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Second Chances	By : ZombieWithANoose Category: 1 through F > Drop Dead Fred Views: 3130 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: We don't own Drop Dead Fred and are not making any profit/money off of this.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Authors' Notes: This chapter picks up now a few weeks after the movie.Yes, it's sad at the end, but we promise in a few chapters you will LOVE US. It will be okay.
Disclaimer: Still no claims to Fred and we're not making any profits off this.

Chapter One
Accidents Happen
(1991, Twenty-two years later…)
Lizzie parked her car in front of her mother's house and sighed, shooting a look of contempt toward her destination. Helping her mother go through boxes sent to her from her estranged, and now deceased, brother George's estate was not how she preferred to spend her Saturday. Her mother had insisted she couldn't handle this alone (the 'grief being all too much to bear') and like an idiot she had caved.
Lizzie may have been out from under her mother's clutches, but she had agreed only on the pretenses that death was hard for everyone and her mother might actually need her. She just hoped this wasn't a grief-laced trap.
Sighing again, she stepped out of the car and shut the door behind her. At least she had plans with Mickey and his daughter later that evening which would help lighten her mood if anything went awry. Things were surprisingly going well between them.
Her mother suddenly opened the door before she could knock.
"Elizabeth!" she cried, flinging her arms out and pulling her in for a hug. Lizzie kept her arms down at her sides as her mother dramatically squeezed her.
"Hi…" she said awkwardly.
Polly pulled back and glared at her. "You're ten minutes late. I had breakfast waiting, but I had to throw it out since it looked like you weren't coming. If you want anything you're gonna have to make it yourself." She walked back toward the dining area where boxes and papers were strewn about the table. "Thank you for coming though, Elizabeth. You don't know what this means to me." She stopped and smiled at her daughter and Lizzie couldn't tell if her mother was moved or straining to cry.
Now she remembered why she had avoided the place like the plague ever since telling Drop Dead Fred goodbye.
"Okay, Mother, where would you like me to start?"
"I want you to start going through that box there and set aside anything that looks valuable enough to sell. I'll be in the kitchen finishing up the dishes for the breakfast you missed, so I won't be immediately joining you." She forced another smile at her daughter and left the room.
Lizzie turned to the box and grumbled, "Missed you too, Mother. Sorry to see you're so broken up about Uncle George!" She tore it open and contorted her face as she wiggled mockingly, pulling an old photo album from the box. Her forehead wrinkled with interest. She had always wondered what Uncle George had been like. After all, he couldn't have been that bad if her mother hated him.
Taking up a seat at the table, she opened the album and her eyes widened at finding a flyer dated from 1969 for Woodstock. She choked a little. It was a hard to imagine someone so closely related to her mother going to something like that. She set the flyer down beside her and started turning through some of the pages.
A lot of the photos were blurred and overexposed, which wasn't very surprising given the place they were taken. She could make a few guesses why her mother wanted nothing to do with Uncle George now.
Lizzie smirked and thumbed faster through the album, until landing on a page with a single photo actually in focus. It was of her uncle; she'd seen enough photos of him to recognize his face.
Smiling, she pulled the picture from the page and carefully looked over the people around him, trying to imagine what had been taking place at that very moment. Her eyes drifted to a certain man in the background and that's when Lizzie's heart almost stopped.
Behind her uncle was an orange-haired man who looked exactly like Drop Dead Fred.
Lizzie jumped to her feet so fast she knocked the chair over behind her. "Oh my God! That's— It isn't!" she cried, holding the photograph closer, but her eyes widened even more. "It is! B-but… but… HOW?!" It was undeniable. He was even making the same facial expression she'd seen Fred use a million times when he was pissed off at someone. "Drop Dead Fred?" she whispered to the picture.
"What did you just say?" Polly asked from the doorway to the kitchen, arms crossed.
Lizzie jumped. "Uh, nothing. I just, nevermind," she tucked the photo into the back of her skirt and cleared her throat. "I just remembered something, that's all."
Polly eyed her suspiciously. "Could you remember things without wrecking my furniture, then?"
Lizzie turned and noticed the fallen dining chair. "Sorry," she said, picking it up. "I'll get back to work."
"Thank you," Polly said, giving her a disapproving once over before heading back into the kitchen. "Should've bought rubber furniture…"
Lizzie pulled out the photo again for another look, just to prove she wasn't losing her mind, but the Fred look-a-like was still there, glaring and tossing up a 'V' with his fingers.
"It's uncanny…" She smiled, but tried to tell herself that couldn't be her old best friend. At least she was pretty certain. Still, she felt like keeping it as some sort of memento and tucked it safely into her purse before getting back to work. The faster she did this, the quicker she could get over to Mickey's house.

Five hours later, Lizzie had made her escape and was speeding off to Mickey's as if it would erase the entire afternoon from her mind forever. It was amazing how long her mother could go on about George's 'inconsiderate and inhuman decision' to leave her to deal with his things after his death because he was 'too thoughtless to ever think of her feelings in a period of such great mourning.' It had left Lizzie wanting to be inconsiderate herself just to end the grating conversation. In the end she had ended up doing all the work because Polly had been too 'grief stricken' to remember there was sorting to do and only handled a box of tissues.
Sighing, Lizzie turned onto Mickey's street and noticed that his truck and tools were blocking the driveway. He'd probably been having trouble with it starting again, and since it was street cleaning day she was forced to park across the street in order to avoid another ticket.
Putting on the emergency brake, she grabbed her purse and hurried to the front door, giving it a knock. It quickly opened to reveal Mickey's smiling face.
"Lizzie! Hi! How'd today go with your mother?"
"It, uh... went," she said, holding her head a moment. "I think she worked harder on acting bereaved than she did actual work."
"Well your mother is a piece of work herself," Mickey joked. "Come on in and make yourself at home. Natalie's upstairs playing in her room." He held the door open wide enough to let Lizzie come inside.
"Thanks," she said, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek before heading in. She laid her purse down on the coffee table in the living room and smiled at him. "So, how's your day been?"
"Long and boring, and the truck's carburetor is acting up again." Mickey sighed. "Hopefully I can get it fixed tomorrow, that is, if you'd possibly come over and give me a ride," he said, giving her a sweet smile.
"Of course," she said, moving to sit on the couch. "Your truck's just rescued me from another day of 'fun.'" She smiled, not noticing Natalie had crawled into the hallway and was crouching before the upstairs banister, her eyes peering between the rails. Fred was poised behind her with his hands on his hips and looking put out as he stared down at the couple in the living room.
"Oi! Why are you watching them? We're supposed to be playing hide and seek! Not gawking at a fartpants and a snotface!"
Natalie stuck her tongue out at Fred and fell back on her heels. She slouched and pouted at him. "How come you never wanna play with them too?" she asked.
"Well fine, let's ask them, eh?" Fred popped away from Natalie and appeared next to Mickey. "Hey, Fartpants! Wanna play pin the tail on the donkey?" Fred shouted in his face. Mickey obviously didn't see or hear him, but that didn't stop the orange-haired man from rambling on and pointing at Lizzie. "Here, have her bend over. Snotface can go first!"
Natalie started laughing really hard up at the top of the stairs and Lizzie's head whipped around to see her falling back and shaking in a fit of giggles on the floor. A sudden feeling of unease struck Lizzie as she wondered what exactly had just happened, or more importantly, what was about to befall them…
Clearing her throat, she forced a smile at Natalie and asked, "What's so funny?" The little girl managed to sit back up, her face red from the exertion.
"Nothing," she said, trying to cover her smile, but watching Fred was starting to make her laugh again. "Fred just wants you to bend over."
Lizzie's eyes went wide. "He WHAT?!"
"Are you deaf?! She said I wanted you to BEND OVER! God, you're such a snotface," Fred mocked. He turned to Mickey and started in on him. "And what a pathetic fartface you are! You can't even pin the tail on the snotface correctly!" He scowled up at Natalie. "Seriously, I can't work with this!" he cried as he gestured to the two adults.
Mickey turned to look up at his daughter. "Natalie, didn't we talk about this Drop Dead Fred business?"
Fred spun around and glared at Mickey. "OI! Don't be spreading dirty rumors about me! I'll tell Snotface here about the shag mags under your pillows!"
Natalie stopped laughing over Fred and glared at her father. "Yeah, but he said you're wrong and not to listen to you because you're stupid!" she replied, standing up and crossing her arms.
Biting her lip, Lizzie really wished she could make a hasty retreat right about now. It got really uncomfortable for her when Mickey started demanding Natalie stop believing in Drop Dead Fred, and it was becoming increasingly harder to hold her tongue.
"That's enough, young lady," Mickey replied. "Now apologize to Lizzie!"
Fred smirked at Natalie. "Just say, 'Okay Daddy, I'm sorry you're stupid.'"
Natalie snickered and tried to hold a straight face, "Okay, Daddy. I'm sorry you're stupid," she parroted.
Lizzie had to cover her mouth to hide her own smile because she had a very strong feeling where that response had come from. "I-it's okay, Mickey. Really," Lizzie tried to say, but there was a crack in her voice from fighting off a laugh.
"At least the snotface has a sense of humor." Fred snorted. He turned to Mickey and stuck out his tongue.
Meanwhile, Mickey's face had turned red from embarrassment. "Natalie. Room. NOW," he said sternly, shoving his finger towards her room. "Move it, missy!"
Fred materialized next to Natalie and put his hand on her shoulder. "Come on, there's better games to play in your room. These adults are DIS-GUS-TING!" He flicked his hands about as he said it and spat.
Natalie kept glaring at her father, but dropped her head back to look up at Fred. He was right, but she had one thing she wanted to say to her father first. She looked down at him and let out a high pitched scream. Lizzie's hands flew to cover her ears and Natalie didn't let up until she ran out of breath. Spinning about, she grabbed Fred's hand and marched off to her room, making sure to slam the door behind her.
Lizzie awkwardly looked back at Mickey. "Wow…"
He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. "She just started doing that a week ago," he said. "I seriously hope it's just a phase."
"Mickey, I know this might not be my place, but maybe you should go a little easier on her about Drop Dead Fred. She needs him for something," she said, tensing slightly.
"For what? Driving me to drink? Because he's sure doing a hell of a job in getting me there," he said with a snort. He shook his head one last time. "Let's forget this, come on in the kitchen. I'll fix us a cup of coffee."

Up in her room, Natalie sat on the floor, swiping a Barbie doll back and forth like she were mopping with its hair. "Why is he so mean, and why does he have to hate you so much?" She growled.
"Simple. I'm cooler than he is," Fred replied as he pulled at the lapel of his jacket. "And he's jealous that I'm such an awesome guy. Can he make you laugh like I do?"
Natalie cracked a smile and giggled softly. "No. No one's as funny as you." She stopped dragging her doll and sighed, straightening its hair. "I'm sorry I tried to make you play with them. Sometimes I just wish they could see you so I don't get in trouble."
Fred sat on the floor next to her. "Who cares what anyone else thinks. You need to be yourself. Always. You're great. You know that, right?"
Natalie wrinkled her nose up at Fred. "I don't know," she said. "Sometimes I think I'm kinda stupid and that's why everyone ignores me." She leaned her head against his shoulder and Fred frowned, putting his arm around the little girl to comfort her.
"You're not stupid, but your dad is for acting like he does. You had to apologize for his stupidity earlier. Remember?" Fred gave her a small nudge. "Besides, that snotface laughed at what you said. She was paying attention to you and found you funny."
Natalie cracked a smile and wrapped her arms around Fred in a tight hug. "Yeah, she seems alright." She lifted her head from his shoulder. "Hey, Fred? What're shag mags?"
Fred gave her a snigger. "We'll have to go liberate those from your dad's room later and give them as a present to the snotface. But for now, let's finish our game of hide and seek… And since you didn't want to hide earlier, it's my turn now!" he exclaimed, reaching out tickle the little girl between her ribs.
Natalie squealed and fell back, kicking her legs. "Fred!" She couldn't say anything else as she was laughing too hard and extremely ticklish.
"Oi! Get to counting! I'm gonna go hide," Fred said as he pushed himself off the floor. "And if you cheat I'm gonna rub a bogey in your hair!" Fred yanked open the bedroom door and took off down the hallway. He made his way downstairs and was fixing to hide in the pantry underneath the stairwell when he heard Lizzie's voice from the kitchen.
"So what else did you have planned for this evening?" Lizzie asked, sipping the coffee and trying really hard to swallow it. Mickey made TERRIBLE coffee. Right now she'd rather taste one of Fred's mud pies than this, but he was so sweet that she didn't want to hurt his feelings. She could tell he was trying to make up for what happened with Natalie.
"Well, I thought we could all go out for pizza, pending if Natalie can behave," Mickey said. "I swear she's really been outta control for the past few weeks. I don't know what to do with her."
Fred gave snort from the behind the staircase. "Pay attention to her, you wanker. That'd solve the majority of your problems," he said to no one in particular. His eyes wandered to Lizzie and he smiled warmly. "See you're doing well, Snotface. Too bad you can't see me. You, Natalie, and me would have a blast," he murmured to himself.
Lizzie put down the cup. "Maybe you should try having some fun with her?" she suggested. "Natalie's probably lonely." And if you quit getting upset with her and her only friend that would help too, she thought. This would be so much easier to explain to him if Mickey wouldn't lock her up for adding in all she really wanted to say.
"Oh, here!" she said quickly, "I forgot I brought something for you and Natalie. Be right back." She got up and retrieved her purse from the living room, rummaging through it as she returned to her seat in the kitchen. She stopped when her fingers brushed against the photo from earlier and absentmindedly plucked it from the bag for another look.
"What's this a picture of?" Mickey asked, leaning closer and almost touching his forehead with Lizzie's. "How old is this?"
Fred felt his chest tighten up at the sight of Mickey moving within Lizzie's personal bubble. "We need to work on your choice of men, Snotface," he growled as he made his way into the kitchen, his curiosity getting the better of him. He moved behind Lizzie to try and inspect what she was showing Mickey.
"Oh, it's just, um, a photo of my uncle. The one that just passed away. Apparently, it was taken at Woodstock," she said, slightly embarrassed about getting so sidetracked. At least Mickey didn't know what Fred looked like.
Fred leaned over Lizzie's shoulder and spied at the photograph. Her uncle was standing there with some tart on his arm and giving the camera the peace sign.
"Wow, your uncle was at Woodstock? That's pretty cool, Lizzie," Mickey replied.
"Yeah." She smiled. "It's just something I ended up keeping today before my mother threw it away." She looked at it and smiled. "Would you think I was crazy if I told you something though? I, uh, actually didn't keep the photo because of my uncle. See this man back here?" She pointed to the orange-haired man in the background. "He just reminded me of someone I use to know." She wanted to at least try to share something with Mickey, even if it wasn't the full truth.
"Orange hair?! Let me see that!" Fred yelled, fully leaning over Lizzie's shoulder. His eyes looked like they were going to pop out of his head. "I'll be dammed." The pit of his stomach began to knot as a flood of memories came crashing into his mind. He scowled when he finally recognized Lizzie's uncle. "The bastard wouldn't let me use the phone... but I taught him a thing or two!"
"Remind you of someone?" Mickey looked at the picture closely. "That guy there? He looks like a freak. Probably a stoner."
"I was on acid, you twat." Fred growled into Mickey's face.
Lizzie tried not to make any sort of facial expression at Mickey's comment. "He just reminds me of an old friend," she said, tucking the photo back into her purse. "It's not something I think you'd understand... Um..." She felt around for what she was looking for in the first place and pulled out three movie tickets. "Here. I got some tickets for this weekend to take Natalie to that movie she's been wanting to see." She handed them to Mickey and bit her lip.
Fred gazed at Lizzie's profile and gave her a sad smile. He realized she missed him and the feeling was mutual. He let out a sigh and retreated from the kitchen to his pre-selected hiding spot under the stairs. Natalie would be looking for him any minute.
Mickey took the tickets from Lizzie. "Thanks, Lizzie. As long as Natalie behaves I'm sure we'll make it to the movies. Maybe this will be a bit of an incentive."
Lizzie gave him a smile, but inside she felt rather mopey. She liked Mickey and their growing relationship, but certain topics really held her back from him and she didn't like not completely being herself. "I figured it would help bring everyone closer together and—"
She stopped as her eyes skated past the kitchen window. There was a cop outside trying to give her a ticket.
"Shit! What the hell?!" she cried, jumping up and forgetting all about Mickey. She raced for the front door and ran outside, focusing already on what she was going to say to try and get out of paying for her third ticket in a month. This really needed to stop happening. She was so livid right now she couldn't see straight.
Stepping off the curb, she heard a loud honk from a truck careening down the street and swerving toward her. Lizzie had no chance to move and the vehicle plowed into her, sending her flying with the sickening crunch of metal and flesh. Lizzie's body landed about twenty feet later and rolled several more while the truck screeched to a halt and left a trail of thick, black tire marks and the smell of burning rubber. The cop rushed to her side as Mickey rushed up and dropped to his knees at Lizzie's side.
"Oh my god! Someone call an ambulance!" he screamed, too much in shock to notice the officer. His stomach turned at the sight of protruding bones from Lizzie's legs and arms and the blood already soaking her blouse where a rib had torn through. The image of the accident seemed to play out in slow motion in his mind and his body violently shook as he didn't know what to do. He'd been just steps behind her, intending to calm her down, but he'd been too late…
Fred materialized outside at the sound of Mickey's shrieking voice. "God, he even SOUNDS like a girl—"
His rant stopped as he saw Lizzie's lifeless body lying in the middle of the road and his heart caught in his chest. All of a sudden he found it extremely hard to breathe. He let out a gasp. "Elizabeth?"
The man driving the truck tried unsuccessfully to start up the vehicle as the cop rushed over and pulled open its door. "Sir, get out of the truck NOW," he barked.
The driver, who was clearly intoxicated, stumbled out and swayed. His eyes were so glossed over, he didn't even seem fully aware of what he had just done. The cop pushed the button on his radio. "This is Officer Carlton. I need an ambulance at 415 Whitman Avenue. I have a female pedestrian who's just been hit by a vehicle." Confirmation was heard and he grabbed and led the driver over to his car, cuffing him and placing him into the backseat.
Hurrying back to the woman, he found there was blood underneath her now. He looked at the man crouched beside her. "Stay back, Sir," he said to Mickey, reaching out to feel for a pulse. Unable to detect one, he quickly leaned down and put his face over her mouth. There was the slightest hint of breath. "I can't feel a pulse, but she's breathing," the officer told him. Neighbors were coming out of their homes now, gawking from their driveways.
Fred stood there dumbstruck as he watched the scene play out in front of him. He willed his body to move towards Lizzie, but noticed Natalie from the corner of his eye. He was immediately torn between checking on Lizzie and stopping Natalie from seeing the accident. He let out a strangled moan as he knew what decision he had to make.
Turning, he bolted for Natalie. "Don't look! Go back inside!" he yelled.
Natalie fearfully looked at Fred. He never yelled at her. "What's wrong? Why can't I go outside? Where's my dad and Lizzie?" she asked, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. She shrank back inside, knowing it must be bad if Fred was being serious.
"Just trust me, okay? Go back up to your room, I'll be there in a minute," Fred gently reassured her.
"Okay..." she said with worry in her eyes.
Fred watched the little girl ascend the stairs before turning to run back out to the street. By the time he had gotten there, numerous people had gathered around to watch. Fred materialized next to Mickey, and leaned down to get a good look at Lizzie's blood-stained face. "Elizabeth, open your eyes."
Sirens were heard from the line of police cars, fire trucks, and the ambulance that were coming down the street. Fred felt his stomach drop. There was so much blood and so little movement from Lizzie. Tears started to well up in his eyes. This was real, no jokes or play acting and he winced in pain as the thought of Lizzie dying became all too real for his imaginary being to process. "'Lisbeth... please... don't leave."

Authors' Notes: We promise it'll get happier for Fred and Lizzie. :)
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Second Chances