"Feeling better?" Sam asked his wife as she hobbled into the living room. He opened his arms, and she fell into his embrace. Squeezing her tight, he kissed her forehead.

"Maybe I needed to sleep in my own bed."

Mercedes only attended one week of the workshop. She missed being with her family, and by the end of the week, her homesickness became nauseating. Waking up Monday morning, she didn't have the energy to go to work. She caught a last minute flight back to LA and arrived home in the middle of the night. She fell into bed like a rock after having only peeks at her kids.

Sam had taken the older boys to their activities, but he was excited to blow Mercedes' mind. "Whitney took Prince and Thor to the park." He laughed when her head snapped up at him.

"My Whitney?"

At the start of the day, Whitney was only asked to keep the two youngest boys quiet while Sam did drop off and her mother slept. She had them in the car before Sam could get the other boys lined up at the door. She had given up a whole day, when she could have been working on her music, to be with her brothers.

She smiled, "So everything was fine? No fires? The kids didn't try to kill each other?"

"It was perfect," he beamed. "I can't wait for you to see it for yourself."

"Let's have a movie night. We can order takeout, wear pajamas, and the kids can choose the movie." She knew she was setting herself up for an action movie marathon, but she was happy to be together. "It'll be nice," she hoped.

The crash of the front door cut their conversation short.

Jackson crept forward, but when he found the parents in the front room, he pushed his followers to hide behind the wall. He strolled into the room and greeted his mother with a kiss on her cheek. The twelve year old straightened and locked his fingers in front of him, posing like a lawyer ready to argue the case of a lifetime. "Sam, you're new and still don't know how we work here. I'm going to start by telling you one of our special rules… that my ma will hold up, right?"

She nodded.

If the kids confessed to misbehaving before their school or the leader of their activities called, they would have a full pardon with their mother. She wanted them to be open with her. Every form she filled out stated that the best time to reach her was late afternoon, so the kids had plenty of time to get home and explain their side. All but one of her kids used this rule to their advantage.

Jackson promised, "We're going to tell you everything, but I want you to be ready before I let you see Reed."

At the mention of the boy's name, the parents rushed to the foyer and were frozen by the condition of their eight year old son. They studied Reed's swollen, red face and became fixated on the scratches on his left cheek. The father's mind rushed with worry, but the mother took action to comfort the boy.

Mercedes took his bruised hand, but Reed stepped away from her. She softly asked if he was okay. Her heart cracked deeper with every mark and bruise she took in.

"Of course he's okay. He's a strapper," Jackson cheered. He ruffled the younger boy's blond hair, but Reed was quickly pulled away from him.

Peter snapped, "Don't talk like that. What he did wasn't cool." The thirteen year old pushed his brother to the kitchen. He ordered him to sit on the stool as he started for the freezer to find the ill famed ice pack.

"Ow," pouted Reed when the cold compress was slapped against his cheek.

With an audience, Jackson and Reed were ready to tell their story.

After his band rehearsal ended, Jackson took the bus to the stadium. He sat in the bleachers and watched the game that was "okay for a bunch of kids." He could see that his stepbrother wasn't the fastest, but he had good control of the ball. He cheered out every time the boy fought off a tackle and continued up the field. His attitude wasn't normal for their practices, or most games, so he raised questions.

Reed joined the group that eyed the preteen. His amusement turned the corners of his lips upward. "That's my brother." He ignored most of the teasing, but there was one kid that took it too far.

Mercedes stopped the story. She scolded her son for cheering on bad behavior. She was upset to have a second talk about violence with her son. "What happened to you?" She started a speech about being a family of pacifists.

The blondes tilted their head at the new word, but Peter asked, "What does eating meat have to do with this?"

Pacifist, pescetarian (said by their uncle's girlfriend), both "P" words he'd only heard once.

Jackson brushed off his mom's talk about peace. He believed 'pacifism' was just a word she picked up from his dad; he heard the high school story of his Uncle Kurt's car window. He was against war, but he promised, "There's nothing wrong with standing up for yourself."

"You're supposed to fight with your words. You're ALL smart enough."

Then the call came in, and although Reed was suspended from his soccer team for the rest of the summer, the mother was thankful for his honesty.

With all the members home, Mercedes got the vision of her perfect family. She watched her kids play and joke together. She looked into the backyard to see Jackson talking with Peter by the pool, and then she turned to see Prince and Thor following Whitney's every step. When her husband calmed from the earlier events, he bounced his celebrity impressions with her oldest son; who else could say they had dinner with Samuel L. Jackson and Matthew Mcconaughey? She had her fun movie night, but she didn't expect it to rejuvenate the little ones.

While Prince and Thor were downstairs, running off their energy, Reed was alone in their bedroom.

Logan stopped in the doorway when he heard sniffles from the bed in the corner. The fourteen year old laid a spray bottle at his feet as he sat on the side of his brother's mattress. Pulling the blanket from his face, he asked, "What's wrong?" They sat in a long silence, but he couldn't leave without an answer.

Reed wiped his face, only remembering his scratches when felt the pain of hitting his bandage. His green eyes stayed low as he admitted, "I miss Mom." He didn't get to hear about her much, but one childish poke on the field was enough to make him snap.

Logan sighed, "Yeah, me too." He nibbled his bottom lip as he slumped close to his brother. "But we have Mercedes now. She's weird, but she's nice, right?"

The eight year old growled, "We don't like her."

"But I like her," he admitted as if that was enough to sway the kid.

"I don't want her! I want Mom! I want everything like before!" When he was shushed, tears returned to his eyes. "I don't remember her anymore."

What could Logan do?

He crossed the hall and began to search under his mattress. After returning, he passed the photo to his younger brother: the last photo taken of the happy family of six. He couldn't tell Reed all the stories he wanted; too little time, he believed. When he felt the kid had an eyeful, he slid the photo under his pillow. "It's yours now, okay?"

"Is everyone ready for bed?" Mercedes sang as she entered with her hands taken by her two youngest. Her smile softened when she felt the stiff energy of the room. She questioned the boys?

Logan promised his stepmother that everything was good. He nudged his brother back into his pillow and pulled the blanket over him. Picking up the spray bottle, he explained, "I came to spray Prince's bed so he won't have any more bad dreams. It's exactly how my mom made it, so I know it works." He gave the six year old the bottle and lied, "I've sprayed your bed all week."

Mercedes awed. She turned the boy to her and showered him with praise. She was too distracted to watch her young son.

Prince uncrewed the bottle's top and gave the mixture a sniff.

Nothing.

He rested the rim of the bottle against his lips and tilted it up. He only managed to steal a sip before the bottle was snatched from him, but he knew the taste. "It's water." His brown eyes glared at the creator for thinking that he'd fall for his trick. He ordered the older people out so he could get his rest and marched to his bed.

No bedtime story.

Mercedes turned out the light and led the boy out. She repeated, "That was really sweet of you." She wished him goodnight, expecting him to stroll by her.

Logan pulled his stepmother into a hug, and the longer he held on, he felt a slow rub on his back.