~The Izzy Cam~

"Curls? Come quick!" A man in a top hat threw open the door to Skipper's office, sweating profusely with a worried look overwhelming his features. Skipper looked up from her work without interest, sighing when she saw her curly-headed friend in such a disarray.

"Is it happening again?" "Yeah, but he's seizing this time, we need you!" Skipper stood quickly, smoothing her lab coat and scrubs neatly. She gave Izzy an annoyed glance, as he stood in the corner of the room recording the scene.

"Where's Rosie?" "He's down with Steven. You got the antidote?" "I have the antidote."

Skipper walked sluggishly after the two men as they lead her down to the pit, where the emergency patients were treated. Sure enough, Steven Adler was splayed out on one of the beds, experiencing the horrible tremors of a seizure. The rest of the band stood at his side, clueless as they looked on.

Sighing, Skipper removed a syringe from her jacket pocket. Seeing him this way used to frighten her out of her mind, but reviving the drug-dependent drummer had become part of her routine.

She shoved the needle of the syringe into his arm, releasing the medication inside. Soon, his body stopped jerking, and his sky blue eyes fluttered open. Nobody said a word as the man caught his breath, tucking strands of soggy blonde hair behind his ears.

"Fuck, I swear I only took a little bit this time," he tried to defend himself, but Skipper was already halfway back to her office. Nobody made eye contact with him, instead their guilty eyes shone with annoyance.

****
Skipper's POV

Speechless, I stare at daddy. I am not scared, or horrified, mostly surprised that he even knows of the club we are supposed to be attending tonight. I clear my throat, exchanges glances with Slash first, who only shrugs. Rosie scowls, glowering at Daddy.

"Well, I cannot say I'm surprised." Daddy narrows his eyes, glaring intensely at Rosie. "And he's back again. I suppose it's legal, it has been three years." Rosie says nothing, he just stands looking as if he's rather be anywhere else. Slash snickers into the back of his hand, while the other three band members scratch their heads in confusion.

"Aw, killer! It's Prince! Guys look!" Steven points with excitement, stumbling a bit over his own two feet. "Skip, hey Skip, do you know him too?" Duff smacks the back of his head roughly, followed by an eye-roll. "Idiot, that's her father."

Steven gasps in surprise, rubbing the back of his head. "Oh! He must totally hate us, man. Don't worry, man, we definitely didn't have sex with your daughter."

The rest of the people in line are a mixed bag of disgust, wonder, and annoyance.

Daddy's angered expression deepens, and I laugh awkwardly. "Just... full of personality."

"Is he high on something?" "Oh yeah," Izzy begins to answer knowledgeably, "Steven's always high on some-" "Shut up!" Duff hisses under his breath, threatening to slap him as well.

"I don't like this, not at all." "I don't care. I'm eighteen now, Daddy, I can hang out with whoever I want to. Right Slash?" He fidgets, readjusting his top hat and shrugging. "Um... sure?"

"Who pays for your car? And your rent?"

"I don't care. Remember the other night? All I have to do is avoid pregnancy." Daddy nods in acceptance, before his sour mood returns. "I said that while extremely fatigued. Since then, I've rethought my decision, and I don't think it looks good to let you run around like a wild-child with these... drugged up grown men!" He is flustered by the end of his speech, reaching over the waiting rope to wrench my wrist.

"Hey!" He coarsely pulls me from behind the rope. "That's not fair!" I growl, crossing my arms across my chest stubbornly. "I can hang out with whoever I want to hang out with! I work hard, I work more than you do! I should get to have fun when I want to!"

"Yeah!" Steven chimes in, earning another head-slap from Duff.

"You shut up," Daddy snaps at the bubbly blonde, before staring at me again, eyebrows furrowed into two angry arches. The crease deepens as he yells at me about something or another; being 'classy,' finding a 'quality man' who didn't run around high on drugs and dressed like a hippie, focusing more on work than drinking or clubbing.

"Ugh! Just go home already."

"Maybe you should move back in, you must need more structure?" I laugh out loud, shaking my head. "When pigs fly."

"Or when... doves cry." Slash says behind me, and we all turn to stare at him blankly. He examines all of our unamused facial expressions, promptly stops laughing, and sobers. "Sorry, that... totally wasn't funny at all."

"You're obviously not thinking clearly with these five perverts around, let's go. I don't want to see you hanging around them anymore." "I'm not a pervert." Slash says, staring at me with longing eyes. "I'll be back." I promise him, his mood tends to go south when I'm not around.

"Hah! Like the Terminator!" "Steven, shut the fuck up!" Duff seems to have his hands full.

"We'll come over," Rosie finally speaks, avoiding eye contact with me.

"Daddy! Let go, stop!" He drags me away with an iron grip, shaking his head and clucking his tongue. "You're only making this more difficult, you should just come along. You're going to have to go anyways, now aren't you?"

Several cameras have turned in our direction, I don't care. "I am an adult! I don't live with you, and I have a more than full-time job!" "Yes, yes, I know," he mindlessly responds as we approach the side of the street, where a sleek black limo patiently awaits our arrival.

He goes for the back door, and opens it, revealing the shining leather upholstery inside. "Come on, into the limo now."

I sigh, staring at him and producing the best father-daughter persuading mechanism known to man: the puppy eyes. I shrink down a bit, stepping out of my heels, and staring up at him. "So you don't trust me anymore?" He sighs deeply, running a tired hand over his features. "Don't do this. Not here, and certainly not right now."

"Don't avoid the question. Why don't you trust me?" His anger melts in a split second, just the way I knew it would, and he gently places a hand on my shoulder. "I do. And I love you. I just don't want the public to see you in a way that would be damaging to your medical career, that's all. Hanging out with... them... doesn't help."

"But Daddy-" "I don't want to hear it, Skipper." He places a kiss on my forehead, and ushers me into the vehicle. "It's late, and little doctors need rest." He shuts the door after us, and I angrily slide to the far side of the car and stare out the window. "I'm not a little doctor." He smiles vaguely, and gestures to the driver. As we begin to pull away, he whispers, "You are to me."

It takes some intense pleading to get him to drop me off at my apartment rather than his house, and when we arrive, he doesn't let me leave immediately.

"I want you to think about what I said, sweetheart." He places a hand over mine, while I groan inwardly. "Daddy-" "I don't want to see you get hurt," he says firmly, "I don't want you to hang around that 'Axl Rose.' There's something wrong with a man who wants a teenage girl."

"He's engaged to another woman, Daddy. Did you know that?" I snap back at him, and his expression changes. If I didn't know better, I would define it as sympathy. "Oh, well... that's good to hear," he offers, and when I don't respond he tightens his lips. "It''ll be okay. It's good for people to move on-" "Are you done yet? Can I go?"

His gaze is uncomfortable. "I'm having dinner tomorrow with a few friends, as well as Michael and his fiance. Your friend Carleigh has been back in town a while, and looking for you. I suppose you've been too... occupied for her."

She and Blake had gone on a business trip for the Clan-something I don't involve myself in anymore. Daddy hasn't a clue about her activities, I suppose it's good that she's made it back to New York in one piece. Columbia is a dangerous place.

"I want you to come, and focus on the people who really care about you. Not the ones who chain smoke and appear to be uncleanly."

"Whatever." I open the car door with irritation, frowning deeply. "It's at six thirty tomorrow. Please don't be late."

"Yeah, yeah."

"I love you." "Do you? Do you really?" I stop and look at him, halfway out of the car. "Yes, I do." I consider this quietly for a moment, and nod once. "Okay." "Skipper!" I remove myself completely, shut the door, and angrily stalk into the building. It has nothing to do with the other four of them, he holds a grudge against Rosie because his brother raped me. I've gotten over it; I suppose it's harder for a father to get over the fact that his 'little girl' was violated.

That being said, he shouldn't be able to manipulate my life in the way that he just did. Rosie is in my life, whether he likes it or not, and so are the rest of the band members.

I'm so deep in thought when I walk into the apartment that I barely notice the four figures already inhabiting it. They're always here anyways, it's not like anything's changed.

"Daddy issues?" Slash is the first to speak, smirking deeply once I notice his presence. "Shut up," I drop down onto the couch next to him, burrowing into his side. Steven is sprawled out on the floor, pointing at imaginary things in the air and laughing. Izzy is busy filming with his camera as usual, while Duff ravages the kitchen.

"This place is a mess. I should really clean up." Slash shrugs, glancing at the empty beer cans littering the table and the ground. "Nah, I think it's fine." My head finds his shoulder, his soft hair falls over my eyes. "Where's Rosie?" Slash's arm plops onto my shoulders, and he sighs. "He's upstairs, probably rooting through your underwear drawer."

"Nice." I mutter flatly, "I'd better go stop him."

"You don't have to do that."

I tear myself away from him despite his whines of protest, and halfway up the staircase an idea hits me: I'll just have them along with me to the dinner. He never said I couldn't have guests, and well... the rebellious side of me has been buried for a good three years, and she is itching to make a reappearance.

"We're doing something special tomorrow, you all be here by six tomorrow. Cool?"

Duff yells in response from the kitchen, "We were gonna be here anyway!" "Okay, but shower before you come this time."

I reach the landing of the staircase, and walk along until I reach the bedroom. Sure enough, the door is cracked, letting me know that Rosie is inside. I push it open a crack; he's opened all the curtains to reveal the lights of the New York night and unfortunately, my top drawer is open.

"Hey..." I clear my throat, staring at his body stretched across the unmade bed. He was a pretty much a clean freak, so I wonder if my dirty scrubs strewn across the floor bother him. His eyes lock on mine, and he nods gently.

"I can remember waiting here, waiting for you to come upstairs after our day together at the hospital. We were so perfect then." He seems to stare at me anxiously, but I don't respond or even enter the room. "I miss those days. Working at the hospital with you, sneaking off into my office to make out or something. The simple pleasures."

I still remain taciturn, but step in and begin to clean up after myself. "Leave it." He says quickly, pushing himself up into a sitting position. "Come here." He pats the bed gently, while I look back and forth between his hand and his face. 'Come here?' I'm not some kind of fucking dog.

I do as he says anyways, sitting uncomfortably on the edge of the bed. He moves closer to me, piercing my eyes with his own. "Tell me you miss it too," he whispers in a needy tone of voice, almost too vulnerable to belong to him. "I do, sometimes." He gives a slight smile, "I knew it." His demeanor is almost appealing as he reaches across to tuck a strand of hair behind me ear. His hand lingers, caressing my cheek with the back of it. His breath is heavy, audible.

I shy away a bit, and shake my head. He looks hurt, so I explain. "No. We've talked about this, I don't want to do anything with you until Erin is gone."

Frustration seems to ebb from his skin. "I know, and I've been trying, it's just difficult to barter with management about it. I just... we don't even have to fuck, I... just want to hold you, or... touch your hair, or..." he trails off, and sighs. "I really wanted to go to that club tonight."

"I know, and sorry about that. But if you're up to it, I'm plotting some revenge." His eyes brighten at that, and he perks up a bit. "Yeah, what's that?"

"He's having a dinner party tomorrow, and I wanna bring the five of you with me." He nods eagerly, and runs his tongue over his bottom lip. "Alright, sweetheart." I shake my head again, and stand. "No, Rosie. I'm not your sweetheart."

"You always have been, and always will be." He almost reaches out for me, and instead settles on staring at me with magnetic eyes.

It's been this way for a month, his pathetic attempts to draw me into him are almost annoying by now. Every time he tries to kiss me, or even touch me I tell him the same thing. I won't be his other woman, and Erin has to go. And he always responds that he is trying, blames it on management, and says that she will disappear soon.

Three or four days later, he comes on to me again.

I cannot deny that a little part of me wants to give in, but I won't share him. If I'm gonna be with him, he has to be completely invested in me, I have to be his number one, or he's not getting a thing from me. He knows this, and it hurts me that he hasn't dropped Erin yet, makes me wonder what I truly mean to him. He has to respect me, meaning the bitch has to go.

So yes, I force myself to walk out of the room, away from a man I could easily let consume me whole, and return to the curly-headed goofball waiting for me below.

Sorry for taking so long to update! Hope you're enjoying so far! :3

Next chapter is certainly gonna be interesting... ;)

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