"Dad!" The wail was sharp and it made Cal's heart pound. He got up from the bed quickly, throwing back the covers and met his three year old son in the door way to the master bedroom. The boy was still in his pyjamas and so was Cal.

"What is it?" Cal crouched to the blonde haired boy's height, expecting to be shown an injury of some sort.

Owen held out his teddy with both hands and a trembling lip, his blue eyes wide and watery. He looked on the verge of a serious break down. And then Cal realised. Teddy was in two pieces. Well nearly. His leg was hanging off literally by a thread. "Teddy," Owen whimpered in explanation.

"What happened?" Cal sat back so he was cross legged on the carpet, relieved. He took the soft toy carefully from his youngest son and inspected the damage. It looked like a clean severance; the stitching had merely come loose.

"I was, and then the," Owen mumbled something else Cal couldn't understand and gave a vague wave of his hands.

"You were playin' too roughly?" Cal guessed.

Owen's lip pouted further, red and glossy, and he nodded reluctantly with his head drooped.

"Rememba I said you had to be careful of Teddy?"

Owen nodded again, leaning forward so he was kneeling on his father's leg while he inspected the damage. "Lewis said."

"Oh did he?" Cal mused. "Where is your big brutha?" He used a 'wh' question gesture.

"In there," Owen pointed down the hall to their bedroom.

"All right. You go tell him to come and see me all right? And then late-a we'll take teddy to get fixed."

"To the spital?"

"Yep," Cal agreed. He made a cross on his left upper arm with his right. "The hospital." Because that was where everything got better apparently. Maybe because they showed Owen the pictures of him in the hospital when he had been born pre-term; and Lewis talked about it a bit because he remembered back that far relatively vividly. Especially when they dressed him up to go in the NICU that time. And of course, Cal had to explain to his boys what the massive scar on his head was from, which most certainly involved a hospital. So hospitals made things all better.

"The teddy hospital," Cal clarified. "Go and get Lewis for me," he nudged his three year old again. Owen took off at a run and Cal called after him to walk. How quickly that kid forgot smashing his nose just last week on the edge of the couch because he ran across the room, tripped over his own feet and spilt blood on the carpet. Owen dropped to a trot and Cal could hear him calling to his brother as soon as he reached the boys' bedroom door. Cal got to his feet, taking Teddy with him carefully to his dresser, and retrieved a clean t-shirt. He was slipping it over his head as his eight year old came in.

Lewis was dressed, shorts and t-shirt, his hearing aids on, his light brown hair was unbrushed though and sticking up at the back where he had slept on it. The freckles across his nose were dominant in the summer months and he looked so much like his mother. He was getting tall now too. He approached his father, reaching out a hand to lean on his dresser, trailing a patter on the carpet with his big toe.

"Lewis," Cal turned to him. "Were you swingin' your brutha's teddy around by his leg again?" He hooked his index and middle fingers over each other and swung them toward and away from himself.

Lewis looked up at him, watching, calculating, waiting.

"Rememba I talked to you about that? How you were not allowed to do that because Ted is Owen's bear and you would break him?" He put two fists together, meeting along the edge of his thumbs with the back of his hands up, then moved them down abruptly and apart, like he had broken them in two.

"Owen did it." He used 'fault', a curved hand at his shoulder, pivoting against his body.

"And did you encourage him?" Cal moved his open facing hands in small circular motions.

Lewis twisted his mouth as he thought about the question, ducking his head to study his toe, still tracing over the carpet.

"Look at me," Cal drew two fingers from his son up to his own eyes. Lewis's head came up dutifully. "Stand up," Cal directed gently. He signed 'stand' and 'straight'. Lewis stood on both his feet and ceased his fidgeting.

"Sorry Dad." He rubbed a fist around his chest.

"Yeah," Cal agreed. "And what about Owen?" Open hands, curled fingers: 'wh?'.

"It wasn't me!"

"What about Ted though?"

"Aw, but," and then he stopped. "All right," he agreed. He knew better than to argue; most of the time Cal was merely looking for the boy to take responsibility for his actions. "Can you fix Ted?" He brushed the tips of his fingers on his right hand against his left.

"Will have to send him away," Cal noted.

"Aw," Lewis pouted. "Maybe Owen can use Snowy."

Snowy was another of their many soft toys, an albino frog, of all things. Lewis recognised it was the same colour as the snow that fell in winter, hence the name; not that strange for a frog after all.

"Go back and tell Owen he can borrow my bear for tonight," Cal made two 'K' hands, rested one on top of the other and moved them away from his body for 'borrow' and crossed his arms at the wrist over his chest, clawing twice for 'bear'.

Lewis looked up suddenly, blue eyes wide. They drifted to the drawer in the dresser where Giggle Bear had his home. Both the boys had a fascination with the fact their father had a teddy bear. Both wanted it. Neither were allowed. The bear was Cal's and Lily's but he wasn't sure they knew that. He hadn't told them. They just knew their father had a teddy and that was funny because other dad's didn't have teddies. In their household, it was Gillian without a teddy bear. She told them she cuddled up to Dad at night and she didn't need one.

"Owen can borrow Bear," Lewis offered, moving his 'K' hands.

"That's kind of you," Cal noted. "But too late. Can you take your brutha downstairs for breakfast?"

Lewis nodded a little sullenly. He had missed his chance to volunteer first and earn some extra brownie points to redeem for the destruction he had inadvertently caused in the first place. "Good boy," Cal planted a kiss on his head and gave his shoulder a squeeze. "Thank you for bein' a big brutha."

Not a good brother. He had encouraged Owen's teddy's accident that could result in an amputation. But he was taking his lumps and still going to look after the younger boy as Cal asked, as Cal knew he would. Lewis wrapped his arms around his father in a quick hug and headed for the door. Cal followed him to close it. "Oi!" Gillian called from across the room, emerging from the bathroom.

Cal turned. "What?"

"What are you doing up?"

"Owen came in. It looks like Ted fell from a helicopta." As he walked away from the door he could hear the thud of Lewis bounding down the steps outside the master bedroom door and the call of Owen asking him to go slower so he could keep up. He knew better than to try and do what his big brother could do. He had the scab on his nose to prove it and the bruise on his elbow and shins from where he had fallen down to the landing. Some lessons had to be learned the hard way.

"We were supposed to 'sleep in'," Gillian noted with emphasis. She met Cal back at his dresser. "You know," her blue eyes widened slightly for a second to express what her mouth wouldn't say.

"Yeah I know," Cal agreed with a slight smile. "But our three year old came in upset."

"Funny how he's suddenly our son."

Cal ignored her. "Can you fix Ted?"

Gillian studied the injury gingerly. "I think so. Might not be the best stitching job but yeah, I can at least sew his leg back on."

"Then we'll tell Owen he needs to be retired and on bed rest."

"For the rest of his life?"

Cal nodded. "If there's one thing this family undastand's it's that we're not all a hundred percent."

Gillian stepped a little closer to him, ran her fingers through his hair, brushing gently over the scar. Cal had scars, Lewis had his hearing loss, Owen had arrived in this world too early. Yeah they understood all too well. "Come back to bed." She took her husband's hand and started to walk backwards, tugging him along gently with her.

"I told Owen we'd take him to the teddy hospital today."

Gillian nodded. "Later."

"And I'll lend him Giggle Bear for tonight."

Gillian raised an eyebrow. "That's..." She paused. "A big deal." Cal gave a shrug. They reached the bed. "Now stop showing off about what a great father you are, and show me what an amazing lover you are."

Cal gave a slight smirk, his lip curling up in the corner. "Have you forgotten?"

"Too few and far between Cal," Gillian reminded him.

"I know," he almost sighed. "It's just."

"I'm not criticising," Gillian quickly cut in. "I'm saying... it's Saturday. Barring an emergency..." And Lewis was aware of what constituted as an emergency; someone bleeding, something on fire, or if someone stopped breathing and was unconscious. The door and phone were to be ignored. And Cal hoped now, there would be no more swinging teddy bears, or anything else, around above the head like a helicopter rotor.

"The boys are downstairs right?" Gillian was suddenly anxious.

"Yes, they're downstairs," Cal stepped towards her, closing the distance. He felt her stumble against the edge of the bed. "I love this by the way," he ran a hand down her side, over the light grey silk negligee she had gone to change in to once they had woken, before Owen had pulled Cal from bed too.

"And here I was thinking perhaps you hadn't noticed."

"Course," Cal practically growled, leaning in closer so their foreheads were together. His arm slipped around her back, pulling her against his chest. He planted soft kisses against her throat. "I always notice."

"Hm," Gillian agreed wrapping her arms around his neck. That was true. He always noticed. He might have scars, and maybe the occasional migraine, but he was not slow any more, he noticed, he didn't lose track. He was back. Gillian let her knees bend, dropping back against the mattress, Cal falling with her. He gave a little surprised grunt; their legs tangled and their hips pressed together.

Cal went back to kissing his wife's neck. "So damn sexy Gillian," he murmured. Gillian sighed, feeling her stomach squirm. Oh he was good.