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Chapter Two: The Battle Lines are Clear

Luckily the Math League didn't inspire much fanfare, for Casey and Chester were able to find seats reasonability close to the stage. Settling into the plush chair, Casey gave a cursory search for her kids. Surprisingly, Rafe had abandoned his blonde friend and found a place next to his grandparents. Poor little Robin was sitting at the end of the stage, sweating bullets, fiddling with the buttons on her school blazer as she anxiously waited her turn.

"She's so nervous," she nudged Chester and pointed at her jittery sixth grader. "I should've gotten here earlier. She probably doesn't know I'm here. Let's try to get a seat closer..."

"Will you relax?" he put his hand on her knee. "Just give her a chance to chill out. This gives her a chance to face her fear independently and when she see's your face it'll just be the icing on the cake."

Casey scrunched up her nose. "When'd you become Mr. Mom?"

A huge grin erupted on his face as he slung an arm over her shoulder. "I'm just that good."

"Robin Burnham, please come up to podium."

Robin jumped at the sound of her name. She pulled herself up tentatively, her skinny legs turning to jelly under the weight of her fear. Squinting at the audience, she could see her grandparents enthusiastically waving her to the center of the stage. Jason was clapping like a mad man. Brandon gave her a sarcastic salute. Rafe was even flashing his dimples encouragingly. Stumbling up to the microphone, she pulled it down to her height only to have it emit a shrill squeak.

Great.

"Ready Robin?" at least the judge was nice enough not to cringe at her faux pas.

Nodding meekly, she cleared her throat.

It was good her mother wasn't there. If she bombed, at least she didn't have to worry about failing in front of her.

"Okay, you have forty seconds to solve the following problem. You may use the scratch paper provided for you on the podium. When the buzzer sounds, drop your pencil and read your solution into the microphone. Understand?"

Another timid nod.

"All right, for ten points, if four x minus the reciprocal of one over x to the third power, then x could equal: one eighth, one half, two, or eight. Begin."

Really? Reciprocals?

And in forty seconds!

How could she...?

Crap, she'd wasted five seconds worrying.

Okay, she picked up the pencil, since the reciprocal of one over x to the third power is x to the third power. So then, four x equals...

Great, she closed her eyes as her heart pounded in her chest, her brain was rapidly reducing itself to a mushy lump of fail.

Looking up, she decided she couldn't do it.

Just as she was about to concede, she caught sight of a pale thumb floating above the sea of faces. She narrowed her eyes and with a gasp, she realized there, in the flesh, was her mother. Chester was there too, grinning at her in a paternally proud sort of way.

Which was weird, considering he wasn't her father.

Then again, the one she had wasn't exactly Danny Tanner.

Charlie Burnham had no sitcom equivalent. Then again, few wholesome situation comedies featured homeless schizophrenics as dear old dad.

Chester hadn't been dating her mother very long and yet he managed to be there. That counted for something. It counted a lot.

Shaking her head, she waved back at Casey and Chester, and she felt a surprising surge of confidence lift up her pencil and beat the buzzer.

"Since the reciprocal of one over x to the third power is x to the third power that means four x equals x cubed so the value x equals two is the best possible solution."

"That's correct, Robin. You may rejoin your teammates."

The rest of the competition went on without a hitch and although Midgley lost, Robin managed to conquer her fear.

"That was some brainwork, Egghead," Rafferty Novak-Burnham slung his arm over his little sister's neck, engulfing her in an affectionate headlock. "For once I'm not ashamed to admit I share chromosomes with you. Good job."

"Thanks, asshole," she tried to wriggle out of his grip as she scanned the auditorium for their mother. "Where'd Mom and Chester go?"

Rafe groaned. "Why'd she bring him, anyway?"

"He's her boyfriend. Get over it."

He frowned and noogied her head. "You're such a traitor. I can't believe you actually like the guy."

Robin licked his arm and he released his grip, though he used her cheek as a washcloth. She shoved him away. "What's not to like?"

"Uh…he's not Dad?"

"Maybe that isn't a bad—ouch!" Robin rubbed the central point of the pain in her arm. "Hit me again and Mom'll be using your insurance money to pay the remainder of my tuition."

"You're unbelievable sometimes…"

"As I was saying," she gave his shoulder a shove. "Maybe...maybe that fact that Chester and Dad are polar opposites is a good thing. Chester's simple and safe—and sane."

"Robin," he said as gently as possible. "You can't blame Dad for having schizophrenia."

"Yeah?" she folded her arms and glared at him indignantly. "And you can't blame Mom for choosing us over him."

"No, she chose herself," he snapped coldly. He bit his lip, stifling his temper. "You don't understand. You were only five. You were too young to understand everything."

"I understood enough to be scared of him. I knew to hide from him when he was having a 'bad time'," she pushed back, putting air quotes around "bad time". "I remember what Mom's face looked like when he was finished."

Rafe looked away. "He was sick. He wasn't always like that."

"I know…I know you hate that Mom's with somebody else. I didn't like it at first, either. Sometimes I wish Dad would come back and I could get to know him. But Chester…he makes her happy and Mom really deserves somebody that she doesn't have to fix."

She looked so serious, so innocently earnest that Rafe didn't want burst her bubble. He had to. It was his duty to protect her. Their father told him so the first time he'd slipped the slithering, puffy red lump of "sister" into Rafe's four-year-old arms.

"Robin…Chester…he's temporary, okay? He's filling a void. He may be who's on her mind right now, but Dad will always be—as mushy as it is—the only guy in her heart. So, okay, he makes Mom happy right now, but when Dad comes back…"

She couldn't take it anymore. Sometimes her brother could be the biggest idiot savant—ninety percent idiot, ten percent savant. "Hello, sorry but the fairytale's over. Open your eyes and grow up! Dad's never coming back! He chose his illness over us and I'm glad he's gone!"

"Glad who's gone, Champ?"

Rafe and Robin had the decency to look sheepish when their mother and her beau miraculously appeared. Robin, ever the amicable of the two, lunged herself at an ill prepared Casey, almost tackling her to the ground. "Nobody. I'm glad you were able to make it, Mom! I thought you weren't gonna show."

"I've already fallen on my ass once today. Let's not make it two for two," Casey laughed, ruffling the girl's shambolic nest of curls.

"You fell?"

"Picture your mother running like Seabiscuit at top speed in trendy pumps and then taking a headlong dive to the floor."

Robin and Chester exchanged mischievous grins. Serious!Rafe was not amused.

"It's not funny," Casey theatrically pouted. "I could've sprained something."

"Just your ego," Chester laughed.

"You," she pointed at her youngest. "You laugh and you're grounded."

Robin shrugged and tossed her mother a puckish smirk. "Ground away. Just remember I'll be picking your nursing home. "

"Anyway, I'm proud of you Robin. You were scared stiff, but you managed to defrost your brain and get the job done—on your own. Nice job, Champ."

"I saw you in the audience. Not to beat it to death or anything, but I'm really glad you showed up. It felt really good to see you there."

"Hey," Casey squeezed the sixth grader's shoulder and kissed the side of her head. "I said I'd be here, didn't I?"

"That's never stopped you before," Rafe not so subtlety mumbled.

"Hey Rafe," Chester stepped forward and flashed Casey's only son a disarming smile. He held out his right hand. "Nice to see you again."

Casey exchanged looks with Chester when Rafe stared at the man's outstretched hand and remained silent. She combed his face, hoping to find a clue of which Rafe he was going to be. He'd become unpredictable after his father left. Her son kept her and the rest of his world at arms length, keeping himself visible but unavailable. Except for girls and his grandparents. He always had time for them.

As usual, Rafe's emotions remained guarded and a complete mystery to her. Rafe had become an enigma as far as his mother was concerned, had been since the day he realized deep down that Charlie was never coming back. Casey feared the unanswerable. Her oldest son was becoming an impossible riddle to solve—like his father.

When Rafe finally looked up, a charming glint lit his blue eyes. He smiled, flaunting his dimples. He shook Chester's hand, albeit lightly. "Thanks for showing up. You didn't have to."

"I'm right where I need to be."

Rafe narrowed his eyes, though he kept his smile firmly in place. Chester regarded the boy with a cop's scrupulous attention to detail and found himself utterly unimpressed by the dimpled smile Rafe tried to mollify him with. They were adorable, his dimples, he'd give the kid that. It was the way he knew they were adorable, they way he capitalized on them, that let Chester Lake know Rafe was going to be as much trouble as possible.

"Robin! We were wondering where you snuck off to!"

The group looked up to find a smiling Hillary Burnham sauntering toward them, her husband—the elder Rafferty Burnham—in tow. Clad in a navy blue St. John pant suit and enough pearls to guarantee oysters a spot on the endangered species list, Mrs. Burnham's whole ensemble oozed the old money poise and traditional elegance befitting of her station.

"Thanks for coming, Grandma," Robin leaned forward to accept her grandmother's kiss against her cheek. "You too, Grandpa. I know guys have a charity gala after this. It was nice of you to squeeze me into your schedule."

"It's what family does, dear," Mrs. Burnham shot Casey a censorious glance. "You did a marvelous job. Your grandfather and I couldn't have been prouder."

"Yes," Rafferty tweaked his granddaughter's button nose. "You may not look like Charlie, but you definitely inherited his gray matter. Your father was one the smartest men I ever knew."

"And you," Hillary beamed at her grandson. She reached in, condescendingly adjusting his tie and straightening his blazer. Rafe ducked before she could attempt to smooth his spiky hair. "You are the spitting image of your father at your age, complete with his contumaciously unkempt appearance."

Rafe gave his grandmother a waggish grin. "The ladies don't seem to mind. Besides," he winked at his grandfather. "I'm not the first Rafferty Burnham to break beautiful hearts at Midgley Day."

"Say," the elder Rafferty smiled between his grandchildren. He checked his watch. "The gala doesn't for another two hours. That's enough time for a quick meal. What do you say, Birdie? How about a little fête in your honor?"

"Sounds nice, Grandpa, but Mom and Chester…"

"Yes, Chester," Mrs. Burnham sized the man up, resentfully acknowledging his presence. "What is that you do...Mr.?"

"Lake. Detective Lake," he flashed his pearly whites and extended his palm. "I work with Casey."

She frowned at Chester's hand, her lips curved in barely subdued disgust. "How…inclusive."

Rafferty cleared his throat reproachfully. He accepted Chester's handshake. "Pleasure to meet you. It's always a delight to be in the company of New York's finest."

Mrs. Burnham fired her contempt at Casey. "I don't think my son would appreciate you subjecting his children to your…colleagues."

Casey stood to her full height, dodging the bullet. She really wasn't in the mood. "Well he isn't here, is he?"

Hillary Burnham wasn't known to give inches. "And who's fault his that?"

Suddenly Casey Novak was twenty years old again, sitting in the apartment she shared with Charlie during their second year of undergrad, trying not to squirm as the Burnhams inspected her like soldiers on a reconnaissance mission. She remembered Hillary Burnham's apparent revulsion at the sight of her swollen belly and the subsequent private tête-à-têtes between Charlie and his parents that she was not invited to. Rafferty Burnham politely offered to help them find a proper home for the baby, diplomatically citing their age as the reason why they shouldn't parent their child. Months later, when Rafe was born, the elder Rafferty buried the hatchet. His wife, however, never forgave the "salacious country bumpkin" who ruined her youngest boy's future.

"Hey, lay off my mom," Robin's hard tone shook her mother out of reverie. Casey squeezed her daughter's shoulder to no avail. "Dad's not here because he didn't wanna be."

Hillary shook her head mournfully at Robin heroics. "You're already turning them against him. Come on, Rafferty. We've a gala to attend."

Rafferty offered Casey an apologetic smile before trailing after his wife.

"Wait!" Rafe called after his fleeing grandparents. "I'll go to dinner with you guys."

"No Rafe," Robin tugged at her brother's hand. "You promised you'd come to dinner with us."

He shook away her touch and glared at their mother. "I have a father. Unlike some people, I didn't forget him." With that, he jogged off toward the open arms of Hillary Burnham.

"Mom! You're just gonna let him get away with that?"

Casey grimaced, remembering what happened the last time she'd forced a Burnham to stay where he didn't want to be.

Next time: When Olivia pays the Novak home a visit, Casey opens up to the detective about her personal life. Later, Robin and Casey talk about Charlie.