A/N: Welcome back, Lovers, Revengers, Paraders, and Killjoys alike! Here I am, back with chapter two of this story. I actually hope that you people are enjoying it. Tell me if you do by reviewing, pretteh please? Reviews, to me, are at the same status as chocolate, and music. Both of which are very important to my survival.

Shameless advertising, for the hell of flaunting my lack of shame: check out my other stories! I have also penned The Technicolor Rebellion, a Killjoy story, and Welcome... To Hell!, loosely based of the music video of Gives You Hell (because you can't dislike that vid). Check out Moonray's story, too! It's Don't Wanna Dance, and it's great. And I'll get her to upload more chappies to that soon. Yar.

Don't be afraid to keep on living.

~Sunshine

After my mother's cancer had come for the second time, Jake and I were sitting in my room once, contemplating what would happen should my mother die.

"You could live with us," Jake had offered, "Or maybe with Kaitlin. Or Simon. Either way, you have to stay within the neighborhood."

"I know." I get up, and approach the black upright piano in my room, sitting at it, and removing the cover. Jake grabs the stool in the corner, reaches for the guitar he propped against the wall, and sets it on his lap, and turns to look at me. My fingertips rest upon the keyboard.

"What about your dad?"

I look to the side, meeting his eyes. "What about my dad?"

"Well, if he found you..."

"Jake, I'm thirteen. If he hasn't found me by now, then he's never going to find me."

He shrugs. "You never know."

"Whatev's. How 'bout your dad?"

Jake scoffs, raising an eyebrow. "Toronto, I think, this time. Next, it's DC. Then, New York. After that, London, then Paris, then, who the hell knows? He's gonna be gone for the next three months. It's a miracle that my parents haven't divorced yet."

"Don't wish for it. You're lucky to have married parents."

"Yeah, I know, but..."

I silence him with the ringing notes of My Immortal. He shuts up and plays along.

I gasp.

"Indie, is something wrong?" Simon asks again.

"Simon, let me see the picture."

Shocked, he fumbles as he passes me the papers in a hurry.

I turn it over, so it faces away from me, and inhale deeply.

It isn't him.

I steel myself for the shock.

It isn't him, it isn't him.

I'm hesitating, and I can feel it.

It isn't him it isn't him it isn't him it isn't him-

Too late.

I stare back at a too familiar face.

The sounds of a dying animal escape from my throat.

"Indie. Indie, are you okay-"

"No, Simon! No, not at all! How would you think that I was okay? I'm not o-fucking-kay!" Immediately, I'm clamping my hand over my mouth.

God, I am too much like him! Shit!

"So, you do know who your father is?"

The breath is sucked out of my lungs. I look away from the photo. "I met him. I hugged him. His signature resides on my Concert Hoodie! How can I live knowing that he's my father? I can't, Simon!" I choke on tears, trying to keep them down. "How did you find out?"

"Well, first, I checked your mother's e-mail. She had been communicating with him for two weeks before her death. And also... Your mother faked a birth certificate for you."

My blood runs cold.

"What?"

"Your mother faked a birth certificate. Your mother was an artist, Indie. She knew how to make things, how to copy things. She forged a birth certificate. I'm impressed. She used the exact same type of paper and inks for it. But she kept the original in her safe. The one with your father's name on it. So, I did some research, and the internet exploded as soon as I pressed enter. Face it, kid." He sighs. "Your father is a rock star."

It takes some more moments.

I'm surprisingly calm.

"And he's in the house right now."

"Yes."

"I'm not going back down. Not till everyone's gone. Including him."

"Independence, he's dying to meet you-"

"If he was dying to meet me, he would have said hi at the funeral."

"Well, put yourself in his shoes. You are a thirty-something minor celebrity with a wife and kid, and you just found out that the girlfriend who left you in college had your child. Now, she's dead, and the kid is in her mid teens. I would be scared, wouldn't you?"

I'm wordless. Simon reaches over the desk, pats my shoulder, and says, "I'm leaving you in here. Feel free to look through the files. Come down when you want. No jumping out the window, no sneaking into the bathroom to slit your wrists. No death. Just reading."

And, like that, Simon leaves me.

I take five, ten, fifteen minutes of staring out of the window, trying to listen to the chatter die. I give up, and start leafing through the papers.

Extensive background checks. Photos. Shit of the like.

I come across a fading, forgotten photo of two people, and I pick it up, blowing on it to rid the dust.

The person on the left is a younger version of my mother, maybe a few months, maybe a year before she got pregnant with me. Her blonde hair is shoulder length, with a few braids woven into them. Sunglasses are perched atop her head. She wears a ripped, black tee, red pants, and a gray vest with several pockets and tears. Her grin is wild, and her aquamarine eyes sparkle.

The man next to her is the man who I know to be my father. He has lengthening dark hair, is dressed in all black, complete with leather jacket. An arm is circled around my mother's waist, and he grins equally.

My mother had this, and never showed it to me. A side of my mother I had never seen before is starting to show through.

I put the photo back, and continue rifling through.

Another item I find is the birth certificate. The real one.

It has everything from the one I was familiar with for so long, the one my mother always used for me, except my surname had been cut to something so simple, and the space that I was so used to existing was filled in.

I couldn't take it anymore.

What is maybe forty-five minutes later, someone knocks on the door.

"Hey, Indie, it's Jake. Can I come in?"

"Door's open," I weep.

Jake opens the door, and I hear him walk in. "Indie, everyone's gone. What happened... Oh, what's this?"

"My birth certificate," is what I mumble.

I hear his footsteps as he crosses the room, stops in front of the desk, and pick it up. "Hey, you were born

at five twelve in the afternoon. In... Holy shit."

"What?"

"Your father. This has to be fake-"

"No."

I hear him drop it, and circle the desk to the office chair I'm in, and pull me into a hug. I bury my face in the crook between his shoulder and neck.

"You have a father."

"I don't want to."

"He's a freaking musician."

"And?" I pull away from Jake's hug. "I want him to be an idol. I want him to be a model. I don't want him to be my fucking father! That's the fangirl dream, but not mine!" I break down again, falling to the floor, bringing Jake with me.

I sit there, crying into my best friend's shoulder for what may be ages.

I finally pull away, and Jake wipes a few tears from my eyes with his thumb. He smiles.

"What?"

"You really do look like him."

I glare.

"It's true. Don't ignore it. Don't deny it. It isn't that bad, I guess."

"Says the normal suburban kid."

We sit in silence.

"So, it's no longer Melbourne, is it? It's Independence Veronica-"

"Way."

I meet his eyes.

"Independence Veronica Way."

I glide away from the piano, onto my bed, and continue staring at Simon's gatherings.

Why had he left them with me?

Why had I taken them with me?

I turn my head to look at myself in the mirror, brushing a few overlong dark strands from my face. I need a haircut soon.

I'm trying to muster up some courage.

Well...

Courage is stupidity, right?

And I certainly am not the smartest kid around.

While a knot of nerves builds itself in my stomach, I open the files for another peek.

I start finding more of those pictures from college, more 'extensive background checks' that really only required a search on Google, and other things. Papers. Photos. Stark, ivory sheets all grouped into manila folder after manila folder.

My fingers stop sliding through the papers as I come to... printouts?

I'm sorry I never found you sooner.

My eyes widen. What?

I continue reading.

Words cannot address how regretful I am for not emailing you before now, but this is urgent. I have never been more desperate in my life.

I am dying. Ironically, I developed cancer. Ovarian, specifically. This is my third time having it, and I have approximately nineteen days to live, and to say goodbye. This is both a greeting and that goodbye to you (that the idiots called doctors recommended me to say), but this is not the only reason I am emailing.

In case you never found out, I had a daughter.

Your daughter.

Her name is Independence Veronica. She's sixteen years old. I found out I was pregnant with her shortly after I transferred (by the way, I went to California). We are now living in southern Colorado, but we've lived in this gorgeous state for her whole life. Long story behind that, believe me.

But I need you to come to my funeral. I need you to meet Indie. I'm transferring her custody rights to you, if you will accept and raise her.

Remember, just for two years. Just until she can live on her own.

Sincerely,

Reyna Melbourne, your college girlfriend

She had talked to him. Emailed him. Without me knowing. After almost seventeen years of never talking to him. So discreetly, yet so... Indifferent.

I flip the page.

Reyna. It's you.

No shit, Sherlock.

Why did you never tell me you were going to California?

Why did you never tell me you had cancer?

Why did you never tell me that we had a daughter?

I hope you understand that I am in deep and utter shock. You never responded to anything of mine, so I had eventually led myself to believe you were dead. Even in these, as you put it, desperate, times, I am glad to know that you are alive.

I am more than happy to raise Indie. Now knowing she exists, I am actually very thankful and deeply honored that you specifically found me to care for her.

I stop reading.

Deeply honored? I was not some kind of trophy, some art project.

But, fuck.

She was communicating with him?

Mega fuck.

And he sounded so formal.

Nothing like the ass I knew he was.

"I'm not going down."

Jake sighs, rolling his gray orbs. "Indie, I realize that you know who he is now, and it's still a little of a shock, but you're gonna have to suck it up, take it like the stubborn bitch you are, and fight to keep your head above the water."

I bite my lip. "You don't get it, Jake. I'm moving. All the shit that's still mine will be going to Cali with me, unless we can still manipulate the system-"

"Indie, he has custody of you. There is no manipulating the system."

"Jake, if I go, this is the last time I live in this house. It could be the last time I'll see you for a while."

"We'll be in touch."

"All this, or most of it, is going on a van. To L.A. I'm leaving tonight. Jake... I don't want to go." I step closer, wrap my arms around his neck, and bury my face into his shoulder.

"Indie, I don't want you to go, either. But shit happens, and you can't fight it forever." He pushes me away so he can look at me in the eye. "But it is kind of cool, that your father happens to be-"

"Don't say his name."

He raises his eyebrow. "Wow, you really hate him, don't you?"

"He was never there."

"For the last time, Indie! He never knew you existed."

"He could have looked for my mother harder."

"Jesus, do you expect the best from everyone? We're human. We make mistakes. And his mistake was... Not finding you soon enough."

He was about to say fathering you. I could feel it.

The doorbell resonates through the house.

"I'm not getting it," I comment.

Jake sighs, and pound his feet out the door. I hear him go downstairs, and the door open.

"Hello! You must be Indie's dad," is heard. I roll my eyes. Jacob Benjamin Wallace: the hopeless professional.

I drown out of the conversation until I hear, "Yeah, she's devastated. Reyna's death took a major toll on her. She's been wallowing up in her room. Let me go get her." I hear the percussion of Jake going up the stairs two at a time, and the door slams open.

"Independence, get your arrogant ass out of this goddamn prison cell right now."

"No."

"Indie, I will drag you out here, flailing and screaming, if that is what it takes."

"Why? So keen about getting rid of me?"

He sighs. "The man downstairs cares about you enough to be willing to drop everything to come help you. To raise you. He certainly cares for you. Who knows? He could love you, Indie. You just don't know that yet."

I purse my lips, before reaching out a hand to Jake. He takes it, and leads me out of the room.

I'm not prepared for what I see next.

He stands in the empty house, staring at the grains in the wood, the bevels of the slate, the texture of the wall, every goddamn medium in the house. He runs a hand through his hair, and twists his neck side to side. So normal.

I just manage to hide behind Jake before he clears his throat, and the stranger turns, resting his eyes on Jake, then his shoulder, then me. And he smiles.

He's dressed in a gray shirt with black skinnies, black sunglasses perched on his face. Despite his eyes being hidden, his whole face seems to light up as he catches sight of my tangled, dark mane.

"I take it you're Indie?"

Jake twists, wraps an arm around my waist, and pulls me forward. "Yeah, this is her. Independence Veronica, born March 21st, 1996, some sterile, bleach hospital in the lovely shithole that is Colorado. Isn't she gorgeous?"

"Shut up, Jake," I warn. I yelp as I get dragged farther down the stairs.

"So, now that you have custody of her, you two better start getting along before I go berserk on your asses." With that final comment, he pushes me in front of this man:

In front of my father.

He looks at me, and I can feel his eyes boring right through the lenses of his sunglasses, burning into me.

I stare at him with... contempt? Disdain?

He only responds with a sad smile.

He removes the sunglasses, revealing swirling hazel eyes, sparkling with nerves.

"Hi, I'm Gerard."

So far, we both have dark hair, weirdass noses, the ability to draw, an affinity for Queen, and several pairs of skinny jeans.

And that's when the similarities begin to dwindle.

I realize that I'm far more like my mother than this being in front of me that I happen to share DNA with.

See? This is what anger does to you. It convinces you that one of your heroes and inspirations is a total monster.

And now, I have to shove a couple suitcases into the back of his rental car while the rest of mystuff gets shoved into the arms of Kaitlin. She smiles as she struggles under the weight, kissing my forehead.

"Don't worry, babe, just send me your new address and all this crap will be at your doorstep!" She says, a little too cheerily. She meets eyes with Him - no, I'm not going to say his name! - and smiles, finding a way to extend a hand to shake. "Kaitlin. I was Reyna's neighbor."

"Gerard."

"So... You're her dad? Because you two almost have the same eyes!"

No, woman, I thought it was the nose.

I see Jake and his mom press themselves into my line of vision, and mutter a chorus of 'Oh, yeahs' and I can feel the blush creeping up my neck like ivy.

I self-sonsciously pull the hems of my cutoffs a little farther down my legs as Simon, Lilly-Ann, and Marcus adjoin with the rest of us. Simon pushes his glasses up his nose a little farther, and Marcus tugs on his mother's arm a little. She leans over, and he says something. Lilly-Ann responds by shaking her head.

As soon as they spot me, Marcus breaks from his parents, runs to me, and wraps his arms around my waist.

"...Marcus?"

He looks up, honey-brown eyes blinking under dark lashes. "Is it true you're leavin'?"

"...Yeah, Marcus," I mutter, hugging him back, "It's true."

"Come back, Indie. Please come back. You're like a big sister to me."

I smile, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. "Of course I'm coming back. Did you think I was leaving forever?"

"Kinda..."

'Well, I'm not. So don't worry. I'll come back as soon as possible. In the meantime, annoy Jake for me."

"Okay."

He pulls away from me. I lean towards Lilly-Ann, and crush her in a hug.

"Baby, we'll miss you. Tell me when you're coming back, and I swear, I will make you the biggest-ass pan of brownies you have ever seen."

I chuckle. "Thanks, Lilly-Ann."

She pulls away, and wipes tears from her deep brown eyes.

I look onward to Jake's mom.

"Mrs. Wallace-"

"Please, it's Fiona."

I nod. "Fiona..." I cross to her and hug her. "Thank you. For being there when my mom wasn't. Say hi to your husband for me."

"I... I will. Indie, we all love you so much. Please-"

"I'll be back."

She nods, stepping back.

I finally look at Jake. We stare at each other for a few seconds, before enveloping each other in a bone-crushing hug.

"I'm gonna miss you," I say.

"We'll keep in touch."

"You're gonna have to come out to California."

"You're gonna have to come back to Colorado."

We pull away from each other, smile, and then fully break out of the hug. I find a tear slinking down my eye.

"I guess... This is... Goodbye."

Jake playfully hits my shoulder. "Get going. You're never gonna leave."