So yeah... This is really late. And not so great. It's mostly filler, but it answers some questions. I'm trying to build to the plot part, it'll eventually get there!
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29-year-old Cecelia Carter stood under a dark blue umbrella, her eyes scanning the crowd of first graders that was slowly beginning to emerge from the tiny little brick building that was her daughter's elementary school. Anna was usually one of the last students out of the school, and the reasons varied from day to day. Cecelia looked down at her watching, knowing that she had to get Anna home, out of the rain, before any mud puddles became involved. Anna was the adventurous little one, and that could end in a minor disaster, especially since the 6-year-old was wearing white today.

Finally, Cecelia spotted her daughter and called out to her. Anna smiled happily and dashed towards her, holding onto one of her mother's legs. Cecelia was a lawyer, and it was not often that she was out of work in time to fetch her daughter from school – she usually spent the afternoon with a friend until Cecelia got off.

"Mommy!" Anna smiled her gap-toothed smile, her big blue eyes shining. Cecelia reached down and took Anna's hand, chatting with the little girl about all that had happened during her day as they walked toward the van. Apparently it had been Career Day, and she'd learned all about the things the other kids' parents did at work.

"Jennie brought her dad in, he's a firefighter." She paused, seeming a bit confused about something. "A lot of the kids brought their dads." Then she looked up, her eyes meeting Cecelia's in the rearview mirror. "Why don't I have a dad?"

Cecelia jumped a bit at the question, accidentally hitting the brake just long enough for the van to give a violent lurch. She held tighter to the steering wheel, trying to look away from her daughter's eyes. She knew it would come up sooner or later, but she was actually surprised it hadn't been sooner than this.

"He's not around anymore." Cecelia answered gently, hoping it would be dropped.

"What do you mean? Where'd he go?" Her eyes got wide and round with shock. "Did he die?"

Cecelia bit her lip and sighed.

"Yes." She fibbed, almost speaking too quickly. Anna didn't seem to notice though, and just looked a little sad. "A long time ago, before you were born."

"Oh." She looked out the window at the rain, and was silent for a while. The questions stopped, and Cecelia looked at her in the rearview again, almost longing to tell her daughter the truth. But what would she say? There wasn't really anything she could say, except that it was her own fault that Anna had no father. For the first time in almost seven years, Cecelia felt a twinge of remorse, but she forced it out of her mind and tried to put on a smile for her daughter. It would be better for them all if she simply kept it to herself. For now.

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Cecelia could read the anger in her daughter's face as her eyes shifted slowly from the birth certificate to Anna's face. The forty year-old ran a hand through her light brown hair and looked out the window – it was raining. Anna stood firmly in place, still holding up the paper, waiting for a response. Cecelia opened her mouth, as if to speak, but closed it again, exhaling.

"I knew you would go looking sooner or later. I just didn't know it'd be quite this soon."

Anna put down her arm, her eyes cold. "You lied to me."

"I never lied to you!" Cecelia retorted, walking back to the kitchen and wiping her hands on a towel. Anna looked frustrated.

"You told me my father was dead!" She exclaimed, her voice cracking as though she were close to tears, and Cecelia could see the blue eyes pooling, even from a distance. "If that's not a lie, then what is, Mom?" She stood still, her eyes trailing her mother's every move.

"Mom…" Anna's voice cracked again. "Please. I need to know. I deserve to know. The truth. No more lies. No more dodging. I want a clear explanation. When, how, and why."

Cecelia sighed, setting down the dish towel she held in her hands, her eyes wandering to the window. She knew she couldn't win this time. And Anna was right – she deserved to know everything. And Cecelia had lied, but it was for a good reason. She didn't want Anna to know – it would make things harder, it would open wounds that Cecelia wanted to keep closed, and stay that way. But now there was no choice. Those wounds were open, and she knew that eventually they'd start bleeding again.

"We started dating in his senior year in high school," Cecelia began. She tucked her long hair behind her ear and slowly sat on the couch, looking at her daughter through clear eyes. "He was 18, I was 16. It wasn't really wrong… He…" She paused slightly, as though wincing at saying his name. "He made sure that nothing happened between the two of us until the day I turned 18. He was good that way… And I decided to go to the same school as him, in Exeter, so we could stay together. And we did, until I was about twenty two. We'd been…" Cecelia bit her lips ever so slightly. "Well, I guess you can figure that out yourself. And then I found out that I was pregnant. And I panicked. We were both pretty young, still in school… I broke up with him the same day. I knew that if I told him, he'd want to take responsibility for it. That's just who he was. And I didn't want him to, honestly. It was selfish and stupid and I shouldn't have done it, but I broke it off... He had such a bright future, I didn't want him to give it all up for me… I haven't seen or spoken to him since."

Anna looked at her mother in disbelief. She had not only slept with her professor… They had dated for almost six years. And then she'd broken it off with him, so suddenly… She could suddenly imagine why they wouldn't talk about each other or answer any of her questions. She looked at Cecelia, still in mild shock about everything, and gently touched her hand.

"So you broke up… because of me?"

"No, no, or course not." Cecelia shook her head. "We broke up because of me, baby. I was afraid to tell him, so the only other option I could see was leaving. If I stayed, he'd figure it out eventually. And I just couldn't bring myself to tell him…"

"… But why didn't you ever tell me? Don't you think I wanted, I needed to know?" Anna seemed frustrated, like she couldn't wrap her head around it. Cecelia noted to herself that even that was reminiscent of her father. Not understanding something was extremely frustrating for both of them.

"I know, I should've said something… But I just couldn't… I wanted to, you should've known. I just couldn't get myself to tell you because of all the questions I knew you'd ask. I knew you'd want the answers, and it would hurt too much to give them…" Cecelia gently touched Anna's face, cupping her daughter's chin in her hand. "I'm sorry."

Anna shook her head mutely, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Don't." She whispered softly, falling into her mother's arms. "Don't be sorry." Cecelia embraced her daughter, tenderly stroking her hair.

The minutes passed slowly, and finally Anna seemed to calm down. She looked at her mother, her eyes holding a mission. It almost seemed that some of her previous anger had returned.

"I want to tell him." She whispered again, her voice now filled with passion. "He should know."

Celia looked at her daughter, with pain in her eyes, but didn't make any objections. "He should." She agreed quietly. "But… Let me be the one to tell him, okay? It's my fault he doesn't know… I want to be the one to change that."

Anna nodded, then stood up, pulling on her coat. "Let's go."

"Go?" The older woman blinked in surprise looking at the clock. "I… Now?"

"Why not?" Anna shrugged. "You've waited 18 years. He's waited 18 years to hear why. I think that's long enough for both you."

Her mother stared at the ceiling, biting her lip, then finally stood, grabbing her own coat as well. "18 years is a long time," she nodded. The teen smiled and hugged her mother, letting out a quiet sigh.

"Thank you."

Cecelia breathed but said nothing, mentally preparing herself for the biggest challenge of her life. She'd keep this a secret for 18 years, now it was time to bring it out in the open. But inwardly, the woman was terrified of seeing him again. She didn't know what could possibly happen when she walked in that room and saw his face. Maybe he wouldn't even remember. Something told her, though, that he had remembered.

Robert Langdon always remembered.