Disclaimer: See Part 1

Feedback:A Halloween treat! Pretty please! I finished this as opposed to studying for my chem. exam. It was more fun, and I'm really proud of this and the next bit ( I split what I wrote into two), so I'd really like to hear what you think! I shall be studying feverishly until Wed., so feedback would brighten my day, as usual.

Notes: Okay, this part is unbeta'd, as I am impatient. I read it over numerous times, though, so hopefully it's okay.

P. S.: I hope you have all had a "bewitching" Halloween (heehee) with plenty of sugar. 

We're singing. "Sugar Pie Honey Bunch." Yup. Dancin' around in the kitchen in our bare feet, usin' utensils as microphones, and singin'. Ever notice how the simplest songs are the most fun to sing along to?

Darrah made French toast; as a man raised by Donnatella Moss, I have had it pounded into me that when a woman cooks you breakfast, you clean up. So here I am, cleaning. Darrah's helping, though; it's more fun with company.

We're good again. We've slowed down some, trying to regain some of our lost footing, but this weekend the family is descending for four days, so Darrah's around to see the chaos that is the Lyman-Moss clan, and to cook, of course. I can cook, well, some, but Darrah pretty much blows anything I can do out of the water. And she actually likes it, which boggles my mind, but I'm not going to question a good thing.

Especially not right now. I'm singing. Off-key, but singing. I grab Darrah's hands and twirl her, then whip around, my spatula mike at the ready. I expect to see the living room, maybe Macky running for cover, but instead I see my family: Adi, leaning against the wall, eyes bright; Norah, stifling a laugh; and Dad, smirking. I should be deathly embarrassed, but I grin instead. "Hi, guys!"

"Well, gee, look at the tough guy, here!" Dad says, coming forward to clasp me in a tight hug. "What are you supposed to be, a wrestler now or something? I don't know, Darrah, should I be scared?"

I look over at Darrah. Her face is still beet red from being caught dancing, and her hands alternate between tugging on the hem of the boxers she stole from me and nervously brushing nonexistent crumbs from her t-shirt. I playfully pull her towards me and drape an arm around her shoulder. She smiles up at me. "No, he's just a big teddy bear."

At that, Norah guffaws, and I shoot Darrah a mock angry glare. "What are you trying to do, undermine my image, here?"

"Deal with it."

Hmmph. As I stew, she introduces herself to Norah and Adi, and then disappears to change. I turn towards my family.

Norah speaks first. "Well hey there, Mr. Macho. Let's keep one thing straight: you'll never be too big for me to kick your ass, understood?"

I grin. "You wish."

Norah flashes a smile in return, and opens her arms. "Get over here, little man. It's been too long."

"Well, between Phil and law school, I'm not too high on the list, now am I?" I tease, and she grimaces. "And I would jut like to point out to the assembled company that I am, in fact, bigger than you." She opens her mouth to protest, and I hurry on. "Hey, where is Phil anyway?"

"Getting stuff from the car with Mom," Norah replies. "Speaking of which, smile," she commands. I oblige her obediently. "You're gonna be in trou-ble," she chants.

"Why?"

"The dimples. The beard hides the dimples. Mom's gonna yell at you."

I look at Adi. "Back me up on this, man. They were totally destroying my credibility."

He nods in agreement, musing, "That's a good idea, come to think of it. Maybe I should…"

All of a sudden he grabs me and tackles me to the ground, and Dad follows, and they start tickling. Now, the other bane of my existence, besides the dimples, is that I am extremely ticklish. Still. I never quite grew out of it, a fact of which Dad and Adi are mercilessly taking advantage. I usually catch the signal, but I was distracted. "C'mon, guys," I gasp weakly, trying to wriggle out of their grasp. "No fair. Oh, jeez, stop, would ya? C'mon." But they only increase their intensity, and I chortle helplessly. Darrah's back, and she's laughing her head off. I try to frown, but it's impossible like this.

"Gentlemen?" As always, we look up to see Mom standing over us, exasperated. "Could you let my baby boy up so I could say hello to him for the first time in three months?"

Sheepishly, they let me up. "Not such a tough guy after all, are ya?" Dad crows.

"Yeah, baby," Adi taunts good-naturedly. "Go see your mommy."

"You guys are such Neanderthals." Norah.

"And as such, you are eminently suited for getting things from the car. Car. Go. Now." Mom says. They hurry out, and she turns to me. "Hi, sweetheart." She enfolds me in a warm embrace, and then tilts her head back to study me. "Look at you," she says softly, brushing a hand over my hair. You're so…grown up."

I laugh. "Mom, I'm twenty-one. It's about time, don't you think?"

"No. You're a baby still. Mine." She's teasing, but her eyes are sad, and…

"Mom, are you crying? Don't do that. Don't, please," I beg.

She gives me a hug and smiles, but her smile turns quickly to a frown.

"What?"

"Where are the dimples?"

'Told you,' Norah mouths, and I make a face at her.

"Um, they're on my face, Mom."

"Well, I realize that, honey, but why am I not seeing them?"

"Um, because I have a beard that you're seeing instead?"

"And why did you find it necessary to grow said beard?"

"Really?' She nods. " 'Cause I got tired of certain people making such a fuss over said dimples," I say smarmily.

She smacks me lightly. "Honestly. What am I going to do with you? Well, don't you dare grow a full beard, okay? The idea of my baby with a full beard is just too frightening to contemplate."

"Okay, Momma,' I say, falling back on the baby name I had for her. "Unless I think of a better reason for doing so," I add slyly.

She ignores me, and smiles at Darrah instead. "Is he this obstinate with you?"

"Sometimes."

"Well, I'm sorry I didn't do a better job in curbing that tendency. Feel free to blame his father. That's where he got it from. I'm sorry I didn't introduce myself earlier. I was just so excited to see him, since he barely…ever…comes…home," she enunciates slowly, glaring at me. "I'm Donna.'

"Darrah."

"It's so nice to meet you finally, sweetheart. Josh told me about you, and Sandy did too, of course, in the few postcards he managed to send," she adds pointedly. I duck my head, but late enough to see Mom gather Darrah up in a hug, and Darrah cling to her a bit longer than absolutely necessary. I soften, contemplating how long it's been since Darrah's had a hug from a "mom" in her life.

Everyone comes in from the car, Dad griping at Mom about all the stuff she brought, Adi and Phil arguing baseball. They're all here. Family. It's kinda…nice.

All except Liza.

"Liza's not coming," I say flatly.

"No, honey, she is," Mom says reassuringly, squeezing my arm. "She's driving, is all."

"From California?"

Liza took after CJ; she goes to Berkeley, but she's majoring in theatre. In high school, after my…thing, she really started to get into it. Not acting, so much, but set design, costuming, tech. My shrink informed me that it was probably because she needed or wanted to lose herself in something, rather than deal with her feelings toward me. Yeah.

Anyway, so she's doing an internship at some theatre out there, and performing with an improvisational theatre company on the weekends. Dad, of course, pitched a fit when this plan was first broached, but Liza has her own share of stubbornness. Plus, she enlisted the Sisterhood.

Still, I'm surprised Dad is so calm, considering his youngest is driving across the country. "You agreed to that, Dad?" Actually, I don't like the idea much either. We may not have the best relationship right now, but she's still my baby sister.

Dad shifts uncomfortably. "I was…forcibly overruled."

"Would you two stop?" Norah's glaring at us. "She's perfectly capable of taking care of herself. She's been managing fine, and anyway, she'll be twenty in a few months. You guys don't really have a say anymore." With that, she grabs Phil's hand and tugs him toward the stairs. "Come on, Phil, let's go and grab the best bed."

Dad does an about face so quickly and comically I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. "Excuse me?" he says in a strangled tone. "Did you just say the words 'Phil' and 'bed' in the same sentence?"

"Dad, I'm 25, and he's my boyfriend, it's not like we haven't…"

He's paled. "Just stop, please, okay? I really don't need to know."

Norah goes over and wraps him in a little hug. "Please don't be like that, Daddy," she wheedles. "We hardly get to see each other; I'm so busy with school and he's traveling all the time, we just want to spend all the time we can together. Please don't be mad." She pouts.

Dad's lost. "Oh, god, it's the pout," he groans. "Fine. Fine. Just go away now, would you please? I need to process this."

"Thank you, Daddy." She smiles and gives him a kiss on the cheek, then drags Phil, who's looking worriedly over his shoulder at Dad, up the stairs.

Dad scowls after him. "Damn gomer," he mutters.

Adi laughs and punches him on the shoulder, then goes to find a place to bunk. "Yeah, laugh now," Dad yells. "Just you wait!"

"Relax, Josh," Mom soothes. "As much as we hate to admit it, they're not kids anymore." She smiles at me as she says this, then continues. "I know it's hard, realizing that you're not the one she'll run to first anymore, but she will always come home, you understand?"

Dad closes his eyes and leans his forehead against Mom's; he doesn't say anything, and he doesn't need to.

He gives us all his little half smile as he walks, alone, out to the car.

We're playing Cranium. Dinner was a success by the way, even though Dad did compare the pesto sauce to snot before he ate it. And yes, he got slapped for it. Once he tasted it, though, he gobbled it like a pro.

Liza's here. She arrived just before dinner. It was…awkward. She looks great, though. She's got on this oxford shirt she snagged from Dad, but she put new buttons on it, as well as a new collar and cuffs. It's awesome, really individual. When I opened the door and saw her, all long legs and with sunglasses holding back her long blond hair, it was hard to reconcile her with the image of my baby sister in my head, the one who tagged after me and thought I walked on water.

The past tense is important here.

I tune in to the chatter around me. "We moved on from Trivial Pursuit because your mother knew all the answers,' Dad explains to Liza sulkily. "It wasn't any fun anymore."

'Nothing's fun to you unless you win, Joshua," Mom says archly.

"Case in point," he mutters, as the Sisterhood clinches their victory.

"Phil and I are going for a walk," Norah announces.

"Not alone you're not," Dad says smugly. " I may have acquiesced to cohabitation, but moonlit walks along the ocean? You have to be kidding. Donna?"

Ignoring Norah's pleading look, Mom agrees. "Sorry, sweetheart, but I like moonlit walks too, you know."

I look towards Darrah, but she shakes her head. I should go," she says.

"Stay," I entreat her.

"Yes, do stay, please," Mom chimes in. "Then we'll have a chance to really talk."

"Where would I sleep?" she asks doubtfully. "There are already so many people here."

"You can have my bed. I'll take the couch. Besides," I say softly, in response to her protests, " I'd rather have you than the bed." She smiles, nods, and then leaves to bike home anyway, to pick up her stuff.

I look up and see Liza staring at me, an unreadable expression on her face.

I'm sitting on the steps, waiting for Liza. I'm getting kinda itchy for a cigarette, but Darrah would kill me.

Liza's been gone a while. I don't like this.

She was "dressed for success," too, with that bright red halter top, and not the kind of success I'd congratulate her on, either. And yes, I know if I said that aloud I'd get scalped by all the females within hearing distance, but she's my little sister, and I don't like it.

And it's not like her, not the Liza I remember.

Finally I see her, walking slowly towards the house, her shoes in her hand. Her head is down, and as she comes closer I hear her crying.

"Liza?"

She jumps, startled, and looks up at me. "God, Sandy, you scared me! I didn't, didn't see you."

Her mascara is running a bit, and her arms are around her middle, defensive.

"What happened?"

"Nothing." She turns to go into the house, but I grab her arm, and I hear a sharp hiss of breath. I look down, and my eyes narrow into angry slits. There's a circle of dark bruises around her wrist.

"Who did this?" I ask icily.

"Don't worry about it. It's not that…"

"Sit," I say firmly. "Start talking."

She glares at me, but begins speaking: "I went to this bar downtown, to play some pool. It was fun, but then the guys started getting drunk, and this one really started to hit on me. I told him no, but he just kept on. Finally I tried to leave, but he grabbed me. He was really big, really strong. He…he called me a…a frigid little bitch," she wails.

I put my arm around her protectively, but inside I'm seething. "So then what happened?"

She gives me a watery smile. "I kicked him in the balls."

I chuckle and pull her closer. "Go Berkeley feministas,"I murmur.

"Are Mom and Dad and everyone back yet?"

"Not yet, luckily for you." I notice she's shivering, so I pull off my sweatshirt. "Here. You must be freezing in that halter thingy. It'll cover the bruise, too."

"Thanks, but I'll just go inside."

"Just take it. Besides, we're not done yet."

She sighs, but puts on the sweatshirt.

This sweatshirt feels like heaven. It's got that big brother smell, comfort made of detergent, cologne, wood smoke, and sunscreen. I really was cold, too.

"So. What's this about, Li?"

"What do you mean?"

"The halter top, and…everything. It's not like you."

What? Oh, boy, did he just step in it. "Okay, firstly, I am free to wear whatever I damn well please, and for your information I wear this and other similarly fetching ensembles frequently at school. It's none of your damn business. Secondly, where the hell do you get off telling me what I'm like or not? You don't know what I'm like anymore."

"I'm your brother."

"Yeah, well, you could've fooled me."

He looks hurt. Good. "What?"

"Sandy, when's the last time we talked, really talked?" He looks away. "Right."

"It's not like I don't want to talk to you…" he begins softly.

"Then why the hell don't you?"

He looks up, surprised. "I didn't think you wanted me to."

"That's not true."

"Well, you never seem particularly eager, so I thought I'd just leave you be."

"What?"

"You always seem so closed off when we talk. I didn't want to push things."

"I just don't, don't want to do anything wrong again. And I never figured out what I did the first time, so…"

He's staring at me, openmouthed. "What?"

"You know, when you…" I trail off.

He rubs his eyes tiredly, and looks toward the ocean. "Oh, honey, you didn't do anything, none of it was your fault."

"Then why…?"

"Because you were there," he says sadly. "That's all. It was just chance. I exploded, and you got hit with the shrapnel. It could have been anyone. It happened to be you. But it wasn't your fault."

"I always thought, you had to leave because of me. And, and…I didn't want you to leave!" I sob, and fling myself against him.

"Even after all that?" he asks softly, wonderingly, stroking my hair.

"Don't you know how much I idolized you? You were my hero, smart, and funny, and sweet, and always drawing me those pictures. I damn near worshipped you."

"I'm sorry, Li."

"So it hurt when you never talked to me about anything, besides apologizing. You never asked me about school, or drama, or threatened to beat up the boys I was dating. I missed that. I missed you."

"I just didn't want to hurt you again. I was so scared of hurting you again. I was afraid that you were angry at me, and I didn't think I could deal with the rejection, although I totally deserved it."

"Well you did hurt me, although maybe not in the way you imagined. I felt like you rejected me, like you blamed me for finding you out."

"Oh, babydoll, no. I'm grateful to you. You saved my life, you know that?"

I snuggle closer, and we look up at the stars. "I guess I was jealous," I say after a while.

"I'm sorry?"

"Of Darrah," I explain. "And no, before you start thinking incest, not like that. It's just, she makes you so happy, you're so comfortable together. I could see it after five minutes. You share things. And it just reminded me that you never do that with me anymore."

"So that's what tonight was about."

"Sorta, yeah. I wanted to piss you off," I admit guiltily.

"Listen," he says seriously, "don't do that again, okay? Don't run away from what's really bothering you. I've done it enough for both of us, and if it hadn't been for you, I'd probably be dead right now, either literally or figuratively. Sorry," he says as I stiffen, "but it's true."

"Can we not talk about that?"

"You read my mind. Enough's enough. Come on, Miss Tinkerbell, let's go make hot chocolate. I got you those rainbow marshmallows."

"You remembered?"

"Of course I remembered. What kind of big brother would I be if I fed you the regular marshmallows?"

With that, he turns and jogs toward the house. "You comin,' Tink?"

"Yeah." I'm Tink again. Yay.