Disclaimer: I only own Grace.

This has been in my head for a while. I've seen theories out there about Coach's reaction of Meredith Walker, and I've wanted to play with the idea that Coach knew how to handle Meredith because he had a daughter who was a banshee. I tried to keep coach in character. This work is just so I could get it out of my head, but I hope you enjoy.

Bobby Finstock put down his grading pen and ran his hands through his hair. He'd assigned an essay on supply and demand for his second and seventh period classes. Now that he finished grading them, he realized that the essay was a terrible idea. One, because it was the beginning of the fall semester. Two, because the essays turned in by the sophomores were God awful to say the least. The grammar and spelling errors made him wonder how some of these kids managed to make it out of elementary school and junior high. Hell, his eight-year-old had a better concept of the English language than they did. Speaking of which, it was time for someone to go to bed.

"Grace!" Bobby called. "Daddy's finished grading papers. Bedtime, kiddo!"

As of now, he had full custody of Grace. Her mother was flighty and would come and go into his life. The moment he found out she was pregnant, they got married at the local courthouse, moved in together, and she stayed around. He was really happy for the first time in years. The moment Grace was born however, her mother would disappear for days at a time again. Occasionally, she would take care of Grace, but mostly he would have to have his mother take care of her while he was working at Beacon Hills High. After being what felt like a single dad to Grace for a year, Bobby decided to file for a divorce and for full custody of his kid. He came home one night after dropping Grace off at his mother's house to find that his ex-wife had signed the divorce papers and took everything. Everything meaning the couches, tables, rugs, even the shower curtains. The only thing she left untouched was Grace's room, bathroom, and belongings. He was thankful that they didn't have a joint checking account, or he was certain she would have cleaned him out. Because she didn't appear to the custody hearing, Robert Finstock was granted full custody of Grace Marilyn Finstock.

"Grace?" Bobby placed the graded papers in his bag and looked at the clock. 8:30. "Grace, sweetie?"

Grace usually answered, or would skip into the living room while he was grading, her wide hazel eyes peering across from him at the table, her long brown hair a mess around her round face from playing outside or building blanket forts in her room. She'd make popping noises with her mouth as he'd remind himself to brush and braid her hair later.

"Whatcha grading?" She'd ask. "What's that word mean? How much is a thousand million?"

He'd look at her, explain what he could, then watch as she'd run down the hall and laugh. But now that he thought about it, he hadn't seen her since dinner. She said she didn't have homework tonight, so he sent her off to her room to read or play Barbies, whatever it was that was cool. She seemed a little tired or distracted earlier, but he'd had a long day and he didn't really think about her behavior until now.

"Grace..."

Bobby headed out of the living room and down the hall to his daughter's room. He peered inside. Her desk lamp was on and there were toys on the floor, but she wasn't visible. He immediately went to her closet, tripping over a white Build-A-Bear take home box on the way.

"Goddamn stupid box," he kicked it out of the way and made it to the closet door.

Sometimes she would hide inside with a flashlight and read scary stories. But when he looked inside, there was no flashlight, no 'close the door, daddy!', no ear-piercing scream signaling that he'd startled her at the scariest part. He walked across the room and checked under her bed, but still no sign of Grace. He swore to himself as he got to his feet.

"Grace, this isn't funny! Daddy's gonna be very mad if you don't come out right now, young lady."

He walked further down the hall to her bathroom, his stomach tying into knots with each step. He flipped on the light and found a mass of thick brown hair sitting in the bathtub. He breathed a sigh of relief that there wasn't any water in the tub with her. Grace was fully clothed and had her knees pulled tightly into her chest. Something was wrong. Grace was quiet, a trait that she never had from the moment she came shrieking out of her mother. He always chalked Grace's behavior up to her having more of his genes than his ex's. She was talkative, loud, yelled whenever she was angry, screamed when she was scared, snored when she slept, and shared his love for blowing a whistle when people were talking. If she didn't play lacrosse, she'd make a good coach. He remembered times when both of them were angry and they would have I'm-louder-than-you yelling matches, screaming 'fine' at each other and slamming things. He dreaded the day she became a teenager. The point was that Grace was never quiet, if anything she just got louder, and the fact that she was silent right now scared him.

Bobby crouched beside the tub, "There you are sweetie. You nearly gave me a heart attack."

Grace didn't speak, only shivered a few times. He carefully reached for her chin and raised it so he could get a good look at her face. Her wide hazels were vacant as she stared back at him. He touched her forehead and cheeks, feeling that her skin, while sticky from a mixture of sweat and tears, was absent of a fever.

"Daddy, make it stop." Grace whispered.

Bobby's chest grew tight. He swallowed, "Make what stop?"

"The voices."

His breath caught in his chest. His daughter was hearing voices. He knew Beacon Hills was a place with a lot of unexplainable things, but none of those things had ever happened to him. Now that his child was hearing voices, he wasn't sure what he needed to do next, but something told him that taking her to the crazy house just wasn't an option. He knew he needed to ask his questions carefully, because if his boisterous kid was made silent by these voices, then they had to be something serious.

"Grace," he tossed a lock of hair over her shoulder, "sweetie, what kind of...voices are you hearing?"

She blinked for the first time since he'd found her, "Loud ones."

"Okay. So you're hearing loud voices?"

Grace nodded.

"Are they mean voices? Or are they nice?"

"Both."

'The hell does that mean?' Bobby thought, but instead said, "They can be mean and nice, huh? Do you hear them now?"

"They stopped when I came in here."

"What did they say?"

"They were in my room and they said something bad was going to happen. It came from the radio."

"Was the radio on?"

"No."

"Alright. So when do you hear these voices?"

"On the bus," said Grace.

"Okay, so you're not gonna ride the bus anymore that's for damn sure," muttered Bobby. "Gracie, angel, do you hear these voices at school, or here with Daddy?"

"Not with you, but sometimes in the backyard by the fence. Sometimes school on the playground and in the bathroom."

Bobby stopped. That would explain that day she came home in tears and out of breath with wet pants. She said that some kid had tickled her and made her laugh on the bus until she peed and that she ran home because she was embarrassed. Had she actually have been so scared to use the bathroom at school because of these voices, that she'd held it all day, and then ran home from the bus stop and had an accident because she couldn't make it? He suddenly felt horrible for not knowing that his own kid was dealing with something this scary.

"Ah, jeez," Bobby ran his hand over his face. "And, uh, how long have you been hearing these voices?"

Grace shrugged.

"Did you always hear them?"

She shook her head.

"Okay, so did you hear them a year ago?"

Another head shake.

"Did you hear them at Easter?" Bobby asked, attempting to use holidays as a marker for months. If she said yes, then the voices started about five months ago.

"No, but I remember hearing screaming when we went to Disneyland."

Bobby was taken aback. Their day at Disneyland was in July, she seemed to have a good time. Definitely wouldn't shut up on their drive home about riding the teacups with Alice and the Mad Hatter and the fireworks that night. How was he supposed to know she was hearing things?

Bobby shook his head, "Sweetheart, I'm sure the screams were coming from one of the rides."

Grace shook her head fiercely, "I heard them when we went to Downtown Disney and got pretzels. They were close screams. Not the far away ones from the roller coasters. They sounded like someone was gonna die."

"Jesus Christ, kid."

"They went away and came back later."

Bobby cupped her cheeks in his hands, "Grace, why didn't you tell me these things were happening to you?"

Grace shrugged. He searched her eyes and only found fear. For a moment, he felt like he was looking in a mirror.

"Did you think I'd be mad?"

"Yeah..."

Bobby sighed and kissed her forehead. "You need to tell me these things, Grace. I won't get mad. You're not making these voices up, so why would I be mad? I...I don't know how to make them stop, but I can try to help you if I know what's going on, okay?"

"Okay." Grace nodded. "Daddy, do you still love me?"

Bobby immediately wrapped his arms around his daughter. He took a deep breath. It made him sad to think that she thought he wouldn't love her anymore just because of these voices.

"I know I yell sometimes," he began, "and I get mad, but Grace, I'm not going to send you away. I'm definitely not going stop loving you. I will never love you any less for any reason. Even if you do hear some really scary things, okay?"

Grace smiled, "Okay."

"Good. Now, it's late for you, so let's get you showered and ready for bed. Are the voices still coming from your room?" When Grace hesitated, Bobby held out his hand. "C'mon, you can sleep in my room tonight."

Hope you enjoyed it and thank you for reading!