound of her hoarse sobs were a sound that Jonathan was hard-pressed to shake, and he wasn't sure if he would be getting any more sleep tonight.

Baby, I'm gonna put your skin on mine

The rain was drizzling, the sort of cold, foggy mess that hardly deserves the name of rain. It sort of suited his mood, as he briskly walked in the direction of the private home of the Spanish Ambassodor. For the past four years, he'd been in some sort of limbo-like relationship with a young woman who had, at some point, stolen his heart. It wasn't supposed to be that, and it struck him deeply that their first romantic meeting had been in the rain like this, the forbidden kiss that had fanned the flames of their passionate affair. He'd always been told that Spaniards made the best lovers, he'd just never believed it until meeting Bethel.

He wasn't sure who to blame for the mess that they'd made of this situation. Upon meeting Bethel, he'd known she was betrothed- and she'd never made a secret of the fact that she intended to honor the plans her father had laid down before her. After all, she was a dutiful daughter, and one who loved her father. So no, he couldn't rightly blame her. And, if his memory served him correctly, he'd been the one to initiate the kiss on the roof, those long four years ago. Yet, he couldn't blame himself either. There was a passion about the young Spaniard, a zeal for life, that attracted him. At first, it had simply been a mutual loneliness. He was desperate to forget, and she was desperate to know. Perhaps there was nowhere to lay the blame after all, maybe it was just one of those moments where you knew that life was- no, he wouldn't say that either. Not ever having loved Bethel would be worse than this.

It wasn't like he was even mad at her, though the strict staccato of his steps might have indicated otherwise. He just didn't like people leaving him- Ruby had been first; he supposed he should at least be grateful to know that Bethel was going to be with someone else. Again, he'd always known, but he supposed he would hope that at the last minute, she would turn her back on this sham of a marriage, and choose him. Like they did in those soppy movies he so detested. Rubbing his hand over the back of his neck, Jerry Ferlito gripped a gift bag tightly with his other hand. In less than an hour, Bethel would board a plane, and return to Spain. A year from next week, she would be married. The thought of another man touching her, and loving her, as he had infuriated him. But he was helpless.

When Jerry had told his roommate that he wanted something nice to give Bethel before she left, the boy had recommended a soundtrack. One with a boring name, that she could play whenever she wanted, and think of him. Her husband would have no idea that she was thinking of another man when she listened to it. While it sounded horribly cheesy, Jerry was out of both time and options. At the last moment, a mutual female friend had come through, and presented Jerry with a locket, that she'd taken the liberty of putting his picture into. Grateful, Jerry had tucked it into his bag, and set off.

The walk had never felt this far before, though he could now see the house. Even from this distance, he could see Bethel, her bright red hair distinguishing her from the other figures. As he neared, he observed her hair caught into a french braid, as subdued as her green eyes when she lifted them to his. He stopped, not knowing what to say, or how they would make a farewell in front of everyone. Bethel's cousin, Isidoro saved the day, stepping in and asking the dignitaries if Bethel could have a moment. Once they were gone, he moved out of earshot, though Jerry knew he was still watching Bethel. He remained where he was.

Slowly, she reached out, her skin contrasting the black coat and dress with its paleness. Automatically, he took her hand, lacing their fingers. The feel of her skin against his remided Jerry of all of their moments of passion. Of dancing, or walking, or even of making love. He pulled her into his arms, resting his face against her hair.
"I don't want you to go."
"I don't either, Jerry."
He stroked her back, making a plea and desperate offer at once.
"Then stay, with me."
"I can't."

He'd always known it would be her answer. Bethel had always made it clear that she would respect the wishes of her family. He pulled slightly away, tipping her chin up, and kissing her softly.
"I brought you something to remember me by."
"As if I could forget you, Jerry."
He handed her the bag without another word, and then pulled her once more into his arms, lifting her off her feet as they kissed. His voice was broken as he whispered behind her ear.
"I love you."

Then he set her down, and walked away. There was nothing more he could say, because he wouldn't say goodbye. Nor could he look back, as he tucked his hands into his pockets, and walked away faster than he had come.

Take me in your arms

"Please, Jerry? I don't want to be the only person there without a date! It's an important day...please?" Her dark green eyes gazed imploringly up at the fifth year, the closest thing to a boyfriend that Bethel had ever had, despite her current engagement. It was her cousin's engagement ceremony, and Bethel didn't want to walk in feeling like a seventeenth wheel, simply because her own betrothed had not opted to come. For his part, Jerry knew deep down that he couldn't deny the girl in front of him much of anything, particularly not something to seemingly innocent.
"Sure, Bethel. It sounds like fun."

The party was in full swing, and not long ago, Bethel had moved from her chair to his lap, to make room for one of the many couples that had needed seats. It would seem that it was normal for more people than were invited to attend these things. Not that Jerry was complaining. Bethel was a pleasant weight on his thighs, and he would use any excuse to wrap his arms around her, to lean close to her hair, and smell her shampoo. It was terrible, and wonderful all at the same time. She was a forbidden temptation, and one that he desperately wanted to sample. Almost abruptly, she slipped from his lap, tearing him from his thoughts as he turned to her, startled.

She still stood near him, holding out one beautifully shaped hand. Oh, man. It made him want to roll his eyes, that he was thinking of how beautiful her hand was. He remained seated, raising an eyebrow.
"Come dance with me, Jerry."
"I can't dance."
"Oh, come on!"
Bethel grabbed his hand, and pulled him to his feet. He was surprised by the strength she hid in that compact little body. Thanks to his runaway thoughts, he was again taken by surprise when he was dragged out to the dance floor. He'd been right, he couldn't dance. But he had fun, pretending for Bethel's sake.

----------

Saturday afternoon naps were the best, in Bethel's opinion. Though she'd spent the last four years living in the United States, she'd never truly lost much of her Spanish heritage, and early afternoon naps were one thing she didn't believe she'd ever want to give up, simply as a principle. So there she lay, basking in the light that seeped through the blinds, wrapped up in her blankets, clothed in sweats, curled on her bed. Everyone knew about her precious Saturday afternoon naps, and so most were kind about it, and chose to let her relax and enjoy it. So when she heard the dorm room door open, she snuggled into her blankets with a groan.

Jerry smiled at the little ball curled up on the bed, and tried to move as quietly as he coud, before he sat on the edge of the bed. He was dressed to kill today, wearing a suit, though he'd lost the tie, and the top buttons managed to come undone. He'd tossed his amazingly attractive fedora hat to the bed next to Bethel's. Slowly leaning over, he spied an expanse of exposed neck, and tenderly pressed his lips to it. Emboldened by the small squeak that he could hear from under the blankets, he gently pried the duvet away, kissing more of her neck.
"Bethel....wake up."

Well, how could she say no to that? Slowly she sat up, feeling like a poor bag lady with her old pajamas and mussed hair, while Jerry looked so nice and put together. She rubbed at her eyes, and scowled because she knew Jerry was thinking how cute she looked, when she clearly didn't look cute at all. She lowered her hands, and tilted her her head, waiting for him to say something.
"Bethel, come dance with me."
She blinked at him for a few minutes, completely taken by surprise.
"But you can't dance...."
"Come on, Beth."

About an hour after Bethel had tossed Jerry out of her room to get ready, they were stepping through the doors of a latin dance club. Jerry had no idea where she'd gotten a dress that....for lack of a better word, hot - but he did know he was going to thoroughly enjoy it. As they walked out to the dancefloor, and Jerry took her hands in his, Bethel knew something was different. He lay her hand on his shoulder, and placed his on her back. He'd had dancing lessons. As he pushed off, begininning the basic rumba step to the music, he grinned at her.
"Follow my lead."

The dance that followed was a passionate one, improvised and unique. It just made the experience all the better, and later that night, with Bethel curled at his side, sleeping soundly, her breath soft against his skin, Jerry knew that he'd made the right decision, and that dancing lessons had been well-worth what he'd paid Juliet Morhan for them.

-------

It seemed as though she was going to smile so broadly, that her face would fall off. As quickly as she could, she rushed out of the bathroom door, and down the hallway where Jerry had been helping Mireille with her homework. The eight year old raised an eyebrow as her mother came flying through the livingroom.
"Jerry!"
Hearing his name, Jerry looked up at his wife, and smiled, catching her hand and spinning her into his embrace.
"What is it?"
"We're having another baby."
Shifting his grip on his wife, he began to sway with her, kissing her cheek. They'd been trying for a baby for two years now, and had been worried that they wouldn't be able to have one again.

Mireille, who'd been silently watching her parents, put her pencil down and walked over to them, tugging on her father's arm. Jerry looked over at her, and smiled.
"What is it, sweetheart?"
"Are you dancing?"
"Yeah- do you want to dance?"
The little girl nodded, her constantly serious blue eyes lighting up for a few minutes as her father dramatically to her hand, and spun her into his arms. His voice was soft, and gentle as he talked out the steps with their daughter.

Bethel stood to the side, moved to the point of tears, and wiping at her eyes. After all that she'd been through, life was starting to work out- and she had her wonderful husband to thank for it.

Hush, little baby

This was possibly the most important meeting of his life, and his cell phone was going off.

He sat still, frozen and motionless for quite some time, wondering whether or not he should answer the phone. The doctor at the other end of the table watched him, her dark blue eyes unreadable from his seat. Johnny Farber's eyes flickered to the phone, and he saw Martha's name on the screen. After the last time Martha had called him during a meeting, she never had again, and Johnny was dead certain this was important. Slowly, he reached for the phone watching the doctor as he did so.
"Martha?"
"Jay....I-I'm outside Tegan's school, t-there's been a shooting, I can't f-find her."
"Martha, honey, slow down."
"Someone shot up Tegan's school, and I-I can't find her."

Johnny stood up, looking at the woman across from him.
"Dr. Wilson, I have got to go."
"Dr. Farber, you'll-"
Johnny ignored her, walking briskly out of the most important meeting of his life, almost running down the hallway, trying to calm his frantic wife as he did so.
"Where's Damon, honey?"
"W-with me....Jay-jay..." Her voice was so heartbroken, so grief-stricken that it made Johnny want to cry himself.
"Alright, gorgeous, here's what I want you to do- take Damon, and walk down to the park, alright? Stay within sight of the police, and I'll go get Tegan."
"What if...."
"Martha." She sniffled on the other end of the phone, but Johnny knew that she was listening. "I'm going to find her, okay?"
"Alright. I love you."
"I love you too, gorgeous."

Closing his phone, Johnny pulled up a block out of the school, glad he was still in his lab coat. Slowly he walked toward the line of Police, trying to calm his features. They checked his credentials, and waved him on. He began to walk through the grounds, trying to ignore the three sheet-draped figures on the front lawn. Two were adults, but one was the size of his little tea cup. He pushed on, not bothering to hide the tears as he stopped to treat crying little children, unable to walk by them and not help. It was agonizingly slow work, and Johnny knew that the more time he spent helping the other children, the less likely he was to find his own. Even so, he wouldn't just walk by a little bleeding child. He couldn't.

Two hours later, Johnny had gone through the entire school, with no sign of his daughter anywhere. Her entire class was accounted for. Her teacher was dead. Tears were now flowing down Johnny's face, soft sobs wracking his frame, as he leaned against a wall. The children were evacuated, and the investigators were moving in. The time for finding Tegan was over, and Johnny was left with the brutal reality that the cloth-covered child had been his own. The awful, horrifying numbness that was left slowly ate at Johnny, a long, slow, painful death that he would never recover from.

"Daddy?" The soft voice was taunting, and Johnny shuddered, not knowing how he would be able to return to Martha and their son, admitting that he had been unable to find his daughter. The little gap-toothed six year old was gone. "Daddy, please don't cry. It's too sad." Slowly Johnny turned, and when he saw the little girl with her mother's soft hair, and his eyes, he dropped to his knees, pulling her close. He didn't stop crying. He couldn't. Instead, he cried into the child's hair, kissing the top of her head, holding her close in his gratitude.
"Oh, tea cup....Daddy thought he'd lost you."

The little girl shook her head.
"I was hiding in the bathroom. I didn't know it was safe, until I heard you." Johnny smiled, slowly wiping his own tears, standing up, and lifting the little girl into his arms.
"Let's go home, Tegan." He kissed the top of her head once more, just happy that he'd found her, and that she was safe in his arms.

Now you are slipping away

The screams were echoing throughout the normally silent corridors of the Convent.

Many of the sisters stopped, whispering a prayer for the woman whose voice was echoing in pain, and darkness. Everything about the young lady who'd shown up on their doorstep was becoming dark. The look in her eyes as she touched her belly, the small picture of the man she kept in her locket that she would often open and stare at, the future wedding that she had alluded to on occasion...they all reflected her severe pain, and the tainting of her soul. That she loved the child she carried, and the man that the sisters all assumed had fathered it, was held in no doubt. How she would handle the upcoming marriage to a man she did not love was in question.

Many times, the Reverend Mother would offer to allow her and the child to stay, offered to let her take the vows, and remain within the convent walls that offered safety, and hope. But her spirit, as bright as her titian hair, would never allow her to do so. So the sisters did what they could, and they stopped often, praying as the screams grew louder, and continued their business, preparing a place to keep the child, and raise her. They all knew that the baby would be staying here for quite some time, until a suitable establishment could be found for the foundling.

The screams were ripping from her own throat, tearing it raw.

The three sisters in the room had never delivered a child before, and she'd begged them not to send for a doctor, fearing that she would be recognized. After quietly deliberating, one of the sisters who had been a village midwife was brought in. She'd tied Bethel's wrists to the headboard, and her ankles to the posts of the footboards. There were no painkillers in this place, no liquor or drugs. Only a salve that the former midwife had rubbed into Bethel's bare stomach, numbing her somewhat. It didn't matter- Bethel was so far gone in pain it was as though her brain had shut off the nervous system in an effort to spare itself pain. She shuddered, the contractions intense enough that she raised herself from the bed, pulling hard at the restraints against her limbs.

The hoarse voice, begging for the foreign man, was all hers.

"Jerry!" It was the anguished cry of her hoarse voice, wishing that the man she loved were here, instead of three women who would never experience this agony, or the joy. The little hovel of a room would seem more fitting, if Jerry were holding her hand, his hushed voice whispering endearments, and jokes. In fact, he could say anything that he liked, the sound of his voice alone would have eased her. tilting her head back, sweat-soaked red hair falling haphazardly over the pillow as she did so, crying out again, tears falling from her cheeks. "Jerry....Jerry..." She'd never even told him. When they'd said goodbye, Bethel had made it clear that she didn't want him to be the one to make contact. She'd left him no address, and no idea that she was carrying his child away. It was her greatest regret, alongside the fact that she would ever be able to raise this child, that someone else would be called mother.

"Please! Let it be over! Oh, God, please...let me survive this, and my ba-"

Another scream tore from her throat, a stark contrast with the low croon of the former midwife, instructing her to push. Beyond any means of argument, Bethel did as she was instructed, screaming her fury, her grief, her pain, and her loss. Moments later, it was over, and she was pushed back to the bed as the midwife kneeded her stomach to rid the prone woman of anything else, and then to loosen tense muscles. There was a sharp squalling cry, the unmistakable sound of a furious newborn, and the whimpering that always followed, seeking it's mother. Despite her exhaustion, she held out her arms, and received the mewling little child. Bethel still had another three months before she had to leave, and she wouldn't give up the beautiful child in her arms until that moment.

Her eyes admired the flawless little hands, the sweet eyes that closed as the baby nursed, the soft skin...

"Mireille." The nun looked at her quizically, and Bethel nodded to the now-sleeping child. "My daughter, Mireille Elen Ferlito." The nun quietly recorded the name, taking it to the Reverand Mother as the new mother and her child slowly sank into sleep.

The months had passed quickly, faster than Bethel had realized.

Her hands were shaking, as she handed her three-month old daughter to the older woman, tears forming in her darkened green eyes. She didn't think she could just walk away, even though she knew she had to. Impulsively, she removed the locket from her neck, holding it out to the Reverand Mother.
"I don't want her to never know her father."

With that, the broken woman turned and stumbled away, unable to look back even once. If she had, she would have seen the old woman weeping, as the baby cried futilely for her mother.