A/N: This chapter, once re-edited, ended up being much shorter than the first one, but the next chapter, which will be much darker (believe it or not), will probably end up being much longer. Once this one's all said and done, I may owe you guys some fluff!

Bobby sat by the open window in the bedroom, his feet propped up on the desk chair as he leaned back in the rocker. His glass was propped on his chest, nearly full, and the room spun lazy circles around him, but he was still hurting. His arm throbbed mercilessly and his chest was burning. Rubbing a hand lightly over the gray t-shirt he had changed into, he winced and wondered if she had broken a rib this time. Mom...

He ran his finger around the rim of the glass, listening to the tone of its vibration. Taking a drink, he repeated the action, focusing on the difference in tone. He leaned his head back and watched the ceiling slowly dip and spin. It wasn't unpleasant. Shifting his hips as he balanced the glass, he found an almost comfortable position, and he drifted off to sleep.

Maggie dried off with a fluffy white towel while Alex put Tommy in the tub. She pulled on her underwear and pajamas before climbing onto the stool at the sink. Grabbing her brush from the counter beside the sink, she pulled it through her hair as she listened to her brother. "Mama, yook. Owie."

She turned and saw that he was pointing to a bruise on his thigh. "I see that," Alex answered quietly.

"Gamma do't?"

"No, honey," she said as she lathered a facecloth. "You got that at Aunt Reggie's."

"Oh."

Maggie brushed her teeth and stepped off the stool, quietly leaving the bathroom. Carefully, after softly knocking, she pushed open the door to her parents' room and slipped inside. She closed the door behind her and waited for her eyes to adjust to the dim light. Stooping to pick up Daddy's shirt from the floor, she placed it in the hamper. Looking toward the window, she could tell he was sleeping by the deep cadence of his soft breathing and the light snore that accompanied it. He didn't normally snore, but she'd heard him a few times, usually after he'd been out late with Uncle Mike.

She walked over to the chair and studied his face in the glow of the streetlight. When he shifted a little in his sleep, she reached up and took the glass from his chest. Looking into the glass, she thought by the amber color of the liquid it might be apple juice, but one sniff told her it definitely was not apple juice. She wrinkled her nose and set the glass on the desk. When she turned back toward the chair, her foot kicked a tall bottle that was laying on its side on the floor. She picked that up and set it beside the glass. The bottle was almost empty.

He moved again, shifting his injured arm and groaning. Stepping up to his side, she lightly rubbed his arm above the cast. He didn't react. He smelled like the juice that wasn't juice in his glass. It wasn't an unfamiliar smell, though it was a rare one. He didn't smell that way too often. Like his snoring, it usually only happened when he'd been out with Uncle Mike. Sometimes, she woke up when he got home. She never slept good if he wasn't home when she went to bed, so she would hear him come in. He acted kind of funny, but Mommy laughed at him, so she knew he wasn't sick or anything. He slept good those nights, too, without the restless dreams that disturbed his sleep. Mommy was the one who answered her when she came into the room on the early mornings that followed his late nights. She was glad when he could sleep. Most nights he didn't, and she knew that because she heard him sometimes, pacing in the living room or watching TV.

Reaching out, she ran her hand lightly over the area where she knew his worst bruising was. Leaning up, she kissed his cheek. Normally, she would crawl up into his lap and snuggle against him, but she knew Gramma had hurt him worse than usual this time. "Good night, Daddy," she whispered.

Stopping by the crib to check on her sleeping sister, she reached in to caress her tiny fingers. Molly sighed in her sleep and Maggie smiled. The room was cool because of the open window, and she covered the baby with her blanket.

Leaving the room, she pulled the door softly closed as her mother stepped out of the bathroom carrying Tommy, who was wrapped in a towel. "What were you doing in there, Maggie?"

"Nothin', Mommy. I jus' kissed Daddy good night."

"Is he awake?"

"No. He's sleepin' inna chair by the window."

Alex nodded. "Help me tuck Tommy in and then I'll tuck you in."

"Okay, Mommy."

She followed her mother into Tommy's room. Alex set Tom on his bed and sat on the edge of the mattress as she dressed him in his pajamas. Once dressed, he jumped up and hugged her neck.

Hugging—Tom had always communicated to the world around him by hugging. He hugged out of joy and uncertainty, sorrow and gratitude. Tommy had a hug for every occasion. But what made his parents smile the most was when he tried to distract an adult from something, like bedtime or something he just did not want to do. Because his adults knew exactly what he was up to, he was able to get away with it about half the time. When they stood firm with him, he always gave in, but not without the familiar giggle that was always ready to bubble up from his happy heart.

Once Tommy was tucked in, Alex brought Maggie into her room and settled her into her bed. From out of nowhere, Mischief appeared, curling up beside the little girl. The kitten had quickly learned to make herself scarce at bathtime after Tommy once decided she needed to be in the tub with him.

"Mommy?"

"Yes, baby?"

"Is Daddy okay?"

Alex sighed. "Yes. He's just upset because Gramma is so sick right now."

"An' b'cause she hurted us?"

"Especially because she hurt you and Tommy."

Maggie became thoughtful for a moment. "Will he wake up tomorrow?"

"Of course he will, but he'll probably sleep a little late."

She yawned. "I needa let him sleep, don' I?"

"That would probably be a good idea." She leaned down and gave Maggie a kiss. "Good night, precious."

"G'night, Mommy."

Alex turned off Maggie's light and went into her bedroom. She was surprised at the room's much cooler temperature until she saw the open window. After turning on the lamp on her nightstand, she walked over and closed the window. She saw the bottle and glass on the desk and, judging from the position of his chair, she knew he hadn't put them there. Crossing the room, she picked up the bottle to see how much was left. She slowly shook her head, wondering if she'd be able to rouse him and get him to the bed.

Stepping to his side, she ran her fingers through his hair. It had been a long, hard day. Physically, she knew, Tommy would be fine. Emotionally, she felt he would recover with no lasting damage. Maggie, however, would carry this day with her for the rest of her life, just like her father would. They were so much alike, and their similarities became more striking as Maggie got older. She still wondered how she had missed it for so long.

Leaning over, she gently kissed him. He groaned and stirred, responding to her. His eyelids flickered and he groaned again, raising his hand toward her face. She pulled back a little. "Come to bed," she coaxed.

His eyes were unfocused and he blinked to clear his vision. She gently pulled his hand and he tried to get up. It took him three tries because the chair kept rocking, and she tried really hard not to laugh at him. With her help, he finally got to his feet and stumbled to the bed, where he collapsed with a deep groan of pain. She sat beside him, smoothing back his hair. "All that scotch in you, and it still hurts?"

He nodded. "Hurts like hell," he murmured.

She rested her hand lightly on his chest, gently rubbing the flat of her palm over his shirt. "Go back to sleep."

He needed little coaxing to drift off again, and she sat beside him, watching him sleep, until she heard Molly stir. She changed her clothes and moved the rocker back over to the side of the crib. She lifted the baby in her arms, talking and cooing to her. Molly settled and began to root for something to eat, which made Alex laugh. Easing herself into the rocker, she relaxed and fed her baby.