Rifiuto: Non Miriena

A/N: Sorry for the delay in updates; life got in the way, and Zani and Ev are now unfortunately facing a family member of their adoptive daughter who has come out of the woodwork, trying to contest the adoption, so the entire family is... trying to figure out the best way to go about handling this, because the woman's claims are completely unfounded. I'll update for her when I can.

Written: 2010. Found: 2018- Licia

She was fully moved in within a couple hours- having next to nothing helped- and after being introduced to several other residents of Alphabet City, she headed off down the street, towards the 'uppity' areas of the City as many of the residents called the nicer areas. She promised that she wouldn't be gone long, and that she just wanted to get a few things so she wouldn't feel so... bare.

Once she was a good distance from Alphabet City, she made her way to a small thrift store she'd passed by earlier and slipped inside. She stopped in the doorway, glancing at her bag; the envelope with the money Glinda had slipped into it was in the bottom. The last thing she wanted to do was use the money the blonde had squirreled into her bag, but she countered that with the face that she needed something besides the black dress she wore for clothing. A pair of pajamas would probably be a good thing, too.

So after several minutes of internal debate, she dug around in her bag, pulling out the envelope removing a couple of bills. Once she made it big, she would pay back every cent Glinda had given her. Slowly, she wandered through the shop, looking through hangers and examining articles of clothing before finally choosing a few things. In total, her purchases came to around ten dollars- for a pair of pajamas, two dresses, three pairs of pants, four blouses and a coat. The things were gently used, and all looked brand new. Not bad for a struggling artist.

She left the thrift store and continued down the street, occasionally stopping at a store to pick up other essentials- toothbrush, toothpaste, hairbrush, shampoo and the like. By the end of it, she hadn't even made the tiniest of dents in the money Glinda had hidden in her bag- about fifteen dollars total. She determined that she wasn't going to use any more; that it wouldn't be right. It would make her feel like she was asking for help, when she hated asking for help. She could do things on her own.

As she took a seat at a small cafe, she mentally ran through the list of things she would need, most of which she'd managed to pick up today-

Your birth certificate, not to mention the other papers-

She could go back and get them herself, but if she did that, there was no way in Hell she would ever leave. People didn't get out of Nest Hardings alive once and expect to do the same again. Which only meant one thing.

She had to call her father and ask him to send the papers to her.

A groan escaped her throat. She hadn't had any contact with her father since she'd fled to the City; she highly doubted he'd willingly answer the phone if he discovered it was her on the other end of the line. They didn't exactly get along; he wanted her to be a good girl, the dutiful preacher's daughter, who would do as he asked, and marry a good man, have a bunch of kids and be happy with her pathetic existence in Nest Hardings. But being born in, and dying in, Nest Hardings, without having ever seen the world or followed her dreams, was the last thing she had wanted. So at eighteen, she'd fled, making a beeline for the City, determined to never look back. Her father didn't understand, he would never understand.

She waited, nervously twisting the hard coil of metal around her finger as she held the phone to ear. The booth was quiet, no one noticed the girl as she stood awkwardly waiting for the line on the other end to pick up.

Five minutes.

Ten.

Twenty.

Twenty-five.

Thirty.

Just as she moved to hang it back up, a voice broke through the silence on the other end of the line. "Hello?" Safe to say, she was surprised he'd actually answered, instead of just letting it ring. "Hello? Is someone there?"

"H... Hi, Dad."

A moment passed. "Elle?"

She struggled to keep the tiny smile from tugging at the corner of her lips. The fact that he even remembered her- "I didn't think you would answer if you knew it was me."

"Why wouldn't I? You're my daughter."

She leaned against the wall. "Yeah, but... but it ended badly. I told you I hated you and that I was never coming back."

He chuckled. "Elle, you're eighteen. That's normal. I would have been worried if you didn't do that."

"Oh."

"So what do you need? Or did you just call to say 'Hello'?"

"No, well, yes, but... but I was wondering if you could send me my documents. Birth certificate and... and things like that, so I can... can start... working." She stopped, as silence fell between the two of them.

"Sure thing, kiddo."

"Wait, you're... you're not going to... to fight me on this?" She straightened.

"You're eighteen. It's your life. All I can do is support you, even if it's from a thousand miles away. I'll have those expedited in the next day or two. That okay?"

She nodded, even though he couldn't see her. "That's fine. Thank you, Dad."

"No problem, kiddo. And Elle?" She stopped, bringing the phone back to her ear.

"Yeah?"

"I'm proud of you, no matter what. I know I didn't say it often in the last thirteen years or so, but I am."

She bit her lip. "Thanks, Dad."

Once she'd hung up, he returned the phone to the receiver. To say Elle's call was unexpected was something, but it had to happen sooner or later. After a moment, his gaze moved to the framed photograph on his desk- one of Elle, staring out at him from her place on her mother's lap, a grin on her face. He reached out, brushing his thumb over his wife's features. "She's exactly like you; fiery, independent, sure of her dreams and herself. She's going to make something of herself, and she's going to do so much better in the City than she ever would have done here. You'd be proud of her."

He then quickly pulled the papers she needed and slipped them into an envelope; he'd send them out first thing in the morning. Once done, he stood, flicking the light off as he left the study. He'd meant it, when he said he was proud of her, and Frennic Thorne didn't say things like that lightly.