A/N: Have you ever had one of those days where you get up early, and you actually feel good (after a cuppa coffee of course), and you sit down, and you just have all this inspiration, and you're pounding out this really clever, great chapter that reveals just enough information, but not too much and in this really interesting way?

Then your computer crashes, and you realize that because you didn't want to interrupt your flow, you didn't get around to saving all of what you'd written for that chapter onto your jump stick, and, in fact, the last time you'd saved anything onto your jump stick was yesterday when all you had was the title, the chapter number, and the first sentence (that you hadn't even kept).

Because, yeah, that was my morning. How was yours?

Any questions, comments, ideas you want to drop me are welcome.

REVIEW RESPONSES: To Ash-rox: thank you. Here's more. To Dreamingstars: thanks a bunch. It'll take a while for me to get them there, but yeah, that'll be a shocker. To RogueHoney: He'll learn more (kind of) this chapter. Yep, going to see the Eppes boys. Here's the update.

Homecoming

Chapter 4:

Sam pushed open the door to their flat, and the three rushed in, trying to escape the cold of the London winter. Dannie threw her coat onto the rack and fell onto one of the large leather coaches in the living room. "Home at last!" she cried.

"Why don't you go wash up; we'll eat soon."

Dannie jumped up and went into her room, toting her small suitcase.

"Drink?" Sam offered Kimberly, who nodded her head and went around the flat tiding up.

"I'm not your bloody maid," she said as she folded a throw blanket that had somehow managed to end up in a pile on the floor, "So why the bloody hell am I cleaning up after you?" She abandoned her efforts and threw the blanket onto a nearby armchair.

"Here," Sam handed her a tumbler of red wine. Kimberly accepted the drink and joined Sam in the kitchen to find something that could be made into a meal.

"Vos iz oyf varmes?" Dannie asked coming into the kitchen, now dressed in blue jeans and a sweater.

"Would you please explain to your daughter that she is English and therefore should speak English?" Kimberly addressed Sam, who ignored her and held up two take-out boxes.

"Khinezish or…" she sniffed the other but pulled it away quickly to look at the contents, a lumpy yellowish substance, "Tsvorekh… efsher…"

"Khinezish," both Dannie and Kimberly said at the same time.

"I have no idea what Khinezish means, but I'm all for it," Kimberly added.

"Chinese."

"Definitely all for it, then." Sam heated the boxes of Chinese take-out, while Dannie and Kimberly set the table.

When they were finally settled around the table with ginger chicken and fried rice on their plates and a glass of wine each – Dannie with only a quarter full glass – the phone rang. They ignored it, but as the voice started speaking on the answering machine, Sam really wished she hadn't.

"Um, hello, Samantha, this is Anthony… Anthony Brune. I, er, I r-remember what it was that I needed to ask you…" Sam leaned her head into her palms as Dannie and Kimberly's giggles drowned out the rest of the recording.

"No, you two have no interest in each other at all," Kimberly said mockingly.

"Oh shvayg shoyn!"

"If I actually knew what that meant…"

"Shut up!"

"Well, that's not very lady-like. What kind of example are you setting for your daughter? First you date her teacher…" A fresh wave of giggles overcame both again. Sam picked at her chicken. "Oh, come on, Samantha, you know we're just teasing."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah…"

-

The Biography page loaded.

Don gazed at the words, not really reading them, not really sure if he wanted to. His sister's life was condensed onto a webpage, and he knew less than her fans probably did. He began to read.

"Before 1999, when her third album, 'Close to Heart,' suddenly topped London music charts, few had heard of Samantha Mann, a young 'American Jewish Girl' – as her song states – from Los Angeles, California. Since 1998's discovery of the talented musician and 'hobby-linguist' (Mann is fluent in five languages with a good understanding of several others as well), Samantha Mann has become a household name all over the United Kingdom and into France, as of her all French album 'Amour' in 2004, and other parts of Europe and parts of Asia, and North and South America by 2006."

"Global recognition," Don said to himself. His sister was a globally recognized musician, but he hadn't heard her name spoken for years until earlier that day. Not only was she a globally recognized musician, she was a globally recognized musician with a daughter, and had been for years. He forced himself to continue reading.

"Born on July 15, 1970, Samantha Mann grew up just outside Los Angeles, California with her parents and two brothers (a twin and a younger brother). Despite her family – especially her brothers – making it into most of her songs, little is known of her family. The only named member is her mother, Margaret, credited for writing Etude in G minor, the basis for the melody of 'My Other Half' on Mann's first album 'You Never Knew Me.' Mann claims to be a tomboy in her early years, 'one of my first memories is of watching the world series with my brother (and enjoying it). I could play basically every sport known to man – no pun intended – by the age of ten.' Later in her teens, Mann became the typical rebellious teenager, 'my twin was Mr. Athletic and Popular, he was the type of guy who could get a girl in the backseat of his car within five minutes of meeting her for the first time and never get in trouble with our parents; my little brother was Mr. Academic, he was five years younger than me and tutoring me in math, I swear. I felt like I had to balance out our abnormally talented and well behaved family by being the worst I could be.'

"At the age of eighteen, Mann's rebellion came to head when she left home for New York City. 'There were a few reasons I chose New York. One, I always really identified with my Jewish heritage. I wanted more of it, so I moved to Brooklyn as close as I could afford to Borough Park. Two, it was the farthest away I could get from LA.' Mann stayed in Brooklyn for two and a half years; by the generosity of a man, Mann has simply identified him as 'Rabbi,' Mann finished out her third year away from home in London, boarding with an Orthodox Jewish family. 'Rabbi – that's what everyone called him at the shop I was working in, of course, a lot of men were called Rabbi there – found out I was an aspiring musician. My landlady knew him, and she had heard me playing in my apartment on this old beat up Yamaha I had dragged with me from across the country (I still have it in my closet somewhere). Anyway, Rabbi was a patron of the arts, and he had this friend in London, so he made a call and a few days later handed me a plane ticket,' she explains, 'A lot of things like that happened to me after I left home. I think becoming a musician is my goyrl, God's will for me.'"

Her goyrl, her fate. But she couldn't let their parents help her achieve it. He got her need for independence, he had felt, still felt, the same, but how could she accept help from complete strangers, when she wouldn't accept help from her own twin? She obviously knew about their mother's secret life as a musician; she should have known their mother would have done everything she could to get to the top. Now, he couldn't stop; he had to glean as much information from the vague biography as possible.

"After only six months, Mann left London for what she believed was her ultimate destination – Vienna, 'My mother studied in Vienna, that's where she found her sound, so I thought I'd give it a try.' Her one year there helped, but not in the way she had hoped. 'I blamed it on my lack of money. I didn't have the money to pay for any type of training, so I had to spy on the masters. I rarely got to actually play on a real piano, just my Yamaha, which I couldn't plug in because I hadn't any electricity so I just had to imagine what it would sound like.' For the next two years, Mann traveled, hoping something would inspire her. First, a pilgrimage to Israel, then she went onto Paris, Rome, and Ireland. 'It was funny really, being in Israel. I'm fluent in modern Hebrew, so I had no problem with any of that, but I was also, obviously fluent and understandable in English, so I ended up working for a tourist company that brought people to the sites of Christian holy places. Here, I had spent everything I had to get to Israel to have a Jewish religious experience, and I was working for a Catholic company. It wasn't all bad of course; I got a lot of tips.' Her experience as a tour guide in Israel taught her how she would get by for the next few months in France, 'I spent the first few weeks learning every nuance I could – I was already quite good in French, my twin who was forced to endure my constant practice using him as a sounding board can attest to this – then I went to the most tourist-y place I could find, wowed everyone with my as-flawless-as-an-American-can-get French, and began work as a translator and tour guide for those who couldn't afford the really pricey ones. It wasn't glamorous, but it gave me enough to pay the rent and electric bill, so I could finally play my keyboard and hear sound.' After Paris, Mann lived for three months in Rome. 'I'm a bit of a hobby-linguist. I can speak and understand a lot of languages, even if I'm not completely fluent, but my understanding of the Italian language, even now, is purely operatic, with maybe a smattering of some necessary phrases, you know: where's the bathroom type stuff. I had moved there hoping I could play in a small opera house. The closest I actually got was the ticket booth where I worked, selling over priced tickets to tourists who didn't know any better.' For the last nine months of her fifth year on her journey, Mann lived on a small farm in Ireland, claiming she doesn't 'know how on earth that happened.'

"Despite her travels to some of the most beautiful and creative places on earth, Mann still had yet to 'find' her 'sound.' That is, until her move back to London in early 1994. Looking for a job in London was the hardest she'd encountered. There was no translating position available, and unlike in Borough Park, Mann didn't have her ethnicity to fall back on. Waitressing experience in high school led her to enter a small pub that was hiring. The barkeep also owned the bar and his sister was the sole, harried waitress. For some time, the siblings were the only friends Mann had. Though she denies the possibility of love at first sight, within the year, Mann was in love and living with her boss, who inspired her, with help from his 'conspiring' sister, to play the piano and sing on Saturday nights at the pub. In December of 1995, Steven Warner proposed."

Here it was; Don could feel it. His niece would have to be mentioned soon. He could picture it: "Mann married Warner and a few years later they had a daughter."

"Two months later, Warner was killed in a car accident on his way to meet with Mann at his parents' home so they could reveal the news they had learned just days before: Mann was pregnant."

Don nearly fell out of his chair. That was nowhere near the happily ever after he had imagined for her.

"Though Mann declines comments on her relationship with Warner and the aftermath of his accident, she does admit, 'I've taken my engagement ring off twice. The last time I took it off was to move it from my left hand to my right – several years after Steven's death – it was the hardest thing I've ever done … No matter the occasion, it never comes off, not even for sleeping or bathing … It's my favorite piece of jewelry, with my locket in close second – like my ring, I always have that locket with me, even if it's not around my neck.' Both pieces of jewelry are featured on every album cover and each has its own song written for it.

"Sometime during August or September 1996, Mann gave birth to a daughter. An actual birth date and name have never been commented on, though several rumors have come forth. Mann, however, has confirmed that she holds her father's surname, 'That would be an absolute insult to his memory to have another name until she marries and takes her husband's.' The relationship with the Warner family is also unconfirmed, though Kimberly Warner, Warner's sister, is Mann's manager. 'Everyone in the Warner family are business people; I'm not, so it's good to have Kimberly there making sure I don't lock myself in a room somewhere, completely forgetting all obligations, and compose music until I starve to death.' Mann has also mentioned spending Christmas with the Warner's 'purely for their benefit, as I remain and have raised my daughter very much Jewish.'"

Don leaned an elbow on his desk and cradled his face; at one point, he had been sure Sam had just fallen off the face of the earth, gotten into drugs, died of an overdose. He knew she had talent, knew she could make something of herself. She'd make a hell of a lawyer, he'd always thought. Now, she was a single mother and successful and – Wait. He looked back at the year of his niece's birth. 1996. Shit. He couldn't remember the words and obscenities he'd screamed at her, after months of tracking her down, of looking over his shoulder so his supervisor wouldn't catch him using FBI resources for personal reasons. He'd finally found her the day their mother died in May of '96, and she'd refused to come home. He's refused to listen to her excuse. She'd been pregnant. She couldn't have come. She probably thought he despised her, like he'd probably screamed that night.

For the first time in years, Don felt the prick of tears in his eyes.

-

A/N: Once again, a Yiddish translator thing. Just a quick disclaimer – I know individual words in Yiddish, not actual grammatical structure, so I tried my best with the sentences and will continue to in the future.

Vos iz oyf varmes: "What is for dinner?"

Khinezish (or) … tsvorekh… efsher: "Chinese (or) … cottage cheese … possibly"

Shvayg shoyn: as already translated, "Shut up"

Goyrl: fate, destiny