Title: Angels in a Cage: Chapter Three, Changes on the Wind
Rating: PG-13 [mild language]

Summary: Alyssa's life is about to change. Chris has a band now, so shouldn't that mean changes too?




Looking at the scrap of paper on his desk, Howard sighed. He knew what it meant, even from the cryptic words. And he wanted to, he really did, but he couldn’t because that would mean leaving his daughter with his wife overnight. There was no way Howard was could do that. He couldn’t go.

Finger pressing the call button, he invited his secretary to join him. She said nothing, but locked the door behind her a moment after entry. Silently she sat in the chair across the simple pine desk. Their eyes connected and he knew he did not need to say a word.

“You need this, Howard,” she declared. “You need to do this especially with the impending announcement on Monday.”

“I cannot leave my daughter alone with my wife for even a few hours; a night unfathomable; an entire weekend—”

“Go home now. Pack your and your daughter’s things. You are coming to the cabin with me this weekend. And I will prove to you that you need to leave the bi—”

“I cannot.”

She sighed, “Howard, you are about to head up the agency that takes care of children, that protects children from people like your wife. Why can you not live by the same standards?”

“If you knew our history—”

“Then tell me.”

He glanced at the framed image of the bubbly baby on his desk. She was right, absolutely right. To protect his daughter, he needed to leave his wife.

“Okay. Let me go home and get her things before school lets out. We’ll at the lodge for dinner?”

The secretary flashed him a grin, “Fabulous. This will be a good thing, Howard. I promise.”



The stick glanced off the cymbal, breaking almost perfectly in half. One piece flew through the air, striking the back of Kim’s head. Swearing Chris tossed what was left of it across the room. Rage filling his eyes, he shoved the drum kit off the platform, knocking over the mic stand as well. With a growl in his throat and murder in his veins, Chris jumped off the practice stage and stalked out of the bar. His long fingers fished out his cigarette pack. Shaking out a cigarette, he swore once more, finding all of the cigarettes broken in half. His shit day just got worse.

“Here,” Kim held out a full cigarette as he stepped out of the bar.

“Thanks,” Chris grumbled.

“We should find a new drummer.”

“What the fuck? Are you firing from my own fucking ba—”

“No, man. Not at all. I just think we should find someone to drum full-time and then you can sign without that worry,” he explained, lighting Chris’s cigarette.

Inhaling the calming nicotine deeply, he regarded the guitarist carefully, “Okay, who do we want?”

“Let’s put out an ad and see who we get,” Kim suggested.

The very next day the ad went out. Potential candidates were invited to their next show, ushered backstage even. The decision was made between rounds of beer and tequila. Sound Garden now had a drummer, albeit one with a family, and the decision to combine the band name into one word was made. Or at least that’s what Hiro told him after waking the passed out Chris on the bathroom floor. Clearly it had been a good night.



Never before had she smiled as much as she did skipping through the forest after a butterfly. Even when she tripped over a fallen branch and scratched up her knees, Alyssa did not cry but rather got back up and continued her exploration. That was how childhood should be, free, unhindered play and exploration. His daughter deserved that always. The little girl stopped before she was too far from sight, picked a handful of wildflowers, and skipped back to the redwood deck where Howard and Marilyn sat. Giggling she presented her find to the secretary, having become quite comfortable around the older woman the past few days, her hazel eyes watching intently as the flowers were twisted into a coronet.

“You’re right,” Howard commented.

“Hmmm?” she glanced up from her flower task.

“I must remove Alyssa from her mother’s realm,” he commented. “These are the kinds of days my princess should always have.”

“Good,” Marilyn smiled. “I was hoping you would realize it after two days here. Later you can explain your resistance.”

“Look, Daddy!” the five year old exclaimed, pointing to the circle of flowers on her chocolate curls.

“Wow. What a beautiful princess you are!” he remarked.

“Can I have a treat now, Daddy? I hungry.”

“That’s up to Marilyn. This is her cabin after all.”

The young girl’s gold-flecked eyes turned towards the older woman, “May I have a snack, please?”

“Absolutely. How about we bake some cookies?”

Her gaze darted to her dad, seeking his approval. He nodded once. With a sudden grin Alyssa accepted and followed the secretary into the cozy cabin, leaving her father to reflect on his decision.

They would have to play this very carefully. He did not care to hurt Emilie, however hurting her was a distant second in his mind behind keeping from hurting Alyssa. Perhaps the best way would be to prepare the documents meticulously without bringing it up with Emilie, make certain that everything was set before extricating Alyssa. He had a feeling the entire ordeal would become quite the maelstrom. The more he could shelter his little girl the better.

By the time Alyssa was tucked into the bed in the loft by Marilyn, Howard had already drafted the divorce papers. While he was not a divorce lawyer, he dealt greatly with such as a child’s advocate; Howard was confident in the document. He did not care if he was protected, just Alyssa, and he had to make certain everything regarding her care and her interactions with her mother were carefully delineated. If he could not do this right by her, he would not do it at all.

Gentle hands touched his shoulders, massaging the tense knots in his muscles. Glancing over his shoulder, he smiled when his eyes met hers. With no one to hide it from, Marilyn dipped down and kissed him sweetly. Not lingering in the touch for long, she moved around the couch, picking up the yellow legal pad from his lap.

Her eyes danced over the pad for a moment, “I can’t believe you would give her any time with Alyssa at all, supervised or not.”

“I know how the court works, Mari. They will resist a single father getting full custody no matter the circumstance. And I don’t have any documented proof she abused my baby girl,” he proclaimed.

“You and I both know that you can find people to substantiate that claim,” she paused. “Now that Alyssa is happily dreaming, you gonna tell me why you’ve resisted this so long?”

“We were married for eight years before we consummated our union,” he began. “Alyssa is the result of the only time we’ve had sex.”

“Uh, what?”

“She was barely thirteen and pregnant when we got married and rushed out of town,” he proclaimed softly. “My older brother raped her and our fathers’ collective decision was to marry her and get her out of town so as to not sully either families’ reputations. They probably would forced my brother, twice as old as her, to marry her had he not been found face down in the creek a few days later. I was already scheduled to come to Seattle, to go to school in a few weeks, so it was my duty to preserve her, I guess.”

“Howard, I...”

“I could not provide for the baby and the two of us on a student’s income, so the child was put up for adoptions at birth. I know not what happened to the baby or even its gender,” he continued. “After that we were married in name only, not as if it had been different before. She spent her days in the church and I split my time between school and working to make ends meet. I spent more time at school than home, more time with classmates than my wife.”

“When did you stop wearing your wedding ring?”

He glanced down at the hand clasping hers, “I’ve never had one.”

She nodded, “Continue.”

“There really isn’t much more to say. When I was around her, she was cold and indifferent,” he shrugged.

“And the night Alyssa was conceived?”

“I had been graduated from law school for about nine months and no longer had any... girlfriends. It took those months to get her to relax enough to even kiss,” he responded. “That was our first and last kiss, the only night we’ve shared a bed. She refused to speak to me for weeks after. And then came the announcement she was with child.”

“Why didn’t you leave her before Alyssa?”

Howard sighed, “A sense of duty to her, I guess. She has not a soul in her life any more, her family sold her out because of what my brother did. She has no home.”

“So you remained married to the ice queen out of pity? Why not annul it and let her go to a nunnery?”

Howard was quiet for a long moment, “The thought never crossed my mind. Besides I would not have Alyssa had I done so.”

“True,” Marilyn nodded. “And she is adorable. I can understand why you adore her.”

Smiling he paused before asking, “I would never presume, but I intend to leave Emilie the house. Would you consider—”

“As soon as the divorce is finalized, of course I’ll live with you. But not a moment sooner.”



As much as he enjoyed not having to drum and sing simultaneously, he was not entirely sure about the drummer. The man was married with a kid. That alone made Chris nervous. One could never trust a family man on tour. Which was probably why Chris found himself in a dark, musty bar, nursing a beer, eyes flitting to the band on stage. They were decent, good even, but the drummer was phenomenal. And there was just a different air about him Chris could not quite explain. So he downed another beer.

Across the room, a pair of ever-observant hawk eyes surveyed the small crowd. They glanced at the stage every now and then, but seemed more interested in the crowd, almost as if looking for someone. After watching the brooding man with hooded eyes and shoulder-length dark hair almost exclusively through one beer, though two of his, the shrewd woman pushed off from the wall and made her way through the sparse crowd. Saying nothing she slid onto the chair across from him, plucking his pack of cigarettes off the carved table.

“Well this tells me everything I need to know,” she declared, before dropping the pack onto the table again.

“Good. You can leave then.”

“Nah,” she responded, eyes flicking to the barmaid who dropped off another beer to her and the brooding man. “You play?”

“Sure. What do you want to play? Croquet?”

She snorted, “I’ve seen you watching the drummer – with the eyes as someone who knows.”

“Maybe I was just trying to get a better look at his package. Maybe I find him attractive.”

Her right eyebrow shot up and she reached for her beer, not commenting at all.

He shrugged, sipping the amber liquid before reaching for his rejected cigarettes, “He’s got good technique.”

“So you play.”

“Or I just like his hands.”

Reaching across the table as he lit his cigarette, she picked up his glass, taking a tiny sip of his beer, “So you like cheap cigarettes and cheap beer. I would presume your band sucks then.”

He chortled, “No. But music doesn’t pay the bills.”

“If you’re good it does.”

“No,” he inhaled the cancer stick deeply. “There’s lots of shit on the airwaves. They were just marketed well.”

Her eyes seemed to light up, “So do you think a good band, that you claim yours is, could blast the shit out if they were marketed well?”

“No. Because a band as good as mine would never sell their souls for such,” he responded.

“Wouldn’t you rather smoke decent shit, drink beer that’s better than piss?”

Snuffing out the cigarette, he leaned forward, “And quit my day job at the restaurant?”

“Exactly.”

“Not going to happen,” he replied, leaning back.

“What makes you say that?”

He finished his beer before answering, “What makes you say otherwise? What do you know of the music industry?”

“Enough to say that Matt Cameron, the guy behind the kit you fancy, is the best in this city, but his band is unhappy. Enough to say, I know people who can get your band playing in places like New York and LA. Enough to—”

“We’ve already played New York. But I get it,” he interrupted. “So your boyfriend is in the industry. Big fucking deal.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

He looked at her for a long moment. With her dark hair and eyes and round face, she certainly wasn’t the worse to attempt to pick him up in a bar. In fact she was kinda pretty. And clearly had some brains. But did she really think he would sleep with her because she spoke of the music industry?

“And you think I’m single?”

She shrugged nonchalantly, “Do you want to be?”

Blinking Chris sipped his beer again, “What’s your name?”

A grin stretched across her face, “There you go. My name’s Susan Silver.”



Serving the papers to Emilie had gone remarkably well. She merely looked at them, nodded, and retreated to her room to kneel before her altar. Howard had already packed his and Alyssa’s things while Emilie was at church, so as soon as he handed over the papers Howard scooped up his five year old daughter and headed out of the house. Instantly picking up on the nerves of the little girl, he decided they should do something positive before going to their new, hopefully temporary, home.

“How about some ice cream, pumpkin?”

“Are we come back here?”

“We’re going to go to a new home.”

“Is Mother coming?”

“No, Alyssa,” he buckled the seatbelt around her. “We’re not going to live with your mother any more.”

“Oh okay,” she replied. “We live with Mari? She make good cookies.”

“Would you like to?”

The young girl considered for a long moment, “Yes. I like cookies.”

He kissed her forehead, chuckling, “We’ll see, sweetie. Let’s go have ice cream first.”

“Okay, Daddy. I love you.”