Author's Note: So. I'm not sure how long this is going to be, how many more chapters that I have planned on doing, or how I'm going to end this. If you have any ideas, please consult with me. I'll definitely give you credit for every piece that I use(: Because that's how nice I am. I want to thank the lovely reviewers & readers. You are amazingly wonderful(: Without any more rampages from me, here is your new chapter.

The airport is packed with people running, trying to make their flights on time. Sylvia had already been mad at Fran since she'd held up time saying goodbye to Maxwell. It wasn't like it was near time for their plane to leave, but she knew exactly how Freida was and what her money could do. Sylvia wanted her daughter out of England before any of them could catch up, not only because she wanted to torture her daughter more, but to show everyone that she could win. She'd never won anything in her life, but taking her daughter out of somewhere she loved, showed herself and Morty that she could win something once in awhile. As harsh as it was, it didn't matter, because Sylvia really didn't care about anything. Not even herself.

"Mother! Slow down, you're hurting me."

She stopped in her tracks, looking at her pale faced daughter.

"You're telling me to stop! After you held me up for an hour." Sylvia jerked her arm back from Fran, "no. You don't get to speak."

Fran rolled her eyes, but followed her mom anyway. Did it make a difference if she just stood there like a child? Though it seemed like a better option, she didn't want Sylvia embarrassing both of them with the scene she would play like an actress. And that's all her mother would ever be to her, an actress. She played out her moves just right – watching what she said and done to Fran, while holding a fake smile for everyone to see. Fran was becoming much of an actress herself. In a metaphorical term.

"I don't want to go," she stopped.

"What?"

Fran stood taller on her heels, backing away from Sylvia. "I'm not going back to America with you. I have a say in this, I should think."

"But you don't think, Frannie. That's just it. If you thought for at least once with your messed up mind then maybe you would see coming back with me would be the better choice."

"No, coming back with you, would be the easier choice. I'm done taking the easy way out," she smirked. "I'm wanting to play the hard game now."

"You and these British. I don't get it. You've barely been here a month and you're acting out of your class."

Fran rolled her eyes and snorted. "What class, mother? You have no class."

"Nither do you."

It hurt Fran to hear the words leave her mother's mouth, but she needed to hear them. Fran wasn't in any class, she wasn't in anyone's social circle. But she did fight hard to stay at the place where she could be with one. She finally had a chance to have a life and be happy on her own, but her mother obviously wasn't going to allow it. What's changed my mother? Sylvia was the woman who always ate, bragged on her daughter, tried anything to get Fran married. What changed? What did it really matter anymore.? It wasn't that her mother's attitude anymore that pained her inside, it was the fact that her mother could hurt in such a way that it could break her for eternity. God wouldn't be happy about all of this, and Fran could only pray that her release her back into the place she felt like she belonged – before it was too late.

"Unlike you, mom. I'm trying to move on, I'm trying to have a life. I am a pain and misery on you and dad, so. Why would you want me back anyway? Why do I have to suffer? It wasn't my fault that you and daddy didn't know how to use protection," she felt tears slip to the edge of her eye, but she refused to let any spill. "It isn't my fault that I came into this world. God put me here for a reason. I believe this reason is to stay in England."

"Oh, please. You wouldn't know what that meant even if you really believed it."

"What the hell is wrong with you! What changed you!"

Sylvia turned and walked away, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Fran plastered herself to the floor. This was it, her mom shut down. There wasn't anybody coming for her and she'd made her mother angry. If she'd known nobody was coming, her damn mouth would have stayed shut. That was one thing she was never good at – saying the right things at the right times. So, she shut down herself. Fran let herself go to the darkness that she never dared to enter, let her mind quit working, let her body go numb. She stopped herself from talking, from walking, from letting the others around her see how broken she'd let herself become. Yes, Fran entered the place she'd never thought she would ever have to see. Fran entered depression.

"Freida, what if I can't find her!"

She looked around the airport parking lot, looking anywhere for the sights of her sister-in-law and her niece. "Just try."

Maxwell sped from the car, only one person couldn't search the huge airport. Especially since England's security had buttoned down on everyone since the bomb threat upon all of London. He knew it would be a tough task that probably wouldn't be solved, but he had to do something for the one he needed, the one who him and Freida had planned this for. If this failed, he would only feel failure. Max wouldn't know how to handle the fact that Fran had stepped on a plane that could lead her out of his life forever.

"Fran! Fran!," he constantly screamed out into the open air. To no one, really. "Fran! You've got to be here," but as he tripped over someone's luggage, he knew it was no use. "Um, uh – I'm sorry, sir." Max looked up to come face-to-face with Sylvia. Now he was scared.

"Did you come to try to steal my daughter back away from me? You all are animals here, you've let England take over your mind. You are nothing but threats to us," she continued, but Max had lost the way somewhere.

"I've tried this hard and you don't even want her!"

"Excuse me?"

"I've tried this hard to get Fran and you do not want her, why? Why would you steal her away from us when you don't want her for yourself?"

"I do want my daughter."

Maxwell rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Yeah, right. If that was the case, you wouldn't have kicked her out and sent her here."

"That's just it, I sent her here because I knew she'd be protected. Nothing would happen to her here. I love her and just want her back."

"NO!"

"You can't tell me what to do."

"Actually in this country, I can – as a matter of fact, I can in this airport." Maxwell looked at her smugly. "My father owns this airport. I know he isn't exactly around physically all the time, but one call and you wouldn't be allowed back into London. So, you want to make this nice? Or do you want to make this ugly?"

Even the truth that it was, Max was scared. He was only strong enough to a stint. Sylvia would soon win if he didn't get his father on the phone, Freida came in, or Fran walked up. Seeing as there was no phone around him, and Fran wasn't in sight, Freida had said she was checking the parking lot. Best known fact for the year, run.

So, that's what he did. He ran like hell through the airport. Max looked for any signs that Fran was near. Overly done hair, too much perfume, a load of luggage. He only had to smell that perfume one more time as he ran straight into it's path – he'd lost Sylvia way back.

"Fran!"

And Max ran into some object that seemed to be Fran, but until they turned around. He wouldn't know.

Author's Note: I'm so sorry that I've left you hanging for so long, but life is so busy. I'm sure you all know. I do want you to know you haven't been forgotten. Sorry I didn't actually get around to messaging everyone of my reviewers, but I do still love each and everyone of you. I'll be updating frequently now(: This week is Spring Break, be looking for lots of updates and new stories. Since being 15 means you can't actually have a 'spring break,' I'll be here. :D