Ned could not quit thinking about the girl throughout the day, even after he had left the Orphanage, continuing on all the way home

Ned could not quit thinking about the girl throughout the day, even after he had left the Orphanage, continuing on all the way home. Through dinner, he did not even smile, not once; his mind too engulfed with confusion and pity for the Who girl. He was the last one at the table now. Each of his daughters had already left to prepare for bed, Jojo had gone back to the observatory, and now his wife even stood from the table and headed toward the kitchen sink to clean her dish. Ned, however, just sat at the table poking the meatball back and forth along his plate. He couldn't quit thinking about it; how she seemed so hollow and lost, like a puppet that had lost its strings and doesn't know how to function. He bit his lip, trying to think hard for some sort of solution for it. Well…he did think of one solution.

He then shook his head, getting the idea out of his head. No, no… Sally would never go for it. He sighed and stabbed the meatball on his plate, then brought the fork to his vision, just watching the piece of food sit there at the tip, "hmm…"

"Honey?" Sally suddenly spoke. She was standing just behind him as he still sat in the chair. How long had she been standing there? Her expression was one of concern as she now leaned over him a bit, putting her arms comfortingly about him, "Is…something the matter? You haven't been yourself since you got home. Something happen at work?"

Ned glanced up now, and he was drawn back from his thoughts to see his wife. He leaned his head back against the head of the chair so that he could watch her. He smiled uneasily, "Oh, sorry, Hon… Yeah, something like that," and he laughed lightly, then stood from his seat, grabbing the plate from the table, bringing it to the sink just like the rest of his family had done.

Sally watched her husband, unsure. She mostly watched the plate he held, it was full. Not an inch of the pasta had been touched, and the meatballs had only been either rolled along the plate or stabbed at, but not eaten. This only occurred when he was sick. Carefully, Sally had analyzed Ned's stature. No, he wasn't sick… but his expression seemed off. Despite the fact he was smiling convincingly, it did not hide the fact that there was uneasiness with it, as if the smile would break any second.

"Hey, sweetie," Sally had urged on now, as she approached her husband. She took the plate from him, and carefully watched it. She sighed and showed Ned the plate; he only offered her a confused look, as she spoke, "Since when do you ever leave your plate like this?"

Ned blinked, but then laughed lightly, "Er well…I don't know…" he responded, and held his hand up to his forehead as if to test the temperature of it, "I just wasn't hungry – maybe I'm catching a cold."

"I'd say so," Sally responded, but then began to dish the untouched food into a container she pulled from the drawer, "But why don't you put the girls to bed… and then we can have a nice little chat about this, alright?"

"Well, I…" Ned trailed off. He wasn't all that sure about this. If anything, he didn't want Sally to be brought into this. Now, Ned was beginning to get frustrated with himself… It wasn't supposed to be all that big a deal, but for some reason, it hounded him like it was the paparazzi, "Is a chat really necessary…?"

Sally shot him a look that told him the answer instantly without her even having to mutter a word.

"Er…right…little chit-chat – gotcha," Ned murmured, his words running together awkwardly as he spoke them. He had nodded, and turned to depart, but had stopped himself. He glanced back to his wife, who now put the container of leftover spaghetti away, and then with a sigh, he went back to her. In one swift motion, he had stole a kiss from her, and took in the sweet scent he had fallen in love with so many years ago, "And I'm fine – Promise."

Then he left.

000

The dong of the clock echoed ten times by the time Ned had reached his final Who daughter. He had began one hour ago, tucking in each one of his little girls under the blankets of their bed, then whispering to each, separately, "Good night," and would kiss either their cheek or forehead. Usually, he smiled along this nightly routine. For some, it would be a pain to have to take care of ninety-six Who girls. For Ned, it was one part of his life that we wouldn't dare change. Each girl was perfect and beautiful in their own way, and each had their moments. Moments that Ned sometime found it difficult to deal with it – but even those times, he would not change. No, not a thing… This was his life and they were his girls – for him, this was perfection.

Yet, tonight, he was not smiling as fully as he would normally. His mind was still adrift, and it caused some of the small girls to worry about their father. Opening their mouths to ask what was wrong, but they stopped themselves, knowing that their Daddy may not wish to talk about it.

He leaned down to one of his daughters, Hooley, and gently pressed his lips to her forehead. As he did this, Hooley stirred a bit, and opened one eye. She was drowsy and close to sleep, but she was just barely awake, "Daddy…?"

Ned smiled along the sound of her soft childlike voice. It was small things like this – like the way she said 'Daddy' – that made him smile, "Yes, sweetie?"

Hooley seemed to be debating what to say and how to say it. She knew something was wrong with Daddy, but she could not name it. Eventually, she just took a breath and leaned up to hug him around his neck, while he was still leaned down close to her bed, "I love you, Daddy."

Ned had smiled again and returned her affection by kissing her forehead, again, "I love you too, Hooley – Now off to sleep, alright?"

Faintly, Hooley had nodded her little Who head, rubbing an eye as she broke away. As she snuggled back into her sheets, a few more voices broke through the room, one after the other.

"I love you too, Daddy."
"I love you three."
"I wuv yew four!"
"I wub you the bestest!"

The words just kept on coming, and each one made Ned's heart warm even more. His expression softened as he listened to all his daughters. He laughed gently, but then grinned widely to show he was still okay, "I love you girls, too. Now, Good night, all of you."

One by one, each girl had smiled at the sight of their father's smile, and they each responded their 'good nights', and followed Hooley's lead, curling close to their pillows and sheets, and hugging their teddy bears with tiny smiles on their lips.

Ned glanced back once more time, and there was a faint laugh before he wandered out of the room and shut off the light. Just outside the door though, and making sure he was fully alone now; he sighed heavily and rested against the wall. Ned set his head in his hands and groaned now. His mind was clouded in his thoughts, now… but the image of white eyes had etched itself in his head. With every one of his girls, he had seen not their eyes, but the white irises of Melody's. He bit his lip. What was going on with him? It's not like she's the only messed up kid in Whoville. It's not like there aren't any other little girls who have diseases.

But what if one of those 'other little girls' were one of his own. His stomach twisted at the thought. If he were the father of one of those 'messed up kids', how could he cope? How could he be able to look at them in the face…? What would he do? He'd do something about it, that's what. He'd find a way to cure them. He'd go to the ends of the world to find something to save his little girl. His little girl would be saved… they would not have to worry over something silly like 'progressive blindness', because their Daddy would make sure that would never happen.

But what about Melody?

He tensed. He knew the answer to that, and he hated it. If her condition was as bad as Dr. Kazoo had described to him, then she would be dead within a set amount of years. Perhaps she would not even live past twenty. Ned glanced up to the ceiling, dropping his arms to his side, as he thought deeply. He tilted his head, just staring at the ceiling overhead, as if it would provide some sort of answer. It was in this moment that he was too engulfed in thought to really notice who had wandered just in front of him.

"Dad?"

Ned blinked and glanced down at the voice. There was Jojo; his arms filled to the brim with a number of supplies that Ned assumed were for his inventing purposes. Jojo looked up to his father, and he had an eyebrow arched, confused. He waited, patiently, for a response.

"Er…Jojo," Ned responded, and he straightened himself and attempted to grin. He then attempted to 'play it cool', and formed both sets of his fingers into peace signs and slumped over his body in a 'teenage-like' position, "Hey, Jojo – fashizzle! What's happenin, J-dawg?"

Jojo sighed, and even rolled his eyes along with it. Still managing to keep all of his belongings in his grasp, he took one of Ned's wrists, and pulled it downward in a way to tell him to stop. This was all Jojo had done, but it was enough for Ned to grasp the meaning of it.

Ned softened his composure a bit and his expression fell slightly. He straightened his body, and regained himself, quitting the act.

"Dad," Jojo had begun again, and he watched Ned, critically, "…What's going on? You've been 'off' since you came home today."

Then Ned had smiled to Jojo, glancing down to him with uneasiness, "You sound just like your Mother…But, I'm fine, son – I sware."

Jojo didn't answer, but only gave Ned a look of disapproval.

Ned shifted his eyes to the side, uneasily. He thought for a moment, poking his chin, "…Yeah…Your mother gives me that look too…"

Again, Jojo didn't respond, but waited, patiently. His expression told all, he didn't need words to express that, and Ned could see this. Faintly, Ned had slumped over again, and his arms fell at his sides. How was it that everyone could see right through him? His entire family knew something was on his mind. Was he really that transparent? Ned took a breath, but he did not look to Jojo as he now chose to spoke, "Jojo…Can I ask you something?"

Jojo did not answer; only watch with wide curious eyes now, his expression softening as he watched Ned.

Taking this as a 'yes', Ned took a breath and glanced to his son from the corner of his eye. He did not face him entirely; he couldn't find it in himself to do that. He tapped his chin again, uneasily, and spoke, "…If, say, you met a complete stranger and they happened to be very sick…You probably know them for about five or ten minutes, then go on with your life. And say you can't quit thinking about that person and how sick they are… but they're only just one person, and there are plenty of other sick people, right? Well, what would you do then? Would you just go on and get over it or would you actually do something about it?"

Jojo had arched an eyebrow as Ned said this. He held a look of confusion, just staring at his father without a word.

There was a heavy sigh from Ned and he looked to his son, his expression falling, "You think I'm crazy – "

" – No," Jojo had quickly said. It came in fast before Ned could get a chance to completely finish his sentence. The word from Jojo came in a quick and soft note, but it was still spoken, in the same voice Ned was beginning to understand more each day. Jojo began again, "No, I don't…"

Jojo took a breath, and he held the materials in his hands a bit more tightly, "…I don't think you're crazy, at least not with this…" (He took a breath again), "But, well…with that question…I think I'd help that stranger. You know them for ten minutes, sure – but you still know them. Once you meet a person, you owe them something that you can't go back on. And maybe they are just one person…That still doesn't change much of anything. Soon, it'll be another person you forget, then another and another – it adds up. One person may not sound like a lot, but they're still a person."

Ned took all this in. He didn't quite remember Jojo talking that much, at least not all at once. He watched Jojo, carefully, trying to absorb every word his son had said as if he were some sort of Who-sponge. With this, he carefully considered something in his head, and then he came to a decision. His head bobbed up and down in a nod, and he ruffled the hair on Jojo's head, "Thanks, Jojo," he responded, and smiled suddenly.

Jojo fidgeted a bit as his father did this, and he just stared to him, uncertain. Still, the sight of his Father smiling and actually meaning it eased him. Somehow, it made it better for both of them. Jojo didn't say anything else, but watched his father, curiously, even as he lifted his hand from his head and began to walk off toward his bedroom. Jojo continued to watch. He did not turn until Ned was completely out of sight, and there was a faint feel of accomplishment as he too turned around to leave.