Ch 28- That's Not The Way

June 1972

"Mommy?" Linnea questioned.

"Yeah, sweetie?" Lana kissed Linnea on the forehead repeatedly as she tucked her in, sitting on the edge of the bed at her side.

It was nearly summer now, and the bright crescent moon hung low in the sky, seeming to burst forth from the canopy of trees in the distance. Crickets chirped as the soft summer breeze blew through the open window, the slow, dreamlike tone of the evening comforting the little girl deep within her frenetic, hurried little soul.

Linnea yawned in spite of all the worry and confusion in her heart, comforted to the core at the subconscious reminder that the weather mimicked the deep southern summers she'd grown up with. It all reminded her of a simpler time, one where there was just her, and her mother and all the love in the world: no Kit Walker, no new baby, and no boogieman of a father to confuse what need not be confused.

Linnea placed one of her hands on either side of her mother's now very rounded middle, holding the big baby bump almost firmly, feeling her unborn sibling move under her touch. Lana was very pregnant now, and the whole "family" as it were, was eagerly awaiting baby Winters. Or, as Linnea lamented to think of it, baby Walker-Winters.

'Why does she get to be a Walker when I have to be a Peyser?' Linnea

considered.

The whole thing made Linnea feel horribly left out, and painfully alone in the world. It was obvious what it met to be a Walker: she lived with a house full of them. Walkers were resilient, tough, fun-loving. Yet, Linnea mostly took note of the idea that their ranks transcended blood ties, and even the color of your skin, but yet somehow still excluded little girls who belonged to boogiemen.

'I am a Peyser-Winters…' Linnea tried to consider.

But the idea of being a Peyser was totally foreign to Linnea. She had little to no reference for what the name entailed or who it even belonged to. It felt… off.

'You're a Thredson…' A little voice reminded.

Linnea closed her eyes, trying hard to shut out the constant, nagging pull she felt to associate with that name and the man to whom it belonged.

'Mommy wouldn't like it…' She thought. 'But it's the truth.' Another part of her reminded. Linnea stared straight ahead at her mother's middle, terrified and confused. Lana giggled, noting her daughter's serious observation of her middle.

"What is it, sweetie?" She asked, tucking Linnea's hair behind her ear. "Huh?"

Linnea didn't move, and instead, stared intently, holding her mother's belly as if it were a crystal ball. The little girl knew that in some sense, her unborn baby brother or sister held a lot of keys to her past and future that remained a mystery to her. Linnea was very, very confused, and had so many questions swimming around her little head that she couldn't get a grip on them, let alone figure out what to ask first, or even how to ask anything.

Linnea didn't understand why her mom was having another baby with her dad when he was bad, and she hated him so much. Lana had tried, in varying ways to explain this, but nothing had gotten through to the little girl, save the knowledge that she'd not been wanted before she was born…. Linnea was confused by this too. How could she not be wanted when this baby was? 'What makes me so different…' Linnea considered. Being so young, Linnea could only conclude one difference: perhaps the baby was good like mom, and she was bad, like her dad?

But Linnea had thought long and hard about this and did not think she was a bad girl. Still, she understood her association with her father was what separated her from the rest of the family, as it were, that dynamic had become increasingly obvious to the very smart little girl ever since she returned home from her father's custody. But unlike her, this baby was clean of Oliver Thredson's touch, his influence. And his love too.

Even Linnea could sense that she'd been changed by the encounter with her father: permanently tainted, and willfully manipulated into believing that she was loved, and more wanted than she could've ever imagined. Linnea had never realized what she'd been missing until the moment her father, as scary as he'd been, had told her he loved her. In that moment, something in her soul was soothed, fulfilled forever, even though the mere memory of it left a chill in her heart.

'Daddy loves me, he wanted me.' She reminded herself daily, knowing deep inside that that too wasn't a good thing to think on. Linnea bit her lip, finding herself thinking on that fact once again as her baby sister kicked under her touch. 'But if he loves me… why'd he do this, whatever it is, to my mommy when she didn't wanna?'

Linnea shivered, a cold chill going up her spine at the realization that the window was still open behind her. She closed her eyes for a beat, creeped out to the bone, recollecting the moment her father first entered the room, and said: "Would you like some help with that, Linnea?"

She'd never forget the sheer terror that'd swept through her entire body during her first moments with Bloodyface, and now, she couldn't shake the utter confusion that his presence had brought into her life. Prior to his coming, everything had made sense. She was Linnea Isabella Peyser Winters, age 6. Born in Boston, raised in rural Georgia by a single, forward thinking, tough-loving mother who doted on her.

Daddy was a distant, frightening thought, until the minute he walked into the room, eager to fill out the family tree she'd been trying so hard to piece together. Linnea clearly saw irony in the fact that she'd been so clear on who she was prior to his coming, and now that she knew the missing pieces, she didn't know what to make of herself, or of her sibling, or of anything.

Linnea's trust in everything had been broken and her confusion tripled, because of her parent's actions over those two days they were all together. And since then, she'd been further alienated by Mr. Walker's white knight complex, and his eagerness to make Lana and her new baby family… eagerness that did not seem to include the little Miss Thredson. Linnea would never forget watching her mother and Kit dance after he offered to be with her when she had the new child.

'So, there it is.' Linnea had thought. 'Mommy, and Leah, and Kit, and Julia and Thomas… all a family without me. When we already had a family…'

Linnea hated seeing her mother and Kit happy together, and wished it could've been so happy between her parents… Just for the one evening. Linnea realized that Kit made her mother feel special, but the idea deepened her jealousy: Daddy, as scary as he'd been, had made her feel special… And loved in a way she'd never felt love. And not so alone, as she felt here in the house of Walker.

'You are a Thredson.' Her conscious reminded a second time, but Linnea tried not to dwell on it. 'I don't know who I am. Who are you?' She considered, as the baby kicked.

Lana continued to look down, marveling over her first born, and finally sensing the child's unease.

"You know, nothing will change." Lana promised sweetly, fishing for what was wrong. Lana simply thought her daughter was nervous about the new baby and had no idea she felt so left out or confused.

'But mommy everything's changed…' Linnea thought.

Linnea remained quiet, unsure what to say or how to say it. 'Do you love her, more than you love me?' She wanted to ask. 'Do you still love me?' She gulped, unable to handle any answer besides yes. Tears formed in the little girl's eyes, but Lana didn't notice.

"You don't have to be scared." Lana giggled, placing her forehead against Linnea's. "Especially since I know you wanna ask me something, huh?"

"I…" Linnea froze, not knowing what to say.

"Well." Lana smiled, laying her daughter down and tucking her in.

"Will baby be on our tree?" She whispered suddenly.

Lana laughed. "What?"

"The family tree."

"Oh! Baby, of course she will."

"Which part?" Linnea bit her lip, asking innocently.

"She goes right next to you." Lana smiled. "That way, you won't be so alone."

"So, she's not on Julia's tree?"

Lana smiled. "No. You know what? She's the only person in the whole world who shares Linnea's exact tree!"

Linnea almost gasped, having not totally thought this through. "So… everybody on my tree is on hers?" She inquired carefully.

"That's right. You share a whole tree." Lana reassured.

"Daddy's too?" Linnea asked softly, twitting her fingers, barely able to look in her mother's eyes.

Lana paused a beat, her daughter's words putting her at ill ease. She said nothing, rubbing her middle as she leaned down to kiss Linnea goodnight. "Yes sweetheart. Now it's time for me to feed our baby a midnight snack, and for you to go to sleep."

Lana leaned down and kissed Linnea's cheeks repeatedly, trying hard to forget about or dismiss what her child had said. 'The war is over. It's time to live again.' Lana reasoned, deciding she needed to learn how to deal with questions like that and not judge her poor little child about it. After all, there was no denying the biological ties Oliver and the children shared. Lana knew, consciously, that she had to come to terms with that once and for all, not for her sake: but so she could teach her kids to be happy, and full of love and light – and to live with the fact that daddy was bloodyface.

"I love you." She promised. "You can always come to me. Mommy's here any time."

"I love you." Linnea repeated, still not reassured.

"Good night sweet pea." Lana kissed her again, and left the room, turning out the light. "Mommy'll be back in a little bit."

Linnea lie there in the dark, more confused but somewhat comforted now. She closed her eyes, deciding not to think on any of it again till morning, she, after all, was tired.

'The baby is a Thredson.' The curtains blew in the wind as Linnea sat up, holding back a startled scream, this time, hearing her father's voice.

….

Linnea stared intently, her little brown eyebrows knit in a mix of doubt and confusion as her mother poured her a huge glass of milk. Except for missing school on the odd occasion, Linnea didn't think she'd ever been given a choice of where to go before: her mother had moved her around the country without her input, and her father had kidnapped her without her consent. She kept quiet, thinking carefully as she listened to Thomas and Julia play outside, the idea of having a say in her whereabouts overwhelming her. But Linnea was suspicious; thinking that this suggestion said it all: the family wanted her gone.

"You're a big girl; it's about time you make a few choices on your own."

"So. I can stay here when the baby is born?" Linnea clarified carefully.

"Of course. If that's what you want."

"Or. I can go with Grandma and Grandpa." She searched.

She'd been surprised by the suggestion; knowing her mother usually was sensitive about that and probably wouldn't like it. Linnea, however, had longed for the haven of her grandparents, home since she first met them, and following the incident with her father, felt more welcome there than she had anywhere before.

"Yeah." Lana struggled with admitting it. "Whatever you want."

Linnea put her head down; not knowing what to say. 'Mommy, don't you still love me?' She longed to ask. But bigger questions weighted on Linnea's heart and mind, ones she couldn't fully even grasp, like: 'Did you ever love me?' Linnea supposed she had, she said it often enough. But something felt different and being so little, Linnea didn't know what to think, or even how to think it. Linnea looked up, surprised when her mother sat a plate of cookies down in front her. Lana smiled, leaning over the counter and running her fingers through the child's hair.

"Something's on your mind." Lana reflected. "You can always tell or ask mommy anything. It's what she's for."

Linnea shifted nervously in her seat, her real big question rising almost willfully from the pit of her stomach. In all this time, almost nine months, she'd not inquired, first for fear of hurting, then now angering her mother. But Linnea'd now reached a point where the longing and curiosity were too great; and the heartache of feeling unloved, overwhelming. She had to know.

"Mommy?" She asked quietly.

"Go on sweetie."

Linnea paused again, unable to voice the question even as another part of herself pressed to. The girl wasn't an idiot, she'd seen, even known what would happen, I she lit the house on fire, and yet no one had told her about the outcome. No one knew Linnea lived with a mix of longing and guilt as an aftermath of the ordeal. 'If I did that, is it my fault?' She thought. 'And if it is, does that mean I'm bad like my daddy?'

"Please ask. Mommy wants to know if you're hurt or upset so she can make it better." Lana almost pled.

'Make it better?' Linnea nearly laughed. How could anyone make it better?

"I can really ask anything?"

"Yes silly, you know that. That's always the relationship we've had."

'No.' Linnea wanted to say. 'It's how we were before we had to come here.'

"Mommy." She asked simply. "No one ever told me what happened to daddy."

Lana stopped, her gaze immediately chilling like ice as her mouth dropped open. She was stunned.

"I…".

Linnea was right.

They had never told her what'd become of Oliver. First there'd been the recovery, the relief of it being over, followed by the bombshell of pregnancy. Lana had been overwhelmed and sort of assumed the task had been done for her, before she regained consciousness. Besides, Linnea had started the fire, Lana figured (and feared) the child knew what she was doing in killing her own father.

"Oh honey." She paused, trying to have compassion. "Your dad."

Lana cringed, hating to refer to Oliver in this fashion, but given how the child clearly made some pleasant memory of him, she figured she'd try her best, finding no need to scar her further. Lana paused again, realizing that what was, for her, a miraculous, long-awaited for victory, was a sad point, for Linnea.

"Oh, my honey." Lana bit her lip, placing her hands on her daughter's shoulders, and bending down a bit to look into her face. "Honey I thought you knew. Kit and Jude didn't tell you when mommy was recovering?"

Linnea shook her head. The child knew her father had passed on. She'd known before it was set to happen – before she put the plan in motion, but had held out hope that he'd made it, and was in jail somewhere. So that one day, she could say good bye. And so that she'd not have killed her own father.

Lana didn't know how to proceed. She'd planned on telling her daughter about her father on her own terms, but like so many other things, Oliver had taken that away and skewed the child's perception of him: favorably. Lana had never envisioned telling the child anything about her father, much less having to inform her, kindly, and compassionately, that he was dead. She'd always assumed that when Oliver died, they'd celebrate: together. But thanks to his little scheme things were different now.

"Sweetheart." She tucked her daughter's hair behind her ear. "I'm sorry, your dad, well he passed away honey, in the fire."

"So, I don't get to say goodbye?" She asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Well honey, you – "Lana sighed, angered by the sentimental talk about Oliver. She didn't realize it: but it showed through. "You know what, you got more time with him than I ever wanted you to. I'm sorry that things worked out the way they did, but at least you have happier memories of him than I do. Memories Leah will never have at all. Huh?"

Linnea just stared, the thought not encouraging.

"I think. In your case. It's … nice." She could barely stomach the phrase. "That you got to meet the good part of him." She made this clear.

Lana had in some way, agreed with Oliver on that point. Perhaps it was better she thought she was loved by her dad, maybe in some way it'd crush the painful blow: that daddy was Bloodyface.

"W-will, w-would he love Leah?"

"Honey – "

Lana had had it, wanting to tell the child that her father didn't love her. She couldn't believe that he really loved Linnea, or that he'd love another child … Or that he loved her. Lana paused, lost in thought, reaching out and cupping the child's cheek in her hand. She saw Oliver there in the tear-filled doe eyes that stared back at her. Oliver had looked at her similarly in their last moments together – as his mental stated played a tug of war between maniac and lost little boy. Lana knew there was a lost boy inside Oliver, one who wanted to be a family man – to love a woman like her – but she couldn't bring herself to acknowledge him, the rest of him being far too wicked to even be human.

Lana took a deep breath. "If you ever have any questions about how he treated mommy, or why he was how he was, or about anything he said to you, then please, just say or ask whatever you need or want. Okay?"

"Can't we tell Leah daddy loved her too?"

This angered Lana. Now she'd had it.

"Linnea." Lana warned. "I don't really want to talk to Leah about your dad – not until she's old enough to understand."

Lana explained as Kit came into the room from outside.

"You mean, not until she's old enough to take your side."

"Linnea!"

"I hate you! I hate you, you took my daddy away from me, and I hate you!" Linnea shrieked.

Lana's heart sunk, and she stood there, her mouth agape, unable to speak.

"Hey, don't talk to your mother like that!" Kit thundered.

"I hate you more! And I want grandpa!" She shouted.

"Linnea, get back here –" Kit called.

"You're not my daddy, and you're not Leah's either!"

Lana jumped as Linnea slammed the door and Kit moved to go after her.

"No." Lana stopped him, grabbing his arm. "That's not the way."

…..

Lana was stunned by her daughter's outburst. The child had never really tantrum before, and moreover, Lana had been convinced that she'd understood her father wasn't a saint. More than anything though; she was crushed by the possibility that the little girl she'd given so much to really did hate her.

'You met him once, he kidnapped you! And you and I'd been together every day…'

But Lana reasoned that fathers were a special, almost spellbinding person in a father's life. She'd adored hers at this age and could only imagine what it would be like to not know him. It'd been hard enough to lose hers by her own choosing as a young adult. Despite her own pain and anger, Lana was wise enough to know she couldn't understand what Linnea really felt.

She gave the child some time. Long enough for the sun to set and the other children to come in. Just as Jude was serving dinner, she went and knocked on their door, a cupcake in hand.

"Go away!" Linnea shouted, the child's voice bogged down with tears.

"Linnea." Lana rested her head against the door. "I really want to talk to you."

"I want grandma and grandpa."

Lana sighed slightly, banging her head slightly against the door, airing her frustration.

"Or Jude."

"Linnea Isabella Peyser Winters, you will let me in, this instant. I understand that you're upset. You have the right to be. But I've given you enough space, and we need to talk. Now."

After a moment, Linnea unlocked the bedroom door, she looked up at her mom, staring, her tear stained cheeks puffy, her eyes bloodshot red. Despite her anger, Lana's first impulse was to baby her, she'd never seen Linnea so upset before.

"I brought you a bargaining chip." She offered the cupcake.

"You can't make me like you with that."

"Mommy understands you're upset." She reiterated.

Linnea climbed back on the bed, pulling her knees to her chest and squeezing tight. Lana longed to hug her back but couldn't stand to be rejected. Instead, she sat on the edge of the bed and waited.

"First off, mommy loves you, very, very much. No matter how much you resist me, or what anyone else has said, or no matter how much you hate her. She has from the moment you came out of her."

Linnea paused, surprised by the confession. She eased her grip on her legs, letting go a bit.

"Second. I'm very sorry you don't have a real dad. You weren't given the easiest deal, Linnea. But I'm glad I was given you, and Leah, no matter how I got here."

Linnea started to suck her thumb and looked back at her mom with frightened doe eyes. She'd known her dad had hurt her mom, had understood that she had to have regretted getting to the mommy part: however, that happened.

"Even if I'm bad like my daddy?" She asked quietly.

"You're not – Who said that!"

"I am mommy because I killed him! I killed daddy, didn't I?"

"Oh. Oh Linnea, mommy didn't realize you thought that. Honey no, you didn't kill him. You. You did what you did, to save mommy, right?"

Linnea nodded. "Yeah, because I love you even when I say I don't and I had to protect you." She whispered.

"Mommy loves you." Lana almost started to cry. "And she's so grateful to you."

"But if I could kill, it means I'm bad because he killed. Right? And I love him it means I'm bad because I love a bad man." This was perfect logic for a little girl.

Lana was overwhelmed by the thought, she'd never considered it that way before.

"Oh baby. You are a good girl: and you have all these questions because you have a big, good heart." She explained, her heart easing as she took the child into her arms. "Yes, your daddy was a bad man, please tell me you really understand that." Lana now squeezed the girl tight, feeling her nod against her chest. "You weren't trying to hurt him for fun. That's what he did, do you understand that, Linnea? He hurt women. For fun."

Lana said it a bit too forcefully and Linnea stared up, horrified.

"T-then why didn't he hurt me mommy?"

Lana didn't have an answer for this and didn't think she could give one. She'd been terrified he would but had somehow understood that he wouldn't.

"And why did he say he loved me?" Linnea almost pled. "Mommy, he cried when he told me it. He said he wanted to change for me, but he couldn't. I'll never believe he didn't love me. Never! So why, why would he love me, and be a monster, and wanna hurt people too?"

"Linnea, I…"

Mother and daughter looked up as Jude propped herself up on the doorframe, crossing her arms. She'd caught wind of the question when she came to check on them.

"Because Linnea." Jude began. "All monsters are human."