.:Recap:.
Sighing, I turned and went back into the living room, ready to crash on the armchair and wallow, before I got the shock of my life.
"What the hell are you doing home?"
.:Story Start:.
He looked at me with sad, blue eyes that mirrored my own. The stubble encrusted on his cheeks and his haunted eyes made him look older than he really was, but I wasn't concerned about that now. I just wanted to know why my father was sitting there, in his old chair, sober, eight and a half hours early.
"I could ask the same about you," he replied, his voice raspy. "Shouldn't you be in school?" I frowned.
"Why are you suddenly playing the stern father? Shouldn't you be at work?" I threw back at him, taking advantage of his soberness.
Silence fell upon us as he sank into his chair.
"Lizzy..."
"Don't call me that," I snapped. He flinched slightly, then bowed his head.
"Liz, then. That's....part of the reason I came home." I frowned, waiting for him to elaborate. People didn't just stop drinking after they had continually done so for five years.
We both sat in an uncomfortable silence for a while, and my patience was wearing thin. If he was going to say something, he might as well say it before I blew up on him...finally, after five minutes of solid looking at each other passed, I cracked.
"Well? What do you have to say for yourself?" I snapped at him. He sighed, and looked at the floor.
"I'm going to...try and make it better. When I woke up this morning, ridiculously late, I saw the calendar and I saw the date. And I remembered it all, Liz. I remembered-"
"OK, OK," I said shortly, but a little softer. He just said he was going to try and make it better. It was the best I could have hoped for...
"I'm going to be a proper father again, Liz. Oh, by the way...who did that to you?" he asked, indicating my most recent bruising - along my left cheekbone up to my eye - and the various scratches I had. I glared at him pointedly, and he sat staring blankly at me for a minute before the penny dropped.
"Oh god, no...please don't tell me..." he said, aghast. "I didn't...did I?" I nodded curtly, and he groaned, holding his face in his hands.
"I'm sorry, Liz, I never meant...I..."
I sat waiting patiently for him to get his words out straight. Inside, I felt a little warmer - he apologized, he was sober and he was planning on staying that way. Well, hopefully, anyway.
"How often have I done that to you?" he asked quietly, staring into my eyes. I swallowed hard, tears coming into my eyes.
"Every day. For five years. On my birthday, at Christmas, on mum's birthday, on the 10th of November...I've not had one entirely happy day for five years. Why did you give up on us? Why did you give up on everything we could have had? I have one friend dad, one measly friend who is the best I could ask for but risks humiliation if he's seen with me! He's helped me so much, because you weren't there," I said, and broke into sobs.
I felt bad for lumping it all on him because I know he felt just as bad as I did after the accident, no, probably worse, but I needed to make him see that alcohol was not helping anything...
As if on cue after what I had just said, there was a knock on the door and I instinctively knew it was Alex.
"And that's him," I said, and stood up to let him in, letting dad wallow in his thoughts.
I went to the door and opened it, and Alex frowned as he saw my tearstained face.
"Liz..."
"Come in, I need you to meet someone," I said, pulling him by the hand into the living room.
At first, when their eyes met, they both looked blank for a minute, and then recognition dawned on both of their faces at the same time. Alex was the first one to speak, or at least he tried to. I grabbed his arm before he could say anything.
"He's sober," I said quietly. "And please don't say anything rude...yet," I added, knowing Alex would be unable to contain himself.
"He deserves it," Alex growled, glowering at him. I gave him a warning look and glanced back at my father.
"Neil..." he breathed, and my stomach clenched. Alex remained silent, so I was forced to say the two words.
"He's...d-dead," I stammered, biting my lip.
Silence followed my words, in which my father stared at Alex and vice versa. My eyes switched between the two, wondering who would speak first. I couldn't even hear their breathing.
Minutes passed, and I was unsure of what I should do. Should I explain? Or should I let Alex? Finally, my question was answered for me.
"He died in a fire," explained Alex, his fists tightening all the while. "He died protecting your daughter," he added, and I winced, knowing this was true.
"W-what?" asked my father, and Alex looked at me, so I took a deep breath, and began to explain.
I started from the day Neil had found us in the house, me with blood pouring out of my shoulder and him passed out in the hallway. I explained everything that happened since - from when he started taking care of me right to this day, obviously omitting personal details.
He stared open mouthed as I explained, and when I finished, he buried his head in his hands and uttered a soft groan. I honestly had no idea what he could be feeling right now, but I knew it was nothing good.
There was silence for a few minutes as the three of us took different trips down memory lane. I was thinking of everything I had just spoken about, or tried to - my voice had cracked when talking about Neil, and I had found myself unable to speak for a moment. Now I wallowed along with my father and friend about him.
My father was the one to break the silence, and I was relieved that he seemed a lot like his old self again.
"I-I need to speak to your mother," he said weakly to Alex, staring at him. Alex stared right back, and then nodded curtly - my father was still a sore spot for him. I couldn't say I blamed him.
My father stood up, and I instinctively flinched. They both caught the movement, but I shook my head and led the way out of the front door. I could tell they were worried about me, but I ignored them as I set off down the street.
Alex over-took me after a while, because I forgot the way to his house. So now he was leading and I was walking beside my father, for the first time in five years. Needless to say, it was a little awkward, especially considering the circumstances.
We arrived at Alex's house, and I heard my father take a deep breath before Alex opened it.
"Mum?" he called through the house, and little Sarah came running up to us, cheering our names.
"Alex! Psychic Lizzy!" she cried, jumping up and down. I smiled again - something I had done a couple of times since James made me smile at The Gig.
"Hey, Sarah. We need to talk to your mum by herself for awhile, so how 'bout you go play with your toys for a bit?" I said, crouching down to the six-year-olds level. She pouted, but then I offered to play with her after and she nodded eagerly. Then Alex led on into the kitchen.
Mrs Collins stood absent-mindedly humming to herself as she cleaned the cooker, evidently after lunch. She had her back to us, but I could tell my father recognized her.
"Um...mum. Someone's here to see you," said Alex awkwardly, and Mrs Collins turned around, looked at my father and gasped.
"S-Steve?" she whispered, and sat down heavily. He frowned a little, and the rest of us sat down.
This afternoon seemed to be full of silences, and this moment was no different. Mrs Collins and my father stared at each other, while Alex and I looked between them, waiting for someone to speak. Finally, my father did.
"Sue...I'm so, so sorry," he said, and I could tell he meant it. "If I'd looked after myself - us - properly, none of us would be in our situations," he said, glancing at me as he said it. My face remained impassive.
Yet another silence filled the air, and then Mrs Collins - Sue - sighed.
"I forgive you, Steve. That must have been hard on you, I don't blame you. I just wished you'd have thought about your daughter a bit more," she said, looking at me. My father nodded, looking at his lap.
"So do I..."
We spent the rest of the afternoon at the Collins' house, playing with Sarah and aimlessly chatting, and then my father and I walked home.
It wasn't so awkward anymore. He was becoming more and more like the old dad by the minute, the one that used to play with me, the one that used to sing in the car with me as he drove me to my friends' houses, the one who used to critique my stories and smile at my childish ideas...
It was good to have him back. I had a feeling things would go back to how they were before, almost. I had a good feeling about this plan.
~*~*~
Mrs Collins and Mr and Mrs Black helped my father get into rehab again.
Because the local one had been burnt down, I wasn't sure where he would go, but it turned out there was one about an hour away. I hadn't a clue how rehab centres worked, but I had a feeling I wouldn't be allowed to stay home.
Sure enough, when all the stuff had been sorted out with social services, it turned out I had to be turned into foster care. I didn't want to go, not at all - I most likely wouldn't get along with the family, and I would be unhappy.
Thankfully, I found out that it wouldn't take long. A month tops, and my father would be back to normal. Of course, he would have checkups every now and then to make sure he wouldn't go back to his addiction, but I was pretty sure he wouldn't.
On the last day of school before I left, for some reason, everyone seemed to be mean to me.
The teachers were constantly picking on me, Nicola and her chums had decided that the Tiffany girl from the Gig was no apparent threat so they were being mean, and everyone else was playing pranks and taking the piss out of me.
It had happened less frequently since Joey and Tiffany's visit last week, probably because everyone had been intimidated by them. But now they had started up again, I have no idea why. Maybe they got kicks out of it, I don't know. Those sad, sad people.
Lunchtime was the biggest surprise, though. I had told the guys in music that I would be leaving for a while, and no one seemed particularly sad. I was rather upset by that - I thought they could at least make the effort to make it seem like they were upset.
Now, though, while I was sitting on my lonesome by my tree, a shadow loomed over me - I expected it was Nicola or one of her posse.
"Piss off," I snapped without even looking up. The shadow stayed there, and the person spoke.
"I was actually just coming over to say goodbye," a very familiar, warm voice said to me. Completely caught off guard, I looked up, startled, but there he was, in all his gorgeous glory. James had come to say goodbye. But why?
"...Oh, sorry," I said, and then decided not to add that I thought it had been his girlfriend. "Um...thanks," I added hesitantly, still confused as to why he was telling me now, and hadn't told me in music. Scratch that, I was confused as to why he was telling me at all.
"So, we'll see you in a couple of weeks then?" he asked, and I nodded, still wary.
"Yeah, hopefully." I replied.
"If you don't mind me asking, where are you going?" he asked, for I had not told anyone. Nor was I planning to. I wanted to just tell him it was none of his business, as he didn't care about me, but for some reason I lied to him anyway.
"Oh, my parents tried to book a holiday for Christmas but they couldn't get it late enough so we're going now," I said. Alex and I had come up with that excuse, should anyone ask.
"Well, take care," he said, then waved and left.
I sat there with my mind reeling. James was suddenly being nice? Why? He told me to take care...I hoped I could.
~*~*~ (A/N I have no idea how the social services thing works, so please bear with me if it's not accurate, which it probably isn't)
The next day, I was ready to go.
I had my bag packed with my favourite clothes, five books, my notepad and carried my guitar separately. I wanted to practise my music while I was gone.
Before he had left, my father promised me he would pay for the skiing trip. I was delighted by this as I wanted to go so bad. I think he remembered my enthusiasm for that skiing trip we were supposed to go on.
Now I sat next to Alex in his mum's car, behind Sarah on the way to the social services people, who would then drop me off at my new foster family home. I was glad I would be staying there for only a month tops - I couldn't guarantee myself that I would make new friends there.
As we drove, I thought of all the things I was leaving behind. Some of the people I had grown up with - Kyle, Nicola - my home, my only friend and all my enemies. Well, people who hated me, anyway. For some reason, as much as I hated him, I also missed James.
I was touched that he had come to say goodbye to me. I was still wondering why he had, but I suppose it didn't really matter - all that mattered was that he had finally shown his nice side again, even though he supposedly didn't care about me.
With a start, I realized we had arrived. Alex got out of the car and I followed suit, shortly joined by Mrs Collins. Alex took my suitcase, despite my protests, and we met the social services people. Then it came to the goodbyes.
I said goodbye to little Sarah first. I gave her a big hug and a smile and promised to give her something when I got back. Then I got onto Mrs Collins, who gave me a hug which seemed to last for all eternity. When I reassured her I wasn't going to be gone for long, she just smiled and said that she could bear to see me go all by myself because I was so vulnerable.
Then it was Alex's turn. He gave me the biggest hug of the three, which I returned. I always felt a little better after one of Alex's hugs. Sarah insisted on hugging my leg tightly before I left, and I had to gently prise her off me. Then I followed the social workers to their car, and Alex put my suitcase in the boot.
I climbed into the car and strapped myself in. The driver started the engine and I breathed deeply. It was a little scary going away from home territory, no matter how bad the circumstances at home or how long you were going for.
A minute later, he started driving, and I waved to the Collins' through the rear window, sadly reflecting they were probably the nicest people in my life at the moment. As soon as the family were out of sight, I dropped my hand and my smile and looked gloomily out of my window.
The woman passenger made small talk with me on the way there, asking me how I felt, if I was excited. I tried to answer her questions as finally as I could without sounding rude, but overall it was difficult. I had only just met her.
The woman assured me I was going to be ok and my father would be out within a couple of weeks. I could only hope she was right, and stared out of the window for the remainder of the journey, thinking of the Collins - and James - who I had left behind.
~*~*~
We arrived about half an hour later outside a small suburban house in a pretty looking street. I got out nervously and the man took my suitcase out of the boot while the woman went to the door.
I hesitantly followed the man up the path and I heard two women talking. I couldn't quite see them as the man was rather tall. He stepped out of the way as we reached the door, however, and I got a look at what my new very temporary foster mother looked like.
She looked like a very nice person, as friendly as Mrs Black or Mrs Collins. She was chatting animatedly with the female social worker, but the moment she spotted me, she widened her eyes, stopped talking and walked over to give me a hug.
I awkwardly hugged her back and when she pulled away, she frowned, her eyes tracing the injuries on my face. I fought the urge to look away. When she finally finished her inspection, she introduced herself.
"Hello, Elizabeth. I'm Chloe Baker, I have a son and a daughter about your age," she said delightedly.
"Hi, Ms Baker. I prefer Liz, if you don't mind," I said quietly, giving her a small smile. She smiled widely back.
"Of course not!" she replied. "Now, let me introduce you to my children..."
Before she did so, the social workers exchanged another few words with her, and I stood there like a lemon, not entirely sure what I was supposed to be doing. They finally finished talking and the social workers left, leaving me by myself with Ms Baker.
"Well, come on in then!" she said and led the way inside.
The house was almost like a Tardis - small on the outside, big on the inside. To my delight, the first thing I saw when entering the living room was a border collie, my favourite pet. It ran straight towards me and began trying to lick my hands. I smiled and petted it slightly before focusing on the rest of the room.
Sitting on two leather sofas were two boys and a girl. The younger boy was sharing with the girl, and the older boy was sitting by himself, closest to me. He looked about my age, as did the girl, whereas the other was a few years younger.
Ms Baker had gone into the kitchen quickly to get something, and while she was gone, the children all turned to me.
"What's up with your face, huh? You look like you've been dragged through a bush backwards," said the older boy. The small smile that lingered on my face from the dog's greeting slid off my face.
"And your hair," added the girl. "God, don't even get me started. It looks like a bird's taken up residence...permanently,"
Before they could insult me further, Ms Baker returned with a huge smile on her face. She introduced me properly to the children - who I then learnt were Dominic, the elder brother, 17, Saskia, the girl, 15 and Rory, the younger brother, 12.
Although they all plastered fake smiles on their faces and pretended to greet me nicely, I knew that living here was going to be no different to life at home.
_________________________________________________________
It's a bit of a twist, I hope you like it. Again, sorry if the whole process isn't accurate enough, as I have absolutely no idea. I do know that I'm right about how long it will take Mr Johnson to get out of rehab, I researched that part at least.
Hope you like it!!