A/N: I hate author's notes because they are usually full of worthless information, but I wanted to say a few things so I will keep this short. Firstly, thanks to those who reviewed. Second, there is a simple reason for the "rest" of the cast not being in this story: I don't wanna. Third, the world that I've created here is a world where toon shows are just that – shows. The show may or may not reflect who the toon actually is in his/her regular life; everybody has to have a day job. Thus, though some toons may have "been" with certain people in their shows, it doesn't necessarily mean that they will be outside of world. Now, that's just me. Every author has a different take on this, and that's what makes fiction so goddamned fun. Word.
Oh, and I do promise Dot will come in eventually, probably within the next couple of chapters. People, that's going to be some fun. I'm telling ya now. By the way, "Hot Chicken Sex" is a good name for a rock band.
Babs was surprised how quickly she and Yakko adjusted to life with a five year old boy. She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting, but she sure hadn't been expecting the one thing they found with the addition of Harpo to their household: peace. Babs watched with a mixture of amusement and awe at how Yakko seemed to switch effortlessly from a veteran toon lawyer to a father figure so easily at the end of the day, and hadn't even known he'd possessed the ability to do so. She had to keep reminding herself that this was the same toon who used to infuriate police officers with clever word play, risking arrest, just to make her laugh, and who once stopped all traffic in downtown Los Angeles just to climb on top of a taxi cab and yell through a megaphone that he loved her in front of the angry mob of drivers.
Yakko, on the other hand, was having the time of his life with his nephew and didn't spend too much time thinking about the how's and why's of he and Babs' sudden transformations. Neither he nor Babs had ever talked about or even privately considered having children, so it was interesting for him to observe the changes that went on in all of them. For his part, Yakko noticed for the first time in his career that he anxiously awaited the end of the work day just so he could get home to Harpo. He loved telling his nephew stories, showing him card tricks, or just goofing around with him all evening. Babs, always a big fan of any kind of music, found an avid listener and learner in Harpo, who couldn't seem to get enough of Babs' vinyl and CD collection (which seemed endless to the little boy), constantly bouncing up to her with another record or CD outstretched up to her in his hands, silently demanding music flow through the house constantly. Harpo was fascinated with the voice of Janis Joplin and couldn't get enough of the early work of Elvis. From watching Yakko and Babs dance in the kitchen to anything from The Beatles to Bob Marley, Harpo began to dance along with them, moving his little body to whatever beat he heard coming from the stereo. He loved it when Babs would take hold of his small hands and guide him through a few songs until his Uncle Yakko would saddle up between them, and, making like he was going to cut in to dance with Babs say, "Sorry little man, this song is mine!" and then take Harpo, not Babs, for a few spins around the kitchen.
From years of being young go-getters in the toon law world who despised days off for not getting anything done, both Babs and Yakko had saved up some significant vacation time and were now taking their full allotment of it for spontaneous days off taking Harpo to the beach or to the movie theater in downtown Toontown that only showed old comedy movies made before 1945. Harpo had fallen in love with the old flickering images on the screen, and demanded quite vehemently that they go to see every Laurel and Hardy short played at the theater, regardless of show time, and that Yakko and Babs take him to see the infamous steps in The Music Box, which, much to everyone's chagrin, were a broken-down shadow of what they were in the 30's. One Monday afternoon in May, Harpo finally got to see his namesake in action in Animal Crackers and had nearly burst for pride of his name. Yakko and Babs, being the vibrant extroverts that they were, had lots of friends in various places and it was not unusual to see a five year old toon sitting with a good looking couple in Toontown jazz bars late into the night, especially if someone was doing a Theolonius Monk or Bessie Smith set that night on stage. Harpo would and did listen to everything, but inexplicably the Beach Boys became his favorite and he would sing them to himself in the bathtub, much to the amusement of Yakko and Babs.
Harpo had changed as well, though not so much as to be unrecognizable. Though he was able to speak now, he only spoke when he truly had something to say instead of talking simply for the sake of talking, which was something he'd noticed was common in Toontown. Growing up in the small and dingy community that he had, Toontown had seemed like a magical world full of colorful people and vibrant life. Yakko and Babs seemed like giants to him, both in terms of size and personality, and he was awed with the kind of people they knew and who they would introduce him to. The parties that Yakko and Babs would throw were a varied smorgasbord of Toontown's intellectual and comedic elite, and they all wanted to meet the little boy that Toontown's best lawyers thought the world of. He laughed at his uncle's jokes and felt safe in the arms of his almost-aunt, and only thought of the lonely and sad life he'd left behind in Alballa when he would let his mind wander late at night.
One night as Babs was reading him Antoine de Saint-Exupery's The Little Prince, which had become his favorite book and what he wanted to read every night, Harpo screwed up his eyes tightly as he always did when he was about to say something he'd been wanting to say for a while. Babs caught this and halted her reading, waiting patiently as she usually had to when Harpo wanted to say something: he was not a talker, and each word that left his mouth carried meaning to it. Both she and Yakko had learned to always listen when Harpo talked, because he was usually saying something important. "Aunt Babs…" he started, still with his eyes closed. "Aunt Babs…are you my mother?"
Babs looked steadily at the little boy. "No, Harpo. I'm not. Don't you remember your mother?"
"It's all so fuzzy. I remember one lady. She yelled a lot and smelled like the cabinet under the sink. I guess that was her." Harpo looked up at Babs with big eyes. "But I can't remember much."
Though it had been six months, Babs was alarmed that Harpo was starting to forget his past so quickly. "What else do you remember from that time?"
"I remember…I remember there were lots of bottles. And the TV was always on. It wasn't like our house, Aunt Babs. We didn't laugh or dance or anything! I think I slept a lot."
"What else?" Babs whispered.
Yakko had overheard part of their conversation, and came in Harpo's room quietly and sat down on a chair in the corner. He smiled at Harpo encouragingly, who looked back at him with watery eyes. Neither Babs nor Yakko had ever prodded Harpo about his past, knowing that sooner or later they would have to answer some hard questions anyway. Perhaps this was the start of it. "Do you remember your dad?" he asked quietly. Harpo detected pain in his uncle's voice.
"Yeah!" Harpo's eyes lit up, but his shoulders quickly sunk as memories came back to him. Yelling. Lots of yelling. His father drinking that smelly stuff out of clear glass bottles. That tired look in everyone's eyes. The blue uniform that smelled like cigarettes. His father crying sometimes when he didn't think anyone saw him. Harpo swallowed hard. "But he got mad a lot. I think he was sad about something. Maybe about me. He got mad when I wouldn't talk for him."
"Why didn't you talk, Harpo?" The words tumbled out of Babs' mouth before she could stop them.
Harpo didn't move or say anything for a few moments, instead thinking intently. He clasped and unclasped his hands slowly, as if meditating on the question and going
over the answer in his head carefully before letting the words fall from his mouth. "I didn't want to," he whispered quietly.
"Why not?" Harpo shot Yakko a sharp glance, which made Yakko flinch a bit. He hadn't meant to hurt him. "I'm sorry, guy. You don't ever have to tell us if you don't want to. That's a reason you can keep for yourself forever. You never have to tell a soul; it's yours. Babs and I won't ask again, and we're not going to love you any less if you don't tell us."
Internally, Harpo was torn. He wanted to tell his aunt and uncle because they meant so much to him, but not even he fully understood why he had never talked. Words came slowly now, and Harpo found he had to concentrate very hard to explain himself. "See…back when I lived in the dark house…there were so many people. They were never the same. None of them thought I could understand what they were saying or doing…but I could…but since that's what they thought, they never…they never acted like I could…so I never said anything. I didn't know that I could…that I could…" Words were impossible to form in his mind, and although his aunt and uncle were listening intently, Harpo found that expressing himself was difficult now. The emotions he was feeling were different from the words he knew. They were more complicated than he had the vocabulary for. Tears started to drip down his cheek, both for his frustrations and because of the memories of that time. "There is so much that I don't understand about that time…I wish…I wish it wasn't like that. Everyone was very sad about everything and…and talking didn't make any difference…Daddy thought I didn't know things, that I didn't understand because I couldn't say them…but sometimes I understood, and it made me sad that he was sad. I was so sad that…I guess I didn't say anything…but I didn't mean to hurt him…I didn't mean to hurt – " By this time the small boy on the bed couldn't stop the sobs from coming even if he tried, and before he knew it his aunt and uncle's arms were wrapped tightly around him. He felt their warmth against his body and felt his tears soaking into their clothes. It occurred to him that he'd never cried before.
The three of them sat for a long time holding tightly onto one another until they heard Harpo whisper in a voice barely above a whisper, "Please don't ever leave me…promise we'll be together…please? Promise."
"It's a promise, buddy," Yakko said softly, giving Harpo a little squeeze.
"We'll always be right here," Babs said gently, smoothing Harpo's small tuft of hair. She kissed him tenderly on the top of his head. "We're never going to leave you."
"Don't leave me like they did," Harpo whispered again, clenching the two adults' now dampened shirts tightly in his small fists. He heaved a shaky sigh. "I wish you were my parents," he said in a small voice.
Yakko loosened his hold on Harpo slightly. "Don't say that," he said, his voice brimming with emotion. "Don't ever say that." Babs shot him a smoldering glance as Harpo looked up at his uncle in surprise. Yakko held Harpo's small form in the air, looking up at him. This time it was Yakko's eyes that were watering. "Your father is a good person, Harpo. My brother is not a bad person. He's made some bad decisions, Harpo, but he loves you. He loves you so much, buddy, and he'll be back for you someday! He promised!"
"NO!" Harpo screamed in terror to the shock of Yakko and Babs. "Don't make me go back there! Please, Uncle Yakko! Please, don't make me go back to the dark house! I don't ever want to go back there!" A fresh chorus of tears cascaded down the small boy's face as he struggled away from his uncle. Harpo took off down the steps and opened the front door, shooting outside like a bullet, with Yakko close on his heels, running as fast as his legs could carry him.
"Harpo! Come back here!" Yakko yelled, praying he could get to Harpo faster than Harpo could get to the busy street near their house.
Harpo, little as he was, could run fast and unnoticed in the dark. He shot through bushes and hedges, weaving in and out of lawns, setting off security lights as dogs barked frantically in the background. He didn't know where he was going, but at the mention of his father coming to take him back to his old life Harpo was too petrified to do anything but run. He slowed to a stop only when he ceased to hear his uncle crashing through the bushes close behind him. Harpo panted heavily, hands on his knees, tears still stinging his eyes. Lights filtered through the tears hazily, creating a bleary effect. Finally, annoyed at the lights' presence disrupting his short rest, Harpo looked to his left and realization flashed: those were car head lights and he was standing in the middle of the street.
Just as Harpo scrunched his eyes shut, preparing himself to be hit by three thousand pounds of steel in traction, he felt a strong hand grab the back of his overalls and pull him to the curb. He collapsed on top of Yakko, who threw his arms around the small figure. "That was too close!" he cried after a moment, rocking Harpo back and forth on the grimy curb. Harpo, shaking but unhurt, wrapped his arms around his uncle's neck. "Don't ever do that to me again, Harpo!" Yakko pulled him away to look at him in the eyes. "You and your aunt mean more to me than anyone else in this world, and I don't know what I'd do without either one of you. Don't make me find out. Ok?" Harpo nodded numbly. Yakko breathed a sigh of relief. "Harpo…" he panted. "I will never make you go back to that house. I don't want you to go back there any more than you do. But that house…that life…that was not who your father is." Yakko patted Harpo on the shoulder and nodded to him.
"I promise, Harpo: I'm going to show you exactly who and what your father is…"