Family Behavior.

-(1)- Additions, Chapter Two.

Carlisle peeled the glow in the dark cosmic bodies from their plastic packaging and stuck them onto the green walls of her baby brother's bedroom, taking obsessive care with their positions. Small stars formed trails for the larger ones, suns cradled by crescent moons and several planets here and there. Soft shades of green paint from yesterday's painting session stuck to her sunshine blond hair, which normally would've been an offense that would activate her obsessive compulsive disorder, but she either ignored them or was oblivious to their presence.

Lightning didn't care for the color, but it was the compromise that she had made with her husband. Like last time, they didn't agree on names—who names a girl Carlisle? Snow, apparently. And he had gone around telling everyone that "Carlisle" was her name and Lightning hadn't had a chance in hell of changing it—and they had made a deal that he could choose the bedroom colors and she the name.

That happened last time too, but in reverse. She wasn't sure how in the hell that was fair...

The soft, glittered felt letters on the door spelled out C-L-A-U-D-I-U-S... Which was as out of place as could be with the frame of cuddly firetrucks driven by fuzzy ducklings.

It was her father's name. It meant "bestowed grace" or something to that extent.

Lightning picked at her strawberry cream cheese bagel, licking her thumb in boredom as she watched her daughter flitter around the house. She wanted to help Carlisle, honestly. But Lightning had no stamina, which was unusual for her normally, but was a constant for each of her pregnancies. She spent more time napping in the living room—and eating—than she did working.

Of course, Snow—being the caring, excuse-making jackass he was—always said that he didn't blame her, she was carrying a human being inside of her, usual "I can't relate to you because even though I was as involved as you—even more so, because I effing plotted—in creating our son, I'm not the one being sapped of my essence for two-thirds of the year so I'll make excuses for you" husband bull that pissed her off.

But she didn't have the energy to punish him for that offense.

Whatever stamina and strength deficit Lightning had, Claudius had plenty. He kicked her like a maniac and at the worst possible times; henearly broke her rib when he kicked—hard—while she was walking down the stairs. He didn't like cinnamon, eggs or meat. He craved cream, sugar, chocolate and salt. Lucky, she could find things that fit those categories all at once. Cue open bag of caramel-chocolate covered pretzels on the counter...

She would be diabetic by the time this was boy was out of her.

Carlisle stole one from the bag, earning a venomous glare from her mother with an accompanying snarl. "Don't eat my snacks, Carlisle." She warned.

Carlisle blinked, already on the other side of the room, with the pretzel stuck in her mouth. "Mommy, you're acting really weird," the girl mumbled through the bite.

Lightning slapped her head against the counter, her clammy forehead refreshed by the cooling stone. "Leave me alone, Carlisle." She moaned to the marble. "I'm not feeling it today. Eat something else."

Carlisle appraised her mother from her corner, her eyes searching for the answer to the awkward questions that came with having multiple children. Her mother's distended belly seemed to grow by the day, her entire form becoming rounder until she had to buy new clothes, loose and airy things made of stretchy fabrics. The jeans she had found in her mother's drawers had some strange extra fabric that looked like it would swaddle her mother's bump.

Strange things, but she didn't want to ask her parents about them because when she asked about where this baby was coming from—or how it even got there—her parents had become extremely awkward and stumbled over each other.

Lightning hadn't wanted another child, so she hadn't thought this conversation would never happen. And, as such, she had never prepared for this, even though it was a part of growing up. She herself had never done it because she hadn't been as inquisitive as Carlisle was.

By the time Lightning had looked up again, her daughter was in the refrigerator. She came out with a small container of raspberry yogurt and had a spoonful of it in her mouth before Lightning could blink.

That speed—that speed that Carlisle used so naturally—unnerved Lightning every time. What experiences from her—and Snow's—own shadowed past had carried over into her daughter's DNA? Which dark powers had Carlisle been mutated with? L'Cie? Etro's? Bhunivelze's?

The problems came from the fact that they just didn't know. And that she didn't know which was the worst out of each. Or if Claudius would be the same.

Carlisle seemed relatively normal, at least for now, but what would happen as she reached maturity? What latent talents would appear?

What kind of a life was she dooming them to?

Her emotions, weak and frayed, burst at the seams and trickled down her cheeks.

Tears. The signs of weakness.

When did she become so damn hormonal? So pathetic? She had become the very thing she abhorred, a weak woman who cried at the smallest uncertainties.

Damn her ovaries.

No. Damn Snow for making her this way a second time.

Carlisle had her arms around her quivering form, on her tiptoes and her face in her mother's hair. "Mommy...?" She muttered as she hugged her. "What's wrong?"

What could she tell her? Lightning's and Snow's pasts were the fairy tales that parents told their children. Carlisle was a child of the new world, never exposed to the darkness.

She whispered, her lips brushing the counter. "Sorry... I'm sorry..."

Carlisle frowned in confusion. "About what?"

What could she tell her...?

Her teeth bit down on her lips. Her spine became lead and her eyes as marble as the counter. She sat up abruptly, making Carlisle squeak in surprise and jolt back.

"Go finish Claudius' room," the woman ordered coldly, avoiding Carlisle's childish and wide eyes. They were embarrassed, wondering what they had done wrong. Carlisle knew her mother didn't like physical, emotional or public displays of affection, but Lightning never got angry at her.

The pale blond girl paused, her blue eyes analyzing her mother in the way she did everything she didn't understand.

"Carlisle," Lightning snapped, finally meeting her daughter's eyes. "Do as I say."

And the child was gone.

Guilt overtook her the second Carlisle's—Lightning's own—eyes weren't staring into hers. She knew that she shouldn't be so cold to her daughter, her gentle, sweet daughter who was bashful to the point of not leaving the house because she just couldn't some days. Carlisle didn't fight anyone or anything, so Lightning knew that her sudden cold snap would be in her head all day, perhaps for the rest of her life.

Hooray, she physiologically scarred her daughter. Why the hell was she such a horrible mother?

Claudius, apparently bored, kicked her out of her sadness. She gasped in surprise at the suddenness of this action.

"Don't... even..." She locked her teeth as she hissed. "Don't even start, little boy. I'll give you food. Just leave me alone."

He kicked again, annoyed with her. Did he understand her pain? Was he trying to force her to stop feeling like crap in the only way he knew?

Lightning growled in frustration. "Just stop, okay?!"

His voice came, surprised and confounded.

"Are you... Talking to me, the baby or yourself?"

She whirled and Snow stood there, a look of extreme confusion on his handsome face and matching brown bags in his arms. They were small and he was back far too quickly. He must've forgotten half of the list, the jerk.

In a moment of her being completely senile, she hoped that Claudius would have his expressive and kind face.

The blankness in her mind must've been on her face because Snow's confusion contorted into worry. Worry for his wife, daughter and unborn son.

"Light? What's wrong?"

Lightning snorted, rolling her eyes and Snow relaxed. "You panic too much. You don't think I can take care of us when you're gone? That's sexist."

"You're pregnant!"

"That doesn't mean I can't fight."

Snow rolled his eyes and waltzed past her to place the bags onto the counter. "Not going to fight with you."

She grinned, crossing her arms as she leaned against the counter. Claudius kicked in protest but she mentally told him to shut up. "Because you'd lose."

Snow turned on her and she twitched at the intensity in his eyes. "Who were you talking to?"

Lightning adverted her eyes in that way he knew she did when she was either lying or unwilling to speak.

He sighed reservedly, unpacking the groceries while he glared at her from the corner of his eye.

"...Why do you call him 'the baby'?" Lightning asked, changing the subject quickly. "We agreed on Claudius."

"I never agreed to that!" He had liked Gavin.

"And I never agreed to Carlisle," Lightning snapped, but she was inwardly glad that her distraction was working. "You just effed me over and lied to everyone that that was her name."

"And yet, you love it."

"Shut up."

Snow sighed heavily, annoyed. He knew what she was doing. "You want to tell me what you were yelling about?"

Damn it.

"He was kicking me." The second that sentence came out, she knew exactly how childish it sounded.

Snow fixed her with a look. "And... What can we do about it?"

She glared at him. "'We'? 'We'? There is no damn 'we' in this. I'm the one carrying your damn demon son."

Snow winced. "Anything else?"

"Did you get me anything to eat? Like that ice cream I wanted?"

During pregnancy, eating was her way to forget her emotional guilt.

He catalogued the number of times she had changed the subject and made a point to harass her about it later. Snow tossed the pint container at her and it went wide of her. Lightning reacted to the dull thunk slowly, blinking before responding.

His eyebrow raised. "Lightning...?"

She scooped it up quickly, noting the worry in his voice. "Thank you for that." She spat bitterly, cradling the container to her chest with the crook of her elbow. That look in his eyes made her uncomfortable. It was like he was trying to see into her soul and she didn't like it.

She blushed softly when she saw them moving up and down, scanning her form.

"Go away," she snapped, disappearing into the living room with her pint of ice cream.

Snow scoffed and his eyes found Lightning's abandoned lunch. As he reached for those—expensive—pretzels, Carlisle appeared and had the bag in her arms in a second.

"Hi, dad." She said before he heard her footsteps on the stairs.

Snow realized that she had been listening from the landing upstairs and heard her mother's departure. And everything before.

How many other conversations had she heard?

(-)-()-(-)-()-(-) May 30th to May 30th, 7 at night.

FWAAAAATTTT? I've written this in one day? Lol, you can tell. So this took a really dark turn! Dun, dun, dunnnnn! The side effects of Lightning's life won't be fully talked about in this—because I'm lazy—because of the other story I'm working on but I wanted to get this in somehow. "Creation Reborn" will be coming in about a month, and it will be mostly about Carlisle—and the OC's I'll make up as I go—and Bhunivelze and other peeps. Basically, I'm writing a new Final Fantasy game. XD, my sister called it "Final Fantasy XX written by a sixteen year old and it's better than the ones made by the professionals."

Ha ha.

She's lying.

XD, Lightning's becoming diabetic. My mom nearly got diabetes when she was preggers with my younger twin bothers, eating every doughnut, cake and candy in sight like a BOSS. A pregnant boss.

So the funny story about Carlisle's name is that Snow lied, essentially. Husbands of the world, that's how you get your kid named what you want. Take notes.

I don't know how a woman is supposed to look or act at certain stages of pregnancy so I didn't bother with saying how far in she is. If you can give me some pointers, I'll 'preciate it.

Jeez! What does this house look like?! God, I don't know! I just made it up as I went! Two story houses aren't supposed to be on the beachfront! Grahhhhhhhhhhhh... I've failed, o universe. I don't know climates... Wah.

So... You're a creeper, Carlisle...? Ewwwwkay... (She wanted those pretzels, Harrrr.) The way she does this is the same way me and my brothers and sisters learned everything about our parents private biz. Carlisle doesn't do it on purpose, it just haps ya know?

I use too many words. God flan it.

Toast Writer. Get the buttah!