AN: This is from Fi's POV and the song is "I Know," by Fiona Apple.

so be it
I'm your crowbar
if that's what I am so far
until you get out of this mess

I can't believe they honestly thought I wouldn't figure it out. I was suspicious back in Seattle when Mom started sounding a little preoccupied all the time on the phone. Then I knew something was definitely up when she forgot to tell people I was coming home--she had to be distracted or preoccupied, because in the past when I'd made visits home she had done virtually everything but lobby the mayor to declare it Fiona Phillips Day in Hope Springs. And when I got here that night and she was sick and he just kept hanging around like he was waiting for something to happen... well, it wouldn't take a genius or even Annie to put the pieces together to form a picture.

In an effort to prove myself wrong (God, I so wanted to be wrong), I threw myself at him to see what would happen. Unfortunately, events unfolded more or less as I had predicted they would. I pretended to have no idea of the true reason, made a crack about his fashion choices, and generally stayed away from both of them as much as I could until four days later when it was time to return to Seattle.

and I will pretend that I don't know of your sins
until you are ready to confess
but all the time, all the time
I'll know, I'll know

The whole time I was home, I couldn't figure out what to do with my seemingly confirmed new knowledge. Should I call Jack and tell him, have him drive back here in the middle of the night at 110mph like I knew he would if I did? Should I call up Ned and Irene? It was such a strange idea to get my head around. How was I supposed to simply accept that the boy I grew up having a massive crush on was now going out or doing other things I didn't want to imagine with my own mother? The idea grossed me out so thoroughly that I decided to keep it to myself for now and hope that the next time I came home, things would be somehow different.

I guess I got my wish. My first visit had been for spring break. My next visit was for the first two months of summer. The day I returned, she certainly looked better than she had the last time I'd seen her--she had barely been able to get herself out of bed the day I left, but now she seemed to be back in color. She came to the airport herself this time, surprisingly punctual and cheerful to a fault. I talked at length about my own life while I tried to think of some way to find out if it was still going on between them.

and you can use my skin
to bury secrets in
and I will settle you down

My answer came not long after we made it back to her new place, because there was Jack, smiling like a boy who didn't have the first idea about his mother's apparently twisted personal life. So it looked like we'd be together like this for the entire summer, the three of us, the way it had always been. But it would be different this time--it would have to be, with what I knew and what she wouldn't say and what he would never know.

Of course Jack couldn't go five seconds without calling up Clu, who was also home, who had to come over and see him, and of course his brother had to tag along--probably so no one would suspect that anything was different, I supposed. I watched the two of them closely but subtly for any signs that I might be right or that I might be wrong. But to the average person my mother and her suspected paramour would seem perfectly innocent.

and at my own suggestion, I will ask no questions
while I do my thing in the background
but all the time, all the time
I'll know, I'll know

I cornered Carey later that night. He was stretched out on the guest bed reading some guitar magazine, ignoring Jack and Clu, who were playing video games and comparing notes about college girls.

I made up an excuse to get him alone and practically dragged him into the living room. "Hey, Fi," he said neutrally.

"Hey. What's up?"

He played along. "Nothing. What's up with you?"

I couldn't really think of a way to say what I wanted to say without actually saying it. It would be a gamble to spill what I knew all at once. The only real signs this time around were the deeper lines in her face and the way she seemed to avoid us more in favor of being alone, and he seemed... I don't know, empty? He spoke and acted without conviction. But all of this really could just be in my head, I realized. Still, I had to know. I took a deep breath. "All right, look. I know about you--"

"Not that again," he groaned.

"I know about you and her."

He didn't say anything. I hoped to God or whoever was in charge of such things that he would just laugh when he realized what I meant, if he even did realize what I was implying. But I had apparently been abandoned, because he asked, "How?"

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not stupid."

"Well, of course you aren't, I mean--I mean, I just thought we--well, it doesn't matter anymore anyway."

"It doesn't?" My heart fairly leaped.

"It's over," he said, and then recited in a monotone: "It was a mistake. As far as we're concerned it didn't happen. Please don't tell anyone."

baby, I can't help you out, while she's still around
so for the time being, I'm being patient
and amidst this bitterness, if you'll just consider this
even if it don't make sense all the time, give it time

"I won't," I promised. The sooner I could stop thinking about this situation altogether, the happier I'd be. But he suddenly looked so sad it was almost heartbreaking, and I wanted to reach out to him but after last time I really wasn't sure I should.

"Hey," I said tentatively. "Are you... you know, are you okay?"

"Oh yeah, I'm just peachy."

"Whoa, relax. I'm sorry, I just didn't know what else to--"

"No." His tone shifted and became much softer and more confidential. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. It's been... it's been hard, that's all."

"Yeah." I tried to pretend to be sympathetic. If it was any other girl... In fact, it had been other girls in the past. I was an old pro at this conversation. But it was more than a little weird to be consoling him after he'd broken up with my own mother. I made an effort not to think about that part. "I know." I laid a soothing hand on his shoulder. He stared at it.

"We've been here before, remember?" My own tone became measurably softer. "But you always get through it, and there's always another one."

"Not this time," he said. "I really feel like I've lost something, you know? It wasn't like that with the others."

"It's better this way," I offered, holding back the rest of that thought: It's better this way, because that other way, it was more than a little distasteful to think about considering that she's at least 20 years older than you and also she's my mother and I've known you since the day I was born and she's known you since the day you were born and don't you see something wrong with that?

"I don't see how," he sighed. "But that's what I hear."

and when the crowd becomes your burden, and you've early closed your curtains
I'll wait by the backstage door
while you try to find the lines to speak your mind
and pry it open, hoping for an encore

Look at me, I wanted to demand. I've been right here for you for as long as you've needed a girl to talk to. I'm the one who's spent night after night assuring you that it's them, it's not you, and I'm the one who really loves you. I don't know what she did for you but it couldn't have been this. Let's pretend it didn't happen. Let's pretend I never knew. Let's just pretend, okay?

It was almost as if he'd heard me, or maybe I said those words aloud, I couldn't remember now, not with his eyes boring into mine. It was if he was saying: remember last time? Maybe this time things could be different. At least that's what I thought he was trying to tell me. So I leaned in again, putting myself on the line again, making the first move again. I guess it followed that I should be rejected again. He pulled back after a few sweet seconds and said: "I can't. I can't do this to her."

Of course you can't. Of course you can't appreciate what I'm doing here by not shouting what I know from the rooftops, killing you both without firing a shot. Of course you can't appreciate that I'm forgiving you instead. But I think you will one day, and that's why I'll stay and I'll be strong enough to endure the daily rejection until the day you turn to me and suddenly realize who I've become and that I'm here, waiting for you to see me. So I'll apologize a second time, and I'll pretend it didn't mean anything to me, and I'll stay by your side until you're ready. Isn't that love?

and if it gets too late for me to wait
for you to find you love me and tell me so
it's okay
don't need to say it...