A/N: Thank you for your lovely reviews and continued support, everybody! A lot going on in this chapter...

Chapter 9 (IX)

October, 1984

"Alright Natalia," a tired Donna brought her hand up to wipe a bead of sweat forming at her brow line, as she closed the heavy front door behind her and deposited her briefcase sloppily at her feet. "It's Friday, so you know what that means –"

"PIZZA NIGHT!" Natalia cut her off excitedly, and Donna smiled at the little girl bouncing with excitement in front of her.

"That's right. So go change out of your school clothes," Donna gently tugged her daughter's jean jacket from her shoulders as she spoke, "And then we'll go to Rocky Rococo's to pick it up, okay?"

"Rooockkkyyy Recoco-nuts," Natalia sang, off-key, as she tore up the stairs for her bedroom.

"No pajamas and no ballet clothes in public, Natalia," Donna called after her, as a reminder. For some reason, the child wanted to live in those. Donna shook her head, and began to move Natalia's small purple backpack from the foyer to the front closet. Today had been one of Natalia's two days per week at her Pre-K program, which she attended at the church across town. It was the same one Donna had attended as a little one, in fact.

Donna opened the backpack to rifle through it quickly before putting it away. They didn't assign the preschoolers homework, but sometimes sent home library books, permission slips, newsletters and other odds and ends for parents. Sure enough, Donna found an order form for Natalia's school pictures, which had been taken a few weeks ago. She slid open the envelope to see her daughter with matching auburn braids, a big cheeky smile on her face, and her 'most favoritest' Star Wars t-shirt that she had insisted upon wearing for picture day. She rifled a bit lower into the backpack to find the order form. Surely Red and Kitty would want one of those, and Hyde, and she'd definitely send one to her dad down in Florida.

But instead she pulled out a small, blue half-sheet of paper. 'Daddy-Daughter Pre-K Dance!' the flyer announced in big, bold letters. 'Bring your dad to school for some dancing and snacks with your friends and teachers!' The location was the church basement, and the date was this evening. Donna stared at the paper in her hand, uncomprehending, for a moment. Why would they…?

"Okay I'm ready," Natalia announced. She'd arrived back to the foyer in an interesting outfit, par for the course with her budding fashion preferences: a striped pair of leggings, pink cowboy boots, and what appeared to be the top of a swimsuit she owned. "I want pepperoni, okay mom?"

Choosing to ignore her daughter's fashion statement altogether, Donna held up the blue flyer from where she still sat, crouched in the foyer. "Natalia, what's this?"

"I don't know. I can't read," she shrugged.

"It says there's a 'Daddy-Daughter' dance at your school. Tonight." Natalia just shrugged at her mom again, her excitement clearly gone. "Why didn't you tell me?" Donna continued, her tone more hurt than accusing.

"I don't know," Natalia mumbled. "Cuz I can't go, right?"

"Of course you can, baby. I mean, it's short notice, but I'll call Casey right now, okay? I know he would love to take you." She stood and started to move towards the kitchen phone, but Natalia stopped her.

"No, I mean I can't go cuz I don't have a dad. Casey's not my dad."

"He's like your step-dad. That's close enough," Donna crouched again, and held her daughter's hands, but Natalia just shook her head.

"No, it don't count."

"Of course it counts, Natalia. What do you –"

"I don't want to go!" the once joyful Natalia exploded at her mother. She yanked her hands out of Donna's and ran back up the stairs, clearly upset. Donna jerked her head when she heard her bedroom door slam. She'd been hoping that kind of behavior wasn't coming for another ten years, or so. In fact, she'd hoped a lot of these moments would wait… but apparently, they were here now.

Sighing, Donna dropped into a chair near the kitchen table. She gazed down at the flyer sadly, before crumpling it into a ball and throwing it at the garbage can in the corner. She missed, but didn't move to go pick it up.

In her heart of hearts, she knew it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair because he didn't know, and he didn't know because she didn't tell him. But these were the moments when she hated – absolutely hated – Natalia's father. For not being there.

She knew why she made the decision. It felt rational at the time, when Natalia was born, and her father had up and left town without any contact information or promise of a return. He didn't want to know, Donna had rationalized to herself. He didn't want a child with her, and she didn't want to ruin his life by tying him to this small town and this new, dependent life. And most important of all, Donna didn't want a flaky father for her gorgeous new baby girl. She didn't want to punish Natalia the way she felt she'd been punished by her father – in and out of her life, never knowing where she stood, or if he really loved her.

So, she'd lied. Well, she'd exempted the information, she silently corrected herself. She'd raised Natalia as a single parent with an amazing village of supporters, and so far, everything had been fine. Great, really.

But she'd known these moments were coming. She'd known that one day Natalia would ask about her father, or express hurt at not having one, and Donna would have to defend her choices. She bit her lip, now, glancing out the kitchen window towards the neighbor's house. The Forman's house. Maybe she was naïve, but she didn't think this would be so hard. But when she imagined having the conversation with Natalia she just… couldn't think of the right words. Maybe there weren't any. Donna buried her head in her arms, and with the knowledge that her daughter wasn't there to see it, let her tears flow.

"… so that's my explanation of what it means to 'show and not tell' in your writing." Eric paused from his place next to the blackboard, and looked out over a sea of bored, young faces. "Does that make any sense?" he fished for a reaction from his students, glumly. "Any sense at all?"

The next sound in the classroom was the bell ringing, signifying the end of class, and then the frantic scraping of chairs and stuffing of papers into backpacks as his students fled the room as if a pack of wild wolves was after them.

"Great," Eric spoke sarcastically to his rapidly emptying classroom. "So glad I could help today. Don't forget, the first draft of your Everyday Heroes essay is due on Monday."

Exhausted, Eric dropped his cheerfully sarcastic tone and facial expression and moved from his podium at the front of the classroom to his desk. He dropped down into his chair unceremoniously and was just about ready to flop face-forward upon his desk with defeat when he noticed a student was lingering, near the back of the room.

"Micaiah?" Eric questioned. "Do you need something?" Micaiah was a quiet kid, and subsequently one Eric knew very little about. He seemed to be semi-popular and "in" with the cool kids in the class – something Eric knew literally nothing about – but he didn't really participate in the profanity, arguing, and disobedience his classmates seemed to enjoy. Some days Eric wondered if they were all secretly working together, holding meetings before school to plan how to move their nefarious agenda forward today. Their goal must've been to make Mr. Forman quit. Or get fired.

"Sorry, Mr. Forman," Micaiah apologized softly, as he made his way to the front of the classroom and towards Eric's desk. "I was just wondering… well, I'm having a hard time with the essay. I don't know what to write about."

Oh, he planned to do the essay. That was better news than Eric had been expecting! "Oh," Eric straightened up in his chair. "Well, it's an essay about someone you think is an everyday hero. So you know, not your Superman, or Batman, or Luke Skywalker, but just a person in your normal life who you look up to." Micaiah still looked unsure, so Eric offered, "A lot of kids are writing about their parents."

Micaiah dropped his eyes. "Yeah. I know."

"You don't want to do that?" Eric frowned.

"Oh I'd like to," Micaiah said. "I just ain't got none."

"Don't have any," Eric corrected softly, while his brain processed the rest of Micaiah's statement.

"I live in a foster home," Micaiah offered. "And they're nice and all, I guess, but I only known 'em three weeks. I don't know if they're heroes yet."

Eric felt his heart sink down into his stomach. "Wow. I'm – I'm sorry, Micaiah. I didn't know."

Micaiah shrugged. "It is what it is. But I'm tryin' to pass this class so I can raise my GPA. I gotta know what to write about."

Eric swallowed and scrambled to regroup. "Okay. Well, you can write about someone else."

"Like who?"

"Well," Eric paused. "You know, sometimes our friends inspire us more than the adults in our life do." He paused and gauged Micaiah's reaction. He seemed to be listening. "I mean, I had a friend in junior high – you kind of remind me of him, actually. He never had the best parents, but he stuck up for everybody he knew. He was loyal, and he was a nice guy. One time a group of kids followed me home after school and were threatening to beat me up, and he came out of nowhere and saved me."

Micaiah smiled a bit. "Yeah. You kinda skinny. I can see it."

Eric smiled and put his hands up, "Yeah, yeah, so you have eyes. I get it, wise guy." Micaiah smiled bigger, so Eric continued. "Or, another friend I used to have. She – she was always challenging me to be better, you know? To think in a different way, to act a different way. She's actually a writer, too, and a really good one. She writes a lot about what's fair and what's not, and what types of changes our world should make to be a better place for everyone." Eric paused, and his voice softened. "I think if I was going to write this essay, I'd write about her." There were a few moments of silence, and Eric wondered if he'd said the right things or not. But then slowly, Micaiah smiled.

"Okay."

"Okay?" Eric echoed. "Did that give you an idea?"

"Yeah, I think so." Micaiah slung his backpack over his shoulder and headed for the door of the classroom. "Thanks Mr. Forman. You alright."

I'm alright, Eric thought to himself. It was the best compliment he'd received in months.

"Close your eyes, my pet," Fez instructed lovingly. He held Jackie by her shoulders, and slowly guided her from their living room to their kitchen.

"I am, Fezzie," Jackie squeaked. But secretly, she was peeking. "Oh my gosh," she put her hands to her mouth as they entered the kitchen, the charade of closing her eyes forgotten. "You cooked!"

"That's right, you liar," Fez laughed affectionately as he made his way over to the stove. "Chicken with wine sauce, French bread," he gestured over each item as he said it. "And for dessert, your favorite, creamy Crème Brulee."

"I can't believe you did this," Jackie gushed. "I feel like I'm in France. Or on a cooking show!"

"I may have taken a cooking class in Kenosha last weekend while you were away at your girls' night," Fez admitted, as he poured them both a glass of expensive French wine. He gestured to the table and then pulled out Jackie's chair for her. "Please, mademoiselle. Have a seat."

"All that for me?!" Jackie wrinkled her nose up in disbelief and flattery.

"All that and more for you," Fez agreed easily. He reached for her plate and began dishing her the contents of the meal. "When we are married, I don't want you to have to be the one who cooks all the time. It's too much for one person. I need to learn, too."

"Well that's sweet." Jackie took a bite of the chicken, and closed her eyes in bliss. "Fez, this is amazing."

And it was. Both the food, and the fact that she'd managed to snag a man who was so thoughtful, kind, and excited to pamper her. When they were younger she would've laughed if you'd told her that she'd be engaged to Fez one day, but as they'd grown older she'd really come to appreciate the qualities Fez brought to the table. For instance, he was constantly showering her with attention and gifts, never shied away from sharing his strong feelings for her, and they both wanted marriage and children in the near future. Steven would never.

Jackie smiled at Fez across the table, and he led them in clinking wine glasses in a cheers.

"To us getting married this year," Fez spoke before taking a sip of his wine. Jackie followed suit, but almost choked on her sip.

"This year? Fez, it's already October. And we're not even engaged."

"Okay, within the next 12-months I mean," Fez shrugged. "I just – can't wait anymore to start our lives together."

"Alright, well, you need to put a ring on it first, buddy." Jackie wiggled her bare right hand at Fez across the table, really just to buy herself some time to think. Marriage? Was she ready for that next step?

"Have I not proposed to you yet?" Fez feigned confusion, and Jackie laughed and shook her head. "No?" he continued. "Okay. Well, it's coming."

"Alright," Jackie laughed.

Fez wore an easy smile, and took her hand in his across the table. "I'm serious, my love. It's coming soon. Are you," he hesitated for a moment, before collecting his confidence again. "Are you okay with that?"

Jackie sucked in a deep breath. Fez was… Fez. He was the nicest guy she'd ever met, he loved her more than anyone she'd ever met, but… he wasn't Steven. As soon as the words entered her mind, Jackie shook her head as if to clear it. Steven was off the table. Steven had his chance. And he would never give her all of the things that she was certain that Fez would. This was the sure thing, the safe choice. And while that wasn't necessarily the love story she dreamed of as a little girl, it meant a lot more to her today after – well, after what she'd been through.

Slowly, Jackie released her breath and smiled. She squeezed Fez's hand. "Yeah. I'm okay with that."

"Hey, Hyde."

Hyde turned around, surprised to hear a familiar voice but not quite sure how to place it. The mall was set to close in ten minutes, and he was on his way out to the back alley to dump the trash from Hole In The Wall before he began closing up the store for the night.

"Long time no see," Casey Kelso schmoozed, offering his hand in a half-shake, as if they hadn't seen each other at the bar just the other day.

"Casey," Hyde nodded his acknowledgment and accepted Casey's handshake. He stopped pushing the trash bin and stood with his arm resting casually atop it. Although he'd never really liked Casey growing up, he didn't have any reason to outright avoid him. Not that they had much in common, though. Or frequently talked. "How goes it?"

"Oh, just another day in paradise," Casey winked. "How 'bout you?"

"Yeah man," Hyde agreed. "Living the dream, over here at the Middleview Mall." The two men paused, and sort of sized each other up for a moment. "So what brings you here?"

Casey shifted his weight from his front foot to his back, and gave a small, boyish grin. "Oh, you know. Just picking up something. Running an important little errand." He gave the small, black plastic bag in his hand a shake.

Hyde nodded. "Cool, cool." He was about to change the subject and make the case for continuing on to the dumpsters when Casey spoke again.

"Just a little present. For my girlfriend." He accented the word 'girlfriend', and Hyde raised his eyes.

"Uh oh. You in the dog house?"

Casey laughed. "The opposite, my friend. I'm getting ready to lock her up… know what I mean?"

Hyde's easy smiled wavered. "Lock her up?"

"Yeah. You know, seal the deal. Put the ring on her finger." Casey jiggled the shopping bag in his hand pointedly. "Just think it's time. You know?"

"Uh," Hyde hesitated. "Haven't you guys only been together for a little while? Like, what, a year maybe?"

"A year and five months," Casey answered, just a bit too quickly. He shrugged. "Look, I just figured it's what she'll be expecting. I'm building a new house for us. Out in the development by the freeway. Seems like the next step."

"Really?" Hyde frowned. "Have you told Donna yet? About the house?"

"Not yet. It's gonna be a surprise. Women love surprises."

"Yeah," Hyde murmured, at a loss for what to say. "It just seems a bit… fast," he settled on after a few moments. "I've known Donna a long time, enough to know she likes to take things slow."

Casey stopped walking alongside Hyde abruptly, forcing Hyde to stop moving his trashcan and stop as well in order to continue the conversation. "Yeah, well, look," Casey started, now sounding a bit agitated. "Some things have changed lately, and I'm reacting. That's all."

Hyde raised his eyebrow. "What's changed?"

"Some things."

"New person in town? That kind of thing?"

Now Casey set his jaw in a way that let Hyde know he was officially pissed. Casey raised a menacing finger, and jabbed it towards Hyde's chest. "Look, you don't know as much as you think you do, okay?"

Hyde raised his hands in front of him. "Hey, man, I –"

"But you know who does know everything that goes on in this town?" Casey continued. His expression changed to a leer. "Me."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you shouldn't be up on your high horse," Casey sneered. "Because I know what you've been up to. For years now." His expression turned to one of mock sadness. "How could you do that to your best friend? Huh?"

Hyde's faced hardened, and Casey took the opportunity to reach out and playfully slap his cheek two times with his palm.

"It'd sure be a shame if anyone found out. Wouldn't it?" Casey smirked at the blank expression on Hyde's face. "Well good runnin' into you," Casey's tone changed to a light-hearted one. "Glad you know where we stand. See you around, bud."

He stalked off into the darkness of the closing mall, and Hyde leafed a hand through his curly hair and then slammed his fist down onto the top of the garbage bin he was accompanying. "Fuck!"

"Hey." Donna knocked quietly at the slightly open door of Natalia's bedroom, and took her daughter's silence as an invitation inside. She gently pushed the door open, and then crossed the room to sit on the edge of Natalia's twin bed.

Natalia was playing on the floor quietly with a care bear and she glanced up at Donna as she walked in, but didn't say anything.

"I'm sorry," Donna began, her eyes almost immediately filling with tears despite the resolve she'd thought she'd built up prior to entering her daughter's bedroom. "Honey – I'm sorry. I see that you're upset about this, and that upsets me."

Natalia set her care bear down gently, and crawled over to sit near her mother's feet. "It's okay," she said in a small voice.

Donna reached down to gently stroke Natalia's hair. "It's okay to be upset."

"I'm not." A few moments of silence passed, and Donna continued to stroke her daughter's hair. Then, in a shy voice, Natalia spoke up. "Did Dad leave because of me?"

"What?" It wasn't that Donna didn't hear, it was that she couldn't believe the question was being asked.

"My dad," Natalia said again, her voice breaking, almost in tears. "Did he leave because of me?"

Donna reached to the floor and scooped Natalia up, relocating her to her lap. She grasped Natalia's face firmly in her hands and looked her in the eyes. "No," Donna said, firmly. "Did you hear me? No. Dad left because of Dad, and you had nothing to do with it." After a few moments, she shook Natalia's face gently, looking for confirmation. "Okay?"

"Okay," Natalia agreed, her voice still small.

"Do you know," Donna began, "Do you know all the people who love you? More than life itself?" She began listing them. "Me. Ms. Kitty and Mr. Red. Grandpa. Uncle Hyde. Aunt Jackie and Uncle Fez –"

"I know, mama."

"You are the most important thing in the world to us, Natalia. You know that. Right?"

"I know, mama."

"Do you?" Donna questioned, taking Natalia's face into her hands. "Because we would do anything for you. I would do anything for you. I need you to know that."

"It's okay," Natalia whispered, reaching for her mom's face. She touched Donna's cheek gently.

"Good," Donna smiled. She released the intensity she was holding in a sigh. "Because I have a surprise for you."

"A surprise? Is it cupcakes?" Natalia asked, jumping to the ground with renewed gusto.

"Better," Donna promised. She went to the door, and produced two tulle-skirted dresses from the hallway. "Matching dresses. The twirly kind, that you like," Donna extended the smaller dress towards her enthusiastic daughter. "We're going to go to that dance together, and we're going to rock out. Are you in?"

"Oooh," Natalia took her dress gleefully. She held it up against her body and twirled like a ballerina. "Just us?" she checked. "No dad?"

"Nope. No boys allowed."

A/N: That's a wrap! If you enjoyed the chapter, please review!

Teaser for next chapter: Donna and Casey have a dinner party to go to and can't find a babysitter for Natalia, Jackie and Fez have dinner with Pam Burkhart, and Kitty and Red have a private errand to run.