You sat in the front of what could only lovingly be called a truck. More utility than horsepower or show, the back had a tarp covered bed with wooden shelves that could be used as seats in a pinch. The only proper seats in this vehicle were the ones you and Haruta were sitting on, and he was driving.

None of the Edwards thought it was okay to have you ride in the back, and there hadn't been much of a discussion as you'd been shuttled into the passenger seat. Most of your conversation with Haruta was how to get to your house, but during the long drive he did talk about himself a little bit. He was mostly a personal assistant, and he'd petitioned successfully to be removed from the match program almost five years ago.

His reasoning had been simple: all his time was dedicated to being a personal assistant to Pops and the family as a whole. He loved the work, loved his family, and was pretty much available to them 24/7. He wasn't going to reduce that availability if the government made him marry, and once Pops retired he was just going to end up supporting whichever brother ended up in that position. It wouldn't be fair to force someone to marry him when he was already hitched to a job he loved.

When you arrived at the block your parents' house was on, you weren't surprised to see local marines already in the area. The cruisers were against the curbs, and none of them had lights on or were blocking anything, but there were at least four of them that you could see.

"Pops said there was going to be an audience." Haruta says, banging on the dividing wall between the cab and the truck bed. "They don't look particularly hostile though."

"My parents... don't have the best relationship with the local marines." You admit flatly. "But they can't just ignore them."

Haruta parks, blocking the driveway, but none of the marines approach the truck. You step out from it, staying near the cab as the truck shifts while the guys get out from the back of it. Two marines come up to you as you're waiting, and you give them a small wave.

Tashigi and Koby were younger members of the local precinct, but between Captain Smoker and Section Chief Garp, the two were trained well. Tashigi looks irritated, but Koby has a kind smile on his face, despite the concern between his brows.

"Evening." You greet, offering a small nod. "I'm here to collect my things."

Tashigi clicks her tongue, looking toward the house. "I should haul them down to the station. We knew you hadn't been forced to stay with the Edward family, but when they said that they were coming to trash the house, we couldn't not show up." Her eyes shift up as Newgate and the rest of his impressive family lined up behind you. "Well, that explains why Captain Smoker went inside."

"Are you going to stay out here with us?" Koby asks, and you shake your head.

"Mr. Edward is going to stay with me while the others pack my things." You explain, and Koby looks relieved that Smoker won't be your only defense inside.

"Are you ready?" Newgate questions, warm hand on your shoulder for a moment, and you nod, walking toward the front door, with the others close behind.

The door opens before you reach it, and the stern face of Captain Smoker greets you. He has an unlit cigar in his mouth, and you can see irritation already throbbing in a vein on his forehead. He looks from you to Edward Newgate, to the three behind him, and the truck at the end of the drive way in the span of a couple of seconds. His eyes settle back on you before he takes a step back and makes room for everyone to enter.

"I'm just here to keep the peace." He says as you pass by. "Unless more than words are thrown I won't interject."

"Thank you." You reply and hear Newgate grunt behind you.

When you see your parents in the kitchen you turn away from them and point down the hallway. "It's the second door on the left." You explain as the three walk by and head down the hall.

"Ah, heh, it's reassuring that you've decided to... stay with the Edwards." Your father says, taking a couple of steps toward you. "We were worried for you, Doll. We had to leave so suddenly."

"I wonder why that was?" Newgate grumbles and you realize both of your parents look nervous. "Perhaps you'd like to enlighten your daughter about why you were escorted off my property?"

In your room the three brothers exchanged quick glances before getting to work. "No offense to your girl, Thatch," Marco says, pulling open your closet and stuffing hung clothes into a duffel bag. "But this is the cutest creepy room I've ever seen, yoi."

"It is... kind of empty?" Thatch admits, opening a few boxes that had been apparently packed and set on your bed. They appeared to be just clothes, and so he dumped the boxes into the duffel. "Like there's stuff, but it doesn't feel like anyone owns it."

"It's like walking into a catalog." Izou scoffs, opening up the door to the attached bath and nearly hissing. "What the hell?" He grumbles.

"What's up?"

"It's a wonder the poor girl hasn't melted into a puddle of goo!" Izou growls. "I've never seen so much crap in a single bathroom. Half these cleansers are cheap junk," he says, tossing one bottle off a shelf and into a small wastebasket. "And the other half hardly does anything at all! The way she was nervous at breakfast, it's no wonder, if her parents convinced her this shit does anything."

"Tell us how you really feel." Marco murmurs and Thatch grunts as the two continue to stuff what little they can find into more duffel bags. By the time they're done Thatch should have three for each arm, and that should help make the kind of impression his dad wanted him to make.

"Thatch." Izou's word is clipped and Thatch turns toward him. Izou's face would be neutral to most people, but he can see the rage in his brother's eyes. "Scare the piss out of these cunts." He insists.

Thatch looks away. He wasn't sure how he was going to do that, but he meant to try his best. Sure this room was uncomfortable, and yeah he was sure your folks had done shitty things to you, but he wasn't sure what. His anger was so formless it was hard to really hold onto. The best he could hope for at this point was some kind of resting bitch face, but that wasn't really his thing either.

Unlike Izou, he didn't fake emotions well.

"... Put all that crap in a duffel then," Thatch says. "The more I have to carry, the better, we'll toss it later."

"Thatch." Izou repeats, his voice is so angry it's cold, and he's holding a small book up for him to read.

"Izou, is that her dia-." He starts and then stops. "That's -."

Thatch's eyes are boring a hole into the journal, but Izou's watching his brother's anger finally come to the surface. He's mad he found the damnable book, but he's also glad he was able to provide Thatch some much needed motivation.

Someone else might feel bad for her parents, but Izou was angry the only thing Thatch was going hurl were words.

"If you think it's for the best then, we won't argue, Doll." Your mother says, giving a sigh that's not quite dramatic, but barely genuine. "I just hope we'll be able to set this entire, terrible, misunderstanding behind us, in time for your wedding."

You want to tell her no, that you don't want her there. That you want nothing to do with either of them. You want to shout that the last 24 hours at the Edward estate was the most relaxing day you've had in a decade.

But you can't.

Your mouth won't form words of defiance against your parents, no matter how much you want to. It was hard enough to stand beside someone else while the four of you talked. You could feel yourself almost automatically wanting to stand beside them. Between them. In a place where you didn't have to think or consider your words. Your parents would prompt you.

They were prompting you now. You should reply with confidence, but your voice was small.

"That would be-."

"Impossible." Edward Newgate cuts in. "Unless you're going to be honest with your daughter I cannot allow it."

"How cruel!" Your mother gasps, tears welling in her eyes. "All the years we've raised and protected her, to deny us to be at our only child's wedding!"

"That conversation was between the three of us, and the resolution was clear!" Your father tries to bellow, but after hearing Newgate do so the night before, it doesn't quite live up to the term.

You wonder why you ever thought it was so loud before? How it could sound so small now?

"Hey."

You turn toward the sound, looking over toward the source along with your parents. You almost don't recognize who it is, the tone of Thatch's voice is so unnatural. Newgate steps you back, blocking your view, so you don't know what expression is on Thatch's face, but when you look back over at your parents you can see the blood draining from their faces.

"You don't deserve to speak to her." He says, the tone in his voice so low and dangerous you're glad you can't see the look on his face right now. "Unless it's to get on your worthless knees and beg her FORGIVENESS!" He's bellowing by the end, voice and volume on par with his father's.

You see your mother's mouth open and close a couple times, but she can't seem to peel her gaze away from Thatch, and until she can do that she's not going to find the bravery to speak. Your father looks like he's trying to speak as well, but your mother grabs his hand and he stops trying. The tense silence that follows is broken only by Newgate.

"Come on, Miss Kakusho," he says gently, guiding you toward the front door. "Let's get you home."

You nod, allowing yourself to be guided. Thatch's words were ringing in your ears, and you were struggling to process them. That your parents would apologize - that they should need to - that they were worthless. No one had ever said anything like that to them, not that you'd ever heard.

For years you wondered, how wretched must you be, being worth less than your parents? You knew how little value most people saw in them, and by association how much less they must see in you. Knowing that you still clung to every scrap of praise, desperate for some validation, some statement of your own humanity.

Something filled with more love than 'Doll'.

Panic wells up inside you for a moment. Worry claws at you, that you had somehow ruined The Plan, that the one thing you were meant to be good at was now lost and shattered at your feet. But before you could even focus on it you were jared out of your thoughts by Koby's voice.

"Oh good, no one came out in cuffs." He says to no one in particular, relief heavy in his voice.

"Shame." Tashigi says under her breath. Her eyes aren't on you and the Edwards, but focused on your house. You're not surprised. Tashigi was with Smoker on a few of the occasions they were called by concerned neighbors.

Smoker had left her with you while he spoke with your parents in hopes that you'd give Tashigi enough cause to be able to do something about them. You never did, and Tashigi never blamed you. Over the years, however, she'd became openly disdainful of your parents.

It didn't matter.

Newgate helped you into the cab as Marco and Izou helped unload Thatch's six-bag haul into the back of the truck. Once the four in the back are settled there's a smack at the dividing wall, and Haruta puts the truck in gear, pulling away from your house.

You kept expecting something to happen.

For your parents to come running out of the house, making a fuss, or for the marines to stop you for some reason. The tense knot in your stomach wasn't showing outwardly, but you kept your gaze in your lap until the entire scene was out of view.

It didn't matter.

The words kicked around in your head again, and you let out a long slow breath, trying to release the tension inside you. You were a block away and nothing was different. There wasn't a commotion, no sirens, no concern from Haruta.

It didn't matter.

There was nothing but the sound of the engine, and the soft shuffle of Haruta's clothes as he operated the truck. The clunk of the gear shift. The smell of oil and paint and grease and work, that was deep in the cracks of a truck probably older than you.

It didn't matter.

The only people with you now, were your fiance and his family. The only decisions you had to worry about were to be expected. Some of them weren't going to be just for you to decide, because a marriage wasn't for just a single person, but they would be normal decisions. Decisions everyone else made.

It didn't matter if The Plan was ruined. It didn't even matter if it was your fault, though you still hoped it wasn't. The only thing you had to think about, the only thing you had to worry about - no, that wasn't the right way to think about it.

The only thing that mattered was that, going forward, you'd have a choice. It might take a while for a choice to be entirely yours, it was going to take a while for you to learn who you even were, but the truth of it hit you like a wave and you put your hands up to your face.

You cried quiet and soft tears, persistent beads of realization fell over your cheeks. Emotions too complicated for you to quite sort out slipped between your fingers and pattered softly onto your lap. Haruta didn't say anything, just handed over a small packet of tissues.

You took them with a quiet word of thanks, dabbing away tears that kept coming despite your attempts to stall them. You didn't know how to explain why you were crying, and you were grateful that he wasn't asking you anything.

It seemed so silly, to be relieved by such a small thing, or maybe you were afraid of it. Right then, you weren't really sure.

All you could think was that tomorrow would be the first day you'd get to pick out your own clothes.