Lol. I delete this chapter on accident. Sorry.

Chapter 19: Big Eyes and Big Lies

"Ah.. sweet daughter of mine," the man chuckled with a deep baritone voice and ran a hand through his slicked back white hair. "It has been too long."

"Not long enough it seems," Ann said coldly when she overcame her first shock.

"This is your father?" Bigby asked under his breath. Ann gave him a quick and curt nod.

"What are you doing here? How did you find me?"

Her father shook his finger and clacked his tongue in disapproval. "Is this how I brought you up? I think not." His voice took on a harder edge, but softened a bit in its normal sleek nature when he addressed Bigby. He curtsied, at which Bigby pulled up an eyebrow.

"My name is Sir Christopher Smith, head of several big industries, knighted by the Queen of England for outstanding service to the Crown and the providing safety measures and security for my beloved country."

"Meaning he produces and sells guns," Ann hissed at Bigby. "Even at the cost of his own family."

"I do this for my family," Christopher growled, his green eyes flaring with angry. Suddenly he seemed to remember that he and his daughter were not alone and took a deep breath, calming his senses and smoothed back his hair.

"Can't we have a normal conversation for once, instead of yelling?"

"Well, shoot."

Their green eyes met, both hard like iron. "I would prefer under normal circumstances."

Ann took a step forward, her shoulders tense and fists balled. "Well this is as good as it gets. How did you find me?"

A nerve twitched at the corner of her father's, but he stayed calm. Only his eyes betrayed the storm that was raging on inside of him. "You forget I have resources.. but I am here because of your mother." The seriousness in his voice took her back.

"She's dying."

Bigby saw Ann look away, her gaze fluttering back and forth from her father to the floor and her own feet. She was conflicted, clearly visible in the way her jaw clenched and her eyes avoided contact.

"I see," Ann finally said. Voice strained like the tight string of a bow. "My guess is that you came here to bring me back to her. Allowing her eyes to see me again.."

Her voice slowly died until was but a mere whisper. "But why should I care after you two did with Markus?"

"Forgive-"

"NO!"

Bigby flinched at the sudden intensity of Ann's voice. High, powerful and filled with rage. It was like the breaking of a dam, the right press of words to let the storm unleash.

"How can I forgive the parents who have forsaken their OWN SON! My little brother! How dare you to come here, how dare you to tell me she's dying!" Ann growled, her shoulders tense and fists clenching until the knuckles turned white.

"I did not know-!"

"YOU SHOULD HAVE WATCHED HER! You should have seen it!" Ann bellowed. A large hand on her shoulder made the redhead flinch and silent. Her enraged green eyes immediately softened when they met amber. She swallowed thickly and turned her gaze down to the floor, before settling on the man she once called 'father'.

"Leave."

"I just wanted to-"

"I don't care. You leave now. I can't promise I won't hurt you.." she snapped.

Her father's nostrils flared. The same hands that had once stroked her hair lovingly when she had another nightmare now straightened his suit. The fabric folding over the shoulders on which she once cried her heart out after her first break-up. Without meeting her gaze or uttering a word he walked passed her, giving Bigby a short but curt nod.

The sound of the door closing almost felt like someone beating on a gong. It resonated through her body and made her tremble.

"How dares he.. after all this time," Ann murmured to herself and walked over to the kitchen. Her trembling fingers tried to open a new bag of some instant coffee. Instead she used too much force and the dark powder was everywhere instead of in the cup. She cursed.

"What's up?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Ann murmured beneath her breath. Her trembling fingers gripping the counter so hard the knuckles turned white. Holding on to her sanity.

Bigby leaned back against it right next to her, his arms folded across his chest as he tried to capture her gaze with his. When he finally did Ann's fingers released the counter and her arms wound around Bigby's waist, seeking comfort. She closed her eyes, chin resting on his broad shoulder and her nose burying in his hair, inhaling his musk scent.

"A few years ago, my little brother got sick. At first it was a fever, nothing antibiotics couldn't handle," she whispered. Her fingers curling around Bigby's shirt, holding him close. "But he got sicker and sicker. Sometimes he broke something, other times he had swallowed a chemical. I didn't understand, not one bit. He wasn't a rambunctious boy at his age. Yes, he played outside and sometimes fell and skimped his knee but never swallow something that was dangerous."

"It grew worse as the year progressed. He grew pale and quiet, merely a shell of the happy little Markus I knew. We went in and out of hospitals, no doctor knew what was wrong with him. When he overcame one sickness he got another," Ann said, her voice crackling slightly but she did not yield. She would not break.

She took a small step back, but never truly let go of him. His hand was large and callous in her, but warm and strong. Both of her hands took it, grasping onto it. Her eyes took in his golden irises that shimmered with wisdom, age, but also calmness. He was really into his 'Listening-Sheriff-mode'. She latched onto it, finding the courage in his gaze to continue and let her own fall to their joined hands, or at least both of hers holding one of his.

"We discovered that my mother had Münchhausen by proxy, after he finally died of his wounds inflicted by her. He was just twelve years old," Ann said with a lump the size of the galaxy filling up the insides of her throat.

"Markus never stopped loving her, us. I had my suspicions but was never taken seriously. Last summer I discovered by father knew about this, but had never taken any action against her. Never stopped her. Never saved him." Her voice shrank to a mere whispered.

"That's why you moved here. To get away."

It wasn't a question, nor meant to be, but a statement. Ann nodded.

Bigby silently took out a Huff'n 'Puff cigarette and lit one up. He took a slow inhale himself and when exhaling he offered it to her. Ann wordlessly refused, she won't ever be a smoker. Instead she reached for something stronger; the coffee she was trying to make before.

With calmer fingers than before Ann cleaned up the black instant coffee powder and turned on the electric water boiler. Bigby watched her with his levelled gaze, but she did not feel scrutinized nor that he was going to chastise her. She felt comforted and safe as he watched her fingers grasp the spoon and stirred when pouring in the hot water inside the mug, making sure the powder dissolved evenly.

"I can't understand why you drink the stuff," the gruff Fable said as she put in some milk and sugar, stirred again and brought the steaming mug to her lips. She blew a bit before taking the tiniest sip.

"I can't understand why you keep on smoking those damned cigarettes," Ann countered with a small smile.

Both walked towards the living room. Ann opened one window just a bit, to let the smoke out from Bigby's cigarette. She was okay with the fact that he did smoke inside her apartment, but hated the smell of it. She wouldn't want it lingering.

"I hope he stays away now," she murmured, taking a few sips of the not-so-scolding-hot-anymore coffee and stirred it again with the small spoon to make sure all of the sugar dissolved. She could still feel it grinding a bit on the bottom of the mug.

"I hope so too," Bigby said, taking a final inhale from his cigarette. He walked to the kitchen sink and under a small trickle of water he put out the glowing bud. His gut suddenly twisted.

Acting on instinct he walked to the kitchen window and pushed open the blinders with his thumb and index finger. In the darkness, just out of the ring of light from a street lantern he could see a car parked with someone in it. The silhouette turned to him as if watching.

Then the car started, turning on its lights and drove off, mixing in with the remainders of the traffic. Bigby's gaze darkened and his jaw clenched when he released the blinders. His fingers were itching to get another cigarette from his pockets, but he refrained.

Apparently there was no rest for the wicked.

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