Rating: Teen, I guess.

Disclaimer: Original WWers not mine.

A/N: Dude, I should totally send out distress calls more often. Thanks for all the reviews. This is for you guys. I know I didn't put in a lot of JJ and Becca, but they haven't really been speaking to me lately. Never fear, though. I am certain they shall break their silence. This may be it for a while; the film festival I run on campus takes place this weekend, so there's mad amounts of work to be done. I already postponed my Psych reading for this, although this is tons more fun. As always, let me know how you like it! Does it seem disjointed? I heart feedback, and the slew of responses last time is what got this longish bit out so quickly. So if you want me to hurry with more, you know what to do. Thanks, guys. You're the best. Oh, and the point values for Scrabble are not based on actuality. My apologies to any aficionados.

"Rascal. Six letters, thirty points."

"Huh. Well. V-i-x-e-n. Five letters, doubles on the 'v,' triples on the 'x.' Forty-eight points. So drink up, geek boy."

I watch as Barry takes a long swig of his rum and Coke. My birthday was this past Wednesday, but tomorrow's the first full day Barry has off. He didn't want to drink when he had to be at work the next day. So. Friday night. Scrabble, pizza, booze, and Barry. As he finishes, I grin at him. "Damn. I should have stipulated Strip Scrabble."

"Believe me, babe, you're not the only one who's sorry."

I give him my Cheshire Cat smile and lick one of the Tootsie Pops he brought me seductively.

"You better watch it, Slim."

"Do your best, Steve." Barry has a thing for old movies. He loves to just sit on the couch and cuddle while we watch, which is great, since I'm really not much of one for going out, usually. Except, he usually ends up falling asleep. He just gets so tired lately.

Judging from the gleam in his eye, though, he's not tired now. "No. Do not even think about it. Barry-arrrgh!" The pillow beats down on my head; I snatch one up and begin chasing him around the apartment. He's walking backwards, mocking me in between blows, when all of a sudden he trips, tangling up his long legs, and I pounce on him, tickling him hard. We're both laughing, when all of a sudden there's a knock at the door.

Laughing, with one of Barry's arms still twined around my waist, I stumble towards the door. "Toby!"

"Hello, Suzy."

I disentangle myself from Barry's grasp. "Wha…What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I was in the neighborhood." His eyes twinkle, although his expression remains stern.

"Well. Great." I cast a glance around the living room. It looks like a hurricane came through here. The table's covered with dirty plates, pizza boxes, and the makings of our drinks, there are pillows everywhere, and we kind of knocked over the unused Scrabble tiles, too. Turning away from this disheartening scene, I direct my attention towards Barry, standing rather warily behind me. "Oh, jeez, sorry. Toby, this is Dr. Barry MacKenna. He's a resident at the hospital. Barry, this is Toby Ziegler, an old friend of the family."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir."

"You, too." Toby takes in the scene before him. "Playing Scrabble, were you?"

"Yes."

"Good game, Scrabble. I happen to be in the word business myself." He cocks an eyebrow at Barry, takes in his shirt and boxers. "You aren't playing strip Scrabble with my niece, are you, doctor?"

"No, sir," Barry stutters.

"Well, what the hell's wrong with you?"

Barry looks to me for help. I'm mortified. This…this reeks of plotting. "Did you need something, Toby?" I ask sweetly.

He notes the syrup in my tone and smiles. "I needed simply to remind you that since Thanksgiving is coming up, and Barry actually has some time off, for once, and you made the mistake of informing your mother of the fact, that barring some apocalyptic disaster, you are both expected at the Lyman homestead for Thanksgiving. Your father is especially looking forward to finally meeting your young gentleman."

"I just bet. And he couldn't just, you know, call me?"

"He decided that this would be a good form of reinforcement. As the loser of a bet, the nature of which shall remain undisclosed, I got to do the honors."

"Hurrah for you."

"Yes. Well, I'd better crawl back into my academic hole. Suzy, honey, try and keep your head in the game. Barry, nice to meet you." He moves to the doorway, and I sigh in relief. But then…

"Oh, doctor? Remember, the night is still young."

I shut the door in his face.

"Now, if I know anything, I know that you can expect more abuse from the male members of my family."

"Suzy, really, it's okay."

"It doesn't freak you out a little?"

"I have two older brothers, Sue-Sue. There is very little that I have not seen or to which I have not been subjected."

"True. But don't say I didn't warn you."

"Deal."

I open the door, my excitement mixing with the dread of what might befall my hapless boyfriend within these walls. "We're here!"

My father bounds down the stairs. "Hi, Princess!" He hugs me and grabs my bags. "How was the trip?"

"Fine. Daddy, this is Barry."

"So you're the latest gomer, huh?"

Having been educated in LymanSpeak, for once Barry's not at a loss. "I have that honor, yes sir, dubious as it may be."

I pole him in the ribs, and he grins. I address my father. "He's a doctor, Dad, not a gomer."

"You're saying there's a difference?"

"Funny."

Oh, thank God, Mom's here. "Hi, Mom!"

"Hi, sweetheart. How are you?"

"Good."

"And you must be Barry. I'm so happy to meet you, finally. I'm glad you could join us. Your family didn't mind?"

"Oh, no. I haven't been able to get home for years. Besides, I'd much rather be here than at the annual MacKenna Football and Fingerfood Frenzy."

"Well, you're most welcome, sweetheart. Do you want something to drink? No, no, sit down, I'll get it. You look exhausted."

"Sorry. I came off a long shift early this morning, and I haven't been feeling too swift lately."

"Well, we'll make sure you get plenty of rest. JJ, honey, there you are. And there's my Sarah. Hello, angel."

I look up and see my brother coming down the stairs with his infant daughter. "Jay!"

He smiles. "Hey, Tulip. Sorry I couldn't get down here earlier, but Daddyhood calls."

"That's fine. Gosh, she's so big!"

"Six months," he says proudly, and jiggles her up and down."

"You look like your Daddy, sweetheart." She really does. She's got JJ's curly hair and facial features. "And your Momma's gorgeous eyes."

"She's certainly got her Daddy's temperament," cracks Becca, coming down the stairs. "Whine, whine, whine. Needs Mommy every five seconds, don't you, tadpole?"

"Becca, you look great."

You too, hon, thanks. At least I don't waddle anymore."

"Becca, you didn't waddle."

"Yes, JJ, I did. I waddled like a…well, I was too big to be a duck…like a goose."

"Well, let me say that for the record, this particular gander found it very enticing." He kisses her nose.

"Yeah, yeah, Merriam Webster…you just want extra pie. It's Chris. I fling myself at him. He's one of my favorite people. I eye his flowered apron. "Chris, you look so…domestic."

He strikes a pose. "I know, such a cliché," he drawls. "So where's your boytoy? I wanna see! Ooohhh, he's cute!"

And that, my friends, is the final acceptance of Barry into this circus.

Uh oh, my throat's scratchy again. Damn. I might as well get up, I guess. Little Sarah didn't help much either, cutie pie that she is. Apparently she doesn't recognize the value of sleep yet. JJ was singing to her last night; I heard him. He picked a nice hymn, I'll give him that. Speaking of the little angel, it seems like she's crowing already. I smile to myself as I put on sweats. It's not like I don't deal with this every morning, either, although not on a personal level. So I might as well give JJ and Becca a break.

I knock at their door. "Hey, JJ." He gives me a harassed smile. "I'm going downstairs for some breakfast. You want me to take her?"

"No, it's okay, man."

I look at him. His hair is mussed and he's a little stooped, and there are dark smudges under his eyes. "JJ, you're exhausted. I'm up, and I'm an Emergency physician specializing in Pediatrics. Trust me. I can handle a fussy baby."

"Well…okay. The food's in the far cabinet."

"Got it. Don't we, Miss Sarah?"

"Hey, Barry?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

I wander into the kitchen, yawning, and am surprised to find Barry making coffee. My granddaughter is nestled contentedly in her bouncy seat, gnawing on her fist.

"Good morning."

Barry turns quickly, startled, and in doing so bangs his head on the door of the cabinet. "Ow. Oh, hi, Ms. Moss." He reddens in embarrassment.

I smile at him. "Donna. Need some ice, honey?"

"No, I'm good. Thank you." He smiles shyly.

"Well, breakfast then? What would you like?"

"Cereal's fine."

"Boy, did you pick the right house. Cereal's a tradition here. Let's see. There's Fruity Pebbles for JJ, Lucky Charms for Chris, Granola for Becca, Cocoa Puffs for Suzy…Josh and I get the healthy, although he would say boring, stuff…Raisin Bran and Cheerios. So. What's your pleasure?

He looks flummoxed, and a bit amazed. After a bit, I say, "You know, why don't you just tell me what you like? That way we can have it for you for next time."

"Oh, no, really…"

"It's no trouble."

"I appreciate it, but…" He pauses, considering, and then begins to speak haltingly, coming over to rub Sarah's little shoulder as though seeking comfort. "I have two older brothers. They were bigger, and faster, and stronger, so they always got to the good cereal first. See, my dad owns a garage, so he always had to be at work early. My brothers had practice, and a generally early start, so a lot of the time, when I finally got to the kitchen, they were heading out. Mikey, well, he's got a bit of a mean streak; he'd always leave the fun cereal where I couldn't reach it. So I developed quite a fondness for Raisin Bran," he finishes, with a lopsided grin. But beneath the levity, there's genuine pain in his eyes. Somehow I don't think it's just about the cereal, though.

"Barry? What about your mom?"

"She died…when I was born." His tone is casual, but I can tell it's forced. "Mom…understood Mikey. And then I was there and she was gone and…" He busies himself with pouring cereal, adding milk, shoulders hunched as much as possible. All of a sudden I can see him, that little boy, in an empty house, carefully making himself cereal and eating it alone, then trudging off to school on his own. It's heartbreaking, and infuriating, and I suddenly want to wring his brother's neck. I wish I could hug him, but not now. Instead, "Well, what kind of cereal would you like to try?"

He turns, pauses again, and then gives me a hopeful smile. "Apple Jacks?"

I write it on the grocery list.

"Morning, loves."

Oh my god. Oh my god. OH. MY. GOD!

"Chris, what in hell are you doing?"

"Greeting the day, buttercup, greeting the day."

"May I see you for a moment in the living room, Christian?"

"Certainly, my little marshmallow."

I drag him out of the kitchen. "Chris, what is that?"

"A rather fetching piece of intimate apparel."

"Cut the shit. How could you do this to me?"

"Hey, Suze, just because your boyfriend's over doesn't mean I have to come down to breakfast in a three-piece suit."

"No, but you damn well have to come down in more than just a pair of red, spangly bikini briefs!"

"We-"

"And don't you dare tell me this is what you normally wear to breakfast, because we both know it's not. You're trying to freak him out, aren't you? Did JJ put you up to this? You immature, addlepated imbeciles! Don't grin at me, you worm! God, you two really are Dumb and Dumber, aren't you? Well, do me a favor: Go tell your little friend that stunts like these are not appreciated, and if he involves himself in any more I'll shove that smirk he's undoubtedly sporting up his scrawny little ass!"

"Temper, temper," Chris admonishes. He saunters back through the kitchen and leans conspiratorially towards Barry. "Sorry about that," he says. "The sight of me was just too much for her."

"Well, I can certainly see why."

Chris claps him on the shoulder. "Good man," he proclaims. He turns to me. "See, Suze? Barry sees why!"

Oooooohhhhhhhh!

I see Suzy storming out of the kitchen after an exultant Chris. I smile. Those two really are awful. I go into the kitchen, to see how Barry is faring, and find him suddenly staring at his cereal bowl as though it's some foreign object.

"Barry, honey?"

He looks up. His eyes are glassy, and his cheeks are flushed. Oh, dear.

Her hand is cool and gentle on my forehead. "Barry, you're going back to bed," she says firmly.

"I'll just take some medicine. I'll be fine…I can usually work it off."

"Well, if that's what you do, it's no wonder you're sick now. Your body's finally getting a rest, and it's taking stock. And you don't have the adrenaline to fight it off. So. Bed for you, Doctor MacKenna."

"Yes, Ma'am."

It must be wonderful to have a mom to boss you around like that, with that undercurrent of love and concern. My dad would always get concerned for me too, nights, when he was home, but usually in a gruffer sort of way.

Right now all I'm doing is following directions. Not giving them for once, or making them up for myself. Thank God. The sheets are cool, and she draws the blinds and tugs the covers over me, and smiles.

"Okay?"

"Yeah. Night, Donna."

"Sleep well, honey."

Poor kid. He does look "done in," as they say. I was all set to heckle him unmercifully for the duration of the weekend, but now I'll let him be. He stirs, and squints, sees me in the doorway.

"Josh?" He rasps.

"Ouch." I smile. "Something new, huh?"

He winces. "Guess so. Where's Donna?"

"The womenfolk are out embracing consumerism. So I brought your lunch. I know I'm not as nice to look at, but…Come to think of it, don't look at my wife. Or my daughter, for that matter."

"Okay."

"Here, eat."

Soup, crackers, Ginger ale. It might as well be nectar and ambrosia. "Thanks, Josh. I appreciate it. I'm sorry to take you away from your family."

"It's not that much, just soup and stuff. And don't worry about that. Jeez, kid, you're the one who's sick." He sounds affronted.

He watches as I begin to eat. I puzzle over what just happened. He sounded kind of…mad. That's funny. I always thought it was better not to ask my dad for things. It just gave him more to worry over, and made him sadder, somehow. I didn't want that, so I took care of myself. So this is…novel.

I know what he's thinking. Donna told me what he said this morning; I could see that she was upset. It upset me too, but I have a different perspective than Donna. I know what a loss like that can do to a family, as well as a thing or two about survivor guilt. They say girls often choose men that remind them of their fathers; I always thought that was total bull, but now it seems that Barry and I are more alike than I realized. Go figure.

I eat as much as I can and lie down again, exhausted. Josh takes away the tray and looks down at me with a searching, serious gaze. "What?"

"Nothing. Just go to sleep, kiddo. Everything's going to be fine."

He sits, and I close my eyes. A moment later, I feel his hand on my hair, stroking, stroking. I feel safe.

So I fall asleep.