AN: In case anybody was wondering just what that Chinese word was supposed to be, it's Cheongsam.


It's a week later… no, Friday makes it a week and a half. Joan's wrist is healing well, though she still bemoans having to write with her right hand. I know I said I wasn't going to let her attend the grand melee, but I've softened my stance a bit. It is a big event after all. I have decided that she can at least spectate. That's fair, right? Yeah, I haven't gone back on my word—she isn't fighting in it; and I don't seem like so much of a bad guy anymore. She did earn it, taking on a heap of responsibility for household chores even with her injury. I smile, looking at myself in the mirror.

I'm letting my hair down tonight—just gathering it very loosely in twin tails to shape it for now. I know you always liked that wavy style. I'm wearing that corset too, it helps me fill the dress. Long and slinky, sleeveless, backless, and with that iridescent sheen over the velvet. It might be a little longer than you remember—I finally took your advice and took it to that crazy seamstress. So now the skirt goes to my ankles, with a riding slit all the way to my thigh. Daring, but not overly provocative.

I pause when I put on the earrings. Why are my hands shaking? I'm not nervous. I'm not… oh. Not shaking, blurry. I blink away sudden tears, because I remember the party I wore these to sixteen years ago. The dress too. Your last birthday. Ever. You made it as far as thirty. Thirty… that's no age. But you and me, we lived those last two years for you. There's a hand against my shoulder. A hand connected to an arm; the arm of a rakish looking man in a dinner suit. With the overly large nose and the unruly blonde hair. He leans down to kiss my hair.

"I remember that birthday too." Then he kneels beside me and wraps an arm around my shoulders.

I cry for a little while, every now and then dabbing at my makeup so I don't have to start over. I remember so much emotion at that party—not a lot of the party itself, because you got me drunk. I swear you did that on purpose, to, uh… um… I think I actually wanted you to take advantage of me at that point. You'd been so down, and you were looking forward to the party, and everything actually went right, and then I passed out drunk. I think.

I still wonder what you did that night—the mystery kinda bugs me now. All I remember is the hangover after, and your smile. You were smiling. That was enough for me, to see your smile. And then realise you'd cooked me breakfast—and found something to alleviate the symptoms of borrowing happiness from tomorrow. God, whoever came up with that one about being drunk was right on the money. Anyway, I loved that you'd made me breakfast, taking care of me as I was taking care of you.

I smile in the mirror, one corner of my mouth turning up. Sometimes it hurts to remember, but there are always the good times. We should be going now, me and Kristoff. I take another minute to fix my makeup and grab a small purse. Kristoff laughs as I shove it down the front of the corset, between my breasts. I just give him a look and he shrugs, patting his jacket pocket with the wallet in it. We all need ID for this gig.

Audrey's sister won the regional championship, and that, apparently, means she has to throw a party. Audrey invited everyone she could think of, which, as it turns out, is a lot of people. We get there, and there are bouncers at the door. Not very subtle ones either. Then again, seeing some of the people in the line—whom I'm assuming Audrey's sister may or may not have fought at some point—it makes sense. We get checked at the door, and then Audrey herself is there to greet us.

I was hoping she'd wear a dress, but no, it's a suit. I squint, because I'm not sure she's wearing anything beneath the jacket. She gives me a knowing smile, patting the rich brocade pattern sewn into the black satin of the jacket. It's fancier than anything else I've seen her wearing, and the cut is very flattering. Kristoff seems a little taken aback too, and I whisper something in his ear about workplace relationships. He has the good grace to blush, one hand gently squeezing mine. And maybe I was looking a little closer than I should have, too—but it is a very nice jacket.

There's a definite spring in her step as she walks off, beckoning us to follow. She must be just as happy as her sister about this win and—whoa, is that her sister? I know the double-take must look stupid, but her sister is gorgeous. I mean, we have met a handful of times, but this… this is not what I expected of an MMA fighter at a celebration, but, the tattoos going up her shoulders are unmistakeable, as is that grip she has. I surreptitiously massage my hand as the introductions go around.

"Anna, Cass."

"Uh, hi," and I wave in order to save my hand from being crushed again.

"Nice to see you again, Anna." She smiles and picks me up in a bear hug. I still like her smile, it's kind of like a cockier version of yours—not that I think she's arrogant or anything, but she's really self-assured and knows her place and I'm rambling, okay, okay, just breathe. Cass frowns in concern at my slight hyperventilation, putting me down. "You okay, little firebird?"

"I'm okay," I smile back at the nickname. "Just forgot how strong you were." Gently massaging my ribs. Maybe the corset was not the best choice for tonight, but I like the look Audrey's giving me trying to figure out how I'm keeping everything up. Fair play for her wearing that jacket, I say.

"Cassie," Kristoff smiles and nods, reaching out for a handshake.

"Kris," and I can see the little power struggle there. I sidle up closer to Audrey.

"You both look great tonight—didn't expect Cass to be in a dress though."

"I insisted, firebird," she claps me on the shoulder. "Even tried to get my little sis' here to wear one."

"An epic struggle, no doubt," Kristoff puts a hand around my waist.

"Hell's gonna freeze over before y'see me wearing a dress."

"You won't be seen dead in one?" I tease her. She shakes her head. "How are you gonna stop us dressing you up?" I give her my most devious smile. She doesn't have a good reply for that, so she just scowls at me. We make small talk for a little while before Cass and Audrey go and introduce themselves to another group of arrivals. Very athletic, some sporting visible tattoos. Must be other MMA fighters. I wonder if tattoos are mandatory now, or just sort of an initiation rite into the club, so to speak.

There is wine—I only have a glass or two. There is a fancy meal. And then there is a dance floor. A few songs in and Cass, perhaps a little tipsy, wanders over. She offers me her hand. I blink, not sure if I should—she knows I'm going to be stepping on her toes the whole time, right? Kristoff gives me a gentle nudge. I stand, admiring for a moment the simple lines of Cass's yellow dress. Almost sleeveless, to show off her tattoos, and a high necked collar; it's surprisingly classy. Silk, too.

As Cass leads me to the floor I can see the stylized wings on the back of the dress—well, actually, it's a cheon-something-or-other; Chinese. It's refined and elegant, and rather at odds with my mental image of Cass as an MMA fighter. She's holding me pretty close, but I think that's to make sure I don't step on her toes too much, because she keeps looking down. I recognise a few songs as we shuffle about the floor, modern stuff, but the tempo's right for a slow dance style. Idly, looking down to make sure I'm not standing on her feet, I ask Cass what she does besides fighting. Turns out she's an event co-ordinator in her downtime, and that's how she managed to get this place for the night; another party having cancelled a little while back.

The song changes again, a little more upbeat, and as we move Cass's hand slips from my waist, but I'm pretty sure it was an accident, given I nearly tripped her up just now. She steadies me, laughing, stamping her feet in time with the music. It's gotten quite up-tempo, and the beat is infectious. There's some aggressive violin in there too and—yes, it is. Someone's put some Lindsey Stirling into the mix. I stamp my feet and twirl, colliding softly with Cass. She's smiling and blushing as we separate.

We keep the dance up to the end of the song, her feet way faster than mine, and it ends with me tipped over backwards. I wave to Kristoff as Cass sets me upright again. She leads me back, her hand just slipping from my waist and down as I'm about to take my seat. I raise an eyebrow at her—she misses the expression, because she's already looking at the floor, hands now clasped behind her back. Her cheeks have a rosy tint, and I'm less than convinced it's from the alcohol.

Cass turns away, waving back with a wistful smile. I frown at her, a slight haze over my thoughts. I'm not quite sure what to say. She smiles at me, winking. Then she's gone, making a beeline for Audrey and why is Audrey looking at her like that? I shake my head. I am so confused right now… unless… hmm. Maybe that hand slipping past my waist wasn't quite so accidental. Though being a little tipsy myself I'm not too sure whether to be offended at this because I'm married; or flattered, because someone like Cass would actually go to the effort of making a pass at me. I didn't even know she went for girls. Which I may have just said out loud. For some reason Kristoff is choking on his drink. I think he's trying not laugh at my obliviousness here.

"Let me make it up to you," he smiles, standing to offer me his hand. "You can watch me fail horribly at dancing."

"We can do that together," I laugh, following him to the floor.

Once or twice, Cass bumps into me, an apologetic blush colouring her cheeks. I wonder how long she's had a crush on me—because the last time we met was years ago. At Audrey's birthday. 35th? 36th? Does the number really matter? But Cass said Audrey was her little sister—but she looks so much younger than Audrey and oh; she was teasing her. So Cass is younger, by a fair bit. Why does she have a crush on me? I frown, leaning into Kristoff's shoulder as we dance a slow dance. I wonder if Cass's crush has anything to with her nickname for me. The wine, the music, and trying not to stand on Kristoff's toes take my mind off such heavy thoughts. I should just enjoy this moment—and hope I'm not borrowing any happiness from tomorrow.


Turns out I didn't borrow happiness, which is nice, but we had, some, ah, problems trying to celebrate during our own little afterparty back home. We'd had a little more than we thought, got a taxi to take us home, and after making sure Joan was in bed, proceeded to remove each other's clothing as swiftly as possible. Due to the aforementioned alcohol, all we did was cuddle and fall asleep. Not that I'm really complaining—it was nice just to lie there, laughing at ourselves, feeling all warm inside, and not being sure if that was each other or the wine.

Some time—quite some time—after waking up we head down for a late breakfast—what? Showering together saves water, you prude. The handrails helped. Joan is rummaging around in the kitchen for snacks when we enter. That guilty look, along with the biscuit gripped between her teeth is glorious. How did she not hear us on the stairs? She takes the biscuit out and waves, trying hard not to drop anything. So of course half of what she's carrying falls all over the floor as she curses at having a busted wrist.

"Stocking up for winter, Snowflake?"

"Umm…" she's looking straight at me, not her father. Perhaps there's something I should know. I say nothing, just standing there looking stern. "Tina asked if she could come over, and you two were still asleep, so I kinda said yes, and we were gonna have lunch and I'm getting stuff ready before she gets—"

"Would you like some help?" I crouch next to her, gathering up some of the stuff she's dropped. She smiles, placing what she was carrying on the bench.

"Thanks mom."

"And for the record, Tina is welcome to come over on the weekends, as long as you two behave—and as long as it's okay with her mother."

"Umm…"

"Joan," I give her a serious look. Kristoff backs me up with a disappointed sigh, bending down to pick up the last couple of things from the floor.

"Well, technically… she said if you said it was okay for Tina to come over then it would be fine, but 'cause I kinda replied for you… yeah," she shrugs, a chagrined smile on her lips.

"I guess this afternoon's story time will just have to wait then."

"But not too long, right, mom?"

"Once Tina's gone. The next part might be a bit rough on me." I grab a bowl of coco-pops and sit at the table. It's the part where you told me, well, what was really going on—the first part I have on video. The part I used to watch on your birthday. It's gonna sting, telling Joan that. I have to consider that—even though she knows—it may well hurt her too. I have to be prepared for that. So does Kristoff. We'll talk after breakfast. Until then, I'll just sit, enjoying my sugar rush.

Tina gets dropped off by her mother not long after I finish breakfast. In the kitchen I tell Kristoff where I am with the story—our story. His hand on my shoulder gives me strength, and he whispers something in my ear about chocolate being ready too. I wish you could've seen more of this side of him sometimes. Then again, maybe you did. It was your idea, after all.

Out in the lounge room Tina and Joan have sprawled out over the couch, not really watching whatever it is that's on TV right now. I make my way up to the bedroom and grab my laptop—all the videos we made are on it, and backed up elsewhere too. I've also got a few social media feeds to check after that party last night—and suddenly I wonder if there are pictures of me and Cass dancing circulating around somewhere. On Audrey's phone, I would think, so she can tease Cass endlessly about it later. That said, I've heard Cass tease her about her own lack of a significant other. As far as I know Audrey's never been into, well, anyone.

That's probably a topic for another time though.

One of the pictures makes me do a double take, scrolling back to see it again, expanding it to full screen. Unmistakeable. A shiver rushes down my spine. I was in the same room as that bastard. But everyone there knew about my past—and I know neither Audrey nor Cass would have let him in. Which means he was somebody's guest or plus one; and that he also somehow managed to slip the bouncers to get inside. My phone is out and my finger is hovering over lieutenant Erikson's number before I realise what's happening.

I take a breath, calming myself. Or at least attempting to do so. I will solve this. My way. I let out a breath, closing the laptop. Kristoff needs to know. That's step one. Joan… she should know, just in case he might try to do something to her. Then I need to let Cass and Audrey know what happened—they should know who he came with, and maybe even who took the picture. Make a plan first, then act. Consult others about the plan. Gain information about the target. Use that information to decide your next step. I'm just upset that step isn't a—I know violence isn't the answer, but in this one case it would just be oh so satisfying.

I head downstairs, calling a meeting. I have to ask Tina to stay out of it, and I feel pretty bad for her—she came here to spend a nice day with Joan, and here I am raining on everyone's parade. No—this is not my fault. It's Hans's fault. He's the one that did those awful things; he's the reason I have to do this now. And one phone call later to a very surprised Cass reveals that the man at the party was not, in fact Hans—it was his brother Nicholas.

"Hi Anna," Audrey calls out from the background. I hear something that sounds suspiciously like 'threesome'.

"So he runs one of the promo companies?"

"Big media campaigns and—still better than only having a relationship with your nightstand." There is a very awkward pause. "Sorry. Sisters."

I know something that'll get both of them on the back foot. "Tell Audrey that if she's any naughtier she'll have to go to my room."

"What?!" Perfect. I end the call. It's immature, I know—especially with the look I'm getting from my husband, and the one from my daughter. I tease people, and no, I'm not sorry about it. Well, maybe a little. Plus, I'm sure it's no worse than what Cass was going to get from Audrey anyway—and this way she has a little something to tease Audrey with.

The rest of the afternoon spaces out into a bit of yard work—despite a light drizzle—and a lot of trying to remember every detail about one of the worst days of my entire life. Tina's gone by about four-ish, and I'm just sitting quietly on the couch with Joan nestled into my side. She's playing absently with the end of her braid—not impatient, per se, but still waiting and maybe a little anxious. I shouldn't put this off.

I won't.

One deep breath, and I can feel her shiver of apprehension as I exhale. "It was late September, and my day had actually started pretty well…"