Author's Note: Dipping my toe in the water with some Fable 2 fic. Originally intended as a drabble and one of many, this particular theme spiraled into this. So may post the rest, if I get more done.

So constructive criticism appreciated.

First theme of the set: Strangers

Strangers

She was his daughter, he was her father. To Sparrow's daughter, they were strangers.

Her mother saw him first, a large, imposing shape standing two houses away from them. There was a bag on the ground next to him, an axe on his back and his coat was open, revealing his bare upper body, with faint, glowing, blue lines swirling over his stomach and chest. She didn't know how long he had been standing there, severe was how she would later think of him and at that moment, he scared her. Her mother stood rooted to the spot, staring at this man, this man who she did not know. The man approached her mother, she frowned and took her mother's hand. Her mother squeezed it then looked down at her, a smile on her face, tears in her eyes.

Her mother walked slowly towards him, let go of her hand and broke into a full run, throwing herself at the man. She merely stood at the front door, watching, like the spectator she felt she was in that moment. He caught her mother, lifted her from the ground and held her tight. Then her mother uttered the man's name, and in that moment she knew who he was.

"Sparrow," her mother said, as he put her down back onto the ground and approached her. Sparrow. Her father, the Hero. The one that her mother told her so many stories of, who had left them when she was small. She had no memories of him, nothing she could've held onto, like her mother did. He was merely a faceless shadow in the corner of her mind, there like a ghost, haunting her memories.

By now her mother and father were at the front door, her father watching her, his mouth hanging open slightly. He knelt down, raised a shaking hand and put it on top of her head. She ducked out from under it.

"Rose, say something," her mother chided. She pulled a face, she didn't like her name. She knew she was named after some aunt she had never met, however it had always sounded so old to her.

"Hello, are you my dad?" she asked the man, Sparrow.

He simply blinked then gave a hesitant nod.

She frowned then. "Can't you speak?"

That seemed to take him off-guard, as he lost the dazed look he had held moments before and raised his eyebrows.

"Rose!" her mother scolded. She cringed.

"Sorry Mum..."

She expected him to be offended by her blunt question, instead he laughed and it made her jump. His voice sounded so gravelly, nothing like she imagined. He was nothing like how she thought of him, if she were truly honest. She pressed on, undeterred by the lack of reaction she was receiving.

"Mum says you're a Hero, is that true?" she asked.

Once more, he only nodded.

"When I grow up, I'm going to be a Hero." She grinned proudly, hands on her hips, her chin lifted up and her shoulders back.

Her father's smile faltered, he looked away from her, a frown on his face. He stood up, offered his hand to her and shrugged when she ignored it and went back to her mother's side.

"You'll get sick of hearing that, she says it all the time," her mother told him. Her hand fell on her shoulder and she felt herself be pulled toward her mother. She looked up and saw the tears had returned to her mother's eyes. "You know what else she says?"

Her father tensed and shook his head.

"Is Dad coming home today?"

Her father flinched, as if her mother had slapped him, such an effect those simple words had on him. He swooped in, gathered her mother up in his arms and rested his head atop hers.

In that moment, she felt nothing but anger at him. How dare he hurt her mother. Too often she heard her mother crying, over him, because he wasn't there. She was angry she didn't have any memories of him, why couldn't he have stayed? She never understood it, not really, despite her mother telling her often that it was 'Hero business' that kept him away. All her other friends had their fathers there, why did she have to be different?

She pulled on her mother's apron to get her attention and opened her arms. Her mother knelt down to her level, hugged her then took her inside the house. Her anger returned when her father, the Hero, stood at the door looking every bit the lost puppy. It took him a minute to follow them in and stayed at the doorway as he shrugged off the coat he was wearing.

She could see him better in the light now. He wore a headband, his head bald which only served to make the scars on his face stand out more along with the eye patch. His coat was open, revealing his bare upper body and an old gunshot wound on his chest, almost hidden by the blue lines. He took off the axe, it was twice as large as she was with an ugly blade at the end of the handle. She couldn't help but feel fascinated by it, no one in Bowerstone owned such a thing, and some small part of her, was fascinated simply because it was something her father owned. He noticed her eying it then moved it away entirely, hiding it in a cupboard.

The three of them sat down at the table, her mother kept her gaze on her father as he looked around the house.

"You've redecorated," he said quietly.

Her mother sighed and nodded.

She watched her parents, her father rubbed the back of his neck, shuffling in the chair, unable to keep still. Then he did. He got up from the chair, walked to the window and stood with his back to them.

"Sparrow?" her mother asked.

"Shh."

"Don't you 'shh' me." Her mother glared at him. "It's Theresa, isn't it. You're going to leave." Her mother was on her feet in seconds, marching over to him. "You can tell her you're not going. You've only just got back! How cruel can you be? What happened to you in there?"

Her father shook his head. "No. No, Alex. I'm not..." he started. He took a deep breath, exhaled and opened his mouth to speak again. The words didn't come. They died on his lips and he could only shrug.

Her mother turned back to her. "Lou, go upstairs will you? While I speak to your father." It wasn't a question, it was an order, stated to be obeyed.

Her father frowned. "Lou? But Louise is..."

"I know. She prefers it."

Somehow even that seemed to hurt him. He said nothing more, his mouth tightening into a thin line and he turned to the window once more.

She did as she was told, leaving her parents alone to do whatever it was they had to. She went to her room, sat down with her books, her dolls and made herself busy as she waited patiently for her mother to finish downstairs. She didn't expect her father to stay, she couldn't imagine how things would be if he did stay. She was used to it simply being her mother and her, that was how it was. If her father stayed, what then? She didn't want things to change. She wanted everything back to how it was, back to this morning, when things were good, were normal. She threw her doll down and went over to her bed, curling up on it. She felt tears at the corners of her eye and scrubbed at them angrily, she didn't want to cry over this. But she did.

It was hours before her mother came up to see her, she still lay on the bed, blankets pulled up over her head. Her mother sat on the bed also and lifted her, blankets and all, then pulled her into her lap. They sat there, mother and daughter, her mother stroking her hair under the blanket while she simply lay there, the normalcy of it enough for her to keep her content. Suddenly and all too soon, her mother peeled back the blankets, left them on the bed and sat her up.

"He's not what you thought he'd be, is he?" her mother asked.

She shook her head.

Though her mother thought she didn't hear, she did. She felt like crying again when she heard her mother mutter, "Me too."

Dinner was awkward. She didn't speak, her mother tried to initiate conversation yet only received one word answers as Sparrow picked his way through the meal her mother prepared. She ate quickly, asked to be excused and returned to the safe haven of her room. There she stayed until hunger and her nightly habit of creeping downstairs and sneaking something out of the cupboard, forced her out of bed.

She got up, pulled on her slippers and moved quietly down the stairs. She didn't expect her father to be there, didn't expect to find him awake and sitting, hunched over in one of the chairs next to the fireplace. She thought to simply sneak past him. This idea was quashed when she stepped on a creaky floorboard then accidentally kicked one of her toys down the stairs. Sparrow was on his feet in seconds, the room glowing orange as a fireball appeared in his left hand, a gun materialising in his right.

Curiosity overwhelmed her. She'd never seen anyone do that before.

She let herself be seen, uncaring if he scolded her or not. That was her mother's job, not his. He relaxed slightly when he saw her scurry down the stairs and over to him, staring up at him.

Sparrow looked back at her. He was the first to break the eye contact when he looked around for her mother and she wondered if he would shout for her. He took a step back, gestured to the empty chair and went back to the chair he had been sitting in.

"What was that?" she asked.

He looked over to her once more. "What was what?" he replied, frowning.

"That fireball." She climbed into the chair and swung her legs idly.

"Magic."

"Oh. Can anyone do it?"

Sparrow shrugged.

They sat in silence, yet she noticed him glance over to her often. Eventually he spoke, "Why are you up anyway?"

"Got hungry. Why are you?"

"I couldn't sleep."

She got up from the chair and wandered over to the cupboard, moved another chair in front of it and climbed onto it. She opened the door of it, strained to reach the small bag of cookies that were in sight. It seemed her mother was onto her. She looked round when she heard her father get up from the chair also. Thinking nothing of it, she returned to the task. A shadow engulfed her from behind, an well muscled arm nudging past and retrieved her prize. Sparrow opened the bag, took one for himself and handed her the rest. Without a word, he left her, going upstairs and joined her mother, leaving her staring at the open bag in her hands.

Whatever words had been exchanged the day before, seemed to have worked in making her father stay. He wandered around the house, helped out when asked but for the most part, kept his distance. She caught him watching her, fascinated, and a few times he almost made a move to speak or to approach. Each time he would stop short of doing the deed and each time he did, she felt upset.

The days went by, her mother trying to bring father and daughter together, sending both out for shopping from the market. Each attempt failed, Sparrow saying not a word and she resenting him for it. To her, he still felt like a stranger, an unwanted guest that had long overstayed their welcome. She resented him and she resented her mother for her efforts. She grew sullen, moody, took any and every chance to get away from them both and to be with her friends, the only thing that hadn't changed.

That was, until her mother sent Sparrow looking for her when she was late home. As he came into view, the other children, once realizing who he was, all rushed to greet him, leaving her forgotten. They shook their autograph books at him, hopping up and down excitedly, all calling his name. She watched, then spun away from him, tears in her eyes.

Eventually, the crowd of children dispersed and it was only she and her father left. He offered his hand to her, she ignored it and marched on ahead of him. She heard him sigh and jog to catch up with her. She refused to look at him, and bypassed her mother entirely once they returned home. She heard her mother call her name, but she ignored it, Sparrow's voice drifting up a moment later as he explained what happened.

Her mother came to her later, dried her tears, held her and everything was all right again. Everything felt like it had before. She sat on her mother's lap, letting her mother rock her back and forth. She sighed.

"Mum, does he have to stay?" she asked.

Her mother stiffened. "Lou, he's your father, of course he does. You'll get used to him being her," her mother said.

"But I don't want him to. Why can't it just be us, like before?"

"You don't mean that."

She pushed herself away and looked up at her mother. "Mum, I don't like him. I don't want him here."

Her mother frowned at her. "Rose he's staying. He's your father."

"But..."

Her mother held up her hand. "Don't. I'm not arguing this one out with you."

She scampered away from her mother as if she'd just been scalded, curled up at the furthest part of the bed. "I don't want to get used to him," she muttered.

"You don't mean that," her mother told her firmly. She was now on her feet, arms folded, looking even more displeased than she had been a moment ago.

"I do mean it, Mum. It's not fair! I don't want him here!"

"Rose Louise, you take that back right now! He's here and he's staying and there's nothing you can do about it! So you'd better start getting used to it, as this is how things are now."

Her mother stormed out of her room and down the stairs. The dam broke and she buried her face in the pillow, sobbing wretchedly into it. She went still when she heard more footsteps on the stairs. She looked up and found Sparrow in her room, simply waiting for her to notice him. She threw herself face first back onto the bed.

"May I?" Sparrow asked.

She looked up once more and Sparrow was now standing beside the bed. She shrugged. The bed dipped when he sat down. He reached across and picked up one of the dolls that sat next to her pillow. He made a small 'hmph'.

"I bought you this one, before I left. I thought I should leave something for you, in case..." he trailed off, the unspoken words hanging in the air. In case I didn't come back.

"Mum said," she answered, her already quiet voice muffled by the pillow.

"Did you name her?"

She nodded. "Macy."

Sparrow said nothing for a moment, then put the doll back beside the pillow. He sighed. "I'm sorry I'm not what you expected."

She said nothing

Seeing he wouldn't get an answer, Sparrow left the room.

Two weeks later, she got her wish. Sparrow left on Hero's business. The discussion she watched from the shadows on the stairs. Her mother stared at her hands, her shoulders slumped and she refused to look at Sparrow. It wasn't until he lifted her chin to face him that she did look at him. He said something quietly to her that she showed any reaction to what he was telling her. She hugged him tight, he returned it. He looked over to her hiding place, she knew he knew she was there, yet she couldn't bring herself to see him off as her mother was doing.

He raised his hand to wave then he was gone.

It was a job he had left on, so her mother told her, in Oakfield. Aunt Hannah had taken her there once, promised to take her there again, however Hero's business had put the kibosh on that idea.

With her father gone, she thought things would return to how they were. They didn't. In the three weeks Sparrow stayed with them, somehow she had become used to his presence, maybe even so far as tolerated it, despite all her protesting.

The first few days of his absence it felt like how it had been, pre-Sparrow. She spent her time with her mother, made up with her friends after the autograph incident, made herself busy running to the market with her mother, then something changed. Absently, she caught herself looking for Sparrow as she played with her doll and found herself missing her silent guardian. She shook her head. It was silly of her, everything was back to normal, why would she want to change that?

The days passed and more and more often, she would find her mother standing at the window, watching for Sparrow's return. She remembered that too well. It was as if her mother was chained to the window, constantly there, constantly watching. After coming downstairs on the morning of the second week to see her mother there, suddenly, she wanted Sparrow back.

She would admit, her mother had started to become happier with her father around. In the later week, she smiled more, despite the friction between father and daughter. When it was simply husband and wife together, the years she seemed to have gained, such was the toll everything had taken on her, fell away and her mother transformed into someone else.

She approached her mother, gave her apron a tug and asked a question she hadn't in three weeks: "When's Dad coming back?"

Four days later, Sparrow returned. He slipped into the house quietly, his faithful dog curling up in front of the fire with a large yawn. It was early morning, her mother wasn't awake yet, however she had woken up and couldn't get back to sleep. She went downstairs, and startled when she saw Sparrow there.

She went forward and greeted him, "You're back. Mum will be glad," she said.

Sparrow nodded.

"Are you going to stay longer this time?"

That took him by surprise. He blinked then recovered himself. "Do you want me to?"

She nodded. Even more surprising, she meant it.

As Sparrow got back into what passed as a normal routine for him, he took more jobs on around Bowerstone, took her mother shopping into the market and took her to explore the Old Town where he grew up. While they walked, he would point out various places he knew of, remark on how much it had changed and how amazed he was by all the changes. She listened, quietly fascinated. The dog ran around them, sometimes bounding off in a different direction only to return minutes later, with something he'd dug up from someone's garden. He dropped it at her feet, the item this time being a bag which Sparrow quickly swiped. The dog wagged his tail and barked, bouncing around her. Sparrow pushed a small rubber ball into her hand, the dog growing all the more excited when he saw it. She threw it, the dog going after it in seconds.

"I'm going to have to leave again soon," Sparrow stated.

She felt a cold pit in her stomach and her throat tighten. "Why?"

"You know why. More..."

"Hero's business." She rolled her eyes as she said it.

"Rose..." He cringed. "I'm sorry, Louise."

"You can call me that if you want. I don't mind."

He raised an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't like it? You said it was too old for you."

She shrugged.

"The sooner it's done, the sooner I can come back and cheer your mother up."

"I don't want you to go."

Sparrow said nothing.

"Will you be gone for long?" she asked.

"I don't know, it may take a while," he answered honestly.

"Will you bring me something back?"

"Of course."

She hadn't noticed the dog's return. It wasn't until he nudged her shoulder and cocked his head with a whine, that she acknowledged him at all. She scratched his ears, pet him and threw the ball again for him. They returned home not long after, Sparrow staying to speak to her mother, while she went to her room and prepared for bed. Sparrow sat with her as she fell asleep, tucked her in then left the room.

The next morning, Sparrow was gone.

Sparrow didn't return. Instead, an old man visited them. She heard the door from her room, and she leapt up, rushing down the stairs. She stopped halfway however, when her mother stood her ground at the door, letting no one past her. She tried to close the door, only to have it forced open. He pushed into the house, shoving her mother to the floor. The old man took out a gun and aimed it at her mother's head.

Her eyes widened and she curled into a ball, trying to make herself as small as possible. She couldn't take her eyes away, as the man continued to aim his gun at her mother. He pulled the trigger.

The sound was deafening, she didn't even realized she had screamed until she saw the old man aiming at the gun at her. She ran back up the stairs, over to the window. The old man was quicker however and he cocked the gun once more. She turned slowly. She shut her eyes and muttered: "Dad..."

Lucien pulled the trigger a second time.