Beth stared at the house, hand still atop the fence gate. She could feel Max staring at her from down the block and knew if she didn't continue he would come to check on her. Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the gate, wincing at its squeak, and continued down the path to the front door. She tried to sneak into the house and to her room, but even as she pushed the door closed she knew she would never make it.

"Elizabeth," her father's voice came from the kitchen, and she winced at the cold tone. Almost slinking, she followed the sound, already formulating an excuse. She stopped just inside the door, head down and shoulders curled forward in a submissive stance. He was facing the wall opposite the table, at which he was sitting. "Come around where I can see you."

Her father, one Albert Woods, was nothing special. He was average looking, in his mid forties, and his hair was graying already. He was tall and wiry from years of lifting heavy light fixtures for Paramount. He had waited until he was in his thirties to marry. His young wife had just turned twenty when they married.

She had been pretty enough, and sweet enough, but she hadn't been his ideal choice for a wife. He had preferred the young extras on set, or occasionally the struggling movie star. He had been a well-known lover, and many women had come to him in the hope he would put in a good word for them with the directors. But that had all changed the day Norma Desmond made a fool of him on a set full of people. The slap had hurt, but what was worse was that he lost all respect from any woman who worked with him.

He had hated actresses ever since, her in particular. But the real slap in the face came when his wife informed him she was pregnant. He didn't want the child, but begrudgingly accepted it and hoped for a boy. Of course it had been a girl, and to top it off he lost his wife, causing him to have to raise it alone. And then as she grew he noticed a striking resemblance to Norma Desmond, which made him shun her further.

And as she grew older it only grew worse. It was apparent she was a dead ringer for the star, and so he formulated a plan. It wasn't as good as revenge on the real woman, but it would have to do. He would set her on a strict schedule, any deviation from which would result in a harsh punishment. He wasn't about to let her think she owned the world just because she was beautiful.

He watched as his child crept around the table slowly. Her head was down, indicating she knew she was in trouble. Good, he did so enjoy administering punishment.

"Where have you been?" he asked quietly.

"I was at a friend's," she replied quietly, still not looking at him. "She asked for help in geography because she was confusing some of the countries and capitals."

His anger dimmed a little. After all, she had never lied to him before, why would she start now?

"You know what time you're supposed to be home."

"Yes, Sir, but I thought I would be home in time."

His anger flared at her feeble excuse. How dare she decide to go somewhere without asking his permission? Beth cringed as she noticed him tense up. Without her permission, her body began to tremble in fear. She watched through a curtain of hair as he stood and came around to stand in front of her.

He eyed the girl for a moment before reaching out and yanking her forward by the hair. She whimpered, but other than that made no sound. With a firm grip on his daughter, he raised his other hand and slapped her. Her head snapped to the side, and Albert found a sick pleasure in inflicting pain on a Norma Desmond look alike. He backhanded her, causing her head to snap to the other side.

He was almost ready to let her go when he smelled a familiar perfume. It was roses, a scent he had only come in contact with one time, many years ago. He pulled her even closer to make sure he wasn't imagining things. It was stronger then, and he shoved her back, making sure he could look into her eyes.

"Where did you get that perfume?"

"I-I don't-"

"Where did you get it?!" Albert asked, shaking her violently.

"Lexi's mother wears it! She must have sprayed some around us!"

"Never wear that scent again!" he yelled, shaking her again and then shoving her to the floor.

She stayed down until his footsteps faded and a door closed in the back of the house. She stood, feeling her muscles protest in response to being shaken. She felt her cheek, knowing instinctively there wouldn't be a mark, only slight swelling. It had started already, perhaps that meant it would go down by the time she went to Norma's the next afternoon. Arms wrapped around herself in a gesture meant to comfort, (and suddenly, for whatever reason, she wished to be with Norma), she walked down the hallway to her room.

She sat on her bed and gazed at the picture she had of Norma. She began to study the makeup, and quietly retrieved her mother's old kit from the shelf in her closet. In front of her bureau, she practiced applying and removing bad makeup and concealer. Once certain she had gotten the hang of it, she prepared her bath, coming up with excuses for her teachers to explain the possible bruises on her arms.

Her excuses had held, but barely. She ached all over from the previous night, and knew she couldn't risk the same treatment again. She walked the distance from her school to Norma's with her head down, and barely concealed a flinch as Max opened the door. He let her in with no comment, sensing something was wrong without having to ask. Years of living with a woman who starred as a silent film actress allowed him this ability.

"Good afternoon, Miss Beth. Madame is waiting for you in the music room."

"Thanks, Max," she said with a smile as he relieved her of her books.

She winced as he brushed against her arm, but quickly began walking toward the music room. The man tended to the young lady's things, but all the while he was watching her for signs of pain. He sincerely hoped Norma would be able to get her to say what was wrong.

"Hi, Norma," Beth greeted as she stepped into the massive room.

The older woman was curled like a cat on a window seat, but sprang up at the sound of her voice. She came toward her quickly, and Beth smiled, content in the knowledge that she wouldn't hurt her. Norma wrapped her arms around her in a hug for the first time, and Beth tensed reflexively, surprise and pain intermingling. Norma pulled back as soon as she felt the girl go stiff.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Beth replied quickly, too quickly.

"And what is this?" the former actress asked as she wiped at the poorly applied makeup on her arms and face. It came off instantly, and revealed the pale purple bruises underneath. "Makeup? And who caused these bruises?"

The girl's pale skin was marred with ugly black and purple marks, somewhat similar to handprints. She ran a finger down her arm lightly, feeling the muscles ripple as the girl cringed. She looked back up at her, noticing her head was down. She brought her chin up gently, her heart breaking at the sight of tears in eyes so similar to her own.

"Beth," she began gently, "who did this to you?"

"No one, I fell after I got home."

"Beth, these are handprints wrapped around your arm. Please tell me who did it."

The child's chest heaved with a silent sob before she launched herself forward, the emotions swirling within her too much to handle. Norma caught her, surprised at the reaction. Beth began to sob, her tears wetting the woman's shoulder. Norma, overcome by a sudden rush of protectiveness and love for the girl, held her and stroked her back. She was surprised at the anger she felt for whomever had harmed her. She had never felt this way about anyone else, and the feeling still alarmed her.

Finally, Beth's tears tapered off, and she simply grasped Norma's dress and tried to lose herself in the feeling of safety surrounding her. This was what she had been craving the night before, safety and love. It was odd how quickly she had connected to the older woman, but she supposed that when you had two lonely people they were bound to bond quickly.

"My father," she breathed after she had calmed down.

"Hmm?" Norma hummed, having been startled out of my thoughts.

"My father. H-he's the one who...hurt me," Beth finished quietly, her fear of her father returning.

Norma's arms tightened and Beth thought she heard her growl.

"He won't get away with this!" the woman hissed, the anger vibrating in her tone.

"No! You can't do anything!" Beth cried, pulling back out of the hug.

"Why not? He is harming you, his child, and I will not stand for it."

"Because he's still my dad. I can't do that to him."

"You most certainly can. He's a grown man and should know better. What's his name?"

"Al-Albert Woods," Beth answered, overwhelmed with the whole situation.

Norma's eyes flashed as a memory came back to her.

She was young, just beginning her career and only mildly acquainted with Max, not yet married. There had been rumors running through the lot of a stage hand that enjoyed using women as toys, and she was already wary of him. She did not, however, know who he was or what he looked like. So when a young man approached her one day on set she thought nothing of it.

That is, until he suggested in the crudest way possible what he would like to do with her, assuring her that he would put her name in with DeMille, Mayerling, any director she chose. She was disgusted, and promptly slapped him. The whole sound stage went silent, all eyes on them.

"You are a vile human being with no respect for women!" she spat. "Get away from me or I will report you to the president of the studio."

The murmuring that had started up turned into cheering, and the man had begrudgingly backed away. She knew that she would never forget a man as uncouth as he was; Albert Woods.

"I knew your father, once many years ago," she said, and the disgust was evident. "He attempted to persuade me to spend the night with him. I refused, and subsequently destroyed his reputation."

Beth gasped, never having known her father's connection to her favorite star. That would explain why he hated actors so much and prevented her from becoming one as a child.

"Max!" Norma screamed. "Max!"

"Yes, Madam?" he asked, appearing in the doorway.

If he was shocked by the scene in front of him he didn't show it.

"Albert Woods has been abusing Beth. I wish for him to be taken care of."

"As you wish, Madam," Max said, beginning to exit.

"No! Wait!" Beth called, causing him to turn and Norma to look at her curiously.

"Don't call anyone, please! He's my dad, and I know this looks bad but it really isn't! Please don't do anything!"

The two adults looked at each other. Though Norma rarely saw Max as an equal, she felt she needed a second opinion, also something she rarely did. Sighing, she turned back to Beth, who was looking at her with barely concealed terror.

"All right, I'll leave him be for now, but you must promise to tell me if this continues."

"I promise. Thank you, Norma!" Beth smiled. In spite of her worry, Norma couldn't help but smile back. "Do you want me to play for you now?"

"Yes, I was hoping you would."

Max backed out as the first notes of Beethoven's symphony floated out of the room. Once he was out of view he smiled to himself, pleased that Norma seemed to have caught on to her maternal feelings toward the girl. They made a good pair, and he knew now that they would look out for one another. Resuming his sweeping, he relaxed into the sound of the piano floating through the house.