Author's Note: Whoa, intense reviews and so many story alerts! It's fantastical :D Sorry for the slow updates, I'll try to be faster. I just haven't felt angsty enough lately for this story. And I feel it requires lots and lots of sadness to write or something... However, I just watched a very sad movie that made me cry, so yay for sad movies! This fic may end up longer than I had initially thought I would make it, it seems prudent to really lead through to a resolution. Also, not much Rachel in this one, but still mostly a pivotal chapter to the story. Next one is ultimately centred around her, however.

I KNOW THE TRUTH AND IT HAUNTS ME

How have I come to this?

How did I slip and fall?

How did I throw a lifetime away,

Without any thought at all?

"Let's go back inside, please!"

"Go home, Rachel."

"It's too early for you to leave the hospital!"

"Let go of me."

"Mom!"

"Stop calling me that!"

"Fine."

"Just give me some space."

"Space to what? Hurt yourself again?"

"Goodbye, Rachel."

The girl stands at the curb as her mother steps into the cab. As the door shuts with a thud, she swallows thickly. The woman takes a moment's glance back at her as the car is put into ignition and all sound is drowned by the engine's rattle. The girl doesn't move, just watching as the taxi pulls away and her mother forcefully tears her eyes away from the abandoned look on her daughter's face; a face she's much too familiar with.

I tried to blame it on fortune

Some kind of shift in a star

I know the truth and it haunts me

It's flown just a little too far

The windows of the house were dark, no shimmer of a television in the moonlight, no kitchen lights nor bedside lamps aflame. The place was utterly lifeless. The ring of the doorbell resonated throughout the home. Hiram stood in the doorway, waiting for a shimmer of movement. There was none. He pushed the small illuminated button once again, waiting patiently. Nothing.

With a grimace, he contemplated turning around and getting back in his car. But instead, he pulled open the screen door and knocked harshly upon the chestnut framing. "Shelby, I know you're in there!" he bellowed, adding another three rapid raps of his knuckles on wood. "I'll knock down the door!" He waited silently, listening for her. Exhaling, he began to turn around when the lock came undone with a click and thud.

Opening the door, Shelby looked her visitor up and down, dark bags under her eyes. She appeared haunted. "What do you want?" she asked crudely, rubbing an eye with the back of her hand.

"Are you drunk?" he asked, openly judging her appearance. His eyes looked up and down her body questioningly, her sweatpants hanging off her hips, revealing the edges of her underwear, her black tank top with a rip in its side having gotten caught on something in the dryer.

She scoffed at his question, but clearly felt uncomfortable by the way he was looking at her and pulled her shirt down self-consciously. "I wish."

"Can I come in?"

"No." He didn't heed to her dismissal, instead taking an opening and pushed past her into the house. Being taller and much sturdier built, she had no say in this matter as he walked through the threshold and began to look around the foyer, glancing at the decor and up the stairs. "Hiram, what the hell? I said no."

"I know, I was just asking to be polite," he told her, not even looking at her as he courteously began to remove his shoes at the front mat.

"You're not welcome in my home," she muttered, but proceeded to close the door behind the both of them, then standing before him with her arms crossed and a lazy scowl across her face. She clearly did not want company, nor did she expect any and he clearly did not care for this fact.

Hiram made his way into the living room, awkwardly standing in front of the coffee table as she followed him in. After shortly inspecting the place, he turned to her and they stared at each other for a moment. He looked annoyed, disappointed and a little tired. She looked dishevelled, frustrated and exhausted. "Aren't you going to offer me something to drink?"

Shelby chuckled dryly. "I don't give drinks to intruders."

"You're going to make this difficult, aren't you?"

"You're going to stay here, aren't you?"

He sighed and shook his head at her response. She was being childish, as she would. He hadn't truly spoken to the woman in sixteen years, yet somehow, she hadn't seemed to have grown up at all. "I want to talk about Rachel."

"Of course you do," Shelby said, rolling her eyes. She plopped down onto the recliner, shoulders and arms slumped in utmost laziness. "Look, I'm sorry I broke the contract, made her cry, yada, yada, yada. It was a mistake, I fucked up, I'm aware of my mess-up and so is everyone else and their mother. You don't have to come here to patronize me about it, okay?"

"I'm not here for that, we need to talk about what's best for Rachel."

"I don't think I'm really needed for that either. I'm not her parent, don't you have a husband for that? Why do I have to deal with this?"

"Shut up for once in your life and listen, will you?" he snapped at her. For a moment, she seemed ready to yell at him, but he kept on without allowing her. "I'm not here because of the contract, which, yes, I am angry about but that's mostly for selfish reasons. I'm here because you did break it, and now we have to deal with the ramifications. Or, well, you have to deal with the ramifications, because I'm not going to, nor am I even capable of, cleaning up your mess. As much as I hate to say this, she is your daughter too, which means you need to step up and be responsible for the shit you have caused."

Shelby stood up, suddenly very interested in the light that was on in her kitchen. "I don't have to listen to this."

"Sit back down right now and be a Goddamn adult!" he bellowed, and she jumped at the outburst. She glanced back at him, eyes wide with fury but with a huff, she sat back down, her head turned away from him. "Oh, grow up, Shelby. I get it, okay? You're hurt, grieving, but whether you like it or not, Rachel thinks of you as a mother, and you chose to step into the role, there's no backing out, so you need to own up to it. She's at home, tears in her eyes, waiting for a call from either you or the morgue. Which will it be?"

"The morgue doesn't call you, the receptionist at the hospital does."

"I cannot believe you," he said, staring her down. And she could feel his eyes piercing into her, but she refused to meet his gaze. "I thought maybe I could get you to be somebody mature, somebody who cared about how their actions affected their child, but clearly, I expected too much of you. You're just a selfish bitch."

"Yeah, I am!" she retorted, a rise in her voice. "Isn't that why you picked me to be your surrogate? I was the least likely to give a shit about the kid I was just going to give away. You did your job well, you should be happy!"

"Do you even care about what you've done to her? Do you even give her a second thought?"

"Do I care? I love her." Tears sprung at the corner of Shelby's eyes. "It wasn't supposed to be like that! I was supposed to give birth, go to New York and have my life the way I wanted it. But the first time she looked at me, reached out to me with her tiny little hands... I love her so much it hurts and it was all I could think about for so long. So don't you tell me that I don't care." She paused to take a few shaky breaths, she couldn't let the wetness in her eyes come to fruition. "I don't know how to be her mom. When she has problems, she's not going to come to me. We're never going to spend holiday dinners together. It's too late for me to teach her how to deal with boys, or to help her through her first heartbreak. I'm never going to be family. And I don't want to come second in my own child's life. And she doesn't deserve some half-ass mother figure."

Silence fell over them as Shelby turned her head away, her gaze catching a spot outside the window. He didn't avert his stare however, watching her as she attempted to regulate her breathing. After a few moments, where he felt a sense of guilt rack up in him, Hiram spoke up again. "I'm sorry for lashing out at you."

"I'm not," she replied grudgingly. "You're a real jerk coming here to patronize me."

"I need to look out for my daughter, even if it makes me a jerk, can you blame me?"

"They took my daughter away."

"I'm sorry. I understand what you're going through, but Rachel-"

"Shut up."

"What?"

"Shut up! I'm supposed to be an adult, mature. I'm supposed to be selfless, pretend I'm okay with Rachel, spend time with her like I'm happy. Even if it hurts, because that's what good people do. So maybe I'm not a good person, because I don't want to make myself miserable to keep her happy even though she should be happy with what she already has. And if that makes me a selfish bitch, then so be it. I won't be a martyr either."

"You don't even care that you're hurting her?"

"I gave her two parents that love her, who buy her everything she ever wanted, who have supported every little thing she's ever done. I gave her a stable, perfect family. What more does she want from me?" She stood up, then began to make her way towards the hall. "Shut the door on your way out."

"You know, you're right, Shelby. You're a selfish bitch," he called out to her retreating figure, utter frustration in his tone, but she didn't bother a single glance back.

Author's Note: I beseech you to not be angry with the behaviour of either character in this and try to think about what you would do. Not how you hope you would act, not the idealized movie version of how people act, but how real people deal with grief by lashing out, letting their true feelings(no matter how awful or selfish those feelings might be, we still feel them anyways) and the lengths a parent would go to to protecting their child from even the tiniest bit of hurt, even if it means being blinded by how another person might feel.