FicWad

Delilah left her partner's room, tears streaking down her face. How could he have said those terrible things to her? After all their years of friendship ... after thinking maybe they could be more than friends ... he had shattered her heart. How could he do that to her? Didn't he care for her at all?

Back inside her room, she threw herself onto her bed and finally let go of her emotions. She clutched her pillow to her face and sobbed, trying to stifle the sounds lest someone would hear her. Julius' cruel words rattled around in her head, even though she tried to block them out. The piercing insults were one thing, but his tone was another. He sounded as if he despised her, like she had been the one to kill his parents.

"But they won't, will they? They can't! And do you know why? Because they're dead! They died taking down the bad guy, and that's honourable. But your dad? He ran away. The finger was pointed at him, and he skipped town. If you ask me, your dad's a coward."

She closed her eyes tightly, fighting even more tears. Her father wasn't a coward. There had to be some logical explanation for his actions, and her mother's. They must have been in danger ... but then why hadn't they taken her with them? Didn't they think their enemies might use her as a bargaining chip?

Ridiculous, she told herself. Mum and Dad knew I'd be safe here at the Academy. They trusted Al with me.

But surely if her parents' opponents had wanted her badly enough, they could have breached the Academy? And then what? They could have slaughtered their daughter. If her parents were so smart, they wouldn't have taken any chances with her safety. Then why hadn't they taken her along with them?

Stop thinking about it, Delilah! Just stop. Don't start doubting your parents after all these years of believing they were innocent. Don't let Julius get to you.

She shuddered; never had she expected to think that. Don't let Julius get to you. It seemed so unnatural to tell herself that, so foreign. It was like telling a child it was fine to touch fire, that it was okay to get into a stranger's car. Don't let Julius get to you. That thought made him sound like an enemy, like Ursula. How could one return change her almost-perfect life?

Don't let Julius get to you.

*

All through the night, her doubts about her parents tormented her sleep. She had horrible dreams of her parents having conversations about leaving her behind: "We don't really need her," and "She'd only hinder our escape,"

Finally, she woke up, sweating. Glancing at her clock, she saw it was only five a.m. Not even Al, who always seemed to be up before anyone else to make sure he had his fill of breakfast, would not be up this early. She sighed, knowing that going back to sleep was not an option. Her worries would only plague her more. Perhaps she should just talk to her father, to put her qualms to rest.

Deciding it was a good idea, she slipped out of bed, grabbing her housecoat and slippers on her way out. She knew that her father was staying in the guest room until Al could find him a proper dorm. When she reached the guest room, her confidence seemed to fail her. What if her father took offence to her asking? But still, he couldn't expect her not to ask him about it. Why not know?

Shaking slightly, she rapped quietly on the door. A few moments later, the entrance opened a crack. Her father's head poked out and, seeing her alone, he ushered her inside.

"Delilah?" he asked when the door was shut. "What are you doing here? You know that it's against the rules to be out of your room before seven." His tone was calm and kindly, but faintly reproachful.

"I needed to talk with you, Dad," she replied. He looked at her and she continued. "I need to ask you ... why did you run off?"

If it had not been dark, she would have seen Phineas' eyes flash dangerously. However, he kept his voice calm and concerned. "Oh, my little princess. I ... I don't know if I can explain. Al might not approve ... it was a matter of national security."

"Surely you could just tell me?" Delilah pressed. "I'm your daughter."

Phineas sighed. "I really don't know, Delilah. I'll have to ask Al first."

Knowing she was defeated on that topic, Delilah pursued another. "All right, then. But can you tell me? Why did you leave me behind?"

Again, her father's eyes sparked with anger. "Darling, it's a rather painful topic to speak on,"

"It is for me, as well, but I want to know."

"Delilah," Her father sounded exasperated. "Delilah, it's ... it's complicated, intricate. You wouldn't understand--"

"Dad, don't treat me like a child," she pleased. "I'm nearly seventeen."

"Just because you're seventeen doesn't mean you can understand the methods of adults! Your mother and I acted as we thought was best - for both us and you."

Delilah laughed. "Best for /me/? Dad, people laughed at me. They all believed you and Mum were traitors, and that I'd follow in your footsteps! You have no idea how much scorn I suffered! How much pain --"

When he hit her, she didn't see it coming. It was just a quick blur in the dark, a flash out of the corner of her eye, and then the side of her face just exploded, burning, as his hand slammed against her. The noise it made was a /crack/, like a gunshot. As soon as he made contact, she recoiled, shocked and frightened.

"Oh my g-... holy shit," she whispered, her hand on her cheek. "Wha ...?" Full of confusion and terror, her knees gave out, and she crumpled to the carpet.

Her father advanced on her, still seething. "Pain, Delilah? /Pain/? Don't even try to pretend that you've been through pain!" He quietened down, realization of what he had done slowly taking over. "Not after what I've been through ..." he added softly, mostly to himself.

Then, without apology or acknowledgement of what he had done, Phineas Devonshire left, ashamed and frightened of his uncontrollable temper.

As the door closed softly behind him, Delilah burst into tears. She was so bewildered, her mind so muddled, it was almost impossible to focus on what had just occurred. It made no sense! She must have imagined it; she must be dreaming. Any moment now, she would wake up and realize it had all been a terrible nightmare. She could not - would not - face the reality that her father had just struck her.

Still sobbing, she slowly drifted off to sleep on the floor.