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Broken Lullaby: I

-By ReddAlice-

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Author's Note:  This story has a lot of feelings behind it I hope you enjoy it. For anyone who will honor me with criticism I just want to say, I gladly accept all forms of your opinion and am very grateful for you taking time to let me hear them. Thank you.  

Song: Lullaby - Key the Metal Idol (anime), I hate Everything About you - Three Days Grace, Fighter - Christine Agulara, Ex-girlfriend - Nodoubt

(199)-(-)-(Duo's Room)-(-)-(-)

God's grace…

Duo smiled admiring his own reflection with detachment. "You clean up nicely."  When had he grown up so much? Last week he was roaming cold the streets, dirty, unwanted. Only a few nights ago he was watching his surrogate family burn to ash inside an ornate cage. Just yesterday he was manning Deathscythe and fighting in a complex war.

I love you…

Now he was suited up in a fine tux that he paid for with his own honest money, going to a dinner benefit Quatre was hosting for the rebuilding of L-5. He had volunteered to help raise the money for basic housing construction costs; this benefit was only the start of the work Quatre had planned, and Duo was co-hosting.

Acutely aware of his movements in the mirror, Duo brushed back an unruly strand of hair that had fought free from his braid. Maybe it was time to let go of the past and cut off his mane? He was always threatening it with plans of shaving in the morning when he couldn't get his hair to come untangled, but those harsh words were forgotten when he saw the masterful plait it wove. It was his equivalent of a stuffed bear a child refused to sleep without, and maybe now at 19, it was time to let go.

"Hey Duo, are you coming?" Quatre thrust his head into Duo's bedroom, one hand modestly covering his eyes. "You clothed?"

"Yeah, Quatre, all pressed, primped, and read to go."

Dubiously sluggish, Quatre removed his hand, his face lighting up. "Wow! Duo, you look amazing." Unsure, Duo gave himself one more glance, so the satin blue vest hadn't been too much. "Duo, don't worry! You look fantastic. No one will recognize you. If you were a girl I'd say this reminds me of Cinderella-"

"Hey, man! Watch it." Duo laughed. "Obviously not being female, I still reminded you of Cinderella...but thanks, I needed a raving review."-He paused and picked up his jacket- "Okay, let's go."

"I'm glad to have such a good looking man presenting along side me."

"Trowa and Heero are good lookin' too, one of them could do it, probably do it a bit better."

"Yes, but they'd scare everyone away...and all we would have is their pennies that got dropped in the stampede. With you up there smiling they'll probably be throwing hundreds-"

"I don't strip."

Quatre shot him a look, "liar."

Just you…

(-)-(-)-(Winner Hall - 8 pm- )-(-)-(-)

Wufei checked his watch; Heero was starting to get on his nerves. Every few minutes he would look up at the clock above the far left entrance, then adjust his coat all the meantime remaining silent about his concern. Not once did he ask why Duo was late, but rather let the said question hang in the air around him. The thirtieth time he repeated the sequence of actions, he stopped mid routine.

Curiously, Wufei turned around to see, though he knew, what had averted disaster. Had Heero completed one more round, Wufei would have drowned him in the punch bowl. Surprise, surprise, it was Duo...looking...really...really...good.

Heero ghosted up from the table and melted through the crowd as if he was about to accept some god-ordained mission.

"Duo!" A female cried, the voice's owner cutting off Heero and hugging Duo. "Holy…" She trailed. "You look great!"

Duo rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, "Not so shabby yourself, Hilde. How are you?"

Hilde nodded, "Really good aside from this hellish dress." Had she only turned around, maybe she would have felt the hole being burned into her back by to incensed cobalt eyes. "Seriously though, Duo, you look...I don't know...really pretty, really important...I mean you'd make your mother so proud."

(-)-(-)-(Quatre's Private Limo -Half past midnight-)-(-)-(-)

Quatre pursed his lips; Duo had remained quit the entire evening, and remained so even in the car on the way home. There was something on his mind, flickering in his wide indigo eyes. Apparently, Quatre would have to start a conversation, because Duo wasn't volunteering any information. "Hey, Duo you where superb tonight!"

Duo nodded a bit, his chin resting in his hand sullenly. "T-yeah…"-he shook his head-"thanks."

 "At first I thought those jokes were a little inappropriate, but actually, they loosened everyone up. Your probably inspired those tycoons to donate more than pocket change. I didn't even believe the number when it was added up!"-Unnerving silence-"Duo, you okay?"

"Yeah, just lost in thought." Duo replied distantly, watching the street laps blur through the tinted window of the limo.

"Apparently…" Quatre murmured. "Whatchya thinking, Duo?"

Duo sat up straight, and then leaned back into his seat across from Quatre. "About parents."

Quatre froze, that was a touchy subject for everyone. Wufei's parents died on the explosion on L5, he did a little speech during the benefit in their honor, seeing how he was the sole survivor and son to the clan leader. Trowa had confided once that he never knew his parents, but wished he had; and Heero just never spoke of it. Which left Quatre and Duo, everyone one was well aware that Quatre's mother died, and his father was assassinated. Then how about Duo? Man of mysteries, man of emotional silence and secrets.

"What about parents, Duo?" Quatre finally managed.

Duo cleared his throat adverting his gaze back to just beyond the window, or maybe reality. "I wonder if my mom would...could honestly be proud of me."

"Your mother loves you, of course she's proud." Quatre said quickly, almost hesitantly, he himself had asked that question many times.

"I don't know that, I don't know her, never have, neither of them." Duo finally dropped his intense stare on Quatre, "My father too. I don't think they could love a guy who killed so many people."

Quatre shook his head, "No, they couldn't Duo, but they could love their son who saved many more."

For a moment, Duo seemed to consider it, then he shook his head and said, "They never knew their son, they couldn't love their son." Quatre opened his mouth to protest, but Duo cut him off. "I know this, because I never knew them and I don't love them solely on the fact that they are my biological parents. I don't love them, because I never knew them. Can't know something that's not there, ya know. I'm not gonna believe it because someone said it." He continued.

Quatre was at a loss for words, his heart throbbing loudly in his ears. Did his mother love him? The son she died giving birth to? "I love my mom." He finally said, hurting deep inside for his lost friend, and for himself.

Duo shrugged slipping his loosened tie from under his collar, "That's good for you." He responded stiffly.

"I love my mom…" Quatre whispered. But does she love me? I'm everything her and dad fought against.

(179)-(-)-(Late Afternoon)-(-)-(-)

"You look beautiful today, Mandy. Why don't you step into my office, I'll help you finish that car later, together…"

(179)-(-)-(Early Evening)-(-)-(-)

Pausing to catch her breath, Amanda brushed her long chestnut hair back from her face. She should replait it, but she didn't particularly want to take the 20 minutes extra just to fix her exercise-tousled mane. If she didn't, her mother would wonder what was up, and then she would have to come up with some not so far fetched excuse as to where she had been since school's release 5 hours earlier.

Frowning, she pulled a fine toothcomb from her bag and began to work her fingers through her hair, untangling expertly as she went. It was getting so long; it was far past her rear. Perhaps she should butcher it? Wasn't that the latest style? Wearing it in pixie bobs? But something about her unbelievably thick brunette tresses made her feel like the princess her daddy always had told her she was, but that was before his death, her mother's cancer, and long before Ilia- Mr. Ivankovich, her mother's boss.

Satisfied with the braid, she slung it over her shoulder and entered the hall of her apartment building.

Mrs. Alexander was waiting, sitting in a lawn chair, in the hall. "Mandy! Where have you been?" She nearly yelped, jumping up from her chair and hobbling over to her 15-year-old daughter. "I was so worried. I thought-...I thought…"-tears formed in her weary blue eyes-"I thought...they might have-…"

"Mama! Don't sit out here it's chilly, ya know!" Amanda admonished ushering her mother back inside their cluttered apartment.

Sitting her mother in the living room/dining room/kitchen table, Amanda went to the cupboards. "Mama, would you like some tea? I can start on dinner too."

"Sweetie, don't worry about it. I'm your mother, I pray taking care of people isn't genetic, that way you won't have to deal with yourself when you're a mother!"

"Haha…" Amanda muttered bringing a pot of water to a boil.

"Amanda…"

Amanda stiffed to the sound of her full name, "Yes, mama?"

"Where were you today?"

"Nowhere mama."

"Were you at the garage again?"

Amanda sighed pouring the steaming liquid into a round mug, "Yes."

"Mandy, you don't have to work in my place, sweetie. We'll be fine. Mr. Ivankovich said I could come back when I feel better. Till then, he would keep me on paid-for sick days deal."

But that's why he's paying you, because I'm doing the work. "Yes, mama."

"Good, now lets have some tea!" Mrs. Alexander beamed.

(179)-(-)-(Next Day -9am-)-(-)-(-)

"I hope for your sake your mother doesn't find out your skipping school now, you'll give her an aneurysm!" Helen barked.

Amanda flagged away her friend, "Yeah, yeah. She'll have an aneurysm if I don't!"

(179)-(-)-(10:30 am)-(-)-(-)

Stashing her bags inside a large truck tire, Amanda changed into her overalls quickly. She had a lot of work to do, and little time to do it in, and if she hurried, then maybe she could spend some time with Ilia.

While she put on gloves something caught her attention, the door to Ilia's door was cracked open. He was a private man, so it was unusual.

Quietly she slipped her gloves back off, and tossed them aside. Maybe it was a secret message for her to come check out; maybe he wanted to spend some alone time with her.

The closer she came, the more clear several voices became, one belonging to Ilia Ivankovich.

"Mr. Barton, I'm sorry, but I won't help the war, I want it to stop." Ilia said.

"I don't suppose you'd reconsider, Mr. Ivankovich. I can be quite persuasive...if need be. Will you change your mind in the near future?"

"No."

"Then, we'll have to make some other sort of arrangement. Maybe your family can be of some service to me, a little sister perhaps, or a decrepit father?" -Just then, Amanda leaned to hard on the door, and she tumbled forward into the office, and Mr. Barton smiled. "Maybe...a nosy little grease monkey."

At the slander, Amanda glared up but over estimated Mr. Barton's head level and came upon to very frightened angry indigo eyes; Ilia was starring at her with unreadable fiery eyes…

Deliberately slow, Mr. Barton walked by her and out of the office. "I'm sure you'll come up with terms I can agree with."

 (179)-(-)-(Shortly thereafter)-(-)-(-)

"What the hell are you doing here!?" Ilia snapped slamming his hands onto his desk. "What? Why are you here?"

Amanda had never heard him so angry, "I-I was coming to work, I thought-...I thought…uh…" She stuttered.

"Amanda, I want you out of my garage, don't ever come back, I never want to see you again. You or your mother."

(179)-(-)-(Two Months Later -10 pm-)-(-)-(-)

"Oh, man-o-man-o-man…" Amanda hopped nervously about Helen's huge bathroom, her friend sitting along side the garden tub eyeing her.

"Mandy, stop it, your freaking me out." The timer dinged, and Amanda and Helen exchanged fretful looks. "What are you going to do if it's blue?"

"If it's white...then I am gonna be happy that I can go to school and live a normal life, ya know?"-Her breath caught in her chest-"But...if it's blue, I am going to love my baby more than anyone ever could ya know? He or she is going to be happy! I'll be a great mom, just like mine."

Helen smiled feeling inferior under her friend's determination and natural glow, but it was something she had become accustomed to. "Good, if anyone can do it, you can!"

Amanda nodded firmly and reached for the pregnancy test. What ensued could only be described as sheer ambivalence. At first her face was a sallow color, her eyes glossed, then a weak smile broke the cloud, and tears freely streamed down her white cheeks. "I guess I am gonna have to back up those words...ya know…"

"Oh…Amanda…" Helena rose from her seat and wrapped her arms around her sobbing friend. "If anyone can, you can." She whispered into her hair.

(179)-(-)-(Hours Later)-(-)-(-)

Helen dropped a pile of posh comforters on her friend's still body, and snuggled down next to her. "We should write him a lullaby…" She suggested poking Amanda's stomach through the blankets.

"Yeah...lets write him a song." Amanda sat up, her long hair hanging around her face in tangled mats.

"It shouldn't be a problem, I mean, you wrote that play for the school didn't you? And aced every English course…Maybe all that was preparing you to write something that would change someone's life. Something to ease a restless spirit of a baby."

Amanda raised her eyebrow, "Uh huh...I think you need sleep."

"Yeah...so do I."

When Amanda had time she toiled away at the song, but never got far.

(182)-(-)-(Two ½ Years Later)-(-)-(-)

Life had never been exactly easy for Amanda, she had worked very hard right along side her mother till she died two and a half years ago at 16. Then at the funeral she fell into premature labor, and was driven to the hospital in a Hurst. Naturally, after such trauma, the birth had unusual complications.

The end result, however, was one beautiful healthy…baby boy. Helen arrived soon after and stayed the night next to her exhausted best friend. Two days later, Amanda was released out in the wild world, alone and not even seventeen. Regardless, Amanda picked up three minimum paying jobs a week after her discharge, and barely scratched by putting her son into daycare, and paying for a babysitter.

It took a year before she was settled into a small apartment on the bad side of town, but she was able to quit two jobs and maintain 8 hour shifts 6 days a week at a dinner while her son terrorized the daycares, and old ladies who had volunteered for the sitting job upon seeing his father's amazing indigo eyes.

"Chance...mama's home." Amanda called, whipping her brow and opening her arms to the bundle already waddling to the door at super-fast-baby-speed. "How's my boy?"

"Ms. Alexander, we need to talk…"

Amanda swept her baby into her arms, the obnoxious two year old giggling pleased. "Mrs. King, I hope everything went well?

"It most certainly did not!" The old bag huffed, mascara filling in the wrinkles below her hallow eyes. "He's a terror."

Amanda hid her smile, a terror she was proud of. "What did he do?" She asked in mock-defense.

Mrs. King shoved by the mother and son, grabbing her purse and making her way towards the door. "A more apt question would be, young lady, what didn't he do!?" She shrieked. 

Waiting for the door to close, Amanda rocked her wriggling son on her arms. "Now, Chance, why did you have to chase another one away?" She grinned wryly. "No one will baby-sit you, I just don't know what to do with you!"

Chance giggled profusely, his laughter as contagious as a little boy as cute as he was could be. "Awe, momma loves you. We'll figure something out! Don't we always?" The two-year-old nodded, his shaggy brown hair flopping about.

"I bet you wish momma could stay here with you all the time, don't you, sweetie?" Chance bobbed his head up and down, his eyes twinkling with a sort of understanding that only a mother could achieve with her offspring.

Amanda sighed deeply, and hugged her son. "Chan, you're so beautiful...I love you so much."

(181)-(-)-(Three Days Later, Early Morning)-(-)-(-)

Amanda couldn't believe her ears when the shrieking doorbell echoed throughout her apartment at 5 am. If it was Jesus Ortiz at the door again asking about marriage, she was going to commit murder, Amanda glanced at her sleeping son, or maybe not. She could dream, couldn't she?

Hurriedly, she climbed from her war stack of mismatched covers, and snuggled her baby into the blankets so he wouldn't stir while she was away. If they, whoever they was, woke her son up hell would rain from the ceiling and burn them to death in the most agonizing way she could conjure.

Amanda blearily swung open the door to come face to face with her landlord, Milo. "Hey, Milo...good morning."

The old man nodded ruefully, "How are you doing, Miss Mandy?"

Unaware of her own state of disarray, Amanda pushed back her long unkempt hair. "Good, Milo, you?"

"Not so good, Miss Mandy."

"Oh? Why is that?" Deep in her chest, Mandy could feel it.

"Is your boy asleep?" Milo asked quietly.

Amanda felt herself stirring awake, ready to defend her case. "Milo, it's the crack of dawn, God's even asleep."

Milo laughed shallowly, "Mandy, why don't you step upstairs so me and the misses can talk to you. If you want, you can bring your boy...but it's kinda important."

"You're kicking us out." Amanda concluded flatly without skipping a beat.

"I'm sorry, Mandy. It's just...your rent is always late...and Mrs. And Mr. King, and the wife is always complaining bout your son being so darn loud. We made an exception with you when we said no children, but...or hospitality has to end here. I'm sorry."

Amanda felt her fist bawl up, and crack right into the door. "Well fuck!" In the background, Chance began to cry.

"Miss Mandy, there's no need for that sort of language." Milo hushed.

Amanda turned her scowl on him, a rarity with someone so good-natured. "Milo shut the fuck up you pussy whipped bastard." With that, she slammed the door and went to sink down next to her wailing son.

(181)-(-)-(One Months Later)-(-)-(-)

Helen had been kind enough to hold all of Amanda's stuff while she prepared to go off to an Ivy League university on L-5. However, her best friend didn't have time or the resources to baby sit Chance on Amanda's only day off so she could locate a new place to stay.

The entire morning had started off a disaster, Chance came down with a cold, had his cough was enough to wrench the coldest hearts. Helen bought some medications with her own money, and told Amanda not to concern herself with debts. They were best of friends after all, and had been since they were six and hating every bleeding second of kindergarten.

After a small fuss over what chance wanted to wear, the little two year old with a mind of his own decided on a yellow superman t-shirt and a pair of black coveralls. Over course the shaggy haired child looked like a ragamuffin, Amanda loved in him all the more for it.

Next there was a mother vs. son battle over a stroller, Chance wanted walk, and Amanda wanted him snuggled in a seat so he could recover from his cold and sleep. Nevertheless, Chance wanted to walk. Of course with motherly sternness she won, and chance willingly climbed into his seat, but soon after seeing the massive forming pout of resignation she let him walk. She had won, that's all that mattered, end of story.

 So Amanda sat with her son on her lap inside the bus depot trying to figure out what she was going to do. It was impossible to take another day off and feed her growing son, she couldn't take hand outs forever, but she had to do what she had to do.

Her pride was shredded already from mooching off of Helen, regardless of the fact her parents were so far from hard up for money, that they almost bleed cash. "What am I going to do, baby? If I take off another day...Chris'll fire me for sure...but I don't have anyone to watch you, I don't have any money for a sitter...the bank won't lend me money...and I can't keep hurting Helen."

Just then, Chance looked up with his wide clear eyes, the look of a child who had hope and faith solely in his mother. "Mama…" He mumbled sleepily clutching at the excess fabric of her sweater. It tugged her heart into despair, tears forming in her eyes. Amanda ran a finger down her son's flawlessly soft warm cheek, and smiled shakily.

The little boy in her arms had no expectations of her, just love. She could not let him down; she had to do well for him...more than she had done for her dying mother. Amanda's soul wouldn't betray those beautiful innocent eyes, his father's…

"That's bastard." It was a rarity when she thought of that self-centered prick, the one who had promised her the world and in the end left her mother and pregnant self on the streets. As many insults she could think of, all of which she fully planned to scream at him one day, she felt a deep love for him amongst that hate. She swore she had felt it returned from him, but his last words stated other wise. That one-day would come today…

Amanda gathered Chance tightly in her arms; he was getting so heavy, a lean and strong little boy. "Sweetie, lets go see Daddy."

Chance blinked at her, Daddy was a word he had never known; he had no concept of a father, just the image of his sole protection, his mother.

(181)-(-)-(Just Three Hours Afterward)-(-)-(-)

Tracking down the current residence of Ilia Ivankovich was harder that Amanda had imagined. It turned out that he had landed a huge deal with a large corporation and was moved to one of the colonies that loomed amongst the stars at night.

47892 N. Grandview Avenue

Level 1, Section 1, Col. 2 

"Mandy...be careful okay?" Helen sniffed, her eyes red from crying as she hugged the little boy she been watching grow up. "If that bastard does anything, anything at all! Give me a call...I'll borrow money-"-Amanda narrowed her eyes and shook her head-"Fine! Be that way! I'll steal it and come and get you. I'll highjack a shuttle, then become a nun! Yes, a nun! I will hide us in a convent!!" She proclaimed throwing her hands above her head. 

"You'd drop out of school for me?" Amanda asked with a quirked brow.

Helen nodded, "I'd do anything for you and Chan, you're my family." It was true, her parents had always been gone, and they were sisters in everything but blood.

Amanda laughed adjusting the bag on her back, and two over each shoulder. "Like I'd let you." She stated finally, sweeping her bundled kid up in her arms.

"I love taking care of kids, you never know! If this job as a lawyer doesn't work out, next time you see me…" She trailed tapping Chance's little nose. "I'll be in black and white like a penguin." Chance snorted. "Promise you two will see me again?"

"That's a promise! I love you, Hel." Amanda said hugging her son for encouragement.

Helen smiled, "I love you too, Mandy." Chance eyed her, his delicate brows wiggling comically. "You too, Chan."

"Love you too, aunee-elen. Bai Bai!"

Both of the young women starred in astonishment, regardless of his incessant laughter, and daycare appraisal, he hardly uttered a word, and now he was waving goodbye as if he was a mute mimicking his mom.

Not soon after, without a tear left to shed in her thin body, Amanda packed her son aboard a shuttle and watched the flight attendant tear up the ticket she had spent nearly every last penny to buy. Safe to say, at the very least, Chance was as enthused as any little superman fan could be when flying into outer space.

Hundreds of scenarios played through her head, she had never gotten around to telling Ilia about his son. Partially because she never told her mother who the father was, but somehow Amanda felt her mother knew, a particular scenario playing in her mind.

"Mandy, you can't help who you love, but you can turn away."

"What do you mean, mama?"

"I mean...love can make happiness, but can't buy safety, not for you...or for…." She quieted, Mrs. Alexander was well aware of Ilia's personal affairs in the black market as well as the slight expansion in her daughter's abdomen.

Mandy turned towards the sink and viciously scrubbed away at a single plate.

"But it can buy food, mama." Amanda reasoned, Chance looking at her from his small bag of complementary peanuts. Slowly she averted her gaze back to the little boy, "Chan...did you just throw that nut at that old sleeping man." She whispered.

Her son hastily stashed the bag under his tray, as a stewardess made a sweep of the isles looking for the projectiles specialist, and looked up innocently at his mom.

Amanda smirked, nothing escapes the mother of a toddler, and even the tiny culprit and a tiny airborne peanut knew that.

(181)-(-)-(The next day, Evening)-(-)-(-)

The relief in Amanda's sigh when she finally, and not to mention stiffly, waddled from the docking area with her sparse baggage and son was far more than incriminating. Each flight attendant stared at her and her child suspiciously. The boy was truly a comedy relief, and his childish sense of humor was well needed in such a drab world, Amanda noted honestly to herself.

However, putting the butter from his dinner roll in the hand of the man the seat in front of him, though done expertly, may have been a little to much for the exhausted crew to handle. Amanda had been dozing when the old man yelled in sheer fury, and whirled around and shouted obscenities that would have made the late Mrs. Alexander roll in her gave. However the man underestimated the power of an enraged mother, or just hadn't thoroughly thought of the repercussions of harassing Amanda's only child.

 The moment the man's hand went back to 'discipline' the 'delinquent,' Amanda was awake and already following through with a punch that would have made a golden-glove heavy weight flinch in empathy.

It was safe to say, the man was still out cold, and couldn't threaten with lawsuits; though Amanda was sure the case would fold within itself if it were ever brought to trial.

With a glimmer of amazement, and even a little smugness, Amanda looked at the livid skin around her dark knuckles.

"Wow, mama." Chance finally said after having retained his silence for a full hour after the incident. "You strong."

"I love you, Chan...and Hell hath no mercy like a mother protecting her baby." 

Chance didn't say any more, rather he clutched tighter to his mother's pale hand, comforted that she was the bestest mommy in the universe, and could even defeat the butter man.

Unable to deny herself the simple pleasure of reveling in her own child's approval and need for her, Amanda smiled, and squeezed his hand. "I love you."

"Love you too mama."

Continuing with her uncomplicated delight with her son, Amanda glanced at the address she had jotted down back on Earth.

47892 N. Grandview Avenue

Level 1, Section 1, Col. 2 

(181)-(-)-(A day of searching later, Mid-afternoon-)-(-)-(-)

Amanda beat her own disquiet into submission, damn them to hell; she would do this for her son. Her revenge would have to wait, she hoped he was in ruin and gave their son the last of his money, then died in a gutter a drunkard and a bastard.

What she wanted was not what she got. 47892 N. Grandview Avenue was the picture definition when she thought of successful crooked defense attorneys, not a garage owner and hot item peddler. She was lightly grateful she had taken a small amount of time in the hotel room to clean up Chance and herself.

Her bewilderment was swiftly exchanged for resentment, all this time he had been living it up while his son took seconds. A white rage burned through her veins, and any unease she once held disappeared. It may have been her fault that she didn't tell Ilia about his son, but not once did he search out the 15 and ½ year old girl he made love to, and then tossed aside. Without a care he helped shorten her mother's life, and cheapened her love she had so cherished in her heart. Now eighteen, holding her son's hand for the reassurance she would always need, Amanda pushed open the large revolving doors and entered the well-furnished lobby. 

A slightly older secretary glance up over her thin black rimed glasses and raised an eyebrow, "May I help you?"

Whether it was the ample chest, sausage blonde curls, trim body, or snotty attitude, Amanda took an immediate dislike to the woman. "I'm here to see Mr. Ivankovich."

"Do you have an appointment?" Amanda didn't need to hire a psychic to see where this was going.

"No."

The secretary leaned forward over the gold plated desk, the skin between her eyes creasing slightly in distaste towards small yelling thing standing at Amanda's side, even though the boy was dead silent and politely so. "You can't see Mr. Ivankovich without an appointment." She said leaning back and blatantly sizing up Amanda by her appearance.

Amanda didn't need to lie to herself, she had never been unattractive, and with one look at her son you could tell both of his parents were lookers of an ethereal breed. Yet, the less that cheap attire, though clean, didn't make her feel an ounce of her own beauty. "It's really important that I get in to see him."

The woman smiled, and said slowly, "I said...I am sorry...Mr....Ivankovich...is not seeing anyone without an appointment."

Amanda clenched her fists, and gritted her teeth. "Then may I make an appointment, please?"

"I'm sorry, we only make in advanced over the phone appointments." The secretary said with a self-satisfied smirk.

Chance fidgeted under the density of the air accumulating between the two women. "Then here, hand me your phone, I'll call...and you can let me in...in lets say…"-she glanced at the clock-"five minutes or I will go up myself."

The women's mouth fell open, then shut. "I-I won't allow you to go up stairs without an appointment." While the woman spoke at Amanda with auctioneer-worthy speed, Amanda read the board against the back wall: Names, Floors, and office numbers.

For a second time Amanda was surprised, Ilia Ivankovich's name was at the top of the list in embossed silver print on the 42nd floor, the master suite.

"-Remove you." The secretary finished.

Amanda smiled pleasantly, "Listen you bubbling satirical blonde airhead. Thanks for your time, but I'm late." With that, Amanda hoisted her child onto her hip and made her way to the elevator.

Once in, Chance waved as the polished doors slide shut, "Bai bai!" He shouted at the sputtering blonde.

 

When the doors finally opened after what seemed to be an eternity there was a small astonishment waiting for them. The woman from downstairs was staring them down; she was surprisingly well put together for someone who apparently flew to the top floor.

Chance made an O shape with his mouth, which his mother did as well in turn.

"I said...no appointment…no seeing Mr. Ivankovich." Super flying bimbot said in a rigid stately manner.

Still the confused duo just stared.

The woman shook her head in agitation, "There is another elevator."

Amanda nodded, "I'm going to go see him. You don't have to give me permission." She informed, stepping out of the elevator and lowering Chance to the floor.

All over again the secretary repeated her first offence, next to breathing, and looked down at the child. "No children."

"He's not a pet, he's my son." Amanda hissed, "Get out of my way before I eliminate you, the only obstacle." She snapped her eyes gleaming dangerously, as she shoved past the woman with her child in tow.

"At least tell me who you are so I can call him and let him know you're here." The woman pleaded, her inflexible conduct drained.

Without thinking, or stopping in the hall towards her ultimate goal, Amanda said. "I'm his wife." Before she knew it, she was whirled around and in face off mode with the secretary from hell.

"Excuse me." She spat.

Amanda felt her eyebrows recede into her hairline, "You're excused." She quipped.

"I'm his wife."

| TBC |

Note - Be expecting the last 15 pages very soon! Thank you everyone who reviews!