A/N: Hey all I'm back! Long time no see. I've been extremely busy with life-still am. So please be very patient with me as I write chapters and all that. For many of you that have read my Drabbles fanfic, the first 4 chapters will be familiar. I thought it would be a lot easier to keep things in order for it all to be under one story, but the others will still be under Drabbles. Just a note before beginning, is that humans and toons live in this world together and animated characters are portrayed by toon actors, ala Roger Rabbit. Enjoy!

1947

Photo #1: Changes

'…And unless changes are made, we will have to unfortunately relinquish you of your employment with us.'

Fletcher stared at the letter in his hand, not bothering to read to the rest of it; he'd already done that too many times within the past several weeks. It was well past midnight, he should be in bed. And yet, his mind had been wandering the past several days. He took a drag on his cigarette as he put the letter from Disney behind another formal piece of paper: a birth certificate. Taking the cigarette from his mouth, he glanced at the date on the certificate; December 7th, 1947. It was the same date as the one issued on the letter.

It didn't make sense. He received a letter that was telling him to get his act together or be terminated. On the same day he found out he was a father. Two things that would drag him down further than he already was.

For the past couple years, the studio had been dealing with his various issues; drinking, addictions, getting arrested for fighting, gambling, and fooling around with any woman he could manage to sweet talk. He had let his new-found celebrity status go to his head and they finally had enough. His reputation was tarnishing the family-friendly nature they had upheld since the beginning. Either he changed his ways or he was out a job. Point blank. He had been trying for months to find another studio to work; Paramount, Warner Brothers, Hanna-Barbera, MGM, anything. Something that would have a little more humor to it and less of a 'childish nature.' No such luck. None of them wanted anything to do with him. How was he supposed to make it in Hollywood if the one film he did failed? And when no other studio would touch him?

And then there was the baby. He didn't want kids, at least not right now. He was only 23; still in his prime, still young. He was supposed to be a star, surrounded by money and beautiful women. He couldn't do that with a kid. She would be a burden to him. Constantly needing his attention, crying about something, sleepless nights. He didn't need any of that on his already full plate. And yet, one morning when he went to get the paper, there she was, only hours old and asleep in a basket on his porch. While he was mulling over what to do with her, she woke up and started crying. Having never dealt with kids before in his life and VERY quickly becoming irritated, he picked up the basket and walked over to his next door neighbor's house, Mrs. O'Hare.

Mrs. O'Hare was a middle-aged panda widow, with three adult children of her own and several grandchildren. She was probably the nicest person in the whole neighborhood. Always waved and said hello to anybody walking down the street, cooked goodies for them, and willing to help others. No one ever said anything bad about her and he never heard her gossip about anyone, including him. Needless to say, she was awfully surprised when she opened the door that winters' morning to find him standing there with an irate look on his face and a crying newborn in the basket.

She wasted no time, taking the baby from the basket and tending to her needs, all while he watched. When the little girl fell back asleep, she glanced at him with an intrigued look, wondering where in the world this child came from. He told her that she came from a girlfriend that had died in childbirth. He only found out when the hospital called him, the father, to come pick up this child. Her expression softened upon hearing this and she muttered a 'sorry', seemingly accepting that.

The truth, however, was far from that.

Her mother, Becky, was indeed an ex-girlfriend of his but they broke up right after high school. When he decided to try and make it in Hollywood, she didn't want to be a part of that life. That hurt; they had been together all through school and everyone thought they would be 'that' couple that got married afterwards. He got over it and continued on his journey to stardom and eventually forgot about her. Or at least he did, until he happened to see her at a diner several years later.

The two got to talking and catching up on what was going on in life. They went out to a tavern and ended up back at his place, reminiscing about their school days. The chit-chat and laughter quickly turned into flirting before the night ended with passionate and intimate lovemaking. When he finally woke the next morning, she was gone. Feeling dejected by her again, he continued on his downward spiral until he opened the door that December's morning, nine months after he last saw her. After getting over the shock, he noticed two pieces of paper attached to the blanket.

The first one he looked at, a beige document, was a birth certificate that had his name down as the father. The second piece was a neatly folded page of notebook paper with very neat and beautiful cursive writing on it. This letter stated that this child, Farryn, was his. It stated that she was conceived that night they were together and it also explained why she was gone by the morning; she was married. She explained that her husband, who was very narcissistic, hadn't slept with her in over a year, preferring to get his needs filled by his various affairs. So much for the chance that someone else fathered this kid. She was afraid what would happen should word get out about their little tryst. She discovered that she was pregnant and when her husband left for a year 'overseas for work', she took the opportunity to come back to Toontown and give birth.

She only asked of him one thing; that he keep her relationship to this child a secret. She lived in San Francisco's Toontown. It was highly unlikely that word would get back there about what had happened. Still, she was terrified about what would happen should her husband ever find out. Despite his anger towards her and the situation as a whole, he did as she asked, if only because he didn't like any of the possible outcomes.

He did, however, come up with an idea that might work. His reputation was going to tank once word got out that he fathered a child out of wedlock and was having to raise it on his own. But maybe, he could help raise it back somewhat. If the photographers were to catch him 'acting' like an excellent father, it would help boost his reputation. It was perfect; when in public, act like a caring, adoring father that would do anything for this little girl. Behind doors, he would do the bare minimum that was required; feed her, change her, and take care of her basic needs. No spoiling, no cuddling, no spending time with her. Nothing.

It had all worked out fine for three weeks before he woke up this morning feeling weird about the whole thing. He suddenly felt…inclined…to do so much more for this little girl than he originally intended. Why? Why would this feeling suddenly pop up after all this time with her? Was it waiting for a signal before it could make its presence known? Was it waiting for him to mess up, just like the rest of the world was?

Staring at the papers again, he couldn't help but wonder if she really was some kind of sign. Why else would she show up the same day he got that letter? It was possible that it could be a coincidence, but there was something about it that made it feel as though it was supposed to happen.

His ears twitched as he heard crying coming from upstairs. He turned to glance at the clock on the mantle; 12:42. That was about right; she had been waking up around that time the past couple of nights. Sighing, he put the two pieces of paper on the coffee table and stubbed out his cigarette before standing up from the flaxen-colored couch. He slowly made his way up the stairs, hoping that she would go back to sleep. As soon as he stood up, he could feel the drowsiness begin to overtake him.

He stood in her bedroom doorway for a second to see if she actually needed something or just wanted to cry. She had done it a couple times before, not needing a change or wanting to eat. When she didn't stop crying, he finally entered the room and walked over to the crib. Picking her up, he knew immediately that she needed a new diaper. He placed her on the changing table and began to change her, all while she looked up at him with watery eyes. When he was finished, he picked her up again and started walking back downstairs. She started crying again, a sign that she was hungry.

"I know, I know. Jesus kid. You're starting to give me a headache." He said to her without looking down.

He made it down to the kitchen and opened the fridge, pulling out a bottle he had made earlier. Walking back out into the living room, he sat on the couch again and offered her the bottle. She eagerly took the nipple and began to drink. While she was eating, he couldn't help but glance at the papers on the table. That strange feeling came to him again and his mind began to wander. If he continued going down the path he was currently on, he was going to lose everything. He was going to be a homeless has-been that sits on the streets begging for money just to get his next fix. Nobody would want to help him and he didn't really have any family or friends to help him out. Was that really what he wanted? All of his work to just be thrown away? Have everyone simply pass him by as they continued on with their lives, while he struggled to make ends meet? The press would have a field day with that.

The baby started to get fussy and stopped drinking. He placed the bottle on the coffee table and brought her up to his shoulder to burp her. He heard her burp and cringed when he felt something warm start to run down his shoulder. He was too distracted by his own thoughts he forgot to put a cloth underneath her. Great. He brought her back down and gave her a glare.

"Really. You had to spit up on me? After I fed you?" She simply stared at him in return. Letting out a frustrated groan, he stood back up and walked to the kitchen, placing the unfinished bottle back in the fridge. He felt her move in his arm and looked down. She had turned to snuggle up to his chest, sucking her thumb and beginning to drift back off to sleep.

Staring down at the sleeping infant, he couldn't help but think that maybe she WAS actually a sign for him. She clearly couldn't take care of herself. She needed him and he was all she had. This whole time, he had been thinking about himself, thinking about how this would affect him, what was he supposed to do, where would he go. But he should've been thinking how this would affect her. If he ended up on the street, he'd manage to get by. But there was no doubt that she wouldn't if she ended up on the street with him. Maybe it was time for him to start changing his ways.

He let out a yawn and decided to head to bed, turning off the lights as he went. As he passed the coffee table once more, he picked up both pieces of paper before heading up the stairs. He placed the baby back in her crib and, for once, softly smiled at her. He was doing this for her. She was the reason he was going to get help, to keep his job, be a better person, and, of course, be a good father.

"Thanks kid." He whispered to her. "Thanks for giving me the answer." With that, he walked out into the hall and started walking to his room when he remembered something. He walked over to the hall phone that was resting on the table and opened the lone drawer. Inside were various junk items and scraps of paper. He dug around in the drawer for a minute before pulling out the Toontown City Telephone book, a notepad, and a pen. He skimmed the pages until he found the one he wanted: Toontown Metro Treatment Center. He scribbled the number down and stuck it on the phone; a reminder for him to call them first thing in the morning. With that, he put everything else away and walked to his room to get ready for bed.

~XXXX~

"You sure she won't be a burden? You two already have a four-month old in the house."

"Don't worry about us, Fletcher. We'll be alright. Besides, if we need help, we can always ask my or Molly's families to help with Mariah."

Fletcher glanced down at the bespectacled, gray rabbit who was smiling at him, exposing his buck teeth. After calling the rehab center and discussing with a counselor, it was decided that he should stay at the center for 90 days. He had hoped he could stay less. He didn't think his addiction was that severe. Plus, he'd heard horror stories about the living conditions some of the facilities had. Wasn't exactly looking forward to it, but he had to do it.

Of course, he couldn't take the kid with him. Good thing too. Who knew what kind of people the others would be in that facility. Having no family and loosing most of his friends when he, in his words, became too good for them, he had decided to ask his coworkers. They were probably the only 'friends' he had and even then, they were just acquaintances.

He had first asked Bruce Bear and his wife Elviry if they could watch her, but they were out of state on vacation with their son, Junior. He then asked Riley if he and his wife could take her in for a little bit. They had seemed ecstatic about the whole thing. Maybe the little guy was just happy he was finally getting clean.

Ever since he became an addict, the bunny had been trying to convince him to get clean and sober. He wasn't for sure why; ever since their film had been released, he'd been nothing but mean and rude to his coworkers, thinking that he was the true star of the film. He was the popular one of them after all. Maybe it was just in the rabbit's nature to be kind. But whatever the reason was, he was more than happy to take on the burden of another child, at least temporarily. He and his wife Molly had a child of their own. A daughter named Mariah, nicknamed Rya, who was only a few months older than Farryn.

He already struggled taking care of one newborn baby. He couldn't imagine having two to take care of, even if he did have someone helping him.

Glancing at his watch, he realized he had to get going. The center was located on the other side of town, right on the border between Toontown and Los Angeles. It was almost eight o' clock on a Monday. Traffic was going to be insane and they lived clear on the other side of town. He handed him the baby who had been sleeping in his arms but awoke and was now looking up at her new temporary caretaker. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to the smaller toon.

"Um, this is a list of numbers should you need to call. The top one is for the hospital on her certificate, the one under that is the number for where I will be, and the one underneath-"

"Fletch. She'll be fine. You'd better get going unless you want to be late." He responded, taking the paper from him anyways.

"Yeah, I'm sure they'll punish a celebrity for being late to treatment," he scoffed.

"Well, they don't usually care who you are. Everyone's treated the same from my understanding."

The two stood in silence on the rabbit's porch for a moment, with nothing but the sounds of the baby cooing. He wasn't really one for making small talk and wasn't really sure where to go after that comment. Glancing down once more to look at the infant, he sighed and walked down the steps of the porch and up the driveway to his car.

"See you in 3 months."

"We'll keep you up to date with anything," Riley said as the baby began to touch the fabric of his shirt.

He got into his car and started it and couldn't help but glance up at them. The rabbit was waving at him from the porch as he began to back out and drive off. Was he really making the right decision? He never thought he would go to rehab. Then again, he never expected himself to become one of those drug addicts. Maybe he had been a little too careless about things up until this point. He always thought that he had to fulfill life to the fullest. Isn't that what the saying meant? To go and have fun and not have a care in the world?

Perhaps his outlook was wrong. He was starting to see things differently. He'd had his fun, he lived his life to the best he could possibly imagine. He still had a few years left in his prime sure, but now everything was starting to hit him. He was on the verge of losing the only job he'd ever had, with no hope of getting another. He'd be out of a house and car once he had no more income, living in a box in some dirty, nasty alley somewhere. Hell, he'd probably be dead too.

But if he succeeded in this, he wouldn't have to worry about any of that. Perhaps it was time to actually grow up and stop thinking about himself. This little girl was the only real family he had right now; his own relatives had left him to his own devices. 'You chose what path you wanted to take. Now you can live that life you chose.' Those were the words his parents had told him once he became dependent on alcohol and drugs.

He was going to overcome this. He had to. He needed to. Not only did he want to prove to everyone that he did it, that he overcame something that was hard to come off of, he needed to be there for that baby-his daughter.

He needed to do it for her.

~XXXX~

Fletcher-

Hope things are still going fine for you. Your little girl is still doing very well. She's always smiling and laughing at everything. She recently started babbling and has been babbling to Mariah. She's getting so big already too. She's almost surpassed Rya and she's older! I have a feeling the two will be good friends. Ryn will certainly be happy to see you when you get out. Good Luck and we'll see you in a month.

-Molly

Interesting nickname; Ryn.

Fletcher sat on his bed in his room and looked at the letter in his hand. The writing was a very lovely cursive and looked very professional. Of course, it was to be expected; Molly was a teacher after all.

Every week, she had been writing to him while he was away, keeping him up to date on what was going on. He always looked forward to reading them. It was just about the only real access he had to the outside world at the moment.

In order to avoid the patients from being tempted by any stimulus, they had no access to phones or TV's. Just newspapers and books. He felt like he was in a prison. No, he'd been to jail before. This was far worse. Nothing but bare, white walls, strict schedules, and guards everywhere. While the rooms were bigger than a cell, he had to share a room with another patient. He wasn't too pleased about that and neither was his new 'friend.' The first thing he said to him was how if he even thought about touching any of his stuff, he'd punch him in the nose so hard it would be permanently bent against his head, not caring WHO he was.

He tried to pull status the first week he was here, but very quickly learned that Riley was right; they didn't care who you were. He was treated the same as everyone else, much to his dismay. At least some of the patients seemed to be fans. Some of them asked him for autographs, asked questions regarding the film and, of course, the kid he suddenly appeared with one day. He had a few others mock him for his choice in film, talking about the controversy it caused, and how the only thing he will be remembered for is 'playing that fox in that racist film.' Great. He got enough of that on the outside. He didn't need any of that in here.

"You got someone on the outside waiting for you?"

He shook his head, too distracted by his thoughts and forgetting that his roommate was also in the room.

"What?"

"Got someone waiting on the outside? Noticed you always interested in those letters."

"Um, yeah. My daughter."

"Hmm. How old is she?" The rhino asked, picking at his teeth with a toothpick.

"Uh, three months," he said, eyeing him suspiciously. He didn't really like this random person asking him personal questions about her.

"Ah. That's it then."

"What is?" he asked cautiously.

"Seen you in the paper for a lot of things. Being an alcoholic, an addict, and many others."

Here we go with this again.

"I'm guessing you're here because of her then."

"Yeah, uh, have a lot of things going on right now and thought that maybe...she was the last thing I needed to change myself."

"Probably good. I hear that drugs are pretty common in Tinseltown. That true?"

He nodded. It was common knowledge to all actors, whether toon or human, that studios gave their workers drugs for various 'reasons', ranging anywhere from needing to lose weight, causing them to sleep something off, or simply having them be energized enough to work the long hours often required for such an industry. His studio was one of the few exceptions to this rule. However, this didn't mean that even their employees weren't prone to falling into them. He was a good example.

"Well, good luck to you then. I'm going to get dinner." The larger mammal said standing up from his bed. "And don't think that just because we had a conversation that you can touch my stuff. I'll still punch your face in."

Raising an eyebrow at his change in demeanor, he watched as the rhino left the room, hands in his pockets. Deciding he should follow suit, he folded the letter neatly and put it in one of his bags' pockets, just like he had done with all the others. He stood up from the bed and walked to the bedroom door.

At least the food here was better than the food at jail.

~XXXX~

One month. Can't believe it's been one month.

Fletcher was standing next to the crib, looking down at the sleeping baby in it. She was lying on her back and covered in a small quilt, a gift from the Rabbits'. Her tiny hands were up by her face and one of them was tightly closed around his finger. It had been one month since he had left the facility and in that one month span, he hadn't touched a single drug. It was a small accomplishment, but for him, it was big change. He still smoked-that was a habit he could never break- and drank alcohol, but the center helped to teach him how to control his intake. He had to give the center credit. Despite their pretty strict rules and disciplinarian like take, they were great at getting patients over their problems.

The first thing he did upon being released in April was head straight for the home he left 3 months earlier. He didn't know why he was so anxious to pick her up; he never cared before. When the front door had opened however, he couldn't help but feel a small smile form when he saw Molly holding the little girl. She had the biggest smile possible on her little face and started bouncing in the female rabbit's arms, reaching her own chubby arms out to him. A part of him was hoping she would forget who he was so he wouldn't have to deal with her, but he shook that thought from his head. When he took her from the bunny's arms, he gave her a big kiss, something he definitely wouldn't have done 90 days ago. What was going on?

Molly invited him for a second, saying that she had to grab something real quick. As he stepped into the living room, he couldn't help but glance around the room while trying to keep his face from being hit by the little arms trying to grab his fur. It was a well-furnished room; much nicer than his. The house was smaller-one story compared to his two stories- but it was decorated much nicer. Then again, they could afford to have nice stuff. Not only was there two of them making an income-something rare indeed for 1948-but Riley had saved the money he had made from the film. Fletcher squandered a good portion of his on gambling, booze, drugs, and 'services' from ladies of the night.

His attention was caught by a bunch of pictures hanging above the pin-striped couch. Slightly curious, he walked over to the back wall and looked at them. There was one picture of the two on their wedding day. The rest were of their daughter. One of the day she was born, being held by her loving parents, another of her playing in a small box, another of the entire family at Christmas, and several others. He couldn't help but feel a little strange looking at the photos. Not only was he being nosy, but he realized the only pictures he had in his house were of him. Promotional pictures and posters from the film, a picture from the premiere in Hollywood, and various clippings from the newspaper. He didn't have a single photo of her.

Mrs. Rabbit returned with a quilted blanket, saying it was a gift from them. Slightly disappointed there wasn't a gift for him, he took it, told her to tell her husband 'thanks', and turned to head back to his home. After getting returning home, he had to get back into the swing of having an infant around again. Not that he was really used to it before he left, but things were different now. She had grown a bit and was starting to be more active and awake than she was when he last saw her.

He was also starting to work again. He was able to stay at Disney, due to him getting the help he needed to change. They had just begun a comic strip series and books involving their characters and he was able to return after not having any jobs for a while.

He was brought back to the present day when he felt her unravel her hand from him. Smiling slightly, he pulled his arm back up to the railing.

"Goodnight, Ryn." He said as he walked out of her room and began to head down the stairs to his kitchen. When he first heard them call her 'Ryn', he thought it was just about the dumbest name he'd ever heard of. What kind of nickname was that? It was just a jumble of letters. But the more he heard them call her that, the more it began to grow on him. It was a unique name for a special child. It was fitting, really. Walking into the kitchen, he headed over to the counter where a picture was lying face down on the surface. Pulling out a pen from his pocket, he began to write on the back:

Farryn Marie Fox

Born on December 7th, 1947 at 5:47 a.m.

Toontown Mercy Hospital, Toontown, California

When he finished, he flipped it back and took a look at it. It was a picture taken at the hospital, not long after she was born. The hospital was known to take pictures of newborns and give them to the new parents so they could see how their new little bundle looked. They usually weren't pretty pictures, being taken not long after birth. She had on a pink outfit, had her eyes closed, and her fur was still damp looking, brown in color, and sticking up in all directions. But to him, he thought it was the best picture. It had been attached to her birth certificate and he had ever so gently removed it.

He had finally decided that he owed this to her. He would be there for her. His career was permanently stalled where it was; it would never go any higher and he had just prevented it from going any lower. He had to change the focus of his life. And to do that, he needed to change a few things around the house.

Taking the picture, he set it against the fridge and placed a magnet-one that was a souvenir from the Hoover Dam-over the corner. It was a small picture, one that barely took up any room against the white of the fridge door. But he knew that this was the first of many pictures to come. The first of many memories to be enjoyed.

But most importantly, it was the first of many changes to come.