AN: This isn't my intended sequel, but I didn't have a whole lot of Sarah and Berrisford scenes in "A Flash" so I wrote this. Just a one-shot.

Disclaimer: Only Sarah is mine. Nothing else, I swear.

Face the Music

Robert Berrisford was sitting in his study reading the newspaper when he heard a sound upstairs. He frowned. That was a…that was the piano. Who in the household would be playing the piano at this time of the night?

The random plinking and crashing discordance of the notes brought one suspect to his mind.

Sarah. His mischievous two-year-old granddaughter had recently discovered how to open doors, and even with five adults in the house, it was difficult to keep up with her sometimes. She always found a way to sneak away or otherwise manage to get herself in trouble.

Sighing, Robert put his newspaper down and removed his reading glasses. He stood up and stretched. The piano room was off-limits, for obvious reasons. He rubbed his tired eyes with one hand. He missed his daughter terribly. His finger had itched to pull that trigger last year, but Rachel wouldn't have wanted him to become a killer. He wanted to remain a man that she could be proud of. He wanted Sarah to be proud of him.

Robert turned his attention back to the present problem. Well, at least it wasn't the kitchen this time. The cook had entered her special domain as usual one morning last week and had discovered, to her dismay, that someone had pilfered the contents of the cookie jar. There had been an incriminating trail of crumbs leading all the way up to a certain little person's room. The thief was found curled up on her side in bed with a half-eaten cookie clutched loosely in her tiny fist and a satisfied smile on her sticky, angelic face.

He'd had a hard time scolding her for that one. The child was just too adorable for him to stay angry at her for long.

Shaking his head at the memory, Robert headed towards the open door of the music room from which the muted sound of a delighted giggle drifted out.

"Sir?" The whisper came from downstairs.

Robert peered down over the banisters and whispered back, "It's just Sarah. I'll take care of it."

The guard nodded and went back to his post.

Robert turned his attention back to his wayward granddaughter. He entered the moon-lightened room silently, his footsteps making no sound on the beige carpet.

Sarah was perched on the piano seat and was happily banging her head and fists on the black and white keys of the instrument. She had her head turned sideways, so when her stern-faced grandfather came into view, she opened her green eyes wide with a gasp and quickly sat up.

"Hi, Gampa," she said with a beatific smile and swung her bare little feet in the air. So she was trying the "innocent" card, was she? Well, two can play that game.

"Hi, Sarah," Robert replied in the same tone. But no smile. "What are you doing?"

The precocious two-year-old knew she was in trouble, but she tried her luck anyway. "I'm pwayin' da pian-no."

Her grandfather crossed his arms and attempted to keep his expression austere. It was hard; she was just so cute. "What did I tell you about the piano, Sarah?"

She lowered her face and peered up at him though her mop of tousled brown curls. "'No,'" she said in a small voice.

"What's that, Sarah?" Robert asked. "Grandpa had bad hearing. I can't hear you."

"You swed, 'No,'" Sarah repeated, sending another timid glance through her hair.

Robert nodded. "That's right. And what were you just doing right now?"

The toddler shifted uncomfortably. "I was pwayin' da pian-no wid my eawr."

Robert frowned. With her ear? Oh. He chuckled. "It's 'by ear,' honey, not 'with your ear.'"

The head of curls had shot up when the possibility of being "in trouble" had lessened considerably with the chuckle and the use of the term of endearment. Hopeful green orbs sought out amused gray ones as she repeated dutifully, "I was pwayin' da pian-no by eawr." She paused. "I'm in twuble?" she asked with a waver in her voice.

Robert gazed down at his granddaughter. She was the epitome of cuteness with her huge dewy eyes, soft halo of curls, and perfect pout. And as young as Sarah was, she knew exactly how cute she was, and used it to her advantage whenever she could.

He knew that she knew, but as he looked at his newly-motherless grandchild, he felt his heartstrings tug, and it was all he could do to not scoop her up in his arms and cuddle her. Robert sighed. "No, Sarah. You're not in trouble." He frowned and put his hands on his hips. "But you will be if you don't get in bed this minute, young lady," he growled playfully and lunged for her.

Sarah squealed and scrambled down from the piano seat in a valiant effort to get away from him but he caught the edge of her minuscule nightgown and pulled her to him. "Gampa, no, no," she laughed, still trying to free herself.

"Yes, yes," he rumbled. "Do you know what happens to naughty little girls who get out of bed in the middle of the night to play the piano?" he asked. "They get…tickled!" He roared and plunged in for the kill.

------------------------------------------------

Robert sat on the edge of the toddler's bed. "Sarah? No more piano, all right? At least, not until you're older."

Sarah scrunched up her face. "Why?" she whined sleepily.

Robert sighed. "Because Grandpa needs more time." He stood and leaned over to kiss her forehead gently. "Go to sleep, baby. I'll see you in the morning."

Sarah yawned and turned to her side. "'Kay. I pwomise. Ni', Gampa."

"Goodnight, Sarah."