Disclaimer: All characters and plots and awesomeness are owned by Richelle Mead.

Summary: Rose finds help in his quest to bring Dimitri back in the most unexpected person—her father. Canon. One-shot.

Thanks to my lovely, wonderful, bad-ass beta, ohayou :3

And to my Little Dhampirs, who plan World Domination as I write this.ü

It had been a few months since I've been back here, in this particular room. There were many training rooms in the Academy, but this one… well, it was the one that Dimitri and I used so many times. Where he used to push me to do almost a thousand lunges. To block all his blows that gave me bruises after. To grapple with him until I learned how to aim for a Strigoi's heart and stake it.

But in that one I failed miserably, of course, because if I were successful, he would be dead. Truly dead. And free.

Instead he was still out there, possibly plotting to get me. And who knew how far he would go to kill me? Dimitri knew too much of the people I care about… all my weaknesses…

Wow, Rose, a little more moping wouldn't hurt at this point.

Carefully, I brought out the silver stake—the one I used at Galina's, and the one Dimitri sent me via airmail to let me know that I failed. I handled it, feeling its familiar cold weight now. My eyes rested on the dummy right in front of it. Over and over, Dimitri himself had drilled me on how exactly to aim past the thick muscle and between the rib cage—

I didn't know what came over me, but I was suddenly lunging for the lifeless dummy and I deftly plunged the silver stake on its chest—the way I should have done with Dimitri's.

That was what I was supposed to say.

My fists balled. This was a bad idea, to wallow in useless memories inside this room. My mentor who first taught me how to maneuver with footwork, how to breathe correctly so I wouldn't gasp, the man I gave my first, real kiss… he wasn't here anymore. Therefore it was logically useless, useless useless—

I hit the dummy's head with a punch from my knuckles. And again. And again. Until I was huffing and puffing and sweating with the exertion. Hey, that felt good. Better than slaving over some Slavic history essay that had no use while in a battle with a Strigoi or fantasizing hitting some snotty Moroi freshmen just because.

Hmm, that was a wistful thought… I could hardly do that now. Who knew Rose Hathaway could grow up? Maybe running away to far off Russia and killing more Strigoi than an average Guardian could ever dream of have something to do with it. Maybe.

Something moved in the corner of my eye. I whirled around, half-startled, half-ready-to-fight-for-my-life. A man stepped away from the shadows of the massive pillars. I gave an exasperated sigh when I realized who it was.

Abe Mazur gestured to the dummy with one heavily-bejeweled hand. "Continue. Don't let me interfere."

My momentum was lost when I came into high-alert. Vaguely, I realized that it was foolish to react so tensely over something (or, okay my father) moving in the dark. I was inside the Academy where security was supposed to be one of the tightest in the Moroi world. But then again… my reflexes cannot be unlearned so easily. So in the case of my memories of that night over the bridge—

"I'm tired." I replied abruptly, sitting down on one of the benches.

Abe—it was still so hard to think of him as my father—walked towards me slowly. He was wearing one of his expensive and well-cut outfits again, with a colorful scarf and his necklaces. On another man it might look gawdy, but not on mobster Zmey.

I thought he was going to sit beside me, but he surprised me by approaching the dummy instead, and with to my shock, threw a kick-ass punch on the dummy's gut.

"Wow." I said, wide-eyed at him. The dummy was still quivering several seconds after he hit it. "You have some moves, old man."

He gave a shrug. "I've learned over the years. Nothing like yours."

"I've… learned." I replied, waving off a hand.

"Have you." he mused, turning to face me now, his hands clasped at his back on an elegant gesture—if a Godfather (Turkish version, no less) can be elegant.

I didn't know the proper response to that because as so many things with Abe, it wasn't always what it seemed. Why even bother, right? I glanced at him warily. Abe Mazur. I didn't even know why he was here all of a sudden—my mother wasn't even here in the Academy as an excuse. Which means this must be all about me. Yippee.

Abe walked a few steps around, his shrewd eyes roving the training room. "Why do you practice here alone? Don't you have a sparring partner?"

Oh I have one all right. He's currently undead and out to get me.

"None."

"I know what you're trying to do, Rose." He suddenly said, and I sensed he was done with the light chitchat. Time to get on to the nitty-gritty.

I rolled my eyes. "Is there anything you don't know, Zmey? How about all the boys I've kissed?

My dating history too?"

His eyes flashed at me. I wasn't sure what irked him more, the kissing boys part or that I still occasionally called him Zmey. My mother told me off on that, but like a good Hathaway I ignored her.

"I don't know a lot. And I'm not comfortable with it, I assure you." he said. I glanced up to look at the unfamiliar edge in his voice—did he sound worried?—but my thoughts faded as Abe rounded on me some more. Here we go.

"What are you thinking, Rose? You're being too brash, too impulsive, too careless! I thought what happened in Russia has drilled some sense into you! Do you really think you can just break a high-profile prisoner like Viktor Dashkov from maximum security prison that easily without anyone— "

That shut me up—for about three seconds. I glared at him. "You don't have to go all parental on me. You may not know what I'm doing, but I do. I'm just working on the finer details of it alright?" Well, it wasn't that impressive to say that Lissa and Adrian were going to rely on compulsion for the better part of the details I was talking about.

Nope, no need to elaborate.

I breathed deeply. "And you and mom can stop biting my head off because I promised that I wouldn't do anything funny before I graduate. So I won't. And I swear on that."

"Impressive." He didn't sound impressed at all, the bastard. "…And when you say finer details… I hope you didn't mean asking Adrian Ivashkov for help?"

"What about it?" I asked warily.

"He's an Ivashkov. And a favorite of his aunt."

I immediately stiffened. "He's my friend. And I knew he could be trusted."

"Because he gave you the money to fund your renegade mission."

Something finally snapped inside me. I didn't know if it was his condescending tone, or the mere mention of what I set to do—and failed—in Russia, but I lost it with him right here, right now.

I yelled at him at the top of my voice. "Are you just here to talk me out of it? You decide that you're my father now and we're all warm and cuddly and fine? I admit it; you saved my ass back there in Russia. I get it. But that doesn't give you the ticket to daddy-status. So just state your point and leave me alone."

"If you insist."

Breathing heavily, I sat down again, and turned my back against him so I wouldn't see him leave. Immediately, I regretted my words; that must have hurt. Of course, I didn't mean it…. much. Okay, so it was weird that he cared too much about my plans, and I was a little scared that he might tell on me. Lissa, Adrian, and a lot more people will be screwed up, not just me.

But then again, looking at him, Abe didn't look the kind of guy who would… well, squeal—for a lack of a manlier term. And I remembered my mother talking almost fondly of him… Abe was a wonderful man. Yes, well. I just chewed him out, big time. Sorry mom.

"My point is that it is foolish of you to break Viktor out of prison…. without my aid."

I wheeled around at the sound of his voice—I thought he had left.

And what the hell did he say again?

I gaped at him open-mouthed—a goldfish would have been proud. "Aid? You're going to help me?"

He sighed patiently. "I've spent a better part of my life establishing my influence in a world that Moroi have no direct power on. Perhaps it's better to use it for my daughter if she needs it, don't you think?"

Daughter.

Against my will, it warmed my insides.

I shook my head, trying to shake the weird feelings away. "H-how?"

"I'll admit it's not easy. I've paid for access before to Viktor's prison—then perhaps we can push for a little bit more."

"A little bit more." I repeated neutrally. What was more? Oh I dunno, a country to rule over with the alchemists as slaves? Okay that was harsh, but my mind was spinning.

"I have enough to offer for important heads to look the other way while it's being done." He clarified. "But it's not that easy. For example, if the Queen or someone near her gets a wind of this then there's nothing more I can do."

Wait a minute. "But that's treason."

He raised an eyebrow. "And your plan isn't?"

I shook my head stubbornly. "You don't need to get involved."

"I do." He walked over to me and sat down on the bench but not near enough that I can touch him.

"I am known for not getting involved in affairs, I keep my influence undetected—that is how I've amassed my power over the years. I've stayed away because of your mother's request… but I think the time has come for me to put it into good use. I'll admit it's going to be complicated, far messier than the usual." He gave me a stern look—but it was warm, almost fond. I rather liked it. "But then again, that's you, isn't it? You won't settle for anything less."

I had to laugh at that. "So I've heard."

He smiled at me. I realized the way he looked at me was wistful. It was a strange expression for tough-guy Abe to wear… but I imagined that there were not a lot of people who can see this side of him.

I tried to make light of the moment. "What, you're going to make some sappy remark about how I remind you of my mom?"

"No. I was going to say how much you remind me of myself."

I stared at him unbelievingly. Granted, it was not the first time the thought has occurred to me—hell, I've spent so many hours denying that to myself—but it was an entirely different thing to hear it from, well, himself.

"Janine…" the way he said my mother's name was strange… as if he did not utter it often, "Your mother had always been by the rules. She chose to be a guardian, and I respected her wishes for me to stay away from the both of you because of it. She wanted everything to be as it should be."

I nodded solemnly. "And you're saying we're the crazy, deviant ones, is that it?"

This time he actually smiled. "You know all the rules, Rose. But more importantly, you know when to break them."

I glanced at him, surprised by his words. For all the reprimands I've been getting, it was nice to hear something like that from someone. From my… father.

"Thanks." I mumbled.

He stood up, and prepared to walk away. I thought that this was probably the longest conversation we had that did not result in a verbal spat. Or something. With my life, something always happens to screw everything up.

"Rose."

"Yeah, yeah." I waved my hand haphazardly, not wanting any tearful farewells. That would be so out of our comfort zone. "I'll eat my vegetables and everything."

"No that's not it." He said, his tone oddly serious again.

"Hmm?"

"Is it worth it?"

I was stilled. That was… unexpected.

Our eyes met. There was no judgment in him, only the wanting to understand why I was so eager to set off in this crazy mission that might end up with me effectively dead, once and for all. What the car accident, and the Strigoi battles had not accomplished… well, this might finally do me in.

"If you were in my position, what would you have done?" I asked quietly. "If it was mom, and you know there's still a chance out there to save her soul… what would you do?"

Abe's mouth tightened to a thin line. Several moments of silence yawned between us.

And then he nodded gravely. "I will send word when I have everything that is needed."

"Thank you." I said gratefully. For a lot of things I couldn't say out loud.

He turned to go, but I saw him twist his face sideways to me. "And Rose…"

I waited.

"I do know your dating history." He paused. "He was a fine, young man."

He said it without any inflection, just the simple, straightforward meaning of what he said. And a little bit more, feeling a bit sorry for me perhaps? But there was nothing new with that. I feel sorry for myself too, sometimes. When I allow it.

"That he was." I finally said.

Then he was gone. Like a phantom in the night… if Turkey had such things.

I stood from the bench slowly, and approached the dummy again. My fingers traced the stake that was still buried deep on its chest. With a little bit of effort, I yanked it out again.

Because the next time, if I fail in finding this whimsical cure, this stake will plunge straight into Dimitri's heart.

END

Yup, first time ever to write a fanfic. Give some love to the newbie and review *ü*

xoxo

Anya

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