FML {Ian}

[Asher LeBeau]

So far nothing had gone well. She’d come to Alaska as a way to get away from Ian, hoping he wouldn’t show up there, but against all the odds, he was there. And had the boy grown. He was far taller than she was, even in heels, and he had grown more confident in himself and far more attractive than she remembered. She was starting to regret not staying in Italy when he had asked her, but cut herself off with that thought, gripping her pen tighter and biting her lip for a moment, scowling.

She could not think like that. She would not allow it. She had left, convinced herself that he hated her and now was certain, nay, positive it was true. Until he showed up. Damn him for knowing how to get a reaction out of her. He had been far more observant than she realized, so she had started avoiding him. It wasn’t easy, but their subjects did not cross, at all, and the only times he showed up was when she was conversing with other faculty, always on the topic of Nicolae.

Her son. It was hard to hide it from him, but so far she’d been extremely lucky. Then there was the problem of the other night, talking with Nadar, where he’d almost caught her in a lie. He knew she hated keeping fish captive, but so far from her lovely island, she was slowly breaking down. So she’d went out and bought a blue beta fish that currently sat on her desk. He would catch up with her eventually, yes, but she’d already gotten papers for her resignation and was looking for a new job elsewhere. There were other countries she could go to.

All the running was cowardly, she knew that. Asher sighed, sitting back in her chair and staring at the ceiling, unable to concentrate on her grading or lesson plans. The tiny Hawaiian was close to breaking and she knew it. She’d cut off human contact after Nico had been born, letting him take over her life. He’d shown the same level of intelligence as her early on and she’d taken to teaching him. He was a well-spoken child, bright and very perceptive, a trait from Ian. He spoke Italian, English, and Hawaiian, considering that she could not deny his heritage now.

A small smile flitted across her lips, there one moment and gone the next before she shook her head, up alone and late, Nicolae tucked safely away in her room, asleep. He knew Ian was his father, from the picture she kept. She had only a few pictures, two on her desk. One picture of her and Ian on a better day, and one of her with Nicolae, taken when she was in Hawaii by her old hula instructor, these were what she looked at when she was upset. Now, the picture of Ian she had was hidden during the day, only up when she was alone, such as now.

She let her eyes flick to it, tracing over the memory, remembering when he was the only person he trusted. She hadn’t known how to act when he’d confessed, panic rising with the alcohol. That was what she did, blamed the alcohol. She’d been hurt, mostly because of what he’d said, about his relationships failing. She couldn’t be someone’s world, the center; that was what scared her. Being used and tossed away, and she’d run like a coward and hadn’t spoken to him since he’d shown up here.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair and looking up around the dimmed room. She was grading language homework, the classroom door propped open so she could see in the halls and hear people coming, hopefully, if she was not too absorbed in her work. Biting her lower lip, she toyed with her tongue ring, a nervous habit that showed just how shaken she was at the moment, clicking it against her teeth for a moment before she shook her head, going back to her work. Her boots were long gone, sitting under her desk and she was barefoot, only in a T-shirt and jeans, the black of her tattoos showing through the thinness of the white tee, not that she particularly cared.

Her attitude and her past were catching up with her. She was convinced that somewhere along the line, she’d severely fucked up, and now karma was determined to get her so she would never fuck up again, in a way she dreaded the talk she would have to have with Ian. It terrified her, she didn’t know how he would react, especially since he had so obviously changed and she worried that he might actually lash out. Deep down, somewhere that she never ventured when she was thinking, she was far more terrified of Ian actually verbalizing her fears; that he hated her and he never wanted to see her again.

She was prepared, though. Her papers of resignation lay on the edge of her desk, near the door, separate from her school papers, awaiting her signature on them. That was all it would take, for her to sign them and turn them in and she would be gone, like a ghost, once more. Her hand started to reach for them before she shook her head, talking to herself softly in Hawaiian, the words musical before she went back to grading papers. She would wait, she had to wait. It was up to Nicolae.

The minute he’d been born and she’d seen those green eyes, she’d known deep in her gut that Ian was the father, however her rational mind pointed out that there were also other possibilities. She hadn’t been sure until the child had grown up, acting oh-so-much like Ian, it made her ache. She didn’t understand at all, she didn’t know why she felt that way. It confused and scared her, made her run away and hide, like a coward.

That is what she was, and she knew it. Asher hated it, but couldn’t bring herself to confront him yet, and the fact that he was going to be talking to Mama worried her as well. She knew the gypsy woman was fiercely protective of him; the entire Cato clan was. She had fucked up, and fucked up bad and she knew it. Asher had no support network for any of this, not like Ian did, which was why she was hesitant to tell him, what if it wasn’t his and they found out later? What then? He would probably hate her even more and kick her out, after she trusted him with so much. It was fear that kept Asher away from Ian again, a fear that he had conquered before but had grown again once they were gone.

She was panicking, prolonging it, and she knew it and dreaded it. Dreaded the confrontation, she was dragging her feet and dodging the questions like she was dodging Ian. She’d always had trouble lying to him, and he knew it. He knew she was hiding something and she could tell with the way he watched her, looked at her, and spoke to her. He had only touched her a few times, and that was enough to make her flinch again, after being away from human contact, save her son’s, like she had done the first time they met, and when she had met the Cato clan. Ian was the only person who could read her and get through to her, and this time it was the biggest problem in her life, instead of a help.

She frowned a bit, looking over at the picture of her and Ian before looking to the one of her and Nicolae. They looked so much alike, in their innocence, but now everything had changed. Neither of them were innocent any longer and she couldn’t stand it. She didn’t want to run, not again, nor did she want to confront Ian about the possibility of him being Nico’s father. She was scared, knew it, he could sense it, and that frightened her far more than it should have. This had to be resolved soon, very soon, or she would turn in that resignation letter sitting so peacefully on her desk.

[Damian Cato]

The knock on her door was soft, plaintive, something that did not suit the hulking Italian standing just outside it just like girls did not suit a gay boy. His expression was somber, another thing that did not suit the usually smiling man, but the situation didn't call for his carefree smile. In his hand he clutched a manilla folder so tightly his knuckles were white; it was trembling with reppressed emotion. "Asher," he called to her, noting the picture frame her eyes were currently glued to.

He remembered that day. They'd been in the university's quad, generally just being silly because, well, that's how they had been with each other then. Carefree, happy, comfortable....and he'd gone and fucked it up by telling her he loved her, right after he'd sworn to never do anything to fuck up their friendship or hurt her. The thought brought a wry smile to his face.

Stepping in without waiting to be invited, he set the file down on her desk in front of her, right on top of the letter of resignation; it was a challenge. "You have much explaining to do Asher LeBeau," he murmured as he looked down his nose at her. Ian tapped the folder with a long finger. "I think you should start with this. Is there a reason you never told me I had a 'fish'?"

It was almost laughable that he had been so close to the truth, yet so far; he'd known that her 'fish' wasn't really a fish (Asher HATED live fish, after all), but had quickly forgotten about it once he'd officially started teaching his classes. He'd also quickly forgotten about how she would clam up whenever he popped up during a seemingly serious conversation she'd be having with a fellow teacher or one of her students, like what ever they were discussing wasn't for his ears alone (briefly he wondered if everyone knew about his son but him). The visit from Mama had been the kicker; she had left hiding something from him just as surely as Asher was.

It made him want to scream at the injustice of it all.

It also made him wonder what else he had done that made her so wary of trusting him. Surely she knew that he would be more than willing to take care of the boy, regardless of paternity...right?

[Asher LeBeau]

Then entrance made her jump, fingers turning both pictures face down on the desk so all that could be seen were the plain frame backings. Her fingers danced over the backs, unsure of if he had seen them or not. Either way at this point, it did not matter. Asher was wary of the situation, sitting in silence at the desk, watching the gypsy's motions.

Her own body language probably revealed she was skittish, itching to run or flinching as if she'd been struck at. In reality, she was just scared of how Ian would take being one of many fathers to Nico, before her son had started growing up. Asher had been terrified to tell him and the look showed briefly on her features before she tucked it away, hiding again and slipping into a slightly more assertive persona; one that most everyone knew of her.

"Because I didn't know until Rowan kindly shoved those in my face. Did she mention that she did it without my permission as well?" her voice was soft but calm, probably revealing just how scared she was right now.

"I mean there were at least four possibilities, if you include yourself. I only remember three that raped me--meaning that there is a high chance that more were involved. So my decision was not to tell anyone about my son until I knew who the father was. And be honest, if I had come back to Italy and demanded you do a DNA test, you would call me a whore," she finished, lifting her gaze from the folder to travel up his arm and finally meet his eyes.

Asher was defending herself, she wanted to cry and hide, but this concerned Nicolae, and she may very well be in a corner, but because it was her son that was involved, she would not back down and would fight as hard as she could, even if it meant revealing some things about her that she didn't want to talk about.

[Damian Cato]

"Even if you HAD submitted willingly, I would not have called you a whore. How can you think so poorly of me?" That thought hurt just as much as her hiding her son from him, but at least it was understandable. She'd obviously never trusted him in the first place, why call him up in her time of need? It made sense.

Ian retracted his hand like he was trying to reassure a small animal of his intentions; his schooled expression gave away little of the actual storm swirling inside him. At the risk of sounding like a pathetic teenager, he felt like his insides had been ripped out and deep-fried before having them put back with a few bits of vege mixed in (vaguely he wondered if this was how Prometheus felt every day of his life with that Eagle). All he wanted to do was curl up somewhere with a bottle or two of Proseco and drink until he couldn't see straight. Maybe hook up with some faceless pretty boy.

That did sound nice, actually...

For lack of anything to do with his hands, he crossed them over his chest; he was too tempted to touch Asher as it was...Seeing her like this made the longing open up an even blacker hole in the pit of his stomach. God, he was pathetic. "She slipped it under my door innamorata; we have not spoken face to face since before you two had your arguement. When she punched me for hurting Adonis," he explained simply, almost smiling at the memory. Then, as if to twist the knife deeper, he asked, "Why would you refuse to tell me that I even potentially had a child? You know I would care for him regardless of his paternity, si?"

[Asher LeBeau]

It was a long moment before she responded, but that should have been answer enough. It was taking some time to actually process the information in her mind. Genius as she was, when it came to relationships she had no fucking clue what to do.

"Why should you when it is not your responsibility and my fault, Ian? It's up to me to make up for what I did and make things go right," she said, dropping her gaze to the side, and shifting in her chair.

The pet name was what always go to her. He was the only one that ever was allowed to call her any sort of endearment and get away with it. She chewed on her lip; a subconscious habit that always signaled she was nervous or upset-although it was fairly obvious she already was. Running fingers through her hair, she stared at the top of her desk, fingers rolling the pen back and forth on the smooth surface, trying to think.

"I have never thought poorly of you, but for someone with a three digit sex partner count? That's either a whore or a slut, no matter what your best intentions might be. Hell, I probably slept with more people than everyone here put together," she said with a self-deprecating laugh.

Asher was one of those people that didn't truly think highly of herself, and it showed at odd moments like these. Anyone who knew her very well would know this, probably the reason she slept around; she wanted to feel wanted and loved, even if just for a moment.

It was sad and twisted, but Ian wasn't the only one that had a knife twisting deeper. She just didn't know why it hurt.