Thanks to everyone who read and to Priyanka for reviewing.

Crosses over with What Strange Creatures ch. 39, but both stories can be read separately.


Barry flopped back onto his back with a groan and stared up at the ceiling. Stupid negatives and chain rules and integrals and everything else that he was supposed to remember for tomorrow, and even if he thought that he finally had it all down, he couldn't help but worry. Before he'd just wanted calculus over and done with because math wasn't his strong suit and there was no way he was ever going to use derivatives again in his entire life anyway, but now it felt….

"Are you all right?" Dad asked from his spot on the couch.

He made himself smile. "Yeah. Just need to stretch for a minute." He suited actions to words and laced his fingers together, reaching over his head as far as he could, and felt his shoulders pop. The really stupid part about all of this was that even if it felt critical, there was every chance that he'd get stuck with a judge who didn't care in the least about his grades and it would all be for nothing. "How's your stuff going?" he asked, looking up at Dad again. Dad had spent most of his evenings this week on the reviews for the Public Defender's Office, going through the boxes of folders and taking notes, but at least he'd been down here with Barry while he did it, and Barry appreciated the company.

Dad smiled. Or tried, anyway; he was better at pretending than Barry, but every day it seemed to get a little more forced. "Almost done with box number three. So far just a few cases in each that could use a closer look, and nothing that requires immediate attention." He tilted his head. "What would you think about taking a break and playing a few games of pool?"

"I—" Barry's phone rang, and he frowned an dug it out quickly. He still hadn't received his notice of violation, nor had he heard from Kevin about any of the statements that he'd planned to look into. And not that he really wanted any of it, but he didn't like it hanging over his head, either. Dad kept saying that Mr. Marin not making a priority of getting the violation hearing scheduled was a good sign, and Barry could see where he was coming from since the later the better remained his preference, but if he could just see what it was going to say, what Mr. Marin might be recommending to the judge, at least he'd have some idea what he was up against. "Hello?" he said, without even bothering to check the screen.

"Hey," Roddy greeted. "Is everything okay?"

"Oh." Duh. Obviously there was no reason that his parole officer or his lawyer would be trying to reach him at eight o'clock at night. Or be calling his cell instead of Dad or the house phone, for that matter. "Hey. Yeah, sorry. I've just..." He hesitated. It wasn't that he wasn't going to tell Roddy what had happened, but maybe not right now. "I've been staring at calculus since I finished my history final," he said instead.

"History, ick. I've still got my presentation for that tomorrow, although at least the paper part was over on Monday. How'd yours go?"

There was no sign that he's noticed Barry's hesitation, and Barry couldn't help but be relieved. It would be easier to explain everything in person. "Pretty well," he said. Even considering that he hadn't had any concerns about that subject in the first place. "It was all multiple choice for one, plus probably ninety percent of the questions were about the Westward Expansion chapters we just finished. Considering how many museums and galleries and stuff I went to with Mom I've beyond got that covered."

"Well, I still say I could live without the entire subject, but I do love multiple guess. I'm pretty sure it saved my ass on my English final this morning."

"Your English test was multiple choice? How does that even work?" Barry had to ask.

"What is an example of foreshadowing? Which statement that best describes the theme? Who was actually a character in the book?" He snorted. "Technically it was just mostly multiple guess with a short answer section and an essay at the end, but anything that cuts down on the bitching about my comma usage can only be good for me. And I think she did it that way so she didn't have to spend so much time grading before the holidays, which I can totally understand. You finished your English paper, I assume?"

"Oh, yeah, I submitted that as soon as the portal opened up."

"Dork."

Barry grinned despite himself. "The orchestra geek can shut up now."

Roddy scoffed. "You still spending the rest of your time shifting boxes? Or I guess probably not tomorrow, since you've got your calc test."

"Yeah, my last day for that was yesterday. At least on the schedule." And Mrs. Young hadn't said anything except to thank him for all of the work he'd done so he figured that Mr. Marin hadn't spoken to her yet. It was a little bit weird since he'd only conditionally approved Barry for those shifts in the first place, but it was another good sign that he hadn't felt the need to check. Maybe.

"So the food is all off to the little old ladies next week? Still think that's stupid."

"I guess." Discussion of his volunteer work was bringing his thoughts back to what had happened, though, and he shook his head. "Sorry, but I probably shouldn't keep talking right now. I've still got like three more chapters to review."

"I need to get back to my Latin too," Roddy said. "I mostly just called to make sure that me coming over Saturday is still okay."

"Definitely. Text when you get off the bus."

"Will do. Good luck with the calc."

"Thanks. Good luck with the Latin. And with your history presentation."

Roddy echoed the thanks before they disconnected, and then Barry stuck his phone back into his pocket and sighed.

"Roddy?" Dad asked.

"Yeah."

"You haven't told him what happened?"

"That was the first time that we've talked since last week, but I will when he comes over. Uh, he was planning on Saturday, unless...?" He and Roddy had made the plans a while ago, and now that he thought about it, he couldn't remember ever talking about them with Dad. Not that Dad ever seemed to object to Roddy's presence, but he hadn't asked, either.

"Of course he's welcome to come over," Dad said immediately, and then paused. "I'm guessing that those three chapters mean you'd rather not take a break for pool tonight, though?"

"Tomorrow instead?" Barry asked. Even if it would probably end up not mattering, there was a tiny chance that it might, and if so Barry had to have it right.


"Leaving aside the bullying for the moment, what's this about getting sick?" Dad asked, and Barry had to force himself to shut his mouth because he didn't want to leave the bullying aside. Some creep had thought that it was okay to shove Roddy down stairs, and while Barry certainly wouldn't call Roddy helpless, he was too light to defend himself from something like that.

Roddy kept his eyes on his hands. "Nothing. Really."

That wasn't even vaguely convincing, and Barry wasn't surprised when Dad's attention turned to him. "He didn't look so great when I picked him up. But he's always kind of pale so…." Barry trailed off with a shrug. Dad wasn't happy either, but facts mattered more than embellishments, and Roddy had insisted that he was just tired. Barry hadn't been in a position to dispute him, either, considering that Roddy had had a bunch of performances on top of half a dozen finals this past week and nothing in the way of obvious bruises like he'd had before Thanksgiving. "But then when we were coming up the driveway he choked all of a sudden, and as soon as I stopped he opened the door and started throwing up. And for a minute it looked like he was going to take a header right out of the truck, too, which is when I grabbed him." He was still pretty sure that he'd grabbed too hard no matter what Roddy said about existing bruises, but his focus had been on keeping Roddy from falling.

Dad looked at Roddy again, and Roddy finally figured out that he wasn't going to get away without talking. "I skipped lunch yesterday, and then the ballet ran late with speeches and stuff since it was the closing performance. By the time I got home I was so hungry that I didn't even look at what I grabbed out of the fridge. The sauce had probably just started to go off or something. I don't have a cough or sore throat or anything, and not a fever either, so I can't be sick-sick."

Barry wondered why Roddy hadn't grabbed something before the ballet since even if the theater didn't have concessions there had to be restaurants somewhere close, but Dad was frowning even more.

"Have you gotten ill from eating bad food before? I wouldn't…I didn't think that that was something that Reinigen typically suffered from."

Barry half-expected Roddy to take offense, but he only shrugged. "No. But I haven't got a better explanation."

"Did you feel sick yesterday?"

"No."

"And did you have a headache yesterday?"

From the targeted questions Dad had an idea about what was going on, but he was still looking at Roddy so Barry stayed quiet.

"No, but like I said, I just didn't sleep very well last night. It happens sometimes."

"It does, but given what else you've said, is there any chance that you might have hit your head when you got knocked down?

Barry felt a growl rumble up, remembering Jason going headfirst over the handlebars of his bike once upon a time and a doctor diagnosing the resulting injury as a concussion. They'd only been twelve or thirteen and most of his memories of the incident involved Mom's fury about their lack of helmets, but Roddy's symptoms did sound an awful lot like what Jase had gone through afterwards.

"I don't think so?" Roddy said hesitantly. "I don't know. It happened really fast. I was mostly worried about my violin, and then I was flat on my back in a puddle."

"Hm. May I?"

He gestured and Roddy didn't say no when Dad touched his hair. At least for a minute, and then he hissed and jerked back. And then seemed to pale a little more.

Dad held up his hands. "Well, I'm not an expert, but between that and your symptoms, I think you might have a concussion."

Roddy slid forward again, starting to push himself off the couch. "Sorry, in that case I really should have stayed home. I'll go—"

"No!" Barry snapped, snagging his jacket.

"Absolutely not," Dad said in the same time.

"What? But—"

Dad shook his head. "It would be beyond irresponsible to send you home alone less than twenty-four hours after a probable concussion. Frankly if you landed the way that you described, someone should have checked on you last night. Now, you can stay here, or maybe I could call Monroe?"

Barry liked the second option a lot less than the first, but Roddy only rubbed his forehead again. "Monroe's visiting his parents for the week. But I can't stay. My violin's at home, and the heater's not great, and anyway I need my comp—oh, shit."

"What?" Barry asked as Roddy's head jerked up and he winced again.

"I had my computer in my backpack when I fell. I didn't even think about it last night. I've got to make sure that that's okay, and then I've got classwork to catch up on, and I don't even have any clothes or anything here."

"How about this?" Dad said. "I'm not sending you home alone. Not tonight for sure; we'll see how you feel in a day or two. If there's someone you'd like to call, of course you're welcome to do so, but otherwise...well, I need to go down into the city to pick up a few things at the butcher's today anyway, so how about you give me your keys and I'll stop and pick up your violin and backpack and whatever else you'd like on the way?"

Barry figured that as long as he kept hold of Roddy's jacket Roddy wasn't going anywhere anyway, but Dad's plan sounded a lot more legitimate, and Roddy nodded reluctantly and dug a key out of his pocket.

"Thank you," Dad said, taking it and offering his phone. "You might as well put in your address too while we're thinking about it, and then you two can go downstairs and find something quiet to do while I finish up upstairs."

The 'quiet' part was directed over Roddy's head at Barry, and Barry nodded because he remembered how Jason had wanted to stay curled up in bed for days after his accident. He hadn't even cared when their parents had taken away their bikes for two weeks for the helmet thing.

"Sure. I...thanks." Roddy handed the phone back a moment later, and Dad stood, patting his shoulder and heading towards the stairs.

Barry got up as well. "You want something before we head downstairs? A drink or a snack?" He wasn't sure what he should offer considering that Roddy had thrown up whatever had been in his stomach when they'd been halfway up the driveway.

"Water? I think maybe I better not try eating anything right now."

Barry got them both waters and followed Roddy downstairs, nudging him to the inside of the room and manners be damned. Since Roddy only rolled his eyes, he figured it was fine. "Movie?" It was the quietest activity that came to mind.

"Okay." Roddy put his water on the side table and then sat down beside Barry. "I'm sorry, I wouldn't have come over if I'd known I was..." He waved a hand. "Concussed, apparently. But you don't have to keep me here, I can manage fine on my own."

"Of course you should have come over. And there's no reason you shouldn't stay. We've got the space and nothing planned until Christmas." He hesitated and then shrugged and plowed ahead. It wasn't like he hadn't been planning to tell Roddy anyway. "Besides, given what happened Friday, I need a distraction. Even if I was mostly thinking of undersized rat without head injury."

"Fuck you." He paused. "But Friday like yesterday? Seriously, what's the deal? You couldn't have done that bad on your calc test."

"No, Friday of last week." Barry shrugged again, picking at the carpet. "I sort of got in some trouble on community service. Or, I didn't, exactly, but I am getting blamed, and it could be pretty bad."

Roddy frowned. "What happened? Did someone forget not to hang from the forklift or something?"

"No, I took a break from the food bank to do some trash pickup. You know, like with the road crews?"

"Sure, you've done that before."

"Yeah, well, this time some idiot tried to knock me out into the road about half an hour into the shift. I didn't go anywhere, he probably weighed a good forty pounds less than me and that's without the fact that I don't knock easy, but he went down when I straightened up. And that's the part the shift supervisor saw. He decided that we were fighting—I was fighting—and called my parole officer, and now I'm going to get called in for a violating my parole."

Roddy's eyes narrowed. "But that's bullshit. I mean, are they blind? If you'd hit the guy even a little, he'd have done a lot more than fall down."

"Doesn't matter." Barry pushed the cuff of his jeans aside and flicked the ankle monitor. "Not if the judge believes that I was fighting, anyway, Kevin says he'll speak to the other community service I've done and to make sure my grades are as good as possible so he can highlight that too, but..."

"So that's why you suddenly cared about calculus."

"Yeah."

Roddy shifted, shouldering into him. "How bad is pretty bad?"

"Worst case?" Barry's hands flexed against the carpet, and he felt his control slip and claws caught. "Readmittance. Going back to prison. Thirty or sixty days is the most likely, but it could be whatever the judge wants." He shivered despite himself. "I don't know what I'll do if that happens. It's not...I survived a year before, I know that, but…." His voice cracked and he made himself shut up before he could make things worse. He hadn't known what it was going to be like going in that first time, and by the time he'd understood he'd already been there. The idea of having to walk through those gates again knowing what he was going into was enough to make him sick.

If his woge bothered Roddy there was no sign of it as he wrapped an arm around Barry's shoulders as best he could. "That's stupid. There's got to be something somebody can do. Does Nick know about all of this?"

Barry shook his head. "No, and even if he did I don't think there's anything that he could do. He's a detective not a judge so he's pretty well out of the loop after the first conviction."

Roddy started to echo his head shake and then stopped and pressed his hands against his forehead again before looking back up. "When is it? The hearing, I mean."

Barry frowned and shifted so Roddy could lean against him if he wanted. It was pretty obvious that he didn't need to be moving any more than he had to right now. "No idea. I haven't even seen the violation notice yet. Kevin's guessing it'll be at the end of January, and it's not like I want it sooner, but I just wish I could see what he's going to say. My parole officer, I mean. I guess even once I do I'll still just be sitting and waiting," not to say panicking, "but it would be something."

"That's Kevin?"

"Huh?"

"Your parole officer."

"No, Kevin's my lawyer. Mr. Marin's my parole officer."

That got a frown. "But your dad's a lawyer."

"He is, but not the right kind. When I was little he used to do pro bono work for the Public Defender's Office, and he does appeals for them now sometimes too, but most of his work is civil stuff through his firm. Since the charges against me were criminal, it was better to get an expert."

"Oh. Okay."

"You know, this whole thing is backwards," Barry said after a minute. "Not that I want a concussion, but if Walker had knocked me down no one would be accusing me of starting fights. And your stupid classmate deserved to bounce and land on his butt."

"He's the one who needs the concussion—him or the jackass who went after you—but I'll agree with the rest of it. Although in that case his dad would probably be accusing me of some shit, and even if better me than you I don't need another suspension."

"Wait, his dad saw what happened?"

"Yeah. Said I was overreacting when I told Dylan to fuck off."

Barry growled a little. Not that he'd never accidentally sent a classmate tumbling, especially when he'd been younger and occasionally overenthusiastic, but his parents had always been clear that if something like that happened he was expected to apologize. And if he'd ever knocked down another kid in front of Dad? That apology better have been the first thing out of his mouth. "No one else stopped when you fell?" he had to ask.

Roddy shrugged. "Most of the people who'd come to watch the ballet left while we were getting packed up, and it was raining so it's not like a lot of people were out and about."

"All of this sucks."