For months I had nightmares that never changed. It started with a knock on the door. As I moved to answer, the front door slammed open. Shadowed hands stretched out, going through me, and straight for Grace. They grabbed her as she screamed in fear. I'd scream too and try to pull her free, but it was all in vain. They'd take her. Her crying face was the last thing I'd see before I woke up screaming in the middle of the night.

If Alfred was still at home, he'd be there to comfort me. "It's okay, sweetheart. No one can get her."

But it was never enough. I watched Grace carefully. It was difficult for the both of us as Grace began to resent my overprotective attitude, and I was usually exhausted afterwards. In all that worrying I forgot to worry about Alfred like I normally did. His leaving in the middle of the nights no longer bothered me, mainly because I was already awake, fretting in the living room or watching over Grace, trying to gather my wits about me.

The summer fires were long since over, and the holidays had suddenly crept up on us. Just what I needed. L.A. never had that holiday cheer, just more traffic to clog up the streets. And December was always hard for Alfred as he constantly remembered when Matthew was killed. Alfred didn't normally drink alcohol heavily, but sometimes I wished he would. It was better than him eating junk foot and moping around the flat. I worried it would leave an impression on Grace.

During that time I became bedridden from stress. I was light headed in the morning, but shrugged it off as my needing some more sleep. However, as the day progressed I felt feverish. I tried to nap, but my entire body ached, including my throbbing head that refused to let me sleep. Grace, now in preschool, depended on me to pick her up. I tried to get up; hoping my stamina would stay with me until I got home, but getting to the door drained me. There was no way I'd be able to get Grace.

Just as I thought to call Alfred to see if he could fetch her instead, I was struck by the same hazy feeling from that morning. Then, I fainted.

I awoke to loud banging on the front door. I had collapsed in the kitchen. The cool hardwood floor felt good against my clammy skin. I turned my head to press into it, but that only made everything worse. Moving wasn't a good idea, so I tried to remain still after that. However, someone was outside, and Grace was still at school. I had to get up.

Unfortunately, my limbs didn't agree. My legs were heavy and I couldn't feel my arms. I was breathing normally, but my heart raced. Nausea overcame me, followed by chills, and that constant banging reverberated in my head. Then, the phone rang and continued to until the answering machine picked up. I heard Alfred's frantic voice calling my name on the line, but I honestly can't remember what he was saying. Then, the line went dead and silence followed.

As I lay on the floor I thought of those haunting hands snatching Grace away. My leaving her at school was surely enough to have Child Services called again. I thought of my life without her. It was unbearable to imagine no more Taco Tuesday, Pancake Sunday, or Board Game Night. No more Dora dancing mornings or hearing her sing along to the radio or seeing her swing her legs back and forth as she sat patiently at the table waiting for dinner. I'd miss her hugs and smiles, her laughs and cries.

Lying pathetically on that floor I began to weep. Then, the front door slammed open, much like in my nightmares. I nearly screamed except that I was too weak. That, and Alfred was standing in the doorway.

"Arthur!" He descended on me, pulling me into his arms and against his chest. "Oh baby, you're burning up!"

"Fainted," I whispered. My eyelids felt heavy. "Grace… She's… At school…"

"No, it's okay. She's here." Alfred picked me up under my legs and carried me to bed. He tucked me in and fetched me a glass of water. I heard the voices of our neighbors intermingle with Alfred's. Then, there was more darkness.

I awoke four hours later. Alfred was in the living room with the T.V. on and I heard him talking to Grace. I felt better, especially the more I drank the water Alfred had left on the nightstand. I wasn't well enough to get up, though.

"Alfred!" I called. I used too much energy. My head is not leaving this pillow, I thought as I lay back down.

Alfred appeared in a flash. He approached me with a wary smile. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he ran a hand through my hair, only to stop at my forehead to check my temperature. "Still got a fever, huh?"

"Grace is…" My voice was raspy from a dry throat. I drank more water.

"She's home safe. I was called to get her when no one came. I then got a phone call from Susan next door. She heard this loud noise and when you wouldn't answer the door, she freaked out. I think she's been eavesdropping on us… Maybe she called Child Services… But, anyways, I called home and when you didn't answer, I came right home. Almost caused an accident on the 5."

He put a hand on mine. "I feel like I'm dying," I mumbled.

Alfred chuckled. "You're dehydrated, that's all. Well, that and a nasty flu."

"I thought they'd take Grace away because I wasn't there…"

Alfred pulled me up to sitting, wrapping his arms around me. "No one is going to take Grace. You've been upset about this for months. There are tons of way worse parents out there, and they still get to keep their kids. Please, just… Look at where all of that stressing got you."

I started crying again. "I don't want to lose her."

"We won't. I promise."

"How do you know?" I looked up at him as I began to panic. I held him out at arm's length to get a good look at him. "What if they come again?!"

Alfred sighed tiredly. "You have to calm down. Rest, okay? We'll talk later."

He kissed my forehead and left, leaving little room to argue. My head pounded too hard for me to stay upright for much longer anyways. I fell back into my pillow, and soon succumbed to sleep again.

When I awoke next it was nearing ten at night. I could hear Alfred as still awake and watching T.V. in the living room. My body was stiff from having not moved much all day, but it was well enough to get up. I donned my robe, not the least bit surprised Alfred had dressed me in my pajamas, and then went to get some tea.

A creak in the floorboards alerted Alfred. He looked over the back of the couch and smiled when he saw me up. "Hey sweetheart, how do you feel?"

"Better," I replied. I shuffled to the kitchen and put a kettle on the stove.

Alfred joined me shortly. "I've been thinking, ya know now that Grace is in school, maybe it's time you get out some more."

"I get out plenty." My back was to him. I didn't like his tone.

"Well, just to, you know, make friends and such. I think it'd be good for you."

"I have friends." Despite my weary state I could feel myself growing angrier with Alfred. He was insinuating something I had always suspected he disliked about me- my aversion to social interaction.

I enjoyed solitude. The speeches, guest appearances, and interviews filled the gap between when my next book was due out. I hadn't always enjoyed myself much during those times, so I wasn't keen on going back. I felt too itemized when in the spotlight and far too vulnerable talking about my love life. Alfred knew this, and he never pressured me in the past, so why now? What had changed?

"Arthur, you're friends with my friends. You need your own. Maybe you could even get…a real job."

That did it.

"We are dropping this immediately, Alfred," I said tersely. "I am still too sick."

I think Alfred mumbled an apology. Then, he left the room. I stayed in the kitchen until long after my tea had been brewed and I had drunk it. My mind was returning to normal speed, but decided to travel down nasty, dark paths that destroyed my mood further. Alfred's voice echoed in my head, focusing on specific sections of what he said.

I felt tears well up, but they were mainly leftovers from my earlier emotional breakdown. Thinking of a "real" job after years of not having one bothered me. I used to be an assistant editor, and I hated it. So many constraints. I never felt anyone could hear me. The same was true with interviews. They were always specific questions about "us"-Alfred and me- never understanding how I felt. That was why Alfred was different. He knew me. He understood.

I wondered what had changed, and then realized it was nearing midnight. Alfred had gone to bed, but he didn't come in to say good night to me.

That was the first time I realized everything might not be okay.

Christmas was always a fanfare with the family, staying until after the New Year. Our limited space always made it difficult to accommodate Alfred's family. It was embarrassing, but they never complained about rooming in a nearby hotel. They'd much rather spoil their granddaughter.

Grace and Sam Jones were always welcome in the flat. Alfred's sour mood abated, Grace turned into a sweet little lady, and I found great relief in their company. After our "marriage" I had taken to calling them mum and dad. I never thought it awkward. They were better in-laws than my own family had been anyways. Mum especially. She seemed to adore me, because I tended to let out my "gayer" side, which consisted of long chats, tea time, and baking. Alfred usually stayed with dad during this time. He was gay, but he wasn't that gay.

On Grace's fifth Christmas, the last one before she started kindergarten, things were like normal. There was a hint of a few tense moments here and there between Alfred and me, but that was also something normal for this month, so we tended to brush it off. I was decorating sugar biscuits with Grace and mum in the kitchen while Alfred and dad watched football in the living room.

The phone rang suddenly. I moved to answer it, but hesitated when I saw the Caller ID. It was the fire station.

"H-happy Christmas," I said nervously. Mum looked over worriedly.

"Hey Arthur." It was Jaime. "Sorry about this, but… We need Al."

I sighed, dropping my head. "Yes, he'll be right down."

"Merry Christmas." He then hung up.

I waved mum off and went to fetch Alfred. He was cheering with his dad about some player scoring in the game, but I had no memory of what happened shortly after that. The colors and sounds blurred together.

Something felt wrong.

"Honey," I started. I felt weak.

Don't go.

"You've been called."

Alfred looked over at me and then frowned. "Prolly just an electric fire." He got up, but stopped short when he saw my expression.

Don't go.

"Hey, don't worry, babe." He kissed my cheek and squeezed my shoulder. It didn't reassure me. "It's harmless enough. I'll be back in time for dinner."

Don't go!

"Promise." He winked.

I watched him leave. I couldn't return to the kitchen, so I floated into the bedroom to hide in this fog that had blinded me. Why didn't I say anything? How could I be so foolish?

Quickly, I fumbled for my mobile. I had forgotten to tell Alfred I loved him. I never let him leave the house without having him hear that.

"Babe? I just left. What's-"

"I love you," I said suddenly. Oh, how pathetic did I sound?

Alfred chuckled. "I love you too. I'll be back soon."

"Just! …Just be careful, you idiot."

"Always."

I didn't want to hang up. That unsettling feeling was still there. It was pulling at my heart, twisting my insides until I felt ready to choke on tears. I had never felt so violently against Alfred leaving before. If I had been rational, perhaps I'd have thought it was the holiday stress, or just the few fights we'd been having as of late, but that was all thrown out the window the more I focused on that terrible feeling of dread.

"Hey, Arthur," Alfred said. "I know we've been fighting a lot lately, and I'm sorry. I know it's always hard during this month because of me. I'm sorry."

"No. No, don't be silly. I could never blame you for mourning your friend. I…I am the same. I miss him too."

Alfred chuckled again. "But, it's silly, right? I mean, I have you and Gracie now. I just gotta…"

"Darling, look. We'll talk later. Keep your promise and don't you dare be late for dinner. I love you."

"I love you too. See you tonight." Then he hung up.

I felt better. The feeling from before had simmered down enough for me to rejoin my family out in the main room. Grace came up to me holding her stuffed giraffe she loved to take everywhere. I remembered the family vacation we had taken a few years ago up north where Alfred and I bought her it.

"Papa, we put the biscuits in. You missed the decorating."

I scooped her up into my arms and nuzzled my nose with hers. "Oh, well then we'll have to make scones, huh poppet?"

"Chocolate chip?"

"Sure things, my love!"

The evening came upon us and we all settled down at the dinner table. Alfred was due back any minute, if he had kept his promise, that is. The ham was pulled from the oven and I was just finishing the dressings when the phone rang once more.

"That's probably Alfred," mum said. "Calling to say he's coming back."

"He better," I said. I got up to answer it, ignoring the flash of the Caller ID. "Alfred, the ham's on the table. You had best be- Oh. Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you were…"

Dad looked over, having set the last of the utensils on the table. "Who is it, Arthur?"

I dropped the phone, turned, and collected Grace into my arms. "We have to go. We have to go right now. Alfred's in the hospital."

"Oh no," mum whispered. She and dad rushed to grab their coats. They handed Grace hers just as we ran out of the apartment and down to the car.

That was why Alfred should never have left. That fool. That bloody idiot went and got himself hurt, again, on Christmas Eve. Only my idiot Alfred would do something so stupid.

But it was all for naught as we got to the hospital and ran down the hallway towards the cluster of fireman, Captain Carriedo was there to stop me. He smiled at Grace, clutching my hand, and then acknowledged mum and dad just behind me.

"Slow down, Arthur. He's okay." The entire family let out a sigh of relief.

"You really need to stop telling me I have to come to the hospital because of an emergency," I said as tears threatened to slip out. "Oh my, you had me. I thought my Christmas had been ruined…"

"Yeah…" Antonio laughed nervously. "He just has a broken arm and a herniated disc in his lower back, so he needs to take some time off of work. He's been calling for you."

"Right, I'll go in and see him first with Grace."

Dad nodded. "Yeah, we need to catch our breathes."

"Sorry," I said sheepishly. I began to walk, but felt a tug from behind me. Grace glanced up at me with fearful eyes, and then shuffled behind me. "Grace, poppet, what's wrong?"

She shook her head and took two more steps backwards. "No… I don't want to go."

"It's all right. Papa got ahead of himself, but daddy is quite all right. Come on, darling." I pulled on her hand once again, but she was more adamantly against going more than before.

"We'll take her, Arthur." Mum stepped forward and took hold of Grace's hand from me. "She probably needs to rest a bit too. Go and see Alfred before us."

Slowly I nodded and then headed into the hospital room Alfred was resting. He had his arm up in a splint and he was sipping water out of a sippy straw. Oh, he looked so lovely. I strode up to him, ready to shout at him, ready to throw fists if I had to, but instead I collapsed on top of him in relieved tears.

"Oh, hey, babe, I'm sorry!" Alfred hugged me with his good arm, patting my back. "I totally broke my promise, I'm sorry! But I'm ok."

"You stupid, bloody twat! I hate you! You always do this!"

"I don't mean to," Alfred laughed. "Really!"

"I know. But I still… Oh, I don't know what to do with you." I stroked Alfred's hair back as I smiled down at him. He knew I didn't mean it. He always seemed to know.

"You're going to have to keep me," Alfred joked. We stayed close to one another, reassuring ourselves this wasn't so bad. "Hey, sweetheart…? You know how I… Look, I'm sorry I pushed you to get out more and get a job… That was… I was just worried about you."

"I know, love," I said. "I appreciate the apology… Thank you…"

"I didn't mean to force you, but…" Alfred bit his lip. Then, he kissed my forehead and stroked my hand. "Well, shit, you had me freakin' out there. All you did, all day, was sit on your computer and overthink everything. I wanted you to get out to clear your head, you know? Give you something else to think about."

I nodded and smiled. "Yes, I understand. It's all right, darling. That was…quite awhile ago. I can't believe you remember such a conversation."

Alfred breathed a nervous laugh. "W-well, it's just been on my mind, that's all. You were pretty upset with me after that."

I brushed his hair back again and kissed his forehead like he had mine. "But I'm not now."

It then dawned on Alfred that our daughter was still outside. "Where's Grace? Isn't she coming in?"

"Ah, I think she's afraid." I turned towards the door, but looked back at Alfred. "Shall I go get her?"

"Yeah, I wanna see her."

I returned to the hallway. Mum and dad had occupied the seats just a little down from the hospital room. The other firemen loitered near the vending machine, making small talk, but otherwise keeping to themselves. Mum had Grace's head on her lap and she was stroking her hair. She looked pitiful.

"Grace, poppet," I started. I squatted next to her so we could be eye level. "Come on inside. Daddy's just fine. He wants to see you."

Grace shook her head, and then turned her face into mum's legs. "No… You're lying."

"L-lying?" I blinked. "What? Poppet, I wouldn't lie to you."

"It's a trick," Grace mumbled. "Daddy is… You always said if daddy comes here… that means he's died."

"When did I ever say such a thing…?" While it's never been a secret I constantly worried about such days, I know I had never voiced them aloud for my daughter to overhear. I feared she would have this exact reaction.

"You wrote it," Grace sniffled. She peeked back at me with one watery eye while the other remained hidden. "I saw it. You know how you write down your thoughts to clear your head? I saw it."

Often when I found myself stumped over what to write next for a novel, I would scribble down my thoughts as a means to silence everything. It was a form of meditating. I normally left the notebooks in my drawer at my desk, but the one Grace referred to must have been left out for her to see. I felt guilty she had been exposed to one of my darkest fears, and now it had brushed off of her.

"Grace. Come here." I held my arms open invitingly.

She hesitated, but then carefully climbed into my arms. She curled into a ball as I picked her up as if she were a baby again. After putting her head against my shoulder, I began to rock her back and forth and rub her back. She soon calmed down.

"Do you want to see daddy?" I asked quietly. Grace could only nod.

That was the first day I knew Grace hadn't trusted me before.

When Grace was six, I decided it was time to show my face again. I published a new book, the first since Grace had been born, but it didn't get nearly as much acclaim and attention as I had expected. Nancy wouldn't let this stay as such, so she and my agent arranged for me to appear in interviews in order to promote the book, but most reporters only wanted to ask about Grace. I arrived on the Ellen DeGeneres show for the first time in five years and showed off photos of her and Alfred to help ease everyone off of my back.

But one morning, Nancy called and exclaimed, "Today wants a scoop!"

Originally I wanted to bring my family, but Grace was in school and Alfred had to stay and watch her. It would be my first time I'd be away from Grace for more than a day. My agent had also managed a book signing while I was in New York City, so I would be away for the entire weekend. Knowing this, my heart clenched in anxiety. It wasn't that I couldn't do it, but that I didn't like the idea.

I hated knowing that while I enjoyed the fact my daughter was growing up, I also didn't like the fact she was growing older.

Grace was visibly upset when I left her side at the airport. While I hated to see her cry, it was touching to know she loved me so much. Alfred wasn't nearly as outwardly upset, but he did kiss me harder on the lips and his hands lingered a little longer on my back when we stopped hugging. I pecked him afterwards as a promise to return.

Through-out the plane ride, I thought of my family. What they were doing, if Alfred remembered to buy more milk for breakfast, or if Grace had a good day at school. Lately, she'd been coming home a little bummed because the children at her elementary were starting to turn away from her. She was confused as she thought she had done nothing wrong, and in all actuality, she had. It was the issue of the other children's parents starting to poison their minds with the idea that Grace was unnatural because she was an adopted Latina of two gay "unmarried" men. Alfred and I had never been confronted on this issue, but many times when I arrived at Grace's school to pick her up, I felt intense eyes on my back and caught many mothers sneering my way.

Alfred and I had discussed what we should do should the matter get out of hand, and we could never settle on anything. We didn't want to switch schools, and we certainly weren't going to move. Unless it became something much worse than it was now, we agreed Grace would stay put until it was absolutely necessary to move her out of that environment.

That night, when I reached my hotel, I rang home. My family was excited to hear I had arrived safely. It was odd for me to realize, finally, that after all this time, I had a family.

"Culture Fair Day!" the orange paper read. It stared at me on the table when I came home. Grace must've brought it from school. I had been out that evening with some new friends, so Alfred had picked her up seeing as it was his day off. With my renewed popularity I had actually managed to garner a social life, something I'm certain Alfred was very happy about. He might have apologized about pushing all those years ago, but his body language and subtle hints jabbed me whenever I lingered too long at home.

I picked up the flyer and read it. The fair was in two weeks, parents were encouraged to volunteer, and food was optional, but advised. Grace was required to participate at the booth of her culture and explain anything she knew of it. It sounded fun, but glancing at the bottom I noticed Grace had written "America? England? Mexico?" and my heart clenched.

Alfred and I were constantly reminding Grace of her heritage, and here in L.A. it was good to keep that connection. However, we also showed her our own heritages. Alfred came from a proud line of Americans that boosted their involvement in the Revolutionary War (something he constantly reminded me about come every July 4th). My lineage went back even further, all deeply immersed in English history, although I couldn't pinpoint when the Kirkland line first emerged. It was no wonder Grace was torn between her two adoptive cultures and her own ethnicity. The problem was whether or not Alfred pushed Grace to decided, and I knew which one she would be forced to pick.

Grace was dancing in her bedroom when I found her. She had recently joined a group a year ago and it quickly became her passion. All of that dancing in front of Dora must have really paid off.

I chuckled as she bounced to and fro to the beat of some pop song. "Poppet?"

Grace turned suddenly, surprised to see me. She paused her CD. "Hi papa!"

" 'Ello love. I saw the Culture Fair flyer. Are you having trouble deciding?"

Grace nodded. "Yeah… I wanna do all three, but I can only pick one. It's not fair."

"It's you want, poppet. Not wanna." I sat at her desk and patted my knee. She clamored to sit on my lap. "Most things in life aren't fair. Why not think of the aspects of each culture you like?"

"As…pects?" Often I taught Grace more sophisticated words than was taught at school, earning her a higher vocabulary, but sometimes it slipped my mind she was still a child.

"He means what do you like most about each culture?" Alfred came in with wet hair, having just finished with a shower. He kissed me quickly on the lips.

"Yes, thank you darling."

"Well, I like lots a things!"

"Lots of things," I corrected again. Grace had taken on a form of my and Alfred's accents. Sometimes she would slip into sounding more American, and other times she sounded more English. I tended to catch her mistakes more easily because of this.

Grace thought for a moment and then suddenly reached for a piece of paper on her desk. "I know! I can write them down! Like when papa does and a story and writes about the characters!"

"Oh, so smart!" Alfred pat her head.

"Okay, Mexico… England… and America…" She made three columns with lines going straight down the lined paper with each country titled at the top. "I only wanna- I mean, want to do England. Not the UK."

"There's a difference?" Alfred asked. I jabbed him in the side with my elbow. He laughed, and I somehow earned another kiss.

"All right, so what do you like about Mexico?" I asked. I moved to slip out from under Grace so she could sit on her chair.

"Um… Tacos! And… Español! Día de los Muertos! The dresses! Tamales! Chichen Itza! Mayan culture!"

"Wonderful. Now of England?"

"Tea, and scones, and the Queen, and Big Ben. London, and the Eye! Shakespeare and Sherlock!"

Alfred laughed nervously. "Wow, so much. Um, how about America?"

"Nervous?" I asked teasingly.

"No way! She lives here! Of course she'll put down the most!"

"Okay, well there's hamburgers and hot dogs, and there's L.A. and the Revolutionary Way and… Um…" Grace stared at the paper as she chewed on her lower lip. "Um…"

I looked at her list. It was saddening to see the comparison of so much in the Mexico and England side, whereas the America side had only four items. Alfred grew somber at seeing this. I saw him deflate as our daughter struggled to find anything else she liked about his country.

"What else?!" Grace turned in her seat to look at the two of us.

"Oh, well, what of San Francisco and the Grand Canyon and Yosemite?" I offered. Even if it was to stack against my culture, I hated seeing Alfred with those puppy dog eyes. He looked so pathetic.

"Oh yeah! And all of the states! And Lincoln, Washington, and Franklin! And baseball! And football!"

That seemed to life Alfred's spirits a little. I smiled his way when something struck me. "Alfred, if I may?"

We left Grace to finish her list uninterrupted. We headed to the kitchen to start on dinner.

"Darling, let's not push her too hard. This is all meant for fun."

"But you saw how little she said about America!" Alfred began chopping carrots and onions. "Why doesn't she know more?"

"Perhaps she is jaded? If you're from an area, you tend to forget things just because it skipped your mind. You were too busy thinking about something important to remember the details." I kissed Alfred's cheek in reassurance. "Don't fret, love."

"Yeah…"

We continued to cook when Grace joined us. She had made her decision.

"I wanna do America, but wear an Hispanic dress and bring English food!" she declared proudly. "I am American, but I'm also Mexican and English! I'm a melting pot too!"

Alfred scooped her up into his arms and kissed her cheeks until she cried out in laughter. "Are you really eight?! You're so smart!"

I joined them and laughed heartily. I had realized when watching Alfred that family wasn't about competition. A little here and there was healthy, and fun, but only when it was sport. To treat it as something serious was unwise. Compromise was always the answer. And while it wasn't the easiest route to take, it brought about a smoother end.

Of course, that didn't mean this family would keep to that, especially when secrets were withheld.

Hoshiko2's cents: I am sincerely sorry that I didn't update last week. Something very personal happened to me, and I was unable to do any update. For now it seems all updates will be on track. Just three chapters left! Hope you enjoyed it! See you next week!

As always, please feel free to follow my tumblr at 2kokoro. Thank you.