I lied; I said no more fics from this universe. I've been a bit delayed on For Better or Worse though, mainly because I've just been flat out with work, but I was clearing out my old hard drive and came across this one. This was originally a deleted scene from the original ATEOTD fic that got cut because it was too long. Just a bit of fun with young Belle and Joey's DHSS stories taking on a new form.

2001

When Annabelle Boswell is four years old, so goes through a phase of not sleeping well.

The chattering to herself they'd been able to live with. Ever since Belle could make words, she'd taken to lying in her bed twittering, ignoring Joey and Martina's calls to go to sleep until she'd tired herself out. The springing back up and coming back out, insisting she had one more thing to tell them had soon been rectified with a stern glare and a firm escort back to her own bedroom.

But then come the nights of hour upon hour of sobbing every time either one of them tries to leave the room, and it doesn't take long before they're at their wits' end.

'Get 'er to count the wallpaper,' Jack suggests when Joey turns to him. 'Remember them frogs in our old bedroom at home? They were me old companions when our Billy used to keep me up.'

Joey remembers it a little differently – Jack heaving a pillow at Billy when their brother refused to settle and let them sleep, the two of them ending up in a scuffle on the floor, Jack pointing ferociously at the wallpaper and challenging Billy to count the frogs just to keep him quiet – but he keeps his gob shut. Anything's worth a try.

Much to their dismay, Annabelle's idea of 'counting' the flowers on her wall means getting out of bed and physically pointing to each one, demanding Joey and Martina do the same in sync, and they soon have to relegate her new favourite game to the daytime.

Nellie suggests letting Belle have a cuddle in their bed to calm her down, as she used to do with Aveline, and Martina does her best with this one, although she has the tendency not to follow through with sending Belle back to her own room again.

'What can I say?' she rolls her eyes at Joey after he brings it up. 'I always find meself giving in to Boswells. They've got slippery ways of tricking me into changing me mind.'

After the third night running of Joey waking to find Annabelle's foot in his face, his daughter stretched sideways across the bed with her arms clamped around Martina in slumber, he puts his foot down. Belle is banished to her own room once more and the sobbing each night resumes and they find themselves slumped across the kitchen table in near-despair waiting for Belle to drop off.

'We could try our Adrian's suggestion.'

Martina raises her head from her hands, where it has been embedded for the past half an hour.

'If your Adrian's suggestion is to try and bore her to sleep with one of his poems, I'd forget it. He's more likely to bore her to tears – and the last thing we need is more tears from Belle of an evening.'

'No – no – ' Joey comes and sits beside her, running his hand through her hair, curling it around the strands at the back of her neck. The action comforts him more than her, but no matter. He knows this idea won't go down well – he's got himself into trouble trying this before.

'Tell her a story.'

Martina's head inclines so quickly Joey can feel a sharp pain shoot through his own neck in sympathy.

She glowers at him. 'No.'

'Surely no harm in me bringin' a bit of cheerful entertainment into Belle's life?'

'And the last time you told her a story, Mister Boswell,' Martina says, on her feet now, hands on hips, 'she started using words like mafia, readies and blackmail and playing games where people buried candlesticks on their grandmother's graves...and then she told me, without properly understanding what she was talkin' about, how your Billy put Julie in the club and the sordid details of your Aveline's foray into topless photography! If I ever catch you tryin' to fill her 'ead with tales of your family's skulduggery again, Joey Boswell, I'll wring your neck, so think very carefully about what you're volunteering to do.'

'And you think I couldn't tell a harmless fairy story for me daughter?'

'The evidence is weighted towards the contrary, Mister Boswell,' Martina folds her hands in front of her.

'I could make something up; course I could! A lovely, magical tale crafted by my brilliant creative mind…'

'I suppose I've witnessed you in a state of creativity before,' Martina looks mildly amused, though she's pretending not to be. 'After all, the sob-stories and dramatic tales of woe you craft when you're tryin' to con your way into another allowance are legend, aren't they, Mister Boswell?'

'All true, those!' Joey insists, earning himself an eye roll. 'Not that that means I couldn't spin a good yarn if I wanted to. I may not be as artistic as our Adrian, but I know the sort of stories kids like to hear.'

'A nice one,' Martina insists, face stern. 'That means no mentions of underground crime rings, no dodgy little deals you and your brothers got up to in yer youth – and it shouldn't need sayin' for the 'undredth time, but I know Boswells and listenin' to instructions, so I'm gonna repeat it – no Yizzel. Is that clear?'

'Perfectly clear, sweetheart,' Joey does his best to smother his facetious smile, kisses Martina on the cheek. He's got a wicked idea – he only hopes he'll be able to get away with it.

'Don't think I won't be able to hear you, Mister Boswell,' Martina says in warning before Joey goes up.

He snickers and shakes his head as he ascends the stairs to Annabelle's room. Light is bleeding out from underneath the door; he can hear her moving about in there, muttering to herself.

'All right, there, Princess?' Joey whispers, poking his head round the door.

Belle is sitting up in bed, far too alert for this time of night. She grins when she sees him.

'Eh – it's gettin' late, you know. You should be asleep!'

Belle makes a face. 'Can't.'

Joey comes all the way in, sits down on a chair beside her bed.

'What's keepin' you up, then?' He reaches to stroke her hair and Annabelle dodges.

''m not tired,' she grumbles, thrashing about.

'Well,' Joey says dramatically, 'you may not be now, but you will be tomorrow, sunshine, unless you get some shuteye. Won't yer?'

'But,' Annabelle insists, 'if I sleep, I have dreams.' Her voice is fearful, and Joey instinctively reaches for her, brow furrowing in concern.

'What sort of dreams?'

'Uncle Billy's owl,' Annabelle shrinks down into her blankets, eyes wide. 'It looks at me through the window.'

'Oh, sweetheart,' Joey wraps his arm around her, kisses her forehead. 'It won't hurt yer, you know. It's just a harmless bird.'

Belle doesn't look convinced. Joey can't really blame her.

He has to commend his younger brother's efforts to take care of poor, defenceless creatures, particularly those he finds injured by the side of the road, but even Joey has to admit the owl Billy brought home a few weeks ago is not the most pleasant creature to be around. It's noisy, aggressive, peers suspiciously at anyone who sets foot in his Mam's house, hoots at ungodly hours and wakes anyone staying the night, and getting too close risks it taking a chunk out of one's finger. Nellie hates it, his siblings are wary of it, Joey himself, who loves most animals, prefers not to get too close. And Annabelle is petrified by it. Joey doesn't want Billy to get rid of it, per se, just release it gently and safely into the wild, so he can stop having to deal with tears every time he tries to take his daughter to Kelsall Street and nightmares once they return home. He knew that bloody bird had had something to do with it – he's going to have words with his brother when they next meet.

'Eh, I'll tell you what,' Joey kisses her again, 'why don't I tell you a story? Take your mind off it so you have some nice thoughts when you drop off?'

'The one about Yizzel?'

'Sadly not,' he smiles apologetically, 'Mam said no. But fear not, sweetheart, there are plenty of other fantastic stories I can tell yer.'

Joey tucks the blankets up around her neck, and Belle snuggles into the nest he's made and settles in for his promised tale. He's sketched it out in his mind, thinks he's got something pretty good planned, with the added bonus of being a well-deserved tease towards Martina. He can simultaneously prove he can tell age-appropriate stories and annoy her, and that counts as a victory in his book.

'Once upon a time,' Joey begins, 'there was a poor, handsome young lad named…er, Joseph.'

'This story is boring,' says Belle.

'Just be patient, sweetheart, be patient! It'll get better. So anyway, this poor, handsome young lad was starving. His family were starvin'. They desperately needed some shiny money to survive…'

'I need some shiny money,' Belle suddenly perks up. Joey ignores her. Annabelle's interest is always piqued at the mention of money, but he's got a bedtime story to finish, and he'll make Belle like it if it's the last thing he does.

'Yeah, maybe tomorrow, sunshine. So, one day, his Mam sent him out onto the streets to seek his fortune and save his fam-i-ly. And off the poor handsome young Joey went.'

'I thought he was called Joseph.'

'Yeah, okay. Joseph, then. Off he went to save his starving fam-i-ly and seek his fortune. He saddled up his black horse Jaguar…'

'That's a funny name for an 'orse.'

'Well, horses can be called anythin', can't they?'

'Mam tells better stories than you.'

'Eh, I am the most elaborate storyteller in all the land, Annabelle!' Joey puffs his chest out for dramatic effect, but fails to achieve a laugh. Much like her mother, it takes a lot more than his charm and showing-off behaviour to impress Belle. But Joey is not going to be beaten by the short attention span of a four-year-old. He prides himself on having always spun the most creative and brilliant sob-stories down the DHSS in his youth, second to none, and that reputation must live on in his ability to entertain his daughter. He can't let his creative genius go to waste. And since Martina has placed a ban on realistic tales, Joey must find a new medium and excel at it.

'Belle, will you let me finish?'

'Tell the one about Yizzellllll,' Annabelle whines.

'No, mean Mam won't let me. I have to tell you a nice one now, or she might have me head.'

Belle rolls her eyes. 'Carry on.'

Joey shakes his head at the miniature Martina in the bed in front of him and sighs.

'Okay. Now, by and by, poor, handsome Joseph came to a very large dungeon. In this dungeon, many poor, starving souls would approach the lair of the mean, cruel, evil dragon lady Martina, to plead with her for money for food. And if they were lucky, she would toss them a coin. But if they were not, the mean, cruel, evil dragon lady Martina would breathe fire, and…'

'Ex-CUSE ME!'

Joey jumps out of his chair. Martina stands in the doorway, one arm resting against the doorframe, the other hand on her hip and a thunderstruck expression on her face.

'Ah, greetings!' Joey smiles sheepishly. 'I was just…er, settin' the scene…'

One of Martina's eyebrows ascends. 'Nice stories, we said.'

'That is nice. It's a fairy tale.'

'A fairy tale in which I am playing the villain!'

'Only for artistic purposes, sweetheart.'

'Whatever that's supposed to mean,' Martina says, coming into the room. 'Hopeless, you are.'

She elbows him, pushes him aside until there's enough space on the chair for her to sit down beside him.

'Yer Dad is missing a crucial element from this story, Annabelle. I'm just gonna have to fix it for yer.'

Belle grins. Joey rolls his eyes.

'Go on, then, if you must. Ruin it.'

'Thank you, I will. Now, this dragon, Annabelle, was not in fact as evil and cruel and mean as some made her out to be. She was, in fact, an incredibly kind and generous dragon, just misunderstood.'

'Dragon lady,' Annabelle insists.

'Correct, dragon lady. Because she was actually a lady.'

'And a very beautiful lady she was, in a terrifying sort of way,' Joey cuts in, earning himself a glare.

'She didn't breathe fire, despite the stories that went around about her throughout the land. These rumours were perpetuated…'

'What's that mean?'

'Doesn't matter, love. We'll say spread. These rumours were spread by the lying cheating scoundrels of the village, who wanted to bring about her undoing. And because of them, she was trapped in the dungeon to fulfil her life's important task – which was to protect the money within from thieves.'

Martina's voice, Joey has noticed, is far more dramatic than usual during her rendition of the story. He's never heard her speak like this before. She's got Annabelle spellbound, even though Martina hasn't said anything much more interesting than he has.

'And what nobody knew is that the poor, handsome Joseph was secretly a wicked man. He was a wealthy prince, you see, with an enormous pile of riches stashed in his family palace – but he pretended to be a poor, struggling peasant because he had an evil plan to rob the state of its shiny money…'

'What's the state?' Belle wrinkles her nose.

Martina falters, aware she's tripped up, her dig at Joey perhaps too thinly veiled.

'Is it a bank?' Annabelle presses.

'Why not?' Martina's smile is deceptively sweet. 'It was a bit like a bank, only to get money from this bank, you had to show you really, truly needed it.' Her eyes flicker in Joey's direction. 'And the dragon lady knew that poor, sad, pathetic Prince Joseph did not. He already had lots of gold and riches, and anyone who could afford a lovely horse called Jaguar was most certainly not poor – and dragon lady Martina wanted to put a stop to his deceit. In fact, she made it her mission to find out what he was really up to. So she set a trap for him…'

'Many traps,' Joey interrupts, 'cruel, wicked traps designed to destroy him. But clever as she thought she was, Prince Joseph was cleverer. And he could stealthily escape every trap she set out, using his wits and his amazing skills…'

'Or so he thought. But the dragon lady had encountered rogues like him before. And –'

'And,' Joey interrupts, 'while she was sitting in her dungeon, plottin' his downfall, Prince Joseph noticed how clever and cunning and she was – talent that almost rivalled his own – and beautiful, too, and he vowed one day he would make her his queen. So while dragon lady Martina made cunning plans to ruin him, Prince Joseph employed his skills trying to impress her.'

'But dragon lady Martina was not easily impressed by his pathetic attempts to charm her,' Martina says, raising an eyebrow at him.

They've more or less abandoned the pretence of telling a fairy story, far more interested now in one-upping each other.

'She knew all too well he was just trying to flatter her to get whatever he wanted.'

'But though she would never admit it,' Joey's voice is alight, animated; he's getting carried away, 'dragon lady Martina secretly thought Prince Joseph was the handsomest, most charming debonair prince she had ever laid eyes – '

' – Joey.' Martina raises a hand ferociously, cutting him off abruptly.

'Too much to handle, is it, sweetheart? Didn't I tell yer, my brilliant skills in this area are – '

She widens her eyes in warning.

'Shh.'

Joey frowns, until she jerks her head in the direction of the bed.

Their butchered attempt at a fairy tale has put Annabelle to sleep.

Joey looks from their slumbering daughter to Martina and back.

'Well. That's just rude, isn't it?'