It’s pouring outside. Nothing I’m not used to, though it’s still cold. I wish I had noticed it was raining sooner, or at least before I decided to leave without putting on some sort of jacket or protective wear. But I suppose that was my fault. Besides, it’s not like Zack’s house is a long walk from Brian’s.

However, as I finally near the street which I’m only hoping he still lives on, I’m soaked to the bone, and a shivering, sobbing mess. I wish I had taken one of Brian’s cars, but it’s not like anyone ever bothered to teach me how to drive back in Michigan.

I finally arrive in front of the house. His car is here – he’s home, which means he still lives here, thankfully. I spend a good ten minutes staring up at it. I felt so small in its shadow – three stories, and for what? A single rock star, who had never had a real solid girlfriend since high school? whose only guests were his two sixteen-year-old daughters, who only ever visited once every few years? It was ridiculous – a waste of space and money.

Though, with someone like Zack, I suppose he did have money to waste.

I’m not sure if I’m ready to go inside yet. I’m not sure if I’m ready to face him. As I think this, I find that my feet have a different idea, and have already walked me up to the front door. My hand joins in on their little game and raises itself to knock.

No one answers at first. I’m afraid I didn’t knock hard enough, or maybe no one’s home. Or maybe they’re all sleeping. What time is it again? Six o’clock – dinner time. Maybe they’re eating, or maybe they’re out somewhere, doing what married couples do and eating out. That is what married people do, right? Right before they decide to have a baby – or ten. I think. I don’t know what I’m thinking, really. What am I doing here again?

The door swings open and Zack stands there, wearing a Vengeance University hoodie and jeans. It seems to take him a moment to register that I’m standing on his front porch. His expression first turns into disbelief, then shock. His eyes and mouth widen, and he grips both sides of his hair, inhaling sharply. I shift impatiently – I’m cold and hungry and I could really kill for a sandwich. But I don’t say anything. That would be rude, even for me.

Finally, he speaks. “Oh,” he breathes, before throwing his arms around me.

Suddenly, he’s hugging my cold, wet, shivering body. It’s strange and awkward and… warm. Comforting. Words I would never have used to describe my father – never in a million years. Yet here he was, hugging me as if his life depended on it. And he’s sobbing into my ear, too, which only makes me feel bad. Like this was my fault –

Oh, wait; it is.

Just as sudden as he hugged me, he pulls away, rubbing at his eyes and giving me an apologetic look. He strokes my wet cheek gently before frowning at me slightly. He shakes his head and silently pulls me inside. I stand dripping in the entryway as he shuts the door behind me.

“Wait here,” he mutters quickly before running off. I do as he says, shifting constantly as if trying to keep myself warm.

Things are certainly different, I notice, after my mind begins to register the fact that I’m inside now. It’s been so long since I’ve been in here, and the realization hits me as hard as it did when I found out how long I was in a coma. Four years. And in those four years, Zack found someone – a girl – whom he loved so much, that he decided to marry her. I felt like, in a way, I should’ve known that he wouldn’t have kept the house after he got married, which explains all the boxes littering the hall and entry ways. It was strange – even stranger than Zack hugging me. I was so used to the horror-themed paraphernalia throughout the house. I had never seen it so… empty before.

Just then, he returns, carrying a few towels. There’s a shit-eating grin on his face. I can’t imagine why.

“Here,” he says quietly, as he begins wrapping towels around my body. As he does this, I only just realize how tall he is compared to me. At least a head – maybe two. I had never noticed such a drastic height difference between us, but I suppose I never really knew much about him to begin with anyway.

He begins to dry my cheeks gently, but for some reason, they just continue to feel wet.

“Honey, it’s alright – you don’t need to keep crying anymore.” I blink, only just becoming aware of the fact that I’m still sobbing from earlier. My face heats up slightly and I hear the low rumble of his familiar laugh. He hugs me to his chest and holds me there.

Now that I’m aware of my crying, I can’t stop. I sob into his shirt until it’s as wet as me, and even then I keep crying. He doesn’t make me stop like he normally would. He just holds me and rocks me gently; he runs his hand up and down my back soothingly, and eventually, he begins to hum.

At first, I can barely hear what it is he’s humming. But as I begin to focus on it, and less on me crying, I instantly recognize it.

It’s late – I know that. I’m not allowed to be up right now. But Zack won’t mind – its Brian I need to be worried about, if he hasn’t left yet.

I felt like an idiot. I was ten years old, and was still having nightmares. Sure, I had only turned ten a few short days ago, but it still felt like I should have grown up by now. Like I should’ve abandoned the thought of monsters and demons hiding in my closet or under my bed, but Brian’s taunting never helped – in fact, it did the exact opposite

I find him in the living room, half asleep. Margaret refused to let him use the guestroom whenever he was here, but he never seemed to mind. He just took it without complaining, and fell asleep to the low volume of the TV.

He sits up when he hears me sniffling. I had been crying not a few minutes ago, and even though I had calmed down just as quickly as I started, seeing him made it start all over again.

He beckons me over quietly and I all but run into his arms. He holds me there, rocking me gently. “What’s the matter, baby girl?” he whispers. I take a deep breath.

“N-Nightmares,” I manage to squeak. He chuckles lightly, holding me tighter in his arms.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. Nothing is going to hurt you; I promise.”

Lies.

He begins to hum softly. I begin to feel warm and fuzzy inside as the familiar tune to “You Are My Sunshine” fills my ears.

It’s cheesy and childish and stupid and oh, god how I love it.

It shows me that he still cares – that he still remembers what that song meant to me. What it meant to us.

And it just sends me into another fit of sobs.

~

“What happened to your shirt?” I tense up slightly, having completely forgotten. Now that we had escaped the dim lights of the entryway, and are now standing in the brighter lights of my old bedroom, the blood drenching my sleeves was now blatantly obvious.

It surprises me when he reaches out and grabs my arm, rather forcefully, might I add. He pushes my bloody sleeve up and freezes when he sees the mess that is my arms.

“Danny…” he sighs, tears filling his eyes. “What did you do to yourself?” I don’t reply, for fear that the only real answer I can come up with will only just disappoint him further.

He begins tugging at my arm gently, pulling me towards the conjoining bathroom. He begins running the water in the sink. I watch in silence, mesmerized by how calm he is behaving. He notice me staring, and he sends me a small smile.

“Everything’s going to be okay now,” he promises me. He sounds so genuine. I’m torn between whether or not I truly believe him or not.

He places my arm under the warm stream of the water. I flinch slightly as he begins to rub my sore arm gently, turning the water pink with my blood. I hear him sigh sadly a few times over the running water. Once my arm is clean, he pauses for a moment, studying the scars on my arms. Though I can’t really blame him for staring, I shift uncomfortably.

“You didn’t do this with a blade, did you?” I shake my head. I hadn’t taken a blade to my skin in over four years. He lifts my fingers gently, noticing the blood caked under my nails.

More sad sighs and more scrubbing. Soon, my left arm is clean again. Zack grabs a hand towel out from under the sink and begins to pat my arm dry before starting on my other arm.

“Talk to me, Danny,” he says quietly. I stare at him for a moment, not quite sure what he means. When he realizes I’m not saying anything, he elaborates. “What… What happened?” He looks up at me, forgetting about my arm for a moment. “Did I… do something?” He looks back down and finishes cleaning my arm. “You don’t have to tell me yet if you’re not ready. I understand.” He runs his thumb down the scars left on my body before drying my arm the same way he did with the other. “I love you so much, you know. I hate to see you hurt – I wish you would tell me what I did wrong, so maybe I can fix it. So maybe I can fix you.”

I’m not sure that he can.

“Daenerys.”

I look up at him. He’s frowning slightly. I can tell he’s beginning to become annoyed. He probably thinks I’m ignoring him, or giving him the silent treatment.

I just don’t know what to say, and my mouth doesn’t seem to want to form words, either.

“Are you even listening?” I nod determinedly, unsure of how else I’m supposed to prove it to him. He sighs, giving me a funny look, before dropping my arm. “Why don’t you take a shower to warm yourself up? I’ll go get started on dinner. I hope soup is okay…” I nod again and he smiles a little. “I’ll leave you alone, then.”

With that, he shuts the bathroom door behind him. I begin to strip down, turning on the shower water once I do. My arms look different. I had scratched pretty deep, but the marks had all stopped bleeding, thankfully. I can't tell if they're permanent or not yet, but I suppose I wouldn't care either way – what's another scar on my skin?

In the shower, the water burns. It's not much different from taking a shower at Brian's place. Except this time, the steam seems to make me feel nauseous, so I don't take my time like I normally would. When I step out, I wrap a towel around myself, before realizing that I don't have anything to wear. I didn't bother getting anything from the house before leaving. I didn't even think Zack would take me in, but he did.

I stand in the bathroom stupidly for a minute. I contemplate going downstairs and finding Zack, but the idea of talking to my father in nothing but a towel was an awkward encounter that I didn't want to have to live through.

But there doesn't seem to be any other alternative, so I suck it up and decide to make my way downstairs.

I step out into the hallway, and right into someone, who definitely is not Zack. At first, I'm afraid it's one of the guys, but then I think that none of the guys are that slender. When I look up, I see a young-looking blonde woman. She has gray-blue eyes and she's model-thin. She seems to be one of those people who is so perfect, she makes everyone else around her pale in comparison.

This must be Jess.

“Oh my god!” she explains. Of course, her voice is perfect-sounding too, if that's even a thing. “Are you alright?” She reaches out a hand to help me up. Her touch is warm and gentle. She gives me a strange look as she realizes I'm not wearing anything except a towel. “Were you looking for your dad?” she asks me.

“I don't have any clothes,” I mutter and she smiles at me.

“Come on, sweetheart,” she practically sings. “I'm sure I have something you can wear.” She begins pulling me in the direction of the master bedroom.

Like the rest of the house – or at least what I had seen so far – most of it is in boxes. I can't help but look around curiously. I hadn't really been in Zack's room much before, but it was still strange to see it this way.

“Are you guys... leaving, or something?” I can't help but ask as she digs through one of the boxes near the practically unused walk-in closet.

She pulls out a bra, frowning to herself when she glances over at my non-existent chest. “Something like that, yes,” she tells me. “We bought a place not too far from here, and we're planning on moving over there before we leave for tour...” She pulls out blue sweatshirt and holds it up against me to see if it will fit. “I think this will work.” She smiles at me and hands me the sweatshirt to hold on to while she looks for pants. “It's really nice to finally meet you, by the way,” she continues as she begins digging through the box beneath. “Zack talks about you a lot, you know. He missed you a lot.” I don't know how to respond to this, so I just nod, even though her back is currently toward me. “I know he was really worried about you. Were you... alright on your own?”

“I wasn't alone,” I say without thinking. For some reason, I felt like I could trust her – like I could talk to her. Maybe it was just the six-month isolation talking. Or the fact that no girl I'd ever known had ever bothered to hold a conversation this long with me. Or even talked to me before. It was... nice. “I was living with someone. They helped me... sort of.”

“Sort of?” She turns around, holding up a pair of sweatpants. Though I had always been a “skinny-jeans and Converse” type of girl, I couldn't deny that, as of late, lounging around in sweats didn't sound like such a bad idea. Especially since I was probably going to have to get used to it soon, for when I start showing.

Oh god. The baby. I had barely thought about being pregnant since Brian got the phone call and walked out on me. What was I going to tell Zack? Was I going to have to tell him the truth, and say that Brian was the father, or was I just going to have to make something up?

“Danny? Are you okay?” I jump slightly, not having realized she was still talking to me.

“I-I'm fine,” I manage to say. “I just... spaced for a minute.” She smiles understandingly. “What were you saying?” She just shakes her head.

“It's fine, really. You should talk to your dad first, if anything,” she points out. I nod in agreement, though I'm not sure how soon I would be willing to do that. “Here.” She hands me the clothes she found for me. “It's not much, but I'm sure Zack wouldn't mind it if you and I went shopping sometime for you.” She sends me one last smile before silently indicating for me to go back to my room and change.

“Thank you,” I call quietly over my shoulder as I slip out the bedroom door. I glance away the hallway one last time, making sure Zack isn't anywhere near by, before slipping back into the safety of my own room.

~

Jess decided to step out that evening, to give Zack and me some time to spend together. In a way, I can't help but feel a little angry at her – I rather her be here so things wouldn't be so awkward.

But I suppose awkwardness is just a small price to pay for disappearing for six months, after being in a coma for four years. That, added onto an already strained relationship, the last thing I expected was for things to be one-hundred percent okay between us.

He smiles when he sees me standing in the kitchen doorway. Jess had just left five minutes earlier. It felt strange without her, even though I had only known her for less than an hour. It just goes to show how much of an impression she seemed to have left on not only me, but on Zack as well.

“Found some clothes, I see?” he says, raising an eyebrow at me. I just give him a small nod as I watch him serve the soup into a couple bowls. I catch a whiff of it and smile to myself as I recognize it as his great grandmother's recipe.

“I don't want it!”

I roll my eyes at my twin sister as she refuses, yet again, to have any of the soup Zack had made for us. The two of us had been sick on the couch all week. The only good part about that, was the soup. It’s perfect blend of spices was just right to help soothe a sore throat.

Zack just shakes his head at her and smiles knowingly over at me. “Well, then,” he sighs, “more for Danny, I suppose.”

I grab my bowl off the kitchen island and follow him into the dining room. He sits down across from me and the two of us begin to eat in silence.

“You came at just the right time, you know,” he says after a few minutes. “We're scheduled to move in a few days.” He gestures around the room, even though there aren't as many boxes here as the rest of the house. “We've been packing for weeks now, but studio time cuts into that.”

“You guys are still writing?” I force myself to ask, even though I already know the answer to that.

He smiles at me, as if he's glad I'm showing some sort of interest in his work. “Yeah. It was... difficult, at first. But Matt helped me write a few songs for you, and eventually it became easier.” I straighten up slightly.

“You wrote a song about me?” He smiles even wider.

“Yeah. Two, actually. The fans... The fans all know about you now, you know.” He runs a hand through his slicked-back hair nervously, as if he's expecting me to start yelling or freaking out.

I had already had my fair share of panic attacks once Brian had told me. I was completely out of reactions as far as that situation was concerned.

“How did they take it?” I ask. He shrugs slightly.

“They asked a lot of questions. I swear, I didn't tell them anything.” I blink. “All they know is that you're my daughter, and you had some problems with depression in the past.” I frown at that. He notices and he places a hand on my arm. “Honey, it's the truth.”

“I know...” I whisper.

“Danny.” I look up at him. “Do you want to talk to me?” I sigh. I might as well tell him some things, just to get it out of the way.

“I... I needed you,” I say. “I needed you, but you weren't there.”

“Why did you want to die so badly?”

Well, someone's being straightforward.

“Mom and Erin and people at school. The guys, the girls... you.” He exhales slowly.

“What did I do?” he asks me quietly. I look away and he squeezes my upper arm gently. “Danny, please try and talk to me.”

“You just...” I try to find the right words. “You stopped caring. I felt like you stopped caring.” He doesn't say anything for the longest time.

“I didn't stop caring, exactly,” he finally says. “I didn't mean to make it seem like I did. I just got... scared. I wasn't sure what to do, so I pushed you away.” I study him carefully. I can tell he's on the verge of tears from the way he fidgets nervously with his free hand – the one that isn't gripping my arm still. “God, I'm so fucking sorry, Daenerys. I really fucked up, and I see that now. I know it's way too late to do anything about it, but... I can try. I can try, and I'm going to keep trying until everything's okay. Until you're okay. I promise.”

I nod, biting my lip slightly to keep myself from crying.

“I'm not going to run away anymore,” he adds. “I'm not going to deny it if something's wrong – if you say there's a problem – if you're hurting, or you need me for anything – then I'll listen.”

Where to begin.

“I can tell something's on your mind,” he mutters, just loud enough for me to hear. “C'mon. You can tell me.”

“I just... I don't want you to be any more disappointed in me than before.” He raises an eyebrow at me.

“Well that's reassuring.” I roll my eyes. Guess I know where I get my sarcasm from. “It can't possibly be that bad.”

I shift nervously. He gets up and moves over so he's sitting next to me. It's not much, but it's a start. “I... I was living with someone before I came here.” He nods slowly. “A man. An older man.” He lets out a long sigh, but he doesn't say anything. “It wasn't really a real relationship. He basically used me, and I let him, because I was afraid to face you.” He picks up my hand and holds it gently in his. It's a silent reassurance that he's still following along – that he still understands. “He never really loved me, and I knew that, but I tried convincing myself that he did, because I had been in love before, and I liked the feeling. It made me feel wanted – like someone needed me.” I shake my head slightly. It felt weird opening up to him so much, but at the same time, it feels good. “But it wasn't real. And I wish I realized that a lot sooner.”

“Did he hurt you?” he interjects.

“No,” I reply. “Well, not exactly. Emotionally, maybe. And before I ended up in the hospital, he had hurt me physically sometimes too.”

“So you knew him before?” I nod. “Would I know him?”

“No,” I lie quickly, but hopefully not too quickly. “He was just someone I knew before. Anyway, we were never really careful and...” I bite my lip nervously. I can tell he has a feeling where this is going by the ways his eyes widen slightly. “I... I'm pregnant.”

Notes

A/N: So how cool is it that Arin and Kim are having a baby? I think that's pretty cool...

~WOLFY~