"You can go in, Caley," Natasha, my father's secretary, told me.

"I know," I said, but I remained where I was standing.

"He isn't busy. You can just go on upstairs. His office is the only room up there," she said.

"I really wish you would be quiet right now," I snapped, glaring at her. She glared back.

I wasn't concerned about whether or not my father was busy. No, I was more preoccupied with the fact that I hadn't had a proper conversation with him since the beginning of the summer when I slipped up and told him I hated him.

How was I going to fix this?

I let out a groan and stomped my foot.

Why was this so hard?

"I can walk you up there if you need me to," she said.

"I think you should continue with your work," I replied. She gave me an aggravated look before continuing to write whatever she was writing. I looked towards the staircase, a determined expression on my face.

Come on, Caley. You can do this. You have to do this. You don't have a choice. Elijah is counting on you; he's trusting you.

With a loud sigh, I forced myself to move forward. Each step I took was harder than the last. It felt like my legs were made of lead. I was just dragging them up the stairs. I was so distracted that I couldn't even pause to appreciate the ancient beauty of my surroundings. The office building was absolutely exquisite.

After what seemed like a millenia, I reached the upper landing. Natasha was right. The office was the only thing up here. I knocked on the heavy oak doors and waited for a response. After about five seconds, there was no response and I started to convince myself to run away and go back to my dorm. But just then, the doors opened of their own accord. I stared blankly into the expansive office, not moving, just staring unblinkingly in front of me.

My father was sitting at his large glass-top desk. He had on his reading glasses and was holding a newspaper in his hands, a grim expression on his face. I wondered what he was reading about. I made a mental note to start reading Trinity Times, the newspaper produced by a branch of the Ministry and the top source of news in the magical world. It would be good to keep up with whatever was going on in the outside world.

My father looked up when he realized that whoever was at the door had made no move to enter into the office. When he did, confusion flooded into his face.

"Caley?" he asked, his voice echoing in the high-ceilinged room. I stood stock still, frozen in place.

This was a bad idea. This was a really bad idea. He's going to see right through me!

"Did you need something?" he asked, his tone formal. I finally found it in me to move my legs and take a few steps forward so that I was now standing inside the office.

"I--uh---I just wanted to--umm...talk...to...you..." I stammered. The confusion on his face spread farther. Ugh, this was going to be excruciatingly difficult and painful.

"What did you need to talk about? Are you feeling all right? Do you need money for something?" he questioned.

I sighed.

No matter how badly I treated him, he was still the concerned father he had been from the beginning. I felt a slight pang of guilt, but immediately let it become destroyed. He was the one that killed my mother. I should feel no guilt for what I'm doing.

"I'm fine. I don't need money. I just...wanted to talk..." I trailed off, coming further into the office so that I was standing a few feet from his desk.

He looked at me curiously and I closed my mind off. I couldn't let him possibly read my thoughts, although I knew that went against his ideals. I had been training for a while now and now I was so good at shutting my thoughts off from others that not even Elijah or Gerrard could penetrate my mind.

"Ok, then sit. We can talk," Dad said. I nodded and took the plush black leather seat in front of his desk. Then I looked up at him.

Every time I looked at my father, it seemed he aged a little more. But it wasn't really anything in his face. It was just his eyes. They looked as if they had seen a thousand years. They were weary, with slight dark circles under them. His eyes were no longer the bright blue that they used to be. They were a dark and stormy navy color, a sure sign that he was full of sorrow. How did I know this? Because my eyes worked the same way. I really was his daughter.

"What did you want to talk about?" he asked. I could sense the eagerness in his voice and it hurt. It shouldn't have, but it did. Why was he so willing to speak to me again after I hurt him so badly? Why was he so forgiving? Did he really love me that much?

I shoved these questions out of my head.

I needed to stay focused on the task at hand. I wasn't here to make amends with my father for personal purposes. I was here to carry out a job that I was given. And I wasn't going to fail. Not my first real task.

"I've been talking to Trey...about how I behaved over the summer...in regards to you..." I began, uncertain as to where I was going with this.

I hadn't rehearsed any excuse or reason to go talk to him. I knew that when I saw my father, everything would have been forgotten. Whenever I spoke to him, it wasn't reason that spoke. It was always emotions. And I couldn't trust my emotions to do the talking this time. Not when so much was at risk.

"Oh?" was what he said. I nodded.

"He's been giving me advice. He's really good at that kind of thing," I said.

"I've noticed," he responded. I swallowed and looked down at my hands, which were clenched together in my lap.

"So I guess...what I wanted to say was that I'm s--" I paused, unable to say it. Damnit, Caley! Just spit it out!

"I'm sor--" I started to say again, but it wouldn't come out. I glanced up at my father, who was peering at me over crossed fingers. It looked so eerily like Eiljah that I almost jumped out of my seat in surprise. I blinked and took a deep breath, looking back down at my hands.

"I just wanted to say that I was sor--" I began.

"It's all right, Caley," he interrupted. I looked up at him.

"W-what?" I asked.

"I forgive you," he replied. I stared at him.

He stood up and walked to the large windows that were behind him. I hadn't noticed, but the view was amazing. From our height in the mountains, we could overlook the ocean and the mountains surrounding us. The scene was beautiful.

"But why? I couldn't even say it," I said. Why was I questioning it? Just take it and go! Leave, Caley! Run!

He was silent for a few long moments before he spoke again. He turned towards me and looked at me with somber eyes that had lightened a bit since the beginning of our conversation.

"Because, Caley," he started, "sometimes when you love someone that much, you don't need a reason to forgive them. You just do."

I felt my heart rate quicken and the burn of tears in my eyes.

Here was my father, forgiving me and telling me he loved me, even after all I had put him through. I was the reason his life was so difficult and here he was, forgiving me without having a reason to.

"Daddy..." I whispered, and then went up to him, throwing my arms around his waist.

"It's all right, Caley. It's all right," he whispered, embracing me in his arms.

I didn't know what came over me. I burst into tears, my body shaking I was crying so hard. All thoughts of my mission had left me. Right now, at that moment, I wasn't Caley Lucia, the double agent witch; I was that five year old girl that went to feed ducks with her father in Central Park.

And that was all right.

____________________________________________________________________

A/N: Sorry it's short! But yay! She mended her relationship with her father!

Too bad she's not doing it for the right reasons.

Who feels bad for Michael, her father? I do. It brings tears to my eyes every time I write a chapter with him and Caley in it. I'm getting way too attached to these characters.

Anyway, leave me a comment! And please vote!

XOXO