Chapter One: I Have a Dream

Most mothers might feel relief when they drop off something the size of a Christmas ham at a posh-looking daycare center, but I found I was trying not to hold back the tears. Trying to keep my head up as I walked in through the double doors—Iana strapped to my chest and Liam holding tightly to my hand—I wanted to find Rebecca Aldridge, the childcare coordinator who I'd spoken to on the phone, and interviewed with, last April. I walked around the corner, Liam keeping a good grip on my hand, and, when I saw Rebecca, I felt instant relief.

"Oh, Murphy!" Rebecca said, her voice as warm as it had been five months previously, as she motioned for another worker to continue to oversee a small group of some slightly older infants having tummy time. "And this young man must be Liam."

Liam smiled shyly up at Rebecca. "Hi, Ms. Aldridge," he said.

"Nice to meet you, Liam," Rebecca said sweetly before looking up at me. "And this precious thing must be Iana?"

I nodded, unhooking the buckle of the strap and easing her gently away from my chest. "Here she is," I said, holding her out to Rebecca.

"Oh, she's beautiful," Rebecca gushed, holding out her arms immediately, waiting patiently for me to place Iana into them. "You've brought her sleeping schedule?"

"Yes," I replied, handing over the paperwork, along with her bag. "There's more diapers in there, plus some milk."

"Wonderful," Rebecca said. "And the other schedule is in the bag for pick-ups?"

"Yes," I replied. "I'll be picking her up every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at three-thirty, and Tuesday and Thursday at five," I said.

"Perfect," Rebecca said as I looked down at Iana. "I'll put the milk in the fridge while you and Liam say your goodbyes."

"Thank you," I replied, smiling at her as she walked to the kitchen. "I love you, my darling," I whispered to her, kissing her head. I was pleased at the progression of her hair growth—black hair was growing healthily from her scalp, and she never pulled on it. "Liam, would you like to say goodbye to Iana?" I asked.

"Yes, please," Liam replied.

I bent down then, holding out Iana, and smiled when Liam kissed her forehead. "All right," I said quietly, waiting for Rebecca to return, and handed her over. "I guess that's it, then."

"We have your direct office line, and your cell phone number, so don't worry about a thing, please, Murphy," Rebecca said. "Everything will be fine."

"Thank you," I said, appreciating the encouragement as I shook her hand. "I'll see you later on this afternoon then. Come on, Liam," I said, taking him by the hand and leading him out of there and back towards my car.

"Why does Iana have to go to daycare, Murphy?" Liam asked.

I smiled. "Well, because she's too young to go to a big boy school like you," I explained, letting the button click to unlock my car, and watched to make sure Liam got into his booster seat before I shut the door. "And besides," I went on, getting into the car myself, "she's too little to be home alone all day."

"Why?"

"Because it's not safe," I said gently. "Ian and I only just began leaving you inside when we got outside with Iana sometimes, but you're old enough to come outside if there's an emergency. Do you know why?"

"Because I can walk and talk?" Liam asked.

I nodded, starting up the car. "Exactly. And now," I went on, pulling out of my parking space and out into the street, "we've got to get you to school, little man."

The drive was quiet twenty minutes later, when I'd dropped off Liam at school and drove the rest of the way to the firm. It was my first official day back after giving birth, and while I was pleased to be getting back to work, the separation anxiety after dropping off Iana had already settled in. I was pleased that Josh had come over in the days leading up to my return, and he was bonding excellently with Iana. We had even begun discussing dates to begin our dating, which I found I was surprisingly all right with, despite his points of contention with Nicholas. I did my best to put it out of my mind, hoping that Josh merely didn't have the full story, and that he wasn't bad-mouthing Nicholas on purpose.

"You're back!" Rachel said, getting to her feet as I came in. She reached into the mini fridge she had beside her desk, and handed over a strawberry smoothie. "Welcome back, Murphy. It's been so quiet without you."

I rolled my eyes, taking the smoothie and sipping it, and hoping that it was a compliment, and that "quite" meant "boring". "Thanks for this," I replied, forcing a smile. "This is sweet—it means a lot. Any messages?"

"No, just well-wishes to you returning to the firm," Rachel replied, handing over the small pieces of paper, her hair now just past her shoulders. "Will there be anything else?"

I shook my head. "I'm fine, Rachel, thanks. I'll let you know if there's anything else I'll be needing," I said, smiling at her as I headed back to my office. I turned the brass knob and let myself in automatically, shutting the door behind me and flicking on the light as I walked towards my desk. I set my bag down upon its surface and circled it, plunking myself down in the chair finely cushioned chair. I switched on my computer, finding a welcome back email—signed from Hugo, Allie, and Nicholas—and smiled at myself, typing a quick reply to let them know I was at the office in one piece.

I bit my lip, remembering my foolish behavior last time I'd been in the office, and made a mental note that none of it could ever happen again. It was silly, that's what it was, downright silly—I was behaving like a teenage girl, and that was unacceptable, due to my new title as a mother. I was on my way into a new, adult relationship with Josh, and fantasizing about the son of my boss was the very definition of unprofessional. Besides, I reasoned with myself as I took out the latest research I'd gathered on Paul Farris, Nicholas had made it very clear where he and I stood—as Jasmine was pregnant, he had a commitment to her, and I was out of the picture, so, therefore, he should have meant nothing to me.

Nicholas himself emailed me just before eleven, asking me about my progress on the notion that Paul Farris was our actual killer. I told him I'd managed to find the needle in the haystack, and would see him in the conference room in half an hour. He replied quickly, much to my surprise, telling me that he looked forward to the information I found, and I was shocked at the polite manner I got from the email itself. I quickly got to my feet at just minutes before our meeting time, gathering up the research which was, thankfully, not reeking of breast milk as I left my office and made for the conference room.

By just the right amount of focus, I'd been going jogging with Iana in her stroller throughout the summer, and had just managed to lose my last pound of baby weight the week before. I was slightly curvier since my pregnancy—the slight willowy build I'd grown up with fading away entirely—but, I found I looked better than before. My color was back as well, and since Iana slept so well, I didn't look like a wreck, and my hair even managed not to dry out, despite the rumors that it would, since I'd given birth to a daughter.

I stepped towards the conference room then and pushed open the door without ceremony, half expecting to see Hugo and Allie in there with Nicholas, but checking myself when I saw that it was only Nicholas who occupied the large desk, and straightened my shoulders then, forcing myself not to be intimidated with something this daunting as seeing someone you wanted very much to fuck upon last seeing them. "Hey," I said, trying to sound casual, shutting the door behind me and walking around the desk, doing my absolute best not to trip in the new heels I'd bought for myself. "Hugo and Allie joining us?"

"Home with Charlotte for the morning," Nicholas replied, looking over his paperwork until I stood across from him, and, when he looked up, he started for a moment before clearing his throat awkwardly. "I assume you've found some new information on Paul Farris?"

"Yeah, yes," I said, sitting immediately across from him and pulling out the documentation, as well as attempting to ignore the flush which developed upon my cheeks. "As you can see, our firm's P.I. has outdone themselves," I said, sliding over the papers, along with photos to seal the deal. "We've managed to obtain bank statements from Nigeria and the Bahamas, of which Paul Farris has accumulated the largest off-shore accounts for the Farris Foundation. And," I said, showing off just a little, "those investors he's been meeting with?"

"Let me guess," Nicholas says, eyeing the photographs of Paul Farris, along with some associates at some four dollar sign resort. "They're cads?"

I nodded. "Exactly!"

Nicholas's eyes met mine. "What's their game?"

I held up my hand, producing one of the phony emails their offshore accounts would frequently send out. "The poor schmucks that fall for this shit are in deep, I'm afraid—upwards of two million have been put into the foundation," I said. "Their game is that, on the surface, Farris Foundation helps underprivileged kids in America, right?"

Nicholas nodded. "Yes. My parents were avid supporters of them..."

I clicked my tongue then, feeling a wave of sympathy for Hugo and Allie, and hoped that they wouldn't be damaged by association. "Well, it seems that Paul Farris is nothing but a fraud," I said, pulling out the last of the photographs, feeling sick for the P.I. who had to take them, as I handed them over. "See anything?"

Nicholas took them and look, his face contorting into one of disgust. "You have got to be fucking kidding me right now..."

"My thoughts exactly," I reply, taking the photographs back and shoving them into the bottom of my bag, wondering how in the hell I was going to dispose of them before anyone in law enforcement saw me in possession of them. "It seems as though they lure underprivileged youths in underdeveloped countries for satisfactory purposes, once that could and likely already have damaged those young lives. The cover story—mentioned explicitly in the emails—is that the Farris Foundation would provide jobs and places to live for these children, but they're just taken, used, and dumped somewhere too far away to ever get help."

"And you think that Grandpapa Farris found out?"

"Well, of course—Paul was CEO of the company, but Grandpapa Farris was still on the board of directors, with access to all the funds... All the funds," I said, shuddering at the thought of it. "So, he must've seen it, and wanted to confront Paul, but someone on the inside got wind of it, and so Paul sent Jackie to do the dirty work for him."

"That's reasonable, Murphy, sure, but—"

I extracted the last thing from my bag, a small disc from a security camera. "See for yourself," I said, popping it into the attached Blu-Ray player on the rooms' flat screen. "As you can see," I said quietly, nodding to the scenes that I'd had cut together, "the Farris family all lived in the same house, and it was all a horror show. This," I said, nodding to the scene where a twelve-year-old Jackie runs away from something in terror, still slightly hidden in the shadows, "is the first of it."

Nicholas watched in horror as a much-younger Paul chased Jackie into a very elaborate bedroom, whereupon he began assaulting her. I skipped ahead then, showing him the extent of the abuse, the last one dated three days before the murder. Twenty-two-year-old Jackie was trembling after the latest attack, her eyes filled with sorrow and shock, almost as if she wondered why her father seemed so incapable of loving her properly.

"You know how much Daddy likes it when you do things for him?" Paul asked on the disc. He was sitting on the edge of her bed, buttoning up his shirt.

"Y-yes, Daddy," Jackie whispered, her voice that of a girl—a twelve-year-old girl, as most of my psychology professors said that some development ends at the assault.

"Well, there is something you can do for Daddy, Jackie, and I promise," he said, reaching backwards and running his hand along her leg, "this will never happen again."

Jackie looked up at him, trying not to squirm away from his disgusting touch. "What do you mean, Daddy?" she asked, her voice small.

"Well, I'll let you go to Paris if you do this last thing for me," he said gently. "Go to Paris and study art or poetry or whatever you want—and I'll pay for it. You just have to get your passport renewed, and do this one thing for Daddy, and then you can go."

Jackie nodded. "What do I have to do, Daddy?"

Paul smiled, loving that he was clearly the one in power. "You have to kill your grandfather, Jackie, because if you don't, he'll ruin us."

I cut to the next scene then, which was of Jackie breaking into the house, wielding a gun, and using it to shoot her grandfather in the back of the head. "Case closed," I said quietly as the camera cut out. "Jackie's the triggerman, but Paul's the brains."

"Why did she sound like such a little kid?" Nicholas asked.

"Delayed development due to the assault," I replied, and Nicholas turned to look at me. "A lot of psychologists think that, without treatment and continued assaults, the victim will regress mentally to the point of when the assaults began."

"So, mentally, Jackie's not twenty-two?" Nicholas wanted to know.

I shook my head. "No. Mentally she's twelve, wanting her father to love her, and doing anything he asks her."

"Plus, it's her ticket to freedom..." Nicholas said quietly.

I nodded. "Yeah, there's that."

"We... We all have things in our pasts we want to escape, right?"

I gave a stiff nod at that. "Yeah. I mean, I guess. Speaking from experience, I think if I had someone like Paul Farris come at me, I'd kill him."

"Because of your stepfather?"

I sighed. "Yeah. Pretty horrible fucker..."

"I'm sorry," Nicholas said then, reaching out and taking my hand. "You didn't deserve that, Murphy—any of it. And I sure as hell don't want it happening again—not to you, not to anyone, but especially not to you, because...you don't deserve it, Murph."

I opened my mouth to say something then—my heart beating in my ears at the feeling of his hand on mine—but I shut it quickly, and pulled my hand away from him. "You shouldn't do that, Nicholas," I admonished him, gathering up my evidence and putting it all into my bag. "You said yourself my behavior in June was unprofessional, and I apologized for it, many times." I crossed the room and popped the disc out of the player. "You should really go home to Jasmine if you want comfort like that—"

"Jasmine moved out," Nicholas replied. "Left me..."

I stopped walking, my pursuit of the conference room door forgotten as I turned around to face Nicholas, my heart in my throat. "What?" I asked.

"Packed her shit and left, moved to Los Angeles," he replied. "Got a big modeling contract and decided it was time to split."

"But... But what about the baby?" I managed to get out, hating myself for sounding so emotionally invested in this, in him, after all the promises I'd made to myself. "Did you tell Jasmine that you didn't want kids or something?"

Nicholas shrugged. "There was no baby, Murphy."

I raised my eyebrows. "No baby?"

"No. Jasmine thought... Well, she thought there was something going on between us, so she figured if she made up a pregnancy, I'd stay with her."

"Shit," I whispered.

"Shit is right," Nicholas replied. "Things went too fast with her, I know that. But the worst part of it was, I missed out on what I had right in front of me."

I hesitated then, gripping onto my bag, and using it like a shield to prevent him from coming any closer to me. "And what's that?" I asked, my voice deliberately quiet.

"It's not so much a that as it is a who," Nicholas said. "Things were so different and so amazing with you, Murphy—you didn't stand for any of my shit, and you... You could take it," he said, gazing up from his parts and to mine. "You could take it, hard, and you never told me to stop, and the women I've been with in the past..." He shrugged. "...couldn't take it."

"You know that I have Iana," I said quietly. "And Josh and I are seeing if he and I could one day be something..."

"Iana is an exception—she's a great baby, Murphy," Nicholas said, and I smiled then, loving it when people complimented my daughter. "And you're not with Josh now, are you?"

I shook my head. "No. We haven't even been on a date yet."

"I'm not asking you for a date, Murphy. I'm asking you for some fun."

I tilted my head then, considering it, and nodded. "Okay. I guess I could go for some fun," I replied, turning around and locking the conference room door.

Next, I threw my paperwork onto the desk with a flourish, before shoving Nicholas down, hard on its surface. I grinned at him as he laughed at the juxtaposition of it all, before he grabbed me by my waist and lay me down on the desk himself. I covered my mouth to prevent the inevitable squeal that would turn into a groan as I heard him removing his pants, the telltale sound of a condom wrapper opening behind me.

I gripped the edges of the large desk I lay upon, my heart beating faster than it ever had in my entire life, as I braced myself for impact. I felt a deep, shuddering breath coax itself through me as Nicholas did, and I let one of the edges of the desk go, stopping the moans that escaped my lips as he made the ultimate contact inside me with the back of my hand. I felt my eyes rolling back into my head at the extent of it, loving all he was doing to me, and never wanting any of it to stop.

"Fuck, Nick," I whispered, the rest of his name becoming lost as I jabbed my hand back into my mouth to prevent from screaming.

He leaned down then, his weight a delicious impact upon me as he shoved himself deeper inside me, towards my core. "You calling me Nick is just making me harder, Murphy."

I turned my head sideways then, locking my eyes with his. "Nick, Nick, Nick," I whispered to him, grinning up at him.

Nicholas pursed his lips. "Maybe I shouldn't..." He said, easing out.

"No!" I cried then, moving my hands back and grabbing his perfect ass before he could slide out of me completely. "Stay in there," I said, my knees trembling. "I want... I don't want you to stop, Nicholas, please..."

Nicholas leaned down against me again, his delicious self just teasing my opening. "Tell me what you want, right here, right now, Murphy..."

"Hard," I managed to get out, my eyes watering from the pain of him not pleasuring me. "I want it harder, Nicholas. Please. Harder."

"Your wish is my command," he replied, suddenly filling me then.

"Nicholas!" I cried out then, suddenly clamping a hand over my mouth. "Oh, my god..." I moaned against my hand. "Oh...Nicholas... Fuck," I whispered. I felt my knees giving way then as I threatened to collapse against the desk, but I suddenly managed to get ahold of my footing as he slipped out of me. I yanked up my panties and yanked down my skirt, relieved that my blouse wasn't ruined as I made a grab for my documents.

"You're fucking great, Murphy," Nicholas said.

I turned around then, and smiled up at him. "Thanks," I replied. "I've gotta admit, I've missed that—fucking you is fucking amazing."

"Really?" he asked, tilting my chin up with one finger, staring right into my eyes. "Anything else you've missed?"

I scoffed then, pulling out of his grip and gently patting him on the cheek. "Nice try, big boy," I said, tossing my hair with attitude before I unlocked the conference room door and stepped out, going back to my office. I stepped inside, shutting the door behind me then and gravitating over to my desk, setting down my paperwork and seeing that it was almost time for lunch. I saw two texts awaiting me then—one from Ian and one from Josh—both asking me to lunch. I chose Ian, apologizing to Josh, and called my brother.

"Why do I get the feeling you've done something you shouldn't?" Ian asked when I called him back, making my way towards the elevator. "This twin-sense is getting weird..."

I shrugged, keeping my wallet close to me and my phone pressed to my ear as I pressed the down button on the elevator. "Nothing that someone over twenty-one can't do, Ian."

He scoffed on the other end of the phone. "Oh, really? You're going to play the age card?"

"I could also play the salary card, you know, or the degree card," I fired back with a laugh as I stepped into the elevator after it arrived. "Not hard to do, you know..."

"Yeah, yeah... What are you hungry for?"

"We could go to the bistro today," I replied. "I'll buy."

"Fine," Ian replied. "Meet you there in twenty."

When I arrived, I saw Ian sitting in a booth by an expansive window, and smiled at him as I approached, while he got to his feet and pulled me into a hug. We sat down then, across from one another, just staring, wondering who would be the one to ultimately break the ice, now that we were face-to-face. Finally, Ian sighed, his ice floating sporadically in his water glass, and lifted it to his lips, obviously wanting me to be the one.

I rolled my eyes. So, we're playing that game, are we? I thought to myself, shaking my head as I took a sip of my own water. "You obviously want to ask me something, Ian, so ask. No harm in asking, and I can always choose not to answer you."

He sighed. "Well, I guess I'm wondering if you're sleeping with Nicholas," he replied, and I nearly choked on my water, averting my eyes.

"Sleeping with him?! What the fuck, Ian?!" I hissed under my breath. "You know as well as I do that he's with Jasmine, and they're expecting," I tell him, the lie falling easily off my tongue. "I mean, besides, there's the troubled background to consider..."

"Not to mention Iana," Ian interrupted, and I quickly cursed myself inwardly for not mentioning her first. "You've got a daughter now, Murph. You need to think about her needs, like the need of a father..."

I shook my head. "You're her surrogate father—you know that," I said, leaning back in the booth as the waitress came over. I ordered a sandwich, and Ian did the same, although our tones were noncommittal and remained that way until she left us alone.

"You wrote out the list of who can get her from daycare if you're not available, right?"

I nodded. "Of course. You're first, then Fiona, then Debbie..."

"Anyone else?"

I sighed, picking up my water and sipping it. "Trevor."

"Wait. Really?" Ian asked.

I nodded. "Of course. He's great with Iana, and she's grown attached, I think. I don't mind if he picks her up, Ian, really I don't. I mean... Do you mind?"

Ian shook his head. "No. I don't mind."

"Great," I replied, my phone vibrating against my leg. I pulled it out of my pocket, and Kevin's number at The Alibi showed up. "Weird..."

"What?" Ian asked.

"Something's up," I said, showing him the number, and Ian raised his eyebrows. I swiped the green phone icon and placed the phone up to my ear. "Hello?"

"Hey, Murph, it's Kev—long time no talk," he said, the pleasantries going out the window in the next moment. "Listen, Frank's here and he's crying and all wasted... He's asking for you to come and get him..."

My eyes locked with Ian's then, and his eyes were filled with rage. "I'm sorry, Kev—I'm so sorry. Frank's asking for what?"

"For you to come and get him," Kevin replied, obviously uncomfortable with the entire situation he'd been presented with. "Please. He could be scaring away customers."

"Fuck," I whispered under my breath, covering my phone with my ear. "Can you come with me and help me handle him, please?"

"Jesus Christ," Ian muttered. "Yeah. Fine. I'll go tell them to rush our sandwiches, and we can eat them on the way."

"Awesome," I said sarcastically, waiting for him to get up before I re-positioned the phone back to my ear. "Kev? You still there?"

"Yeah."

"Ian and I will be there in a few minutes, okay?"

"Great," Kevin replied. "See you two soon."

I handed over my credit card for the sandwiches and, ten minutes later, Ian and I were driving to The Alibi to retrieve our absent father, for unknown reasons. I chewed my chicken and pesto sandwich carefully, not wanting to bite my lip and bleed everywhere. Thankfully, there was no blood—or pesto on my shirt—when we arrived at the bar. Parking outside, Ian and I threw our now-empty to-go boxes away and made our way inside, spotting Frank in the back corner, on the floor, wailing about something.

"Back there," Kevin said, looking uncomfortable.

"Thanks," I replied, my tone riddled with sarcasm as I walked by.

"Yeah, thanks a lot," Ian said, following me.

"What the fuck, Frank?!" I demanded, walking straight over to him, my heels clicking angrily on the wooden floor. "I'm trying to have a life! I don't need my father stepping in after two decades and ruining it!"

Frank looked up at me. "You're so like your mother..."

I reached up automatically and socked him in the mouth. "You need to shut the fuck up, old man, or worse'll be coming to you."

Frank cupped his mouth. "Jesus fucking Christ," he said. "You even hit like the old bitch, too. I mean, what the fuck...?"

"Shut up, Frank," Ian replied, stepping next to me. "Tell us what the fuck you want, and then go and sober up before we kick you there."

Frank looked up imploringly at the two of us. "Have hearts, you two. You're twins—isn't one of you supposed to be nice?"

Tired of his shit, I made a grab for his collar then, slamming him up against the wall. "Nice went out the window when you fucking attacked me!"

Frank held out a finger in protest. "You didn't press charges, did you?"

I released his collar, moving to stand back next to Ian, who automatically gravitated towards me in a moment of protection. "No. I didn't. But maybe I should've pressed charges—you can get AA or some shit in prison."

"Nobody would ever talk to you again," Frank said, his tone filled with desperate pleas. "No Gallagher would ever speak to you again if you turned in dear old dad."

Ian reached around me then, slamming Frank up against the wall himself, hard, and Frank's neck snapped back and hit the wall. "Don't fucking threaten Murphy with desertion," Ian said through his teeth as Frank swore aloud. "None of us would desert her. We're on her side in this, Frank, and none of us need you, but we all need her."

Frank tried to spit at Ian, his teeth coated in blood from the impact of my fist, which was still shaking at my side. "I heard that I had another granddaughter..."

I scoffed then, crossing my arms. "Yeah—four months ago. What hole were you buried so far deep in that you didn't hear about it?"

Frank shrugged. "I've been around..."

"Yeah right," Ian scoffed. "Stop lying and get to the point."

"Well, I'd like to meet the little thing..."

"You're not going fucking near Iana, after all the bullshit you put me and this family through, Frank," I said, on the defense immediately. "Iana's mine, dammit, and she's got nothing to do with you!"

Frank spat out blood then, and Ian and I instinctively moved back. "Well, she's a Gallagher, isn't she? My granddaughter's a Gallagher? Or did you give her the name of that thug Ian used to run around with?"

Immediately, I made a grab for Ian, holding him back from Frank. "I want to hit him again as much as you do," I whispered to him then. "But he's not worth it, Ian. He's not worth it. He'll never be a dad, but he's our father. We don't respect him for shit, and he doesn't respect us, but we can walk out of here," I say, feeling relieved when he turns and looks at me. "We can fucking walk out of here, and tell Kevin that Frank's not our problem. He doesn't fucking matter, Ian, and he shouldn't matter."

Ian sighed, lowering his fists and turning to Frank, glaring at him. "You stay the fuck away from us, Frank—me, Murphy, Iana, and Liam—but, as for the rest of my siblings..." He shrugs. "I can't stop them from making the biggest mistake of their lives by associating with you again. It's their problem," he said, putting an arm around me and moving me towards the door.

"Wait!" Kevin said, walking around the bar and up to us. "Aren't you going to get him out of here for me?"

I looked up at him. "No, Kevin, we're not. We're not his fucking keepers. This is your bar, so grow some balls and do it yourself," I said, walking over to the door and pushing it open almost effortlessly.

"Fucking Gallagher's," Kevin muttered before it slammed behind us.