AN: so sorry it's been so long! School started and suddenly there were so many things I had to do. But please enjoy :)

Part 5

When I called Ethan on the phone that night, he opened with, "My mother wants to have you over for dinner."

"Really?" I asked, very surprised. "Does she —uh, um. I mean, what should I bring." I swallowed down my nerves.

"Just yourself," he said. "Is that cool?"

"Sure," I said. "Is this a meet-the-girlfriend dinner, or inspect the mob-boss's-daughter dinner?"

"I haven't told them your last name yet," he said. "Didn't know what you'd prefer."

"I don't care; I'm not ashamed of it. Tell them whatever you want. Are you afraid they'll freak?" I bit my lip.

"I actually don't know if it'll click with Mom," Ethan admitted. "But Dad knows some of the guards at Fox River, so…."

"Well, Dad got moved to Chicago Memorial for a while, so go ahead and tell them. There won't be many repercussions that way if they have a chance to get used to the idea."

"Chicago Memorial? What happened?" Ethan said, concerned.

"Prison fight, I guess. He's okay, though; Mom and I went up to see him, and she distracted the guard while I snuck in." I laughed. "That poor guard."

"I'm glad he's okay," Ethan said.

"Me too. And you know what?" I said. "He apologized. "For killing my bio-dad. I think part of it was the morphine, but it came from a genuine place, I think." I sighed as my grip on the phone tightened. "Asked my forgiveness. And I gave it, too."

"That's really great, Oh," Ethan whispered.

"I always had forgiven him, but knowing that the death wasn't something that he –he wanted, and that he tried to do it the best way he knew how –it was… it was good." I swallowed. "On a lighter note, I told him we're dating now."

"Oh, boy," he said.

I giggled. "Don't worry. With him in jail and Philly locked up, too, the boys have to run everything through me these days. And it's not like I would put a hit on you."

He laughed. "Well that's very comforting, Catriona. I'd like that in writing."

I smirked at the sound. "Sure thing, at this dinner. When is it, again?"

"Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Wade," I said, when Ethan showed me into the house.

I handed her the flowers I had brought for a hostess gift. "Thank you very much for inviting me."

"It's so nice to meet you as well, Catriona," Mrs. Wade said, smiling up at me. She was a short lady, a few inches shorter than me with curly brown hair that was just starting to gray. "Come in and sit down. Ethan's told us so much about you."

I exchanged a look with Ethan, which said, yes, beans are spilled; we'll see what happens.

"Rob, come meet Catriona," Mrs. Wade called. Ethan's father came out of the kitchen and nodded politely to me.

I smiled. He had the look of a cop —it's very hard to lose, in the bearing, I think; but with none of the scuzziness the prison guards somehow acquire. "Hello, Mr. Wade."

"Rob's fine," he said, coming forward and shaking my hand.

"Well, sit down, sit down," Mrs. Wade said, as she herded us to the living room. "Dinner still has to cook about ten more minutes."

I settled on the sofa and Ethan sat beside me –and I was glad, because genuinely nice people make me feel awkward. "It's smells great," I offered.

"Chicken Parmesan," Mrs. Wade said. "I hope that's all right."

"That sounds great," I said, and inwardly kicked myself for the same word choice.

"How are the kids?" Ethan said, bumping my knee with his to start a new conversation track.

"Good," I nodded, grateful for the shift. "They went to the zoo with Mom today; ice cream sundaes tonight, I think."

"Kids?" Mrs. Wade inquired.

"My sister and brother, Sophia and Tony," I explained. "They're six and seven, so we just call them 'the kids' a lot of the time."

"Ten years is a wide age gap between children," Rob put in from his armchair.

I could feel Ethan stiffen, but figured there was nothing for it. "I'm adopted," I said calmly. "The time between me joining the family and Sophia's birth is only about five years."

Mrs. Wade was giving her husband a hard look, but fortunately the kitchen timer went off. "Oh, there we are," she exclaimed. "If you all could head to the table –"

"Do you need any help?" I immediately offered.

"Well, if you want to get the salad on the table, I'll get the chicken."

Thus we were busily employed until all the food was on the table and we had all gathered to say Grace. Mr. Wade –it was too hard to think of him as Rob –blessed the food, and I crossed myself when he finished. Marla nodded approvingly, and passed me the bread. "So, Catriona, we've been waiting to hear how you and Ethan met," she said. "It seems so unlikely that you should run into each other."

"Mom –" Ethan began.

"Let your girl talk," his father said. "First rule of being in a relationship. Let your girlfriend talk and say, 'yes dear' every once in a while."

I smiled noncommittally and said, "I started stopping at the Stop-and-Go where he works every Saturday on my way to Fox River. And we started talking, and I guess things just escalated." I took a bite of chicken. "This is delicious, Mrs. Wade."

"I told you it wasn't some big exciting story," Ethan said. "Though Sophia and Tony did help."

"Yes, they did, didn't they," I agreed.

"Oh?" Mrs. Wade said, eyes lighting up.

"They sort of spilled the beans to my dad when we visited," I said after chewing the bite of salad I had just taken. "So then I told Ethan, and …we decided to make it official."

"I know some people at Fox River," Mr. Wade put in, ignoring another sharp look from his wife.

"Oh?" I said politely.

"Yes, Brad Bellick, Sam Franklin, and Bob Hudson, until he passed."

"I'm so sorry for your loss," I replied automatically. I held back my distaste for Bellick, however. Similarly, I didn't say how I arranged for flowers and a note to arrive at the Hudson house.

"Tell them Robert said hello, if you get the chance," he said.

I wasn't sure if he meant well, or if he wanted to give me some sort of respectability with the C.O.'s or what, but I just nodded and smiled, mouth full. I was sure I wouldn't give a C.O. —in particular, a C.O. I knew to be sleazy, overbearing, and on the take —a greeting at a church, but I kept that thought buried. Certainly Mr. Wade didn't know any of that.

"Dear, I'm sure Catriona has other things on her mind when she visits," Mrs. Wade chided gently.

"I said if she gets the chance," he protested.

"So –Catriona, what are your plans after high school? Or have you started thinking that far ahead?" Mrs. Wade asked, and the conversation drifted into the relatively safe waters of Ethan and my respective plans.

"Sorry about that," he told me later on their back porch as his mother cut up the pie for dessert. I should have known they'd be a cherry pie type family. "They sort of go hammer and tongs, but they mean well."

"I can see that," I said, bumping his shoulder. "Just means they care. All parents do it, I guess."

"Thanks for coming," he said, smiling his crooked smile.

"I've had a good time," I told him. "It's nice here." We were in what I would call the country, but he'd probably wouldn't. They still had neighbors, after all. I could hear bugs whirring in the grass, and I rubbed my arms to ward off the evening chill.

Ethan put his arm around my shoulders. "Need some help?"

"Mmmm," I said. "Still cold."

He wrapped the other arm around me, and I snuggled into his side. "Better?" he asked.

"Almost." I tipped my head up.

"Pie's ready," Mrs. Wade sang out from the porch. "Come and get it while it's hot!" We exchanged sheepish and mischievous grins before going back inside.

"It's my turn," I insisted that Saturday, "and Dad wants to meet you. He's back from the hospital."

"I know," Ethan said, hopping in the Camaro. "I protest only for the show of the thing."

"If I say to like you, then he'll like you," I assured him, pulling away from the curb in front of his house. "What a good thing you have off this week, huh?"

"My manager owed me; I covered three other shifts last week." Ethan cracked his neck. "Sleeping in was nice, though."

"There's orange juice in the backseat, if you want any," I said, navigating through his neighborhood to the highway.

He fished for the carton as I drove up to the stoplight at the feeder road. "You drink outta this already?" he said suspiciously.

"Yeah," I laughed. "Worried you'll catch something?"

He leaned over and kissed me, and I was too surprised to respond. "Nope," he said, pulling away as the light turned green. He unscrewed the orange juice and took a swallow.

"Cheeky," I mumbled.

"You taste like orange juice," he informed me.

"Stop distracting me, unless you want me to crash," I said, and we bickered back and forth down the highway until the turn off for Fox River appeared.

"C.O. at two o'clock," Ethan whispered as I signed us in. I had taught him prison lingo during our nighttime conversations.

"Put your arm around me," I said. "PDA makes others uncomfortable."

He did, but sadly, "uncomfortable" is a word that has ceased to have meaning in Fox River. "Ethan?" the C.O. said incredulously.

To his credit, Ethan turned with a modicum of relaxed surprise. "Oh, hey, Mr. B."

Bellick stared at him. "What're you doin' here?"

"Visiting," Ethan said. "This is my girlfriend, Catriona."

I didn't offer my hand. "Hi," I said easily.

He glared at me with dislike, but before he could say anything, the guard at the front called, "Wade, Abruzzi."

"Whoops, that's us," Ethan said. "See you later, Mr. B." He steered me into the visitor's room.

"Nice save," I said. "But whoops?"

"I was under pressure," he griped. "So there's some bad blood between you two?"

"He's on the take," I murmured as we sat down at a table. "From my father, so he can run prison industries."

Ethan asked, "How do you know?"

"I sign the checks." I smiled sweetly as the buzzer at the end of the room sounded. I looked up and waved. "Hi, Daddy."

I gave him a hug, relieved that he looked so much better than he did in the hospital. The angry red scar on his neck had faded a little, and his hair was trimmed –scruff turned into a beard, too. "You look good," I told him.

He smirked. "A little rest and recreation does wonders for the soul." He looked over my shoulder. "So this is Ethan."

Ethan stood and offered his hand. "Hello, sir." My father gripped his hand in a crushing man handshake, and I withheld a private smirk at the utterly typical ways of men.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," John Abruzzi said, very deliberately.

I sighed. "Dad, if you break his fingers, I'm the one who has to explain what happened to the ER doctor."

"Well, we wouldn't want that," Dad murmured, and let go of Ethan's hand to sit down. As Ethan took a seat, I saw him flex his fingers. I patted his knee sympathetically. "So," Dad began, "Ethan." He shot him a hard look. "What are your intentions toward Catriona?"

I moaned. "Daaaad…." but he waved away my protests.

Ethan made a steeple of his fingers. "My intentions are to date her and to continue to get to know her better."

"Good answer." Dad leaned back in his seat.

"Can we stop with the interrogation questions?" I slipped him a few M&M's.

"Trying to bribe me?" Dad asked, slipping the candies into his pocket.

"I learned from the best," I smirked. "So please. Stop. I already got grilled by his parents; it's not fun."

Dad raised his eyebrows. "Did they react well to their son dating a convict's daughter?"

"All due respect, sir," Ethan cut in, "But I don't care what my parents think. If they want to be prejudiced that's their problem; it shouldn't effect Oh and I."

"Words are all very well, but eventually, something has to give," my father said in his distinctive timbre. "You're going to come to a point where you'll have to ask yourself what you're willing to do for family –for people you care about. You want to make sure you know exactly where your lines are, or you'll end up crossing them without realizing it. Be sure."

"I am sure," Ethan said, though he looked a little confused by this slight conversation shift.

"Good. Remember –the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb."

"I will," Ethan said, blinking rapidly.

My eyes narrowed at my dad. "Is everything okay?" I asked.

"Fine," he said lightly. "How are the kids? How's your mother?"

"Good," I said. "You should have seen Mom in the hospital, Dad; she was a real trooper. She really lit into that guard."

"I vaguely remember hearing it," he said.

"And the kids are good; we didn't tell them about any of it," I said, "So think up a way to explain your haircut next visit."

He smiled, but it was sort of a funny smile. "I'll do that," he promised.

As the conversation continued, I started to get antsy. Nothing was wrong, but it just wasn't the way he usually acted –he seemed cryptic and slightly evasive. I bit my lip and worried silently as he and Ethan discussed the upcoming ballgame, an interest I have never understood or pursued.

"Abruzzi! Time's up!" Bellick yelled.

I shot him a poisonous look. He knew very well time was not up; I didn't appreciate getting short-changed every time I visited. "What's going on?" I whispered, slipping Dad one last handful of M&M's.

"Don't worry about it," he said, giving me a hug. "It'll work out."

"What will?" I demanded.

He stroked my hair. "Ask Benny," he whispered. Louder, he said, "You and your mother have a good time on vacation."

I nodded, wiping my face clean of emotion. Something was up, and he couldn't say. Something to do with Fibonacci? But what did "vacation" mean?

"Ethan," Dad said, shaking his hand, "good to meet you." His grip tightened and he pulled Ethan closer. "You hurt my daughter, and I'll find you. No matter where you are. Understand?"

Ethan swallowed. "Yes, sir."

"Good." Dad clapped him on the back. "God be with you."

Wincing, Ethan said, "Thank you, sir. With you as well."

As the guards led Dad away, Ethan grimaced and rolled his shoulder. "Youch, but your Dad is strong."

I smiled and slipped my hand in his. "It means he likes you," I assured him.

"What was all that –" he began, but I squeezed his hand in warning as Bellick approached us.

"I know I had ten minutes, left," I said, cross.

"Maybe your watch is slow," Bellick growled. He leveled his glare at Ethan. "Do your parents know where you are?"

"Yes," he said acidly. "And if they didn't, you wouldn't be the one to tell 'em. Come on, Oh." Wrapping an arm around my shoulders, he escorted me out.

"That was new," I remarked.

"I've known him for six years," Ethan fumed. "And that's some kind of nerve. Huh?" he said, still angry and distracted.

"That protective thing," I clarified. "New. But nice. Why?"

"Uh," Ethan mumbled, "I mean, I know you can take care of yourself –"

"You're correct."

"But I figured if I'm protective, your dad has less reason to think I'll hurt you. Also, he was being a jerk."

I smirked and wrapped an arm around his waist as we left. "Pretty smart, Slick."

"I'm not sure how I feel about that nickname."

"You're stuck with it, Slick."

"Catriona!"

I looked around and broke into a smile when I saw Michael on the other side of the chain link fence. I waved. "Hi, Michael!"

He smiled. "Good to see you again."

"Same," I said. "This is Ethan, my boyfriend." They did the nod-thing that males do when they acknowledge each other.

"Been to see John?" Michael asked.

I nodded. "Do you know who he had that fight with?" I asked, faux innocently.

"You never can tell in here," Michael said evasively.

A guard came hurrying up to tell me, "Ma'am, you can't converse with the prisoners."

"See you," I told Michael. He raised a hand in farewell.

"Who was that?" Ethan asked.

"Jealous, Slick?" I teased.

"If he's younger than twenty-seven I'll eat my hat," Ethan declared. "I think you're safe from him."

I laughed. "He's a guy my dad needed info from. He helped send Philly to prison."

"So, a great guy," he translated.

I smirked. "Exactly."

"What about that stuff about you going on vacation?" he asked. "You didn't say you're going anywhere."

"I don't know," I admitted. "But I'm going to find out."