Author's Note: Nothing to say, really. Thanks to my reviewers.

Disclaimer: I own the depth I've given Trixie, but not her or her father, or anyone else FOP related. (mutters unkind things about the writers and the shallowness of their characters)

Chapter Six: To Make You Smile

Her fingers clasp the locket tightly, her eyes glancing to and fro. Agitated, her heartbeat increases erratically, her temples throb, and her palms sweat profusely. She paces her room, growing smaller by the second.

Trixie Tang is not prone to bouts of nervous fits, but this situation would definitely merit one. Contrary to her cool composure before, she's never actually 'snuck out' and doing so under her father's nose terrifies her more than she can say. That's how it started with her mother, sneaking out under her parents' eyes.

A slip of paper, one she's never noticed before, juts out from a dusty hardcover book in the far corner of her room. If either of those two objects were present before, she'd put her hair in pigtails and call herself Tootie. Yet, since they miraculously materialized, perhaps she ought to examine them. A small voice in her head whispers, could it be hers?

Searching through the house for possessions of her mother has proven quite fruitless in the past. Her father has, undoubtedly, scrounged around before her to prevent her from locating any. But there's always a fleeting hope he missed one...

Crossing the room, she scrutinizes the red leather cover, bound by a strap. If she didn't know any better, she'd say this is a diary of some sort. Her mother's? Her heart begins to palpitate.

Now that both the book and the odd piece of paper are in her hands, she settles down on the bed, her eyes constantly on the clock. At seven, she'll call him and they'll escape the drudgery of the house...if they don't get arrested first. What they do to prisoners in there gives her nightmares.

"From the pen of Patricia Eliza Montgomery," Trixie breathes. My mother...

For a second, all she can do is caress the cover, removing all traces of dust from it even if it means getting it on her hands. No longer is that an issue, her mother's words, her mother's thoughts, anything that can connect her to her, binds her to the spot. Patricia Eliza Montgomery...

However, before she can even think to begin reading, the note, folded neatly and sealed with a kiss (naturally, the lipstick faded a bit over time), tumbles out and onto the floor. One could hear a pin drop in that room...and, irrationally, Trixie prays her father can't hear the 'commotion' (were there any). She's sneaking out, she's overriding her father and reading a note and a diary of her mother- she's rebelling somewhat. Since she's never done this much in one day in her life, it's only natural she think she's apt to be caught.

To my dearest Trixie,

By the time you get this note (if you even receive it, your biological father is dead-set against any interaction of any nature at all and, haplessly, it'll most likely be burned), I'll be long gone. There is so much I want to tell you, but no time to tell it in. As I construct this, I prepare to leave you and the world I knew behind.

I must start a new life, far from Dimmsdale, where my relations cannot hound me for the mistake I made, falling in love. Yes, once upon a fractured fairy tale, I thought I was in love. The angels sang, the birds chirped...and I became a fool in love.

Never fall in love, my daughter. It's the worst thing possible, because you lose control over your emotions and your body...Your own body and your lusts, desires; they betray you. If I hadn't been so foolish, I wouldn't be packing right now, leaving you naught but a few pictures, books, paintings, and a diary. (Given you see any of those).

I don't wish to say I wish you were never born, because that isn't true. For a few glorious weeks, I enjoyed motherhood and the sleeplessness and agitation it brings. I enjoyed it purely due to its fleeting nature.

Leaving you is one of the hardest things I must do, probably the hardest thing in my life. To leave a child, one whom you fostered within for nine months, cared for and loved, breaks my heart. If I could take you with me, I would, but I think your life will be better here, with your father.

You'll have all the nice things, all the popularity you could ever want, and you'll have boys trailing after you. Just be careful with the boys, though, and don't do anything you haven't planned well in advance. Desire and lust are dangerous things, my child, and they lead to horrible consequences.

I don't know when I'll see you again, if I ever will. I'll write as often as possible and, when you learn to read, I'm sure we can correspond. Just remember that I've always loved you and I always will.

Forever your mother,

Patricia Elizabeth Montgomery

P.S. I was forbidden to change my name to Tang.

The note takes her breath away. If she wrote letters to her, and she never received them, then they must have been intercepted...as were the pictures, paintings, books, and any other things she might have left her. How could he! This was her mother, the only mother she'd ever have, and-

"Trixie Elizabeth Tang, we need to talk," Her father, without knocking, barges into her room. She barely has time to stuff the paper and the diary beneath the sheet before he enters.

"Yes, we do," Trixie retorts, bursting with a confidence she does not feel. "How many times has my mother sent me letters?"

"What?" Mr. Tang says, caught off guard. "What are you talking about?"

For the first time in her life, she retorts with a mild curse. "You know damn well what I'm talking about."

Now, his eyes narrow in anger. "Trixie Elizabeth Tang, how dare you-"

"How dare I? How dare you! I have every right to know my mother, to at least know what she looks like!" Biting her lip hard again (and, yet again, drawing blood), she glowers at him, but tears form in her eyes. No, she doesn't cry, that's not the Tang way. Tangs don't cry, they're proud and strong...but her mother...

"Your mother has no place in this conversation!" Mr. Tang hisses back, blood boiling. He thought he'd long buried any topic concerning her.

"Why?" Trixie snaps, tears brimming to the surface. "Because she did what I'm doing? Falling for Timmy, someone that my parent disapproves of?"

"I forbid you to see that boy again!" Strolling into the room, he scrutinizes the lump on her bed. God, no...don 't recognize it...She needs that diary.

"What about the dinner?" Her voice quavers- he's retracting that too? Just because she brought up her mother? But...that isn't fair! Why did parents feel it their need to ruin their daughters' lives?

"What about it?" Icily, he throws over the sheets but she flings herself atop the diary. More than Timmy, this diary means the world. Although it's not her world, it was her mother's and she'd do anything just to briefly be a part of it.

"You said you'd give him a chance!" You liar. Burying her face in the sheets, tears cascade down her face and her body shakes with sobs. With all her heart and soul, she wants her mother right now. Maybe it's childish, but maybe she's sick of acting like an adult when she's only ten.

"Trixie..." Settling next to her, he smoothes her hair. Okay, so he may be strict sometimes, but he does want her to be happy. Ignoring the stigma her mother left on the family, if she truly does want to be with Timmy, then...

"Yes, I did. Tomorrow night, but if he doesn't prove himself then..." Leaving the threat dangling, he kisses the crown of her head and sighs heavily. "I'll be right back."

Lifting her head, she watches her father leave the room, returning to throw a humungous pile of envelopes on her bed. Looks like she has some reading to do...