Author's Note: I was planning to do this at the end, but I need to take a moment to thank every person who has taken the time to encourage me while writing this. A single comment is such a huge compliment, and to see those who comment often, sharing their feelings and reactions to each chapter has amazed me and helped me through the blank times where words aren't coming like they really should. None of you have to take the time to do that, and you choose to anyway. I want you to know how much it matters to me and how much I truly appreciate it. Your reactions, hopes, and suggestions are bright spots to my day, and I just can't say it enough. Thank You!

They had Hedwig for the weekend. It had warmed into the 40s, a heatwave compared to the winter they had had, and Hedwig wanted to go out.

Casey and Barry took him out to a park, bundled and pretending not to shiver as the boy played for hours. At one point Barry hugged her "for her own good," in an attempt to share body heat. When he stuck his cold fingers on her neck, Casey's shriek had Barry laughing unrepentantly.

They trudged back to the apartment, Barry promising grilled cheese as Hedwig tore down the hall, hollering for Dennis. To Casey's surprise, Dennis came out. Hedwig scrambled on top of a stool and he dutifully took the one beside the boy. Hedwig fired off a thousand questions about the machines Dennis worked with and animals he had read about and Dennis carefully answered each one. Casey watched Hedwig. He was the subject of Dennis's trained attention, and the boy was beaming.

She was happy. They didn't help Casey forget because when she was with them it was like those memories didn't even exist to remember.

"Mi'th Ca'they says ants get sth'ong too!" Hedwig stated proudly.

Dennis's gaze moved to find her there watching. It glinted slightly, Casey thought she caught warm humor, before he settled his attention back on the boy and answered his statement. Barry nudged her out of the way so he could set his plate of grilled cheese down, and when he smiled at her, Casey smiled back.

Casey was cleaning her last table before end of shift when a group of teens came in the coffee shop. It was Monday afternoon, her training was finished up and she had been on her own all day. She wasn't working behind the counter, but she knew her way around the rest of the place.

She wasn't really paying attention to them, wanting to clock out and head home, when she realized they seemed to be looking at her. Head down she focused on the table, not in the mood to deal with customers.

"Hey. Do I know you?"

One of the boys had stepped forward, was staring right at her, and Casey couldn't avoid it. She looked up. It was a boy she had gone to school with. They had been lab partners in 10th grade. She couldn't remember his name.

"It's Kelly, right?"

Casey bit back the automatic correction. "No, sorry, I don't know any Kellys"

She kept her voice nonchalant, went back to her job like he didn't matter, telling herself she'd be out in two minutes. She didn't want anyone knowing she was here, it getting back to her uncle in some strange, convoluted way where she was. 430 struck and she skipped to the back, clocking out and grabbing her things. The group of teens were still waiting for their drinks, and with a sigh, Casey decided to wait them out. Finally they stepped out of the small shop, and after a minute, Casey ducked out after.

She hadn't gone far when she heard him again. They had converged around a bus stop and Casey had to walk right by them.

"You sure I don't know you?"

He jogged a few steps to catch up to her, began walking backwards in front of her, a cocky grin in place as he looked her over. "You just look so familiar." He stopped walking abruptly and Casey had to stop or walk right into him.

"Yeah you wish you know her." One of his friends called out and Casey felt her face pale, anger and embarrassment setting in. She debated her options. She could shoulder past him and tell him to get lost, but that could cause a scene. Moody and sullen might help him remember her from high school. She took a step to the side and he matched it, cutting her off. It didn't seem wholly threatening but Casey was getting seriously annoyed.

"Just tell me your name, maybe I'll remember where I know you from. I know it's like Cathy, or somethin'."

"It's not, now please let me by. I'm late." Her eyes were fixed on the pavement and she tried to step again, telling herself not to panic. He was just a dumb kid messing around. He wasn't trying anything.

"Well hey, look I…" he trailed off, suddenly distracted, and Casey looked up to see his gaze focus over her shoulder. His eyes widened a little before a voice was speaking behind Casey.

"Excuse me."

She didn't know something so polite could sound so entirely cold. She recognized that voice, coarseness rounded out in warmth. When she turned to face him, Casey's eyes widened too.

Dennis wasn't wearing his Dennis clothes, he looked like he had stepped right off of the job sight. Red flannel pulled taut as his shoulders rolled back, creases of dirt edged the fabric. His eyes were locked on the kid in front of her and ice cold.

"Hey, man, I wasn't. Yeah, I'll just…" he took a few steps to the side, trying to casually back off, and Dennis's gaze dismissed him in an instant. It fixed on Casey.

"You alright?" He sounded harsh, but Casey's insides warmed and she nodded, letting her gaze hold his. She watched his eyes move over hers, blue eyes darkened and purposefully careful. He nodded her forward, motioning her on and Casey started walking. He fell into quiet step beside her.

"Thanks, for that." Casey managed after a minute, "He was just being annoying and I didn't want to cause a scene or anything."

She watched Dennis nod in response but he didn't speak, his jaw still tense.

"So, how was work?" She tried again after a second, and watched his gaze shift down to her.

"It was fine."

Casey hummed a little in response, shivering as a blast of cold air rushed past. In its wake she sent Dennis a curious glance. He had a black bag slung over the shoulder of her red flannel. But he wasn't wearing a jacket.

"So how come you're in that?"

He looked at her in obvious confusion, stepping around a lamp post he brushed almost against her. His hands settled on her elbow for half a moment as if to steady her. It was an easy, natural movement that in a way didn't feel like it belonged. It reminded her of Barry, almost. She realized Dennis was distracted. His normal control was shifted out of focus by whatever was going on in his mind. Every time she learned something about this man it seemed to be replaced with something new.

"Your clothes," she explained, "Well you normally don't come home in that."

He nodded stiffly. "My change of clothes got dirty."

Casey frowned a little, "Oh, well that sucks."

He nodded again, tersely, "Yes."

Casey let her gaze focus forward, kept walking as he thoughts roamed. Dennis brought clothes to work so he wouldn't have to walk home dirty, but now he was stuck doing just that. She couldn't imagine how uncomfortable that must be and she wondered if that was what had put that irritated edge to his eye.

"Do you like pancakes?" Casey asked suddenly, the question just popping out, and looked up in time to catch the brow raised confusion before he answered.

"Yes. Why."

"Well," Casey flushed, letting her gaze focus on their building as they approached it, "I dunno, I was kinda in the mood for pancakes. I was gonna make some. Do you want some? After you shower, I mean."

He stopped. Feet stopped moving and he just looked at her from his stilled position. The sun was bright but the air itself was cold against them and she had to squint against the light that wasn't fully warming them. His face was in shadow, eyes slowly considering her, almost as if his gaze was drawing in a breath before a sigh.

"Sure, Casey." He finally answered, voice almost too low to hear over the traffic on the street.

Casey went to respond, wasn't sure what to say, and faltered in place before Dennis started moving again and she fell into step behind him.

He held each door for her, and she caught his hand flexing at the contact, another layer of dirt he would need to wash away. He stayed rigid and a little distracted, beside her and yet not, until the stepped in the apartment and he came to a stop.

When he faced her his eyes were worn, the weariness slipping out without his notice. "I'll just be a minute, if that's okay."

She nodded, intentional friendliness in her response, hoping it didn't fall flat.

"Yeah, of course. I'll get started on dinner."

Barry walked in to Casey flipping pancakes and looking around in surprise.

"You're making pancakes?" He peered over her shoulder and gaped a little. "You're making so many pancakes."

She had doubled the recipe and felt herself blushing, "Well, I wasn't sure how many Dennis would eat, and you can always freeze any extra."

"Wait, you're making Dennis pancakes?"

Before she could respond Barry was scooting her out of the way, pulling the spatula from her hand.

"Hey, wha-"

Barry tsked at her, "Get the blue berries from the fridge."

"Barry, if you burn my pancakes I swear."

Barry scoffed, flipping a few pancakes pointedly, "I never burn anything."

Casey rolled her eyes, grabbing the blue berries, watching a little bit curiously as Barry rummaged in a cabinet by the stove. He pulled out a bag of chocolate chips and sent her a grin.

"What are you doing?" she watched Barry drop a handful of chocolate chips onto a cooked pancake, add some blueberries, and drop another pancake on top.

"Making pancake sandwiches."

"That's not a thing, Barry," Casey argued, reaching for the spatula. He smacked her hand and waved her away with it.

"Is too." She opened her mouth to argue and Barry threw a blue berry in it. "Now shush."

She was trying to convince Barry to leave at least some of the pancakes plain when Dennis entered the kitchen.

He stopped at the sight of Casey and Barry arguing over the stove. Both were brandishing spatulas at each other and there was the definite scent of something beginning to burn. Casey started when she saw him, and Barry took advantage of her distraction to close in on the last of the pancakes. She gave a resigned sigh, and set down the second spatula she had found to face Dennis.

"I hope you like burnt pancake sandwiches." She grouched good-naturedly.

The oddest expression crossed Dennis's face. His lips half twisted and his head shook a little as if struck by surprise. He shifted his eyes to his brother as Barry stacked the last onto a plate and turned to face him.

"I didn't know you remembered those." Dennis's voice had gone flat, but Barry didn't notice.

"Course I do! Mom used to make 'em."

Dennis didn't answer, he took his place at the counter and his eyes tracked his brother as Barry moved about, haphazardly grabbing things as he remembered them. Finally, he had syrup and butter and forks enough for the three of them and he was eating before Casey or Dennis had really moved. It wasn't until Dennis reached for his food that Casey managed to do the same. Something had shifted in the atmosphere around Dennis and she had no idea what it was.

But then Barry was asking about work around his bite of pancake, and Casey was trying her first bite of 'pancake sandwiches,' and Barry was telling her how this was his favorite meal as a kid. All the while Dennis sat, barely eating, staring at his brother.

Dennis hadn't realized how much and yet how little Barry actually remembered. His eyes were bright as he told Casey stories of the special breakfasts where their mother would wake them up early with pancake sandwiches. He remembered the way her face held kindness and she let him pile as much whipped cream on as he wanted. He did not remember that each breakfast was an apology for the night before, when she forgot to feed them dinner. His eyes were full of the bright, warm memories of the woman who had loved them. He had forgotten the in-between.

Dennis was glad. Barry held a life in memories that didn't have to hurt. Barry had been spared. But part of him ached. It ached that he couldn't forget, couldn't set aside the shaded history and pick out only the bright things to cling to. He had been too old. Old enough to understand, not old enough to change anything.

He felt Casey watching him, shifting gazes of curious concern. Barry was wrapped in his own thing and didn't notice, but Dennis didn't want to meet Casey's eye. Then he would have to lie, settle his face into an expression of nothing so they wouldn't know how much he hated the pancakes in front of him. He took another bite so she wouldn't get offended. She had been kind enough to make them before Barry had taken over. And Barry had just wanted to surprise him with something good. Dennis forced down another bite and pretended he was okay. He didn't want to disappoint them.

Casey hadn't told Barry about Dennis walking her home when he'd asked about work. Her gaze had went to Dennis, then away, the memory clear in her eye, but she hadn't said it. Briefly Dennis wondered why. Was she embarrassed? Should he not have done that? But he didn't like seeing someone in Casey's path, not letting her by, not seeing the angry flush that was stealing over her. Harmless was subjective and Dennis had no intentions of leaving Casey in a situation she didn't want to be in.

Casey helped him clear the dishes. Barry tried to leave without helping, claiming 'he had cooked.' Casey threw a dish towel a him. It smacked him in the face. He watched Barry sputter, watched Casey's eyes widen as Barry began winding up the dish towel.

"Wait, no Barry," she was retreating as he was advancing, laughing horror in her eyes and Dennis watched them play around him, stuck as an afterthought in the background as he stood in the center of the kitchen. Barry snapped the dishtowel at Casey and she gave a tiny shriek, bolting towards Dennis. He felt fingers latch on to his arm as Casey spun, hiding behind him like a shield.

Dennis didn't understand what was happening to him. She was caught up in laughter and a ridiculous game and had retreated to first logically safe place she could find. And she had chosen him. He knew it didn't actually mean anything, but something was ending up out of place in side of him and he wasn't sure what to do about it.

"Excuse me, Dennis." Barry stood right in front of him, and Dennis crossed arms.

"Go away, Barry."

Barry gaped in mock offense, "You're choosing her side? She made me burn my pancakes!"

Casey's head popped out behind Dennis's elbow. "I did not! And they weren't yours!" She was gone again in a second, and Dennis felt those hands, clinging lightly to the shirt on his back, heard her hidden smirk of laughter at Barry's indignant snort.

"Barry," he settled his stance deeper, cocking a brow at his smaller brother. "Go away."

Barry rolled his eyes, he dropped the towel on the counter with a dramatic huff and exited the kitchen.

Dennis felt Casey stir behind him.

"Is he gone?" Her fingers trailed across the fabric of his shirt, barely touching his back in an absent touch as she peaked around him, her hair brushing his arm.

Dennis was moving suddenly, stepping back and twisting so that he faced her, free of lingering touch and the feel of her heat that wouldn't leave his skin.

"Yes."

Casey blushed up at him, grinning sheepishly, "Thank you, again. You make a good shield." She laughed a little, tucking her hair behind her ear as her gaze moved away.

"You're welcome. Any time."

Dennis didn't know why he said that, why her gaze widened and flitted back to his before she gave a small smile. She moved to do the dishes and Dennis fell in beside her. She let him wash, knowing it would drive him insane to watch someone else do it, but she took every dish when he was done, dried it carefully.

"So, um, I've been wanting to ask. Have you had any trouble at work, since I showed up?"

She was staring intently at the plate she was wiping though it was already dry. Images of his locker this afternoon loomed in his mind. More sawdust. Some of the men had let it die out. A few of them hadn't.

"No." He lied, but her chin turned so she could glance at him and he found himself adding. "nothing I can't handle."

She frowned. "I'm sorry for causing trouble."

Dennis blew out a breath. "You were being kind. They just don't… trust me."

A hand settled on his forearm, slightly damp. He had rolled up his sleeves and felt every part of the light touch, "I'm sorry, Dennis." It was fleeting, a passing moment as Casey reached for the next rinsed dish, but it stayed, lingering. Confusing him.

They finished the last of the dishes in silence. Dennis left the kitchen for the walls of his room. Solace closed in but it felt almost empty. Dennis reached for his tablet with a sigh, hoping reading would pass the time.

Casey wasn't really waiting. She just had a few things to do after clocking out. Nor was she doing math in the back of her head, the last place she ever expected math to be. Because she definitely was not trying to calculate how long she would have to wait in order to run in to Dennis again.

Because that would be ridiculous of her.

She was just leaving work as usual, stepping out onto the side walk. If her head was on a swivel it's because she was just being aware of her surroundings. She was not looking for anyone.

Dennis was waiting for her. Standing by a lamp post, black wool jacket over grey slacks, his black bag on his shoulders. She watched him move as he spotted her, approach her, stopping beside her before he spoke.

"Saw you inside, thought I'd wait. Make sure you got home alright."

"You didn't have to do that," Casey spoke as her shoulders hunched up against the cold, saw quickly her words could be taken as rejection. "But I'm glad you did." She shrugged as she said it, trying to downplay the words. Make it seem like she didn't really care either way, to cover up the little surge of relief when she had spotted him there.

She was being silly.

She started walking and he fell into step beside, body angled against the wind. He didn't speak but he must have shortened his stride. Casey had to almost run to keep up with Barry sometimes, and Dennis was even taller, but he walked easily at her pace. A small thing, but it made her fell important. And that's when Casey realized she was reading way too in to this.

There was too much wind building over the sounds of the city street to try and say anything, but the walk passed quickly in the shared silence. The sudden break of wind when they stepped inside was a relief, and Casey pulled the stands of hair away that had blown across her mouth and stuck to her lips.

Dennis's attention had become entirely fixed on the motion, and Casey flushed a little. "Gosh, I hate it when that happens."

He blinked, lips quirking slightly as he looked away. His hand ran over his closely shaved head, an agitated move but he seemed to shake it off. "I don't really have that problem," he said as he turned down the hall.

Casey's snort of laughter was quickly cut short as she clamped a hand over her mouth. Barry would have mocked her to death for the sound that had just left her. But Dennis just turned, looking at her with eyes darkened with an almost pointed type of humor, like she knew full well why he was looking at her and he didn't have to say anything.

"Shut up." Casey mumbled behind her hand.

Brow still high Dennis turned back and continued walking.