Author's Note: I have to go to another family thing! Ugh! I'll be back Monday when I have to get a shot. Wish me luck. Here's the chapter :)

Marco knocked gently on Rebecca's door, drowning out the sound of her sobs. "Rebecca, what's wrong?" he asked. He felt strange using her full name.

"I said to go away," she said in voice muffled by a pillow. "Dad, just leave."

"I want you to tell me what's wrong with you," he said desperately. He tapped his foot impatiently, not planning on walking away.

Rebecca didn't answer. In fact, she didn't say a word for the rest of the fifteen minutes that Marco decided to stand there. "Fine," he shouted childishly. "Well, if you're going to be like that, I'll just be downstairs on the phone with your uncle."

When Rebecca still gave no reply, Marco sighed. What happened? What had been done to make her so angry with him? More importantly, what had he done?

Marco walked down to the kitchen, picking up the phone to dial Dylan's number. He didn't need this added stress. "Dylan, hey," he said, thankful that Dylan had picked up. He'd already called him several times that afternoon with no answer.

He held the phone up to his ear by his shoulder while he turned on the oven to get ready for cooking the dinner. "Are you feeling okay?" he asked, remembering his injury.

"It's a sprain," he said. Marco could tell he was rolling his eyes. "I'm going to play tomorrow, if that's why you're asking."

Marco almost dropped the phone into the boiling pot. He quickly caught it. "Dylan! You are not playing with a sprained…er…"

"Ankle," said Dylan.

"Exactly. You can't play like that. They won't let you, and neither will I," he said furiously. "You'll get hurt even worse!"

"Marco," said Dylan wearily. "I'll be fine. Anyway, so what's going on with you?"

Marco frowned. "Trying to make dinner as I wonder why my daughter hates me," he said melodramatically.

"Honey, I'm quite sure she doesn't hate you," he assured him. "What happened?"

Marco lowered the heat on the stove, holding his hand over his eyes, distressed. "I don't even know, Dylan!"

"Relax," said Dylan slowly, knowing how his husband had a tendency to stress out over circumstances that were really nothing. "Just relax."

"Don't tell me to relax!" he yelled. "Rebecca hates me."

Dylan had to roll his eyes for the second time in the conversation. "Marco, give me some more to work with here?"

"Right, so Rebecca's friend/crush le—"

"Crush?" interjected Dylan, not sounding too happy.

"Dylan, that's not the poi…wait, maybe you do have a point! Something happened with Daniel…perhaps, she told him how she felt?"

"Wait, excuse me? Don't tell me you encouraged this," said Dylan, trying to get Marco to focus on what he was saying.

"Maybe…but I still don't understand why she's angry with me. I mean, I did tell her to tell him," he sighed. "Oh, boy."

"Marco, wait—"

"I have to get her to talk with me!"

"No," said Dylan firmly. "You need to tell me that Rebecca is not dating this boy."

"For all of our sakes, you'd better hope she is."

"I don't understand why you called me to tell me that Rebecca won't open the door," said Dylan. Marco finally realized he sounded exhausted.

"Don't play the damn game, Dylan," demanded Marco. "I will not have you break your damn leg off!"

"Constant change of subject, hmm?"

Marco realized he'd almost forgotten about the dinner he was cooking. "Look, I'll just…I have to go take care of food and Becky, so you won't play?"

"I will play," Dylan replied. He just had to be difficult.

Marco groaned. "I don't even have time for this now. Fine. Go disobey me," he said angrily. "I don't care."

He felt himself becoming emotional. Therefore, he hung up the phone immediately before Dylan said anything about how his behavior was all because of his pregnancy. He was tired of hearing that.

"Damnit, Rebecca, get down here now!" he shouted. If his 'scary' tone didn't get her to come down, he didn't know what would. He tried to be comforting, but now he didn't know how to act.

"Or I'm coming up!" he added. "A—again." His intimidating tone was fading a little, and he was sure it sounded fake.

Marco made sure everything was set not to burn, and walked back up the stairs, listening intently to see if Rebecca was crying. He was sure she had stopped by now.

"Becky?" he said tentatively as he got closer to the door. He got no response. "Is it locked?" Still nothing. He turned the knob, seeing that it wasn't locked, and didn't let her know he was coming in.

He was relieved to see she had stopped crying. She was sitting in her computer chair, as always, typing frantically on the keyboard. He wasn't sure if she didn't know he was in there, or if she was simply ignoring him. He figured it was the latter.

"Beck?"

"Hmm?" she murmured, keeping her eyes focused on the screen.

"Are you paying attention to me?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, positive that she wasn't.

"Sure," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Rebecca, why are you acting like this?" he asked, rubbing his temples tiredly. "It's just not like you."

She turned to him, finally ungluing her eyes from her computer. "Can you leave?"

Marco blinked. "Excuse me?'

"It's just a request," she said. "Fine," she turned the computer chair to face him. "What?"

Marco was too shocked by her attitude to respond for a moment or two. "Umm, what?" he asked, confused.

"Why are you in here?" she asked, waiting impatiently for his answer.

"Okay, just to let you know, whatever happened to you today wasn't my fault," he said, wanting to make that part clear. "What did happen?"

Rebecca shrugged, but before she could turn her wheeled computer chair back around, Marco grabbed it, forcing her to face him again. "Becky?"

"You did do something to him," she said. Marco thought a part of her brain knew she was speaking nonsense. "You—you," she stuttered, "must have made him gay."

Marco frowned slightly, realizing what had obviously happened, but also felt a little annoyed. After all he had taught her, she still believed people could 'turn gay'?

"I'll just leave you alone for while, okay?" he said, touching her shoulder lightly before leaving the room. He turned back for a moment. "If you want to talk, I'm here."

She shook her head, looking downwards. Before he left the room, she said quietly, "Maybe later."

Marco nodded, understanding.

Author's Note: Pleeeeease review :)