Partings...

"Are you sure you're going to be okay on your own?"

Syl smiled weakly. "Shouldn't I be asking you that question?"

Faith folded her arms and forced a smile to hide her frustration. "You're avoiding the question, Ma." She had seen her mother unravel numerous times before; she knew the symptoms very well now.

"I'll be fine, love," Syl lied, hoping she sounded convincing, then laughed in an attempt to further mask her feelings. She refused to fall to pieces in the middle of the airport just before her flight. "Listen to you. You're sounding all grown up again." She smiled, wishing she were leaving Faith under better circumstances. She wished she had raised her under better circumstances.

Sighing, she looked her daughter up and down. Faith was still small for her age, but Syl felt like the girl was still growing up too fast.

Everything happened too fast.

And friends and family died too soon.

Syl suppressed a shutter at the thought and hugged her daughter. "I'm sorry I haven't been a better mother. You deserve better."

The apology caught Faith by surprise. "Geez, Ma. You did fine." She remembered what her uncle had told her when she rode in his sportscar. Her mother was blaming herself again. Wrapping her arms around her, Faith held her tight. "You're still doing fine, Ma."

Syl was unconvinced; she had been at this point once before, when her boyfriend died and she pulled her daughter out of school. She wasn't going to make the same mistake again.

As much as she wanted Faith to come with her, the girl needed to be somewhere fixed and stable, a place she could become familiar with and make friends. Faith couldn't do that on the road where the people and settings were constantly changing. Admittedly, the unique experience had led her to be surprisingly mature in some aspects, but she was mentally under-developed in others, especially social skills. Outside the band, the road crew and her uncle, she was completely friendless. That wasn't healthy for a girl her age.

Her mother wasn't going to be selfish this time.

"I better head through the check point before they start boarding call. I'll call to check on you everyday, okay?" She kissed her daughter on the forehead as she reluctantly stepped away. "Oh, and I left your roller blades in the closet in the front hall if you want to use them," she added with a smile. "Just promise me you won't cause anymore trouble with them."

Fidgeting, Faith bit her lip, not wanting to tell her mother that her uncle had bought her a new pair the day before he disappeared. "I won't, Ma. I promise." She tried to hide a mischievous smile as a thought came to her. Technically, that means I can't get in trouble with the *first* pair of roller blades. I can get in trouble with the *second* ones if I really had to.

Syl looked skeptically at her daughter's expression. "Faith, love. What are you thinking?"

"Nothing, Ma. Really."

"Alright," she conceded, not entirely convinced, but she didn't have time to inquire further. "No trouble, or my PA is going to fly back here to drag you back on the tour with me." As much as her girl needed some place stable, if it proved she needed parental authority around even more, she wasn't afraid to make that a priority. There was a difference between keeping Faith around because Syl herself was an emotional wreck, and keeping an eye on the girl because she wasn't responsible enough to be on her own yet. "And... call me right away if you hear any news, okay?"

This time, Faith closed the space between them and hugged her mother. "I will, Ma. I promise." At least, that promise she can be sincere about. "Hey, Ma? You didn't answer my question."

"What question?" Syl had honestly forgotten.

"Are you going to be okay on your own?"

She squeezed her daughter tightly, as she began to shutter. Her brother was missing and hope faded with each passing day. Her voice was low and strained when she replied.

"Honestly, love. I don't think I have a choice in the matter."