TW if you're squeamish to descriptions of intense seizures.

Also, a certain someone makes a return. Ruh-roh.

White sheets blanketed suburban yards, glittering beneath the rays of light peeking through wintertime cloud. School buses safely drove through cleared black roads with remanence of white ice, dropping off students closer to their respective homes while other students trekked through mounds of snow plowed with just enough room to travel along the sidewalks.

The roof of a one-story home once shingled in Arabian green was now coated in glimmering white snow. With the garage on the right of the house, the burgundy chimney bricked the left side of the concrete painted in a feathery opal, beige curtains visible through the windows panes framed on either side of the white sunburst front door.

Returning from freshening up in the bathroom, the young boy entered the room of beige carpet and cream walls plastered with Terry Totter posters, a large Gryffinsnore banner taped over the twin bed of gold pillows and a scarlet duvet. A roaring lion centered the Gryffinsnore crest, displayed proudly as a poster on the burgundy accent wall. A cedarwood drawer stood next to the similar wooden study desk, bottles of Clobazam, Carbamazepine, and Valproate organized along one side with a scarlet and gold checkered desk lamp on the other.

Backpack left on his bed, Dwight zipped it open and took out his emergency Ativan before he tucked into the coat pocket of his sherpa lined trucker. The last day of school was done, and two weeks of Christmas Break had officially begun. As usual, both fathers would be working late again, and Dwight had already received permission to spend carved out quality time with the other half of his existence.

"Ready to go?" Dwight met the dark-teal eyes of his owl with a crown over his head, perched in his gold metal bird cage resting atop the cedarwood nightstand.

"You sure you don't wanna take a little nap first?" the dark-teal owl worried, considering they'd just gotten off the school bus twenty minutes ago. "It's been a pretty long day."

"But I haven't seen the Bakers in ages!" Dwight had looked forward to seeing the family he didn't often get to see. "They're expecting me!"

"I think they can wait, bud." Irving politely pointed out. "Besides, you know what happens when you don't let yourself rest."

Dwight pouted. "But I don't wanna be by myself…"

Irving sighed sympathetically. His fathers worked long shifts, Molly and Hazel were busied with their personal troubles, and Gary's grandparents made him start Christmas Break early for his mental health. The school week consisted of facing bullies and walking the school halls alone, coming home to an empty home only seeing his fathers' when they wished him goodnight.

Understanding Dwight's plight, Irving's lips then curved reassuringly to his godchild. "But cha still got me! You always got me."

"…I know…" Dwight returned his own grin "…but I'm not tired! I feel fine!"

Irving studied this grin "…you're absolutely certain."

"Uh-huh!"

Dwight had a terrible poker face, so Irving knew the kid was telling the truth. "Alright, buddy. We can go."

"Sweet!" Dwight whooped. "I wish we were at the Bakers'!"

Waving his wand, Irving transported them from Dwight's bedroom to the front porch of a two-story home, the first floor sided with red brick and the second in white fiber-cement. Just as other houses, snow coated the grey-shingled roof, the front porch protected by the half-gabled roof connected to the side garage.

Approaching the welcome mat, Dwight knocked on the dark-wood door adorned with a red berry and frosted pine wreath, bringing arms around himself when his body shivered subtly from the sudden drop in temperature. He luckily only had to wait a few seconds before he heard the bolt unlock and the knob twist. Besides the blast of indoor heating, the first thing to greet him behind the opened door was a red boil blemished on the heavy-set boy's right cheek.

Standing two inches shorter, his alfalfa hair was a shade of ginger not far from Dwight's auburn, and the same freckles spotted along his cheeks. Poor vision sported thick black rims, and his black bowtie dressed up the olive-brown sweater vest over his white shirt and navy slacks.

"Hey, big brother." Elmer nasally greeted, wiping his nose with his forearm.

When Elmer stepped aside, Dwight entered into the warm color palette of beige walls, auburn furniture with orangey accents, and dark woods flooring and end tables. Lights draped around the decorated Christmas tree glowed softly as the centerpiece of the living room. "How's it going?"

"Glad it's finally Christmas Break." Elmer shrugged, closing the door so no more heat escaped. He soon noticed the lack of snowflakes on Dwight's person. "…did you walk here?"

Dwight paused. Of course, even if he had tried to make the ten-mile journey on foot, one would think his coat and the soles of his shoes would have traces of a snowy venture. "…or jogged lightly."

"Dwight?" a feminine voice called from inside the kitchen. "Is that you?!"

"Yes, ma'am!" Dwight walked further towards the kitchen with Elmer following behind, seeing a woman with rounded lavender frames around olive eyes inserting two trays of molded cookie dough into the pre-heated oven. Her ivory skin bore freckles along her cheeks with one cheek blemished with a boil like her son, though her straight and silky bob was the same shade of auburn as Dwight's. Her hour-glass figure sported a yellow turtleneck sweater and lavender jeans, and white sneakers footed her feet.

Shutting the oven door and starting the timer, Dee Baker turned towards the boys, red lipstick curled in a merry smile. She approached Dwight and welcomed him with the tightest hug. "How are you, honey?"

"Good." Dwight grinned, hugging the woman who brought him into the world eleven years ago.

Dee Baker and Chisholm Schlatter, his father, had a cousinly bond that always felt more like brother and sister. When Chisholm and his husband DeWitt decided that they were ready for a child, their first choice was surrogacy because of their desire for a biological connection. At the time, Dee and her newlywedded husband had been in the process of planning their own family, but when she'd been asked of her dear cousin for this life-altering favor, she was honored to be the carrier of DeWitt's child.

Dee gave birth to Dwight five weeks before his due date, and regardless of the monetary gain, giving her cousin and his husband the gift of their first child was the biggest payoff. In return, DeWitt and Chisholm wanted Dwight to always know where he came from. They'd asked if she would like to be a part of Dwight's life, and of course, she was on board. However, she did not wish for Dwight to address her as his mother. DeWitt and Chisholm were his parents. Besides, she and her husband would become parents with Elmer over a year later.

Dee gave Dwight some loving pats before letting him go. "I just put the cookies in the oven, but would you like anything right now?"

"No, thank you." Dwight courteously declined.

"We're gonna hang out in my room." Elmer announced to his mother.

"Alright, dear." Dee went over to give her son a light smooch on his non-boiled cheek. "I'll call for you when the cookies are ready."

"Okay."

Exiting the kitchen, Dwight followed behind Elmer to the staircase in the hallway. "Your dad home yet?"

"Still at work." Elmer replied over his shoulder, stepping onto the landing. "He'll be home later."

Taking off his coat, Dwight stood by the first door to the left as Elmer twisted the knob, revealing umber wooden flooring and yellow painted walls with black curtains. Black cotton quilted yellow sheets and pillowcases, and a tapestry of a badger within the yellow and black Hufflesnuff crest hung above the headboard.

"Sanjay coming over?"

"He was going to," Elmer went to the black beanbag chair propped against the bedframe with Dwight doing the same. "but he'd called earlier because his stepdad forced him into more military drills."

"In the snow? Wow..." Dwight set his coat on the floor near his beanbag, ensuring the Ativan didn't accidently slip out. "Does his stepdad know Sanjay's not a solider like Safan?"

Elmer shrugged again. "He's compared a lot to his stepbrother, so I doubt it."

Leaning his head back, Dwight closed his eyes. Exhaling a breath that expelled more energy than expected. The coziness of heat blanketing the room settled the sudden onset of weariness deep into his bones. Either he was really comfortable, or he was more worn than he thought.

"I'd also call and ask if Chloe wanted to come over, but she's still grounded."

Hearing Chloe's name, Dwight blinked his eyes open, tilting his head towards Elmer next to him. "…Chloe?"

"Yeah, a girl who goes to my school." Elmer explained, reaching up for the tv remote that was already atop his duvet. "Sanjay and I became friends with her when we found out she was also into Terry Totter."

…was this the same Chloe he'd met at the library that one time? He never forgot her, yet he hadn't seen her since. "Why is she grounded?"

"She skipped school."

As Elmer used the remote to sort through whatever late afternoon cabled television had to offer, Dwight drifted into thought. From what he remembered, nothing about her screamed 'troublemaker.'

"She's…sort of been acting different, hanging around the kids she skipped school with." Elmer wasn't as quick to somberly reveal. "She barely talks to me or Sanjay much ever since she started that medication…"

"Medication? For what?"

"For her anxiety."

Intrigued by this newfound information, Dwight shot down a glance to the dark-teal chain dangling from his jeans. Trying to gage Irving's cool expression on whether he was already privy to this.

Pausing on the network airing the Crash Nebula cartoon, Elmer shot his half-brother a suspecting brow. "Hey, do you know her or something?"

Dwight stared back "…why?"

"You ask a lotta questions."

"…I can't ask questions?"

"People don't usually ask about people they don't know."

…that logic may or may not be true, but touché.

Sitting up in his beanbag, Dwight straightened his glasses. "I um…met her in the library a while back. She did seem a bit antsy at first, but I assumed she was just a little shy…"

The diffidence in those orbs of ocean blue appeared in his mind, his lids falling in remorse.

"…we were talking and then…I-I felt a seizure come on so fast that I didn't have time to move. And when she suddenly had to leave and ran away, I…was worried that I freaked her out."

"Seizures aren't the greatest first impressions." Elmer's attempt at a lighthearted joke only hunched Dwight's shoulder more.

Since the seizures started four years ago, he had no way of knowing if Chloe was truly frightened by what was considered normal to him. Regardless, he saw insecurity downcast in Dwight's eyes. He'd honestly be insecure too if strangers stared at you like an alien over something he had almost no control over.

Wigh a soft sigh, Elmer turned to Crash Nebula flying through the galaxy on the screen before contemplative eyes looked back at Dwight. "…I-I think I know how to get to her house…you…wanna go try ta say hi?"

Purple eyes perked up "…you'd really do that for me?"

Elmer shrugged once more. "Worth a shot. But we should go after mom finishes the cookies. She wouldn't like us leaving without having at least one."

"Right." Dwight found his energy regenerating at the possibility of seeing Chloe again. Then he realized that Mrs. Baker never mentioned what type of cookies she was baking "…what flavors?"

"White macadamia for me, and chocolate chip for you."

"Really? She didn't have to go out of her way just for me."

"It's not just for you." Elmer relaxed in his beanbag, facing the tv. Assuming Dwight had no preference, he opted for this channel since nothing else piqued his interest. "You're both allergic to macadamia."

Polished in a pearly white, A Rolls Royce limousine rolled towards the iron gate and walls of aqua stone, 'Welcome to Dimmsdale Acres' carved in the same aqua stone on a small hill of lushes green. The limousine stalled, awaiting permitted entry from the community security before the gates parted, and the limousine continued along, passing the community tennis court, the Swimmadome Swimming pool, and the eighteen holes of the community golf course.

Continuing down the maze of road, it was a surprise that the limousine knew which streets to turn on. Red gabled roofs covered in evening snow topped every concrete exterior coated with the same rosy lavender polish, all lilac-stained windows of the first and second floors had white panel shutters, and all the houses were landscaped in snowy evergreen hedges and lawns trimmed to perfection.

Within one of the copy-paste houses was a family of five, freshening up for the annual Christmas dinner hosted at the Fancy Schmancy Country Club. Short blonde hair neatly combed over to one side to match the classic chic of his black Versace tux and black leather Pradas, the head of the household tapped his impatient foot. He stared at his ticking watch close to the white door of the grand foyer. Why was he the only Wells dressed and ready to go!?

Entering into the foyer from a side hallway, a man's protruding nose and receding gray hairline approached. Sporting his signature black tux and Dean Oxfords with black bowtie. Ivory skin wrinkled in middle age with brown eyes spotted his newest employer, seeing the groan through flared nostrils.

"Is everything alright, sir?" the house nanny inquired formally, keeping his distance from the agitated man.

"Tell Angela that the limo will be here any second." Marcus Wells' stern blue eyes instructed. "We don't have all day."

"Certainly."

The nanny calmly turned as Marcus continued to tap his foot. He walked up the cream-marble steps, reaching the landing where he made a sharp left towards the hallway bath.

Black hair flat-ironed in the opposite texture of her natural coil, Hazel scrunched with each pat of Angela's cosmetic sponge caked in foundation. Restraining herself from sneezing out the powdery particles dusting into her nose. An old white towel protected the black ribbed knit fabric of her long-sleeve sweater paired with a burgundy and grey plaid pleated skirt over black stockings and burgundy ankle-high boots, bright-red metal ringed on her index finger.

Dipping the sponge into the foundation three shades lighter than the darker complexion of her youngest daughter, Angela continued to dab the sponge across Hazel's cheeks and along her forehead for another coat. Wearing her Balenciaga turtleneck maxi godet of knitted burgundy polyester imported directly from Italy, paired with Balenciaga booties and clipped earrings of the Balenciaga logo visible from her blonde hair styled in a sleek bun.

Despite the tension of the previous incident involving another club member, the Buxaplentys had deemed it a complete misunderstanding. They were gracious enough to give the Wells a second chance, and Marcus will be damned if Hazel screwed things up for them again. So, Angela went through great lengths to ensure that Hazel would appear more 'appealing' to the other club members...

…her definition of appealing being very much skewed.

Angela was almost satisfied with the eraser of darkened skin beneath pounds of lighter foundation, pausing to mentally critique if she'd done enough. Gentle knocks came from the doorframe of the bathroom, causing Hazel and her to turn in the direction the nanny leaning casually against the door.

"Let me guess; Marcus wants me to hurry up." Angela huffed, returning the cosmetic sponge to its container. Sorting rushed hands through her makeup supplies lined along the silver granite countertops. "…am I right, Fenwick?"

Fenwick Nicholas smirked with one corner of his mouth, hands in his pockets. "That is correct."

"Mom!?" a pubescent voice squeaked from down the hall before the eldest Wells appeared in the doorway beside the nanny. Dressed in a matching black Versace tux and black Pradas like his father, Anthony combed the spikes in his blonde hair. "Have you seen my Rolex?"

Anthony didn't pay any mind, but Hazel noticed their new nanny's observant eyes on him.

"I have not…" Taking the second to glance at her son, Angela shook her head in disgruntled huff. "Your hair is so unruly…"

"…it looks cool though." Anthony shrugged, seeing nothing wrong with his hair. Neither did Fenwick.

"It's immodest and low class." Angela retorted, clipping the black barrette carefully as to not frizzle any of Hazel's straightened hair. "Go fix it."

Instead of doing as told, Anthony shifted to the tight lips of his baby sister with a taunting smirk.

"You know packing makeup on her face doesn't change how black she is, right?"

Another blow to her esteem puckered Hazel's brow, wearing patience pointing Angela's firm index towards the wall in assertion of her authority. "Fix your hair now, Anthony!"

Rolling his eyes in compliance, Anthony let out a grunt as he left, Fenwick continuing to observe him storm down the hall to his room. Getting a good idea of what a certain, young Buxaplenty could potentially look like in two years. Ignorant to Hazel's suspecting stare.

"Such a sweet boy." Fenwick remarked sarcastically, making Angela snort as she rushed to reorganize her supplies in their makeup bag.

"He certainly was at Hazel's age, even Hillary's age." her makeup bag zipped in one swift swipe. "But then he turned thirteen, and it all went downhill."

As Fenwick shortly chuckled, Angela faced her obedient daughter as Hazel quickly looked away from Fenwick. Angela smiled in satisfaction of her work when she removed the dirtied towel off of Hazel's sweater. "All finished!"

Hazel turned to the reflection in the mirror, tucking the itchy patch of compressed hair away from her neck. Brow puckered at the tawny shade of powered skin masquerading the true complexion of her face and hands.

Those glum, brown eyes led Angela to touch Hazel's shoulder, gently facing Hazel towards her. Curling pearly whites with hands over her knees. "Honey, this is the only way your father would let you come with us." she spoke with such soft conviction, her smile diminishing the crafty intent seeping through. "Unless you'd much rather stay home with Fenwick."

Hazel forced her bottom lip from jutting in front of her mother. She wanted to see Remy again, but at what cost?

"I would join you if I was allowed within a ten-mile radius of the property." Fenwick half joked, Hazel watching him shift away from the doorframe.

"Why is that Fenwick?" Angela probed. From his application and the conducted interview, it was hard to believe that the Buxaplentys would go to such extremes over such a reliable, respectable man.

"Because of the disagreement between us that went awry, I'm legally banned." he vaguely summarized, masking inner aversion with a cheeky grin.

He had elaborated further during his job interview on his falling out with the Buxaplentys, only because his chances of getting the job diminished if he'd lied about termination from previous employment. In Fenwick fashion, certain details were left out…

Like grooming an innocent child since birth…

…nah, they don't need ta know that. Especially if no 'documented proof' was publicized.

"I do understand that their reputation is extremely important to them." Angela commented. "They like to keep disagreements or negative exchanges out of the public eye. Or so I've heard."

"That I understand as well." Fenwick would have to agree. To an extent.

Wearing black wool sleeves beneath her burgundy Balenciaga midi dress with ruffled collar and a bowknot tulle, Hillary's burgundy Balenciaga boots reached the knees of her black stockings as she traveled down the hall. Her chin held high as she tucked a strand of her wispy blonde bun behind her ear sparkling with princess cut diamonds. When she noticed her mother and little sister's fast pace leaving past the nanny out of the hallway bath, Hillary took faster steps to catchup to her mother. Walking on the opposite side of Hazel.

"If her hair is flat ironed, why is it still so thick?"

Another gunshot penetrating her self-esteem.

Subconsciously, Hazel combed insecure fingers through her straightened ends. Hillary's hair was straight, silky, shiny, and flattering; she'd never understand what manipulating curly, coarse, dull hair into an unnatural texture felt like.

"Hillary, just go grab your coat." Angela diffused, no patience for uncalled for jabs.

Giggling, Hillary ran down the remaining steps to the Cashmere coat draped over Anthony's arm. Spikey hair brushed into grown out layers past his cheeks, Anthony handed Hillary her coat next to Marcus still standing by the front door.

"Took you long enough!" Marcus groused as Fenwick took Angela and Hazel's coats from the standing coatrack, watching as he handed them to the two members without winter coats. "The limo's been waiting for the last five minutes!"

"Only five minutes?" Angela remained leveled, assisting Hazel with her jacket before putting on her own. "You act like we're running late."

"Don't you know by now, mom?" Anthony inserted his sarcasm, tightening the strap of his Rolex. "You're on time if you're early. You're late if you're on time."

"Don't you start." Marcus warned his eldest. Sensing his father's irritation, Anthony lowered his head as Hillary hid her entertained snicker behind a hand.

Pearl white glittered like the snow with the Rolls Royce limousine parked in front of the Well's front yard. Stationed beneath the streetlamp automatically lit due to the dimming natural light of the setting sun. The limo driver stepped out of the driver's seat, walking across the front bumper towards the very back where he would hold the door for his passengers.

Marcus walked in front with Anthony and Hillary starting their infamous poking war behind him, keeping their juvenile antics to a minimum to not further agitate their father. Holding Angela's hand, Hazel looked back to Fenwick standing in the front door, waving them goodbye. His eyes seemed trustful, and his grin looked friendly…

Why did her gut simmer with the imminent dread?

Hazel and her mother were the last to enter the limo before the driver shut the door and returned to the steering wheel. Hillary and Anthony continued their poking war, sneaking pokes as they sat between their mother and father.

Closer to the passenger door, Hazel retreated into herself. One hand scrunched the itchy barrette that she would never wear, tugging at hair that didn't feel like her own. Furrowing her side-eye at fingers that didn't look like hers. This was nothing like her, but it had to be if she didn't want to be excluded…

"…Kakao."

The tenderness of a motherly voice whispered to her from the finger closest to her ear, lowering her hand to the ring of bright-red metal. Somber brown met the generosity so genuine in the bright-red orbs and the curl of plumper lips. Rounder nose and plumper lips that resembled hers more than her mother's slender and thin ever could.

"…wewe ni mrembo." she saw love in Nyekundu's grin. "Hata iweje…"

You are beautiful, no matter what. This had been Nyekundu's affirmation to Hazel since the first day of becoming her fairy godmother. She would speak life into those words in Hazel's time of need, when she could sense her goddaughter's spirit at its lowest.

Hazel wanted to believe those words. For now, all she could do was offer the smallest grin in return.

Streetlamps reflected gold into the black of snow-lit eve, few cars still crawling home on icy roads. Clark ran thwarted hands through his blond locks, taking off his ranger hat in a groused sigh. Propping elbows on bent knees as he sat on the couch, a floor lamp the lone lighting source. Connie should be home any minute, and he was not looking forward to budding heads with her again. Anticipating her grave disappointment at the four As and three Bs that Chloe had brought home on her final report card for the fall semester.

Not to mention Connie's aggravation lingering like a dark cloud over Chloe's head. The daughter that ruined her body for nine months? The daughter she raised? Skipping school doing God knows what?! Has she gone mental?! And what the heck was he thinking grounding her for one month!? Chloe deserved half a year for her egregious crime!

Rebelling against the rules should not go without consequence; that, Clark agreed with his wife. However, in working through his own personal change of heart, he'd managed to negotiate Connie down to one month of going nowhere but school and back. She was not allowed to interact with friends outside of school, and she must spend her time either studying and completing homework in her room or cleaning the house top to bottom.

…Connie did not take this lying down.

The month of grounding ran into two weeks off from school. A two-week vacation was not punishment! Connie argued that another month be tacked on, but Clark remained persistent. Two weeks of no television or reading outside of your face buried in a textbook, piled with the burden of keeping the entire house neat and tidy, stored away in her room of self-isolation?

Not to compare being grounded to prison, but it sounded pretty close.

Still, Connie's dissatisfaction was going to reach all new levels once she sees this report card. He just knew it.

Bells chimed through the walls, jerking Clark out from the rabbit hole of his mind. Not expecting any visitors, Clark heaved himself off the couch and dragged his feet across the wooden floor. Flipping the light switch to the ceiling light before he peered through the peep hole to two gingers with glasses standing on the front porch. His brow scrunched in curiosity as he unfastened the bolt and knob locks, twisting the handle to the boys doing their best to restrain their tremors from temperatures below freezing despite wearing heavy coats.

"…I've seen you before." Clark gestured to the shorter boy with the boil that he should consider getting checked out, before he then pointed to the taller boy beside him. "…but who are you?"

"…I-I'm Dwight, Elmer's brother." Dwight stammered awkwardly, protecting his hand from the cold in his pockets.

"…a-and I'm Elmer." Elmer formally introduced himself since he technically hadn't before now "…w-we were wondering if…we could s-say hi to Chloe?"

"Hmm…" Clark folded his arms firmly, glancing briefly past the boys for any sight of car lights in the distance. "Sorry, but Chloe's not allowed to see or speak with friends outside of school at this time."

Dwight felt the blowing crush of his hopes, tightening his chest in an invisible hug. Chloe must be in serious trouble "…e-even to just say hello?"

"Yes."

"…oh…t-that's too bad." Elmer sunk. Sucks that they came all the way out here just to get rejected. "Well…s-sorry for disturbing you."

"It's alright." Clark excused, exhaling his remorse. "I can at least let her know that you stopped by…"

Déjà vu crashed like a dizzying wave. Dwight stumbled back, swaying on his feet.

"…hey, are you alright?" Clark reached out, steadying Dwight's stance. Bricks filled his head, pricking feathered tingles from the soles of his feet through the tips of his fingers.

…this was not good.

Elmer pressed a palm behind his half-brother's back, watching as Dwight struggled to keep his eyes focused. Motion blurred across Dwight's field of view, feeling time quicken while simultaneously slow down.

"…I need ta sit down…" his words slurred past lips numbed not just from the cold.

"What's going on?!" Clark's alarm asked Elmer, and Elmer used both hands to support Dwight from falling down in the snow.

"…he's having a seizure."

Now worried for this boy, Clark instructed Elmer to bring Dwight inside to the couch. It was like dragging a zombie's lack of motor function as Elmer coached Dwight to keep moving his feet, careful in laying him down on the cushion as Dwight switched between closing his eyes and staring at the ceiling. Elmer removed Dwight's glasses and maneuvered his body onto his side for his own safety. The dark-teal pants chain grunted a winded breath when his face smushed against the cushion.

"…how can I help?" Clark had never witnessed a seizure, yet his inner fire for rescue burned. "I mean, should I call 9-1-1?!"

"No, this happens a lot." Elmer rolled up both of Dwight's sleeves, revealing the medical alert bracelet on his wrist. Dwight grew frozen in a blank stare. "I-I'm hoping it passes quickly…"

Doesn't exactly silence the alarm. "…should I time it?" Clark offered, hoping to make himself useful.

"…please?" Elmer accepted the help, and Clark watched the hands of his wristwatch, mentally counting the seconds as the left corner of Dwight's mouth started to twitch.

"You're gonna be okay..." Elmer consoled, seeing Dwight's left eye squint in fast breaths. The muscles pulled in his face, and his entire left side stiffened like a trembling board.

Having heard other voices enter the house that wasn't her mothers, Chloe poked out from her bedroom door. Staring down the hall and down the steps leading to the lower level, a clear view of Elmer comforting someone struggling to breath in their spasmic jerks. At first, she wondered why Elmer was at her house. Then she recognized the boy on the couch…and her heart twitched against her chest.

Her feet moved on their own, trudging anxiously to the stair landing. Eyes widened as the stiffness crawled across to the right of Dwight's body. His left arm straightened flat as his right bent towards his chest. Both legs hardened, twisting his feet at odd angles. Blinking rapidly in salivary froths of breath that gurgled in his throat. His entire body jerked in electric jolts, and no matter how many times Elmer called Dwight's name, he failed to respond.

"Going on three minutes…" Clark furrowed. This seizure did not appear to ebb, and his insides started to panic.

At some point, Dwight had ceased all breathing. Turning the skin in his face a worrying red, rolling eyes into his head as his shakes grew more aggressive.

"Dwight!" Elmer was starting to panic as well. "Dwight, come back!"

Dwight wasn't coming around. Growing desperate to stop his suffering, Elmer struggled to keep Dwight on his side while pickpocketing for the emergency Ativan that had to be on him somewhere. Clark noticed this and ran over to assist, preventing Dwight from choking on the gurgling saliva as Elmer eventually found the Ativan in the coat pocket. Twisting the tube to break the seal of the prefilled Carpuject, shaky fingers tried to twist the automizer securely on the vial.

Clark frowned as strained lungs could barely catch a grunting breath, flashing eyes contorting into pain across his reddened face. All Clark could do was give the gurgling saliva an exit point through a slacked jaw, doing what he could to keep Dwight on his side as Elmer took a few panicked tries to aim for Dwight's nose. Finally getting a good grip, Elmer pushed his thumb on the plunger and injected the mist.

Spasms ebbed into mild jerks in just seconds, slowly laxing stiff limbs before they fell limp. Rapid blinks ceased into a blank stare, burbled breaths returning his skin to its normal tone as froth bubbled in dripping strings from his mouth.

Elmer huffed in heavy breaths, securing automizer to the Ativan trembling wildly in his hands. Clark's legs dropped him to sit on the floor, and his heart ached for this young lad…

Sharp, high-pitched breaths caught Clark's ear, and when he shot a glance towards the staircase, those same high-pitched breaths quickened. Chloe's quivering legs struggled to support her weight, crumpling to her knees. Tears brimmed her eyes, clutching the knot in her chest, and sure enough, she began to hyperventilate.

More and more, Clark started to see the damage of Connie's 'tough love.' The Lexapro should've reduced the effects of anxiety, yet his daughter was suffering her first major panic attack in weeks.

Entering the country club, Hazel and her family are welcomed by Orville and Diana Buxaplenty. Thanking them for coming with bright smiles given to all their members that evening. Marcus and Angela played along, showing their appreciation with flattering compliments of the winter decorations lighting the entire building in the Christmas spirit, including the grand foyer.

Still holding Angela's hand, Hazel noticed Anthony and Hillary break away from their parents. Approaching the kids in non-name brand clothes huddled in their own group by the central staircase. An Asian American girl with pretty eyes, two blue-eyed blondes with looking like the little sister of the other dressed like a pink and white Barbie. And two boys wearing the same outfit, one with straight blonde hair, and the other…with an afro-textured high top.

She saw no other black kid like her the last time she was here…had he ever been treated differently? Seeing the way those kids laughed and spoke cordially to him said otherwise. He wasn't as dark as her natural skin tone, but she knew he wouldn't pass the paper bag test, either. What did he do to be accepted by his peers, if he had to do anything at all?

"Kakao." her bright-red ring called to her. "Look under the stairs."

Hazel darted eyes towards that general direction, seeing nothing in the archway beneath the stairs until the tip of a purple tail swayed into view. She looked at her mother still conversing with the Buxaplentys before she tugged her arm.

"Yes?" Angela acknowledged her child, ignoring Marcus' disapproving sneer.

"May I go look for Remy?"

"That boy's around here somewhere…" Diana grumbled.

"Sure, honey." Angela permitted, before Marcus shot her a warning glance.

"Don't cause any more trouble, you hear?"

Hazel furrowed, drooping her chin under the strict authority of her father's grimace "…yes, sir." she squeaked, scurrying away when Angela released her hand.

Throwing her courteous mask back on, Diana smiled to Angela as she encouraged her to come with her, Orville doing the same to Marcus. Bringing them towards the other affluent adults mingling in the dining hall. Anthony and Hillary introduced themselves to the popular kids of Dimmsdale, more than flattered by the shower of compliments for their outfits.

"How long do you plan on hiding here?" the purple ferret questioned, his front paws resting across his godchild's lap.

"Until I no longer have an obligation to be here…" the young billionaire grumbled, arms crossed against the chest of his blazer. Seated on a bench of the finest leather built into the wall beneath the stairs, calmed by the dimmed light surrounding him.

"…Remy?"

Mint-green turned sharply to the peer of bashful brown behind the archway, watching her then scoot further into view. Fingers fidgeted with the bright-red metal around her index, etching a smile towards him. "…Hi."

Remy wasn't trying to stare, but his puzzlement couldn't help it. Her voice sounded like her, but the lighter skin and straighter hair…didn't look like her. "…why do you look like that?"

Hazel wilted the smile that was already difficult to give. She had to tell herself that Remy was just curious, not casting judgement. "…i-it was the only way my dad would let me come back…"

"Hmph…"

Remy lowered a finger, softly scratching under the ferret's chin. Noting the watchful concern of his godfather on the girl who stood in one spot, hands clutched to her chest. Remy soon too studied the reserve in her gaze downcast. No gleaming grin? No giggles of glee?

"…are you alright?"

"Huh?" Hazel must've zoned out a bit, not expecting Remy's question. "Oh, um…" eyes blinking back and forth soon faltered, convincing herself of a false truth "…yes."

Remy continued to study her "…you don't look alright."

"…and neither do you." Hazel was hesitant to point out how Remy was isolated from the only other kids here. "I-I mean…why're you under the stairs?"

"Hmph…" he his brow flattened much like his tone "…I'd rather not be here at all. But we're supposed to take this stupid picture later."

"…Picture?"

"Yes. For a Christmas article in the Dimmsdale Newspaper." Remy elaborated. "They do this every year around the holidays, and since you and your family are the newest additions to the most affluent families in town, guess you'll be in the picture as well."

Insecurity frowned, wrinkling subtle creases into her foundation. Was this picture another reason her mother coerced her into this altered appearance?

Hazel shook her head. She shouldn't think about that right now. It took mustered will just to keep her spirits above water. "…may I ask you something?"

"Sure." Remy dully replied. No anticipation of what Hazel would ask next…

"…why did Fenwick have a disagreement with your parents?"

Both mint-green and blue-violets froze, ice numbing their blood.

"…I'm sorry?" Remy croaked. Did he hear her right?!

"Fenwick started as our nanny today, and he had said that he wasn't allowed here because of a disagreement with your parents. I didn't know if that was true, so I figured I'd ask you."

Juandissimo glanced towards Remy's pressed lips as his fingers curled rigidly. Sensing his struggle to shove down his chilled nerves.

"…it is true." Remy's throat tightened. "…but may I ask you something?"

His narrowed eyes made her cower, suspecting that the simmering dread in her gut held some truth "…yes?"

"…has…he acted weird around you?"

"…weird how?"

His jaw gritted, tensing his shoulders "…does he touch you?"

"…no?" Considering today was Fenwick's first official day, Hazel didn't have much to go on "…he stares at Anthony a lot…" she thought to mention. "…Anthony doesn't seem to notice much but…that's all I've seen so far."

Remy hitched a breath. That creep regrets nothing…

"…why?"

Slitting his brow, Remy forced himself to meet her eye contact "…just…keep your guard up around him. Okay?"

Hazel still didn't understand. Observing Remy's demeanor…her gut told her she didn't need to. That, and she trusted a fellow godchild's judgement enough to heed his advice "…okay."

Nausea roiled in his stomach, and he swallowed back bile. Remy sped away past Hazel out into the foyer in the opposite direction of the popular kids, and Hazel grew concerned when she saw the purple ferret jump off the leather bench to chase after him.

Remy got some distance before Juandissimo caught up, standing in his path.

"I know it is difficult, but do you not think that Hazel should know the truth?"

"What for? My own parents didn't care enough to end that creep's career!" Remy griped, ice gradually melting into fire through his veins. "Now it's my word against his!"

"That does not change the fact that Fenwick is a dangerous man-"

"Fenwick fancies little boys! Trust me, I would know! As long as he stays away from Hazel like he's apparently been doing, I could care less what he does to her brother because, frankly, that's not my problem."

Juandissimo narrowed his eyes "…ahijado, this is not you-"

"How can you even say that when I didn't even know you're married until someone else pointed it out!?"

Surprise flashed across Juandissimo's face.

"All the other kids know things about their godparents, like how long Cosmo and Wanda have been married and how they met! But outside of your name and where you come from, you're like this closed book that difficult to read sometimes!"

Studying Remy's aggravation, Juandissimo then squinted subtly. He recognized where this outburst truly stemmed from, keeping his tone calm "…you are deflecting."

"And what if I am!?"

"…Remy, it is okay not to be okay-"

"You keep saying that, but it just feels like I'm dying inside!"

Blue-violets gawked, voice caught in his throat. Stunned by the dark revelation he always feared would come to light.

Remy grimaced, sensing how much his words hurt his godfather. Burying these feelings for quite some time, they'd stopped hurting for him long ago. Perhaps that was what hurt his godfather most. Doing everything in his power to save him…not realizing that his soul was already dying. Starting from the moment his parents proved their disdain by letting his life-long predator off scotch free.

"…maybe… a part of me deep down…did want to walk off the edge when in that secret passage…"

Though Remy's voice softened, the pain in his words did not.

"…and part of me almost wishes…that you hadn't stopped me."

The ferret's pained stare gradually began to gloss, and anguish tore the young billionaire away in aimless steps down the hall.