She, really, honestly, truthfully did not expect to see him here.

She really hadn't expect to see him at all, really didn't want to see him at all. But her school was the last place she'd expect him to be.

He was standing in front of her locker, his hands were tucked under his arms and his weight was shifting nervously from foot to foot. And, despite the fact that he wore an expensive suit, something about him looked ratty and cheap.

"What are you doing here?" she asked him bluntly, pushing past him to unlock her locker.

"Really?" Steven questioned; there was almost laughter in his voice.

"Yeah, really," she replied. "I've given you no indication that I wanna have any contact with you."

"Abby, you left me a voice mail," he said, marginally confused, as he pulled his phone from the interior pocket of his jacket.

"What?" Abby asked, though now she was beginning to recall the night of the party and a particularly angry phone call she had made.

"Here," he said softly, handing her his phone as he pressed play. Abby's voice came through the device, audible, but slurred and emotional.

"Hey dad," she emphasised her father's undeserved title; the disdain and contempt was painfully obvious. "I just wanted to say thanks. Thanks for caring enough not to call; It definitely makes me feel wanted." There was a ruckus in the background and her talking paused momentarily. "Because so it makes sense that you wouldn't call, especially since you're still gambling and embezzling."

Abby quickly looked up at her father, giving him a half glare as she fiddled nervously with her necklace. It was all coming back to her now; the memories flooded her brain like a poorly constructed film.

She recalled how, in her drunken stupor and emotional state she had called her father in anger and pain, to get rid of him once and for all. She recalled how, in remorse and in an attempt to forget her actions, she had inhaled more drinks and alcohol.

Internally, she laughed at the notion that drunken her had come to the conclusion about her father faster than sober her had. But, then again, at least she had come to the conclusion eventually.

"So, I just called to tell you, I just called to say," the message continued. "That you, sir, are a horrible father and a horrible human being and… I don't need you," she said decidedly; and that feeling had not disappeared.

"So that's why you've been calling the last couple of days?" she confirmed.

"Yes," he nodded and then paused, trying to find the strength to get the words out. "Abby, I'm willing to make this work; I'm ready to be a father, I am a father," he confessed as though it had been weighing on his mind, floating at the tip of his tongue since he arrived there.

"There is no this. You're not myfather," she scoffed. "My father is the person who taught me how to ride a bike, how to protect myself, who was always there for me. My father is the person who rocked me to sleep every night for weeks after my mother died. You're not my father."

"Well then Abby, I don't know what you want from me." He hitched up his pants and adjusted his jacket.

The notion wasn't completely incomprehensible. When Abby had confronted him, she'd never explicitly stated that she didn't want him to contact her, she'd made sure of that. But he'd done nothing; he hadn't tried to call, he hadn't tried to fight for her. He didn't want her, it was that simple.

"I want the same thing you've given me for the last sixteen years; nothing," she said without apology. He didn't deserve it.

"Then why call?" he asked, he was honestly confused.

"Because I was drunk, and because now I can do everything with a little closure," she replied but he still looked a little confused. "Look, maybe I thought, for a second, that it might be nice to have my father in my life. I had this ideal in my head it'd be wonderful. But even the douchiest guy I've heard of, travelled across the globe, went up against goodness knows what, risked goodness knows what to save his daughter who he hasn't really had any contact with for goodness knows how long." She waved her hand out, pointing to nowhere to emphasise her point. "Even he was willing to do all that. You weren't ever even willing to pick up the phone Steven." The use of her father's real name, and not dad, made it transparently clear that she had made up her mind.

"I already have a family who would climb mountains and fight armies for me, that's who I need. Not someone who's never cared."

"Abiga-"

"No."

"I was eighteen Abby, I wasn't ready to be a father, especially not with a woman I'd only met once at a party. But people change," he pleaded.

Abby shook her head. "Not in a matter of a week they don't," she grinned, using Parker's words from several nights before almost verbatim.

"Abby, I do care-"

"Don't pretend you do Steven," she stated as the bell rang. "Look, I'm not looking for you to be in my life, I've got a family and you've got yours. Just make sure you don't lose 'em," she stated as the hall began to flood with students all eager to go have lunch. It was only a matter of seconds before Abigail disappeared into the mass.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Hey, we missed you before," Mikaela stated as she walked towards Abby who sitting against a tree outside of the school's oval.

"I was just dealing with something," she replied meekly, swallowing a bite of her apple as Micky sat down next to her and pulled out her lunch.

"You okay?" she asked concernedly.

Abby didn't reply immediately but, after a few moments, she finally answered. "Fine."

Micky noticed the emotion on her friend's face, so she switched tone and tried to lighten the mood and cheer up your friend.

"I don't even know how you do it AJ," Mikaela exclaimed, taking a bit of her sandwich. "You've missed like two week of school in the last month and you're still ahead of me!" Crumbs and pieces of lettuce fell out of the girl's mouth and she sheepishly wiped them up.

"Yeah but, I'm not doing chem," she replied. Chemistry was one of Abby's worst subjects and just couldn't comprehend how her best friend was getting A+'s in an advanced class for the seniors.

"That's true," Micky smiled, taking the win. "Hey, isn't that Kyle with Hannah Bateman?" The teenager wiped her mouth and then pointed towards the bleachers. "I thought-"

"I dunno," Abby interrupted quickly then cursed silently as she somehow made eye contact with the teenage boy, who she had not spoken to since the night of the party a few weeks earlier. He was standing extremely close to another girl in their year level; her blonde hair was tossing about in the wind and the affection in both of their eyes was evident even from their distance.

He parted with his lady friend and began to walk over to Abby and Mikaela. Quickly, Abby stood up and brushed the crumbs off her lap before beginning to move towards the nearest entrance to the school; she just didn't need this today.

"That bad huh?" Micky asked, standing up and following her friend.

"You have no idea."

"AJ!" Kyle called out; Abby and her friend continued walking. "AJ," he shouted again, now quickening his pace to catch up with the girls. "Can we talk please?" he finally asked when he was close enough.

"No," was the simple reply Abby gave as she continued walking.

"Look, I'm sorry," he tried. "I thought'd be fun."

"Your dad's a cop Kyle, there was no way that situation was going to end in fun," she muttered but did not break pace as she intensely pushed the door into the school corridor open.

Beside her, curious as ever, Mikaela followed silently.

"Your mad because you got grounded or whatever? Geeze AJ, no one made you drink-"

"No," Abby yelled, finally breaking her stride and turning around to face Kyle. "No one made me drink, that stupid decision was my own. But you stupidly leading me on since we met, you never actually asking me out, that was your decision!"

Kyle looked taken aback as he pursed his lips nervously. Mikaela watched intensely; this information was new to her.

"I…I..uh…I didn't know how," he finally sputtered out.

"So you just thought you'd get me drunk?" Abby crossed her arms, staring at him intensely, before she turned to continue walking. "That was your plan huh? Get me drunk so I'm nice and, what, loose?"

"I thought me being drunk would make it easier for me to ask you," he confessed. "Out," he then added as an afterthought. "Look, I'm not good with this, okay? This asking people out thing."

"Are you drunk right now, because you looked pretty cosy with Hannah over there," she stated smugly as she finally reached her destination; the girl's bathroom.

"AJ-"

"Well it doesn't matter now," she shrugged and pushed the door open.

"Doesn't matter?" Kyle asked in disbelief. "Abby-" he shouted and grabbed her arm, trying to get her to turn around. That was a mistake.

With all her might, Abby pivoted on her feet and used the momentum to swing her fist into his jaw. Gasps rung out across the corridor as students clicked on to what was happening.

"Don't," she warned simply then turned to walk away, not into the bathroom but back into the corridor; she just wanted to go home and feel safe.

Mikaela followed eyes wide in shock and in awe.

"You okay?" Micky asked, she couldn't believe that Abby, usually calm, even headed Abby punch a guy in the face.

"Tell me? Why is it that people who say they care, or who are meant to care are constantly disappointing?" she questioned.

Mikaela could not answer.

"Miss Spencer!" a teacher's voice yelled out in fury as they came jogging down the corridor; the news had travelled fast in an environment with gossipy teenagers and text messaging.

"Dammit," Abby swore, halting her stride and letting out a sharp breath in frustration. Eliot was going to be pissed.

"Maybe you could ask him?" Mikaela whispered smugly.

Title plagiarised from Gotye's song of the same name…As much as I wish I did though, I don't own it.

Or Leverage

Or a house, in case anyone was thinking about giving one away.

There, consider it disclaimed