A/N: Well, hello there!

This story is based off of a dream that my best friend had.

I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1

"Eden, honey, we...I need to tell you something." A wave of panic washed over me as I sat at the kitchen table with my mom and dad. She had an awful look on her face. Was I in trouble? What had I done? I began to wonder about what I could be punished for. I longed to be back in my room, alone. I recalled the article I was reading just before I was called into the kitchen. It appeared on my Google homepage. The title read "British Detective Turns Up After Being 'Dead' For Two Years." Normally, I would never bother reading those long, dull stories, but this one grabbed my attention. The detectives name was funny. He was called Sherlock.

"Eden?" My mother had a puzzled look on her face. "Did you hear me?"

"I'm so sorry. I just zoned out. What did you say?" I really didn't want to know.

"I said," she continued. "we have kept a secret from you." I looked to my dad. He was looking down.

"What is it?" I questioned. My mind was racing as I began thinking of all the possibilities.

"Honey, your father," she gestured towards my dad. "he's...he's not really your father." She then began sobbing. My heart almost stopped.

"Wha-what do you mean?!" I choked out. Deep down inside I just wanted to believe that this was some joke, but my mother's sobs were too real. I looked to my father and saw a tear drip from the tip of his nose.

"I'm so sorry I didn't tell you this before. I never thought you were ready. Now I realize that it was wrong of me to keep it from you." Her eyes were full of tears and I could see the pain inside them.

"Well if he's not my dad, then who is?" I began to rise out of my chair, but quickly sat back down because I began to feel light-headed.
"Honey, please let me explain." She pleaded. I nodded with a sigh.

"Well," She began. "As you know, your older sister, Abigail, has a different father than you. I married Jeff and we had her. You also know that things didn't work out between Jeff and I. Three years after Abbie was born, we filed for a divorce." I wasn't sure what any of this had to do with Wayne not being my father. I had heard this all before. Abbie spent a lot of time with her dad. She was living with him while she attended New York University.

"Okay? What does this have to do with anything?" I questioned.

"Five months after the divorce was final, I met a man at a café in Indianapolis. His name was John. John Watson. He was on leave spending time with his family before heading back to London, England. He was a medical doctor in the British Army. His family moved here just a year before. We dated for the next 7 weeks, but eventually he had to leave. We decided to break it off. We didn't bother exchanging contact information. We thought it might be easier that way. A few weeks later, I met Wayne. That's when I learned I was pregnant." Wayne, who had been sitting quietly, let out a sigh. "I told Wayne as soon as I found out. We both knew there was no possible way it could have been his and he was surprisingly fine with that." She reached over a rested her hand on Wayne's shoulder. "We fell in love and got married. You were born just weeks after the wedding. I had planned on telling you the truth as soon as you were old enough to comprehend it, but after seeing you grow up thinking he was your father, I just couldn't bear to tell you. He was such a good father."
There was a long moment of silence. I was trying to take it all in, but my head was spinning. Suddenly I felt angry.

"So now what?" I demanded. "Are we just going to try to go on with our lives? Pretending like this isn't a big deal? Pretending like it was Wayne who got you pregnant with me?" My speech was slurred. I felt sick. Suddenly, I was angry. I looked at Wayne who looked back at me for the first time since this conversation began. His eyes were red and puffy.

"Eden," he said. His voice was sympathetic. "I do love you. I have loved you since you were born. I would give anything to be your father. I only hope that you can forgive us for not telling you."

"Yeah. Me too." I spat. I stood up, kicked my chair back, and began down the hall towards my room. I tried to ignore the headache, the nausea, and the pain in my chest. I raced to my room where I slammed the door, closed the heavy curtains to shut out the bright daylight, and collapsed on my bed. There I lay, sobbing into my pillow.

I'm not exactly sure how long I cried, but when I finally pulled my head out of my pillow, there was a large stain from where it had been soaked with tears and possibly snot.

"Gross." I mumbled. I pulled the blue pillowcase off of the pillow. I pulled back the curtains hoping to find the sun shining, but was surprised when there was no sun at all. The sky was full of stars and the almost full moon shone bright over the treetops. I must have cried for hours.

I reached under my bed and pulled out an Avengers pillowcase that Wayne had given me for Christmas. I began to shove my pillow in it, but stopped. Wayne was not my father, yet he still knew more about me than John did. He probably didn't even know I existed. I grew angry. I clenched my fists and dug my fingernails into my palms. Why did this have to happen to me? I grabbed the bare pillow off of my bed and threw it at my wall. The soft pat it made as it hit the hardwood floor was not satisfying. I glanced around my room searching for something more fragile. My eyes stopped on a glass jar full of pencils sitting on my desk. I grabbed it and chucked it at the door. Pencils went everywhere and the jar shattered sending shards of glass across the room landing on the floor inches from my feet. That sound was a little more satisfying. That sound was then followed by footsteps coming down the hall. Then the door opened and my mother's head poked around it. She glanced down at the floor and stared at the bits of glass. Her eyes were red and puffy and her breath was shallow. She stepped inside closing the door behind her. She disregarded the glass as it crunched beneath her sneakers. She sat down on my bed and pulled me down to
sit beside her. She wrapped her arms around me like she used to do when I was little and Abbie had made fun of me.

"Edy," she began as she rubbed my shoulder. "I love you so so so much. I always will. I'm sorry I didn't tell you this from the start. I beat myself up about it.
Every night I would hope and pray for the courage to tell you the next day, but it never came." I was beginning to grow calmer. Being in my mothers arms was soothing. She was a short, frail woman, but she was very cute. Even her name was cute. Jean Freenen.

"Mom, I need to know who he is." I told her. My voice was small.

"I wish I had some sort of link to him, but I don't."

"You said he was from London, right? Maybe I can find him. It's a long-shot, but I have to try."

"I get it," She replied. "and I wont stop you." She smiled, wiped my eyes, and squeezed my shoulder. "I'll be back with a broom and dustpan so we can clean this glass up. Then she was gone. I didn't hesitate to grab my laptop and open a new tab.

A/N: Did you like it?

Please let me know! :)

(That's me telling you to review... Ehehehe)

-Alex