Disclaimer, I do not own the characters to Calvin and Hobbes or Garfield. They are owned by Bill Watterson and Jim Davis respectfully. I do own Dwayne Miller and the Grays. Also, Violet and Klaus are owned by Lemony Snickets.

With the war over, there was no need for the great many rifles, ammunition, and cannons that littered the land. Much of it was collected and destroyed or melted down and recycled, however, Miller's Company stowed away their stash. Fanatics they were not, just cautious. Vowing not to disarm his company until Garfield was captured and dealt with, Miller made sure that they were ready for a sequel even though everyone around him dismissed such a notion. All over Muncie and Indianapolis, the townsfolk were retroactive in the good old life before the war. Buildings were constructed, roads repaired, and the forts dismantled and paved over with grass and wheat that grew high into the sky, feeding off the blood and meat of those slain and plowed over.

Residing in the suburbs of Indianapolis, Miller walked down the street in search of his place. His unit was temporarily disbanded as of yet to tend to their families. There was no need for them now. They Grays were gone and now, fathers and son were back again. To his shock, Miller returned to his home to find it still standing in once piece. Really a surprise considering several of his soldier's homes were virtually flattened as were his neighbors. Yet, no one had dared touch his. Walking through his dilapidated front yard, where crab grass over ran everything, he took out a set of keys and jimmied the lock. Placing one foot inside, his head turned to see three children standing in the driveway and one fat man with a derby style hat behind them...

"You are their new guardian" Mr. Poe informed them.

Sitting at his dining table, Miller looked at their faces. Each one. A girl, a boy, and a beaver of sorts chewing on the table's edge.

"Where are their parents?" Miller asked.

"Dead. I'm afraid" with a sad voice. "A fire"

"Whoops"

"I trust you can handle these three until they are of proper age where they can take care of themselves." Mr. Poe asked.

"I've handled men in the field" Miller responded with a smile.

"Yes, but can they handle you?"

Even though he was sole guardian of the Baudelaire orphans and militia commander, Dwayne Miller felt an obligation to both and spent as much time as possible to caring for the children. Though only twenty years of age, he was the father the children so needed. First step was to put them into school. Money was tight and unable to teach them himself, Miller was forced to place the children into a public school where he hoped they could sharpen their minds.

It rolled to a stop along the curve and the door swung open. A tall, thin man with a ruffled red beard and thick glasses sat in the driver's seat, holding with one hand the steering wheel, the other the door opener.

"Come on" he muttered in a low voice beckoning Violet and Klaus aboard.

Stepping cautiously up those small steps, he looked over to the left to see two rows of seats. A few were empty, others half filled with children about their age. None bothered to look up to see what new arrivals had come aboard, heads were down, looking at their knees or books, one was listening to a CD player. Three seats down, both were able to pick a empty seat and parked it. Klaus sat next to the window and watched as the bush lurched then rolled forward. Miller stood holding Sunny in his arms as they drifted past. Taking in a deep breath, he sighed and looked over at his sister whom looked back and cracked a smile. With very little in the way of money, Miller was able to afford the basic school supplies to fill up two small knapsacks for the orphans, it would have to do for now.

Arriving on school grounds, there were many, perhaps 100, children running about in the fields surrounding the main building. This school went from the sixth grade on up to senior year. Complex as it was with all this assortment of youngsters, there were only about 200 in all. Many families were still displaced from the war, some would come back eventually yet others will not. At the main door, there was a teacher, medium in stature with long flowing blonde hair bound up behind her head and bright blue eyes, she welcomed the two whom were unfamiliar.

"Welcome you two" she said cheerfully.

"Hello" Violet replied, Klaus remained shy and quiet.

"And whom are you?" she asked.

"I'm Violet and this is my brother Klaus. We are new here."

"Oh good. Where are you from?"

"Boston, Massachusetts" Violet replied.

"Oh, I have never been there. Well, let me see, I have a Klaus Baudelaire for our sixth grade and a Violet Baudelaire for our ninth grade."

"That will be us" Violet responded, Klaus still remained silent, eyes staring blankly at the pair of doors.

"Then if you will follow me, I'll show you to your classes."

Time passed for seven and half hours and we shift back to Miller's house where the former captain was tuning up his beaten and damaged car that he hoped to sell for profit. Sunny sat on a shelf gnawing on a screw driver giggling when he finally came out from underneath with a head blanketed in oil.

"I think it has a leak" Miller commented.

As he stood up from the trolley, two figures appeared through the open garage door. It was his two children.

"how was school?" he asked cleaning his filthy hands with an equally filthy rag.

"There's a weird little boy there" Violet raised an eyebrow.

"Oh really?"

"Yes, he brought a stuffed tiger and stowed it under his desk. All day, he kept whispering to it for answers."

"Oh joy"

Klaus though remained tight lipped. He refused to give out any information about what life was treating him. Ever since moving here he was quiet and evasive, no matter how hard Miller tried to be or coax a word out. Instead, he closed up inside his room that he shared with Violet and hid underneath his bed where he read by flashlight.

"What will I do with him?" Miller asked and he brought Sunny inside.

"He's just stubborn" Violet replied, "Give him time and he'll warm up to you."

For nearly four years, harmony hung over Indiana and time moved very slowly. Each day came and went like a year and everyone loved it, save one. Far removed from Massachusetts with Count Olaf, Klaus seemed isolated while his two sisters basked in the warm sun rays. He refused to know Miller or his past, laying underneath his bed reading or attending school. Supper was taken underneath a shut door. Miller was about all used up in trying to be friendly. The girls liked him, why not Klaus?

One day, the boy managed to pull himself from out from his fort and went exploring around this small house he called home. Living room, dining room, bath, no library. The only books there appeared to be that he craved were in Miller's small room. A simple bed with a closet, night stand with a small lamp, television on a dresser and a neat stack of multicolored books resting near some pillows. Seeing no one else around, Klaus approached and carefully picked the top one turned it over and read the title, "The Grays" Curious, he opened it up to the first page where, inscribed in red ink,

Captain Dwayne Miller, Gray Commander

The children already knew some about Miller's past from what Mr. Poe has given him, a soldier during the insurection and at first was reluctant to hand over the children in a hostile situation, but that descision was reversed over how rapidly calm was restored. Little did they know he was a commander. Wanting to read on, Klaus was interupted by the sound of a door opening. Quickly, he restored the novel to it's rightful place and crawled back underneath his bed.

Klaus was stubborn but could be over come with time and patience. Unlike foes from the past that could surrender or flee, the boy had no such choice. Trapped here just as in the mansion, he tried to hide away from tormentors, sinking into books, into an alternate world where everything was back to the way it was. Fantasy. That is what it was. Not real, yet he persisted to bask in the words of authors about alternate world, demons, and angels, unicorns, and castles. The whole, real, world was outside his window passing him by and not once did Klaus bother to look out the glass panes to see his two sisters playing in the green clover grass outside. At least for Violet, she was safe. Before this, she was almost married to Count Olaf whm schemed to steal the family fortune and banish them, but that plan fell apart. Could all of this be part of another scheme? Somewhere, Olaf will pop up again and try to trick his way to Miller whom would be too foolish to see through such cheap disquises. For Violet at least, her misery was over.

Then the nightmares began…

A shrill cry pierced the darkness one night. Charging down the hall, pistol in hand, Miller threw open the orphan's door to find Violet sitting on the edge of her bed, blanket draped over her shoulders and held together by one hand in front, Violet was sweating. Cold as it was outside, beads of perspiration were running down her forehead and sides. Another nightmare, the fourth in as many days, had robbed her of sleep this night. It has been a frequent occurrence in the Miller house hold for Violet to wake up screaming practically able to pin point the moment, 3:32 a.m. For what reason lingered in the minds of the once militia captain for the girl was evasive in answering. Aain, he would have to use his persistence as he had done on Klaus to break through this barrier. Children as they might be, everyone had a weakness. Unlike Olaf, Miller cared deeply for the children. After seeing such destruction, some of it by his hand, he wanted to sow the fields for a future generation that would solve their problems with minds and not fists.

Another night, another scare. Deprived of sleep for nearly a week, Miller finally confided in the girl to speak. Over a bowl of ice cream, she nervously played with, and Klaus and Sunny listening from down the hall, Miller asked what was it that would cause such a fright. It was Garfield and Olaf.

"Before that attack," she told them, "that set us free, we were forced into relative slavery. Poor food, rags to live in, filth and vermin were rampant while cleaning and worshiping the ground in which the two kings walked on".

Such was a case when a feast was prepared after the fat cat's arrival. Turkey with all the trimmings, mashed potatoes, butter, bread, cranberry sauce, wince, sweets, and desert. For the children, moldy bread and crumbs left over. A tear rolled down her cheek and into the bowl. Ther eare no words one can say that would make all of this vanish. What can you tell a child that has been through what they forsee as hell? One person's perseption can be different. Being a slave was hellish but so was a militia commander. There had to be a way for a twenty year old commander to become a real father, that would come when he learned how to cradle a child that was dying on the inside.