B: Actually, I don't know for sure how many chapters there will be. I could try to calculate it now, but... Blah. As for the water hose...I...I am so sorry... ;^; And I have no idea how I came up with it. It just kind of happened...I'm sorry.
And I know; I know I'm terrible and I'm scared of what's in my head too... Real-Life Sierra and Real-Life Sam know all too well how terrible I can be... Wahhh... Sorrryyyyy... *slinks away to hide*

I think this chapter is pretty nice. It's filled with L's dad, and I like L's dad. I think this is a wonderful thing to have instead of more uncle trauma.

So...enjoy?

Once, in the silence of Saturday, L spoke up in a small voice, "Daddy, what is sex?"

Daddy paused in wiping up the table and looked at him. "What?"

"What is sex? Uncle mentioned it, and I guessed I was supposed to know…."

"Ah…." Daddy seemed to think about this for a moment. "Hm. Well…. Okay…." He looked down. "Hm. Why did Uncle mention it, exactly?"

"Well, he said I watched he and Auntie have sex, so I guess… I saw it, but… I don't know what I saw."

"Ahh…," Daddy responded, running his hand through his hair. "Well… hm. What did you see?"

"Auntie and Uncle fighting, I guess. But they weren't wearing anything, so…."

"Oh. Oh, okay…. Um. Well, Son… there comes a time in life where two people… who love each other… come together like that. It's not fighting…. It's… ah…. Really, it's something you learn about later in life, so… it's hard to explain."

"Oh," L said. "Okay."

Daddy seemed relieved at his simple acceptance, and the day moved forward.

When L had to go to Uncle's again that Monday, he was a bit worried about what might happen, but it was just the usual pain. The year passed on, and spring came, then summer, then fall…. His father had planned to enroll him in the elementary school in Axbridge, but Uncle volunteered to be his homeschooler. L wanted to protest, but Uncle had looked at him meaningfully and he couldn't say a word. "The kid may be your little genius," Uncle had said to Daddy, "but he isn't the best with people. I think it would be best if he were to be homeschooled." Daddy had told him he would think about it, but Uncle always won out in the end. The hope that school would have brought him was lost, and he was left stuck with Uncle for another year.

But it was fall, and with fall came the Blackberry Festival. And the Blackberry Festival was a wonderful day indeed, full of fun and happiness and time spent with Daddy. L would still ride upon his shoulders, smiling and laughing and oh, what a fun time it was…. Afterwards, Daddy tried to make the annual strawberry cake, and both of them ate it and enjoyed its sweet taste. With time left to spare in the day, Daddy played Mommy's favorite music, and he taught L how to dance.

"Soon you'll be five," he said to him, "and then you'll be growing up, my little genius."

L smiled at his father at the warm beam he'd received from him.

"But there's a catch," said Daddy, holding up his index finger and leaning closer to his son. "I want my son to grow up to be a real man. Here's something you must know, Son. All real men know how to dance with a woman."

L tilted his head. "Alright," he responded, and his father had taught him to dance that day. Into the night, Daddy told stories of his mother and how wonderful she'd been. Told stories of their love, and stories of their daring moments. A story of joy and of sadness. Of love and of fear. He told his son of the day he met Mommy, and how Mommy had seemed to know that Daddy had taken a liking to her. He told him of the day he proposed to her, and how her face at lit up beneath the moonlight. He told him of their marriage, and of how happy they were when they discovered she was pregnant with him. Their little genius. Told him how hard it was when they discovered she was ill…. Told him how they still had each other, so it was alright, but…. Daddy began to cry.

L could only lean into Daddy's side and hug him, gripping his shirt tight with his tiny hands. The day wound down to its end soon enough, and October quickly began, leaving September behind. L's birthday was on a Wednesday that year, and his father took off the whole week yet again to spend time with him. It was a wonderful week. Daddy helped him learn to dance again, even to the faster songs, and even explained to him what sex was once he had turned five.

"Alright," he had said, "you're five, and now I can tell you, in all maturity, what sexual intercourse is. That's sex, by the way." And he explained to him all of the technical things about it, L listening intently, then shot into what it meant to him. "To me, though," he told his son, "sex can be more than just reproduction of the human species. Or whatever species you happen to belong to. To me, it is the closest anyone can get to a person; a connection made out of love. It's reaching unity, when the human mind can tend to be so isolated. It's like… like a bond, I guess. It's… the highest form of intimacy you can get."

L thought about this and nodded. "Is it always out of love?" he asked Daddy, thinking about Uncle and Auntie, and then of what Uncle had tried to do to him last February.

"Well… hm. You're sharp," Daddy commented. Then he paused and thought of how to explain its darker side to his son. "Well, sex also has… it causes a sense of pleasure, too. And some people want the pleasure, not the love. If that's what you mean. I think that love is better than the pleasure, to be honest…. Love is a beautiful thing. And as a wise man once said, 'There are things better than sex, but there is nothing quite like it.'"

L thought on this, and nodded again. "Okay," he said, and Daddy smiled and clapped his hands together once.

"Well, topic's over! Who wants pie?"

L was happy to be with his father for that week, and of course he wished that it would never end, but he knew that it would, and it did. The sweets and the dancing and the talks with his father would have to end eventually, and on November fifth he headed back to Uncle's. Auntie would supply him with things to help him learn, as after all he was supposed to be homeschooled. She left him learning books for kindergarten and first grade, but as he finished them quickly, eventually it became second and third. L was a fast learner. His mind was a sponge.

Uncle would still hurt him, but L had accepted that by this point and just let it happen. He had his little rebellions over the next year, but they were small and insignificant and were meant only to help L assure himself that he still had some fight in him left. For example, he would stare up at his Uncle as he yelled, and not break eye contact. Not until he was forced. And his gaze would be steady. One day, Uncle noticed and said to him, "What do you think you can accomplish in staring up at me like that? You have to blink eventually." And so L decided to learn not to blink, just to prove him wrong. Because he needed Uncle to be wrong, because otherwise he would be right, and L would be wrong and it would be right to punish him…. And that couldn't be right. Surely hurting him couldn't be right…. Right?

L lost the initial organization and preciseness he'd had when he first went to Uncle's when he was three. Back then, he would simply spend his time doing chores, reading, or being hurt, but he would always have lunch at the noon bell. Now there was less of that preciseness, the lack of the need to be good. Because when he ate didn't matter when justice was determined by whether L upset Uncle. And Uncle didn't care at all about L eating. So instead of eating a meal at the noon bell like he once did at the beginning of Uncle's reign and beforehand, when Mommy was alive, L would now eat little things whenever he felt hungry. It took less time to eat then, and so Uncle would not be bothered. And besides, with some of the things Uncle did, it was easier to eat in small portions. And after awhile, it became a habit.

That winter was mild compared to the winter before it, and L was happy for that in the point that that meant this time Uncle couldn't put him out in the snow and soak him to the bone until he was hypothermic. Not that he knew what hypothermia was yet, but he knew that it wasn't good for someone to be that cold. Surely it wasn't good for a person. Christmas came, another time spent with his father, and after that came New Year's, where the next year slipped in and overtook the year before it. Time passed, and L would deal with each day at Uncle's just the same, gradually learning his schoolwork as he ignored the school things he simply didn't feel the need to learn. It snowed every so often, but that was all. Spring came, and the rain came with it.

Daddy was beginning to better notice L's withdrawal getting more pronounced, and so took off two whole weeks that April just to spend time with his son. Even with this time, though, L would mostly keep to himself at this point. It was pouring rain throughout most of the two weeks they had. "April showers bring May flowers," Daddy said, and L looked up at him and forced a smile.

L was sitting in his room one day, reading through the records of a real murder case in England and seeing whether he could solve it. Daddy had given it to him when he'd told him he wanted to be a detective. He'd asked for a murder case to solve, and his father had actually gotten him something with the help of his policeman friend. So he read through this and listened to the rain on the roof, sitting at his small desk in his small room. It was a room with a bed in the corner, a single small window with a white windowsill that went out onto the roof on the same wall the head of the bed was pressed against. He found that it was much different solving a case from an actual record with evidence than in a mystery book. Sometimes, in mystery books, they would leave out the important detail you needed to solve the case, to ensure the reader couldn't figure it out until the end. Sometimes the books would give enough to solve the case, but then, this record was the real thing, and those books Auntie had were fiction.

In any case, he sat there in the quiet, with the patter of the rain as the music that aided his thoughts. Once the case was solved and he looked at the record of the detainment of who he thought was the killer – he was right – he just sat in his little wooden chair and listened to the rain, thinking about Daddy and of Mommy. Of Uncle and of Auntie. Of sadness and of pain. He heard the church bells ringing outside, and he pushed his chair out with his foot – the only place he could sit normally was at home, at this point. From there he stood and went to the window, staring out into the rain, onto the roof and onto the town of Axbridge below. He could see the crossing tower of the church of Saint John not quite close but not quite far off. He thought he could see the bells ringing through the haze of the rain.

Without much thought, he unlocked the window, pulled the window up to open it, and pulled out the screen before crawling out onto the roof and into the rain. There, he straightened up and looked up into the clouds above. The raindrops quickly soaked him down, but it was a pleasant soaking to him. Cleansing, rather than hurtful. Not like the freezing jet of water that Uncle had sprayed at him that winter last year. No, the rain was different. Rain was nice.

He found that the rain helped to clear his mind. He would think of Uncle, and all doubt of himself would dissipate. He knew that Uncle was wrong in what he did, even if Uncle said he was right. And it occurred to him then that maybe Uncle really did think he was right. The thought seemed horrible, but all things considered, it could be true. He thought of telling Daddy about the wrongs Uncle had done, but then thought of Auntie and his promise, and decided that no, for Auntie he wouldn't tell. Somehow, the haze of the rain cleared his perception in that moment and he realized that Auntie was in a bad place too. And he would probably do Auntie good if Uncle were to be put to justice. But she would be upset, and after all, he had promised…. He wondered if maybe he was just being selfish in wanting Uncle to be gone. Auntie did love Uncle, as horrible as he was, and love was a beautiful thing, right? Maybe he did deserve the pain…. But the rain and thoughts of Daddy convinced him otherwise. Was it really so wrong to be no more than a child? Was it really so wrong to be cold? Was it really so wrong to look into Uncle and Auntie's room at the wrong time? No, it wasn't wrong at all. Uncle was wrong….

As these thoughts went through his mind, there was the sound of another window opening, of another screen being pulled out. And Daddy crawled out onto the roof. L heard his footsteps, and he soon found his father standing, then sitting, beside him in the rain, both of them gazing up at the grey, only thinking in the hiss of the rain.

"I like the rain too," Daddy said eventually, his voice swathed in the sound of the rain. He was sitting with his knees pulled up and his legs spread out, his elbows on either knee with his lower arms just hanging limply between. He wore a long black coat to keep him warm, not that it would help once it was soaked through. It was his favorite coat; one he wore often. "And… I used to sit up on the roof when it rained, just to clear my thoughts." He looked up at L when he didn't respond, and patted the roof beside him. "Here, sit with me for a bit."

L didn't respond at first, then looked down at his father, looking up at him. He sat down beside him in the rain, pulling his legs up to his chest.

"Now, I've always liked the rain," Daddy said. His voice was relatively quiet, as if he were trying to blend his voice with the rain's sound rather than cut it off or overlap it. "It's not just because of how it helps me think, or the nice scent it brings, or even how good it feels on your skin…. A lot of people think sadness comes with rain; that it brings on gloom and even destruction…. But you know, Son, even though rain can bring destruction, it can also bring hope and health. Rain comes in the spring to help the flowers rise and blossom, and represents the end of a horrible drought. Just like life… And that's what is: life. That's what I think."

L looked to his father, but he was gazing at the sky with his hair soaked down, stuck to his forehead. Not necessarily looking at him.

Then his father spoke again, a smile touching his lips. "You know, I kissed your mother for the first time in the rain. We'd caused a commotion in the city, it was raining, and we'd gotten the cops on our tail. We escaped into an alley and… I kissed her." The smile became less happy in reverence and more sad in nostalgia. He looked down to the roof rather than up to the sky, and L watched him. "And you know, Son, I do know I mention her a lot, but God, did I love her…. I still do. Even though she's gone. And it hurts, but…." He sighed.

"No…," L spoke up in a small voice. "I like your stories of Mommy. I miss her too."

"Yeah…," Daddy said, and the rain bathed their silence with its soft hiss and its soothing pitter-patter. Daddy looked at him. "Son," he said, "are you alright, really? You've been keeping to yourself more lately, and I feel like something's wrong. Is something going on? Is there something you want to tell me about? Tell me… what's wrong? I want to help."

L was taken so off-guard by this, he stopped breathing for a moment and just stared at Daddy. Here it was…. His chance to give Uncle away and save himself. Stop the pain, and end the abuse. Here Daddy was, offering his hand out to him, and L knew that he could take it, but….

"No; no…," he said. His voice nearly cracked. "Nothing's wrong. I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Daddy asked, and L nodded without expression.

"Yeah," he said. And he began to cry, but Daddy couldn't see it in the rain, and for that L was grateful. He bit his lip and felt the warm liquid pour from his eyes, but there was no difference when the rain was pouring upon them.

"…Alright," Daddy accepted his lie, and put his arm around his son. And L cried harder, until he was sobbing. And he was sure Daddy noticed, but he didn't say a word, only held L closer and rocked him gently like he did when he hugged him. But the rain kept coming, and it would wash away his tears as if they had never been there. And in that moment, in his father's embrace beneath the rain, it almost seemed like all of his scars melted away and he was washed clean. Everything was better, in that moment.

But as all moments must, it ended, and eventually Daddy brought him back inside, where he had towels waiting for them. His two weeks with Daddy would end, and it would be back to Uncle's. The scars would be back, fixed firmly in his mind as new ones were made, whether it was physically or mentally.

L didn't cry anymore after that day in the rain, though. Not out of sadness, or of frustration, or of anger or injustice. He didn't even cry in pain. Not even when Uncle broke a bottle over his head and the cut the glass created was throbbing and seeming to pour blood down his face, warm and sticky. It seemed to be a pulsing flow, and of course he could only put his hands to his face, smearing the red, and press his palms to the wound so it wouldn't bleed so much, because of course he couldn't get anything on Uncle's rug. Blood would stain, and Uncle would be angry. Uncle had left L alone, then, and eventually L pulled one hand away and stared at the red all over it. He decided that he didn't like the color red. It was disgusting. A color of pain, and of violence. Auntie would eventually come to his aid and clean the wound before bandaging it. L washed his hands, and it was over. He told Daddy that he'd tripped and hit his head on the corner of their coffee table. Daddy didn't know that the coffee table had no corners.

Now, L dreaded the time that Daddy would have to leave town for more than a day, not wanting to have to spend the night over Uncle's again like he'd had to last year…. But there came a time in August where Daddy had to go to London for two days, leaving L with Uncle for two nights. L could only hope it didn't go like last time. Things had begun to seem more negative after the rain had left, and so he really wasn't looking forward to it. Not that he would look forward to it anyway. However, he would have to go for those two days, and so he braced himself and entered the black metal gate with Daddy's hand around his. Daddy would release him at the door, and L walked in.

So double update next week, and then his past will be done! The next update will be next Tuesday; yeah.

Fun Fact: That thing L's dad said about the rain; does it sound familiar? L said it far earlier on when telling Sam why he liked the rain. .u.

Review? For rain?