Chapter One: Clipped and Cornered

TRIGGERS: A somewhat ugly fight between parent and child.

TIME SKIP AHEAD. THIS TAKES PLACE THREE YEARS AFTER THE PROLOGUE.

"And you don't know how lucky you are,

I'm rather sure that you don't understand.

If I had the freedom that you have now,

I certainly wouldn't be where I am."

-Author Unknown

Fred opened his eyes and almost immediately jumped out of bed, pausing as momentary dizziness made his vision swim. "Today, mom and dad are back." He assured himself as he managed to clear his watery sight. "Today, mom and dad are back."

Repeating the words again and again, he rushed around his room, practically skipping with delight. He dressed in a suit (just to please them), did his own tie (to show how much he'd grown), cleaned up his suite (it wasn't that messy, he'd been real careful to put everything back when he was done), and finally, straightened the paintings on his walls (total perfection is never a bad thing, a voice chimed in his head).

"Let's see… what else can I do…?" the teen glanced around the room, and, realizing he found it more than satisfactory, he exited. "Heathcliff!" He called, wanting to know exactly what was on his schedule before his mother and father's arrival. He couldn't wait to do everything and see his parents.

"Yes, Master Fredrick?" The butler had appeared beside him while he was imagining the wonderful oddity of his parents being home.

"What am I doing today? And when are mom and dad going to show up?" the fifteen year old inquired energetically, turning to walk backwards as he waited for an answer.

"You have both English and equations to complete after breakfast, Master Fredrick. After that, your violin lessons-" Heathcliff was cut short by a groan from his young charge.

"Yuck! Violin? No thanks, man!" Fred replied, whining about how the instrument was horrid and he'd never play it outside of lessons for as long as he lived.

Over his complaining, Heathcliff spoke calmly. "Master Fredrick, do be careful. There is-"

"Oof!" Fred's back hit a wall and he stumbled forward, shock mounted on his face as he temporarily had the breath knocked out of him. He swayed a little and his off-balance center of gravity planted him on his backside, the carpet providing him with a place to rest.

"... a wall behind you." Finished the butler as he helped a dazed Fred to his feet. "Now, have we learned our lesson?"

Fred shook his head to clear it and glanced curiously up at the man. "Lesson about what?" He questioned, eyes narrowing slightly as he tried to recall Heathcliff teaching him something in the past few minutes.

Sighing, the older male gently pushed him in the direction of the dining room. "Never mind, Master Fredrick."

"No, no, Fredrick, you're holding your bow too low!" Sighing Fred stood perfectly still as the violin instructor (Ms. Flurry was this week's unsuspecting victim) set down her baton and fussed over the placement of his hands in regards to holding the instrument. "Hold it like this."

He sluggishly dragged the bow across the strings when she instructed, making his playing horrible on purpose to test her strictness. She flinched, and inwardly, he smirked. Easy. She'd be gone after one or two lessons.

Trying to retain her patience, Ms. Flurry corrected him once more and told him to try again. "One, two, three." Again, he made the violin screech obnoxiously.

The process repeated again and again for a grand total of seven times before Ms. Flurry handed Fred his golden ticket. "Maybe we'd better stop for the day, Fredrick, and you should practice on your own." she suggested.

Yes! Fred smiled with a feigned kindness, nodding. "Yes, ma'am." he replied sweetly, watching as she packed up her stand and music sheets. He waited, waited, and waited some more as Heathcliff escorted her out. He waited even as he watched her driver take her away, and then, positive she would not return, he let out a cheer. No more violin lessons for a week, possibly more!

He paused with his hands raised in the air and the vile instrument tossed on the antique couch as Heathcliff returned, brow raised. He assessed the scene and turned his stern look on Fred immediately. "Master Fredrick, if you please." He frowned and gestured to the abandoned violin. "That was a gift, though I shouldn't need to remind you."

And BAM, Fred was wracked with guilt. Wretched gift that it was, it WAS from a family member, and Heathcliff played on that fact. He wandered over to the couch and carefully checked the violin for damage before putting it carefully in the case. "Sorry…"

Heathcliff nodded as he set the bow beside it and snapped the case shut. "Your parents should be arriving in an hour, Master Fredrick. I suggest you go and find some form of entertainment until then, though I would prefer it be violin. No doubt they will want to hear a song."

He left Fred then, letting the teen reflect on his childish behavior. Fred sighed, realizing how horrid it was… he just didn't like being forced. Opening the case again, he pulled the violin out and held it in his hands, staring hard.

"No, no, Fredrick, like this." He mimicked Ms. Flurry as he raised the violin and bow and rested them in the proper position. "One… two…" he took a deep breath. "Three."

The sound that filled the house was neither screechy nor obnoxious. In fact, it was Andante et Allegretto in C, K 404.

"Fred! We're home, darling!"

"Mom!" Fred launched himself into a hug, squeezing his parents together in a family embrace. "Dad! You're back! How was work? And the isle? And cousin Annabelle? What about Aunt Marianne?" He grinned and pulled away to stare up at them expectantly, curiosity alight in his eyes. Christina merely patted his back and slid her coat off, handing it to a nearby maid.

"All in good time, son, your mother is rather tired." He watched as Stan turned to speak to another made. "Have Heathcliff bring some tea up to our room. Where is the man, anyway?"

"He's out back trimming the rose bushes while the gardener is away." Fred supplied helpfully, nearly bouncing up and down with childish excitement. "Hey, what about-"

"Fred." His mother's tone was firm and imploring. She turned to him sternly, but spoke with a wavering kindness. "Mom and dad are tired, darling. Can you not understand that we need some time?"

The bouncing stopped immediately. "Sorry." Fred mumbled, an ashamed blush creeping onto his face as he averted his gaze. "I-I just thought… m-maybe…" he trailed off hesitantly.

"Later." She responded, and with that, she stalked towards the stairs that led up to the master suite. "Stan, we are unpacking now."

Stan glanced between his wife and his son, and Fred's gaze returned upward just in time to see his father shoot him an apologetic glance before following his mother.

Fred watched them climb the staircase with disappointment and sadness clouding his heart. It… hurt. He wasn't going to pretend it didn't. The first time he'd seen them in two months, and this… this was the result.

"... Master Fredrick?" Questioned one of the cleaners as they passed by him. "Are you alright? You appear as though you're about to cry."

Fred was all too aware of the hot tears that suddenly rolled down his cheeks. When had his vision started to swim that way? When had he…?

No. No, it didn't matter. He smiled and brushed away the tears. "Have you been dusting in here? It appears as though something's gone and gotten in my eye." His voice trembled slightly.

"I haven't, but I suppose that I should do that, now that you mention it." Replied the confused cleaner.

"Yes, suppose you should." Fred rubbed more firmly at his eyes and hurried past the woman with a breathy "Please excuse me."

He could feel the tears sliding over his cheeks again as he went tearing down the hall. He skidded around corners and narrowly avoided run-ins with antique items. It was a wonder he even made it to his room at all, really, but inside, surrounded by everything that calmed him, he felt safe… protected from those who posed as his protectors.

He tore off his suit and mussed up his hair, disappearing to change into his regular clothes. All the work. All the preparations… for nothing. Nothing at all...

He felt like nothing. So small and insignificant, with a constant Hell hanging over him. His parents just didn't care. There was no reason he shouldn't have figured that out from the start, and he scolded himself for that. Slowly, ever so slowly, he sank down on the couch and knotted his fingers through his hair, gripping it as if to punish himself.

Was he angry?

Was he sad?

It was a toss-up between the two, and the coin wouldn't stop spinning in the center.

"How have your studies been?" Stan asked as the three of them sat in the dining hall for dinner. The tension hung so thick in the air you could probably cut it with a knife, Fred realized dryly. Gee, what else was new?

"They've been fine." He replied shortly, sipping at his water. He wasn't quite lingering on sadness anymore, his mind had stopped reeling long enough to decide it was more angry than sad, and now? Now he just wanted them to go away.

"I hardly think that tone is necessary, Fred." Christina's tone was also clipped. "If you have some sort of issue with your father and I, I suggest you speak your mind directly."

Ha! What a story! Fred thought, shooting a glare at his mother. That's the biggest line of crap I've ever heard. He mentally insulted his mother with a few choice vocabulary words and, satisfied with his internal response, smiled pleasantly at her.

"Not at all, ma'am." The tone he used for that line drowned itself in a fresh batch of sarcasm fondue. Fred had failed to notice just how much he'd held back the past few months… or how much it showed over the table just then.

"Fred…" His father warned, but it was far too late. Fred knew he was provoking and pushing buttons, but the woman had told him to speak his mind, and he couldn't stop the words of pure loathing from spilling past his filter.

"Actually, I do have something I would like to say, mom. What was your excuse this time? For staying away, I mean. Was the weather bad? How about the planes being cancelled for a while, I like that one." His parents looked horrified, but Fred pressed on, blinking back more tears that threatened to rise. "Dad got caught up with work? The conference was cancelled due to missing VPs? The lies get more and more elaborate, but you can't outdo yourself and be believable forever."

"Hold it right there, mister, that's rather unfair of you to-"

"Yeah? Well it's not exactly fair of you to lie to your son, now, is it?" Fred snapped. His mother stood up and so did he, surging forward uncontrollably and digging his own grave. "Letters and letters and letters, over and over and over again. How long do you intend to play this game? Until I leave for college? Until you die? How long?!" His voice had steadily grown louder and louder as he watched his mother walk around the table.

"Fredrick, you are being highly inappropriate!" She responded indignantly as she stood firmly in front of her son.

"How am I being inappropriate? How?! Just tell me how in one reason that doesn't involve 'you just are'!"

SMACK! The sharp slap to his cheek was not the only thing that stunned Fred into silence. His ears rang with the sound echoing in the room. Christina recoiled and planted her hands on her hips. "Go to your room, Fred." She said calmly, pointing at the door.

He touched his cheek hesitantly, wincing as heat and pain resonated from the spot. "Y-you-"

"Go. To. Your room." When he didn't move, she shouted "Now!"

The word spurred him into action and he walked briskly away, slamming the door behind himself.

"She hit me…" he muttered as he returned to his room. "She hit me." the words drove themselves into his shocked mind and overtook it. He knew… he knew she was capable of such a thing, but for her to actually apply it…

He realized that he had most likely been very, very wrong. They shouldn't have lied. They shouldn't have stayed away. No, no, I messed up. If I had been nicer… but they don't seem to care that they go wherever, do whatever, and just abandon their kid, basically! Still… he hadn't realized he was pacing until he stopped in the center of his room. Had he been… had he really deserved…

He'd only gotten tired of feeling lonely and unwanted!

But that didn't excuse doing what he'd done…

He didn't want to become his parents and make an excuse for everything.

"Master Fredrick." Heathcliff startled him out of his thoughts and he turned to face the door as it opened. "You have a letter. It came earlier, but in my absent-minded state I forgot to deliver it to you. My apologies."

Flipping the letter over, he read the return address. "San Fransokyo High? Isn't that the public school that my cousin Thomas goes to? Heathcliff, they probably sent it here by mistake." No, that was certainly his name in the envelope. He opened it and glanced at the contents. "What kind of joke is this?" He asked after a moment. "Letter of acceptance?"

"It was decided by the Lady a few months ago… I wasn't aware she hid it from your knowledge, Master Fredrick." Heathcliff replied. Fred dismissed him and frowned, glancing back at the letter. Christina enrolled him in public school… but why?

End Chapter One

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey, everyone, thanks for sticking with me. I got quite a few lovely, favorable reviews, and I just wanted to thank everyone who took the time to do that, it means a lot to me. So, how did you enjoy chapter one? I hope I did ok. It will be a while yet before we have FreDashi, but we're rolling into a slow start and you'll see a bit of clashing with Sora-san's work. A few things explained, some pieces to the puzzle glued in, all that jazz.

ALSO: Sora-san is in the midst of a little crisis. Her parents may or may not approve of her work, so, as a result, she will be on hiatus for a short while as things cool down with her family. She wanted me to let you all know that she's awfully sorry and that she'll write out the verdict (or go through me) ASAP.