Chapter 1: One Year Earlier

It was noon on a Thursday. Time for Yakko's pre-show ritual.

He had already showered. Breakfast had been a bowl of cereal with lactaid milk. He had read the newspaper. Done the crossword. Now he was microwaving water in a coffee mug that had a large WB logo plastered on it. When the water came to a boil, Yakko carefully took it out of the microwave and dunked a teabag in it, over and over again, watching as the water turned into a murky greenish-brown. He curled his gloved hand around the mug, enjoying the warmth and aroma of green tea.

He carried the mug into the dining room and stood by the window. He had really lucked out with this apartment: his view of Manhattan was marvelous. Laid out in front of him was the New York City skyline. Below, the hustle of humans and toons along the sidewalk.

Yakko blew on his tea, waiting for it to cool. He wasn't looking forward to going outside – it had that gray, sharp look of being bitterly cold. He rolled his eyes. If this was New York in December, he hated to see what January had in store. But for now he was in his toasty apartment, kept at a nearly uncomfortable heat due to a certain Warner sister's demands, cradling a steaming mug of tea.

He took a sip. The hot liquid poured down his throat in a comforting, familiar way. It seemed to warm up his whole body. Yakko had started drinking tea months ago at the recommendation of one of his new cast mates. Apparently it helped prevent vocal nodes. But now it had become part of a routine for Yakko, despite the jibes from his brother about it being a "grandma habit" and that he'd be "knitting afghans next."

'Have yourself a merry little Christmas…let your heart be light…'

Yakko rolled his eyes again as music from his neighbor's radio wafted into his own apartment. That had also become routine. The guy had been playing Christmas music since September.

A few flurries drifted down in front of his window, and Yakko wrinkled his nose. He hoped it didn't snow, both for his siblings' sake, and for his. Well, mainly for his. He'd have to walk in it in about an hour. Maybe he'd just take a cab. Again. He could hear the laughs from his cast mates now about his inability to handle the elements ("Need a space heater, California boy?"). Or maybe he'd just suck it up and walk. It wasn't that far from his apartment to Broadway.

Yakko shivered and took another sip of tea. He didn't want to think about going outside now, especially since the flurries had turned into full on snow. For now he would just enjoy the warmth. And the silence, he thought as he glanced at the clock. They would be home in a few minutes, and his quiet little oasis of calm would burst like a soap bubble. One of them would be making snide comments, the other would resort to personal threats. Yakko would have to step in before pies were thrown, or mallets brought out, or some other brand of toon weaponry was unleashed. Just last week they had been fighting with live cats they had pulled from behind their backs. Cats.

Maybe they wouldn't be so bad today. One could hope, right?

BAM!

"My head is not too big for my body! Take it back, numskull!"

"Only if you take back what you said about my ears, crapsack!"

Yakko nearly dropped his tea as the door swung open, revealing two skinny teenagers wrapped up in enough snow gear that they could go on an arctic expedition. He sighed. Oh well. It looked like today's theme was only shallow personal attacks.

"It's good to see that you two had a nice exchange of pleasantries on the walk home," he drawled, flicking off some tea that had sloshed onto his glove.

"Hi Yakko," Dot said brightly, then turned back to her other brother so that they were nose to nose. "Yeah right, you started it!" she snapped, then clomped her boots on the doormat to knock off the snow. Shaking a few flakes from her hair, she pranced into the dining room, even doing a pirouette before promptly grabbing Yakko's mug and taking a swig of his tea.

"One of these days I'm going to push you into traffic," Wakko growled, kicking off his own boots.

Dot stuck her tongue out him. Yakko snatched the tea back out of her hands and ordered, "Would you two knock it off? You're worse than an episode of Jerry Springer. Once, just once, I'd like to have a nice lunch with my angelic little siblings before I went to work."

"Good luck trying to do anything nice with Katie Kaboom over here," Wakko grumbled, shrugging off his dark blue jacket and dropping it on the floor. He stormed past both of them and toward his room.

"Wakko, pick up your – " Yakko started, but Wakko had already turned around in a huff, seized his jacket roughly from the floor, and made the return trip to his room.

"And don't slam your door!" Yakko yelled after he heard the sharp slap. He turned to his sister with a sigh. "Don't you think you two are a little too old for this?"

Dot, having already peeled off her mittens and draped them across the heater, was unzipping her purple parka. She gave Yakko an indignant look. "He's older than me! And he started it, he didn't tell me there was ice on the stairs and then he just laughed like an idiot when I fell! And nooo, who cares if I was hurt so bad I probably can't dance tomorrow, definitely not Wakko."

"You seemed to do that little dance in the kitchen just fine, my little crippled sib."

"Yeah, well," Dot huffed, "I was just testing my ankle, I think it's weak."

"Can't you guys just walk five blocks without it turning into the Battle of the Bulge?" Yakko implored.

"It's not my fault he's an annoying freak of nature – "

"Watch it," Yakko said in a warning tone. "Look, I don't want to hear it. You two better shape up your act or else. You're both old enough now that I shouldn't even be having this conversation with you. Don't give me that look, it's not like you don't know how to behave. Now c'mon, tell me about your day. How was class?"

"Good," Dot answered, sitting down at the table and curling her legs beneath her. "We talked about how Bernstein used Beethoven in West Side Story this morning, and then for dance we're still working on the dream sequence from Oklahoma!..."

Yakko beamed as his sister gave him the run down of her day. To his unending pride, both of his siblings had been accepted into Julliard's Junior Toon Apprenticeship Progam, JTAP. Not that he had any doubts, of course. While all three of them were talented in the performing arts, he felt that Wakko and Dot were especially gifted. Growing up, they had always been thrust into categories: Yakko was the singer, Wakko was the musician, and Dot , the dancer. But Yakko had encouraged them to be well rounded, and so did Julliard, apparently. He had been to plenty of their recitals in the last year, and they were easily the best two out of the whole very select bunch. Not that he was biased or anything.

Plus, it was nice to see his siblings excited about something since the move to New York. Even now Yakko still was not sure if bringing them here with him had been the best decision. But them being angry at him about a cross-country move was nothing compared to the thought of being apart from them for some indeterminate amount of time.

Yakko and Dot shared a lunch of sandwiches – roast beef for him, avocado and tomato for his newly vegetarian sister – and vegetable soup. He set aside a sandwich for Wakko, whenever his brother chose to resurface. Knowing Wakko's appetite, it wouldn't be too long. Grabbing his jacket from the closet, Yakko turned to Dot.

"Alright sister sib, I'm off. Don't come to the show tonight, because ooooh the weather outside is frightful," Yakko said with a glance in their next-door neighbor's direction. Dot snickered. "And try to play nice with your brother, okay? If you two do decide to kill each other, do it out in the hallway. I want my security deposit back."

Yakko leaned over and kissed Dot on the forehead. "Good luck!" he heard her call as he walked out the door. After taking the elevator to the lobby, Yakko looked through the glass doors and into a white wall of blustering snow. With a dramatic sigh, he zipped his jacket all the way up to his chin, steeled himself, and put on a brave face. He would walk to work. It was just a little snow. No big deal.

He stepped outside. Three seconds later, he hailed a cab.

Wakko flopped down onto his bed and patted his stomach. He loved the feeling of being full. Too bad it never lasted long; even after eating the sandwich Yakko made him, then eating another two that he made himself, he'd still be hungry in about an hour. Oh well. He was a growing boy after all. But he'd still keep his mouth shut next time Yakko wondered aloud about how they seemed to go through bread so fast.

Letting his tongue hang loosely out of his mouth, he sprawled out in a long, luxurious stretch, then glanced around his room. Dirty clothes were piled in one corner. Clothes that he had worn but weren't quite dirty yet were in another pile. Clothes that had been washed but he hadn't bothered to put away made up a third pile. There was a small desk along the opposite wall that was covered in sheet music, sketchbooks, issues of Sports Illustrated and Rolling Stone, and empty chip bags. Pencils and pens littered the floor along with other general odds and ends. It was a mess. Yakko hated it. But Wakko adored it because it was his. It was his room. It was a luxury he'd never, ever take for granted. After years of sharing a room with Yakko, he finally had his own little space. Some semblance of privacy. Not that Yakko had ever been especially nosy, but sometimes Wakko just wanted to be by himself. Plus, he could throw his stuff around and not have to pick it up. What was the point of cleaning if it was just going to get messy again?

Wakko rolled over and gazed out the window. The snow was so thick he could barely make out the other buildings. There was no way he was going to Yakko's show tonight. Not that he had gone in awhile anyway – he had the thing so well memorized he could not only perform Yakko's part, but probably half the cast's. Just thinking about the music made him bored. Wakko sighed again. No, it was way too cold for that. The weather was never like this in Burbank.

One week before his older brother had turned seventeen, Yakko had been cast as Marius in the first production of Les Misérables with an all-toon cast. He and Dot had been excited until they learned that the show was set to open off-Broadway in New York City. Wakko could remember the first time his brother had told him and Dot about it. That they might be moving. At that point it had been about two years since Animaniacs was over. They were still living on the lot, attending their toon education classes and just being kids. Wakko's first reaction had been disbelief. For some reason he had always assumed that they would never leave Burbank. He could barely imagine living somewhere besides the lot, let alone on the opposite coast. His life, their lives – it was all in California.

Dot had been outraged. "What about all my friends? What about Skippy, and Randy Beaman? Who else would appreciate my girlish charm but beyond-my-age wit?" she had cried. Yakko told her that she could still keep in touch with them, that they'd be back to visit, that she'd make new friends…Dot wasn't having any of it. She cried. She threw tantrums. She refused to talk to Yakko for a week.

While he hadn't quite reached the level of fury that Dot had, Wakko told Yakko flat out that he didn't want to do it. What he didn't tell his brother was that the thought of the move terrified him. A strange place where they didn't know anyone, a place where there was no Toontown, where there was no safety of the lot? No way. Yakko had let it drop, but the look of disappoint on his brother's face had made it difficult for Wakko to sleep that night.

A week later, they celebrated Yakko's seventeenth birthday and the end of Dot's silent treatment. It was a great time, all of their friends had come over. As Wakko watched Yakko laughing with Buster Bunny over a can of soda, he secretly hoped that Yakko would realize that all of this was too much to leave behind. Didn't he see how much fun he was having? Wouldn't he miss this?

But by the next week, Yakko was at it again. He calmly told them about what the move would entail. It wouldn't be permanent. Two, maybe three years. What was more, there was a chance that he and Dot could attend JTAP. Despite her attempts to hide it, even Dot had perked up at this. JTAP was a big deal to young toons everywhere. You didn't get better training than that. All the best toon performers came out of JTAP. Wakko had to admit that Yakko knew how to make a bargain.

But even JTAP couldn't sway Dot. Just as she was about to descend into another vow of silence, Wakko made his own bargain: Yakko could go to New York while he and Dot stayed in California. This, apparently, had been the wrong suggestion. Yakko and Dot both reacted violently: Yakko looked as though he had been slapped, while Dot shrieked that if she lived with just Wakko they'd both be dead in less than five minutes. It had been Wakko's turn to get mad then. He wasn't stupid, he could take care of both of them, he wouldn't let either of them get killed. They'd at least live longer than five freaking minutes. Just because Yakko was the responsible, parental one didn't mean he couldn't step up when need be. Why couldn't Dot trust him like she did Yakko?

But Yakko ended the ensuing argument, stating that he would not even consider leaving either one of them behind. They either went together, or not at all. This seemed to be the only thing that all three of them could agree on.

They had argued like this for a long time until Wakko spoke up again.

"Yakko, why do you want to do this so bad?"

Everyone had gotten quiet at that point. Yakko was looking away from them, his brow furrowed. He was collecting his thoughts; usually he was spitting out words faster than he could think them, so Wakko and Dot had long since realized that if Yakko paused, it usually meant he was going to say something of relative importance.

"I really, really want to do this," he had said, finally. "It's hard to explain, but I just feel like I can't give this up. I want to try new things, guys. I want to have new experiences, I want to see someplace different. I'm seventeen, and I have the means and the ability to travel the world if I want to. I don't want to stick around here, year after year, until I'm some has-been begging for autographs and trying to relive the glory days. I want to get on with my life. But you guys are my number one priority – I can't do this if you don't have my back."

Wakko hadn't said anything at first, shocked into silence over the fact that his brother had just kind of bared his soul and admitted to needing reassurance. That was a first. Dot seemed just as surprised as he was, staring at her oldest brother with a strange look on her face.

Then, Yakko added, "Also, I really like show tunes."

Wakko wasn't sure if that was to lighten the mood or just the truth.

At that point, Dot had straightened up, said, "I'll think about it," and disappeared into her room.

Shortly after, both he and Dot agreed to Yakko's request. The Warners were moving to New York City. They packed their bags. Said goodbye to their friends. Boarded the plane to JFK. Wakko remembered Yakko stroking Dot's hair as she burst into tears when the plane took off.

A shrill giggle shook Wakko from his thoughts. He rolled his eyes. Even in his own room he could hear Dot on the phone with one of her friends. For all her whining about leaving her friends in Burbank, she had the least trouble out of all of them when it came to making friends in New York. After about one hour into her first class at JTAP, Dot had burst from her cocoon of awkward preteen-dom and blossomed into the world's most zealous social butterfly. Within weeks she had her own gossiping hoard of girls to travel with in the hallways. And now, just less than two years since their move, Dot was essentially the queen bee of the youth division at JTAP.

Yakko hadn't suffered socially either. Les Misér-Toons was a smash hit and quickly moved to Broadway, where it was an even bigger success. Humans and toons alike flocked to the sold-out theater every night. Yakko had made quick friends with his cast mates, especially the female ones. According to him, it was wonderful being a guy in musical theater. For the first time in his life, it seemed to Wakko that his brother was enjoying acting his age.

He and Dot had gone to see the show more times than he could count. Dot adored it, and lamented repeatedly that she was in some horrible middle stage where she was too old to play young Cosette and too young to play adult Cosette. Wakko had to admit that he enjoyed the musical too – looking back on it, it made that one Rita and Runt sketch suddenly make a lot more sense. Plus, it was a hoot to watch Yakko, even though it was boring and gross to watch him get kissy-face with that one duck actress over and over again. He really looked like he was having fun up there.

Sometimes, when he sat in the darkness and watched his brother sing up on stage, Wakko wondered if he would do that one day. Yakko always looked so confident, so in control – performing was effortless for him. Even offstage, Yakko handled everything with a smirking self-confidence and charisma that seemed to carry him through life on easy wings. Wakko rarely felt confident or assured. Most of the time he just felt awkward and self-conscious, never knowing what to say or do that wouldn't make him look weird. He wished he could be just like Yakko.

But then again, sometimes he didn't. Sometimes, Wakko didn't want to be like Yakko at all. He was sick of constantly being lumped into the same category as his brother, or worse, compared to him. He just wanted to be Wakko, even though, when he really thought about it, he didn't even know what that would be. But still, he wasn't just "the other Warner brother." Didn't people realize they were different? That Yakko wasn't always the best and brightest?

"I'm good at stuff too!" Wakko burst out suddenly. Whoops. He hadn't meant to say that out loud.

"Sure you are," came Dot's muffled reply from her bedroom.

"Shut up," Wakko yapped, ignoring her giggling. It was true. He was good at stuff. He just didn't shove it in everyone's faces. He was top in his class at JTAP. And he'd be eighteen in less than three years, at which point he'd take his already guaranteed and coveted spot in the undergraduate class at Julliard.

This fact had been met to the general consternation of his classmates. Wakko shoved his face into his pillow at the thought: out of the three Warners, why did he have to be the loser when it came to making friends? If his classmates were ever nice to him, it was for their own gain. They either wanted an autograph or some magic formula for getting their own TV show. Whenever someone asked him about that, Wakko just shrugged and said to do what he did: have a talent scout spot you when your smart-aleck older brother's big mouth almost gets him beat up on the playground of an orphanage.

But for the most part, his classmates avoided him. Or glared at him. Or made stupid comments, like that he bought his way into JTAP, that he got his undergraduate scholarship because Bugs Bunny gave them a call. That was stupid: not only was it completely untrue, but as Wakko pointed out, he barely knew Bugs Bunny. They'd spoken to him, sure. Bugs Bunny at least knew who they were. But they weren't close enough for Bugs to pull any kind of strings, or for the rabbit to know that Yakko not so secretly idolized him. No, Wakko knew that he had gotten where he was because of talent alone, but no one seemed to want to acknowledge that.

Yakko told him that his classmates were just jealous. Part of Wakko believed that. It was with a great amount of grace that he managed not to laugh in their faces when he bested them every week in grades or rehearsals. But the other, larger, louder part of Wakko believed that it was because he was inherently weird, that he had never quite grasped how to successfully act with the outside world.

Wakko glanced at the clock. 4:32 pm. He didn't have any evening classes today, and Yakko wouldn't be home until around midnight. And it wasn't like he was going to get a phone call from some classmate asking him to hang out, like Dot did every five seconds. He was caught up on all his homework. The whole rest of the day was his to do with what he wished. Grinning, Wakko rolled over and pulled a thin, worn comic book from beneath his pillow. He traced the bent cover with a gloved finger.

'Mickey Mouse Outwits the Phantom Blot.'

One of Wakko's first stops upon reaching New York was the comic book store. He had started reading comic books when he was twelve; it was a hobby he rarely spoke of to anyone. He'd even drawn a few of his own, which was a hobby he absolutely did not speak of to anyone. He didn't want to get laughed at. But he couldn't help it: he loved the stories, the illustrations, the fact that he could disappear into their world for hours on end…

The classics were his favorites, like old school Warner Brothers, Disney, and Marvel. So when he walked into the store and found this gem, he had been over the moon. At this point he'd lost track of how many times he'd read it. In fact, he wasn't quite sure why he liked it so much. It was pretty obnoxiously Disney. Mickey Mouse was permanently stuck in optimism-mode, and only made it out of the adventure alive due to repeated instances of sheer luck. But still, this story was actually exciting, and there was some stuff that happened that really made Wakko think –

"Oh my God Patti, ask him, ask him ask him ask him! Or wait, no, I know, sing it! Sing it to him Patti, I'll die – "

Dot's shrill squeal from her bedroom broke up Wakko's thoughts. Looking up from his comic book, he yelled, "Yeah Patti, you sing and we'll all die!"

"Shut up Wakko!" Dot screamed, "You didn't hear that, did you Patti? Oh God, no, ignore it, it was just my idiot turd of a brother, he was dropped on his head as a child…"

Stuffing pillows into his ears, Wakko flipped to the next page.

"Great show tonight Yakko!"

"Way to work those golden pipes a' yours, bucko!"

"Catch ya tomorrow night, good job man!"

Yakko walked into his dressing room, waving to his friends and cast mates. "G'night everybody!" he shouted. A second later he realized that used to be a catchphrase of his and felt like an idiot. Hopefully no one noticed.

"Haven't you used that line before?"

So much for that.

Yakko turned around with an embarrassed grin. A gorgeous duck toon with a powder white face and blonde curls was leaning against his doorframe. She was still in her Cosette costume, with a white skirt that fell chastely to her ankles, but a bold red corset that, Yakko noticed, barely contained two of her assets.

"Oh, maybe once or twice. You know, whenever a situation got a bit too…adult," Yakko replied, and waggled his eyebrows.

God, he loved musical theater. Maybe a little too much. If Wakko or Dot ever decided to perform, he was chaperoning their every show. Luckily, neither of his siblings seemed to be having these types of encounters yet.

"Speaking of which," the woman said, stepping into his room and closing the door behind her, "I seem to be having some trouble taking off my costume. Do you think you could help me?"

Yakko grinned, a chuckle forming somewhere deep in his throat.

"For you, Rebecca, I'd be happy to."

Blondes. They were so much fun.

Boys. They were so much fun.

Especially when they were thirteen and could be wrapped around your little finger so tight it had to hurt.

"Oh Razzy, I don't know why you don't do more solos, you're clearly the most talented boy in class," Dot cooed into the phone, rolling her eyes.

"Ya think so?"

This was too easy. Tracing the patterns on her pink and purple bedsheets, Dot replied, "Oh yeah, definitely. I wish my solos could be as good as yours…"

Yeah right. It was more like the other way around. Dot knew she was the best in her class, hands down. If anyone else was half as good, they should be counting their lucky stars.

"Geez Dot, I dunno. You're like, really good. Everyone says you're the best."

Dot smirked. A nice ego stroke was good for you every now and then. But she couldn't get too caught up in it, it was getting late. Dot glanced at the clock. It was close to midnight. Yakko would be home soon, and God help her if he caught her up past her bedtime and on the phone, with a boy no less.

"I don't know Razzy, I could really use some he-elp…" Dot said in a sing-song voice.

"Well there's a lot of tutors at JTAP, I think Webber is free on Wednesdays."

Dot rolled her eyes. Boys were so stupid. Sometimes you practically had to shove their nose in it.

"I don't like Webber, he's cranky and smells like an old man. I need help from someone in my class, like, a really talented boy who I may or may not be speaking to. Right now."

C'mon, it wasn't that hard…

"Oh, well, maybe I could help you!"

There you go.

"Razzy, that's so thoughtful of you! I mean, if you insist, maybe we could meet – "

Dot stiffened. Her ears twitched, picking up the sound of keys fumbling against the lock on the front door. After months of practice, she practically had a sixth sense about Yakko coming home.

"Crap, I have to go, bye!" she blurted into the phone. In one fluid motion, she pressed the off button, shoved the phone under the pillow, flicked off her lamp, flung herself down onto her bed, and threw the covers over her body. Less than a second later Dot could hear Yakko enter the apartment and throw his keys and wallet onto the kitchen counter. She knew she had to be quick, because the first thing Yakko would do was –

Right on cue, Dot heard her bedroom door open. She kept her eyes squeezed shut, feigning sleep. Yakko always peeked into her room first before he moved onto Wakko's. It had only taken Dot being caught by her older brother once before she became a pro at anticipating his little nighttime checkups.

Hearing her door shut with a soft click, Dot sighed with relief. Another close call, another successful deception. She'd talk to Razzy in class tomorrow and explain what happened.

And then the phone rang.

Dot's heart stopped. No. Razzy couldn't be that stupid. He wouldn't call her back.

The phone rang again. She could hear Yakko's footsteps as he made his way to the kitchen. Crap. Crap crap crap. Who else could it possibly be this late at night? God, Razzy was such a freaking moron. Leave it to a boy to be so damn clueless. If Yakko answered the phone, he'd figure out that she had been up to something she shouldn't. And it would probably lead to a boy talk. Again. She couldn't take it, she had to do something. Disconnect the phone line? No, it was in the kitchen, where Yakko was. Tackle her brother, and say she thought he as a burglar? No, he'd probably give her crap about how she should've called 911 instead, or asked her why she thought a burglar would be trying to answer their phone.

Lunging out of bed, Dot made up her mind. She had to get to the phone before Yakko. Otherwise she was toast. She'd make up some excuse as to why she suddenly woke up to answer it – maybe she could say she was sleepwalking or something –

Dot burst out of her bedroom and hurtled down the hallway. Yakko was in the kitchen, only a few feet from the phone.

"I GOT IT!" Dot screamed.

Yakko only got out a "What the – " before she elbowed him out of the way, sending him sprawling to the floor. Dot all but leapt onto the counter, grabbed the phone out of the receiver and gasped, "Hello Warner residence sorry wrong number!"

"No, zees is not a wrong number, Dot don't hang up!"

Dot froze with the phone hovering over the receiver. In spite of the situation, and the fact that Yakko was getting up off the floor with a murderous look on his face, excitement was coursing through her. She knew that voice.

"Scratchy, is that you?" she cried.

Yakko, who had just opened his mouth angrily, blinked in shock.

"Yes Dot, eet's me, eet's very good to hear your little voice," Scratchensniff said warmly. Dot noted that he sounded tired.

"Scratchy!" Dot howled with delight. "I miss you! Why didn't you call us sooner? You'd love it here, it snows all the time and they have German food on like, every corner!"

By this point Wakko had trotted into the kitchen in his night shirt and boxers, looking curious. He sent a questioning glance to Yakko, who shrugged.

"Dot, I would love to speak to you much longer, but I am afraid I have to speak to your brother, Yakko. This ees very important please," Scratchensniff said.

Frowning, Dot handed the phone over to Yakko.

"He wants to talk to you," she said.

Quirking an eyebrow, Yakko accepted the phone. She had expected him to look as excited as she felt, but his face showed nothing but worry, even a small hint of fear. But before he spoke, he covered the mouthpiece and muttered, "You and I are going to have a chat after this."

Dot groaned and hopped up onto the counter. Scratchy hadn't called them in all the time they'd been out here, why did he have to pick the middle of some random night…now she was going to get in trouble over nothing.

With one final glare in her direction, Yakko put the phone to his ear. "Scratchy! Long time no talk, doc! You know it's kinda late in our neck of the woods, something come up?"

Unable to hear Scratchensniff's voice, Dot watched as Yakko's face slowly melted from a worried half-grin to a blank, vacant stare. He looked ill. Worry squirmed in the pit of Dot's stomach. What was wrong? What happened? She exchanged a panicked look with Wakko, who was gripping the counter very tightly. Yakko muttered a few fragments, words like "How?" "No?" "When is it?" "No, it's fine." "Yes, we can." "Tomorrow." "No, I want to. So will they." "Okay." "I'm sorry." "Bye." before he hung up.

"I hate late phone calls," he said darkly.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Dot breathed.

Her voice seemed to startle Yakko. He looked at her and then at Wakko as if he hadn't realized they were there until just now. Yakko swallowed once, and Dot noticed that his fingers were shaking. When he spoke, it was in an unusually low voice.

"Guys…sibs…Scratchy had some bad news."

Dot watched his face intently. Her older brother looked entirely too old right now. There was a frown set deep in his face, his ears sagged, his eyes looked vacant. Everything in the apartment seemed oddly still, as if it was waiting for the news too. She held her breath.

"This…this might – this is going to upset you. But you have to understand, this is life, it's what happens – "

"What?" Wakko demanded suddenly. He looked pale in the artificial light of the kitchen.

Yakko looked at both of them. Then, taking a shaky breath, he said, "A few hours ago, Slappy…she died."

Yakko brushed a few snowflakes off of a bench and sat down. His breath fogged out of his mouth in cold, curling trails. The snow had stopped by now. While a day's worth of pedestrians had turned it into a murky gray slush on the sidewalks, untouched layers of snow coated windowsills and doorframes of the buildings around him. In front of him was a large, empty ice rink. Beyond that was the immense Rockefeller Christmas Tree, its lights twinkling beneath a frosting of white.

"There's a grief that can't be spoken…there's a pain goes on and on…" Yakko sang quietly. He sang that song every night on stage, but the words had never burned so deeply in his chest like they did right now.

He had left the apartment after his siblings had gone to bed. Exhausted from shock and sorrow, they had both gone to their rooms after a short talk with him. They would speak about it more tomorrow. Or, more precisely, in a few hours. It was going on two o'clock in the morning at this point, and it didn't seem like he was going to get some sleep any time soon. Shivering, Yakko zipped his coat up further.

It being New York City, there were still a few people braving the cold streets. This suited Yakko, as he wasn't sure how alone he wanted to be right now.

He had always liked Slappy a lot. She had been great to work with, great to talk to, so knowledgeable about everything, and had a wit so sharp you could cut quarters with it. Slappy had sort of taken them under her wing in their early days on the lot, showing them around, introducing them to people. He wished he had told her how grateful he was…when had he last spoken to her? Why on earth hadn't he called her recently, just to chat? What was wrong with him?

Yakko clenched his teeth, fighting the constricting feeling in his throat. He decided that the cold was his punishment for not bothering to call his old friends, for not being better. But Slappy had just seemed so…permanent. Immortal. He knew that was a ridiculous notion; a toon could only live forever if he or she was drawn, which Slappy was not. But Slappy had just given off that undefeatable vibe. When Yakko had asked how it happened, Scratchensniff only told him that the details were sparse. But Yakko couldn't help but wonder about it. Even though he hadn't called, he was sure he would have known if she was sick, especially if it was this serious. Maybe Slappy had finally been right about her prediction that she was "gonna have a heart attack if another one a' those Disney skanks got her own damn show." Yakko chuckled at the memory, but then remembered that he'd never get to hear another one of her zingers and felt even worse. As far as the cause of death went, Scratchensniff said they could do nothing but wait to hear from the coroner. Yakko swallowed. He hated to think of Slappy in some kind of toon morgue, surrounded by other –

Yakko gave his head a rough shake. He shouldn't be thinking about that kind of thing right now. He watched the lights sparkle on the tree and switched his thoughts to something else. The viewing was on Saturday. That meant that he and his siblings would be catching a flight to California tomorrow. His understudy would be thrilled – Yakko had never missed a show before.

But for the first time in almost two years, the Warners would be back in Burbank. If it wasn't for such an unfortunate reason, Yakko would admit to being kind of excited. He missed the west coast. Not that the east wasn't nice, but everyone was wound up so tight here, and the weather seemed to be going out of its way to make him miserable. The cold was something Yakko had never gotten used to. He missed the sun. More than that, he missed his friends and old cast mates. It would be nice to see them again, no matter what the reason. Yakko hadn't exactly been the king of keeping in touch.

He supposed he'd have to call Rebecca and let her know he'd be gone for a few days. In fact, maybe he'd tell her he'd be gone for a few months, Yakko thought with a snort. No, that wouldn't work. He had to perform with her every night. While she had the intellectual equivalent of a fruit fly, even she could figure out that lie. She was a diva in every sense of the word. Yakko could take a bit of drama here and there – he was in theater for crying out loud – but one man could only take so much of the star's constant declarations that she was a goddess and thus should be treated like one. Her personality was about as welcoming to Yakko as a cheese grater on his skull, but damn, did she ever make up for it in the looks department. He didn't care if this made him shallow – they were just two people enjoying their youth, that was all. At least that's what he told himself. Besides, Yakko didn't think she'd bat an eye at his departure. He was reasonably sure that he wasn't her only current male companion. Rebecca would have company while he was gone.

Yakko was jolted out of his thoughts when the lights on the Christmas tree suddenly went out, their rosy glow disappearing from his surroundings. Looking ahead, the once friendly tree was now a huge, dark mass towering over him in the night. Shivering again, Yakko stood up. The Warners had a long weekend ahead of them, so he figured he'd start packing.

Hunching his shoulders against the cold, Yakko walked back to his apartment, wondering what could have finally brought old Slappy down.