Dot was chasing Wakko through the water tower, her feet slapping against the wooden floorboard beneath her, getting closer and closer to him, determination coursing through her. She had to take back that cookie. She just had to.

Before this, she had been rummaging around the kitchen in search of a savory sweet snack when lo and behold a giant, a chocolate chip cookie had seemingly appeared from out of nowhere in the mostly empty refrigerator. Why anyone would put a cookie in a refrigerator she didn't know, but frankly in the moment she hadn't cared, much too happy to give it a second thought. But her happiness soon came crashing down as Wakko appeared behind her, his eyes shining with excitement at the cookie in her gloved hand and before she could even count to three he had snatched it from her.

What a jerk! she had thought, What a douche canoe! What a sleazeball! After that she threw herself into a sprint, determined to get the cookie back.

"Wakkorino Willow Warner, give me back my cookie or so help me I will bring down my wrath upon you!" Dot yelled, waving a fist in the air. "Don't think I won't!" But, of course, Wakko continued running from her.

Boys .

Go fig.

"No!" Wakko shouted back. "My cookie now!" She saw him clutch the giant, chocolate chip cookie closer to himself. Wakko's baggy, pale blue sweater billowed in the air as he ran, his tail swishing from side to side.

Dot rolled her eyes and let out a loud, high-pitched growl, lashing her tail in response. Frustration coursed through her as she chased him into the living room. Ink roared in her ears as she dipped into her Toon powers and sped up, readying herself to leap onto Wakko.

"Last chance, brother 'o mine. Give up the cookie or I will cannonball you!"

But before Wakko could answer back and before Dot could leap onto him, Yakko appeared seemingly out of nowhere and caught Wakko. Wakko screamed and it was cut off as Yakko held him close; a wide, easy-going grin on his face.

"C'mon baby bro, give the cookie back to Dot before she squashes you flat," he said, his voice full of warmth and love. "You know how she gets when someone steals food from her."

Dot stalked over to the pair, letting a self righteous smile tug at her mouth. Oh this was going to be too good. She savored the moment, internally grateful that Yakko had ruined Wakko's plan.

"That's right, Wakko. You heard our dearest elder brother." Dot said in a sugary sweet voice. "Give up the cookie or face my wrath!"

Wakko looked from Yakko to her and back again, giving them both a wilting look. "Do I really gotta do it, Yakko?" he asked softly.

Yakko shrugged. "Afraid so, baby bro." When Wakko frowned, he added, "Hey now, turn that frown upside down. I gotta go out here in a bit anyways, I'll get ya a cookie from that really cool Toon-friendly bakery, sound good?"

Dot raised a brow, utter confusion muddling around in her mind. Did her brother really just say that he had to go out? And at this hour no doubt?

"What do you mean you gotta go out?" she asked.

Yakko crossed his arms across his chest and huffed a sigh. "Okay so like, T.P. called earlier and was all like you have to come down to the studio around nine because the censors can't handle some joke you said , yadda yadda blah blah blah you get the picture," Yakko punctuated the point with a thumbs down and a very mature raspberry blown.

"Well, that sucks," Wakko interjected.

Dot snickered. Wakko was, as always, very short, blunt and to the point when he wanted to be. It was one of those things that she really appreciated and loved about him, even if it did get on her nerves just a tad bit.

"Uhhhh, it'll be alright." Yakko shrugged, looking as relaxed as he usually was. "I'm more worried about you two burning down the tower while I'm gone."

Dot placed a hand against her chest, letting utter fake shock on her face. How dare her eldest brother think that she would burn down their only home! The only thing she had and would ever burn were those stress balls that Dr. Scatchansniff would give her during their therapy sessions together.

She was readying herself to speak up but Wakko beat her to the punch. "Hey! Dot and I aren't so bad." He blinked and added, "Unless we fight over food."

"Which is like, all the time," Dot managed to chime in and Wakko gave her a knowing smile. "So, I guess we could make a truce while you're gone? No food until you come back?"

Wakko hummed and turned back to Yakko. "How long did y'say you were gonna be gone?"

"Uhhhh….like maybe…" Yakko tapped his chin, his face screwed up in deep thinking. Then he glanced down at the comically large watch strapped around his wrist. "Thirty minutes to an hour? That's my guess anyways."

Wakko sighed. "I guess I can go that long without food." He crossed his arms across his chest, pouting. "Although, I'm not gonna like it!" he declared dramatically.

"Same here." Dot stuck out a hand and Wakko reluctantly shook it, sealing the deal. "Okay Yakko, we're good now. You can go off to your boring meeting with Plotzy."

Yakko rolled his eyes, although a glint of humor shined in them. "I'll be back as quick as you can say Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious."

"Oh Ruegger , Yakko if you say that again then Mickey Mouse himself is gonna come crashing through the door and demand we give him money for daring to reference a Disney song again!" Dot deadpanned, giving him a withering look. "Besides, don't you remember what happened last time? Y'know, that one Toon that showed up on his behalf?"

Yakko's grin practically slid off his face, his mouth forming into a tight line. Dot smirk grew as she saw him try to hide the cherry red blush that spread across his cheeks; the little hearts that popped up above his head.

"Wow, you're as red as a cherry!" Wakko pointed out, smiling. "You must've really liked Max!"

"Alright, that's it, enough of Max," Yakko said, his voice wavering with obvious embarrassment. "I'm leaving. C'mere and give me a hug and save all the snark for when I get back, 'kay?"

Dot clamped down on her laughter long enough to hug him. Wakko shot her a devious look as he hugged Yakko too and Dot stuck her tongue out at him, knowing that he too was trying to hide his laughter.

After a moment or two, Yakko pulled away from her and Wakko, albeit reluctantly, and left. The moment that the big, shield-shaped door slammed closed was the moment that Dot turned to Wakko and said, "Wanna play a game?"

"Ooooh, like go fish?"

Dot hummed. "Maybe. But I was thinking more like hide and seek."

"What about go fish and seek?"

"You make absolutely no sense sometimes."

"I know," Wakko said warmly. "I like to confuse you. You're so serious, Dot! Sometimes I wonder if you'll get stuck in your head and never come out."

"If that ever happens, Wakk, you've got my full permission to go inside my head and drag me out."

Wakko smiled. "Sure thing, sis!"


After an hour or two of playing Wakko's weird mash up game of Hide and Sneak and Go Fish, Dot finally admitted just how exhausted she felt. It had felt as if her limbs had been replaced by lead. To which Wakko had lifted up her arm and said that it wasn't lead. Dot had lightly smacked him on the head for that.

Now, Dot was lounging on the couch, a tall, ice-cold glass of water clutched in her left hand and the TV remote clutched in her right hand. She was trying her hardest to find a movie to watch to fall asleep to but so far no such luck. All that was on at the time were old, black and white, soap operas.

"Blah, blah, blah," she finally said, frustration leaking into her voice. "This sucks." With an irritated snort she threw the remote behind herself and flopped back against the couch, her eyelids feeling heavier and heavier with every second that passed.

Guess it wouldn't hurt to close my eyes for a moment… was the last thing that came to her mind as she closed her eyes and promptly fell into a deep sleep. Unbeknownst to her, Wakko lingered in the doorway that led into the kitchen. He stared at her as the gears in his head turned.

Dot's never fallen asleep this early , he thought, I wonder what could be bothering her…

After a moment or two, Wakko finally turned and entered the kitchen, determined to at least drink some iced tea. Leaving his baby sister behind on the couch, tucked deep into dreamland.


Dot's dream started out relatively normal.

She found herself in an achingly familiar house; the living room of said house to be more precise. There was a soft gray carpet beneath her feet, those fading sky blue walls stared back at her, and that worn-in black leather couch was in the corner of her vision.

And on that couch, sat Lon. She turned her head, unable to hide the shock on her face. He looked much the same as she had last seen him—forcing her to realize that sixty years had passed by since then—wearing that same dark blue suit and dress pants, his green eyes focusing on the book of crossword puzzles clutched in his hands.

"D-Dad?" Dot took a shaky step towards him. "Is that really you?" She couldn't believe it—refused to believe it. The dream felt so real, as if she was back in that old house, surrounded by the love and warmth it used to radiate.

Lon smiled. "Yes, sweet child o' mine, it's me." He reached over, patting the spot next to him, and Dot took it without hesitation. She yearned to be close to him, even if it was just a dream, she couldn't resist the feeling.

A big smile tugged at Dot's lips and she let it show as she snuggled up close to Lon. Her animator. Her amazing dad. Happiness radiated in her chest as she leaned her head against his shoulder.

"Dad?"

"Yes, sweetie?"

Dot allowed herself to listen to the scratches of pencil against paper before replying, "I-I missed you. Did you miss me?" she swallowed hard and began to twiddle her fingers. "Are you proud of me? I-I've tried being a good girl—a feminine girl." The happiness slowly wilted as she said the last word.

Her gaze flicked to the carpeted floor, waiting for his answer.

"I'll always love you, my little flower." Lon put an arm around her, bringing her closer. "You know that. Even if Memlo and that dark voice in your head says otherwise. I'm so proud of all of the things that you've accomplished." Dot's lower lip quivered as he continued, "It doesn't matter to me if you're feminine or not, Dot. All that matters to me is if you're happy—and something tells me that you're not. Are you?"

Dot sighed. "I'm…not." Her gaze flicked back to Lon's. "I don't think I've been truly happy since…" She couldn't think of anything to say so she settled on, "forever. Yeah, forever…"

"That's…Dot that's really bad." Lon frowned. "Don't Yakko and Wakko help at all?"

"I never told them what you-know-who did to me," Dot admitted softly.

"How come?"

A snarl rose out of Dot's throat just thinking of that awful man. It made the fur along the back of her neck stiffen.

"Because Yakko loved him so much and I knew— ugh —I knew he wouldn't believe me! Oh, yeah, and Wakko? He would've had a mental breakdown if I told him." Dot rolled her eyes. "He's such a soft heart, he would cry over the dumbest stuff and if he knew what I went through with that guy ….he would've bawled for days."

Lon hummed. "What guy did you say it was?" Dot's ear flicked as she heard his voice—it had changed. It no longer sounded like her dad at all, rather it sounded a bit too much like—

—"Memlo?!" Dot shrieked, terror seizing her as she saw the man sitting next to her was no longer her father, but the dreaded director that had terrorized her back in the 30's. "G-Get out! Leave me alone!" She scrambled backwards, her claws scraping against the leather couch emitting a terrible sound that made her pelt crawl, desperately trying her best to get away from him.

Memlo's grin only widened as he took in her own terror at him. "I see you're still scared of me, Dottie." And when she hissed at him, he added, "Oh stop that, you know that never scared me. Honestly, I'm sick of the theatrics; the hissing, the growling, the sharp claws, the swearing ." A deadly edge came out in his voice as he said that last word.

"Go take a long walk off a cliff, Memlo." Dot reached out, her gaze intensifying on him, and dragged a particularly sharp claw down the couch. She tried to suppress a wince from the uncomfortable noise. The last thing that she needed was to show weakness in front of him. "You can't hurt me here."

"Oh but I can," Memlo shot back. "After all, I always have and I always will." Something about that devious glint in his eyes made Dot want to claw his face off.

"Oooh, I'm sooo scared!" She got in his face, anger sparking along her pelt, hands clenched to her sides. "Why don't you leave me alone you creepy old man!"

There was no time to process what happened next. One moment she was sitting there on that couch, staring Memlo dead in the eyes; then the next moment her head was rocked back, a horribly familiar stinging sensation spread across her left cheek, and tears pricked her eyes.

Memlo had—

He had—

Dot reached a hand up and gingerly touched her burning cheek. Memlo retracted his outstretched arm, a triumphant look on his face.

"You see what happens when you act like that, Dottie!" he snapped. "You get hit. Oh, don't look at me like that." Dot glared at him through the tears. "You know what you did was wrong! You know that you need to be punished for your smart mouth."

Dot sank into the couch cushion, burying her head in her hands, as Memlo continued his angry, scathing tirade toward her. His dark brown eyes were alight with utter rage. She briefly wondered how anyone could hold that much emotion inside of them.

Oh wait, this was Memlo she was dealing with. He was the embodiment of rage. Silly her thinking that things could be different.

"What the hell was that Dottie ," he spat, venom practically dripping from his voice. "Seriously, you know better than to smart off to me, your father figure. I have had it up to here with your foul language. You are a young lady, not some feral boy like your brother, so start acting like it!"

Terror seized her chest, constricting her throat and lungs, and she found herself unable to speak—to snap back at him, to tell him he wasn't a father figure at all. That instead he was a good for nothing terrible creature dressed up in human skin.

Some small part of her still refused to believe that humans could be so cruel.

But Lon was kind and a real dad, the thought came unbidden, and she let it stay; the only small comfort in this awful, awful nightmare. Eventually she would wake up, she knew that, but it still sucked to have to relive this particular memory, over and over again. She was certain that when she woke up her fur and night gown would be drenched in sweat, that she would cut short a scream climbing up from her throat, and that she wouldn't go back to sleep for a long, long time.

"Answer me, Dottie!"

Dot slowly dragged her hands down from her face, noting just how filthy her gloves suddenly looked —Had she really neglected herself during that time?— and how her hands shook; with a heavy sigh, she curled them into tight fists, desperate not to show a single ounce of weakness, and held Memlo's gaze.

"I'm sorry for swearing at you." The automated response fell from her mouth like a wilted flower falling from its stem. There was no emotion, no sincerity to it—plain monotony—just the way that he liked it. "I'll do better next time."

Memlo chuckled and Dot had the sudden temptation to yank a frying pan from her hammerspace. To swing it at him. Smack him right in his arrogant face. Her claws punched out, digging into her palms as she breathed out.

"You always say that." Dot lowered her head, unable to hold his gaze any longer. "Sometimes I wonder if you'll ever be the perfect lady that I know that you can be." Memlo walked up to her and knelt down, an almost gentle expression on his withered face. "Can you do that for me, Dottie? Can you be that perfect lady? Come on now, show me a smile on that pretty face."

Dot flinched as he reached out as if to cup her cheek. To her own short-lived relief he retracted his hand at the last second—as if realizing what a bad idea that would end up being.

Don't touch me, don't touch me, swear to Lon you touch me and you die !

Her hackles rose. Panic thrummed through her, ink roaring in her ears, heart fluttering in her chest like a hummingbird as he gazed at her with that blazing hatred.

"Hmm…maybe I need to take more drastic measures next time." He grinned. Actually grinned at her. It made her sick to her stomach, as if she had swallowed a rather large rock.

Dot's ink froze in her veins as she stared at him, her eyes going wide with undeniable fear. What was he talking about? He had to be bluffing right— right ?

"What—!" Dot swallowed hard, willing her voice to stop cracking, and started again. "What do you mean?"

Memlo chuckled darkly. "What do I mean?" And as quick as an adder strike, he pinched Dot's cheek. She cried out from the pain of his touch. "Oh Dottie, don't try to play mind games with me. I'm the master of that, and don't you forget it." Dot tried to tug away from him, panic all but consuming her from the inside out, and Memlo's hold tightened.

"Listen you little—!"

But whatever Memlo was going to say next was drowned out by a distant voice screaming for Dot.

" Dot! " called that startlingly familiar voice. " Dot! Wake up, you're screamin' and thrashin'! "

.

.

.

.

.

.


Dot startled awake. Her eyes flew open and already she could feel cold fear drench her. Sweat poured down her back, wetting her fur. She tried taking in deep, calming breaths to soothe her frantic heartbeat, but her throat was tight with lingering fear.

Her gaze flicked around the room, taking in her surroundings, memorizing it right down to the tiniest detail—she couldn't afford to lose it now. Especially now that she realized that it was Wakko who had woken her up.

Wakko, who had witnessed her having a nightmare, stared at her with comically wide eyes; unmistakable fear and concern shining in them.

Dot swallowed hard, a lump having formed in her throat, unwilling to let the terror that was creeping up her spine win. She had to stay calm. Had to seem cool and calm, collected; she was in control of her own emotions.

That's not what Scratchy says to do, a voice came unbidden in her mind.

Whatever, she shot back, it doesn't matter what Scratchy says. I'm in control here!

"I-It's not what you—!" Dot winced as her voice cracked. After a moment or two, she tried again, "It's not what you think, Wakko."

Wakko shook his head and looked sullen. "I saw you thrash around." Much to Dot's own chagrin, she noticed his hands were shaking. "I heard you scream, Dot. You were telling someone—I dunno who—not to touch you!" His gaze intensified. "Who was it?"

"No one," the answer came automatically. "It was just a dumb nightmare, Wak. Nothing to worry about." She couldn't let Wakko know who it really was; because she knew what he would say and do. He'd probably blame her for getting too close to Memlo, just like she always did to herself.

Wakko snorted. "Yeah, like Memlo isn't no one." His brows drew upwards, eyes flashing with concern. "Dot, jus' tell me what happened."

"I'm not telling you." Dot curled her hands into fists, panic thrumming through her. "So just lay off. Forget about what happened. That's what I always do…" The concern on Wakko's face drained and was replaced with frustration. "Don't look at me like that," she snarled, wincing as her claws punctured her palms. "Just… don't …"

"Why not?"

"Because I don't like it!"

"I know what it's like, y'know," Wakko said, his voice quivering with either anger or fear, she couldn't really tell. "To deal with him . He acts like he's some nice guy there to help you. He says he wants to help and he does, when there's others around. But then he shows his true colors when you're alone with him." He took in a shaky breath, looking close to tears by this point. "Did he ever call you into his office? Did he ever take you there and then…" A whimper tore out of Wakko, tears slipping freely down his face now. Dot's hackles rose, unable to comprehend what was happening. It felt like the walls were closing in all around her, like Wakko was far too close to her. That nightmare was still too fresh in her mind. Those long buried memories were flung free from their metaphorical coffins, each one slamming into her mind, digging their skeletal fingers in, ready to hurt her over and over again.

She needed to breathe.

She needed to get out of here and get some fresh air.

And soon.

"Wakko, just…" she swallowed. "...forget about this. Forget about me thrashing and screaming. This never happened. Okay? This never, ever happened." And she got up to leave, only for Wakko to put an arm out, blocking her.

" Did he?" The tears still fell relentlessly down Wakko's face, earning Dot a stab in the chest. "...Please, Dot….jus' tell me."

Dot snorted. Anger burst inside of her, completely burning out all sympathy from before. If her brother wanted to block her from leaving, fine. She knew she could make him move, one way or another.

"So what if he did." Dot slipped a hand behind her, feeling around in her hammerspace for something, and it brushed against an airhorn. Bingo . "It's been like sixty years since we last saw him. I've gotten over it."

Liar, liar, skirt on fire, that voice from before sing-songed.

Shut up! she snapped back, internally.

"So somethin' did happen!" Wakko exclaimed, puffing out his chest. He seemed pretty damned pleased with himself, making Dot even angrier. "Memlo hurt you too!"

Dot lashed her tail, anger sparking along her pelt, she had enough of her brother's invasive questions for the night. She was going to get some fresh air even if it meant hurting him in the process. So she brought out the air horn and blew it. The effect was immediate; Wakko cringed, taking a few steps back from the couch, bringing his hands up to his ears and yanking them down, pain written across his face.

Some small part of herself broke when she witnessed what she had done to her brother. But she quickly shoved the building guilt aside as she leapt off the couch, taking off to the big shield shaped door that led out to the balcony.

I'm sorry Wakko, she thought as tears pricked her eyes. I need some space. I'll be okay if you just stay away from me for a while. Please don't follow me.

Only when she was safely outside did she finally drop to her knees and bawl; consumed by the hurricane of guilt, anger, and sadness swirling inside of her.

To be continued…