A/N: Hello! A little shorter, but it's our first glimpse of Alex's father. The chapter title is a physics term; terminal velocity is when the gravity force upon an object is equal to that of the wind resistance. I chose it because at this stage, Blake and Alex are free falling towards becoming Hollins and the only thing that will stop them – is stopping them – is their own resistance.

It made sense to me. Enjoy.

Reuben.

Chapter Seven – Terminal Velocity

"Dad, I'm home!" Alex called out, hanging the house keys on the rack by the door. She could smell something cooking, and knowing her father wasn't exactly the most accomplished of chefs, began to panic. Whenever he tried to cook, it usually ended in a disaster that she didn't have the time or energy to clear up this evening. She didn't need to be reminded of the carbonara incident. She threw her bag down at the bottom of the stairs and walked through to the living room in search of him, and found her father hovering by the window, looking out at where Blake's car had been.

"Hey Bug," he said absentmindedly, addressing her by the old nickname he usually called her before looking at her and jerking a thumb to the window. "You got a lift back with that guy again?" His face was mapped with an indistinguishable emotion.

"Yeah. It's Wednesday," Alex said flippantly, looking through the stack of mail on the coffee table that sat in the middle of the room.

"Yeah, but I would have come to get you," he replied, sitting on the couch. "You know I had the day off." His daughter glanced at her father, scanning his polo shirt and jeans, noticing oil marks on his hands. He'd been working on her truck again no doubt – the man would not give up and accept that perhaps it was time to sell it for scrap.

Alex shrugged. "I thought I'd save you the trouble, as Blake was already taking me," she added, smiling at her Dad. "Have you…er…got something in the oven?" she asked with concern, but trying not to sound so. Her father nodded proudly but cocked an eyebrow reproachfully.

"Don't panic – its oven pizzas and I put you a vegetable one in, cos I know that even though it is necessary for your diet, a heavy amount of meat isn't balanced," he smirked, reciting his words back to her like a schoolboy. Or rather, her words. Alex grinned.

"Thanks Pa," she cooed, bombing onto the couch next to him and stretching out. It had been a tough rehearsal today; she wasn't feeling her best this week, but Blake was still firing on all cylinders and demanded the same from her. Well, that wasn't fair to say – she hadn't exactly told him she wasn't feeling well had she? Alex had no doubt in her mind that he would have let her take a break if she'd asked. But she hadn't asked. It was her own drive and belligerent pride that didn't permit her, or give anyone the satisfaction of seeing her give up. It wasn't fair to paint Blake as the dictator, when she knew he wasn't anymore.

At least not all the time.

Their 'friendship' had grown over the last few weeks, most likely due to the shared car rides every week; they still didn't hang out when they weren't at MSA, and they certainly didn't eat lunch together or any of the normal things they might do with their usual crowd. But in rehearsals, they were bouncing ideas of one another, and on a couple of occasions – more frequently now - they had even shared a joke. He could be quite light when he wanted to. When he actually relaxed that was.

She had found herself unwittingly telling him about her Mom, when he made a flippant remark about her picking her daughter up. His face had been a picture when she'd told him; his mouth gaping open awkwardly as he tried to back track, muttering apologies. She told him not to worry about it, but he'd been quiet for the rest of the day, obviously kicking himself for putting his foot in his mouth. Normally she'd shrug anyone off with a 'she died' but with Blake, she wouldn't have minded telling him, but he didn't pry into it. He listened so well at times, which was surprising, as when she tried to correct him on his extension on the arabesque, he seemed to ignore her quite pointedly.

Her Dad looked at her – he could see she was exhausted, but in the past seventeen years William Hale had learnt not to try and stop his daughter from dancing, even if looked like she was close to cracking. He didn't quite understand the fascination - all those 'chained turns' and 'albatrosses' or whatever – but he could appreciate it anyway. He knew dancers had to be strong, determined, and of course graceful, and his daughter was all those things in his opinion. But Alex was looking very tired these days, and from where he sat he could see the faint outline of dark lines under her eyes.

"You're not pushing yourself too hard are you?" William asked, his voice laced with concern. Alex laughed.

"Not at all. I just wasn't feeling great today but I didn't want to cancel or to stop Blake from rehearsing…"

"…and Blake again. Is he working you too hard?" William said stiffly, sitting up.

Alex rose gingerly to her feet laughing to herself. "No – he didn't even know I wasn't feeling well because I didn't tell him…jeez, Dad, relax." He looked sceptical and then sighed at his defiant child; she stood before him with her hands on her hips and looking at him just as her mother would do when he was over reacting. Her could see very little of himself in her as she grew older.

"Fine," he said. "I trust you to know your own limits." He paused. "So, when am I going to get to meet this Blake guy?" Alex scoffed and left to go into the kitchen. William promptly followed her with a smile. "I mean, it's great seeing the back of his Mustang pull away every so often – I know he has good taste in cars – but if some guy's gonna be making out with my daughter…"

"Dad! He's my dance partner, not my boyfriend," she laughed, shaking her head. "I don't have to introduce you! And we certainly have not, or ever will, make out," she added with an incredulous expression. Alex paused and pulled some juice from the fridge, pointing a finger at him "Have you been reading teen magazines again?"

"Absolutely not," William said raising his hands. "I was scarred the last time, and I made a promise not to for both of our sakes."

Alex raised an eyebrow. "Good," she said simply, and began busying herself with making a salad. Pizza was all well and good, and she adored it but she needed some greenery on her plate. Her father pulled a newspaper across the breakfast bar, and perched himself on one of the stools, pretending to read while secretly scrutinising her.

"All I'm saying is," William continued, unable to bit his tongue, "you spend a lot of your spare time with this boy and I'm not stupid; I may not be able to turn on my feet Bug, but I know dancing can be emotional, and evoking, and most of all a girl in a leotard might be considered extremely hot by a teenage boy."

Alex glared at him, even though she found his protectiveness amusing. "Blake doesn't find me hot and I can't believe you just came out with that."

William glanced at her. "I wouldn't be surprised if he did."

"Why did you have to say that?" Alex scolded. "Now it's going to be awkward when I see him again. Anyway, we're not spending our spare time together - we're working and sharing the occasional car pool. It's a professional arrangement."

Her father sighed. "You forget; I was a teenager once, and your Mom was a gymnast. I know what leotards can do to a guy."

Alex didn't reply and sliced the cucumber instead.

"You know as a father I'm not sure I approve of the lack of modesty that comes as part of your ballet costumes…"

"Dad," she said snapping and pointing the knife at him. "Can it, ok? I don't want to hear about your cavorts with Mom! There is something very wrong with you. Don't you find it a little disturbing that you're talking about the effects of girls in leotards on a young man's body? It's highly inappropriate." Her Dad chuckled, and she laughed in spite of it all. "Blake Collins isn't my boyfriend. I don't even think you'd go so far as to call us friends. I don't actually know what you'd call us," Alex admitted with a frown. He father blinked as she ranted at him. "But whatever we are, he is most categorically not my boyfriend," she said finally.

"I know. You said," William grinned. "But you're awfully defensive about the subject." Alex stared at him and then, too quickly for William to react, she threw the end of the cucumber at his face, hitting him in the eye. He cried out, laughing.

"Your violence has cemented my point," William said getting up with his paper. "I'm leaving before you start chucking tomatoes."

"You're such a jerk," she muttered, shaking her head. Her Dad liked to rib her. He liked to rib everybody – he was a world class joker. But this wasn't funny, joking over the idea of her and Blake. So yes, she was touchy and defensive about it. Because it was utterly ridiculous.

William walked around the breakfast bar with a heavy sigh and kissed the top of his daughter's head. "I know."

XXXXX

"Before you go," Miss Trent called out over her History of Dance students, who were beginning to pack away. They all looked to her expectantly; it was just before lunch, and her interruption wasn't appreciated. She looked over her glasses at them all, and frowned as Blake Collins slung his bag across his shoulders.

"Thank you," she continued. "I'd like to talk to you about a project you're going to work on in pairs. At the end of term you can present back to the class. It's your choice who you work with," Miss Trent informed them, garnering 'woops' from some of the class who were tired of being sorted alphabetically. "Once you've picked your partner, then I'll assign you a topic for your presentation. It'll be on one of the styles of dance we're going to be covering over the next few lessons, so make sure you've made your choice by the time we next have class." The bell had sounded just as she spoke her last sentence, and they all rose simultaneously.

Alex walked glumly to the canteen. Trent couldn't have set it at a worse time. Usually, she'd work with Jane, but the redhead had been off school for a week with what looked like glandular fever. Who knew when she'd be back to work on a project?

She tried to put it out of her mind for the rest of the day, but she kept coming back to it. Maybe Trent would let her work by herself – she was more than capable. She was still pondering on it when she went to her rehearsal with Blake later that day, and was silent to a point that Blake finally folded his arms and frowned at her.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"Hmmm?"

"You're really quiet."

"Oh! It's just Trent's assignment," she smiled. "It's bothering me."

"You're good at HOD aren't you?" Blake replied. "It's just a project. It's not even going towards our final grade. You'll breeze it."

"Yes, but Jane's sick isn't she? I have to ask Trent if she'll let me do it alone."

Blake rubbed his neck. "Isn't there someone else you can work with?"

She snorted and shook her head. Blake nodded thoughtfully before giving her a smile. "Well, I'm sure you'll work something out. Miss Trent is usually reasonable."

Alex pinched the bridge of her nose and laughed quietly to herself. "You're right," she sighed. "It just annoys me when the plans you would usually make go wrong. Shall we call it a night?" she asked, glancing at the clock. Blake nodded awkwardly in agreement. "Who are you working with?" she asked him, as they packed away their things. Blake froze and didn't reply for the moment before looking up at her with an uncomfortable expression.

"Er...no one," he admitted, pulling on his jacket.

Alex frowned. "What?"

"I was...er...going to ask Miss Trent if I could...do it alone," he muttered in a small voice, giving her a weak smile.

"Oh," was all Alex managed, wrapping a scarf around her neck slowly.

"You know," Blake started, running his fingers though his hair. "We could work together." When Alex looked at him in surprise, he shrugged, though he was fairly surprised at himself. "Miss Trent will probably just suggest we work together anyway, if we both go to her and ask to work alone," he said casually. She still looked unsure – and he knew why. Partnering together, even if it was still within something trivial like the realms of a school project, threatened to shake the boundaries of their very carefully defined working relationship.

"We'd be doing each other a favour," he added.

"I don't really like the prospect of standing in front of everyone alone," Alex confessed. "I suppose it could work."

"You don't have to," Blake said rather quickly. "I mean if you'd rather wait for Jane, or work by yourself, or..."

"Blake," Alex laughed. "It's ok. Look," she said, waving her arms around as she explained. "I don't know when Jane will be back, and with our collective intellects I'm sure we can come up with something pretty good. Not that I wouldn't do perfectly fine without you," she hastened to add. Blake smirked.

"No, of course not."

"I'll...talk to you tomorrow about it, ok?" Alex said distractedly, glancing out of the window and seeing her Dad had pulled up outside of the school. "Bye."

He blinked as she left the room, and picked up his own bag, feeling a strange knot in the pit of his stomach. What a disturbing turn of events. Practical as it was, working with Alex outside of dancing, even if it was still writing about it, seemed like it might in end in chaos. And things had been going so swimmingly between them, he thought, switching the lights off in the studio to save the janitor a job. He didn't want to do anything that might take them back to fighting like cat and dog. The only way was to see how it panned out, and he would have to be on his guard.