A/N: Hello, fellow Sibunas! It's a Friday, which means that the 20th chapter of Lost and Found commences!

Let me just say that it feels weird not writing these characters in Anubis House. The show became a part of me so quickly and its remained with me ever since then; the House was a big part of it, too. Gods I really miss that show because it had amazing characters and could get me through bad moods and hard times and wow ok feels.

Remind me never to watch Titanic ever again. I actually managed to make it through the sinking without shedding a single tear this time, but as soon as the credits rolled and My Heart Will Go On played, I was bawling like a little baby. Then I decided to screencap the ending scene, when Rose is going back to Titanic in heaven and I JUST NOTICED this one moment when Fabrizio is standing arm-in-arm with Helga when Rose just walks into the Grand Staircase and Fabrizio's looking up and Jack like "Hey, buddy, someone's coming, and it's gonna make you really happy. I guess 84 years of waiting really did pay off" and I sent myself into an ocean of tears. Like what has this movie done to me? Combined with HoA and BTR and PJO feels all in one, it was not a pleasant week.

So when I told likestarlight about this chapter she said, and I quote, "I DON'T LIKE YOU ANYMORE", and that's coming from a dirty-minded 12-year-old. The only hint I'll give you about what happens is this: KT is finally coming into play, and I have a soft spot for Kabian.

v v v

COULD RISING STAR FABIAN RUTTER HAVE A SECRET?
Written by Amanda Sullivan

About two years ago, seventeen-year-old Fabian Rutter released the hit single, "On My Mind". Word spread around the country, and soon enough, even people in America knew of him. Fabian is known to be kind, caring, sweet, and gentle; but could he be hiding a secret?
I spoke with his manager, Aaron Steward, a few days ago; he confirmed that Fabian's second album, "Not a Heartbreaker", will be a few weeks late, due to Fabian's lack of attendance in the recording studio. Despite all of our protests, could Fabian actually be a heartbreaker?
Two weeks ago, a photograph was snapped of him in a park located near Picton Road, with a child in his arms, holding a mysterious woman's face in comfort. Within the last fourteen days, Fabian's fans have conversed over the photograph, talking about who the woman is, and who the child is. While Fabian has confirmed that the woman is just his friend and the child is his friend's niece, could he be lying? He sure looked cozy with the woman alongside him in the photograph at the park.
Some unnamed subjects have proclaimed the child is the woman's own daughter, which is perfectly plausible, we do not know. His fans, just like any fans of any other fans or singers, deny that the woman could be any more than his friend.
Fabian's story remained loyal, until another photo was snapped only five days ago, at a town near where Fabian lives. The photograph shows Fabian pointing into an unknown building with the child in the previous photo looking quite happy, quite at home with Fabian. That's cute, of course, but it leaves this question: could the child be more than just a friend's niece to him?
At close inspection of the photograph, it has been confirmed that the unnamed child has the same eye color as the singer, a similar hair color, and a similar nose as well. Fabian, in the photograph, looked comfortable with his friend's niece next to him. Could the woman be more to him, or could the child? What could have brought this girl and boy together? What could have happened between them, if the child means more to the singer? Could clothing be involved in this?
Hopefully, these answered questions could get the answers they deserve soon.

v v v

A sigh was issued as I threw the magazine onto the table, the paper pages folding under the weight. I leaned back in my chair, grabbing my hair in my hands, eventually letting the dark brown strands fall in front of my eyes, the eyes that Emma had inherited, the eyes that had just ruined my life.

After I read the article out by the mailbox, I called Eddie to come by and pick Emma up for the day; he was grateful to get out of a fishing trip, but he was confused when I was perfectly fine, Emma was perfectly fine, and the house wasn't up in flames. He took Emma home without a word, but I was still left with the magazine.

I saw from the corner of my eye that one of my sisters reached over to the take the magazine; I didn't see who it was, but I didn't stop her from taking the magazine. I was too deep in my pity to care at the moment.

My career could have just possibly been ruined.

Rosie, then, came over to me and placed a comforting arm around me. Her overweight body took up the rest of the chair, along with me, since I had a rather bulky form. "Hey, kid," she assured me, "It's going to be okay. Trust me."

"Trust you?" I said, my inner insanity showing. "It's not going to be okay. How could you think it's going to be okay? This isn't okay. It'll never be okay."

Rose Rutter sighed, rubbing my back in a circle. "Fabes, just think clearly," she told me. "Think this through. You've already told the press that Nina is just a friend, that Emma is her niece — you've already worked everything out — everything is going to be fine. Nothing is wrecked."

"Yeah," I breathed shakily, trying to keep from crying. I couldn't shake the feeling that everything I had worked for, that everything I had worked for in the past two years had just been ruined. "I can't believe they think I've raped her. I'm going to be completely shot down for this. I'm ruined. I'm never gonna sing again. I'm going to have to deny my daughter for the rest of my life."

"Maybe you don't have to," Olivia spoke up, small fourteen-year-old Olivia, the smallest and youngest in the Rutter family, who was standing next to the refrigerator in the kitchen. The kitchen wasn't all that big, but it was big enough to fit five kids. "Maybe you could come clean, tell the press the truth."

My brown hair was moved out of my field of view, only to see Olivia's red hair falling in front of her eyes, now. "You're kidding me, right?" I laughed without humor, making Olivia retract more against the wall. "You have to be kidding me.

"You want me to admit to the entire world that I have a daughter?" I asked quietly, my voice staying the same tone. I stood up out of my chair. "You just want me to...to come clean...to admit to the entire world that I made a mistake three years ago?"

At my words, my sixteen-year-old sister, Chloe, suddenly came to life. I ignored her.

"You want me to..." I continued, thinking carefully about my words. "You just want me to tell millions of people that rising star Fabian Rutter had a child born two and a half years ago, without him knowing it?" I asked Olivia, who had, at once, realized the mistake she made. "You want me to admit that I fucked a fifteen-year-old girl and got her pregnant?"

The first tear fell out of her eyes, but for the first time, I didn't feel any sympathy. All I felt was anger.

"Fabian, don't—" Chloe warned, but I held up a hand for her to stop talking.

"No, you're right, Chloe," I muttered, "You've been right this whole time. I've just been too damn stupid to admit it," I said, mostly to myself, but loud enough for everyone else to hear. "I can't believe I didn't admit it before, even while you and Dad were trying to tell me."

"Fabian, you don't have to do this!" Chloe exclaimed, looking as if she just realized something she hadn't realized until now. "Stop now. Seriously, Fabes, don't—"

I watched as she cried, marking two of the Rutter sisters shedding tears. "Why shouldn't I?" I asked quietly, leaning against the table. "I mean...God damnit, Chloe, you're right. You were right all along. I should've listened to you, because now my career is in ruins. Everything I've worked for in the past two years is gone, down the drain. My reputation is ruined. People think I've fucking raped Nina, they think she was asking for it...it's horrible. You're right. I should have never gone to reunite with her in the first place."

I heard a sigh from one of my sisters, but I was too lazy to place who it was. Chloe wanted to speak up, but I spoke before she could. "So I guess you're right, Chloe," I breathed, scratching the back of my head. I couldn't believe that I was just now realizing this.

"You were always right—I guess I should listen to you more often," I admitted, watching both Chloe and Olivia cry. I could Rosie had no idea what to do, but Isabelle was standing in a corner, holding something behind her back.

"God, I'm so stupid," I rubbed my temples, stopping the oncoming headache. "How could I have been so stupid? I'm not a stupid person. I got good grades before I finished school, and I have basic street knowledge. I'm so, so damn stupid, and now my whole career is ruined.

"I should have never given that photograph of Emma a second thought. I should have thrown it out, erased it from my memory completely. I should have never gone to Picton to reunite with Nina, I should have never asked to meet my daughter, I should have never told my parents, I should have never gone to the park, a fucking public place, and I should have never gone out in town with my damn daughter, where anyone can just freely snap a picture of me and her! This is all one big mistake!"

I met Chloe's blue eyes, which reflected back to me. "You were right," I told her, watching a tear or two fall down her face. I couldn't understand why she was crying. "Nina was a mistake."

"Fabian, what's gotten into you?" Isabelle told me, reluctant to leave her spot against the wall for reasons unknown. "You never considered Nina a mistake."

"Well, I do now," I spat. "That's all she is: a mistake. She was someone I was interested in when I was sixteen, and that's all she is. That's all she'll ever be to me. Sure, maybe I tried to contrive something out of interest, an old flame, something that lasted for less than twenty-four hours; then she was selfish and she sent me the photograph.

"I could have gone my whole life without knowing I had a daughter...and my career would be fine. There wouldn't be two photographs of me and my daughter exposed to the entire world."

That was something that was constantly on my chest; the fact that Nina and Emma's private lives had just been exposed. I chose to be in the spotlight, I chose to become famous, but Nina didn't. She had lived a private life for seventeen years, but now everything she did could quite possibly be tracked. Some messed-up person could be tracking her on the Twitter account Nina and I made as a joke back in early October.

"I can't believe she was that selfish as to send me the photograph," I muttered, holding my hair tightly, like I wanted to pull it out. "I should have never invited her to my house that night in 2009. I should have never had sex with her, but I did. I did. And that was a mistake. You're completely right, Chloe; Nina and Emma are a mistake!"

"Fabian—"

"No!" I yelled, my hands moving around wildly. "She was a mistake! Nothing more than a mistake! I made a mistake when I invited her back to my house, I made a mistake when I unhooked her bra strap, I made a mistake when I said, 'I'll do it if you want to do it'! I made a mistake when I fell asleep next to her, I made a mistake when I said I wanted to be a part of Nina and Emma's lives, I made a mistake just talking to her in that coffee shop in the first place!" I exploded, sitting down in the chair again, burying my face in my hands.

I could barely hear anything over the sound of my own stupidity, but I did hear one of my sisters place something on the table. Moving the dark brown strands out of my eyes, I picked up the cell phone, presuming it was for me, and said, "Hello?" into the receiver, not really in the modd to talk.

"It's nice to hear you finally admit it," choked out a voice on the other end.

Shit.

Shit.

"Nina," I breathed, a thousand emotions running through me all at once. First came shock, then guilt, then anger, joy, bitterness, compassion, and panic. They were racing through my mind so quickly, I couldn't keep up. "Um. Hi."

I hadn't heard from her in over five days, not since I stole Mara's phone and had a short conversation with her. "Yeah. Hi." she repeated, the bitterness showing through her tone. I knew, that after all these years, her bitterness about what had happened after we met still lingered with her. It hadn't faded after all this time.

"Nina, I—" I began, but before I could even start, Nina cut me off.

"Don't start, Fabian," her voice was no louder than a whisper, and she was taking long breaks between sentences. "You'd just get all jumbled up and you wouldn't know what you were going to say."

Last time on the phone, she sounded pleased that I had stuttered, like she enjoyed hearing me stumble over words, enjoyed seeing how head over heels in love I was with her. But now, however, her bitterness was showing again; she almost sounded furious. It made me sad, somehow.

"No, I—" I began again, but stopped quickly, knowing that Nina would just silence me before I could myself. "No, I mean — I didn't — Nina, you have to understand — I didn't mean to —"

"You didn't mean to say I was a mistake?" she spat, making the guilt, the anger, the joy, bitterness, compassion, and panic all come rushing back. "Oh, okay. Because it's not like I've been emailing you for the past four months, right? It's not like I know you like the back of my hand? It's not like I know you wouldn't say something if you didn't mean it?"

"I—"

"I said don't start," she told me, her tone melancholy; but I knew why she was sad. It was my fault. "Let me talk," she continued, and I did as I was told.

"I knew it all along," she began, confusing me, but I still let her continue. "If you didn't think I knew you thought I was a mistake, then you're wrong. I always knew. That's what everyone in my school thought of me as: a mistake, a girl a boy had sex with one night who never called her or spoke to her again, a girl who was so bad in bed that the father left the mother with a baby and no other half to her child. I was always a mistake, always.

"Then I finally bring up the fucking courage in me to send you the photograph. Do you know how much bravery that took, Fabian? Because it took a lot of fucking bravery. For two years, I had watched you from the shadows, overlooked you and learned things about you, all while you had no idea I existed. I was a teen mother with dead parents and a seventy-two-year-old grandmother."

She paused. I couldn't hear anything through the other end, and that's when I knew she was crying.

And it was the first time I was ever hearing her cry. Sure, Eddie and Mara had told me of the times during her pregnancy where she'd just break down and cry for no reason; but after August, I hadn't seen a day where she'd shed a single tear. I hadn't heard her as she choked back the sobs, I hadn't felt her as she shook, trying to stop herself from crying.

I was on the other end of the line, miles away from where she was, and I had to stop myself from punching a wall. It made me so frustrated to hear her cry for the first time, knowing that was all she did in the school year of 2010, the time when she was pregnant.

And what a time to get her pregnant, too; a month before school started, condemning her to deal with jokes and taunts and cruelness in the first few weeks of the school year.

I wanted to assure her that everything would be okay, just like some old romance movie, but she continued to talk before I could do that.

"It wasn't like I was expecting you to come to my house after I sent you the photograph," her voice was muffled, like she was holding her face in her hands, "but you did. And then I got my fucking hopes up. I thought, Hey, maybe I could form a family with this man! Maybe I could be friends with him! Maybe I could see him for more — for more than just a night — and I knew — I knew you'd never love me — because of who you had — had become..."

Every pause between words, every break, was a sob, and I knew it was, even though she tried to hide it. And it killed me with every word she spoke.

"You were a — a famous celebrity, and I knew that — I knew it, Fabian, don't ever say that I didn't understand the circumstances, because I did. I understand them so fucking well. I understood them more than you could ever imagine. But somehow, you seemed different than you how you appeared over a computer screen, and like I said, I got my hopes up. And then I — oh, god, I was stupid to ever think this — I actually thought, for a while, that I wasn't a mistake. That I was more than just a one-night stand, something more than a sixteen-year-old boy's play toy. I was more than just a joke to the school, I was more than a teen parent. I can't believe I ever thought you thought of me as more than a mistake."

"No, Nina, you don't understand—" I stuttered, but, once again, she cut me off, really making me want to punch her. She wasn't listening to me; she wasn't listening to my side of the story.

Nina started to go on and on about how she'd had a miserable nine months during her pregnancy, when I finally exploded. And maybe she can blame me for what I did, but I acted out of anger, and that was what I had done all along, as I realized later.

"STOP CRYING and LISTEN TO ME," I yelled into the receiver, making Nina stop sobbing immediately. At the time, I didn't feel any remorse. I didn't feel bad for just making her suddenly stop crying instead of listening to her get her feelings out, instead of listening to her venting.

For the first couple of weeks after we'd started talking, Nina always spoke to me as if she were dealing with some distant relative. It annoyed me and both disoriented me at the same time; that was when I fully realized that Nina must have grown so accustomed to being attached to someone who didn't know she existed, who she had only ever seen over a computer screen.

And I was someone completely different from who I was in the coffee shop, that night in August 2009; back then, I was shy and unsociable. The only reason I started talking to Nina was because she wouldn't stop asking me questions about the song I was writing, so I eventually just saved the document and started talking to her, trying to get her to go away.

And then, later that night, I ended up getting her pregnant. Oh, how the tables turned.

"Don't sob," I spat into the receiver, my anger getting the better of me, "Just listen. You're not listening to me at all, and you need to, or else you'll go around thinking I broke your heart or something. And then you'll tell the entire world that Fabian Rutter is the father of Emma, and you know what I'll do?"

Nina was silent, not daring to make a sound. I didn't even think to think that I'd frightened her. I was never normally this impulsive, this angry.

"I'll go and deny both of you. And I'll make up some lie about we bumped into each other on the road one afternoon, and you told me you were a teen parent. Then you paid me big bucks to be in a photograph with you, which one of your friends took. I'll deny you. You'll have to live with your peers picking on you for the rest of the school year. You'll have no one to turn to, because my story will go worldwide. You'll be hated by all my fans. You'll get hate mail and death threats twenty-four seven for corrupting an innocent, naïve man to take a picture with you just because you paid him. I can make your life miserable, Nina."

And—

And just at that moment—

That exact moment, no sooner, no later—

I realized how much of a dick I was.

And I wanted to apologize, I wanted to go down on my knees and beg for forgiveness if that was what it would take for Nina to forgive me, for her to laugh at how over-the-top I was being, for her to hug me and kiss my cheek again and tell me how adorable I was.

But that couldn't happen, because I just threatened to make my first love, the person whom I was currently in love with, miserable. I just threatened to tell lies about her worldwide.

So it didn't surprise me when I both heard Nina crying her eyes out, trying to act like she was fine, and how I didn't try to stop her.

"Stupid," was the first word I heard from her end, but I could tell it wasn't meant for me to hear. "Completely stupid."

"Nina, I—"

"No." she cut me off once again. "Don't. Just don't. Seriously, don't. Don't start, Fabian. I always knew I was a mistake, and, well, now that I know for sure, I also know for sure that I'm going to stay out of your life forever."

I was silent, which, looking back on it, wasn't such a good idea. I could have prevented a month-long silence between us just by saying a simple word; but because I didn't say anything, Nina sniffled, said, "Bye, Fabian," and I heard the soft buzzing sound, signaling that the caller had hung up.

I didn't even stop to think about how Nina was on the line with me, or who called her. I just spared a glance at my sisters, who were all wearing disapproving looks.

"What am I gonna do now?" I wondered aloud, soft, but loud enough for the others to hear. "Did I just seriously ruin everything again?"

Chloe spared me a sympathetic look, but I brushed her off. She didn't know how it felt to think you lost someone who was important to you, someone who had changed your life. She didn't know how it felt to have a child, to be a parent, to be famous and being able to ruin your life by doing such a simple thing like losing your temper by doing stupid-ass actions like taking your daughter out in public when you knew you were a famous singer.

"Want to see if there's anything on the telly?" Isabelle suggested. I didn't particularly want to watch any television programs, but Rosie, my older sister by two years, followed me into the common room.

Our family was hard to follow because it had five members; but if you broke it down, it was quite easy. Isabelle was born in late December 1987; it was two days away from 1988. In January 1990, only one month after December, Rosie was born, when Isabelle had just turned 2. In 1992, Rosie turned 3 and Isabelle turned 5

And now, all grown up, we herded into the common room. Olivia turned on the telly, and sad music filtered through the speakers; a faded film was being shown, so I knew that the television channel had just started playing Titanic. I had only watched that film once or twice, but I felt a small squeeze in my chest from knowing what was going to happen next.

History had always been one of my favorite subjects to learn about; I had always been strangely drawn to Ancient Egypt, but I didn't know why. So it pained me to think about April 1912, how it must have felt to be either sitting in the lifeboat, watching the ship go down, or how it felt to actually be on the ship, seeing the water rush onto the deck as it began to sink into the frigid -6 (Celsius) degree water, feeling the cold rush through your body, making its way to your heart, slowly dying in one of the worst ways possible. It squeezed my heart.

However, it made me think; what if I was alive in 1912, what if I brought a ticket to board, what if I met Nina on that ship? Would I be as brave as Jack, and would Nina be as brave as Rose? Nina was stronger, both physically and emotionally (I mean, god damn, she did push a baby out of her uterus at sixteen), but would I be an optomistic, happy-to-be-alive tramp? Would I be able to save Nina, in every way that a person can be saved? I didn't know. I didn't prove to able to do that, by how I just threatened to make Nina's life miserable. Some soul mate I was.

v v v

"Fabian, I'm signing you up for parenting classes."

"What?"

"Yes," Mum said, as if I should've known this was coming. "You obviously need lessons on how to be a parent, so I signed you up for one of those classes where they give you a baby doll and they show you how to take care of it. Maybe then, you can learn how to take care of a two-year-old properly.

I started to protest, but she just put her hands on her hips, raised her eyebrows, as if to say, Tell me I don't know who to manage kids. It's not like I've had five of them. Tell me off, I dare you.

"But I don't want to go to parenting classes!" I protested anyway, whining like Paul the W[h]ine Guy. "I mean, I've just spent a week alone with my daughter, in my house, and she's still alive. That has to count for something, right?"

Mum shook her head mournfully at me, but she had a hint of amusement in her tone as she told me, "Oh, Fabian, you silly, silly boy. Now, go, before I drive you myself."

Muttering bitterly to myself on the drive there, as Mum had given me directions, but I couldn't even move my eyes from the road. I could hear my phone buzzing in the passenger seat next to me, and I even leaned over to grab it once, but I almost swerved off the road, so I labeled doing that as a big no-no.

I didn't even try to talk some sense into Mum before I left, because I knew deep inside that what she was saying was [partially] true. Not to mention that Mum mentioned to expose the secret that I swallowed an American penny when I was eight and I sat on the toilet seat for ten hours, eventually pooping it out, the penny still circular and round and full of my intestine-goop.

So basically, I had no choice but to go. I'd be eternally humiliated if Isabelle and everyone else knew about that, not to mention Nina. She'd tease me for the rest of my life.

Mum said the class was only for three days, as she 'paid extra' to get me in with everyone who had already assigned, so I figured I could live with that. Nina was coming back to town in five days, so I'd be out of the class forever by the time she returned.

I had beaten myself up for going out in public ever since I received the photograph of Emma, all the way back in August, back when I didn't know I'd ever see Nina again, when I didn't know I had a daughter, when I didn't know I would lose my temper and quite possibly lose Nina forever.

I had beaten myself up for it because I knew that I hadn't been there to hold Nina's hand when she was giving birth. I wasn't there when Nina had impulsively picked the name Emma for her father-less child. I wasn't there when she had to mark "absent father" on the birth certificate. I wasn't there when Nina was driven home from the hospital, her baby girl in her hands, hundreds of people telling her to give it up for adoption. I wasn't there when she took her first steps, said her first word, ate solid food for the first time, or any other milestone in her infant-hood. That was something I'd never, ever forgive myself for.

But after four months, I'd thought I'd deemed myself an okay parent, at least. I wasn't the worst father on the planet. I didn't hit my daughter when she spoke back to me or stepped on my foot or something. I didn't tell her off or ignore her, or anything like that all. I was an okay parent, but my father, originally convinced I'd be a bad parent from the start, convinced my mother to think that way too, when she saw the article and the two photographs of myself and Emma on the Internet.

Okay, maybe I wasn't the best father, but after everything me, Nina, and Emma had been through, you had to give me some credit.

Sighing as I pulled into the parking lot where the 'parenting classes' were located, closer to Nina's house than mine. I was actually tempted to go drive to her block, say hello to her cat and Eddie and Mara down the block, just to avoid the classes.

Eventually, though, I removed the car keys from the ignition and forced myself to step out of the car, walking into what looked like a school; for a short moment, I thought it might of have been Nina's school, but the name of her high school wasn't the name I saw on the side, so I eliminated that possibility.

Tucking my hands in my pockets, I opened the front glass door and followed the instructions Mum printed out for me. I took two lefts, one right, a left again, and sure enough, the door in front of me, D221, read, "PARENTING 101" in big black letters.

There was only a few people already in the class; a big, chubby man who looked about 45, with a goatee; a boy who looked no older than 17 with a woman who looked no younger than 35; a teenaged girl who kept looking down at her blown-out belly, as if she was waiting for her water to break; and a dark-skinned girl, who looked about my age, with wild black, curly hair.

The five people already in the classroom stared at me when I opened the door; I ignored the older man's piercing gaze, and sat down next to the dark-skinned girl, awkwardly grinning at her before I say down in the desk meant for fourteen-year-olds next to her.

The door opened again and a group of punk teenage guys walked in, and I could've sworn they were the modern T-BIRDS.

The girl leaned over and whispered, "Why are you here?" just as a group of the modern Pink Ladies followed the modern T-BIRDS, half of them with balloon stomachs.

"Um." was my first, simple, very smart response. "Uh. I, um, well I...I figured I better learn about parenting for the class I'm taking–"

"Would you feel more comfortable telling me the truth if I told you my reason first?" the girl asked; I shook my head feverishly, but I doubted I could tell her the truth. Her dark brown eyes seemed to have knowledge in them; a deeper knowledge than Nina had ever had, something that she never inherited.

And if there was one thing I liked in a girl, it was intelligence.

"My sister and her husband died in a car crash, and they told me in the hospital that they'd rather me look after their son than anyone else in the world," the girl told me, peaking my interest right at the start, just like Nina had done three years earlier.

I told myself to rid the memory of Nina, of the short time we shared at that coffee ship, because now I was talking this /other/ mystery girl, but this time I was determined to tell her my name (that is, if we ever went as far, which was shocking, considering I had only met the damn girl two minutes ago. But something about her was already drawing me in.)

"That's horrible," I told her, sympathetically, so she wouldn't think I didn't have a heart. "But it's kind of you to take care of their son, um...um...?" I said, silently implying for her name.

"KT," she told me, a bit embarrassed. "It stands for Kara Tattiana – you can thank my /parents/ for that one – but everyone calls me KT." she grinned. "And you?"

"Fabian," I said, cautiously, silently hoping that this girl didn't happen to have a secret obsession with Fabian Rutter, but she didn't seem to recognize me from my name. I continued with, "I'm in here because – my sixteen-year-old sister got pregnant, and she's too ashamed to show her face here, so I said I'd come for her and pass all the information on to her when I get home."

I wasn't taking any chances.

"That's so sweet of you," KT told me. "I don't know if I would've done that if my sister was a teen mom. She was 28 when the drunk driver hit her and my brother-in-law." KT shrugged, silently saying What are you gonna do?

I noticed that she had an American accent; just my luck to pick the girls that weren't originally from my country.

Just then, the teacher walked in; a woman in her mid-twenties, possibly even early thirties. "¡Hola, clase!" she told me, making me realize she spoke fluent Spanish. "I don't know why all of you are in here, but know that you will not be judged. This is a class that teaches you how to be a good parent – we're all working towards the same goal, amigos. Now, we're going to start with a small project: telling the person sitting next to or near you about why you're both here, and the baby as to which you either have already, are going to have, or wish to have."

So I told KT about Emma, who she /thought/ was going to be my niece; I told her about how I wanted her to grow up to be a strong person just like her mother (I was secretly imagining Chloe as the mother in my fantasy, but I was still picturing Nina, all the same), how I wanted her to be exposed to everything she could be exposed to at a young age so she'd remember it when she was older, how I wanted her to be accepting of others and an all-around kind person; but I knew I couldn't control how Emma would wind up when she was a teenager, because she's grow up to be her own person with her own thoughts and beliefs, and there was nothing I could do to stop that. Whether she was a lesbian or a homophobic, I'd still love her the same, because I'd be there from now on; I swore I'd be. I didn't care that Nina had just possibly blocked herself out of my life. I'd at least be in Emma's if I wasn't in Nina's.

KT regaled my tale by telling me about Matthew, her four-year-old nephew.

Matthew was just like any four-year-old; rebellious (as rebellious as a toddler could be), troublemaking, emotional, and almost a Kindergartner.

I liked listening to KT rant about how Matthew liked to pull the stuffing out of the couch, very passionately, when I did the first impulsive thing in years. She was writing down the info on "Emma Kavanagh" (I had just randomly thought of a last name, reluctant to say my last name was Rutter in fear that she'd put two and two together and figure out I was Fabian Rutter, the famous singer, the one who kept appearing in magazines with rumors about his child; but, surprisingly enough, she didn't seem to recognize my face – I opened my mouth to ask her a question.

Ms. Methven, the Spanish-Parenting teacher in the front of the class, called on the teenaged, pregnant girl in the corner to speak about her baby.

"Um...I'm Kelsey Bukator," she shyly started, and I could tell something was bothering her. "Well, I didn't have a partner, but I kind of filled it out on my own. I just hope my baby becomes strong, because I'm not. This baby doesn't have a father; he's, um...traveling. So I hope my baby girl grows up to be strong, because that's one thing I'll never be."

KT was the only one who clapped.

As she sat down, a small grin on her face, the teacher started to call on the rest of us. And we shared our stories; some were more touching than others, and some were just plain creepy, but the teacher accepted them anyway.

I saw something familiar in Kelsey, but I couldn't place it.

"So, um, KT," I attempted, four months of experience working against me. "Are you doing anything tonight?"

"Hmm..." she mused, and just for a second, I thought she actually might have had something planned.

Then she surprised me by saying: "Let me just check my invisible calendar. Oh wait! I don't have one. I'm free." She shot me a grin, making me mirror her. "Why?"

"Well..." I began, awkwardly. "Well, I was wondering if you'd come with me somewhere after this class is over. I didn't have breakfast this morning, and I'm hungry, and I don't want to eat alone, so...?"

"Sure!" KT exclaimed, her grin widening by the second. "Where are we going?"

"To a coffee shop near town," I told her, getting this weird unsettled feeling in my chest. I dismissed it as hunger, because I wasn't lying when I said I didn't have breakfast this morning.

KT agreed to go with me; I was about to continue the project, but Ms. Methven clapped for our attention and told the sixteen people in PARENTING 101 that for homework, we had to write a 500 word essay on how our family/friends thought we'd be as parents.

KT hugged Kelsey goodbye, which I thought was sweet, but she stayed next to me as we walked out of the school. KT started talking about how she wished the father of Kelsey's baby would come back, how much she wished she'd have her happy ending, making me admire her as we got to the car,.

I only invited KT to lunch with me because I didn't want to go alone. The last time I had been in that coffee shop, when I invited Nina to come with me to lunch to talk about our predicament. It felt weird, bringing another person to that place I had bookmarked as both the best and worst place in the world. I had only just met this person.

KT cleared her throat by the passenger seat door, signaling for me to come and open it for her.

I didn't know why, but if Nina had done that, I'd brush her off and say, 'You can open it yourself, I'm kind of busy here', but when KT did that...I just chuckled and held the door open for me. She thanked me as she got in, and soon after, I got in along with her.

The unsettled feeling in my chest returned, but after my stomach turned as I weaved out of the parking lot, it growled as if to tell me: YOU BETTER INGEST SOMETHING RIGHT NOW OR I WILL EAT YOU ALIVE.

KT and I talked about ourselves a little as we drove to the coffee shop; in the fourteen minutes we had in the car, KT told me how she was born and raised in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, but only moved to Liverpool three months ago. She told me about her mother and her father, her younger brother, and her older sister, the one who died in the car crash.

In response, I told her how I had four sisters and I could play guitar fluently. We laughed about a few minor details about our existences, but KT didn't know that I was hiding a few facts about myself from her (I mean, if you call being a famous singer with a two-year-old daughter and that I was sort-of-not-really dating-but-not-dating Nina Anne Martin minor things.)

Soon enough, I drove into the coffee shop parking lot; and, in true Fabian fashion, I ran to the other side of the car and opened KT's door before she could do it herself.

KT clicked her tongue in impression. "Wow. You could almost pass for a gentleman."

I grinned. "Almost."

v v v

"Wait, so you're not kidding? Your sister actually didn't stop sucking her thumb until she was nine?"

"Yes! And was it true that your brother was riding a bike down a hill, scraped his toe, ankle, and knee, all before tumbling into the bushes and staining his dress shirt?"

"Yup!" KT gasped for breath, all while sipping her iced mocha. "Wow. I guess neither of our lives are as boring as we made them out to be. And, by the way, Fabian, you're totally a normal dude. We've been sitting here talking for two and a half hours, and there's some times that I need to remind myself that you're famous."

Knowing that what she had said was one of the best compliments I had ever been given, I laughed again, reaching for her hand across the table.

After KT and I had ordered coffee and sat in a table in the back of the shop, away from where everyone else sat, I told KT about my predicament: how I was really Fabian Rutter, the famous singer. It just became the luckiest day of my life when KT recognized my name but not my face. I presumed that she didn't read the magazine that the two photographs that Emma and I were in.

And, of course, there were some things I left off on when telling her about myself; like the fact that, oh, yeah, I was a father.

"Well, thank you, Kara," I teased, making KT cringe. It was nice being the one who playfully teased for once. "Sometimes I have to remind myself that I only met you four hours ago."

"Oh, stop it, you," she teased me right back, blushing. It felt like a slap to the face, but a good slap, like someone had just won the lottery and their first, immediate reaction was to slap their friend. I couldn't tell you what I was feeling.

"So what happens after this?" KT asked me, rubbing her hands together to keep warm in the chilly November Liverpool air. I titled my head like a confused dog, when she continued, "I mean, after we walk out of this coffee shop. What happens then?"

Yawning, I looked over the window to see into the coffee shop; the coffee shop I hadn't set foot in since September, and the time before that, August 2009. It was weird being in here again, and knowing that the first time, I had met Nina, and the second time, we were talking about our daughter.

"I don't know," I admitted, looking a bit guilty. "Would you want it to go anywhere? I mean, we've only known each other for four hours, so..."

"That's what I'm saying! We've only just met. Do we want to see each other more, or is this just a one-night stand without sex?" she joked, but at her harmless joke, I cringed. I couldn't stand the thought of that word, after how much I had heard it in the past four months. Because according to my father, that was all Nina was, and in my opinion from earlier this morning, that was all she was to me as well.

I didn't think about earlier; I didn't have to when I was with KT. She was so much more easier to be around than when I was with Nina. There was no fighting, no screaming, no 'mistake' rants. No fear about being seen in public with our child, no fear about reputations being ruined, no fear about never seeing my daughter again or thinking that both of them were dead.

I couldn't explain it properly, but I was sure that I liked being around KT much more than I ever liked being around Nina.

The unsettled feeling returned once more, and this time I couldn't ward it off. It wasn't hunger, because I had just ate a whole bagel, and it wasn't motion sickness, because we weren't in a car. I knew what it was, but I was just reluctant to admit it.

And maybe I should've admitted it, because it would have made things so much easier.

"I think I want to learn more about you," I told her, not making the same mistake twice. For one, she already knew my name. "I mean, I know the basics about you, Kara Tattiana Rush."

"Okay, if we're going to learn more about each other, you need to drop the 'full name game'," she laughed, taking another sip of her coffee and biting off another piece of her toasted bagel. I laughed as well and apologized; but KT continued with, "That's good. I'd like to know more about you too, Fabian. So where do we go from here?"

"I think I know," I told her, pushing myself out of my chair. The unsettled feeling was rumbling around in my chest now, warning me that this wasn't the right thing to do, it was wrong, I was being a bad person, yadda yadda yadda.

I pushed it to the side.

When I stood in front of her, she said, "What are you doing?"

"Asking you something," I stated simply, my heart pounding out of my chest.

KT watched me walk over to where she was sitting. I could see she wanted to speak, to say something to overlap me, but I took initiative. I knew this was a repeat of 2009, but I was willing to do it over again. Maybe what happened three years ago could happen again, but this time lead to something good instead of something bad.

"Nina, would you like to come with me to my apartment?"

"KT," I began. "Would you like to come with me to my house?"

v v v

A/N: I'm actually curious about how you're feeling at the moment: what did you think of the chapter? Did you like KT? How are you feeling, on this wonderful Friday?

Feel free to say anything; I mean, I am a person like you, after all. [And I feel like I've deemed myself unapproachable which totally isn't true. Seriously, people, I'm just another awkward turtle. I may not always respond right away, but I'm certainly open to talk. Don't be afraid to review or PM me or do anything to contact me by.] So, hey, why not take two seconds out of your day to make mine? (:

I can't do previews, because I don't pre-write, but I can give you five words to summarize the new chapter by: frozen yogurt, laundry, fights, and betrayal.

Have a nice weekend!
-Lia xx