I don't own the show, or the copyrighted characters. Rachel, Gillian, and Avalon are my creations. Please leave commits if you enjoy the story. Review nicely I know I'm terrible with grammar. Thanks.
Charles Foster Ofdensen… A man of secrets, and mysteries; but truthfully there is no secret to his past. A plain man with good work ethics. An undying passion for his job; and on the side a private family man. He finds pride in his daughter Avalon Trinity Ofdensen, an only child. Her background was rough as a child; her mother was abusive, drank, and did drugs. When Ofdensen was informed by an old friend that he had a daughter he took every legal action to find her, gain proof of the paternity, and gain custody of the small child. He often wonders why his ex-girlfriend never spoke of the child. Maybe fear, maybe shame, or maybe pride; to proud to ask for help. Ofdensen looks down at the young teen working hard on algebra.
Her worst subject was killing her grades, but the home schooling was also killing her deep down inside, and he knew it. He felt it was his job to protect the girl from the outside world. Puberty was rough on him, and her but they made it okay. His next fear was her wondering about other things like sex, or even worse her desire to give in to it. He knew it was now or never. He fixes his belt, and straightens his tie. He felt sick about talking about such a thing, but he had to do it.
Ofdensen sits down next to her and watches her murder the paper with her eraser. She was focused on the problem that seemed to be getting the best of her. Avalon gives up and rips the paper from her notebook and balls it up tightly; then hurls it across the room and into the trashcan.
"Nice throw," Ofdensen says.
Avalon closes the book and sighs deeply as though she were giving up.
"Once you learn the basics it gets easier," Ofdensen points out. "I promise; math is important, so don't give up."
Avalon looks at her father. Unsure as to why he was visiting her so early in the day. Usually they talked in the mornings, or before dinner, and a passing by before bed. She wasn't social, and never felt the need to speak unless it was necessary; much like her father.
"Avalon," Ofdensen says nervously. "There is something I want to talk to you about."
His palms were sweating, and his heart was racing.
"She's giving me that blank stare again," he thinks to himself. "Why does she do that? Does she think I'm stupid, or something?"
"Yeah dad," she replies. "I'm listening."
"I want to talk to you about." He pauses, and then picks up his pace after swallowing hard. "Sex," he continues with a slight pitch in his voice."
Avalon sighs again and leans back in her seat.
"So…." She slurs slightly. "What do you want to know?"
Ofdensen hiccups and gulps hard, trying to catch his breath at the same time.
"No I wanted to explain it to you." He finishes.
"And I don't need you to dad," Avalon begins. "I learned all about sex in biology last year. There's nothing I don't need to know about. It all common sense after a certain age, and I really don't want to talk about that with you anyway."
Ofdensen sighs, a sigh of relief and sits up straight.
"Well then, I'll be on my way," He says and takes his leave.
Avalon felt no need to hear his babble about it. The only thing she found he was good was work, helping her with school work, and at times he was down to earth with a sense of humor, at times. Avalon pushes the book away and leaves to her room. She was done with school work as far as she concerned. She hated math the most.
"Why do I need the stuff," She thinks to herself. "It does nothing but drive me crazy."
She walks down the hall of her father's wing of Mordhaus. It was smaller than the other wings of the house, but it was home to her. Often her childhood memories would come back to her. At night she would wake up in a cold sweat from the nightmares of her mother, and another man. She couldn't remember his face, just a crude voice that lacked care. He wasn't a tall man, and spoke little unless Avalon did something to anger him. The last time she was with him was at the age of five. Her last memory haunted her the most. It was of the man beating her till she lost consciousness. Usually she would wake up from there.
A scar was all that remained of the memory by dawn; it ran from her right temple and circled around to the forehead, then to back of her head. Avalon shuttered at the thought of the memory coming back. Maybe she was going crazy, or maybe she was dreaming.
-Back at her mother's home-
General Crozier sat in his recliner with his feet propped up. He was in his white shirt, and a pair of tan pants, and a pair of black house shoes. The T.V. was on low and the sound of voices where auditable in the next room.
"Rachel," Crozier yells. "Could you two please shut up?"
In the next room Rachel was sitting at the kitchen table talking with her youngest daughter.
"Sorry Victor," She replies. "Me and Gillian are having fun again."
Gillian smiles a half smile and pushes a notepad away from her. The paper contained some rather good sketches of her father, in a cartoon scene of some kind.
"Mom," Gillian softly says. "Who is Avalon?"
Rachel pushes her long black hair aside from her heart shaped face. How could she know about Avalon, and why would she ask now? At this point Crozier was walking into the kitchen.
"Did I hear Avalon?" Crozier asks in a harsh tone.
Rachel looks down at the pad and closes it quickly.
"No," she replies. "Victor that name is long lost."
Gillian wasn't afraid of her father; she looks back at the man whom she called father and stands up.
"Who is she?" Gillian asks. "I found an old picture of her in the basement yesterday with her name on it. I just want to know."
Rachel looks up at Crozier with the saddest expression. It was hard for him not to show emotion for a moment, and then walks away. Avalon was a thing of the past, and he wanted to leave the child buried there. Rachel watches him fade in the dim room.
"Well…" Rachel starts with a stutters.
Gillian sits down after making sure he was gone.
"Avalon is your half sister," Rachel continues. "She lives with her real father now, and I just don't speak of her much."
Gillian studies the expressions on her mother's face, how they changed from sorrow, to a lighter look. She knew of her mother's drug problem, but it was a thing of the past, she'd long since been clean. The thought would often cross Rachel's mind of getting Avalon back for a short time. Just to see her for a moment, and apologies to her for being an awful mother.
"I often wonder how she is now." Rachel says calmly. "If she hates me…"
Gillian puts her arm around her mother.
"How could anyone hate you?" Gillian asks. "You're the best mom in the world."
The jester was comforting, and the care of her daughter's voice put her at ease.
-Later that night-
Avalon sat at the dinner table with her father poking at the ribs on her plate. She hated meat but her father insisted she eat the stuff. She often waited till it was cold, or till he'd leave the room. Beef was the worse to her; meat was vile in her opinion. The evil weight causing heart killing garbage that he insisted was as healthy as vegetables. She liked to keep her shape, her figure. She took care in working out, and staying fit. It was her only OCD. Tonight he seemed to watch her poke at the terrible hunk of cow on her plate.
"Why do you not like meat?" Ofdensen asks, breaking the silence.
Avalon looks up at him, thinking of the best way to explain it.
"It's like a texture thing," She replies. "It's nasty, and it feels wrong to me to eat it. I feel like I'm doing something wrong by eating it."
Ofdensen makes the hmm sound while thinking about what she had just said.
"Do you really feel that strong about the meat?" He asks.
Avalon nods her head slightly. Ofdensen stands up to leave the room, and then looks back at her.
"I won't make you eat it anymore." Ofdensen says. "I'll let you make your own choices about your diet."
He continues to leave the room, and Avalon sits in silence for a moment then leaves the dining room. Walking down the hall she could hear the band practicing. At times she would walk in and listen before she'd go to sleep. The sound of their music was almost comforting to her. It was real to her, the beat of life, and the rhythm that kept them going. Even when her father was supposedly dead she still remained there, hearing the music each night gave her hope of a new tomorrow. She found herself picking up small habits from the boys, Pickles gave her a cigarette one night, when she sat down crying from the emotional pain. Slowly after a few months a part of her died, and when her father returned she hated him for some time, and what she wished even more was that he would explained what happened to him to her.
Avalon sits down in front of the guys and watches them play for awhile. She enjoyed the harsh singing of Nathan and knew the words to his every song. Sometimes she'd pick at the guitar with Skwisgaar, though she was not music illiterate, and she'd learn the drums from Pickles. Avalon wasn't tone deaf, and her voice was pretty good, but her father wanted her to go to college before she made any decisions on what she wanted to become. Avalon pushes her reddish brown hair back and watches. Murderface was her least favorite. He'd make commits about her being without a mother, daring to call her worthless, and such normal Murderface commits.
She was a bright girl and knew not to let someone get her down. Pickles cracks his knuckles after the last drum roll then tosses the drum sticks on the seat after standing up.
"I'm done for the night guys." Pickles blurts out.
Everyone was in agreement and leaves the room. Avalon was sitting alone for a bit longer before Pickles enters the room.
"I didn't forget you," Pickles says lightly. "I have your pack right here."
He sits down next to the girl and drops it in her lap. Avalon picks it up and begins to pack it. Her expressions were blank, more so then usual. She opens the pack and takes on out lighting it. She takes the first hit off the cigarette and lets out the smoke.
"What's up with you tonight?" Pickles asks curiously. "Dude it's like you don't care."
Avalon looks back at him.
"Thanks." She says.
"No," Pickles replies. "What's wrong? Why are you acting this way?"
Avalon didn't want to talk about it. Her problems weren't as big as his problems, she was sure of it.
"I don't want to talk about it." She replies.
"Why not?" Pickles asks.
"It's nothing," She replies. "You have your own things to worry about, the last thing you need is mine to worry about too."
"I care," Pickles says softly.
Avalon takes another hit of the cigarette and taps the ashes in a beer bottle that was on the floor. She wanted to cry just for a second, but the thought of her past returns and she becomes angry inside. Her past was rough as a child, and she had Mr. Emotionless as a father whom didn't seem to care much.
"Maybe I'll talk about it another time." She says.
Pickles places his arm around her and gives her a slight squeeze, then stands up.
"If you need to talk before then," He says with a smile. "You know where to find me."
With that he leaves her alone in the band room.
Ofdensen was up stares watching. He knew she smoked, it wasn't a secret, he just never addressed it, and he knew that she was angry with him, but he wondered why she'd never say anything. Her thinks would always be a mystery to her.
-Back at her mother's home-
Rachel looks out her bedroom window, than looks back at her sleeping husband. A single tear runs down her cheek as she pulls out an old picture of her daughter.
"The past Rachel," She says aloud. "She's my past."
If you like it and want more, please feel free to commit. I work a lot so making time to write is hard.