ALAN - An Alan Rickman fanfic

Chapter 32 - Ultimatum

Oh my gosh, after this there is only ONE part left to the story! One part! 

I hope this gives you the adrenaline rush that I got when I wrote it. Hold on tight! Ava and Alan are about to come face to face with Ava's family. *puts on seat belt* 

Spread the love and vote it you enjoy it! Thanks everyone! 

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I look up to my father's NYC apartment from the inside of the car with determination.

"Let's get this over with."

Alan takes my hand before I can open the door and brings it to his lap.

"It'll be fine. Just remember to listen before you respond."

"I'm not going to listen to bullshit, Alan, or excuses for bad parenting."

He could sense the built up anticipation in me during our drive here.

"I know you have a lot of pent up anger and hurt, Ava, just...try to stay calm and think before you answer."

"Oh trust me I've spent a lot of time thinking. Too much, about what I really want to say to my parents."

Alan's brows raise with caution. "Ava..." was all he had to say. I read his wisdom loud and clear.

"Okay," I sigh, stepping down off my high horse. "Be calm. I promise. I'll try."

Alan kisses me on the cheek and together we approach Dad's apartment. Dad had suggested a handful of times that we meet up to talk when he first moved back to New York, but I never visited.

Dad answers the door in silence, expecting us. He looks at me with disappointment then begrudgingly turns his eyes up to Alan who exceeds his height by a good five inches.

"C'min. Your mum's here, and Amelia."

We walk silently toward the living room, myself before Alan. Mum sits in front of me on the couch looking withered, holding a mug of tea. Amelia sits on a chair to the left twiddling with her rings. The silence is loud. As I walk through the door, Mum's eyes turn from me to Alan who walks in towering footsteps behind. Her mouth drops, she puts her shaking mug down and disappears into into another room, pressing her hand to her face in tears.

"Frank, I can't. I can't."

My eyes are daggers to her melodramatic display as if Alan is some kind of predatory monster. Amelia pulls in her bottom lip looking at me and Alan. Dad offers us a place to sit down. Alan leans forward on the couch and intertwines his fingers in front of him.

"When did all of this start?" Dad asks.

"You don't need to kn-" I begin, but Alan steps in. Dad soon stops him.

"No," he says, "I want to hear what my daughter has to say if you don't mind," the latter part was pure sarcasm.

"We met when I worked at the gallery," I say, calmly. "Then I started working on Broadway. I was struggling for cash whilst I was in placement from the university and Alan was the one to get me a job there."

Dad doesn't look satisfied with this answer. His lips are tight.

"There's nothing more to say. That's how we met."

"So do you have some kind of...special arrangement?"

Alan cocks his head to the side and frowns, questioning my father. "Meaning...?"

"She gives, you take, in exchange for money..."

"Dad! I am not a whore!"

Mum, at this point, comes and stands next to the door frame, nervously with her hand to her face. Her eyes never leave Alan's, but his are pressed on my father.