Signatures Signed

"A signature always reveals a man's character - and sometimes even his name."

- Evan Esar

Nathaniel Bazile groggily got up, and looked at the woman that lay next to him. He couldn't help but smile roguishly as he remembered the fun night they had. Yes, in his opinion one night stands were one of the greatest joys of life. No responsibility, no bickering and most of important of all no emotions; just lust-fueled fun.

Of course that is not to say that he hadn't tried for a real relationship, but it seemed like he wasn't exactly built for them. All his exes – the ones that mattered – he could count them on two hands, and not even get to his other pinky. When it ended they had all screamed at him for being irresponsible, flighty; "a man whore".

He preferred the term 'a connoisseur of women', though Math pointed out that most of the time he went for the fast food equivalent and not the high class meals. Jamie had then compared his taste in women to Subway; "It's not the highest quality food, but it's the healthiest of the fast foods." Sadly, sandwiches don't last too long. Pity, really. Some of the sandwiches he'd tasted had been the best he'd ever had. They just left a bad after taste was all, really he hated it when they called him irresponsible.

Yes, his mind wandered easy – his eyes and hands too, for that matter - and perhaps he didn't always handle everything the best, but he owned a bar. A bar that was going well, he didn't need them calling him the very thing his father had called him most of his life. His father might not approve of the bar, but it was his and he'd be damned before he let anyone take that away from him. He'd built it up from scratch; poured his blood, sweat and tears into it. He'd called the Anvil, that's why the sign that hung over the door had a pictogram of one on it. Sounded right manly it did, his two co-owners agreed on that. Frankly, he didn't know where'd he'd be without those two idiots.

With a grunt he got out of his comfortable bed, more comfortable than usual because of the hot body that lay next to him. He needed his coffee though, and milk. Damn, his head was pounding from the party they'd held in the bar. He'd dealt with worse hangovers though, so without too much stumbling he made it to his shower. The hot stream of water immediately washed away whatever effects of sleep were still on him, and helped a little with the hangover as well. He heard some rustling and suddenly the shower curtains were shoved aside. He grinned as the blonde stood in front of him, naked as the day she was born.

She looked a bit more hung-over than him, but that didn't stop her from saying: "Hey Tiger, mind if I join you?"

"I don't mind at all, but only if you're up for some wake-up exercise?"

She looked playfully affronted, "I'll show you that's it you who'll have trouble keeping up!"

The curtains closed, as the buxom blonde entered the shower.

He walked into their loft once again after having said goodbye to Patricia, who'd needed to get to her job. It was Monday after all. He brightly greeted Mathew Rogers, his childhood friend.

"Morning Math."

"Morning right back at you, 'Tiger'," came the flippant reply from the bespectacled man. He was a bit heavy set, and his clothes were not really with the times. Antiqued was what you could call Mathew's looks, a polar opposite to Baze. People often asked how they'd become friends. A story that wasn't all that special, really.

They'd known each other practically since birth, their parents fast friends, and as such had become the same. Sure Mathew hadn't had the best of times in High school, or before that, but it could have been a lot worse had it not been for Baze. And they both full and well knew Baze could have done more, but he'd been kind of an asshole back in the day, and their friendship had truly bloomed in College when Baze finally started to stand up for Matthew. They'd been a team ever since then.

Baze blushed as he heard the nickname the blonde, now in a cab, had bestowed him. "Ah, so you heard."

"Kind of hard not to when she screams it for the whole street to hear."

"Ah, Touché." He looked at what was in the mixer and asked, "So, what you making?"

"A healthy smoothie, want some?" and the man turned the blasted machine on. Baze couldn't help but flinch at the horrible sound. The hangover wasn't completely gone yet.

"No thanks, maybe after I've had my coffee." He tipped back the full cup that stood ready for him, courtesy of his best friend.

He turned around as he saw his other friend enter the large space that was their kitchen/dinner/living raised his eyebrows as he took in the small red-head that Jamie was promising to text and maybe even call. It was a curious sight. Baze had been living with Jamie long enough to know his types, and redheads were not on the top of the man's list, so the fact that he had gone for her was a deviant that interested him mightily. He gave her another once over, and started to understand.

He also knew that Jamie wouldn't call; the guy was even more of a Casanova than him. The strong, African American man had had maybe three serious relationships in the seven years that Baze'd known the him. All of them hadn't been very long in the end. They'd been roommates in college, and as soon as Jamie's partner for the night had left the loft, Baze couldn't let his curiosity burn any longer.

"So, you played with fire tonight?"

Jamie grinned, "You bet your ass I did! Hotter than hot, I tell you Baze."

"I know Jamie, I have eyes."

"Never said you didn't, though I suppose Tigers are more afraid of fire than men. After all, Tigers can be tamed." All of them laughed at that.

"Ah but she didn't tame him, Jamie. He mauled her, at her request no less." came Mathews answer as he poured three cups of smoothie, "Interesting fetish, though, makes you wonder what happens when she watches Discovery Channel or goes to the zoo. Maybe I should write a book about that, would be a straight out best seller, don't you guys think?"

Baze almost chocked on his coffee and Jamie just lost it all together. Matthew had really come far since his high school days, a lot more cheek to him now, though he still floundered around hot women like a fish out of water.

After finally regaining his composure Blaze said, "I don't think that that's the sort of book a high school English Teacher writes, or should write."

"Hey, not like high school students are all that decent," said Math as he gave out their drinks, "and neither are you guys."

Jamie and Baze shared a look, "True, but you are and that's the thing."

Matt smiled as he took a sip of his own made smoothie, " I know, I'm more than decent; I'm a gentleman."

In a posh British accent Baze said, "A gentleman who would write about the fetishes of his room mates' nightly partners? Jamie, my fellow, do you think that's a gentlemanly thing to do?"

"No, I don't think so at all. In fact, chap of mine, I believe that we would call such an act sleazy."

"Yes, quite. A dirty book sprung from a dirty mind! What a dastardly fellow we have in front of us."

A snort escaped the topic of their little act, " Well, this dastardly fellow has English to teach in 3 hours and a few papers to grade. I think I'll go on to the hallowed halls of learning, and get on that."

Baze had been about to make another quip when the doorbell rang, making all of them jump just a little. That bell was rarely used, and as he looked at the clock on the wall it wasn't time for the 'Beer guy', as he had been dubbed, to come yet. It rang again and he scowled as the sound didn't help his hangover.

The three of them walked down the stairs, as once again the bell rang. "What's Beer Guy doing here, he's almost three hours early!" He looked upon the bar and found that it was far from clean. He turned around to his fellow bar tender, "Jamie, what am I paying you for, this place is trashed."

Arms were raised in a shrug, "Yeah, well so was I. " Blaze snorted at that, it was a fairly accurate description of how last night had ended.

He opened the door to find a petite, blonde standing there. Definitely not Beer Guy, nor his partner of the night. Hipster hat and shawl on, blue jacket and an uncertain look on her face. He had never met her before, which didn't come as much of surprise as he didn't know any teenagers. At all. In all honesty he stayed as far away from them; he owned a bar, teenagers were what killed bars.

"Hi," were the first words out of her mouth.

He leant on the door and said "hi" back, hoping she had a goddamn good reason for having rung the bell four times. The thing was a bloody nightmare, it woke up the proverbial dead, but then that had been the reason he'd bought it. When he slept he became lost to the world, very few things could bring him back once he was out like a light.

"I- uhhh – I uhh- I need to get a signature from someone."

He raised one eyebrow, more confused now. "Okay?" he replied, wondering what exactly she wanted someone to sign.

"Probably not you though."

He took offense to that. He knew he didn't look the most proper, in his blue" MILF: it does a body good" shirt, jeans and hung over face but you didn't point that out to the person.

She wanted judgmental? Alright, she'd get judgmental, "We have all the Thin Mints we need, thank you."

"Who's that? Is it the Bug Guy?" asked Jamie.

"No, it's a girl scout." Take that you little hipster.

His two roommates exclaimed their love for the cookies, each naming their own favorite brand. He couldn't help but feel smug.

"Actually, I'm looking for someone. A Nathaniel Bazzel?" said the teen. He grumbled on the inside, remembering the college days where people had made that same mistake. Really how hard was it, there was only one 'z', not two.

"Bazile. Yeah, that's me."

She scoffed," Wait, you're Nathaniel….Bazile." She looked even more uncertain than before. "Are you sure," she asked.

"Yeah, pretty sure."

"And you live in a bar?" Could she make her voice any more patronizing?

"No, I live above a bar. What can I help you with."

"Well, I'm no girl scout," she said with annoyance and then seemed to wilt, "I- I'm kind of half composed of your genes."

"Huh?" came his own voice, but he didn't really care about that. His mind was going a mile an hour.

"I- I'm your daughter."

He laughed, because when he was nervous he fucking laughed. His mind came to a screeching halt, "That, that's funny – you're my what now?"

"Daughter." And when he heard it again he didn't laugh, because he was now beyond nervous. He was fucking confused and if he was honest, slightly terrified.

"Dude that is not a girl scout."

"That's a girl."

He didn't have enough energy to glare at his two best friends for that lovely clarification.

Baze was used to screwing up, it had been a defining factor of his teenage years and his father hadn't ever failed to remind him of that. This was new to him though, completely and entirely new.

He wasn't really listening to what she was saying, he was looking at her. Really looking at her, because for the love of god this was his daughter. His blonde, petite yellow t-shirt wearing DAUGHTER! He looked at her face, small plump lips and sharp nose. Wavy blonde hair and striking blue eyes, kind of a cold and annoyed look in them. Fuck, she didn't resemble anyone he knew. Not a fucking one.

He heard her voice, which in his opinion was a very nice voice. Soft, yet strong if he had a way to describe it. Oh and he couldn't forget the tone she was using, the tone of someone who was majorly annoyed.

"Okay, one more time for the cheap seats. You and someone had a kid. You gave up that kid. I am that kid."

"I got that part." Came his own voice, equally annoyed. How the hell does she expect him to react, not shell shocked?

"Now I'm applying for emancipation –

"From your adoptive parents?"

"From Foster care. Keep up dude," came Math's voice.

He glared at his best friend. He wasn't the one who had to remember every girl he'd ever slept with to see if there was any resemblance to his apparent daughter. Multitasking wasn't a great talent of his, and seeing as his second train of thought was going nowhere he gave it up.

The teen just barraged straight on, "So I was putting together the paper work for my hearing and it turns out that nobody ever signed the permanent release of rights." She gave him said form.

He looked at it and his mind brings up a blank. Never seen the paper before in his entire life, just like the kid in front of him. Never even heard of any need to sign such a form. Fuck, if the woman wanted to spite him (which was very possible) she would have made him sign the goddamn form, never allowing him to see his kid. Not that not telling him hadn't done that, but that was beside the point. If she, too, had given the kid up, why not give up her own rights. Frankly he found this kind of cruel; like putting a toy in a box and only removing it years later when it fits your fancy.

"And my case worker was going to take forever to get it signed and then I saw your name and address, popped the file and basically until you sign that form you are still legally my dad."

"Right," he said having at least that much down now. He looked at her again, and asked, " How old are you?"

"Turning 16 this Thursday."

He was doing the math, and so were his friends. He paled considerably.

1993 is the year she's born. He looked at the calendar and found the date, 12th of September. Three days from now, that made it 15th of September, subtract 9 months. December of 1992 and he paled even further.

"Well are you going to sign it or what? I don't want to be here as much as you probably don't want me here. My case is the day after tomorrow – and if I don't get these signature, both of these signatures, I'll have to spend another two years being bounced around foster care, with scope-drinking mothers and creep dads who hit on you, which, to be blunt? Blows. So if you could just sign this and go rifle through your memory banks of teenage girls you impregnated that would be great!"

He hasn't signed it yet, but he can give her an answer.

"Well, there's no banks of memory for that I'm afraid. Only one. Your mother is Cate Cassidy. With a 'C', by the way. " He cringes, ready for the anger and indignation of one Matthew Rogers. He doesn't have to wait long.

"Cate Cassidy, from high school?!"

"Yes."

"As in Cate Cassidy from Radio K100?" Came his daughters voice.

"That's the one."

"Cate Cassidy from the graduating class of 1994?!"

"Yup."

"Cate would have never slept with you! She was the best in the class, had a 4.0!" came Math's rant.

"You seem to know a lot about this girl," quipped Jamie.

"She despised you! You were gross, she hated you!" he seemed absolutely flabbergasted – and wow what a word, flabbergasted – " Did you roofie her?"

He looks at the guy like he's lost his head, which very well might be the case. "Who- who roofie's people?!"

"Man, she wasn't even your type!"

"Yeah, well proof of the fact is right in front of you. To top it off, she's blonde. Not hard to miss Math."

"I see that Baze, but why the hell didn't you ever tell me?!"

"Because I never knew she had a kid?" he replies, arms in the air.

"Not that, why didn't you ever tell me that you had sex with her?! You know what I felt back then!"

His daughter – Cate's daughter too – interrupts them, "Sorry to put a crack in your brotherhood, but could you just hurry up and sign it? And give me Cate's number and address, because then I can get out of your obviously thinning hairline." Snark much?

"My hair is not thinning, is it?"

Jamie grins, "Just a little." No help at all that one.

Math practically shoves the phone in his hands, " Screw your hair, you'll call her right now!"

"You want me to call her out of the blue and tell her I'm with a daughter I never knew she had?" Perhaps the guy had gone insane.

"Yes," came Math's answer, the glare quite a convincing argument.

He looks to Jamie. "It's an idea."

He looks at his daughter, she nods. He groans and looks to the ceiling. This was going to go well.

He's dialing the number and with each digit he presses, the more nervous he becomes. He hasn't spoken to Cate Cassidy in 16 years. Not since that day in January where he'd told her exactly what he wanted.

He suddenly snaps his head up from the phone and looks at his daughter, when in fact, there should not be a daughter to look at. That's what he'd told her without being too harsh, even told her in not so many words he'd pay for it if needed.

"You don't want it, I don't want it. I think it's quite simple as to what we have to do. If we do that, well nobody will ever know, yes? Money can buy silence, and it doesn't get much more silent than this. So if you need the money, I'll give it to you. Seriously, think about it; a problem that doesn't even exist!"

Those had roughly been his words and apparently they had not been received in the manner that he thought that they had been. Maybe the running away in tears should have clued him in. He sighs and continues dialing.

He hears the voice mail, and starts speaking, "Hey Cate, Nathaniel Bazile from Westmont here and I need you to call me back –

"Hello?"

"H-hi Cate it's been a – It's Nate Bazile and umm we kind of did it that time-"

He looked at his phone, she'd hung up. "Well, that could have gone better."

Baze feels the pointed stares of the other people in the room and his daughter snipes, "You don't say."

He frowns. "Loving the sarcasm, but I can't very well call you girl scout, girl or daughter anymore. So, what's your name?"

"Name's Lux." He finds that is suits her.

"Nice name, I'll introduce you to the other two now, I guess. That guy with the glasses over there is Matthew Rogers, childhood friend, and that over there is Jamie, college roommate."

She nods to each of them and then turns to him again. "So, you going to call her again?"

His green eyes meet her blue ones, " I don't think that's the best idea. I'm going to give myself some time to process all this and then I'll call her again, okay?"

"Fine," she concedes, "how long does it take you to process things."

Before he can answer Jamie puts in his two cents, "You should probably take a seat on the couch, this is going to take a while."

Lux, his daughter – damn that will take some getting used to – twitches. " How long is a while? I don't exactly have a while!"

"Give me an hour, maybe two. As Matthew put it once, I have about as much tact as a toddler and the subtlety of a hand grenade."

She smirks, "I've noticed."

"Good, then you might as well get comfortable because were going to chill."

"Chill?" she asks.

" Yeah, chill," he starts walking to his refrigerator, "makes me think better. Calms me down too. You look like you could use some chilling as well, so what do you want to drink?"

"What you got?"

"Coke, milk some left over smoothie. Tea and Coffee too, though I think we ran out of sugar yesterday."

"I'll have some of that smoothie then, what's the flavor?"

"Banana and yoghurt, right Math?"

"Yeah," came the curt reply. Still stung about that revelation. Oh well, the guy'd get over it, he always did. One of the many things he respected and loved the guy for; a heart of gold, and tough to boot.

"So, is banana to your taste?"

"It is."

"Very good, one banana smoothie coming up."

The blare of the TV enters his ears and he turns to look at Jamie who says, "Make that two, by the way the recap of yesterday's match is on in 20."

He smiles at roommate of almost 10 years, "Yeah that's the spirit. And you know, Math if you have the time could you make some more of that smoothie? I can't make it as good as you."

"Yeah, you can't. So, I'll be a gentleman and make some more." Math looks at Lux, "Want me to add strawberries whilst were at it?"

"Yes! I love strawberries!" came the excited reply.

He can't help but look at Lux, "That your favorite fruit?"

"Yeah, it is. What about it?"

"Huh, it's my favorite as well."

Lux, he decided, looked like she was no longer chill. She was pacing.

"I have waited for 3 hours now – the game's already long finished - that is more than you said it would take! She hasn't called back either, so I'd get yourself dialing those numbers."

He folds his arms, "Well, tell me this then; How exactly do you envision the conversation going between me and her, because I promise you she hates my guts." Has every right to went practically unspoken.

"Well for a start, I'd avoid using the phrase " When we did it that one time", usually makes women hang up."

"I know that," he snaps, "just give a few more minutes alright?" He stood up and went to get a beer.

He twisted of the cap and took a sip. Okay, one bottle of beer and he'd call her again. He could do this, he was the connoisseur of women. He would find a way for this to work, one where he doesn't get too chewed up. He looks at the hipster that's apparently his daughter, who'd finally taken a seat and was once again watching the basketball game with a slight interest, and snorted. Before he got chewed up by a different woman would be a better way to phrase that.

"Hey wasn't that a foul?" says Lux.

"Yes, that was," answered Jamie, "See, you're catching on! Better than the ref is, anyway."

He had to explain the rules to her, but he'd enjoyed that. Sport was his thing, always has been and even if he might never see her again after he signed that paper he was glad that he'd been able to at least give her some of his knowledge. Useless perhaps, but an impression nonetheless. At the very least, it seemed that she didn't hate him like Cate Cassidy.

He frowned, how the hell was he going to do this without that woman losing her temper? He remembered the conversations, sparing that they'd been, that took place in '94. He remembered one time in particular, it'd been in Biology. They'd been paired up one class and he still remembered the way she "accidentally" almost spilled some acid on him. "I'm sorry that I missed," had been her apology. Yes, if that didn't indicate hate then he wouldn't know what would.

But there was one thing that angered him more than anything. He'd always felt guilty about it, about being such an asshole to her. He'd always tried to push the depressing thought from his mind, but he knew that he'd ruined her life at the time – if even for a while. Always felt guilty about taking away the chance of life for a baby – that very thought had haunted more than any other. It's why he'd changed in college. He knew he couldn't change what had happened – thought what had happened, as it turns out – and he'd decided to be responsible from then on.

He was angry at her because she should have told him that she had decided to give birth to it after all. This was his child they were talking about goddammit and he knew in his heart that had she told him that she hadn't gotten an abortion that he would have supported her; his parents had more than enough money. But, maybe that was a fantasy of his, one where he wouldn't have any guilt.

In any case, that time was a long time gone. He could not go back in time and swallow the harsh demand - ulitmaten even - that he'd given Cate that January. He could never see Lux walk her first steps, or any of that sentimental crap. The best he could do was be a good guy and give her long-wished-for freedom. He had not been her father for 16 years, and he would not demand to be now. That was even more cruel than not signing the release of rights in the first place. He grabbed the paper from his pocket and signed it with a flourish.

That was one hard task of the day, the next would be a significant notch harder.

Catherine Cassidy was a private person, a person who never showed all the cards. Her problems were hers, and nobody else's. She could take care of said problems, and as such she was no stranger to stress. In fact her mother called her the embodiment of stress. Abbey, on the other hand, likened her to a walking time-bomb: " I swear Cate, if you don't learn to relax you're going to explode. Take that from me, I'm a psychiatrist." That had been the last time the two of them had talked.

She could unwind, she could relax thank you very much! Just not now, with all the moving, the precious engagement to Ryan as of yesterday, and the call from Nathaniel Bazile earlier in the day. Mostly the last though, that had her completely frazzled.

She kept looking at the phone like it would explode, because why in seven hells would that son of bitch call her? She'd kept their escapade in 1992 under tight wraps, and she planned to keep it that way. Really Ryan would learn eventually, but right now- the phone rang. She dropped the book that she'd been putting on the shelf like it was on fire and practically flew to their bedroom, where the closest phone was. She picked it up, and heard a voice she'd dreaded hearing for the last 3 hours.

"Hello, Cate?"

"Yes, what do you want?" she ground out.

"Well, uhh you see I kind of have a situation here."

"And I'm supposed to care because?" She barely refrained from downright screaming, it was a close thing.

"Well, because it's kind of involves you. You uhh, remember, uhh December 1992?"

Her eyes narrowed and she hissed, " I don't think I could forget, you son of a bitch!" and promptly hung up.

She was not in the mood, and if she knew herself, never would be. God that bastard got on her nerves. He had no right to bring up 1992, she'd sealed that dark chapter of her life long ago. There was no need to break open those pages again and she decided that she was going to start day drinking earlier than usual today. She would not allow Nathaniel Bazile to ruin her first day in her new house with Ryan, he'd already ruined so much, and she'd be damned if he ruined more.

He flinched at the harsh accusation and blinks as he hears the beep of a disconnecting line. "She remembers alright."

Blue eyes looked at him sharply, "No shit Sherlock. Now, call her again."

He stared incredulously at her, "I think hanging up on me twice is enough evidence that she still hates me and this time I had a lot of more tact."

"Apparently not enough. But you know, third time's the charm and all that?" he couldn't really say no to that face, now could he. Besides, he owed her. Big time; as in 15 years of not being there.

He dialed the number again. He was prepared for the harsh voice that cut into whatever nicety he could have introduced himself with, "You again? What the fuck do you want?"

"To be blunt, I need you to sign something for me."

"For you?! Why would I sign anything for -

"Well, no I suppose that's phrased wrong. Not for me, more like alongside me. You see, it's September again, and-

"And what?" he heard her hiss.

"Well in September 1993 you never signed this form," he heard a sharp intake of breath, "and never let me sign it either. I think 16 years is quite a bit overdue, don't you think."

"Overdue?! You think you're funny, don't you? IF ANYTHING IS OVERDUE IT IS AN APOLOGY OUT OF YOU!"

"Yeah, that's true. I do owe you an apology, and I'll start off by saying that I'm sorry about my words in January of 1993. Look I can't take back my actions or words, or turn back time, but that doesn't change the fact that you owe me an explanation."

"I OWE YOU NOTHING!" He moved the phone ever so slightly away from his ears before they started to bleed.

He sighed, he had to do this diplomatically. Like a breakup, that's how he had to handle this. "Perhaps, but you do owe someone else. The name Lux ring a bell?"

"No, it doesn't." This admission, one she seems glad for, has him absolutely confused. "Goodbye. Don't call again." For the third time in one day she hung up on him.

Lux was looking at the floor, despondent and angry if he was any guess. Arms crossed and big frown on her face.

"Lux, what did Cate mean your name didn't ring a bell?"

He had a feeling he wouldn't like the answer.

Lux, no last name for as long as she'd known, glared at her biological father. Nathaniel Bazile was his name, colloquially shortened to Baze, and she didn't resemble him in any way aside from liking strawberries. He had brown hair, green eyes and was quite tall, whilst she was small, blonde and bleu eyed. He was standing behind the kitchen counter, telephone still in hand.

"She doesn't know my name because she's never met me before."

"Yeah, but she gave you that name. I'd think that the name Lux would be ringing quite a few bells in her head. Like, blaring alarms."

Her eyes became cold and she said just as frostily, " She didn't give me that name, a nurse did. Lux, it's an old word for light." She pulls up a strand of her blonde hair for all to see and shakes it, signifying that to be the reason why.

Her father seems floored by this revelation, and just as she thinks he needs it clarified his eyes narrow into slits. "She didn't name you?" comes out the growl.

She nods, silent. She's spent 3 hours with the man, and for the most part he's a calm, relaxed and fun individual. Looks like he has a temper too though, and as she looks at the other two men it doesn't surface all that often.

"I'm going to take a walk." She hears her father announce and she's about to kick up a fuss, that she has no time for a walk, when she feels a hand on her shoulder holding her back. She shakes it off, and glares at the guy with the glasses. The man shakes his head, she gets the message. You don't get in the way of Baze when he's pissed.

Well, what do you know, maybe they had more in common than just strawberries.

Matthew Rogers had known Baze since they had been crawling, and if there was anyone who knew what drawing Baze's true Ire was like it was he.

"So I take Baze doesn't get pissed often?" says Lux. She had a smirk on her face, the tilt of which was the exact same as her fathers. Her wavy hair reminded him of ever so slightly of Cate. Yes, he was glad that he hadn't gone to work and called off, this was life changing and if the release of rights was any indication, a onetime occurrence.

Jamie snorts, "No he gets pissed all the time, sometimes about the littlest things. It's not all that special or scary."

"Why'd you guys stop me then?"

Mathew answers that for her, "Because that isn't him being pissed off. That, Lux, that's him being near furious."

Her blue eyes, which neither of her parents possess, widen.

"Yeah, no idea what's going on in that head of his, I rarely do. What I do know is that you don't want that ire directed at yourself; I've seen the way he tore into his father when he truly lost his temper." He shakes his head, "His true anger isn't petty, so whatever you triggered Lux, it's something that's been a long time coming."

"What do you mean a long time coming?"

"He piles it up – his anger that is - until he finds someone worthy to release it upon, usually one of the people who's responsible for that anger. Cate just became worthy."

"More like a target," corrects Jamie, "for the homing missile that is Baze."

Baze hadn't felt this angry for almost a year, maybe more. He could understand her not telling him, make it seem exactly like he had wanted. He could understand giving Lux up, he knew that Cate's home circumstance hadn't been like his; she hadn't been rich. He didn't have to like it, but he understood that.

What floored him and made his blood boil was the fact that Cate had not only not signed over her rights as a parent, but that she actually hadn't given Lux her name. She didn't deserve the right as much as he didn't; neither of them had contributed anything to her. No, Cate had left her nameless, without rights and alone.

He almost crashed into the car that was in front of him, all of his thoughts screeching to a halt and gathering around one in particular. The permanent rights of release, it had never been signed! He knew how their bureaucratic system worked and he knew how much it relied on paper work. Faulty paperwork caused for problems and the form he had in his pocket was a prime example. Holy fuck, was that the reason she'd never been adopted? It certainly complicated matters, that was for sure.

But wait, if neither had ever signed the paper – and he hadn't until earlier today – how the hell did the Foster Care system know who her parents were? Well, there was really only one answer to that question wasn't there? Cate Cassidy of course. Well, good thing he was almost at her address, which oddly enough was in a suburban neighborhood.

As in a neighborhood built for families, and that was making him slightly nervous. He didn't listen to the radio often and if he did it wasn't to K100, and certainly not Morning Madness. Most of the time he wasn't up before noon, and by then it was usually over.

But back to the problem at hand what if she wasn't single? What is she was married and had a family all of her own? He knew of enough radio hosts who had an imago, in fact he was quite sure all radio host were acting out a part. Well, he was going to assume she was – worst case scenario and all that.

He was going to keep it cold and distant; better to not create more drama than necessary if she was married. He had enough guilt concerning the woman, even if a small part of him wanted to do it as retribution for leaving Lux without even so much as a name.

Yes, he was here for Lux not for his own justice or even to absolve himself of some of his guilt. He was here to get a signature, that was that. Nothing more and nothing less.

Hell, Cate didn't deserve to know anything past that, she'd lost that right when she'd hung up on him three times. He nodded at the course of action he'd just come up with; a sort of way to get back at her for never telling him about their daughter.

His GPS announced that they'd arrived and he parked the car and went to the address that google had provided. The house was big, nice and cozy. A family home if he ever saw one, but he stepped out regardless. He took a deep breath and walked forward, past the white picket fence.

He stood in front of the bleu door, took another deep breath and pressed the doorbell. There was no turning back now. Who opened the door was sadly not Cate, but he'd adlibbed before.

"Hey, how can I help you?" came the man's question. Damn, if that face wasn't familiar though.

"Ah, is Cate in? I need to talk to her."

"Yeah, sure. I'll get her," and the man went further inside, but thankfully didn't close the door. He hadn't seen a ring on the man's finger so she wasn't married so that was a relief, if a small one.

She came in the hallway and stopped halfway, stunned beyond belief and then strode forward with a thunderous expression on her face. Well, wasn't that just wonderful?

She had grown up that was for sure, the most notable change being that her hair was now long instead of in a bowl cut. He could see where Lux had gotten her waves from. She was slightly taller too, but then the last time he'd seen her had been 14 years ago, at graduation. The face was the exact same though, he didn't think he'd ever seen her face without a frown after '92. Or at least when said face had him in sight.

"What are you doing here!" she hissed. He wondered if she'd become part lizard over the years.

He raised his hands in the air, "To get your signature that's it, I have no intention of staying here any longer than I need to. I want me gone just as much as you do."

She glared. "And what do you want me to sign, a paper that sells you my soul?"

"As fun as that contract would be, it's not the one you need to sign. It's not of my own creation, sadly, but government issued as it stands. Simple bureaucratic duty, god knows for what, so just sign it and I'll be out of your hair forever. See it as a restraining order of sorts, if you would."

He almost smirked as he saw her latch on to that promise. He handed her the slip of paper, still folded and watched her put her signature next to his without so much as reading it. It probably helped that is was just one form and not a booklet, which would have made her much more conscious of the legal weight that particular piece of paper held.

She gave the paper back as if it had burned her hand, "Well it's signed. Now get the hell of my porch."

He looked at her ring with interest. He be damned, not as single as the internet made her out to be. "Yeah, I'm going. Thanks for being so understanding." He put the paper in his pocket, and the pen as well. "Well, good bye. Oh, and congrats on getting engaged."

He waved and walked towards his car, full on smirk on his face. That look of complete and utter confusion had been worth the civility. He turned on his car, and smiled as a nice rock song came on. Revenge, he thought, really was a dish best served cold.

AN:

Hello all and welcome to an idea that's kept me procrastinating whilst I should have been studying. Loved the show, even with all it's flaws. I thought I'd fix one; mainly, the romance. It's so glossed over and easily let go of in the show, be that with Bug, Jones, Eric or Ryan. In fact the whole Cate&Blaze deal never made much sense to me. To top it off Cate has always been my least favorite character of the whole show; never true to herself or anyone else. Always blaming Baze, and just as everyone else got sick of it in their world, so did I. So, what if Blaze wasn't as easy to blame this time around and Cate never threw that remote, not as comitmentphobic as in canon? That's basically the premise of this fic, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I do writing it.

Cheers,

Ray the Red

Edit 27/9/15 : Brushed it up a bit, let me know if there are still mistakes.