Hi, Dad. Emmett greeted, waving his fingers at his father over the webcam.

Hi, Emmett! Cameron responded enthusiastically. How are you feeling?

Better, Emmett admitted. My side still gets sore sometimes but they're going to take the stitches out soon … I think.

That's good, Cameron smiled. I was wondering if you wanted to go out for dinner sometime? Maybe stay the night here. You can bring Travis along if you want to.

Emmett hesitated. He wanted to see his father, he really did, because Cameron was his dad and Emmett loved him. On the other hand, Emmett knew that Cameron hadn't been nice to Melody as of late and that burned him. Melody had gotten on his nerves before, of course she had. She was his mother! Still, knowing how Cameron had lashed out at his mother it made him uncomfortable looking at his father now. He knew what Melody would say if he told her about his feelings "my relationship with your father should not impact your relationship with your father" but it did.

Trying to be the bigger person, and knowing that really, he should spend time with his father, he answered, Sounds great Dad. And I think it'd be nice to bring Travis.

Good. Cameron breathed a sigh of relief. He'd been worried that Emmett wouldn't come. Lately, if felt as though he'd been seeing less and less of his son, though at this point, he felt as though he should have been seeing more of Emmett. When would work best for you?

Uh … Thursday night?

Sure, Cameron agreed enthusiastically. Debbie and I will be ready for you two boys.

Great. Emmett hesitated. I have to go, Dad, but I'll see you Thursday and I'll make sure Travis is good to go.

Bye, Emmett. Love you!

I love you too, Dad!

(-.-)

I am a mother. I am a wife. I am a daughter. I am a friend. I am a woman. One thing I am not is a victim.

My name is Kathryn Kennish.

In the past few years, my family has made headlines twice. I am the mother of the girls that were switched at birth. I am the woman who was held hostage with those girls, my son, and their friend. I have survived it all; we have survived it all.

It was early afternoon and I had baked cookies. Everything in my house was as normal as it ever is in my house. My daughter, Bay, was in her room. My other daughter, Daphne, and her best friend, Emmett, were in the living room with me. My son, Toby, popped in for a moment to talk to Bay and then came down to spend a minute with us. He was supposed to be going to be meet his fiancée for a cake tasting. It was just another afternoon.

We could hear the door open. Well, Toby and I could – Daphne and Emmett are Deaf…

Kathryn stopped typing, staring at the bright screen of her laptop. She thought that she wanted to write the book. It wasn't about getting the story told, or fulfilling the demand that her publisher and agent had made of her. It was about releasing everything that she had felt that day. It was like when she'd written the book about the switch. It was about her coming to terms with what had happened; it was her way of coping and healing.

But, so far, the book about the hostage situation wasn't coming out like that. So far, her book about the hostage situation felt too dramatic, like she was writing a story instead of telling facts. She hated what she had so painstakingly typed. It felt flat and boring. She'd tried to write before – this was her third beginning – and it always felt flat and boring.

A little frustrated, Kathryn shut her laptop. She wanted to give voice to everything that was rolling around inside of her but she couldn't get it to speak. Giving up for the moment (but only for the moment), Kathryn wheeled her chair around and steered it toward the kitchen. She had two appointments today – one with her psychologist and the other with her doctor to see how much longer she would be in the chair for – and she didn't want to be late.

(-.-)

"So …" Daphne asked after a long pause. "Want to talk about it?"

Bay drew her knees up to her chest. She peeked up at Daphne and shrugged.

"Emmett's worried," Daphne offered, as though this might be a motivator for Bay to speak.

"I shouldn't have run out on him," Bay mumbled.

At least, that's what Daphne thought she said. She hadn't spoken very clearly and Daphne had only caught a few words.

"Well, you are in a difficult spot," Daphne said awkwardly. "I think he understands that."

"I'm sorry I yelled at you," Bay whispered but Daphne understood clearly.

"What do you mean?"

"In the closet … when you figured out the truth … every time I've yelled at you. I somehow screw everything up and get everything wrong. And I just … I'm so sorry."

Daphne slipped off Bay's bed and onto the floor of her bedroom so that she was just a few feet away from where Bay was seated. Tears were slipping down the dark haired girl's face; tears that for so long, she felt as though she'd trapped inside her. Now, she just had to let it go. The full force of everything she had been through, everything she had to apologize for, and all that was wrong with her and her life right now crashed over Bay.

Everything was so fucked up. She was in love with Emmett (she knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she was completely head over heels for that boy) but she didn't know how to be. It didn't seem right to her, that she could be in love with someone, and have to sit across the room from him because she was so scared of being violated again. On an intellectual level, Bay knew that Emmett would never hurt her – she knew that Angelo, John, Toby, Travis, and every man that she shied away from wasn't going to hurt her – but that didn't stop her from staying away. She kept flashing back, to dirty hands disappearing down her shirt before dipping under her skirt; she kept flashing back to being unable to move as Brant MacDonald took advantage of her. She didn't want to go through that again.

Therapy was helping with that. Dr. Leighton was helping. But she'd only had a few sessions and she knew that she wasn't going to be "fixed" quickly. (God, she hated that word fixed.) She needed to heal and, while she knew that he knew that, Bay also knew that it wasn't going to be a long, emotional process. She was scared of the future, she was scared of what was going to happen, and she just wanted everything in her life to be normal again.

Without thinking about it, Bay collapsed into Daphne's lap, sobbing as Daphne petted her hair, whispering, "It'll be okay, Bay, you'll see."

(-.-)

Daphne was in the living room, a book in her lap though she was really thinking about what had transpired between her and Bay, when Angelo walked in. She peeked at him over the top of the book – verifying who it was that was interrupting her alone time. When she saw that it was him, she simply returned her gaze to the words in front of her, though she was absorbing as much of it as she had been before. She had nothing to say to Angelo. And, well, out of sight, out of mind.

Angelo, however, would not be ignored, much to Daphne's annoyance. He sat at the end of the couch, causing Daphne to pull her feet away from him. With a sigh, she placed her book down on the coffee table, tucked her feet under her, and faced the man she least wanted to talk to right now.

"Can I help you?" She sighed, rolling her bright eyes.

"Daphne, Regina told me about what happened and I'm sorry that you took it so badly."

Daphne raised her pale eyebrows. He had known she was taking it badly. He had seen her, Regina, and Adrianna in the kitchen and had slunk out the front door, knowing an argument about him was about to emerge. Still, Daphne kept her calm. "And how was I supposed to take it?"

Angelo shrugged. "I know that we have not gotten along very well –"

"And whose fault is that?" Daphne interrupted, cocking her head to the side.

"Mine," Angelo replied, claiming responsibility for all the mistakes he'd made throughout his life. "I know that I drove this wedge between us, back when you were just a little girl and you didn't understand why your father was leaving; just that he was already gone. I screwed up and there is no excuse for that. But I feel as though I have said this to you a thousand times. I'm not asking for your forgiveness, because I know that you won't give it to me. What I'm here to ask you for is … Well, I want you to let your mother and me be happy."

"I-" Daphne began, utterly outraged. How dare he suggest that she didn't want her mother to be happy?

Angelo, however, stopped her.

"I'm not saying that you don't want her to be happy, don't misunderstand me. She is very hurt by your reaction to our relationship. Granted, you didn't find out in the best way and some of your reaction is understandable. I hope that you won't continue to flaunt your negative feelings in her face because it does hurt her."

"I'm not flaunting!" Daphne shrieked. This is why she always hated speaking to Angelo – he always made false assumptions about what she was doing. She was allowed to tell her mother that she didn't approve of her choices; she was allowed to make her feelings known. In fact, it was her right to share her feelings with her mother, Angelo be damned. He hadn't been there for more than a decade of her life and he was never going to be able to tell her what she should or should not do with her life, her emotions, and her mother.

"Not the right word choice," Angelo immediately repented. "I knew it wasn't when I said it. I … I know you're hurt. I know that but we are happy together, we really do want to make this work. I know it's not a good time to bring this to light, not with everything else that has been going on right now but we love each other."

"I don't care," Daphne hissed. "You said you loved her before, didn't you? But that didn't stop you from hurting her; that didn't stop you from leaving! Did you ever stop and think about what our lives were like after you were gone? Did you ever think about the family that you abandoned? The little girl who just lost her hearing, living with an addicted mother? I was bullied at school and lonely at home. I love Mom but there were things that I had to forgive even her for, and I still feel upset sometimes even though I know how she's sacrificed for me throughout her life. You cannot expect to waltz back in here, smile at me, apologize, try to buy my love, and think that it will all be okay! Because it's not okay, Angelo. Nothing you ever do will ever make it okay!

"I will tolerate your presence because Bay, for some unknown reason wanted to find you so badly, and because my mother, for more unfathomable reasons, seems to want you here. Please, though, do us both a favour and stay away from me because I have nothing to say to you and you have nothing to say that I want to hear."

With that, Daphne bolted from the couch to the safety of her bedroom.

Prepare for a time jump of about three weeks in the next chapter.

I don't own anything recognizable. Thanks to my beta: NuGirl.

~TLL