Author's Note...

As of last week, I have been writing about Kaitlyn (originally Faith. Ew.) for a year. That's right, I've wasted more time on this fic than I should have. I'm feeling a bit nostalgic, so maybe I'll go listen to All You Wanted or The Pretender, two of my favorite songs from "back then."

I have a shout-out to Myka for telling me all about the ups and downs of her pregnancy. For that, I think she deserves a gift, possibly the purple maternity shirt mentioned in the last chapter. Also, thanks to the reviewers! You make my day.

I get the feeling that I'm rambling. Reading time!

Patience is a virtue.

How many times had Lex heard that saying? Quite a few, some of those coming from his father. Even so, Lionel Luthor was not the kind of person one would consider virtuous, though perhaps the opposite. Maybe patience was a virtue, but it certainly wasn't going to help Lex take down his father. Cases like Kaitlyn Grant's grew stale quickly, but he couldn't confront Lionel until he had solid proof—or at least something that resembled it. And the only information Lex had looked nothing like it.

Lex could assume that the patient in Belle Reve was distrustful of him because of some run-in with his father, but there was no way he could verify that. It didn't seem likely that she would talk to him again. She could have given him the cold shoulder simply because it was part of her psychosis, yet somewhere, Lex had heard that behind every lie was a bit of truth. Nothing was ever pure imagination, no matter how crazy someone appeared; there was always a reason. The only question was: what was her reason?

Thanks to the copious amounts of money in his bank account, Lex would soon be able to discover the method to her madness; it turns out that money corrupts more people than one would think. Elise Carter was one of those people: a woman with a family, a career, a future…and a large debt that her husband didn't know about. She was to email Lex her daily analysis of Kaitlyn Grant by four o'clock in exchange for a few thousand dollars. If that was all it took to throw Lionel in jail, then it was the small price Lex would pay.

He checked his watch as he entered his study. It was a few minutes past four-thirty when he opened his laptop to be greeted by a window announcing that he had two new mail messages. He quickly opened the first from Mrs. Carter.

"Mr. Luthor, here are my first day's observations. Kaitlyn Grant has paranoia to an extreme of refusing to talk. She claims that 'he' is watching and will kill her and I if she says anything. She also believes that this 'man behind the camera' is responsible for her previous therapist's death. Forgive me for the incompleteness of this note. Unfortunately, she is uncooperative. If you need anything else, please feel free to email me. Respectfully, Elise Carter."

That was all? Yes, Lex did need something else: real information. The patient was more likely to talk to Mrs. Carter than himself, but he was sure that the therapist wasn't asking the right questions it took to get the answers he needed. Hitting the reply button, he began typing in the window that popped up.

"Mrs. Carter, am I paying you to write me a short, uninteresting paragraph? I expect you to have more information in tomorrow's update. I need you to ask the patient a few questions, and I expect word-for-word answers in my inbox by four o'clock.

Ask her how she has liked her visitors so far. If she doesn't mention me, then you should subtly bring me into the conversation. Ask her why she reacted to me in the manner that she did. Was it because of something I did? Or was it someone else, possibly connected to me? Would anyone other than the man behind the camera want to kill her? If so, why?

Again, I expect her responses by four o'clock tomorrow. –Lex Luthor"

It might strike someone as strange that Lex had taken a certain interest in a seemingly unimportant girl, but the amount he had paid Mrs. Carter was enough to keep her from asking questions.

He sent the message and hoped that the next email would be more interesting. It was from his assistant and contained details on the suspect apprehended for Ms. Simmons' murder. Thomas Shopp was currently unemployed after being fired from Luthorcorp back in May. Apparently, he was Ms. Simmons's ex-boyfriend. The police report said they had been engaged in a heated argument over money that Simmons owed him, as Shopp claimed. Ah, once again, money. It bribed some, drove others to kill, and was said to be the root of all evil. Well, that explained Lex's father.

While the mention of Luthorcorp raised red flags, there was no other evidence that Lionel was somehow involved in Ms. Simmons's murder. Maybe the therapist's death and the patient's close-call were just coincidences—if Lex believed in coincidences. He was going to get the bottom of this, and in the end bring charges of murder and attempted murder against his father. The bastard…

Unfortunately, there was nothing Lex could do at the moment but wait.

--

Kaitlyn's POV

Usually, mornings are the worst for me. I used to think that way because I was always groggy until noon, but being pregnant brought a whole new definition to "not a morning person." Every morning for the past month, I woke up feeling like I had to pee and puke at the same time, even though I didn't throw up until a few days before I was admitted to the prison they call a sanitarium. After all that had subsided, I was left with a crazy hunger that gave me a major migraine if I ignored it for too long. However, the demon-child hated Belle Reve breakfasts more than I did and punished me for eating that crap by giving me heartburn until lunch. I had to wonder if he hated me more than I hated him.

This morning was a bit different, though. I woke up really hungry, but it was a strange sort of hunger. I wanted carrots—and by want, I mean need, which is really weird because I had never liked carrots before. My immediate decision was that cravings sucked. Thankfully, Shelly was kind enough to snag some from the kitchen while I used the bathroom. I must have been a special case because Belle Reve cooks don't allow deviations from their pre-planned menus. Maybe I just got carrots because no one wanted to upset the hormonal psycho.

Demon-child appreciated his breakfast and let me keep the food in my stomach. Maybe cravings weren't half-bad if I didn't have to throw up. That is what I thought at first, until an hour later when I was about ready to claw out someone's eyes if they didn't get me more carrots that instant. I was back to hating cravings.

That afternoon, I sat in Hailey's old office—Elise's new one—with my back to the camera because I hated the feeling that it was watching me. Now it just peered over my shoulder. Elise smiled and asked mundane questions about my day, but I wasn't really paying attention as I answered. It was much more entertaining to count the gray hairs on her head.

"How are you today, Kaitlyn?"

One..two.. "Ready to get out of here." Three..four..five..did I just count that one? Oh well.

"So no different from yesterday?" she asked, maybe challenged. As if she expected me to be different.

Six..seven..eight.. "Well, not as bad," I conceded. "Apparently, he's letting me eat breakfast now." I pointed to my stomach to indicate the demon-child. I had a feeling that Elise would chide me for using that name and might even say something along the lines of what my mom would: No child is a demon. Every one is a blessing. Yeah, whatever; I'd heard that before. I turned my attention back to her hair. Now, where was I? Oh whatever, I'll just start over. One..two..three..

"So it's a boy?" Elise asked, a pleased smile breaking across her face.

Four..five..six..seven.. I shrugged and continued counting by twos. Eight..ten..twelve.. "Dunno. I think it's too early to tell. 'He' just seems more appropriate than 'she.'" Fourteen..sixteen..eighteen..eigh—wait, I just said eighteen. Or did I? Agh, I give up.

"Really? Do you want a boy?"

I snorted in amusement. That was the funniest thing I'd heard all day. If I were older and had a husband, maybe a job, I'd want a girl. And I definitely did not want this thing, so I hoped it was a boy. "I'd just feel worse about having an abortion if it were a girl," I stated. Not that I wouldn't still get one anyhow.

Elise smiled and wrote on her notepad. I had to wonder what it was, but didn't ask. I'll bet she has over two hundred gray hairs. "What are your reasons for getting an abortion?"

"I'm only sixteen. How am I supposed to take care of anything when I can't even take care of myself yet?"

She nodded and took more notes. "Are there any social reasons? Peer pressure? Fear of what people will say?"

"Yeah, you could say that. But it's mostly just too hard for me to deal with on my own."

"The father wouldn't help out?"

I turned to look at the camera without thinking and let out a sardonic laugh. "No," I said. I stood corrected; that was the funniest thing I'd heard all day.

Elise took more notes. "And what do your parents say about all of this?"

"I dunno."

"You don't know?" she repeated. "Why not?"

"We didn't get around to talking about it before I was labeled 'crazy.'"

"How do you think they will react?"

They already knew—they just hadn't told me how they felt, but I did not feel like explaining that to Elise, I imagined what they might be doing right now. Dad loading up his shotgun to hunt down John, my mom excitedly planning a cute, frilly nursery. "Dad's probably throwing a fit, and Mom is thinking she going to be a grandma a few years early."

"So she doesn't know that you are planning on an abortion?"

"Not yet," I admitted, shifting my gaze to the cream carpet. "Should have had T tell them," I noted quietly to myself.

"Who is T?" Elise asked, continuing to scribble on her notepad. Did she ever run out of questions?

"My friend, Tatiana."

"Has she visited you here?" What was up with the sudden twinkle in her eye, as if she had just won something?

"Yeah. She was awesome enough to come and tell me what's happening in the real world."

"This isn't real?" Elise challenged.

"I hope not."

"Have you had any visitors other than Tatiana?"

A memory of Mr. Baldy flashed in my mind. "No wanted ones," I answered bitterly.

"So the ones you had were unwanted? Why?"

I found myself glancing at the camera uneasily. "Because I didn't invite him. He was rude."

"Who?"

Would Luthor appreciate knowing that his son was bothering me, too? I didn't really care. Not really. "Lex," I spat.

"How was he rude?" Nope, she never ran out of questions. Hailey always talked with me, but she never interrogated.

How was he rude? How could I explain that I could just tell by looking at him? "Luthors are just like that." Was I giving too much away?

Elise raised her eyebrows. "Luthors? Really? How do you know?"

I glanced at the camera again. "Just trust me on this one."

"No, I'm interested in what you have to say."

What I wanted to say was that I would slap her if she asked another stupid question. "I've met them, and that's the impression I've gotten."

"Really? You've met them? How does a small-town girl like you end up meeting two billionaires?"

Crap, I was in a corner. "Uh...uh... I dunno," was my answer as I looked anywhere but her face.

"Was it at a plant on some field trip? Just a random coincidence?"

"Call it fate and a load of bad luck," I answered quickly. Can we leave it at that?

"Bad luck? How?"

"It just was. Can we move on?" My uneasy gaze shifted back to the camera.

Elise sounded reluctant. "Okay. The camera, you've been looking at it a lot today. Are you afraid he's watching?"

"I know he is," I replied. Why did she have to notice little things like this?

"Why are you so afraid?"

"I never know when I've said too much."

"What happens if you did?"

We'd been through this before. "He kills us."

"Really? Does anyone other than the camera man want to kill you?"

That was easy. "Brooke."

She raised her eyebrows. "Who is she?"

"Ex-best friend."

"What happened?"

"Her parents got a divorce."

I could tell that she was going to ask what that had to do with me when her phone beeped loudly. She checked it and smiled. "Oh, I'm sorry. Times up. How about we pick up this conversation tomorrow?"

How about not? I nodded and bolted out the door before she could call Shelly back. Thank goodness I was finally free!

See any Sue-ness? Any other weaknesses? That's what the review button is for. Just be kind. :)