Author's Note: So, yeah, I feel like writing a Crarco story for some odd reason. I don't even have any inspiration for it other than being in the mood, sooo if anyone has an idea for a story before I come up with my own, it would be much appreciated. :) Oh, and there's one more thing I have to mention. Someone, in a review, said that they thought it was kind of strange that Rebecca still calls Dylan 'Uncle.' One: She's just used to it, you know? Two: She sometimes calls him other things, you'll see. Just wanted to put that out there. :)

Rebecca got ready for school the next day, forgetting for a moment why she was actually not dreading it. She pulled on a blue tank top and blue jeans, and started going about making her hair look presentable before she finally remembered. She had a friend she looked forward to seeing.

Picking up her pace, she put on just a tiny bit of eyeliner, and added mascara. Usually, it was just eyeliner. She liked to put on a bit more each day until the overprotective man in her house said she looked like a whore, though she was glad he wasn't quite as rude about it.

Rebecca took her bag off the computer chair, and walked into the kitchen, seeing neither one of her parents in there.

"Dad!" she called out, wanting to say good-bye to, at least, one of them. Her father was usually the first one up.

"Did he go already?" she asked after Dylan had come through the kitchen door.

"He's not going," said Dylan. "He's really not feeling well, so I'm not letting him."

Rebecca laughed. "Okay, well, is he asleep?" she asked. Dylan nodded. "Tell him I said good-bye then," she said, kissing his cheek. "Bye."

"Bye," said Dylan, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

Rebecca closed the door, and Dylan watched her walk out, counting to three in his head while he sipped his coffee. Right on time, Rebecca walked back into the kitchen. She smiled sadly at her Uncle. He put his mug down, and opened his arms for her.

"I'm going to miss you," she said, her voice muffled in his shirt. "Dad is too."

"I know," he said sadly, "but two weeks goes by faster than you think."

"Sure," she said, rolling her eyes. "Promise to call twice?" she asked, her voice hopeful.

"Three times," he held up three fingers, pulling away from her. "Love you," he said. "Have a good day."

"Have a good flight," she replied, walking back outside.

Rebecca managed to arrive to her first class on time, something she hadn't done in many years. She knew Mr. Armstrong already seemed to hate her, so she didn't want to make it any worse on the second day of about one-hundred and eighty.

She sat herself down in the same seat next to Daniel, smiling. "Morning," she said.

"Good morning. You look sort of…different today," he noticed, trying to figure out just what it was about her that was not like the day before.

Rebecca looked herself over, raising an eyebrow in confusion. "What is it? Bad different? Good dif—"

"No," he interrupted her, calming her down. "Just different."

Rebecca smiled shyly, turning to open her new math textbook. Rebecca was never shy; it just didn't happen, and she wasn't sure whether or not she liked that side of her.

"Rebecca," said Mr. Armstrong, causing her to turn around in alarm. Had she been daydreaming again? Was class over?

"Yes?" she asked, seeing that he was at his desk in the back.

"What's your book number?"

"Book number…" she said, not following.

Daniel tried not to laugh. "He needs to know," he whispered, "the number in the textbook, so he can write it down."

"Sixty-eight," she said, blushing. Why was she acting so…so unlike herself? Maybe Daniel was right. She was different that morning, though she was sure he didn't mean this.

"Are you sure you'll be okay without me?" Dylan asked, moving around the bedroom, getting some last minute packing done. "I mean, I don't want to leave while you're sick."

"I'm fine," said Marco, annoyed that his husband had left most of his packing until the day of his departure.

"You're not fine," said Dylan, throwing another shirt in. "Otherwise, you'd be at work. Do you think it'll be colder or warmer there?"

"I am fine," Marco answered. "Maybe I'll go in later on, and I don't know. Bring cold and warm clothing."

"Well, I worry, you know?" he said, sitting on the suitcase, hoping it would close.

"You always pack too much," said Marco, rolling his eyes. He scooted over to the other side of the bed, closing his eyes tightly to block out his headache, and locked the suitcase that was clearly about to explode.

"I know," said Dylan, sighing. He hugged Marco tightly. "Miss you."

"I know," he laughed, "and hey, maybe I'll finally get you to call on one of these trips. I always wanted you to, and now I just want you to hang up."

"Okay, okay, but if you need anything, anything at all, I have my phone with me, all right?"

"Yes, just go," said Marco, kissing him good-bye tiredly. "By the way, do I look pregnant?" he asked, concerned.

"Absolutely not," said Dylan honestly. He was quite slim for a boy carrying a baby, and Dylan supposed that was rather good because Marco was constantly worried about his weight. "No one would ever notice."

"I can always make the flight later if—"

"Good-bye, Dylan," said Marco.

"Good-bye," he said, finally leaving.

Rebecca managed to get through her first half of the day with minimal screw-ups, a constant smile, and no confrontations with past friends. It was going pretty well.

She sat down to lunch with Daniel. She still didn't know what that giddy feeling she was dealing with was, but she had quite a good feeling. He didn't appear to have noticed anything, though.

"So, do you like it here?" asked Rebecca, taking another bite of her salad.

"Do you eat salad every day?" he asked, avoiding the question.

"Lately," she replied, laughing. "See, my dad is on this crazy health thing lately because…well, he just is. He usually makes insanely extravagant food, but since he can't send that to school with me, I've been getting salad."

"Do you like it?" he asked, handing her a potato chip.

She shrugged. "Don't stall. You like it here?"

"The school is okay, I guess," he answered. "I just don't know if I love the new home too much. Plus, it's weird with my dad not being around."

"I understand. My parents almost got divorced once…long story," she said.

"Seriously?" he asked, taken aback. "Wow, how did they get back together?"

Rebecca didn't know how to explain it without mentioning the crazy dead mother, run-away father, and two parents who were gay, so she decided it wasn't a conversation she wanted to continue.

"Well, they just came to their senses, I guess," she said, looking down at her food. Daniel was intelligent enough to realize that she didn't want to talk about it, so he tried to talk about something else, but found nothing that made any particular sense.

"So, I found out how my mom died," Rebecca said conversationally, as though talking about her salad.

"Yeah?" he asked, leaning forward to listen.

"Suicide," she said, just as plainly as her last statement. Daniel looked shocked that she could be so calm about it. "Yeah, apparently, I was too much for her to take care of alone."

Daniel stared at her sympathetically. Then, he remembered something. "Wait, I thought you live with your dad."

"I do," she said quickly. "He just wasn't there…at that time," she corrected, knowing it sounded stupid.

Daniel looked skeptical, but he didn't press the matter. "So, yeah, I'm doing okay here. Okay, so you were telling me yesterday that your dad works here."

"Mhmm," she answered, taking her last bite, "but he's sick today." She was tired of the conversation revolving around their parents. It was too risky that she would say something stupid.

"What does he do?"

"Psychologist/social worker," she said quickly. There was a good chance Daniel would meet him. Most of the kids who went to talk with him had all kinds of family problems like his own. She tried to think of something, anything, that didn't have to do with family.

"You want to come over my house today?" she asked. Her uncle wasn't going to be around anyway, so she figured it was safe.

He didn't seem fussed with the continuous subject changes. "Yeah, sure," he said. "I mean, your dad won't care?"

"No, but if it makes you feel better, I'll call him," she said, taking her cell phone after he nodded.

"Hey, dad," she said, holding her hand over her other ear to block out the sounds from the screaming teenagers. "Can I have a friend over today?"

She knew Marco would say yes, since he felt she'd been so isolated since the middle of eighth grade. "Of course," he said happily. "Is he sick?"

Rebecca smiled. "I don't think so."

"Then, yes."

"See you later," she said, putting the phone back into her pocketbook. "You can," she said.

Daniel smiled, and she smiled back. She decided to admit it to herself that, yeah, she liked him. Ohhh, but did admitting it make it so much harder to be around him!

Daniel and Rebecca decided to walk to her house even though taking the bus would have been so much easier. She showed him all of the good places, like the bagel shops and pizza restaurants, and then finally, her own house. Daniel was quite impressed, and actually asked her if she was rich.

"So far from it," she said, walking into the house. "We used to live in the world's tiniest apartment."

"Hey, Rebecca," said Marco, smiling when they walked into the living room.

"Hey," she motioned for Daniel to come closer into the house. "This is my friend Daniel. He's new here, so…yeah, this is my dad."

"Hi," said Daniel awkwardly, looking around the room. "Your house is big."

Marco laughed, sitting up. "Thanks?"

"Are you feeling better, dad?" asked Rebecca, already halfway up the stairs with Daniel behind her.

"Yes, it was just a headache, and you know how your uncle likes to exaggerate these things," said Marco, rolling his eyes good-naturedly.

Rebecca would have explained to Daniel why her uncle was staying with them, but once he realized her room was almost as big as the rest of the house, he didn't remember Marco had said that anymore. They weren't really that wealthy, were they?

Author's Note: Okay, so please review :)