Nope, I haven't abandoned this story at all. It just took far too long for the ideas to properly form themselves.

Word Count: 3,049

Arthur was baffled by how much his daughter seemed to change over the next week. Even when she was a child it was apparent that Tessa had inherited the bulk of her personality from him. She was a natural introvert, able to find forms of entertainment that often didn't involve social interaction. She could spend the whole day curled up on one of the stools behind the front counter with a book or upstairs doing whatever it was kids her age did on the computer.

She wasn't completely anti-social (Ariadne had seen to that) just self-conscious. She never seemed fully comfortable around new people, always judging their reactions to her, unable to tell if she was being well received or not. She seemed in constant fear of sticking her foot in her mouth.

But now it was as if everything he knew about his daughter had reversed itself.

Tessa would dash out to the diner almost as soon as she was out of bed. Sometimes he managed to get her to stop for breakfast before she went out, but more often than not she would tell him not to go through the trouble. There always seemed to be a free meal waiting for her at the diner, after all.

Arthur was quite certain that she would spend nearly all her time over there if she could. And while he was overjoyed that she had managed to make a friend, he still wanted to spend time with her. So he made sure that she knew to be home by five as the shop was closing up and it was nearly time for dinner.

It was then, with all of them gathered around the table, that Ariadne would ask Tessa how her day went. And all the stories would come pouring forth after that.

The tales nearly always centered around things she had gotten up to with Candace, of course. Yet other people from the diner had a way of sneaking in too.

There was Yusuf, who, like Ariadne with the bakery, dealt with the front of house. The steady flow of traffic coming into the place usually kept him busy, but he always managed to find time for the girls somehow. He would often use them to test out drinks, from juices to coffees, that he had created all on his own. It either resulted in the girl's draining their whole cups or them shoving whatever it was back after the first sip.

On one very notable occasion, Candace had not even managed half a sip before throwing the mug down on the ground and shrinking away in horror. Arthur was just grateful that she had been able to convince his daughter that her reaction didn't make the substance somehow interesting and therefore drinkable.

The regulars at the diner—of which there were a great deal of now—would occasionally make it into the stories as well, if they had done something of particular interest.

But most of the time, if his daughter's tales weren't centered around her new friend than it would be the owner of the diner himself that was featured the most.

Eames, that was the man's name, and his daughter gave every sign of flat out adoring him. Arthur had been worried at first that she had developed some sort of crush on him, but then he realized that she had just been drawn in by Eames' apparent natural charm.

Tessa certainly made him sound wonderful in her stories and Arthur was more than sure that he had the other man to thank for ensuring that his daughter devoured something that wasn't sugar.

All of this didn't explain the look that Ariadne kept giving him while they were opening up the shop for the morning, however.

Arthur gave in finally, turning towards her with his arms crossed over his chest. "Alright, what is it?"

"Oh, nothing," Ariadne said. Her tone was far too innocent, though, and all Arthur had to do was wait for the other shoe to drop, which it did the instant she began to talk again. "I was just wondering when you were going to actually meet this infamous Mr. Eames."

"Why do I have to meet him?" Arthur asked. A small furrow appeared on his brow. "And since when did he become infamous?"

"Since I referred to him as such," Ariadne said. "But, really now, Arthur, don't you think you should meet him?"

Arthur turned away so that he could finish pulling up the large blind that covered the shop window at night. "And I still don't see why it's such a necessity," he said.

"You aren't usually this dense, Arthur." Ariadne ignored his indignant, "Hey!" with a wave of her hand. "We're talking about the guy who's been looking after your daughter for the past week. Besides…" She trailed off with a waggle of her eyebrows. "I hear he's pretty damn handsome."

"What?" Arthur sputtered. "How does that even… Where did you hear that from?" He prayed to God that it hadn't come from his daughter.

"From all the women that come into the bakery from the diner," Ariadne sad, "and some of the men too. He's made quite a name for himself."

Arthur shook his head. "Alright, I'll meet with him some time soon to make sure I'm not leaving my daughter in the hands of a sociopath, but nothing more than that." He knew that his response had disappointed Ariadne before she even groaned.

"But Arthur," she said, "it's been so long! Don't you think it's time to—"

Arthur clenched his jaw, only vaguely aware of how the cord from the blind was cutting into the palm of his hand. "Do not," he ground out, "finish that sentence, Ariadne."

And of course Ariadne ignored him just like she always did. At least she made an effort to keep her voice gentle. "It's been six years, Arthur, six. I…I know how much you loved her—how much you still do—but she would have wanted you to move on with your life."

Arthur didn't even realize he had let go of the cord until he saw it swinging sharply away from him. "And what do you know about what she'd want?" he asked.

"A good share more than you think!" Ariadne shot back. She took a deep breath after that, forcing the sharpness from her tone. "She was my friend too, Arthur, and I know that what she'd want most in the world is to see you happy. Even if it's not with her."

Arthur scrubbed a hand across his face. "You say that like it's so easy," he said, "but what if something happens to this new person of mine? What if it's like…" His throat constricted around what he would have said next, but he could already hear it in his head—"What if I lose that person again?"

Ariadne, of course, knew exactly what he meant, her whole face crumpling with a sad sort of softness. "Oh, Arthur, it won't be like that," she said.

"How can you be so sure of that?" Arthur demanded.

Ariadne shrugged, holding out her hands in a gesture of supplication. "That's just it, Arthur," she said, "you can't know until you try."

And there it was, the most terrifying thought of all.

"Dad?"

Arthur whirled around to find Tessa standing there on the main floor of the shop, her eyes wide with worry that he had never meant to put there. He felt even worse when she began to shift from one foot to the other, fidgeting like she only did when she was nervous.

"Um, I just wanted to tell you I was going out." Her eyes darted rapidly between Arthur and Ariadne. "Unless you'd like for me to stay here?"

Arthur fought the urge to scrub a hand across his face, although he couldn't quite keep the weariness from his voice. "No, no, it's fine." He sighed when Tessa still stayed where she was, eyes fixed anxiously on him. "Really, Tessa, you don't need to worry about me." It was the job of the parent to take care of the child, after all, not the other way around.

He took a step forward, only to pause when he saw what his daughter was holding. "Is that your notebook?"

A dusting of pink came across Tessa's cheeks almost immediately. It was a moleskine, just like the one he used to copy down recipes or make notes. "Oh, yeah, I was just thinking of…" Tessa cleared her throat awkwardly. "I want to show Candace my writing."

Arthur's eyebrows shot up at that and he clearly wasn't the only one surprised. Ariadne was just a bit more vocal about it.

"Really?" She took a step forward, shaking her head when Tessa seemed inclined to curl in on herself. "No, no, I didn't meant that like… It's just surprising, you know? You hardly share that stuff with anyone."

"Yeah, I know, but…" Tessa fiddled with the moleskine in her hands. "Candace thought we might be able to write something together."

Arthur thought he was totally within bounds to blame his lack of response on being shell-shocked. Ariadne certainly made up for his delay anyway.

"Oh my God, really?" She dashed forward to let her hands rest on Tessa's shoulders. "You must really like this girl then." She beamed when Tessa only nodded with a small smile of her own. "Oh, that's brilliant! Don't you think so, Arthur?"

Arthur managed to find his voice once he realized that he now had two pairs of eyes fixed on him. "You are never going to let this one go, are you?" he said.

Ariadne widened her eyes in a show of faux innocence. "I have no idea what you mean, Arthur," she said. "Just because I was right about—"

"Alright, alright," Arthur said. "I was wrong and you were right. We get it."

Ariadne leaned in towards Tessa. "Did you record that?" she asked. "Please tell me you recorded it. I don't think we'll ever hear it again otherwise."

Arthur shook his head. "You know, Ariadne, there is actually work to be done still."

Ariadne stuck out her tongue at him. "Party pooper," she said. She leaned in to press a kiss to Tessa's cheek before moving over to start lifting the cloth covers off the tables.

"Do you guys need help?" Tessa asked. "Or should I just…" She trailed off when her father pulled her into a hug, burrowing into with an instinct that made Arthur smile.

"Go enjoy yourself," he said. "Just make sure to be back—"

"Be back by five," Tessa said. "I know, Dad." She popped up onto her toes so that he could kiss him on the cheek. "Love you!"

"Love you too," Arthur said. He waited until she had darted out of the shop to turn towards Ariadne, brow furrowed. "You are not allowed to try to hook me up with Eames."

"You say that now, but wait until…" Ariadne raised her hands in the air when Arthur scowled at her. "God, fine, Arthur. But you can't just keep throwing chances like this away. You could be happy again!"

"I am happy," Arthur muttered as he headed back into the kitchens. And he wasn't lying about that either. He had a daughter who loved him and a thriving business that he truly enjoyed being a part of. It was what had gotten him through the last six years without someone by his side and it wouldn't fail him now.

Eames had been worried, at first, when he couldn't hear the usual steady stream of babble coming from the booth that the girls had claimed as their own. His eyebrows had nearly shot up into his hairline, however, when Yusuf informed him of what they were doing.

"Writing?" he said. "But Candace hasn't done that in ages!"

"Well she's doing it now," Yusuf said. "And it looks like she's having fun with it too." His eyes darted to one of the back burners. "Is that steak starting to burn or is it just me?"

Eames had turned around with a muttered curse then, although the food in question had thankfully been able to be salvaged. He didn't want his reputation to start tanking now that he had managed to drum up more than a few regulars.

It didn't stop him from peeking out at the girls in between lulls in service, however, and everything he saw seemed to confirm what Yusuf had said. There were what seemed like debates where Candace would make her point with slight gestures of her hands and Tessa's eyes would go bright with understanding before snatching the notebook back to start writing furiously in it.

It was enough to keep a smile on his face for nearly the whole of the workday.

By the time he glanced up at the clock and saw that it was already starting to tick by five, he moved over to the window to summon Candace up so he could ask what she'd like him to whip her up for dinner. He was surprised, however, to see Tessa still there in the booth as well. "Tessa? I thought you would have started heading home by now."

Tessa looked confused at first, but then her eyes widened with what almost seemed like horror. "Oh, no," she said.

Eames was about to assure her that everything was alright—she only lived across the street, after all—when the door to the diner was thrown open. More than a few heads whipped around to see who it was, yet Eames found himself only able to stare at the man who had just stumbled in.

It wasn't that Eames hadn't seen attractive people before. Being a globetrotter—if that's what one wanted to call it—had allowed him to be exposed to all sorts of different beauties, after all. But this man was gorgeous in a way that practically commanded people to stop and stare.

His hair had been slicked back with some of pomade, although a few dark, stray curls had managed to escape. He was slender, yet the sleeves of his button down had been rolled up to his elbows showing muscles that spoke of at least some sort of exercise. His brown eyes were familiar, however, for a reason that Eames couldn't place until the man began to speak.

"Tessa." He had moved forward now, a look of relief on his face, although it was tempered by just a bit of sternness. "I told you to be home by five."

"I'm sorry, Dad." And Tessa really did look repentant. "We just got so caught up in our work that I lost track of time."

Eames was still trying to grapple with the fact that this was Tessa's father, however. Now that they were side by side the similarities between them were more defined. Their eyes were most definitely the same, along with the fullness of their mouths. The lighter hair and more rounded features must have come from her mother; the woman that Candace had explained had died of cancer when Tessa was scarcely out of toddlerhood.

Arthur's face softened a little with a smile and was that a hint of dimples Eames saw? "It's alright," he said. "Just so long as I know you're okay."

And, wait a moment, excuse me?

"I can assure you, Mr. Moss," Eames said, "your daughter will always be safe here."

He didn't know whether to be intrigued or irritated that Arthur responded to the slight bite in his tone with only a slight lift of his eyebrows. "And I can assure you, Mr. Eames, that I will still worry about my daughter regardless. I'm sure that, as a father yourself, you can understand."

Damn, the man had him caught there. "Yes, I can," Eames grumbled. "Next time I'll have her call you when she's running late."

"Or I can just head over to the bakery," Candace piped up. "I still haven't been over here yet."

Eames had to busy himself with flipping over a burger to hide his grin. Chip off the old block, his girl was.

"Oh, that's right!" Tessa said. She leaned across the table conspiratorially. "And if we're really good then Dad will let us hang out in the back room and snag some samples."

Eames half expected Arthur to start twitching at such a suggestion. The man looked just as pristine as the outside of his shop, clearly the type who would abhor having such distractions in his kitchen.

He nearly choked, however, when Arthur grinned, putting his dimples on full display. "True," he said, "but if you're really good then Ariadne will show you how to knit your own Hogwarts scarf."

It was impossible to fight back the warmth that Eames felt swelling up within him when he saw how delighted his daughter was at that news. "Think you can manage to behave for once, Candace?" he teased.

"For a Hogwarts scarf?" Candace tossed back. "For that I'd clean."

Eames tossed his head back to laugh at that before pointing at Arthur with his spatula. "Make sure to hold her to that," he told the other man.

"I'll try to," Arthur said. And there was something warm in his eyes that made Eames' stomach want to flip over.

Arthur left with Tessa in tow not long after, having worked out a time when Candace would be able to come over.

Yusuf took that opportunity to slide up to the window, eyebrows raised. "Well wasn't he just lovely?" he said. "Not my type, of course, but—"

"Can it, Yusuf," Eames muttered.

Yusuf's laughter was as a sure a sign as any, though, that he was already doomed.