Animaniacs 1. Prologue

DISCLAIMER: Hopefully this will be the only one of these I'll need to write…with a few exceptions, these characters aren't mine. This is not for profit, it's just for fun.

The rating is for some instances of language, violence, and mild sexuality. These situations will be handled in a way that is appropriate for a 'T' rating.

Finally, this is all original content. I am not taking ideas from any of the talented authors in this section. I respect them too much to do so. Any similarities are simply coincidences or the result of reading too much into things. I can guarantee you that everything in this story is either canon, implied by canon, or of my own creation.

That's all I have to say other than sit back, relax, and enjoy the story!

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_**Prologue**_

Everything hurt.

His chest, his legs, his elbows, his toes…his entire body felt tender and battered, as if he had just been in a blender and then spit back out again. His lips were cracked, and his tongue was so dry it felt like a wad of paper wedged in his mouth. It even hurt to breath. His ribs…were they broken? He tried to lift his hand to touch them, but pain shot up his arm. He gasped and the air rattled in his raw throat. Maybe it was better to remain still for now.

His head. Oh God, his head. It was like someone had taken a mallet to it. Repeatedly. A new note of pain was struck with each throb, the bulk of it gathering where his ears met his skull. There was something trickling down the side of his forehead.

What was that smell?

As he slowly swam back into consciousness, he realized he was on his back, lying on uneven ground. Gingerly, he stroked the floor with glove-less fingers. It was rough, but also covered in something sticky and warm. Was that ink? Was he bleeding?

He almost managed a snort. For how much pain he was in, it would be nothing short of a miracle if he wasn't bleeding.

Where was he?

The pain in his head was making his brain feel slow and dull, trying to formulate a thought was like swimming in thick mud. His breath was coming in short and shallow. It felt hot against his mouth. The smell was getting worse.

What was going on?

He couldn't see. As he slowly dragged his brain through the thought process, he decided that it was because his eyes were shut. He opened them, and his eyelids crackled.

It was still dark. But his eyes were open. He knew his eyes were open.

Panic blossomed in his chest. His heart began to race, coursing the ink through his veins and causing the pain to dance to a different beat. Oh God, he was blind –

But his brain forced him to acknowledge the heat around his mouth, and the rough fabric that chafed against his swollen nose. Lifting his trembling hand and hissing as the pain exploded in bursts, he touched his face. It was covered with something thick and coarse, like burlap. It was okay. He wasn't blind.

He dropped his hand to his chest, exhaling shakily through the fabric. He held his breath for a few moments, trying to avoid the stench, but the brief lack of oxygen made him dizzy.

_Where am I how did I get here what happened what is going on why is there a sack over my head – _

His brain was suddenly going into overdrive. Lost in the darkness, his thoughts became a blurred mess of confusion; question after question presented itself in his mind, and each was maddeningly impossible to answer. Nausea swelled in his stomach. Make it stop, make it stop –

And then a thought occurred to him in such an abrupt manner that all the other questions quickly fell silent. He felt the color drain from his face, and his body began to shake even worse.

_Wakko. Dot._

Staring into the blackness with wide, frightened eyes, Yakko Warner choked out one word:

"_Sibs._"


	2. One Year Earlier

_**Chapter 1: One Year Earlier**_

It was noon on a Thursday. Time for Yakko's pre-show ritual.

He had already showered. Breakfast had been a bowl of cereal with lactaid milk. He had read the newspaper. Done the crossword. Now he was microwaving water in a coffee mug that had a large WB logo plastered on it. When the water came to a boil, Yakko carefully took it out of the microwave and dunked a teabag in it, over and over again, watching as the water turned into a murky greenish-brown. He curled his gloved hand around the mug, enjoying the warmth and aroma of green tea.

He carried the mug into the dining room and stood by the window. He had really lucked out with this apartment: his view of Manhattan was marvelous. Laid out in front of him was the New York City skyline. Below, the hustle of humans and toons along the sidewalk.

Yakko blew on his tea, waiting for it to cool. He wasn't looking forward to going outside – it had that gray, sharp look of being bitterly cold. He rolled his eyes. If this was New York in December, he hated to see what January had in store. But for now he was in his toasty apartment, kept at a nearly uncomfortable heat due to a certain Warner sister's demands, cradling a steaming mug of tea.

He took a sip. The hot liquid poured down his throat in a comforting, familiar way. It seemed to warm up his whole body. Yakko had started drinking tea months ago at the recommendation of one of his new cast mates. Apparently it helped prevent vocal nodes. But now it had become part of a routine for Yakko, despite the jibes from his brother about it being a "grandma habit" and that he'd be "knitting afghans next."

'_Have yourself a merry little Christmas…let your heart be light…'_

Yakko rolled his eyes again as music from his neighbor's radio wafted into his own apartment. That had also become routine. The guy had been playing Christmas music since September.

A few flurries drifted down in front of his window, and Yakko wrinkled his nose. He hoped it didn't snow, both for his siblings' sake, and for his. Well, mainly for his. He'd have to walk in it in about an hour. Maybe he'd just take a cab. Again. He could hear the laughs from his cast mates now about his inability to handle the elements ("Need a space heater, California boy?"). Or maybe he'd just suck it up and walk. It wasn't that far from his apartment to Broadway.

Yakko shivered and took another sip of tea. He didn't want to think about going outside now, especially since the flurries had turned into full on snow. For now he would just enjoy the warmth. _And the silence_, he thought as he glanced at the clock. They would be home in a few minutes, and his quiet little oasis of calm would burst like a soap bubble. One of them would be making snide comments, the other would resort to personal threats. Yakko would have to step in before pies were thrown, or mallets brought out, or some other brand of toon weaponry was unleashed. Just last week they had been fighting with live cats they had pulled from behind their backs. _Cats_.

Maybe they wouldn't be so bad today. One could hope, right?

_BAM!_

"My head is not too big for my body! Take it _back, _numskull!"

"Only if you take back what you said about my ears, crapsack!"

Yakko nearly dropped his tea as the door swung open, revealing two skinny teenagers wrapped up in enough snow gear that they could go on an arctic expedition. He sighed. Oh well. It looked like today's theme was only shallow personal attacks.

"It's good to see that you two had a nice exchange of pleasantries on the walk home," he drawled, flicking off some tea that had sloshed onto his glove.

"Hi Yakko," Dot said brightly, then turned back to her other brother so that they were nose to nose. "Yeah right, you started it!" she snapped, then clomped her boots on the doormat to knock off the snow. Shaking a few flakes from her hair, she pranced into the dining room, even doing a pirouette before promptly grabbing Yakko's mug and taking a swig of his tea.

"One of these days I'm going to push you into traffic," Wakko growled, kicking off his own boots.

Dot stuck her tongue out him. Yakko snatched the tea back out of her hands and ordered, "Would you two knock it off? You're worse than an episode of Jerry Springer. Once, just once, I'd like to have a nice lunch with my angelic little siblings before I went to work."

"Good luck trying to do anything nice with Katie Kaboom over here," Wakko grumbled, shrugging off his dark blue jacket and dropping it on the floor. He stormed past both of them and toward his room.

"Wakko, pick up your – " Yakko started, but Wakko had already turned around in a huff, seized his jacket roughly from the floor, and made the return trip to his room.

"And don't slam your door!" Yakko yelled after he heard the sharp slap. He turned to his sister with a sigh. "Don't you think you two are a little too old for this?"

Dot, having already peeled off her mittens and draped them across the heater, was unzipping her purple parka. She gave Yakko an indignant look. "He's older than me! And he started it, he didn't tell me there was ice on the stairs and then he just laughed like an idiot when I fell! And nooo, who cares if I was hurt so bad I probably can't dance tomorrow, definitely not Wakko."

"You seemed to do that little dance in the kitchen just fine, my little crippled sib."

"Yeah, well," Dot huffed, "I was just testing my ankle, I think it's weak."

"Can't you guys just walk five blocks without it turning into the Battle of the Bulge?" Yakko implored.

"It's not my fault he's an annoying freak of nature – "

"Watch it," Yakko said in a warning tone. "Look, I don't want to hear it. You two better shape up your act or else. You're both old enough now that I shouldn't even be having this conversation with you. Don't give me that look, it's not like you don't know how to behave. Now c'mon, tell me about your day. How was class?"

"Good," Dot answered, sitting down at the table and curling her legs beneath her. "We talked about how Bernstein used Beethoven in _West Side Story _this morning, and then for dance we're still working on the dream sequence from _Oklahoma!_..."

Yakko beamed as his sister gave him the run down of her day. To his unending pride, both of his siblings had been accepted into Julliard's Junior Toon Apprenticeship Progam, JTAP. Not that he had any doubts, of course. While all three of them were talented in the performing arts, he felt that Wakko and Dot were especially gifted. Growing up, they had always been thrust into categories: Yakko was the singer, Wakko was the musician, and Dot , the dancer. But Yakko had encouraged them to be well rounded, and so did Julliard, apparently. He had been to plenty of their recitals in the last year, and they were easily the best two out of the whole very select bunch. Not that he was biased or anything.

Plus, it was nice to see his siblings excited about something since the move to New York. Even now Yakko still was not sure if bringing them here with him had been the best decision. But them being angry at him about a cross-country move was nothing compared to the thought of being apart from them for some indeterminate amount of time.

Yakko and Dot shared a lunch of sandwiches – roast beef for him, avocado and tomato for his newly vegetarian sister – and vegetable soup. He set aside a sandwich for Wakko, whenever his brother chose to resurface. Knowing Wakko's appetite, it wouldn't be too long. Grabbing his jacket from the closet, Yakko turned to Dot.

"Alright sister sib, I'm off. Don't come to the show tonight, because _ooooh_ the weather outside is frightful," Yakko said with a glance in their next-door neighbor's direction. Dot snickered. "And try to play nice with your brother, okay? If you two do decide to kill each other, do it out in the hallway. I want my security deposit back."

Yakko leaned over and kissed Dot on the forehead. "Good luck!" he heard her call as he walked out the door. After taking the elevator to the lobby, Yakko looked through the glass doors and into a white wall of blustering snow. With a dramatic sigh, he zipped his jacket all the way up to his chin, steeled himself, and put on a brave face. He would walk to work. It was just a little snow. No big deal.

He stepped outside. Three seconds later, he hailed a cab.

* * *

Wakko flopped down onto his bed and patted his stomach. He loved the feeling of being full. Too bad it never lasted long; even after eating the sandwich Yakko made him, then eating another two that he made himself, he'd still be hungry in about an hour. Oh well. He was a growing boy after all. But he'd still keep his mouth shut next time Yakko wondered aloud about how they seemed to go through bread so fast.

Letting his tongue hang loosely out of his mouth, he sprawled out in a long, luxurious stretch, then glanced around his room. Dirty clothes were piled in one corner. Clothes that he had worn but weren't quite dirty yet were in another pile. Clothes that had been washed but he hadn't bothered to put away made up a third pile. There was a small desk along the opposite wall that was covered in sheet music, sketchbooks, issues of _Sports Illustrated _and _Rolling Stone_, and empty chip bags. Pencils and pens littered the floor along with other general odds and ends. It was a mess. Yakko hated it. But Wakko adored it because it was his. It was his room. It was a luxury he'd never, ever take for granted. After years of sharing a room with Yakko, he finally had his own little space. Some semblance of privacy. Not that Yakko had ever been especially nosy, but sometimes Wakko just wanted to be by himself. Plus, he could throw his stuff around and not have to pick it up. What was the point of cleaning if it was just going to get messy again?

Wakko rolled over and gazed out the window. The snow was so thick he could barely make out the other buildings. There was no way he was going to Yakko's show tonight. Not that he had gone in awhile anyway – he had the thing so well memorized he could not only perform Yakko's part, but probably half the cast's. Just thinking about the music made him bored. Wakko sighed again. No, it was way too cold for that. The weather was never like this in Burbank.

One week before his older brother had turned seventeen, Yakko had been cast as Marius in the first production of _Les Mis__é__rables _with an all-toon cast. He and Dot had been excited until they learned that the show was set to open off-Broadway in New York City. Wakko could remember the first time his brother had told him and Dot about it. That they might be moving. At that point it had been about two years since _Animaniacs _was over. They were still living on the lot, attending their toon education classes and just being kids. Wakko's first reaction had been disbelief. For some reason he had always assumed that they would never leave Burbank. He could barely imagine living somewhere besides the lot, let alone on the opposite coast. His life, their lives – it was all in California.

Dot had been outraged. "What about all my friends? What about Skippy, and Randy Beaman? Who else would appreciate my girlish charm but beyond-my-age wit?" she had cried. Yakko told her that she could still keep in touch with them, that they'd be back to visit, that she'd make new friends…Dot wasn't having any of it. She cried. She threw tantrums. She refused to talk to Yakko for a week.

While he hadn't quite reached the level of fury that Dot had, Wakko told Yakko flat out that he didn't want to do it. What he didn't tell his brother was that the thought of the move terrified him. A strange place where they didn't know anyone, a place where there was no Toontown, where there was no safety of the lot? No way. Yakko had let it drop, but the look of disappoint on his brother's face had made it difficult for Wakko to sleep that night.

A week later, they celebrated Yakko's seventeenth birthday and the end of Dot's silent treatment. It was a great time, all of their friends had come over. As Wakko watched Yakko laughing with Buster Bunny over a can of soda, he secretly hoped that Yakko would realize that all of this was too much to leave behind. Didn't he see how much fun he was having? Wouldn't he miss this?

But by the next week, Yakko was at it again. He calmly told them about what the move would entail. It wouldn't be permanent. Two, maybe three years. What was more, there was a chance that he and Dot could attend JTAP. Despite her attempts to hide it, even Dot had perked up at this. JTAP was a big deal to young toons everywhere. You didn't get better training than that. All the best toon performers came out of JTAP. Wakko had to admit that Yakko knew how to make a bargain.

But even JTAP couldn't sway Dot. Just as she was about to descend into another vow of silence, Wakko made his own bargain: Yakko could go to New York while he and Dot stayed in California. This, apparently, had been the wrong suggestion. Yakko and Dot both reacted violently: Yakko looked as though he had been slapped, while Dot shrieked that if she lived with just Wakko they'd both be dead in less than five minutes. It had been Wakko's turn to get mad then. He wasn't stupid, he could take care of both of them, he wouldn't let either of them get killed. They'd at least live longer than five freaking minutes. Just because Yakko was the responsible, parental one didn't mean he couldn't step up when need be. Why couldn't Dot trust him like she did Yakko?

But Yakko ended the ensuing argument, stating that he would not even consider leaving either one of them behind. They either went together, or not at all. This seemed to be the only thing that all three of them could agree on.

They had argued like this for a long time until Wakko spoke up again.

"Yakko, why do you want to do this so bad?"

Everyone had gotten quiet at that point. Yakko was looking away from them, his brow furrowed. He was collecting his thoughts; usually he was spitting out words faster than he could think them, so Wakko and Dot had long since realized that if Yakko paused, it usually meant he was going to say something of relative importance.

"I really, really want to do this," he had said, finally. "It's hard to explain, but I just feel like I can't give this up. I want to try new things, guys. I want to have new experiences, I want to see someplace different. I'm seventeen, and I have the means and the ability to travel the world if I want to. I don't want to stick around here, year after year, until I'm some has-been begging for autographs and trying to relive the glory days. I want to get on with my life. But you guys are my number one priority – I can't do this if you don't have my back."

Wakko hadn't said anything at first, shocked into silence over the fact that his brother had just kind of bared his soul and admitted to needing reassurance. That was a first. Dot seemed just as surprised as he was, staring at her oldest brother with a strange look on her face.

Then, Yakko added, "Also, I really like show tunes."

Wakko wasn't sure if that was to lighten the mood or just the truth.

At that point, Dot had straightened up, said, "I'll think about it," and disappeared into her room.

Shortly after, both he and Dot agreed to Yakko's request. The Warners were moving to New York City. They packed their bags. Said goodbye to their friends. Boarded the plane to JFK. Wakko remembered Yakko stroking Dot's hair as she burst into tears when the plane took off.

A shrill giggle shook Wakko from his thoughts. He rolled his eyes. Even in his own room he could hear Dot on the phone with one of her friends. For all her whining about leaving her friends in Burbank, she had the least trouble out of all of them when it came to making friends in New York. After about one hour into her first class at JTAP, Dot had burst from her cocoon of awkward preteen-dom and blossomed into the world's most zealous social butterfly. Within weeks she had her own gossiping hoard of girls to travel with in the hallways. And now, just less than two years since their move, Dot was essentially the queen bee of the youth division at JTAP.

Yakko hadn't suffered socially either. _Les Mis__é__r-Toons _was a smash hit and quickly moved to Broadway, where it was an even bigger success. Humans and toons alike flocked to the sold-out theater every night. Yakko had made quick friends with his cast mates, especially the female ones. According to him, it was wonderful being a guy in musical theater. For the first time in his life, it seemed to Wakko that his brother was enjoying acting his age.

He and Dot had gone to see the show more times than he could count. Dot adored it, and lamented repeatedly that she was in some horrible middle stage where she was too old to play young Cosette and too young to play adult Cosette. Wakko had to admit that he enjoyed the musical too – looking back on it, it made that one Rita and Runt sketch suddenly make a lot more sense. Plus, it was a hoot to watch Yakko, even though it was boring and gross to watch him get kissy-face with that one duck actress over and over again. He really looked like he was having fun up there.

Sometimes, when he sat in the darkness and watched his brother sing up on stage, Wakko wondered if he would do that one day. Yakko always looked so confident, so in control – performing was effortless for him. Even offstage, Yakko handled everything with a smirking self-confidence and charisma that seemed to carry him through life on easy wings. Wakko rarely felt confident or assured. Most of the time he just felt awkward and self-conscious, never knowing what to say or do that wouldn't make him look weird. He wished he could be just like Yakko.

But then again, sometimes he didn't. Sometimes, Wakko didn't want to be like Yakko at all. He was sick of constantly being lumped into the same category as his brother, or worse, compared to him. He just wanted to be _Wakko_, even though, when he really thought about it, he didn't even know what that would be. But still, he wasn't just "the other Warner brother." Didn't people realize they were different? That Yakko wasn't always the best and brightest?

"I'm good at stuff too!" Wakko burst out suddenly. Whoops. He hadn't meant to say that out loud.

"_Sure you are," _came Dot's muffled reply from her bedroom.

"Shut up," Wakko yapped, ignoring her giggling. It was true. He was good at stuff. He just didn't shove it in everyone's faces. He was top in his class at JTAP. And he'd be eighteen in less than three years, at which point he'd take his already guaranteed and coveted spot in the undergraduate class at Julliard.

This fact had been met to the general consternation of his classmates. Wakko shoved his face into his pillow at the thought: out of the three Warners, why did he have to be the loser when it came to making friends? If his classmates were ever nice to him, it was for their own gain. They either wanted an autograph or some magic formula for getting their own TV show. Whenever someone asked him about that, Wakko just shrugged and said to do what he did: have a talent scout spot you when your smart-aleck older brother's big mouth almost gets him beat up on the playground of an orphanage.

But for the most part, his classmates avoided him. Or glared at him. Or made stupid comments, like that he bought his way into JTAP, that he got his undergraduate scholarship because Bugs Bunny gave them a call. That was stupid: not only was it completely untrue, but as Wakko pointed out, he barely knew Bugs Bunny. They'd spoken to him, sure. Bugs Bunny at least knew who they were. But they weren't close enough for Bugs to pull any kind of strings, or for the rabbit to know that Yakko not so secretly idolized him. No, Wakko knew that he had gotten where he was because of talent alone, but no one seemed to want to acknowledge that.

Yakko told him that his classmates were just jealous. Part of Wakko believed that. It was with a great amount of grace that he managed not to laugh in their faces when he bested them every week in grades or rehearsals. But the other, larger, louder part of Wakko believed that it was because he was inherently weird, that he had never quite grasped how to successfully act with the outside world.

Wakko glanced at the clock. 4:32 pm. He didn't have any evening classes today, and Yakko wouldn't be home until around midnight. And it wasn't like he was going to get a phone call from some classmate asking him to hang out, like Dot did every five seconds. He was caught up on all his homework. The whole rest of the day was his to do with what he wished. Grinning, Wakko rolled over and pulled a thin, worn comic book from beneath his pillow. He traced the bent cover with a gloved finger.

'_Mickey Mouse Outwits the Phantom Blot.' _

One of Wakko's first stops upon reaching New York was the comic book store. He had started reading comic books when he was twelve; it was a hobby he rarely spoke of to anyone. He'd even drawn a few of his own, which was a hobby he absolutely did not speak of to anyone. He didn't want to get laughed at. But he couldn't help it: he loved the stories, the illustrations, the fact that he could disappear into their world for hours on end…

The classics were his favorites, like old school Warner Brothers, Disney, and Marvel. So when he walked into the store and found this gem, he had been over the moon. At this point he'd lost track of how many times he'd read it. In fact, he wasn't quite sure why he liked it so much. It was pretty obnoxiously Disney. Mickey Mouse was permanently stuck in optimism-mode, and only made it out of the adventure alive due to repeated instances of sheer luck. But still, this story was actually exciting, and there was some stuff that happened that really made Wakko think –

"_Oh my _God _Patti, ask him, ask him ask him ask him! Or wait, no, I know, _sing it!_ Sing it to him Patti, I'll die – " _

Dot's shrill squeal from her bedroom broke up Wakko's thoughts. Looking up from his comic book, he yelled, "Yeah Patti, you sing and we'll _all _die!"

"_Shut up Wakko!" _Dot screamed, _"You didn't hear that, did you Patti? Oh God, no, ignore it, it was just my idiot turd of a brother, he was dropped on his head as a child…"_

Stuffing pillows into his ears, Wakko flipped to the next page.

* * *

"Great show tonight Yakko!"

"Way to work those golden pipes a' yours, bucko!"

"Catch ya tomorrow night, good job man!"

Yakko walked into his dressing room, waving to his friends and cast mates. "G'night everybody!" he shouted. A second later he realized that used to be a catchphrase of his and felt like an idiot. Hopefully no one noticed.

"Haven't you used that line before?"

So much for that.

Yakko turned around with an embarrassed grin. A gorgeous duck toon with a powder white face and blonde curls was leaning against his doorframe. She was still in her Cosette costume, with a white skirt that fell chastely to her ankles, but a bold red corset that, Yakko noticed, barely contained two of her assets.

"Oh, maybe once or twice. You know, whenever a situation got a bit too…adult," Yakko replied, and waggled his eyebrows.

God, he loved musical theater. Maybe a little too much. If Wakko or Dot ever decided to perform, he was chaperoning their every show. Luckily, neither of his siblings seemed to be having these types of encounters yet.

"Speaking of which," the woman said, stepping into his room and closing the door behind her, "I seem to be having some trouble taking off my costume. Do you think you could help me?"

Yakko grinned, a chuckle forming somewhere deep in his throat.

"For you, Rebecca, I'd be happy to."

Blondes. They were so much fun.

* * *

Boys. They were so much fun.

Especially when they were thirteen and could be wrapped around your little finger so tight it had to hurt.

"Oh Razzy, I don't know why you don't do more solos, you're _clearly _the most talented boy in class," Dot cooed into the phone, rolling her eyes.

"_Ya think so?"_

This was too easy. Tracing the patterns on her pink and purple bedsheets, Dot replied, "Oh yeah, definitely. I wish my solos could be as good as yours…"

Yeah right. It was more like the other way around. Dot knew she was the best in her class, hands down. If anyone else was half as good, they should be counting their lucky stars.

"_Geez Dot, I dunno. You're like, really good. Everyone says you're the best."_

Dot smirked. A nice ego stroke was good for you every now and then. But she couldn't get too caught up in it, it was getting late. Dot glanced at the clock. It was close to midnight. Yakko would be home soon, and God help her if he caught her up past her bedtime and on the phone, with a boy no less.

"I don't know Razzy, I could really use some he-elp…" Dot said in a sing-song voice.

"_Well there's a lot of tutors at JTAP, I think Webber is free on Wednesdays."_

Dot rolled her eyes. Boys were so stupid. Sometimes you practically had to shove their nose in it.

"I don't like Webber, he's cranky and smells like an old man. I need help from someone in my class, like, a really talented boy who I may or may not be speaking to. Right now."

C'mon, it wasn't that hard…

"_Oh, well, maybe I could help you!" _

There you go.

"Razzy, that's so thoughtful of you! I mean, if you insist, maybe we could meet – "

Dot stiffened. Her ears twitched, picking up the sound of keys fumbling against the lock on the front door. After months of practice, she practically had a sixth sense about Yakko coming home.

"Crap, I have to go, bye!" she blurted into the phone. In one fluid motion, she pressed the off button, shoved the phone under the pillow, flicked off her lamp, flung herself down onto her bed, and threw the covers over her body. Less than a second later Dot could hear Yakko enter the apartment and throw his keys and wallet onto the kitchen counter. She knew she had to be quick, because the first thing Yakko would do was –

Right on cue, Dot heard her bedroom door open. She kept her eyes squeezed shut, feigning sleep. Yakko always peeked into her room first before he moved onto Wakko's. It had only taken Dot being caught by her older brother once before she became a pro at anticipating his little nighttime checkups.

Hearing her door shut with a soft click, Dot sighed with relief. Another close call, another successful deception. She'd talk to Razzy in class tomorrow and explain what happened.

And then the phone rang.

Dot's heart stopped. No. Razzy couldn't be that stupid. He wouldn't call her back.

The phone rang again. She could hear Yakko's footsteps as he made his way to the kitchen. Crap. Crap crap crap. Who else could it possibly be this late at night? God, Razzy was such a freaking moron. Leave it to a boy to be so damn clueless. If Yakko answered the phone, he'd figure out that she had been up to something she shouldn't. And it would probably lead to a boy talk. Again. She couldn't take it, she had to do something. Disconnect the phone line? No, it was in the kitchen, where Yakko was. Tackle her brother, and say she thought he as a burglar? No, he'd probably give her crap about how she should've called 911 instead, or asked her why she thought a burglar would be trying to answer their phone.

Lunging out of bed, Dot made up her mind. She had to get to the phone before Yakko. Otherwise she was toast. She'd make up some excuse as to why she suddenly woke up to answer it – maybe she could say she was sleepwalking or something –

Dot burst out of her bedroom and hurtled down the hallway. Yakko was in the kitchen, only a few feet from the phone.

"I GOT IT!" Dot screamed.

Yakko only got out a "What the – " before she elbowed him out of the way, sending him sprawling to the floor. Dot all but leapt onto the counter, grabbed the phone out of the receiver and gasped, "Hello Warner residence sorry wrong number!"

"_No, zees is not a wrong number, Dot don't hang up!"_

Dot froze with the phone hovering over the receiver. In spite of the situation, and the fact that Yakko was getting up off the floor with a murderous look on his face, excitement was coursing through her. She knew that voice.

"Scratchy, is that you?" she cried.

Yakko, who had just opened his mouth angrily, blinked in shock.

"_Yes Dot, eet's me, eet's very good to hear your little voice,_" Scratchensniff said warmly. Dot noted that he sounded tired.

"Scratchy!" Dot howled with delight. "I miss you! Why didn't you call us sooner? You'd love it here, it snows all the time and they have German food on like, every corner!"

By this point Wakko had trotted into the kitchen in his night shirt and boxers, looking curious. He sent a questioning glance to Yakko, who shrugged.

"_Dot, I would love to speak to you much longer, but I am afraid I have to speak to your brother, Yakko. This ees very important please,"_ Scratchensniff said.

Frowning, Dot handed the phone over to Yakko.

"He wants to talk to you," she said.

Quirking an eyebrow, Yakko accepted the phone. She had expected him to look as excited as she felt, but his face showed nothing but worry, even a small hint of fear. But before he spoke, he covered the mouthpiece and muttered, "You and I are going to have a chat after this."

Dot groaned and hopped up onto the counter. Scratchy hadn't called them in all the time they'd been out here, why did he have to pick the middle of some random night…now she was going to get in trouble over nothing.

With one final glare in her direction, Yakko put the phone to his ear. "Scratchy! Long time no talk, doc! You know it's kinda late in our neck of the woods, something come up?"

Unable to hear Scratchensniff's voice, Dot watched as Yakko's face slowly melted from a worried half-grin to a blank, vacant stare. He looked ill. Worry squirmed in the pit of Dot's stomach. What was wrong? What happened? She exchanged a panicked look with Wakko, who was gripping the counter very tightly. Yakko muttered a few fragments, words like "How?" "No?" "When is it?" "No, it's fine." "Yes, we can." "Tomorrow." "No, I want to. So will they." "Okay." "I'm sorry." "Bye." before he hung up.

"I hate late phone calls," he said darkly.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Dot breathed.

Her voice seemed to startle Yakko. He looked at her and then at Wakko as if he hadn't realized they were there until just now. Yakko swallowed once, and Dot noticed that his fingers were shaking. When he spoke, it was in an unusually low voice.

"Guys…sibs…Scratchy had some bad news."

Dot watched his face intently. Her older brother looked entirely too old right now. There was a frown set deep in his face, his ears sagged, his eyes looked vacant. Everything in the apartment seemed oddly still, as if it was waiting for the news too. She held her breath.

"This…this might – this is going to upset you. But you have to understand, this is life, it's what happens – "

"What?" Wakko demanded suddenly. He looked pale in the artificial light of the kitchen.

Yakko looked at both of them. Then, taking a shaky breath, he said, "A few hours ago, Slappy…she died."

* * *

Yakko brushed a few snowflakes off of a bench and sat down. His breath fogged out of his mouth in cold, curling trails. The snow had stopped by now. While a day's worth of pedestrians had turned it into a murky gray slush on the sidewalks, untouched layers of snow coated windowsills and doorframes of the buildings around him. In front of him was a large, empty ice rink. Beyond that was the immense Rockefeller Christmas Tree, its lights twinkling beneath a frosting of white.

"_There's a grief that can't be spoken…there's a pain goes on and on…_" Yakko sang quietly. He sang that song every night on stage, but the words had never burned so deeply in his chest like they did right now.

He had left the apartment after his siblings had gone to bed. Exhausted from shock and sorrow, they had both gone to their rooms after a short talk with him. They would speak about it more tomorrow. Or, more precisely, in a few hours. It was going on two o'clock in the morning at this point, and it didn't seem like he was going to get some sleep any time soon. Shivering, Yakko zipped his coat up further.

It being New York City, there were still a few people braving the cold streets. This suited Yakko, as he wasn't sure how alone he wanted to be right now.

He had always liked Slappy a lot. She had been great to work with, great to talk to, so knowledgeable about everything, and had a wit so sharp you could cut quarters with it. Slappy had sort of taken them under her wing in their early days on the lot, showing them around, introducing them to people. He wished he had told her how grateful he was…when had he last spoken to her? Why on earth hadn't he called her recently, just to chat? What was wrong with him?

Yakko clenched his teeth, fighting the constricting feeling in his throat. He decided that the cold was his punishment for not bothering to call his old friends, for not being better. But Slappy had just seemed so…permanent. Immortal. He knew that was a ridiculous notion; a toon could only live forever if he or she was drawn, which Slappy was not. But Slappy had just given off that undefeatable vibe. When Yakko had asked how it happened, Scratchensniff only told him that the details were sparse. But Yakko couldn't help but wonder about it. Even though he hadn't called, he was sure he would have known if she was sick, especially if it was this serious. Maybe Slappy had finally been right about her prediction that she was "gonna have a heart attack if another one a' those Disney skanks got her own damn show." Yakko chuckled at the memory, but then remembered that he'd never get to hear another one of her zingers and felt even worse. As far as the cause of death went, Scratchensniff said they could do nothing but wait to hear from the coroner. Yakko swallowed. He hated to think of Slappy in some kind of toon morgue, surrounded by other –

Yakko gave his head a rough shake. He shouldn't be thinking about that kind of thing right now. He watched the lights sparkle on the tree and switched his thoughts to something else. The viewing was on Saturday. That meant that he and his siblings would be catching a flight to California tomorrow. His understudy would be thrilled – Yakko had never missed a show before.

But for the first time in almost two years, the Warners would be back in Burbank. If it wasn't for such an unfortunate reason, Yakko would admit to being kind of excited. He missed the west coast. Not that the east wasn't nice, but everyone was wound up so tight here, and the weather seemed to be going out of its way to make him miserable. The cold was something Yakko had never gotten used to. He missed the sun. More than that, he missed his friends and old cast mates. It would be nice to see them again, no matter what the reason. Yakko hadn't exactly been the king of keeping in touch.

He supposed he'd have to call Rebecca and let her know he'd be gone for a few days. In fact, maybe he'd tell her he'd be gone for a few months, Yakko thought with a snort. No, that wouldn't work. He had to perform with her every night. While she had the intellectual equivalent of a fruit fly, even she could figure out that lie. She was a diva in every sense of the word. Yakko could take a bit of drama here and there – he was in theater for crying out loud – but one man could only take so much of the star's constant declarations that she was a goddess and thus should be treated like one. Her personality was about as welcoming to Yakko as a cheese grater on his skull, but damn, did she ever make up for it in the looks department. He didn't care if this made him shallow – they were just two people enjoying their youth, that was all. At least that's what he told himself. Besides, Yakko didn't think she'd bat an eye at his departure. He was reasonably sure that he wasn't her only current male companion. Rebecca would have company while he was gone.

Yakko was jolted out of his thoughts when the lights on the Christmas tree suddenly went out, their rosy glow disappearing from his surroundings. Looking ahead, the once friendly tree was now a huge, dark mass towering over him in the night. Shivering again, Yakko stood up. The Warners had a long weekend ahead of them, so he figured he'd start packing.

Hunching his shoulders against the cold, Yakko walked back to his apartment, wondering what could have finally brought old Slappy down.


	3. Homecoming

_**Chapter 2: Homecoming**_

Yakko leaned his head back against the headrest, shutting his eyes as he did so. He _always _got a headache on airplanes. He didn't know whether it was the stale cabin air or the altitude change that did it, but it was inevitable. And apparently all the Tylenol in the world couldn't prevent it. He was cursed. It didn't help that he was dead tired and it was barely three o'clock in the afternoon. And when they landed in California it would three hours earlier. That meant he had three hours of extra day to get through. And the day was already turning out to be a little trip to hell and back.

As predicted, Yakko found that he couldn't sleep. So he spent the night packing for himself and Wakko; knowing how picky Dot was about her clothing and toiletries, he would be better off just leaving that up to her when she woke up. He had called the airlines at five in the morning to secure three tickets to LAX; there were no tickets to Burbank this last minute, but after another quick phone call to Scratchensniff the doctor assured him that there would be someone to pick them up in Los Angeles. Then he drank three mugs full of green tea before he began the dangerous task of waking up Wakko and Dot from their slumber. They had both received a nasty shock the night before, and coupling that with the fact that they had gone to bed late, waking them up was like asking for Armageddon.

Dot responded by calling him a sadist. Wakko had tried to kick him.

When Yakko finally managed to get both of their groggy butts out of bed, they turned their rage on each other. Evidently someone, Yakko couldn't tell who, had dropped the other's toothbrush onto the bathroom floor, and this somehow erupted into petty name-calling and shoving. Luckily they were both so tired that the fight didn't progress much farther than that. But Yakko still had to split them up, still had to yell at them like they were six and eight-years-old instead of the thirteen and fifteen that they were.

He could not understand what had gotten into them lately. Wakko and Dot were constantly at each other's throats, and he had no idea what to do about it. They had been relatively well behaved when they were younger. They fought, sure, but not like now. He supposed it was because they were just close in age and at that stage where everything was a much bigger deal than it should be. When Yakko was one on one with a sibling, they were fine. While she had a flair for the dramatic, Dot was usually affectionate and open with him, always bubbly and chatting about her friends. Wakko was the opposite; he had grown to be a bit more reticent and moody, but Yakko found that he could usually draw out Wakko's goofy side after a while. Yakko remembered that he had been a bit of a sullen grump at that age too, though with him it had manifested itself in an overflow of sarcastic comments that typically earned him extra homework or a lecture.

When it was the three of them together it was at least better than the terrible two, but that still meant that Yakko had to be the peacekeeper. Even now he had made sure he sat between them on the plane. Dot was on his right, staring out of the window with her chin in her hand and her tail curled up in her lap. Wakko was on his left, munching on some pretzels.

"I wonder how Skippy is doing."

Yakko turned to his sister. She had spoken so quietly he had barely heard her over the dull roar of the jet engines. Dot was still gazing out into the clouds. He could see her glum face reflected in the window.

"I don't know Dot. But I bet he'll appreciate you being there, he could probably use a friend right now," Yakko said softly.

"Yeah," she muttered, then let her forehead fall against the window with a dull _thunk_.

Yakko watched her for a moment before turning to his brother. Wakko was still eating pretzels, but when Yakko glanced down, he noticed that there were at least four empty pretzel bags strewn across his tray table.

"Uh, Wakko," Yakko began, watching his brother eat, "did you hijack the beverage cart or something? How did you get all those?"

Wakko answered with his mouth full of food, "Every time the flight attendant guy comes by I tell him that the bag he gave me was empty, so he just gives me another one. Its worked like five times now."

Yakko rolled his eyes. He didn't know which was more impressive: Wakko's ingenuity or the flight attendant's stupidity. "Give me one," he said.

"No."

"Give me a pretzel."

"No way."

"You've already eaten five bags! Give some to us starving toons."

"Get your own."

Yakko made a sudden grab for the bag, but Wakko quickly snatched his hand away.

"Ah, too slow, grasshopper," Wakko taunted with a smirk.

Smirking himself, Yakko reached behind his back and whipped out a camera.

"Say cheese!"

"What?" was all Wakko managed to get out before Yakko snapped a picture. The flash blinded Wakko, and in that same moment Yakko yanked the pretzels from out of his brother's hands.

"You starlet, always distracted by a camera," Yakko sighed, tossing a pretzel into his mouth.

"No fair!" Wakko cried. He made a dive at Yakko, who held the pretzels up in the air and out of Wakko's reach.

"No fair!" Yakko parroted back in a perfect imitation of Wakko's voice.

Wakko cringed. "Ugh, don't do that, you know I hate when you do my voice!"

"You think it's hilarious when I do Dot's."

"Yeah, 'cause that's funny. It's just weird when _my_ voice starts coming out of _your_ mouth. It's creepy. Also, give me back my pretzels."

"I'm afraid I can't do that."

"You're setting a terrible example right now, you know. You're supposed to be the mature one," Wakko grumbled.

Yakko ate another pretzel and said, "I'm having a momentary regressive stage."

"Are you really denying food from your little brother?"

"I'm confident you'll live."

"I'm calling child services."

"I don't think they have jurisdiction on airplanes."

"Pretzels. Give."

"Make me."

Grinning, Wakko made another lunge at Yakko, knocking him into Dot's shoulder.

"Do I need to separate you two?" she snapped, mimicking Yakko's disciplinarian tone.

Yakko laughed at this, giving Wakko time to snatch his pretzels back.

Their little spat over the food turned out to be a welcome diversion to reality. It made them forget, if only momentarily, why they were on the airplane to begin with. Once all three of them had settled down, Yakko found his thoughts drifting back to Slappy…how he'd never hear her voice again, or see her clobber some unsuspecting toon over the head with her cane…

And God, poor Skippy. Yakko had to admit that he had completely forgotten about the boy until Dot had mentioned him. If he remembered correctly, Skippy was around the same age as Dot. The loss of Slappy was going to be hard and confusing for him. Yakko knew what it was like to have very few family members to speak of. The thought of losing either one of his siblings was unfathomable. His brain seemed to grind to a halt before he could even contemplate the possibility.

A familiar snore pulled Yakko from his thoughts. Turning to his left, he saw that Wakko had fallen asleep sitting straight up, his head thrown back, mouth open, his tongue lolling out to one side. _Attractive_, Yakko thought with a snicker. Seconds later, Yakko felt the soft thud of Dot's head hitting his shoulder. She was out cold. Glancing at his watch, he realized that they still had another four hours of flight ahead of them. And that was just the beginning. His siblings had the right idea.

Trying to push thoughts of Slappy and Skippy from his mind, Yakko leaned back and fell into a troubled sleep.

**

* * *

**

The three Warners stumbled off the plane and into the terminal like zombies. Sleep deprivation clearly did not suit any of them. At one point Dot made some comment about how she "probably looked like shit" which Wakko blearily confirmed, and it was a true testament to how tired he was that Yakko did not reprimand either of them.

Wakko staggered after his brother blindly, barely aware of what was going on around him. He knew he had walked directly into at least two people, one of them an elderly woman, and had to be steered away by Yakko. Airplane sleep was nothing compared to real sleep, and he had gotten next to no real sleep last night anyway. Every time he tried closing his eyes, he'd hear Slappy's voice or, possibly worse, see the blank stare on Yakko's face. For some reason that had made Wakko really uncomfortable. In fact, nearly any serious display of emotion from his older brother set Wakko on edge. Wakko felt as though Yakko had seen every inch of him: Yakko had seen him cry, had seen him lose his temper, become destructive, he had seen him become sentimental, devastated, frightened, panicked…but Wakko never got to see any of those sides to Yakko. If he had those sides at all.

He guessed it had to do with the fact that Yakko had to watch him and Dot. It would be kinda weird if your pseudo-parent older brother was crying all the time or losing his temper at every little thing. But still, even though it would bother him, Wakko sort of wished that Yakko would give him some clue as to how he was feeling, if only so Wakko could compare his own feelings. If they were going to be surrounded by a bunch of grieving people tomorrow he didn't want to offend anybody by acting weird.

A few months ago one of their professors at JTAP, Mr. Furrstein, had died from a sudden cardiac arrest. Wakko had attended the funeral along with his brother and sister, all of JTAP, many Julliard students and professors, more than half of Yakko's cast mates and even more players from other Broadway shows. Wakko had no idea that his arthritic old professor who routinely hacked up hairballs during class was so popular.

But Wakko had always liked the man, so when Mr. Furrstein's widow requested that some of the JTAP students step up to share a few words, Mr. Webber practically dragged him forward. Unlike Mr. Furrstein, Wakko never liked Mr. Webber – he was a crotchety old fart that smelled like ass – so it figured that he would thrust Wakko in front of dozens of people to talk about a deceased man when he had no speech prepared. He remembered yanking nervously at his collar because it had suddenly become incredibly tight as he looked at everyone in the crowd. They seemed to be one massive sea of staring, blinking eyes, with the only recognizable things being Yakko, who urged him on with an encouraging look, and Dot, who watched him with one eyebrow raised.

Not knowing what to say, Wakko found himself babbling about all the little things he liked about Mr. Furrstein, like how he always wore goofy ties, or how he sometimes used students as props during his demonstrations. Things had actually seemed to be going okay until Wakko brought up the time that Mr. Furrstein had managed to cough one of his hairballs directly into the wastebasket and everyone in the class had clapped. When he said it, the image of the whole ordeal had suddenly popped into his head and, to his own horror, Wakko burst out laughing. He hadn't meant to – he was actually really sad – but for some reason he just seemed to lose control of his body, of his emotions, and then there he was, giggling his head off at a funeral.

Mr. Webber had dragged him bodily away from the podium at that point, which ticked Yakko off. People were muttering and throwing him nasty glares. Dot was just hiding her face in her hands, saying that she wished it was _her_ funeral. Wakko had just blushed horribly and sat back down, having never remembered feeling more embarrassed in his life.

Later that night, when Wakko had announced to his brother that he wasn't going to school ever again lest he be ridiculed right out of the building, Yakko had calmly told him not to worry about it. He said that it was good to enjoy the memories, and if everything Wakko had told him about Mr. Furrstein was true, the old cat would have probably found the whole debacle hilarious. But, maybe next time, Wakko should probably exercise a little more restraint when it came to that kind of thing. Some people, as Yakko said, had "annoyingly delicate sensibilities." Yakko also added that he would most definitely be going to school the next day.

"Watch it young man!" a dog toon barked at him suddenly.

Wakko jumped back, startled. He had just walked into someone else. Whoops.

"Geez Wak, watch where you're going will ya?" Yakko mumbled, waving an apologetic hand to the toon, "You're as bad as Mr. Magoo."

"It's not my fault there are so many people in this stupid airport," Wakko grumbled back.

"And we're never going to get out of this stupid airport if you keep bouncing off of every person in it like a pinball," Yakko pointed out. "Now, we need to find baggage claim. Baggage claim, baggage claim…"

"This way," Dot said, yawning. She led them downstairs to the baggage carousels where they waited, watching suitcase after suitcase parade past them. It was hypnotic in a way, and Wakko was only moments from dozing off when Dot spoke up.

"So who's picking us up?"

"Eehhhhh, that's a good question sis. Scratchy said he'd get someone we knew," Yakko answered, turning to scan the crowd.

Wakko turned to look as well, though he had to stand on his tiptoes. Even though he was still growing, he doubted he would ever get to be as tall as Yakko. He was glad though; Yakko had been tall and lanky as a child, and had never really grown out of it. He just grew taller and lankier. Wakko at least felt like he was going to be a bit more evenly proportioned.

Wakko's eyes brushed the crowd, searching for a familiar face. Humans and toons on business hustled past, families herded themselves around, while others were running toward each other and laughing, clearly reuniting for the holidays. Who would Scratchy have sent? He hoped it wasn't Plotz. The guy had never liked any of them. He really hoped it wasn't Ralph. They'd be lucky to get to Burbank alive with that dunce behind the wheel.

There were a couple of people along the wall – chauffeurs by the looks of them, as they all held signs with various last names on them. Wakko read some of the names. _Berkowitz...Paulsen…Duckworth…Hartnell…Warner…Macneille…_

Wait, 'Warner?'

Wakko snapped his gaze back to the 'Warner' sign, his eyes traveling upwards to the face connected with it. A blue toon rabbit was holding it, grinning at him.

"Buster!" Wakko called out, grabbing Yakko's jacket and pointing.

Yakko looked up, then let out a loud, joyous cry as his face split with a genuine smile. Buster Bunny hurried toward him, but Yakko met him halfway. The two old friends hugged, and Yakko exchanged a few words that made the rabbit laugh out loud before Buster turned to him and Dot.

"Hiya guys!" he greeted, giving them a tooth-filled grin as he stashed the 'Warner' sign behind his back. "Have a good flight?"

"Ask Wakko, he ate his weight in airplane food," Dot muttered.

Buster shook both of their hands, explaining how he had jumped at the chance to pick them up when he got the call from Scratchensniff, asking them about New York, grimacing when they told him about the snow, then concluded with asking them to describe how badly Yakko was hamming it up on Broadway. This earned him an ear flick from Yakko.

After helping them pull their luggage off the carousel, Buster led them to his car. As they cruised up I-5, he filled them in on the major events of the past two years – who did what, who dated whom, what happened where, everything. Yakko and Dot laughed and joked with him, though Wakko was keenly aware of the note of sadness that hung about the car. It was difficult to disguise why they were here.

Wakko watched the blue rabbit as he spoke. He had certainly grown since he'd last seen him. Like Yakko, Buster's face had gotten a little more angular, with coarser fur lining the cheekbones. He had whiskers now, and he was taller too, only about an inch or two shorter than Yakko if you didn't include the ears. But Buster's brown eyes still possessed a bit of the boyish spark that had radiated from him in their youth. Like he was almost grown up, but not quite. Wakko noticed it when Buster talked about the shenanigans that he, Plucky, and Hampton had managed to get into while the Warners were absent.

"We missed ya, man," Buster told Yakko. "Whenever we got into trouble, we didn't have anyone to talk us out of it."

"It was for your own good. Sometimes I felt like I spent more time getting you guys out of trouble than I spent getting into it myself," Yakko said.

Buster glanced sideways at Yakko.

"You were the good boy. You were also too busy chasing tail. Hey guys, is he still girl crazy?" Buster called back to them.

"Yes," Wakko and Dot chorused from the back seat.

"What!" Yakko yelped, his voice rising slightly. He wheeled around in his seat, shooting them a hurt look, "I'm not that bad, am I?"

"Yes," they replied again.

Yakko scowled at them before turning back to Buster. "Ignore the wee ones, they know not of which they speak," he said.

"How's Rebecca?" Dot asked snidely.

Yakko sighed and massaged the bases of his ears as Wakko and Buster snickered.

They chatted like this as if the three of them had never left, carefully avoiding the subject of Slappy. Wakko had been enjoying the comfortable chatter so much that he hadn't noticed that the streets were becoming familiar, or that they had just passed a playground where he had spent half his childhood burning off energy. It wasn't until Dot gasped and pointed that he looked out the window and felt his heart jump. They were driving past the Warner Brothers lot, and there it was – the water tower, stretching into the cloudy sky. The sight of it was so achingly familiar that Wakko had half a mind to leap out of the car and run towards it. Even though they hadn't actually lived there in real life, they had filmed plenty of scenes up on it, and really, it was their symbol. When people thought of the tower, they thought of the Warners, and vice versa.

Everyone in the car had gone silent as the Warners watched the tower slowly move past them in the distance. Yakko turned around, looking at Dot, and then at him. His eyes were as bright as his smile, and Wakko could tell that his brother was thinking the same thing he was: they were home.

**

* * *

**

"Geez Buster, look at this house. You might actually pass as an adult now," Yakko said, stepping out of the car.

"Hardy har," Buster drawled.

They had pulled into the driveway of a prestigious red brick townhouse in an expensive part of Toontown. The property was gated, and a professionally landscaped lawn sat behind the wrought-iron bars.

"Wow man, nice digs," Wakko complimented as he tugged his suitcase out of the trunk.

Buster joined him, retrieving Dot's suitcase. "Why, thank you Wakko. It's nice to see at least one Warner brother developed some manners in the big city. This place was my grandfather's. He died last year, and all he left my cousins in his will was fifty dollars each, but he went and left me his whole house." Buster said. "I was his favorite grandchild," he added, smirking at Yakko and Dot's open-mouthed stares.

Their suitcases bounced along the cobblestone sidewalk as they made their way to the front door. Buster held it open for them, continuing, "I moved into here a few months ago. You know, you guys had it made, living on your own and all that jazz. It's awesome. I can stay up as late as I want, I can go whenever – and seriously, if I want to leave my socks on the kitchen table, I can leave my socks on the kitchen table. It's heaven."

"And your mom stops by every week to do your laundry," Yakko added.

"Nah, she only comes by every two weeks to – hey!" Buster sputtered, then scowled at Yakko. "Cram it, chuckles. Here I am, letting you three stay in my house out of the goodness of my heart, and I'm met with nothing but ridicule. You're lucky I don't stuff you in that suitcase of yours and ship you back to Ellis Island."

"And miss a weekend of my charm and casual good looks? You would never," Yakko said with a serene smile. Wakko, who had been watching the exchange, let out a soft burp. Dot looked at both of them, appalled, before sighing dramatically.

Buster grinned. "You three haven't changed a bit."

Telling them to follow him, Buster took them on "the grand tour," guiding them from room to room. While he was very happy for his friend, Yakko inwardly cursed Buster's good fortune – the house was gorgeous. A chandelier hung above the foyer, which led into a rustic-looking kitchen. Judging by how spotless the stovetop was versus the amount of mystery sauce that splattered the inside of the microwave, Yakko assumed that Buster did not do a lot of cooking. From there they stepped into the high-ceilinged living room, complete with a big screen TV and surround sound that had Wakko practically salivating all over the carpet. Pictures lined the staircase as they made their way to the second floor. Yakko inspected them, smiling at the familiar faces: one of Buster and his parents, another of the whole _Tiny Toons _crew, and one of him and Buster on the Warner Brothers lot, taken sometime before _Animaniacs _ended. The upstairs had three bedrooms and a full and half bathroom. Dot all but threw herself into the master bathroom, which had two sinks sunken into a marble counter, proclaiming that she'd never leave. Yakko had to tug her out by her tail as she clung to the toilet seat.

Buster escorted them to the two guest bedrooms where they'd be sleeping for the weekend. One glance at his siblings told Yakko that he and Wakko would be sharing the larger bedroom, leaving Dot to have the other room to herself. He feared that if Wakko and Dot shared a room, only one of them would come out alive.

With their grand tour complete, Yakko let Dot and Wakko unpack while he followed Buster into the master bedroom. If he couldn't have guessed that it was Buster's house before, the rabbit's bedroom was a dead giveaway. Sharp blue paint was barely visible in the spaces between dozens of LA Lakers posters. Crumpled piles of clothing littered the floor while video cameras, a stereo, multiple CDs and tangles of black cables covered his dressers.

Noticing a few picture frames on the nightstand, Yakko went over to look at them. Every single frame held a photo of Buster and Babs. Some when they were younger, on the set of _Tiny Toons_, arms draped over each other's shoulders. Some photos were of the two when they were teens, freshly a couple, with Babs squeezing Buster very tightly. But Yakko's eyes drifted to the largest, most prominent frame. It was clearly the most recent picture. They were both in baseball uniforms – Buster had mentioned something about a summer league to him once. Buster looked mostly the same as he did now, his hair maybe a bit shorter. But Babs looked older, or at least no longer looked like a teenager. She had one arm wrapped around Buster's waist, with the other jauntily perched on her hip. It was clear that she had taken good care of herself – she still had that toned, athletic look about her, but with new accents of femininity around her wrists and cheekbones. Her smile and her eyes though…those had remained the same.

Yakko cursed Buster's luck again – he would wind up with a stunning house and a completely hot girlfriend.

"So, Warner," Buster said, closing the door behind him, "Now that I have you alone…"

Yakko snorted as he set the picture back down, waggling his eyebrows. No suggestive situation was to go unmentioned in Buster's presence.

Buster's grin faded somewhat. "Seriously though, I have to talk to you. I've gotta say, it's great to see ya man, I missed you."

"God, you too," Yakko said earnestly, "I'm sorry I didn't call more, I meant to, I just…I don't know, there was just so much going on. Wakko and Dot have school, I'm always at the show – "

"Dude, _forgiven_," Buster assured him, putting a hand on his shoulder, "I grew up with you. I know Papa Warner has to take care of the little Warners, even when he should rightfully be out enjoying himself."

There was a half second where Yakko couldn't decide if there was resentment in that sentence or not. He chose to ignore it.

"And look, I'm really sorry about Slappy," Buster continued. "I really liked her a lot, and I didn't know her nearly as well as you guys did."

Yakko shared a solemn look with his friend. "I'm going to miss her, she was something else. I couldn't believe it when Scratchy told me. It's just so weird, ya know? I would have never thought…I don't know. But you, you've been here. Do you know what happened? Was she sick?"

Buster met his gaze with such an uncharacteristically serious look on his face that Yakko almost took a step back. He couldn't even pinpoint a moment in all his memories of Buster where the rabbit had been serious. Just ten minutes ago he had been making cracks about his dead grandfather's old man smell that still lingered in the laundry room.

"Look, that's what I wanted to talk to you about," Buster said, dropping his voice low. "What did Scratchensniff tell you?"

Yakko shook his head. "Nothing. He said we had to wait for details. Why?"

Buster's eyes shot back and forth, looking around as though an eavesdropper was in the room with them. "Okay, look, I can't confirm any of this, I just got it from a…reliable source. But – okay, don't freak out or anything, I don't know if it's true – "

"Save it Buster. I'm a big boy now. Tell me."

"Okay…" Buster inhaled deeply, "Someone told me that Slappy's death…wasn't exactly natural."

"You wanna expand on that?"

"They think there was foul play involved."

An unpleasant tingling feeling was crawling down Yakko's arms. "_What?_"

"I know. I don't get it either," said Buster. He shivered slightly.

"Why do they think that? What happened?" Yakko demanded, his voice pitching upwards.

"I don't really know. All I heard was that they could tell just by the way they found the, um, the body," answered Buster, looking uncomfortable.

"Who told you this?"

Buster squirmed further. "A, uh, a source."

"Oh c'mon, who? I'm not a blabbermouth," Yakko prodded.

Buster raised his eyebrows. Scowling, Yakko crossed his arms and protested, "Yeah, I know I talk a lot, but I don't exactly start my conversations with, 'Oh, did I tell you what Buster Bunny told me regarding the dubious circumstances of a dear friend's passing?'"

"Alright, alright! Don't get your panties in a knot, _sheesh_. Look, you just really can't tell _anyone._ Not a single word. I was sworn to secrecy on this, I shouldn't even be telling you."

"Buster what kind of damn friend do you think I am!"

"_Jesus, okay! _Look, Shirley told me, alright? She's a gossip columnist now. She writes for _The Toon Gazette._ I guess she was trying to get dish on some stupid Julie Bruin scandal, but ended up coming across the scene when the police were there. She told me she tried using her press pass to get access, but the cops kicked her out and told her she'd be arrested if she wrote anything."

"Shit," Yakko breathed, "and we don't know who did it, if this is all true?"

"Not that I know of."

Realizing his knees were quaking, Yakko sat down on the bed. He felt shaken, like he had been knocked off balance and couldn't get himself right again. Part of him was wishing that Buster had never told him anything, so many thoughts were buzzing in his head like angry bees, and he couldn't make sense of any of them. He was dizzy, unsure of himself…his stomach felt like it was filling up with cement. If it was true, if Slappy was really a _victim_, then who did it? How? Or, perhaps most importantly, why?

The beginning of a powerful anger was flickering to life in his chest. It had been bad enough that Slappy had died – but now, was someone to blame for it?

"Who the hell would do anything to Slappy? She was just a little old lady for Christ sake, what kind of sick, twisted…" Yakko found that he couldn't finish the sentence. He had never had problems controlling his temper, mainly because he knew when he lost it, he would be out of control. Yakko found it incredibly inconvenient: it was hard to outwit someone when you were so mad you couldn't speak. But right now, he felt himself losing it. His breathing was heavy, his fists were clenched and shaking. _Calm down. There's no one here but Buster, and he's not the one to blame. There's nothing you can do._

The bed dipped slightly as Buster sat down next to him. "Yak, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you, I don't even know if it's true. It could be total bullshit for all I know."

Yakko swallowed, breathing in and out, in and out.

"No. I'm glad you did. I'd rather hear it from you now instead of on the news or something, if that's really what happened."

"Okay. God, the whole thing just gives me the creeps," Buster said, shivering again. He got up and walked to his closet. "Let's talk about something else."

"Do you think someone tried to rob her?" Yakko wondered aloud, ignoring Buster's request.

"Dude, seriously, don't go all Nancy Drew on me. I don't want to talk about it anymore. It's not like we're going to figure it out right now anyway."

Yakko opened his mouth, but closed it again. Casually switching topics after just suggesting that a friend of yours was murdered was not something he found especially easy, but Buster looked genuinely troubled. Unable to ignore Buster's pleading gaze any longer, Yakko nodded.

"Good. Now c'mon, you've been living it up in the big apple for what, two years now? You've gotta have a story for me," Buster said, looking relieved.

Yakko was about to answer him, but burst out laughing as soon as Buster opened his closet door. Pasted up on the inside of it was a large pinup of Lola Bunny wearing nothing but a basketball jersey. Realizing why Yakko was practically falling off the bed, Buster tried to look ashamed of himself but failed terribly.

"Can ya blame me?" Buster asked, stroking the poster.

"Not at all," Yakko conceded, smirking, "But how can you get away with that? What does Babs say?"

Buster ceased his stroking immediately. His shoulders tense, he said dismissively, "Not much. I don't think she really cares."

Feeling like upsetting news was going to be today's theme, Yakko eyed his friend warily. Whenever Buster spoke about Babs, his girlfriend since before _Tiny Toons _even ended, it was always in a thrilled, almost euphoric tone.

"Something wrong?" Yakko asked.

Buster grunted, frowning. It looked as though he was trying to figure out a difficult math problem. "It's nothing. Not really. I dunno. Babs had some family problems and now she just seems…off…lately. It's not a big deal. Girls snap out of those things, right?"

For the first time since Babs had been brought up, Buster looked at Yakko, his eyes hoping for some kind of reassurance.

"Babs is pretty mercurial, I'm sure it'll work out, Ears," Yakko said, hoping that inflicting the use of his childhood nickname for Buster would somehow lighten the heavy mood that seemed to be dragging them both down.

It must have worked, because Buster smirked and raised his eyebrows. "Really, Warner? '_Mercurial_?' Do I need a PhD to carry on a conversation with you?" he asked.

"Fine. For the sake of you common folk, I'll make sure to remain monosyllabic in this household from now on. You know what monosyllabic means, right? Small, little words that won't hurt Buster's brain."

"I'm not kidding about mailing you back to New York, you know," Buster said as he tugged a heavier shirt over his head. "But anyway, Babs'll be over tonight. She wants to see you guys."

"Good," Yakko said, "Now, you see Ears, I could have said 'stupendous' or 'her arrival is greatly anticipated' there but I'd thought I'd stick with 'good,' ya know, a nice, simple word for you to understand – "

Yakko never got to finish his sentence. He was too busy choking on the stream of seltzer water from the bottle that Buster had pulled from behind his back.

**

* * *

**

Wrapping her tail around her ankles, Dot snuggled closer to Yakko on the couch. While it was definitely warmer here in Burbank than it was in New York, she had always made sure that Yakko kept their Manhattan apartment extra balmy. Buster barely seemed to be using his heat, and it was a big house – she was actually cold.

It didn't matter though. It was nice to be home, if only for a little while. They'd barely spent a day here and it already felt more like home again than their Manhattan apartment ever had. Though Dot had to admit, she missed her JTAP friends. She'd already called Patti, Frizzy, and Bernadette, and was about to call Yvonne before Yakko plucked her cell phone from her hands and stuffed it in his pocket. Apparently he was under the impression that she could go one night without speaking to them. Then again, Yakko was also under the impression that she hadn't just snuck it back out of his pocket while they were on the couch.

Sighing, she leaned into him, feeling the vibrations in his chest as he chatted with Buster. It was nice to see him back to his usual yammering self; Yakko had been oddly quiet since the news about Slappy, but his friend's presence seemed to have pulled him out of that funk, at least for now. Yakko and Buster had been top dogs in their toon education classes on the lot and they complimented each other nicely. They had swung back into their easy friendship as though New York had never happened.

Dot craned her neck to look past Yakko at her other brother. Wakko was leaning on the arm of the couch, head in his hand, watching the big screen TV with a blank look on his face. Buster had delivered the unfortunate news to him that Wakko's friends, mostly extras on the _Animaniacs _set, had moved away. He probably wouldn't get to see any of them. Wakko had been sulky ever since, and snapped at her for being too loud when she was on the phone with Patti. She had snapped right back at him – it wasn't her fault he didn't have any friends.

Lord knew she had tried to help him. Dot lost track of how many times she had given him tips on how to make friends, the main bit of advice being to try not to be so weird, but he had always yelled at her to "stop rubbing it in" or "quit bragging." She wasn't trying to brag, she was just trying to help. But if Wakko was too stupid to see it, then that was too bad. Boys really were dumb.

Dot turned when Buster laughed loudly at something Yakko said.

"What's so funny?" she asked.

"Nothing," Yakko said, then turned back to Buster and continued, "So I said, look, I don't want any trouble, I just want to know if telling me that I had a fantastic butt was conducive to helping me learn my blocking…"

Dot rolled her eyes. Yakko should really practice what he preached. For all the crap he gave her about boys, whom did he think she learned it from?

_Speaking of which_, Dot thought as she turned her attention to Buster. It was a shame that she essentially viewed him as another older brother, otherwise, she would have to place Buster on top of her cute boys list that she kept behind her back. He was even better looking than Razzy, and he was mature, too. How old was he again? Dot chewed on her lip, doing the math: she was pretty sure Buster was about a year older than Yakko, and Yakko was almost nineteen, so Buster was probably nineteen or twenty. And that was only six or so years older than her. They could totally date.

Dot shook her head. She had to watch herself lately; both of her brothers had already called her "boy crazy," and she didn't want to earn the type of reputation that Yakko had already acquired. Besides, it was a lost cause with Buster anyway. He had Babs, and they had been together for as long as Dot could remember.

"_NEED A TREE? COME TO ME!"_

Everyone in the room jumped as an obnoxious voice bellowed from the television. A familiar voice. Dot turned to the screen and saw none other than Pete, that fatty dad from _Goof Troop_, holding a large evergreen tree in each arm.

"_YOU NAME 'EM WE GOT 'EM, PETE'S CHRISTMAS TREES ARE GREENER THAN THE CASH IN YOUR WALLETS!" _Pete yelled as the camera panned across a vast tree farm. _"SO DON'T BE A SCROOGE THIS SEASON, C'MON DOWN TO PETE'S CHRISTMAS TREE FARM, TOONTOWN'S ONE STOP SHOP FOR ALL THINGS GROWIN' OUTTA THE GROUND!"_

When the commercial was over Dot's ears were ringing.

"Ah, I see he's angling for the hearing impaired market," Yakko drawled, picking at his ear.

Buster snorted. "Looks like selling a bunch of scrawny plants is the best that loser can do. Did you hear he got busted with three DUIs last year? Disney suspended him."

"Serves him right. Randy Beaman told me he was an asshole," Dot said.

"Dot!" Yakko yelped, more surprised than angry.

"What? Randy said it, not me. I'm a lady, I don't use those words," she cooed.

"What does he do with all the trees he didn't sell after Christmas?" Wakko mused.

"Knowing Pete, he's probably figured out a way to make them into alcohol," came a female voice from the foyer.

Dot and her brothers turned in their seats. Babs Bunny was standing in the foyer, ringing water out of her ears with her hands .

"Hey Babs!" Dot and her brothers chorused in unison. Dot blinked and stared at Yakko and Wakko, who stared back. While it only happened occasionally, it was always sort of embarrassing whenever all three of them said or did things at the same time. Like they were going out of their way to be cute, or worse: that they spent far, far too much time together.

"Gee, did you guys rehearse?" Babs quipped.

"Nope, the freaky sibling weirdness just comes naturally," Yakko replied.

Babs gave her ears one last shake, spraying a few water droplets on the walls. "Did you guys bring that gross east coast weather with you? This is the first time it's rained here in weeks."

"Babs, ya should've told me you were here, I could've come to the gate," Buster said, leaning forward in his seat.

"Don't worry Buster, I'm a big girl now, I can handle a little rain," she said. She moved into the living room, smiling as Dot and her brothers got up to greet her. "I missed you guys," she said, squeezing them each in a hug. Dot noticed that the hug she shared with Yakko was decidedly brief. She hardly touched him.

"We missed you too, Babs," Yakko said, "the shortage of pink rabbits in New York is deplorable."

"I'm sure," Babs drawled, "and with you gone I'm sure their stock of loudmouth unidentifiables is plummeting."

Yakko blinked, frowning for a moment before opening his mouth to reply. Sensing that whatever her brother was about to say wasn't going to move the conversation in a positive direction, Dot quickly cut across him.

"I missed you a lot, Babs," she said, "there's too much testosterone in my life right now. I'm glad you're here."

Babs smirked at this, which Dot appreciated. She'd always admired Babs, secretly hoping to be like just like her when she got older. But Babs had never seemed to want to play with her when they were kids, which had frustrated Dot to no end. Now that she herself was thirteen, Dot understood that Babs had probably wanted to play with her as much as she wanted to play with some eight-year-old now, but still, Babs' lack of attention to her had stung.

"Tell me about it," Babs said, "I'm going to the kitchen, you guys want anything to drink?"

"Remember that little speech you gave us about manners, Ears?" Yakko said to Buster, "Babs has been here less than five minutes and she's already offered to get us drinks. You didn't give us a drop."

"Yeah whatever Chatty Kathy, I showed you where the kitchen was."

"We're fine, Babs," Dot sighed as Buster and Yakko traded jibes.

Babs glanced at the two boys, then back to Dot. "I see that some things never change," she said, walking out of the living room.

**

* * *

**

Yakko folded his t-shirt and placed it neatly back into his suitcase. They were leaving for New York again in two days, so there was no use unpacking everything. Not that you could tell Wakko that: it looked like his suitcase had exploded. In mere hours, Wakko had managed to scatter all of his belongings about the room. At the moment, Wakko was sprawled out across their bed, reading some comic book with his tongue peeking out of his mouth.

"Lights out after I brush my teeth, okay Wak? We have to get up early," Yakko said.

Wakko nodded and continued to read. Kicking off his jeans, Yakko folded these too. As he bent over to place them in the suitcase, he caught a glimpse of the boxer shorts he was wearing and groaned. It was so dark this morning that he hadn't seen which pair he had grabbed and thrown on. Why on earth did he even still have this pair anyway? It was an old pair that Wakko and Dot had gotten him for his sixteenth birthday as a joke: they had pictures of Bugs Bunny all over them.

Rolling his eyes, Yakko dug through his suitcase until he unearthed his toothbrush. He slipped into the dark hallway and was about to walk into the bathroom when he bumped into something warm.

"Whoa – hey, sorry Babs," Yakko said, realizing it was her after catching a face full of pink ears. She was in her sleep shirt and shorts, and it took everything in Yakko's being to keep his eyes focused on her face instead of traveling up her long legs. Growing up, he had never thought of Babs as lacking in the looks department, but being so close to Buster he had left his thoughts at that. She was his best friend's girlfriend and that kind of behavior was simply out of the question.

"Hmm," was all Babs gave him before sidestepping him and heading towards Buster's room.

"Why the cold shoulder, Barbara Ann?" Yakko asked, "Trust me, I've got enough cold waiting for me in New York."

"I wouldn't worry too much about that, I'm sure you've got enough chorus girls to keep you warm," Babs said, not even sparing him a glance.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Yakko snapped.

Babs cast him a knowing look over her shoulder. Even in the dim light, her blue eyes were steely sharp. "Don't play stupid, Warner. As if you haven't slept with half of Broadway by now."

"Oh give me a break. You don't even know what you're talking about," Yakko shot back, wondering why she was making him so angry so fast. And then remembered suddenly: he had never called Rebecca.

Babs stopped, spinning around on the spot to face him. Her hands snapped to her hips as she glared at him. "Oh, I don't, huh? You think that Fifi and I don't talk?"

What? That was out of left field. What did Fifi have to do with anything?

"Fifi?" Yakko blurted.

"Yeah. Fifi. It's shocking you don't remember," Babs spit back, her voice dripping with malevolent sarcasm.

"Babs, I honestly have no idea what you're talking about, I haven't talked to Fifi since I left – "

"Ding ding ding! We have a winner!" Babs cried, throwing her hands in the air, "You really don't remember, do you? Unbelievable. You guys are all the same – a bunch of spoiled pricks."

"What the hell are you – oh," Yakko finished lamely. It had just dawned on him exactly what Babs was referring to. Shit.

"Yeah, _oh_," Babs mimicked nastily, "You take Fifi out right before you go to New York, then you just leave her high and dry? You never planned on calling her, you knew it the whole time. She was crushed, and you didn't care at all. You changed, Warner. And to think I used to like you."

Babs turned on her heel, and took two steps before glaring at him over her shoulder once more. "Nice Bugs Bunny underwear," she mocked, then marched off to Buster's room.

"It was dark when I put them on!" Yakko yelped, waving his fist and well aware that he looked and sounded like an idiot.


	4. The Viewing

_**Chapter 3: The Viewing **_

It was unusually blustery for Burbank on the day of Slappy's viewing. This was odd. Most days the weather was the only stable thing about Burbank. It barely rained. There was hardly ever a breeze. Today, however, the wind was strong enough to cause neck problems. It was certainly strong enough to make Wakko's tie flip up and repeatedly whip him in the face. Grumbling and smoothing his tie down for the umpteenth time, Wakko supposed that this sort of day was a fitting send-off for Slappy. A catch you off guard, surprisingly violent, but very spirited kind of day.

They had just just arrived at the funeral home. Wakko, his brother and sister, Buster and Babs had all squeezed into Buster's car and spoke delicately for the drive over. The parked in front of a small, white building with a little pond and garden in the lawn. When they drew near to the entrance, everyone was quiet. Even Yakko. A somber looking goose toon in a black suit was standing at the doorway. Watching them approach, he lifted up a clipboard, pen poised in his feathery hand.

"Names?" he asked, his voice managing to be nasally and deep at the same time.

"You need our names? What is this, a restaurant?" Buster snapped. Glancing at him, Wakko noticed the bags under his eyes. Buster apparently had not slept well – he had been barking at Babs all morning.

"This is a closed service, sir. In life, Madam Squirrel enjoyed her privacy, thus, only certain guests are permitted to attend," the goose replied, looking down his beak at Buster.

Wakko gulped, suddenly deciding that he didn't like the goose one bit, when Yakko leaned over and whispered, "I don't think Jacob Marley likes Buster very much." They glanced at each other, each of them hiding a smirk. While he was still gun shy about expressing nearly any positive emotion during a funeral, Wakko was sure that Slappy would have appreciated that joke anyway.

Glaring at both of the older boys, Babs stepped past Buster, muttering, "I told you it was private, remember?" and handing the goose her ID. The rest of them followed her lead, with Wakko and Dot giving him their JTAP cards. The goose looked at them closely, occasionally glancing up to scrutinize their faces, then analyzing his clipboard, before finally allowing them to pass.

"Like he couldn't recognize us," Buster mumbled as they walked into the lobby.

For how strongly the weather reminded Wakko of Slappy, the inside of the funeral parlor most certainly did not. The lighting was soft against the pastel walls, while flowers spilled out of vases in nearly every corner. It smelled funny, too sweet, like a perfume gone stale. Walking ahead of him were Yakko and Dot; in their dark fur and outfits, they contrasted sharply with the pale room. Beyond the lobby he could hear voices speaking in low tones. When they turned the corner they were greeted with a small sea of faces. Most of them were toons, but a few humans dotted the crowd. With a slight jolt, Wakko already recognized quite a few of the attendees. The two Hip Hippos caught his eye almost immediately, as they seemed to be even fatter now than when he had left. Katie Kaboom and her family were by a pillar, speaking to Ralph and his wife. Foghorn Leghorn was chatting with Yosemite Sam, gesturing wildly, and Plotz was speaking with Spielberg. It was weird, seeing his old bosses again, and for a split second Wakko felt like he should make himself look busy by pretending to read a script. That had been his tactic on set and on the lot, though it was mainly used to avoid Plotz.

Yakko, seeming unable to contain his inner socialite, had already greeted several old friends and costars, including Rita and Runt, Calamity, and Pinky and Brain, who sat on his shoulders as they spoke.

"Scratchy!"

Dot rushed forward to hug Otto van Scratchensniff, knocking the wind out of him in a loud "Ooomf!" He coughed, gasped, recovered, and then patted her on the head. Wakko followed as his brother greeted Scratchensniff as well, though with a bit more subtlety than Dot.

"Scratchy, I love what you did with your hair!" Yakko commented. Scratchensniff gave him an exasperated look. If anything, the doctor was more bald than before.

"Thank you, Yakko," Scratchensniff said in his thick accent, "It eez so good to see you all. But look at you kidses! Look how you've grown! Wakko, Dot, when I saw you last, you were not even deez tall!"

Scratchensniff held a hand somewhere around his waist and Wakko rolled his eyes. Jeez, he hadn't been _that _short. Maybe Scratchy was getting batty in his old age.

"It eez good of you to come," he continued, his voice becoming somber, "Slappy, she would have appreciated it."

"It was the least we could do," Yakko said. Then Yakko placed his hands on Wakko and Dot's heads, continuing, "Sibs, why don't you tell Scratchy about JTAP? Tell him about some of your classmates, their little showbiz brains are like a psychiatrist's playground."

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Wakko didn't make any eye contact – he didn't really feel like talking about his classmates. They probably missed him as much as he missed them, which wasn't saying much. But, predictably, Dot leapt in and waxed eloquent about her classes, her grades, her friends, her recitals, her awards...Scratchensniff could barely keep up. He was nodding his head so much that Wakko was afraid it might pop off. Whatever. The more Dot talked, the less he had to. The last thing he needed was their crazy old costar playing psychiatrist on him and telling him he was messed up in the head.

"And then this one teacher told me I was like the lovechild of Fred Astaire and Barbara Streisand, and even though I completely disagree, I was still really flattered – "

Dot was babbling like a fountain. God, she was getting to be just as bad as Yakko. And she had already surpassed him in the ego department. While Yakko's ego was nothing to scoff at, he could usually be knocked down a few pegs. Not Dot. According to her, this was her world and he and Yakko and everyone else were just living in it. And it was getting worse the older she got; yeah, the whole "I'm the cute one" act had been kind of charming when she was little, but now it was magnified and incredibly annoying. Most of the time Wakko just wished he could yell at her and tell her that she was only thirteen, she still had a lot to learn, and she wasn't nearly as awesome as she thought she was. But if he did that, Yakko would probably make him eat his tail. Yakko unashamedly adored Dot, and his doting ways only fueled her fire.

Tuning out Dot's babbling, Wakko gazed around the parlor. Buster and Babs were talking with a bunch of their old costars, some old-looking bunny inksplot toon he didn't recognize was standing in a corner, some of their old producers were chatting in low tones...for a private viewing, the place was packed. Just then a small crowd parted, and Wakko sucked in his breath: behind them was the coffin. It was closed, but a large picture of Slappy with her nephew, Skippy, sat on top of it. His throat felt tight, and for the first time since they had received the news Wakko felt the urge to cry. For probably the hundredth time Wakko wondered how she died. When he had asked Yakko, he told him that he wished he knew too. Swallowing a few times, Wakko forced himself not to think about it too much, and continued to study the coffin. Surrounding it were even more flowers and, appropriately, walnuts. Part of Wakko was glad that the coffin was closed. He wasn't sure he wanted to see Slappy completely still.

"And what about you, Wakko? You like school, yah?"

Wakko spun around. He hadn't even noticed that Dot had ceased her exposition. She and Scratchensniff were both staring at him.

"Uh, well, the classes are…really good," he said, trying to think of something nice to say.

"As you can see, New York really brought out the poet in him," Yakko said, nudging him. Wakko glared up at his brother. Just because Yakko could talk the ink out of a toon didn't mean Wakko had to. Besides, if he was really honest about his classmates at JTAP, Wakko wasn't sure Yakko would like what he heard.

"Go on, Wakko, I am listening," Scratchensniff said, smiling.

Wakko glared at him too. Lie, say anything, just get this old geezer off your tail –

"Ladies and gentlemen, if you would please take your seats, we are about to begin," the old goose announced suddenly.

A small murmur rippled through the crowd as they shuffled to their seats, a colorful herd of fur, feathers, and skin wrapped up in dark clothing. Wakko sighed with relief and followed Yakko to their seats, almost glad to use a wake as an excuse to avoid discussing his social life with and old costar. Almost.

* * *

Yakko rubbed is temples. It was surreal, sitting here, listening to a minister ramble off impersonal details about someone he had known so well. Fill-in-the-blank phrases like "zest for life" and "a friend to all" did not do Slappy justice. The minister neglected to mention that if you gained her loyalty, she'd fight for you until the end, or that she kept a few bombs in her purse ("for easy access"), or that she had Clark Gable's signature on the underside of her mallet.

No, this speech was just a glossy finish over the real, rough thing. As such, Yakko felt his attention wander, a habit he'd normally attribute to Wakko. His brother was sitting docilely next to him, slouching a bit, fidgeting with his tie. On his other side was Dot, whose eyes were glistening. Reaching over, he gave her shoulder a quick squeeze. Then he chose to pull his gaze away: seeing her upset was only going to make him more upset than he already was.

But Dot wasn't the only one in tears. All around him Yakko could hear sniffles. They had been growing in frequency as the wake progressed. Hearing a particularly loud sniff, Yakko looked over Wakko's head. It was Babs, who was sitting next Buster. Straightening in his chair, Yakko peeked at her between the curtains of Buster's blue ears. She was staring straight ahead, listening to the minister but not watching him. There were tears in her eyes, but they hadn't fallen yet. Frowning, Yakko remembered their conversation from the night before. It was infuriating. Babs had no clue what she was talking about. True, he had taken Fifi out on a date shortly before he left with no intention of pursuing her. But he had been doing the girl a favor. Fifi had been after him for years, she was begging him for a date once she found out he was leaving. When he gently tried to turn her down, she started crying. That had been the kiss of death. He _hated _when girls cried. Whenever it happened, particularly with Dot, he would throw himself in front of a train if it would make them happy. So, in a panic, he agreed to a date, a single date, with Fifi. She had dried up immediately, leaving Yakko to wonder if he'd been had.

It had gone well enough. Fifi was a bit too flighty for his taste, too concerned with fashion, and harbored an unhealthy obsession with celebrities. She _was_ a celebrity for crying out loud, what could possibly be so interesting about other ones? But he had treated her to a nice dinner, paid, escorted her home. He had thought he had made it quite clear that that was where it ended; he was moving across the country for an indefinite amount of time, and he wasn't a long distance type of guy. Admittedly, Yakko had thrown on the theatrics a bit: he was _devastated _that it would never work, if _only _he didn't have to move, it would be so, _so_ hard to find another girl like her. What Yakko hadn't said was that it wouldn't even work if he wasn't moving, but Fifi didn't have to know that. They had parted with Yakko assuming Fifi knew where she stood.

Well, apparently he had assumed wrong, Yakko thought with a scowl. How was he supposed to know that Fifi was a headcase? Or, for that matter, how was he supposed to know that Babs was stewing in her own pot of dislike for him for the past two years? While they had never been terribly close, he had always considered Babs a friend. And what was with that comment about him sleeping with half of New York? Damn ridiculous.

People had started to call him a girl chaser during _Animaniacs_, right around the time he had hit puberty and discovered the opposite sex. He had never really appreciated that, or the fact that it was exaggerated on the show for comedic affect, but he rolled with it. But somehow it had ballooned into this big thing, this huge judgment of his character that was embarrassing and damaging. Yeah, he did have a…thing…for girls. But c'mon, he was a soon-to-be nineteen-year-old guy – wouldn't it be weirder if he wasn't into girls? Why did everyone view him as some hormone-addled man-beast? Not that he really cared what people thought of him, but didn't they understand that he was raising two young teenagers that he didn't want to grow up with the wrong impression of him, or make the wrong choices? God, why did Babs have to say that?

Why was this bothering him so much?

Suddenly Yakko noticed that Babs was staring at him, her eyes narrowed. A moment later he realized that he had not only forgotten he had been staring at _her_, but he was also scowling. He quickly looked away. If she pestered him about it, he'd chalk it up to insanity brought on by grief.

The minister was still droning on. Having the feeling that Slappy would have malleted the guy by now, Yakko looked beyond the man and at the flower and walnut-encrusted coffin. It worried him that the coffin was closed.

_They think there was foul play involved._

Every time he recalled what Buster had told him, Yakko felt an unpleasant squirm in his stomach. A morbid corner of him had been hoping to see Slappy today, to maybe give him some clue as to what happened. But that had been a ridiculous notion. Besides, it didn't matter anyway, because the coffin was closed…which only added weight to Buster's theory –

Yakko shook his head. It was childish, jumping to these insane conclusions. The closed coffin was a coincidence, nothing more. Slappy had died a completely natural death, and Shirley was simply a loon after all.

Right?

Everyone around him was standing up – the minister had finished his wake. The sounds of open weeping dotted the room. Dot and Babs were brushing tears out of their fur, Buster was concentrating on the floor, and Wakko exhaled shakily as he got to his feet. Feeling slightly disconnected from his body, Yakko got to his feet as well, joining the procession that was extending their condolences to the family. Ahead of him, Yakko spotted Skippy for the first time. The boy had experienced an undeniable growth spurt; he was nearly as tall as Wakko despite being a good two years younger, and had the gangly appearance of someone who would eventually grow to be very tall. But Skippy's normally sunny face was stolen away by one overwhelmed with anguish. Tears soaked his fur, and his eyes were quite red.

Dot must have spotted him too, because she whimpered and bounced anxiously on her feet.

"Hold still Dot, you'll get to talk to him," Yakko murmured, placing a hand between her ears.

"He looks so upset," she whispered, sounding pained. Yakko said nothing. She was right.

As they approached Skippy, Yakko felt his heart sink. The only present family members were Skippy and a very old squirrel who introduced himself as Slappy's third cousin. Skippy had even fewer known blood relatives than he did, and that was really saying something. And, by the looks of it, the third cousin didn't have too many years left to spare. Did this kid have anyone to fall back on? Or would Skippy wind up raising himself, like he had? Yakko frowned. That was not something he'd really wish on anyone. He had been blessed enough to have Wakko and Dot, and they alone had always made his life worth living and made him forget about the hardships of growing up without a parent, without guidance. But what did Skippy have? Skippy was an only child.

Yakko shuddered at the thought.

When it was their turn, Skippy caught sight of him and choked out, "Aw Yakko, you guys didn't have to come all the way out here – "

"Don't be ridiculous, Skippy," Yakko said, giving the boy a quick hug, "We're here for ya bud, hang in there, okay?"

Skippy whispered "Thanks," before Dot threw herself at him, wrapping him in a very tight hug. Yakko heard her mention something about talking to him later as she moved on, letting Wakko give Skippy an awkward handshake. They left Skippy then, Dot looking wistfully behind her, and joined Buster and and Babs. They weren't looking at each other.

"Poor Skippy…I wonder what we can do for the kid…" Babs murmured, watching the boy hug Scratchensniff.

"He's a tough kid, he'll pull through," Buster said with casual confidence. Yakko thought that this was a rather bold assumption to make – today was probably the first time that Buster had even spoken to Skippy.

"I think it's gonna be really rough for him, but he was raised by Slappy. Skippy's probably more ready to handle the real world than all of us combined," Yakko said, watching Dot. She looked like she was on the verge of crying again, and there were already way too many crying girls in this room for his liking.

"I'm gonna go talk to him," Dot said, then disappeared into the sea of black before anyone could answer.

"Who's Skippy gonna live with now?" Wakko asked quietly.

"Eh…" Yakko looked to Buster and Babs for help, but they shrugged feebly. He turned back to Wakko. "You know what sib, I'm not really su – "

"Oh look, Big Splotch and his little splotch deigned to come back to little ol' Burbank," boomed an obnoxious voice.

Babs groaned, but the rest of them turned to see Montana Max striding up to them in a crisp Armani suit, his hands shoved in his pockets and a sneer on his face. He had barely grown, Yakko noticed with a smirk. If he was as tall as Wakko, he was lucky. He was bulkier now, kind of like a big block. Between that and his slicked back hair Yakko thought he looked like a mobster.

"Good to see you too, Max. How I missed your dulcet tones," Yakko drawled.

Max's eyes darted between Yakko and Buster. "Hey Rabbit, I bet it's nice having your boyfriend back," he said to Buster.

"Who invited you?" Buster asked, not bothering to be polite.

"Don't be silly, Buster," Babs said, straightening her skirt, "I'm sure he's only here because he owns the funeral home."

"That's right, woman," Max said, and Babs blinked – she had clearly been joking – before he continued, "by the way, what's it like being the beard for Bluebell and his Broadway boyfriend?"

"Shut up, asshole," Buster growled, but Yakko stepped between them.

"Look Max, as timeless as your wit is, I couldn't help but wonder if you had a point, or if you were just trying to show off your big boy suit," Yakko said dryly, taking advantage of his height and leaning over Max.

Max glared up at him, snarling, "You need to get that hole in your face fixed, Warner. If you must know, I'm here on business."

"So viewings count as business retreats now? Hmm, must have missed that memo," Yakko replied. He wondered if Slappy would care if he happened to punch Montana Max in the face at her funeral. Probably not.

"That's fascinating Max. No, really, your horrible lack of respect is truly interesting. Please tell me more," Buster snapped.

"_Don't encourage him_," Babs hissed, but Max merely gave them an oily grin. Jerking his thumb at Yakko and Wakko he said, "I actually wanted to take this opportunity to speak with inkblot one and inkblot two over here."

"Flattered," Yakko said flatly.

"You see that loser over there, the rabbit? Do you know who he is?" Max asked, pointing to a far corner. In spite of himself, Yakko looked. A black and white inksplot style rabbit was standing in the corner, his eyes darting around, making no effort to speak to anyone. He looked incredibly shabby, as though he had stopped taking care of himself; the rabbit's ears were tattered, and his fur was matted and dirty. There was something vaguely familiar about him to Yakko, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

"I don't know, what's so special about him? Is he the only one here who gives a rat's ass about what you're about to say?" Yakko asked. He noticed that Wakko smirked.

"You really don't know who he is? Lord, why they didn't hold you back a year in tooniversity is beyond me," Max scoffed, "That, children, is Oswald, as in Oswald the Lucky Rabbit. He starred in Disney's first shorts until everyone realized he sucked and replaced him with Mickey."

His memory clicking into place, Yakko suddenly remembered the toon from his toon history classes. Oswald had been the star of a few of his own cartoons under Disney starting back in the 1920s, but had contract issues with Disney and Universal and apparently had been down on his luck ever since. Another has-been in Toontown. Yakko had always tried to keep a mental catalog of famous inksplot toons – it was a rare event when another toon even remotely resembled him or his siblings.

"Thank you for the history lesson, Max, it was thrilling," Yakko said.

Max shot him a glare. "Shut up for once. I was wondering what you knew about him. All you ink rejects are related, you've gotta know something."

"Wow, that was delightfully racist of you," Babs said, crossing her arms.

"Yeah, why don't you ask us while you're at it, since all rabbits are probably related too," Buster added.

"You hillbillies can go date your cousins, I've got business to take care of," Max said haughtily, then turned back to Yakko, "So what do you know?"

Yakko clasped his hands tightly behind his back. It was a habit he had picked up whenever he was nervous or angry as a way to disguise that his hands were shaking. While he appreciated that Babs and Buster had stood up for him, he hated to admit that Max was probably right. As nasty as the stereotype was, the fact remained that most inksplot toons were related in some way. If you really wanted to pick things apart, _all _American toons were related to inksplots, albeit very much removed. But chances were that Oswald was a distant relative. Unfortunately, Yakko would never know – he scarcely knew who his own mother was, let alone extended relatives. But the last thing he wanted was for Max to point this out in front of Wakko. Not only was it embarrassing, but Yakko was beginning to suspect that he might lose his cool.

"Well, since you asked _so _nicely," Yakko said, voice thick with sarcasm, "I don't know a thing about that Oswald character other than the fact that he already looks like he has more manners than you."

"Pathetic insult, useless answer," Max said, yawning, "You splotches are dumber than I thought. That punk over there, Oswald, is a complete wash up. He hasn't gotten a gig in years, he's been evicted from his last five apartments in Toontown – I would know, I own them – and more than half the time he's two sheets to the wind. I mean, he's a Class C for Christ's sake. Probably a D is he could affor to take a new test. He'd be the laughing stock of Toontown if anyone actually gave a shit who he was. Honestly I don't even know why he's here – "

"Funny, was thinking the same thing about you," Yakko quipped, and Buster snickered.

"Max, if you've been wasting our time for the last fifteen minutes to insult some guy we don't even know – " Babs started, but Max cut her off.

"I know it's hard for the female brain to focus on something for more than one minute, so bear with me," Max said, "As far as I know, the guy's flat broke. Now, recently, I've had my mind set on ToonGO – you four know what ToonGO, is right? Oh who am I kidding, of course you don't. ToonGO is the only toon operated petroleum facility in this half of the country. I could do with a small expansion to the Max empire, and ToonGO seems like a fitting choice. So I made a bid, right, expecting to be signing it over by the afternoon. But, to my surprise, someone placed a higher bid. In goddamn _cash. _Which is aggravating, as you know, as I haven't been outbid on anything since I was thirteen, and that was only because of a typo made by my idiot secretary – I fired her, don't worry. So naturally, I was wondering who was foolish enough to bid against me. I got my legal team on it and it turns out that it was this joker over here, Oswald."

"A tragic tale indeed," Yakko drawled.

"Yeah, I'll write you a letter when I decide to care," Buster added.

Ignoring them, Max continued while he studied his nails, "I just want to find out what that loser's up to before I humiliate him financially and publicly. It would be even better if I could call him out on whatever undoubtedly illegal scheme he pulled to front all the dough. There's no way that chunk of gutter scum just had that kind of money sitting around, just waiting to buy a freaking petroleum company. If he did, then he should have paid his damn rent."

"My heart bleeds for you, Monty," Wakko said suddenly, and Yakko laughed.

"Why, he speaks!" Max scoffed, slapping a hand to his forehead in feigned shock, "And here I thought he'd gone mute."

"Wish I could say the same for you, Shorty," Yakko said, an edge to his voice. The spoiled brat could say what he wanted to him, but the instant Max targeted one of his siblings, he was going down.

"Take your comedy routine somewhere else, I'm not in the mood to put up with your bullshit today Max. In case you forgot, we're at a viewing. Not all of us are here to increase our stock value," Buster said, turning his back to the boy.

They were all following Buster's example when Max said in a low, maliciously jubilant voice, "Why, that's right, we _are _at a viewing! I almost forgot. Excuse me, I'm gonna go take a peek inside the old geezer's coffin."

It was like a fire had been lit inside him. Yakko whipped around, as did the other three, a combination of outrage and horror on his face.

"_Don't you dare_," Babs hissed.

Yakko took an aggressive step forward. "So help me, if you even lay a finger on that coffin, it's gonna be your funeral too – "

"What're ya gonna do, Broadway Fairy? Sing an aria at me?" Max scoffed.

"He won't do anything, 'cause I'll get to him first," Buster threatened, his ears laying flat.

With a smile on his face that made the fur on Yakko's neck stand up, Max leaned in and whispered, "But aren't you a teensy bit curious? I mean, from what I heard, she's really messed up."

Feeling like someone punched the air out of his lungs, Yakko quickly glanced at the others. Wakko looked confused and a bit troubled, but Buster and Babs had similar looks of shock and trepidation, that they didn't want to listen to another word from Max's mouth, but at the same time, they needed to know.

"What the hell have you heard?" Buster demanded, his voice a hoarse rush in an effort to keep quiet.

"Oh, I don't know, I think I might, how did you put it, take my comedy routine somewhere else?" Max teased.

In one swift movement, Babs' hand shot out like a snake and she grasped a handful of Max's suit. "Tell us what you heard or I'll pie every inch of this hideous suit," she snapped.

Max grabbed her wrist and roughly jerked it away. "You've got to teach your woman to behave in polite society, Bluebell," he sniffed.

Babs whipped her hand out of his, looking as though she was about to foam at the mouth. Buster's face was coloring, but Yakko stepped in before his friend could make a move.

"And you have to teach women to be willing to come within thirty feet of you," Yakko retorted, "Now if you don't fess up right now I'm going back to New York and telling everyone on Wall Street to bail out on your stock. Don't think I won't."

Montana Max's dark eyes scanned his face, scrutinizing every inch of him. Despite his reported millions, Max did not toy around with his funds, no matter how empty or ridiculous the threat. Yakko met his gaze evenly, refusing to blink. Beside him, he could feel Wakko's eyes switching back and forth between him and the stocky boy in front of them.

"Fine. I'll tell you, Warner, but you're not gonna like what happened to your precious old maid," Max hissed.

"Wakko, go away for a minute," Yakko ordered, his eyes still fixed on Max.

Wakko looked up at him sharply. "What? No way!"

"Just do it Wakko."

"No, I want to hear it too, why can't I – "

"Better do what Daddy says," Max trilled.

"Shut up," Yakko and Wakko barked simultaneously.

"Forget it Yak, just let him stay," Buster said stiffly, still looking hard at Max.

With an angry snort, Yakko arched an eyebrow at Wakko before turning back to Max. He didn't know what Max was going to say, but something told him that he didn't want Wakko to hear it. It was his deepest desire that Wakko and Dot remain oblivious to whatever really happened to Slappy. Judging by how much it had unsettled him, he didn't want them to have to deal with those questions or fears.

Watching the four of them for a moment, Max's eyes lingered on Yakko's face as his own split with a devilish grin.

"You wanna know what I heard? I heard her body was mutilated. Chemical burns from head to toe. If you looked at her right now all you'd see was a lumpy pile of flesh."

Yakko could practically hear the breath being sucked out of the others' lungs. The rest of the funeral parlor seemed very far away, the sounds of the other attendees were muffled and distant in his ears.

"Where did you hear that?" Yakko demanded, the first of them to find his voice.

"I got connections," Max answered, grinning. His voice was like an oil slick.

Babs suddenly stepped forward, her ears flattened against her head aggressively.

"Max, the only reason I haven't introduced my mallet to your head is because I, unlike you, want to be considerate of Slappy and her family," Babs said, placing her hands on her hips, "So if I were you, I'd clear out of here real quick, before I do something I'm gonna regret."

"You want to be considerate to her and her _family_? What, you mean all two of them?" Max retorted.

That was it. Something snapped inside him. Not conscious of what he was doing, Yakko made a sudden move for Max, who went from smug to panicked at the sight of Yakko lunging at him. But before he could reach Max, before he could punch every pore of his greasy face in, before he could make him regret ever setting foot inside the funeral parlor, two arms wrapped themselves around his chest and pulled him back. Yakko struggled, but the arms tightened, and he heard Buster whisper in his ear, "Not here dude, we're gonna get busted!"

Beside him, Yakko realized that Wakko had made a grab for Max too, but Babs was holding him back by the collar of his suit. Wakko looked positively livid, a look that was even angrier than the one he usually reserved for Dot. A look that was unfamiliar on his little brother's face. Yakko took several deep breaths, calming himself so he could calm Wakko. It would only make things worse if they were both wound up.

Deciding it was safe to let go of Yakko, Buster rounded on Max. "Get the hell out!" he hissed.

Max, who had taken several steps backwards, kept his distance but cooed back, "You can't kick me out, I own the place. If anything, I should have them throw you jokers out of here…violence at a funeral. Tsk tsk."

Yakko slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out his phone. As he dialed, he muttered, "Calling my stock broker buddies…"

His eyes widening for a moment, Max clenched his fists at his sides. "Fine. I'm leaving. You guys are more boring than the corpse anyway."

With that, Max disappeared into the crowd, a few of whom were staring at them. Yakko, who didn't have any stock broker buddies, stopped dialing random numbers and snapped his phone shut. He looked to his friends, who were frowning deeply, then to Wakko, who stared back at him with wide, black eyes.

If there was anything that could make a funeral worse, it was Montana Max.

**

* * *

**

Skippy had not said anything for several minutes. He merely sat, hands folded in his lap, staring at the floor. Dot sat beside him on the plush bench, watching his face for any signs of…well, anything.

Dot had met Skippy on their first day of toon education classes on the Warner Brothers lot. Most young toons went to tooniversities the same way human children went through grade school. The school on _Tiny Toons_, Acme Loo, was actually a pretty accurate portrayal of tooniversities, though with less commercial breaks and a lot more homework. There was a very prestigious tooniversity on the Warner Brothers lot that was reserved mainly for its stars and students that had been hand selected by other stars. Dot and both her brothers had attended it, as well as every toon under the age of eighteen who was on a show.

She had been so nervous on her first day. Up until that point, all Dot had known was her brothers and the other toon children at the orphanage. That had been her life, and she had been fine with it. But then they had been spotted by a scout – her memories of it were a little hazy, but she knew that Yakko and his big mouth were involved somehow – and the next thing she knew she was sitting in a classroom filled with a bunch of wild, laughing kids she had never met. Not only that, but it had been the first time in her life that she was separated from her brothers. They were older, and thus placed in different classes. She felt lost without them, as though she had forgotten how to speak, and when the other kids greeted her she barely managed a shaky wave.

So she sat in the back corner, praying that no one would even remember to look for her there, when a bright, buck-toothed face popped into her view.

"Hi there! Are you Dot?" the squirrel boy had asked.

"I…yes, that's me," she had replied.

The boy immediately took the seat next to her and began pulling books out of his backpack as he chattered, "My name's Skippy. My aunt Slappy told me about you and your brothers – you met her, right? She says you guys are a lot of fun. Is this your first day?"

Dot had nodded.

"Cool! Did you know our teacher is Sylvester? Sometimes Tweety comes into help, he's really funny. Do you have a book? Do you want to borrow mine?"

After having processed all his questions, Dot hesitantly nodded. Skippy eagerly scooted his desk over and laid the book between the two of them, pointing out where they were in the chapter and what they had covered before.

From that day on, they had been inseparable.

A few weeks later she and Skippy had adopted Randy Beaman into their little clan – that had been his real name, even though he just talked about his "friend" Randy Beaman on the show – and the three of them couldn't have been closer. It had been hard, when she and her brothers moved. Dot remembered crying as she hugged Randy and Skippy goodbye, crying on the plane, and then crying for the first week in New York. But they had kept in touch. She called them nearly every week, but Randy's calls had become increasingly infrequent, until one day he told her that he and his family were moving to South Dakota and she had only heard from him once since then. But Skippy had talked to her without fail. But lately, what with classes and homework and friends, Dot had to admit she'd been a little lackluster about calling him back. With a guilty squirm she tried to remember the last time she spoke with him. Around Halloween, maybe? That was weeks ago. But Skippy had never said anything about Slappy being sick or something. As far as she knew, Slappy had been completely fine.

Skippy sniffled a little bit, and Dot put an arm around his shoulder. She knew that Skippy had loved his aunt. She had never asked him about the rest of his family, like his parents, just as he had never asked about hers. Skippy had Slappy, and she had Yakko and Wakko, and that was all that mattered. So for him to lose Slappy…she shivered. Dot didn't know what she'd do without her brothers. Then again, maybe losing Wakko for a few days wouldn't be the end of the world.

"Talk to me whenever you want to, Skip, I can stay here all day," Dot said, trying to adopt the soothing tone that Yakko used with her when she was upset.

Gulping back a few sobs, Skippy whispered, "I just…I don't know what I'm gonna do."

Feeling like she was going to cry again too, Dot bit down on her lip.

"Where've you been staying?" she asked.

"Nutsy, that guy who was with me before. He's Slappy's cousin."

"He seems…nice," Dot said delicately. Actually he had seemed like a cranky, bitter old squirrel who didn't have all his nuts in his basket, but this was one of those cases where a little white lie was appropriate.

"He's okay," Skippy muttered. That was another thing about Skippy – he would never, ever say anything bad about a person. He could have just been robbed and he would think the thief just needed money to feed his family.

Dot gave his shoulders a quick squeeze. "Maybe you could live with us in New York for a little bit. I don't think Yakko would mind, and there's room in the apartment – "

"That's okay Dot, really," Skippy sighed. He took another deep breath, then broke out in fresh sobs.

"Oh, Skippy, don't…" Dot murmured, hugging him fully this time. God, now she was going to cry…

"I j-just, I just d-d-don't understand," Skippy stuttered between sobs.

"I don't think anyone does, Skip."

"No, I mean I d-don't get how it h-happened!" Skippy cried, becoming hysterical, "She w-was fine that n-night, and then the next morning she was g-gone!"

"Skip, calm down – "

Skippy swallowed gulps of air as he spoke. "She t-tucked me in to bed. She t-told me she had to go t-talk to Minerva, but she'd be b-ack. Then I h-heard her l-leave. I f-fell asleep, but then I w-woke up when the police got there. They said, t-they said they, they, they f-found her – "

They sat on the bench, crying, Dot just holding Skippy until he got himself under control once more.

"N-no one will tell me w-what happened. Don't I deserve to know?" Skippy whispered.

"You do. But do you think that would make you feel better?"

"Wouldn't you want to know?" Skippy asked quietly.

Dot stared at Skippy's bushy tail as she thought. The truthful answer was yes, but something about what Skippy just told her made her uneasy. Maybe they were hiding the truth about what happened for a reason. A good reason. Or maybe she just watched too many thriller movies. Either way, judging by the state that Skippy was in, she wasn't sure if her friend could handle it. While Skippy was a dear friend, she wouldn't exactly place him in the "tough" category. But there was still a gnawing bit of curiosity inside her, and if it would placate Skippy for the moment, she'd do just about anything.

"Well, why don't we try and find out then?" Dot encouraged. She slid off her seat and took Skippy's hands, gently pulling him into a standing position. His hands had gotten so much bigger than hers. "We'll ask around, there's a lot of people here, someone's bound to know something."

Seeming incapable of disagreeing with anything right now, Skippy followed her morosely. This was a half-baked plan at best, but Dot hoped that getting Skippy focused on something else would help. She asked him a few cursory questions about what he'd been up to lately, trying to ease her conscious about not checking in with him more often. But when they approached their old friends and costars with questions about Slappy, most of them either had no idea or became incredibly uncomfortable, telling them that they were "too young." Getting frustrated, Dot began to ask strangers, who mostly told her and Skippy to leave well enough alone.

"This is ridiculous, it's not like I'm five," she muttered to herself, then turned to Skippy. He looked, if possible, even more dejected than before. Starting to become slightly desperate, Dot peered around for someone, anyone, that they hadn't asked. She spotted Bugs Bunny…well, she spotted his gray ears poking above the crowd, anyway. He was surrounded by so many people that she didn't even bother to approach him. Then, she saw someone: a black-and white rabbit standing in the corner. He looked like he was the same inksplot style that she was – in fact, his style looked so old that he might be one of those drawn toons, not born naturally like most toons these days.

"C'mon, let's ask this guy," Dot said, marching over to the rabbit. The closer she got to him, the more Dot realized that the rabbit had some bad B.O. going on. Jeez, when was the last time he showered? And ew, was that dandruff on his shoulders?

The rabbit didn't seem to notice them at first. He was furiously scribbling on a notepad, occasionally glancing up at the crowd. Dot and Skippy stood there, waiting. She even started tapping her foot. Finally, Dot cleared her throat loudly. Startled, the rabbit looked down at them, then blinked with shock when his eyes settled on Dot.

"Hey there, my name's Dot, and this is my friend Skippy," Dot said, reaching out her hand.

The rabbit's wide eyes shot to her hand, then back up to her face. His lips were moving as though they were forming words, but no sound came out. He slipped the notepad in his pocket.

"Oooookay," Dot drawled, "You seem like a charming gentleman. I was actually wondering if you knew anything about – "

"You had a television show," the rabbit said suddenly. His voice was squeaky and little high pitched, much like Mickey Mouse's. He was looking at her as though he had discovered a new species.

Dot rolled her eyes. Someone else who wanted an autograph, or an in to get their own show.

"Yes, I had a show, it was a lot of fun, and no I will not sing 'I'm Cute,'" she rattled off. Usually she had a lot more patience with fans, but right now she had a crying boy next to her and this rabbit's breath really reeked. "Now, back to my question – "

"You were younger?" the rabbit asked.

" – I was wondering if you knew about…what?" Dot said. What was this guy on?

"You were younger, when you had your show?" the rabbit pressed.

Dot raised an eyebrow at him. "Uh, _duh_, we're talking about the show I _had, _in the past tense."

The rabbit was starting to look feverish. "And you have brothers?"

"Uh, yes…" Dot said. She glanced at Skippy, who shrugged a little bit. Or maybe it was twitch, it was hard to tell.

"May I meet them – please?" the rabbit requested, clasping his hands in front of him and leaning close to her. It was all Dot could do not to gag at the smell.

"Yeah, anything if it means you'll take a biiiiig step backwards," Dot said, pinching her nose shut.

The rabbit nodded and jumped back, landing on his two large feet. Eying him warily, Dot turned to scan the crowd for her brothers. Figures he'd want to meet them too. Everyone loved Yakko and Wakko. And of course she'd have to be stuck with this creep, at a funeral no less, while she went and fetched them like a maid. Now where were they?

"There they are," Skippy said as though he had heard her thoughts. He had grown so much that he could see over the crowd much better than she could.

"Alright, c'mon…eh, what was your name?" Dot asked as she walked in Yakko and Wakko's direction.

"Oswald," the rabbit said quickly.

"Okay Oswald, let me introduce you to my lovely brothers," Dot said. Yakko and Wakko were huddled together with Buster. She tapped Yakko on the shoulder. He turned, his eyes darting from her to Skippy and then to Oswald, and his brow furrowed.

"Yakko, Wakko, this is Oswald," Dot said with little enthusiasm, "he wanted to meet you. Oswald, Yakko and Wakko."

Her brothers stuck out their hands, but Oswald didn't shake them. Instead, he said immediately, "You're both taller!"

Yakko and Wakko shared a look before Yakko said, "I'll have to add that to my list of conversation starters…and yes, we are taller, that tends to happen to kids when they grow up. Nice to meet you too."

Still watching Oswald, Wakko leaned over and whispered in Dot's ear, "Why'd you bring this guy over? Trying to set us up on a date or something?"

"Shut up, he wanted to meet you, though I have no idea why he'd want to," Dot hissed back.

"So you say you've grown up?" Oswald continued, "A mother, another toon, she gave birth to you?"

"That's what they told me in health class," Yakko replied. Dot noticed an edge creeping into his voice that meant he was starting to get annoyed.

"So the premise of the show, the one that said you were drawn in the thirties…that was all a joke? Made up?" Oswald asked, wringing his hands.

Yakko glanced at Buster, who rolled his eyes. "Can't believe everything you see on TV, pal," Yakko said.

"I knew it! I knew you knew him!" boomed a loud voice.

Yakko, Wakko, Buster and all shared a collective groan. Oswald jumped. Dot and Skippy turned around to see Montana Max storming towards them.

"Thought you splotches would pull a fast one on me, huh?" Max accused, shoving a finger into Yakko's chest. "You're talking to him now – I thought you didn't know Oswald over here?"

Yakko delicately plucked Max's finger off of his chest, then flicked it away like he would a piece of lint. "Your powers of deduction are incredible, Max, but did it ever occur to you that we just met him now?" Yakko said dryly.

"Stuff it, oil stain," Max barked, then rounded on Oswald. "So, thought you'd offer a little friendly competition for ToonGO, did ya? I'd like to see where all that money's coming from, considering you didn't feel like using it to pay your damn rent ya freeloader!"

"It was my money, royalties, from my shorts – " Oswald spluttered.

"Royalties from your shorts? What a load of bull. No one's paying jack for your shorts, Class D!" Max jeered.

Oswald's ears shot straight up, and his face contorted with anger. "I am not a Class D!" he proclaimed. Dot assumed he was trying to go for fierce, but the squeaky voice kind of dampened the effect.

"Well you're certainly not a Class A," Max taunted back.

For a moment it looked like Oswald was going to hit Max. His shoulder jerked back in a rough motion, and his fists clenched. Max's eyes widened and he quickly jumped behind Yakko, pushing him in front like a shield. But Oswald seemed to gather himself. Straightening and jutting out his bottom lip, he muttered, "I have never been so offended…you young upstarts are all the same. No class."

With that, he turned around and promptly marched out of the parlor. Shoving Yakko aside, Max dashed after him, shouting, "You're up to something, rabbit! I'm gonna have the feds on your cotton-tailed ass!"

Dot and the others watched him leave. Shaking his head, Buster said sarcastically, "Well, that wasn't weird at all."

"I hope Max and John Hinckley Jr. over there get along, they'd be such an enchanting pair," Yakko muttered, staring off into the direction in which Oswald and Max had disappeared.

Just then Babs approached them, following their gazes. "Did I miss another one of Max's visits?" she asked.

"Yeah, except this time he made a new friend," Yakko said.

Babs cocked one ear up. "I see," she said, "anyway, if anyone has plans tonight, cancel them. We have a meeting to go to."

"A meeting? Are we back on _Tiny Toons _now? And what loser wants to have a meeting on a Saturday night?" Buster asked, crossing his arms.

"Bugs Bunny," Babs answered simply.


	5. Meeting of the Minds

_**Chapter 4: Meeting of the Minds**_

If Yakko didn't shut up soon, Dot was going to do something drastic.

After living with him her entire life, she thought she'd be used to it by now. And she was. It was only on rare occasions, when Yakko talked to the point where he got lightheaded, that Dot couldn't take it. Occasions like this one.

Sighing, Dot straightened out her skirt for the twentieth time and stared out the window at the palm trees whizzing past them. The last two hours had been a blur. After the startling conversation with that Oswald weirdo and Babs' announcement that Bugs Bunny wished to hold a meeting, they had spent the next hour saying their condolences and their goodbyes. Then, in a wild rush, she and her brothers were piled in the backseat of Buster's car as Buster high-tailed it to the WB lot, where the meeting was apparently going to be held. Why Buster felt the need to speed, she had no idea – Bugs Bunny was holding the meeting, and he was at the viewing too.

Dot slumped against her seat. It was barely evening and she was already exhausted. Saying goodbye to Skippy had been draining; when she mentioned that she was leaving he looked as though he were about to have another breakdown. Feeling as though she was going to have one herself, Dot promised, repeatedly, that she would try to visit him before she left for New York. Yakko even gave Skippy his phone number, telling Skippy to call him at any time if he wanted to talk. Skippy had given them watery hugs before they left. His melancholy made her miss the carefree happiness of her JTAP friends, whose largest concerns were who got what solo and what boy said what and when. A small part of her knew that she probably wasn't going to see him tomorrow before she left. Frowning deeply, Dot shut her eyes and let the sound of Yakko's ceaseless chattering drown out the guilt and sadness that swelled in her at the thought of Skippy.

"Language creates history, really, one little word can change how we remember everything," Yakko said, "For example if I threw myself out of this car right now, I might say I threw myself, but you could say I fell out of the car, and it changes the whole meaning – "

Yakko, galvanized by the mere mention of his idol, seemed to be overcome with nervous excitement which he coped with by talking nonstop. No one else could squeeze a word in; Yakko barely paused to breathe, stopping only when he got dizzy from running out of breath, and that only stopped him for a few seconds. Dot had ceased listening to what he was saying long ago, and judging by Buster's periodic yeahs and uh huhs, he had stopped listening too. Honestly, Yakko had probably stopped listening to himself anyway, and this was just a byproduct of his nerves. To date, Bugs Bunny was the only person Dot had ever seen make Yakko tongue tied. The few times they had ever met Bugs were littered with Yakko babbling rapidly then getting suddenly quiet with Dot swearing she could see him blushing just a little bit.

When confronted about his hero worship, Yakko would never fess up. "That's ridiculous, I barely know the guy" and "You're reading too much into things" were his typical responses. But that didn't explain why Dot routinely caught him studying every single one of Bugs Bunny's cartoons with religious conviction. Yakko clearly had a strong case of denial.

Dot was excited to see Bugs too, just maybe not as much as her older brother. Seriously, who wasn't excited to see Bugs Bunny? It would be a great story for her friends back at JTAP. Dot smirked – it would be especially great as fodder to make Jeanie jealous. Jeanie was by far and away the cattiest girl at JTAP; she was in Wakko's class, the daughter of wealthy parents whose numerous contributions to the school were the only reason that Jeanie even had a seat in that program. She was desperate to sink her claws into fame and stardom, so hearing that Dot had hung out with the biggest cartoon star of all time over the weekend was going to send Jeanie through the roof. Just imagining the look on the Persian cat girl's face was enough to drag Dot out of her gloomy mood. It was enough to make her forget about Skippy for a few moments.

Forgetting about him was hard to do. They hadn't been able to go home and change, so they were still in their funeral clothes. The entire car looked as though it was in mourning. Between their black fur and suits, Yakko and Wakko reminded her uncomfortably of undertakers.

Feeling the car slowing down, Dot opened her eyes. Her ears perked up: directly in front of them was a large gate with an equally large WB across it.

The lot.

"Hey Yakko," Dot called as Buster was showing his ID to the security card.

Yakko, oblivious, continued his rambling, "They ruined what could have actually been the only watchable movie about a bus because they cast that hack – "

"Yakko…" Dot tried again.

" – I mean, did you see _Devil's Advocate_? The guy has as much personality as a wet cardboard box – "

"Yakko – "

" – and did you hear about that movie the Wachowski brothers are coming out with in March? They cast him as the lead! Granted, I haven't seen the movie yet, so for all I know the story's about a man who has the power to bore everyone to death, in which case he'd be perfect – "

"Yakko!" Dot roared.

Yakko finally stopped to give her a raised eyebrow. "Do you have something to add?" he asked.

"We're here," she answered, exasperated.

Buster had just pulled into the parking lot reserved for special guests and employees. While he and Babs took their time getting out, Wakko and Dot both burst out of the car. Even Yakko was excited in spite of himself, and hurried out behind Wakko. The instant Dot's bare feet touched the familiar asphalt, she felt it: home again. At last.

Three quarters of her short life had been spent on the Warner Brothers lot. It was as though there had been no existence beforehand. There was only the lot, and after the lot. Her memories of their time in the orphanage were sparse, and Yakko and Wakko rarely spoke of it. The Warner Brothers lot, she gathered, was a much brighter span in their lives. Glancing at Wakko, she could tell he was feeling the same; Wakko looked more giddy than he had in a long time, a silly grin spreading across his face. Buster had joined Yakko, muttering, "Brings back memories, huh?"

"This way, troops," Babs directed, leading them to the buildings that held the conference rooms. Various crew members and employees crossed their path, some of them waving, some of them greeting them enthusiastically. Normally Dot would have bounced forward to give them hugs, but she just didn't have it in her right now. Luckily Yakko covered for her, smoothing over her mood with his knack for easy conversation. They made their way to the executive building where, Dot remembered with a small smirk, Plotz lurked in his top floor office. Even though Babs was in the lead, Dot and her brothers could have walked to the building blindfolded. Even having been gone for two years, this lot was still more familiar to her than Manhattan. Then again, Manhattan was a lot bigger.

When they reached the large glass doors, Babs stepped up to the intercom, dialed a few numbers, and buzzed in.

"_Who is it?"_ trilled a Brooklyn accent from the speaker.

"Me and my entourage," Babs answered, her eyes flicking to the rest of them.

"_Come on up."_

The lock on the door beeped twice, and Babs opened the door for them. As she strode past the vast potted plants, Dot soaked in the nostalgia of the lobby. How many times they'd walked through here…with Plotz being the superintendant of Warner Brothers Tooniversity, getting called to his office to be reprimanded for one thing or another had become nearly routine. Especially for her oldest brother; Dot snorted a bit, remembering Plotz hollering at Yakko for talking the tour guides into believing that there was a secret vault in Plotz's office that held the cryogenically frozen heads of the original Warner Brothers themselves. She and Wakko had been listening to Plotz's outraged bellows and Yakko's snide retorts through the door.

The gathered into the elevator and exited onto the sixth floor, following the trail of maroon carpet to the end of the hallway. Babs knocked smartly on the large mahogany door, and when a voice lisped, "Come in," she led the way inside. The room was long and rectangular, one of Warner Brothers' more spacious conference rooms. Potted plants and framed pictures lined one of the longer walls, while the other was made up of several large window panes that overlooked the lot. The buildings and the water tower were outlined against the setting sun, glowing bright orange in the steadily waning light. In the middle of the room was a dark, oval table surrounded by precisely arranged chairs.

In a chair at the far end was Daffy Duck, who barely even looked up when they came in. He had one feathery elbow on the table and was tapping his fingers impatiently. Next to him was Sylvester, who gave them an apathetic wave before returning to whisper to Daffy. Across from them was none other than Thaddeus Plotz, their old boss, who gave them a comfortingly familiar glare. He had not changed one bit, both in looks and demeanor. Pinky and Brain were perched on the table next to him, and beside them was Minerva Mink. Dot looked up at Yakko. He already had his eyes locked on her. Dot rolled her eyes: Minerva was way too old for him, Yakko had better calm down before he embarrassed himself.

A few seats down from Minerva was Shirley McLoon, who waved with not one, but two hands.

"Like, hi guys!" she shrieked, tapping the seats next to her, "Sit next to me, I missed you like, so much! Whoa, look at you guys, you didn't go home to like, change first? Your drab dress is totally bumming out my vibes."

"I'm sure your vibes will perk up eventually, Shirl my girl," Babs assured her, grabbing a seat next her. The rest of them followed suit. Miraculously, Yakko somehow managed to wind up in the seat next to Minerva and was already talking to her. Dot groaned. This had the potential to be a long evening.

"Where's Bugs?" Buster asked, sitting down next to Babs.

"Excellent question," Daffy grumbled, looking at his watch.

"He was like, just here a minute ago," Shirley added.

"He had to make a phone call on the phone!" Pinky proclaimed exuberantly. Behind him, Brain sighed and shook his head before stepping forward. "Mr. Bunny will return momentarily. He is attending to his personal affairs," Brain told them, eying them from beneath his large frontal lobe.

"Gotcha, Brainiac," Buster said, then turned to Shirley. "So Shirley, what brings you to this super secret brain trust meeting?"

"Like, no idea," Shirley answered, "I hope it doesn't take forever, I've got a story due tomorrow and my editor will like, lose her absolute mind if I don't get it in on time."

Buster's ears perked up. He leaned across Babs and whispered, "A story huh? You didn't hear anything more about Slappy did you?"

This time it was Dot's ears that perked up. Shirley knew something about what happened to Slappy? And no one said anything to _her_, Skippy's friend? Dot noticed that Wakko was suddenly engrossed in the conversation, but that Yakko was trying to catch Buster's eye, shaking his head frantically as he did so. Dot narrowed her eyes. Was Yakko hiding something from her? Did he know something too? She suppressed a growl; that would be just like him, to assume, once again, that she was too young, too naïve, too stupid to handle things. It was the very height of hypocrisy. He grew up doing things he was too young to do – managing contracts, living on his own, running around with girls, raising two younger children – why did she have to any different, any less capable?

Shirley, unaware of Yakko's silent but wild attempts to quiet her, said, "Sorry Buster, I told you guys everything I know. Besides, I think I'd like, be incarcerated if I told you anything."

"Are the cops still on your tail about it?" Babs asked quietly, eyeing the others at the table.

"Oh God yeah. It like, totally sucks. They put my column on probation – I can't write anything interesting about anyone anymore. And to make sure I didn't write anything juicy they have me contributing to the business section. Now all I get to write about is old geezers like, buying more stock. Yuck."

Dot slumped back in her seat. That was useless.

Buster, looking disappointed as well, said, "Bummer, Shirley," before leaning back and resting his feet on the table.

Instantly Plotz's beady eyes zeroed in on Buster's big feet, flicking between them and the pristine mahogany tabletop.

"Get your filthy feet off of my table you spoiled brat!" he shrieked, a vein emerging near his temple.

"Aw c'mon Plotzy!" Buster whined, but he dropped his feet to the floor.

Seconds later, Yakko plunked his own feet on the table. Dot grinned at him, and he winked back at her.

"I don't even want to start with _you_," Plotz growled, pointing a stubby finger at Yakko, "You did nothing but encourage your friend over here. Didn't you just hear what I said about his feet on my table?"

"Yes, but I didn't hear you say anything about _my_ feet," Yakko said snidely.

"Your feet, his feet, _no one's _feet belong on this table, you lunatic!"

Dot lifted her leg and planted a single toe on the table. "What about toes?" she asked.

"Or tails?" Wakko asked as well, placing his own on the table.

Dot giggled along with Shirley and Babs. Minerva just rolled her eyes, looking bored, while Daffy muttered something to Sylvester about needing to "invest in a playpen." Plotz, who reminded Dot of a kernel about to pop, opened his mouth to yell when the door opened. Scratchensniff entered the room, followed by Yosemite Sam and Porky Pig. Dot and her brothers waved to Scratchensniff, who sat down close to them and Porky. Yosemite grabbed a seat, dragged it noisily to a far corner of the room, and sat himself down with his arms crossed.

Dot watched him for a moment. Why didn't he want to sit with everyone else? What a grump.

"Where's the rabbit?" Yosemite grunted.

"Wouldn't we all like to know," Daffy answered, inspecting his nails.

"Right here, duck."

Dot turned in her seat. Yakko turned so fast she heard his back pop. Closing the door behind him was Bugs Bunny, snapping his cell phone shut and wearing a half smirk.

"About time!" Daffy snapped, "You drag us out here – on a Saturday night, mind you – stuff us into this hideous bungalow and then don't have the decency to show up on time!"

"What do you mean, 'hideous bungalow?'" Plotz snarled.

Bugs smirked at Daffy, walking towards him to get to the head of the table. "C'mon Daff, what else would you be doing?"

"Believe it or not, rabbit, some of us have plans on a Saturday night. Not all of us can sit chastely in the Warner Brother's lot, twiddling our thumbs and waiting for our next paycheck."

Bugs sat down next to Daffy, pulling out some papers from behind his back. "You didn't have any plans tonight."

"What makes you so sure? I'll have you know my social calendar is completely booked."

Not looking away from his papers, Bugs replied, "The only reason your social calendar is booked is because I'm the one who books it."

"What a flagrant lie – "

"Shush, child," Bugs said to him, looking up from his papers to gesture to the rest of the table, "you have an audience."

Plotz slapped his hands on the table. "If you two are finished flirting, I'd like to move along with this so-called 'meeting.' I'm an incredibly busy man – you should know this better than anyone, Bugs."

"No worries doc, we'll get down to business in a sec," Bugs said brightly, his easy countenance contrasting with Plotz's malevolent scowl. He looked across the table to other end, where Dot and her brothers sat. "Warner brothers – and sister – it's a shame about the circumstances, but it's good to see ya."

Hoping that Yakko wasn't going to wet himself over being addressed by his idol and embarrass the three of them, Dot simply gave Bugs and award-winning smile. What a nice guy –

"Now I know you two ain't gonna like this, but Wakko and Dot, I'm gonna have to ask you to step out for a little bit while we talk."

"What?" Dot and Wakko yelped simultaneously.

"Sorry you two, I can't make any exceptions. This is gonna be boring anyway, I wish I could skip out on this too," Bugs said consolingly.

Dot did a double take. Nice guy? _Nice guy? _Screw nice guy, Bugs was a low down, dirty, snake in the grass –

"Please let us stay, we promise we won't say anything! Maybe I could help!" Dot pleaded, making sure to crank up the charm. A little begging never hurt.

"At least let me stay, I'm older," Wakko pointed out.

Dot rounded on him. "Hey!"

Daffy leaned back in his chair and folded his arms, arching an eyebrow at Bugs. Plotz, on the other hand, leaned forward on the table aggressively, growling, "You heard him, now step out of this office before I _make _you leave! I'm not having your childish tantrums delay my evening any further!"

"You're not our boss anymore," Wakko retorted.

"Knock it off Wak," Yakko chided.

Placing his palms together, Bugs looked directly at Yakko and said quietly, "Can you do something about this?"

Dot snapped her gaze to her oldest brother and grinned. Yakko. Her trump card. It didn't matter how much he venerated the rabbit, there was no way would Yakko stand for this, he would never pick some celebrity over her and Wakko –

"Sibs," Yakko said, turning to them, "do you mind just hanging around the lot for a bit until this is done?"

Dot felt her jaw drop. First Bugs Bunny turns out to be a jerk, and now this? What the hell was this, the Twilight Zone?

"Gee Yakko, thanks for the support," Dot snapped acidly.

Wakko clenched his fists on the table and faced his brother. "Yakko, what the hell? I'm old enough, why are you treating me like a baby – "

"Because you're acting like one," Yakko hissed quietly, getting to his feet and gently nudging them out of their seats.

"Don't fret now, kidses," Scratchensniff implored, "this won't be long, you can have lots of fun exploring the lot."

Dot didn't bother to hide her eye roll. Explore the lot? As if she had never done that during the six years she lived there?

"Yeah dude, you've got free reign, go check out the girl's dressing rooms!" Buster encouraged. Then he yelped in pain as Babs slapped him in the back of the head.

As Yakko urged her out of her seat, a part of Dot wanted to firmly plant her tail back in her chair and pout. This was a horrible treachery of siblinghood, to be sold out for a chance to salivate over a star they barely knew. But feeling the multiple eyes in the room boring into her, Dot inhaled deeply and decided not to make a scene. She'd get Yakko back for this later. After all, now she had all evening to come up with a plan.

"C'mon guys, do this for me, please?" Yakko pleaded softly.

"Yeah. Sure. Anything for you, Benedict," Dot snapped.

"This is bull," Wakko muttered.

Yakko leaned in close to them, whispering in their ears so no one else could hear, "Look, I'll tell you everything I hear when we're back at Buster's, okay? Now just hang out around the lot, and don't go too far, promise?"

Answering him with glares, Dot and Wakko stormed out of the room. Yakko managed to get in a "And stay out of trouble!" before Dot, feeling incredibly betrayed, slammed the door behind them.

**

* * *

**

Not sure which he was feeling more, guilty or embarrassed, Yakko sat back down. He was going to catch hell from both of siblings later. If he knew Dot, she was probably plotting her revenge this very moment.

"That was handled well, Solomon," Babs muttered.

Yakko shot her a glare before saying, "Eh, sorry everyone…"

"It looks as though those two heathens are even less behaved than they were two years ago," Plotz jeered.

"Yeah, you'd think with all your etiquette lessons they'd have picked up a thing or two," Yakko drawled back.

Plotz opened his mouth furiously, but Bugs cut across him. "Plotz, weren't you the one who wanted to get this meeting goin'?"

With one final smoldering look, Plotz grumbled, "Fine," and settled back into his seat. He was so short Yakko could barely see his head poking above the table.

"Alrighty folks," Bugs announced, picking up his voice a tad. The muffled mumbling in the room quickly fell silent. Daffy elbowed Sylvester, who had fallen asleep, and the cat jerked awake with a "I didn't do it!"

"Sorry to do this on such short notice – I know some of us have incredibly active social lives," Bugs said, his eyes darting between Plotz and Daffy, "so I'll get right down to business. There are a few particulars I want to discuss, especially while we've got everyone in one place. You all must have at least some idea why we're here: we lost a very talented woman and a dear friend on Thursday. Everyone in this room knew Slappy, so everyone has an idea of what we lost."

Pinky sniffled slightly. Brain offered him a tissue, which he took and blew his nose loudly.

Bugs continued, "As most of you I'm sure are aware, there has been some eh, dispute over how Slappy was taken from us. At best, the circumstances are fishy. I'm gonna cut right to the chase, folks – there's enough evidence to suggest that Slappy's passing was neither accidental nor natural."

Yakko and Buster shared a quick look. No one in the room seemed particularly surprised, but everyone was paying close attention to Bugs now.

"From what I've gathered," Bugs continued, "we've all heard mixed things. Shirley, I'm told you were at the scene. Can you tell us what you know?"

Looking startled that she had been the first to be addressed, Shirley sat up straight in her chair and pulled a notepad from behind her back. She flipped through the pages of notes before she tapped a page with her finger. "Like, here it is. Okay, this is what I have," she said, scanning her notes. "They found Slappy in Toontown, a mile from her house. She was under a bridge, a homeless guy found her or some junk. So totally awful. This was like, six o'clock in the morning. I got there after cops did, but I was only out there because Julie Bruin definitely just got busted for possession, like, _again_, but this time she totally bolted – "

"Girl, focus," Daffy prompted her.

"Oh, right. Anyway, there were like, cops everywhere, and I heard them talking about finding a body, but like, no hint of a suspect, just a really horrendous smell. So I asked them what was going on, you know, in my reporter voice. But the officer said he totally couldn't tell me, so I tried to sweet talk him, you know? He was super cute, but like he probably could have done without the facial hair – "

"Shirley!" Bugs, Yakko, Buster and Babs all said at once

"Oh my God, sorry! Okay, so the cute one told me they ID'ed the victim as Slappy, and I started bawling my eyes out of course, and he was comforting me and some junk when this other, way more unfortunate-looking officer told me to bug off. I tried using my press pass, but then he forced me out and told me not to write one word about it. And that, like, was that," Shirley finished.

Yakko massaged his temples. Listening to Shirley talk for more than two minutes gave him a headache.

"And the cops didn't find a thing? Not one darn clue? What are we paying taxes for?" Sylvester demanded.

"S-sounds like the police have their w-work cut out, c-cut cut out, c – sounds like it's going to be difficult," Porky pointed out.

"Did ya get a look at the body?" Daffy asked eagerly.

Bugs looked skyward. "Tactful, Daff."

"Ew, no way," Shirley replied.

Scratchensniff frowned, the wrinkles in his forehead deepening. "The autopsy, is it complete?"

"Only released that info to the family, I checked," Bugs said, "which leads to my next question: has anyone heard anything as far as that department goes?"

Yakko swallowed. Wishing this didn't have to be the first sentence he spoke to Bugs this evening, he said, "We talked to Montana Max at the viewing today. I don't know if this is true – this is Max we're talking about – but he seemed to believe that she was found with a decent amount of chemical burns."

That was putting it lightly.

Daffy grimaced, and Sylvester sprayed spittle everywhere as he said, "That's preposterous!"

With a heavy sigh, Bugs pressed his fingers against his temples and mumbled, "That's what I was afraid of."

"You think that pinhead rich boy was telling the truth? He'd say anything if it made people look at his ugly mug," Buster exclaimed.

"I'll have you know that Montana Max was and is an asset to this studio!" Plotz interjected.

"Yeah, maybe for the accounting department," Yakko muttered under his breath.

Plotz's attention snapped to Yakko like an animal who had just sniffed prey. "What was that, Warner?"

Ignoring them, Porky said, "I don't know fellas, that boy's family is made up of patha – p-p-pathlog – patha – pathologic – they're a bunch of fibbers."

"Like it or not, that pinhead rich boy and his family's got connections," Bugs said, "He's the youngest of the Max Empire, and they're better connected than a telephone operator. Plus, it fits in exactly with part two of my little speech."

He grabbed the stack of papers sitting in front of him and tossed them to Plotz. "Pass those around," Bugs ordered, then continued, "I've got a south-of-the-border source that brought this to my attention. It appears that La Caricatura, Mexico's one and only toon-operated city, is having some problems of its own."

Once they were done examining the papers Plotz and Brain passed them off to Minerva, who barely glanced at them before dumping the pile in Yakko's lap. He gathered them up, and Buster and Babs both leaned over to inspect them. The papers were photocopies of what looked to be clippings from a Mexican newspaper. While it was written in Spanish, certain portions were highlighted with the English translation handwritten in the margins. Brain had even made a few additions himself just now.

One article showcased a large picture of a weeping coyote toon woman, surrounded by Mexican toon law enforcement. Another far more chilling photograph showed an investigator hunched over what looked like toon remains: a large, dark patch of ink beneath what might have once been a body. "Ugh," he heard Buster groan.

The headline of the article, translated, read "_Electoral candidate Santiago Rosa found dead, four toons go missing_." Yakko quickly looked scanned the article for the date. It had been written three weeks ago.

"This Rosa guy," Babs started, still skimming the article, "it doesn't say here…but I've gotta say that doesn't look like a heart attack. Do you think it was some sort of acid?"

"According to my source, yes. A severe chemical burn from head to foot," Bugs said, then faced Scratchensniff, "You got any thoughts on this, doc?"

Scratchensniff, looking weary, responded, "Toons are very resilient, as you know, it eez very strange for a chemical to cause such a complete devastation. It would have to be a very large amount of something corrosive, perhaps TurpenZero or DIP, but those are incredibly illegal."

"Somehow I don't think 'illegal' would matter much to a murderer," Daffy pointed out.

Brain walked toward the middle of the table, and said, "The article is a cursory account of what happened. It gives little insight to the candidate's death, and does not even provide the names of those missing."

"How is anyone supposed to find them then?" Yakko asked.

"Exactly," Brain said, "which leads me to believe that the omissions were not an accident. What does your 'source' say about the status of corruption in La Caricatura's press and law enforcement, Mr. Bunny?"

Bugs leaned on an elbow. "Just call me Bugs, alright? But to answer your question, my guy tells me that the status ain't good. We've got a high level of sleaze going on in their police force, which I'm sure is leaning on the press. We're talking about the toon drug capital of the world here. Everything gets pushed under the rug."

"So why Rosa? It says he was running for mayor…what was his platform?" Yakko asked.

"Good question doc," Bugs said, "I asked my guy the same thing. He said that Rosa was bent on cleaning up the act. Purge corruption and all the jazz. And he was going to start by firing the entire police force."

"I'm sure that announcement went over well," Yakko said sarcastically.

Bugs snorted. "About as well as you might guess."

"What a blithering idiot, what did he expect? He was asking for it!" Plotz exclaimed.

"You think he was asking to be murdered?" Bugs asked calmly.

"I, well, what I mean to say is – "

"Save it Tubs, we got a real caper on our hands," Daffy said, "What does Speed – I mean, your _source _say about whodunit?"

Bugs eyed Daffy for a moment before saying, "That's where we're drawing blanks again. Not a single clue. Minerva, you were Slappy's neighbor, have you noticed anything suspicious lately? Any unusual visitors, anything out of the ordinary in the neighborhood?"

Yakko had no protest against turning his attention to Minerva. It had been about four years since he'd last seen her, and that was four years too long. She had, if possible, gotten more attractive. Minerva had been barely seventeen when she shot her first short for _Animaniacs_, leaving an unfortunate age gap between the two of them. But that had never stopped Yakko from catching peeks at her between takes, or from hurtling him through puberty at the speed of light.

It was a shame that Minerva's personality wasn't as flawless as her body; she had been known to throw tantrums on set if her coffee wasn't made with skim milk, and she was exceptionally talented at demolishing the self esteem of every girl under sixteen on the lot, as well as several men over thirty. She never apologized for being late to a shoot and had been a source of perpetual whining during the filming for _Wakko's Wish_. She would complain about being cold, which was odd, considering that half the time they used fake snow.

But that didn't matter. Yakko placed Minerva in the same category as Rebecca: annoying but gorgeous.

Minerva flipped her curtain of golden hair over shoulder and gazed at Bugs beneath thick, black lashes. "Not a thing, Bugs. She would drop that boy of hers off at school, work in the garden, pick him back up again, harass the mailman…nothing weird at all. I mean, we all know she was real old, isn't it a teensy bit possible that Slappy might've just gotten confused? There's a lot of nasty men out there who go after little, senile old ladies."

Minerva leaned forward strategically to emphasize both her point and her cleavage. Daffy adopted a dreamy look on her face said, "Yeah…maybe…that makes sense" and seemed ready to agree to anything Minerva said. But Bugs, unfazed, said, "I doubt it. As her neighbor I'm sure you picked up on the fact that Slappy was still pretty sharp, despite being 'real old.'"

"Just a theory," Minerva said defensively, leaning back and covering her chest with her arms. Yakko sighed, disappointed.

"So, to review our progress," Daffy drawled, "We've got two loosely related crimes with no suspect and no motive for either, we don't know what weapon was used and we don't even know who half the victims are...why, I think it was Professor Plum in the billiard room with the candlestick, Bugs!"

"What we know is that whoever did this is a master at covering their tracks…Sam, what are your thoughts?" Bugs asked.

Yakko turned to the corner of the room. He had completely forgotten that Yosemite Sam was even there. The man's dark eyes, framed by his black mask, surveyed everyone in the room as though deciding if they were worthy enough to speak in front of. Finally, he muttered in his gruff voice, "I'm a'thinkin' this was the work of a professional. This ain't no common thief, this took planning, and lots of it. Yeh can't leave nary a scrap of evidence and not have meant it every step of the way. Slappy must have gone and got herself tangled up with some no good varmits, I reckon."

"That doesn't seem like her," Yakko said cautiously.

"I ain't sayin' she set out to do it, I'm a'sayin' she coulda tripped over somethin' she ought not to," Sam countered.

Yakko frowned, still unconvinced. The Slappy he remembered was incredibly bright – too smart to get caught up in something illegal or secret. What was more, she was viciously protective of Skippy…why would she chance anything that had the potential to affect her beloved nephew?

"Gee Sammy, thanks for the advice," Daffy drawled, "Slappy crossed paths with some bad guys, you say? I would have never guessed!"

Yosemite jumped to his feet – a rather anticlimactic move, Yakko thought, as Yosemite was so short he had been taller sitting on the chair – and withdrew his pistols. "You wanna say that again, feather brain?"

"Calm down you two or I'll send you out with the other two kids," Bugs chastised, "I think Sam brings up an excellent point: Slappy had all the street smarts in the world, probably more than all of us in this room combined. She was a very talented Class A. But even she got mixed up in something horrible that we can't figure out. So that means whatever we're up against is just as crafty, or at least pretty damn ruthless. Ergo, my friends, we have to be on guard, we have to be watchful, and we have to be discreet – I'm talking to you duck."

"What are you on, 'discreet' is my middle name – "

"Yeah okay Daff. Anyway, it's getting late folks, and we've all had a long day. I'm gonna leave you all with a homework assignment. Daff, Sylvester, and Porky, you know your gig: keep everyone in the loop, and put those big mouths of yours to good use and get all the scoop you can."

Sylvester and Porky saluted, Daffy just muttered, "Yeah yeah yeah…"

Bugs continued to go around the table, "Scratchensniff, Brain, Pinky? Find out what you can about chemicals and toons, specifically those two you mentioned, and see what it takes to get a hold of them. Ingredients, sources, whatever you can find out. Plotz, talk to your boys, see what they say. And keep an eye on the lot. Minerva, warn your neighborhood if they don't already know, and talk to your neighbors. Maybe they picked up on something you didn't. Shirley, work that press pass of yours, and keep your ears open at the press. Babs, Buster, listen in on what your crowd has to say, especially that Max kid. And keep in touch with Warner here."

Bugs focused his eyes on Yakko, who straightened in his chair rather quickly.

"You're living in Manhattan now, right? Prefer Brooklyn myself, but that's a bias I guess…listen, when you go back there, I want you to keep your eyes peeled. Los Angeles and La Caricatura have both been struck, and New York is America's second biggest toon population. I know it's a big city, but just be as observant as you can, and report back to Buster, Babs, or myself, got it?"

"Got it," Yakko said, wanting to add something more clever but finding his mind unusually blank. Damn his one celebrity weakness.

"Good to hear it. And Sam, you remember what we talked about before? Good. Okay everyone – meeting adjourned. Thanks for coming out guys, I appreciate it. Daffy, feel free to attend to your social calendar now."

"Finally," Plotz grumbled, jumping down from his seat as everyone got to their feet. He bustled past Yakko, elbowing him in the knees as he did so.

"I missed you too Plotzy," Yakko called after the man's retreating frame.

Sylvester was chatting with Porky, while Pinky and Brain had joined Scratchensniff in conversation. Buster was still trying to coax nonexistent information out of Shirley. Sam was – well, Yosemite Sam was already gone. Bugs and Daffy were side by side, talking in low tones between saying their goodbyes. Yakko met them at the doorway.

"Hey kid, thanks for coming out, I know you and your siblings probably have a plane to catch," Bugs said.

Ignoring the 'kid' part, Yakko said, "No problem. Listen, is there anything else you want me to do? I can help out, I can – "

"Don't worry about it doc," Bugs said with a dismissive wave of his hand, "We got it under control."

"No really, I mean it. Slappy was a friend of mine, of all of ours. She was our first friend on the lot. I want to do whatever I can, just give me a chance – "

"That's real cute, but I don't think this is your type of ballgame," said Bugs, not stopping, still heading out the door. He said it with the air of speaking to an overeager child. Feeling a flicker of annoyance, Yakko met him step for step, and followed him to the elevator.

"Listen, Bugs, I'm not some wide-eyed little kid. I can do more than just play lookout," he pressed.

Daffy was jabbing the elevator button impatiently as if this would make the elevator hurry. Barely glancing at Yakko, Bugs said over his shoulder, "Look, kid, I appreciate it, but my crew and I have been around the block a couple times." The elevator doors opened and the two veteran stars stepped insides. Bugs continued, "Leave it to us, just go back to Broadway, okay? Watch those sibling a' yours."

The doors slid shut, and Bugs and Daffy disappeared from view.

Yakko swallowed, disappointment coursing through him. That had stung. Bad. He had looked up to Bugs since _Animaniacs_, before that even, but for Bugs to think of him as nothing but a naïve, child star…

Was this what Wakko and Dot felt like?

Catching a whiff of strong perfume, Yakko found Minerva beside him, waiting for the next elevator. Her body was outlined by a clingy black cocktail dress that Yakko assumed she had tried to double as funeral-appropriate. This kind of irreverent behavior from Minerva was not unusual.

"Where you off to?" Yakko asked without really thinking. His brain seemed to go on vacation around girls.

Minerva didn't even spare him a glance. "Out."

"With friends?"

"Bingo."

"Anyone I know?"

Minerva looked at him over the curve of her snowy shoulder, one hand balanced on her hip.

"Honey, my friends were getting fake IDs when you were learning to tie your shoes," she said before she strode into the open elevator. Yakko watched her hips swing back and forth until the doors closed and he was left, standing there, stunned and frustrated.

For the second time in less than five minutes he hadn't managed to get the last word in. Maybe he was losing his touch.

"Nice try, stud," a voice cooed in his ear. Babs was behind him now. He didn't know how long she was there or what she saw, but the traces of a smirk on her lips was all the confirmation Yakko needed.

"Why thank you," he said sarcastically.

Two rejections in one evening. That might be a record.

* * *

Wakko looked down. He was over seventy feet in the air – the pavement below seemed miles away. He grinned as a light breeze ruffled his tail and ears. How could Yakko possibly forbid him from doing this when it was so much fun?

Back when they had been filming, Yakko had expressly forbidden Wakko from doing the very thing he was doing right now: dangling from the topmost beam of the water tower like a monkey. While he had never said anything about doing it now that they were older, Wakko was pretty sure Yakko would have an aneurism if he found out. God only knew why; Wakko was a Class B toon – soon to be a Class A Candidate, hopefully – a simple fall from this height couldn't possibly hurt him. But then again, it was Yakko.

Yakko was allergic to anything potentially dangerous, especially when it came to him or Dot. Wakko continued to sway from the metal bar, his gloved hands sliding along it easily. He loved to swing his feet as he gazed at the Burbank skyline, glistening in the night, or get caught up in a good wind that gently rolled him around like a kite. It was weirdly relaxing. Yakko of all people should try it, he never relaxed. Ever. He was the only person Wakko had ever met who could be cool as a cucumber on the outside but a gigantic ball of stress on the inside. And Yakko, for all his toon prowess and Class A status, rarely took advantage of his own skills and chose to be cautious instead.

Wakko had decided climb the tower shortly after he and Dot had been kicked out of the meeting. It was an insult; Yakko had sat in on executive meetings when he was fifteen, why couldn't he? And it seemed like they were going to talk about Slappy…after what Montana Max had said, a morbid part of him was very curious. Not only that, but Yakko had been a willing participant in their exile. Traitor.

He was already mad when they were booted out of the meeting, so it didn't help when no less than thirty seconds later Dot was on the phone with her friends, shrieking and laughing, rubbing it in his face, again, about how much more popular she was. He snapped at her, she yelled at him, they bickered, he left.

But now he was up in the sky, no one could bother him. He could forget about his annoying sister, his traitorous older brother, his lack of friends, everything. There was nothing to feel self-conscious about up here. There was no one judging him. There was nothing to feel stupid about. He was totally alone.

"Wakko?"

Yakko's voice echoed from behind a building in the distance. So much for that.

Sighing, Wakko let himself drop from the beam. As he plummeted downward, he used his tail to wrap around one of the four main support beams. He slid down the beam like a fireman, and before he hit the ground his toon instincts took over and he landed, squashing a bit, before his body bounced back into its solid state. He then shoved his hands in his pockets and trudged toward the sound of Yakko's voice.

"Wakko! Dot, would you hang up the phone, I've asked you three times now…Wakko! Wak – oh, there you are," Yakko said, spotting him as he rounded a corner. Dot was with him, as well as Buster and Babs. Buster and Babs were arguing about something, and Dot was still powering away on the phone.

"C'mon bud, we're bustin' this popsicle stand," Yakko told him, snatching Dot's phone out of her hands as he did so. Dot yelped in protest, but Yakko just tossed it behind his back, muttering, "Think I didn't notice you stealing it outta my pocket last time, missy?"

Wakko half expected flames to shoot out Dot's eyes at this statement. She skipped right over trying to pout her way into getting what she wanted to gnashing her teeth and grumbling something nasty under her breath. Yakko ignored her with ease and herded their group to Buster's car.

As the three of them slid into the backseat, Yakko asked, "How's the lot? Did everything fall to pot in our absence?"

"Lot's fine," Wakko said, brushing past the question, "So what happened, what did you guys talk about?"

"You waste no time, man," Buster laughed as he turned on the ignition.

"He said he'd tell us everything after the meeting, right Yakko?" Dot said pointedly.

Babs peered at Yakko over her seat. "Did he now?"

"Chill out Babs, what's the big deal if they know?" Buster countered.

Her eyes flashed. "I never said it was a big deal, I was just surprised Yakko would promise that!"

"Why is that surprising? He's their brother, not their principal!"

"Thanks for pointing that out Buster, I had no idea!"

Ignoring their arguing, Yakko turned back to his brother and sister. "Cool your jets sibs, I'll tell you about it when we get home..."

Dot pointed an accusing finger at him. "I knew it! I knew you were lying!

"No way are you backing out of this!" Wakko asserted, already feeling the old indignation flaring up.

"Would you relax, I'm not lying and I'm not backing out! Jesus, we're barely out of the parking lot!" Yakko snapped.

"So why can't you tell us now?" Wakko asked, gesturing wildly, "It's not like it's a secret to these guys!"

"Because, brother dearest, maybe they don't want to spend the whole ride home rehashing what we just talked about for the last hour," Yakko said, sounding annoyingly superior.

"Lies! All lies!" came Dot's rebuke.

Yakko arched an eyebrow at her. "Do I sense dissention in the ranks?"

"You're just trying to avoid the subject! You don't have any good reason not to tell us about the meeting!"

"Maybe my reasoning might have something to do with your maturity, or lack thereof," Yakko mused. He was using his I'm-about-to-lay-down-the-law voice.

"Oh c'mon," Wakko griped, "You already kicked us out of the meeting, why don't you kick us out of the car too."

Yakko sighed . "Trust me, it's already crossed my mind."

"I never thought I'd see the day when Yakko, my beloved older brother who I respected so much, would sell out his baby sister for a brush with fame," Dot moaned.

Wakko rolled his eyes. Even when they weren't at JTAP, Dot still had to be an actress. He prayed that Yakko didn't fall for it – if he did, Wakko feared he might lose all respect for his older brother. Unfortunately, Yakko was eyeing Dot with a small amount of concern, as though he was afraid she would have a breakdown. Or that she was mentally unsound. One of the two. Buster and Babs were still bickering rapidly up in the front seats. Wakko was trying not to listen – it was none of his business – but their voices were at an angry pitch. They were barreling down the city streets, and Buster kept taking his eyes off the road to shoot some retort back in Babs' face. It was more than once now that Buster had to swerve wildly back into his lane.

"All this time I thought I was more important to you than some celebrity," Dot continued melodramatically, "I guess…I was wrong."

"Keep this up and I'm dropping you out of acting lessons, you don't need them," Yakko said.

Wakko shook his head. "No way, are you seeing this? She needs them more than ever."

"Shove it, Wakko!" Dot yelled, immediately snapping out of her woebegone state.

"Watch it young lady," Yakko warned, voice dropping slightly.

Dot crossed her arms, glaring at Wakko with all the venom she could muster. "It's not my fault he's a stupid piece of sh – "

"Look out!" Babs shrieked suddenly.

The tires squealed shrilly on the road, Babs screamed, and the next thing Wakko knew he was thrust headfirst into the front seat. He hit it, hard, before ricocheting back into his own seat. It all happened so fast that even his toon instincts hadn't reacted. He could already tell that his face was going to be sore.

"Is everyone okay?" Yakko yelled out. He turned to Wakko and Dot frantically. "Sibs? You okay? Did you hit your head? How many fingers am I holding up? It's okay Dot, calm down – Wakko, why aren't you wearing your seatbelt – "

"Well we're stopped now!" Wakko pointed out.

"Put it on anyway!" Yakko ordered. He then unbuckled his own and hoisted himself forward, which appeared difficult considering that Dot was clinging to his jacket like a lifeline.

"Buster, Babs, you guys okay?" Yakko breathed.

"Yeah man," Buster said, albeit shakily. He was still gripping the steering wheel. "Babs distracted me."

Sparing him a single glower, Babs put both hands on the dashboard as she scanned the road. "Where did it go?"

"Where did what go?" Yakko asked.

"Some guy, he was just walking out in the middle of the road, looked like a toon…"

Dot whimpered, clutching Yakko tighter. But Wakko stood up awkwardly and stuck his head between Yakko's and the headrest on Buster's seat, searching the pavement. They were stopped in the middle of the road on the outskirts of Toontown. To their right was a vacant car lot. On the left was a small field of evergreens – Pete's Christmas Tree lot, Wakko realized suddenly. They reminded him of rows of dark soldiers, watching them in the night. In the rearview mirror he could see the dark tire tracks they left behind.

"There!" Dot cried suddenly.

He jumped at her voice. At first, Wakko couldn't see what she was pointing at. He saw nothing but the empty street. But then a black mass stumbled out of the shadows and into the beams of the headlights.

"Who the hell is that?" Buster whispered.

"It's a weasel," Babs pointed out.

Buster shook his head. "No, I don't think so…"

"Yeah Ears, it is, he looks like one of the guys from Roger Rabbit," Yakko said.

Wakko looked closer. Yakko was right, it was a weasel toon that looked a lot like one of the guys who played Dr. Doom's henchmen in _Who Framed Roger Rabbit_. But he wasn't looking so good…the weasel was wearing nothing but a long, dirty shirt that hung at his knees. It didn't appear as though he was wearing any pants. He was missing chunks of fur, and his snout was crooked as though it had just been broken. He was stumbling around, his eyes unfocused, looking as though he had no idea where he was. Wakko noticed that his mouth was moving rapidly; the weasel appeared to be talking, shouting even, but he didn't even seem to notice the car in front of them. Wakko chewed on his lip; having grown up in California he was no stranger to homeless people, but the really crazy ones had always made him a bit uncomfortable.

"Maybe we should help him," Babs said.

"Yeah right," Buster and Yakko muttered.

She placed her hands on her hips. "You guys are heartless, he clearly needs help!"

"If you mean at a mental institution, then yeah," Yakko said.

"Forget it Babs," Buster sighed, "You can't take every homeless person you see home like a pet."

Babs' ears flattened dangerously. "Did I ever say anything about taking him home? You know Buster sometimes you really make me – "

"I'll see if he needs anything," Yakko said loudly, drowning out the ensuing argument. "Here Wak, move over."

Wakko and Yakko shuffled around awkwardly so Yakko could get to the window.

"Yakko, be careful!" Dot whispered fearfully.

"Don't worry Dot, I'm not even getting out of the car," Yakko assured her. He pressed a button to lower the window before sticking his head out of it.

"Hey mac, ya better get off the road, you're gonna get hit!" Yakko shouted to the weasel.

The weasel, obviously startled, looked around for the source of the noise. It did not seem to occur to him to look towards the car. Then, finally, his ink-shot eyes landed on Yakko. He squinted, staggering slightly as he tried to focus. Seconds later, his eyes widened to the point that his pupils were specks in the headlights, making him look crazier than he already did.

"N-not you, n-n-not you again!" the weasel screamed at the top of his lungs, pointing a slim finger at Yakko. He then turned around so fast that he fell over. Scrambling to his feet, he tried to sprint at a toon rate of speed, but couldn't manage it. So he simply ran instead, and his screams faded away as he disappeared into the darkness.

The five of them watched the weasel until he vanished. Yakko sat back down, closing the window. He looked at them. His brow was furrowed.

"Was it something I said?" he asked.


	6. Mean Streets

NOTE: To stop the fire before it starts...

This chapter will reference young toons learning their abilities. I consider this to be canon; Tiny Toon Adventures was structured around the idea of young toons going to a school and learning their abilities from veteran toons. The idea of a "hammerspace" is also a preexisting concept.

I appreciate the feedback, I really do. But please, if you feel that I am liberally lifting ideas from other authors, I encourage you to send me a PM detailing my offenses. I will gladly provide you with examples of how the content of my story is either canon, implied by canon, or original. This section has several very talented authors and I would never do them the disservice of hijacking their ideas. While you have the right to accuse me of doing so, please be aware that I consider this an unfair judgment of my character and I reserve the right to defend it.

Thanks for understanding!

_**Chapter 5: Mean Streets**_

March 2nd, and it was still snowing.

Unbelievable.

Yakko stared at it from the window in his Manhattan apartment, his eyes narrowed, and blew on his tea. He was doing his best to mentally will the snow to stop falling. It wasn't even snow, really, it was more like heavy, wet, partially frozen mush that coated the city in a dirty blanket of slush. He was going to have to walk in it later…he could already feel the ice and rock salt wedging themselves between his toes. It was almost enough to make a toon wear shoes.

Sometimes it was hard to believe that just under three months ago they had been in Burbank for Slappy's funeral. With their friends. With Buster. Sitting in on a meeting with Bugs Bunny. Almost running over some demented weasel. After that night Yakko and his siblings had left for New York early the next morning; Wakko and Dot had pressed him for details from the meeting, to which he gave limited information. He told them that the authorities were looking into Slappy's death - did they really need to know all the mess that surrounded it? Neither sibling seemed to think this was adequate. Dot had tried her damnedest to pour paint down his pants in some kind of revenge effort.

Buster made Yakko promise to keep in touch, Yakko made Buster promise to tell him about anything suspicious. Aside from one more disappearance in Mexico, Buster routinely reported nothing new of interest. On his end, Yakko had remained constantly alert. He checked the papers for missing persons, read the crime section in search of chemical attacks. But nothing seemed strange – well, strange for New York, anyway. The case had gone cold.

That didn't mean it had stopped bothering him.

Yakko's birthday had come and gone. He was nineteen now, which felt no different from being eighteen. Apparently birthdays ceased to be interesting after eighteen. Well, maybe twenty-one would be kind of fun. Maybe. Yakko had never cared much for his own birthday anyway. In fact he cared much more about his making his siblings' birthdays special. They had celebrated Wakko's yesterday. Yakko smiled sadly – his little brother was sixteen. The age seemed to have snuck up on him…wasn't it last week that he was showing Wakko how to tie his shoes? Wasn't it last night that he was holding Wakko close, telling his little brother a bedtime story?

Yakko gave his head a quick little shake. He was having what Dot had dubbed a "sap-tacular" moment. It was just something he should be used to by now: Wakko and Dot were growing up. Progressing naturally through life like humans was the fate of toons who were born instead of drawn. Their lives had timelines. One day, they would die. When that thought gnawed at his mind, Yakko took comfort in the fact that he was not alone. It was rare for a toon to be drawn these days. In the early days, toons had been drawn with entertainment in mind. But now there were plenty of toons who could act and be funny without having been drawn. And with toons quite capable of repopulating on their own, it just wasn't necessary. Or practical; if toons were constantly drawn into immortal being, the world would start to run out of room.

Why did he always get so melancholy around their birthdays? Wakko was right – he _was_ an old man trapped in a young toon's body. He'd better get a grip on himself: Dot would be turning fourteen in May. At this rate he'd be weeping in a fetal position on the floor while she was blowing out the candles on her cake.

Besides, he had more important things to focus on: Wakko turning sixteen meant Wakko taking his Class A Candidate test. It was a right of passage for any Class B teenager, as passing it meant that you were eligible to take the Class A test when you turned eighteen. Yakko remembered being so nervous on the morning of his test that he felt sick. He had tried to hide it by yammering endlessly to the proctors about the Lakers. And he hated basketball.

But if Wakko didn't get up soon, Yakko was going to have to drag him out of bed. The night before Wakko had requested that Yakko help him do some last minute cramming before class started. Yakko had been about to lecture Wakko on the pitfalls of cramming for a test, but after seeing the pleading look on Wakko's face he decided to just roll with it. Normally Yakko would never be up at such an obscenely early hour, especially not after an epic nocturnal argument with a woman he didn't even consider his girlfriend.

Rebecca was on the warpath. She had never quite gotten over his leaving for an entire weekend without telling her. Even though he knew for a fact that she had been very…occupied…with Lester, who played Javert in the show.

Cosette and Javert…what would Valjean think?

Yakko sat down at the kitchen table and rubbed his eyes. It took a moment for the words to come into focus as he gazed with bleary eyes at the newspaper. He flipped a few pages in; the toon section was in the middle, and in addition to their local writers, the _The New York Times_ syndicated press from the _Toon Gazette_ in Los Angeles. Every morning since December he examined the toon section, hoping for some bit of news that never came. This morning looked to be no different. A couple snippets of toon crime, a brief story on a toon who had managed to flip himself inside out but got stuck that way, a blurb about how Mickey Mouse was set to make an appearance at the Academy Awards, an even smaller blurb about Bosko opening a factory in Mexico –

Wait. Mexico? Yakko blinked, suddenly feeling very awake. The article was barely a paragraph long, hardly noticeable in the bottom corner amongst ads for fur softener and glove restorers. But there it was – '_Bosko acquires squirtgun manufacturer in Tijuana' _–

"Yakko?"

Yakko jumped violently, scattering the newspaper all over the floor nearly spilling his tea.

"What?" he yelped, startled.

Wakko was standing in the doorway, fully dressed. He padded into the kitchen, muttering, "Jeez, calm down, it's just me." His voice was still heavy from sleep.

In that small amount of time Yakko had completely forgotten about Wakko and his test. He glanced at the clock. It was 6:30 in the morning – usually Wakko wasn't even partially functional until 7:30, let alone dressed. Wakko must be nervous.

"Sorry sib, you're too quiet sometimes. I think I'm going to tie a bell around your neck so I know when you're coming into the room," Yakko said.

"Someone has to be the quiet one in this family or no one would ever get a word in," Wakko pointed out.

"This is true," Yakko conceded as he picked up the newspaper. He started paging through it, searching for the toon section, when Wakko sat down at the table and pulled out a textbook from behind his back. Wakko then slid the book across the table until it was directly in front of him. Yakko looked at the cover. _'Practice Makes Perfect: The Young Toon's Guide to Passing the Class A Candidacy.'_

Barely containing a sigh, Yakko slapped a hand on the book and opened it up. It figured that the first day there was actually a hint of interesting news it would be the same day as Wakko's test. But Yakko willed his annoyance down. It wasn't like it was Wakko's fault. And judging by the slightly green tinge on Wakko's cheeks, his poor brother was feeling just as bad as he had.

"Alright, we'll start off easy," Yakko said, flipping through the pages. "Enlighten me, what's another word for 'toon physics?'"

"Animation, which is any toonish act made by a classed toon," Wakko recited lazily.

"And what's the most basic class a toon can be?" Yakko asked.

"Class D," Wakko answered.

"What constitutes a Class D?"

"A Class D can prevent himself from minor injuries, if he knows it's coming."

"Good. Next class?"

"Class C. Can withdraw common objects from his hammerspace, and he can prevent himself from being hurt most times, if he knows it's coming, I mean. He can do a toon sprint at thirty miles-per-hour for at least a minute."

Yakko nodded. "Next?'

"Class B," Wakko sighed, reciting, "Wears gloves. Class B can take out anything from his hammerspace except for living things, he can wield a mallet or another weapon in a...in an...shoot, what's the word for doing it without really hurting someone?"

Yakko peered at him over the book. "Nonaggressive."

Wakko nodded, his tongue flopping out of his mouth. "Yeah, that one - he can use a mallet in a nonaggressive way, he can do a toon sprint at forty-five miles-per hour for at least three minutes. He can shapeshift whenver he wants. He can prevent himself from getting hurt at all if he knows it's coming and can prevent small surprise injuries."

"Which means…" Yakko prompted.

"He has toon instincts, which, you know, means his body will protect itself naturally sometimes," Wakko answered.

"Good. And finally?"

"Class A," Wakko said, sounding more determined as he ticked off the qualities on his fingers, "Wears gloves. A Class A can take out anything from his hammerspace, can use a mallet and other stuff nonagressively, he can run a toon sprint at sixty miles-per-hour for at least five minutes, he can shapeshift whenever, he can prevent himself from being hurt, he can manipulate stuff around him, and he can throw off toon energy."

Yakko nodded, scanning the book. "Very good. Tell me what toon energy is and how you can use it."

Wakko rested his head on the table as he recited, "Toon energy is the…shoot, what is it…oh yeah! It's the potential and used energy that exists whenever a toon bends reality. A Class A can channel this energy into controlled uh, controlled exertions. If a toon loses control, sometimes their toon energy can explode."

Yakko smirked. It was kind of funny hearing so many words come out of his quiet sibling at one time. "Excellent sib. Who was the first registered Class A toon?"

"Bugs Bunny."

"Why is it important to register toons by class?" Yakko asked, paging through the book.

"For safety and criminal records."

"Tell me more."

"Fine. If a toon commits a crime it makes it easier to find out who did it because the cops'll know what they're capable of. Only registered toons are allowed to interact with humans outside of Toontown."

"Didn't miss a single question, you've got this. How about we do some practical?" Yakko suggested.

Wakko nodded, albeit sluggishly, and got out of his chair.

"Okay bud," Yakko said, leaning back in his own chair, "show me a parrot."

Wakko smirked and reached a hand behind his back. When he pulled it back out, a live macaw was sitting on his wrist. It blinked at Yakko with one beady eye before squawking, "Show me a parrot! Show me a parrot!"

"Put it away!" Yakko yelled, laughing as he covered his ears. Once Wakko slid the screeching parrot back behind his back, Yakko continued, "Good, you can do live creatures in your sleep. But how about some shapeshifting, huh? Can you squash and stretch?"

Wakko nodded.

"I see," Yakko said, "How about you touch the front door without leaving that spot?"

Wakko looked at the front door, which was a good fifteen feet away. Keeping his feet firmly planted on the floor, Wakko pulled his arm back before heaving it forward as though he was throwing a baseball. His arm stretched out like black taffy, shooting past Yakko and through the living room, but stopped just a foot shy of the door. Wakko grunted in frustration, but Yakko encouraged him. "No worries sib," he said, "just try again. Focus. Do it slowly, carefully. Think about how much you want to touch the door. Try to convince yourself that the door's right next to you."

Wakko reeled his arm back in. He concentrated on the door, and his tongue peeked out of his mouth. Then he pulled his arm back and flung it forward again, but this time his gloved hand slapped the front door.

"Nicely done!" Yakko cheered as Wakko smiled. "Just remember to concentrate when you do it, you could really hurt yourself if you just start stretching without thinking. You need to focus during your test, they're going to try and distract you."

"Really? Like how?" Wakko asked.

"When I took the test they kept trying to talk to me while I was performing a task, like asking irrelevant questions and trying to get me to look the other way, etcetera etcetera."

Wakko fiddled with his glove nervously. "Why would they try to make you mess up?"

"They're not trying to make you mess up, they just want you to be able to prove that you can focus. Think about it – what if you were doing a move around a bunch of humans who can't defend themselves, and something went wrong because you got distracted?" Yakko pointed out.

Wakko nodded, but there was a definite hint of panic in his eyes. Yakko could practically hear his heart beating in his chest. Placing the book on the table, Yakko stood up and approached his brother. Leaning over so he and Wakko were eye level, Yakko said, "Listen to me, Wakko: you've got nothing to worry about. You're smart and you're talented. You've been doing Class A Candidate moves since you were twelve. How many other toons can say that? I know you're gonna make me proud, you always do. You've got more toon skills than you think…by the time you come back home tonight you're going to be wondering why you were worried about such an easy test. And c'mon – you're a Warner. We're practially _born _Class A's."

Wakko nodded, his face losing some of the anxious tension it had housed before. "Thanks," he muttered, grinning in a small, embarrassed way.

"Don't mention it," Yakko said, straightening up, "Now, I just want to go over one more thing."

"What's that?"

Yakko stepped back and hunkered down in crouch. "A Class A Candidate can prevent himself from an attack, but can he prevent himself from…me?"

Wakko laughed excitedly as Yakko sprung into a tackle. The two collided – Yakko felt Wakko's body go soft and rubbery – and they hit the floor in a roll. Wakko giggled and tried to wrestle his way on top, Yakko let his body go soft too, knowing full well that Wakko could hit hard if he wanted to. It was a good thing too: Wakko kneed him in the stomach as he tried to get the upper hand. Yakko let his body go solid again as he darted out of Wakko's grasp and emerged behind his younger brother in a short burst of a toon sprint. He reached forward, tickling Wakko in the ribs.

"Knock…it…off!" Wakko gasped between laughs. He kicked out behind him, making Yakko stumble. Yakko smirked – it had been a while since they play fought.

Just before he could lunge in another tackle, a morning-heavy voice grumbled, "Some of us are trying to get our beauty sleep, ya know!"

It was Dot - she marched into the kitchen, glaring at them both, before snatching a banana from the counter and retracing the path back to her room.

Rolling his eyes and smirking, Yakko muttered, "At her majesty's request I'm calling a ceasefire. Now, you know where the testing facility is, right? Do you want to go over it one more time – "

"Yakko, it's two blocks from JTAP, I could've figured that out even if you hadn't walked me past it eight times in the last two weeks," Wakko said with an eye roll as he readjusted his jacket.

Yakko nodded. "Okay. Remember what we talked about, just go straight there after class – "

" – and you'll pick me up after my test," Wakko finished, "I _know_."

"Okay, I'm just making sure – "

"I got it – "

"Don't be nervous – "

"Too late for that – "

"Aw buck up kiddo. Now grab your books, you're gonna be late."

"But – "

"C'mon, get a move on, you've got class in a couple minutes," Yakko said, ushering Wakko into the foyer. He quickly returned to his newspaper – it didn't matter that the article was small, even one word could point them down the right path to finding Slappy's murderer –

Dot burst dramatically back into the kitchen, looking as though she had just witnessed a car accident. "Yakko! I can't find my lavender boots!" she cried.

"Aren't those your boots?" Yakko asked, gesturing vaguely to the door without looking up from his paper.

"Those ones are magenta, I _need_ my lavender boots," Dot said, exasperated.

"You _need _to go to school," Yakko insisted, "just put on the magneto or whatever color boots. I thought you liked those ones, don't they have hearts on the bottom or something?"

"Yeah but the magenta ones won't match my outfit!"

"I'm sure that won't affect your academic performance," Yakko drawled.

"But Yakko – "

Slapping the newspaper on the table, Yakko got to his feet. "Alright Dot, enough is enough. Look at the clock. If I see that you're late to class because of a pair of boots, I'm not gonna like it – and trust me, you'll know it. Now put on your shoes and get your butt out that door."

Giving him the filthiest look she could muster so early in the morning, Dot snapped, "Fine, have it your way, like always!" She then stomped out the door, snatching up the magenta boots as she left.

"Go with Wakko to his test, I don't want you walking home by yourself!" Yakko called after her. He sat down again and plucked up his paper. He'd gotten worse from Dot before, that little tantrum was harmless. He flipped through the pages until landing on the toon section. Both sibs were gone now, he could read in peace –

"Yakko?"

Yakko cried out in shock, this time knocking over his mug of tea with his elbow. It splashed all over the table, soaking the newspaper before Yakko could snatch the paper away.

"Damn it," he muttered, trying to wipe the tea off. The toon section was now a murky, muddled green and brown.

"Wow, you're jumpy," Wakko observed, "how much caffeine is in your grandma potion?"

Yakko glared at him. "The caffeine in my _tea_, thank you, is not the point. I thought you were on your way to JTAP, Wak. Get a move on, you're worse than Dot!"

"I just wanted to go over the arm thing one more time, I'm not that good at it," Wakko said, pulling his arm back.

Sighing, Yakko rubbed the bridge of his snout. "You see, this is exactly why I told you not to cram…"

"I'm not cramming, I just want to make sure I've got it all right at the last minute!" Wakko protested.

"Wakko that's…" Yakko began, but shook his head, "nevermind. Look, bud, you've got it down, you're just psyching yourself out."

"But it's easier when you're here helping me – "

"And I can't help you on your test. If you're so worried why don't you practice on your way to class? 'Class' is the keyword in that sentence," Yakko said.

Letting his arm fall to his side, Wakko frowned. "Fine, have it your way, like always," he muttered, then slung his backpack over his shoulder and marched out the door.

Yakko shook his head. If he didn't know any better he'd think Wakko and Dot were in cahoots. It was so frustrating to get them out the door on any other morning, and today was the worst in a while. God, what he wouldn't give for just one morning alone, just him.

Grumbling to himself, Yakko returned to the newspaper. Trying to smooth out the sodden paper without tearing it, he squinted at the words. The ink was runny, forming indecipherable black blotches where there was once an article that was of great interest to him. With sigh, Yakko balled it up and tossed it in the trash. Luckily there was more than one newspaper in New York, so he'd just go out and buy another one. He threw on his jacket and had barely placed his hand on the doorknob when the phone rang.

"If this isn't Dot telling me the school's on fire I'm hanging up," he growled to himself, stomping back to the kitchen. He seized the phone from the receiver and snapped, "Hello?"

"_You!" _shrieked a shrill and regrettably familiar voice.

"And good morning to you too, Rebecca," Yakko groaned, squeezing his eyes shut and massaging the base of his ear with one hand.

"_If you think you can just walk out on me, leaving me in the cold, you've got another thing coming you dirty, lowdown pig!" _Rebecca screamed.

"What's your definition of 'walking out?' The way I remember it, you left me on the corner, got a cab, and told me to never talk to you again," Yakko pointed out calmly.

"_That's right, I told you never to speak to me again because whenever you talk it just reminds me of how much I can't stand you!"_ Yakko could hear her heavy breathing through the phone.

"And I'd be happy oblige your request," Yakko chirped, "Okay, hanging up now…"

"_There's another girl, isn't there? Tell me the truth!"_ rang Rebecca's voice.

Yakko paused before pulling the phone back up to his ear. "Ex-squeeze me?" He only said that because he knew she hated it.

"_Shut up – I know there's another girl! Who's the skank?"_

"Rebecca, either you haven't taken your medication or you need to a get a prescription, stat, because you've completely lost your mind," Yakko said. What was she talking about? What was wrong with girls, anyway? Was this a universal affliction?

"_I knew it, I knew it the whole time, why would you just suddenly disappear for a weekend and not tell me anything? Where did you take her? A little shithole motel? It's Desire__é__, isn't it, you always flirt with her in rehearsals!"_

"Rebecca, I'm already insane enough to hook up with just you. The thought of multiple girls is too horrifying to consider," Yakko said. Funny. Before he would have never said there was such a thing as too many girls. Now he was seriously considering celibacy.

And then he realized, perhaps not even for the first time, that talking to Rebecca actually made him feel lonely.

"_Don't bullshit me. You barely even touch me since you came back from that weekend. You act like I'm a disease when we're together. I'm not stupid, I know you're screwing around!"_

Yakko rolled his eyes. She was wrong on almost all of her accounts. He _wasn't _screwing around and she _was _stupid, but, now that he thought about it, he had to admit that he had been a little cold with her. The whole thing was strange; ever since the weekend of Slappy's viewing, whenever he tried to make out with Rebecca Babs' voice would be nagging in the back of his mind…_as if you haven't slept with half of Broadway by now…you guys are all the same – a bunch of spoiled pricks…_it was extremely annoying. Not to mention weird. Why would be caring about what Babs' thought when she was three thousand miles and he had a gorgeous girl right there, tangible, in his arms? But that never seemed to matter. He couldn't concentrate when he could hear Babs' insults, and the next thing he knew he was telling Rebecca that he didn't feel good and was going home.

" – _I gave you the best years – year – of my life, and the least you could do was be faithful – "_

"Because you set such a good example of that," Yakko retorted.

In a voice that sounded like she was about to breath fire, Rebecca snarled, _"What are you trying to say – "_

"Rebecca, darling, dear…pardon my French but even the elevator in my apartment hasn't gone down as many times or with more people than you. Now, it's been lovely, but I think we should see other people – oh wait, you've already done that," Yakko drawled.

"_You asshole!" _Rebecca howled, _"I'm telling everyone you're horrible in the sack – and by the way, I already have plans with Lester tonight – "_

"You do that," Yakko replied, then hung up the phone and her piercing voice cut out abruptly.

Performing with her tonight was going to be a blast.

**

* * *

**

"So I told Razzy he should do a duet with Dot because I thought they would sound good together, which is not only totally true but then maybe he'd ask you to the semi-formal next Saturday during one of your rehearsals or something!" Patti exclaimed.

Dot smiled appreciatively at her friend, a curly-haired poodle toon, as they left their composition class. Patti was currently chatting to her and their friend Yvonne, a blonde human toon, about the goings-on of after school jazz club. The three of them clutched their books to their chests and walked in sync to their lockers. Dot liked being part of their group, it made her feel powerful and safe. Then again, groups of three seemed to be a trend with her. She was never on her own. She was always with her brothers. Or Randy and Skippy.

She twirled the combination lock, losing track of what Patti and Yvonne were giggling about as a guilty squirm tangled her insides. Skippy. She had never visited him before she left for New York like she said she would. And she had only called him once since then. While he had been able to talk to her without breaking down into tears, he still sounded miserable.

She was a horrible person.

Dot opened her locker and stacked her books inside, ignoring the unpleasant feeling in her stomach. Whenever she thought of Skippy she felt hollow inside, like a reminder of how she wasn't good, wasn't whole, that she had no heart. It didn't help that she had a picture of him and her together in her locker – his smiling face was taunting her.

But she couldn't explain it…there was something about Skippy's grief that made her want to run. She couldn't bear to see his anguish-twisted face, or the hear the voice that was once boyish and bright now empty and dark. Dot peeked at her friends from behind her locker. They were giggling, talking rapidly. Yvonne was twisting a lock of hair around her finger once, twice, three times…

It was so easy to disappear into their world, to forget about Skippy and busy herself with boys and clothes. You didn't have to feel guilt when you were popular. Being friends with Patti and the others was like living in a dream: family didn't die, you didn't have to deal with reality and its raw emotions. As she looked at the picture of Skippy, then at the girls, Dot suddenly felt incredibly empty.

"You okay Dot?"

Dot blinked. Patti and Yvonne were both staring at her, examining her like a science experiment.

"I – yeah, totally, just kinda spaced out for a second," Dot said, trying not to look too flustered.

"Like, yeah, we noticed," Yvonne said.

Patti slammed her locker shut. "C'mon girls, let's go to Webber's class. I want to get a seat next to Robbie. He's even hotter with the haircut."

Both Patti and Yvonne turned on their heels, chattering as they navigated their way through the busy hallway. Dot trudged behind them, thinking that she'd probably skip class right now if she was a little braver. They turned the corner into the hallway where the older kids' lockers were. Wakko must already be in class, as he wasn't at his, but Jeanie and her gang of older girls were huddled closely around Jeanie's locker, snickering and pointing. Darla, the bratty girl from _Cats Don't Dance_, was with them, laughing in such an obnoxious way it made Dot want to ralph. But instinctively, Patti, Yvonne and Dot kept their eyes focused on the ground. Even one stray glance was known to antagonize Jeanie into unnecessary ruthlessness. And Jeanie seemed to have a special spot in her heart for Dot and her brother.

But she must be in a good mood today – Jeanie was ignoring the three of them completely. Her yellow cat eyes were narrowed with malice, and the other girls were laughing shrilly, grabbing at something she was holding. It was probably something stupid, like an embarrassing picture of somebody else. That was the kind of thing that would put Jeanie in a good mood.

Dot kept moving, glad to get past the older girl without incident, when she heard Jeanie hiss, "I can't believe that loser was on a TV show."

Nearly stumbling, Dot stopped in the middle of the hallway. Not many kids had at JTAP had been on a TV show. Many were on their way to eventually landing one, but as far as Dot knew, she, Wakko, and the girl from _Gummi Bears _were the only ones currently enrolled who had starred on television. How many people could Jeanie possibly be talking about…

Jeanie continued, "I mean, seriously, he's just riding on his brother's coattails, and even _he_'s not that good. And as if I wasn't completely convinced Warner was the biggest freak on the planet, I go in his locker and find _this_…"

As the older girls cackled, Dot jumped to the water fountain and pretended to get a drink. Bending down, Dot tried to see in between the designer-clad bodies of the teens, hoping to catch a glimpse of what Jeanie was holding. Even though her brother was a gigantic pain in her tail, there was no way she could let someone like Jeanie get away with stealing his stuff. But the girls were blocking her view, and it wasn't like she could just waltz up and ask what Jeanie what all the fuss was about…

The bell rang, signaling the beginning of the next class. Dot, who had been so engrossed in Jeanie and the girls, jumped in surprise and ended up squirting herself in the face with a stream of fountain water. Coughing and spluttering, she spit out a mouthful onto the floor. Crap, had Jeanie seen that? Dot looked up, but the girls were already gone, and the hallway had nearly emptied. Not only was she now late for class, she was going to have to find Wakko and warn him about what Jeanie was up to. That, and she probably looked like a drowned rat right now. And to think she had spent twenty minutes on her hair this morning.

"Geez kid, you're supposed to drink the water, not take a bath in it," said an upperclassman as he passed by.

"Thanks for the tip!" Dot snapped, glaring at him as water dripped from her chin.

* * *

What sadist decided that it was a good idea to end the school day with Musical History?

Wakko glanced around him. Mrs. Twinny was hunched over the blackboard, scribbling names and dates while warbling on in her monotone voice. But in the rows of desks behind her, one half of the class was passing notes while the other half was sound asleep. Looking at the clock for the third time in two minutes, Wakko groaned. Still fifteen minutes left to go. But then he remembered with an awful jolt in his stomach that the end of classes meant the beginning of his candidacy test, and he suddenly wished he could add another hour to the clock.

He'd spent most of his classes studying for the test to the point where he didn't think he could cram another scrap of information into his skull. His brain was a mess of toon history, numbers for stretching distance, the mechanics of performing a toon sprint, of theories on injury prevention…and that was just the written portion. He still had to complete the practical on top of that. With everyone watching him. How had Yakko managed to pass that stupid test?

Because Yakko was good at everything, Wakko thought bitterly. Yakko probably didn't even study. He seriously doubted that Yakko had felt nauseous like he did this morning. There was nothing that Wakko could outshine his brother at, be it performing on stage, or making friends, or –

Jeanie and her squad of groupies giggled in the back of the room.

- girls.

There were a couple cute girls in JTAP, but whenever Wakko found himself one on one with them his stomach would feel like it was flipping inside out and his palms would begin to sweat inside his gloves. All he usually managed was a few unintelligible grunts and squeaks in their direction, which typically ended with the girls adopting confused looks. Sometimes he didn't even stick around long enough to see their faces. He mostly just ran away. It was even worse when girls approached him. Once, after a piano recital, Wakko was on his way to the restroom when Berry, a young fox girl in his class, stopped him right in the middle of the hallway. She smiled and told him that he had "looked really handsome up on stage." Wakko's immediate instinct had been to pass out, but he managed to keep conscious. Instead, and maybe totally worse, he blurted, "I have to go to the bathroom!" and dashed past her, leaving Berry alone in the hallway. He then hid in a bathroom stall for twenty minutes before he was sure he wouldn't encounter Berry when he came out. Not that he didn't want to see her – she was pretty okay for a girl, when he thought about it – he just couldn't bear to look her in the eye after that episode.

But Yakko…he never had a problem with girls. He always knew what to say to get them giggling, to make them give him their number or watch him when he walked away. He barely even had to work at it – it had gotten to the point where girls came on to Yakko whether he was interested or not. Sometimes the three of them couldn't even walk down the street without some girl approaching Yakko. Dot hated it. Half the time she tried to sabotage the encounter, usually by inventing a false but disgusting and incurable disease that had just inflicted Yakko, or telling the girl he was married.

While he yearned for Yakko's confidence with girls, Wakko felt that his brother took that confidence to a bit of an extreme. Sometimes Wakko was embarrassed by Yakko's bold come ons. Other times he thought Yakko spent way too much time with girls considering that Yakko had claimed to not want a girlfriend.

Sometimes Yakko would toy around asking Wakko about his own interest in girls. There had been a few times now where Yakko had caught him off guard and nearly tricked him into admitting something. Wakko flat out refused to tell Yakko anything. Not that Yakko was a blabbermouth about that kind of stuff, but Wakko just wanted some privacy, that was all. It was hard to keep anything personal when you spent more than half your life with your brother and sister. Most of the time, Wakko just denied interest. He didn't care about girls…much. But that didn't explain what he was currently drawing.

Wakko looked down at his sketch. He'd been drawing in his notebook for nearly an hour now. Every page in his notebook was coated in doodles: goofy caricatures of his teachers, made up creatures, things he saw out the window, or even just random shapes. With the exception of Yakko, no one knew he liked to draw. Not even Dot. And Yakko barely counted – Yakko had seen Wakko doodling once and complimented him on it. For his next birthday, Yakko had given him a sketchbook which he had filled almost immediately. Wakko didn't think he was very good – his drawings were always wild and never looked like what he saw in his head. But in the insanity of lines and scribbles he found a calm center, a place where he could be him, and where the drawing could be whatever he wanted.

Like in this case: a sketch of a fox girl who looked suspiciously like Berry.

Not that he would ever admit that.

The loud wail of the bell marked the end of class. The other students leapt from their desks in excitement, while others jerked awake, looking disoriented, but Wakko's stomach did a monstrous flip flop as he realized it was time for his test. Stuffing the sketch of Berry - no, not Berry, just some random girl who looked like Berry - hastily into his pocket, Wakko slung his backpack over his shoulder and hurried out of the room. He had to grab a few books from his locker before he left, then he had to find Dot because _God forbid _she went anywhere by herself, and then maybe he'd stop by a trashcan to throw up before they went to the testing facility. Not that he was nervous or anything.

Spinning the last number on his lock into place, Wakko flung his locker door open. Threw a few books in, took a few books out, threw some more in, he had almost everything…

Wait. Where was it?

His heart beating a little faster than it already was, Wakko dropped his backpack to the floor and dug through his locker. Where was his comic book? He could have sworn it was sitting right here…he began throwing other books to the floor in a panic. It was his favorite – _Mickey Outwits the Phantom Blot _– and now it was gone. Where could it be? It was right here! Crap crap crap, why did he even bring it to school to begin with anyways, was he really that much of a dork that he couldn't go one day without reading it? God, why did he have to be so stupid –

"Wakko! Wakko, I have to tell you something!" came Dot's voice. She was running down the hallway, ducking nimbly through the crowd, and waving her arms as though she hadn't already called enough attention to herself.

"Wakko, I have to tell you – "

"Shut up Dot, I'm busy," Wakko growled.

Dot skidded to a stop beside him, looking outraged. "Don't tell me to shut up, butthead, I've got something important to tell you!"

"What, did Dolce and Cabana come out with a new t-shirt?" Wakko jeered as he stuffed his books back into his locker.

"Okay, one, it's _Gabbana_, and two, stop being a total dingbat so I can talk to you for five seconds!" Dot demanded.

"I don't have five seconds, I'm late!" Wakko roared. He tried to shut his locker but it was too full and cluttered. He threw his whole body into it, shoulder first, to slam it shut before he took off down the hallway. He could hear Dot behind him, shrieking at him, telling him to stop, but he didn't listen. There was no way he could miss this test, it was too important, and Yakko would probably kill him…but his book was missing...he navigated the dense hallway, dodging students, shoving others, and ignoring their angry shouts. He finally burst out the double doors and onto 65th, nearly falling flat on his behind because of the ice. His feet spun out on the slick sidewalk for a few moments before he was hurtling toward Amsterdam Avenue. Dot's cries were getting fainter – he'd always been faster than her, she wouldn't catch up with him until she made it to the testing facility, even if she toon sprinted –

"Hey Warner, looking for something?"

Wakko did his best to stop, but slid awkwardly on the ice, the rock salt grinding beneath his feet. He didn't realize until just now that he had completely neglected to put his boots back on. Forgetting about that for the moment, Wakko spun around to face Jeanie. She was flanked by two older boys who he knew to be Lars and TJ, a Rottweiler and a human toon, who were sneering at him. He had never liked them – they were lazy performers and routinely picked on the younger students. Like Jeanie, they were only in JTAP because their parents were stinking rich.

"_I_ have something _you_ don't have…" Jeanie sang, then pulled out his comic book from behind her back.

Wakko didn't know whether to be relieved that his comic book wasn't lost or horrified that it had wound up in Jeanie's paws.

"Let's see, what do we have here," Jeanie said, flipping through the comic before reading aloud in a nasty mimic of Mickey Mouse, "_'Boy-oh-boy, a mystery! And the chief sounded pretty worried, too! Hot dog!_'"

Lars and TJ filled in Jeanie's shrill cackle with their own guffaws. Jeanie was laughing so hard that she was squeezing the comic book, crinkling it. Her sharp claws pierced the cover, and Wakko could see a row of tiny tears now savaged his book.

"Give it back!" Wakko demanded. He nearly groaned. He'd meant to come up with something more clever than that.

"_Give it back!_" Lars taunted.

"Comic books, Warner? Are you kidding me?" Jeanie cried, waving the book around, "Seriously, are you _trying _to be the biggest freak on the planet? I mean comic books…_Disney _comic books…"

"I bet your mom still tucks you in at night," TJ sneered.

"Don't be stupid, you need a _mom _to do that," Jeanie retorted snidely, watching Wakko with yellow slits for eyes.

Before Wakko could respond, Dot came barreling around the corner, caught sight of Wakko and Jeanie, and slid to a stop next to him.

"Wakko – Jeanie!" Dot gasped, "Wakko, she's got your book, she took it out your locker!"

Wakko slapped a hand to his face as Jeanie and the boys burst out laughing. Jeanie gave Dot a demeaning look and drawled, "The little Warner runt is a regular Sherlock Holmes!"

"Dot, just go away, you're embarrassing me," Wakko whispered hoarsely.

Plunking her hands on her hips, Dot snapped, "Oh, _I'm _embarrassing? You're the one who still reads comic books!"

"Better listen to your mom, Warner," Jeanie teased, jerking her thumb at Dot, "That's how it works in your family right? You don't have real parents so you have to use your brothers and sisters instead?"

Dot whipped around with an appalled look on her face. Not remembering her ever having a direct encounter with Jeanie before, Wakko thought that Dot wasn't aware that someone could say something so mean. Well, welcome to the real world, sis.

But now Jeanie and the boys were laughing again…which meant that they were distracted. This was his only chance. There was no room for decision making now. Too upset to think, concentrating only on the book, Wakko jerked his arm back and flung it forward as hard and as fast as he could. Just like he had practiced in the morning, Wakko watched with satisfaction as his arm stretched out ten feet, fifteen feet – his hand was right on target, Jeanie was too shocked to react, he was going to grab the book, he was going to get it –

Wakko knew it was going to go wrong a second before it happened. Just as his fingers wrapped around the comic book, the rest of his arm snapped down like a whip. Even though he hadn't taken his test yet, Wakko knew that definitely was _not _supposed to happen. A wild pain shot up past his elbow, followed by a burning sensation. Unable to control his arm, it snapped back against his shoulder like a tape measure that had been pulled out too far and then released. The pain made Wakko gasp and grit his teeth, and his arm flopped loosely against his side, his hand still clutching the comic book.

"Oh dude!" Lars guffawed, "Look at his arm!"

Breathing heavily, Wakko looked down at his arm nervously. His stomach turning, he noticed that it was about two inches longer than his other arm…that had never happened before…oh shit, why wasn't it going back to normal? What had he done? His arm felt rubbery and weak, it was shaking, and every little movement made it hurt. But he had gotten the book, at least he had gotten the book…

"Idiot, he has the book!" Jeanie snapped.

"Not for long," TJ growled.

As TJ and Lars hunkered down, Wakko took a step back. He wanted nothing more than to sock it to the two thugs, but not only were they outnumbered, but Dot was useless in a fight and now his arm was busted. As embarrassing and as it was, he was going to have to run away from a fight. With his good arm, Wakko grabbed the comic book and flung it behind his back as he turned toward Dot.

"Move!" he shouted, giving her a shove.

"But – " she protested.

Lars and TJ were lunging toward him, with Jeanie bringing up the rear. Wakko's eyes widened in panic. This was so unmanly…

"Dot, move it!" Wakko said, pushing her as he ran down the sidewalk.

"But the testing center's the other way!" Dot cried.

"Yeah, the same direction as the two guys who want to punch a hole in my face!" Wakko snapped back.

Dot was at least running in step with him now, but she pressed on, "You're gonna be late for your test if you don't stick up to those goons!"

"Oh yeah, 'cause having a broken head too will really help me out on my test!" Wakko shot back.

They continued to argue as they sprinted down the sidewalk towards Central Park, with Jeanie and her gang close behind.

**

* * *

**

_**Bosko acquires squirtgun manufacturer in Tijuana**_

_Former WB star Bosko is the majority stockholder and new CEO of Pl__á__sticas de Paula (PDP). PDP, which is located in Tijuana, Mexico, is primarily responsible for squirt gun manufacturing. Bosko, who is well known for his financial fumbles in recent decades, has not responded to requests for comments no matter how many times I ask. Bosko has appointed former Disney star Mortimer Mouse as COO. _

Standing on the corner of 66th and West End, Yakko's brow furrowed as he read, and re-read, the short article in the newspaper. He shivered – how he hated this constant, damp cold – and brought the paper closer to his face. For something he was hoping would illuminate things, this article was proving to be the most confusing thing he'd ever read. And he had proofread Ralph's wedding vows.

He glanced up at the author: Shirley. Of course. That partially explained why not one bit of it made sense.

Why would Bosko, fame-hungry, money mis-managing Bosko, want to be the CEO of some random squirt gun factory in Mexico? How did he even pull that off? And the fact that Bosko declined comment – that was enough to make Yakko feel like he'd ventured into the Twilight Zone. Bosko was notorious in Toontown as a fame-hound; he encouraged the paparazzi to take controversial photos. He added credence to the ridiculous rumors. There was no such thing as bad publicity to Bosko.

It was too bad that Bosko had to work so hard to get publicity at all. From what Yakko had heard, Bosko had a bit of a chip on his shoulder ever since Bugs had taken his place at Warner Brothers. Bosko had barely found work – as far as Yakko knew, his only work in the last ten years had been a cameo on _Tiny Toons_. But Bosko had routinely made headlines for raucous Hollywood parties, multiple arrests for lewd behavior and disorderly conduct, and a lavish lifestyle that did not quite jive with his bankrupt status. There had also been quite a few headlines in the tabloids detailing Bosko's habit of spending a lot of very illegal time with women. It seemed that Bosko could not accept what he was: a has-been.

The last line of the article had really thrown Yakko for a loop. Mortimer Mouse? Another has-been. The last Yakko heard, Mortimer was actually in New York as well. He only knew this because Rebecca, in one of her many less reputable nights, had whispered to him that she had bought drugs from Mickey Mouse. Having long suspected Rebecca of being an idiot, Yakko had not been surprised at her admission of recreational use. What had surprised him, however, was that Mickey Mouse had been her supplier. When he pressed her, Rebecca finally came to the conclusion that Mortimer, not Mickey, was her dealer. Then she accused Yakko of always having to be right.

Well, it wasn't that hard to be the right one when you were with Rebecca.

Yakko had no idea that Mortimer and Bosko had formed any kind of relationship aside from a rivalry. A pointless rivalry intended to get media attention, but a rivalry nonetheless. Oh well, Bugs had said that La Caricatura was being swallowed up by drug trafficking – Mortimer should feel right at home.

Stuffing the newspaper behind his back, Yakko made his way down the street. Wakko's test should be starting any minute now. Poor kid, he had looked so nervous this morning...Yakko was nervous for him. Not that he doubted his little brother's abilities – Wakko was pretty wildly talented in his unbiased opinion – but Wakko was his own worst enemy. His nerves had a habit of getting the better of him.

Wakko wasn't so much an actor as he was wonderfully gifted at being himself. All of his performances were genuine, he put himself into whatever he did. Yakko just wished he could inject some of that on-camera confidence into Wakko's daily life.

Yakko turned the corner and marched up the cement stairs of the B.B. Toon Facility. Scowling, her remembered that the B.B. stood for Bugs Bunny – the rabbit had spent a good portion of his life in New York, it made sense that he would fund the facility.

Maybe Bugs did it because he thought the "children" needed help.

Stomping the slush off his feet with a little more force than necessary, Yakko walked inside. Having taken his own test in California, Yakko was new to this testing center. This one was smaller, a little less clean, but it was still the same generic, white-walled, bland testing center he was familiar with. A desk full of pamphlets was on his right ("I've Removed My Limb, Now What?") and another table full of testing applications on his left.

Beyond the lobby was a large, open room lined with rows of chairs. In the chairs were young toons who looked anxious, anticipating their test, as well as their bored-looking family members. Scanning the crowd, Yakko saw no sign of Wakko or Dot. Wakko must already be taking his test, but where was Dot? Frowning, Yakko continued to search until he noticed a few people looking at him, pointing and whispering. He barely suppressed an eye roll – he couldn't believe people still considered him a celebrity.

He approached the front desk where a beagle toon was behind a plate of glass and staring vacantly at a computer screen, not even glancing up.

"'Scuse me," Yakko said, clearing his throat, "I made an appointment for my brother, should be under Warner."

The beagle glanced up dully, blinked, then did an exaggerated double take.

"Yakko Warner?" he cried loudly.

Yakko sighed. Several heads had turned in his direction. "Yes, that would be me," he said with a false smile.

"Oh my – holy crap, it's you, I – you – it's such an honor – my name is Tug – big fan – you're amazing – did you really live in a tower?" the beagle named Tug gushed.

"Thank you, and no," Yakko said, "But anywho, my brother – "

"No tower? Oh man, that would have been so boss! You're on Broadway now, right? You're like that crazy Phantom guy, right?" Tug exclaimed.

" – he has an appoint – what?" Yakko sputtered, "No, I'm not the Phantom, I'm Marius in Miser-toons – "

Tug slapped his forehead. "Oh yeah, sorry, I always get them confused!"

"Really? I didn't think that was possible – "

"Dude, I bet you get the _Animaniacs _song stuck in your head all the time, right? I know I do! It's like my brain just won't stop playing it!"

"Eh, you might want to get that checked," Yakko said, frowning a little.

Tug breezed past him with, "Hey man, do you still sing that song with all the countries?"

Yakko rubbed the back of his neck and eyed the door. Maybe he'd just wait for Wakko and Dot outside. "Well, I still know it, you don't really forget that kind of thing – "

"No way!" Tug cried, "Sing it, dude, sing it! Sing the countries song!"

For a brief moment Yakko wondered if his public image could withstand the bad publicity that would be born of dropping an anvil on Tug's head. He quickly decided against it, reasoning that Tug probably didn't even pass his Class D test. But as Tug continued to demand a performance, Yakko noticed that most people in the lobby were staring at him now. Great. If Wakko had trouble with his test for some reason, he was going to have to come out to sixty pairs of eyes on him.

Determined not to become Tug's performance monkey, Yakko said, "You know what, I think I'll pass on this one, I need to know where my siblings – "

"Sing it, please! You know, United States, Canada, Mexican, Pakistan!" Tug encouraged.

Yakko raised an eyebrow at him. "Well, I don't know _that _version, but since you obviously sing it so much better than I can, I'll let you take the stage. Besides, I need to rest my voice for tonight's performance," he lied smoothly.

"Oh right, yeah, Mario – "

"Marius."

" – of the opera. That's so cool!" Tug exclaimed.

"Uh huh," Yakko said, deadpan, "So back to what they're paying you to do here…my brother should be testing right now, last name's Warner, I just wanted to check in to see where he and my sister are at."

"What? Oh," Tug said, as though he just remembered he was at his job, "Let's see here…oh yeah, they never checked in."

"What?" Yakko asked, startled.

"Wakko, right? Kid who looks like you?" Tug asked.

Yakko nodded quickly. "Yeah, that's him. You see him?"

"Nope, never checked in, looks like he missed his test," Tug said flippantly.

"The school – JTAP – they never called?"

"Nope."

"Water main bursts? Burglaries? Anything that would have detained them?"

"Nope, nope, and nope."

Resisting the urge to rip his own ears out, Yakko snapped, "My brother and sister never show up, why was that not the _first _thing you decided to tell me?"

"Well, you wouldn't stop talking!" Tug reasoned.

"I – nevermind!" Yakko barked. He whipped around and dashed out of the facility, aware of but ignoring the stares that followed him.

**

* * *

**

"Dot hurry up!"

"Why don't you slow down then?"

Growling in frustration, Wakko pounded across the snow covered hills of Central Park. While Dot was several paces behind him, they at least were both in better shape than Jeanie the two older boys seemed to be – they were trailing a good ways behind. But trailing nonetheless; they had been chasing him and Dot for what had to be twenty minutes now.

There was no way he was going to be on time for his test.

Ignoring the horrible lurch in his stomach at that thought, Wakko barked at Dot to hurry up again. If it wasn't for her, he would have easily lost Lars and TJ by now. Dot was fast for a girl, but she was still a girl. For the second time, Wakko considered just ditching her – Lars and TJ would probably go after him anyway – but knowing his luck she'd get lost or something stupid and he'd get blamed for it and Yakko would skin him alive. That is, if Yakko didn't already bury him for missing the test.

"Get back here, you little shits!" he heard TJ yell.

If he wasn't so exhausted Wakko would have rolled his eyes – as if he was going to turn around and march right back to them. Skipping over a small fence, Wakko dashed through the underbrush. If there were any Central Park officers on patrol they were going to have a fit, they had already yelled at him a month ago for playing in the creek. But he didn't care, right now he had to find somewhere to hide, and he wasn't going to find that where the public was allowed. His feet, which were used to the protection of boots, had long since gone numb. Most adult toons didn't wear boots in the winter – in Burbank you never had to wear them – and Wakko had tried several times to go bootless in the snow but Yakko wouldn't have it. But cold feet were the least of his worries now.

"Wakko, wait up!" Dot cried.

Wakko glanced over his shoulder. Behind him, Dot doing her best to keep up while avoiding getting her clothes caught in the scrub, carefully picking her way through the brush.

"Maybe if you weren't so worried about your outfit you could run faster!" Wakko yelled.

"Maybe if you weren't so worried about your stupid comic book we wouldn't be running in the first place!" Dot snarled back.

Wakko opened his mouth to reply, but slipped suddenly on an icy log. His feet shot out from under him and he was tumbling down. Before he hit the ground he let himself go rubbery to avoid getting hurt. But his arm was too damaged, while the rest of his body went soft his arm remained the same, and Wakko cried out in pain as he smacked against the rock hard ground. The next thing he knew he was rolling end over end, down a hill, branches cracking beneath him as he tumbled, before he splashed into something icy cold. Water surged up his nostrils and he coughed violently – he had landed right in the creek. Pushing himself up, he felt the freezing water soak his gloves through and chill his fingers. Then his bad arm gave out beneath him and he fell face first back into he creek.

"Nice one, slick," Dot commented as she edged her way down the small hill Wakko had just wiped out on.

"S-s-shut up," Wakko growled as he shivered. It was her stupid fault he'd fallen anyway. Pulling himself out of the mud and slush, Wakko dragged himself to the other bank. He couldn't stop shaking, his arm was killing him, he was breathing so hard he had a stitch in his side, he missed his test…

Watching him from the opposite bank, Dot cupped her hands around her mouth and called, "Now what, Einstein?"

Wakko's teeth were chattering so hard he couldn't answer her. Not that he could have even if they weren't.

TJ's hulking form suddenly crested the hill. He sneered down at Dot as he said, "Oh look, the little Warner runt is across shit creek without a paddle!"

"Get your adages right, pal!" Dot shouted. But her face was tense and nervous as she eyed TJ as well as Lars and Jeanie, who looked winded but had made their way to the top of the hill. Crouching down, TJ scooped up a ball of snow and chucked it at Dot, who shrieked and ducked out of the way. Lars and Jeanie doubled over with laughter as TJ began to gather up another snowball.

"Dot g-get out of the w-w-way!" Wakko shouted between shivers.

"Look, he s-s-s-stutters now too!" Lars chuckled.

"Bet I can make his sister stutter," TJ said maliciously. He grabbed a large, icy chunk of snow and balled it up, sneering as he eyed Dot.

Visibly gulping, Dot's eyes widened. She looked at the expanse of the creek, then at her boots, then up at TJ. Not once did she look at Wakko. Then, Dot did the last thing he expected her to do: she ran toward TJ.

"Dot, what are you – " Wakko shouted, but stopped as Dot turned around abruptly. Keeping her eyes on the creek, she sucked in a deep chest full of air, then sprinted toward the bank. At the very edge of the water, Dot jumped. Not just any jump, Dot did a toon jump. She launched herself unnaturally high and fast, her body stretched as she became airborne, and even Jeanie looked mildly impressed. Dot cleared the creek easily, and her body squashed as she landed on the other bank. It would have been great if the force of her momentum hadn't carried her forward, causing her to stumble awkwardly and fall on her knees.

Jeanie broke out into fresh, piercing laughter, while TJ looked slightly annoyed that his quarry had escaped. Wakko didn't know where Jeanie got off laughing, she probably couldn't jump over her own tail. Turning to Dot, he saw that she had gotten to her feet. She was gazing down at her purple and pink striped tights. They were torn at the knees and stained with grey, dirty slush.

Clenching her fists, Dot glared at him. "Now look what happened, these were my favorites, thanks a lot!"

Wakko, who had been on the verge of complimenting Dot on her jump, blinked in shock. "What are you blaming me for? You're the one who fell!"

"I wouldn't even be in this situation if you hadn't decided to be five-years-old – "

Dot was cut off as a snowball whizzed past Wakko's shoulder. They turned to see Jeanie, Lars and TJ armed with snowballs and hurling them as hard as they could at Wakko. They kept barely missing him on the left side, and Wakko was wondering why their aim was so off until one caught him directly in his bad arm. Those jerks – they were aiming for his injury. Gritting his teeth, Wakko snatched up some snow with his other hand and hurled it at TJ's face. Unfortunately he was a lefty, he couldn't throw with his right. The snowball soared wide, completely missing all three of them.

Jeanie watched it whizz past her nonchalantly. Turning her hateful gaze back onto Wakko, she jeered, "Reads comic books, stutters, and can't aim for shit…how you got famous I'll never know, Warner."

It happened very fast. One moment, Jeanie's scrunched, snotty face was sneering down at him. The next, a large, dirty slushball struck her directly in the face, splattering everywhere with a wet _slap! _Jeanie gasped and spit out little chunks of ice, too stunned to do anything at first. TJ and Lars said nothing. They just stared. Whipping around, Wakko looked at Dot. She wiping slush off of her gloves with a very satisfied look on her face.

Seconds later, TJ and Lars burst out in loud laughter. Jeanie, who wiped the slush off of her face with a sharp flick of her wrist, shot them both glares before her yellow eyes darted to Wakko and Dot.

"You're dead – both of you," she snarled.

"Don't know why you're upset," Wakko said, pointing to her face, "that slushball was an improvement!"

"If you think _this _is an improvement, wait til you see what I do to your face!" Jeanie shrieked, but then immediately turned to the boys, "Lars! TJ! Drag his ass up here!"

Even though they were still laughing, Lars and TJ were crouching down, preparing to jump the creek. Wakko swallowed – the plunge into the icy water had zapped what little energy he had left, and his arm was aching worse than ever…if they were going to give chase again, he didn't know if he could outrun them now, let alone Dot…

Hoping he sounded braver than he felt, Wakko shouted, "I'd like to see you try, you have no idea what I've got hanging around my hammerspace!"

To both Wakko's pride and utter astonishment, Lars and TJ stopped in their tracks. They blanched, suddenly looking worried, scared even. Atop the hill Jeanie was slowly backing up.

"Dude, run!" Lars yelped. He and TJ wheeled around, slipping in the ice and slush, and stumbled over each other in an effort to get back up the hill. Jeanie had already hightailed it out of there.

Wow. That was a lot easier than he was expecting. Puffing out his chest, Wakko smirked – his reputation as a potential Class A Candidate must have preceded him.

"Uh, Wakko…"

He turned to Dot, who looked neither proud nor impressed. Instead, she was staring into the woods behind them with a look of terror on her face. Wakko whipped around and followed her gaze. Emerging from the bushes were four weasel toons. And they didn't look friendly.


	7. Confrontations, Conversations

_**Chapter 6: Confrontations, Conversations**_

Weasels, just like the one they had encountered on the drive home from Bugs' meeting, were emerging from the thicket. Except this time it wasn't just one crazed-looking weasel – it was four crazed-looking weasels. They crunched through the snow, their eyes nearly entirely black from being inkshot and rolling in their sockets. Their feet were bound with what looked like plastic wrap that was secured at their ankles with rubber bands. Otherwise they were in nothing but ratty shorts and t-shirts, despite the cold weather. One weasel appeared to have bits of foam in the corners of his mouth.

Behind him Wakko heard the hurried footsteps of Jeanie and the two boys disappearing over the hill and retreating into the park. The weasels ignored them though, and focused on him.

"G-go away!" Dot shouted shrilly.

Wakko, who wasn't sure if he was shaking from cold or fear, looked at her. Dot's dark eyes were wide, and she was wringing her tail with nervous hands. The weasels were staring at her now too. Their teeth were bared.

"Wakko! What do we do?" Dot shrieked. Her voice was even squeakier than normal.

"I don't know!" Wakko hissed back.

Dot's head snapped to him, panicked. "You don't know? What do you mean you don't know?"

"I mean I don't know what to do!"

"You're the older one, you're supposed to know what to do!"

"Well maybe you could try using your own stupid brain instead of leaving it all up to me!"

"Yakko always knows what to do!"

"Well guess what, I'm not Yakko – "

A sharp clapping sound brought them both out of their argument. One of the weasels had snapped at Wakko with its uneven, sharp teeth. There was drool coming out of its mouth in globs. The saliva was dark, as though it was mixed with ink. Wakko gulped. There was something seriously wrong with these guys…they didn't seem like toons…more like rabid dogs. None of them were talking. Instead, they mumbled weirdly and incoherently, their words sounding like water gurgling in a clogged drain.

"I don't like this...I don't like this," Dot chanted, nervously, "Wakko, do something!"

"Why do you keep thinking I know what to do?" Wakko yelped, realizing that his voice sounded hysterical. Where was Yakko when you needed him?

"Because you – "

Dot never got to finish her sentence. The weasel with the rolling eyes had lunged at her, its maw open wide. Wakko tried to shout but no sound came out. But Dot managed quite a scream, and leapt out of the way. The weasel narrowly missed her and landed near the edge of the creek. He pulled his head out of the snow, wiping it off frantically. When he caught a glimpse of the running water he yelped and scrambled away on all fours.

"Run!" Wakko blurted, panicked.

"But Wakko – "

"Don't be stupid, just run!" Wakko commanded.

Dot clutched her tail. "But he'll chase me!"

"_Just run!_" Wakko hollered.

Finally she listened. Not bothering to jump this time, Dot pounded across the creek. Within a second her prediction came true: one of the weasels took off after her. Heart thumping, brain spinning, Wakko reached behind his back. He yelped in pain; he had completely forgotten that his arm was injured, so he reached behind with his other arm, not knowing what he wanted. When he brought his hand back out, it was empty. The pitfall of being scared and indecisive. Panicking in earnest now, Wakko reached again…he needed something…anything…a weapon…crap, what would Yakko do…

Mentally crossing his fingers, Wakko pulled his hand back out and looked down. His fingers were wrapped around a paddleball.

That's what he got for thinking of his brother.

Right now he didn't care how stupid his weapon was. Hefting the rubber ball upwards, he swung the paddle as hard as he could. The two connected with a solid _thwack_, and the ball shot towards the weasel like a bullet. But like the snowball Wakko had thrown at the boys earlier, his aim was off and the ball missed the weasel completely. But he was only afforded a moment of dismay before the rubber ball reached the end of its tether and rocketed back towards him. The cord wrapped around the weasel's neck, catching him by the surprise – he let out a half-choked squeal – before jerking him backwards. It gave Dot enough time to scramble over the hill and disappear from sight. Wakko sighed with relief. At least she was out of the way –

Something heavy collided with him, knocking the air out of his lungs with a loud "Oof!" Wakko landed flat on his back. He did his best to cradle his arm, but in the next second one of the weasels was on top of him, snarling and snapping, its hot breath pouring over Wakko. It smelled so strongly of ink that he nearly gagged. Wakko was punching and kicking everything within reach, he was vaguely aware that the other two weasels were grabbing at him too, clawing his jacket…somewhere in the back of Wakko's mind he could hear Yakko's voice telling him to never end up on his back in a fight, since you couldn't access your hammerspace that way…

"Mo!" the weasel suddenly grunted, "Mo, mo!"

"Bo!" another one countered.

Wakko had no idea what either of those two words meant, but quite frankly he didn't care. Suddenly he realized he was being dragged – the weasels were trying to take him somewhere. He dug at the ground, frantic, desperate for anything, but all he came up with was a handful of muddy snow. Not knowing what else to do, he thrust the dirty lump of snow into the closest weasel's face. The weasel let out an unearthly wail. Wakko would have covered his ears with his hands if wasn't trying so hard to escape. Clawing at his own face, the weasel staggered off of Wakko and ran around blindly before smacking into a tree and falling over. Before Wakko could even blink another weasel took the previous one's place, grabbing him, dragging him…Wakko called out, but he was so far into the woods, who would come out here on a day like this –

With an almighty slam, something big and dark crashed into the weasels. They squealed in terror and pain, and in the next moment Wakko felt the weight of them lifted clean off his chest. He gasped for air, then pushed himself up with his good arm to see what was going on. Two weasels were already lying still on the ground with the telltale goofy look on their faces that meant they had just been given a good mallet to the head. Beyond them, Wakko could see a third weasel struggling with another toon. Wakko's heart lurched – it was Yakko.

He and the weasel were tangled too close together for Yakko to get a good shot with his mallet. They were struggling, arm to arm; the weasel was snapping at Yakko's face with its long snout, but Yakko didn't seem to notice. He looked angrier than Wakko had ever seen him. Yakko's face was contorted in a furious mask, his ears were back and his snout was wrinkled like a snarling dog's. He wasn't even talking; normally Yakko would be taunting his adversary, or at least trading jibes. The fact that Yakko wasn't running his mouth was a bad sign. Wakko could tell that Yakko was trying to get his arm free so he could reach around behind his back – for what, Wakko wasn't sure.

Wakko pushed himself to his feet. He needed to help Yakko. Two weasels were knocked out, and the weasel that he had thumped in the face with the snowball as still on the ground, stirring and whimpering. Frowning, Wakko looked over at him. His stomach flip-flopped, and he gasped: the weasel's face was covered in ink. He was bleeding everywhere. Wakko was horrified; he had never meant to hurt the guy, he was just defending himself. And jeez, all he'd done was hit him with a snowball, how much damage could that have possibly done?

Worried about the weasel but far more worried about his brother, Wakko turned back to the fight. They were still struggling; while Yakko wasn't the biggest guy in the world he still seemed physically stronger than the weasel, but that didn't appear to be saying much. He looked out of his element; Wakko was pretty sure he had never seen his brother get into a physical fight. Yakko didn't really look like he knew what to do with his hands. He kept trying to half push, half punch the weasel, and neiter seemed to be working.

"Yakko, what do you need?" Wakko shouted, sprinting toward his brother, "I'll get it outta my hammerspace – "

"Get back!" Yakko hollered at him, still focused on the weasel.

"I wanna help – "

"Wakko, I said _get back!_" Yakko commanded harshly.

Wakko jumped a step back as though the tone of his brother's voice had bit him. He didn't know what to do. He had gotten Yakko into this…and it wasn't like he was some little kid, he could pull anything he wanted to from behind his back…he felt so useless…

It seemed that Yakko was overpowering the weasel, and for a moment Yakko had a bit of a triumphant look on his face before the weasel twisted its body suddenly and violently. He slipped out Yakko's hands like soap, and Yakko, whose face had switched from triumph to surprise so fast it was almost comical, stumbled forward. He caught his balance though, and was about to jump back into the fight when he caught sight of his hands. Wakko looked too, and nearly gasped – the palms of Yakko's white gloves were stained black with ink. That at least explained why the weasel was so slippery, but how – and why – was it bleeding?

Wakko didn't have time to wonder. The weasel had taken advantage of Yakko's split second distraction to try and tackle him from behind.

"Yakko look out!" Wakko cried out, but it was too late – the weasel lunged at Yakko, landing on his back and clinging there like a monkey while trying to snap at Yakko's face. Yakko staggered around under the weasel's weight, trying to push him off, looking for all the world like they were partners in some kind of strange dance.

"Would…you…get…_off?_" Yakko grunted, punctuating each word as though the weasel was simply annoying him instead of attacking.

"Bo!" the weasel hissed back, "Bo, Bo!"

"Yeah, don't know what that means," Yakko snapped while stumbling a few steps toward the creek. The weasel reared back, about to lunge at Yakko's face again, when he noticed they were only a few feet from the creek. It cried out in terror and hurled itself off of Yakko, trying to put as much distance between itself and the creek as possible. Now several feet apart, Yakko stepped in front of Wakko, placing himself between him and the weasel. Yakko glanced over his shoulder, locking eyes with Wakko for the briefest moment. Even though he knew his brother was just checking to make sure he was safe, Wakko tried to communicate everything in the gaze: I'm sorry, I'm scared, please don't be mad at me –

But Yakko turned just as quickly to face the weasel again. The weasel was eyeing him with a deranged look, and foam was dripping from its jaws. It was shaking now, and Wakko might have felt sorry for it had it not just attacked him and his brother and sister.

"So what's your story, mac?" Yakko asked suddenly. His voice wasn't friendly, but at least he didn't sound murderous. "Who are ya, huh? Any particular reason you went after my family? I gotta say bub, that doesn't sit well with me. I usually make sure people regret messing with my siblings."

The weasel said nothing. He just watched Yakko as he issued a steady, low growl.

"Not in the mood to chat? That's fine with me, but the cops are on their way and I gotta tell ya, I think they're gonna want to talk to you," Yakko said. Wakko noticed that his brother's hand was slowing creeping behind his back.

The weasel watched him, not appearing to register anything that Yakko had just said. The other weasels were still conked out, and the last one was barely moving.

"I think the cops are gonna have a lot of questions for ya," Yakko continued, "I know I do. In fact, my first question is: what's that over your head?"

Yakko pointed up to a space above its head, and the weasel at least seemed to understand that. It looked upwards frantically – Wakko looked too, but he didn't see anything, just the bare branches of the trees…

In one lightning motion, Yakko's hand whipped out from behind his back. A long rope with a loop on one end appeared, and it snaked outward toward the weasel. Before the weasel could react the loop had lassoed him perfectly and Yakko pulled the rope tight, pinning his arms to his sides. The weasel struggled wildly, flopping around like a fish out of water, but Yakko held the rope firm.

"Yippee ki-ay," he heard Yakko mutter to himself.

"Hey, that was really cool," Wakko complimented, "where did you learn to do – "

"Quiet Wakko," Yakko said sternly. The weasel was struggling against the lasso and Yakko gave the rope an extra tug. Not knowing what to do or say anymore that wouldn't get him in trouble, Wakko took a few steps back and held his injured arm gingerly. Hearing several shouts from behind him, Wakko turned around. Dot was looking down at him from on top of the hill, with a half dozen police officers behind her.

* * *

In all her life, Dot had never been in a hospital. Today that streak came to an end.

She was currently curled up in a chair in the waiting room, hugging her knees to her chest. Occasionally she would glance to her right where Yakko sat. He had interrogated her earlier, pushing for every detail of what happened since she'd left the apartment this morning. She told him everything – she didn't see any point in lying, and besides, she was sort of afraid to tell Yakko anything aside from the truth. When he had spoken to her his voice was low, anxious and exhausted. At times he had seemed to be a strange mixture of angry and sad, and his face looked like he had been awake for days. Yakko had just looked so _old_.

It was too early to tell if she was in trouble. She couldn't see why she would be; apart from slamming Jeanie in the face with a snowball, she hadn't really done anything bad, and Jeanie deserved it anyway. But Yakko was being entirely inscrutable now. Worse than usual actually. And it worried her.

After Wakko had told her to run, she hadn't gotten far into the park when she saw Yakko running toward her. She didn't know how he found her and at the time she didn't care, all Dot knew was that the person she wanted most in the world had miraculously shown up. She ran toward him, and they practically collided in the middle of the park. Yakko had grasped her by the shoulders and demanded that she explain herself, but Dot, nearly sobbing, began to drag him to where Wakko was. She had managed to get out a few key words – "Wakko" "hill" "Jeanie" "weasels" "attack" – and Yakko somehow got the point. All he asked was "where," and she pointed past the hill. With that he told her to call the cops and stay where people could see her before sprinting to where Wakko was dealing with the weasels.

The ambulance ride had been a cacophony of questions with very little answers; Yakko asking them if they were okay, what had happened, what had they done, why didn't they call him, what had Wakko done to his arm, where did it hurt, how bad was it, was Dot hurt, what had happened to her knees, why hadn't they called him, why hadn't they called anyone…Wakko's only counter being that he didn't know and he didn't need to go to the hospital. It was only when the paramedic offered to sedate him that Yakko was finally content to just sit, albeit while repeatedly squeezing the space between his eyes and sighing.

After his interrogation, Yakko had not spoken to Dot much apart from the oft repeated, "We'll talk about this when we get home." That was never good. So Dot was forced into silence, her only options being to watch Yakko, whose head snapped up whenever a doctor entered the room even though he was on the phone, or the other toons in the waiting room. They were in the only hospital in Manhattan that could care for toons, and it showed: the waiting room was packed. It was mostly adults, many of them with kids. Dot watched a young raccoon boy clutch his father's knee as he jumped up and down, chanting, "Daddy, watch! Daddy, watch!"

Dot glanced at Yakko. A couple people in this room would probably think he was her dad. Despite the obvious impractical logistics regarding both their ages, it wouldn't be the first time that had been assumed. Besides, he looked way older now…certainly not his actual age of nineteen, anyway. When people did ask her if Yakko was her dad, Dot always corrected them – Yakko would have had to be a five-year-old baby-daddy for that to be the case. That usually got her a look, a look that Dot interpreted as "so where _are _your parents?"

Dot, surprisingly, cared very little about who her parents were. She had asked Wakko once, and all he remembered was an old lady who was attached to a machine. Convinced that this cyborg-woman was just the product of Wakko's overactive imagination, Dot consulted Yakko. According to him, they had lived with their mother and grandmother for a short time before they were moved to the orphanage. That was all he told her.

These facts did not bother her. She had Yakko. Yakko, who tucked her in at night, who cuddled with her, who taught her how to ride a bike…but who did those things for him?

She didn't know what she would do if she didn't have a Yakko right now. The very thought of those weasels made her not want to leave the building. She couldn't close her eyes without seeing their fangs, their rolling eyes, the foam dripping from their lips…Dot squeezed her knees tighter. She wouldn't be caught dead in Central Park ever again. Who were those guys, anyway? And what did they want with her and Wakko? Had they traveled all this way from California to find them?

It was for these reasons, and many more, that Dot was glad she had Yakko. No matter how upset he was going to be with her, she wanted him there. He would answer her questions, he would keep her safe…but Yakko, he didn't have that. What did he do when he was scared or sad? How did he always know what to do?

Who taught _him _how to ride a bike?

Willing herself not to think of the weasels, Dot looked at Yakko. He was on the phone again.

"Yeah man," he muttered, "absolutely. No, still waiting. Yeah I'll let you know. I'll call you later tonight. Gotcha. Thanks Buster, adios." He flipped his phone shut. Stuffing it back in his pocket, he sat back in his chair and massaged the bases of his ears.

Dot watched him for a minute, wishing he would speak. Him talking would feel normal and safe, as opposed to everything she'd felt this afternoon. When he said nothing, Dot asked hesitantly, "How'd you find us?"

Yakko blinked and looked at her, startled, as though he'd just been woken up.

"Hmm?"

"How'd you know where to look for us in the park?" Dot asked.

Yakko lowered his gaze to her feet. "Your boots," he said quietly, "You had to wear the ones with the hearts on the bottom. I followed your footprints in the snow."

"Oh," Dot said. For all the fuss she had put up over them this morning they had probably just saved her and Wakko's lives. She suddenly felt very guilty for arguing with Yakko about them this morning, but couldn't bring herself to apologize. Hopefully he wouldn't bring it up.

Well, he certainly couldn't bring it up if he wasn't talking. Yakko had returned to silence, and Dot, entirely too uncomfortable with this, asked in a quiet voice, "Yakko, are you mad at me?"

Turning to face her fully now, her brother regarded Dot with exhausted but warm eyes.

"No Dot, I'm not mad at you," he said wearily, "I'm a little frustrated, but not mad. I think I had about eight heart attacks when I found out you guys were missing. No phone call, no idea where you'd gone…do you know how that made me feel?"

Dot said nothing and stared at her boots. The ones with the hearts on the bottom.

"Then I find you in the park without your brother, screaming something about weasels…Dot, how many times have I told you and your brother not to wander off?" he continued.

Dot protested, "We didn't exactly wander off, we were being chased. I was just following Wakko – "

"Yes, and argued to whole way," Yakko cut in. Dot opened her mouth to argue, but Yakko raised his hand. "Don't you deny it Dot Warner, I heard it straight from your mouth. If you two are ever in trouble, no matter how small – I don't care if it's because one of you got a splinter from using chopsticks – you always, _always _stick together and listen to each other. You understand?"

"Try telling that to Wakko," Dot muttered.

Yakko gave her a stern look. "I'm telling it to you right now. Trust me, your brother and I are going to have a nice chat later. I want to make sure you understand what I'm saying."

"Yeeesss I understand, I know _English_," Dot replied sarcastically.

"Drop the attitude Dot."

"Just following your example – "

"Dot!" Yakko snapped.

Dot jumped in her seat. She could count on one hand the number of times Yakko had ever raised his voice at her. The last time was when he caught her "borrowing" his credit card. Luckily she had both evaded punishment and memorized his credit card number. But now she just stared at him with wide eyes, her mouth squeezed shut in a tight line.

Inhaling and clutching his head with both hands, Yakko closed his eyes for a moment before looking down at her. He let go of his head, and his hair was now sticking up in places. "I'm sorry sis. I'm just not in the mood…I went through a good portion of the day thinking I lost you guys, and now Wakko's hurt. I'm a little stressed out. Do your oldest brother a favor and retract the claws, okay? I'm still on track to give myself an ulcer by age twenty-five and I'd like to try and avoid that."

"Alright," Dot said. He had always been annoyingly good at pushing all of her guilt buttons.

She joined him in watching the small raccoon, who was playing with his father's tail.

"There's one more thing," Yakko said, watching the young raccoon. "You're not going to like this."

"What?" Dot asked. He was probably going to tell her she was grounded. Unjust, but she'd argue her way out of it, no big deal.

Her brother looked at her from the corner of his eye. "We're going to move back to LA in two weeks."

Giving Yakko a look she would have normally reserved for people who were in the process of growing a third arm, Dot only managed to blurt, "Come again?"

"I talked to Buster. We're going to live with him for a while."

Dot still hadn't gotten past the first part. "…what?"

"You heard me Dot, we're moving, temporarily – "

"I know!" Dot snapped, "I'm just waiting for the part where you explain why you dragged me out of the lot, where all my friends were, dumped me off in New York where I didn't know _anybody_, and now that I've finally found a bunch of friends that I like, you're dragging me back to California where I don't have friends anymore!"

"I never _dumped _you anywhere," Yakko said in a hard voice, which changed back to normal almost instantly, "And you've got friends in LA, what about Skippy?"

"He's different now," Dot said quickly. How to explain it…

Yakko sighed. "Of course he's different. He's older and his aunt just passed away. I'm sure if you see him through it, you'll find that – "

"I'm not going," Dot said flatly.

"Pardon?" Yakko said, even though he phrased it in a tired way that indicated he had heard her perfectly.

"You can't force me. I can stay here if I want to," she said, looking him in the eye.

"I've already got subletters Dot. A bunch of NYU frat rats. Do you really want someone who goes by Grunt 'The Garbage' Grupp as your roommate?"

"Where do you find these people?"

"I have my ways."

"I don't care if I live with the Collyer brothers, I'm not going."

"This isn't really a question," Yakko said.

Dot crossed her arms. "Apparently not, since you never asked me!"

Yakko dragged a hand across his face and mumbled through it, "I know this isn't fair for you but – "

"Why?" Dot demanded. "Why are we moving? Again? Is it because of the weasel guys? Just because we had one little run in with them – "

"Dot – "

" – it's not like I'm going to go marching back to that spot in the park again like an idiot – "

"Dot – "

" – and if you recall, the first time we even saw one of those guys was near Toontown – "

"Dot would you just listen to me?" Yakko said, is voice rising again, "This wasn't exactly a hasty decision! I've had this on my mind for a while, and this whole day was the last straw! I talked to Buster and Scratchensniff, who both talked to Bugs Bunny, and none of them feel that this attack was a coincidence. I only want to be where I know you and your brother are safe, and LA is a much more toon-friendly town where all our friends happen to live."

"You mean _your _friends," Dot griped bitterly.

"_Our _friends," Yakko corrected. "Look, I'm not trying to be a bully here. This move is only temporary – til the summer, max. I talked to your teachers and they all say you and Wakko are so far ahead you could skip until next summer and still be fine. Plus any credits you take at the WB tooniversity will transfer over to JTAP when you reenroll."

"Good, 'cause that's what I was worried about," Dot said sarcastically.

Dot couldn't tell if she was genuinely mad or not. He just seemed like an easy target, something that she didn't have to feel guilty, sad, ashamed, or scared of. It felt good to be mad at Yakko right now, as she piled a list of grievances in her head: not only was he tearing her away from her friends for a second time, but he had, once again, made a giant decision regarding her life without any input from her. Didn't she have any say over where her life was going to be for the foreseeable future? Why did he get to choose, other than by virtue of just happening to be born first?

Yakko wasn't her dad, after all.

Her brother leaned forward in his chair. His face looked older still. "Sweetie, work with me here," he said, sounding oddly like he was pleading, "I'm only trying to do what's best for you guys, alright?"

Not wishing to reply and feed his manipulative meekness, Dot pinned her lips together and turned away from him. "Jesus Christ," she heard him mutter under his breath. Maybe she actually had made him mad now…resisting the urge to check she instead focused on the raccoon boy. He was now being reprimanded by his father for tearing leaves off a potted plant. Dot didn't see why it mattered. The plant was fake anyway.

"Warner?"

Both her and Yakko's heads snapped up simultaneously. The doctor, a middle-aged human toon, was standing in the doorway with a clipboard. They both stood up in sync and Yakko asked, "How's his arm? Is he okay?"

The doctor gave him a single, deep nod of his head. "Wakko is fine. We expect him to make a full recovery, but he has torn his ulnar collateral ligament in his left arm. Obviously as a Class B he'll be quicker to heal than most, so we're looking at five to seven weeks in a sling. After that I want him in twelve weeks of physical therapy so he can get squash and stretch back in that arm."

Yakko nodded quickly, muttering something to himself, managing to appear both supremely relieved and concerned at the same time. Peering up at him from his clipboard, the doctor gave Yakko a strange look that Dot couldn't place and said, "I spoke with Wakko about exercising caution when he used his powers. He's young yet and could do a lifetime of damage if he's not careful. Now, Yakko, I understand that most of his knowledge is gained through you, and you're quite young yet yourself, so I would just like to make sure that you are aware of certain safety procedures when it comes to your powers – "

"Thanks doc but young doesn't mean stupid. I'm aware of them, and so is Wakko," Yakko said in a steady voice.

The doctor met Yakko's gaze. "Sir, as a doctor, I'd like to make sure that patients get the best care possible."

His brow lowering, Yakko said coldly, "Yes, you're a doctor. Am I lecturing you on proper X-ray procedure? No. So why don't you stick to your job and I'll stick to mine, which is making sure that _my_ family gets the best care possible. Maybe you could facilitate that by showing me where my brother is."

The doctor blinked a few times and cast a quick glance to the rest of the waiting room, which was filled with occupants who were staring right at them. "Yes sir, right this way," he quickly complied, and turned on his heel without looking at Yakko.

With one last look over her shoulder at the raccoon boy and his father, Dot turned back to Yakko and followed him down the hallway.

**

* * *

**

Yakko rubbed his face, hoping he could massage the exhaustion right out of it. The fear he had felt earlier today had drained him somehow, made him feel weak and shaky. His eyes hurt. He felt old.

Hunched over the kitchen table, Yakko had the newspaper laid out in front of him, but he wasn't reading it. It was there as a placeholder for something to do. At the moment, he was too lost in his own thoughts to concentrate. So many what-if scenarios. So many knots in his stomach.

When he found out they had never made it to the testing center, he was panicked. When he realized he had lost them in the most populated city in the country, he was terrified. It was a fear he had never known before. He had never lost his siblings before. Ever. His own carelessness was going to cost him his brother and sister. Had they been kidnapped? Hit by a car? The impossibility of the task ahead of him – finding his siblings in New York City – had crippled him.

Somewhere in the frightened haze that clouded his brain was a single thought: you need a starting point. A starting point. A place to begin. Where would he find that? He couldn't even find Wakko or Dot. His feet had taken him to JTAP without his own decision, as though his body had realized that he had lost the ability to reason and took over for him. It was there that we found Dot's footprints, hearts stamped into the snow, and he gave chase. The rest of his memories were a blur…pushing people out of his way and not caring…Dot rushing into his arms, screaming…Wakko, buried beneath a pile of the most wretched toons imaginable…

The image made Yakko taste bile in his mouth.

Shuddering, Yakko tried to push it out of his mind. Dot had been right earlier. Completely right. He'd wanted to leave New York the moment the cops had come slugging through the snow to arrest the weasel toons, and when Buster offered him a roof over his head, he accepted without hesitation. He felt vulnerable here; at least in Toontown, Yakko knew that in the event of an emergency he had plenty of friends to support him, not to mention an extremely competent collection of veteran toons from the Golden Era. But who did he have in Manhattan? Rebecca? She'd only be help if he needed someone to emasculate him for a few minutes before performing a solo.

Those toons had targeted them, there was no doubt in his mind about it. He had no idea why, or even how, but one fact was ironclad in his mind: those weasels had been after them specifically, and there was nothing to say that they wouldn't do it again. From now on, Yakko wanted to be somewhere where there was more to protect his siblings than just him and his mallet. He couldn't tell if this made him a coward or not. He'd never really given the idea of cowardice much thought before, or even heroics for that matter, since neither ever really had a place in his life. He made his decisions based off of whether it meant his siblings were safe or not safe, not by which was the brave or cowardly choice. If the safety of his siblings hinged on him running away, so be it. Besides, he didn't exactly have anyone to answer to…who was to look down on him for putting his tail between his legs every now and again?

Pushing himself up from the table, Yakko made his way to the phone. He had told Buster he'd call him, and now as good a time as any. Talking to Buster was comforting and familiar because in some ways, Buster hadn't changed much. He was still the carefree child star who dismissed the few problems he had. The only child of wealthy, doting parents, Buster embodied the life Yakko could only fantasize about: one that was largely free of the burden of responsibility, with a built-in safety net of loving support from a mother and father. For Yakko, who often felt as though he was navigating a fragile tightrope in the dark with no such net underneath, this was a whimsical notion that induced spontaneous bursts of envy.

His siblings, who knew nothing else, went through life assuming that having him as their guardian was normal. By now they had surely realized that it was not. Yakko felt like he was a barely passable placeholder for an unfortunate situation. Something like slapping a band-aid over a fatal wound. He was, at best, somewhat adequate to raise Wakko and Dot. Or if today was any indication, hardly adequate. Luck was the only reason his siblings had not met a worse fate.

It would not be the first time he felt that Wakko and Dot doubted him.

This was exactly why talking to Buster would be such a relief. Buster was someone removed from the situation. He wouldn't take today's events as seriously as they should be taken. Because of this the rabbit was generally regarded as cool, funny, talented, and armed with long list of friends that Yakko held top billing over.

Yakko smirked slightly, remembering that they hadn't started out as friends. With _Tiny Toons _premiering before _Animaniacs_, Buster had a bit of a head start at Warner Brothers. When Yakko arrived on the lot Buster had made no secret of his dislike for him, the "funny-looking kid with the big mouth." Most people agreed that this was because not only did Yakko suddenly find himself the center of attention, but most of that attention came from Babs. But Yakko, who up until that point had only been concerned with the welfare of his siblings, had never had friends and didn't see the point in having them now. Besides, his mouth had seemed much better equipped for making enemies.

Buster's combat tactic had been to turn his clique against Yakko. Yakko's had been to include veiled insults to Buster in his book report presentations.

But he and Buster had been like magnets to each other. It seemed that two talented, smart-mouthed boys couldn't be held apart for very long. Things could only go one of two ways: they would either be mortal enemies or best friends. Luckily it swayed to the latter.

By the end of his first year on the lot, Yakko and Buster were the crowned kings of the WB Tooniversity. They ran things in a near mafia-esque way, with Yakko and Buster operating as co-godfathers. They were admired by most, despised by few, and occupied, with finesse, the top rung of the social ladder. Yakko found this surprisingly simple to do.

Usually joined by Plucky and Hampton, Yakko and Buster had made the lot their personal playground. Yakko was the schemer, the conductor of the orchestra made up of the other boys. Buster was the frontman. Plucky and Hampton were the distractions. When they were thirteen, and when he was quite sure that Babs' crush on Yakko had come to an end, Buster asked Babs out via a romantic note that Yakko helped him write (well, Yakko dictated the entire thing, Buster just transcribed it so it would be in his own handwriting). Babs accepted without protest and they soon became the power couple whose pairing surprised no one. They were media darlings: two good-looking toons of the same species whose on and off screen romance was inoffensive and perfect for magazine covers. Meanwhile, Yakko flitted from girl to girl with increasing ease and decreasing attachment.

While their lifestyles were quite opposite, their personalities mashed nicely and Yakko felt secure in calling Buster his closest friend. The rabbit's good qualities and their shared history helped Yakko to overlook the small flaws that grew more prominent with age: a fair share of narcissism, a complete disregard for the realities of Yakko's or anyone's lives, and the trace beginnings of Peter Pan Syndrome.

Yakko dialed the memorized numbers and cradled the phone in the crook of his shoulder, using his free hands to rub at his face again. Two rings…three rings…

"_Hello?"_

"Hey Bust – Babs?" Yakko blurted, catching himself.

"_Very good Yakko_,_"_ Babs complimented dryly.

"Thanks Babs. Is Buster around?"

"_We-e-ell nice to talk to you too!" _Babs drawled in a highly sarcastic southern accent.

"Aw c'mon, I didn't mean it like that," Yakko said, backpedaling, "I only asked because I wanted to acknowledge that you were all-knowing."

"_Nice save."_

"So as not to offend you by avoiding conversation, how are you?"

He heard Babs give a small snort. _"I don't think I could answer that in one phone call without giving you a bill that would put you debt. But I think the more important question is how are _you…_Scratchensniff told me you had a bit of a fiasco today._"

Yakko rolled his eyes. "That's one word for it. We're okay. Wakko messed up his arm, it's going to take about two months to heal. Dot's a little shaken up, but not enough to stop her from giving me an attitude today, so I think she'll manage. And both of them found it in them to argue on the way home from the hospital, so really it's just business as usual."

"_God, that's so scary though,"_ Babs murmured, _"and it's worse that it doesn't make any sense. If we're going to have psychotic toons attacking us left and right I'd at least like to have a little explanation."_

"Tell me about it."

"_What did the cops say? Anything?"_

"They haven't gotten them in the interrogation room yet," Yakko answered, "they're supposed to give me a call in the morning. You know, the usual breakfast routine: eggs, toast, light conversation about the perpetrators in my siblings' aggravated assault case."

"_You know that's almost funny Yakko," _Babs teased, and Yakko swore he heard the hint of a smile in her voice.

"What about your end? Buster told me you guys had some sightings of your own," Yakko continued.

"_Only a couple, and each makes about as much sense as the last. That is to say, no goddamn sense at all,_" Babs said, _"Last week Hampton said he got woken up in the middle of the night because he heard noises outside his house. When he went out and checked he said he saw two guys who looked like weasels digging through his trash. But I guess they scared him so bad that he screamed, so they screamed, and then all of them ran away from each other."_

"Is anyone surprised?" Yakko asked sarcastically.

"_Hardly," _Babs replied, _"And Shirley said she spotted one a block away from Pete's tree farm on her way home from the office."_

Yakko's brow furrowed. "Pete's? Isn't that where we saw the first one? Have you guys gone back to check it out?"

"_Not yet. Buster's always MIA and there's no way I'm going by myself. I don't know which would be worse: toons who look like they've just escaped a mental ward or Pete."_

"Eh, Babs, I think to talk about one is to talk about the other," Yakko said.

This time he heard her laugh. It was only a little chuckle, but it was a pleasant sound.

"So where is Buster? Oh wait, let me guess…watching the Lakers game, and screaming at the refs while still managing to play Mario Kart at the same time," Yakko tried.

Babs sighed. The sound crackled in the phone. _"Where is Buster, you ask? Well, if you figure that one out, let me know, because it's a mystery to me. He said he'd be back in fifteen minutes two hours ago."_

"Are you serious? Do you know if he's okay?"

"_Your concern is touching but I'm sure he's just fine with Plucky at the bar downtown." _

Any traces of lightheartedness that had been in Babs' voice before were gone now, replaced with a bitter edge that hinted at a churning sea of emotions underneath. Yakko was glad that this conversation was on the phone and that Babs did not have to see the discomfort on his face. His loyalty was to Buster first, which ruled out any act of sympathizing.

"Eh, I see…so, I'm guessing he didn't tell you my sibs and I are going to be his new roommates?"

"_No, but I'm not surprised,"_ Babs said heavily, _"Those weasels spooked ya, huh?"_

"I, no, it's not that, exactly, I mean we want to be back home with everyone and there are more opportunities in Los Angeles – "

"_Uh huh. Sure."_

Yakko frowned as he heard her confirm that she could see through him. It had been a long time since he'd spoken on the phone with a girl who had a brain. He'd forgotten what it was like to have a challenge.

"_When are you flying back?"_ she asked.

"Two weeks."

"_Do you want to tell Fifi or should I?"_

Yakko rolled his eyes, suppressing a groan. "I have to say goodnight to Wakko and Dot."

"_Is that your lame way of avoiding the question?"_ Babs prodded.

"Goodnight Babs," he said flatly.

He heard her phone click before he had the chance to hang up.

Blinking, Yakko stared at the phone for a few moments. That certainly hadn't been the worst conversation he'd had over the phone with a girl, but for some reason he wished he'd said something cleverer at the end. Something with a little more impact than "goodnight Babs." He'd never really had this problem before. Whenever he visited his conversations in retrospect, it was usually met with "Yeah, that was good" or "I probably shouldn't have said that."

Shaking his head, Yakko tossed the phone into the receiver and walked into the hallway, flicking the kitchen lights off as he did so. Wakko's room was the first one, taking up the corner. The door was halfway open, allowing light to spill into the hallway. Yakko rapped his knuckles against the doorframe twice and peeked inside.

Wakko was sitting in bed, propped up by his pillow, with a slim book laying in his lap. For a moment Wakko looked as though he was still in the hospital. Yakko's eyes were instantly drawn to his brother's arm: it was wound in medical tape at the elbow and encased in a sling. He was resting it against his chest, and it rose up and down with the steady rhythm of his breathing. The sight of Wakko's bandaged arm made Yakko's heart ache.

At Yakko's knock Wakko looked up with a tired, troubled expression on his face. Yakko was struck by how small his brother looked in this moment. Between the sling and the look on his face, Wakko looked endearingly pitiful, like a whipped puppy.

Picking his way amongst the landmines of clothing, books, and papers, Yakko joined Wakko at his bedside and sat down.

"I guess you finally have a passable excuse for not cleaning your room," Yakko joked, gesturing to the sling.

"Yay," Wakko muttered dryly.

"How does it feel?" Yakko asked.

Wakko flipped his book shut. "Hurts a little. It's fine."

"Do you want some more painkillers?"

"I'm okay."

"I'll get some, the doctor said you should take a dose before you go to sleep – "

"Yakko, I'm fine!" Wakko grumbled, tossing his book on the nightstand and rolling away from him.

Yakko rolled his eyes. Great. Wakko was going to refuse medical help out of sheer stubbornness. His eyes traveled past Wakko's shoulder and to the thin paperback that was laying on the nightstand.

"'Mickey Outwits the Phantom Blot,'" Yakko read aloud, "how old is that one?"

"It came out in 1939," Wakko answered into his pillow.

Yakko whistled. "Whoa, a classic. Any good? What's it about?"

"It's about Mickey and how he outwits the Phantom Blot."

Giving his brother a deadpan stare, Yakko said, "Thanks Wak, I would never have guessed."

Yakko gazed at the cover for a moment. A large black figure, unusually menacing for a Disney publication, was towering over a comically spooked Mickey Mouse. He knew that Wakko had always had a bit of a sweetspot for Disney cartoons. This was amusing, considering that Wakko would be happy to watch a wholesome Disney cartoon and follow it up immediately with that ridiculous and raunchy _South Park _show. But Wakko was just funny like that. Yakko, a tried and true Warner Brothers toon, had his criticisms of Disney but still could appreciate their cartoons. Most of the time, anyway. Watching _Marsupilami _had always been a bit of a struggle.

But as Yakko's eyes traced the cover, he noticed that the book looked rather beat up, and had several tears across the front that looked suspiciously like claw marks. Dot had told him earlier that the whole episode today began with "a stupid comic book."

"Sooo," Yakko said a little theatrically. He gave the lump beneath the blankets that was his brother a small nudge. "Is this the book that started World War three today?"

Wakko sighed. "Yeah, I guess."

"You know we're not exactly living on food stamps sib, I could have just bought you another one. A comic book's not worth getting in a fight and missing your test over," Yakko said.

At this Wakko rolled over and faced him again, his eyes burning. "It's not about that! They stole it from me, and they've always been jerks to me for no reason!" Wakko snapped. Then he added quietly, "Besides, it's really rare, you can't just buy another one."

"Wakko, look at me," Yakko said when Wakko dropped his gaze, "the world is full of jerks. I mean, c'mon, we're in New York City, this is like their mothership. Now there's nothing wrong with standing up for yourself, but you have to do it in a way that doesn't end up with you getting chased across Manhattan, hurting yourself, getting you and your sister in danger – "

"That was her own stupid fault, I told her to go away!" Wakko protested.

"She was just trying to help you," Yakko corrected sternly.

Wakko picked roughly at a loose thread in his quilt. "You always take her side," he griped.

Yakko had to work very hard to resist the urge to throw his hands in the air out of frustration. What was with them today? Had his siblings conspired against him? When had they decided that it was National Destroy-Yakko's-Last-Nerves Day?

"Don't even start Wakko, that's not true and you know it," Yakko replied, a bit harsher than intended. Softening his voice some, he continued, "I treat both of you the same just like I always have. And while we're on the subject, I want to talk about how you treat your sister. It's my understanding that in the midst of all today's chaos you two still found time to argue even though you were in real danger."

"I told her to back off, and she didn't listen. Then she went and embarrassed me even worse than I already was, slowed me up, then expected me to fix everything like a magician," Wakko grumbled.

Yakko looked him straight in the eye, gaze unwavering. "Wakko Warner, listen to me. Dot's a little sister. Of course she's annoying. Older brothers are equally annoying, if not more so. But that doesn't change anything – you are her older brother, and I'm counting on you to protect her when I'm not around. You're sixteen, she's almost fourteen. You're too old for this now. I'm not saying what she did was right, but it upsets me to find out that when things got tough, all you two did was argue. She's your little sister. She's the only one you're ever going to have. If she's gone we can't just go to the store and buy another one like we would with this comic book – "

"I told you, this one's a collectible, you can't just buy – "

"Wakko, please. You just don't understand…if you and Dot spent as much time collaborating as you did arguing, you'd probably be sharing seats in the oval office right now. You two are downright brilliant when you work together, I saw it when we were filming all the time. I see it now, whenever you find time to be nice in between fighting like a couple of politicians. You and Dot are so much stronger when you work together, and you don't even see it."

Yakko paused, hoping that his words would sink in but knowing that this would be giving himself far too much credit. Still, Wakko had the decency to look at least somewhat contemplative, maybe even a little ashamed. It was hard to tell though, the lamplight cast shadows over Wakko's face. For a second Yakko thought he was going to have to prompt Wakko to speak but his brother finally spoke up.

"I'm sorry I messed up so bad today," Wakko said in a constricted voice.

Wakko wasn't making eye contact. Instead, he seemed to find the cover of his comic book intensely interesting, and was trying to hide that fact that he was rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palm. As he watched his brother try to push the emotion out of his face, Yakko reminded himself that for as much terror and panic he'd felt today, Wakko was the one who had to confront four crazed-toons with nothing but a petrified younger sister and a bad arm. No matter what he had done to land himself in that situation, Wakko certainly could say that he'd had a bad day too. Feeling his own face soften, Yakko scooted closer to Wakko and lifted his brother's chin with his tail.

"You didn't mess up sib. You were brave today, and I'm proud of you," Yakko said quietly, "you couldn't have anticipated what happened today, but now you know what to do if something like it ever happens again, right?"

"Yeah, next time I'll just mallet 'em like you did, that was pretty sweet," Wakko replied.

"What? No!" Yakko blurted, "You get somewhere safe and you call me! How many times have we gone over this? Don't do what I did, you could get hurt."

Wakko cocked his head at him. "So then why did you do it?"

"Because I didn't have time to think of something better to do."

"What if I can't think of anything better to do?"

Yakko massaged the bases of his ears, wondering if he had actually gone to bed hours ago and this was just a cruelly circuitous dream. "Look, Wakko, do as I say, not as I do, alright? You can't go around malleting other toons, end of story. For all I know I'll wake up tomorrow with and arrest warrant tacked to my chest."

"What about my test?" Wakko asked abruptly.

"Your test? Oh. Well, we'll just going to have to reschedule it after your arm gets better," Yakko responded, always in awe at how rapidly Wakko could change gears.

Wakko nodded solemnly. It was obvious that he was disappointed, but there was nothing else that could be done. Leaning forward, Yakko reached behind Wakko's neck and undid the straps on his sling. He gently slid it off and eased Wakko's arm out of the cradle before draping it over Wakko's bedpost. Then, as carefully as he could as to avoid hurting him, Yakko pulled his brother in for a hug.

"If I could make your arm better overnight, I would," Yakko murmured, resting his chin on top of Wakko's head, "and please promise me you'll be extra careful from now on, I think you aged me ten years today."

"Okay," Wakko muttered back. He didn't return the hug, which Yakko could only assume was either a side effect of turning sixteen or the fact that he was down to only one arm to hug with and didn't to take any chances.

Yakko released him and the bed creaked slightly as he stood up.

"Goodnight sib."

"G'night Yakko."

Upon seeing the lamplight disappear, Yakko shut the door behind him. It was Dot's turn next. Time to participate in their nighttime ritual: him suspecting her of being on the phone, her trying to hide the fact that she had been on the phone, them arguing over whether or not she had been on the phone, them saying goodnight to each other.

But this time there was no hint of a phone call – no whispers he could hear through the door, no sound of Dot frantically hiding her phone from sight and diving beneath the covers in an innocent play of mock sleep. The light wasn't even on.

Maybe she was still mad at him. Dot hadn't spoken a single word to him after they left the hospital. Just like the last time they moved.

Cracking the door open, Yakko peered inside. Her light wasn't even on; Dot was curled up in bed, illuminated by the city lights streaming through her curtains. Yakko frowned. Was she sick? Or had she just gotten much better at hiding the fact that she had been talking to her friends?

He tiptoed to her bedside and laid a hand on her forehead. It felt normal…well, they'd all had a long day. Maybe she was just tired after all. He bent low and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead before tiptoeing back out. However, he had only made it to the doorway when he heard her ask softly, "Yakko?"

He jumped a little, wondering how much more his poor psyche could take, and turned around.

"Yeah sis?"

"Who taught you how to ride a bike?" Dot asked from the darkness.

Yakko's frown deepened. "I taught myself," he answered, raising an eyebrow, "any particular reason you're asking?"

"No reason," Dot said through a yawn before she rolled over. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight Dot," Yakko said, shutting her door.

Well, apparently a weird day needed a weird end. Shaking his head, Yakko stepped into his room. He gave it a good look up and down; he'd be leaving it for an unspecified amount of time in two weeks so he might as well start soaking in his fill of it now. It had been a good room: cozy, spacious, had seen a few girls…exactly the qualities he looked for in any good room. In two short weeks he'd be back to sharing a room with Wakko, which certainly prohibited any prospect for romantic interludes, at least in Buster's house. But then again, after Rebecca, maybe he'd skip Buster's for a trial run at a monastery first. Deciding that he'd cross that bridge when he got to it, Yakko collapsed into bed and fell into an immediate sleep.

In a few hours Yakko would wake up to a phone call at six in the morning from the NYPD. All four weasels would be found dead in their cells. An inmate would complain about a bad stench in the early hours of the morning, leading the guards to discover nothing but four large inkstains where the weasels had previously been. There would be no witnesses. No suspects. And, with the exception of the Warners themselves, no motives.


	8. The Lost Bid

Reviewers, you are awesome! I love writing this, but your feedback gives me the kick to write faster. Thank you everyone!

_**Chapter 7: The Lost Bid**_

Yakko felt like he was in the middle of a rerun of a sitcom he hadn't enjoyed the first time around. The last two weeks had been a blur of packing and arguing. The packing was mostly done by himself, since neither sibling seemed to be able to get their act together on that front. The arguing was shared between all three of them: Dot arguing with him about moving and leaving her friends, Wakko arguing with Dot over whether or not her friends were spoiled brats and they'd be better off without them, and Yakko arguing with both of them in an effort to get them to stop arguing. And yet despite all of this, Wakko and Dot seemed to put up far less of a fight against moving back to Burbank than they had when moving away from it. Maybe they still missed Burbank. Or maybe it was simply because they were two years older now.

Somewhere in all the arguing they had managed to catch their flight this morning. Yakko spent most of flight 2620 to Bob Hope Airport sashaying between whether or not he had done the right thing in moving their lives cross country again. At the time of the attack it had seemed sane, prudent even – but after the fact and on the relative safety of the airplane, the idea of dragging his siblings out of school and thrusting them to life in the opposite coast seemed increasingly foolish.

He tried to rationalize it by forcing himself to believe California would be good for them again. They had friends here. Los Angeles had an excellent toon government and toon support system. WB Tooniversity was the best school for toons in the country. And besides, he had missed California. He missed the vibe of the city, the dry desert weather, and the underlying sense of self-importance possessed by most Californians. He could make fun of it all he wanted, but he was just as guilty as the rest of them.

He was also glad to be leaving uncomfortable questions from the police far behind him. The NYPD was utterly bewildered as to how those four weasels had been murdered. Moreover, they had no idea _who _had done it. They had no leads, no family members, no enemies to speak of…the only relationship the police could come up with was with Yakko and his brother and sister. The police had all but asked him if he'd done it, and Yakko had responded with an adamant and resounding no. But the police never seemed entirely convinced.

From the airplane they had gone straight into a taxi cab that took them to Buster's nice Toontown suburb. On the drive over Dot shocked Yakko by not whipping out her phone and dialing her friends. Instead she seemed placated by glaring out the window and trading a few barbs with Wakko, who mostly just played with the straps on his sling. Yakko ignored them for the most part, and struck up a conversation with their driver about Ed Wood films.

It wasn't long before the cab screeched to an abrupt halt in front of Buster's house.

"Nice place," the cab driver muttered, "Yours?"

"Eh, we're borrowing it," Yakko said as he handed over the fare. When he got out of the car, he noticed Wakko struggling to tug his own luggage out with one arm. He had one foot on the bumper and, using his tail for balance, was doing his best to heft the heavy suitcase out of the trunk.

Sighing, Yakko walked over to help him. "I got it Wak," he said.

"I'm fine," Wakko grunted in between tugs.

"Drop it before you bust your other arm."

"I can do it myself," Wakko said testily, and with one last mighty tug he yanked the suitcase free and it clattered to the ground.

Raising an eyebrow at him Yakko said, "Just let me do it next time, alright?"

Not replying, Wakko marched toward Buster's house with a stony face. Yakko rolled his eyes. Teenagers. As he watched his brother, Dot appeared by his side.

"Yakko, could you grab _my _suitcase?" she asked sweetly.

This time he directed a raised eyebrow down at her. "Both of your arms look fine from here, Dot."

She wrapped her arms around his waist and gazed up at him with wide, imploring eyes. "_Please _big brother? You did make me move all the way out here…"

They stared at each other for a moment until Yakko sighed dramatically and pulled her luggage along with his from the trunk.

"Thank you!" Dot chirped, and followed Wakko to the front door. Yakko shook his head, mostly at himself. He didn't think Dot was lazy so much as she just wanted to see if she could get him to do things. And it usually worked. Yakko noticed that he had problems saying no to girls in any capacity, especially his sister. Dot held top billing. And she knew it.

Hoping he hadn't done any permanent damage to her by being such a pushover, Yakko waved the driver off and joined his siblings on the front porch. Dot's finger was only inches from the doorbell when the door burst open. Wakko jumped back in surprise, colliding with Yakko in the process. Yakko stumbled into Dot and all three of them nearly went down as Babs stormed out onto the front porch looking furious. When she caught sight of them she barely paused; the momentum of her anger carried her forward, and she offered them a brusque "hi guys" before marching past them and flinging herself into her car. As she peeled out of the driveway, Yakko heard Wakko mutter an intimidated, "Whoa."

Yakko watched Babs' car tear down the road until he felt a sharp elbow in his ribs. Looking down, he realized that in the chaos he had accidentally pinned Dot between himself and the wall. She was glaring up at him and he was pretty sure she'd be shrieking right now if her mouth wasn't muffled by his torso. Smirking, he moved away from the wall and freed her.

"Next time you want to get cozy you better ask first!" she snapped, fixing her ruffled hair. Her scowl deepened when her brothers both snickered.

"What the hell Babs – "

Buster had appeared in the doorway, looking flustered. Locking eyes with Yakko, he asked, "Where did she go?"

"Down Windsor Street at what looked like mach four," Yakko answered.

"Damn it," Buster grumbled. "Seriously dude, what's wrong with girls? They're messed up in their freaking heads."

"Hey!" Dot said indignantly.

"All of them but you Dot," Buster conceded dryly, causing Dot to smile far too wide for Yakko's liking. Stuffing his hands in his pockets and trying to appear as though nothing dramatic had just happened, Buster said in a robust voice, "Well guys, welcome home!"

The unpacking process in Buster's home felt oddly routine, and it wasn't long before Wakko was moaning about starving to death. Buster offered him the contents of the kitchen and Wakko began busying himself with a quadruple-decker sandwich. Dot joined him, and within moments they were arguing over who got to use the mustard first. Astounded that they could find an argument in something so mundane, Yakko gave them a half-hearted, "Knock it off you two," before adding to Buster, "I'll pay you back for the groceries, I'll go shopping for the garbage disposal I call my brother tomorrow."

"Don't worry about it, my mom bought me that stuff," Buster said dismissively. He gestured for Yakko to follow and led him upstairs to his bedroom. Shutting the door behind him, Buster flung himself across his bed. The remote bounced up off the mattress, and Buster snatched it out of the air and clicked on the television in one movement. He steadily flipped through the channels without registering what was on them.

Hopping onto the bed, Yakko sat cross-legged next to his friend. A glance at Buster swept him up in a strange moment of déjà vu – how many times had they gone through this same process when they were younger? Buster, storming up the stairs of his parents' house, sprawling across his bed and ranting about his latest drama. Then there would be Yakko, trying his best to sympathize and put in perspective while burying the thought of "try having two kids to feed" further and further back into his mouth.

"Trouble in paradise?" Yakko asked quietly.

Buster punched the buttons on the remote rather violently. "It's nothing," he grunted, but seconds later he followed up with, "You know man sometimes I just don't get girls. Or maybe I just don't get Babs. I don't know. I thought I got her, I mean, we've been dating since…God, what were we? Twelve? Thirteen? You'd think she'd start making sense by now."

"C'mon, I'm the black and white one," Yakko joked, pointing to his fur, "Babs is more confusing, she's multi-colored."

Buster shot him a glare before continuing, "She won't talk to me half the time, and when she does, all she talks about is this problem and that problem. I keep telling her how to fix it, and she won't listen. It's insane."

"What's she upset about?" Yakko asked, frowning.

Buster waved his hand. "Oh, you know, the normal crap. Her family, her job. I mean yeah, she's had some bad luck but that's no reason to take it out on me. I keep telling her to loosen up, she's Babs Bunny for Christ sake, she's a TV star, she can do whatever the hell she wants. Sometimes I wish…"

He trailed off, flipping through a few more channels before stopping on the news.

"_Melinda and Barry Roberts have been reported missing," _the brunette anchor said, _"They were last seen on Wednesday afternoon. This marks the third missing persons case reported in Toontown in the last two weeks."_

"Three missing persons cases?" Yakko repeated, his brow furrowed, "That's weird…"

Casting a glance at Yakko over his shoulder, Buster asked, "How many girls have you been with?"

Yakko slowly cocked an eyebrow at him.

"I don't kiss and tell."

"Bullshit. You told me everything when you lived on the lot," Buster countered.

"That's what you thought."

Buster smirked and punched him in the arm. "Ass. C'mon, how many since you left?"

"May I ask why my personal affairs are suddenly of your concern?" Yakked asked with mock seriousness.

"I just wanna know."

"Sorry Ears, I'm not going to provide fodder for your sick fantasies," Yakko said.

"Don't flatter yourself. Why won't you tell me?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"I'd tell you if I actually got to play the field," Buster griped.

Yakko rolled his eyes. "Jesus, I was only there for two years, I didn't exactly have a revolving door of girls."

"Oh come on," Buster drawled, disbelieving.

Yakko's tail gave an annoyed flick. "You know it's not like I'm dropping my pants every time I see something with two legs. I wish people would get that through their heads – "

"Dude, it's Max!" Buster cried suddenly, pointing at the TV.

Yakko looked up. Next to the news anchor was an image of a scowling Montana Max. Beneath it were two words in large letters: LOSES TOONGO.

"_News broke early this morning that youth millionaire and former Tiny Toons star Montana Max has lost an industrial bid for the first time in seven years," _the anchor reported, _"Max lost his multi-million dollar bid for ToonGO, America's largest toon-facilitated petroleum operation, to none other than Oswald Rabbit. Oswald's last cartoon aired over sixty-five years ago and he has been unemployed until now. Montana Max has declined to comment."_

"Oh man, this just made my day," Buster said, laughing, "let's leave stupid messages on Max's answering machine. You can still do Mickey Mouse's voice, right?"

But Yakko was staring at the television, his brow furrowed. "I don't get it…how did Oswald get that money? I thought he was broke."

Buster shrugged. "I dunno, domes in a back alley?"

"And you always said I was crude."

"Who cares Yak, if he got the best of Max I'm not gonna ask questions."

"But why petroleum?" Yakko mused aloud. Then something else clicked in his brain. "Have you been reading Shirley's columns?"

"I try to avoid them whenever possible, you see, I like it when my brain doesn't feel like it got trapped in a lawnmower," Buster replied.

"She wrote one the other day about Bosko buying a water gun factory. In _Mexico_. Don't you think that's a little weird too?"

"I think you're a little weird for reading her column."

"You're not helping."

Buster sat up. "Okay, you want to know what I think? I think that you've spent way too much time in the big apple getting attacked by crazies to come back to LA just to solve mysteries. I think that you, Yakko Warner, need to have some fun. Come out with me and Plucky tonight," he said.

Yakko looked toward the door. "I don't know, it's our first night back, I want to make sure the sibs are adjusted and not trying to disembowel each other."

"Might I suggest Silver's? They don't ask your age if you've been on TV," Buster said thoughtfully, ignoring Yakko.

"I don't think I should leave them alone on the first night, Wakko's arm is messed up and – "

"Yak," Buster said sternly, grabbing him by the shoulders and looking him straight in the eye, "What kind of friend would I be if I let my good-looking, eligible bachelor of a friend spend his first night back in LA sitting at home playing board games? You are going out, and you're gonna like it. How old are your brother and sister now? Fifteen? Sixteen? They'll be _fine_. Just go out and enjoy yourself, for _once_."

Raising an eyebrow, Yakko looked back at his friend, feeling his resistance fading. "I don't know…those weasels could be anywhere, I don't want them by themselves…"

Buster threw back his head with a dramatic sigh. "Look, I'll call Scratchensniff, he lives down the street. If he watches them, will you come out?"

"Yeah, because Scratchy's a regular bodyguard," Yakko said dryly.

"Well I called the National Guard but they were all booked this weekend," Buster shot back, "I'll get you Scratchensniff. Take it or leave it."

Yakko looked at his friend who was staring at him with pleading eyes. He saw a lot of things in Buster's face: he saw his best friend. He saw small traces of arrogance that were undetectable to anyone who hadn't known Buster before the age of sixteen. He saw the hopeful urge toward a night of debauchery. Yakko felt that urge too; he always had, but rarely ever got the chance to act on it. Perhaps it was okay to act his age this time.

"Fine," Yakko said, causing Buster to pump the air with his fist, "but I can't wait to see Wakko's face when he finds out he has a babysitter."

**

* * *

**

He had a freaking babysitter.

He was sixteen years old, and he had a babysitter.

He was going to kill Yakko.

Wakko glared at his older brother from across the table. Yakko was sitting next to Scratchensniff, chatting rapidly between bites of the pizza that he had ordered for them. Having already inhaled four slices himself, Wakko sat back and wished he didn't have the stupid sling so that he could give his brother a good slug. While Yakko got to go out with his friends and do whatever he wanted, he, Wakko, got to sit in the house with the old geezer like a chained dog.

Everything about his brother annoyed him right now, down to the way Yakko was picking the cheese off his pizza before he ate it. Why would you even bother eating pizza if you were lactose intolerant? What an idiot.

Noticing Wakko staring, Yakko picked up his plate and offered Wakko the discarded lumps of rubbery cheese. Normally Wakko would have eaten it all in one bite, but this time he just wrinkled his nose and looked away. Yakko shrugged and returned to his discussion with Scratchensniff. Meanwhile, Dot was openly flirting with Buster, who looked like he had no idea what to do about it.

Wakko shook his head. It sucked enough that he already wasn't allowed to do anything because of his arm. He could access his hammerspace, that was it – no shapeshifting, no squash and stretch, nothing. He couldn't do anything potentially dangerous. He couldn't go swimming. He couldn't even get his learner's permit, which was particularly devastating. The least Yakko could do was let him stay home alone.

But no. He had to be babysat like a five-year-old. By Scratchensniff.

Pushing himself away from the table, Wakko made his way to the living room. Buster had a sweet set up – a huge TV, great sound system and tons of video games. When they lived on the lot he and Yakko often went over to Buster's parents' house to play video games, even though Yakko refused to buy a console himself. He always thought they were "pointless" or something like that, even though he played with Buster every chance he got. To be honest, Wakko didn't really care for video games either. He usually got bored after about twenty minutes. But if Scratchensniff wanted to babysit, then Wakko was going to go out of his way to play the most graphically violent and grotesque game in Buster's collection.

Grabbing one that had lots of blood on the cover, Wakko tossed it in and began to play. This turned out to be incredibly difficult when one of your arms was in sling, but pride made Wakko power through it. A few minutes later Yakko came into the room with Scratchensniff.

"I'm heading out sib, I'll be back later. Try not to torment Scratchy too much," Yakko joked.

"We vill have a good time," Scratchensniff assured him, "maybe in a little bit I can take a look at your arm, yah?"

Wakko didn't look away from the screen. "What good would that do? You're not a _real _doctor."

"Wakko!" Yakko snapped angrily, but Scratchensniff put a hand on his shoulder and whispered something about being "normal for that age."

Buster appeared behind them, grabbing Yakko by his jacket and trying to drag him toward the door. Yakko, giving Scratchensniff a weary look, muttered, "If you want to analyze that brain of his, I can't be held responsible for what you might find." And with that, Yakko succumbed to Buster and was hauled straight out the door.

Like usual, the house seemed much quieter with Yakko gone. The only sounds were the ones of zombies dying violent deaths on the television screen and Wakko's thumbs pounding the controller keys. Wakko was aware of Scratchensniff standing awkwardly in the entrance to the sunken living room, but he ignored him. Scratchensniff clasped his hands behind his back, looked around, and hummed a annoying tune for a few moments before he finally spoke up, "So, Wakko, you like the video games?"

"Not really," Wakko muttered.

"Oh, well okay," Scratchensniff said. He observed Wakko for a moment and continued, "Playing zee video games with your arm looks difficult, you do not want to put any extra stress on it. Maybe you would want to play a nice board game instead?" He actually looked excited by the thought.

"_I don't want to play a board game_," Wakko said through gritted teeth. He was going to murder Yakko in his sleep…

Scratchensniff took a step forward. "You seem to be harboring some negative feelings. This is very understandable. You know, sometimes when toons injure themselves and lose their powers, they lose their sense of identity, it's quite common to – "

"I remember who I am, thanks," Wakko grumbled. He aimed and shot a zombie directly in the face, splattering its brains everywhere. Scratchensniff jumped.

"Good lord, that eez very disgusting," he said, grimacing at the screen.

Wakko resisted the urge to slam the controller down. Why wouldn't he go away? "You know," Wakko started loudly, "I think Dot might need some counseling."

Scratchensniff raised his brow, etching a field of wrinkles in his forehead. "Oh yah? How so?"

"Oh, teenage girl crap," Wakko said. "She's got all those, uh, feelings and stuff."

"I see," Scratchensniff said slowly. He regarded Wakko shrewdly behind his thick glasses. Wakko didn't look at him and shot another zombie in the chest. "Well, I suppose I vill go and check on her. Behave yourself, now. I vill be right upstairs if you should need me."

As he left the living room, Wakko rolled his eyes and muttered, "Yeah, okay."

He wondered why Yakko bothered finding a babysitter when he could just enrolled them in preschool.

* * *

Dot curled her feet beneath her and stared at her phone in her hand. By definition she should be talking on it right now, usually to one of her friends, preferably to a boy. So why wasn't the impulse striking her? Why wasn't she dialing numbers? Instead she stared, almost vacantly, at the little object in her hand.

A knock on the door startled her. The phone slipped out of her grip and bounced beneath the bed.

"Damn it," she muttered, then followed up in a falsely sweet voice, "Come in!"

Scratchensniff poked his bald head in the doorway and declared, "It's me, Dr. Scratchensniff!"

Dot raised an eyebrow at him. Seriously? She couldn't have guessed that when she saw him? But she smiled anyway – he couldn't help that he was getting old, and she loved the guy anyway. He was hilarious…mostly without intending to be.

"Hiya Scratchy!" Dot said brightly, "Welcome to my humble abode."

"It is quite lovely," Scratchensniff said, glancing at the cocktail chart Buster had pinned to the wall, "but I wanted to talk to you, Dot. How are you doing? You are almost fourteen now, correct? I'm sure that, as a teenage girl you know, you must be bubbling over with thoughts and questions."

"Oh ya know, coupla raging hormones here, some teenage angst there, it's all good," Dot said flippantly.

Scratchensniff clasped his hands together. "Don't be afraid to express your feelings now, it vill only do harm to keep these things hidden," he encouraged.

With a mischievous grin, Dot hopped off the bed and latched her arms around Scratchensniff. "Au contraire, I prefer to get my feelings out in the open," Dot purred, batting her eyes and flicking her tail flirtatiously.

Sighing heavily, Scratchensniff extracted himself from her embrace and turned to the door. "You Warners, I vill never know quite what is wrong with you," she heard him mutter as he made his way back downstairs. Grinning to herself, Dot hopped back onto her bed. Whoever said that driving men away wasn't a talent had another thing coming. But her peace and quiet was short lived, as her phone buzzed a few seconds later. Dot flopped herself over the edge of the bed and stuck her hand beneath it, feeling around blindly. She grimaced when her hand landed on what felt horribly like an old pair of Buster's socks before she finally found her phone.

"Hello?" she said while wiping sock residue off her gloves.

"_Hi Dot, it's Skippy."_

"Skippy?"

"_Are you okay?" _Skippy asked, sounding alarmed, _"I just heard about what happened at the park. Is Wakko okay? Dr. Scratchensniff told me about his arm…he said you guys are back. Are you really at Buster's now?"_

"I – yes, to everything," Dot blurted.

"_Oh, gee_,_"_ Skippy said.

Dot squirmed guiltily. She had never even mentioned that they were coming back. Come to think of it, she hadn't talked to him in weeks.

"It wasn't really planned, Yakko kind of flipped out about the weasels and the next thing I knew he was telling me to pack my bags," Dot said.

"_Gosh what happened? Did the police get them?"_ Skippy asked breathlessly.

"Well, the cops got them and tossed them in jail, but, uh, something happened," Dot said, fidgeting.

"_What?"_

Dot groaned inwardly, feeling incredibly awkward. "They, well, they uh, kinda…got killed."

"_Oh,"_ was all Skippy said. Dot banged her forehead against the wall a few times. Yeah, great job Dot, remind your friend whose aunt just died about murder.

"But tell me about you, Skippy!" Dot demanded hastily, forcing an upbeat voice out of her throat, "How are you feeling?"

He paused for a moment before replying, _"Better, I guess. I try not to think about…it…too much. I go to school and then I go back to Nutsy's house. It's okay."_

Dot didn't think that sounded okay at all. It actually sounded like it sucked. Suddenly she felt wretched for not talking to him, for not lifting a finger to help someone she considered a friend through the toughest months in his life. Before she had given the idea behind them much thought, words dumped out of her mouth.

"Stay there, Skip. I'm coming over."

"_What? You're coming over here? Now?"_

"Yeah, Nutsy's house isn't far from Buster's. It's only a few blocks I think," Dot pointed out.

"_Are you sure? Yakko won't get mad?"_ Skippy asked, sounding skeptical.

Dot waved her hand even though he couldn't see it. "Yakko's out having fun with his friends, I can have fun with mine. Hang tight, I'll be over in a few."

"_Uh, well, okay, see ya soon,"_ Skippy said.

Hanging up, Dot slowly began to realize the gravity of what she had just promised. She was going to have to sneak over to Skippy's house and sneak back without getting caught, thereby breaking Yakko's number one law of the night: don't leave the house. There was no way she could back out now, she'd already broken enough promises to Skippy as it was. Besides, she stood by her own words: Yakko was out partying with his friends, why did that mean she had to sit around at home? Was he expecting her to do this every time he went out? Not a chance.

Feeling strangely bold, Dot pulled a piece of paper and a purple pen from behind her back. She quickly scribbled, "Getting beauty sleep, do not disturb" and slapped the paper on the outside of the door. Yakko would never buy that, but Scratchensniff, bless him, would eat it right up. She drew a heart in the corner for good measure. Shutting the door and locking it, Dot crossed the room to the window. She slid it open and stuck her head out, looking down. It didn't look too bad; she was on the second floor, it should be an easy jump down. She was fully expecting to take her Class A Candidacy test in two years anyhow. And, unlike Wakko, she wouldn't screw up her arm first. She, unlike Wakko, wasn't an idiot.

Hopping up onto the windowsill and slinging her legs over the edge, Dot pushed off, closing the window with her tail as she dropped. She hit the ground with a satisfying squash and promptly sprung back into form. Without hesitating she dove into the bushes and out of sight. Keeping her white face tucked low, she used her dark fur to blend into the shadows. Dot held her breath and lay still, watching the windows and the door. Bright light was streaming out from inside, but no sign of Scratchensniff. The coast was clear. _Too easy_, she thought with a satisfied smirk.

Crawling out from the shrub, Dot broke into a light jog down the street toward Skippy's. She passed familiar house after familiar house, ones that she had grown up with, including Buster's parents' house at the end of the block. Turning onto McKay Drive, she jogged past the tree-lined suburbia, she looked on to the manicured lawns with a hint of longing. She'd always wanted a backyard. Between the lot, Manhattan, and what she remembered of the orphanage, they'd never had one. She didn't think that most kids who had yards to call their own realized how lucky they were.

Dot slowed to a stop in front of a large, gnarled oak tree with two windows and a door embedded in it. It bulged in the middle before splitting off into twisting, knotted branches. Shoots of grass stuck up between the bricks of the sidewalk that led up to the front door. Dot didn't bother with it – she wasn't supposed to be here, so knocking on the front door wasn't exactly an option. Glancing up, she noticed that one light was on upstairs, which she hoped was Skippy's. She had to get his attention somehow…she didn't want to call again, or Nutsy might get suspicious. Or worse, he might get ticked off. Not that Dot cared that much – Nutsy was a miserable old man who seemed bent on making everyone else miserable too – but she didn't want Skippy to catch hell for it.

Gazing up at the window, Dot had a wild, momentary urge to hold a boombox over her head, but she suppressed it and opted for combing the ground for something to throw. She snatched up a pine cone and, after taking aim, chucked it at the window. It bounced off with a loud crack that cut through the quiet calm of the neighborhood. Dot yelped in surprise but quickly slapped a hand over her mouth. Great. She'd be lucky if Yakko hadn't heard that all the way from downtown.

She held still for over a minute, waiting for either Skippy to come to the window or for Nutsy to come barreling out the front door and threaten her with his cane. But neither happened. Frowning, Dot scooped up another pine cone and chucked it had the house, this time dinging it off the shutter. She waited in the darkness, but when no dark silhouette of Skippy appeared in the window, she crossed her arms. What, had Skippy gone deaf in the past ten minutes?

Dot had her hands on another pine cone with the front door opened, spilling light into the dark yard and causing her to jump in shock. Skippy was framed in the doorway, gazing at her with his head cocked to one side.

"Dot, why are you throwing stuff at my uncle's house?" he asked.

Dot squinted at him through the light. "I, uh, was trying to get your attention."

"You coulda just knocked," Skippy pointed out logically.

"Well jeez Skip, I didn't want your uncle to know I'm here!" Dot said defensively, starting to feel stupid.

Skippy shrugged. "He's asleep on his chair. A nuclear bomb wouldn't wake him up. Come on, we'll go upstairs."

He guided her through the foyer and the living room. Unlike Slappy, Nutsy hadn't wallpapered and just let the natural wooden walls show through. The walls themselves were covered in dozen's of taxidermy, mostly of various sea fish. Dot grimaced at this – who wanted to decorate with dead animals? A loud, grinding snore made her jolt; Nutsy was asleep in the recliner, his head was back and his mouth was open, revealing mostly gums and a few last yellow teeth. With his head back it gave Dot a great view up his nose, which was full of hair.

"Nutsy looks like a real lady killer," Dot muttered.

"I don't think he likes ladies," Skippy said, chewing his lip and glancing at Nutsy, "actually I don't think he really likes anything."

Not knowing how to answer this, Dot followed Skippy up a staircase that wound around the trunk. No pictures lined the walls like they had at Slappy's, or even Buster's. He led her to a small room in the front of the house, the same one that she had been throwing pine cones at earlier. It was a was a strange combination of familiar and alien; Skippy still had the same bedsheets, same furniture and posters that he had at Slappy's, but they had all been transported to this unfamiliar, battered-looking guest bedroom. It would be like seeing Wakko's favorite hat on a stranger's head, or spotting someone on the street wearing Yakko's jacket – friendly for a moment, but oddly uncomfortable in the next.

It threw her off so badly that Dot wasn't quite sure what to do when she entered the room. In the past she had always thrown herself on the bed and happily chattered away. But now she no longer knew what was normal, what memories wouldn't upset him. Skippy, for his part, seemed more held together than the last time she'd seen him – at least he wasn't sobbing – but it all seemed forced. Artificial. Hollow. Like was acting calm just because he knew he had to. The usual warmth and lightheartedness that usually accompanied Skippy was gone.

Determined to force normalcy back into situation, Dot planted herself on the edge of Skippy's bed, thought not with nearly her old amount of casual flair. Skippy followed suit and sat on the opposite side with a small sigh. Dot felt her ears droop slightly. He just looked so…empty.

"So Skip," Dot began, her voice hesitating a bit, "talk to me. How are you…how are you doing?"

Skippy, whose tail was laying flat on the bed instead of perched happily erect, didn't look at her. He looked out the window for a moment before staring at his feet. "I don't know. I'm okay, I guess. I don't remember a lot, to be honest."

"What do you mean?"

"It's like the last couple weeks are a blur, like I was just moving through it without really being there, you know?" Skippy said, looking at her.

Dot thought back over the last two months. "Uh…sort of. Have you at least been doing fun stuff? You know, to get your, uh, mind off of…"

Skippy shrugged. "Dr. Scratchensniff comes by to talk to me every week. That's nice."

_Yeah, sounds like a real blast,_ Dot thought to herself.

"Honker and Gos stopped by a few weeks ago," Skippy continued. "Other than that, I just try to find stuff out."

"Like what?" Dot asked.

"I've been trying to figure out who killed my aunt," he said in a low voice, looking at his feet again.

Her eyes widening, Dot couldn't help but let out a little gasp. While Yakko or anyone else hadn't actually confirmed it, Dot had more or less guessed that something bad had happened to Slappy. Why else would no one have told her anything? But it was shocking to hear it come out of someone's mouth, even more so from someone like Skippy. It wasn't him. It was too dark.

"Are you…are you _sure _that's what happened?" Dot whispered. She had no idea why she was whispering. Maybe it was so she herself couldn't hear it.

Skippy stared steadily ahead. "Sometimes when he's done talking to me Dr. Scratchensniff tries to talk to Nutsy too. I heard them say something about it."

"What did they say?" Dot breathed, her voice hushed.

"Not much," said Skippy, speaking quicker now, "Nutsy asked if Bugs had heard anything yet, and Dr. Scratchensniff said something but I couldn't hear him. Nutsy got really mad, and said he wasn't going to pay his taxes anymore if all his money was just going to go to a police force that couldn't find out what…w-what killed Slappy, let alone who…"

Skippy's face got tight as he trailed off, but he didn't look away. That was another thing about Skippy – he had never been ashamed to cry in front of her. Dot didn't know quite what to make of this. She wasn't used to boys crying; she had never seen Yakko cry, and the last time she saw Wakko cry was years and years ago when he had broken his ankle. Maybe Skippy just thought they were that close. Or maybe Slappy had just brought him up that way.

"Maybe you should think about something else," Dot said, stumbling over the words, "let Bugs take care of it, don't let it bother – "

"Those weasels," Skippy said as though Dot hadn't spoken, "the ones that went after you. What did they try to do? Did they try to really hurt you? Like really bad?"

"I don't know, I remember them trying to take Wakko somewhere, but I didn't really see, I had gone to get Yakko," Dot said, shrugging.

Skippy looked at her steadily. "Dot, I think those weasels are the ones who did it."

"You think they killed – er, you think they…you know…"

"Yeah."

"How do you know?"

Skippy's brown eyes were suddenly hard and intense as he leaned toward her, causing Dot to lean back. She had never seen him this way. "C'mon, think about it – right after…after it all happened, we started seeing those weasels everywhere. You just got attacked – _you _guys – all the way in New York. That didn't happen to anyone else."

Dot wrung her tail. "Skippy, I really don't think –"

He cut over her, "And I've seen them around here too, they leave footprints. Black ones."

"Black ones?" Dot repeated, curious in spite of herself.

"Yeah, like they're made of ink. I can show you."

Dot blinked. "Wait, what?"

"C'mon," Skippy encouraged, "It's outside." He was incredibly focused on her, he had gotten so tall…for the first time Dot was painfully aware that she was alone in a room with a boy. Many times in their childhood Dot had hung out with Skippy, completely alone, but it had never been as awkward as it was at this moment. Dot gave her head a quick little shake. Get a grip. It wasn't a boy, it was Skippy. Well, Skippy _was _a boy, but not _that _kind of boy. He was her Skippy. Right?

"I, um…" Dot stuttered. Jesus. She had never stuttered in front of a boy. Let alone Skippy. What was wrong with her? He wouldn't look away. His intensity was scaring her.

But Skippy seemed to notice this, and he backed away quickly. "I'm sorry Dot, I didn't mean to force you or anything. You're probably still freaked out by those guys, I get it if you don't want to go out."

From Wakko that statement would have been a challenge, but from Skippy it was nothing but earnest. Nevertheless Dot, giving herself a mental slap, crossed her arms and proclaimed, "Who are you kidding? I came all the way over here, didn't I? I'm not scared. Let's go." She jumped up and walked briskly out to the room. It was a relief to escape it – sitting in there with Skippy had been almost as unsettling as the weasel attack.

They tiptoed downstairs and past Nutsy, whose snores were causing the fish on the walls to rattle on their hooks, and out the back door. They stepped out onto a small patio that was lined by a chainlink fence. Two trash cans sat in one corner, and a rusted, pathetic-looking barbeque grill sat in the other. Skippy led Dot to a gate on the opposite side.

"Look," he whispered, pointing to the gate. Dot squinted in the dim porch light. There were dark splotches on the twisted metal that looked like uncomfortably like ink – or, in a toon's case, blood.

"And on the other side," Skippy said, flipping open the latch and stepping out into the yard, "there's footprints. Look."

Dot did not have to look very hard. Mixed with the leaves and grass were large, dark spots in the shape of pawprints. Skippy continued, "Nutsy caught one digging through the trash. He called the cops, but they said it was just a homeless guy and we shouldn't worry about him. But I followed his footprints…they went straight down to my Aunt Slappy's house, right through that little alley between her house and Minerva's. Some of them even look like they went into Minerva's, but Minerva's fine so I guess that's just my imagination. They went further down the road, but that's as far as I went."

Squatting down on her knees, Dot touched one lightly with her finger. It was dry. Flakes of black stuck to her glove. And then she remembered the awful way the weasel's saliva had been mixed with ink, and the way their eyeballs rolled, and their snapping teeth…she shivered.

"I should go home," she said, standing up abruptly.

Skippy nodded, though he didn't look thrilled about the idea. "It's really dark out, I'll walk you back to Buster's."

"Thanks," Dot said appreciatively.

She was glad Skippy offered to join her. The idea that she had even come over here by herself suddenly seemed ludicrous, especially since now she felt like she could see the weasels peering at her from every dark corner and behind every tree.

**

* * *

**

"Drinks are on me Yak, consider it a welcome back to LA present!" Buster roared above the din.

With his two years in New York Yakko had nearly forgotten what clubbing in Los Angeles was like. Luckily Buster had chosen to remind him. The club was a giant wall of mostly toons and a few humans packed so tightly together Yakko felt he could pick his feet up and he wouldn't fall. Music – terrible music, in Yakko's opinion – was pounding out of the speakers, the bass crunching with every beat. The crowd on the dance floor moved in a broken unison in what Yakko assumed was meant to be "dancing" but was really just a bizarre half sex, half jumping up and down combination. The bar wasn't much better – toons were practically crawling on top of each other to get the attention of the rather well endowed bartender.

"Thanks Ears," Yakko replied as he accepted a tall glass of beer. He was immediately elbowed in the back by a rowdy, drunk toon, causing him to lurch forward and spill some of his drink on his toes. He turned to glare at the toon, then remembered that he was nineteen, not forty, and that this sort of behavior was supposed to be fun for him.

Yakko gazed around the club. He spotted a few familiar faces here and there. Babs, who Buster had finally convinced to come, was on the dance floor and laughing as she danced with Shirley. Yakko watched her body rock and sway with the music. She didn't move like everyone else, he had never seen anything quite like it. It certainly wasn't a bad thing. But Buster called out to her, waving for her to join them, and the rocking and swaying stopped.

Buster slung his arm around Babs and clinked Yakko's glass with his own. "To Yakko Warner's triumphant return to the west coast! Cheers man!" Buster yelled, and took a giant gulp of his Corona.

"Cheers," Yakko muttered, and followed with a tiny sip of his own.

Buster shook his head as he finished his massive gulp. "C'mon, you call that a swig? I think there's more booze in that cup now than when you started! You drink like a girl!"

"How progressive of you, Buster," Babs commented, then turned back to her conversation with Shirley, who was shoulder to shoulder with Plucky. The green duck had grown, but not much. He was still shorter than Buster, though his beak had certainly stretched out. Yakko smirked. Big beak for a big mouth.

"Schhhirley, hold schtill!" Plucky slurred. He was trying his darnedest to put his arm around Shirley but kept missing, despite the fact that she wasn't moving. Geez, how was Plucky that bad already? He must have been pre-gaming since breakfast.

Toons and alcohol were very complicated when they were combined. The drinking scene in _Who Framed Roger Rabbit _was a much more layered piece than most humans realized. Because toons had ink instead of blood in their veins, alcohol affected them much more quickly and potently than it did humans. Their drunk was more like a high, a thick and wonderful synthetic feeling that appealed to those who were dissatisfied with their realities. On top of that, Toontown had no age restrictions on alcohol. Because there were toons who were created immortal and thus had no age, it was deemed unfair to impose an age law. The practice was outdated and there had been many movements to amend it, but they were all vetoed…mainly because the mayor himself was immortal.

Many human bars wouldn't let toons drink unless they could prove they were twenty-one, and toon families often instituted the same rule. Most toon bars wouldn't allow minors into their premises. But it still did not curb Toontown's most prominent problem: alcoholism. How could it, when it was so easy, so cheap, so legal? It was one thing to have fun, but a whole other to revolve your life around it.

If there was one thing toons understood both very much and very little of, it was self control.

Yakko had burnt himself out early and now hardly ever drank himself. When he was younger and unencumbered by parents he'd taken it to an excess. But to be honest, he didn't really like beer (Buster was right, he did "drink like a girl") and a severely bad experience with tequila followed by one epic hangover had made him gun shy of getting completely smashed again. And of course, there was the overriding fact that he had two young children to take care of. He could hardly list the reasons for why he shouldn't be making a drunken fool of himself when he had Wakko and Dot.

But clearly-sibling-less Buster did not seem to have these concerns. As Yakko watched, slightly amazed, his friend was already finishing his second beer.

"You promised, Buster!" Babs shouted to him, struggling to talk over the noise.

"Chill out, I'm only having a couple," Buster said dismissively.

Yakko smirked at them. "This is starting to remind me of a certain _Tiny Toons _episode," he said.

Plucky collided with him, slurring, "God, don't remind shmee! It'sh all like, _Plucky, do Batduck! Plucky, water go down the hole…_hole, holey holey hole…" He trailed off, repeating the word 'hole' and giggling.

"You are going to have one memorable morning, I can you tell you that right now," Yakko said, ruffling Plucky's feathers.

"Whazzat? I can't hear you when you're touching me!" Plucky retorted sloppily, swatting Yakko's hand away and spilling some of his drink.

"Well done Plucky," Yakko commented. He turned to crack a quick joke to Buster, but was startled to find him almost nose-to-nose with Babs, both of them arguing loudly.

"You promised me, Buster, you promised! Just slow down already, it's not like the bar's going to run dry in the next five minutes!" Babs cried.

"You remember you're supposed to have _fun _when you go out, right? You know that's the point!" Buster retorted.

Yakko watched them in uncomfortable surprise for a moment. He cleared his throat and said, "Okay, while you two chat I'm going to…go over here."

Realizing that had sounded awkward but assuming they hadn't even heard him, Yakko squirmed through the crowed to find Shirley and Plucky. When he did, he found them practically fused together at the beak. Plucky was squeezing her against him and swaying back and forth, and Yakko couldn't tell if that was meant to be romantic or if Plucky was just that drunk. Deciding to leave them to their thing Yakko navigated away from them. There was bound to be someone here he knew…if not, it looked as though there was no shortage of attractive twenty-somethings.

No sooner had he thought this when he pushed his way through a particularly thick mass of people and bumped into something vibrantly purple. The purple toon turned around and it only took Yakko a second to realize he was face to face with Fifi. Her face went from placid to blank with shock in a millisecond. He gulped.

"Of all the clubs in all the towns in all the world," Yakko muttered to himself.

He watched as Fifi's face morphed from blank to outraged. As if in slow motion, he saw her jerk her martini glass at his face, the rosy liquid flying toward him. Without thinking Yakko ducked, grimacing as he heard the tinkling splash when it connected with someone's face behind him. His ears and tail went limp, however, when he heard a very angry, very deep grunt of someone who sounded extremely large. Yakko turned around slowly. Pink martini was dripping from the face of the beefiest gorilla he had ever seen. The ape's left arm was thicker than Yakko's entire body and he was currently giving Yakko a look that made it clear that his fist and Yakko's face were about to become acquainted.

Yakko cast a panicked look at Fifi who only gave him a smug smile in return. Yakko scowled. She threw the drink, she should have to deal with the angry, drunk monkey…then again, he probably had this coming. The ape gave him a rough shove with its barrel chest. Blinking up at him, Yakko smiled nervously.

"Here ya go Kong, drink's on me," he said quickly as he thrust his beer into the ape's mammoth hand. Before Fifi or the ape could react Yakko darted into the crowd. He ducked between toons, hoping that the crowd, the blinking strobe lights, and the visible stupidity of the ape toon would disguise him from view. He pushed his way through the heat of skin and fur that reeked of sweat, alcohol, and weed. The bass from the speakers was thudding in Yakko's chest, and everything was so dense and loud that it was pressing on him, making him exhausted. He squeezed through the bodies, desperate for an open space, a chance to breath.

"Hey handsome," cooed one girl he brushed up against.

"You here with anyone tonight?" called another, rather attractive human toon.

Yakko remembered a time when this had been appealing. Heat and sweat mixed with music, girls and dimly lit corners. At Buster's persuasion he had abused this when he was younger. The bouncers had a habit of pretending you weren't a minor when you were a television star. Toontown's loose morals had offered him the briefest of escapes from his own life. He had made up for the whole of his teenage years in short, debaucherous bursts.

Yet this seemed to have aged him terribly in the social department. Here he was, nineteen and tired of the way bodies bumped into him, the way the music pounded, and perhaps most shockingly, tired of the way girls threw themselves at him. Their come ons were boring and expected. He'd even accept something that bordered on clever, but it never came. Nothing he hadn't heard or seen before. What was the point of having a million plastic coins when what he wanted was one gold piece? But his primal side won, again, and part of him recognized this as failure. His resistance to such a pathetic allure was so laughably weak.

So Yakko grinned at both of them and opened his mouth to respond. At that same moment a bear, who was dancing exuberantly, collided with him and sent him sprawling. He stumbled into a small table surrounded by tall stools. Glaring at the bear for disrupting his mojo, Yakko was about to give him a piece of his mind when an obnoxious voice snarled, "Unless you're gonna pay for that seat you better find your own goddamn table!"

Yakko spun around. Montana Max was seated alone at the table, nursing a cocktail. He was, unsurprisingly, clad in one his finest Italian suits. But his hair, which was normally so slicked back it looks like it could deflect projectiles, was mussed as though a hand had been run through it several times.

"Rough day at the office?" Yakko asked.

"Shut your hole Warner. Why don't you go stick it to your blue boyfriend – that's why you moved back, isn't it? To do it every night instead of once every couple of years?" Max shot back.

"I came back so we could have more of these fascinating little discussions," Yakko replied.

"Get your hairy ass out of that seat," Max seethed.

"Why, is this where your date's sitting?" Yakko asked sarcastically. He made a show of looking around the club and then at the empty table. He turned back to Max. "_I think she left!_" he said in a stage whisper.

"I said shut that fucking fly trap of yours Warner," Max snapped.

Yakko gasped theatrically. "My, my Montana, you certainly are cranky…let me guess, butler forgot to lay you down for your nap today?"

Max slammed his glass on the table. Apparently he was a belligerent drunk. "You never knew when to shut up, you little ink shit," he growled, "you're not gonna be joking when I'm through with you. You wanna tell me why you did it, or am I going to have to have my lawyers sue it out of you?"

"Why I did what? Come over here and talk to you? Unexplained masochist streak," Yakko shot back.

Max squeezed his glass so tightly with his thick hands that his knuckles turned white. For a moment, Yakko thought the glass would break. Max practically shot venom out of his mouth as he spit, "Don't play stupid, even though I know that's easy for you. Why the hell did you help that inkblot rabbit out? You guys related or something? You've got to be, there's so much incest with your kind I'm surprised your brother hasn't knocked up your sister by now."

The fur on Yakko's back stood up. Doing his best to keep his voice level, he replied, "I think a lot of things would surprise you, Max, namely that you can't see five feet in front of you because your own lack of character gets in the way. You'd probably also be surprised to know that no one wears a three piece suit and enough grease to oil a Nascar race in their hair to a club. Speaking of oil," Yakko said slowly, with the air of a wolf going for the jugular, "where did you get all that to put in your hair, anyway? It couldn't have been from ToonGO, right? Didn't you _lose _that bid?"

In one movement Max smashed his drink on the floor and jumped to his feet, causing a few people to look in their direction. Yakko remained in his chair, unimpressed. Max was one of the few people who got less intimidating when he stood up. Especially when he staggered a bit.

"Don't give me that bullshit you inkstained, orphaned reject, I know you helped out that has-been and I'm going to bury you hard for it!" Max spat, slurring only slightly.

"Calm down Max, I'm sure losing ToonGO is just a tiny bug on the windshield of your millions," Yakko drawled.

A vein was bulging on Max's forehead, and in the dim light of the club Yakko could tell that his face was tomato red. He kicked a chair and people scrambled as it clattered to the floor. "Don't tell me what to do, gutterpup. You have no idea what this is going to cost my company!"

"You're just mad because this is the first time money couldn't get you what you wanted. Grow up," Yakko said evenly.

"And your fat mouth is going to get you what you deserve!" Max roared, but seconds later he was overtaken by two bouncers who wrapped their bulging arms around his neck and chest. Max struggled, writhing and kicking, and the bouncers tightened their grip so that Max's face flushed a shade of eggplant.

"Whoa guys, lighten up, he's just drunk," Yakko said, feeling slightly bad for the toon.

The bouncers loosened their grip only slightly, but enough for Max to open his big mouth again. "I heard about what happened in New York, about how those weasels tried to make paste out of your little brother and sister," he hissed.

"Shut up Max," Yakko snapped, suddenly not feeling very bad for him at all.

Even in the poor lighting of the club, Yakko could see a strange, malicious glint in Max's eyes. "And I heard about what happened to those guys in prison…heard all they found was a bunch of ink splots."

"Congratulations Max, you can read the news," Yakko jeered.

"Know what else I heard?" Max asked, his voice taking on a slick, sinister tone, "I heard the cops think you did it. They're just looking for one little thing, one little clue to link you to the crime and they'll be nailing an arrest warrent to your ass so fast your head will spin."

An icy cold swept over him as Yakko's heart started to beat at double time. "Where'd you hear that? Or is just something that sounded good in your head and you thought you'd share?" he asked quickly.

"I'll save it for another 'fascinating discussion,'" Max drawled, shrugging off the bouncers and walking away.

"Hey wait a second – " Yakko started, lunging after Max. This time it was him that the bouncers half tackled, crunching him in between their thick bodies.

"Back off slick, we're keeping you two separated," one of them grunted. They hefted Yakko backwards and he staggered a few steps. "If we see you go after him we're taking you straight to the cops," the bouncer warned, and with one final glare they left him and disappeared into the crowd.

But Yakko barely heard him. His ears were ringing. His tail was quivering. Was it true? Were the police still on him about the weasels' deaths?

No. That was ridiculous. He was innocent, he had nothing to worry about – besides, it was Max. It's not like it was out of character for him to say something to deliberately upset someone, especially himself. In fact, Yakko would be more worried if Max didn't do that. But then again, Max had been right about Slappy, and it was no secret that he had more sources than the FBI…

A hand suddenly ran up his spine and he yelped and jumped in shock. Spinning around he found himself inches from a powder white face: Minerva Mink. For a wild second Yakko thought that she was completely naked. It only took him a second more to realize that she was simply in a skin tight white dress that blended with her fur and left little to the imagination, but a millions thoughts managed to fly through is mind during that second nonetheless. She had a drink in one hand and was using her other hand to gently rub him from elbow to shoulder.

"Wow, jumpy, aren't we?" she cooed, "Or is that just what you call dancing?"

Yakko struggled to regain his composure. Whether he was more ruffled by what Max had said or the fact that Minerva Mink was tracing circles on his bicep remained to be decided. "You just surprised me Minerva. That was a sneak attack," he nearly coughed.

She smiled, revealing a row of white teeth. The colored lights of the club painted her fur. Minerva leaned in close to him, her knee bumping his.

"You don't like it when girls come up behind you?" she asked coyly.

"I didn't realize you were that kind of girl," Yakko quipped.

Minerva bounced a sharp eyebrow at him. "One of these days that mouth of yours is going to get you into trouble," she said. She slid her hand from his arm to his neck and pulled him in close to her face. "I hope it's with me," she added in a velvet voice.

Yakko felt as though a jolt of electricity had just surged through him and he quite nearly fell over. Minerva turned away but still gave him a sultry gaze over her shoulder. "Call me if you're lonely," she said, and she dragged her tail beneath his chin as she strutted away.

Yakko stared after her, slack-jawed, part of him wondering what just happened and the other part screaming at him to stop drooling in public. His brain seemed to have shut down, but the rest of his body was quite focused and quite determined to get him to follow her. But Yakko only made it a few steps before something pink blocked his path. It was Babs.

"We need to get Mr. Oktoberfest home," she said darkly.

Yakko wasn't quite sure what she meant until Buster appeared beside them, grinning stupidly. "Great party!" he roared. Then he vomited at their feet.


	9. Rabbit Run

_**Chapter 8: Rabbit Run  
**_

"Buster, stop running into the street you idiot!" Babs yelled.

They had been kicked out of the club almost immediately after Buster had thrown up. Slightly embarrassed, Yakko helped Babs drag a protesting Buster out the door. He had been running around like a fool for the last fifteen minutes; Yakko felt like a shepherd as he and Babs tried to guide him home. But Buster had run out into the street – again – and to Yakko's sudden dismay he realized Buster was directly in the path of a car.

Without thinking Yakko whipped a lasso out from behind his back and tossed it. It looped perfectly around Buster; Babs leapt forward, and together they tugged Buster to the safety of the curb just as the car sped by.

"Watch it!" the driver shouted gruffly.

"Why, is it gonna do tricks?" Yakko shouted back, and Babs sighed.

"Thanks," she said, "that lasso trick was actually pretty good. Where'd you learn that? Do they have cowboys in New York now?"

Yakko shook his head. "No, they have stagehands. Some of the guys on our crew for _Miser-toons_ had worked on _Phantom of the Opera_. They have all kinds of rope tricks in that production, and they taught me a bunch during down time. And I eh, had some practice during our little weasel encounter."

Babs slid the rope off of Buster, who looked at her and cried, "You freed me!" before collapsing. She rolled her eyes and handed the rope to Yakko, who let it disappear behind his back.

"We're gonna have to carry his stupid ass," she muttered.

Yakko grabbed one of Buster's arms and slid it around his shoulders. "Careful, that's your boyfriend you're talking about."

"Trust me, I'm only too aware," Babs said as she did the same.

They hoisted him up and began walking, albeit awkwardly.

"You guys are the best!" Buster slurred, his feet dragging. "Silver's is the best! Plucky is the best! Sidewalks are the best!"

Babs sighed pointedly, but Buster broke into a laughing fit. He looked up at Yakko, his eyes watering. "You have fun tonight Yakky?"

Yakko quirked an eyebrow at "Yakky" and said, "Yeah, sort of."

Between Buster and what had just happened at the club, Yakko felt like he had too many trains of thought and not enough tracks. First there was what Max had said, which had equal parts disturbed and angered him. He hoped that Max had just made it up out of drunken rage – which, if that was true, that was a rather despicable lie. But the sinking feeling in Yakko's stomach told him that he really couldn't be sure of that conviction. As much as he hated to admit it, Max was well connected and often the first to know, and revel in, bad news.

But if he thought about Max too much then Minerva would suddenly cloud his brain. The thought of her mouth, her hot breath so close to his face, sent a shiver up his spine. This seemed to override any uneasiness he might have felt over the fact that two months ago she wanted nothing to do with him and now she couldn't wait to get her paws on him. Oh well, he thought, there could be worse problems to have.

And then of course there was Buster. He had seen Buster drunk before, in basement parties with cheap beer, but he had never seen him like this. Too drunk to walk on his own, barely able to see straight, vomit drying on the fur of his chin…not exactly his classiest moment. Looking at his friend, he sighed too – this would just be another case to file under "Buster being young and stupid."

"You have fun babe?" Buster asked Babs, lightly swatting her with his ear.

"Oh, I had a blast," Babs drawled, "my favorite part was when some of your puke got on my jeans."

Buster just giggled at this.

Yakko looked around Buster's head at Babs. "Could have been worse, you know."

She craned her neck as well to look at him. "How so?"

"Could have been Plucky's puke," Yakko reasoned.

Babs snorted. "Well, when you put it that way, my night was simply divine."

"I don't know why you don't do it more often."

"Buster does it often enough for the both of us," Babs said bitterly.

Buster giggled at the sound of his name.

Yakko adjusted Buster's arm to a more comfortable position over his shoulders and looked at Babs. She had stopped glaring at Buster and was now staring resolutely ahead of her, as though determined to forget that she was half-dragging her drunk boyfriend down a sidewalk.

"Hey Babs, he…" Yakko started, surprised to find himself stumbling over his words. He knew what he wanted to ask, but he was afraid of the answer. "…this is a rare occurrence, right? Just having some fun?"

"You kiddin'?" Babs asked.

"No."

"I could never tell when you were joking or being serious," Babs said, sounding as though she was speaking to herself. They continued to walk, and she inhaled deeply before continuing, "_This_ is every weekend. _This_ is a few nights a week. It wasn't bad like this until about a year ago, when he stopped going to auditions and started going to clubs instead. He makes a nightly ass of himself. He's thrown up in my car so many times I can't scrub the smell out anymore. He doesn't do anything else. He doesn't try anymore, not even for…well…sorry, I sound like a public service announcement..."

She trailed off as Yakko's stomach sank. Swallowing, he clenched his jaw and watched Buster's drooping ears swing back and forth. Babs looked at Yakko's face, and her own softened.

"You had no idea, did you?" she whispered.

Yakko shook his head. He felt ill.

"I'm sorry, Yakko."

This caused him to look back up at her. Her blue eyes were softer and sadder than he could ever remember seeing them.

"I'm the one who should be apologizing," Yakko told her quietly, "I didn't even realize…I didn't even know...I should have talked to him more, I could have found out, I could have done something about it…I'm sorry you have to deal with this Babs, really."

Babs shook her head at him. "You have to talk to Scratchensniff more often, you've got a self-critical streak longer than the Nile."

"What are you talking about? I happen to think the world of myself," Yakko scoffed.

"Let's see…" Babs began listing with her fingers, "when _Animaniacs _got cancelled, you thought it was all your fault. When Buster got in that fender bender, you thought it was all your fault. When Wakko and Dot got jumped by those weasels, you thought it was all your fault. Face it Yakko, you're kind of a drama queen."

He grinned at her. "Now that's calling the kettle black."

"Hey! My reactions to situations are perfectly in proportion," Babs countered.

"Oh yeah, sure," Yakko snorted, "I saw when that drunk guy tried to cop a feel when you were dancing with Shirley. I could understand a pie in the face. Six pies in the face? And a left hook? You've got to admit Babs, that's a bit much."

"You've gotta teach 'em a lesson somehow," Babs said with a bit of a cowgirl-ish twang. She paused for a moment before asking in a normal but suspicious voice, "Why were you watching me dance?"

Yakko started at this and let go of Buster, catching his friend just before he hit the ground. Not only was that a very good question, but he had no idea how to answer it. Good lord, was he blushing?

"Don't be ridiculous, I was looking at the drunk guy," Yakko quipped, doing his best to use Buster's face to shield his.

Babs laughed genuinely at this, and after all that terrible music in the club, it was the nicest sound Yakko had ever heard.

Too bad it was punctuated by the sickening splatter of more vomit.

"Jesus Buster!" Babs cried, all signs of amusement gone.

"I'm not Jesus," Buster slurred.

"Thanks for clarifying that for us," Yakko drawled. He pulled more of Buster's weight onto his shoulders and said, "I got him Babs, you can keep clear of the splash zone."

"No Yakko, it's fine," Babs said, pulling Buster back towards her.

"No Babs, really," Yakko insisted as he pulled back.

"I'm not a tug of war rope, god," Buster groaned.

"Look, don't worry about it. He's my boyfriend, not yours," Babs sighed wearily.

"Not if you ask Max," Yakko joked, and Babs snorted again. "He's my best friend though, that's got to count for at least half of him."

Babs was watching Buster as they walked. She looked as though she had just tasted something stale. Buster was still suspended limply between them, muttering quietly to himself, his ears hanging in front of his face.

"Yakko, tell me something," Babs began quietly, "you were in New York for two years...now that you're back, do you recognize him? Buster, I mean?"

"Can't say I've met too many blue bunnies to confuse him with," Yakko said.

"You know what I mean."

Though he could feel her staring at him now, Yakko was afraid to meet Babs' gaze. It would confirm too many things he had feared, too many ways life had changed. He was afraid he would say things in return, lots of things…so he kept his eyes locked on Buster. His best friend. His first loyalty after his siblings.

"Yes, I recognize him," Yakko replied, his voice low, "I see the exact same guy I saw two years ago."

"And you think that's a good thing?" Babs asked.

"It can be," Yakko said quietly.

Babs stopped suddenly, halting their strange little train, and faced him the best she could while still propping up Buster. "But is it, though?" she pressed, "Is it good to stay the same when everything, every_one _around you is changing? Pretend everything is the same? To just never grow up? To not face it, to ignore it, wash it all away whatever drink you can get your hands on?"

The quiver in her voice made Yakko look up. She had tried to sound angry, but the fragile question in her wide eyes, the yearning for him to say it was okay, tore apart everything. Tears glinted in the corners of her eyes, but seemed to stop them from falling by sheer force of will. Yakko was glad of this. He wasn't sure what he'd do if she cried.

"Hey, he's my best friend. He's also standing…well, barely standing right next to me. I don't know what you're expecting me to say," Yakko said curtly.

She glared at him. "You're Yakko. I was hoping you'd at least say _something_."

"Look, I don't know if I have an answer to your question, alright? What I know is what it's like to grow up way too fast, and I wouldn't wish that on anyone," Yakko said. A small part of him was shocked – he'd never said that to anybody before.

"I think a lot of us had to grow up too fast. You more than anyone," Babs responded.

They held each other's gaze for a moment before Buster groaned, "Why are we _stopping?_" Babs turned around and continued to march resolutely forward. Yakko joined her, but still kept his eyes on her. Her jaw was set, she walked with purpose.

"Buster told me that you were kind of having a rough time," Yakko began, slowly, "is there anything you want to talk about? We've still got another half a mile to go, and Buster isn't the greatest conversationalist at the moment."

"What did he tell you?" she asked, her voice steely.

"Nothing, just that you were having some personal trouble. Is there anything – "

"No."

"It's okay, I just spent two years in New York, I'm not judgmental – "

"Not planning on changing my mind."

Yakko narrowed his eyes at her. "You're stubborn."

"You're nosy," Babs countered.

"I'm usually not."

"Does that mean I'm a special case?"

"Yeah, you should be honored."

"I can't wait to tell all my friends," Babs said, then mimed being on the phone with her free hand and continued in a valley girl voice, "Oh Shirley you won't _believe _what happened tonight! Yakko tried to pry into my personal life, isn't that grand? I _know_, right?"

Yakko tried to be annoyed that she was poking fun at him but he grinned instead. He had never really spoken to Babs without Buster around – well, in a sense – and there was something intriguing about it that he couldn't place. Talking to her was easy and difficult at the same time; he didn't have to worry about sticking to monosyllabic words, but he couldn't bluff his way through conversation either. She was too quick, too adept at weeding through his fluff. Even though his body was screaming for sleep, he wanting to keep talking like this, he liked the challenge –

Buster coughed up a bit of bile on his foot.

* * *

Wakko was starving. It had been about three hours since he'd last eaten and he was feeling faint. Besides, killing zombies was really taking it out of him. Not to mention that all the zombie blood was reminding him of the weasel's ink-covered face. And his arm hurt. Again.

Tossing the controller aside, Wakko rolled sluggishly off the couch and padded into the kitchen. The refrigerator was overflowing with greasy boxes of Chinese food, cartons of carrot juice, and what looked liked incredibly old chicken wings. Wakko grabbed the box of leftover pizza from dinner and began to munch on a cold slice. He looked around the kitchen as he chewed – Buster really did have a nice kitchen. Shiny pots and pans hung over a marble-topped island in the center of a sea of checkered tile. Sleek, modern appliances contrasted with the rustic nature of the rest of the room, making the overall affect quite appealing. Wakko took another bite and two pepperoni pieces toppled off his slice and landed on a pile of papers. He tossed the pepperoni jumpers into his mouth but noticed that they had left greasy spots on the paper.

Hoping it wasn't important, Wakko glanced at the pile. It looked like pages of Scratchensniff's scribbles, a handwriting he knew well – he and Yakko, along with Buster, used to sneak into Scratchensniff's files and read his reports all the time. Wakko wanted to read what Scratchensniff wrote about his classmates while Yakko was more concerned with what the doctor had to say about the older toons and himself. If nothing else, he had a lot of dirt on people…how many could say they knew that Foghorn Leghorn once wet himself when he saw a KFC commercial?

A small bit of devilish excitement sparked in him at the thought of this. If this was someone's file he'd have a lot of great reading material tonight…Yakko always told him and Dot they needed to read more…

Grinning, Wakko read through the first few sentences. The grin slowly slid off his face as he realized what he was reading, and his heart began to beat faster.

_SLAPPY: Chemical burns = 68% total body_

_41%: Back_

_15%: Face_

_12%: Chest/Abdomen_

_Splash pattern suggests chemical was launched as mechanized projectile, possible gunshot_

_Witnesses complain of "acrid stench" "nauseating smell"_

_DIP_

Beneath this was a map of Los Angeles that was marked up with little red dots. A large cluster was concentrated in and around Toontown, with only a few in West Hollywood and Downtown. Beside each dot was a date and time, and another number scribbled in a tiny scrawl. None of them were dated earlier than this past December. A post it note was stuck to the bottom corner of the map:

_Manhattan_

_March 2_

_3pm_

_4_

Wakko frowned. March 2nd? Manhattan? That was barely two weeks ago, he'd been in New York then…his stomach gave a funny jolt. That was the day after his birthday – the same day as the weasel attack. It had happened right after school, around three o'clock. There had been four weasels.

This was a map of all the weasel sightings.

There were so many, way more than he had known about at least. He looked closer – the cluster around Toontown was mainly on the outskirts, with a couple lingering around McKay, Slappy's old street. One was actually on the Warner Brother's lot. He stared at the outskirts, racking his brain for what was located there. Shoot, he knew this, but those years in New York seemed to have drained his memory.

Noticing more pages beneath this one, Wakko picked up the Los Angeles map to reveal another one, this time of the southwestern United States. There were more dots and dates; while fewer than in Toontown, there were a good number of dots in Baja, mainly Mexicali and Tijuana –

"Wakko, put those down!"

Wakko yelped in shock and jumped. The slice of pizza flew out of his hand and slapped against the refrigerator where it stuck. Scratchensniff was standing in the kitchen, holding Brain in his left hand.

"I, uh, dropped some pizza on them, sorry," Wakko mumbled, gesturing to the papers.

"Give those here now, those are very private, no need for your eyes to be seeing them," Scratchensniff said hurriedly. Red-faced and looking incredibly flustered he tugged the papers from Wakko's hands. Brain simply scowled imperiously down at him.

"Ah, why don't you go and read a nice book," Scratchensniff suggested.

"Don't have any," Wakko replied.

"Oh, well, you should go, ehm, play with your sister."

"No way."

Scratchensniff made a wild movement, as if he was trying to grab at his hair but realized he had none. "Okay, fine, why don't you…why don't you sit on the floor, yah?"

With that he and Brain bustled out of the kitchen and into the study, shutting the door behind them. Wakko waited a few moments before quietly tip-toeing to the study. Laying an ear against the door, he held his breath and listened.

"…hope he did not read too much, it would be troubling for him to know they were found in the tower as well…" came Scratchensniff's muffled voice through the door. Wakko's eyes widened. That explained the dot on the Warner Brother's lot…

"I sincerely hope he doesn't hear too much either," came Brain's drawling tone, "considering that his shadow indicates he is eavesdropping through the door."

Wakko gulped as he heard Scratchensniff yelp, "Wha – Wakko! What did I say? Please, go play a silly game or something, just please give us some privacy!"

With a frustrated groan Wakko pushed away from the door and returned to the kitchen. Figures…Yakko thought he couldn't handle staying home alone, Scratchensniff thought he couldn't handle learning about the weasels. No one thought he could do anything. The least Scratchensniff could do was let him listen in; after all, he'd gone head to head with the weasels, wouldn't he have something useful to add?

He clenched his fists, filling up with anger and not knowing where to go with it. This was happening more and more lately. He would get so frustrated, so fed up, until he was about to explode, but what to do, where to go? Sometimes it ended in screaming matches with Dot. Other times he'd toon sprint around the block, but he couldn't because of his stupid arm. For now, he'd just have to go back to shooting zombies, because there was simply nothing else he could do.

**

* * *

**

Dot glanced up at Skippy as they strolled beneath the streetlamps to Buster's house. He was easily as tall as Wakko, but he had that lean and gangly look that Yakko had once sported but had fortunately grown out of. He was definitely taller than Razzy, and he didn't put any of that gross gel stuff in his hair like Razzy did. Dot hated that – it made Razzy's hair look like plastic and stiff to the touch. Skippy's hair, still a warm, chocolate brown, looked soft and clean. Just then Skippy glanced at her, they met eyes, and Dot quickly looked away, blushing. God, why did she feel so awkward around him? She had never felt this way with Skippy before. Their friendship had always been so easy, so natural. What was wrong with her?

"Is this Buster's?" Skippy asked, and Dot jumped.

"Oh, uh, yeah," she stuttered.

For a moment they both stared at the house, and suddenly Dot was very aware of the fact that Skippy was standing barely inches from her.

"Um, thanks for walking me back," Dot said quietly. She felt her face grow hot as Skippy turned towards her. She didn't look at him.

"I'm glad you're back, Dot," Skippy said, and Dot looked up abruptly.

His face was very close to hers. He was looking at her, his gaze steady, and suddenly Dot's mouth was very dry. Her brain was buzzing, her tail was shaking, she was blushing so heavily that Skippy must feel the heat radiating off of her even if he couldn't see it in the darkness. Suddenly they both seemed to realize that they were just staring at each other; Skippy visibly panicked, and Dot's mouth felt weirdly dry –

"Buster so help me if you throw up again I'm going to stick my mallet up your nose."

"Crap, Yakko!" Dot yelped. Without thinking she tackled Skippy into the bushes and out of sight. They crashed through the twigs and rolled onto the ground. Dot held her body still, barely breathing, and peered through the branches. Yakko and Babs were coming from the opposite direction, marching awkwardly with Buster slumped between them. They turned the corner onto Buster's property and half carried, half dragged him up to the steps of the porch. Tossing Buster into Yakko's arms, Babs reached in her hammerspace for her keys.

"Damn it, I have to get back inside," Dot hissed. A second later she realized that Skippy was beneath her, she was practically pinning him to the ground. Skippy blinked up at her, silent. She backed off of him quickly, blushing as she did so.

"I'll cover for you," Skippy said, pushing himself up.

"But Skip, are you sure you're gonna be okay by yourself?" Dot asked.

"Nutsy's house is just down the street," Skippy reasoned, "so hurry up, before Yakko sees!"

"Thanks Skip!" she said, and, again without thought, she gave him a quick peck on the cheek. She pulled back, and they both looked at each other strangely. Feeling her face begin to heat up, she blurted, "Uh, bye!"

"Dot – " she heard him call, but she ignored him and dashed for the closest window. She had to get back in without Yakko noticing, and before he noticed that she had been missing in the first place. There was a window against the far back corner of the house, and she prayed that Buster was lax about security. Her prayers were answered: the window slid easily up, and Dot hoisted herself up and onto the frame. She had one foot inside the study when she looked up and locked eyes with Wakko. He was holding a stack of papers in his hands.

They both regarded each other like deer caught in the headlights for a full second before Wakko hurriedly tossed the papers onto a desk and Dot clambered the rest of the way in and shut the window behind her. She glanced outside, spotting Skippy's dark figure dashing down the street. She whirled around.

"You're so busted!" they said in unison, pointing at each other.

Dot crossed her arms. "Whaddaya mean busted? I didn't do anything!"

"What are you talking about? You snuck out!" Wakko retorted.

"Prove it," Dot countered.

"I just saw you sneak back in!" Wakko replied incredulously.

Dot regarded him coolly. "Prove. It."

"Don't have to," Wakko said with a shrug, "I might just _happen _to mention it to Yakko, sounds like he just got home. You know how he gets…"

As Wakko turned theatrically to go to the foyer, Dot hissed, "You do and I'll tell him you were looking at those papers."

Wakko spun around, angry, but quickly tried to mask it. "Fine. Go ahead. I don't care," he said in an effort to be flippant.

"Fine, I will," Dot trilled as she brushed past him.

Wakko grabbed her by the tail and dragged her back. "You don't even know what they are!" he snapped.

"I know they're something you shouldn't be looking at or else you wouldn't be stopping me," Dot said, smirking as she called his bluff.

They glared at each other, waiting for the other to blink. When neither did, Dot inhaled through her nostrils before saying, "I won't tell Yakko you were looking at…whatever those were if you don't say a single word about me leaving the house. Deal?"

Wakko deepened his glare as he appeared to weigh his options. "Whatever," he muttered, and just then Scratchensniff appeared in the door. Brain was sitting on top of his bald head, his arms crossed.

"What are you kidses doing in here?" Scratchensniff asked suspiciously.

"Nothing," Dot and Wakko said in unison. They quickly slipped past him, but Dot noticed Scratchensniff scooping up Wakko's pile of papers as they left. Frowning, she headed to the foyer where Yakko and Babs were talking. Yakko looked up when they entered, looking cross.

"What are you two doing up? It's almost one in the morning," he said.

"Why don't you blame our _babysitter_?" Wakko asked snidely.

Yakko rolled his eyes. "Go to your room," he muttered, but Wakko was already halfway up the stairs. Dot made for the stairs as well, making a show of stretching her arms and yawning.

"I'm beat, I think I'll hit the hay too," she said through a fake yawn.

She had almost made it past him when she heard Yakko's slow drawl.

"Doooot…"

"Yeeees?" she asked, matching his tone.

Yakko's eyes bored into her. "Why is there a twig in your hair?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Dot's hand shot up to her hair. Crap. He was right.

"It's, uh, it's the style," Dot made up wildly, trying to make it sound confident, "You know, earthy. Bohemian."

Just when Dot thought Yakko's eyebrow couldn't go any higher, it raised an inch. "Oh, is that what they're calling 'trying to pull a fast one on your brother' nowadays?"

"Uh…" Dot began, but was cut short by a monstrous crash from upstairs. Both Yakko and Babs looked up as though they could see what had happened through the ceiling.

"That's probably Buster," Babs said wearily, "he pulls the weirdest crap out of his hammerspace when he's drunk. Last week there was a water buffalo in the living room when I woke up."

"I'll go check on him, I've always liked going to the zoo – " Yakko started, but Babs held up a hand.

"Forget it, he's my problem. Besides, I was a girl scout, I got my animal and plant merit badge," she said as she headed up the stairs.

"Aw c'mon, let me, I've never seen a water buffalo before!" Yakko protested.

Laughing and shaking her head, Babs continued up the stairs and to Buster's room. Dot watched as Yakko's eyes followed her all the way up until she was out of sight. This time it was Dot's turn to raise an eyebrow.

"And how was _your_ night, Flirty McFlirt?" Dot asked.

Yakko, who seemed to have forgotten she was there, turned to face her so fast she thought he shapeshifted. "Exsqueeze me? What are you talking about?"

"_I've never seen a water buffalo before!_" Dot teased in her best Yakko imitation.

"Oh ha ha," Yakko said dryly as she broke into giggles, "I know you're running on a tank full of teenage girl at the moment but _that _was not flirting. I thought I taught you better than that."

"Funny, I don't remember any flirting lessons," Dot said as she too began to ascend the stairs, "but I _do _remember the one where you taught me how to never speak to boys until I'm thirty."

"Then you learned well!" she heard Yakko call as she walked into her room. Shutting the door behind her, Dot tossed the twig out of her hair and flopped down onto the bed. She was glad to lay down, since her head was still spinning from her encounter with Skippy. She wasn't quite sure what had just happened…why did she feel so weird around him now? At first she thought it was because she didn't know how to act around his grief, but now she wasn't so sure.

Dot rolled over and groaned into her pillow. She was going to turn fourteen in two months – thirteen was already hard enough.

**

* * *

**

It seemed like the more tired he was, the more difficult it was for him to fall asleep. Yakko felt exhaustion down to his bones, but his mind couldn't stop buzzing, the thoughts wouldn't stop running. Sometimes his brain was just so loud, teeming with chaos and anxiety and desires, that he often wondered if, in these small moments in the night, that he wasn't just as crazy as his TV show had purported him to be. Was he mad? Or did he just want someone to talk to? Sometimes he wished his brain would just shut off.

Tonight Yakko wouldn't be so lucky. It wasn't long before he was pushing himself out of bed and carefully tiptoeing past Wakko. Not like it mattered; the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade wouldn't wake his brother up. From what Yakko could see in the dim dawn light, Wakko was sprawled out across his bed, face down, with his tongue peeking out from beneath his head.

He crept downstairs and out the door, embracing the fact that sun still had yet to rise. It wasn't often that it was dark and quiet in Toontown, and when it was it was something to be enjoyed. So Yakko walked, not knowing where his feet would take him, but not really caring either. It felt good to move, as though his body could be slightly on pace with his brain. If it wasn't the image of Max's sneering face being broadcast across his mind, then it was Buster slumped over and muttering incoherently that consumed his thoughts. This was interspersed with Minerva's knee touching his or that time Babs laughed at his joke. These thoughts were all overseen by his ever-present anxiety over Wakko and Dot – if they had adjusted from the weasel attack, if they resented him for another move, if he had somehow screwed them up for life.

Yakko hadn't told them that the police had questioned him. He certainly hadn't mentioned to them that Max had reinforced the rumor that they were suspects. It was stressing him out so much that he kept forgetting he was actually innocent. Though despite how badly he wanted to convince himself to forget about it – after all, he had nothing to hide – he couldn't get what Max said out of his mind. And really, who _had _killed the weasels anyway? Even though they had attacked him and his siblings, it still bothered him. Was it an inmate? A jail guard? Someone from the outside? It was all so strange…they were singled out, attacked…and their attackers were dead the next day…

He didn't have any enemies as far as he was aware of. The closest thing he had to one would have to be Max; ever since the day they met he and Max had never gotten along. Word had already spread about the fact that the Warners were orphans before their first class at WB Tooniversity, and Max took it upon himself to ridicule them for it. Yakko, who would rather be run over by a truck before he let some spoiled brat pick on his siblings, had no problem giving the boy a piece of his mind, thus giving life to a years-long feud that showed no signs of ending. Fortunately Yakko had Buster on his side; Buster despised Max even more than Yakko if that was possible, and Yakko had lost count of how many times arguments had descended into tossed pies and sticks of dynamite, dropped anvils, violent shapeshifting maneuvers and nasty mallets to the face.

Max did seem to have it in his head that Yakko had something to do with his lost ToonGO bid, albeit rather inexplicably. It was possible that his twisted little mind would seek revenge, but sending those weasels after them? That was a bit extreme. And it was hard to imagine Max, who paid someone to take out his trash, getting his hands dirty by killing them afterwards. But, then again, if he was willing to pay someone to take out his trash, what was stopping him from hiring someone to do his dirty work?

With this troubling thought in mind Yakko noticed that his feet had taken him to a very large gate. Looking up, he realized that he had walked all the way to the Warner Brothers lot. It looked very still and quiet. Without really thinking about Yakko followed the large security wall for a block to the left and cleared aside a clump of bushes. He smiled; even in the years he had been gone, no one had sealed up the five missing bricks at the bottom of the wall – just big enough for a lean toon to shapeshift through.

Lowering himself to his stomach, Yakko shimmied like a worm through the small hole, letting his body go soft as he did so. He and Buster had used this little secret to sneak in and out of the lot for years, so much so that the movement felt natural to him. Placing his hands on either side of the wall he hefted himself through the end of the hole and into the lot and let his body go solid again. Yakko got to his feet and dusted off his pants, glancing around the lot. The morning sun was beginning to peak over the horizon, dipping the lot in a pale pink light. It highlighted the steel beams of the water tower and reflected sharply off the glass panes of Plotz's office building. Everything seemed so peaceful and innocent that it made Yakko and all the confusing and disconcerting thoughts in his head feel completely out of place. He just wanted to wipe it all clean, forget about it, run away from it…isn't that why he'd come back here anyway?

Run away…

Yakko gazed at the open stretch of lot before him. There was no one around, he could do whatever he wanted…

Sucking in a deep breath, Yakko bounced on his toes a few times before taking off at a run. With barely the slightest urge of will his legs became a blur of speed as he broke into a toon sprint. God, he hadn't done this in so long. The wind whipped his hair and ears in a frenzy and the buildings hurtled by him, nothing more than flickers of existence. He could hear nothing but the wind in his ears and the steady huff and puff of breath through his mouth. No one to bother him, no one could touch him. No responsibilities, no worries. It was glorious, he felt light as a feather. He was free.

A gray blur flew past him at such a speed it knocked him off balance. His heart jumping into his throat, Yakko staggered and dug his heels into the ground. He skid across the earth, tearing up bits of gravel as he slid to a stop.

"What the hell…" he panted, his chest heaving up and down. What could have possibly outstripped him? For a wild moment he had thought it was a weasel, but he didn't see any sign of one. Holding a wary hand over his hammerspace, Yakko's eyes darted around the lot, searching for whoever, or whatever, it was.

"Relax doc, I'm just an old rabbit."

Yakko felt his hand drop limply to his side as Bugs Bunny approached him. He was wearing a simple sweatshirt and a pair of jogging shorts.

"Nice morning, ain't it?" he commented as though he and Yakko routinely ran into each other at dawn on the lot.

Yakko stared at him, dumbfounded.

"I always go for a quick jog in the mornings. Helps me clear my head. Besides, drawn or not, toon's gotta keep in shape," Bugs continued, "I was watching ya run, doc. You're quick, but a toon like you could go a lot faster if you wanted to."

As he slowly got over the shock of running into Bugs Bunny, Yakko remembered that this was the same guy who had shot him down months earlier. He had treated him like a child, and even though a part of him still worshiped the toon legend, Yakko suddenly found that he wasn't really in the mood for a conversation.

"Well I'm sorry my abilities aren't up to your standards," Yakko said flatly, "us Broadway types just can't seem to find the time to take a leisurely jog every morning."

Bracing himself for a nasty retort or even a nice middle finger, Yakko was surprised when Bugs smirked guiltily and sighed, "I guess I had that comin', didn't I?"

Yakko paused for a minute. Eyeing Bugs closely he finally said, "Yeah, I'd say so."

"I'm not tryin' to jump ya mac, you don't have to look at me that way," Bugs said, "though I can understand why ya'd be lookin' over your shoulder. I heard about what happened in New York. How are the kids?"

"They're fine," Yakko said slowly.

"And you?"

"Fine."

The light was getting stronger and Yakko could see Bugs more clearly. Unsurprisingly he hadn't aged a single day. He looked just as he did in his cartoons, and Yakko had seen them all. For a moment Yakko imagined what it would be like if he never aged another day, if he stayed like this forever. Nineteen-years-old, for the rest of eternity.

"Look, kid," Bugs started, "I want to, eh, apologize for how I was to you at that meeting a while back. Ya know, brushing you off, acting like a stuck up celebrity and all that jazz. You deserve a lot more credit that I gave ya that night. You've got a good head on your shoulders from what I've heard…smart, responsible…you raised that brother and sister of yours, right?"

"I – yeah, sort of," Yakko spluttered. Had he just been apologized to by Bugs Bunny?

"Impressive doc, had quite a few friends tell me they were excellent students. Speakin' a which, so were you…one of the best students that ever set foot in that tooniversity. Natural talent and all that. You graduated top of your class?"

"I...yeah," Yakko answered. He wished he had something more interesting to add.

"And to think they never taught ya to sprint correctly," Bugs murmured, glancing at Yakko from the corner of his eye.

"I can sprint fine. I'll show you right now in fact, you can watch as I sprint away from here," Yakko said defensively.

"Yeah, well that 'fine' sprint a' yours still got you outstripped by a seventy-five-year-old," Bugs retorted.

"Teach me then," Yakko challenged. Lack of sleep must be making him bold.

"I'm a busy toon doc. There's plenty on this lot who'll teach ya to toon sprint."

"I can toon sprint. But according to you I can do it faster. Unless, like tooniversity, _you _can't teach me to sprint correctly either," Yakko drawled.

Bugs pulled a carrot from behind his back and took a bite. Munching on it noisily, he asked, "Manipulative little bugger, ain't ya? You want toon sprint tips that bad?" Bugs asked, giving Yakko an appraising look.

"Yes. The lot crew's going to be in at six, you can show me now before they show up."

Bugs' eyes narrowed shrewdly as he rolled his carrot between his fingers. "Not jokin' around, huh?"

"Nope."

"Not gonna let me leave 'til I do what ya want?"

"You got it."

Bugs sighed. "Fine. Pay attention though, I'm only gonna say things once."

Yakko nodded quickly. "That's fine, I'm only gonna listen once."

Bugs shot him a look before tossing the stump of his carrot over his shoulder. Bugs steepled his fingers together and pointed them at Yakko. "Okay wiseguy, I'm gonna give you a laughably brief rundown of the most important idea in toon physics. Books have been written about it, scholars have devoted their lives to studying it, and tooniversities almost never teach it. They think it's above kids' heads. I find that to be total malarkey, but I ain't exactly head of the school board. Plotz and I have had a couple of nice chats about it though..."

"What is it?" Yakko asked, his ears perked forward eagerly.

Bugs smirked. "Huh, didn't know there were kids out there who still wanted to learn...okay, you want to know the key to everything toon? It's a little thing called control."

Yakko frowned. "That was anti-climactic."

"You say that now. Wait til it changes the way you look at yourself and your abilities."

"Enlighten me then."

"Well aren't you a pushy thing?" Bugs muttered, "Think about it. People think being a toon is all about being crazy, wild, pulling props outta your hammerspace like an assembly line and malleting everything in sight. Couldn't be farther from the truth. You can get by like that – and believe me, toons have – but you'll never be considered great. You'll be good, at best, just mediocre. A great toon knows his limits, knows how to control his every action while still allowing it to flow and be organic."

"Sounds like an oxymoron," Yakko commented.

"At first, but think about it...pull something out of your hammerspace. Anything," Bugs said, nodding toward him.

Yakko raised his eyebrows but obeyed. He slid a paddle ball from behind his back and placed it in Bugs' outstretched hand.

"Excellent," Bugs said as he examined it briefly, "what went through your mind when you took this out?"

"Well, not much, to be honest," Yakko said, "I've pulled them so many times, but I guess the first thing I think of is that I want it to bounce."

Bugs nodded encouragingly. "That right there – that's an example of control. You know what you want it to do: you want it to bounce. But how much to you want it to bounce? Do you want just the ball to bounce, or the whole paddle? What shape do you want the paddle to be? How long should the string be? What do you think I should feel when I take it from you? These are all things that go through your mind in less than half a second because all I asked you to do is pull something out of your hammerspace. But still, you were controlling what came out of there. And those decisions are where the organic element comes in."

Yakko, who had long forgotten to be hostile, was raptly attentive.

"Think about what happens when you pull something out of your hammerspace. You are creating something out of nothing. You are reaching into this void with nothing but your mind, and returning with something wonderful and tangible and, for all intents and purposes, real. It's animation at its finest: the illusion of life. Now, you could just reach behind your back like a maniac and pull any random tchotchke outta there, or you could control that paddle ball a' yours down to the woodgrain. Ya followin' me?"

Yakko nodded rapidly and Bugs continued.

"So that brings us to toon sprinting. Now, I ain't much of a gambler, but I'd be willin' to be that you just took off running and let muscle memory do most of the leg work - eh, no pun intended."

"Yeah, but I learned how to sprint years ago, it's not something I really have to think about," Yakko said.

"Hence why you run the way you do: fast, but not fast enough," Bugs stated, smirking with one corner of his mouth.

Yakko rolled his eyes and retorted dryly, "I forget, can you run faster than me? I don't think you reminded me enough times."

Bugs eyed him wryly. "Think of it as a motivational tool."

"I'm thinking about it with a lot less of a positive spin right now."

"Let's keep it G rated for right now doc," Bugs said, grinning wide enough to show his teeth, "Anyway...like anything in toon physics, toon sprinting is one part physical control and one part mental control. We'll start with the physical. First of all, you're breathing all wrong." He stepped forward and knocked on Yakko's breastbone with his fist. "That's pretty solid there, doc. Your lungs can only take in so much air before your own bones stop them. More air means more oxygen in your ink, which means a faster sprint for you. Now, human athletes take care of this by inhaling with their stomach. But toons have other options. When you sprint you want to loosen up your chest – not quite shapeshift, but let your ribs go soft enough for your lungs to expand. Try it."

Bugs straightened up and gestured to his chest, which was rising up and down in big puffs. Concentrating, Yakko let his bones go soft, rib by rib, and inhaled. His chest blossomed out and he took in a dizzying amount of air. It felt good.

"It's gonna take practice, it ain't natural for most toons, but you'll get used to it." He eyed Yakko with an appraising look and said, "Ergo, we're going to practice. We'll do it now before security has a fit. Follow me, and breath with your chest the way I just showed ya. Ready? Let's go!"

"Wait - " Yakko shouted, but Bugs had already taken off at a brisk run. Yakko, eyes wide, stumbled a bit as he gave chase. He caught up to Bugs and they ran side by side.

"Expand your chest kid!" Bugs instructed.

"Oh yeah," Yakko breathed, annoyed that he had forgotten so quickly. He concentrated and felt the muscles loosen in his chest and his ribs ripple into a putty-like consistency. His lungs filled with a wonderfully satisfying amount of air.

"Don't forget to run too!" Bugs called from ahead of him.

Yakko started, realizing he had been so focused on his breathing that he was lagging behind. He quickened his pace, still trying to breath the right way.

"Ain't easy, is it?" Bugs commented.

"I'm still waiting for you to tell me I need to pat my head and rub my stomach too," Yakko retorted.

"That'll be your next lesson," Bugs quipped, "So tell me, what did ya think of New York?"

"New York?" Yakko repeated. Jeez, this guy switched topics quicker than Wakko. "Well, I loved it. Broadway was great, there was so much to do…I froze my tail off in the winter though. I missed California too. Wakko and Dot were pretty much stars at JTAP, but Dot discovered boys and cell phones and I'm not exactly thrilled about it."

"Can hardly guess where she gets it from. Rumor has it you came outta the womb chasin' girls," Bugs said slyly.

Yakko shook his head. "Can't believe everything you see on TV."

"I heard plenty off camera."

Bugs picked up his pace, and Yakko matched it.

"I resent that," Yakko retorted.

Bugs smirked and replied, "I'm just yankin' your tail. They said the same thing about me in my day."

"Between that and your cross-dressing habit I bet they said a lot of things," Yakko pointed out.

Laughing, Bugs shot back, "You just don't know what real entertainment is."

"This may be true, but I do know an attractive girl when I see one and I gotta say Bugs, you need some work."

"Weren't you just trying to refute the girl chaser myths?"

"I'm just saying I have standards."

"Touché," Bugs laughed, and Yakko snickered. He followed suite as Bugs slowed to a stop, and they both took a moment to catch their breath.

"You realize you just ran around the whole south block breathin' like a champ?" Bugs asked casually.

Yakko blinked. "I…wow, I guess I did." A silly grin spread across his face. "I didn't even notice!"

"Just had to distract you, that's all. I was hopin' some chattering would take your mind off it."

"How'd you know that would work?" Yakko asked.

Bugs shrugged. "It works for me, and you kinda remind me of…well, it was a good hunch. Don't get a big head yet, that was the easy part. Gotta jump some mental barriers next."

"Sounds fun."

"Can be, if you're good at jumping," Bugs said cryptically.

"Well of course it's hard if you're gonna speak in code," Yakko joked.

Bugs pointed a finger at him. "Pay attention kid, the real instructions ain't gonna be much clearer. Now I want you to think about running. When you want to go into a sprint, what do you do?"

Yakko frowned a little. "I don't really know how to describe it, to be honest. I think about sprinting, and I know I want to sprint, and it just kind of happens."

"As base as that was, it's a better description than most toons could offer," Bugs said, "that's toon physics at its simplest. You are expressing the will to sprint. Now, you're sprinting, but ya want to go faster. Whaddaya do?"

"I…make my legs go faster," Yakko said, feeling stupid.

"Aha – that's only half the equation. You're pushing your body – that's the physical part – but you need to push your mind as well."

When Yakko didn't say anything, Bugs continued, "You have to want to run faster. More importantly, you have to _see _yourself running faster. Ya see, unlike humans, our imaginations really _can_ run away with us. Long story short, ya have to trick your brain into believing you are sprinting as fast as you want to be."

"So my brain should be thinking it's doing what it's not doing," Yakko tried.

Bugs nodded. "Pretty much. You're brain's doing what the body thinks it can't do."

"So when my brain thinks it's doing what my body's not doing, then my body will do what my brain thinks it's doing?

"Exactly."

Yakko raised his eyebrows. "That conversation was almost as confusing as what we're talking about."

"And that's just the tip of the iceberg," Bugs said, "C'mon, let's practice what we preach."

The next half hour proved to be one of the most embarrassing of Yakko's life. It involved him sprinting back and forth, desperately trying to break into a speed sprint and failing completely. Most of the time he just ran stupidly. Other times he tripped. Meanwhile, Bugs was leaning against a wall and blowing a whistle when he wanted Yakko to stop or go. Yakko could feel the lack of sleep building on him, and it was all he could do to not strangle the grey rabbit in frustration. He wondered if Bugs was just trying to pull a fast one on him for personal amusement, but he decided that the "control" mumbo jumbo would be a rather elaborate lie and besides, Bugs surely had better things to do than watch him run back and forth like an idiot.

The shrill sound of Bugs' whistle brought him to a halt. He gasped for breath and Bugs joined him.

"How ya doin' kid?" Bugs asked.

"Oh, you know me, just for fun I run around the Warner movie lot," Yakko panted, "they lock me in the tower whenever I get caught."

"I see. Even so let's call it a day, you're making good progress," Bugs said.

"Doubt it, but you're the expert."

"Right, and the expert says you need a break. You look exhausted – you feelin' jetlagged or something?" Bugs asked.

"Eh, or something," Yakko said.

"C'mon, I'll take ya home," Bugs offered.

"No Bugs, really, it's fine – "

"Forget it," Bugs said dismissively, "You're living with Buster Bunny ain't ya? That's on my way. You look like you're gonna to fall asleep standing up – ya really want to argue with a stubborn rabbit?"

"You make a convincing argument," Yakko yawned, thinking of Babs and wondering if all rabbits were stubborn.

Bugs led him to the private parking lot where only the biggest stars had their names painted on the spots. As they pulled out of the lot, Yakko couldn't help but marvel at how he had suddenly gone from rarely speaking to Bugs Bunny to carpooling with him. While he still felt a bit shaky in the presence of his idol, he was finding it easier to talk to him. Bugs was a gifted conversationalist and despite how tired he was Yakko soon found himself in a rapid-fire dialogue with the veteran toon. It wasn't long, however, before Bugs pulled the conversation in a direction that Yakko had assumed he would have done a while ago.

"I've been meanin' to ask you," Bugs began, "about the weasels in Central Park. Scratchensniff gave me some details but eh, I want to hear your take on things."

Having lost track of how many times he'd told this story, Yakko had to summon the enthusiasm to recount every last detail of his own experience and what his siblings had told him of their own. He told Bugs everything, down to their plastic-wrapped feet and their cries of "mo" and "bo."

"And the weirdest part was all the ink," Yakko finished, "There was ink everywhere, and I barely touched them. I mean, look at me, what could I have done to make them bleed like that?"

"I highly doubt that it was you," Bugs said, staring ahead as he drove. "The only time I've heard of a toon hemorrhaging like that is when they've been scribbled."

"Scribbled?" Yakko repeated.

"It's when the artist – if you can even call them that – who draws them screws up," Bugs said, "Basically if anyone but a trained professional tries to draw a toon, it ain't gonna have a happy ending. I'm talkin' limbs bending the wrong way, organ systems not workin' the way they should, ink running all over the place…it's just a mess. They usally don't make for the most mentally stable toons either. It's incredibly illegal to draw a toon without a license, of course – but the one who do it are usually in it for somethin' illegal anyway."

"Do you think someone drew the weasels illegally?" Yakko asked.

"It's possible," Bugs said slowly.

"But isn't that difficult?" Yakko pressed.

"Extremely," Bugs said, "and most of the time it doesn't work at all. When it _is_ done, it's usually by someone with underground resources. You remember Rocky and Mugsy?"

"'Rockefeller Rabbit?' 'Bugs and Thugs?'" Yakko recited, ticking the cartoons off on his fingers, "Yeah, naturally."

Bugs smirked. "Calm down fan boy. Those two funded the biggest illegal toon drawing ring to date. They pulled together their considerable resources and got the humans involved. They started off selling the illegal toons as test subjects for medical research. From there they moved onto using them as drug mules. The FBI had to orchestrate one hell of a sting operation to bring 'em down. Rocky was tossed in the slammer and he's been there ever since."

"What about Mugsy?"

"Voided himself when the feds caught up with him."

"What do you mean by voided? I think I've heard of that before, but they wouldn't talk about it in tooniversity," Yakko said.

"I can see why…well, you know that drawn toons are immortal, but that don't mean their bodies can't be wiped out," Bugs said, "If their bodies are destroyed, their soul, or whatever you choose to call it, goes into the Void. It's like a limbo. After all, there's always that slim chance their original artist can draw them again, so their souls have a place to wait."

"How did he void himself?" Yakko asked, morbid curiosity taking over him.

"Drank half a gallon of paint thinner."

"Damn, that'll do it," Yakko muttered, grimacing.

"It's impressive, really. Most toons don't get past the first pint."

"How have I never heard about all this before?"

"Well for starters it happened before you were even born," Bugs said as he slowed to a stop in front of Buster's house. He turned to face Yakko. "But mostly it's because the FBI and Toontown have done everything they can to cover it up. They don't want people to know any details about how to run an almost perfect counterfeit toon operation – don't want any repeat attempts."

Gazing at Buster's red brick home, Yakko recognized his cue to get out of the car. He couldn't help but feel disappointed – he wanted to hear more.

"Thanks for the ride back, I appreciate it," Yakko said as he stepped out of the car.

"Don't mention it kid."

"Thanks for the sprinting tips too," Yakko added, "Maybe if I pretend I'm running away from Plotz I'll hit top speed."

Bugs snorted. "Hey, whatever works." He paused for a beat and scratched his ear. He looked uncomfortable; it was an odd demeanor for Bugs, most likely because Yakko had never seen him that way. With what appeared to be some level of difficulty, Bugs said, "You know if you got more questions, you can always look me up on the lot."

Yakko pulled back, not sure if he had heard correctly. "You wouldn't mind?"

"Think I'd offer if I did?"

"Good point."

Buster's front door opened, and Babs' head peeked out. "I thought that was your car!" she called to Bugs.

"Hey there Babs, how's it going?" Bugs called back, waving and grinning.

"Not bad, I've got myself three new roommates," Babs said. Her eyes flicked from Bugs to Yakko. A wicked grin spread across her face and she shouted, "Hey Bugs, did you ask Yakko about whose face is on his underwear?"

Yakko gave her the darkest glare he could muster.


	10. Party Crashed

_**Chapter 9: Party Crashed**_

"_Toontown's kidnapping streak continues. We have reports of eleven more missing toons, the homes of three of those toons show signs of breaking and entering. This weekend's surge in kidnapping has pushed the total missing persons to thirty-seven. Listeners, please travel in groups of three or more after eight p.m. and we urge you to increase your home safety measures…please stop by the Toontown Police Station and pick up a free pamphlet that describes ways for you to intruder-proof your home…"_

"I'm turning this off, news like that won't make anyone feel better."

Wakko watched as Tress strode to the radio and flicked it off with a manicured nail. He was slightly ashamed to admit that, up until two weeks ago when he had begun physical therapy, he had been unaware that her name was actually Tress. He had always just called her by the name they had referred to her as on _Animaniacs_: Hello Nurse. When he had mentioned something in the car on the way to his first session about being excited to see Nurse, Yakko had turned around very slowly in his seat to look at him. Yakko had given him that quintessentially Yakko look – the one that begged the question, "God, _really?_" – and said flatly, "You know that's not her real name, right?" Then he agreed that he was also excited to see her. Very excited.

Speaking of whom, Wakko was sure his older brother would chew off his own right arm if it meant he could be in Wakko's position. After all, Yakko had all but passed out when Scratchensniff announced that Tress would be Wakko's physical therapist. Even now, as she sauntered back over to him, Wakko felt himself coloring slightly and had to make a conscious effort to keep his eyes focused on her face. God, he really was getting to be as bad as Yakko.

"Are you ready, Wakko?" Tress asked, holding out her hands.

Wakko nodded and cradled his elbow in her one hand and his palm in her other.

"We'll start with static stretching," Tress directed, but after the last two weeks Wakko had the routine memorized. She bent his hand down at the wrist, stretching the muscles in his forearm. Wakko breathed in and out with the stretches, growing bored with them already. His recovery was right on schedule; the doctor cleared him for physical therapy on the first day of May. He was thrilled – it had been a long, tedious two months. But the excitement of finally getting to do away with his sling had worn off pretty quickly, and now he was stuck doing repetitive exercises to get it back into shape. But, to borrow a phrase from Yakko, at least he had a lovely view.

"Okay sweetie, let's do some free weights. We'll start off with wrist curls, and then we'll do some forearm twists and some bicep work, does that sound good?" Tress asked.

Wakko nodded. They had done that every other day for the last two weeks, why would it be a problem now?

Tress brought over a pair of five pound hand weights from an opposite shelf and handed them to him. Wakko, who was bored before the weights were even in his hand, let his mind wander as Tress talked him through a set of tiny little wrist curls. It had been nearly two months since they'd moved back to Los Angeles and in many ways, it seemed as though nothing had changed. He and Dot had settled back into their school routines at WB Tooniversity; Wakko didn't mind it, but he wasn't sure if his classmates felt that way. Sure, they were happy to see him – Dizzy, Furball, Kalamity, they had all been friendly – but having missed the last two years meant that he missed an invite to any and all cliques that seemed to have sprouted like weeds. He couldn't even be part of the uncool kids – that clique had already been formed.

Dot didn't seem to have that problem, but then again, she had Skippy. Just like the old days they were inseparable in class, which Wakko had definitely teased her about and Dot had definitely screamed at him for it. Meanwhile, Yakko had been scooped up by Broadway LA within days of setting foot back in California, and was busy preparing for an upcoming production of _Sweeney Toon_. Wakko was excited – apparently this one was a total inkbath – and Yakko was excited for not having to deal with any "ignoramus ingénues" though Wakko didn't know what he meant by that. Still, Yakko said he was having fun even though he didn't see himself doing Broadway shows forever.

Wakko was excited to be able to use his arm again. He missed being able to do simple things, like squash and stretch, and run, and goof around. And maybe, if Yakko held up his end of the bargain, he could learn to drive. He already had his permit – you didn't need two arms to take the stupid written test – and Yakko had promised that if he got good grades he could get a driving tutor. Wakko thought that the bargaining on Yakko's part was rather childish but then again Yakko still thought he was nine-years-old.

At Tress's instruction he robotically switched exercises, this time pulling the weight behind his back. Yakko had joined him on his first physical therapy session. Whether it was because he wanted to make sure Wakko was okay or if he just wanted an excuse to see Tress was indecipherable. Now Yakko and Buster just dropped him off at the office before Yakko went to the lot to go hang out with Bugs. He had been spending a lot more time with his idol now, which Wakko was sure caused his brother to nearly crap his pants on a daily basis. And Dot was always with Skippy – no big loss there, but still – and Buster was always with Babs…arguing with her, but still with her. Who did that leave him with?

Once again, it looked like he was by himself.

"Wakko?"

Wakko jumped at the sound of his name. Tress was staring at him, looking slightly confused. No wonder Yakko liked her. He had a habit of only chasing after girls who had the brain activity of a squirrel.

"Uh, what?" Wakko mumbled.

"I said, are you ready to practice your squash and stretch?"

"Oh, right, yeah."

Hopping off the table, Wakko held out his arm and Tress took it in her soft hands.

"Tell me when you're ready Wakko," Tress said.

He nodded, his tongue peeking out of his mouth as he concentrated. His arm trembled slightly before going soft and rubbery. "Okay," he muttered.

Holding his hand in a gentle but firm grip, Tress took a step backward. Wakko's arm stretched, taffy-like, as she took another step backward. With the third step he felt an uncomfortable tension in his arm and he did his best to hide a wince. Tress counted to five before stepping toward him, this time pushing his arm nearly back into his socket. There was more tension this time, and Wakko gasped and held his breath until Tress released his arm.

"Very good Wakko!" she encouraged, "When we first started you could only do one step, remember?"

Of course he remembered. It had been painful and embarrassing; he had sort of been expected to stretch his arm out right away. He'd been looking forward to it, actually. But Tress barely took one step back before he cried out in pain. Apparently your toon abilities could go stiff. Literally.

"How much 'til I'm back to normal?" Wakko pressed.

"A Class B toon at your age should be able to do six steps for ten seconds. We're making great progress Wakko, really, I'm impressed. Tomorrow I think we'll be able to do four steps!" Tress said, clapping her hands.

Wakko stared at Tress, then at his arm. He shouldn't have to do four. He should be able to do six now. This was pathetic. Even Dot could outdo him right now.

"Let's do another round," Tress instructed, "when your brother picks you up I'll go over the exercises with him again, that way you'll be able to do it at home starting next week."

Wakko nodded. Tress took his arm again. Her hands were calm and cool. Taking a deep breath, his arm went soft and Tress pulled again.

**

* * *

**

The lot buildings were a blur – he was a blur. His feet were feather light as they spun, barely touching the asphalt and yet propelling him forward at a classic toon sprint. Air was coming into his lungs in powerful gusts, his chest ballooning out with every breath. _Faster,_ he thought, _I want to go faster – I am going faster._ And, as if someone had kickstarted his legs, Yakko bulleted down the path at an unnatural speed.

It was an amazing feeling, unlike anything else he'd ever experienced. He felt supernatural, not of this world, this was power, this was freedom, how could something so good be real? Within moments Yakko hurtled past a black blur; he smirked, but left his thoughts at that. He had the gray object in front of him to focus on. Focus. Concentration. Control. That's what Bugs had taught him, and that was exactly what was going to help him overtake the very same rabbit who was ahead of him.

Yakko concentrated on Bugs' form ahead of him. Bugs was fast. Bugs was really, damn fast. But he was also slightly cocky, overconfident…if Yakko was smart – he darted left, narrowly avoiding a lighting crew guy – he could out maneuver Bugs Bunny.

He swerved right around a golf cart and left around a group of equipment assistants. Urging his body faster, Yakko began to close the gap on Bugs, who was only two body lengths ahead of him. He matched Bugs move for move, swerve for swerve. Darted when he darted. Strafed when he strafed. They were almost at the end of their agreed track, and Yakko's ego couldn't possibly stomach another second place. No, not this time. And his answer was right up ahead: a truck was crossing the street directly in front of them. This was all going to come down to timing. Extremely, meticulously precise timing.

Bugs banked left – he was going to go around the truck. It would only shave milliseconds off his time, which was all Yakko needed. With an extra burst of speed, Yakko hurtled straight for the truck. He couldn't miss a step, or he'd blow it…peeling at a break neck speed, Yakko ducked low to the ground and sprinted beneath the car and between the two sets of wheels. For a moment he heard nothing but the whoosh of air around him and the roar of the engine before he emerged on the other side, barely a nose ahead of Bugs, and thrust himself past the corner of the south building – the finish line.

He slid to a stop, creating skid marks on the asphalt and panting hard. Gasping for breath, Bugs came to a slightly more graceful stop next to him, grinning ear to long ear.

"That was some fancy footwork there, kiddo," Bugs said as he caught his breath, "Why, I think you mighta tied me."

"Tied? I think you need to crack open a rulebook old man, most professionals agree that when I come in first that means _you _came in second," Yakko retorted, smirking.

"I'll give you 'old man,'" Bugs snorted, making a grab for Yakko who laughed and ducked out of the way.

In a flurry of huffing and puffing Daffy, the dark blur that Yakko had lapped long ago, finally staggered across the finish line. He made a show of gasping and wheezing as he leaned on his knees.

"You…cheated," he puffed, glowering at them. "Both of you…dirty, rotten…cheaters…"

"Hmm, I didn't know 'you cheated' meant 'I'm outta shape' in duck language," Yakko quipped.

Bugs gave Daffy a smug smirk, which the duck returned with a nasty glare.

"Cute kid ya got there," Daffy snapped, jerking his head at Yakko, "you teach him to sit and stay too?"

Bugs looped an arm around the wiry duck's shoulders. "Lighten up featherhead, third place ain't bad. Third place outta three, but still, that's a bronze medal!"

"Better not wear the medal when you race us again though. I heard bronze is heavy, and you're slow enough already," Yakko warned.

"You're a real Jerry Lewis," Daffy snarled amidst Bugs and Yakko's laughter, "now, if you'll excuse me, I have better things to do than watch you teach some squirt your ability to snidely insult a star."

"Daff, if I remember correctly, you were the one who told me to, and I quote, 'cleanse my palette because I was about to eat your dust' before the race," Bugs drawled.

"He threw a bear trap in front of me at the starting line," Yakko added to Bugs, who just shook his head at Daffy in a disappointed way.

"For shame, Daff," Bugs said heavily.

Daffy glared at them both for a beat. "When did I miss the memo that said it was harass the duck day?" he asked, arms crossed.

"Probably when you were in last place," Yakko answered immediately.

Bugs doubled over with laughter and judging by the look Daffy was giving both of them Yakko was sure he was about to get a pie to the face. Instead, Daffy pointed at him rather threateningly, going so far has to shove his finger against Yakko's nose as he snapped, "Watch it bub, your hammerspace is going to look like a toddler's playpen by the time I'm through with you!"

He then wheeled around at Bugs, who was still laughing, with a dramatic flourish.

"And _you_," Daffy said direly, trading the finger over to Bugs, "Teaching today's youth to treat their elders in such a despicable manner. You should be ashamed of yourself. I'm ashamed for you! I'm not even mad, I'm just…disappointed. A pathetic show, indeed."

Still grinning, Bugs retorted, "Says the grown man who tried to trip up the kid with a bear trap."

"Details, details," Daffy said dismissively, "Now, as much as I'd love to stick around and watch you two try to show off how clever you are, I have things to do."

"Look at you, duck on the go," Bugs said, amused.

"In case you were unaware, toons are missing. I know it's easy to forget that when you live in I'm-Rich-And-Everything's-Perfect Land, but Toontown's fallen victim to a kidnapping spree and I for one refuse to play little games on the lot while people's lives are at stake!" Daffy proclaimed.

Bugs pulled out a carrot and took a bite as he leaned casually on Daffy's shoulder. "Where'd the sudden interest in the public's wellbeing come from? Last time Yakko and I invited you on a search, you told me your mother died. And here all this time I thought us drawn toons didn't have moms…silly me," Bugs said, smirking.

"Oh dry up cotton ball," Daffy snapped amidst Yakko's snickers, "I can't be at your every beck and call. Speaking of which, I have more important things to do than this, like watching paint dry, or waiting for red traffic lights to turn into green traffic lights or – "

Bugs took his carrot and made a playful jab at Daffy, who jumped to the side quickly. Just as quickly, he completely disappeared. Blinking, Yakko looked wildly around, convinced he had missed something, until he saw Daffy smirking a good thirty feet away next to a lot tram stop.

"You're getting slow in your old age ya gray hair!" Daffy taunted.

"Come back here and I'll show ya how slow I am!" Bugs challenged back.

"We still getting' lunch Saturday?"

"You ask me that every week."

"Yeah yeah yeah," Yakko heard Daffy mutter as the duck strolled away. As Daffy made his way to the private parking lot, Bugs turned to Yakko and chuckled, "And to think we was the worst enemies you'd ever seen when we first started in the business. Now we get lunch at the same café every Saturday like an old married couple." Bugs stared off into the distance for a moment. "Come to think of it, we argue like an old married couple too."

Yakko immediately thought of Buster and had a sudden vision of the two of them, old and wrinkled, arguing over a plate of buffalo wings at some restaurant. It was odd, but mostly because it was sort of funny to picture Buster old. Blue hair turned white, tuft of fur coming out of his ears, whiskers everywhere –

"You okay kid? You looked like you left the planet."

Realizing Bugs was staring at him, Yakko shook his head abruptly.

"No, I'm fine, I just…"

Yakko hesitated for a moment. Did he ask it? He'd wanted to for a while now…did he ask Bugs what it was like to never age, to never feel your body change, for your hair to turn white? He was moments away from asking it, seconds, but when Yakko finally looked Bugs in the eye he was overcome with a sudden, strong fear of offending the rabbit, and a different set of words escaped from his mouth.

"…I just wanted to know how Daffy did that back there. Disappear, I mean."

Bugs raised his brow. "You mean they faked it on your show?"

"Faked what?"

"When you guys had to do a shot on _Animaniacs _where a character looked at you, and you were on one side of the screen, but when the character looked away and back again, you were somewhere entirely different – "

"Yeah –"

" – did you guys actually perform that stunt, or did the editors work some movie magic?"

"Oh, they did that in the editing room," Yakko said, then he narrowed his eyes, "but are you telling me that's actually possible to do? Because if this is another one of those 'let's see how gullible Yakko is today' antics of yours, I'm not gonna be thrilled."

"Of course you can actually do that!" Bugs cried, half amused, half frustrated, "What did they teach you in that school?"

Yakko ticked off on his fingers, "Math, English, history...they had Granny teach us sex ed, don't ask how that went – "

"Quit yer yammerin' and get over here, I need to educate your poor, deprived brain," Bugs instructed.

"Ooh, a lesson," Yakko said, stepping up to Bugs, "and here all this time I thought I'd graduated already."

"Yakkety yak," Bugs muttered. He positioned himself so he was standing just a few feet away from Yakko. "Now, say I'm here," he said, pointing to where his feet were, "but I wanna be – "

Bugs took a step forward, and in the time it took Yakko to blink he was gone. Like he had just vanished from existence. Yakko looked left and right, but a tap on his shoulder caused him to spin around, bringing him face to face with a smirking Bugs.

" – here," Bugs finished, "how would you think I'd go about doing that?"

"Tell me to shut my eyes and count to ten?" Yakko quipped.

"How do ya think I'd do it without being a wise ass?"

"Well, if it's anything like sprinting, I'm sure it's another Jedi mind trick deal where I convince myself I'm there."

"Minus the cultural reference, you're right," Bugs said. He clapped Yakko on the back. "It looks like today's youth ain't doomed after all!"

"Glad I could restore your faith in toonkind," Yakko replied dryly, "but I'm guessing it's not that simple."

Bugs nodded. "Right again. You've got to _want _to be there, that's one thing. You've got to be able to ignore reality too. It's called cutting – they named it after what the editors had to do to replicate the stunt on film when the actors couldn't do it. Your body changes itself, ignores reality, it skips a beat in time."

"Why didn't they even bother to mention this in school?" Yakko grumbled, "I feel like there's some big encyclopedia of toon knowledge they forgot to assign."

"Huh, like a kid's gonna care about something they can't learn in five minutes," Bugs snorted. "You're gonna find out there's a lot they didn't teach ya in school. A whole lot."

"Where did you learn all this, then? Correspondence course?" Yakko challenged.

"Been around for a while," Bugs said with a wink. "Now this trick works great on, eh, simple minded folk. But a toon with brains is another story…they can imagine you're somewhere else just as easily as you can."

At Yakko's frown, Bugs continued, "I could block you if I wanted. Mentally. If I felt like you were gonna try and cut somewhere, I could stop you. It would feel like you ran into a wall. I ain't sayin' it'd be easy to do – took me well over a decade to block a cut, and another two years after that to do it again. Most toons can't do it, especially mortal ones. Some toons – now, this is rare – but some toons can throw you, meanin' they could make you cut somewhere else entirely. What's bad is that they could cut you somewhere you really wouldn't like…in front of a truck…over a cliff…you get the idea."

"But how could you do that? I'm the one cutting, it's my body I'm in control of, I should be able to go where I want," Yakko reasoned.

"It all depends on who's got the better will. Stronger character and all that jazz. The stronger mind will win just like the stronger body would. Long story short, be careful where you cut."

Yakko glanced at the older toon. He'd feel a lot better matching minds with just about anyone other than Bugs; Bugs would probably throw him into next week. He shifted his eyes to the tram stop that Daffy had cut to. It would be amazing to transport himself somewhere else at the blink of an eye…concentrating on the tram stop and only the tram stop, Y took a step forward. Nothing. He had hardly moved.

"Settin' your sights a little high," Bugs said with a smirk. "Like I said, some toons never get it. You've got a chance though…I've only ever see Class A's do it myself. Speakin' a which, that brother of yours ever take his test yet?"

"Not yet, he's still in therapy – damn it, therapy!" Yakko hissed, running a hand through his ears, "Oh my god, I completely lost track of time…I need to pick Wakko up from physical therapy, and then we have to get ready for Dot's birthday…crap, where the hell is Buster? He should've been here a half hour ago – did he forget? I'll call him – no, he never answers his phone. Why does he even have a phone? That phone gets more use as a paper weight than it does – "

Yakko stopped midsentence and looked at Bugs, who was watching him with a bemused face. Blinking for a moment, he quickly threw on a charming smile and clasped his hands together. Taking a page from Dot's book, he cooed in the most complimentary tone imaginable, "Hey, Bugs…"

Bugs raised an eyebrow. "_Yes?_" he asked slowly.

"Picture, if you will," Yakko began, sweeping his hand out in front of him as if displaying an invisible stage, "a little boy with an injured arm, sitting in a doctor's office…alone…waiting and waiting for his big brother to show and take him home…"

When Bugs just continued to eye him suspiciously, Yakko continued, "And at that home is an even littler girl…it's her birthday. She's turning fourteen, and she wants to celebrate it with her two brothers, the only family she knows. But what if they never come? What if she spends the night with a untouched birthday cake, the candles unlit, no presents, no family – "

"Do you want a ride to the doctor's office?" Bugs asked flatly.

"Yes please."

Bugs rolled his eyes. "Geez mac, all ya had to do was ask."

"But that wouldn't have been _nearly_ as fun," Yakko countered.

"Your mouth's done more running than your legs have today. Come on ya crazy thespian, my car's parked in the back," Bugs said. As they walked, Bugs turned back to him. "Dot's really turning fourteen?"

"Yeah, can you believe it?" Yakko replied. He thought for a moment. "It's strange…it feels like yesterday she was four-years-old. It's like I watched her grow up right before my eyes, and I just stood still."

Bugs snorted. "Welcome to my world."

* * *

Wakko shrugged and rolled his shoulders. His arm never felt right after a therapy session; it didn't hurt exactly, but it was uncomfortable. He supposed that moving it around was like a baby's teething: doing something with the problem, no matter how useless, distracted from the irritation. There was nothing to distract him here in the waiting room but the pastel walls and bland potted plants. Staring at Tress had exhausted its entertainment value long ago. Unlike Yakko, he found looking at girls was only fun for so long. Besides, Tress was just typing away at the computer at her desk, which was boring in itself.

Sighing, Wakko turned his gaze to the window, hoping that Buster's car was going to magically pull up. Where were Yakko and Buster anyway? Had they forgotten him? Wakko leaned on his knees, glaring at the ground. Figures that Yakko would forget about him, what with his busy schedule of talking to Buster, talking to Babs, talking to Dot, or, most importantly, talking to the oh-so-great Bugs Bunny. He rolled his eyes. Yakko all but drooled over the rabbit.

He was seriously considering walking home at this point. It wasn't like it was far, he'd probably be home in half an hour, but with all those kidnappings going on Yakko had practically forbid them from looking out the window without some sort of chaperone. But for how late Yakko was he probably could have walked home, been kidnapped, escaped, and walked back to the office by now. The _clickety click _of Tress's nails against the keyboard was really starting to bother him. She probably didn't realize it though. She was probably used to it. It was probably just white noise to her, like how he never seemed to notice when the washer and dryer were running. God, this had gotten so boring that he was thinking about the washer and dryer. Where was Yakko –

The door to the office burst open suddenly. Wakko jumped to his feet, partly because he hoped it was Yakko but mostly because it had surprised him. But it wasn't Yakko; Dr. Scratchensniff hadn't even bothered to shut the door behind him he was so frenzied, and he rushed past Wakko without even a hello. There were a dozen papers clutched so tightly in his hands that they were bent, and several dropped pages had made a trail behind him all the way to the door.

"We have confirmed it!" he cried to Tress, waving his arms and scattering papers everywhere, "it's DIP, I have just conferred with Brain, it is the DIP that killed her, it is DIP without a doubt!"

Her eyes wide, Tress cleared her throat and nodded in Wakko's direction.

"What?" Scratchensniff asked vaguely. He turned around, locked eyes with Wakko, and immediately dropped all of his papers. Looking flustered, he blurted, "I – Wakko! I didn't see you h-hiding there!"

Wakko stared back at him, bewildered. "I wasn't hiding. I was just sitting in this chair – "

"_How is your arm?_" Scratchensniff asked, his voice shrill. He had a maniacal smile on your face.

"Uh, it's fine. What was that about DIP?" Wakko asked.

"Where is your brother? He should have picked you up long ago, because if he had done that, you wouldn't be here to hear things that silly doctors say," Scratchensniff continued. His was bordering on hysterical.

"Do mean the same kind of DIP they had in _Roger Rabbit_? Like the kind Doc Doom used?" Wakko pressed, getting out of his chair.

"Wakko, please sit – "

"It is, isn't it? I didn't even know it was real – "

"Wakko, _please!_" Scatchensniff yelled. Wakko took a step back – he hated when people yelled. And he had never heard Scratchensniff yell off set. It made it seem worse.

"I'm sorry Wakko," Scratchensniff said, softer this time, looking weary, "but please, you mustn't listen to what I say, I am just a silly doctor – "

"So I shouldn't listen to my doctors then?" Wakko asked.

"No, you should, just not about certain, ehm – "

"Hello, nurse! And oh, what's up, doc?"

Yakko had sauntered in through the open door, a smirk on his face. It faded slightly though as his eyes darted from Wakko to Scratchensniff. Wakko glanced out the window. It was Bugs' sleek car that was pulling away from the office, not Buster's.

"I thought we signed up for physical therapy, not mental," Yakko commented slowly, "Ah, you guys alright?"

"Fine Yakko, just fine," Scratchensniff said hurriedly. He gathered up his papers and clutched them to his chest. "I, ehm, Wakko he – he overheard a bad diagnosis. Very bad. He really should not give it a thought. Now, ehm, I'm sorry but I must go. You know what they say: a doctor's duty never dies!"

"Who says that?" Yakko asked, frowning.

"They do!" Scratchensniff blurted. With that, he bustled past Yakko and into his office, shutting the door.

Yakko stared after him. Then he made a show of looking at Wakko, who kept his face blank, and then at Tress, who looked like she didn't know how to compose her face. "I think we need a shrink for the shrink," he said. "Wakko, you need to explain what's going on and Tress, _you _need to stop getting more gorgeous every time I see you."

"Thank you Yakko," Tress said, seeming to remember what she was doing and getting out of her seat. "Now, I'm going to – "

"Seriously, they can't draw 'em better than you."

"That's lovely Yakko. But I need to show you how to help Wakko with his exercises at home, and you're incredibly late."

"'Incredibly' late? Aw c'mon, at least give me _fashionably_ late. It was only ten minutes," Yakko reasoned.

"Actually it was twenty-seven minutes," Wakko piped up, pointing to the clock on the wall.

Yakko glared at him. "Thanks Wak. You should work for Grand Central."

"Just sayin'."

"Sorry, things ran a little late with Bugs."

Wakko crossed his arms. "What, crawling up his butt took longer than you thought?"

Yakko's scowl deepened. "You have something you want to discuss?" he snapped.

"If you're gonna leave me sitting here all day you could at least teach me all the cool stuff he shows you – "

Yakko sighed. "Not with a busted arm I can't – "

"My arm's a lot better since I get to spend so much time at the doctor's office!" Wakko retorted.

"Save it Wak or I'll leave you here til next week – "

"Boys!" Tress shouted suddenly. Yakko and Wakko turned to face her. Her arms were crossed, and her foot was tapping the floor so fast it was a blur. "Do you mind?" she pressed.

"I do mind, but not very well. I hear it takes practice," Yakko replied, and Wakko rolled his eyes.

"If you'll follow me to the clinic room I'll demonstrate the exercises with Wakko," Tress said calmly, leading them down the hallway.

Strolling up next to her and matching her stride, Yakko said, "I'm sure my brother's tired from the exercises already. Why don't you demonstrate with me?"

Wakko trailed behind them as Yakko tried to persuade Tress into touching his arm. He stared as they passed Scratchensniff's door on the right. It was shut, with a 'Do Not Disturb' sign dangling off kilter from the doorknob. Wakko frowned. _It is the DIP that killed her_…that had to have meant Slappy. But DIP? That stuff that dissolved toons? Who would do that to someone? A horrible image of Slappy's skin bubbling and covered in DIP sparked through his mind and Wakko shuddered.

* * *

"Yakko. Please. I'm begging you. I'll do anything. I'll do chores. I'll be in a Tim Allen movie. Just please, _please _let me go downstairs."

Dot edged toward the door of his room and hoped that Yakko wouldn't notice. About a half hour ago he had herded her up the stairs and into her bedroom and announced that he needed her opinion on clothes. This had immediately raised her suspicions; not only had Yakko never expressed an interest in his personal fashion sense, but he had, at best, six outfits. Convinced that he was cornering her about sneaking out to see Skippy on more than one occasion, she kept her mouth shut and went along with it. But after a half hour of 'do you like this shirt or that shirt better' and no mention of any wrongdoing, Dot would have gladly fessed up to anything if it meant she could leave. Maybe he was trying to wear down her will.

"Just another minute – here, look," Yakko said, holding up a button down shirt to his chest, "Could I wear this to a producer's meeting?"

Swinging her head at him, Dot gave him a deadpan stare. "Could you wear that shirt to a producer's meeting? You mean the shirt I already told you could wear to a producer's meeting three clothing conversations ago? Yes, I believe you could wear that to a producer's meeting."

"Excellent. What about this shirt? Would this go with jeans?"

"Yakko, big brother that I love and respect," Dot said, adding a note of pleading to her voice, "if you value your life you will let me leave this room. Now."

Yakko's tail snaked its way around her wrist and gently tugged her away from the door. "Aw c'mon, who else do I have to consult about the wide world of fashion? Wakko? Buster? Do you want your brother to go out in public looking like he got dressed in the dark?"

Dot groaned and slumped against the bed. "Pleeeease Yakko, it's my birthday, I didn't really want to spend it as a captive. I was thinking a cake, maybe some presents…friends…but captivity? Nah, wasn't on the agenda. Plus your room smells like kung pao chicken. Gross."

Yakko raised an eyebrow and took a large step toward her. "Wait a sec…" he said slowly, "…is it your birthday?"

"You've only said 'happy birthday' to me about eighty times today," Dot retorted.

Yakko smirked and flung a shirt over his shoulder. Engulfing her in a hug, he said, "Let's make it eighty-one then: happy birthday Dot!" Getting to his feet after one final squeeze, he continued, "On that note, I think we should go downstairs," and he steered her out the door by her shoulders.

"About time," Dot muttered irritably as they descended the staircase. Whatever her brother was up to, she had stopped caring about it fifteen minutes ago. Right about now she'd rather watch ice freeze before spending another minute –

"SURPRISE!"

Dot cried out and stumbled back into Yakko's arms. Buster's entire living room was decked out in birthday decorations: streamers wound in and out of each other about the room, balloons covered every square inch of the ceiling and a large banner that read "Happy Birthday Dot!" stretched across the foyer. Several people were clustered in the living room; Babs was putting a lot of effort into stretching party hats on both Wakko and Buster's heads, while Skippy and Scratchensniff were beaming up at her. Skippy gave her a quick wave. There were several presents piled on couch next to them, and in the kitchen Dot could see a large pink cake.

"You _guys!_" Dot shrieked, a grin splitting across her face. She looked up at Yakko, who smiled warmly at her. "Go on, birthday girl," he whispered, giving her a soft nudge. She quickly squeezed him around the waist before dashing down the stairs and toward her friends.

"Yakko and Skippy were the masterminds behind all this," Babs said, snapping the party hat string under Wakko's chin. He yelped and glared at her.

Having just engulfed Skippy in a hug, Dot pulled back and looked at him. "Really?"

"Well, I helped," Skippy said modestly, his cheeks coloring, "but Yakko did a lot of the work. And Babs decorated."

"Did she really?" Yakko mused, sidling up to her side. "Impressive."

"Birthdays really bring out my inner Martha Stewart," Babs replied to him.

Yakko looked like he was about to say something but Buster half-tackled him and rolled him into a headlock. When Buster finally released Yakko, he was wearing a party hat.

"Babs may have decorated the house, but I decorated Yakko," Buster said proudly. Yakko promptly reached up and smacked Buster's own party hat right off his head.

"Happy birthday Dot!" Scratchensniff said as she giggled, "my goodness you are growing up so fast!"

"Don't remind me," Yakko grumbled.

"Why just yesterday it seems you were a tiny wee thing, running around the lot like a crazy little ape," Scratchensniff continued, sniffing a bit.

Dot glared at Wakko who was snickering over the word 'wee,' but Skippy grabbed her hand and pulled her. "Open your presents!" he urged.

"Yeah, open them so we can eat the cake already," Wakko muttered impatiently.

"Take all the time you need with your presents Dot," Yakko countered, eyeing Wakko sternly, "open them as slowly as you want…savor the moment…"

Wakko glared at him huffily, but the effect was voided by the bright yellow party hat attached to his head.

Unable to contain the childish glee at the sight of unopened gifts, Dot practically launched herself into the couch and eagerly grabbed the top present. One thing she had never understood about Wakko was how he was always embarrassed about opening presents at his parties. Something about not liking "everybody watching him." But Dot didn't care – she was going to open her gifts, and if someone was watching her, all the better.

The top one was from Buster, which was a gift card to the mall. "I felt like I couldn't go wrong with that," he said unashamedly. Next up was Babs, who, to Dot's delight, had gotten her a very nice makeup kit. This caused Yakko to glare at Babs with clear disapproval.

"Are you _trying _to put me in an early grave?" he asked her pointedly.

Babs gave him a very toothy grin. "I can't help that I know what a girl needs," she cooed.

Trying not to look as incredibly pleased by the makeup as she felt, Dot chirped, "Thanks Babs!" and soldiered on with her gifts. Unwrapping Scratchensniff's present revealed a thick book titled, _I'm a Growing Girl: Navigating Your Thoughts and Feelings as a Teenage Toon._ She locked eyes with Yakko for a moment before turning to Scratchensniff with a plastered grin.

"Thanks Scratchy, I needed a…good read!" Dot said haltingly, trying her best to inject sincerity into her voice.

"I think you'll find it very informative!" Scratchensniff said earnestly.

"_Got you that book for your birthday_," she heard Yakko whisper to Buster, who snickered and told him he'd "_already read it_." Yakko whispered something back, which had both of their shoulders shaking with laughter. Rolling her eyes at them, Dot picked up a small, neatly wrapped box with a tag that read, "From your delightful brothers." Feeling a twinge of excitement, Dot ripped off the paper. Within seconds a smile exploded across her face like a firework.

"A camera?" she gasped to Yakko, clutching the box, "How'd you know I wanted one?"

"Oh, I don't know, you only mentioned it every week for the last four months," Yakko mused.

Leaping forward, Dot caught her oldest brother around the waist and squeezed him tightly. "Thank you thank you!" she gushed.

Wakko crossed his arms and cleared his throat pointedly. Dot gave him a sly look. "I'll give you a million bucks if any part of this wasn't all Yakko's idea."

"Hey, I helped too!" Wakko protested.

"What, when you wrote your name on the card?" Dot snapped.

"Cool it Dot, the camera's from Wakko too," Yakko said, sounding resigned but hugging her anyway, "as the card denotes you have _two _brothers, and we're both delightful."

"You're welcome," Wakko muttered to her sarcastically.

Dot barely suppressed an eye roll. She refused to believe that Wakko had any part in her gift – he probably hadn't even known what he'd "gotten" her until she unwrapped it. But whatever, she had her own camera now, she'd wanted one forever. It looked like a nice one too…Yakko had good taste. That, or he was good at talking up the store clerk into pointing him toward the best deal.

"Still got one more present Dot," Buster pointed out.

Buster was right; behind the camera was a very small, carefully wrapped box. Picking it up, Dot realized from the note attached to it that the gift was from Skippy.

"Aw Skip, you didn't have to get me anything!" she said.

"Yeah, even Wakko knew that," Buster quipped. Wakko quickly reached up and snapped the rubber band from the party hat beneath Buster's chin.

Ignoring them, Dot smiled at Skippy, who gave her an embarrassed smile back. The gift was so precisely wrapped that Dot felt bad ripping it open and found herself carefully unraveling it. Peeling off the paper left her with a small white box, which she opened. Dot nearly did a double take: it was a bottle of perfume.

Wakko snorted quietly and he, along with Buster and Babs, immediately turned to Yakko. Her oldest brother was standing very still and staring at the perfume with an unreadable expression on his face, his mouth slightly open; Yakko looked as though he could either swing into a violent rage or turn tail and run out of the house screaming at any moment. Thankfully he didn't turn that look on Skippy, because Dot was sure it would make the boy just faint. Yakko was finally broken out of his spell by a small nudge from Babs, who whispered, "Looks like she doesn't need the makeup." Turning to her very slowly, Yakko narrowed his eyes at her and grumbled, "Very funny."

"I…um," Dot stammered, not quite knowing what to think or do, "it's…it's nice Skip."

"Ooooh!" Wakko teased, waggling his eyebrows. That was it. She was just going to have to strangle her brother with her bare hands. But before Dot could even make a grab for him Yakko gave Wakko such a chilling look that he clammed up instantly. It was too late though; Skippy's face had colored significantly, and he stared at the floor and mumbled something that sounded like, "wasn't sure what to get you" and "you can take it back if you don't like it." Dot, who felt her own face burning, mumbled back, "No, no it's good, I like it."

God, what had he been thinking? She had never wore perfume in her life, and even if she had, it still made absolutely no sense. Skippy was her friend, and friends didn't buy each other perfume. And now she was never going to live this down, Wakko was sure to use it as fodder for ridicule for the next decade. And by the looks of it, Skippy's gift had just taken about five years off of Yakko's life.

The next thing she knew Scratchensniff had stuck his bald head into to the fray and took a gigantic whiff of the perfume. "Ooh, that's very nice!" he commented, "It's like my bath soap!"

Dot tried to smile at him but her face arranged itself into more of a grimace instead. Turning to her with a nasty grin, Wakko said, "Now you can smell like Scratchensniff after a sponge bath!"

"Shut it Wakko," Yakko snapped. "You too!" he added to Buster, who was hiding giggles. It didn't help that Yakko had barely covered a snort himself.

Giving the boys an annoyed sniff, Babs stepped forward. "That was so sweet of you Skippy," she said kindly, "I bet you don't have anything like that, huh Dot?"

Noting that Babs was throwing her a rather knowing look, Dot shook her head fervently. "Nope, nothing like it!"

Thankfully some of the tension left Skippy's face, but the coloring did not. Smiling, Dot gave a quick hug around the shoulders. Wakko opened his mouth to comment, but Yakko cut him off with a sharp, "_Not one word._"

When she let go of them, there was a bit of an awkward pause, and Dot could feel everyone's eyes on her and Skippy. Now quite sure that this reached the upper echelons of most embarrassing moments in her life, it took all of her being to not run for the door. Luckily Yakko clapped his hands and shouted, "Birthday cake!" which seemed to bring everyone out of their stupor. This provided a welcome distraction; after everyone chanted "happy birthday to you" Dot was blowing out the candles on her cake, which Yakko cut moments later. Taking her slice – a corner piece for the extra icing – Dot made her way to Skippy.

"Hey Skip, you haven't touched your cake," she said.

Scraping at the icing with his fork, Skippy looked at her glumly. "I'm so sorry about the perfume, I embarrassed you really bad."

"No you didn't!" Dot protested. Skippy stared at her flatly. "Okay, yeah, a little," she conceded, "but it was really thoughtful! Definitely more thoughtful than what Wakko did anyway, since he didn't have any thoughts at all."

"Thanks," Skippy said, his face lightening a bit, "it's just that it's hard, ya know, shopping for a girl without…without Aunt Slappy helping me out. I was at the mall with Nutsy, and he kept complaining about his feet and all the 'punks' walking around, and I just kinda blanked out. I…I wanted to get you something nice."

"And you did," Dot said a matter-of-factly.

"I guess. But I wanted to get you something _really_ nice, 'cause you're special, Dot," he continued.

Great, her face was feeling hot again. At this rate she was going to have second-degree burns. She brought her plate of cake close to her face in an effort to hide it, but Skippy seemed to notice; his own face coloring again, Skippy blurted, "It doesn't have to mean, uh, stuff or anything! You're special, but not that kinda special – no, wait, I didn't mean that, I'm sorry, I meant – "

"How about we just quit while we're ahead," Dot interjected.

"Good idea," Skippy said.

They continued to talk, but about topics that were decidedly not the perfume. This went much better and made things substantially less awkward. As Dot giggled at an observation from Skippy, she glanced around at the party. Wakko, who had somehow wound up wearing three party hats all at odd angles on his head, was playing some kind of ridiculous game with Buster that involved the slowly deflating balloons. It seemed like they were bent on integrating Scratchensniff into the game, and the poor doctor looked halfway between amused and horrified as he helplessly batted the balloons away. Meanwhile, Yakko and Babs were seated on the couch and having a rather animated discussion.

For that moment, everything was good. Everyone seemed so at ease, everyone seemed so calm, so happy, that Dot should have known, really, that it wasn't going to last. But it was hard to imagine things going wrong when they were so peaceful. So when the doorbell rang, Dot skipped to the door excitedly.

"Who could that be?" Yakko muttered as Dot passed him.

"Party guest, duh!" Dot trilled back. She wrapped her fingers around the doorknob and swung open the door, smiling widely. To her surprise, a large white horse with a prominent gap between its two front teeth was standing on Buster's porch.

"Far…_Farfignewton?_" Dot said in disbelief.

Farfignewton let out a panicked whinny. Yakko had approached the doorway by now, and placed his hands on Dot's shoulders as he addressed the horse.

"Hey Farf, why the long face?" Yakko quipped, "Something happen? Where are Pinky and Brain?"

At this, Farfignewton whinnied loud and long. She lowered her head, revealing Pinky, who was sitting on her back. His face was tear streaked and his eyes were as red as his nose. He stared them, lip quivering, his whole body shaking.

"Pinky, are you okay?" Dot asked.

That was all it took. Pinky let loose a despairing wail and immediately began to sob. He dashed across Farfignewton's neck and back and leapt off her head and into Dot's arms. As he soaked her shirt with tears, he barely choked out the words, "Brain," "gone" and "narf."

"Okay Pinky, take a deep breath and provide us with complete sentences," Yakko encouraged, holding out his hand. Blinking up at him and – to Dot's infinite horror – wiping his snotty nose on her shoulder, Pinky hopped onto Yakko's palm. He lifted Pinky to his face.

"Tell me what's wrong – what happened to Brain?" Yakko asked.

Gasping for breath between sobs, Pinky finally managed to cry out, "Oh Y-Yakko, he's g-g-gone! He's gone, gone gone! B-Brain and his big head are gone!"

As the small mouse broke into fresh sobs, Yakko walked Pinky over to the living room where the rest of their friends were watching anxiously. He sat down in the middle of the couch next to Wakko. Delicately wiping the sheen of snot from her shirt, Dot joined him on his other side.

"Slow down Pinky, slow down…just tell me what happened, and we'll help you find him, all right?" Yakko said.

"But, b-but your party…" Pinky whimpered.

"Don't worry Pinky, it's just Dot's," Wakko said casually.

"Shut up, Wakko," Dot snapped. Then she turned to Pinky with a soft face. "It's okay Pinky, I don't mind."

"Just tell us exactly what happened, as much detail as you can remember," Yakko said, lightly patting Dot on the back with his free hand.

Pinky nodded, and several tears flopped off his face and soaked into Yakko's glove. "O-o-okay, this, this is what h-happened. I woke up this morning, and I got out of b-bed, then I went to the b-bathroom, and then I had b-breakfast. I had three p-pellets. They were granola flavored, like the breakfast k-kind, I think they use r-real granola too, except I don't know how they squeeze all that granola into that tiny pellet – "

"Maybe less detail," Yakko interjected, "why don't you skip to the part where you noticed Brain was missing?"

"Oh, g-good idea," Pinky said in a watery voice, "Me and Figgy went to Brain's house to watch _Jeopardy_ like we always do, because I'm trying to beat my record," he said. "Two questions right each year," he added to Wakko, whose eyes flicked to Yakko.

"And what did you find at Brain's?" Yakko prompted him.

His eyes welling up with fresh tears, Pinky sobbed, "Oh Yakko, his beautiful little house was s-s-smashed! Someone stomped all o-over it!"

"Stomped? Who the hell could stomp on a house without getting noticed? Wouldn't a giant in the neighborhood be a bit obvious?" Buster asked.

"He lives in the mouse district Buster, all the houses on the street aren't any bigger than a dollhouse," Babs informed him.

"So me and Figgy dug through, in case Brain was s-stuck," Pinky continued, "and we dug and dug, but we couldn't f-find him at all. And his lab stuff – all the sparkly bottles and chemicals – they were g-gone too."

"You are telling a joke!" Scratchensniff blurted suddenly, making Wakko jump. "All of our – I mean, his materials? Gone?"

"All of it!" Pinky cried, flailing his arms.

"Did you find any kind of clue, like a note or a trail, anything that might suggest an assailant?" Scratchensniff pressed. Dot looked up at him. His face was as white as a sheet.

"Who says someone attacked him?" Buster asked, "Sounds like he bolted – took all his lab work and busted the house to destroy the evidence."

"Evidence of what?" Babs asked, raising her eyebrows at him.

Buster frowned, shrugging. "Um…evil genius stuff? I don't know, it was just a guess, god…"

"Brain's not evil!" Pinky cried defensively, "that whole taking over the world thing, it was just a quirk!"

Wakko glanced at Yakko, concerned. "He knows that was just a TV show, right?" he whispered.

"I think he might've missed that memo," Yakko whispered back. He turned to Pinky. "We know Brain's not evil, Buster just wants his life to be a Hardy Boys novel," Yakko said, shooting a look at his friend, "Now, back to what Scratchy was saying, did you see anything? Anything at all?"

"Not much, just a t-trail of footprints," Pinky said sadly.

Yakko blinked. "Wait, footprints? Really? Could you, eh, elaborate on that?"

Pinky wiped his nose noisily across his arm. "I can t-try, I didn't look at them a lot, they were scary…they were more like pawprints really, and they…a-and they, they were made out of…out of ink!"

I thrill of knowing foreboding coursed through her. Dot gasped and locked eyes with Skippy. "_Weasels,_" they hissed in unison. Soon everyone's eyes were on them, including Yakko's. He was watching her particularly closely. Biting her lip, Dot avoided meeting his eyes.

"W-weasels?" Pinky repeated.

"We had a small issue with some weasel toons a few months back," Yakko explained, though his eyes never left Dot's face, "the ink thing was a bit of a theme."

"I'm callin' the cops," Babs said, turning around swiftly. Dot noticed that Yakko jumped slightly at the word 'cops,' and watched Babs fretfully for a moment before clearing his throat.

"So did ya follow the footprints?" Buster asked, his ears perked forward.

Pinky nodded, sniffling. "Me and Figgy followed them a l-little bit…we ran out of feet to follow near Slappy's old house – " Pinky's wide, watery blue eyes shot up to Skippy. " – oh, Skippy, I'm sorry, I didn't want to make you sad – "

"S'okay," Skippy said quickly. "Keep going, it's fine."

His lip quivering, Pinky pressed on, "Well okay, we followed them, but there were a whole bunch and I got c-confused, and then I think I followed rabbit tracks for a while, but then I found the r-right ones again, and they ended at, at Slappy's. So we knocked on Minerva's door, to see if she w-was okay, but she wouldn't answer her door. All the lights were on in her house but she wouldn't answer, and that would be an awful waste of electricity if she was home…anyway, we went down the street to, to your new house, Skippy," Pinky said, nodding to the boy, "and your friend Nutsy was there, and he yelled at us for w-waking him up and told us to get off his lawn – "

"Sounds about right," Dot mumbled.

" – and he said that Scratchensniff took you here, and so we came h-here," Pinky finished. "Troz…" he added in little sob.

Babs strode back into the room, looking at everyone. "The police are on their way to Brain's, but they said they couldn't promise anything. There've been so many kidnappings and no leads, even though I told them about the weasels about eight times on the phone. You'd think that would count as a tip off," she said snappily.

Scratchensniff, who had been pacing for the last five minutes, finally stopped to swipe at his forehead. His head was shining with sweat that gathered in the cracks of his furrowed brow. "Pinky, this is all very distressing, but please, do not panic," Scratchensniff said, sounding incredibly close to panicking himself, "and please, please do not mention Brain's lab things to anyone."

"W-Why not?" Pinky asked in a shaky voice.

"Yeah, why not?" Yakko added.

Scratchensniff blanched, then said as he looked at the floor, "His lab things are very private and very important, it would be bad if his ideas were somehow thrown right into the public's eye."

"Yes, that would hurt their eye very much," Pinky said.

Dot and her brothers regarded Scratchensniff critically. Wakko was frowning especially hard, and seemed to teeter on the edge of saying something. Dot was familiar with that look, since Wakko often seemed to go through spells of finding it incredibly difficult to talk.

Yakko, who had not inherited that particular trait, said, "You don't think that would be a good idea, Scratchy? Giving the cops as much evidence as possible? What if it's the lab equipment that leads them to Brain?"

"That is all very much speculative," Scratchensniff reasoned, sounding hysterical. He wrung his hands for a moment before swinging around. "Skippy," he yelped, causing the boy to jump, "it looks like this news is upsetting you, I think I will take you home."

Skippy shook his head. "I'm okay, really – "

"I believe Nutsy wanted you home by seven o'clock," Scratchensniff said, nodding furiously.

"I don't think he ever gave me a curfew," Skippy said, frowning. "Besides, that was three hours ago – "

"Exactly, which makes you very late! Come on now, it is not safe, we have to go together," Scratchensniff said hurriedly.

With a sigh, Skippy looked at Dot and shrugged. She shrugged back; she was almost afraid to argue with Scratchensniff at this point, the doctor looked like he was about to faint.

"Thank you all for inviting me, ehm, happy birthday Dot," Scratchensniff said as he headed for the door.

"Yeah Dot, happy birthday," Skippy added, pausing beside her. For a moment it looked like he was going to hug her, but one look from Yakko and he abruptly turned around. Dot shot a glare at her oldest brother, who looked annoyingly satisfied.

Skippy followed Scratchensniff out the door and past Farfignewton, who was staring in at them morosely.

"We'll keep an eye out for Brain, Pinky!" Skippy called, waving.

Babs waved to them from the doorway until Scratchensniff's car disappeared around the corner. Dot watched her as she placed a plate of cake at Farfignewton's feet, lost in thought. Brain was gone. His house had been destroyed, leaving only inky footprints in its wake. It had to have been the weasels…were they the ones kidnapping people? Would that have been her fate in Central Park had Yakko not saved them? What were they doing with everyone? Why on earth would they want Brain?

Pinky sniffled a bit, and dabbed at his eyes with his tail. "I hope wherever Brain is, he found a toothbrush," he said, "he left his at the house."

* * *

**I just wanted to give a quick shout out to my reviewers - you guys are the absolute best. Your thoughtful comments really motivate me to make this story as good as possible. I love that you take the time to examine the story and I love reading your theories as to what's going to happen. You guys rock, thank you so much!**


	11. Invaded

_**Chapter 10: Invaded**_

Dot had always liked a summer night. As time slowly bled into June, the nights had become warmer and more alive with the sounds and smells of summer. Even now as she was crouched low to the ground Dot took the time to breath in the sweet smell of the grass. Having grown up in the cement sea of the Warner Brothers lot, she had rarely gotten the chance to enjoy a bed of grass.

"Find anything?" Skippy called.

"You'll be the first to know if I do," she called back.

She rolled her eyes. As badly as she wanted to find Brain, Skippy was taking this way too seriously. Convinced that Brain's disappearance was somehow linked to Slappy's murder, Skippy had turned into a one man detective team. He was relentless in his pursuit of clues and now, for the first time since her death, Skippy had worked up the nerve to search her property. So Dot found herself crouching in the grass, flashlight in hand, searching Slappy's overgrown yard for clues in the darkness.

If Yakko found out she was here she would be a dead toon. In fact, if he found out she'd snuck out to Skippy's house several times over the last few weeks he would kill her, resurrect her, and kill her again. This kidnapping thing had him in full mother hen mode; if she or Wakko so much as left their bedrooms without permission Yakko would call a SWAT team. But he couldn't be vigilant all the time, there were moments when he was distracted. Helping Wakko with physical therapy, spending time with Bugs, talking to Buster or Babs..._especially_ when he was talking to Babs…all of those times Dot found she could disappear, unnoticed.

In one way, Yakko had no one to blame but himself. Ever since the perfume incident Yakko had kept an annoyingly sharp eye on Skippy. She and Skippy were no longer allowed to hang out in her bedroom, he always had some reason for why she couldn't go to Skippy's house, and whenever they were alone Yakko somehow popped up, half the time not even bothering to come up with an excuse for being there. While he had never actually forbidden Skippy from coming to the house, he never made the experience a pleasant one. It was easier to go to Skippy's. Nutsy spent most of his time sleeping and when he wasn't doing that he made crotchety comments about Dot's choice in clothing. She could handle that.

Where Yakko got off on his behavior Dot had no idea. He'd been running around, alone, with girls without older siblings barging in on him for years. And the girls he ran around with were skanks. Rebecca had been an all time low; she was catty, vain, shallow, and always looked like Yakko was her fifth guy on any given night. At least Skippy was nice. Had a grasp on hygiene. He was friendly, fun to be around, kinda cute…

Her heart skipped and Dot gave her head a good shake. No, it was too weird, she couldn't think of Skippy as cute. Okay, fine, he was cute, but from a completely objective standpoint. Like the way she could say her brothers were good looking without it meaning anything. Skippy was family. Like a brother.

Right?

Giving her head one last shake, Dot pushed herself to her feet and brushed grass off her knees. "Skip, I've looked at every blade of grass in this whole lawn and I haven't even found a gum wrapper, let alone a clue…Skip?"

Heart suddenly beating into overdrive, Dot spun around, wielding the flashlight like a sword. Oh god, he had been kidnapped, she was next, Yakko was going to be so pissed –

"Right here," came Skippy's voice.

He was standing directly in front of the house. He seemed to have forgotten where he was or why he was there, and instead was lost, staring.

"Skip?" Dot said slowly, approaching him with hesitant steps.

"It's been half a year since she died," Skippy murmured. His voice was so soft Dot had barely noticed he'd spoken. "But it's like I still expect her to come out the front door."

Skippy gestured vaguely to the porch. Well kept when she was alive, it was now overrun with tangles of vines and leaves. The slats of wood were already beginning to rot, and childish graffiti was scrawled above the doorbell.

"How…how are you doing?" Dot asked.

Skippy sighed. "For a while I tried to forget, but…now…I don't think I should." He turned to her and smiled. It was small and sad, but still a smile. Smiling back at him, Dot took a step closer, seeing more of her old friend than she had in a long time –

In the trees beyond Skippy's shoulder, a dark mass darted between two trunks. Dot cried out in shock and jumped backwards. Skippy's hand immediately shot up to his mouth.

"Is there something in my teeth?" he asked, touching them.

"No, I saw something!" Dot hissed, grabbing his arm and pulling him away.

"Where?"

"In the trees!"

"What was it?"

"I don't know!"

The porch light of the neighboring house flicked on, spilling light into the yard. Minerva stepped out of her house, tightening a red bath robe around her waist. Her face was caked in some kind of green paste.

"What the hell's going on out here?" she barked.

"Minerva!" Dot cried. The mink narrowed her eyes at her. "Minerva be careful, I just saw something, there, in the trees – "

"What are you doing here?" she asked. Dot supposed she meant it to be a neutral question, but it just came across as rude.

"Nothin'," Skippy said.

"Do 'nothin'' somewhere else then," Minerva said, giving the word 'nothin'' an insulting drawl.

"Skippy used to live here ya know," Dot said testily.

Minerva mirrored Dot's stance, crossing her arms and lowering her head. "No, Slappy used to live here, and in case you didn't notice, she's gone now. So why don't you rugrats scamper on home, 'kay?"

Dot gasped in outrage. "That was a horrible thing to say you – "

"Forget it, let's just go," Skippy mumbled, pulling her by the arm.

"No way, she can't just say crap like that!" Dot protested.

"Dot, c'mon," Skippy urged.

"Go on, listen to your boyfriend," Minerva taunted.

Dot gave her the dirtiest glare she had, the one that she routinely practiced on Wakko.

"I hope whatever's in the woods comes and kicks the crap out of you!" Dot yelled as Skippy dragged her away.

Smirking, Minerva waved with a roll of her fingers and slipped back through the door.

"What a bitch!" Dot exclaimed incredulously. "And I thought Jeanie was bad!"

"Whoa, cool it Dot," Skippy breathed, staring at her as though she was growing another head.

"I just, she can't – argh!" Dot growled.

"It's okay Dot, I don't really care about what she thinks. I care a lot more about what you think," Skippy said.

Dot snorted. "That was way cheesy, you know," she said, glad that the darkness could hide her coloring face.

Just then she saw a very distinct movement from across the street. She gasped and jumped backward, colliding with Skippy and causing him to stumble.

"_Whatwasthat_?" she blurted in frantic whisper.

Straightening up, Skippy squinted into the darkness with her. The opposite side of the street was lined with cherry trees that were spotlighted by the streetlamps. Dot held her breath, waiting, until she saw it – a slim, rat-like head peeking out from behind the tree.

"I think it's a weasel," Skippy said.

Dot whimpered as fear pulsed through her. "Oh no…how many are there? Forget it, let's just run – no, that was bad last time, maybe we should try to get help – "

"Cool it Dot, I think he's by himself…and look, he's small, he's so skinny he fits behind the tree," Skippy pointed out.

Swallowing, Dot watched the weasel. Even from across the street it was easy to tell that he was incredibly underfed. Pockets of skin and bone were highlighted and shadowed in the light. He seemed docile enough; unlike the rabid weasels that had attacked her in the park, this guy seemed content to just watch them from the safety of the tree.

"Why's he watching us?" she asked.

"Dunno. Maybe he's scared?"

"Let's just get out of here," Dot said uneasily. They continued down the street, and Dot noticed that the weasel flitted from tree to tree, following them. They quickened their pace, and she stuck close to Skippy.

"Don't worry Dot," Skippy said when she whimpered again, "I'll protect you."

Dot looked up at her friend. If that same statement came from Yakko, she would have believed it and immediately felt at ease. But, with no offense to him, Skippy wasn't exactly the rough and tumble type. Then again, he said it so confidently that Dot couldn't help but feel a tiny bit better. They walked, quickly and quietly, until they reached Buster's house. The weasel followed them the entire way, and lingered when they did. Dot did not like the way he watched them, as though studying them, with feverish eyes that reflected the lamplight.

"What do we do now?" Dot whispered, never taking her eyes off the weasel.

"Well, you can go back to Buster's, and I'll make sure you get inside safely and stuff, and then I'll go back home," Skippy said in such a matter-of-fact way that for a second he reminded her of Wakko.

"Don't be stupid Skip, I can't just leave you alone with that weasel out here!" Dot protested.

"I'll be fine, I've been practicing with my hammerspace," Skippy said.

Dot frowned. She didn't care if Skippy was the next Bugs Bunny – she didn't trust that weasel anymore than she wanted to be caught outside the house. Maybe she could sneak Skippy in, and he could hide until it was safe –

A loud burst of laughter came from the other end of the street. The weasel jolted and skirted into the darkness, disappearing. Dot and Skippy scurried behind a large oak tree and peeked around the trunk. Buster and Plucky were walking home – well, maybe 'staggering' home would be more appropriate – shouting and laughing the whole way.

"See, he's gone now, I'll be fine," Skippy reasoned.

"Are you sure?" Dot asked.

"I'll call you as soon as I get back," he said perkily. They paused, looking at each other, and if Skippy hadn't noticed her blushing before he'd have to be blind not to see it now. For a moment, it looked as though he was leaning into her, towards her face; Dot's breath caught and she froze. But at the last moment he seemed to panic and instead wrapped his arms around her in an incredibly awkward hug. He even patted her back.

"I uh, I'll see you later," he mumbled, looking disappointed in himself.

"Uh, okay," Dot stammered back, not quite sure what had just happened but feeling a swelling in her chest.

Noticing that his own face was darkening rapidly, Skippy walked briskly down the sidewalk. Dot watched him go, then made the familiar route to the study window. She heaved it open then lifted herself inside, grinning from ear to ear like a fool.

**

* * *

**

"That's lovely Plucky…yes, I'm very impressed by how far you can stretch your tongue when you're drunk," Yakko drawled.

He guided Plucky down the sidewalk and to the taxi cab, Plucky's tongue dragging behind them in the grass.

"Bud loog," he said, his voice garbled as he pulled his tongue out another few inches, "izz twiss az long!"

"I'll call the record books," Yakko said.

"Promiz?"

"Promise."

Yakko opened the door and eased him into the taxi. He was about to shut the door when Plucky lunged forward and gave him a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

"I lub you," Plucky said affectionately.

Yakko stared back at him. "You know Plucky, that's the most action I've had in months, and that's depressing me, so I'm gonna send you home now, okay?"

"Okay!"

Yakko slammed the door shut. "Hanna Barbera and third," he told the driver, "could you make sure he gets inside?"

The cab driver gave Plucky a disgusted look before turning back to Yakko. "We'll see," he grumbled.

"I appreciate it," Yakko said dryly before slapping the roof. The cab driver sped off, and Yakko shook his head.

It was probably in his best interest to check on Buster. He had gone out with his friend a few times, more so out of curbing Buster's habits than personal desire. It seemed to have worked too; while Buster hadn't expressed any interest in limiting his behavior, or even acknowledged that limiting would be a good idea, they had still managed to have fun without another episode of Yakko dragging Buster home. Buster seemed to noticeably contain himself in Yakko's presence, but Plucky did nothing but encourage him, and Yakko was left to clean up the mess.

Yakko made his way to Buster's door, which was open. But when he stuck his head inside he found Babs seated on the bed, her legs folded beneath her as she absently flipped through the channels on the TV. Her ears were down, draping casually over her shoulder and across her neck. Her fingers were curled around a mug of coffee, gripping it, clenching it really, as though she was trying to stop it from running away. They were so tense that the bones in the flat of her hand were protruding, but it did not take away from the softness of the hook her fingers formed. After a moment Yakko realized he was staring at her hands and he quickly caught himself. It didn't matter – she was looking away from him, but she didn't really seem to be looking at anything in particular.

"You shouldn't drink that stuff, it'll stunt your growth," Yakko said.

Babs' ears whipped around her face as she jumped and spun to face him.

"And apparently it does nothing for your nerves," he added.

"Hasn't Bugs taught you to knock yet?" Babs gasped, clutching her chest and looking harried.

"Some of his lessons take longer to sink in," Yakko replied. He lingered, his hands resting on either side of the doorframe. The desire to enter the room was pulling him by the navel, but a small voice in his brain was telling him no, this was Buster's room, this was Buster's girlfriend, and that crossing the threshold of the door meant something much more. He shouldn't go in, it was wrong, unfair, an intrusion. Out of bounds. But then Babs flicked off the television in disgust and the instant the words, "Ugh, this show is embarrassing itself. Come here and talk to me," came out of her mouth, his resistance was broken. So, so easily. Feeling as though he had crossed some kind of boundary, Yakko let go of the door and took a seat on the very edge of the bed.

This was fine. Really. Why wouldn't it be? Of course he could sit on the bed with Babs. After all, they were friends, and that was fine among friends. Friends could sit in the same room. Babs was Buster's girlfriend. He was Buster's best friend. That meant there was some kind of invisible barrier between them. So that was good, right?

Well if it was so good, then why couldn't he just relax and sit on the bed without looking like there was a stick up his ass like a goddamn normal person –

"Yakko?"

He was jolted out of his self deprecation by Babs' questioning stare. Her blue eyes were wide, and she had one eyebrow raised quite high. He mirrored her, quirking his eyebrow and saying quickly, "I'm fine. Where's our resident blue bunny?"

Her scowl was immediate. "Bathroom," she said flatly.

"He's…oh," Yakko muttered. Operation 'Cheer Babs Up' had suffered a misfire. "Do you want me to go check on him?"

"I stop by for a viewing every few minutes. Last time I checked he was sleeping the bathtub."

"Creative."

"Hardly."

"And where do you sleep, a bed? How trite."

Babs snorted. "Better than a water tower."

"You watch too much TV," Yakko said, shaking his head.

"Says the one who thought I lived in a burrow 'til we were fifteen," Babs retorted.

Yakko raised his palms defensively. "Hey, it's not like it would be out of the ordinary. I don't question how a rabbit's brain works, I just observe."

"Are you making fun of rabbits?" Babs said with mock scandal, "oh, I am _so _telling Bugs."

Yakko pulled a carrot from his hammerspace and took a bite. "Try it Pink," he challenged in a very close imitation of Bugs Bunny, "I dare ya."

This caused Babs to giggle, which in turn caused his neck to feel warm. "Dem's fightin' words," she chorused back in her own surprisingly accurate Bugs Bunny voice.

"Hey, that was pretty good!" Yakko exclaimed, grinning. "Who else can you do?"

Her back straightened and her face shifted into one of overwhelming confidence. "Well, only your adorable little sister, of course," Babs said in a spot-on Dot voice. She fluffed the fur on her cheeks as she sang, "I'm cute, yes it's true…"

"I'm confused," Yakko said in his best Pinky imitation, "are you Babs pretending to be Dot, or Dot pretending to be Babs pretending to be Dot?"

"Slow down Pinky, please, I can only take one syllable at a time," Babs said, this time as Tress.

Yakko pulled a thick pair of glasses from behind his back and slid them onto his face as he slipped into a Scratchensniff impression. "Do not stress yourself Miss Nurse, I will take notes on Mr. Pinky's rambling little psyche. Also, if you could please move my three o'clock head polishing back to four, that would be very good of you."

They broke into fits of laughter, and Yakko, who had forgotten any notion of barriers, found himself leaning towards Babs, the muscles in his back blessedly relaxed. When her dancing eyes met his own, he wondered why on earth, in all the years they had known each other, they had never done this before.

* * *

Wakko tiptoed carefully down the stairs. Some of the steps in Buster's house creaked and he didn't want to wake anyone up. It wasn't that sneaking downstairs to get a late night snack was discouraged, it was more that any bump in the night recently had Yakko in a screaming panic and convinced that his entire family had been kidnapped.

The house always seemed very calm at night, and Wakko liked it. It made everything peaceful, especially when there was a light breeze…

A light breeze?

Looking over his shoulder, Wakko found that the window in the study was wide open. A full stream of moonlight was shooting in, so bright and steady that it looked light a solid block that Wakko could walk on. He rolled his eyes. Dot must've forgotten to close it after visiting her twitchy little boyfriend. How Yakko hadn't caught her yet was beyond him – maybe if Yakko didn't spend his every waking moment with every rabbit in Toontown he might've noticed by now.

Wakko stepped into the study, about to close the window, but stopped short before he even reached the desk. Something wasn't right. He didn't know what it was…the room was still…strangely still. All the ambient sounds of the night seemed to have died out, and Wakko suddenly felt very aware of each breath he took, of the particles dancing in the beam of moonlight, of his own fingers starting to shake. The moonlight seemed cold now, menacing even. He heard a slight _tap_, and his heart jumped to his throat. He straightened up and held himself completely still, stiller than the night. Feeling clammy, Wakko's eyes darted about the room. The action figures that lined Buster's bookshelves glared down at him, and the various shot glasses that were interspersed among them glinted moonlight in every direction, disorienting him.

In a sharp, spastic movement that could have come across as a tic, Wakko slapped the light switch on. The moonbeam was snuffed out as lamplight flooded the room, and for a half second everything appeared normal. The light stabilized him, made him feel safe. A small movement flicked to his right. Wakko turned.

The weasel, hidden in the corner, uncoiled like a snake and lunged at him with alarming speed. Wakko cried out but the weasel collided with him and knocked the sound straight out of his chest. His back crashed into the bookcase, his head slamming against the shelves and sending action figures cascading over them. The shot glasses toppled off the shelves and burst like little bombs on the floor. This startled the weasel enough for Wakko to push him roughly away. His head spinning so badly he felt sick, he barely caught a glimpse of no less than six weasels crawling in the study's corners as he stumbled out of the study. He slammed the door shut behind him just in time to hear the crunch of a weasel colliding with it face first.

Wakko raced through the kitchen and into the foyer, ignoring the pain in his head and back, bellowing for help, for Yakko, for anyone, for everyone to get out. A fluttery scraping noise stopped him though; the weasels were catching up to him, their legs and arms moving frantically as their claws slipped on the kitchen floor. On instinct Wakko reached behind his back and hefted out fistful of banana peels. He hurled them at the weasels feet and kept running, not pausing to check if it worked. A surprised yelp and a loud crash, however, told him it did.

He rounded the corner into the foyer so tightly that his feet skidded out beneath him. He made a wild grab for the banister at the base of the staircase but his momentum carried him around and all but threw him to the floor. Laying flat on his back, Wakko heart pounded ink into his ears when he saw a dark figure that moved unnaturally fast barreling straight for him down the stairs. A moment later he realized it was Yakko, who jumped the last five stairs and landed with a thud beside him. Yakko dropped to his knees and grabbed Wakko's shoulders, shouting, "What happened?" His face incredibly close. When Yakko absently stroked his hair, Wakko noticed that his brother's hands were shaking. "God, Wakko, are you okay? Are you hurt? What's going on? What – "

"Weasels!" Wakko cried, cutting him off and pushing himself up, "They're everywhere – knock it off, I'm fine – we have to get out, right now – "

A terrible shriek followed by something heavy colliding with them cut Wakko off, sending him and his brother to the ground. Two weasels were upon them, teeth bared, their moist breath pouring onto his face. If fear didn't make Wakko gag, the smell certainly would.

"Altoids," Yakko grunted as he caught a weasel in the face with his elbow, "ever heard of 'em?"

Wakko kneed the other weasel in the stomach with all his might, his throat too thick with shock to say anything. But for every weasel he kicked off there was another one to fill its space, and it looked like even Yakko couldn't throw off wave after wave of attack. There were too many, and they were stronger somehow – their bodies didn't seem as malleable as the ones at the park had, there was more evidence of muscle, more bone and sinew. This time there was no ink coming off on his gloves. Now there was nothing but teeth and saliva and claws –

A deafening _BANG! CRACK!_ filled the air along with a blinding flash. The weasels cried out in alarm and scattered like roaches, leaving Wakko and Yakko alone on the floor.

"What the – " Yakko muttered, and Wakko looked up to see Babs on the staircase, black soot covering her forearms.

"Acme Firecrackers," she panted, "Buster had them in his closet." At this, her ears perked up, and she turned to the stairs. "Buster? Buster, get down here!"

Wakko watched as she called his name, again and again, but Buster's face did not appear. "_C'mon Buster_…" he heard Yakko whisper.

"What's happening?" Dot shrieked from the top of the stairs. Her fingers were gripping the banister and her face was whiter than normal.

"Stay right there Dot!" Yakko commanded loudly.

She was joined seconds later by Buster, who stumbled out of the bathroom, rubbing his face and groaning, "What the hell's going on?"

"Oh, you know, nothing much," Yakko drawled, "Oh, but by the way, your house is under siege."

"Under…damn it, what?" Buster blurted, visibly struggling to wake himself up. He turned around and dashed back into the bathroom.

"Buster! What are you doing, get back here!" Babs cried.

Yakko suddenly grabbed Wakko by the shoulder, pulling him close. "Babs," Yakko called, "grab Dot and get her and Wakko out of here, I'll take care of Buster – "

Wakko shook his head. "Yeah right," he challenged, "You can't take all these guys by yourself!"

"And I'm not letting you take _any _of these guys," Yakko snapped back.

"I can help!"

"Not the best time to argue with me, Wakko."

Wakko glared at him, his frustration mounting. If the situation wasn't so threatening he would have argued more, but one look over Yakko's shoulder persuaded him otherwise. The weasels had formed a circle around them that was slowly closing as they regained their nerve.

"How many are there? Can we handle them?" Babs asked, craning over the railing to count them.

At the same time, Yakko and Wakko turned to the kitchen. What looked to be a dozen weasels were now scurrying in, their eyes reflecting the pale moonlight.

"Don't think so, looks like they brought friends," Yakko said in an obvious effort to stay calm. "Give me another firework Babs, I'll hold 'em off while you get everyone to the car."

"Can't, those were the only ones we have," she said quickly, throwing something out of her hammerspace at one of the weasels that was sneaking toward her. It hissed and backed off.

Dot wrapped her arms around the banister as though it were a life preserver. "Now what?"

The biggest and scruffiest weasel edged forward and took a snap at Wakko's leg. He jumped back into Yakko, who took a swing at the weasel with a crowbar.

"I'm leaning toward a hasty retreat," Yakko muttered.

Buster burst from the bathroom and took the stairs two at a time to reach Babs. The fur on his face was dripping wet. At Babs' questioning look, he muttered "needed to wake myself up" and lunged forward to grab her wrist. "How'd they get in here?"

Wakko glanced up at Dot. They locked eyes for a moment, and he watched as horror spread across on her face as she realized what had happened. She looked ill.

But Buster's presence seemed to have unsettled the weasels, and three of them struck toward him. Their claws tore at the wood and wallpaper as they desperately tried to scale the staircase.

"Buster, watch it!" Yakko yelped. Wakko felt Yakko's hand tighten on his shoulder.

"What?" Buster yelled, whipping around. Droplets of water flung off his ears as he turned, spraying the weasels in the face. They cried out as if burned, and their shrieks of pain were so awful that Dot slapped her hands over her ears. Wakko cringed, and Buster threw himself back into Babs, startled that he had caused such a commotion. The weasels writhed about on the floor, colliding with each other in pain and confusion. Still grimacing, Wakko glanced at his brother, who frowned back at him.

The river…the snow…

"_Water_," Wakko breathed.

"My thoughts exactly," Yakko said, and reached behind his back. He withdrew a bottle of seltzer water and held it in front of him defensively, like a gun. The weasels drew back collectively, hissing and spitting, every eye trained on the bottle of water. Noticing this, Wakko pulled out his own seltzer bottle. He looked at his, then quickly flicked his eyes over to Yakko's bottle. His was bigger, shinier, the water was clearer. Something in Wakko's chest deflated slightly.

"That's right," Yakko announced snidely, "I've got…water…and don't think I don't know how to use it!" He paused. "Because I don't," he added quietly.

But the weasels didn't seem to hear him. The three who had jumped Buster were still rolling on the ground in pain. And then, amongst the shrieks of agony, one of the weasels cried, quite clearly, "Bad!"

Wakko snapped his head back to Yakko again. "Did he just say _bad_?" Wakko asked, his stress over the situation replaced with abject surprise.

"Bad!" the weasel shrieked again as though to confirm Wakko's suspicion, "bad, bad!"

A chorus of "bad!" erupted from the rest of the weasels, who chirped the word to each other, themselves, and no one in particular like a flock of birds.

"That's annoying," Dot mumbled.

"Since when can they talk?" Babs asked.

"I don't count that as talking," Yakko drawled.

"I don't care what they're doing, get them out of my house," Buster moaned, rubbing his head.

Wakko eyed the kitchen nervously. More of them were crawling in, some of them wearing tshirts, some of them swathed in rags, others wearing nothing at all. While they certainly didn't appear healthy, they seemed to be slightly more focused, more in control of their own bodies.

"Uh, I think _we're _going to be the ones getting out of the house," Wakko said quietly.

"Best idea I've heard yet," Yakko said, still holding the bottle out in front of him. "C'mon guys, you heard the man…Dot, Babs, you guys go out first, start the car, we'll meet you there – "

"No way dude, this is _my _house, I'm not letting a bunch a' dirty bastards kick me out!" Buster protested aggressively. He teetered a bit on the staircase.

"Does being drunk impair your ability to count?" Babs snapped, "there's at least four of them for every one of us."

"I'm not drunk, I'm – "

" – hungover," Babs finished. "Great timing, Buster."

"Yeah, 'cause I was supposed to know a bunch of guys were going to break into my house."

"You're missing the point – "

"Yo!" Yakko shouted loudly, causing Buster, Babs, and several weasels to jump, "why don't you save that thought for later? You know, when we're not being attacked?"

"I'm not leaving my goddamn house," Buster growled, locking eyes with Yakko.

Wakko watched his brother's face soften slightly. "I don't think you have a choice, Ears," Yakko said, his voice low and consoling.

The resistance faded from Buster's face, and he looked around his house, and then at the weasels. In a small way, Wakko knew how he felt; they had left New York because of some random attack, they had been chased from their home. He remembered packing his belongings until his room was bare. He remembered feeling humiliated and infuriated all at once as he took one final sweep of his room before he shut the door.

"Stick close to me Dot," Babs said, pulling his sister close and holding her own seltzer bottle out.

Buster pulled out a bottle as well and joined Yakko's side. Together, the three of them formed a barrier between the staircase and the door, allowing Babs and Dot to slip outside. The weasels watched them hungrily, edging close but then quickly retreating when one of them threatened it with a water bottle.

"Go, Wakko," Yakko commanded when Babs and Dot had left.

Wakko's fists clenched. "But – "

"I mean it!"

Wakko opened his mouth to protest but a weasel snapped so close to his ear that he yelped instead. Buster and Yakko both raised their seltzer bottles, but Buster fumbled with his and ended up spraying Yakko in the side of the face.

"Damn it," Buster hissed as Yakko spluttered. The weasel reared and lunged again. Wakko, panicked, swung his bottle – Buster swung too – and they both caught the weasel in the head. The two bottles gonged against his skull and Wakko drew back in surprise – the weasel's head did not squash upon impact, as most other toons would have done. The bottle collided with solid, unyielding bone, and the weasel slumped to the floor without any further ado. Wakko's mouth felt like paper.

"Whoops," Buster muttered.

Rubbing the last bits of water from his eyes with the heel of his palm, Yakko blinked down at the weasel's crumpled form.

"Damn it guys, you could have killed him!" he snapped.

"So sorry Yak, next time we'll let him have his way with you, promise," Buster retorted.

"Bad! Bad!" squeaked several of the weasels.

"Shut up!" Wakko shouted along with Yakko and Buster. Suddenly his brother was grabbing him by the back of his tshirt and was dragging him to the door.

"What are you doing? I can walk!" Wakko protested.

Yakko, who was holding out his bottle defensively with his other hand, replied, "Maybe, but you definitely can't follow directions, so here we are."

Yakko pushed him as he and Buster backed out of the house, holding the weasel at bay with nothing but the seltzer bottles. The weasels stalked them hungrily, but between the water and the unconscious weasel in their wake, none of them dared to come close.

"What the hell Yak – "

"Jesus Wakko, do you see this?" Yakko cried as he gestured to the weasels. His voice had pitched upward. "Why are you arguing with me right now? Now for the love of god, just get in the car!"

Babs' and Dot's pale faces peered out at them through the windshield. The car was humming and ready to leave just as much as they were. But despite all the horror he'd felt just minutes ago, Wakko couldn't help but resent the way Yakko guided him to the backseat, told him to wear his seatbelt, hovered over him like a child. When the weasels first attack, all he wanted was Yakko. But now, when things were clearer – sort of – he wanted to handle it on his own. It was as though he was made in two parts that couldn't reconcile themselves.

No sooner had Buster thrown himself in the passenger seat the weasels were upon them. They swarmed the car, their claws scraping across the glass with shrill screeches. Dot cried out when loud thumps above them indicated they were stomping on the hood. One weasel, determined for Wakko, threw himself headlong into Wakko's window. He crashed against it with a painful thump and staggered backwards. Wakko made a face at him from the safety of the car.

Babs turned to face them in the front seat, ignoring the throng of weasels squirming against the windshield. "Where are we going?" she shouted above the clamor.

"My folk's house," Buster proposed, "it's close."

"Which is why we can't go there," Babs countered.

"Why not?"

"Buster, your parents live across the street, even these idiots aren't stupid enough to not follow us there. They could watch us pull in the driveway from here!"

"Ears probably just wants to pick up his laundry," Yakko quipped.

Dot wheeled on him, her eyes wild. "How are you joking right now?" she shrieked.

Another weasel threw himself against Wakko's window, its thick drool sliding slowly down the glass. Wakko thumped his fist against the window, and the weasel yelped and dove away.

"Guys, do I need to pull the car over – oh wait, _we're not driving yet_," Babs snapped irritably.

"Let's go to Skippy's," Dot blurted.

Yakko quirked an eyebrow at her. "Why Skippy's? Does he have a can of weasel-be-gone I'm not aware of?"

Turning to him with a dramatic, pleading look on her face, she whispered, "I want to make sure he's okay!"

Wakko watched as Yakko's hesitation crumbled all over the place. The half of Yakko that was hell bent on keeping Dot away from every boy on the planet seemed to be warring with the half that wanted to appease Dot's every whim. His face kept shifting between stern and unyielding to soft and painfully sympathetic. Wakko rolled his eyes. What a marshmallow.

"It's not a half bad idea," Babs reasoned, "it would at least give us somewhere to collect ourselves."

"Yeah, and maybe Nutsy can tell the weasels to _stay off his lawn!_" Buster added, finishing with a gruff Nutsy impression. He glanced out the window at the writhing weasels on the hood of the car. "Hey, don't scratch the paint, assholes!" he barked, and gave the windshield a good kick that caused three weasels to fall off the car in surprise.

"Nutsy's house isn't that far, you think they won't follow us?" Yakko asked, sort of pathetically.

"Not if I drive the way I plan to," Babs said with a nervous smirk.

Babs and Dot were staring at Yakko now, and Wakko knew the battle was over. Yakko could hardly argue with one girl, let alone two. All Wakko had to do was watch Yakko's face as it crumpled.

"Fine, Nutsy's it is," he groaned, laying his hands on Wakko's and Dot's shoulders.

Not needing any further permission, Babs threw the car into reverse and slammed the pedal to the floor. Burning rubber filled Wakko's nostrils before he and his brother and sister were thrown into the front seats. The small amount of panic had given Babs a leadfoot and they were out of the driveway before Wakko could even blink. The weasels toppled off of the car in clumps, and the lone weasel that managed to cling to the hood was sent skidding across the asphalt as Babs swung onto the street. His heart still pounding, Wakko let out a breath he'd been holding for way too long. Looking down, he noticed that he was gripping Yakko's pant leg very tightly. Embarrassed, he quickly let go.

As they hurtled down Windsor, Wakko turned in his seat to look out the rear window. The weasels were trying to chase them down, stumbling over themselves in the middle of the street, but they didn't seem to be able to toon sprint. Wakko watched as their eyes, reflecting glassily in the moonlight, got smaller before they disappeared entirely.

"How the fuck did they get in my house?" Buster burst out angrily, smacking the dashboard and making Babs jump.

Yakko turned to Wakko, frowning. "Tell me what happened sib. Tell me _exactly _what happened."

Wakko swallowed. He could hear Dot's shallow breathing from the other side of the seat, but her whole tiny body was hidden by Yakko's. As much as she drove him crazy, as much as he couldn't stand her sometimes, he didn't feel right about completely tattling on his sister. If Yakko found out…he shuddered. He remembered how mad he was when he found out she was talking to boys on the phone after bed time. He could barely imagine what Yakko would say about sneaking out of the house to go hang out with them.

"Uh…well, um…they came in through the study," Wakko said, wishing he didn't sound so shifty.

"The study?" Yakko repeated. "How'd they get in there?"

"Yeah, tell me so I can seal it up with goddamn turpentine," Buster snapped.

"Buster!" Babs said, scandalized.

"The got in through the window," Wakko said. "It was open."

Babs glanced at her boyfriend. "Buster, I swear to God…"

"What?" Buster asked loudly.

"Did you leave the window open when you got home?" she pressed.

"Uh, no Babs, I didn't. Despite what you may think, I know how to get into my own damn house. I used the door."

"Judging by the state you were in when you got home, I wouldn't be shocked if you tried the chimney," Babs said quietly.

"Why am I always the first one you blame? There were other people in the house you know."

"Well I know wasn't me or Yakko, and let's be honest, it wouldn't be the first dumb thing you did when you were drunk."

Wakko sucked in his breath. Ouch.

Buster drew a frustrated hand across his face, dragging at his whiskers. "Why the hell would I leave the window wide open like an idiot?"

Wakko heard Dot whimper softly.

"Guys…" Yakko muttered warningly.

Babs ignored him. "Why, Buster? Because you just spent the last three hours sleeping in the bathtub, so excuse me for questioning your decision making skills!"

"Okay, you know what Babs? Don't believe your own boyfriend, yeah, that's fine. Because you're dating Buster, the lying idiot who's too stupid to close his own window – "

"Alright, that's enough!" Yakko shouted, and Wakko was relieved. Their fighting was making a night with the weasels sound like a fun. "It doesn't matter who left the window open! Besides, it might not have been any of us – Wakko found it that way. Buster, you said it wasn't you, and I believe you. I know it wasn't Babs or myself. And Dot, she…"

Yakko, who had turned to their sister as he said this, trailed off. Feeling an icy chill run down his back, Wakko craned forward to get a look at Dot. Please, be smooth about it, don't give anything away…

No such luck. Her face was paralyzed with fear and guilt, her whole body was shaking, and she gaped up at Yakko like a fish. Nice job, Dot.

"Dot, did you…" Yakko started, but trailed off again in a very rare demonstration of being at a loss for words.

Wakko cleared his throat and said, "Uh, it was probably an accident." He couldn't help it, his stupid sister looked so upset he felt bad _not _saying something.

But at this, Dot reeled on him, her shoulders raised and her eyes sparkling. "Just rat me out, why don't ya?" she snapped, waspish.

Wakko blinked at her. "What? I said you probably did it by accident!"

Yakko cut their sister off before she had a chance to respond. "Knock it off you guys – Dot, what happened?"

Angry tears were piling up in her eyes. Still glaring sharply at Wakko, Dot mumbled, "Fine, I left the window open. And thanks to my brilliant brother, the whole world knows."

If he changed emotions any more rapidly tonight Wakko was going to get mental whiplash. Any sympathetic feelings he had towards his sister had evaporated. That ungrateful, spiteful little…because of Dot, he had nearly been killed by a bunch of lunatic toons, he had tried to _cover _for her over it, and she still found a way to turn it around on him. She didn't even care. That was it. He was done.

"Oh yeah? Well maybe I'll let the whole world know you left the window open after you were done sneaking around with your boyfriend," Wakko hissed coldly.

Outrage rippled over Dot's face. If he didn't know any better he would have thought steam had started streaming out of her ears. But her anger quickly faded to abject horror when Yakko said in a slow, low voice, "_What?_"

A chill seemed to settle over the car. Buster, uncharacteristically silent and smirk-less, was watching them over his seat, while Babs' eyes steadily flicked from the road to the rearview mirror.

Dot's mouth opened and closed as she stuttered, "I…I-I…"

"Don't tell me you were sneaking out, Dot Warner," Yakko said, starting slowly and gaining momentum as his anger increased, "because that would mean you ignored me when I said, 'don't go anywhere alone,' a very simple rule that even the simplest toon could follow. And I know you're not a simple toon."

"I…I w-was with Skip, w-with Skip – " Dot stuttered.

"_Do not_ get me started on the fact that it was with a _boy_!" Yakko snapped, treating the word 'boy' the same way one might say 'serial killer.' "_Do not_ tell me that you've been sneaking out at night, _do not _tell me you didn't think about the fact that we're in the middle of an unsolved kidnapping spree, and _do not _tell me you forwent the little part where there are a bunch of psychotic toons on the loose who I'm sure you led straight to our house during one of your little exploits!"

Dot, who had started crying long before that dire tirade had finished, gasped guiltily. Recovering, she looked at him icily through her tears. "Well what did you want me to do? You made Skippy feel like a leper whenever he came over to the house - "

"How do you think it makes me feel to find out you won't listen to me when all I'm doing is trying to keep you safe?" Yakko exclaimed, his anger only building.

She sobbed, "I'm sorry Yakko – "

"That's not even a scrap of how sorry you're gonna be," Yakko said darkly.

Wakko gulped. Dot was crying, and Yakko still managed to sound that cold? Damn, he was pissed.

"And you," Yakko snapped, turning to face him.

Uh oh.

"You _knew _about this?" Yakko continued, his voice bordering on incredulous.

"What?" Wakko blurted, "I, well, sort of, I wasn't totally sure – "

"You knew your sister was directly disobeying the rules and endangering herself, and after all the thought you put into it, you didn't even think that it was something I might want to know?"

"Whoa, Yak, chill out," Buster said quietly, but Yakko didn't seem to hear him.

Wakko stared at Yakko, unsure of whether he wanted to cower from or punch his brother. "Well god, I'm sorry, I just wasn't…I didn't think – "

"Well that's obvious," Yakko snapped harshly. It took everything Wakko had to keep that insult from reflecting all over his face. He clenched his fists, trying to find words to hurl back, ones that would hurt just as bad, but he couldn't find any. His mind was too jumbled, there was a pounding behind his ears and his chest felt too constricted.

"As soon as we have a home for you to be grounded in, you're both grounded," Yakko announced, glaring at them.

Wakko's ears jolted up. "What? Why am I grounded? She's the one that snuck out!"

"And you're the one that didn't do anything about it," Yakko shot back.

Wakko opened his mouth to protest, but Yakko cut him off, "If you argue with me Wakko Warner so help me you will be grounded until you turn eighteen. Let's not make this night worse than it already is."

With that, Yakko leaned back against the seat, shut his eyes, and rubbed the bases of his ears. Dot, for her part, had not put up one word against Yakko, making no sound aside from the occasional sniff or sob. Snorting angrily, Wakko turned to stare out the window. His reflection stared back at him; his fur was mussed, and his scowl was so heavy it made him look five years older. For a moment he suddenly looked so much like Yakko that it startled him. But as the shock wore off, his fists clenched even tighter. No. He did not want to look like his brother. He did not want anything to do with his brother. He wanted the reflection to go away, he wanted to punch out the window, –

Something odd caught his attention in the reflection. There were several dark marks on his shirt that he hadn't noticed before. Looking down, he saw that the weasel had torn his shirt when it attacked him. But there was something else there as well, many little things actually that were stuck all over his shirt…for one horrible moment he thought it was ink. But the specks were too solid and uniform to be ink. Thankfully. As carefully as he could, Wakko picked at one of the pieces.

It was a pine needle. It was so sticky with sap that it stuck to his glove.

"We're here," Babs said delicately as they pulled into Nutsy's driveway.

* * *

A headache for the record books was gathering in the corners of Yakko's forehead as he got out of the car. His siblings crawled out as well, Wakko stuffing his hands in his pockets while Dot hastily wiped at her face. He could already feel the familiar swellings of guilt and embarrassment over his screamfest at them, but a lethal combination of sickening fear for their wellbeing and his own pride kept him from apologizing.

"Who are you calling?" Buster asked his girlfriend as Babs steadily tapped the numbers on her phone.

"Cops," she muttered.

Yakko ignored the small jolt he felt at the thought. Logic pointed out that there was no way the police could bother him about the weasels now, not when over a dozen of them had just broken into Buster's home. But the way the police had been hounding him suggested that logic wasn't in their vocabulary. Deciding that he had enough to worry about tonight, Yakko pushed it out of his thoughts and knocked on the door.

Loud footsteps preceded the door swinging open to reveal Skippy. "Oh, hi gu – " Skippy cut short the instant he saw the look on Yakko's face. "I'll…go get Nutsy," he mumbled to the floor before disappearing into the house. Yakko shot a glance at Dot. She was hiding her face.

Nutsy's muffled shouts grew louder as he slowly hobbled toward the door. Throwing Yakko the grumpiest look he had ever seen, Nutsy grumbled, "You have any idea what time of the night it is?"

"Eleven oh-eight," Buster chirped, grinning.

"Which is the same time that we need to sincerely apologize but insist that you let us in," Yakko said calmly, pushing Wakko and Dot through the door first, followed by Babs and Buster.

"Who the, what the – " Nutsy stammered as the train of toons entered his house. When Yakko tried to follow them, Nutsy swung his cane across his chest, blocking him. "You're that yammery brat from that show!" Nutsy exclaimed.

"_Animaniacs,_ the show that your cousin Slappy starred in, yes," Yakko drawled.

"You young upstarts, you all think you can just stampede into a grown man's home in the middle of the goddamn night, smart as you please…I bet you expect me to bring out tea and cookies!"

"Could you?" Wakko asked.

"No!"

"You shouldn't offer your guest amenities you have no intention of providing, it's rude," Yakko said, examining his fingernails.

"Get out of my house before I hose your hide!" Nutsy bellowed.

"Nutsy – can I call you that?" Yakko said, sliding an arm around the old man's shoulders.

"It's Mr. Squirrel to you, ya crackpot," Nutsy growled, shrugging him off.

"Alrighty then Mr. Squirrel…have you been watching the news recently?"

Nutsy huffed at him, affronted. "Of course I have! What do you take me for, a sop?"

"I would never," Yakko said dryly, "but being up on your local news, I assume you're aware of the recent kidnappings?"

Nutsy's stony glare prompted Yakko to continue, "Oookay, well, we have a slight problem on our hands, and we need a safe place to stay until the police get here."

The old squirrel moved much faster than Yakko expected. He barely had time to let his body go soft before Nutsy jabbed him squarely in the chest with his cane. "Criminals! Wanted criminals, that's what you are! Get the hell out of my house!" he roared.

Yakko rolled his eyes and was about to protest, but Skippy stepped forward and put himself between Yakko and his much older relative.

"Nutsy, please, they're not criminals! Those weasels are after them and they need a place to hide," Skippy insisted. Babs and Buster nodded fervently.

"Then they sure as hell ain't hiding here when those dirty rats are looking for them," Nutsy growled.

"They were Slappy's friends," Skippy pleaded, "she really liked them."

Yakko stared at Skippy, slightly touched. Considering the death glare he'd given the boy earlier, Skippy had a lot of nerve to want to stand up for Yakko and his family. Maybe he'd have to reduce Skippy's restraining order against Dot from one hundred feet down to fifty feet.

"I don't like them," Nutsy grumbled. His frown intensified the craggy lines of age in his face. His eyebrows were contracted so tightly that his eyebrows looked like one long, hideously furry caterpillar.

Yakko sidled his way into the room. "We'll try not to take it too personally," he said lightly, "thanks Nutsy."

"Mr. Squirrel!" Nutsy barked as he limped out of the living room.

Dot and Skippy were huddled close together, whispering to each other, but one look from Yakko and they darted apart. Wakko was busy inspecting the fish hanging on Nutsy's walls, while Babs was checking the windows. Yakko looked over at Buster, who shrugged and collapsed onto the coach with a groan.

"I feel like someone took a jackhammer to my skull," he said, rubbing his eyes.

Behind him Yakko noticed a Babs distinctly shaking her head, but Buster remained unaware.

"Just one jackhammer?" Yakko asked. He paced around the couch, and the full weight of the night's events began to settle on his shoulders. They had been targeted for a second time, his brother had been attacked again, but this time there were so, so many of them…they were on the cusp of becoming homeless…feeling panicky, Yakko reached into his hammerspace.

To his immense relief, his wallet was there. He opened it out of habit to check its contents, even though it wasn't like anyone could have possibly taken it from him. Money, credit cards, ID, coupon for a free haircut…pictures. He kept several of them in his wallet: one of him and Buster, another of him and Slappy, but mostly ones of his siblings. The newest one, the one that had top billing, had been taken just two weeks ago by Dot with her new camera. It was of the three of them, piled goofily on top of each other on Buster's couch; they had been watching a movie, they had been relaxed, and for one wonderful evening they had been wrapped up, so tight, in the sibling bond they had once so easily shared. Yakko knew his siblings loved him, he did, but strains of time and adolescence were taking their toll. It was as though the three of them had decided to walk somewhere together, but Wakko and Dot suddenly veered off on different paths. He wanted them to be their own people, to grow up into competent adults…he was certainly struggling with that task…but at the same time he wanted them to be little and small, to need him like they used to. Wakko didn't seem to want to have much of anything to do with him anymore. And Dot…well, Dot had found another boy entirely.

She was sitting a chaste distance from Skippy, glowering at the floor. She had the distinct air about her that indicated they were about to enter a vow of silence with one another. He wasn't exactly surprised, he had never really yelled at her like that before…but how could she have done that to him? She could have gotten kidnapped, hurt, killed…if she cared about him at all, even a little, she wouldn't have snuck around. And with a boy…true, it was Skippy, but Skippy was a _boy_…

"What I wanna know is how every weasel in Toontown got into my house without any of us noticing. I mean, if you added all their brains together they'd be lucky if they could beat Pinky in Trivial Pursuit," Buster griped.

Snapping the blinds shut, Babs strode past him. "Yeah, I can't imagine how they slipped by you. You had a great vantage point from the bathtub," she drawled, looking at him over her shoulder.

Buster sat up angrily, but clutched at his head and slumped back down into the cushions. "Well excuse me for not patrolling the fortress," he snapped, "where were you? It didn't sound like you were first on the scene."

Babs turned away from him fully. "Forget it, I don't feel like arguing with you right now."

This time Buster pushed himself up, his face contorting into a critical mask. "You know what? That's a really good question…where were you, Babs?"

Yakko frowned at his friend. He was sitting up straight now, his ears were erect too. He was looking at Babs as though he'd caught her stealing something, and it made the hair on the back of Yakko's neck stand on end. "Where were you, Babs? You said you _knew _it wasn't you or Yakko that left the window open. What makes you so sure?"

Babs was staring at him now, her body tense as though she expected Buster to strike like a snake at any moment. She seemed very intent on not looking in Yakko's direction. At all. "We were talking, Buster," she said firmly. "When we heard Wakko yell, we went after him."

"Talking, huh?" Buster snorted. He turned to Yakko, who suddenly realized he had been frozen in place for the last minute. "You seemed pretty sure it wasn't you or her either. Is that all you guys were doing, buddy? Talking?"

"No, we were starting a book of the month club," Yakko joked, desperate to lighten the tension that had a chokehold on him, "of course we were talking. C'mon Buster, what do you think?"

Wakko, Dot and Skippy were watching them now with wide eyes. Yakko prayed that Buster's hearing wasn't as good as those long ears suggested – his heart was drumming against his chest.

"I just thought…" Buster muttered, "…nothing. Nothing dude, I'm sorry, it's just been…"

"A long night," Yakko finished for him.

"You said it," Buster said, and fell back onto the couch. His eyes flicked to Babs, but she had turned her back to him. Yakko offered him a half smirk, but god his heart wouldn't stop pounding.

No one spoke for a minute, and with each passing second of silence the air seemed to get thicker. His siblings didn't want to look at him or at each other. Babs and Buster shared a few glares, and Yakko was afraid that if he spoke to either one of them, his face would give him away. What exactly it would be giving away, however, was a mystery to him.

A loud knock on the front door made everyone jump. "_Police!_"

"Good, the cops," Babs said as she crossed the room quickly and opened the door. Five police officers from the TTPD were hovering around the doorway – one of them Yakko swore was the girl Miranda from that _Bonkers _show – and even in the low light Yakko could see that none of them looked very happy. The foremost officer, a burly bulldog toon that was practically bursting out of his uniform, brushed Babs aside with his forearm.

"Nice to meet you too!" she said with mock sincerity, but the bulldog ignored her.

"Which one a you's Warner?" he rumbled, his jowls flopping with each syllable.

"Depends which Warner you're looking for," Yakko said, even though he had a feeling what the answer might be.

"Probably you," the officer retorted, "you Yakko Warner?"

"The one and only."

The bulldog put his meaty hands on his hips. "Well then you're under arrest."

Buster sat bolt upright on the couch even though it caused him to wince. Wakko, Dot and Skippy were all staring at him, mouths open. Even Babs took a step back, and looked quizzically at Yakko.

"Come again?" Yakko blurted. He felt oddly apart from his body, as though he was watching everything take place from afar.

"You heard me Warner, you're under arrest for suspicion of homicide," the bulldog said. The other officers shuffled behind them, closing away the space as though they expected Yakko to try and run for it. At this point it didn't sound like a bad idea. He probably wouldn't get too far though, it would be hard to run when his knees were wobbling so bad.

"Homicide? Wow Yak, who'd ya kill?" Buster joked. He heard Babs mutter something that sounded like, "not the time" to him.

"Funny, that's my question," Yakko said to him. He looked the officer in the eye. "Gotta be honest Officer…eh…"

"Brody."

"Officer Brody, I'm not the murdering type. I think the worst thing I've ever done to someone is taunt them, with lame jokes no less…homicide?" Yakko said. He knew he was rambling, but he couldn't stop himself. "Eh, not my style, sorry. I think you got the wrong toon, I don't know what you're talking about."

Another officer, a wiry, white duck, pointed a finger at Yakko and said, "You've been linked to the murder of three inmates at the State of New York Toon Correctional Facility."

"The weasels?" Yakko blurted, though regretted it even before he saw the spark in the duck's eyes.

"So you _do _know what we're talking about," he cooed nastily.

"Well yeah, the police were the ones who told us about it," Wakko chimed in.

"Quiet Wak, don't…you know what, that's a great point," Yakko said, turning back to the officers. Something about his brother's support grounded him, it pulled him out of his haze of panic and reminded him that he was innocent, that this was all just a big mistake. But even for a mistake, this was getting out of hand.

"And there is the small, little fact that about thirty of those weasels just broke into our home," Babs added, "you know, the reason I called you guys."

"Yeah, how's that kidnapping investigation going, by the way? You think that maybe a bunch of weasels breaking into people's homes has anything to do with people disappearing from their homes? Oh wait, didn't get to that part yet? Sorry if I spoiled the ending," Yakko jeered.

The bulldog glared at him, his tiny eyes nearly obscured by thick folds of skin. "Quit tryin' to distract us from the subject, smartass. I don't think I could blame a bunch a' those guys for breaking in when you whacked three a' them."

Buster got up from the couch and stood beside Yakko. "Look dudes – and lady," he added to Miranda, "I know Yakko and I know that this is total bullshit. He didn't kill anyone. He can barely make it to the end of _Rambo. _What kinda proof do you have anyway?"

"We have reason to believe from a specific source that Warner is directly involved with the crime," Miranda said, sounding monotone and official, "his brother and sister will also have to be taken in for questioning."

Feeling his fur bristle at the mention of his siblings, Yakko took and instinctive step to the side to block them from view. Something wasn't right here. The officers looked far too ready to pounce for this to be normal. "What 'source' are you talking about? And where's the warrant?" Yakko asked, trying to keep the aggression out of his voice. Babs had back away from the officers as well and had settled herself on his other side, and Buster's eyes flicked towards her.

"You ain't in the place to argue with us, pal," Brody said gruffly. A hint of a grin was lurking on his fleshy lips.

"I think you're confusing arguing with _the law_," Babs drawled.

"Watch it girly, anything you say can and will be used against you in court!" the duck threatened.

"Oh good, at least you learned that one in the academy," Babs said dryly.

It did not go unnoticed by Yakko that Brody had rested his hand on his holster. "I want a lawyer," he said quickly. That's what they said in all those inane court dramas, right?

"You ain't getting' one til you come down to the station with us," Brody said roughly, taking a step forward.

"Eh, I think I want one now," Yakko replied, trying to sound as confident as possible. Just like Bugs had said, control…

"Well that's too bad," the duck sneered. It was accompanied by the jangling sound of handcuffs being pulled from his belt.

"Yakko didn't kill anyone!" came a shrill voice, and Yakko whipped around. Dot was giving the police a ferocious look, one that challenged them to disagree with her. Beside her, Wakko and Skippy were nodding forcefully. These things electrified Yakko more than anything else had thus far.

"You won't tell me who your source is, you don't have a warrant, and you don't have a clue," Yakko said, his voice loud but steady, "I didn't kill anyone and I'm not going anywhere with anybody until someone clears this up."

"Well ain't that grand," Brody said as he took slow steps forward. The other officers were spreading out. Realizing they were trying to corner him, Yakko took a step back, which Babs and Buster mimicked. Instinct prompted his hand to settle behind his back, ready to grab something out of his hammerspace at any second. He shifted his eyes ever so slightly to Buster, who gave him the tiniest nod.

"You gonna come quietly, Warner?" Brody asked. There was nothing theatrical about the way he said it. It was more like a question a cat would ask a mouse.

Yakko's body tensed and shifted onto the balls of his feet. Grab the kids and run, hide them, distract the police so they could get away –

"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE YOU TWO BIT ROLLERS!" Nutsy bellowed as he came barreling into the living room. They dove out of the way as he came through swinging his cane like a baseball bat and scattering the startled officers. He looked absolutely deranged.

"If there's anything I can't stand more than crooks it's cops!" he roared just as he caught the duck over the head with a solid swing. The officer yowled in pain and scrambled for the doorway, clutching his head.

"Ladies and gentlemen, your deus ex machina for the evening is brought to you by Nutsy," Yakko said as he helped his siblings to their feet.

"He's always had a problem with the police," Skippy said breathlessly, "something about taxes and government and fraud and…something, I don't really get it."

"Don't worry about it, I don't expect you to rationalize the paranoia of an old man with a cane," Yakko said to him. When Skippy tilted his head with a puzzled look, Yakko waved his hand and muttered, "Nevermind."

Buster was trying to shield Babs from the chaos, but she was much more determined to watch Nutsy lay into the officers. As he cracked another over the head with his cane, she cheered happily and pumped the air with her fist. Wakko was clapping.

"I'm thinking this is our golden ticket outta here," Buster said as he struggled to keep Babs in check.

"Couldn't agree with you more," Yakko said.

"Go out the back door," Skippy said, pushing him towards the kitchen.

Dot jumped forward and grabbed his arm. "What about you? Aren't you coming with us?"

Skippy shook his head. "I think I should stay and help Nutsy."

Dot's eyes widened. "But that's just two of you – "

"I think Nutsy's fine by himself," Wakko said, a kind of awed reverence in his voice as he stared. Yakko and the others turned to follow his gaze. Nutsy, looking more rabid than ever, had just pulled a gigantic rifle from his hammerspace. It was a toon rifle, but a rifle nonetheless, and he was shooting it toward the sky from his porch, yelling obscenities into the night as the officers ran for cover.

"And now we know why they call him Nutsy," Yakko muttered.

"I agree with Wakko, I think he's got things under control," Buster added.

"Go, you guys! Get somewhere safe!" Skippy urged as he pushed. "Call me when you're okay!" he said to Dot, who assured him with an, "I will!" Yakko chose to be gracious and ignore the exchange. For now.

They dashed into the backyard. As Babs, Buster, and Wakko climbed over the chainlink fence, Yakko and Dot stopped short to look back. Skippy waved to them from the porch.

"Thanks Skippy, we owe ya one," Yakko said earnestly.

"Don't mention it," Skippy called back. Another gunshot caused him to turn, and when he looked at Nutsy, a grin spread across his face. He turned back to Yakko and Dot. "And don't worry, I'm in good hands."

"Be safe, Skip!" Dot said.

Skippy nodded. "Go!"

Nodding to the boy, Yakko helped heft Dot over the fence before scrambling over it himself. They crossed through the wooded backyard before emerging onto Friz Street.

"Now where do we go?" Buster asked, stepping out into the middle of the road and holding his arms out helplessly.

No sooner had that question gotten out of his mouth when a pair of headlights illuminated him from behind. Buster yelped and dove onto the sidewalk seconds before a fancy looking car screeched to halt beside them.

"What is with you and almost getting run over?" Babs asked him, exasperated.

Yakko never head Buster's response because he too busy staring incredulously at the car in front of them.

"Who is it?" Wakko asked in a hushed voice.

"I don't believe it," Yakko whispered, "it's Bugs!"

The automatic window rolled down, revealing none other than Bugs Bunny himself. "You got it, kiddo," he said, "now get in the car will ya?"

"How'd you find us?" Yakko asked.

"You can ask me all the questions you want after you _get into the car_."

"You heard the rabbit!" Babs said and began shepherding everyone inside. Yakko threw himself into the passenger seat, and Bugs had his feet on the gas pedal before he shut his door.

"Everyone alright?" Bugs called.

"In a manner of speaking," Babs said as she looked at everyone's exhausted faces.

"How'd you find us?" Yakko pushed, "How'd you even know to look for us?"

Bugs glanced at him. "You look like a wreck, kiddo."

"Why thank you. Now could you please tell me – "

"Okay, keep your pants on – I knew to look for you because I knew you'd be in trouble. And it was easy to find you, it ain't hard to miss three cop cars go flying past your house."

"Trouble? How did you – "

"You watch the news tonight, doc?" Bugs cut over him.

As was becoming the norm between them, Yakko was incredibly focused on him despite the fact that his body was crying for sleep. "No, why?"

"That explains why you're so confused," Bugs mutterd, "remember when I told you about Rocky and the toon drawing ring, and how he got thrown in jail?"

"Yeah, but I gotta say, bringing a convicted felon into the mix does not make this sound very promising," Yakko said.

"That would be because it ain't," Bugs said, "did I tell you which jail he was thrown into?"

Yakko's heart began to beat against his ribcage. "No…"

"State of New York Toon Correctional Facility. Same one as – "

" – the weasels," Yakko breathed.

Bugs nodded. "They said at about noon today, Rocky was missing from his cell. Can't find him anywhere. He escaped."

"And what does this have to do with us?" Yakko asked.

Bugs took his eyes off the road for a moment to look at Yakko's face. "Before he left, Rocky wrote something on his cell wall in what looks like ink."

"What did he write?"

"'_Warner did it_,'" Bugs said.


	12. Cabin Fever

_**Chapter 11: Cabin Fever**_

Rocky's mugshot glared at Dot from the television screen – well, she assumed he was glaring, it was hard to tell when a bandana obscured his face from the eyes up. His prominent jaw, shaded by a five o'clock shadow, showcased a trademark sneer that was more like a gash in his face than anything. A cigarette dangled from the corner of his mouth with a thin trail of smoke curling up and out of frame. Even though Dot knew he was short man in reality, he looked oddly menacing on the screen.

A shiver raced down her spine, but Dot resisted the urge to snuggle closer to Yakko. She hadn't spoken a word to him since he had screamed at her in the car last night, and she had no inclination to now. She had officially been grounded for a month, but now that it looked as though they'd be camping out at Bugs' for a while, she wasn't sure what difference that made. She'd forgive her brother eventually, but first she wanted him to squirm a little bit. So instead she edged away from him, placing herself as far away from him as possible on Bugs' couch. Yakko didn't seem to notice; he was leaning forward on the edge of his seat, head in his hands, ears forward, body tense, raptly attentive to the news report on screen. Wakko, mouth slightly open, was perched on the arm of the couch next to him and watching as well. Bugs refused to sit, and instead stood behind the couch and surveyed the screen with his arms crossed.

"_Investigators remain baffled by Rocky's escape from the State of New York Toon Correctional Facility Monday morning,"_ the reporter fired off, _"one guard commented that 'it was as though he disappeared into thin air.' Rocky, who has been in solitary confinement twenty years since his incarceration in 1979, left only this message, written on his cell wall in ink – "_

The camera cut to a shot Dot had become very familiar with in the last hour: the words "**WARNER DID IT**" scrawled in large but thin black letters on a cement wall.

"_Warner may in fact refer to Yakko Warner and family, who were allegedly attacked by the four unnamed toons who were famously murdered in the same facility in early March – "_

"_Allegedly _attacked," Yakko spat, "we _were _attacked, it's a fact, they could at least get that right. They're certainly good at linking us to the crime without any proof whatsoever – "

"Shh," Bugs hissed.

The anchor continued, _"Mysteriously, no guard or inmate has any recollection of Rocky's escape, or what Rocky had been doing not only that day, but for the entire week. The police continue to investigate."_

It cut to commercial for fabric softener.

"Why can't anyone remember anything?" Wakko asked.

Dot shrugged and they both turned to Yakko. He looked them for a second before turning around to Bugs. "Any thoughts?" he asked.

For moment it appeared that Bugs hadn't heard him. His brow was furrowed in concentration, he was frowning at nothing. But finally his stance loosened and he faced them. "It's hard to say," Bugs murmured, still in deep thought, "if I didn't know any better – and I do – I'd say he blurred them, but he couldn't – "

"What's that?" Dot and her brothers asked in perfect unison. She rolled her eyes, which would have been fine had Yakko and Wakko not both done that as well.

Bugs' brow rose. "You guys practice when I'm not around?"

"Freaky sibling thing," Dot explained, "please continue."

"Blurring refers to when one toons manipulates the mind of another," Bugs explained, "blurring makes you see things, makes you believe you're somewhere else…a toon could make you think you're on top of the Himalayas, but you're really just sitting on my couch. It's dangerous and can really mess with a toon's head. It's illegal to boot. Not that it really matters though, almost no toon can do it. It's a natural ability, you can't learn it. You either got it or you don't. And if I had my guess, I'd say Rocky don't got it."

"Can you do it?" Wakko asked.

"Well…no," Bugs admitted, sounding slightly annoyed.

"Who can?" Yakko pressed.

"Not many. Only drawn toons, and only Class A's, which already narrows down the list to almost nothin'. Honestly, I don't know a toon drawn past 1940 who can do it. It was a big deal if you could blur back in the day, it was a status symbol. Lot a toons faked it too. For a while everyone thought Bosko could do it, but it turns out it was really his girlfriend, Honey, who could do it, and he was just taking all the credit. They split and she went off and did her own thing, which involved getting in serious debt with a bunch a' drug lords. They weren't exactly thrilled about that so they – " his eyes flicked to Dot's wide ones, and he faltered. " – they uh, disposed of her, so to speak."

"How?" she asked immediately. Out the corner of her eye she noticed Yakko shaking his head at Bugs frantically.

"Eh, use your imagination," Bugs said.

"Wrong thing to say," Yakko muttered, glaring darkly at Dot and Wakko.

"Point is most of the toons who could blur either disappeared or are sitting on their duffs in Palm Springs. It was just a wild guess, and speakin' a which it's the last time I make a wild guess in front of three nosy siblings."

"Stop it, I'm blushing," Yakko cooed.

As Bugs snapped something snarky back at him, Dot turned to the television screen. Rocky's mugshot had taken it over once again, dark and cold and still.

**

* * *

**

Wakko's arm softened to a putty consistency. He watched as Yakko grasped him by the forearm and wrist and took several steps back. Two steps, three steps…his arm stretched, it felt natural, no pain or tension. Bugs' rec room was large enough for Yakko to take forty steps if he wanted. Five steps. Six steps.

"Okay sib, hold it steady," Yakko commanded.

Yakko began to count to ten, but Wakko already knew he'd make it. His arm felt fine, it had been feeling fine for weeks, if it were up to him he wouldn't be doing these dumb exercises anymore.

"When can I go outside again?" he asked, looking at his arm.

"nine…ten…okay, release," Yakko muttered. Wakko coiled his arm back, letting the bones resettle into themselves.

"When can I go – "

"You can go outside," Yakko cut over him, "give me your arm again."

"I mean somewhere that's not Bugs' backyard," Wakko sighed as his brother pulled.

Yakko's eyes flicked to him for the briefest moment. "I told you, I don't know. Hopefully soon. For now we just have to be patient and wait."

"I'm so sick of this," Wakko growled. He turned toward the window. Bugs' house overlooked a rare, lonely part of the Hollywood Hills, where only a few other houses were nestled in its mass. Since they'd gone into hiding, he'd gotten to know Bugs' house very well. Yakko had described Bugs' décor as "retro chic meets zealous liberal meets classy millionaire" but Wakko chose to call it "bizarre." Most of the house was sleek and modern with all kinds of strange artwork, but every now and then a classic Hollywood movie poster or old piece of memorabilia graced its midst. His favorite was a pie tin that Bob Hope had signed.

"I missed the whole summer being cooped up in this stupid place. I feel like I'm going crazy."

"Okay, release," Yakko said again. Wakko's arm solidified. "Look, I don't like it anymore than you do, alright? It's like Baby Jane but without the rat. But would you rather us all be in jail, or dragged off to god knows where by those weasels?"

In his head, Wakko knew he made sense. But Yakko had said the same thing to him for weeks, and he was tired of it making sense, he was tired of the cowardly logic. "But we wouldn't go to jail, we didn't do anything," he muttered petulantly. Somewhere in his mind he knew he was starting an argument, but he didn't care.

"I _told_ you," Yakko said, hints of irritation clear, "Bugs doesn't think the cops are on the up and up. Daffy did some digging and they think the police are corrupt from within. It explains why no one's – "

"- found the kidnapped people yet, I know," Wakko grumbled.

"Let alone stopped the kidnappers themselves. And that, sib, is why we are spending the foreseeable future on Isle de Rabbit."

"Is that what Bugs really calls his house?"

"No, thankfully. I just made that up. But c'mon, it's not so bad, this place is huge, I bet the basement has a basement."

Wakko rolled his eyes. "I don't care if there are six basements, I want to get out of here. Just let me go down the street, anything, I won't get caught."

Yakko gave him a stern eyebrow quirk. "Riiight," he drawled, "famous last words."

"I'm not going to do a dance and say 'here I am, kidnap me please!'" Wakko snapped, "I'm not stupid. Just let me go outside for five minutes. Who's going to catch me in five minutes?"

"The same guys who caught Brain, who's smarter than you and me combined," Yakko reasoned. "Now stand up straight, we'll do some target practice. By the time that's done I'm sure we'll have filled our pointless argument quota for the day."

Yakko pulled a tennis ball from his hammerspace and held it next to his head. Concentrating, Wakko struck out with his arm, which stretched until his fingers wrapped satisfyingly around the tennis ball. He pulled it back and dropped the ball in his own hammerspace. As Yakko repeated the action with his other hand, Wakko glared at him. "How am I supposed to go school, huh? It starts this week you know." He knew he was grabbing at straws. Really, school? He knew Yakko was going to see right through that and stomp all over it, but he didn't care. He wasn't going to make it any easier for Yakko than his brother was for him.

"Wow, I'm so glad you're taking such an interest in your education. I guess Bugs and I will have to give you extra homework," Yakko said nonchalantly as he held a tennis ball at arm's length.

"What?" Wakko yelped, missing the ball entirely and punching Yakko in shoulder by mistake.

"You trying to put me in rehab too?" Yakko grumbled as he rubbed his shoulder. "And you heard me right, Bugs and I will be teaching you and Dot until we get this mess sorted out. Bugs knows his stuff, and I'll be there to make sure you guys do your homework when you and Dot try to weasel – er, worm your way out of it."

"No way, Bugs? Teaching? Sweet, now he can show me all the cool stuff he shows you!" Wakko said, unable to stop a grin.

"Don't get ahead of yourself sib, you're still working on tennis balls," Yakko said, and he gave the one he was holding a small shake.

Wakko rolled his eyes and snatched it out of Yakko's hand. "I can learn it, I'd be a Class A candidate if it weren't for my stupid arm. And if I learn that stuff I can help you and Bugs look for the kidnappers."

Yakko's eyebrow performed another familiar arch. "What makes you think I'm off gallivanting with Bugs doing vigilante work?"

"'Cause I saw you the other night. You and Bugs shapeshifted your faces before you left, Bugs looked like a human and you made yourself look like a dog. I could still tell it was you though."

Yakko looked at him sharply. "You could? What gave me away?"

"Your eyes still looked the same. And your tail started to change back to normal too."

"Damn, I always forget that…" Yakko muttered to himself. Then he blinked and narrowed his eyes at Wakko. "You know I'd prefer it if you didn't spy on me, Nathan Hale. If I catch you at it again – "

"You didn't catch me, I just told you – "

"_If I find out_ you were spying on me again," Yakko said, punctuating each word, "you will be one hundred percent grounded."

"How is that different from now?" Wakko grumbled.

"You think your freedom is limited now? Wait til you see what I can do," Yakko threatened, holding out another ball.

Wakko snatched it from him roughly. "Just let me do something, I can help – I want to help. And what's the big deal if I learn some stuff? Don't you want me to learn?"

"Of course I want you to learn. I want you to learn that you should listen to me when I say some things are just over your head at the moment. I would also like you to learn to clean your room, but one can only dream."

"But how do you know it's over my head until you let me try?" Wakko pleaded, realizing that he sounded dangerously close to whining, "I'm not stupid, and I want to solve this so we can go home! Why can't I learn what you do so I can protect myself, if we run into the same guys that got Slappy I know they have DIP and I don't want to – "

Wakko quickly slapped a hand over his mouth, but judging by the look on his brother's face it was too late. It was a rare moment where he talked too much and let something slip to Yakko, usually it was the other way around. But Yakko was staring at him now, mouth hanging open, tennis ball clutched tightly in his fist.

"I…forget I said that," Wakko said quickly.

"Don't think so, I've got a good memory," Yakko said ominously, his eyes narrowing, "what was that about DIP?"

"Hey, look at that sky," Wakko blurted, frantically looking for a distraction, "it sure is…big…today."

"You want to get back to that DIP part?"

Wakko backed up several steps. "Uh, I have to go. Potty emergency, you understand."

He dashed out of the room, ignoring Yakko's shouts of protest.

**

* * *

**

By the end of September, fifty toons had gone missing. By mid October the toll was up to sixty-two.

From what Yakko gathered on the news, most toons traveled in large groups or not at all. Many parents were home schooling their children, while many more had lost or quit their jobs. Even the humans were trying to get involved, but it was at their own risk – it was far too dangerous for a human to enter a hostile Toontown. One dropped anvil meant one very dead human. Their own faces appeared on the news regularly; the fact that they had disappeared only seemed to fuel the rumor that they were on a murderous rampage. Paranoia was sweeping through the streets of Toontown, his home, and Yakko could do nothing but watch it on a television screen.

While he regularly slipped out with Bugs to look for something, anything to link to the crime, most of his time was spent confined to the Bunny estate. Restlessness had begun to creep in over the summer. By the end of October Yakko was certain he was going to lose his mind. He had memorized every corner of Bugs' house, every tile, every bit of crown molding. He could recite, in order, the paintings per room per floor. He had the dates on every statuette in the awards room memorized, and this was after he gave Bugs a hard time for having an award room at all. He could walk the backyard blindfolded if he wanted to – and he tried it. Out of sheer boredom. If that wasn't enough, he had two siblings who reminded him every minute of every day that they were bored. When he asked them if they'd still be bored if he tried strangling them, they seemed eager to do a trial run.

Bright spots were few and far between, and they mostly came in the form of rabbits. Living with Bugs certainly had its advantages – the rabbit was like a walking, talking encyclopedia that had crossbred with an over-enthusiastic professor. He seemed to love passing on little facts to Yakko, showing him small but useful skills and always testing him. He showed him how to walk on the ceiling and how to make small things explode, and every day Bugs somehow found a way to engage him in some kind of verbal battle.

But it didn't always seem to be about teaching. There were times where Bugs just wanted to sit down and watch a movie with him. Other times Bugs insisted that Yakko join him for lunch, and they'd spend the next hour chattering away. Some nights he just asked Yakko questions, and the next thing he knew Yakko found that he'd been talking to the rabbit for hours. At first it confused him. Yakko couldn't remember a single adult who'd regarded him with any amount of concern aside from saying "poor thing with no parents and two young kids to raise" or "watch your mouth!" He couldn't understand why Bugs seemed to have a genuine interest in what he had to say. Surely it was some kind of front. There had to be an ulterior motive.

But as the weeks wore on Yakko began to notice that spending time with Bugs had become routine and, even more shocking, that he felt as though he could tell the rabbit anything. That was certainly a new sentiment that he had never expressed to an adult before. It frightened him a little, to trust someone so completely, but at the same time it was wonderfully freeing. For the first time he didn't feel like he had to do everything himself. For the first time, Yakko felt like he had someone to fall back on.

On top of hanging out with Bugs, Buster and Babs visited him almost daily. They were staying with Buster's parents, a drastic throwback to their teen years. Buster would come over and Yakko would milk him dry of information: what he'd heard, what he'd seen, what he'd suspected. Yakko was ravenous for tidbits of the outside world, but Buster only had so much to give him. Most toons were getting too paranoid to speak for – as far as the public knew – anyone could be the kidnappers. Sometimes Buster would stay the night at Bugs' house, claiming that he didn't think it was safe to drive home that night. But Yakko knew that Buster was only staying because he knew Yakko needed it, and Yakko appreciated that more than Buster would ever know.

But living with Buster's parents seemed to be taking its toll on Babs. She wouldn't reveal much, but it appeared that Buster's parents thought very little of her staying in the same room as their darling Buster, among other things. As such, Babs began spending more and more of her time at Bugs' place, with or without Buster. She'd flop on the couch next to Yakko and they'd talk kidnappers and weasels and theories and corrupted police and victims, but before long it would turn into general chatter about nothing in particular. Then Yakko would throw a joke in here or there and she'd goofily throw wisecracks at him, but he'd forget to respond because he'd be following the lush curve of her cheeks. If it wasn't that then he'd be distracted by the way her fingers moved as she absently played with her ears.

The worst was when Babs laughed. He'd recently discovered that he loved when she laughed, especially if he was the cause. She'd wrinkle her nose and smile at him with all her teeth while her eyes became alight. The sound of her laughter was like nothing he'd ever heard. He was addicted to it.

He wished he had a point of reference. If he could only compare these feelings to those he'd had with another girl, he might be less lost. But Yakko couldn't remember his heart beating this way to the sight of another girl, nor had he laid in his bed at night, using the moments before sleep to think of such a girl the way he did with Babs. He was Yakko Warner for crying out loud. He didn't obsess over some girl. It was usually the other way around.

There was a part of him that knew all of this was a bad idea. It would bellow at him from the back of his brain, like someone trying to yell above the roar of the engine that the plane was about to crash, that he shouldn't be actively attempting to get his best friend's girlfriend to laugh. But Yakko couldn't help talking to her to her any more than he could help talking to Bugs; it just felt natural to spend time around Babs, and the more he did it the more he couldn't stop.

And so he found himself sitting at the kitchen table across from Babs as she babbled away to Bugs. They'd been discussing the kidnappings for the better part of an hour, but seemed to have mutually agreed on a mental reprieve from that topic and had moved on to the finer points of toon television.

"It's slop, all of it, have you watched TV recently?" Babs challenged, gesturing wildly with her fork. "It's bad, like, Jenny Jones bad, especially for us ladies. The only girls they put in front of the camera these days are top-heavy bimbos whose default reaction is to giggle like an idiot."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Yakko joked, hiding a smirk behind his glass.

Babs swatted at him playfully before continuing, "I demand some quality! I want intellectual caviar, not cotton candy!"

Bugs rolled his eyes. "Look out everyone, she's rolling out the metaphors."

"I'm serious! Just watch, I'm going to make it happen," Babs challenged.

"Oh I'll watch alright. I've been watching you make things happen since you was in diapers," Bugs said, leaning back into his chair and gnawing on a carrot.

"Diapers? Really?" Yakko stated, grinning at her.

"I'm an old family friend," Bugs said, reaching over to tweak Babs' ear. She ducked out of the way, which Yakko assumed was born of years of practice as opposed to quick reflexes.

"You know that _annoying _uncle you don't want at family events but you have to invite him anyway?" Babs drawled to Yakko, "Yeah, that's Bugs."

This time Bugs caught her in the ear, making her yelp and laugh. "Well, your 'annoying uncle' wants to know just how you plan to revolutionize television as we know it."

"You know how they say if you want something done right…" Babs began.

Her back had straightened, and she was adopting that look of utmost confidence that Yakko found undeniably sexy. Then Yakko rebuked himself for thinking anything Babs did was sexy and he gave himself a quick smack in the face that went unnoticed by either rabbit.

"…I'm going to do it myself," Babs continued, "Once all this craziness is over, I mean. I'm going to stage my attack from within. Instead of being in front of the camera, I'm going to be behind it."

Bugs raised his eyebrows with interest, and Yakko turned to her, his ears perking. "Really? Doing what?"

She turned to face him as well, and Yakko couldn't help but notice that she had reclined into herself a bit, and she chewed her lip nervously. It was for the best, really – if she'd thrown the confident look at him again he probably would have fallen off his chair.

"Well, I was thinking," she said hesitantly, her bravado waning, "maybe…producer?"

"Producer, really?" Yakko said excitedly, "Babs, you'd be a fantastic producer, as opposed to…well…pretty much every producer."

"You think so?" Babs asked, jumping immediately back into confident mode. Yakko suddenly felt very lightheaded, and he quickly gulped down the rest of his drink. When he put his glass down, he locked eyes with Bugs, who as giving him the wryest look he'd ever seen.

**

* * *

**

With a sigh, Dot fell back onto her bed and was nearly enveloped by the massive quilt Bugs had given her. Another boring end to another boring day. Bugs had shown her how to detach and reattach her tail, which had been mildly interesting. Other than that she had spent most of her day talking to Skippy on the phone, giving names to the houseplants, and getting in an argument with Wakko that had eventually involved two pelicans and a bowling ball.

If she had to stay in this house for much longer she was going to lose her marbles.

A knock on her door prompted her to look at her clock. Yakko was right on time for his nightly rounds. But when he stepped into her room she noticed that his back was slouched and his footsteps were heavy. He all but fell onto her bed as he sat down, rubbing the bases of his ears.

"Hey sib," he muttered.

"How'd it go?" Dot asked, somewhat resentfully. She was well aware he'd spent most of the day with Bugs patrolling the streets.

"Oh, it was great. We found nothing, which was a real change of pace from the day before when we found nothing. Bugs wants to go out tomorrow too, and if I were to hazard a guess I think we'll find nothing. It really boosts the morale, you know, all this finding nothing business…"

It wasn't long before his talk degenerated into rambling, a frustrated outpouring of words that ran wild like a tethered dog who'd been let free. Talking had always seemed to soothe Yakko, though Dot wasn't entirely sure why aside from the fact that maybe it just seemed normal. But this wasn't normal, it wasn't glib and clever, this was defeated and discouraged and tired. Despite all of it, he seemed more real to her now. He wasn't lording his age over her, he wasn't trying to parent her. He was just Yakko, her brother.

Now that he'd made it impossible to stay mad at him, Dot scooted across the covers and wrapped her arms around his torso. Yakko stopped midsentence to look down at her, startled, before melting into a small smile and returning the hug.

"Is this your new tactic to get me to shut my yap?" he asked, chuckling.

"Sometimes it's the only thing that works," she replied, leaning her head against him.

"I approve," he said.

They sat in silence, listening to the sounds of the other's breathing. Dot shut her eyes when Yakko began to stroke her hair, letting all the anxiety and anger fade with each pass.

"I'm sorry you had a bad day," she said after a while.

Yakko sighed. "It's not your fault. Huh, if anything it's mine."

"Oh come off it. You're such a drama queen."

"So I've been told."

Another pause.

"I miss my old life," she mumbled into his shirt.

"I know," Yakko murmured as he stroked her hair. "But we're together. That's something, right?"

Dot shrugged. "I guess."

"You guess? What kind of answer is that?"

"I'm just kidding," she teased, then giggled and squirmed when Yakko ruffled her ears playfully.

"You're a laugh a minute, Dot Warner," Yakko drawled. He paused for a minute, then suddenly squeezed her very tightly, drawing her close to his chest. His grip was vice-like, as though he was trying to prevent someone from dragging her away.

"Ah, practicing your boa constrictor impression I see," Dot managed to choke out.

Yakko didn't answer at first. He just held her. When he finally spoke, his voice was oddly tight. "You know I'd never let anything happen to you, right?" he asked.

"I'm going to have a very boring life if that's the case," Dot mused.

"You know what I mean."

Frowning, Dot pulled back to look at him squarely. He seemed as though he was going on thirty years, not twenty. "Did you take an anvil to the head while you were gone? Of course I know that. You still try to open my mail so I don't get papercuts. By the way, that has to stop."

"You know what they say about old habits," he muttered.

Dot nodded. "They were young once."

"Exactly," Yakko replied. He bent low to drop a quick kiss on her forehead.

**

* * *

**

Wakko peered over the edge of his sketchbook, careful not to pull attention to himself. He glanced back down, sketched in a few lines, and looked back up. He was curled up in the corner of Bugs' drawing room, ironically, sketching his subjects from across the room as discreetly as possible. Yakko and Babs were sitting at the far table, appearing to be playing a game of cards but really just trying to distract the other. Wakko didn't really understand why Yakko, who had never really given a crap about Babs when they lived on the lot, suddenly found her so interesting to talk to, but whatever. Right now they were making perfect sketch subjects.

Wakko inspected his drawing. Babs looked okay he supposed, but Yakko looked way off, like a dog that had just gotten run over. They always said it was harder to draw yourself, and he looked so much like Yakko that it was pretty much the same thing.

Maybe it was his snout that was off. Just as Wakko placed his pencil down to adjust the curve, the door burst open and a shrill scream shattered the calm. Wakko jumped, scratching a thick dark line across his sketch.

"_Babs!_"

"_Shirley!_"

Babs left Yakko at the table as she dashed into the arms of her friend. There was a lot of shrieking and bouncing up and down. An uninformed observer would think that Babs and Shirley had both suddenly gone into fits, or maybe were partaking in some kind of weird ritual. Wakko glanced at Yakko, who just gave him a deadpan stare. He slapped his sketchbook shut and glared at Shirley. Her abrupt entrance had reminded him so vividly of the weasel lunging at him that his heart was nearly breaking through his chest. And he ruined his drawing too. Crap.

"I like missed you!"

"I missed you too!"

As the girls giggled and clutched at each other, Yakko joined them and added in a mockingly girlish tone, "Oh my god, I missed you too!"

"Hi Yakko," Shirley said as Babs hung from her neck, "oh, and like, hey Wakko."

Wakko gave her a small wave as Yakko asked, "So what brings you around these parts?"

"Well I hadn't seen Babs in like, an age, and it was doing horrible things to my inner spirit," Shirley said, "so I totally talked Bugs into letting me visit."

"I'll have to thank that rabbit," Babs commented to herself.

"You guys, like, epic madness with those weasels, ya know?" Shirley said, smacking some gum. Wakko nodded, hoping she was referring to the attack on Buster's house but not entirely sure.

"You could say it was epic," Yakko said, "I'd be more likely to go with traumatic or scarring, but that's just me."

"Traumatic, huh? Traumatic, like, how?" Shirley pressed. Out of her hammerspace came a pad of paper and a pen.

Yakko cocked an eyebrow. "Am I on record?"

Shirley shook Babs off and bounced up to Yakko, nearly shoving the pen up his nose. "You have to like, spill your beans Yak! If I crack this case, I could like totally go back to being a real reporter again! I've been doing some research, and you know what, there's some really bum vibes shaking up this scene."

"No kidding," Babs drawled.

Shirley gestured for them to gather closer as though someone was trying to eavesdrop. Babs grabbed Wakko and Yakko by the arms and pulled them in.

"Okay, so like, you know how Montana Max lost that ToonGO thing to that Oswald dude?" Shirley whispered.

"Oh, do I," Yakko said, grinning dreamily.

"So like as much as I detest the snotbag, he really shouldn't have lost it," Shirley continued. "I mean, he's so rich it makes me want to like, gag myself. And I checked with the BBB, and there's like, no record of Oswald handing over a dime. No invoice, no check, zilch. Don't ya think that's a little whack?"

Wakko nodded forcefully, making Yakko frown.

"I looked like, for_ever_, I even totally skipped an episode of Bruin Beats which sucks because she's been broadcasting from Malibu Hopes Rehab Center for Toons – "

"Shirley," Wakko, Yakko and Babs all said at once.

" – right. So I looked and the only thing I could find – like, the _only _thing – was a property agreement. Oswald didn't just lease or rent the ToonGO building…he bought the whole thing."

"But how? With what money?" Babs pressed, sounding almost petulant with desperation.

"He had a cosigner!" Shirley hissed rapidly.

"What's that?" Wakko blurted. He was so shocked Yakko hadn't ushered him out and shoved a pacifier in his mouth and he was determined not to miss a scrap of information. He wished he didn't sound so dumb asking though.

"A cosigner is someone who agrees to fulfill a person's loan if that person fails to do so," Yakko explained quickly, "Shirley, who was it?"

"Pete," she said.

"Pete?" Babs repeated, "Like, _Pete _Pete?"

Shirley nodded so that her hair flopped up and down. "Yeah, like _Pete _Pete."

Wakko and Yakko shared a look. It was like the girls spoke in code.

"But Pete's broke too! Probably even more broke than Oswald," Babs commented.

"That makes no sense Shirley," Yakko said bluntly.

"Like, I know that Yakko."

"Well what else did you find out?"

"What? Nothing. That was it."

"I thought you were an investigative reporter?"

"I am. Duh."

"So why didn't you investigate more?"

"I don't see you, like, investigating anything!"

"I can't leave this house, you'd know that if you'd do some investigating!"

"Well investigate this – "

Wakko jumped forward and pushed Yakko back while Babs wrapped her arms around Shirley and dragged her back as she glared at Yakko.

"Break it up you two," Babs snapped, "I know neither of you have exactly been living the dream lately, but we're running out of people we can trust so it would be kind of stupid if we started fighting with the people we can."

"She started it," Yakko so Shirley could hear. Wakko rolled his eyes. "Guardian" his ass, most of the time Yakko was just as big a child as Dot was. He, on the other hand, was well beyond his sixteen years. Of course.

"You know," Wakko said in wheedling tone, "none of this would be a problem if we could go outside."

"Which is why it's such a shame we can't," Yakko retorted.

Wakko's fists clenched. "C'mon Yakko! How are we supposed to figure out anything if we're just hiding here all the time!"

"And here I thought we'd had this argument already," Yakko drawled. Yakko turned to Babs, and that was it. Staring at Yakko's back, Wakko felt as though a trigger had been pulled inside him.

"Why are you so scared all the time?" Wakko roared.

This got Yakko's attention quicker than Wakko had expected. He turned back, giving Wakko a look he couldn't place. Shirley, whose eyes were going between both boys like she was watching a tennis match, was suddenly dragged away by her arm by Babs.

"Scared, huh? Is that what you call it? Protecting you guys?" Yakko said, his tone even in an intimidating sort of way.

"You say you're protecting us, but I don't know if that's true!" Wakko shouted. He was angry again, so quickly, he knew it had something to do with being so frustrated by the same stupid walls around him but suddenly words were coming out of his mouth and he had no idea where they'd come from or how to stop them. "We're stuck here because it's dangerous in Toontown, but it's dangerous in Toontown because we're not doing anything about it! And we could, we could do something! I know about the DIP, I know where the weasels have been, and now all this Pete stuff…I just, I just – "

"You think I haven't considered this?" Yakko snapped, taking advantage of Wakko's stumbling. "I think about it, I think about it every day Wakko. But I also think about the two of you, and how it's not worth it to me to risk your lives, or to risk my own life and leave you two behind – "

Wakko fired back, "But some things are worth it! I'm sick of sitting here being a loser with you! I'd rather be dead than be stuck at this house for another month – "

Wakko knew he'd gone too far even before Yakko bellowed, "THAT'S IT!" But he didn't care either. Yakko was very close to his face now, looking furious, and Wakko matched him. He was sure that if someone was watching them right now their faces would be almost identical in anger.

"I've had it!" Yakko yelled. "You don't want to be in this house anymore? You want to go out and hunt the bad guys down? Do you remember what happened the last time you did that?" Yakko jabbed Wakko in the shoulder of the arm he had hurt, and Wakko jerked roughly away. "You went out and you did something stupid and I had to come and save you. You don't get it Wakko! You don't think things through and you don't pay attention and if it doesn't hurt you it's gonna hurt one of us. We're not on a TV show anymore, the bad guys aren't gonna get knocked silly by an anvil and call it a day. And the fact that we're even having this pointless argument again…if you think for a second that I'm letting you set one foot outside the door then you've got another thing – "

Red hot anger, boiling in his chest, spilled over into Wakko's arms, bubbling past his elbows and then Wakko did something he'd never done before: he pushed Yakko. Hard. In the chest. Yakko stumbled a few steps backwards, the backs of his knees knocking into a chair. He blinked at Wakko in shock, something that was undeniably hurt flickering across his face, and Wakko fought back the strong urge to recoil and apologize. His brother looked for all the world like a whipped puppy, and it made Wakko sick to his stomach. But the heartbroken look on Yakko's face flipped into anger and Wakko braced himself, firmly believing, if only for a moment, that Yakko was going to push him back. His fists were clenched and shaking.

But after a few moments of heated glaring the tension fell out of Yakko's shoulders. "Just go to your room," he grumbled.

Wakkos stared back at him, breathing heavily. He supposed it was normal for brothers to push and hit each other, but then again, they weren't normal brothers. So Wakko had no idea how to answer Yakko other than that he was scared and angry and confused, and why couldn't Yakko, who had been sixteen once too, just explain to him how to feel and that he would be okay. But maybe Yakko couldn't explain anything to him. Maybe Yakko was just as confused and scared as he was, and that thought scared him more than anything else.

This was worse, bigger than the argument they'd had weeks ago. Something was different between them now. Something had broke. For a moment he wanted to run forward and cling to Yakko and say he was sorry, but the growling animal inside his chest would not let him do it.

"Go to your room, Wakko."

"Can't, we're living in someone else's house," Wakko retorted, already storming out of the room.

**

* * *

**

Sighing, Yakko dragged his hands over his face and ears and collapsed onto the couch. His face always had an unpleasant numb feeling to it after a day of shapeshifting it. While he found that he could hold a face for nearly two hours, the last fifteen minutes of which were like getting his skin peeled off before he finally had to take a break and shift back again. His features would feel slack and rubbery, and it would be hard to form words for minutes before the feeling came back. He usually took the form of a dog; it was easiest, he already had the snout. If he didn't turn into a dog, it was a rabbit. It felt right, though he couldn't place why.

Bugs was at his desk, paging through an enormous stack of papers while a spectacular blaze roared in the fireplace. Yakko would have been impressed had it not been one of those fireplaces that spring to life at the touch of a button. He didn't quite get why Bugs had it on either; perhaps it had something to do with the fact that it was November now and it was seasonal to have a nice fire going. Too bad it was Los Angeles and it had been a balmy seventy-four degrees that day.

"They officially announced a production freeze in Toontown today," Bugs said suddenly, not looking up from the papers. "No toon in the union can work until this kidnapping thing gets sorted out."

Yakko grunted in response.

Bugs continued, "Sometimes I need to take my mind off it, so I thought I'd catch up on some paperwork. My agent threw this at me a year ago – wait, make that two years ago…yikes…anyway, some fanatic decided to pen my biography and they want my approval on it. It's eh, not really _War and Peace_, but it can be pretty damn entertaining."

Staring into the fire, Yakko nodded.

"You're quiet," Bugs commented, glancing up from the manuscript, "I don't get to say that very often, thought I'd take advantage."

Yakko shrugged. "It's nothing. Just have a lot on my mind."

"Such as?"

"I thought you had to read your life story?" Yakko said, quirking an eyebrow.

"Already know it," Bugs quipped, "c'mon doc, it's either you talking or me reading more about my failed romances on my path to stardom."

Yakko snorted. "Well, when you put it that way…" he paused, weighing the words in his mouth and wondering if they would make him sound pathetic if he let them loose, "…do you ever feel like you've made all the wrong decisions?"

"Hindsight's twenty twenty, doc," Bugs said softly.

"I know, but sometimes I feel like I've screwed up the sibs' lives, and my friends lives…I mean, look where we are. I dragged my sibs across the country because I thought it would be good for us, and then I dragged them back, and all I've managed to do is get make my friends homeless and my sibs wanted criminals on the run."

Bugs tossed the manuscript behind him with a heavy thump. "No wonder you were on Broadway, kid. You've got quite the flair for the dramatic. The way I see things is that you gave your brother and sister a diverse education and kept everyone as safe as possible from a situation that's out of your control."

Yakko watched the flames pop and crack. "Wakko and Dot barely talk to me," he said after a moment.

"They definitely don't have a problem yelling at you," Bugs said. Yakko shot him a sharp glare, and Bugs raised his hands. "Kiddin', kiddin'…but you have to admit that brother a' yours has a set of lungs when he decides to use them."

Yakko sighed and hefted his head into his hands when Bugs got up from the desk and moved to a chair that was closer to the fire. "They're teenagers, Yakko. You were one once – hey, still one now – don't you remember how it felt?" he asked.

"I didn't have time to be a teenager," Yakko said without looking at him.

"Then maybe that's why you can't see it their way," Bugs said, "you've worked hard to give them as normal of a life as a toon's gonna get and your reward is them just being normal teenagers. Their worlds are so small right now, so the tiniest rumble to them feels like an earthquake. Trust me, I've seen more rugrats grow up on that lot than I have cartoons, and it's always the same: drop one anvil on someone's foot and you might as well have dropped the whole factory on their head. Wakko and Dot had a lot of things thrown at them in the last year, and they're just reacting to it."

Yakko nodded, feeling marginally better. It was like Bugs was reminding him of what he already knew.

"I guess they're just growing up whether I like it or not. And they're so smart as they get older too, they're so talented. But, huh, sometimes I wish they wouldn't grow at all," he said, thinking about how Wakko had pushed him and Skippy's perfume.

When he looked up from the fire he found Bugs was watching him with some amusement, as though he was observing a child discover how to snap his fingers.

"I know, I know, anymore schmaltz and you're going to ship me over to Disney," Yakko drawled.

"I wouldn't do that, Plotz would force-feed me your contract," Bugs replied.

Yakko snorted. A few moments passed in silence aside from the cracks and pops of the fire. Without turning his head Yakko glanced at Bug. He was staring into the fire now too, the orange flames reflecting glossily in eyes.

"Bugs," he said quietly, suddenly wanting to back out but knowing it was too late, "what's it like not to get older?"

When Bugs didn't answer Yakko gulped, anxious that he had really offended him or prodded too far. But finally Bugs cleared his throat and stared into the fireplace.

"It's like a movie that you started watching in the middle, but it keeps going…no beginning, no end," he said, sounding unusually old.

Yakko watched the rabbit intently, not daring to speak for fear he'd throw him off.

"I've never regret being drawn," he continued, "but it's hard to look around sometimes and remember the old days, when I was doing what I was drawn to do…make cartoons…things have changed so much. And you have this drive…see, when you're drawn you have a purpose, and it pushes you and pushes you. It took me years – decades – to come to terms with it. But if there's one thing I'll never quite get over, it's watching the world and the people around you change, grow old, die…"

Bugs was staring into the fire as though it was an odd specimen he was examining, and Yakko held very still.

"You have to make sure you have friends who are like you. You have to pray that a family was drawn with you," Bugs continued, "apparently I have a nephew, Clyde, but there wasn't much affection drawn in between us and we haven't spoken in years."

"I couldn't imagine not having my family," Yakko said quietly. He hadn't meant to interrupt, but he couldn't keep the shocked words from spilling out of his mouth. Bugs spoke about it too matter-of-factly.

"With the family you got, I can see why," Bugs said, chuckling, "Wakko's this quiet ball of creativity, and Dot's got more sass in her pinky finger than most toons have in their whole body. They're amazing, and I'm glad I got the chance to watch them grow, even if it's only been these few months. And you…"

With Bugs' attention on him now, Yakko pulled back. This was not the mischievous and enigmatic rabbit from the cartoons; he was grounded now. Very real. He didn't look his age, but he radiated it.

Bugs sighed and said, "Most drawn toons decide not to have kids. Giving birth to a fuzzy little toon would mean watching that him grow and die while you stood still, so I never bothered having a kid of my own…"

Breaking off, he looked at Yakko. There was a small smile on his face that had hints of sadness at the corners. Yakko could not remember any adult ever looking at him in that way before.

"But then I found you running around the lot," Bugs said.

Yakko's eyes widened. For once in his life he wasn't sure what to say and, even more unusually, he chose to stay silent. But he couldn't stop the corner of his mouth from hooking upwards, seemingly prompted by the burst of warmth in his chest. He wanted to say something to Bugs, something he'd been meaning to say for a while now, something sincere and unlike the sarcastic remarks he usually treated the rabbit with. But the words hesitated in his throat, as though they had gotten trapped in the tangle of thorns that had grown in the years since he'd been abandoned by the only parent he'd known.

As though to save him from the ensuing awkward silence, the doorbell rang and startled both of them. Yakko glanced at the clock on the wall.

"That's gotta be Buster," Yakko said.

"He's late," Bugs said, frowning at the clock.

"Well actually he's routinely half an hour late, so I'd say he's right on time," Yakko retorted.

"I should really be getting back to that draft anyway," Bugs said hurriedly as he stood up, leaving the manuscript on the floor.

Yakko nodded. "Yeah I uh, should probably answer the door – "

"Yeah – "

"Yeah."

Yakko didn't make eye contact with Bugs as they parted from opposite sides of the room. Feeling slightly overwhelmed, Yakko followed the maze of hallways to the front door. The security camera outside fed into a screen that hung just above the archway. Buster was currently making faces into the camera, which showed up on grainy feed. Rolling his eyes, Yakko opened the door. Buster smirked at him. He was soaked from head to toe.

"Practicing your breast stroke?" Yakko asked sarcastically, nodding to the water that was dripping from Buster's ears.

"You know, everything sounds like a double entendre coming from you," Buster commented, slipping past Yakko's arm and into the foyer. He collapsed into modern-looking chair, unconcerned with the fact that there was water already pooling at his ankles.

"What's up? You miss me too much?" Yakko said as he shut the door.

Buster looked up from beneath his brow. "Max is gone."

Yakko locked the deadbolt much quicker than necessary. "Montana?" he gasped. As Buster nodded solemnly, he muttered, "What happened?"

"Don't know. His limo got hijacked. Shirley told me he got in the car but it wasn't his chauffer in the front seat. They drove off an no one's heard from him since."

Falling back against the door, Yakko ran a hand through his ears. True, he wasn't Max's biggest fan, but that didn't mean he wanted him kidnapped.

"I guess we can cross him off our list of suspects then," Yakko said.

Buster nodded. "No one seems to be going out their way to find him."

Suddenly Yakko was reminded vividly of the months and months ago when he sat on Buster's bed and gloated with his friend over Max's lost bid for ToonGO. An unpleasant twinge of guilt pricked his chest.

"That wasn't the only reason I came over," Buster said.

"No, I'm not going to try to identify that thing you found in your hammerspace," Yakko said wearily.

"No," Buster said, watching him, "I wanna talk about Babs."

Yakko, who was still leaning against the door, stiffened. Perhaps it was best if he unlocked the door. It would make it much easier for him to sprint out of it, should Buster suddenly try to mallet him to death and the need arose.

"What about her?" Yakko asked, wincing as his voice jumped several pitches.

"Sometimes I think…I swear…she's after another guy," Buster said slowly.

Yakko wondered if Buster would find it suspicious if he suddenly passed out, because that's what he felt like doing.

"That's crazy," Yakko blurted.

"Ugh, I know. It's not like she off meeting dudes anyway, if she's not at my house then she's here," Buster said, rubbing his face.

Yakko leaned against the door for support. It was fine, Buster didn't suspect anything…but the fact that Buster had not even entertained the thought that Yakko would ever take advantage of his time alone with Babs made him feel like lowest creature in the world.

But he hadn't done anything. He had no reason to feel guilty. Right?

Buster sighed, "I just…I don't know man. I don't get what happened. It was so…so easy for us to be together before. It just seemed obvious. But now I feel like I can't do anything right when she's around, and we'd fight but now…nothing. We don't argue, but we say anything else either. Is that worse?"

Yakko blinked, realizing Buster was talking to him. His brain had derailed slightly, as he was thinking of all the times Babs had talked to him for hours. He gulped but it just felt like a dry glob in his throat; Yakko tried to focus on Buster, tried to push out all thoughts of Babs from his head because he was certain that Buster was going to be able to read his mind and figure out what a bastard of a friend Yakko was being.

"I don't know Ears," Yakko lied, "I mean, have you tried listening to her?"

"I just told you she won't talk to me."

"I know I know, before the vow of silence."

"Well yeah, I'm not stupid, but it's like she was trying to change who I was. I mean, we've known each other for like ten years now, she has to get that I'm not just going to spend my nights sipping tea and knitting doilies," Buster said.

Yakko pretended to interested in his gloves. "I don't think that's what she's going for dude. Maybe she just wants you to be more reliable. Just a guess."

"Way to be on my side, ass."

"I'm just trying to help you out!" Yakko said, raising his hands.

Frowning, Buster stared at him with uncertain eyes. Yakko sucked in a breath, willing himself to look as normal as possible but suddenly finding that very hard to do. After a few tense moments, Buster's face softened and he looked at Yakko in the familiar, friendly way he always had. With a pang, Yakko felt he didn't deserve it

"I know dude, I'm sorry," Buster said. He got up and zipped his jacket to the neck before stuffing his hands back in his pockets. "Thanks for listening to me, even though I know that's hard for you."

"Dick."

"Asshole."

Yakko snorted and Buster grinned.

"Seriously though," Buster said, more earnest this time.

"Don't worry about it," Yakko said, "I'm just sorry I couldn't give you a better answer."

Buster shrugged. "No worries. I mean, look at you, you're Yakko Warner. What would you know about girl trouble?"

Even though Buster grinned as he said this, there was a tinge of irony to it that Yakko wasn't sure if he imagined or not. Meeting his friend's gaze, it occurred to Yakko that Buster had never acknowledged any time that had passed since Yakko had left for New York. To Buster he was still seventeen, still wild and callous and careless. As far as Buster was concerned, Yakko had never grown up.

"More than you'd think," Yakko whispered to himself as Buster ducked into the rain.

**NOTE:** **Readers, you guys rock. I know the pace has been a little slow, but I promise your patience will be rewarded very soon. **


	13. Broken Bonds

_**Chapter 12: Broken Bonds**_

When Yakko made a show of clearing his throat and raising an eyebrow at her, Dot knew she had to put at least six extra inches between herself and Skippy. Sticking her tongue out at her brother, she obliged.

"Maybe I should just go Dot, it looks kinda like Yakko's getting on your nerves," Skippy said, watching Yakko warily.

"No way, we haven't hung out in weeks," Dot protested, "besides, I'm so far away I'd need a yardstick to touch you, I don't know what his problem is."

Dot glared at Yakko, who matched her with an identical gaze. He was leaning against the doorframe of the living room like a grumpy gargoyle, arms crossed and glowering. Nutsy, who had driven Skippy to Bugs' house in the first place, had made himself at home on a recliner and was flipping through the channels on the huge TV, grumbling every third flip or so.

This made it incredibly difficult to have the conversation she wanted to have with Skippy – namely what he had discovered while he had been free and she had not. He wasn't privy to much more than she had heard on the news, and aside from a few more weasel sightings Skippy had no updates on Brain or any of the other victims. Unfortunately the WB Tooniversity had shut down, so he didn't even have funny classroom stories to share with her anymore either. But somehow Skippy always managed to make her smile, to cheer her up. Sometimes when he was talking Dot had a crazy urge to reach out and hug him tightly, but that would probably land Yakko in the emergency room with multiple strokes. And if Wakko ever caught sight of her in the act, he would torture her for days about it.

Older brothers were the worst.

For his part, Wakko had been staying out of her hair. After the argument in the car she could barely look at him without wanting to stick dynamite down his pants, and it appeared that the feeling was mutual. They had surpassed the point of arguing and were now at the stage where they simply pretended the other didn't exist. And that was just fine with Dot.

"How many more times am I going to have to haul Skippy to this preposterous house? Do you know how far out of the way the hills are?" Nutsy asked Yakko loudly.

"Yes, I know this exotic locale adds an extra ten minutes to your drive. But you've got to admit, there's a lovely view," Yakko said. Only because she knew him so well could Dot detect the fine layer of sarcasm.

"Why is the rabbit letting you live in his house anyway? It's no hotel! Besides, you're crooks as far as I'm concerned. What'd he do, lose a bet?" Nutsy asked. He shook his cane every few words.

"We're friends with Bugs," Yakko said calmly.

"The rabbit? Friends with you?" Nutsy exclaimed, looking Yakko up and down. "Don't think I'd call it 'friends' if I were you."

"And what would you call it? Give me your expert opinion," Yakko drawled.

"You're an investment," Nutsy said, digging into his ear. He looked at his finger before flicking away whatever he had uncovered. "All three 'a you."

"Somehow I doubt that Bugs Bunny needs our nest egg," Yakko retorted.

Nutsy growled, "I don't mean money ya nincompoop, I mean reputation. Even though his body ain't aging, his name is. Sayin' you're a Looney Tune don't mean the same thing it did fifty years ago. People parted like the red sea when one of them walked by, but now? People don't give a rat's fart about Looney Tunes, it's all human shows and that Japanese nonsense. He's a fadin' star, just like my cousin was."

Her tail whipping furiously, Dot snapped, "Slappy was never a fading star!"

"I don't think he means it," Skippy said, laying a hand on her shoulder. One look from Yakko though and he snatched it away as though she was on fire.

Nutsy continued as though she hadn't said anything. "The instant you're popular again the rabbit's gonna be all over you like white on rice. You watch – 'I taught the kid everything he knows' he's gonna say, 'I trained him, me.' I bet he's been grooming you to be a right old humdinger of a toon, giving you all kinds of tips, big star of stage and screen and all that? You're not the first kid he's tried that with."

Dot's eyes darted between the two of them. Bugs had seemed to genuine, so friendly these past few months…she really liked him…but not nearly as much as Yakko did. She watched Yakko as he stiffened and gave Nutsy a calculating look. She bit her lip. Judging by his face, Nutsy's words were like a punch in the gut when all his defenses had finally been lowered. There was no way they could be true. She crossed her fingers anyway.

"The rabbit's one and only goal in life is to entertain people. It's in his ink," Nutsy rambled on. "That's what he was drawn to do, it's what gets him and all his buddies up in the morning. You're just his next big meal ticket. Toons like him don't mess around with families and friends and all that sappy nonsense – take the rabbit's useless nephew, Clyde. Boy tried his damnedest to get into the rabbit's good graces, famous uncle and all that, but as soon as old Bugs found out Clyde was a Class C, well, let's just say they haven't talked since. And that was 1973!"

Nutsy broke off for a moment to stare into space before continuing blusterously, "Why in 1973 they tried to recruit me! I remember, they were nearly knocking down my door. You know that dent in the corner of the doorframe? That's what happens when a recruiting officer's head comes into contact with solid wood – "

Shaking his head, Yakko made a noise of disgust and turned for the door. At the same moment, Buster and Wakko came barreling into the room. Buster all but smashed his face into Yakko's, sending Buster falling into Wakko's arms while Yakko staggered into Dot's. She caught him with the help of Skippy, and together they pushed him to his feet as Nutsy grumbled, "I'm tellin' a story here!"

"What happened? You find Bugs' closet of all his cross dressing outfits?" Yakko joked, albeit with an edge that Dot couldn't place.

But Dot could tell by Buster and Wakko's faces that something was very wrong. They both looked pale, even Wakko. Breathing heavily, Buster said in an unusually serious voice, "Dude, it's Shirley."

"She's been kidnapped," Wakko added hurriedly.

Feeling her stomach drop, Dot gasped and turned to Skippy. Slackjawed, he stared back at her. They both turned to Yakko, who blurted, "Shirley – what? When? What happened?"

"Bugs just told us – I think he's looking for you, Yak – she's gone, that's all we know. I think Bugs has got some sort of plan though," Buster said.

"Yeah, he's calling up everyone that's left for another meeting – can I come?" Wakko asked breathlessly.

"Me too!" Dot cried, jumping forward.

"Guys, not now," Yakko muttered.

"Please?" Dot cooed, batting her eyes at him.

Yakko glared at her, but Buster ran a hand through his ears and said, "I'm gonna look for Babs, she's in this labyrinth somewhere. I don't know if she's heard or not. If you see her let me know, alright?"

Something flickered across Yakko's face, which he covered up with a cough and a nod. Dot's eyes narrowed. He'd been acting like a complete weirdo around Babs for weeks – babbling incoherently when she looked at him, blushing and looking at his hands when she sat next to him on the couch, staring at her when her attention was focused anywhere but him – if she didn't know any better…

Dot was reasonably sure that she'd never seen Yakko in love. Naturally she'd seen him chase more girls in one day then he'd eaten meals, but that was different. He'd never actually loved any of them – he wouldn't even refer to any of them as his girlfriend. It was actually funny, even difficult, to picture Yakko doting on some girl. Giving her flowers, taking her out to dinner…the thought of it made Dot feel vaguely uncomfortable. It was much easier to think of him making some smartassed, suggestive comment that either got the girl giggling or got him slapped. But that meant that Dot had nothing to base his current behavior on.

No. It was ridiculous. Yakko couldn't be in love with Babs – there was that little detail where Babs was Buster's girlfriend. And Yakko liked girls way too much to pick just one.

Besides, Yakko had always told Dot that she was the only girl in his life.

Yakko and Buster left the room while Nutsy threw himself in the chair, muttering something about "criminals on the loose" before dropping his head back and snoring almost instantly. Wakko, realizing he was left with just Dot and Skippy, scowled at them before marching out himself. Skippy turned to her.

"I bet they won't let us go to Bugs' meeting," he sighed, "what a bummer, I really want to hear what they say."

Dot bit her lip. If Yakko's past record was any indication, there was no way he was going to allow either of them to sit in. Her eyes traced the room, looking for inspiration. Finally, they settled on Nutsy.

"Oh, we'll hear it alright," she said with a grin.

* * *

Yakko paced the familiar hallways of the mansion. His feet were able to carry him from room to room out of memory, allowing his mind to wander in all sorts of directions.

The voice that was deepest inside him told him that what Nutsy said was not true. That it would be a slight on Bugs to think otherwise. That even though he hadn't known Bugs for as long as Nutsy, he knew him better.

But there was the louder voice that circled him, taunted him. The one that told him he'd been a chump, and he should know better by now: to trust anyone like he would a parent was a fool's idea. His own parents were a joke – one who had left him behind and one he had never known at all. Plotz and the others on the lot looked at him with dollar signs in their eyes. Slappy and Buster's parents had cared for him, surely, but not nearly as much as they did their own children.

And he couldn't help but remember what Bugs had said to him the other night… _when you're drawn you have a purpose, and it pushes you and pushes you_… _there wasn't much affection drawn in between us and we haven't spoken in years_…

There was a certain anxiety to his heartbeat now, but he pushed it down. Pushed it away. He was an adult now, he didn't need and another adult to make him feel good about himself. He had his siblings. He had Buster and Babs. And he had himself.

He was dragged from his thoughts by a small whimpering sound, making him stop midstep. Following his ears led him to the rear balcony that overlooked the sunbathed hills. Babs was on the ground, huddled against the railing; she wasn't crying, at least not anymore, but Yakko could still see a few darkened tear tracks carving lines down her cheeks. It made his chest feel tight. Shutting the door behind him, Yakko took a few slow steps out onto the balcony.

"I'm gonna make an educated guess and say Bugs told you," Yakko said.

"I just needed some fresh air," she replied, her voice brittle.

Yakko made a low noise of acknowledgement and crouched down across from her, leaning his back against the cool metal railings. "Wanna talk?" he asked quietly.

"I'm sure _you_ do," she said with dark laugh that twisted into a dry, tearless sob. Without thinking, Yakko's hand darted out to touch her, but he hesitated moments from her shoulder. They both watched his hand for a second before he pulled back. Staring at his hand for another breath, Babs shut her eyes with a sigh and dropped her head against the railing with such force that Yakko winced. When she didn't move he wondered if she'd accidentally knocked herself out. He leaned forward to check on her but she lifted her head, and he darted back to where he was and tried to look nonchalant.

"I'm sorry," she croaked, not noticing his shenanigans, "I just can't believe she's gone. I mean, it's not like I didn't know people were getting kidnapped, it's just that they never kidnapped someone I…oh Shirley, I bet she tried to warn the kidnappers about bad karma before they took her. It's because of the reporting, I know it, they wanted to shut her up, so they stole her away – "

Babs stopped to take a shuddering breath. Her hand curled around a metal wrung and hung there, while her other hand clutched absently at her ear. Eventually that hand gave up and dropped into her lap, leaving her ear to curve behind her cheek and across her neck. Shaking his head, Yakko forced himself not to notice these things and dragged his eyes back up to her face.

"I was just…just really shocked when Bugs told me," she continued. Setting her jaw, she tried to make her voice sound strong but it quivered in the air. "I'll man up, just give me a second. You know what they say, show must go on _and all that jazz_," she said, adding a Velma Kelly inspired husk to her voice.

"We'll find her, Babs," Yakko said, trying to inject as much confidence as he could into the words.

Babs' blue eyes flicked up to meet his dark ones. Her eyelashes were damp and sticking together. The sight made Yakko feel as though the floor had given way beneath him and he clutched at the railing.

"Look at you, Mr. Confident," she said.

"Mr. Confident's my father. You can just call me Optimistic," he replied.

The smallest of smiles perked up on her mouth, and somehow it seemed to make the rest of her face glow. She studied his face for a moment, and he wondered for all the world what she was thinking. Finally, she said with a shaky sigh, "I'm sorry I gave you such a hard time about Fifi."

"I deserved it," Yakko said. He was surprised that the words came out so easily, considering that he was finding it a little hard to breath at the moment.

"Maybe," she conceded, "but you're a much better guy than I ever gave you credit for, Yakko."

Again, Yakko's hand struck out of its own accord, but this time there was no hesitation. It wrapped around the hand that Babs held onto the railing with, enclosing it nearly completely. Despite being a Class A, Babs had always opted against gloves for some reason, so her hand was especially warm nestled within his own. She didn't yank her hand away, like he half expected her to, nor did she make an uncomfortable excuse and leave. Instead, she looked at their hands for a moment, as if she'd never seen such a thing, and then her eyes met his again. They were so wide and blue, swallowing him, and the sight of them made Yakko's hand twitch and clench around hers ever so slightly, and suddenly all the nerves in his body had come alive.

"What are you doing?"

Buster's cry was sharp and demanding. It burst Yakko's world like a soap bubble. Surprised, he immediately released Babs' hand and jumped to his feet, promptly slamming his head into the railing with a loud _clang_. When his vision cleared, he saw Buster standing in the doorway, his arms splayed as though he were holding back a crowd, alternately staring at him and Babs with angry shock. Yakko would never forget the look on Buster's face at that moment.

Clutching his head, Yakko stammered, "I, um, Buster – wow, that hurt a lot more than I expected – listen, Bust – "

"What's going on? What the _hell _is going on?" Buster demanded. The color had drained from beneath his fur.

Babs, who had also gotten to her feet, took a step toward him and said, "Relax Buster, this isn't anything – "

"Bullshit," Buster cut in, glaring at Yakko.

" – _he was just talking to me about Shirley_," Babs continued firmly.

"Talking, huh?" Buster snapped, "like always, right? Talking. So that's what you're calling messing around with friend's girlfriends now?"

Buster's appearance was like someone turning on a light, illuminating all the reality Yakko had been ignoring. It suddenly seemed outrageous that he'd thinking about Babs in such a way, let alone touching her – Buster had been the truest friend Yakko had ever been able to call his own, and here he was, sniffing around in his territory behind his back.

"She was upset so I was talking to her, Buster," Yakko blurted, desperate to defend himself, "I don't want to know what you think we were doing, but get it out of your fuzzy brain because there's nothing's going on."

"Oh yeah? How do I know? How can I believe either of you? Is that what the silent treatment is for?" Buster accused, pointing to Babs. He turned to Yakko. "And how the hell am I supposed to know you're not lying? You've got a lot of fingers pointing at you right now, hell, for all I know you really did murder those weasels – "

"_Buster!_" Babs shrieked, "What's wrong with you – "

"There's nothing _wrong_ with me, Babs," Buster corrected darkly.

"Ears, come on – " Yakko began.

"Don't call me that right now," Buster spat.

Buster might as well have punched him in the stomach.

"Fine, _Buster_, maybe you could put those big ears to use and listen me for a second," he said, "Babs was upset so I was comforting her – "

"Yeah I'll fucking bet – "

" – because I'm her friend," Yakko continued, forcing himself to keep calm, "you have to believe me."

In all the time that they had been friends, Buster had never looked at Yakko with anything aside from absolute trust. But now, in the harsh light of the noon sun, Buster was looking at Yakko like a stranger who he'd caught trying to pickpocket him. And beneath the anger, beneath the betrayal, there was a wounded quality to Buster's wide-eyed stare that would resonate with Yakko for the rest of his life.

Babs stepped forward, away from Yakko and toward her boyfriend. "Yakko's right," she said, her voice firm, "we're friends." And then she turned, locking eyes with Yakko and appearing as though she'd just woken up from a strange dream. "Just friends," she reiterated.

Yakko's eyes widened slightly, but he kept his mouth pinned shut. Turning back to Buster, she held out her hand, opposite of the one Yakko had touched. Buster stared at it for a minute, then lifted his eyes to her face. After another expressionless minute, Buster reached forward and, ignoring her hand, wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. It was a possessive gesture that did not go unnoticed by Yakko.

"Okay," was the only thing he said, and with that he steered Babs away and into the house. Neither rabbit looked back.

Exhaling, Yakko fell back against the railing and sank down until he was sitting on the ground.

* * *

"Ew, I can't believe I'm touching this thing," Dot said, grimacing as she held Nutsy's hearing aid between two fingers.

"I can't believe I picked it out of his ear," Skippy countered.

Dot snorted at this and pulled a napkin out of her hammerspace to try and wipe some of the ear crud off of the tiny apparatus. They were currently taking advantage of the darkening sky and crouching behind a weird statue Bugs had as decoration in his hall. Dot assumed it was meant to be "abstract" but really it just looked like someone smoothed down a big rock and tossed it on a pedestal. Either way, it made for a perfect hiding spot, so she was going to keep her critiquing to a minimum.

"Bugs hasn't shut the door yet…who else do you think is coming?" Skippy whispered.

Dot glanced at the large rec room that Bugs was currently converting into a top secret conference room. Shirley's disappearance had prompted a spur of the moment meeting of Bugs' friends, much like the one they'd had after Slappy's death. Yakko, Babs and Buster were already in there, as well as Scratchensniff. Shrugging, she muttered, "Dunno, whoever could make it here without getting kidnapped I guess."

"How are we gonna listen in though? Yakko said he was going to booby trap the door so we don't try to eavesdrop," Skippy continued.

Dot rolled her eyes. "Yakko says a lot of things."

"But Dot – "

"Take a chill pill Skip, I've got it all worked out!" Dot hissed, "Bugs wanted a room with no windows, right? Well, no windows means plenty of vents. There's one on the other side of the hall. And Nutsy's more deaf than Beethoven, this thing could pick up a mouse sneezing in San Francisco."

"We're gonna listen to them through a vent?"

"Hey, it's cliché, but effective," Dot shrugged.

Her ears perked up at the sound of footsteps down the hall. They flattened themselves impossibly further into the corner, shapeshifting slightly so they were completely hidden. Angry voices soon joined the footsteps.

"Listen lady, it wasn't my insane idea, ask the rabbit," came what was unmistakably Daffy's voice.

"A blindfold? Really? I'm still deciding if you're the kidnappers or just a pair of sickos," snapped a female voice.

Clenching her teeth, Dot growled, "Oh, don't tell me it's her…"

To Dot's infinite displeasure, Daffy rounded the corner with none other than Minerva Mink. There was a handkerchief tied around her eyes as a blindfold, and every time she tried to pry it off Daffy pushed her hand away. Clanking beside her in his cowboy boots was Yosemite Sam, a hard scowl carved in his face.

"If you two don't shut up I'm pluggin' ya both," he snapped, "now git yer hides in the room before run outta patience."

"Big talk from a tiny man," Minerva jeered.

"Ooooh," Yosemite growled, "one a' these days, Mink…"

They disappeared into the conference room, and seconds later the door was shut. A small _click _told Dot they had locked the door.

"C'mon!" she urged, and Skippy followed her around the corner. The vent was slim and embedded into the wall near the ceiling. Concentrating, Dot pulled a small step ladder from her hammerspace. It only managed to go up about three steps, but it was sturdy and held both of them. Skippy was tall enough that he could hold the hearing aid right up to the vent and if Dot stood on her tiptoes, she could listen.

"Turn it up!" she said, and Skippy fiddled with it until Bugs' voice rang in, picking up a small echo from the vent shaft.

"_Would everybody calm down? This ain't a UN meeting for crying out loud…"_

Dot grinned and gave Skippy a thumbs up.

"Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt you two sucking face," came Wakko's voice. He was leaning against the doorframe, and he looked so much like Yakko had earlier that it threw her for a moment.

She would have fallen off the ladder had Skippy not grabbed her and pulled her straight. "Shut it, buttface!" she snapped, and Skippy hushed her with nervous glances toward the vent.

"Oooh, _buttface_, I'm gonna go cry – " Wakko teased, but froze as his eyes traveled from Dot to the vent and then to the hearing aid in Skippy's palm. "Are you listening to them?" he asked sharply.

"What's it to you?"

"Through a vent? Really?"

"Jeez, would everyone lay off the vent idea already?"

"What are they saying? Let me hear!" Wakko said, and began pushing his way between Dot and Skippy. Dot shoved back with all her might, and they squabbled for a moment before Wakko stumbled back down to the ground.

"Knock it off, we're gonna get caught!" she scolded.

Wakko let out an angry growl before his face contorted with concentration, his tongue sticking out, and his legs stretched until he was a good four feet taller and his ear was directly next to the vent.

"Show off," Dot said in answer to his smug grin. Realizing she didn't have much of a choice, she scooted closer to Skippy so Wakko could listen with them.

* * *

Fidgeting impatiently, Yakko glanced around the table. The table itself was classy and modern looking, much like the rest of Bugs' house. A tasteful amount of framed pictures lined the window-less walls, and an extravagant liquor cabinet took up most the corner nearest Bugs, who sat at the head of the table. Scratchensniff was a few seats down, and across from Yakko were Buster and Babs, neither of whom was looking at him.

The door burst open and Daffy and Yosemite Sam marched in, twin looks of extreme annoyance on both their faces. Daffy threw himself into the seat next to Bugs and his beak was a blur as he whispered rapidly to the rabbit, every now and then accentuating a word with a flamboyant hand gesture. Yosemite grabbed a chair, slung it into the corner, and sat down in a huff.

"What's up with you? Woke up on the wrong side of the – " Yakko began, but stopped midsentence as Minerva Mink strut into the room. Her dress was a vibrant, blood red, revealing in all the right places, and entirely inappropriate for a meeting to discuss increasingly dire circumstances. Oh well. He supposed he wasn't too terribly offended.

She slid into the seat directly next to Yakko despite that fact that there were many more open seats at the long table. He was suddenly and strongly reminded of their last meeting back on the lot, and how their numbers had dwindled since then. The air was much more thick this time, the conversation much less flippant and carefree.

With a rather coy smile in his direction, Minerva cooed, "Hello, gentlemen."

"And lady," Babs snapped irritably. This time Yakko didn't bother to disguise looking at her, and he found that she was glowering rather pointedly at Minerva.

Unfazed by this, Minerva added, "And _girl_."

Babs looked like a bull about to charge. Quirking an eyebrow, Yakko glanced at Buster out of habit. Buster met his gaze, but then seemed to remember that he was annoyed at Yakko and looked away.

"Oookay," Bugs said slowly, his eyes flicking between the four of them, "anyway, I brought Minerva in to shed some light on Shirley's disappearance. Miss Mink insisted on a face to face meeting, so I'm hoping she has something, eh, worthwhile for us. If what she says is to be believed – " Bugs paused to raise his brow at her, "we may have a lead."

"I'm going to take this time to question your definition of 'a lead,'" Daffy interrupted, "because all of your so-called 'leads' have only led to me having my beak rearranged on my head more ways than I'd want to recall in front of your collective sensibilities."

Yakko could only assume that Bugs' reply was rather snide, but he didn't hear it because Minerva had chosen that moment to slip off her shoe and run her bare foot up his leg. He shot a look at her from the corner of his eye, but she was calmly watching Bugs and Daffy's exchange as if nothing was happening.

"Anyway," Bugs continued with one parting look at Daffy, "Minerva, if you'd care to share, all of us, including one little black duck in particular, would love to hear what you have to say."

At this Babs made a sort of incredulous huff that Minerva coolly ignored. Tucking a lock of golden hair behind her ear, she said, "Oh, I do. I saw the loon girl get kidnapped."

"Shirley," Babs corrected waspishly. Her whole body was stiff, and she was fixing Minerva with the kind of focused diligence that Yakko had only formerly associated with attack dogs.

"Whatever," Minerva said, waving her hand, "they nabbed her at the corner of Sunset and Chuck Jones. What she was doing in that part of town is beyond me, but anyway…"

"And what were _you _doing?" Babs grumbled, but Bugs shushed her.

Minerva continued, "I was doing my best to keep a low profile – it wouldn't be the first time I was almost kidnapped, I know they'd love to get their hands on me – so I was keeping to the shadows. But Shirley was just strutting her stuff out in the open. Didn't take long for them to jump her."

"Who?" Yakko and Bugs asked simultaneously.

"Three weasels and a man in a uniform. A bear. Don't know him."

Scratchensniff gasped and threw his hands over his mouth. Up until now he had been steadfast in his belief that the Toontown police force had not fallen to corruption.

"What did they do?" Bugs asked.

"The weasels pinned her, and the cop threw a sack over her head," Minerva said, sounding horribly calm, "they dragged her around the corner, and I didn't see what happened but then the next thing I knew they sped off in a black van."

"And you didn't do anything?" Babs shrieked. She was on her feet now.

"Babs, chill out…" Buster muttered, pulling her back into her seat.

"And get myself thrown into a van too? I don't think so," Minerva shot back. She glanced at Daffy and Sam, then added, "though honestly that wouldn't be different than how these two yahoos treat their guests."

"You weren't exactly a treat yourself – " Daffy began, but Bugs cut over him and asked, "You said one of them was in a uniform. What kind?"

"That's what I wanted to show you," Minerva said, raising an eyebrow at him. Arching her back unnecessarily as she reached into her hammerspace, Minerva pulled out a small object and tossed it into the middle of the table. Like everyone else, Yakko leaned forward to inspect it. It was a small, round badge with a globe and anchor symbol in the middle encircled by lettering. Before Yakko could read it, Daffy snatched the badge up, causing Yosemite to swear at him.

"United States Toon Marine Corps. Pendleton," Daffy read aloud, twirling the badge in his hands as he did so, "who's Pendleton?"

"It's not a person ya idiot, it's their base camp. 'Bout a good eighty miles south of here," Yosemite said gruffly.

"How'd you get this?" Yakko asked Minerva.

"Good question Yakko," she cooed affectionately, and Babs rolled her eyes, "I think Shirley tore it off the officer when she was trying to get away. I found it on the ground after they left."

"How convenient," Babs spat in an acid voice.

Flipping her hair over her shoulder, Minerva kept her eyes on Babs as she leaned toward Yakko ever so slightly. "Why if I didn't know any better I'd say you didn't like me, Little Miss Thing," Minerva drawled. Before she even finished her sentence Yakko felt her foot sneak underneath his pant leg and rub against his fur. He tried valiantly to remain composed, but he couldn't help but jerk a little in his seat. Even though she couldn't see what was happening, Yakko could tell by the disgusted look on Babs' face that she had a relatively good guess.

"Well Miss Mink, it's been a pleasure," Bugs said loudly as he clapped his hands together, "I think we've heard all that's worth hearing for one evening. In fact, you did such a good job we probably won't have to talk to you for days – weeks even. So if you'll please step outside, Daffy and Sam will catch up with you in a moment and escort you home.

Minerva, whose face had been rather serene, suddenly looked at Bugs with intense dislike. "You want me to wait _outside_?"

"Not outside. Just outside the door."

"You dragged me all the way over here so I could talk for five minutes before you kicked me out the door like a dog?" she snapped.

"Times are tough toots," Bugs said, shrugging, "if you don't want to leave I'm sure Babs here could find a very creative way to show you the door."

Minerva caught sight of Babs' wicked grin for a moment before she gave her the dirtiest look Yakko had ever seen. "Fine," she snapped, then nodded toward Buster, "wouldn't want to make someone late for an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting anyway."

Babs gasped angrily as Buster jumped to his feet and shouted, "That's nothing compared to the shit I've heard about you – "

"Simmer down!" Bugs demanded. He turned to Minerva and raised an eyebrow, "We'll get you when we're done."

She didn't protest. Instead she stepped gracefully to her feet, sliding something into Yakko's pocket as she did so. "Bye Yakko," she cooed at him then, with one last look at Babs, she left the room and slammed the door behind her so hard that a framed picture of Bugs with the President crashed to the floor.

Reaching into his pocket, Yakko felt a small piece of paper. He pulled it out, doing his best to use his palm to shield it from Scratchensniff, who was closest to him. Without moving his head, Yakko glanced down and read the curvy handwriting: "_Come find me._"

Babs rounded on Bugs. "You're letting her wander your house by herself? Are you nuts?"

"Relax Babs, I've got the security locks on. She'd have to bomb her way out if she wants to get further than the rec room. And if she does that, well, let's hope that out of the three rabbits in the room, one of us hears it," Bugs assured, gesturing to his large ears.

"Well, ye of grand auditory abilities, hear this," Daffy said, "that chick was full of it. Full. Of. It."

"Agreed," Babs snapped.

"Judgmental group, ain't they?" Bugs commented to Scratchensniff.

"What's she got to gain by lying to us?" Yakko pointed out.

For the first time Babs looked at him directly. She hissed, "Oh, of course _you'd _defend her."

Yakko opened his mouth angrily, but Bugs cut over him, "Cool it you two. Look, I ain't sayin' we take every word Minerva said as the gospel truth, but I hate to say that some of her story has weight. My southern source has told me there's been more than a handful of rumors about something shady going down at Pendleton."

"It was a real underground hotspot back in the day," Yosemite added. Yakko glanced at him, but turned his eyes back to Bugs when Yosemite glared at him.

"So are you saying we just mosey on down there, knock on the door and ask, 'hey, do happen to be at all involved in a criminal kidnapping spree? Yes? Oh, well please don't do that anymore,'" Daffy jeered.

"Yes, but maybe not with quite as much _Daffy_ flair," Bugs said.

Yakko's ears perked up. "You saying you want to go check it out?" he asked. Because that would involve leaving the house.

"I think we're gonna be forced to," Bugs said, "we can't count on the cops. Too dangerous for the humans. Public's terrified. Hate to say it, but we're Toontown's next and best ambassadors. But we need to plan this carefully. Ain't gonna lie, this is gonna be dangerous. Sam, Doc, what are we up against?"

"It is my understanding that our enemies are most likely in possession of the DIP which, as you all know, is lethal to a toon. Maybe it is being used as a projectile, but I do not know for sure. At the moment we do not have an antidote. You can try to block it with hammerspace entities but honestly, your best option is to run away like your life depends on it," Scratchensniff said.

"That's it? That's your advice?" Daffy scoffed.

"Well, I myself plan to wear a raincoat. It may repel the first round of an attack, perhaps buy you a moment or two of time," Scratchensniff added.

"Yeah, all of us running around the desert in raincoats won't be conspicuous at all," Yakko drawled.

Scratchensniff crossed his arms. "It is better than nothing!"

"Sam?" Bugs asked, resting his cheek in his hand.

"They've got gangs out in the open now, weasels mostly, patrolling the streets. Public's callin' 'em _smugglers_. They snatch up toons they see on the street and drag 'em away. They target Class A's and B's, don't know why. They look for gloves, usin' yer hammerspace, shapeshiftin,' all the telltale signs. Smugglers ain't smart though. But if that tarty mink is tellin' the truth, they've got pack leaders with half a brain. It ain't unlikely that there's trouble afoot in Pendleton. Like I said, more deals went down there in one day than all of LA combined before the feds cracked down."

"And what about Rocky?" Bugs pressed.

Yosemite's eyes were hard and cold beneath his black mask. Even though everyone was watching him now, they never strayed from Bugs' face. Holding himself very still, Yosemite said in a sharp voice, "It's got all the makin's of his handiwork."

Bugs nodded and asked no further questions. Yakko looked between the two toons as though clarification was going to spring up magically between them.

"We go to Pendleton on Saturday," Bugs began, "we'll iron out the details between now and then. No one breath's a word of this, understand? And I'm gonna be upfront about this: no matter how many precautions we take, there's a, eh, strong possibility it's going to be dangerous. So I ain't forcing anybody to go. If you go, it's your choice."

"I'm going," Yakko said immediately.

Bugs frowned slightly before Buster and Babs added their own 'me too.'

"I think I should be going as well, if you encounter the DIP you will need medical attention," Scratchensniff volunteered.

"What are you gonna do if we get DIP'ed? Hand us a moist towlette?" Buster asked.

"It is a much more complicated process than that," Scratchensniff said crossly.

"Wait, who's going to watch Wakko and Dot?" Yakko asked. He had been gambling on the fact that Scratchensniff would play babysitter again. If no one stayed behind, he was going to have to do it…

"Sam?" Bugs asked, raising his brow.

It took Yosemite a second to catch on. He blinked at Bugs before his small face contorted with rage. "You want me to play mother hen to a bunch a youngins? Are you outta yer cottin' pickin' mind?"

"With all of us gone Toontown's going to be even more vulnerable. I need a pair of eyes and ears I can trust back on our turf," Bugs reasoned.

"What do you mean, 'with _all _of us gone?'" Daffy interjected, "I don't recall signing up."

"Well you're a given," Bugs replied.

Daffy crossed his arms. "What happened to 'it's your choice' blah-de-blah?"

Bugs batted his eyes coyly at Daffy, who let out an aggravated sigh. "If you think that's going to work on me, think again. Silly rabbit, tricks are for kids."

"But it's Saturday Daff. We can do lunch afterward."

"Ugh. Fine."

Talking over another sigh from Daffy, Bugs said, "Alrighty folks, we'll be in touch. Daff, Sam, escort our lovely mink friend home. Doc, Buster and Babs, you're welcome to stay. And Yakko, well, I'll talk to you in a bit."

They rose and left one by one, Babs first, Yakko last, leaving Bugs and Daffy to chat quietly in the room. As Yakko slipped out the door, he fingered the piece of paper in his pocket.

* * *

Leaping off the ladder, Dot hit the ground running and bolted in Yakko's direction. Taking off after her, Wakko hissed, "Dot what are you doing? Do you _want _to get busted by Yakko?"

"Don't care!" she huffed back.

"Well I do!" Wakko snapped. He began to close the space between them, and he was almost close enough to stretch out and grab her tail when Dot rounded the corner and ran straight into Yakko. Her brother grabbed her by the shoulders before she could fall flat on her tail.

"Dot…Wakko…what are you – " Yakko stammered.

"Where are you going?" Dot demanded.

Yakko raised an eyebrow at her. "Didn't know I needed to give you a detailed report."

"You'd better not be going after _her_!" Dot continued, poking him in the chest.

His brow going from confused to annoyed in a millisecond, Yakko looked at both of them and said, "Eavesdrop much?"

Wakko raised his hands defensively and said, "Hey, leave me out of it."

"You were listening too!" Dot cried, and Wakko flung his hands in the air.

"Would it kill you to keep a secret?" he moaned.

"There's something up with Minerva, Yakko, I swear, she's got something up her sleeve – well, I guess I can't say that, it's not like she really bothers to wear sleeves, among other things," Dot spat.

"I hope you remember this conversation when you're sixteen," Yakko commented.

"I'm serious Yakko, ask Skippy!" Dot continued, jerking her thumb behind her. Skippy was peering at them from around the corner, but shrunk back. "She's bad news! And I'm sorry, but she doesn't need that stupid dress to look easy, she does that as soon as she opens her mouth – "

"Watch it Dot, you're already on thin ice as it is," Yakko said, "I thought I taught you better than to make sassy comments about costars behind their backs."

"Oh, so we can say that to her face?" Wakko asked. When Yakko glared at him, he splayed his hands and groaned, "Kidding, jeez!"

"It doesn't matter, we shouldn't even be having this argument because neither of you two should have been listening in the first place," Yakko said, and began to nudge Dot toward the stairs, "now look, why don't you just chill out in the game room, there's gotta be a hamster wheel or something in there that you can burn some energy on."

Her tail twitching angrily, Dot scowled at him. She knew a diversionary tactic when she saw one. Pushing his hands away, Dot cried, "Think you could make it less obvious that you want me outta the way so you can go find your stupid girlfriend?"

"What's this really about, Dot? We go through this song and dance with every girl I so much as say 'hello' to," Yakko said.

"Because you always go after the rotten ones!" Dot shot back.

Wakko, wide-eyed, watched the two of them like a tennis match.

"You've got a funny definition of rotten, dear sib."

"Name one decent girl you've dated. You know, one that hasn't made us want to move to another town and change our names."

"Cute, Dot. I'm not playing this game with you right now."

"That's because you can't think of one!"

"Okay, enough," Yakko snapped, an aggravated edge sparking in his voice that he rarely ever used towards her. The shadows from the dimly lit hallway made his scowl seem more prominent. "If I wanted my lovelife criticized I would've just picked up a copy of ToonTalk. You're out of line Dot Warner, and as much as I appreciate your insightful digs at my expense, you're grounded – "

Snatching both her ears in frustration, Dot finally growled through gritted teeth, "God Yakko, stop trying to be my dad and just be my brother for once!"

All three of them went suddenly still, save for Wakko's sharp gulp of breath. It was as though she shoved them all in front of a mirror and forced themselves to see each clearly as siblings. Dot and Yakko stared at each other, and she could sense Wakko watching the both of them. She waited for Yakko's reaction as he looked at her, unmoving, his face stony and unrevealing. If she had gone too far, she didn't care, it was only time she felt that Yakko had truly listened to her in days.

When Yakko finally spoke he sounded too old. "It's not a switch I can turn on and off," he croaked, "I can't be _just_ your brother, Dot Warner, you should know that better than anyone."

"I wish you could," Dot replied and, unable to make eye contact with him anymore, marched past him, past Wakko and Skippy, and to the room that was distinctly not her own.

* * *

Yakko marched down the hallway, tallying how many people he cared about that he had managed to estrange today. Let's see…Dot, check…Wakko was still mad at him as far as he knew, so check…Babs, check…Buster, double check. Why, all he really had left to piss off was Bugs, and judging by what Nutsy had said he might not really matter anyway.

Dot's words were still ringing in his ears. And if it wasn't her then it was Buster's shocked face that was plastered across his mind and he couldn't stand it. Plunging himself into dangerous terrain on Saturday would almost be a relief.

These thoughts made him feel lonely, which he hated. He couldn't stand being lonely, he never could. He wanted someone to talk to, anyone, another body, someone to make him feel good when his entire day had been a litany of bad…

"Hey handsome."

Yakko jumped back in shock, colliding with a fancy vase Bugs had setting on a pedestal. It rocked precariously back and forth before he managed to catch it. Once it was steady he looked up, only to find Minerva Mink leaning against a doorframe.

"Speak of the devil," he muttered.

"You're always so jumpy," she said, her voice as coy as her eyes. She stepped toward him, her long leg emerging from the slit in her skirt. "You found me," she continued.

"I think it was the other way around," Yakko said.

She was circling him now, pacing around him slowly, winding her tail around his waist with each step. "You seem frustrated, Yakko," she cooed, "how long have you been cooped up in this big old place?"

"Eh, more than any one person would probably prefer," he replied with forced casualness.

"Alone?"

"Well not alone, exactly, I've got my sibs, and then there's the rabbit brigade – "

"So alone then," Minerva cut in. She had stopped her circling so she was now directly in front of him, her hands on her hips. "If I would have known where you were hiding I would have fixed that problem a long time ago…you turned out to be a lot more of a looker than I'd thought, you know."

"Is that a compliment?" Yakko asked. He was proud that he could still be skeptical in the midst of how fogged his brain was at the moment.

Smirking, Minerva laid her palm flat against his stomach. Then she pushed it upwards, bunching the fabric of his shirt in little waves, rippling sparks down his spine, until she reached his chest. "What do you think?" she purred.

Making a conscious effort to focus on anything other than the pressure of her hand, Yakko took a deep breath. His brain felt sluggish, like it had been drugged, and logic seemed like a long forgotten concept. There was a part of him that knew something wasn't entirely right, but that was a very small part compared to the portion of him that noticed the way she was pressing against him right now. There was a familiarity to this, forward girls and their hands in the dark, as well as the nagging voice that suggested that this girl could be absolutely anybody.

"Why don't you relax?" Minerva whispered, and she began planting little kisses along his jaw line.

"Honestly? You're making that a little difficult right now," Yakko said thickly, shutting his eyes when she moved to his neck.

He felt the vibrations of her chuckle against his throat. "One of my many talents," she replied.

Swallowing, Yakko opened his eyes and looked down at her. She was gazing at him beneath hooded eyelids that were caked in far too much makeup that, up close, looked slightly tacky. But the look hurtled him back to the balcony when Babs had looked at him so…so…

The look Minerva was giving him was so drastically different from Babs', and for a moment he considered pushing her away. But then thinking of Babs only reminded him of the finality of her words, of her letting Buster's arm navigate her waist, of Babs turning her back on him as she allowed her boyfriend to guide her away. It reminded him of the empty feeling he had tried to reconcile for the next half hour afterwards, alone on the balcony.

What had he been expecting, really? That Babs was just going to leave her boyfriend of seven years for him? That everything would work out fine, that they'd be happy, and he and Buster would go on as if nothing happened? Yeah right.

Fine. Babs had made her choice, and he was free to make his. Until this moment his hands had remained stiffly at his sides, because he could still feel the warmth of Babs' hand in his palm and he didn't want to erase it. But now he lifted his arms and let his hands settle on the curve of Minerva's hips, and she hummed happily, digging her nails painfully through his shirt and into his skin. Her tail tightened around him, making Yakko feel uncomfortably like a boa constrictor's prey.

"You know Minerva, I was always under the impression that you didn't like me very mu – " Yakko began, but he was cut off as she covered his mouth with hers. He inhaled, and her overwhelming perfume filled his nose.

"Just shut up for a second, 'kay?" she whispered when she pulled away. Before he could offer one word of protest she hooked her fingers in his belt loop and tugged him close, locking the door with a flick of her tail.

* * *

Sighing, Wakko absently flipped a page in his comic. He had to be careful: the pages in _Phantom Blot _had seen this so many times that they were loosening from the binding. Some were already held in by scotch tape alone. It was okay though, he'd keep reading it until it disintegrated. Each panel was a comfort to him.

With that thought in mind, he nearly tore half the pages out in surprise when Dot flung his door open with a sharp _bang!_

"Jeez Dot, learn to knock!" he yelped.

Not seeming to hear him, Dot leapt in mid tirade, "I can't believe Yakko, I just can't believe him! I know he went after that floozy, I can tell."

"Go whine about it to your boyfriend," Wakko responded.

Dot gave him an icy glare. "If you're referring to Skippy, Nutsy took him home."

"That's a relief."

"Shut up. But c'mon, don't you think Yakko's functioning at braindead level?"

Wakko shrugged and leaned back into his pillow, opening his comic back up. "He can do what he wants. _He's the oldest_," he said, ending in a mocking, nasally voice.

"I don't care! It's the principle of it! I mean, who does he like more? Me or her?"

"You're just jealous," Wakko muttered.

Dot wheeled on him, and Wakko swore he saw smoke come out of her nostrils. "I. Am not. Jealous!"

"That's what a jealous person would say," Wakko teased.

"Nice Wakko, real nice. Oh, and thanks for sticking up for me, by the way," she snapped in such a sarcastic way she could have passed for Yakko.

Wakko closed his book. "What are you talking about?"

"You just stood there when I was trying to stop our stupid brother from being a complete neanderthal!" Dot cried.

Sitting up, Wakko retorted, "Why are you always blaming me for all your crap? You were the one who wouldn't stop with the '_your girlfriends are trashy, blah blah blah_.'"

"I'm sorry I'm asking you to grow a spine, I know that's probably difficult for you," Dot growled.

Grinding his teeth, Wakko's hand darted behind his back and in less than a second he hefted a rotten tomato at her. But Dot ducked with such speed that Wakko would have been impressed if he wasn't so annoyed with her. Her retaliation was quick – he heard the tomato splat dully against the wall as Dot threw a lit stick of dynamite into his lap. With a yelp, Wakko barely had time to slap it away before it exploded in cloud of smoke. Coughing, Wakko staggered to the window and heaved it open, letting the smoke pour into the night air. When he turned around with an angry snarl, Dot was already gone.

He stomped over to the site of the explosion. The damage was minimal, the only thing a stick of dynamite from a toon Dot's age could do was cover his room in soot. But now that meant that most of his few remaining belongings were covered in grainy black grime. His comic was so coated in it he couldn't tell Mickey from Phantom Blot. Furious, he gave the wall a good kick, realizing a moment too late that he didn't shapeshift. His toe crunched painfully against the wall. Soon he was clutching his foot and hopping on the other one, cursing loudly.

Younger sisters were the worst.

* * *

Yakko found that trying to pull his shirt back over his head was difficult when Minerva Mink wouldn't leave your neck alone. And it was starting to annoy him.

"What's the rush?" she cooed, traveling north so her lips brushed against his ear.

Yakko rolled his eyes. "Daffy's only been shouting for you like a maniac for the past twenty minutes."

"So they can toss me in the back of their car again? _They _can wait for _me_," she scoffed. Twisting away from him, she gathered her hair to the side to reveal her long, pale expanse of back that was visible through her open dress.

"Zip me?" she asked him over her shoulder.

His eyebrow spiking up, Yakko stared at her for a second. There was a demeaning quality in her question, but he'd be a liar if he said the sight wasn't tantalizing as hell. Then he realized that these two thoughts pretty much summed up his experience with her. It was fun, he wasn't going to lie. But if it was so fun then why did he feel like shit now?

He reached for the zipper, which was hovering beneath the very bottom of her spine, and yanked it up rather dismissively.

"Hey, watch the dress!" she snapped before her tone reverted back to seductive. "I guess you're right, I should be leaving soon…you guys have a busy day tomorrow. I'm sure you're driving down to the military base to find that hippie girl."

"What? Oh. No we're not going 'til Saturday or something," Yakko muttered. He wasn't really listening to her at this point. Rubbing his face with his hands, he wondered if Buster had already figured out where he'd been. Or worse, if Dot had.

"But that means I can't go with you! Are you sure?" Minerva pouted, and draped her arms over him. He noticed that she angled them specifically so one of the straps of her dress slipped off her shoulder.

"I don't remember you going with us ever being part of the plan."

"Make it part of the plan."

"Just a hunch Minerva, but I feel like that suggestion will go over about as well as asking Plotz for free money."

"What's that supposed to mean, Warner? You're saying I wouldn't be any help?" she asked sharply, eyeing him.

"I'm saying…" Yakko paused, "actually yes, that's exactly what I'm saying."

He braced himself, waiting for her inevitable explosion. But to his surprise, Minerva calmly withdrew her arms from him, rose to her feet and fixed the strap of her dress. Smirking at him in a predatory way, she replied, "I'm going to remember you said that."

"I'll make an entry in my diary," Yakko retorted sarcastically.

"Hilarious," she said in a dry voice. She studied him for a moment, then her tail flowed out from behind her and nuzzled him beneath his chin. Raising an eyebrow, she cooed, "For a little boy, you could have been worse."

Yakko's eyes widened and he opened his mouth to say something, anything so she wouldn't have the last word, but before he could she chucked him roughly under the chin with her tail, jerking his head to the side.

With that parting blow, Minerva sauntered out of the room.

Yakko did not try to follow. Hell, it took him close to five minutes of self-composure before he was able to leave the room. Then it only took about another minute before Bugs was shouting his name from across the hall, managing to look panicked, winded, and peeved all at once.

"Where have you been?" Bugs snapped, sounding irritated.

Yakko blinked. Jumping from Minerva's touch to Bugs' stare was jarring. He hoped he didn't smell too much like perfume.

"Oh you know, wrestled a couple weasels, eradicated corruption in the police department, solved some mysteries, reconciled with my siblings…you know, essentially eliminated all of my problems," Yakko drawled.

"Cute, kid," Bugs said in clipped tones. He was giving him what Yakko had dubbed the "X-ray look." "I noticed you were missing the same time Minerva was. Quite a coincidence."

"Yeah, what are the odds?" Yakko shot back, not meeting Bugs' eye. God, and to think he'd woken up this morning in a relatively good mood. What had happened to his day?

Bugs studied him for a moment, and Yakko shuffled on his feet, feeling awkward. "Babs seemed upset earlier," Bugs said suddenly.

Resisting the urge to thump his head against the wall, Yakko muttered, "One of her best friends just got kidnapped, I think that warrants a couple tears."

"I've known that girl since she was learning to crawl. Trust me, I know her moods. That wasn't the only thing she was upset about."

"Well if you know her so well then you should know why she's so worked up," Yakko snapped. He moved to leave the room, but Bugs blocked his path. Yakko winced and rubbed the bases of his ears. He had a headache.

"You got somethin' you want to share kid?" Bugs asked evenly.

Finally, Yakko looked him in the eye. Until now Yakko had never quite appreciated his old life where he had no adult influence. Having no adults interested in your day to day meant never having anyone to answer to. Ever. Well, sometimes he had to answer to Plotz but that was usually about business or why he had said what to who. And when he did answer to Plotz, it was usually with heaping doses of sarcasm.

"In case you haven't noticed I'm not a kid," Yakko grumbled for lack of anything better.

"Let me rephrase," Bugs said archly, and his ears gave an irritated twitch, "you're acting like a bit of a jackass and I'd thought I'd give you a chance to explain yourself."

Quirking an eyebrow, Yakko did his best not to let his surprise streak across his face. Control, he had to have control. But it was getting difficult, considering that his desire not to talk and his desire not to be out-talked were currently doing battle. It didn't help that Bugs was staring at him now; when he tried to ignore Bugs' stare he thought of his siblings, and if his thoughts didn't swirl with them it was Babs or Buster or Minerva or anyone else on the laundry list of people he'd upset.

God, he was tired.

"Look, your judgments on my behavior are insightful. Really. But they don't exactly compel me to explain myself," he snapped.

Yakko moved to sidestep Bugs, but the rabbit blocked him with an outstretched arm. "Well let me explain _myself_," Bugs began rather forebodingly, "you're wanted by the police and you've got a bunch a' maniac toons on your tail – so if you're not too busy giving me an attitude you can figure out why it might bother me if you disappear for nearly an hour to do…whatever you just did with who I think you did. And by the way kid, you can do better than her, that's all I'm gonna say."

"Well then if that's all, can I leave? If you want to keep lecturing, then by all means. I'd hate to deny you the entertainment," Yakko shot back.

"Is this a thank you for letting you and your siblings hide out in my house for months, huh?" Bugs snapped, and in a bizarre moment Yakko noticed that his New York accent got stronger as he got angrier, "I didn't have to do that ya know, I could have just let ya get arrested and have who knows what happen to ya – "

"What was stopping you then? Afraid all your hard work would be trashed if it got out you were associated with us felons?" Yakko cut in.

Bugs shook his head. "What the hell are you talkin' about kid?"

Yakko dragged a hand across his face and grumbled, "Quit callin' me _kid_, I'm not your kid."

Like most things that came out of his mouth during an argument, Yakko hadn't given what he'd said much thought beforehand. But something flickered on Bugs' face when he said that, something he couldn't pinpoint. It was a look he'd never seen on the rabbit's face before, and certainly not a look that he'd ever received from anyone else. But Bugs smothered the look before Yakko had a chance to interpret it. Fixing Yakko with a stone face, Bugs growled, "Fine, Warner. You can leave now. Hell, leave altogether after Saturday. No fur off my tail."

"Fine," Yakko snapped.

"Fine," Bugs shot back.

Yakko made to move past him again, but Bugs held his ground, staring him down until finally removing his arm. Not hesitating, Yakko marched past him and into the darkened hallway and toward his room. Somehow, he was supposed to go to sleep after this. He was supposed to work together with Bugs, Buster and Babs on Saturday despite having managed to all but sever ties with all three of them. He was supposed to be just a brother to his siblings, a role that seemed far too average and empty after years of loving them more than life itself.

Whatever Pendleton had to bring, it couldn't be worse than this.


	14. Separated

**NOTE: Thanks for all the feedback, you guys are rockstars! Keep the constructive crit flowing. It's going to be pretty intense from here on out. But I love these characters, I wouldn't put them through hell for nothing. Just sayin'. **

_**Chapter 13: Separated**_

When Yakko first woke up he thought he was in his old bedroom on the Warner Brother's lot. But as his haze of sleep cleared he did not hear the sound of stage hands preparing the set next door, nor did he see a poster of Jessica Rabbit on the wall across from his bed. Then he remembered that he was in Bugs Bunny's house, and he looked at the calendar. Today was Saturday, he was going to Pendleton, and it was four in the morning. With a sudden shock he realized that it was exactly a year to day when Scratchensniff had called to tell them about Slappy. If someone had told him a year ago where he'd be now, he probably would have laughed for a good five minutes.

Breakfast was a lackluster affair. The best way he could describe the demeanor between Bugs and himself now was civil in a cold, impersonal kind of way. He missed their joking and familiarity more than he wanted to admit, but he and Bugs seemed to excel at being stubborn and thus no truce had been reached.

Daffy's arrival seemed to liven things up slightly, if only because he was clearly not a morning person and began arguing with Bugs before he entered the kitchen. Something about the sun not being up yet and how it was against his civil liberties to be up so early, blah blah blah. Yakko wasn't really paying attention. He was too busy trying to swallow his toast, because for the first time he was nervous about their excursion but he was too proud to voice this to Bugs.

Buster and Babs offered little relief when they finally arrived, as Babs appeared to be fearful of making eye contact with him. Buster, on the other hand, had no problem glaring at him while slowly sipping his coffee.

"What the hell are you wearing?" Daffy asked suddenly, and Yakko turned to find Scratchensniff in the doorway, decked from head to toe in a hideously yellow raincoat. He even had a matching hat.

"I told you before, it is for protection from the DIP!" Scratchensniff huffed.

"And here I thought you were going undercover as a banana. Silly me," Yakko said.

"You will wish you stopped with the jokes," Scratchensniff pointed out, "I am telling you, it is highly dangerous and all preventive measures should be taken seriously – "

"Yeah yeah yeah," Daffy interjected, waving his hand, "if it rains I'll try not to come crying to you."

The last to arrive was Yosemite, who looked about as pleased as Daffy was to be there so early. Yakko quirked an eyebrow at him. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about leaving his siblings alone with him. It wasn't that he didn't trust Yosemite – the toon was apparently more effective than a SWAT team – but it wasn't in his nature to leave his siblings alone with anyone he didn't know very well. But as the population of Toontown declined it was becoming abundantly clear that his days of avoiding the situation were quite over. He had to go out and do something, anything, but there was no chance he was letting his siblings join.

If anything, he was worried for Yosemite. Yakko doubted that he'd ever had to deal with two normally active teenagers who were now practically exploding with nervous energy. Yosemite's matchstick of a temper wasn't going to last long with two toons who managed to try Yakko's own patience on a daily basis. But Yosemite's appearance prompted Bugs to give Yakko a knowing look, and Yakko left the table and his half eaten piece of toast and made his way to his sibling's rooms.

Dot was curled up beneath her blankets so only her ears were poking out. When Yakko peeled back the covers she was so dead asleep that she didn't even react.

"Hey, Dot," he whispered, stroking her ears, "I'm leaving soon, wanna wish me luck?"

"Mmmphhaaa," Dot moaned into her pillow.

"Was that English?"

Cracking one eye open enough to scowl at him, Dot mumbled, "Can I wish you good luck _after _the rooster crows?"

"Thanks for being so supportive," Yakko drawled, "listen, behave for Yosemite, got it? If you drive him crazy, remember he's got guns. Lots of guns."

"I can't believe you're leaving us with him. He smells bad and his beard has food in it."

"I'm sure he's just saving it for when he needs a snack. And relax, it's only for one day. I'll be back before midnight."

"Have fun getting to see the outside world," Dot grumbled.

Rolling his eyes, Yakko kissed her forehead. She gave him a return peck on the cheek before she disappeared beneath her blankets again. He slipped out of her room and into Wakko's, who was laying spread eagle on his back, his tongue lolling out as he snored.

"Hey stinky, care to say goodbye?" Yakko whispered as he ruffled his brother's hair.

Wakko blinked at him for a moment before sitting suddenly upright. "Who – wha…you're leaving? Now?"

"Whoa sib, where's the fire?"

"I…uh, sorry," Wakko said. "Well…goodbye, and good luck and all that stuff."

Yakko suppressed a sigh as he remembered with he never bothered to wake his siblings before dawn.

"You're very articulate in the morning, you know that?" Yakko said. When Wakko simply stared at him, he gave his brother a quick hug around the shoulders and added, "Don't give Yosemite a hard time, okay?"

"Um, yeah, got it," Wakko said quickly.

Quirking an eyebrow at him, Yakko wondered why Wakko wasn't giving him more grief for leaving him behind. Then again, things had been a little off since their fight. So he shrugged, chalking it up to his brother being nearly half asleep, and waved as he left the room.

* * *

Wakko waited until he heard Yakko descend the staircase before he sprung out of bed, landing catlike on the floor. Grabbing his jacket and his comic book, he stuffed them both in his hammerspace before slipping out of bedroom, careful not to make a sound. He hoped he hadn't acted too suspicious with Yakko – he'd always been terrible at lying – and it would stink to get caught so early in the plan.

He moved down the hall, trying to coordinate his body into moving quickly but quietly at the same time, which was surprisingly difficult with his annoying teenage limbs. He'd be more nervous if he wasn't already confident about his routine; being confined to the Bugs' mansion had given him plenty of time to practice a variety of different stunts. It was all about timing…if he could just reach the balcony –

"What are you doing?"

"Gah!" Wakko cried, tripping and stumbling in the most ungraceful manner possible. Staggering to his feet, he glared at Dot, who was tapping her foot and raising her eyebrow in such a way that she looked distinctly like Yakko.

"None of your beeswax," Wakko retorted, turning from her to run down the hall. He didn't have time for another argument with his sister, not when this was his chance.

"Hey, you better not be – " he heard her cry, but he was already around the corner before she could finish. The balcony was at the end of the hall, and it was a like a beacon, just starting to glow with the morning sun. He peeked outside, checking the distance from the balcony to the adjacent wall as though Bugs' house had moved overnight. Nodding to himself, Wakko clambered up on the railing before lunging toward the wall that was covered in fashionable vines. He stretched his body in midair until he was nearly two times as tall, giving him the extra boost he needed to clutch the tangle of leaves. He found footing quickly, unlike the first time he had tried this when he nearly fell.

But he didn't have time to reflect. Due to the weird architecture of Bugs' house he was now hanging directly over the garage where everyone's cars were. If he hurried, he could stow away in one of them before they left. There was no way they were keeping him behind, not now. He had decided days ago that he was going to Pendleton with them, and if that meant he had to do so under the radar, then fine. His desire to help was nearly overshadowed by his desire to get out of the house…besides, if Yakko refused to believe he was useful, he would just have to show him himself.

Easing himself down the vines, Wakko dropped to the ground and landed with a harmless squash. The garage was open, and he spotted Buster's blue sports car almost immediately. He recognized Scratchensniff's station wagon too, as he had spent a great deal of his childhood in it. His car was next to Bugs' shiny silver one, as well as a massive black one that he could only assume was Daffy's. There was also a large, black and red Harley Davidson motorcycle that he had never seen before.

Shrugging, Wakko tiptoed to Buster's car. Picking up a cue from Dot, he'd been listening in on the older toon's conversations via the vents for days, and they had decided to take Daffy's and Buster's cars because they were less well known. This made it easy for him – more than half the time Buster forgot to lock his car.

As quietly as he could, Wakko opened the car door and crawled into Buster's backseat. He'd have to squish himself beneath the passenger seat to stay out of sight. Could he hold that form for that long? Hopefully Babs would be behind the wheel, she drove like she was in the final lap of the Daytona.

"Buster, your car needs a little thing called gas, it helps it go places," he heard Babs snap. She sounded close. Stifling a yelp, Wakko dove under the seat and shoved and pushed his way in until he was hidden from sight. There were a lot more metal pieces and parts under the seat than he'd bargained for, and they all managed to find a particularly soft spot on his body to jab into. Hissing with pain, Wakko held his breath as Babs stuck her head into the car.

"Damn it Buster...your tank's almost empty! We'll be lucky if we make it out of the driveway!" she called.

From inside the house he heard Buster shout back, "Don't get your ears in a knot, the shrink said we can just take his car!"

As Babs slammed the door shut, Wakko wriggled out from underneath the seat. Great. Now he had to get in Scratchensniff's car. They weren't going to make this easy for him, were they? Ignoring the fact that his ear caught painfully on the seat, Wakko jumped out of Buster's car and scurried over to Scratchensniff's, only to find that it was locked. He yanked at the handle, going so far as to prop his feet against the faux wood side paneling and pulling, until he heard Scratchensniff's voice from the doorway.

"I will warm up the engine, she likes to take her time you know!" he called as he pulled his car keys from his hammerspace.

Barely covering a snort at the sight of Scratchensniff's violently yellow raincoat, Wakko dove underneath the station wagon. It shifted above him as Scratchensniff clambered into driver's seat. Scratchensniff mumbled to himself as he fiddled with the ignition, and the car whined in protest. When it finally roared to life Wakko's shout of surprise was masked by the snarl of the engine.

Wakko stuck out his tongue, trying to concentrate over the clamor of the car. He had to distract Scratchensniff, fast, before the whole crew pulled out the garage and found him laying on the ground like an idiot. Doing the only thing he could think of, Wakko tugged a small stick of dynamite from behind his back and placed it on the ground before scrambling out from beneath the car. Just like the one Dot had thrown at him, it exploded with a loud _BANG_ in a cloud of black smoke. Scratchensniff let out a high pitched scream and ducked under the dashboard for a full minute before he finally dared to crawl out of the driver's seat. As he shakily bent to knees to look beneath his car, Wakko tiptoed around the hood and, holding his breath, slipped in to the open door. Not pausing to check if Scratchensniff saw him, Wakko hefted himself over the seats and threw himself into the trunk area. He landed on a lumpy pile of papers and books which he burrowed under, doing his best to cover himself. Then he held still, biting his lip and listening for Scratchensniff.

After a few moments he heard Scratchensniff's groan as he got to his feet. "When will this car run out of craziness?" he muttered to himself before clambering back into the driver's seat.

Wakko grinned madly. He had done it, he had snuck into Scratchensniff's own car right under his nose…and he was off to Pendleton. Moments later, Bugs led the group into the garage.

"Babs and Buster, go with the doc. Daff and Yakko, I'll be your chauffer for today," Bugs dictated.

"With you at the wheel we're going to wind up in Albuquerque," Daffy protested. "Let the duck with direction drive."

While Daffy and Bugs continued to argue, Wakko heard Buster and Babs climb into the car. He huddled deeper under the papers, feeling a burst of rebellious excitement as Scratchensniff backed out the garage.

* * *

Taking another bite of her pop-tart, Dot flipped open the days' _Variety_. She chewed, well aware that Yosemite Sam was busy pacing the kitchen faster and faster with each sip of coffee. She found that the best tactic seemed to be ignoring him. It was kind of hard to do though, considering that with each step his cowboots clunked and jingled against the tiled floor. Every now and then he'd grumble something to himself, and the words that Dot was able to actually understand were usually unrepeatable.

Finally, he came to a stop, facing her from across the kitchen table. Dot flipped another page.

"So," Yosemite rumbled, glaring at her.

Not looking up from her paper, Dot trilled, "Yes?"

"So I ain't familiar with keepin' an eye on a bunch a' pups, so I thought I'd set us some rules."

"Go for it," Dot drawled.

"You payin' attention girly?"

"Oh, of course."

"Don't like yer tone."

Dot peered over the top of her page. "And I don't like your hat."

"My hat!" Yosemite yelped. He clutched at the brim of his cowboy hat for a moment before he remembered himself. Clenching his fists at his sides, he growled, "So, them rules…don't make noise, don't run around, don't lollygag, don't talk to me, don't look at me, don't quarrel with each other, and don't leave the damn house. Understood?"

Dot took another bite and continued to read. Yosemite watched her in silence for a few moments before he barked, "Well?"

"You just said _don't talk_," Dot reminded him. She hid a grin behind her paper as Yosemite let out a frustrated growl.

"Talk when yer talked to then!"

"Okay."

"Okay to what I just said or okay to my rules?"

"You pick."

Yosemite growled again, and Dot swore she saw steam come out of his ears. He waved his fists and marched around in place until he slowed to a halt and took a deep breath. "Just tell me," he breathed, coming down from a deep rage, "where yer loony brother is so I can bring him up to speed."

Dot shrugged. "Don't know."

"Whaddaya mean ya don't know?"

"It's a big house," Dot pointed out.

Yosemite swore profusely, and Dot flipped another page. "Look!" she said, pointing, "_Friends _just got extended for another three seasons!"

After another glower Yosemite stormed out of the room.

* * *

Yakko watched as the desert hills rolled and undulated past his window. They were currently following the perimeter of the gigantic base camp, passing Temecula and heading for the south end. It was all new to him; he'd grown up in California but had never gone farther south than Anaheim. The landscape was pretty enough, he supposed, in a rugged sort of way. Plus looking at it helped distract him from Bugs and Daffy's bickering. Bugs had exhausted himself on spewing precautions and tactics and had now turned to aggravating the already high strung duck. Yakko rolled his eyes and wondered if he was getting a glimpse into what he and Buster would be like in fifty years. Then he remembered that Buster hadn't spoken to him in days and his stomach twisted unhappily.

Bugs, who was currently fending off Daffy's insults toward his personal grooming regimen, suddenly shouted for silence as his phone rang.

"Oh, that's rich, the long-winded rabbit telling _us _to be quiet," Daffy muttered.

"It's Speedy," Bugs said coolly as he held the phone to his ear. "What's up doc?"

Trying to listen as Bugs muttered into the phone, Yakko glanced at Daffy. He was alternately looking out the window or snapping his eyes back to Bugs at certain keywords like "drive further" and "stakeout." Daffy had not spoken a single word to him for the entire drive, and this suited Yakko just fine. Every conversation he'd ever had with Daffy had either ended in an argument or Daffy calling him a "child" and walking away.

"Got it. See ya around, Speedy," Bugs said, and hung up his phone. Keeping his eyes on the road, he continued, "According to Speedy there's a lot of activity on the south side, so our best bet would be wait about a mile out. He's with Wile E and Roadrunner, they can meet us in about an hour."

"So we're just going to sit in the middle of the desert and twiddle our thumbs?" Daffy snapped.

"You got it. Ain't you excited?" Bugs asked, grinning.

They angled southwest before pulling off the main road and into the desert, causing Daffy to wail about his car and demand that Bugs pay for any and all damages. Behind them, Scratchensniff's station wagon bounced along the terrain. The way it was looking, Yakko thought Scratchensniff would be lucky to have so much as the steering wheel in one piece when they were through.

They finally came to a stop on the far side of a scruffy hill. Yakko, desperate to stretch his legs, made to leave the car immediately but Bugs stopped him. Bugs' ears twitched suspiciously as he scanned the area, and they ended up waiting in the car for another twenty minutes before Bugs cautiously stepped out. At long last Bugs signaled that it was okay for the rest of them, and Yakko all but fell out of the car.

The air was dry and pleasantly warm for a December day. The breeze ruffled his ears as he paced around Daffy's car, taking in the landscape. They were too far away from Pendleton to see it, leaving him only the jagged terrain that was dotted with rocks and desert-hardened brush that stretched across the horizon.

Babs and Buster were leaning against the station wagon but not speaking to each other while Scratchensniff hovered close to Bugs, looking like he was regretting joining them more and more with each second. Yakko was strongly tempted to join Buster and Babs, to talk to them, to maybe set things right, but every time he tried there was something corking up the words from spilling out of his mouth. Talking to them was probably the only thing more difficult than apologizing to Bugs. He really had no good excuse not to have apologized already, forgoing the fact that he was terrified of admitting to himself how much Bugs' absence in his life was already costing him.

"Where's the rodent?" Daffy asked petulantly after nearly an hour of waiting around and slowly getting on each other's nerves.

Bugs took a sip from his water bottle and swished the liquid around in his mouth. "Question of the hour doc," he said after he swallowed, "he ain't answering his phone. That don't exactly fill me with confidence."

"Just the idea that 'Speedy Gonzales is late' can't mean anything good," Yakko pointed out.

Bugs grunted in response as he squinted into the distance.

"Think he got caught?" Buster called out, putting a voice to everyone's concern.

"Hard to say," Bugs murmured.

Daffy leaned on the hood of his car, the sun reflecting brightly on the bottom of his beak. "We're losing time waiting around for him. I don't want to get stuck here in the dark – "

" – Cause that's when all the ghosts come out," Buster teased.

Daffy rallied himself for a retort, but Bugs cut him off. "Save it you two. As much as it pains me to admit, the little black duck is right. We ain't doing jack just standing around here like a bunch of old maids. I'm thinking we split off in groups and survey the area, get a sense of the perimeter. I don't want anyone going too far out, and listen, first sign of trouble I want to see everyone's scrawny tails back here, understand?"

"You got it chief," Babs said with a salute.

"Actually you two'll be staying right here," Bugs pointed out.

"What?" Babs yelped, "You mean we came all the way down here just to sit in the car?"

"You can sit outside the car if you'd like," Bugs said snidely.

Babs growled something unintelligible as Bugs continued, "Daffy and Doctor S. will go right. Yakko and I will go left. Babs, Buster, you two stay here and man the fort. I got my phone, so keep in touch. Alrighty folks, let's divide and conquer."

Daffy was complaining to Scratchensniff before they were even out of earshot ("notice how the hotshot rabbit loves to give orders") while Bugs began to trot out to the open expanse of desert that happened to be on the left. Before he followed, Yakko gave Babs and Buster a small wave. Babs hesitated and eventually waved back, but Buster just quirked an eyebrow at him. Sighing, Yakko turned to trail Bugs.

Having grown up in crowded Los Angeles, Yakko was struck by the openness of the desert. It was overwhelming, and he felt exposed. But there was also something freeing about. He had room to move. The colors were striking – golden hills jutting against a brilliantly blue sky. This was enjoyable for the first twenty minutes or so, but after twenty minutes of nothing but dirt and rocks and scrub Yakko felt exactly like he had for the last few months: bored.

He kept pace beside Bugs, listening to the dirt and sand crunch beneath his feet. Neither of them had spoken yet, and he was finding himself pulled between not wishing to say anything to Bugs and the maddening urge to throw himself on top of the rabbit and beg for forgiveness. He got anxious when no one was talking. No matter how many people were with him, the quiet made him feel inconsolably lonely.

"Military base camp's not too far," Bugs commented suddenly.

Yakko nodded, not sure why Bugs felt the need to point that out. Maybe he needed something to fill the silence too.

"You given some thought to what you're gonna do?" Bugs asked.

Yakko squinted at him in the sunlight. "Come again?"

"You seemed pretty dead set on leaving my house after this. I was just wondering where you planned to relocate."

Resisting the urge to grit his teeth, Yakko muttered, "We'll find something."

"'We?' You're gonna shift your siblings around just because you want to hold a grudge?"

"Got a problem with that?"

"Fine, be stubborn then," Bugs snapped, shaking his head.

Yakko kicked a rock out of his path. "I guess living forever gives you plenty of time to practice the fine art of being a pain in the tail."

"You have no idea mac. Don't worry, you've still got years to work on it."

Yakko made a noise of disgust just as Bugs' phone rang in his pocket.

"It's Speedy," Bugs said, and brought the phone to his ear. "Speedy? Can ya hear me? Speedy?"

His ears giving an annoyed flick, Bugs growled, "See, this is why I live in a city…lousy desert reception…hold on…"

Bugs looked like he was dancing awkwardly with an invisible partner as he wandered around with his phone trying to find reception. It was more entertaining than it had any right to be, and Yakko watched him for a while before he finally gave up in frustration.

"Darn thing was working just fine a minute ago," he muttered, "I'm heading back to the cars, I didn't have a problem getting calls back there. C'mon."

"I'll meet up with you," Yakko said, "This is the first time I've been somewhere that isn't your house in months. It actually makes the desert kind of exciting."

"Guess again doc. You're coming with me."

Yakko gestured to wide expanse of terrain. "Who's gonna sneak up on me? Wonder Woman in her invisible jet? Not that I'd mind with that outfit she insists on wearing…"

Bugs didn't look thrilled with the idea, but he glanced at his phone before finally giving in. "Fine, but you got ten minutes, then it's back to the cars. If you see so much as a tumbleweed that looks suspicious, I want you hauling tail back to me, got it?"

"Yes sahib."

Bugs snorted, "Ain't you a riot?" before he turned back towards the camp. He eyed the horizon for a moment then burst into a toon sprint, leaving a trail of dust behind him. Yakko watched the dust swirl and fade away, wishing that for all his talk, he could just find the right words to say to Bugs for once.

* * *

Wakko snatched a piece of paper from the floor of the trunk and swiped it across his forehead, staining it with sweat. He was starting to think that maybe this wasn't the best idea he'd ever had. It was getting hot in the car and he was getting cramps in his legs from staying curled up for so long. If he wanted to be bored and stuck in the same place all day he would have just stayed at the house.

He wondered when would be a good time to reveal himself. Maybe soon, since it was just Buster and Babs watching the cars and they would be the least of his concerns. Buster would probably find his presence amusing. It might be a good way to break the ice, to have Bugs and Yakko return to find him there instead of just jumping out of the trunk and shouting, "Surprise!" Not that it mattered that much. Either way they were going to be mad. Really, really mad. In fact, the more he thought about the combined efforts of an angry Bugs and Yakko, the more he thought it might be better just to hide in the car all day.

He ducked down again when the car door opened and someone got inside. Seconds later the door opened again, this time to Buster's voice, "Babs, why the hell are you sitting in the car?"

"Because if I need to scream, I don't want the whole desert to hear me," she sighed.

Buster crawled into the car now too. "Damn it Babs, what's the problem now?" When she didn't answer, Buster continued, "Look, if you're upset about all this kidnapping shit, we'll get by it. When it's over we'll both get a show and everything will be fine – "

"You always say that like it's going to solve everything," Babs replied. She sounded exhausted.

Buster made a noise of frustration. "Only because they way you talk makes it sounds like you've got too many problems to count. I don't get why you're complaining all the time Babs, you're a cartoon star, you can do whatever you want."

"We were on a TV show six years ago. I think that borders on has-been territory, personally."

"I'm not a has-been," Buster said, and his voice sounded so dangerously firm that it gave Wakko a chill that ran down his back.

"You're a has-been to your audience Buster, admit it. But you're not a has-been to me, or your friends, or your family. Why is that never good enough for you?"

"Who said I didn't think that was good enough?"

"You did, whenever you make a joke about what I want to do with my life, or when you'd rather go out to some Hollywood slosh-fest then spend time with me. You always want attention Buster, and I've tried to give it to you, but I don't think I'm the one you want attention from anymore."

Hidden beneath the papers and books, Wakko cringed. He felt as though he were intruding on something sacred, but there was no way to escape without revealing that he was there. He tried to cover his ears, tried to respect them, but Buster's voice rose above it.

"It's not my fault you forgot how to have fun Babs. If you would just go out and live a little, you could forget it all, I'm telling you."

Babs was quiet for a moment, and in the silence Wakko was convinced they could hear him breathing, so he held his breath. When she finally spoke, it sounded far too bitter for her character. "Ignoring the problem doesn't make it go away, you know."

"Problem? What problem, tell me. The only problem I know is that something changed, Babs. I don't know what, but it changed – you changed – and I don't know what to do right anymore," Buster said, hovering somewhere between resentment and desperation.

"You're right, I did change. I'm not sixteen anymore Buster, no matter how much you want me to be," Babs said, and her voice cracked so softly that Wakko winced again. "You want us to be teenagers who never worried about anything, ever. Sometimes I feel like I'm hanging by a thread, and that's ugly to you. When things aren't perfect to you, they're not worth your time."

Wakko squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out Buster's heavy breathing and the fact that Babs had tears in her voice.

"We've been together so long," she said shakily, "so many people told us we were the perfect couple, that we were made for each other. And we just believed it. We don't even notice that we're two different people who want two very different things out of life."

"Is this about Yakko?" Buster demanded suddenly.

"No. It's not. This is definitely about you and me."

Now it was Buster's turn to pause. "What are you saying?"

Babs sighed, which somehow made everything more real. "We need a break from each other Buster. Maybe we can pick up after all this is over, but right now I think it would be best if we, if we stayed apart for a while." She swallowed. "I'm sorry. I need some air."

The car door opened abruptly, and the sounds of Babs' feet hitting the earth eventually faded. Wakko was suddenly very aware that it was just him and Buster in the car now. It was as though he could feel Buster's world falling apart, he could tell just by the way he was breathing, and it made Wakko sick to his stomach. Buster stayed there for several minutes, breathing in and out, before finally opening the door and jumping out. The slam of the door made Wakko jump. After a moment he exhaled, feeling dizzy. He didn't dare leave the car now, they would know he'd been listening and he wouldn't be caught dead letting them find that out. So he laid in the back of the car, swiping sweat out of his fur and watching a fly crawl across the rear windshield.

He must have fallen asleep, because a jarring noise startled him and for a moment he couldn't remember where he was or what was going on. By the time he remembered he was in Scratchensniff's car he heard Bugs' voice ringing through the car.

"What happened? Do they know we're here?" Bugs demanded. Wakko jolted, very wide awake now. There was something in Bugs' voice that he couldn't place, but whatever it was he didn't like it. What was going on?

"They know, they know!" gasped what was unmistakably Speedy Gonzales's voice. "I am sorry, so sorry, it was a false trail. It is a trap. All of this, it is a trap. Someone tipped them off, I have no idea who it could be, but they are coming now, you have only minutes – I try to come as fast as possible, they attacked, Wile E and Roadrunner gone, I lose my phone – "

"It's fine, Speedy, it's fine," Bugs breathed, "damn it, where are the others? Where's Yakko, we need to find him quick – "

"They are going for him!" Speedy cried, "They wait until you two separate, they want him too!"

The air flew from Wakko's lungs.

And suddenly he was up on his feet, sending books and papers flying, banging his head on the roof of the car. Bugs, who had his phone in hand, yelped in surprise and nearly fell out of the car while Speedy Gonzales yelled something in shocked Spanish. The little mouse was perched on the steering wheel, his customary hat missing, and Wakko noticed that he had ink splattered across his poncho.

"_Wakko!_ What the hell – " Bugs spluttered.

"Where's Yakko? What's happening to him?" Wakko demanded. He didn't know if it was the fact that he'd stood up to fast or that he was going in to shock, but his head was spinning and he felt like the ink was draining from his veins.

"I'll deal with you in a second. Just sit and keep your head down for right now," Bugs wheezed, clutching his chest.

"But – "

"_Get down_," Bugs commanded. Wakko's shaking knees caved beneath him, and gripped the back of the seat as Bugs frantically punched numbers into his phone.

* * *

Sliding down a particularly large boulder, Yakko hopped to the ground and looked around. He had found himself in the valley between two small hills, which seemed to offer enough shade for more than the usual amount of scrub to grow. Rolling his shoulders, he plopped down on the ground. He hadn't heard from Bugs in a while, maybe it was time to turn back. Aside from a cactus that vaguely resembled Plotz he'd found nothing, no hints of kidnappers or otherwise.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. "That'll be Bugs telling me to report to base," he muttered to himself, swinging his phone up to his ear.

"Ahoy captain," he drawled.

"_Where are you?" _Bugs barked in the phone.

"Three boulders and one tumbleweed away from where you left me," Yakko replied, doodling in the dirt with his finger.

_"No jokes this time. Listen to me - you have to get ready to run."_

Yakko could tell by Bugs' voice that something was very wrong. He was suddenly standing on his feet with no memory of how he'd gotten there, his heart performing a series of erratic jumps.

"What do you mean?" Yakko breathed.

Bugs sounded confined. His heavy breath came in static bursts over the phone. _"There's a whole gang coming after you, you've got maybe a minute before they find you – "_

Somewhere in the background Yakko heard a strangled cry. It was a voice he would recognize absolutely anywhere, and his grip tightened like a vice around his phone.

"Is that Wakko?" he gasped, the words nearly getting stuck in his throat.

"_Yes, he's here, but don't worry about – "_

"Get him out, get him out of there right now – is Dot there too?" Yakko babbled. The words were bubbling out of his mouth, churned up from the trembling of his body. He looked over his shoulder. No one yet.

Bugs was trying to remain calm, which frightened Yakko more than anything. _"Dot's fine. Wakko's safe with me. You've got to trust me on this, kiddo. Just worry about yourself right now. You're going to run as fast as you can, don't fight them, Yakko, okay? Just run. Just get yourself out of there. Hide."_

Yakko no longer felt like he was a part of his body. A numbness was spreading over him, an eerie disconnect from the panicked flurry that was his brain: _where do I hide, what's going on, please get Wakko out of there, as far away as possible, don't even look back… _

"I – o-okay." He was pressing the phone against his ear so hard it was painful, as though he was keeping Bugs close enough to protect him.

_"Don't panic kiddo - "_

"What about you?"

_"I'm coming after ya kid, just hang tight okay?"_ Bugs said, and his voice cracked in such a way that made Yakko's numb body feel like it had turned to lead, _"__Listen, kid – Yakko – whatever happens, I…I always felt…I'm coming after you, okay? __Just promise me you'll stay safe, just run, don't let anything happen to you - "_

The roar of a truck engine tore Yakko away from Bugs' pleas. "Shit!" he hissed, and he went to stuff his phone back in his pocket but he missed and it bounced on the ground. For a few wild moments he oscillated between running and picking up his phone before the engine roared again, louder and closer than before, and brought him to his senses. His heart now in his mouth, he bolted out from between the hills, breaking into the harsh light of midday.

He chanced a look over his shoulder. A massive, steel-coated truck was tearing across the desert horizon, driving directly toward him, rippling in the distant heat waves. Startled, Yakko stumbled and hit the ground, rolling over his shoulder and scrambling to his feet in one movement. He tried to kick into a toon sprint once, twice, it wasn't working, he was panicking, again – finally, he was sprinting. He tore off in the direction of their cars.

No. He couldn't do that. Wakko was there. He didn't know how or why, but his brother was there. He couldn't lead whatever was chasing him right into Wakko's lap. And Dot, she was at Bugs' house, so he couldn't go there either.

There was no decision to make. Yakko didn't know where he was going to run or where he was going to hide, but it wasn't going to be with his siblings. He would die before he put them in danger. He wouldn't even question it.

It was at that moment that Yakko realized he wasn't going home tonight. He wouldn't see his siblings like he had promised.

So Yakko darted to the right, toward the open spread of dirt and scrub. The truck slid across the sand to follow him, spraying rocks everywhere. It was getting close now, Yakko could feel the hum of the engine in his chest.

He heard a voice. He didn't know how he heard it over the bellowing engine, but it was a man shouting, and the next thing he knew an acrid smell seemed to fill the air around him. A jet of hissing, green liquid shot over his shoulder, barely missing him, and splattered against a rock where it bubbled and spit. Unable to help himself Yakko glanced over his shoulder again. He barely caught a glimpse of a dark toon hidden behind what looked to be an odd gun, but Yakko didn't bother to look twice. It was a gun, and whoever the hell was holding it was shooting at him. He began pulling things at random from his hammerspace and tossing them in the path of the truck…barrels…a bear trap…banana peels…he wasn't thinking anymore, he was just doing. Adrenaline mixed with panic raced through his veins, down his legs and into his toes, and without another moment's thought he was racing across the ground like Bugs had taught him.

A cloud of dust trailed behind him and he was flying, the wind was whistling in his ears, his shirt flapped and rippled across his chest. The truck sank back into the distance and Yakko put yards and yards between them. Air sucked in and out of his lungs, a steady beat to match the whir of his feet. He was running like he never had before. Yakko lost track of time; he could only measure how long he'd been running by the rhythm of his breathing and growing ache in his legs. His thoughts were to get away, and his body obeyed him because he had eclipsed what had to be miles at a dead sprint before his lungs started to burn.

Eventually his breathing changed into hoarse gasps now and his chest was tight. The muscles in his side were bound up in a stitch that throbbed with each huff. Now that the rush of adrenaline had ebbed Yakko had to put concentrated effort into each step. He could hear the engine in the distance growing louder, but he could not will his body any faster. Dizzy with panic, Yakko staggered to a pile of boulders. There was a small space beneath the junction of two rocks, and he prayed it was large enough for a toon. He dropped to the ground and clawed at the earth until he had forced himself under and out of sight. Yakko's entire body was shaking and his gasps echoed in his tiny den. The whole desert was going to hear him at this rate. He tried to smother them by slapping his hands over his mouth, but it was never enough air.

Now that he was laying down Yakko was overcome with a powerful urge to sleep, but he fought it because the truck was coming closer by the second. He pushed further back into the crack like a frightened animal, shivering and pleading silently. _Just drive by, don't find me, please don't find me, just drive…_

Yakko felt a sick swell of horror when the truck, only yards away, began to slow. He wedged his hand awkwardly between the rock and his hammerspace so he was ready to pull a weapon at a moment's notice. His fur was damp with sweat as he watched the den's entrance, so bright in contrast to the shadows he was hiding in.

When one of the thick tires rolled into view he held his breath. The sun glinted off the hubcap and flashed in his eyes, but he never shut them. Yakko watched, eyes wide, as the truck slowly drove past the boulders and out of view.

Yakko waited to exhale until he could not hold his breath any longer.

* * *

"Yakko! _Yakko!_" Bugs barked into the phone. He waited for a moment. "Damn it," he hissed, slamming it shut.

"What happened?" Wakko asked. It was getting very hard to breath.

"Wakko, I told you, get down!" Bugs snapped back. He turned to Speedy, his face hard. "We need to find the others and get them out of here, now."

"We can't go without Yakko!" Wakko cried, gripping the seat.

"I'll take care of Yakko, you just stay where you are so we can – damn it Wakko!"

Wakko ignored Bugs's shouts as he flung himself out of the car and into the dirt. He stumbled once before taking off, running blindly into the desert, off in the direction that Yakko had left. There was no way he was leaving Yakko. He was either leaving with Yakko or not at all.

Wakko had barely made it thirty feet from the car when something strong collided with his back, tackling him to the ground. For a split second he thought it was a weasel, but Bugs' voice grunted against his struggles, "Don't like taking orders from me, do ya?"

"Let me go!" Wakko growled. He kicked out and connected with Bugs's stomach. Bugs let out an "oof!" but did not loosen his grip around Wakko's arms. He was annoyingly strong; Wakko dug his heels into the ground when Bugs tried to pull him back, but Bugs was already half-dragging him back to the car.

"So I can lose track of you too? Don't think so mac."

Bugs' grip tightened when they heard shouting in the distance. Wakko's heart jumped, hoping it was Yakko, but it fell again when he saw Daffy and Scratchensniff barreling toward them.

"They're coming!" Daffy shouted, "dozens of 'em! They were shooting at us!"

"Where is everyone? _Wakko?_" Scratchensniff cried. His glasses were cracked, and his head was marbled with large beads of sweat.

"Babs and Buster are MIA and there's a group of goons after Yakko as we speak," Bugs said quickly, "I'm going after Yakko – "

"I'm going with," Daffy volunteered promptly. Wakko had never seen him look so serious.

Bugs shook his head. "We need someone to look for Babs and Buster. Wakko, did you see where they went?"

When Wakko shook his head, Daffy just growled and muttered, "I'll find 'em," before dashing off.

"What – what about me?" Scratchensniff wheezed. His chest was heaving beneath his raincoat as he swiped at the sweat on his face.

"Take your car and get Wakko out of here. Don't go to my place, if they chase you you'll lead 'em straight to Dot. Take him somewhere safe, try your place if you have to, just get him out of here."

"No, I won't go," Wakko protested. He tried to shrug out of Bugs' grip again.

"Oh, I think you will," Bugs countered.

Shaking his head and trying to hide the quiver in his voice, Wakko shouted, "No, I can't leave without Yakko. I won't."

Suddenly Bugs spun him around by both shoulders and sunk down until they were eye level. "I am going to do everything I can to bring your brother back to you, okay? Everything. But I promised him I would keep you safe, and I'm going to keep that promise. Now please, get in the car, the doc here will watch out for ya."

While he still did not want to leave, Wakko sensed that he didn't have a choice so he nodded. Bugs promptly ushered him to the car and slammed the door shut. "Hey doc!" he called when Scratchensniff hadn't moved.

Scratchensniff gave a startled little jump and spluttered, "Oh, yes, car," and stumbled into the driver's seat. Wakko rolled his eyes. Great. His life depended on someone who'd forgotten he was the driver. Real promising.

A loud roar dragged his attention to the open desert. A truck was driving toward them, large and black and menacing. Wakko gulped and clutched at the dashboard.

"Move it!" Bugs shouted, slamming Scratchensniff's door shut, "I'll hold 'em off, just get out of here!"

"Okay, okay!" Scratchensniff cried. He kept jabbing his keys at the ignition but his hands were shaking so badly he was missing. Wakko snatched them, shoved the keys in and the car surged to life. Bugs was already streaking toward the truck. Meanwhile, Scratchensniff slammed his foot on the gas and made the engine rev, but the station wagon sat in place.

"They've sabotaged the vehicle! It won't move!"

"'Cause it's in park!" Wakko cried. He grabbed the gearshift and thrust it into drive. The tires spun for a moment before they hurtled forward and Wakko was thrust back in his seat. He reeled around to see if Bugs was okay, but he and the truck were all shrouded by a massive cloud of black smoke. Wakko gulped. Bugs had to be alright, he had to, he was Bugs Bunny, he always won. But then he remembered Yakko pointing out that this was real, that it wasn't a cartoon, and his mouth felt suddenly dry. Yakko was right. He was stupid. He didn't think things through. He was selfish. And now that he had stupidly tagged along Bugs had wasted time taking care of him when he should have been going after Yakko.

Yakko…

"Don't be scared Wakko," Scratchensniff said, and he couldn't have sounded more scared himself. His knuckles were white around the steering wheel.

"Can we go after Yakko?" Wakko pleaded.

"No, I'm afraid not – "

"_Please?_" Wakko continued, then winced when it came out as a whimper, "Please, just turn the car around. C'mon Scratchy, Yakko's out there, you have to!"

Scratchensniff was frowning so heavily that between that and the sweat his face looked like melting wax. "You know I cannot do that, Wakko. Bugs is very smart, he will take care of your brother. For right now I am concentrating on getting you to safety. You should not even be here, as you know."

"Well now that I'm here maybe I could help – "

"No Wakko!" Scratchensniff shouted, surprising him, "Now please just sit tight, and we'll have a nice, smooth ride back to – yaaahh!"

Scratchensniff swerved wildly, plastering Wakko against the window and barely avoiding another black truck that had snuck out from behind a boulder. The truck slid across the dirt and began to follow them, closing the gap between the two cars at an alarming rate.

"Oh my goodness, oh my goodness," Scratchensniff began to chant, and he slammed the gas pedal to the floor. His old station wagon whined in protest but barely picked up speed.

Wakko tugged at his hat anxiously. "Hurry up!"

"This is as fast as she goes!" Scratchensniff wailed.

The truck revved behind them and hit their bumper like an aggressive animal. Wakko and Scratchensniff cried out as the jutted forward. Without thinking, Wakko began to roll down his window.

"Wakko, what are you doing? Stop that right now!" Scratchensniff shrieked.

Ignoring him, Wakko stuck his head out the window. He pulled a pie from behind his back, reached out the window and heaved it at the truck with all his might. It splattered across the windshield, and the driver quickly flicked on the windshield wipers, which only smeared the pie further. The truck began to weave, crashing against rocks and scrub. Wakko reached behind his back again and pulled out a rather large anvil. Anvils came out of the hammerspace featherlight, but gained weight exponentially the more time it spent in a toon's possession. Wakko's anvil was already growing heavy in his arms; grunting with effort, Wakko dropped it in the path of the truck. Before the wipers could clear the pie away, the truck crashed into the anvil, waffling its front hood like paper. It came to a complete stop, and smoke was now pouring from the engine.

Wakko stuck his tongue out at the truck before slipping back into his seat. Chest still heaving, Scratchensniff was flicking his eyes between the terrain and his rearview mirror. When the truck finally disappeared in the distance, he cried, "Wakko, that was very dangerous! You should not have done that!" He paused for a moment, then patted Wakko on the head. "But thank you," he said.

* * *

Ricki Lake? No. Price is Right? No. _Waterworld_? No way.

Dot flipped lazily through the channels. It was a shame, really, over 200 channels and they all reeked. Rolling on the floor so she was on her back, Dot gazed at Bugs' gigantic TV upside-down. It didn't make it anymore interesting.

She pulled her phone from her pocket and place it on the floor in front of her. She stared at it, as though it was going to recommend something fun for her to do. She hadn't spoken to Yvonne or Patti for a while; she wasn't exactly allowed to speak to anyone since they were in hiding, but what harm could it to? Then again, she had no idea what she'd say to them. That seemed like an entirely different lifetime. Same with Razzy…she could call him, he might say something stupid that would make her laugh, but then what? Maybe she should call Skippy, she hadn't talked to him for a few days and, and weird as it was to say, she really missed him.

Dot prodded her phone with her finger. As expected, it did nothing. She sighed. Hopefully Yakko would hurry up and get home – he had to have discovered Wakko by now. Yakko was probably going to throttle their brother, and Dot would love to sit back and watch the show.

Her ears perked up at the distant _clank clank clank _of Yosemite's boots. It sounded like he was running from the other side of the house. Smirking, Dot wondered if he'd even realized if Wakko was missing yet. She'd have to thank Wakko, really, for providing so much entertainment.

After several more _clanks _Yosemite burst into the living room, wheezing and puffing and dabbing at his face with his beard.

"There ya are! What are ya doin' hiding like that!" he bellowed at her.

Dot made a show of looking around the room, then at her place in the middle of the floor. "I don't know, how did you _ever _find me?" she drawled. Then she noticed that he had a pistol in each hand. "Anger management problems, much?"

"Why didn't ya tell me yer brother skedaddled with the rest a' them?" Yosemite roared, waving one of his guns around.

Dot curled her tailed around her finger playfully. "Because you never asked."

Yosemite's brow curled downward. "Just talked to the rabbit. There's been a breach. The shrink's hauling yer one brother back here, but yer older brother's done gone missing. Chased off by god knows who, don't know where he is. Rabbit's gone after him."

Surely she had heard him wrong. With the way Yosemite minced words, it wouldn't be all that shocking.

"Ha ha, very funny. Fine, I won't pull any more fast ones on you. What's actually going on?"

"You done heard me right missy. They were attacked. Someone gave away their position and there's no tellin' what's become of the older one, let alone if the shrink and the other kid are gonna make it back. So I'd appreciate it if you parked your rear end in one spot while I make sure the premises is secure."

He turned to leave, but Dot leapt to her feet and snatched his arm. "Wait! What do you mean? What happened? Where are Yakko and Wakko?"

"I told you! Don't know! Smugglers or worse, we don't know who's got 'em. Hell, I don't even know where the rabbit and the duck are at this point."

"What about Buster and Babs?"

"Missing."

No no no. This wasn't happening. This wasn't how things were supposed to happen.

"Well what are we standing around here for?" Dot demanded, "We have to go after them!"

"The hell we are!" Yosemite challenged, "I got strict orders from the rabbit to keep you here. I'm already catching hell for losing the other one. You ain't goin' nowhere."

With that Yosemite bolted out of the room, shouting nonsense about "checkpoints" and "defensive measures." Dot stared after him. She felt like she had just been mugged, and was now standing alone on the street feeling scared and violated. Willing herself not to hyperventilate, Dot snatched her phone from the ground and speed-dialed Yakko's phone number with numb fingers.

"Pick up, please pick up," she whimpered into the phone.

One ring…three rings…five rings…there was a pause and Yakko's Groucho Marx-inspired voicemail picked up. _"Hello, I must be going. I cannot stay, I came to say, I must be going. I'm glad you rang, you heard I sang, leave a message and you I will be phoning…"_

"Damn it Yakko, pick up the phone!" Dot cried, dialing again. Tears were welling up in her eyes.

No luck. She called again. She couldn't accept it, she wouldn't, Yakko was her big brother, invincible…when it went to voicemail for a third time, Dot found herself screaming. "Yakko, it's Dot, please answer your phone! This isn't funny! Pick up, do you hear me? Pick up!"

Dot hung up, breathing heavily as tears spilled down her cheeks. Wakko didn't answer his phone when she called him either, but he always kept his phone in his hammerspace even though he knew phones couldn't get reception there. She didn't know where he was. She didn't know where Yakko was. It suddenly seemed like there wasn't enough air in the room. The walls were closing in and if she didn't move she'd die, but she couldn't get her legs to work. Instead, she sank to her knees as a shattering sob racked her chest.

* * *

Yakko did not leave his spot underneath the rocks for over an hour. When he finally crawled out he was shaking from head to foot. He was thirsty but aside from hammerspace water, which was nothing more than an illusion, he had nothing to drink. He searched anyway though, as though desperation would make the past change. Nothing. All his water was back at the car. And aside from a couple of granola bars that were lurking around somewhere, he had nothing to eat either.

When he felt brave enough, Yakko began to creep back toward the cars in a shaken daze. He darted in short sprints between trees and boulders, always keeping a wary eye over his shoulder. More importantly, he kept an eye out for any sign of Bugs or the others. As for his brother, he prayed that Wakko had gotten away. He didn't know what he'd do if Wakko hadn't. His brain wouldn't allow him to contemplate it. Yakko reached to his pocket for his phone to try calling him, but it was empty. He'd dropped his phone when the chase had begun. It was lost.

There was a part of him that wanted to talk. It would be comforting, almost like someone was there with him. But he was so worn out that the very idea of talking seemed exhausting. Besides, his mouth was so dry he was worried his tongue might turn to paper if he said one word.

He was broken out of his stupor by the sound of an engine. Yakko immediately dove behind the nearly rock and peered out from behind it. Stomach sinking, he saw a vehicle moving towards him on the horizon. But as it got closer, he realized it wasn't the massive truck that had chased him before. It was a rusty, beat up van that bouncing over the rocks and hills.

Smugglers.

Unable to think straight, Yakko took off. He kicked into a toon spint and ran blind, his only instinct was to get as far away as possible. The van was nowhere near as fast as the truck and he was able to put a sizeable distance between them. But he'd reached a flat part of desert with no visible cover for miles, and by the time he was able to catch his breath the van was on his trail again. So he ran.

It was a cycle of run and don't run, breathe and don't breathe. But he was always chased. Always. This cycle stretched from the day and into the night. The sky was gigantic, and Yakko thought the field of sparkling stars was beautiful. So he focused on them because, in the dark corners of his mind, he thought they might be the last thing he'd ever see. In the cover of night Yakko was able to hide, to try and pretend to sleep, but he could never relax because soon enough the headlights would be shining in his face. And he would run. The will to live was the only thing that moved his body now; he was thirsty, hungry, and thoroughly depleted.

It was an endless night, as though day was beyond the horizon and no matter how much he ran Yakko never got closer. The sound of an engine was enough to send him into a panic, and he began to dread it in the moments of silence. Yakko willed himself to think of his siblings, as they were the only thing that seemed to bring him back to reality during the infinite darkness.

Yakko watched the first hints of day streaked across the desert, and an animal roared inside him. He had made through the night. He had survived.

And then Yakko's legs caved beneath him and he collapsed behind a large boulder. The dirt was cool on his face, and he shut his eyes and thought of nothing. In the distance the engine was getting louder, but when he tried to push himself to his feet he found that he could barely lift his arms. He was too exhausted to move. He couldn't even lift a hand to his hammerspace.

Terror overwhelmed him. It was already too late to run. He couldn't get up. Fear was pinning him down. This was it. His breath was coming in sharp gasps and he was dizzy. He was done for, he was going to be caught, no time to tell Bugs he was sorry. He wasn't going to see Wakko and Dot, if only he could tell them he loved them like nothing else in this world –

Control. He needed control. That's what Bugs had been trying to teach him, and it was all he had left. It was the only thing to stop his brain from spiraling away into nothingness.

Struggling to take steady breaths, Yakko managed to get to his knees. The van was barely twenty feet from the boulder now, he had only seconds…and then his mind became blessedly clear. An accepting calm came over him, and Yakko saw the steps he should take laid before him as vividly as a picture. Yosemite had said they were looking for Class A's, so Yakko peeled off his gloves and stuffed them in his hammerspace. Whatever he did, he couldn't use his powers in front of them.

He could hear them getting out of the car. Footsteps thumped around the boulder.

Then he shapeshifted his face to make his snout longer, his ears floppier and his nose less red so he looked for all the world like a dog toon. Something in his brain told him that if they couldn't recognize him, he had a chance.

And then something slammed into him with spine-shaking force. They were upon him. Weasels, frothing at the mouth, tackled him in a wave, and before Yakko even had a chance to cry out he was knocked flat on his back, the air punched clean out of his lungs. For a barely half a moment he caught a glimpse of the dawn sky where a few stars were still blinking at him. But then the weasels smothered him, punched and kicked and bit him. Yakko struggled, he tried to punch back but there was so little fight left in his body that he doubted they even felt the hits. It took everything he had to resist the urge to soften his body and lessen the blows. They would know then, they would know he was gifted. So he took hit after hit until he was laying on the ground, the corners of his vision darkening.

Yakko felt himself being dragged, then picked up, and the next thing he knew he was thrown into the back of the van. The weasels were grunting and hissing beside him, saying words he couldn't understand; one of them sunk its claws into his chest to hold him still, and he felt something thick and heavy being dragged over his head. Yakko let out a groan which garnered another punch in the face. It cracked against his temple, and his world went dark.

Yakko wasn't sure how long he'd been out. The only way he even knew he was awake, or alive for that matter, was the throb in his head. He didn't think it would pulse like that if he was dead. He wasn't that lucky.

Everything hurt.

His chest, his legs, his elbows, his toes…his entire body felt tender and battered, as if he had just been in a blender and then spit back out again. His lips were cracked, and his tongue was so dry it felt like a wad of paper wedged in his mouth. It even hurt to breath. His ribs…were they broken? He tried to lift his hand to touch them, but pain shot up his arm. He gasped and the air rattled in his raw throat. Maybe it was better to remain still for now.

His head. Oh god, his head. It was like someone had taken a mallet to it. Repeatedly. A new note of pain was struck with each throb, the bulk of it gathering where his ears met his skull. There was something trickling down the side of his forehead.

What was that smell?

As he slowly swam back into consciousness, he realized he was on his back, lying on uneven ground. Gingerly, he stroked the floor with glove-less fingers. It was rough, but also covered in something sticky and warm. Was that ink? Was he bleeding?

He almost managed a snort. For how much pain he was in, it would be nothing short of a miracle if he wasn't bleeding.

Where was he?

The pain in his head was making his brain feel slow and dull, trying to formulate a thought was like swimming in thick mud. His breath was coming in short and shallow. It felt hot against his mouth. The smell was getting worse.

What was going on?

He couldn't see. As he slowly dragged his brain through the thought process, he decided that it was because his eyes were shut. He opened them, and his eyelids crackled.

It was still dark. But his eyes were open. He knew his eyes were open.

Panic blossomed in his chest. His heart began to race, coursing the ink through his veins and causing the pain to dance to a different beat. Oh God, he was blind –

But his brain forced him to acknowledge the heat around his mouth, and the rough fabric that chafed against his swollen nose. Lifting his trembling hand and hissing as the pain exploded in bursts, he touched his face. It was covered with something thick and coarse, like burlap. It was okay. He wasn't blind.

He dropped his hand to his chest, exhaling shakily through the fabric. He held his breath for a few moments, trying to avoid the stench, but the brief lack of oxygen made him dizzy.

Where am I how did I get here what happened what is going on why is there a sack over my head –

His brain was suddenly going into overdrive. Lost in the darkness, his thoughts became a blurred mess of confusion; question after question presented itself in his mind, and each was maddeningly impossible to answer. Nausea swelled in his stomach. Make it stop, make it stop –

And then a thought occurred to him in such an abrupt manner that all the other questions quickly fell silent. He felt the color drain from his face, and his body began to shake even worse.

Wakko. Dot.

Staring into the blackness with wide, frightened eyes, Yakko Warner choked out one word:

"Sibs."


	15. A Trio Torn

_**Chapter 14: A Trio Torn **_

As he lay on the ground, Yakko tried to decide which was worse: the pain, the thirst, or not knowing what was going on. He finally decided that dwelling on these thoughts was actually the worst of all and that it would be prudent to think of something else entirely. Besides, it might take his mind off the fact that he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown at any second.

How had they – whoever "they" was – caught him? How did anyone know they were in Pendleton? Had they been followed? Bugs had been so fanatical about secrecy, it wasn't like any of them had gone around broadcasting the fact that they were making a day of it in Pendleton –

Wait. Minerva.

He'd told Minerva.

Feeling a headache coming on that would put all others to shame, Yakko groaned and lifted his hands to his covered face. Dot had been right. Minerva was up to no good, and he'd blown it. Big time. But then his heart began to pound again. Wakko and Dot, _his _Wakko and Dot, were in trouble with her around and he wasn't there to stop it. He had to get out of here. Right now. But where was here?

Well, if he was going to start somewhere, it may as well be figuring out where he was.

Careful to keep his face shapeshifted, Yakko lifted the hem of the sack and peered out. It appeared as though he was in some sort of cave; a single lightbulb hung from the rocky ceiling, beaming dim and dirty light into the room. The ground was hard and covered in dirt and grime and what looked horribly like ink. Yakko gingerly touched his head and winced – judging from that and the ink that glinted on his fingertips, he had a pretty nasty cut up there. He turned to survey the rest of the room. There was only one way out: a carved out doorway that was closed off by a thick, barred gate. This wasn't a room. This was a cell.

Turning further, Yakko jumped slightly when he discovered nearly two dozen toons lining the wall behind him. Each one of them had a sack over their head with two eye holes torn into it, giving them a hollow, soulless look and Yakko wanted nothing more than to look away, but it was impossible. They were huddled together but still shivering, and all clothed in the same ratty, gray jumpsuits. Frowning, Yakko looked down and saw he was wearing one as well. It was covered in mystery stains and he had the sudden, strong urge to tear it off.

"Cover your face up!" one of them hissed.

Yakko blinked. The voice had come from the sea of masks staring at him.

"Put the sack back on stupid, they're coming!" the voice whispered again, but hushed immediately when the cell door swung open with a _clang_.

Yakko tugged the sack back over his face. He barely had a moment to breathe before a heavy hand grabbed him by the back of the neck, pinching as much skin between its fingers as it did cloth. Holding back a shout, Yakko felt himself being dragged across the floor as though he was as light as a feather. Despite being swallowed up in the blackness of his hood, he knew he had been taken out of the cell. Not only was the air slightly less muggy, but he heard the sharp clang of the door slamming shut.

His captor seemed to be dragging him down a series of hallways. Yakko tried to commit the twists and turns to memory, but his brain was foggy and the throbbing wouldn't stop.

Trying to smother the panic that was bubbling up again, Yakko opened his mouth to speak but quickly shut it. He'd nearly forgotten that he was pretending to be someone else. Altering his voice to something more nasally, Yakko took a deep breath and asked, "Who are you?" He meant it to be threatening, but it came out as a weak rasp. When no answer came, he asked again, "Are you the one who brought me here? Where are we?"

Still no answer aside from the deep, labored breathing of someone who was very large. Yakko heard what sounded like a heavy door being opened, and he was struck with the same putrid, nauseating smell from before. It was then that he realized it was smell from the desert. It made him want to get as far away from there as possible, as if he didn't have enough reasons to want to do that already. But he didn't have time to dwell on this, because he was suddenly tossed into the air like a rag doll. Remembering at the last second not to squash himself, Yakko landed rather painfully on his side. He was suddenly flooded with sympathy for Class C and D toons, who never had the option to squash – in addition to everything else, his hip was killing him right now.

"So eh, found another sap trying to clear the border?" snarled a nasty, sniveling voice. He sounded vaguely familiar to Yakko, but he couldn't place it.

"Nope, they found this idiot goin' _south_, chased him through the whole night," another voice replied. Again, familiar.

"What?"

The sack was ripped from Yakko's head and he blinked in the bright spotlight, thankful he still had his face shapeshifted. When his eyes adjusted he saw that he was in a small room that was barely an improvement from the cell. Strange guns lined the walls; at first glance Yakko thought they were brightly colored machine guns, toonish even, but they were lined with small tubing and tanks. They would have reminded him of squirtguns if they didn't look so deadly.

On the opposite wall were three steel tubs that were covered with large slats of plywood, a broad paintbrush resting on one, and a table sat in the middle of the room beneath the single light.

"So you're dumb _and _stubborn, huh?" said the sniveling voice.

A figure leaned out of the shadows and into the light, and Yakko's eyes widened at the sight of Mortimer Mouse. Mortimer's eyes were hooded, glaring at Yakko over his long, crooked snout that ended in greasy whiskers. The large, yellow front teeth that poked out from his lips looked unusually sharp. Yakko had to bite back an insult that was born purely out of nerves.

"Looks like he's a mute too," came the other voice. A much smaller, rounder figure came into view. With another small jolt, Yakko recognized Bosko. His pot belly had grown since Yakko had seen him on the Tiny Toons set, and it looked like he was working on a bald spot on the top of his head in addition to the five o'clock shadow that lined his chin. His brow and mouth were bent into a rough sneer.

Yakko's eyes flicked between them, then at the guns on the wall.

_Mortimer…Bosko…guns…no, squirtguns… _

Memories were flying at him, he remembered holding the newspaper in New York City, reading the headline of Shirley's column: _Bosko acquires squirtgun manufacturer in Tijuana…Mortimer Mouse appointed as COO…_

Was that where he was? Tijuana? There was no way those were squirtguns were toys, what were they doing here…what was _he _doing here…

"Yer eyes are glossin' on me, idiot," Mortimer said, and he slapped Yakko across the face. The pain made his eyes water, but he didn't care, he was too focused on keeping his face shapeshifted, keeping his identity hidden. "What's yer name?" Mortimer asked.

Yakko blurted the first name that came to mind. "Ears."

"_Ears? _What were Mommy and Daddy smokin' when they labeled you with that shit?" Bosko scoffed.

"Well, _Ears_, now that I've got yer attention, allow me to introduce myself," Mortimer said with a tiny bow, "the name's Mortimer Mouse but, who am I kiddin', you probably knew that already."

"I betcha he already knows who I am," Bosko cut in, turning to Yakko, "dontcha kid?"

The fur on the back of Yakko's neck bristled. Only Bugs was allowed to call him "kid." So he snapped, "Yeah, you're Mickey, right?"

Bosko's sharp snarl contrasted with Mortimer's burst of laughter.

"This one's got a sense of humor," Mortimer chuckled, but Bosko shoved him aside and suddenly Bosko's face was inches from Yakko's.

"Think yer funny?" Bosko growled, showing his full set of teeth. His breath smelled like an old tuna fish sandwich, and his eyes searched Yakko's. There was something strangely familiar about Bosko's eyes, and not just because Yakko had seen him before. It was more than that. Bosko must have noticed it too, because his intimidating demeanor faltered for a moment as he searched Yakko's disguised face. Yakko concentrated on keeping his own face neutral, terrified with every second that went by that Bosko would somehow recognize him. To his relief Bosko returned to scowling and continued, "My name's Bosko and I'm going to make sure you don't forget it. Mugsy, bring us the water."

Yakko frowned. Surely that couldn't be…

A towering figure stepped from the shadows. He had been waiting so silently that Yakko had taken no notice to him. To his shock it was Mugsy, _the _Mugsy. But hadn't Bugs told him that Mugsy had swallowed paint thinner? Though as Mugsy stepped into the light, Yakko noticed that something wasn't right. Something was off. It was more like a cheap imitation of Mugsy than anything; the features on his face were jumbled and uneven, and his shuffling walk was unsynchronized. His eyes stared in two different directions, and a hint of drool was glinting from his gaping mouth.

"I thought he was dead. What's wrong with him?" Yakko asked before he could stop himself.

"You mean aside from being a butt-ugly oaf?" Mortimer drawled, scooping up a rock from the floor with his tail and flicking it at Mugsy. It bounced off of Mugsy's head, but he didn't seem to notice.

"Brought him back from the grave, we did," Bosko said.

Mugsy lumbered to the tubs that lined the wall and dragged the first one to the center of the room. It rasped against the dirt floor as it moved, and Yakko could hear liquid sloshing to and fro inside it.

"Now, to make sure you don't forget who I am, we're going to play a little game," Bosko said, cracking his knuckles.

Mortimer stepped closer to him and continued, "You see, you're lucky enough to be a part of a little club we like to call the Compound and, while we love _all _our members dearly, we are especially fond of members of a certain…_Class._"

Bosko swooped in and delivered a hefty kick to Yakko's ribs. Yakko cried out, surprised he could still feel any more hits at this point, and tried to drag himself away.

"No squash eh? C'mon, you gotta be at least a Class B, you're an inky stain just like Chunky over here," Mortimer said, jerking his thumb at Bosko.

Bosko growled and pulled a switchblade from his hammerspace, which he chucked at Mortimer. Barely ducking out of the way, Mortimer let out a string of swear words that would've made even Fowlmouth blush.

"Watch that rat trap of yours," Bosko snapped before turning back to Yakko. With a look in his eye that made Yakko's fur stand on end, Bosko reached behind his back and pulled out his mallet. Instinctively, Yakko's hand twitched toward his own hammerspace. Bosko's eyes flicked toward his hand immediately, and he inwardly cursed.

When Bosko snapped his fingers Mugsy began lumbering toward Yakko. Panic coursing through him again, he tried to scramble away but Mugsy seized him by the scruff of his neck and held him over the tub.

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you had a hammerspace," Bosko crooned, "Is it true? Do ya got one?"

Which was better? Did he lie, or did he grab his mallet and try to smash his way out? He was so exhausted and weak at this point he'd be lucky if he could hold his mallet above his head. Yakko eyed the guns on the wall. Nope, he wouldn't get very far.

"I'm a C, a Class C," he wheezed.

"Funny how you're _all _Class C's," Mortimer drawled. "Now, I ain't sayin' I don't believe ya. I would never call an honest toon a liar. But just in case, let's do a little test. We don't wanna hurt ya…if you're high Class, that is. We like to keep our A's and B's in tip top shape. They're the only toons worth a salt after all. So we'll give ya one last chance. What class are you, splot?"

"I'm a C, don't you think I would've malleted you into next week if I wasn't?" Yakko lied.

"Sorry mutt, they don't have a smartass Class," Mortimer said with a sneer.

"Quit wastin' air," Bosko said, "let's just get to the good part. Mugsy, dunk 'im."

Mugsy flung the plywood slat off the tub like it was made of paper, revealing a tub full of what Yakko prayed was water. Having the feeling that this couldn't mean anything good, he tried to twist out of Mugsy's grip but a sharp pain reverberated from his ribs to his chest. Before he even had a chance to wince, Mugsy thrust him face first into the tub.

The cold was like a slap in the face. It punched the air out of Yakko's lungs, made the wound on his head prickle. Instinct prompted him to push himself out, to struggle, to kick, but Mugsy's meaty hand, wedged between Yakko's shoulder blades, held him down. Air bubbles were escaping from his mouth and nostrils, and Bosko and Mortimer's distorted voices were echoing from above him. It dawned on him what they were doing. A Class B could breath under water for five minutes. Hell, as a Class A he could breathe for ten. Somehow his brain recalled these facts out of the garbled mess of fear, as though it wanted to remind itself that there were still things that were logical, that were normal. But a Class C couldn't breathe underwater. A Class C would drown. It was a test, to see if he would break and try to breathe. He could fake struggling for breath, but he couldn't fake drowning. Would they pull him out after he passed out, or would they let him die, slumped over a tub of water?

Yakko let more air bubble to the surface. Something in his gut told him that the special treatment of the upper Class was anything but good. The edges of his vision were blurring, and his heart began to race as his lungs burned for a single breath. He would have to risk it. At this point, what did it matter? It was getting harder to see. The fear was palpable, it was a flavor in his mouth, a weed in his brain. Yakko's heart was ready to explode from his chest, making the searing pain in his lungs multiply and scatter to the rest of his body. But then the pain began to drift away…he was becoming pleasantly numb…this was nice, this was better…but wait, if he fainted, his face would switch back…he couldn't think anymore…

A moment before he passed out he was yanked from the tub and thrown onto the floor. Yakko gasped and choked, writhing on the ground, trying to remember who and where he was, but Bosko was suddenly in his face.

"Who are ya, huh? What Class are ya?" he demanded, but his words twisted and contorted in Yakko's mind.

"C," Yakko coughed between breaths.

"Quit lyin' ya dimwit! Dunk him again!" Bosko yelled.

Yakko body flopped lifelessly as Mugsy hauled him back to the tub and plunged him in the water for a second time. Feeling his muscles ache, Yakko let his face shapeshift back to normal. Only a few moments rest, that's all he needed. His vision blurred much more quickly this time, and his struggles were nothing but weak nudges against Mugsy's massive frame. He probably didn't even feel them. Bosko's voice snarled something, and Yakko only just managed to change his face before he was on the ground again, coughing water out of his lungs.

Bosko was there again, but this time he grabbed a fistful of Yakko's hair and ears to drag him so they were face to face. Someone groaned in pain, and only later did Yakko realize it was him.

"Open yer eyes, loser, and look at this!" Bosko snapped, and shoved a paper in Yakko's face. Yakko blinked dully, trying to focus on the jumble of lights and darks on whatever it was that Bosko was showing him. When his vision cleared a picture swam into focus, and Yakko's heart nearly stopped. It was a picture of him. And his siblings. And god, if his head wasn't so messed up he'd swear it was taken at Buster's house…but that couldn't be…

Yakko found himself staring at his siblings. Tried to soak them in, burn them in his brain, because just the thought of them made him want to find his place by their side again, even if it meant tearing his way out of the room with his bare hands. But after far too brief a moment Bosko pulled the picture away.

"Well?" he barked, "The Warner brats. Have you seen them?"

A small part of Yakko was quite proud of himself – he'd disguised himself well, Bosko had no idea who he was. But at the same time terror was finding its way through his veins: why was Bosko seeking out them, of all toons?

"No, I've only seen the show," Yakko croaked.

Bosko stared at him without blinking. His face was very bulbous up close, like he had been overinflated. "You watched that excuse of a cartoon? Mugsy, dunk this maroon," he snarled.

Mugsy dropped him in the water once more. Convinced that this was it, Yakko forced the picture of him and siblings into his mind, and thought only of them as the air wrestled free from his mouth. His vision was dark and there was pinprick of pain in his skull when, to his shock, he was thrown flat on his back. He shuddered and gasped.

"Aw, I was enjoyin' the show," Mortimer said with a snicker.

Everything was moving slowly, and the voices seemed far away.

"Any idiot with half a brain would have used his hammerspace by now. This one must be one of the worms," Bosko sneered. "But, just in case…Mugsy, bring 'im here."

Yakko was only dimly aware that he was being dragged across the room. He was shaking, and could only really concentrate on breathing in and breathing out. In and out. That was good enough for now.

Mugsy deposited him in front of the second tub and dropped the cover to the floor. Yakko felt his shirt being removed, and it was landed on the floor with a wet splat. By now Mortimer had strolled over, and he used his foot to kick Yakko onto his stomach. Above him, Bosko picked up the paintbrush and dipped it into the tub. A thick, glue-like substance dripped from it. Bosko dropped down and painted a single strip down the middle of Yakko's back. It hardened almost instantly, pulling Yakko's fur and skin tight.

"Let's just call that our little safety net," Bosko drawled. He sniffed. "God, he smells like shit. Get this worm out of here before I lose my lunch."

"Just a sec, we have to make sure he's decent first," Mortimer cut in. He kicked Yakko's shirt into his face, and Mugsy, without being told, dutifully clothed him. Then Mortimer held the up the sack and tore two eye holes in it with his nails. He tugged it roughly back over Yakko's head.

"There," he said, laughing, "now you're all prettied up for the ball."

Yakko winced beneath the mask when Mortimer kicked him again, flipping him onto his back. Bosko stomped a foot on his chest, pinning him to the ground. As if he could have gotten up on his own.

"Before you go, let's get a few things straight," Bosko said, flinging spit from his mouth, "you're under Class. You're a worm. And your name ain't Ears no more, 'cause you're nothing. You're less than nothing. You don't take off your hood, you don't talk to no one, and you do what we say. Got it?"

"Or what, you'll give me another bath?" Yakko croaked. He was glad to know he could still rely on his mouth in times of crisis.

"Wiseguy huh?" Bosko snorted, then he kicked Yakko, hard, in the stomach. Yakko, who probably couldn't have squashed even if he wanted to, ground his teeth and clutched his stomach. Bosko and Mortimer laughed as he struggled for breath, but Mugsy simply stared.

"Get him outta here, it's ruinin' my reputation just bein' in the same room," Mortimer said snidely.

Mugsy did not move. He stood, unmoving and breathing through his mouth. Clenching his fists, Mortimer marched up to him and slapped him in the face. It shook Mugsy's beefy jowls, but otherwise he remained unchanged. "You heard me!" Mortimer roared, "Take him back to the cell!"

Mugsy did not even blink. Storming forward, Mortimer grabbed him violently by the ear and bellowed, "You deaf? Get him outta here ya damn yutz!"

When Mugsy still had yet to acknowledge Mortimer was in the room, let alone screaming in his ear, the mouse made a fist, reared back, and swung. But before his fist could connect with Mugsy's temple Bosko snatched him by the tail and yanked him away. Mortimer's swing went wide and the momentum caused him to stumble and hit the ground face first.

"Let a pro show ya how it's done," Bosko cooed, "Mugsy, take him back to the cell."

Mugsy grunted something and stooped down to clutch Yakko by the back of his neck again. Yakko let himself be dragged, he no longer had the energy to do anything otherwise. As they left the room, he heard Bosko gloat, "He only listens to me. He obviously recognizes a leader when he sees one."

"That's sayin' a whole lot for someone who can't recognize his own ass from a hole on the ground," Mortimer shot back.

Bosko swore profusely and lunged at the lanky mouse, but Mugsy had taken Yakko out of the room before he could see what happened. Through the small openings in his hood Yakko could see he was being dragged down poorly lit hallways, his body leaving a trail in the grime as they went. They passed by several cell doors. The first few were empty. But when Yakko looked into the fourth door, he gasped – a weasel in a black uniform was standing guard outside it, holding one of the strange guns to his chest, the stench radiating from him. Yakko craned his neck slightly to look inside. There were quite a few toons huddled against the far wall. At least fifteen, if not more, and none of them had sacks over their heads. He squinted, and then his stomach plummeted violently – Shirley and Plucky. And Montana Max. They were clustered together, leaning their heads on one another. Shirley looked like she had been crying, and Plucky had ink across his front –

They passed another guarded room. More toons were in this one, including Wile E and Roadrunner. But Mugsy turned a corner, and Yakko could not see inside any longer. He was glad that Mugsy seemed oblivious to the outside world, because his heart was pounding so hard it had to be sending tremors through his body. He had found them, he had found Shirley…too bad it looked like someone was going to have to find him now too.

When Mugsy approached the last cell door, a uniformed weasel promptly unlocked the heavy gate. Mugsy flipped it open like it was made of toothpicks and threw Yakko inside. The door was shut before he landed on the floor. Yakko lay there for a few minutes, bowing to the steady drum of pain his skull and willing himself to remain conscious. He felt disconnected from his body…this surely couldn't be him in this dark place, beaten and tortured, this kind of thing didn't happen to toons like him. He supposed he should be happy he was alive, but he felt like he had left a part of himself in the room with the water.

Yakko tried to review the facts in his head, but they were like pieces of separate puzzles that could never fit together. Bosko and Mortimer had been running this operation the whole time, but what was it? Why were toons of different Classes separated? What were they planning to do?

What was he planning to do?

Pushing himself up on shaky arms, Yakko looked at the group of hooded toons that still lined the walls. Most of them had their heads bent low, avoiding eye contact with him at all costs, but a few watched him. He didn't like that he couldn't see their faces, there was almost no way to distinguish one toon from another aside from size differences and various kinds of feet poking out from beneath the prisoner uniform.

Feeling more defeated than he ever had in his entire life, Yakko dragged himself into the corner farthest from the group. Every inch he pulled himself highlighted a new ache in his body, and by the time he reached the corner he collapsed to the floor again. Dully, he reached to his hammerspace to pull out something of comfort. Anything familiar, to remind him that he was still sane. But his hand thumped uselessly against his back.

Yakko's heart stopped. He tried again, but there was no familiar swoop into great expanse, no treasure trove of possibility at his disposal. There was only his fur and the hard line that Bosko had painted. Yakko tried again, his mouth going dry, but he only managed to punch his own back. Panic bubbled up inside him, and he held back a whimper as he began clawing at his back wildly. Where was his hammerspace? What was wrong with him? Had he been so thoroughly destroyed that he had lost his powers?

"You've been painted. Your hammerspace has been locked."

Yakko jumped and flung himself into the corner. Unbeknownst to him, one of the prisoners was still watching him. She was smaller than he was, and her legs were tucked to her chest.

"I don't have a hammerspace," Yakko lied, knowing it was already too late.

"I won't tell," she said. Her voice was hoarse, and Yakko wondered if it was from screaming.

He watched her for a moment. "What do you mean, painted?" he asked finally.

"Shh," she hissed, looking toward the door. Yakko followed her gaze. When the weasel did not turn around, she continued, "That stuff Bosko painted your back with, it's RIP. Stands for Resin Impenetrable. It seals a toon's hammerspace."

Yakko swallowed. "Is…is it, is it permanent?" he asked, his voice trembling. Did he want to hear the answer?

"I don't think so. One of the others told me Bosko has a chemical that takes it off," she replied.

Yakko exhaled and let his head fall back against the wall in relief. But the relief was swallowed up by an overwhelming sense of loss. Without his hammerspace he was vulnerable, with little more than his fists to protect himself and god knew how little good that did. And besides, he'd grown up with his hammerspace. He was cut off from a part of himself. He felt like he had lost a close friend.

"Where are we?" he asked after a moment.

"I'm not sure. All I've been able to figure out is that we're underground."

"Why are the higher Class toons in another room?"

"I don't know, I think they might be – "

The guard weasel suddenly battered his gun noisily against the bars of the door. "Bad!" he yelled at them. "Bad!"

"They really need to work on expanding their vocabulary," Yakko muttered to himself, but the girl scurried away from him.

"_We can't talk_," the girl hissed.

The weasel glared at them, then nodded when he deemed them under control before returning to his post. Yakko made a face at him beneath his mask before letting his face shapeshift back to normal. Relief flooded through the muscles in his cheeks and jaw. He laid his swimming head on the floor, trying to ignore the throbs of pain and hunger. He didn't know what was going on or what was going to happen, but he had to escape. He had to get back to Wakko and Dot. That was the only solid thing he could hold onto right now.

* * *

Wakko poked at the noodles in his soup with his spoon. It had gone cold long ago. This was the same bowl he had left untouched the night before.

The drive home from Pendleton had been miserable. Wakko had slid into silence and so did Scratchensniff, which meant the only thing he had to occupy himself with were thoughts of Yakko and Dot. Every other minute he looked at his phone, hoping to see a call spring up from Yakko or Bugs. But there was nothing. Things got worse when they got into Toontown. Wakko realized this was the first time he'd been able to get a good look at the city in months.

What was once a bright place bursting with life was now little more than a ghost town. Stores were boarded up, and the ones that weren't had their windows shattered from a looting. The streets were covered in filth and trash. Occasionally he would spot a toon darting along the street, pulling the collar of their jackets up to hide their face as they ran. The color and vibrancy seemed to have drained out of the city, leaving its lifeless shell behind.

Wakko felt like the city looked. Robbed of everything he knew, everything he loved, leaving him empty and alone. It had taken him a long time to accept the fact that what was happening to him was real. In just a few hours everything that was important to him had slipped from his fingers. And if only he hadn't been so stupid, so selfish, Yakko could have come back to the car and Bugs would have protected him. He would have come home and things would be just like they were.

And he had been such a jerk. Not only to Yakko, but to Dot too. He was the older one, he shouldn't have let her get to him. He was supposed to be good to her. He was supposed to protect her. Instead, he had torn all three of them apart and now he didn't know if he'd ever see either of them again. Wakko had begged to be taken to her, but Scratchensniff explained that since they had been compromised, it was too dangerous for them to be in the same place. He couldn't even call her and risk the signal being tapped. There was something coldly logical about the way he had laid that out, as if it were a medical procedure.

Without Yakko and Dot he felt like he had when his arm was hurt: unbalanced and weak, unsure about how to do normal, everyday things. Even now, as he watched a carrot bob up and down in the broth, Dot wasn't there to spoon all the celery she wouldn't eat into his bowl, nor was Yakko to make wisecracks at him until he snorted soup through his nose.

Wakko smiled at the memory, but in the next second that smile contorted into a grimace and then there was a lump in his throat. Tears threatened his eyes and Wakko swiped at them with the heels of his palms. Embarrassed, he looked over his shoulder to make sure no one was there. Who was he kidding, the only other person in the house was its owner, Scratchensniff. Scratchensniff's house was much smaller than Bugs' mansion, and it was miles more conservative in décor. It was exactly what Wakko had pictured it to look like: lots of books on shelves, lots of framed paintings of landscapes on the walls, and lots of bronze busts of old, bald guys.

Scratchensniff had pulled the can of soup from the pantry nearly the instant they'd dragged themselves through the door. 'Wakko wants food' seemed to be the only solid thing he was clinging to, and had thrust the bowl in front of him with an accomplished air. Like something had been done right that day. Scratchensniff had checked on him periodically, encouraging, almost begging him to get some sleep. There was a small guest bedroom with a couch that pulled out into a bed that apparently was Wakko's new room. If he had slept, it was only two hours at most. Most of the night was spent wondering where Yakko was. When that became too exhausting, he read, and reread, _Mickey Outwits the Phantom Blot._

Shoving the bowl to the other side of the table, Wakko trudged out of the kitchen. He wasn't really aware of where his feet were taking him. His sense of purpose seemed to have vanished with his brother and sister. Rubbing at his eyes to make sure there were no last traces of the despair that had leaked out, Wakko followed the sounds of dedicated typing until he found the study. Scratchensniff was buried behind massive piles of books and papers, alternating between scrawling things down and pounding numbers into a calculator with punishing fury.

Wakko watched him from the doorway unnoticed. When he finally asked in the quietest voice possible, "What are you doing?" Scratchensniff yelped and bounced several feet out of his chair.

"Wakko, do not scare me like that," he wheezed, clutching his chest.

"Is that gonna help find Yakko?" Wakko pressed.

"You look very tired, did you eat your soup?"

"That's not gonna help me get back to Yakko and Dot."

Scratchensniff paused at this, furrowing his brow and watching Wakko carefully. "Yes, Wakko, it will. It would do your brother and sister no good if you stopped eating."

Wakko rolled his eyes, but stepped into the room to get a better look at Scratchensniff's work. The doctor's hand twitched toward his papers, an instinct from having to snatch them away from Wakko so many times, but they came to a rest on the edge of the desk instead.

"What are you working on?" Wakko asked again.

"It is very complicated," Scratchensniff sighed, "why don't you eat your soup, yah?"

"You don't want to tell me."

Straightening his back, Scratchensniff placed his pen down and knit his fingers. "I don't want to frighten you," he said, and it sounded like the truth.

"Wanting to find out what people wouldn't tell me got me into this mess," Wakko said, "I'd be a lot less scared if you would just tell me what's going on."

There was a beat before Scratchensniff began to chuckle. Wakko frowned. That was it. Scratchy had lost it. After all these years he'd finally made the old fogey crack.

Swiping a tear away from beneath his glasses, Scratchensniff said, "Some psychiatrist I am. You are right Wakko. You are very right, you know."

"I know, I've been saying it this whole time. Nobody listened," Wakko grumbled.

Scratchensniff flipped through his papers as he said, "You have to be mature to hear this. We are dealing with very serious matters."

"Duh."

"No jokes or silly business now."

"Got it."

"I suppose I will start at the beginning. That seems right, yah? Okay," Scratchensniff rambled, "It begins with Slappy, shortly after her passing. After much convincing, our friend Nutsy was kind enough to provide us the information from Slappy's autopsy. Brain – this is before he disappeared, now – Brain and I did some tests, and we concluded that her death was the result of the DIP. The DIP is of course lethal on contact to toons, and very much illegal to produce. A big no-no. In order to find the culprits, Brain and I wished to narrow down the list of suspects to those capable of creating the DIP in the first place, you see?"

At Wakko's nod, Scratchensniff continued, "Now, the DIP is made from three basic components: acetone, benzene, and turpentine. We need to know not only who has access to these ingredients, but who can acquire them in great quantities. You see, because of the dangers that the DIP incurs, any one of those ingredients are not sold to toons without a license, nor can they be purchased together in bulk. Toons who have been cruel enough to wield it in the past have made it from scratch. If you did not know, acetone and benzene are derived from petroleum, and turpentine is derived from resin."

Wakko stuck out his tongue in thought. Petroleum…that word was sparking something in his memory…

"In the meantime, Brain and I also wanted to find a way to combat the situation. We might not be able to stop the criminals from making the DIP, but maybe we could stop the DIP itself. We were running experiments, but unfortunately all of Brain's empirical research was stolen…along with Brain himself. I am trying to carry on the research myself, but as far as toons go, no brain compares to Brain's."

As far as toons go…_toons go_

"ToonGO!" Wakko he shouted, jumping off the globe. "It's a petroleum plant!"

"My goodness Wakko, how on earth do you know about that? Have you been _reading the newspaper?_" Scratchensniff asked, as though the very idea of Wakko reading was inconceivable to him.

"No way, I heard Max and Yak – " Wakko halted. Saying Yakko's name out loud was painful, like opening up a wound that was trying to heal. "…and my brother talk about it at Slappy's viewing, and Shirley brought it up again the last time we saw her. But, they're both gone now…"

This had never occurred to Wakko, but he pushed the troubling thought aside as he said hurriedly, "Scratchy, do you think ToonGO is where they're getting the stuff to make DIP?"

"It is a possibility that had occurred to Bugs," Scratchensniff informed, "He had Shirley try to investigate, though she was unable to uncover very much information. Oswald is quite secretive, and he runs the facility as such. That is why I tracked the weasel sightings – you should know this, with all your snooping of my things – I found it odd that there was an influx of weasels at the same time as Slappy's passing. I wanted to see if their whereabouts correlated with the plant, but the results were inconclusive."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean the data did not support the theory."

"So no one found any weasels around there?"

"Well, of course there were a few in the vicinity – "

"Oh, there, that supports it."

"Not necessarily."

"But you just said you found weasels there."

"This is science! The data does not support – you know, nevermind. The point that I want to make is that ToonGO is a possibility, not a certainty. Besides, we have no leads on who the petroleum was issued to, who has the means to create acetone and benzene from it, the list goes on."

Wakko sighed and stared at the globe. He didn't care what the man said, he was filing ToonGO away as "highly suspicious" in his mind. That Oswald guy had been a creep, and if Pete was involved, that had to mean trouble. But now that he had this information, he had no idea what to do with it. What was he gonna do, march up to ToonGO's gate and demand to know where Yakko was? Regardless, he felt better now that he was no longer completely in the dark. Like he had a few pieces of armor before going into battle.

Turning his attention back to the globe, he picked out Toontown, nestled in Southern California. He traced the west coast of North America, letting his finger trickle down past Mexico and toward Peru. He was suddenly vividly reminded of Yakko dancing and singing in front of the map of the world, and he yanked his finger back as though the globe had bit him.

"Scratchy," Wakko said after moment, "how do you know if someone has DIP?"

"Toons are naturally repulsed by the smell," Scratchensniff said, "its a survival instinct. The stench is quite horrific. We had to take a whiff of it in medical school and I, well, I fainted."

"Does it smell worse than a skunk?"

"The DIP smell is a different kind of bad. It is frightening, in a way. Which is quite useful really, that way you know to stay away from it."

"Is the DIP in a tub, like in Roger Rabbit? Is that how they got Slappy?"

Scratchensniff pinched the bridge of his nose. "That we do not know. It seems cumbersome to carry a tub of it around, and it would be difficult to hide. You cannot put the DIP in your hammerspace, you see. It would dissolve it immediately, from the inside out. The criminals seem to be propelling the DIP without causing injury to themselves. We are not sure how."

An unbidden image of Slappy being doused in DIP jumped into his mind and Wakko swallowed. Thinking of what Slappy's last moments must have been like had always upset him, but now with all his uncertainties about Yakko it made him positively nauseous. What he wouldn't give for his brother and sister now…he would never be mean to either one of them again, he swore it…

"Wakko, you are looking a little ill," Scratchensniff said, looking concerned, "You know, I think this was enough chitty chat for one night. Why don't you eat your soup and get some rest, does that sound good? Do you want me to reheat your food?"

"I can use a microwave," Wakko muttered.

He waited as the doctor studied him for a moment. Probably deciding if he really was smart enough to use a microwave, or if he was just the stupid middle child –

"Wakko, I am thinking that, in light of…everything…it might be best to take your mind off of things. You are sixteen now, yah?"

Wakko frowned but nodded. Did Scratchensniff really think you needed to be sixteen to use a microwave?

"Once the hubbub settles," Scratchensniff began, smiling hesitantly, "we will need little breaks from work for our mental health, which is very important you know. So I was wondering if you – now remember, we cannot go very far and we will have to stay away from riffraff – but I wondered if you would like a few driving lessons."

Wakko blinked. "Driving? Like, in a car?"

"Yes Wakko, in a car. You seem like you need some confidence, and I think this will do just the thing. What do you think?"

In spite of everything, a small grin tugged at the corner of Wakko's mouth. He nodded. Scratchensniff smiled back, but then looked away to swipe at his eyes with a finger.

* * *

Dot rolled over on her bed as another sob rocked her small frame. After waking up that morning to find out that there was no hint of Yakko, not even a footprint, Dot had returned to her room and hadn't left since. The curtains stayed drawn, and she spent the day fading in and out of sleep when the crying became too exhausting.

It was as though she had been dropped into a churning ocean without the two life preservers she had been promised. Dot did not know life without her brothers, and had barely gone a day without seeing at least one of them. They'd taught her how to walk, how to talk, how to sing. They'd shown her everything, they'd taught her how to love, how to stand up for herself, they'd been her guiding light in the world. Without them she wouldn't have gotten on _Animaniacs, _let alone JTAP. Scratch that – she'd probably still be stuck at the orphanage. She would have never met any of her friends, she would have never danced on stage in front of an audience or, far more importantly, given them impromptu dance recitals in their own apartment.

She just wanted to be little again, she wanted Yakko to hug her and tell her everything was going to be alright. She wanted to be back in their little room on the lot, warm and safe, just the three of them, watching a movie, chattering to each other about whatever carefree thought had crossed their mind. She wanted to go to sleep at night knowing that Yakko and Wakko would be there when she woke.

But they weren't going to be there. They'd abandoned her. And Yakko, he said he'd never leave her. _Never._

How could he just walk out on her like this? Yakko had promised he'd come back, he'd _promised_. How many times had he said he'd always be there for her? That he'd never let anything happen to her? Where was he now?

Dot unleashed a fresh sob into her pillow. It was always easiest to blame Yakko, even when it wasn't his fault. She'd known Yakko her entire life, and she knew that he was probably doing everything he could to get back to her. But while that should have been comforting, that thought only launched a thousand more poisonous little questions: was he hurt, was that why it was taking him so long? Was he kidnapped? Was he lost? Was he even still alive?

As a new wave of sobs washed over her Dot clung to her pillow, desperately trying to convince herself it was one of her brothers. When she was upset, she would go to Yakko and he would hold her, giving her words of comfort until she felt better. In the rare event that he was unavailable, she would curl up next to Wakko and he would be his goofy self until she cheered up. There were no limits to how silly he would act, as long as it got her to laugh then it seemed worth it to him. But now she couldn't do that. She had lost both of them.

And she'd been horrible to Wakko. She'd be surprised if he even thought she still loved him. It was pathetic, really; she had viewed him as a threat to her social status at JTAP, but was paper thin popularity worth it to her now? And after JTAP, it just seemed like second nature to fight and argue, because they'd learned so well how to push each other's buttons. She wanted to take it all back, all of it…okay, maybe not that time she punched him for leaving an old grilled cheese sandwich in her dresser for days, he had that coming…but she would take it back if she could at least have him to cling to right now. She hated being alone. Having never known what it was to be alone in the first place, it frightened her. So she gave in the to the overwhelming urge to leave the room and the encompassing feeling of loss.

Bugs' house seemed hollow now, like all the life had been sucked out of it. The hallways stretched on without the benefit of Bugs guiding her through the menagerie of old movie props or Yakko and Wakko racing each other until Bugs howled at them to do something less threatening to his bazillion dollar sculptures. There was only one person in the house now, and she would have taken Baloney over him. Yosemite had not spoken a word to her since yesterday, unless she counted mumbling obscenities under his breath as light conversation. She hated that she had to resort to him, but she was out of options. She was going to have to seek comfort from Yosemite Sam.

She found him in Bugs' living room, cleaning his pistols with a cloth. He had managed to smear grease stains all over Bugs' nice couch, and the room stank of gunpowder. Dot hovered in the doorway, waiting for him so say something. But after several minutes he did not look up from his guns. Hmm, maybe he hadn't noticed her. So she sniffed a little bit – that always got Yakko's attention – but he just kept scrubbing away at his pistol. Dot began to tap her foot.

"Well?" she huffed, crossing her arms.

"Well what? Whaddaya want?" Yosemite spit back gruffly.

"I'm obviously having a bad day, the least you could do is see how I'm doing!" Dot cried.

He glared up at her with his beady eyes for a millisecond. "There. I saw ya. Yer doin' fine."

"That's not what I mean!"

"Button yer yap, I was busy tryin' to settle things down in town today, I didn't have time to witness yer mopin'."

"I wasn't moping, I'm upset because – wait, you went to Toontown? You left me here by myself?" Dot blurted.

"Looks that way, don't it?" Yosemite muttered, holding a gun to the light and squinting at it.

Dot plopped her hands on her hips. "I thought you told me I was in danger! What if those weasels came after me?"

"Then they woulda got tangled up in the rabbit's security system," Yosemite said, "Look, yer fine enough to stand here belly-achin' at me, so no harm done. Now shut up already, I've got guns to load."

Dot grit her teeth. _No one _talked to her like that and got away with it. Clenching her fists, Dot marched straight up to him. When Yosemite didn't even bother to look her way, Dot scooped up the pile of bullets he had assembled on the couch.

"Hey!" he snapped, jumping to his feet and waving his pistols, "Give 'em back, yer gonna shoot yer damn toe off or something!"

"With what, my good looks? You're the one with the guns," Dot retorted.

Blinking down at the guns in his hands, Yosemite seemed to remember they were there and quickly stuffed them in their holsters. "Hand over the bullets," he said, stretching out his hand.

Dot promptly dropped them in her hammerspace.

"What're doin'? Ya deaf? Give me the bullets!"

"What bullets?" Dot asked snidely.

"The bullets ya just – oooh!" Yosemite growled, "Yer a damn brat, you know that?"

"Watch who you're calling brat, short stuff," Dot retorted. Simple, but effective, judging by how red Yosemite's face was growing.

"You are too a brat. That damn chatty brother a' your's spoilt you rotten," he barked.

The fur on Dot's neck bristled. Taking an aggressive step forward, she snapped, "He did not!"

Yosemite stepped forward as well. "He done spoilt ya, he treated ya like a freakin' princess! Look at ya, ya spent the day holed up in yer room with yer problems. In the meantime, I was doin' my job and tryin' to track down the suckers. Cryin' never solved nuttin'. You got problems? Then deal with 'em, instead of fartin' around waitin' for yer brothers to slave away and do it for you! Those two are fools, both of 'em, for lettin' you get away with all this malarkey!"

"Say one more word about my brothers and I'll knock your block off!" she shouted, pushing forward so they were nose to nose.

Yosemite raised an eyebrow at this, and Dot could have sworn he looked somewhat impressed. Turning his back toward her, he gave her a cool look over his shoulder and said, "Fine, I'll go easy on 'em. Guess it ain't right to kick a man while he's down…or hopelessly lost in the desert, rather…"

"Thanks for the tact," Dot spat.

"Oh dry up. Now give me my ammunition, yer wastin' my time."

"Wasting your time doing what? Admiring all your shiny things?" Dot retorted, nodding toward his pistols.

"These here _shiny things _are what're helpin' me help the rabbit, which helps your brother, which in turn helps you, so shut yer yap," Yosemite shot back.

Dot frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I owe the rabbit, so I'm helpin' him. And the rabbit thinks yer brother walks on water, god knows why, so what helps him helps Warner, got it? So you wanna give me those bullets or do you want to want to make it even harder to find the Warner kid?"

They glared at each other, neither willing to blink first. At long last Dot reached slowly into her hammerspace and withdrew the handful of bullets. She tossed them on the couch, watching them bounce and scatter, before grumbling, "I'm really gonna miss your pleasant disposition when you leave."

Yosemite dropped bullets into the cylinder. "I ain't thrilled to be saddled with you either. If the rabbit thinks I'm his babysitter he's got another thing comin'. The second he shows face I'm dumping you on him."

"I relish the thought," Dot snapped. Unable to stand another second with him, she marched out of the room.

She didn't stop marching until she reached the balcony. Great, a lot of comfort he was. She probably would have felt better if she hugged a cactus. The smell would have at least been an improvement. Tears began to surge again; there was nothing else she wanted more in this world right now than her brothers. The last lights of dusk faded to give way to twinkling stars. They mocked her, reminding her of things that were unfettered by pain and fear and self-doubt. She wanted to climb into the sky and push the stars out of the way. She would wait until Yakko or Wakko saw her up there and they would pluck her down so they could be together again. She sobbed.

But between her shuddering gasps she heard Yosemite's obnoxious voice in her head… _Cryin' never solved nuttin'. You got problems? Then deal with 'em…_

Dot wiped at her cheeks before the salt from her tears could dry and make her fur crunchy to the touch. Then she pulled a hankie out of her hammerspace and blew her nose; she never understood how Hollywood starlets made crying look so attractive. When she cried there were tears and snot and just all around grossness. But she scrubbed her face clean until her eyes were dry and her breath was steady. As much as it pained her to admit it, Yosemite was right. Crying was not going to bring Yakko or Wakko back.

Besides, that's not what they would do. Yakko was smart, he would use his head and plan something brilliant while Wakko would do something way out of the box that no one saw coming, just because his brain worked that way. Well, Dot wasn't helpless. She wasn't just going to hide in her room and cry. She took a deep breath as she stared into the night. After all, she was the Warner sister.

It was much easier to get out of Bugs' estate than she thought. Heck, she could've done it in her sleep. It was all a matter of dropping off the balcony and squashing when she hit the ground. A quick toon sprint to the far end of the property line, jumping the wall (that took her two tries, admittedly) and she found herself in the Hollywood hills. And all this time she thought there'd be some fanfare.

She would find her brothers one by one. Dot knew that Wakko was with Scratchensniff, and she knew where Scratchensniff lived, so she knew where she was going. It was a bit of a hike, but she could make it before dawn if she kept a good pace. And then, after she got Wakko, maybe they could find Skippy, and then they could all find Yakko…

The sound of a twig snapping made Dot jump and reel around. The roads leading out of the hills twisted through trees and brush that, in the shade of night, seemed like the hulking silhouettes of monsters. Dot swallowed; she was fourteen-years-old for crying out loud, she had to get a grip on herself. There was no such thing as monsters. _But there sure as hell is a such thing as weasels, _she thought when she heard a rustle in the bushes.

Dot chewed on her lip. Okay, so maybe this wasn't such a good idea. She hadn't gone very far, she could probably go back –

Three weasels bounded from the shadows and onto the street. Their teeth glinted in the streetlight as they sneered at her, and Dot felt rooted to the ground in fear. How did they find her so fast? They must have been waiting outside Bugs' place. Waiting for her to be alone. Somehow they knew she was there.

"B-Back off, I mean it!" Dot shouted. It probably would've been more threatening if she didn't sound like she was going to faint. She reached behind her back for something big like her mallet, but she was so nervous that her hand came up empty.

The weasels advanced on her, slowly. One of them pulled something from his belt – a black sack. Dot let out a squeak of fright and jumped back, promptly tripping and falling on her rear. The foremost weasel crouched low to the ground, preparing to lunge, and her breath caught in her throat.

A gunshot split the air and Dot heard the pop of breaking class as the streetlight was shot out. Darkness engulfed the narrow street. She could hear the hisses and whimpers of the confused weasels, and Dot looked around wildly for whatever gun-wielding lunatic was currently making her night worse than it already was. But it was too dark, she could barely make out her white gloves.

Then Dot screamed as an engine revved beside her, loud and angry like an animal. A single, blinding headlight illuminated the weasels and they squealed in surprise. Something grasped Dot by the back of the neck and she kicked and squirmed as she was lifted into the air.

"Quit fidgetin'!" Yosemite Sam barked at her.

"Sam?" Dot blurted, blinking at him as her eyes adjusted.

"Who'd ya think it was, Santa Claus?" he retorted. He dropped her down behind him, and Dot realized they were on a rather robust motorcycle.

Yosemite took aim and shot a round of bullets at the feet of the weasels, making them scatter instantly. He twirled the gun around his finger as he bellowed, "Scram, varmints! And think twice about moseyin' on up to these parts, I'll skin ya alive next time ya show yer ugly mugs!"

The tires spun out beneath them for a moment before they wheeled sharply around and began to speed back up the hill. "What were ya thinkin'?" Yosemite hollered. "Told ya we been compromised, them damn smugglers have been sniffin' around the rabbit's doorstep all day!"

Dot didn't respond, she simply clutched at his jacket as relief flooded through her.

"Don't you Warner nuts know a thing or two about not getting' in trouble every – holy tarnation!"

Dot had barely looked over her shoulder when she caught a face full of fur and sweat. A weasel had latched on to the back of the motorcycle and was currently clawing at whatever it could get it claws on, which seemed to be primarily Yosemite's vest. He bellowed like a banshee and the motorcycle weaved violently. Images of a fiery wreck flooding her mind, Dot reached behind her back and her heart jumped happily as she pulled out her mallet. The motorcycle swayed again, and it was all she could do to hold on to the bike with her legs and she raised the mallet over her head. With a mighty swing, Dot connected with the weasel with a satisfying _thwack_, and she noticed a pair of cuckoo birds flapping around his head before the weasel fell slowly back and toppled off the bike. He lay spread eagle in the middle of the street before they rounded a corner and he disappeared from view.

"Crazy varmint, ruinin' my best vest," Yosemite muttered, brushing off his chest with one hand. He squinted at her over his shoulder. "You all right?"

"Fine, relatively speaking," Dot breathed as she slid her mallet back into her hammerspace.

"Any more of 'em back there?"

"Nope."

He stared at the road. "You pack quite a punch, little lady," he muttered gruffly.

Dot quirked an eyebrow at him. "And you're a better shot than you are in your cartoons."

"Damn right," he said.

She watched him for a moment as the trees whipped past them and revealed Bugs' house around the bend. "Thanks for saving me," she said.

"Yeah, whatever," he grumbled.

Dot grinned and leaned forward, letting Yosemite block most of the wind.


	16. Friends and Enemies

_**Chapter 15: Friends and Enemies**_

"_You would live a hundred years if I could show you how…I won't desert you now..._" Yakko sang quietly.

Yakko's memories of life before his siblings were few and unhappy. He remembered his mother, a tall, inksplot toon with longer ears than his. There was another woman, one he could only assume was his grandmother, who spent her days hunched in the recliner like a gargoyle, staring at the television, with two tubes in her nose that fed into the loud breathing machine at her feet. She'd wheeze in time with the machine, and Yakko remembered thinking that one day he'd wake up and she would be a machine too.

His brother and sister were the first and only gifts he ever received while living with his mother. But he could not have asked for anything more. They were his ceaseless ray of sunshine, glowing brilliantly bright in his dark little world. He did not remember being taken to the orphanage, nor did he remember the last time he saw his mother. He'd always felt this was for the best. He remembered being content with his siblings at the orphanage until a casting agent noticed them on a field trip to the Griffith Observatory. They auditioned for _Animaniacs _and the rest was history. The Warner Brothers lot became their home, and he made friends, he met girls, he grew up. At some point or another, he took for granted the fact that they would always be by his side.

The longest Yakko had ever gone without seeing his siblings was a week. Wakko and Dot had gone on a retreat for JTAP and it was the longest week of his life. He had promised himself he'd never go that long without seeing them again.

So when the first week passed and he was still trapped in The Compound, it was all Yakko could do not to crawl in a corner and weep. He had failed them. Every minute that went by without seeing his siblings was a minute that had slipped through his fingers, a minute where he didn't know where they were or if they were safe or happy. His siblings were like a compass and without them he was without direction. He might be the oldest sibling, but he certainly wasn't the strongest or bravest or smartest. Without them, he was nothing but a lost toon. He missed Wakko and Dot so badly it was like an actual pain in his heart.

Worse was the fear that gripped him at the thought of what happened to them. If he escaped only to find that they were lost…or _dead_…he couldn't think about it. He would go insane. Yakko had to trust Bugs and his promise, that Bugs would keep them safe. But that hurt too, because he missed Bugs more than he would ever admit. If he could just say he was sorry, that he hadn't meant what he said, that Bugs had done more for him than he could ever, _ever _put into words, it would be enough.

When he wasn't thinking of Bugs or his siblings, he wondered hopelessly about Buster and Babs. Let them have escaped, at least give him that. They were involved in this mess mostly because of him, and he wouldn't be able to live with himself if something happened to either of them. Yakko routinely checked the barracks where Shirley and the others were held, praying that he didn't discover anyone else he knew there. So far there was no sign of Buster or Babs, which Yakko took as a good omen. But his mind would drift to Babs, and how Buster had probably protected her or done something equally impressive to make her fall back in love with him again. By now she must have gotten upset and Buster would have kissed her to make her feel better. These thoughts only served to make Yakko feel more miserable and he certainly didn't need anymore of that.

"Get up!"

Yakko felt the coyote's kick in his ribs before it happened. It was a response to his presence alone. He obeyed and got to his feet. Two weasel guards lined the door as Yakko and the other prisoners filed out of the cell. The coyote, clad in the ugly navy jumpsuit that the supervisors wore, sneered at them with what teeth he had left, hurrying them along with the butt of his gun. The stink that emanated from the gun made them move faster.

Yakko had a reasonable suspicion that the guns were filled with DIP, and he'd had that suspicion confirmed a few days ago when two weasels got in a squabble. He'd watched them scratch and swat at each other from his cell, babbling unintelligible but clearly angry gibberish at each other. Finally one of them raised its gun, cocked a strange pump device beneath the barrel, and squeezed the trigger. A bubbling, sickly green substance squirted out, dousing the other weasel's chest. Yakko had to hold back a scream. The weasel did not – it let loose an otherworldly shriek of pain as its skin smoked and fizzed, peeling back not to reveal bone, but nothing at all. Just holes of air. It collapsed in a writhing heap, choking on the ink that was gurgling up in its throat. A few other prisoners gathered at the doorway with Yakko, who felt like his feet had frozen to the floor, to watch while the rest cowered further into the shadows, covering their ears to the sound of death.

Mortimer was on the scene shortly after. He wrinkled his nose at the now still form of the DIPped weasel, kicked its remains aside, and grabbed the other weasel by the throat.

"Told ya not to pull shit like that," Mortimer hissed, "It's off to the Big Boss with you."

The weasel's eyes widened, and Yakko had never seen anyone in his life look so scared. Mortimer dragged him away, and Yakko never saw that particular weasel again.

After that Yakko had promptly gotten up and vomited into the hole they used as a waste receptacle. He was glad he did. It meant he was still sane.

They walked, and Yakko was not really sure who was in front of him or in back of him. It had become very clear why they had to keep their faces covered: it made everything impersonal. He couldn't make allies because he couldn't tell the difference from one toon to the next aside from a few differences in tails or size. It made him mistrustful of everyone; was that the same toon who had tried to steal food from him last week? Or was that the one who pulled him out of the path of a shot of DIP? It was impossible to tell. The only bright side was that it gave him time to keep his face relaxed. He didn't have to shapeshift, but as far as anyone was concerned, he was a nobody named Ears despite having one of the most recognizable faces in Toontown.

"Move!" the coyote barked, shoving him along.

Yakko braced himself as the line filed into a large room that he had dubbed "the sweatbox." He imagined there would be little difference between walking in here and walking into an oven. It reeked of an unpleasant combination of body odor and ink, which was only intensified by the oppressive heat, which hit him like a wall as he trudged inside. Yakko could already feel tiny beads of sweat popping up beneath his fur. The sack over his head was like a prison in itself, boiling him in a bubble of moist heat.

The heat emanated from the centerpiece of the room: the Machine. It was a massive compilation of metal and iron that tripled Yakko in height. A large, metal tank was settled in a nest of wires, pipes and tubes, with a large shaft leading out of the tank and into a room that Yakko and the others were strictly forbidden to enter. It was as though an inventor had concocted the piece out of a random assortment of objects he'd found at a yard sale. The parts and sheets of metal were mismatched, and tubes were held together by duct tape or tied up nylons. Some of the sagging pipes were supported by lawn chairs or, Yakko's personal favorite, a pink yard flamingo that was missing one eye.

Every day they lined up in front of the Machine and were counted. The coyote paced in front of them with a clipboard, glaring at them and tossing insults their way while shouting orders at his posse of weasels. Beneath his mask, Yakko rolled his eyes. The coyote was clearly on a power trip; he was in charge of a herd of illiterate toons who communicated through grunts and bodily noises. And he only had that position because he possessed the ability to count past the number five. Yakko sincerely doubted that he could make it past twenty-seven.

"All right, take your places you filthy soil-shovers!" the coyote snarled.

Sighing, Yakko marched toward the Machine along with the others. The prisoners began to disperse; some of them came to a stop at various tubes or wires, while others had to crawl up piles of scraps and parts to get to the various nooks and crannies they were assigned to. Yakko's place was at the intersection of two large pipes. He didn't know what they did or if they were even important, but his job was to not let the connector get loose. If it got loose, he tightened it. He was reasonably sure he could train a goldfish to do it if he found one that was strong enough.

The Machine surged to life with a roar that started softly and grew until the bass hummed in Yakko's chest. Steam hissed from the pipes and the heat pressed him on all sides, and it wasn't long before his jumpsuit was sticking to his body. The tank began to tremble and shake, and Yakko watched the pipes in front of him. Eventually the valves rattled loose, and he reached forward to tighten them again. He had to throw his whole body into it as it fought him, burning hot under his palms. He missed his gloves, sealed hopelessly away in his hammerspace.

The Machine gave a sudden, tremendous quake. The toon on the topmost tube was bucked straight off it, landing with a crash somewhere amongst the scraps. It shook so hard that Yakko was pushed backwards as the pipes trembled and sagged. Frowning, he glanced around for some kind of tool, anything to stop the pipes from breaking. If the pipes broke, the coyote might break one of his bones.

The pink flamingo stared at him forlornly from the ground. Shrugging, Yakko snatched it up and shoved it under the pipes, propping it up by the flamingo's head. The pipes shuddered, but no longer sagged.

There, he'd fixed it.

The thing of it was, he had no idea what he'd just fixed.

No one had breathed a word about what the Machine actually did. This was mainly due to the fact that you had the crap beaten out of you if you so much as asked, which led Yakko to believe that its purpose was not a positive one. All he knew was that the weasels seemed terrified of it. They wouldn't go near the Machine, and the very sound of it left them shivering in a corner. Even though Yakko couldn't understand what they were saying, it didn't take a genius to figure out what wide eyes and whimpers meant.

As Yakko gave the valve another twist, he vowed he'd never take plumbers for granted again. This manual labor business was hard. Then again, most plumbers probably didn't operate in a state of near starvation and constant fear. Yakko shook his head, feeling beads of sweat fall off his nose.

After more than two hours the Machine shuddered to a halt. Great bursts of steam billowed out from the base of the tank, and he scrambled out of the way with the others to avoid the burning heat. In reality, Yakko knew he couldn't get burnt. A Class A could do a dance in the steam and avoid injury. But he still, by some miracle, had Bosko, Mortimer and the others at the Compound convinced he was a Class C, and he wasn't going to mess that up now. He'd noticed that there were less prisoners in the upper Class than there were a few weeks ago, and for some reason that fact sent chills down his spine.

"That's right, run away you pathetic worms, can't shapeshift to save your lives. And I mean that literally," the coyote barked.

Yakko rolled his eyes. If he got out of here, he was taking the time to mallet the coyote to China before he left.

When. _When _he got out of here.

"Line up!" the coyote barked, even though they had already squirmed into a line. He slapped the leader upside the head to get the line moving, and Yakko inhaled deeply as they left the heated room for the cooler air of the hallway. Steam was actually coming off of their bodies, making it seem as though they were nothing but ghosts passing through the mist. Going back to the cool cell would be the closest thing Yakko would get to a relief in this place.

"No, I didn't to do it!"

"Shaddap, will ya?"

Yakko turned faster than the others. He recognized both voices. The first was the girl who had spoken to him when he was first captured. They'd talked a few times since then; she seemed okay enough, sane even, as though she hadn't quite been broken like the others yet. He enjoyed talking to her – he missed talking, and it was a comfort to be able to interact with another being. But their chats were always short lived: being threatened by a guard with a DIP gun was a real conversation killer.

The other voice belonged to Mortimer, who was currently dragging the girl by the back of her neck down the hall. She struggled, and he jerked her roughly.

"Enough a' that!" he snapped, "You're lucky I didn't DIP ya from head to foot, so settle down and I might spare ya some limbs – oh look, why, it's our little friend Gums! Gums, why don't you step over here for a second?"

Yakko watched the coyote, who he had no idea was named "Gums" until now and had just been previously referring to him as "Jerk with a clipboard." Gums eyed Mortimer hesitantly for a second before approaching the mouse. Yakko couldn't blame him – Mortimer had a wide grin on his face that did not look the least bit friendly.

"Little closer," Mortimer urged, wiggling his finger.

Gums stepped forward. Mortimer's grin shifted into a snarl as he pulled a police baton from behind his back and whacked Gums over the head with it. Gums howled in pain and Yakko bit back a laugh. He was already an idiot, but he was even more of an idiot for approaching Mortimer when he was grinning like that anyway.

"What was that for?" Gums wailed.

"You see this?" Mortimer growled, jerking the girl roughly into view, "What is this?"

"A worm," Gums answered.

He cried as Mortimer hit him again and shouted, "_This _is a worm who tried to steal food from the supply closet after she skipped Machine maintenance under _your _watch!"

"Ain't my fault she snuck out, I only got two eyes, I can't watch 'em all!"

"They're _worms_ you idiot, they can't think they're way out of a paper bag. The only thing dumber than them is you, apparently. Now hold this chick still, I think a few good slaps oughta straighten her out."

The girl struggled against Gums' grasp. She tried to kick him but couldn't reach, causing Mortimer to snicker.

"I don't think the Big Boss will be too happy when he finds out you wasted his time," Yakko said, just loud enough for his voice to carry.

The room froze. All the sack-covered heads turned eerily towards him, Gums gaped while Mortimer regarded him shrewdly.

"Look everyone, the worm thinks he has something important to say," he drawled, "What is it worm? Why would lettin' the Boss deal with another one of yer worm friends be a waste of his time? Me thinks he enjoys it."

"Um…"

Yakko stared back at him. Honestly, he had no idea why. He'd spoken without really thinking, and now the girl's life and his were at stake unless an answer came to him. Quickly.

"Well…" Yakko began, feeling beads of sweat crawling down his neck and to his back, "what's the Boss gonna care about, what, a piece of bread being stolen? If anything he's going to be mad at you."

Crossing his fingers, Yakko prayed that it sounded plausible. He didn't know who the Big Boss was, let alone if missing food would piss him off. Mortimer wasn't helping – he was glaring, eyes narrowed, his snout pulled into an ugly frown.

"Gums, take the other worms back to their cell before I stuff my mallet down your throat. I want to have a little chat with this one," he said, nodding toward Yakko. "Leave the girl."

For once, Gums did not have a snide retort. Instead he barked a few orders at the other prisoners and hustled them down the dimly lit hall, glancing over his shoulder at them as he left. Mortimer grabbed the girl by the collar, and in the next second he had his free hand around Yakko's throat. He pushed Yakko so his back was flat against the wall.

"And why's he gonna be mad, _worm?_" he hissed.

"Because your socks don't match your pants. No, he'll be mad because _you're _the one who screwed up, not her."

Mortimer's fingers tightened around his neck. "Care to explain yerself, wiseass?"

Yakko struggled to talk against his constricted windpipe. "Think about it. It's not surprising that she tried to steal food. But you, you're the one he hired to _stop _her from doing that. You trained that genius Gums to stand guard, and he, in all his brilliance, allowed her to escape. So really it makes you look bad, can't even keep a bunch of under Class toons in line."

Mortimer watched him, contemplating this, and Yakko could almost hear the gears turning in his head. After several long moments Mortimer released Yakko's neck, offering him a moment of relief when the mouse grabbed at his hood. Yakko barely had time to shapeshift his face before it was torn off and he was suddenly nose to nose with Mortimer.

"You think yer smart huh? You think yer a real Einstein, dontcha? Well if yer so smart, think ya could match wits with me? Hell, think ya could take me?"

Yakko glared at him. _Oh, if only_…

Mortimer smirked. "That's what I thought. Just remember this, worm: I can mallet yer sorry, Class C ass straight to Taiwan and back before you can remember how to blink. Got me?"

Yakko's hand twitched, itching to sink into his hammerspace, but he remembered bitterly that it was glued shut.

"Why Taiwan? I'd prefer Tokyo, personally. More personality."

Mortimer's knee connected with Yakko's solar plexus and he doubled over, gasping.

"Keep jokin,' comedian, I'll give you a mouthful of DIP if it'll shut you up," Mortimer snapped, tugging the hood crookedly back over Yakko's head. His eyes shifted to the girl, studying her, deciding if she was worth it, before tossing her next to Yakko.

"Take these two back to the cell," he commanded to the weasels with a jerk of his thumb.

The weasels scurried forward, snatching Yakko by the arms. Their grip was firmer than he remembered as they dragged him and the girl across the rough floor. They were thrown back in the cell like cargo. Yakko laid still for a moment, still trying to get his breathing back under control after the hit to his ribs.

He heard the girl's body brush against the ground as she pulled herself toward him. "Thanks," she whispered, so close to his face that he felt her breath puff against his hood, "I really owe you one."

"Don't mention it. I've always had trouble keeping my mouth shut."

"No, really. Not many toons here would have stuck their neck out for a stranger…in this place, anyway. That was really brave – stupid, but brave."

Straightening his hood so he could see again, Yakko glanced at her. Even with the matching hood over her head he could tell that she was watching him intently. It grounded him; her focus meant that this place hadn't beaten her yet, and that was comforting in a very small way.

_Oh God, for shame, I do not even know your name…dear mademoiselle…_

"I think after that little experience I at least get to know your name," Yakko said, wondering if reciting random Les Misertoons lyrics in one's head was a sign of insanity.

"Um, Molly. My name's Molly."

Yakko quirked an eyebrow beneath his mask. Molly. Did he know a Molly? There was that girl from _Talespin_…maybe it was her? Could be.

"And yours?" she asked.

"It's Ears."

She tilted her head to the side. "Huh, that's…interesting."

"My parents had a real sense of humor," he lied, trying not to huff. What was so bad about Ears? Buster never seemed to mind.

"Do you think your parents are worried? Do you think your family's looking for you?"

Her voice had a layer of frenzied urgency behind it that cried out for reassurance, as though one affirmative word from him would help her sleep tonight. The truth about his parents was that his mother had died when he was twelve. He found this out through a coldly worded letter addressed to the studio. And his father, whoever he was, probably didn't even know the three of them existed.

So he thought of Wakko and Dot. His knee jerk reaction was to hope that they _weren't _looking for him – that they were safe, that they were hidden where no one could find them until he returned for them. But he was very well aware of the desire in his heart for them to be searching for him, that they wanted to find him as badly as he wanted to find him, that they still loved him enough not to give up on him.

And Bugs, wasn't he like family now? And Buster, and Babs? Did they still care about him? Did they even want to find him?

"Yeah," he said finally, "I think they're looking for me."

* * *

"Very good! Now, turn left here Wakko. Right here, turn left. Left. Wakko, turn left. Left! LEFT! FOR THE LOVE OF – oh, very good."

Wakko grinned as Scratchensniff pried his fingers from the dashboard. He couldn't really see what ol' Scratchy was so upset about – he hadn't topped 20-miles-an-hour and he had yet to see another car for the last half hour. Heck, he'd seen maybe five other cars over the last few weeks. Toons just weren't going out anymore. Even now, as he drove through Scratchensniff's neighborhood, half the houses looked abandoned. But then again, as the doctor had pointed out, there may be plenty of toons living there who put a lot of effort into making their home look empty.

"You is doing very good Wakko! You handled that turn so smoothly! And you haven't taken to driving along the sidewalk today – not once! This is a big improvement over last Thursday. You are on your way to becoming an excellent motorist. Ease off the gas pedal here, yes, just like that, let the car do the work when you are going down a hill…"

For how wound up Scratchensniff seemed to get, Wakko was really starting to enjoy spending time with him. He treated Wakko like an adult, he was honest, and there was something comforting about listening to him ramble on from the passenger's seat. Maybe it was because he was so used to listening to Yakko for hours. He found comfort in the noise.

Wakko frowned and glanced out the window. He wondered if Scratchensniff knew he used their little driving lessons to keep an eye out for clues, anything, that would point toward Yakko or Dot. He was sure he'd recognize Yakko even if he shapeshifted, or if he heard Dot's voice, or if someone so much as mentioned their names…he wanted to be the first to know, he wanted to be with them again. There was a small part of him that hoped Yakko and Dot would pop out from behind a bush or a tree, hop in the car, and they'd drive back to Bugs' house like nothing had ever happened. But that was a bit of a long shot.

And so far, it hadn't happened. Most of their driving lessons ended at the sight of smugglers, and they'd drive discreetly home and Scratchensniff would hurry him back into the house and not let him out of his line of vision, which wasn't very far in the man's old age. Scratchensniff would make dinner, which was usually something involved noodles or beans or soup or anything he had on hand because it was hard to find a grocery store that hadn't been shut down or looted. Then Scratchensniff would go back to his office and work, and Wakko would read his comic book once through before following him to the study. Wakko would ask him questions about what he was doing, and Scratchensniff would ask him strange questions that Wakko supposed only a psychiatrist would ask (no, he didn't think his comic book was a replacement for his siblings. No, he did not contruct his identity through the book).

Sometimes Wakko yelled at him. More often, he would storm down into the basement and not talk for hours. But Scratchensniff was always calm, always patient, and always there.

"Wakko! Pay attention!"

Wakko's eyes snapped back to the road and he realized he was nearly on the sidewalk. Quickly jerking the wheel, Wakko grinned as he returned to the middle of the lane. "Uh, sorry."

Scratchensniff rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses. "You are a little bit zany in the head, Wakko, you need to focus on the road, that is key. It prevents accidents on the road, and ulcers in my stomach."

Wakko rolled his eyes, but his heart jolted when he saw a horribly familiar pair of flashing lights in his rearview mirror.

"Oh man, the cops," he moaned, "am I really gonna get busted for that? We're the only ones driving!"

But Scratchensniff was suddenly sitting bolt upright. "Pull over," he commanded in a low voice. "Do not say anything, I will do the talking. If I tell you to run, you must do it, understand?"

Eyes wide, Wakko nodded. Stopping the car on the side of the road, Wakko's hands fumbled with the ignition. Were they pulling him over because he didn't have a permit? Why was Scratchy so nervous? How much trouble was he going to get in? Surely the police couldn't blame him too much, there were other things to worry about right now…

The police. Wakko's heart turned cold as he remembered Bugs mentioning they were most likely corrupted during the meeting. He inhaled but his breath shook, so he gripped the steering wheel to keep his hands from doing the same. The police car came to a stop behind them, and a large figure emerged from the car and lumbered toward them.

"Lower your window – just a crack, now," Scratchensniff whispered.

A shadow fell over them as the officer's bulk blocked out the sun. He leaned toward the window, and when he spoke a puff of cigar smoke floated into the car.

"We-e-ell, looks like someone got out of the water tower again! Out joyriding, huh? You even old enough to sit in the front seat, squirt?"

The smoke cleared, revealing Pete. He was larger than he appeared in his cartoons, and the fat around his cheeks was blotted and covered in a five o'clock shadow. A thick cigar was clenched between his broad teeth. The police officer's uniform was stretched over him so tightly that Wakko could see Pete's dark fur poking through the particularly strained button-holes. It looked ready to explode off of him at any second, and he smelled as though he had taken a bath in a tub of vodka. Turning away from him to hide a gag, Wakko whispered, "His breath _reeks_," to Scratchensniff, who shushed him.

"And look, the wild child brought his handler with him," Pete jeered, nodding to Scratchensniff.

Wakko whipped back around to glare at Pete, but Scratchensniff interjected. "It is wonderful to see you too, Pete. Are you an officer now? If you are, then kindly provide us our ticket, and we will be on our way – "

"Just steppin' up and doing my civic duty," Pete boomed. He stuck out an elbow to lean on the car, which groaned and shifted under his weight. "Officers are running away, tails in between their legs…someone's gotta stand up and protect this town. It's a temp deal."

Pete's fleshy jowls spread in grin, and Wakko had never seen anything less comforting.

"Speaking of which…" Pete continued, "I remember you kiddies having a bit of, eh, _legal _trouble a couple weeks back, ain't that right? A few honest toons murdered, ran out on the cops…looks suspicious, don't it?"

Wakko flattened back in his seat, but kept his eyes locked on Pete. Scratchensniff cleared his throat squeakily and said, "_I _remember that there was no arrest warrant, or any evidence for that matter. These are troubled times, if you have not noticed already. Now, if you'll please excuse us, we really need to – "

"Come to think of it," Pete said, placing a finger on his lower lip, "I believe it was the oldest Warner in the litter that got himself in trouble. Right, kid? Your big brother was the prime suspect, huh? Thinks he can talk his way out of anything, I heard."

His face stony, Wakko inhaled quickly through his nose but said nothing. His hands tightened on the steering wheel. Even though he hadn't kept up his end of the conversation, Pete seemed adamant about speaking to him and ignoring Scratchensniff.

"Now, your brother…where is he? I thought he always babysat you little squirts. And the bratty little one, where is _she_? Don't tell me you're all alone. I thought you three traveled in a pack like a bunch of stray pups."

Wakko let loose a growl he didn't know he had in him, but Pete guffawed loudly at this, letting more cigar smoke billow into the car. It was making his eyes water.

"Listen! He makes little puppy noises too!" he bellowed. Then he leaned in toward the car so fast that Wakko jumped back into Scratchensniff. He was so close that his breath fogged up against the glass as he hissed, "Why don't ya show me your teeth, pup?"

Placing a hand on Wakko's shoulder, Scratchensniff said, "Now now Pete, there is no need to frighten anyone. Surely as a police officer in the present situation you have plenty of other business to attend to. Besides, he is just learning."

"You know shrink, you're right. I'm a busy man after all – I'm doing this policing gig in what little spare time I have! I've still got a business to run, them trees don't organize themselves."

"Trees?" Wakko blurted.

Blinking, Pete grinned and thumped his fist against the glass. "Congratulations mutt, you can speak! You heard me right, I've got my Christmas trees to sell."

"But it's after Christmas…" Scratchensniff murmured.

"I'll tell 'em they'll last 'til next year, poor saps will buy anything these days," Pete said robustly.

Trees. Sap. Pine needles.

Wakko felt as though a chunk of his brain had suddenly clicked into place. As vividly as the night it happened, he could see the pine needles stuck to his shirt after the weasel attack at Buster's house. He remembered the weasel they'd almost hit after Slappy's funeral – god, had that been a year ago? – staggering outside of Pete's tree farm. Pete was in on it. Pete had been in on it the whole time.

"What's the matter with you, kid? You look like you're gonna lose your lunch. You got a weak constitution or something?" Pete asked, looking ready to dive out of the way at any second.

The thoughts were rushing at him so fast that he was afraid to open his mouth and have them all spill out. Heart hammering in his chest, Wakko blinked up at Pete and tried to form his face into a grin. He had the feeling this merely made him look constipated.

"Yes, he is quite ill, which is precisely why we should get home," Scratchensniff said hurriedly, reaching to turn on the ignition.

Pete snorted. "How would you know if he's sick? I thought only _real _doctors could figure out that shit."

"Hey!" Wakko snapped, but Scratchensniff patted his head.

"Ehm, thank you for that Pete, but I'm afraid only _real _police officers can pull people over. Dressing yourself in a uniform does not make you any more important than you already think you are."

His head whipping back and forth, Wakko gaped at Scratchensniff then Pete, Scratchensniff then Pete, before finally full-on grinning at Scratchensniff. It was by far and away the coolest thing he'd ever heard Scratchensniff say. The doctor, to his credit, looked flushed but proud. For a moment Pete looked like he was fit to punch his boulder-like fist through the window, but his face suddenly warped into a smirk that was anything but pleasant.

"Good one doc, you're a real Jay Leno. You've got a point though – I've got work to do. A whole lot of work. So why don't you two uh, skedaddle on out of here. I'll tell all of Toontown to steer clear of the road now that _this _kid's behind the wheel."

He puffed a plume smoke into the car, making both Wakko and Scratchensniff cough. Then one last lingering look at Wakko, Pete lumbered back to the police car. Wakko glowered at Pete in the rearview mirror until he had had sped down the block before he turned to Scratchensniff. "Scratchy! Christmas! Trees! _Needles! _I think Pete – "

"Not now Wakko," Scratchensniff whispered, peering anxiously out the window. "Let's just go home. Quickly."

Frowning, Wakko pushed the gearshift into drive. In his excitement he pressed the gas pedal with a bit too much zeal and the car lurched forward, knocking them both back in their seats, before easing back onto the road. Scratchensniff's head swiveled to and fro the entire ride, and beads of sweat speckled his head. He looked terrified. Sucking in a breath, Wakko did his best to focus on the road, but his heart beat so loudly that Yakko and Dot must be hearing it, wherever they were.

"Go in the back way," Scratchensniff instructed as they pulled up to his house. Wakko had barely put the car in park when Scratchensniff was urging him out of the car and in the back door.

"Scratchy, what's wrong – "

"Wakko, we don't have a lot of time. There is not a doubt in my mind that Pete will be coming for us. He is no more a police officer than I am a grizzly bear."

Wakko's heart jumped into his throat. "What? Why?"

Scratchensniff rushed past him, closing the curtains on the windows. "I shouldn't have taken you out," he mumbled, almost to himself, "Now he knows you're here, I was supposed to protect you – "

"It's not your fault. Besides, we can take Pete. There's two of us, that makes two brains compared to none."

Scratchensniff stopped to stare at Wakko with a look he couldn't place. Then he rushed forward and grabbed Wakko by the shoulders. "Listen to me now Wakko, please. The smugglers and the police have been looking for you and Dot since Yakko disappeared – do not ask me why, I do not know. But he will be here soon, so you need to leave as fast as you can."

Ignoring the way his heart was pounding, Wakko pressed, "But what about you?"

Scratchensniff released his shoulders and dashed into the kitchen. Wakko chased after him, swallowing the panic. This was happening too fast…it was like when Yakko vanished all over again…

"Scratchy – "

"Here!" Scratchensniff cried, emerging from the pantry with an armful of food. "Put this in your hammerspace just in case."

"But – "

"I want you to take the car, drive quickly but please drive _safely. _Wear your seatbelt! Use your turn signals!"

"Scratchy – "

"Do you know the way to Bugs Bunny's house from here? I want you to go there, Dot is there, her and Yosemite Sam, he will watch out for you."

"But – wait, Dot?" Wakko cried, dropping a can of prunes.

"Yes, Dot. Now please Wakko, hurry, they'll be here any second – "

Wakko shoved his hands away. "_Scratchy stop! _What about you?"

Scratchensniff stared at him and then the door, wringing his hands. "I – "

_BANG! _Both Wakko and Scratchensniff jumped as they heard the front door burst open. "Yoohoo, anybody home?" came Pete's mocking voice. There were way too many footsteps for him to be alone.

"_Go, now!_" Scratchensniff hissed.

Pushing down the panic that threatened to overwhelm him, Wakko stepped defiantly in front of Scratchensniff. "No, I'm not going without you! You're my friend! They're gonna hurt you, let me help…and I've never driven by myself, I'll crash into a tree or something – "

With a glance over his shoulder, Scratchensniff stooped down to Wakko's level. Wakko tried to focus on him; Pete's heavy footsteps combined with the hustling scamper of clawed feet that could only mean weasels was distracting him from the sad smile on Scratchensniff's face. A crash echoed from the living room, and Wakko had the feeling that Pete was trashing the place looking for them. Anger flared up in his chest – this was Scratchensniff's home, the one that he had been kind enough to let Wakko stay in –

"Wakko, you do not know how humbled it makes me to be included as your friend. But do not worry about me, I have a few tricks up my sleeve you know."

"But – "

"Your sister needs you."

"But she hates me now."

"Come now, you believe this is true? You three kiddies, you and your brother and your sister, you were not meant to be apart. I know this, I watched you grow. Now go to Dot, I promise everything will turn out alright. And do not worry about driving, because I will tell you the key: all you need is confidence."

With that Wakko jumped forward to hug Scratchensniff, who let out a startled noise before patting Wakko on the back. "You will be fine," he said softly, then pushed him toward the door while shoving the keys in his hand, "now go, for heaven's sake!"

Wakko staggered back, opening his mouth and shutting it again. He'd known the doctor for more than half his life, and he hoped more than anything right now that he'd get to see him for the next half of his life. He hoped that Scratchensniff, or Yakko if he ever found out, didn't think he was a coward for running now.

Clutching the keys so tightly they dug into his palm through his glove, Wakko dashed down the back steps and to the car. He looked to the door but Scratchensniff had already shut it. The sun was just beginning to set as Wakko's shaking hands fumbled at the ignition. A loud bang from inside the house made him jump. Followed by another. And another. Shouting. Wakko chewed his lip, wondering if he should go back inside.

But if he did, then Dot might be left without two brothers instead of just one. He felt sick with himself.

Thinking of his sister and praying that Scratchensniff was more capable than he gave him credit for, Wakko coaxed the car to life and hit the gas. It jerked violently backwards, sending trash cans flying before he slammed the brake pedal.

"Whoops," he muttered.

Great, he was supposed to make it all the way to Bugs' place and he couldn't even remember to take the car out of reverse. This was going to go swell.

But suddenly the back door flew open. He looked up excitedly, hoping it was Scratchensniff, but two weasels glared at him instead. The noise from the trash cans had given him away. Panicking, Wakko threw the car into drive and pushed the gas pedal to the floor. The weasels squealed in terror as he surged toward them and they dove out of the way. He swung around the corner, wheels screeching, and tore down the street toward the Bunny estate.

* * *

"There, that oughta do it," Yosemite said, dusting off his hands.

Dot stepped back, admiring their handiwork. If anyone so much as set one foot inside Bugs' front gate, they'd be swept up by a wire snare that was artfully hidden in the flowerbed.

"I'd like to see a weasel try to get past this," Dot said proudly. She thought for a moment. "Actually, I'd _really _like to see a weasel try to get past this, it'd be hilarious."

"You know girly, if I knew you were so dang skilled at settin' traps, we'd 'a nabbed that screwball rabbit years ago."

Dot grinned and gave him a high-five. "Never underestimate a girl's ability to catch a boy, Sammy."

"_Sammy_," Yosemite muttered to himself, rolling his eyes. Dot's grin spread.

"So now what?"

"So now we line the perimeter with traps. Snare traps, bear traps, box traps – "

Dot rolled her eyes. "Tough traps, sissy traps, traps who climb on rocks…"

Just then she heard a loud _clang_. The electric gate was sliding open in its calm way that was at odds with the enormity of what it meant. Dot only knew two people who had the code to open it – Bugs and Yakko. Her heart hammering, Dot dashed forward.

"Git yer tail back here, could be a trap!" Yosemite shouted, but she ignored him.

A figure stepped into view, and Dot recognized the long ears immediately. For a moment, her heart sank to somewhere closer to her stomach – he was not her Yakko – but she let loose an excited cry when Bugs waved to her nonetheless. It was a face she recognized at least, and right now, that was all that mattered. But he looked utterly exhausted; he was thinner, and the fur that lined his ears was ragged and unkempt. Worst of all were his eyes, beneath which were heavy, dark circles that suggested he hadn't fully slept in days.

Stepping casually over the snare, Bugs gave her a sad smile and held out his arms as she ran in for a hug.

"Bugs! I'm so glad you're okay, I missed you so much!" she gasped. Then, pulling back, she whispered, "Have you…did you find – "

Bugs shook his head sadly and his face fell. "Not yet sweetie. I'm – " the words seemed to stick " – I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."

Tears stung her eyes faster than she expected. Chewing her lip, Dot hid her face in Bugs' shirt, the ghost of Yakko's disappearance coming to life once more. She should be used to it by now, he'd been gone for weeks, why was a reminder of that any different…

Bugs patted her back in a way that was more than a cheap condolence. It was like he understood.

"Where have you been?" Dot pressed.

"We've been switching between looking for your brother and running from the people who are _also _looking for your brother. "

"Who's _we_?"

Just then Daffy turned the corner, heading straight for the snare.

Dot's eyes widened. "Wait, watch out – "

Daffy couldn't have stepped more directly into the snare if he tried. A spring snapped, the snare tightened around his ankle, and Daffy let out a startled wail as his feet jerked out from underneath him. In the next second he was head over heels, dangling fifteen feet off the ground, swaying back and forth like a metronome and swearing up a storm. Bugs applauded.

"I thought you were a duck, not a guinea pig. Thanks though, was lookin' for a' someone stupid enough to test the traps. Couldn't even get those weasel varmints to give it a shot." Yosemite said, "Lookit that girly, snare worked like a dang charm."

Dot raised an eyebrow at Bugs. "Sorta…Bugs missed it though. How'd you know there was a trap there? I thought we hid it pretty well."

"Yeah, I think we'd all like to know the answer to that," Daffy snapped. He had stopped struggling now, and settled for dangling upside down with his arms rigidly crossed.

"Practice," Bugs said. He smirked at Daffy before adding, "Sammy, why don't you release our captive so we can talk inside the house for a minute."

Yosemite loosened a single wire with a flick of his wrist. There was a moment where Daffy was suspended in midair before his eyes widened and he went crashing to the ground. After rearranging his beak, he muttered darkly, "Your delicacy is most appreciated. You see what I just did there? That's called _sarcasm_. I doubt you know what that it, seeing as how that mask of yours stops oxygen from getting to your brain."

"Say that to my pistol why don't ya – "

"Calm down ladies," Bugs drawled, tapping a few quick numbers on a keypad embedded in the wall to close the gate. "Like I said, let's take it inside."

Yosemite nodded toward Dot. "Reset the snare, girly, and cross yer fingers the duck trips it again on his way out."

"Shut up ya little dwarf."

"Stuff it feather brain."

Bugs sighed wearily to Dot before following the bickering crew to the house. She watched them for a moment, then rushed to the snare. It took her a few times to hook the wire back into the spring – she had to stretch her arms an extra foot to reach the end of the wire while throwing the rest of her body against the spring to pull it into place. They finally hooked together and she released it with a twanging noise. She then scurried around the looped wire on the ground, covering it back up with grass, leaves, and dirt from the flow bed. She stepped back to admire her work. Any intruder would have to really look before they saw the vague circle outline in the grass. Satisfied, Dot ran back to the house.

She followed their voices to Bugs' living room where the fireplace was. They were talking in low tones, Yosemite and Daffy bent close to Bugs, who was slumped on his chair and rubbing his face. This made Dot pause, hidden by the doorway. She'd never seen Bugs looks so defeated. Never. She didn't think it was in his ink to look like he did. And it scared her more than almost anything had.

"They're everywhere Sam, absolutely everywhere. And if they're not looking for Yakko they're looking for me, or Daff, or Dot and Wakko or you or Sylvester or just about everyone else. They want us, bad. No sign of Babs or Buster neither, and believe me when I say the smugglers are looking just as hard as we are. We'll be out trying to find them, and the next thing you know we're dodging DIP left and right."

"You see this?" Daffy cried, turning and pointing to his tailfeathers. They were torn and charred looking, as though they'd been burnt. "That's just from the spray. The spray! This is the jungle juice of DIP we're dealing with!"

Yosemite rolled his eyes. "Aw, poor little duckling got his tail feathers mussed. Trust me duck, it still won't be the reason why the ladies ain't chasin' ya."

Daffy opened his beak in outrage, but Bugs clamped it shut with his fingers. "I don't think I'd be sittin' here if it wasn't for Daff," Bugs said quietly.

Frowning deeply, Yosemite regarded him for a moment before asking, "Why do they want the kids so bad? Who's water trough did they spit in anyway?"

"I have no idea. They haven't stopped looking for Yakko since the day he disappeared," Bugs said as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

Daffy glanced at him sideways. "Maybe they're after him because _you're _after him. Maybe if we spent more time trying to stop them instead of going after Warner we'd stop the problem before it gets worse."

"I can't do that. He's my kid – "

Daffy threw his hands in the air. "There he goes again! _My _kid, _my kid_…damn it Bugs, he's not your kid! You don't have a kid! He's just a fanboy, and I'm not getting myself killed for some pup! We've got bigger fish to fry here!"

"It ain't like that," Bugs said, deadly serious as he stared Daffy straight in the eye, "he's just like me Daff, he's _exactly _like me…when I talk to him I see myself, what I would have been like if I hadn't been drawn. You _know _what it's like not having any family, and he's the closest thing I'll ever get. He's special, doc, because he's special to me. All three of them are. And Wakko and Dot…he needs them like they need him, you have to see that. Even if he doesn't want to talk to me, I at least have to bring him back to them. You understand?"

Daffy looked at him coldly. "No, I don't. I don't understand why you would just throw yourself in front of DIP for some kid who just likes you 'cause you're famous. Find a new little pupil to dote on, a hundred toons would die just to kiss your freakin' tail."

They stared at each other with looks that Dot found oddly familiar. And then it hit her – Bugs was looking at Daffy the same way Yakko had looked at Buster after they'd fought.

There was a pause before Bugs spoke again. When he did, his voice was low and quiet. "There's no reason to be jealous, Daff."

"Jealous? Who's jealous?" Daffy shrieked, his voice jumping several pitches and bordering on hysterical.

"You, by the sounds of it," Yosemite said.

Daffy reeled on him, fury spreading from his face and into the tenseness of his shoulders. "Whadda you know, crook? Did we mention we saw Rocky? With a gun full of DIP? You wouldn't happen to know how he got it, do ya?"

"Daff…" Bugs muttered warningly.

Staring at Daffy as though he'd eaten something rotten, Yosemite sat ramrod straight in his chair, unmoving. Dot clenched the doorway tighter.

Ignoring Bugs, Daffy continued, "No? You two are buddies, ain't ya? Call each other on the phone every night – "

And suddenly Yosemite was on his feet, blindingly fast, and he shoved the end of his pistol against the soft spot where Daffy throat met the bottom of his beak, making Daffy gag.

"Say that again," Yosemite hissed, "'Cause the way my ears heard it, sounded like you was askin' for a mouthful of lead!"

"Do it, you had enough practice with your pal Rocky – "

"Shut yer damn beak ya talentless hack – "

Bugs shoved his way between them. "Knock it off you two! Everyone here's had enough guns pointed at them for one lifetime."

"I'm only doin' this 'cause I owe you, rabbit!" Yosemite bellowed, his face red, swatting away Bugs' outstretched hand. "Not for the kids, not for the town, and especially not for this sorry sack of feathers that was drawn to play second fiddle!"

Daffy fixed Yosemite with a malicious stare. "Better second fiddle than a toon killer," he growled.

The color drained from Yosemite's face. Pistols shaking, he spluttered, "You – I'm gonna – you don't dare – "

"That's _enough!_" Bugs roared. He turned to Daffy. "That was low, even for you. Real nice."

"Just calling 'em as I see 'em," Daffy shot back. He tugged Bugs' hand away. "I'm gonna wait by the car. Try not to have a paternal meltdown with the criminal while I'm gone."

Daffy stormed toward the door where Dot hid. She thought about moving, briefly, but her hands seemed to have adhered themselves to the doorway, and Daffy all but ran into her.

"What are you looking at?" he snapped at her before disappearing down the hall and slamming another door.

Bugs and Yosemite both looked up, noticing her for the first time.

"Dot," Bugs breathed, then hurried toward her. "Listen, sweetie, I know that wasn't lighthearted tea talk you just heard, but we'll talk about this. All of this. Don't go thinking things until you get the facts first. But I have to go right now. I'm sorry, you have to understand."

Dot nodded, too numb to speak. This made Bugs frown, but he scooped her up in a hug.

"Stay safe for me, promise? We're going to check on Wakko, and then…well, we're going to find Yakko."

"Promise?" Dot managed.

Bugs eyed her for a moment. "Yeah. Promise."

"And can you say something to Wakko for me?"

"What do you want me to say?"

Dot chewed her lip, then reached for her pocket. "Um, actually, give him this."

Bugs quirked an eyebrow at what she'd handed him. "Your cell phone? That's eh, a nice gesture and all, but don't ya think you'll need it?"

"No, not really. I left messages on it, for him and Yak…Yakko. For them to listen to in case something happened. Wakko can listen to his, since I can't talk to him."

This made Bugs frown harder than ever, and for a moment Dot thought she'd upset him. But then he nodded and stooped down to hug her one last time. He held her for a minute, then finally stood to Yosemite and muttered, "Don't listen to him, doc. We ain't exactly livin' the dream lately and you know him – no filter between his beak and his brain."

"None of us are livin' no dang dream. When are you gonna stop makin' excuses for that second-rate blowhard?"

Bugs gave him a sad little shrug. "He's my best friend."

Yosemite stared at him until Bugs turned to follow Daffy. Dot barely noticed him leave, as she was too stuck to the moment, staring hard at Yosemite.

"What?" he barked, not looking her in the eye.

"What was Daffy talking about?"

"Who the hell knows, duck babbles more than a brook."

"I'm serious Yosemite Sam. What did he mean when he said 'toon killer?'"

This made Yosemite snap back to her face. He fiddled with his guns for a moment, sticking his finger inside the barrel absently.

"Now uh, now listen here, ya can't take what the duck says at face value – "

Dot crossed her arms. "Oh, so _toon killer _is a metaphor?"

"Quit jumpin' to conclusions – "

"What other conclusions can I make?" Dot cried, her voice jumping like Yakko's did when he got worked up. Her heart was pounding, each beat making it harder not to cry. "Daffy said you were friends with Rocky and you didn't deny it! You didn't deny anything! I've been living with you for weeks, I deserve to know what he was talking about!"

Yosemite took a cautious step toward her, but after seeing the way her fur bristled he took two steps back. With a sigh, he muttered, "Okay, now listen, I never killed no toons – "

"That's not what Daffy – "

"Would ya just let me finish? Damn it, yer worse than an old maid! Now, listen…I ain't proud of what I did. But I never…I never killed no one, but I may as well have. Back in the seventies I was on a bit a' hard luck. No cartoons, blew my funds away on gamblin' and my other vices…it was rough times. Now, Rocky, he comes into the picture. We'd always been on good terms. So when he strolls in, offering me a cut of a job, hell, what was I gonna say? I didn't know what he was up to at first, ya gotta give me that one."

When Dot did nothing but glare at him, he continued, "He just told me he needed three things: metal scraps, ink, and a place to hide. I done found him the metal and the hideout, but ink was always the hardest. Ended up stealin' it from the animation studio and, well, and the uh, the toon hospital."

Dot made a noise of disgust.

"I asked Rocky, I says, 'Rocky, what are you up to?' And then he done told me. He was making toons. Dozens of them. And sellin' 'em. I wanted to be upset – hand to heart, I did – but all that damn money did me in. It started to get hairy. Next thing I knew drugs were involved, then too much money…but the worst was when the toons went bad. Ya see, they weren't drawn that well. Out of work animators worked on them, but they never lasted long. They went bad. They'd start biting themselves, rippin' off their tails, losing their minds…so, when they were too broke to do their job, Rocky destroyed them."

"How'd he do that?" Dot pressed.

"That ain't important – "

"Just tell me, my opinion of you can't get that much lower anyway."

He glowered at her. "Fine, you asked. He had Mugsy and Pete bludgeon them…they couldn't squash or stretch, ya see. Rocky hated that. He hated any lower Class toon. It disgusted him. Now, I never killed 'em, but it was my job to find places to hide the bodies. We burned 'em."

Bile swelled in Dot's throat. She swallowed, fighting it back.

"I was…I was disgusted by myself. Didn't know who I was no more. So when the feds busted the joint, I didn't run. I turned myself in and did fourteen years. When my parole hearing came up I thought I was done for, but the rabbit…Bugs, he stood up for me. Talked them into giving me another chance. Gave me a part in that harebrained _Space Jam _nonsense. I've been tryin' to make amends ever since. Bugs Bunny's the only one who's trusted me since I came clean."

Yosemite was pleading with his eyes, begging her to believe him. But Dot felt like she didn't recognize the toon before her. He'd created false toons, he'd let it happen, let them be murdered, hid the evidence…all for what? Money? And if he'd done it once, what was to stop him from doing it again? Was he pulling a fast one on them? Was he the reason she couldn't be with her brothers?

"I trusted you," Dot said, the bitterness seeping through the cracks in her voice. She hated that there were tears in her eyes.

Yosemite flinched. It was as though she'd struck him. "And you can trust me now! Haven't I been good to you?"

Dot looked away from him. "And I heard that 'not for the kids' part…"

Yosemite blanched. "Listen to me, damn it! It ain't like that, I – I like ya, ya little squirt, I'm a good guy now – "

"How do I know that?" Dot challenged.

Yosemite opened his mouth, but at that moment a buzzer sounded throughout the entire house.

"The traps!" Dot gasped. Something had been sprung. Someone was here.

"Probably that idiot duck…hey, where are ya off to?" Yosemite cried.

But Dot ignored him as she sprinted down the hall and into the foyer, out the door, across the lawn. It felt good to run, and she didn't care if it was weasels that had set off the trap. She wanted to stop the bad guys now, she wanted to show Yosemite that she'd never be like him, she wanted to stop all of the darkness instead of feeding it.

Rounding the bend, Dot took cover behind the trunk of a thick maple. To her shock, the entire front gate had been leveled clear off its hinges and was now laying on the ground, bent and broken. A station wagon sat in the entrance, its fender crumpled from the impact with the gate. Her brow furrowed – if she didn't know any better, she'd say that was Scratchensniff's car.

A short distance from the fallen gate, dirt and leaves were scattered everywhere – the snare had clearly been set off. Dot's eyes traveled up, searching for the weasel that had tripped it. But dangling in the air, looking absolutely shocked, was no weasel. Dot felt as though her heart had jumped clear out of her chest.

There, hanging in the air and waving at her sheepishly, was Wakko.


	17. Familiar Faces

_**Chapter 16: Familiar Faces**_

"So help me if you don't shut your stupid trap I'm gonna stuff it with DIP and glue it shut!" Gums snarled in Yakko's face. Yakko felt speckles of spit flick against his hood.

"In that order?"

With another snarl, Gums shoved him against the carved out wall. "Shove it,smartass!"

Beneath his hood, Yakko rolled his eyes. If he had a nickel for every time someone had called him a smartass he could buy his way out of this hellhole.

"Take this _pendejo_ back to his cell," Gums instructed some nearby weasels, then looked Yakko in the eye and added, "_no food._"

"Aw, you mean no moldy bread for me today? At least tell me the filet mignon is still on the menu." Yakko tried to hide the fact that his stomach was growling so loud it could've been part of the conversation.

Gums could not resist the opportunity to spit on him before the weasels grabbed him beneath the arms. Yakko let himself be dragged, wondering if calling Gums a "mean camp counselor" and asking for "s'mores" had been worth losing his only meal of the day. He couldn't afford to lose many meals at this point – the other day he noticed that he could make out his ribs individually beneath his fur. His elbows and knees were jutting out more, and he was sure if he caught a glimpse of his face he'd look like a skeleton with a fur coat.

The weasels didn't talk to him as they hauled him down the passageway, but they hissed and spit at each other occasionally. There were so many of them nowadays, crawling around the hallways and cells. Surely they hadn't all come down here from Los Angeles, which meant there had to be nearly a hundred of them…where were they all coming from?

But Yakko was jolted out of his thoughts by a terrible scream. It came from the Upper Class cell. Digging his heels into the ground, Yakko threw the weasels off enough to turn around.

Mortimer was standing by the doorway to the cell, laughing in a horribly mocking way as three weasels dragged a toon outside while another imprisoned toon, a girl judging by the hair, clung desperately to his feet. Yakko squinted, and with a plummeting feeling he recognized the two toons: Plucky and Shirley.

"No, no, like, don't take him!" Shirley pleaded, both arms wrapped around Plucky's legs.

Plucky, who looked uncomfortably stretched between the weasels and his girlfriend, nodded in agreement. "You heard the girl! Just let me stay in the cell, I like it there! It's uh, it's cozy!"

"Nope, sorry duck, we've got bigger plans for you," Mortimer said as he inspected his fingernails.

Shirley looked up at him with a fierce expression that transcended the dirt and tear tracks that smeared her face. "No, please! Like, let him go you – you second-rate rat!"

Mortimer raised his brow at this. Reaching into his hammerspace, he pulled out a bright orange water pistol and shoved it against Plucky's head. Judging by Plucky's squirming and gagging, the gun was loaded with DIP.

"Call me that again and I'll pump his brain full a' juice. Go on sweet cheeks, try me."

The hall seemed to go deathly still aside from Plucky's writhing as Shirley stared back at Mortimer with wide eyes.

Mortimer grinned. "Now, be a good little girl and let go of your duck in shining armor."

Shirley's eyes flicked from the gun to Plucky's face. Finally, after not enough heartbeats, she let go of his feet with a dry sob. The weasels yanked him away without hesitation, and Plucky barely had time to lock eyes with her before they dragged him out of sight.

"Don't worry, we'll bring him back. Not sure if he'll be in one piece, but we'll bring most of him back," Mortimer said with a chuckle. He saluted the now sobbing Shirley before following the weasels down the hall and unmistakably toward The Machine.

Without thinking Yakko made to chase after them, but his two weasels tackled him to the floor. "Leggo!" he grunted, but the weasels sunk their claws into his shoulders and sides. Despite his kicks and struggles he found himself being dragged down the hall again, toward his cell and away from helping Plucky. No. He couldn't just sit in his cell while Mortimer did…whatever the hell he was going to do to Plucky. The presence of potential and immediate death had been so constant over the weeks that he'd grown numb to it, but now that it had suddenly swooped in on his friend it was like a slap in the face. His mind racing, Yakko tried to keep his breathing under control as the weasels thrust him into the cell and slammed the bars shut with a familiar clang.

Feeling that he was dangerously close to panicking, Yakko inhaled and rubbed the base of his ears through his hood. Bugs wouldn't panic, Bugs would stay calm and cool and figure out exactly what to do…and what would Buster say if he let their friend disappear because he was too hysterical to do anything useful…

Well, if he was going to do anything, he needed to get out of the cell. But once he was out of the cell, how was he going to get to the Machine without being caught? He'd need help. Yakko spun around. He could only think of one person.

"_Molly!_" he hissed, eyeing the guards.

Molly, who had been trying to engage one of the other prisoners in conversation, raised her head and, after glancing at the guards herself, tiptoed over to him.

"I'm calling in the favor you owe me," he said, "I don't have time to explain, but do you know Plucky Duck? From _Tiny Toons_?"

Molly nodded. Plucky better thank his lucky feathers that he inexplicably had a fanbase – and in a Disney toon, no less.

"Well, I'm a frien – I mean, fan of his, and he's in trouble. Can you help me get to the Machine?"

Molly nodded vigorously this time. Wow, she was a _big _fan.

Yakko glanced at the gate. "Now, I don't really know what to do, we just need to get out – "

Molly grabbed him by the arm before he could finish his sentence and pulled him to the gate. The weasels barely had time to look at her before she burst into a vicious coughing fit. Yakko stared blankly at her until she nudged him. Taking the hint, Yakko started up with his own coughs.

Reaching through the bars to clutch as the weasel's uniform, Molly groaned, "We're sick! We're sick with, uh – "

"Weaselitus," Yakko supplied.

He couldn't tell if she thought that was pathetic or not but she went with it. "Yeah, weaselitus! You better get us out of here before – " Molly paused for a few rather dramatic coughs, " – before we contaminate everyone."

The two weasel guards fixed them with skeptical looks. One of them began scrutinizing Yakko. He coughed in its face. They flinched back, hissing and grumbling nonsense at each other, before the larger of the two finally stuffed his keys in the lock. Yakko let himself be yanked out of the cell along with Molly, catching only a glimpse of the curious prisoners as they were dragged down the hall. The weasels were making an obvious effort to keep their distance from them, holding both him and Molly at arm's length with identical looks of disgust on their faces. Yakko threw in an especially phlegmy cough for good measure.

As they neared the corridor that led to the Machine, Yakko nodded discreetly in Molly's direction. "You know, it's really good of you guys to take us to the sick bay, considering weaselitus is airborne and extremely contagious…oh, and the fact that it's fatal to weasels."

When the weasels blinked at him, Molly pointed to them and added, "He's referring to you guys."

The weasels exchanged a glance, then yelped in panic. They let go of Yakko and Molly as though they'd caught fire, and dashed around the corner and out of sight.

"Dumber than advertised," Yakko muttered. But this reminded him of Dot and it sent a pang through his chest. He found he couldn't think of much else until Molly snapped her fingers in front of his face.

"Hey, Ears, you still on this planet? I thought we were saving Plucky Duck?"

"Oh, yeah, right. All I saw was that they're taking him to the Machine. I've never seen a toon that's gone in there come out, so Mortimer and Bosko and those other idiots must be up to something, and I'm gonna go out on a limb and say it's not good. Can you watch my back if I go in there?"

Molly nodded beneath her hood. Yakko had to give her credit – she either had a lot of guts or the Compound had made her feel she had nothing left to lose.

"Okay – cover me, will ya?"

They tiptoed down the narrow, dim corridor that led to the worker's entrance. When he heard the Mortimer's sharp laughter, Yakko flattened himself against the wall, doing his best to become just another shadow. At the far end of the corridor he could see where the path diverged; the right led to the worker's entrance – his entrance – while the left led to the strange room and tunnel that he forbidden from even sneezing at. Squinting in the darkness, he could spot Plucky struggling in Mugsy's vice-like arms while Bosko herded them along. Mortimer brought up the rear, cackling and performing crude imitations of Plucky's pleas. Bosko ushered them to the left and disappeared behind a heavy, metal door.

"They're taking him _into_ the Machine!" Molly hissed.

Gritting his teeth, Yakko hurried forward. His heart began to pound as he heard the Machine groan to life, the roar filling up the small corridor so that he could no longer hear Molly's footsteps behind him. When they reached the doors, he motioned her closer.

"I'm going to try and stop it!" he shouted above the noise.

"What?"

"I'm gonna try and – "

"_What?_"

"JUST STAY HERE AND COVER ME!"

"OKAY!"

Yakko pushed the door open just wide enough so he could peer in. Good, no one was there. Bosko and the others must be up in the booth. Squashing down the impending feeling of fear for Plucky, Yakko crept forward, towards the belching and quaking Machine. Dread like he hadn't felt in some time dripped into his chest; what were they doing to Plucky? What was in the Machine? What was going to happen to him?

A dozen horrifying prospects flooded through his mind and Yakko found himself running, leaping over pipes and tubes, ducking under wires. He had no master plan – he'd barely given any of this a thought considering how dangerous it was – but he knew one thing. He had to stop the Machine. After that…well, he'd figure that out once he got to it.

In between the wires and the smoke he spotted the battered pink flamingo. With a nervous glance toward the booth he crawled toward it. The pipes it was supporting were straining with effort, rattling and shaking and steaming. Yakko yanked the flamingo out from beneath them and they sagged, but the Machine continued to run. His heart was pounding so hard now he could feel the vibrations in his chest. Without thinking Yakko took the flamingo, reared back, and swung at the pipe connector. The flamingo's head struck it clean, loosening the connector so it rattled in time with the pipes. He swung again, and again, once more and then the connector came loose and the pipes burst free with the force of a small bomb.

Ink, hot and black, shot from the pipes like a water cannon. It hit him square in the chest, knocking him off his feet and flat on his back. Yakko skidded across the floor for several feet, coughing and spluttering as the ink washed over him. Somewhere above him in the booth he heard an alarm blaring, signaling a malfunction, and the Machine began to shudder and clank violently. Then it seemed to sag, defeated almost, and the chugs slowed until the Machine stopped altogether. The last bits of ink sputtered out of the pipe as Yakko pushed himself up into a sitting position, too stunned to get to his feet.

He brought his ink-covered hands to his nose and sniffed. It smelled strange, not entirely like the ink that flowed through his veins but not at all like pen ink. But then the silence of the broken Machine brought him back to the moment and the sudden realization that he had to get out of there. Now.

Yakko jumped up, but his feet spun out on the slick ink. Desperate, he grabbed the flamingo and used it as a strange crutch, dragging himself along until he could get his footing. He darted between tubes and wires, up the landing and into the corridor…Molly was not there. She was gone. Yakko looked up and down the hallway, but no sign of her. Had she gone back to the cell? Or had she ratted on him? Yakko made to sprint back to the cell himself, but noticed with a surge of dread that he was leaving inky footprints behind him.

"Damn it," he muttered, but no sooner had he finished that thought when the door to the booth flew open.

It was one of the strangest things he'd ever seen in his life. First out of the door was Bosko, who was screaming out a series of curses. Next to follow was Mortimer, who had one arm wrapped tightly around Molly's neck and was using his other hands to pin her wrists behind her back. And last was Mugsy, who held an impossibly bizarre creature in his hands. At first Yakko thought it was a weasel, but its arms were covered in combination of fur and feathers…green feathers…the ears were definitely a weasel's though, but the snout…no, it was more of a beak…a fat, orange beak…

"_Plucky?_" Yakko blurted

It seemed that Plucky had been caught in the middle of a science experiment that had gone horribly wrong. He was some bizarre cross between a duck and a weasel…if anything, he now more closely resembled a deformed platypus. But as Yakko glanced from him to the Machine, Yakko thought of the glut of weasels and the disappearing toons, and a sudden, chilling realization spread over him. They were using the Machine to make the weasels. Out of other toons.

Bosko, Mortimer, and Molly locked eyes on him all at once, standing in front of them, covered in ink and clutching a pink lawn flamingo.

Yakko gulped and hid the flamingo behind his back as though that would fool them.

In the next second Bosko lunged at him, colliding with his chest. Yakko could only assume that Bosko meant to knock him down with that move, but Bosko was such a diminutive toon that Yakko merely staggered backwards with Bosko clinging to his jumpsuit. Bosko tugged a DIP gun from his hammerspace and nearly shoved it up Yakko's nose. He gagged, but not that much – he'd been here so long he'd gotten used to the stench.

"You got some explainin' to do, loudmouth," Bosko growled, "'cause I don't remember hiring you as a mechanic."

Behind him Mortimer sunk his claws gleefully into Molly as he grinned. "DIP him! Right in his face!"

Ignoring him, Yakko did his best to keep his voice calm. "Don't be ridiculous. I was trying to fix the stupid thing, not break it."

"Do I look stupid to you?"

"Do you want the real answer or would you prefer I just say 'no?'"

Bosko pushed the gun harder so it was digging into Yakko's cheek. "You askin' for a DIP cocktail?"

"Is it open bar?"

Yakko wondered why the filter between his mouth and his brain had suddenly disappeared. He had a lethal dose of DIP milliseconds away from killing him and yet he couldn't shut his mouth. If he got out of this alive, he was willingly going to be buy himself a muzzle.

"DIP him! DIP him already, I wanna see him scream!" Mortimer shouted.

"Shaddup!" Bosko snapped. He turned back to Yakko, still standing on his chest and clutching his collar. "I've got better plans for these two."

"Two?" Yakko blurted.

Bosko rolled his eyes. "You and the chick. One plus one equals two. Jesus, I would have at least hoped the under Class knew basic math. What are you lot good for anyway?"

"Why are you dragging her into it?" Yakko protested. Beyond Bosko's bloated face he could see Molly squirm in Mortimer's arms, shaking her head. Yakko didn't care if she was willing to go down with him – he dragged her into this, he couldn't live with himself if he let her get punished too. And there was always that part of him – maybe it came with raising Dot – that couldn't bear to see a girl hurt. And if he were to guess what was going to happen to him, he could only assume it was going to hurt. "I told her I had orders to fix the Machine, she was only trying to help you guys."

Mortimer sneered and rubbed his cheek against Molly's hood. "Aw, does girly wanna kiss-up to the big boys?" She jerked away from him, and he added with a laugh, "I don't buy that cock and bull story for a second."

But Bosko turned back to him with an oily grin that made Yakko cringe beneath his hood. Part of him – well, most of him – wanted to punch Bosko square in the nose and make a run for it, but it was hard to ignore the DIP gun in his hand.

"You know, I think the worm may have a point…think of what the Big Boss'll do to him when he's only got _one _worm to play with instead of two. More eh, individualized attention, ya know what I'm sayin'?"

Mortimer cackled and clutched Molly closer, and she took the opportunity to swing her heel back into his shin. Howling in pain, he threw her to the ground.

"Why you little – "

"I'll deal with her," Bosko cut in as he shoved Yakko towards him, "here, take this idiot to the Big Boss."

Mortimer's face shifted from furious to terrified in a split second. "Why do I gotta do it? It was your idea, you take the honors!"

Mortimer pushed Yakko back into Bosko, who pushed him forward again.

"You've got a way with him, you do it!"

"I did it last time, it's your turn!"

"You're full a' shit!"

They tossed Yakko back and forth like a pinball as they argued, until Bosko finally barked, "Listen, you got a DIP gun handy? 'Cause I do, and I ain't afraid to use it!"

Mortimer folded his arms. "Oh please, like you have the gonads to point that at – "

His words petered out when Bosko pointed the gun directly at him. After a few moments of judgment Mortimer let out a snarl and grabbed Yakko roughly by the neck. "Fine, I'll take him ya dirty rotten so an' so…"

Yakko didn't have time to catch a glimpse of Molly because Mortimer pulled him around the corner at a surprising speed. The mouse grumbled to himself for a few minutes, then turned to Yakko and said, "You better say your prayers, worm. The Big Boss likes when this place runs like a well-oiled machine and, well, you took the oil out of the Machine. And trust me, he's got a way with words, he does. Just you wait."

"Good, I've been looking for some intelligent conversation in this place."

Surprisingly, Mortimer laughed at this. "Taking you to the Big Boss is like Christmas morning for me, you know that?"

They rounded the corner to a series of hallways Yakko had never seen. They were wider and better lit, but the walls were streaked with ink that grew heavier the further they walked. It was fresh, and it glinted in the light. When they finally reached the last door it was so black it looked as though someone had painted it.

Yakko noticed that Mortimer had grown quiet. He was wordless as he knocked sharply on the door, then took a quick step back. Nearly a full minute had gone by before Yakko heard a soft, "_Come in._"

The door unlocked with heavy metallic sound and Mortimer opened it with hesitant hands. He pushed Yakko in ahead of himself, using him as a shield. Like the rest of the cave the room was extremely dark, but this seemed to be due to the fact that the walls were, like the hall, nearly coated in ink. Strangely, it gave off the same smell that the ink from the Machine had. Something crunched under Yakko's feet when he walked. The floor was covered in sheets of paper that all seemed to have scribbled out drawings on them, but Yakko didn't look too closely because he was trying to spot the source of the voice. If anything, it looked like the room was empty.

"T-This under Class b-b-broke the Machine, Boss," Mortimer said. He had lost the bravado he'd shown before when he'd had a buddy with a DIP gun. Yakko could feel his hands shaking as they dug into his neck. "He sabotaged it d-during a transformation."

"Leave him."

Mortimer couldn't have released Yakko faster. He scurried out the door in record time, slamming the door shut behind him. His breath shallow, Yakko blinked in the darkness, but he saw nothing but ink-stained walls and papers.

"So, worm, you discovered the purpose of my Machine?"

The voice was calm in the most unsettling way, as though it would erupt with rage at any moment. It was a man's voice for sure, and it had polished sound to it, educated even, with only a hint of rawness lurking beneath.

"It's brilliant, really, I have outdone myself. Think about it – I have created a machine that creates toons. It is ruthlessly efficient, far better than the cumbersome process we had in place twenty years ago. The key, I found, is to begin with a preexisting toon as my base. That is the masterstroke."

Yakko's fur stood on end as the voice continued.

"I chose to use a weasel as my model. Do you like them? They're crude, you see, both in design and mentality. Easy to manipulate. Easy to replicate. Easy to lure with the promise of a few choice substances."

Yakko gave his head a shake – the voice seemed to be traveling. At times it was as though he was speaking from Yakko's right, then the ceiling, and then the floor.

"My first attempts could barely be considered successes. They had the mental capacity of a goldfish, and even something as simple as water made their ink run. They were destroyed easily. Very pathetic. So I had to choose a more worthy candidate as my base toon – the upper Class. As much as I hate to waste them, upper Class toons make for much better replicas. They're stronger, smarter. A worm like you would not understand. Unfortunately, they take much longer to create. I can only make myself one replica a day. But greatness comes at a price, I suppose."

By now Yakko's mouth had gone dry, and he was torn between the urge to run and the need to listen to this mystery person explain the last year of his life.

"So now you know what my Machine is capable of. But, my dear worm, do you know what _I _am capable of? Well?"

Summoning his voice from the tangle of his nerves, Yakko shouted, "Who are you?"

The voice chuckled lowly, which was much more frightening than him talking. "Forgive my manners. I will introduce myself."

A strange sucking sound filled the room, and Yakko realized that something large and dark was emerging from the wall. A black mass was flowing from the splattered ink, growing and heaving, until it formed itself into a hulking beast that towered over him. Yakko took a step back as he took the figure in; he was shaped like a man, or perhaps a ghost, made entirely out of ink. Its head tapered at the top as though he was wearing a hood, and his eyes and mouth were more like the crude features of a jack-o-lantern, forever changing and dripping. His whole body shifted at all times with the ebb and flow of the ink, making Yakko feel slightly nauseated. The overall effect was ghastly and unnatural.

"To many, I am known as the Phantom Blot. To others, I am _The _Blot," he said, his mouth splitting into a menacing smile. "And I can do more than you'd ever imagine."

Yakko's mind flashed to Wakko's comic book but in the next second Blot's ink stretched out in tentacles that wrapped themselves around his chest, squeezing him tight, pinning his arms, forcing the air out of his lungs. He struggled, but then he was lifted clear off the ground so that he was face to face with Blot. For once he was thankful for his hood – he was too panicked to even think about shapeshifting his face.

"I can control your mind," Blot growled, and Yakko noticed a pale, ghostly light flickered behind his eyes before he tilted Yakko so he was staring at the ground. But the ground wasn't there…well, it was, but it looked as though the ground was miles beneath him, that he was impossibly high in the air. Yakko yelped as a feeling of vertigo swept over, and he squirmed in Blot's grasp.

"I can frighten you," Blot continued, and then the next thing Yakko knew there were snakes, hundreds of them, slithering up his legs, across his back, wrapping around his torso. He squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth to bite down on the scream of fear that was threatening to free itself from him. But he could feel the dry scales sliding over them, he could hear them hissing in his ear.

"And I can make you wish for death."

The snakes vanished. Blot realeased him and Yakko fell, but instead of landing on the hard floor he splashed into icy water. He cried out in shock, and his last gasps of air escaped as bubbles through the deep. There was water on all sides, more than could possibly fit inside the room. Despite his distinct lack of air, or more so because of it, Yakko kicked upward. He swam, but he never broke the surface. He wasn't even coming close. His mind was beginning to cloud, and Yakko was dimly aware that his racing heart was only making it worse, but he was drowning, he was going to die in here –

But then the water changed. It became thicker, and green, with strange bubbles floating past him. What on earth…and then the powerfully awful smell of DIP filled his nostrils. It was DIP, he was being DIPped. His muscles tightened, locked for a moment of pure fear until the pain set in. His skin was on fire, he was burning, it was like millions of hot knives had sunk into him, tearing him from the inside out. Yakko wanted to scream but couldn't stand the idea of DIP pouring into his mouth too, not that it mattered, he was going to be dead in seconds…it would be welcome, anything to stop this pain –

And then he was on the floor again. No DIP, no water – just dry, papered floor. Yakko gasped for breath, the air rattling with the uncontrollable shaking of his body. The pain had miraculously stopped, but he could still feel echoes of it rippling down his spine. Gingerly, he lifted his hand to inspect it. It looked completely fine aside from the unhealthy, dull look his fur had acquired from weeks in the Compound. No blisters or burns. It wasn't even wet.

Somewhere in his mind he could hear Bugs' voice…_blurring makes you see things, makes you believe you're somewhere else…almost no toon can do it…_

The Blot hovered above him so his face was only inches from Yakko's own. The grinning face shifting into one of cold cruelty, and if Yakko hadn't been so depleted from fear and pain he would have tried to run, or even lift his head from the floor.

"So now that you know what I'm capable of," Blot said, his voice a low hiss, "will you _ever _try to upset my plans again?"

Pinning his mouth shut, Yakko shook his head. The effort made him dizzy.

"Excellent."

A tentacle of ink snaked out to open the door. Blot scooped Yakko off the floor with a look of disgust, and hurled him bodily out of the room.

* * *

"Wakko!"

Dot's scream was so shrill Wakko had to cover his ears. She was going to break glass if she wasn't careful. But it didn't matter – dangling upside down in a booby-trap with busted eardrums or not, he couldn't have been happier to see his sister. He felt more right than he had in weeks. His whole body felt lighter.

He craned his neck to watch her dash over to the base of the wire. Behind her, Yosemite Sam was eyeing him suspiciously. But Dot had barely touched the wire before he went crashing to the ground, landing in a heap.

"Jeez Dot, thanks for the warn – "

Wakko's whining was cut short as Dot tackled him in a fierce hug. Her embrace was bone-crushing to the point where Wakko actually felt his eyes bulge, and he was very positive that he couldn't breathe.

"I missed you," she said into his chest. Her voice was strained.

It was as though the months of resentment toward each other had never happened. Wakko smiled and hugged her back. He couldn't think of anything good enough to describe what he was feeling, so he just mumbled, "Me too."

"I hate to break yer happy reunion and all, but just what in the heck are ya doin' here?" Yosemite asked him, now watching the gateway. "Where's the shrink?"

Wakko's heart dropped. In all the excitement of seeing Dot he had nearly forgotten why he'd come here in the first place. He pushed himself to his feet, which was difficult due to Dot clinging to him the entire time.

"He's – Scratchensniff – "

"Spit it out boy."

"They're after him!"

Dot looked up at him, her brow furrowed. "Who?"

"Pete." He cleared his throat. "Um, I think we have to go. Uh, soon. Now, really."

Yosemite raised an eyebrow. "You sayin' you led the crooks straight to us?"

Wakko gulped. Oh crap, he hadn't even thought of that –

"Give him a break Sam, there's no way they didn't know I was here," Dot said. "He came here to warn us. But what about Scratchy?" Dot asked.

"He…well…I don't know – "

The sound of screeching tires silenced their conversation. Wakko tightened his grip on Dot. There was only one other car on the road that he'd seen, and that was Pete's. He didn't have to think very hard as to who this was.

"Git inside!" Yosemite commanded, and Dot yanked Wakko by the arm as she dashed up the path.

"Jeez Dot, don't pull my arm outta its socket, it just healed!"

"We have to move, Pete's bad news!"

"Yeah, I got that."

"We're gonna set up traps…do you have a flamethrower?"

"I don't really carry those around."

"No, that won't work, the heat might melt the walls…we'll have to use something else…"

Wakko stared blankly at Dot as she dragged him into the house and wondered what exactly Yosemite had been exposing her to. But then he collided with her when she stopped dead in her tracks and gazed at one of Bugs' particularly ugly vases.

"Wakko, grab that vase and bring it over here!"

"Why?"

"Just do it!"

Wakko rolled his eyes. Clearly she had been going through bossiness withdrawal without him or Yakko around. But he wrapped his arms around the vase, which was much bigger up close and much heavier than it looked. He grunted as he picked it up, staggering under its weight, and nearly dropped it in the center of the foyer. Dot was already tugging yards of wire from her hammerspace like an overgrown spider, tying it methodically at different points in the room and ceiling. She knotted a loop at one end and tossed it Wakko.

"Here, put this around the vase. Make it tight!"

Realizing that questioning her would be pointless, Wakko did is as he was told. He lassoed the neck of the vase and pulled it snug. Then he followed Dot's lead and helped her tug the other end of the wire, lifting the vase higher and higher until it dangled from the ceiling. Dot tied the end of the snare around a large, metal carrot sculpture. She admired her work for a moment before her ears perked up again.

"Let's do a snare too, just to be safe."

Wakko watched, slack jawed, as Dot set to work putting together a snare.

"Do I need to start calling you Danielle Boone now?" he asked.

She didn't look up from her work. "Sammy – er, Sam showed me everything. Turns out he has a lot of hidden talents we didn't know about. There," Dot said, clapping her hands, "that oughta do it."

Just then a window in the hall behind them shattered, and Wakko could hear the loud grunts of someone heavy hoisting themselves through it.

"Well, it woud've done it if he'd come in the front door," Dot said, her confidence tearing at the seams.

Wakko didn't waste any time. "Pete!" he hissed, grabbing her shoulder and pulling her away. Pete's bulk was already rounding the corner, stomach first. He lumbered into view, intentionally knocking several of Bugs' priceless sculptures to the ground.

"Always thought the rabbit would have expensive tastes," Pete said, admiring the foyer with a sneer and sending ceramic disc to the floor with a flick of his wrist. "Hey now, where you kids going? Ain't ya gonna give me the grand tour?"

Behind him, Wakko heard Pete grunt as he threw something. Whatever it was whizzed very close by his head, and he only caught a glimpse of a black bomb before it exploded against the doorway in front of them. Plaster and wood flew everywhere and Dot shrieked; Wakko threw himself on top of her, flattening her to floor with his body as chunks of plaster and wood pelted his back. Thick smoke filled the air around them. Dot was coughing beneath him as Wakko squinted, his eyes watering, his heart hammering as Pete's heavy footsteps grew louder.

Dot squirmed out from under him and grabbed a fistful of his jacket. "_This way!_" she hissed, pulling him as she crawled. Wakko, trusting that she had memorized Bugs' mansion down to the crown molding, crawled after her. The smoke cleared the further they got down the hall, until finally they pushed themselves to their feet.

"Where the hell did you mutts go?" he heard Pete snarl behind them. Wakko urged Dot to go faster; he already had a million different scenarios of what had happened to Scratchensniff going through his head, he didn't want Pete demonstrating any of them on Dot.

"Who does lardo back there think he is?" Dot wheezed once her coughing fit had subsided. She rounded the corner into the massive kitchen. "Chucking bombs at us kids…"

"Call me crazy but I don't think he plays fair," Wakko said.

"Damn straight, runt!"

Wakko and Dot gasped as Pete barreled into the room after them. It would have been entirely frightening had he not been sweating profusely and wheezing with each step.

Taking a page from Yakko's book, Wakko shouted, "I think it's time to lay off the donuts, chunky!"

"Yeah, I think I've got a gym membership in my hammerspace somewhere," Dot added.

In spite of everything, Wakko grinned. Now he knew why Yakko mouthed off in tough situations – he felt his confidence inflate, if only a little.

Pete lurched toward them. "Big talk for a couple a' runts. Tell me another joke. Tell me one right now. I dare ya. Tell me one more joke and I'll do the same thing to you as I did to your sissy shrink friend before he squealed."

Wakko felt his blood run cold, but Dot took an aggressive step forward. "The only way Scratchy would squeal would be if you sat on him. I don't believe you for a second!"

"Yeah, how'd you explain that black eye?" Wakko asked, nodding toward the purpling bruise on Pete's face. The sight of it made him worry just a bit less about the doctor. But out of the corner of his own eye he noticed Dot edging toward the kitchen counter. A bowl of fruit – including bananas – was only just out of her reach.

Dot smirked. "Is it a fashion statement? Or just something you thought would distract us from the braindead look on your face?"

"The shrink got lucky. I'd say his luck ran out though," Pete snarled. He was hunched over, his knees bent. He looked like a toon about to pounce, and even thought Wakko knew that Pete couldn't heft his own bulk around very fast, if he did manage to hit them it was going to leave a mark. Wakko glanced at the fruit. Kind of a corny maneuver, but they didn't have a lot going for them –

Pete lunged, pulling a short but massive mallet from behind his back. He came at them like a freight train, gathering speed as he went.

Dot reeled. "Grab the – "

"Got it!" Wakko snagged a fistful of bananas and shoved them at her. Dot blinked at him, the gravity of their predicament escaping her for a moment.

"_Bananas?_"

Wakko frowned. "You didn't want these?"

"Well, I was going for the steak knife personally, but if you want to give knock him out with his daily dose of fruit then fine – "

"Look out!"

Wakko cried out as Pete was nearly on top of them. Panicked, he threw the bananas at Pete's feet while pushing Dot out of the way. He cringed, bracing for a mallet attack, but then everything happened very fast: Pete stepped directly on the bananas and immediately lost his balance. His feet shot out from under him and he hit the floor, rolling toward them like a living bowling ball. Wakko flung Dot aside just as she snatched the steak knife from the counter, heaving her into the cabinets with a bang. Pete toppled past them and slammed face first into the steel refrigerator. He tumbled over, landing on his back, his eyes crossed and a goofy grin spread across his face. Little mallets danced around his head. They even whistled.

Dot put her hands on her hips. "Well look at that, I think that counts as a strike."

"I think that means we should get out of the kitchen."

"Good plan."

Wakko followed Dot as she raced down the hall. "We need to get back to Sammy," she called over her shoulder, "he probably needs help…or more bullets. I can never tell with him."

Having decided that Dot had enjoyed a thoroughly interesting few weeks without him and resolving to question her about her antics later, Wakko nudged her back to speed her up. He brought up the rear though, there was no way he was letting her fall behind. They rounded the corner into the foyer just as Yosemite came barreling in the front door, a trickle of ink running down his beard.

"Where in tarnation you been – "

"Sammy!" Dot shrieked. "Don't step – "

At first Wakko didn't know what she was going on about, but the next thing he knew Yosemite had walked square into the circle of wire Dot had set earlier. The wire tightened around his ankle as he stepped forward, and Yosemite was barely halfway into his fall when the snare triggered and yanked him up by his foot at a surprising speed.

Wakko squinted up at Yosemite, who was dangling close to the chandelier. "Wow Dot, that really worked – "

"Not the time, Wakko," Dot yelled above Yosemite's fluent cursing.

"Git me down from here, NOW goddamn it! He'll be here any second!"

Before Wakko could ask him who he was talking about, the floor trembled with each thud of heavy footsteps. Pete thundered around the corner; he looked livid, and he had a pretty impressive bump beginning to swell next to his ear. He sneered at them before his eyes darted up. It took a moment before his ugly face spit into an even uglier grin.

"Well now, Yosemite, quite the trapper, ain't ya? You've gone and caught yourself the only creature in Toontown without a brain!"

Pete burst out in guffaws, sending strings of spittle everywhere.

"Oh please, stop, my sides ache from laughter," Dot said. She could've given Yakko a run for his money in the sarcasm department.

Pete focused his beady eyes on her. "So this is how ol' Yosemite's paying his dues to the rabbit? Playin' babysitter to the stars?"

Dot's fists clenched at her sides and she opened her mouth to shout something, but Pete suddenly whipped out a strange-looking revolver from behind his back. It was bright, neon yellow, and it reminded Wakko of a watergun. Wakko wrinkled his nose – it was giving off a horrible stench.

"I wouldn't try that if I were you, bub," Pete growled. He was pointing the gun directly at Yosemite, how had been trying to cut himself free with his pocket knife. Pete's eyes glinted, and he slowly dropped the gun so it was pointing directly at Wako and Dot. Wakko quickly shoved his sister behind him.

"You know, on second thought, go right on ahead," Pete encouraged, "Cut that rope. See if you can get down before turn these two into pulp."

Yosemite growled, his face darkened from the ink rushing to his head. "Put that thing away while you still have a hand, ya two-bit jackal!"

Pete ignored him and narrowed his eyes at Wakko. "Get out of the way, boy," he said, jerking his pistol to the side, "I want to get the girl first."

Before he could process the strange gun pointed at his chest, the front door swung open with a bang. Wakko turned to look in spite of himself – a stout figure was highlighted by the moonlight. His head looked bizarrely oblong until he stepped into the foyer and Wakko realized it was just a hat…the long-bodied fedora hat of Rocky. Dot gasped.

Rocky was shorter than he'd expected, but his presence had a command to it that dared anyone to mock him for it. There was something undeniably threatening about him, something that made Wakko want to shrink into the corner and pray that Rocky forgot he was there. Unlike Pete, Rocky was impeccably dressed in suit that was made to impress. The only other person Wakko had known to walk around in a suit was Plotz – maybe it was a short person thing.

"Why are you pointing that thing at the boy's chest? You'll kill him that way, you nincompoop. You know as well as I do that these two are supposed to be alive by the end of tonight."

Wakko could feel Dot shaking behind him. He couldn't blame her. The gangster cadence that guided Rocky's speech was far more chilling than his presence alone. He spoke about their lives as though they were one of his suits he was trying to keep from getting dirty.

Rocky took several short, precise steps forward, his boots clicking on the marble. And then it occurred to Wakko that Rocky had yet to notice Yosemite, who was dangling silently fifteen feet above him. Wakko willed himself not to look at Yosemite and give him away, but somehow just thinking that made it very hard to actually do.

He felt Dot shove something hard into his hand. "_The vase…get him with the vase…_"

Pete pointed a chubby finger to where Yosemite was hanging. "But, but Rocky, look, there's – "

"Quit wastin' my time you oaf. Just grab the kids and let's go. You care to explain which part o' that is difficult for you?" Rocky snapped.

"Rocky, he's up – "

"I'm gonna hate myself in the morning," Dot muttered. With that she leapt straight at Pete, landing in his startled arms. Wakko watched in shock as she lunged forward and planted a big, sloppy toon kiss on his lips, smothering any attempt to give Yosemite away. For a moment even Rocky was transfixed, seemingly perplexed as to why any young girl in her right mind would do such a thing. Dully, Wakko looked into his hand and saw that she had placed the steak knife there.

Knowing what he had to do and how little time he had to do it, Wakko sprinted full tilt toward the carrot sculpture. Before Rocky could react, he took the knife and sliced through the wire. Rocky, noticing a shadow expanding around him, looked up to see the vase plummeting straight toward him. "Nuts," he muttered just as the vase shattered on top of his head with a tremendous crack.

For a moment Wakko thought Rocky was fine. When the glass and dust settled he was still standing, stick straight. The only indication that something happened was the fact that his hat was flattened and he wore a goofy smile on his face. Then, with a small chuckle, he toppled over, out cold.

Dot, who had ended the kiss with an obnoxious _smack_, turned to Wakko. "Nice one!"

"Look out!" Wakko cried.

Pete had pulled his mallet from his hammerspace and reared back, glaring at Dot. "Hold still, little lady…"

Wakko reached for his own mallet, already running toward Pete. But a gunshot rang out; Pete yelled and the bullet ricocheted off his mallet, knocking it from his hands. Wakko spun around to see Yosemite, still hanging from the ceiling, holding his smoking pistol with a smirk on his face.

Dot grinned up at him before turning back to Pete. "Sorry kid, it would've never worked between us," she said, then, in one movement, pulled out her mallet, reared back and swung.

Her aim was a bit off – the head of the mallet collided with the side of Pete's head, throwing Dot off balance and sending her tumbling to the ground. But the force was enough to cause a goose egg to sprout up comically from Pete's forehead. His tongue peeking out his mouth, Pete fell to the ground just as Rocky had done.

Dot looked at Pete, her head cocked to one side. "You know, he's gonna have brain damage by the end of the night. And he's got enough of that as it is."

"Jeez Dot, what's gotten into you?" Wakko asked, unable to stop a grin as he pulled Dot to her feet.

She dusted off her jeans. "Hey, a girl's gotta know how to defend herself when her brothers aren't around."

"Quit yer jibber-jabberin' and get me down from here! Ink's rushin' to my head and all!" Yosemite cried.

"Couldn't tell!" Dot called back, but darted toward the end of the snare nonetheless. She tripped the wire and he dropped to the ground like a rock, squashing a bit before springing back into shape.

"Good shot Sammy."

"You convinced I'm a good guy now?" he asked.

Wakko stared at them and wondered why Dot was giving him such an appraising look. Finally, she grinned at him. "Yeah…yeah, I think I am."

Yosemite smiled – actually smiled – and his whole face looked ten years younger. "Well dang, little lady, glad to hear it. Now git a move on, let's hog tie these hooligans before they cause us more grief – "

"Guess again, Sam."

Wakko caught only a glimpse of Rocky standing across from them, hat still crumpled, gun drawn, before Yosemite thrust him and Dot behind himself. Yosemite spread his arms out, using his body as a shield even though Wakko was a good head taller than him.

Rocky laughed in a cold, mocking staccato. "Ain't that sweet. The joint turned ya into a family man. Couple years ago ya woulda seen how much they'd go for in a round of craps."

He stepped forward, ushering a new wave of stench from the gun that made Dot finally gag. Rocky snickered, and Wakko could feel the heat radiating off of Yosemite. His head turned toward Wakko by only the slightest angle. "_Take her and git_," he hissed out of the corner of his mouth.

Then he turned his attention to Rocky. "You ain't welcome in this house, Rocky. Hell, you ain't welcome in this town. They locked you up for a reason. Yer nuts. Ya need to be locked away with no key – what do ya think yer doin' this time?"

"I'm finishing what I started. It's in my ink. You know exactly what I'm doin' and why. You should know better than anybody."

"Don't make it right. Just 'cause we're drawn with an inkling in mind don't mean it's the law."

Rocky sneered, and even though his hat obscured his eyes Wakko imagined that they had narrowed considerably. "Is that what the rabbit told ya? Brainwashed ya with a bunch a' new age mumbo jumbo? I'll kick his buck teeth in when I have the chance. Me and you both know we need to stick to our nature. Always look out for number one."

Tension was building between the two toons like electricity. Someone was going to break. For the first time Wakko noticed that one of Yosemite's hands was now resting on his pistol. He let his own hand creep toward his hammerspace.

"Ya got it all wrong," Yosemite said, "It's your choice, see. Took me my whole life to realize it, but ya always got a choice."

Rocky's mouth bent in disgust. "What is this? Who the hell are you? Forget this joke yer tellin' yerself. Come with me – bring yer two darling little angels with ya – I got a, eh, a job openin' for ya. C'mon, Sam. Ya always were the best at what ya did."

Yosemite's body tensed, and Wakko grabbed Dot's wrist. He wasn't sure what he was planning to do – pull her out of the way, run for it – but he knew something was going to happen. He'd just gotten his sister back, and there was no way he was losing her again.

Yosemite straightened up and said in a clear, booming voice, "Sorry Rocky. I already got me'self a job. It's makin' sure these kids stay the hell away from you. And you know me: when I do a job, I do it right."

The little bit of Rocky's face that Wakko could see darkened. The room seemed to have gone still, waiting to see what happened next. "Fine," Rocky spat, "then I've made my _choice_. Your loss, Sam."

It happened very fast. Rocky squeezed the trigger and a jet of green liquid burst from the gun. At the same moment Yosemite pushed Wakko and Dot away with all his might; a loud pop, like a car backfiring, and a whoosh of air exploded from his hands, and Wakko dimly registered that this was toon energy before he and his sister were hurtled backwards across the room. They landed together in a mess of limbs and fur, with Wakko all but crushing Dot beneath him. A shot rang out from Yosemite's pistol, but Yosemite let out a strangled cry of pain just as Rocky yelped in shock. Wakko got to his knees and turned to see what was going on.

He would never forget what he saw. Yosemite was still on his feet, but Wakko could see straight through the hole in his chest where Rocky stood, clutching his arm in agony, his gun gone. Yosemite must have shot it right out of his hands. But it took Wakko a moment to realize that this was wrong, very wrong – Yosemite's body was sizzling away before him. Rocky had shot him with DIP.

Wakko gasped and turned away immediately. He locked eyes with Dot, who looked back with fear and confusion – she hadn't seen what had happened. Suddenly overcome with a desperate urge to shield her from the sight, Wakko pinned her to the ground, blocking Yosemite with his body. This only made Dot struggle, and it was hard to hold her when he was already shaking so badly.

"What happened – let me up, let me see – "

He tried to wrestle her down, but she managed to get her head under his arm. She screamed, and he couldn't help himself, he looked too. The only thing left of Yosemite was his hat. Wakko felt like he was going to be sick.

Then he looked up, and his eyes met with Rocky's face. Comprehension seemed to dawn on him, and Rocky growled like an animal. Wakko's body began acting independently of his brain: he grabbed Dot, hauled her to her feet, and sprinted for the door.

It was all Wakko could do to keep the revulsion in his stomach and not let it boil up and tumble out of him. But this was hard, because the sound of Dot's cries and screams was splitting him in two, grabbing a hold of his heart and squeezing it until it burst. He pulled on her arm, trying to drag her to the car, but she pulled back with surprising strength, making him stumble.

"No – he can't – Sammy!"

"Dot, c'mon – "

"Let _go of me _– SAMMY!"

Hating himself, Wakko grabbed hold of her with both hands and pulled. Despite her squirms and protests she was no match for him. He was all but dragging her to the car now. She tried to kick him, she tried to wriggle away, she even tried to bite him, but Wakko kept pulling. He wanted nothing more to get her away from there, to get into the car and drive away into the night and never look back. He was numb.

God, he wished Yakko was here.

He could feel her tiring because her struggles were becoming less and less wild. She was now merely jerking against his tugs, and by the time they got to the car he nearly had to lift her into the passenger seat. Wakko jumped the hood and threw himself behind the wheel, his hands shaking as he turned on the ignition. The engine stuttered violently until it rumbled to life, and Wakko was pretty sure he completely took out Bugs' mailbox in the wild U-turn he made to get out of the driveway.

It wasn't until Bugs' house had disappeared from view that Dot burst into tears. Wakko gripped the steering wheel as he listened to his sister's sobs. He hadn't the slightest clue as to what to do or say. He'd never seen her cry like this before. It was the worst sound he'd ever heard.

* * *

Dot clung to her brother, afraid that if she let go of him he'd disappear out of her life just like Yosemite had. She listened to the slow and steady sound of his breathing as he slept. He'd driven them to the outskirts of Toontown, finally coming to a stop in an alley behind a convenience store, at which point she'd lost control. As long as they were driving away, what had happened at the house couldn't catch up with her. But as soon as Wakko turned the engine off all her problems swirled around her at once, and the loss of Yosemite came crashing down around her.

Dot looked up at Wakko with a frown. She'd screamed at him. Told him that it was his fault that Yosemite was gone. She'd hit him. The whole time Wakko hadn't said a single word, he just let her rant and yell and cry. And when it was all done and she'd crumbled into bitter tears, he reached out and held her until she stopped. Dot didn't care that Wakko didn't have a lot to say sometimes – he'd known exactly what to do.

Dot squeezed her eyes shut and pulled closer to him. She didn't deserve a brother like Wakko. Not after what she'd done to him. And yet here he was, both arms wrapped around her shoulders, tongue lolled across his face. If she'd lost him to that snake Rocky like she'd lost Yosemite, she didn't know what she'd do.

Rocky…

Dot shuddered. Just thinking of him made it hard to breathe. It filled her chest with a crushing dread like she'd never known. He was the reason she wasn't sleeping now, despite the fact that she'd never felt more exhausted in her life. Every time a shadow moved outside the car she'd nearly had a panic attack, convinced it was him, him and that gun…

There was something about being a toon that gave her a sense of invulnerability, so to see the toughest toon she'd ever known come to an end before her in a matter of seconds made her mind grind to a halt. It just couldn't be. He couldn't be gone. She'd never get to talk to him again, he'd never show her another one of his fancy pistol tricks or call her a 'dang broad,' she'd never see him get all riled up when she beat him at checkers…

Dot's throat tightened and she buried her face into Wakko's stomach. Her attachment to her brother had grown fierce. No one could take him from her. No one, ever.

The sound of footsteps outside made her heart stop. Perking her ears up, Dot shrunk lower into the seat. Had she heard right, or was it her sleep-deprived mind playing tricks on her? Holding and her breath and listening, she nearly cried out when she heard more footsteps. And voices. Definitely voices.

"_Wakko…Wakko, wake up…_"

"Huhh…five more minutes…"

"_Wakko, there's someone outside!_"

Wakko blinked a few times, groaning as he shifted in his seat. "Some…outside…what?"

It took him a moment to take in his surroundings and recall where they were. When he did, Dot saw the flash of recognition and anxiety in his eyes. They ducked down beneath the windows, with Wakko all but throwing himself on top of her. Dot whimpered as the footsteps drew closer…she listened for the click of Rocky's boots, convinced this was it…she'd fight him if she had to, she'd mallet him til he couldn't see straight…

The dim light of the sunrise was obscured as a head peeked into the passenger window. Unable to help herself, Dot craned her neck uncomfortably, trying to see if she recognized the outline of Rocky's hat or Pete's full cheeks. It was hard to tell.

"It's them!" came a muffled cry of joy from outside the car. The figure outside the door began to pound on the window with one hand while waving frantically with the other. Dot and Wakko frowned at each other for a moment before sitting upright. If it was Rocky or Pete, Dot was pretty sure they wouldn't bother knocking. Squinting in the light, Dot leaned forward to get a closer look.

"Oh my – " she choked out, grabbing Wakko's arm, "_Skip!_"

Dot lunged forward and opened the door. Skippy blanched the second before she tackled him straight to the ground in a ferocious hug.

"I, uh…missed…you," Skippy managed in spite of the fact that Dot was pretty sure she had squeezed the breath right out of him.

"I missed you so much!" she said, realizing she was crying but not caring, "I'm so happy to see you, I can't believe you're here…how…how in the world did you find us?"

Wakko let out a bark of shocked laughter and was on the ground too, clapping Skippy on the back.

"I don't believe it – Dot, Wakko – "

"How'd you find us!"

"I missed you!"

"I can't even begin – "

Dot pulled back to look at him. He had a black eye and a few scratches on his face, but his smile was still wide and irrefutably Skippy's.

He squirmed in her grasp to look over his shoulder. "Buster, c'mon over, they're here!"

Both Dot's and Wakko's heads shot up to see Buster, eyeing them with a slowly spreading grin and waving. Seeing him was like a breath of fresh air, despite the fact that he looked like he'd lost a fight with a lawnmower. His ears were shredded, and chunks of his fur were missing. There were bags under his eyes that gave off the impression that he hadn't slept since she'd last seen him. It didn't matter; she'd nearly forgotten that seeing him was normal, that she'd once had a normal life.

"Hiya kids," he said with a laugh, and Dot and Wakko wasted no time into flinging themselves into his arms.

"You guys sure picked the right place to park, we've been hiding out here for a while. I'd recognize Scratchy's car anywhere," Buster said. He turned to Wakko with an ear-to-ear grin. "And since when did you learn how to drive?"

Wakko puffed up his chest proudly. "Since I spent the last couple weeks practicing."

"Where've you guys been? What happened? Tell me everything. Have you seen Yakko? What about the others?"

"Wakko was with Scratchy and I was at Bugs' with…with S-Sammy, and…no, we haven't…seen Yakko…" Dot began. She looked at Wakko, who looked back at her sadly. The full weight of the last few weeks was settling back on her shoulders, and the realization of what had happened to them was like a massive wall that loomed over them, blocking out the sunlight. They'd lost Yosemite, they had no idea what had become of Scratchy and Bugs, and she hadn't heard from her oldest brother in weeks.

Buster seemed to understand the hesitance in her voice. "No Yakko, huh? What about Babs?"

Dot and Wakko exchanged glances. "We thought she was with you. Did something happen?" Wakko asked.

Skippy bit his lip and looked at Buster, who had stiffened. He ran a hand through his ears and sighed, struggling to keep the pain in his face to a minimum. "Well…when we got jumped in the desert, we…she and…we got split up. I tried to find her. I looked everywhere, but half the time I got chased off by those damn weasels. I…I don't know where she is. But – "

" – but we'll find her," Dot finished.

Wakko nodded. "Yeah, and we'll find Yakko."

"And Bugs, and Scratchensniff," Skippy added.

Maybe it was the fact that they wanted so desperately for it to be true, but it the assurance in what their words was remarkably encouraging. It wasn't speculation and underlying fear anymore, it was a fact that they would find the ones they loved. Buster's ears perked up, and the smallest of grins twitched across his mouth. He slung his arms around their shoulders.

"What happened to you guys while I was gone? With all this inspirational nonsense we might as well drive over to Disney."

* * *

Yakko hadn't moved since the weasel guards had tossed him unceremoniously back into his cell. He was pretty sure he'd lose his lunch – not that he'd had any – if he did. So he lay on the floor, curled on his side, reveling in the firmness of the ground while praying for the stench of the ink to fade.

Inexplicably, he thought of the day that Scratchensniff had called him at their apartment in Manhattan. He remembered sipping tea, and how normal it was, how clean and safe. That felt like lifetimes ago. Had that even been him? The cell walls seemed to press upon him, and he was overcome with a violent urge to claw his way through the stone and compacted dirt and to the fresh air. Somewhere over the last few weeks he had lost part of himself. He should be crying or screaming or something, anything, but no, he was oddly disconnected from it all. Fearing for his life at every given second was growing exhausting. He was so dangerously close to not caring anymore. The thought should have frightened him, but it did not. He accepted it objectively, like someone had told him it might rain tomorrow.

He stiffened when he heard feet pad in his direction. Someone was close to him, right next to him in fact, but he didn't have the energy to move. The fight had been knocked out of him and left cowering in the corner of the Blot's lair. But he flinched when fingertips lightly grazed his shoulder. He was surprised he'd felt it – and here he'd thought he'd forgotten the texture of sensitivity. Yakko cracked an eye open and squinted through his mask. One of his cellmates was kneeling next to him. The rest were sleeping in the corner.

"How are you?"

As Yakko suspected, it was Molly. He snorted. "You ever see a zookeeper throw a hungry tiger a piece of meat? I'm the meat."

Molly let her hand rest fully on his shoulder. Her movements were stiff and careful, making Yakko wonder what hell Bosko had put her through. "God, I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do?"

"Tell the tigers to try going vegetarian."

"Aside from that."

Yakko didn't answer. He was getting a headache.

"Here." She handed him a chunk of bread and a cup of water.

"No, I can't take that, it's yours," Yakko said gruffly. "You won't get anything else until tomorrow. You'll be starving."

"What, and you're not? It's the least I can do."

Yakko regarded her for a moment. Realizing that he wasn't going to win this argument, he took the bread and finished it in two bites. He gulped down the water as Molly watched.

"Thank you, Ears. You saved me back there. Again."

"I guess chivalry isn't dead after all."

"I mean it." She leaned closer to him until their masks were nearly touching. "Ears, I…I trust you. I think you're a decent guy. So, I've got a proposition to make."

The former Yakko would have dreamt up about fifty smart-aleck retorts to this, but the Yakko lying on the ground in a cell decided to let the moment be.

Molly swallowed. "I…I think I've figured out a way to break out of this place. But I can't do it alone."

Beneath his mask, Yakko quirked an eyebrow. "Let me guess, you want me to ask Gums to help you."

"After everything that happened you can find a way to be sarcastic. Impressive."

"Lots of practice."

"What do you say? Are you with me?"

Yakko shut his eyes. He'd been trying to escape since day one, but as far as he was concerned this place was sealed tight. Then again, he wasn't exactly Houdini and didn't have too much experience as far as escaping cells was concerned. And not to mention that very high likelihood that he would be killed. There was that too. Shouldn't that bother him more? And of course the Blot…a shudder shook Yakko's body, and he tried to squeeze the memory of the DIP out of his mind.

But his heartbeat reminded him that Wakko and Dot were still out there, waiting for him, and as long as he was in here he wasn't going to find them anytime soon. The need to see them again was like a burning fire in his chest. Every moment spent in the Compound was another moment spent separated from the other two parts of his soul.

With more effort than he expected, Yakko propped himself up on his elbow. "You say you got a plan?"

He could almost feel Molly grinning. "An idea, yes. A plan, no. But, two heads are better than one, right?"

"We'll just keep telling ourselves that."

He stared at her for a moment. The scope of his choice was dawning on him. They were going to attempt the impossible. It could very well be the last thing he ever did. One shot of DIP to the back and he'd be wiped from existence, not even a memory. Wakko and Dot would never know what happened to him.

"Look," he said quietly, "I think if we're gonna do this, we should at least see each other's faces. Just in case…if anything happens…just so someone would know the other was here – "

"I agree," Molly said quickly, as though she didn't want him to complete the thought.

Reaching for the hem of his mask, Yakko hesitated. He had a recognizable face, there was no doubt she'd know who he was. And she probably had an idea that Bosko and Mortimer were looking for him. She could turn him in without a second thought. But, for once in his life, Yakko decided to go with his instincts instead of his brain. He decided that he trusted her too. He didn't have much of a choice.

Making sure no one was looking, Yakko lifted the mask off his face, letting the cool air touch it. Molly's hand jerked from his shoulder and to her mouth as she gasped rather violently.

"_Yakko!_"

"The one and only," he said, clearing his throat and speaking in his normal voice. "The original United States Canada Mexico Panama." Damn, he didn't know this girl was a fan of him too. Good to know he still had it going on, even in a prison camp –

"Yakko, it's _me._"

For the first time, she dropped the husk from her voice and Yakko frowned. But before he could even process the familiarity of the voice, she reached up and tore the mask from her face, and his stomach flipped over. His jaw went slack as he stared at her, utterly dumbfounded.

"_Babs?_"


	18. The Escape

_**Chapter 17: The Escape**_

Had he finally gone crazy? Had his encounter with the Blot pushed him over the edge? Because there was no way that Babs was sitting in front of him right now, gasping and shaking as tears spilled out of her eyes and down her cheeks.

"Yakko…I don't believe…I got caught in the desert, we got split up…I saw Wile E get taken away and I thought, t-thought I should pretend to be a Class C…oh, and then they were looking for you and Wakko and Dot, I didn't want them to know it was me…changed my voice…_oh Yakko – _"

Babs threw herself forward and wrapped her arms around him. It sent a jolt through him, like an electric current; it was then that he realized how long it had been since he'd felt any kind of comforting touch, and a warmth spread through Yakko's entire body that made him disregard his aches and pains. He brought his arms around her, hesitantly at first, as though he'd forgotten how to do such a thing. Slowly he relaxed into the embrace, and sighed as he buried his face in her shoulder. Her body trembled in time with her barely audible sobs, so he squeezed her tighter. It was all he had. For once, he couldn't think of anything appropriate to say.

When she pulled back, her eyes were red but her tears were under control. Yakko held her shoulder to keep her still so he could get a good look at her. Her fur was dirty and matted, and her cheeks were thin from malnourishment, but otherwise she looked relatively okay. Hell, he probably looked worse. It dawned on him that she had rubbed her feet and ankles with dirt so her pink fur wouldn't give her away. That seemed exceedingly clever to him for some reason.

But then she flashed him a radiant smile and her eyes were wildly bright and he forgot what he was thinking about. In spite of everything, she was smiling. And it was all for him. Her face seemed to shine in the darkness, and Yakko's stomach did a familiar backflip and his heart fluttered wildly.

Good god, were his palms sweating?

But then the smile slid from her face and Babs regarded him sadly. "I was hoping they hadn't caught you."

"I could say the same thing about you."

"What happened? What about the others – do you know what happened to Buster?"

Yakko hid a groan. He knew Buster was going to come up, he was just hoping it wasn't going to be less than five minutes into their conversation. "I got chased by this van, I think it was probably Bosko and Mortimer. Bugs called me to warn me, but I haven't seen him since. Or anyone else for that matter. They caught me the next day."

Babs was silent for a moment as she let the news settle over her.

"They caught me that afternoon, right after I left the car. When they brought me in here, Bosko showed me that picture of you and Wakko and Dot. They're looking for you guys, Yakko. But why?"

"Unless they're craving some songs about geography, I have no clue."

Babs dragged a hand across her face. "And they have no idea you're sitting right under their noses…" She paused, then glanced up at him. "So you don't know where Wakko and Dot are?"

"No," he said, ignoring the way his chest constricted.

"I'm so sorry, Yakko."

Yakko's eyes snapped to meet hers. Knowing that there was someone here who understood how difficult it was for him to admit that, someone who had even the slightest idea as to how badly he missed them…it just made him want to reach out to her, pull her close and –

"Well, that's it then," Babs said succinctly, "we're getting out of here. Pronto."

"And how do you propose we do that?"

"I told you - er, Molly told you - but I have an idea."

Babs' idea ended up taking several days to convey, as her hurried whispers were usually cut short by one of the weasels banging angrily against the cell doors. Each day is like a new piece of the puzzle, which Yakko readily helped to put together. Apparently Bosko had punished her after the whole Plucky fiasco; this infuriated Yakko, but Babs insisted that there was a silver lining. He'd taken her to a large garage (Yakko hadn't even known there was one) which led her to discover that the weasels were shipped out of the Compound at the end of every week. They were herded into vans like the ones that chased them in the desert, at which point they were driven north, past the border and presumably toward Los Angeles. As the head of the guards, Gums had the keys to the vans, which were kept in a garage on the other end of the Compound. Get a key, get a van, and they were out of here.

"But that's not enough," Yakko whispered to her in the darkness.

"What do you mean?"

"What about the others? Shirley and them? We need to get them out too."

"I know, but I don't know how. It's gonna be hard enough just getting ourselves out without getting a healthy dose of DIP. Once we get back to Toontown, we could get help…"

"We can't just leave them here."

Babs sighed. "I know."

"We'll stick them in the back of the van, like they do with the weasels. We'll chauffer them straight up to Toontown."

"Yeah, but _how _are we getting them _into _the van? They don't exactly look like weasels."

Yakko frowned in thought. "We need our hammerspaces back," he said.

The plan took another week to concoct. It was whispered back and forth during their every spare moment with no weasel or guard breathing down their necks. Yakko did his best to keep out of trouble. He kept his head low, he kept his mouth shut. This seemed to unnerve Gums, but when he reported to Bosko and Mortimer they joyously gloated that the Blot had finally "broken" Ears. They kicked and prodded him whenever they passed by, usually with jeers and insults added in for good measure, but Yakko never said a word. Instead, he pictured the looks on their faces when he was driving away from the Compound at full speed.

As they end of the week approached, Yakko and Babs rehearsed their plan over and over again until Yakko could have recited it backwards while on rollerskates. But on the night before they had agreed to set the plan in motion, Yakko could not sleep. Not that he had ever slept well there anyway – since they were underground he'd lost sense of time and had no idea if it was night or not, he just slept when they were allowed to sleep. But he stared at the ceiling, listening to Babs breathe quietly next to him, listing all the things that could go wrong in his head. First and foremost was death. One quick squirt of DIP and it would be all over. Or if the guard with the DIP gun was a bad shot and only got him in the arm or something, he'd spend the rest of his life limbless. They could be caught. Sent to the Blot again. Tortured. And if anything happened to Babs, he didn't know what he'd do with himself.

But he'd ceased caring about being killed. Or tortured, or injured. No, the thought that kept Yakko awake was that if he was caught, they'd no doubt increase his security. He would never have another chance to escape, and he would never see his brother and sister again. The thought chilled him to the bone, and he spent the night drifting in and out of a fitful sleep.

He woke to someone gently shaking his shoulder. Yakko jumped up rather quickly.

"Whozzit – Panama…who's there?"

"Yakko, it's me," Babs hissed from beneath her hood. He could barely make her out in the darkness. Looking around, Yakko saw that other prisoners were still asleep.

"Sorry," Yakko rasped, his voice still heavy from sleep, "I'm guessing this is my wake up call?"

Babs nodded. "You ready?"

"Eeehhhhh…"

"Ditto."

They looked at each other for a moment. Yakko wanted to say something comforting, something inspiring, but currently his tongue seemed to be made out of lead. He remembered Bugs telling him that confidence was everything and with it he could reach the end of any finish line. Did that apply to breaking out of a prison camp as well? It was easy for Bugs to say, he was perpetually confident. How did he pull that off, anyhow?

Afraid that if he said anything his voice would come out as a high-pitched squeak, Yakko settled for squeezing Babs' shoulder. Then, deciding that if he didn't start now he probably never would, Yakko got to his feet and strode to the cell door. As usual, two weasels stood outside the door. They were currently squabbling with one another in their garbled language. Before Yakko would have rolled his eyes, but now he just wondered if the weasels were toons he had once known.

He leaned against the bars without either weasel noticing. After watching them claw at each other for a moment, Yakko cleared his throat. Both weasels spun to face him, guns raised.

"Hi there!" Yakko greeted jovially. "And how are you two this fine, dank morning?"

They snarled at him, edging their guns closer to his nose.

"Ah, friendly as ever! Looks like someone had their OJ. Well, seeing as how we're all in a good mood, did I ever tell you two that you're ugly?"

They blinked.

"Yup, you're downright hideous," Yakko continued, "Your mom took one look at ya and then asked for her money back. Oh, and did I mention you smell bad? Really, you could power a pickup truck off of your own fumes. That is if the pickup truck doesn't try to drive away from you first."

Yakko waited for them to react, but they just stared at him blankly. He rolled his eyes, realizing that Bosko and Mortimer probably ridiculed them so much on a daily basis that this was normal to them.

"Well gentlemen, I hate that it has to come to this…" Yakko drawled. With that, he stuck two of his fingers through the cell bars and poked the closest weasel in the eyes.

This had the desired effect. The weasel howled in pain, while the other unlocked the cell door and wrenched Yakko outside by his shirt collar. While the weasel snarled in his face, Yakko noticed the gray blur that was Babs as she slipped out the door and around the corner, unnoticed. Perfect, so far so good.

Still clutching him, the weasel began to drag him down the hall. They didn't get very far before they nearly collided with Mortimer. He had a cigarette dangling out of his mouth, but this didn't stop him from taking a massive bite out of a ham sandwich.

"Breakfast of champions," Yakko commented.

"Well well well," Mortimer said as he crossed his arms, "if it ain't my favorite customer. Whatsa matter Ears, ya miss me too much?"

"Yeah, I missed that funny laugh you have. You know, the one from all those cartoons you were really popular in – oh wait, sorry, that was Mickey. My mistake."

The smirk faltered from Mortimer's face and promptly turned into a snarl. He leaned forward so his nose was pushing against Yakko's mask, and Yakko could see chunks of sandwich caught in his large front teeth.

"Oh kiddo, you gonna be wishin' you paid a bit better attention to those cartoons after I'm through with you," Mortimer growled.

Yakko bristled. At some point or another Mortimer seemed to have picked up on the fact that he did not like being referred to as "kiddo." At least not by anyone but Bugs.

"I'll take it from here," Mortimer snapped at the weasel, and snatched Yakko by the scuff of the neck. Yakko smirked beneath his hood, reveling in the fact that everything was going according to the plan. Then he remembered what the next step was, and his stomach twisted a little.

"You know, you're the only one who can't seem to mind his own business in this joint," Mortimer said as he gave Yakko another rough tug, "You think you're real hot shit, don't ya? Bet ya had a bit part in some cartoon and thought were the next Donald goddamn Duck. I've seen your type before. Think yer gonna change the world, think yer gonna be in a cartoon every week. Carpal tunnel from signin' too many autographs. Think you'll be a _star_. Well guess what sweetheart, it ain't like that. It ain't like that at all. They'll promise ya everything and give ya nothing."

Mortimer yanked Yakko into his office and shoved him to the ground. "And you know what?" Mortimer continued, picking up fervor, "I bet you were _born_, you lousy worm. I bet you were born thinking you were entitled to your own damn cartoon. Well guess what? Us drawn toons, we were _made _to be in cartoons. You were born to get us coffee."

Yakko stared at him as he marched toward the three metal tubs. He had no idea that Mortimer felt so strongly about born toons – did Bosko feel the same? And the Blot? Was this part of why they were dragging everyone to the Compound? Yakko shook these thoughts out of his head when he remembered he had a job to do. Mortimer was reaching for the tub with the water, so his back was toward him. Knowing he only had moments, Yakko began to search the room. Babs had held fast by the rumor that somewhere in the office was the chemical needed to remove the RIP on his back. She'd seen Bosko with it once: a clear liquid inside an eyedropper. As Mortimer struggled with the tub – he was nowhere near as muscular as Mugsy – Yakko's eyes scanned the shelves. Nothing but guns and rotting sandwiches…an anvil, shaving cream…he checked the table in the middle of the room, but it only seemed to have more sandwiches and an assortment of uncomfortable-looking chemicals and metal implements –

There. He saw it. Near the corner of the table: a small eyedropper. That had to be it. Yakko reached for it, but stopped short when Mortimer rounded on him.

"Where do ya think yer goin'?"

Mortimer's black eyes flicked from Yakko's hand to the table. Yakko's heart was thundering in his chest. If he screwed everything up this early in the game he wasn't going to even be able to look Babs in the eye…

"Eh, you thinkin' you was gonna sneak my sandwich…don't think we feed ya enough, eh? Well, that's 'cause we don't, ha! Now git over here!"

Yakko barely had time to shapeshift his face before Mortimer ripped the hood from his head and grabbed him by the ears. Yakko caught a glance of the eyedropper just as Mortimer plunged his head into the cold water. Thinking fast, Yakko swallowed a mouthful of it while still trying to hold his breath, still trying to retain some level of consciousness. The corners of his vision were blurring when Mortimer finally pulled him back up again.

"Aw, I bet you missed that Ears – "

Yakko spit the mouthful of water directly into Mortimer's face. The mouse spluttered angrily, cursing and swiping at his eyes. Yakko seized his chance and snatched the eyedropper off the table. He slipped it down the front of his jumpsuit just as Mortimer, outraged, blinked the last bits of water from his eyes, droplets falling from his nose and chin.

"Why, you look like a drowned rat," Yakko commented.

With a snarl of rage, Mortimer struck out and landed a punch on his jaw. Yakko stumbled backwards into the table, sending a number of the foul-smelling chemicals crashing to the floor.

Mortimer looked livid. "You little bastard – "

Just as he lunged for Yakko, the door swung open. Bosko stormed in, followed by Mugsy, who was dragging in Montana Max by his hair. Max had lost weight and his face was covered in grime, a sharp contrast to the boy who would flick specks of dust from his Armani jackets.

"What's this?" Bosko barked.

"Just teaching our favorite a little lesson," Mortimer said, targeting Yakko with a glare.

"Looks like it went the other way around, idiot."

"Let go of me!" Max cried, twisting his body wildly. Mugsy barely noticed.

"Aw shut up already ya dirty little rat. You know what this one did?" Bosko asked, jerking his thumb at Max, "He tried to grab my gun right outta my hands. Can you believe that? Too bad he's got the grip you'd expect from a pampered little punk."

Yakko rolled his eyes. He was leaving out the part where he most likely had Mugsy do all the work for him.

"He tried to buy me off, too!" Bosko continued, making Mortimer snicker. Bosko reached out and pinched Max's cheeks roughly. "That was real cute, kid. Don't ya know yer money don't matter to me? It's pocket change compared to what I'll have once the Big Boss gets his way. But you don't get that, you think yer money can get you outta whatever mess you get yourself in…you keep yer cash in yer hammerspace, do ya?"

"Here, take it!" Max cried, pulling rolls of cash from behind his back with reckless abandon. They tumbled to the floor. "Take all of it, just let me go!"

"That ain't even a quarter of it," Bosko said, his lip curling. Still, he grabbed at it greedily.

"Bite me," Max snapped.

"I'd have to get me a rabies shot if did that. No, I have a different idea for you. Mugsy, get the PermaRIP."

Still dragging Max effortlessly behind him, Mugsy pulled one of the other metal tubs to the middle of the room and tossed the cover aside. It smelled unpleasantly like turpentine, but it was thick like the RIP had been. Mugsy handed Bosko the paintbrush, and Yakko's heart started to pound.

"Hold 'im down, Mugsy," Bosko ordered.

In the next second Mugsy had Max flattened on his stomach faster than a dropped anvil would have. Pulling a knife from his hammerspace, Bosko tore a line straight through Max's shirt, exposing his back. The fur on the back of Yakko's neck stood on end. Hammerspaces only existed in the imaginations of each toon, but even though it was invisible to the eye there was something tangible about its presence. He knew it was there on Max's back, he could feel it just as he could feel his own at all times. In this moment Max's hammerspace felt extremely vulnerable. Max seemed to realize this too, as he began struggling rather violently against Mugsy's iron grip.

"What are you doing?" Max cried. His voice broke.

Bosko cracked his knuckles and dipped the paintbrush into the tub. "After your little stunt today, I've decided I can't trust you. And I've also decided that I don't like you. I don't think ya deserve to just reach back and pull out a wad of cash, wave it around and have all yer problems go away. So I'm just closin' up the bank."

"You're not destroying his hammerspace?" Yakko blurted, unable to stop himself in his shock.

Bosko rolled his eyes. "Yer a regular Einstein. Of _course _that's what I'm doin' ya dink."

Max yelped in panic and began to struggle in earnest, trying to crane his neck around to see what Bosko was doing. Mortimer laughed with giddy excitement, releasing Yakko to clap his hands gleefully. His heart pounding, Yakko's eyes traveled from Mortimer's transfixed face to the DIP gun hanging from his belt.

"Now hold still…" Bosko said, "this won't hurt a bit…ha, I'm yankin' yer chain, this is gonna hurt like hell."

Max kicked his feet. "No, no no no!"

"Hurry up Bosko, I wanna see 'im squeal!" Mortimer cheered.

Keeping his eyes on Mortimer's face, Yakko slowly reached out for the gun.

"Hold still ya little shit, do ya want me to RIP away your mouth too?" Bosko grunted against a squirming Max. Mugsy was watching Bosko with more focus than he'd ever had before.

Yakko's shaking fingers were moments away from the grip of the gun. Just one last inch…

Max's scream of agony tore straight through the air and into Yakko's brain. Unable to stop himself he turned – no sooner had the tip of the brush touched Max's back when Max's skin began to sizzle and blacken, with a thin trail of smoke curling its way to the ceiling. Yakko didn't care how much he disliked Max – no toon deserved that. Ever.

Mortimer cheered, and in one movement Yakko wrapped his hand around the gun and yanked it from his belt. Not realizing what had happened, Mortimer turned to face him in confusion. Yakko swung with all his might, connecting the butt of the gun to the side of Mortimer's head with a sick _crack_. Mortimer grunted and fell to the ground in a heap.

Bosko, who had made it halfway down Max's back, looked up in surprise, only to find Yakko pointing the gun straight at his nose.

"Don't move," Yakko breathed.

Bosko's face hardened. "Keep pointin' that thing at me and I'll shove this brush down this pathetic brat's throat." Beneath him, Max whimpered weakly.

Yakko inhaled, trying to keep his head level, trying to keep the gun from slipping out of his sweating palms.

"You won't shoot me. You don't have the guts, worm."

"Get off him. Let him go," Yakko said in a steady voice.

"I mean it!" Bosko roared, pulling Max's head up by his hair and holding the brush next to his mouth, "Put it down or he dies, slow-like!"

Still shapeshifted, Yakko stared into Max's panic-stricken face. His eyes were wide and fearful. A few tears slipped out of them as he pleaded in whisper, "Please…_please_…"

Gritting his teeth, Yakko placed the gun on the ground and kicked it aside. Then, faster than he would have though possible, Bosko whipped out his own DIP gun and fired. Yakko dove behind the table, missing the stream of DIP by inches. The stench filled the small room, but he was so used to it by now that he ignored it. Bosko had dropped Max and was standing, gun aimed for Yakko's chest. Yakko scrambled to his feet, but Bosko was almost upon him, he was charging around the table – but Bosko slipped on the spilled chemicals, his feet flying out from under him as he pitched forward and collided with Yakko like a wrecking ball. Yakko landed hard on his back, knocking the air straight out of his lungs.

Bosko blinked at him. "Holy shit…it's you."

"Warner?" Max croaked.

Yakko frowned at them for a moment, then touched his face. He realized with a sickening jolt that the fall had jarred him enough that his shapeshift had vanished, and he was now exposed.

"Yeah, well hello nurse to you too," he quipped in his normal voice.

"I don't believe…the whole time…but, Ears…Class C…you couldn't be…"

Yakko smirked at him. "Wish…that you…could speak…"

Bosko face grew red as he clenched his teeth. "You…you're MINE!"

"Sorry, I'm out of your league," Yakko retorted, but balked when Bosko got to his feet. Or, at least he tried to – he didn't get very far before he'd slip and fall back into the chemicals. Growling like an animal, Bosko cocked his gun and prepared to take aim.

Thinking fast, Yakko turned. "Mugsy!" he cried, "Bosko's hurt, go help him!"

Mugsy blinked at him, unaccustomed to being spoken to by anyone but Bosko or Mortimer. For a second Yakko thought he was going to ignore him, but then Mugsy turned to look at Bosko curiously.

"What?" Bosko blurted, "I'm not hurt, I'm just…wait…Mugsy, no…Mugsy, back off, stop it! Bad! Bad oaf!"

He was too late; Mugsy marched dutifully over to Bosko and scooped him up, cradling the smaller toon to his chest. Bosko squirmed and swore, but it was useless. Mugsy only clutched him closer, in a protective, almost motherly gesture.

"Now don't let go of him until he gets better, got it?" Yakko told him. When Mugsy nodded, he dashed to Max's side.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Max groaned.

"Yeah, I missed you too," Yakko said, pulling Max to his feet. "C'mon, _move_."

He tugged Max out the door, slamming it behind him. He was supposed to get the RIP remover and get out of there unnoticed, and that was all clearly shot to hell. He'd lost so much time now, and it wouldn't be long before Mortimer came to or Bosko finally escaped Mugsy's grip.

"Are you okay?" he asked Max when they'd cleared the corner.

Max's head was bent low, and if Yakko didn't know any better he'd say that Max was crying again. "I'd emptied out my offshore accounts when the kidnappings started," Max moaned, "everything was in my hammerspace. _Everything_. I'm ruined, I'm absolutely ruined…"

"I wasn't asking about your damn money, I was asking about _you_."

"It's the same thing! Without my money I'm nothing!"

"Oh boy will you and Scratchy have a lot to talk about when we get home," Yakko muttered.

They peeled around the corner, and Yakko peered down the corridor where the Class A's and B's were held. There were no guards, which either meant that Babs had done her job distracting them or that it was a trap. Crossing his fingers, Yakko hoped for the former and crept toward the cell door. He knocked three times.

"You here to see the wizard?" came Babs' voice.

Yakko grinned as the door swung open, revealing Babs. She was wearing a supervisor's jumpsuit, which was navy instead of gray. The room was swarming with toons; all the prisoners, both Upper and Lower Class, had been sprung from their cells and gathered here.

"I grabbed the whole laundry room of uniforms, we'll have one for every night this week – oh my god, _Max_?"

"Yeah, looked what the cat dragged in," Yakko muttered. "Bosko burned off his hammerspace, I don't know how much of it he's got left."

Babs gasped. "Since when could they do _that_?"

"Since now, fluff-and-stuff!" Max snapped.

Babs glared at him, but Yakko shrugged. "Give him a break Babs, he hasn't had the best morning – "

"Yakko! Like, oh my god!"

Shirley came bursting out of the darkness and immediately wrapped her arms around his neck in a bone-crushing hug. "I can't believe you're like here! Babs like told me you were like the one who saved Plucky! Thank you thank you thank you, you're going to have the best karma ever!"

"Thanks Shirl…can't…breathe…" Yakko rasped as she squeezed him, giving her a few weak pats on the back.

Babs gently pried her friend away from him, and when she pulled back Shirley's eyes shown with tears. "Plucky's doing a lot better, Babs told me you were the one who stopped the Machine. He remembers who I am and everything. His brain's not totally fried like those weasel dudes' are. There's just one thing – "

Plucky, in all his odd glory, waddled forward. He brought a furred hand up to head in a salute. "Batduck, reporting for duty!" he said.

" – yeah, he thinks he's Batduck," Shirley sighed.

Yakko frowned at Plucky. "Well that's, eeehhhhh…_close_, right?"

"Listen, Yakko, did you get the stuff?" Babs interrupted.

"Oh yeah – "

Yakko reached down his front and pulled out the eyedropper. "Ladies first," he said, raising an eyebrow at Babs. She nodded and quickly turned her back to him, and began undoing her jumpsuit –

"Whoa whoa whoa, what are you doing?" Yakko yelped, his voice jumping several pitches higher.

The jumpsuit fell limply to Babs' sides. She turned to look at him over her bare shoulder, matching his quirked eyebrow. "Are you taking the RIP off of my hammerspace or what? Isn't that what we're doing?"

"Uh, I…yeah, sorry."

Yakko cleared his throat, thankful for the darkness so Babs could not see the color creeping up into his face. Standing guard in front of Babs, Shirley peered at him from between her ears and gave him a rather sly look. Yakko ignored her and turned his attention to Babs. The sight of her back, long and bare, jerked his memory back to Minerva. He remembered zipping the mink's dress. He remembered feeling wishing he'd never so much as spoken to her. But now, looking at Babs, all he could see was how fragile she had become – he could see the outline of her ribs against her fur, and the long streak of RIP that locked away the extension of her consciousness. But at the same time she stood tall and proud, undamaged and unafraid. Yakko was suddenly overwhelmed by an aggressive surge of protectiveness; no one was going anywhere near this girl. Not while he was around.

"What are you waiting for? An invitation?" Babs called.

Yakko rolled his eyes. Way to ruin the mood, Babs.

Sucking in his breath, Yakko held the eyedropper over the hardened RIP. He was glad Babs was facing away from him because his hand was shaking. Carefully, he squeezed a drop onto her back. The RIP appeared to soften where the drop fell, and Yakko reached out to rub it in. Up until this point he couldn't remember a single moment in his life when he was physically shy around girls. But now he found himself hyper aware of Babs' skin, and he was having trouble reconciling the conflicting urges to touch it or to not even dare come close. But as he rubbed the remover further in, the RIP was siphoning off.

"I think it's working…" Babs murmured, "I can feel it!"

Using both hands, Yakko swiped the last bits of RIP from her back. "There, got it, I think…give it a try Babs, see if it worked."

She tugged her jumpsuit back over her shoulder and reached behind her back. A brilliant grin split her face, and in the next second she tugged out a carrot and took a giant bite.

"Aaah, that's better," she sighed, then reached in her hammerspace to pull out a flurry of items, including an encyclopedia, a sheep, a life preserver, and a potted plant. "Phew…feels good to get that out of there. About face Yakko, it's your turn!"

Yakko turned and quickly peeled his jumpsuit down. His heart was jumping with excitement, but whether this was over the fact that he was about to get his hammerspace back or that Babs was currently running her fingers up and down his spine could not be determined. But Babs had been right: he could feel a lightening behind his back, it was as though air was being fed back into his lungs. He knew it was done before Babs was able to get a word out – Yakko reached into his hammerspace and pulled out the one thing he'd been dying to lay his hands on for weeks.

"Your wallet?" Max snapped incredulously, "You get your hammerspace back and you pull out your wallet? What are you trying to do, rub it in my face, asshole?"

"I'm not going for the Benjamins," Yakko muttered. He flipped through his wallet until – there, he'd found it. The picture Dot had taken of the three of them.

He stared at his siblings. It was the first time he'd seen Wakko and Dot's faces since Bosko had shoved the wanted poster in his face, and that was weeks ago. They were beautiful, just as he remembered them. He could've stared at the picture for days. His throat felt tight, and his eyes were stinging.

Yakko hastily wiped at them when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"You'll see them soon," Babs said softly, "but we need to get out of here first."

Nodding, Yakko slipped his wallet back into his hammerspace and pulled out his gloves. "Missed these," he croaked as he slid them on. Babs began to protest, but he sighed. "Bosko saw my face, he knows it's me anyway."

Babs nodded but looked nervous, moving to remove the RIP from Shirley. The others were already in their navy jumpsuits. It didn't exactly count as a disguise, but it at least wouldn't call as much attention to them as their prisoner uniforms would. It was at that point that he realized that everyone was looking at him with expectant looks on their faces. Were they waiting for him to speak? Despite his reputation as a chatterbox he felt as though his tongue was stuck in his throat. It was the first time he'd seen hopeful looks on anyone's faces in weeks, what was he supposed to say that wouldn't crush them? Try to get into the vans without dying? And even if you're lucky enough to get to the van, who knows if they'll even make it out alive?

He didn't want to lie to them, but he didn't think that would make for the most inspirational speech. Clearing his throat, Yakko said, "Okay everyone, uh, listen up. We're ditching this place, once and for all. There are a bunch of vans on the other side of this Compound. Babs is going to escort you guys over there while I take care of the Machine – I eh, want to make sure we never see another homemade weasel again. But please, _be careful, _I don't need to tell you that this is dangerous. Don't draw attention to yourselves, but defend yourselves if you have to. Everyone who has a hammerspace should pair up with someone who doesn't, got it? Protect yourselves and keep each other safe…and hey, maybe we'll be home by dinner."

The other toons began to pair up immediately. There was something alarming about everyone taking him so seriously – what if he ended up getting them all killed? But he didn't have time to dwell on this, as he noticed that Max was the only toon left standing alone.

"Max, get with someone who's got a hammerspace."

"Screw you, splot, I've got a hammerspace."

Yakko crossed his arms. "No, you _had _a hammerspace. Tell your ego to quit wasting time so we can get out of here."

"Who the hell do you me to grab onto? The Easter Bunny?" Max cried, gesturing around the room, "There's no one left, dipshit. I'm fine by myself, the only thing another toon would be good for is as a DIP shield."

"Well aren't you the resourceful one. Looks like I'm your DIP shield then."

"What?"

"Move it, you're coming with me," Yakko ordered.

"No way – "

Babs stepped between them. "I hate to break up the chit chat gents, but we're kinda in the middle of a prison break. Think it can wait?"

"Typical woman, always making demands and _ack_!"

Max was cut short by Yakko pulling a carrot from his hammerspace and stuffing it in Max's mouth. "Bugs taught me that one," Yakko muttered to Babs, who smirked.

He turned to address the crowd once more. "Okay everyone, stick with Babs and do what she says. Max and I will meet up with you…in a bit. Remember, if you smell DIP, duck, got it?"

There was a murmuring of "got it" "good luck" and "thanks Yakko" from the crowd as they shuffled by him. Yakko felt a hand on his shoulder again. It belonged to Wile E, who was smiling at him. "Just like Bugs," he murmured softly before slipping into the crowd of toons. Yakko stared after him, wanting to say something back but feeling simply at a loss for words. This was happening more and more lately, and he didn't like it.

Peeking out the door to make sure it was clear, Babs motioned for everyone to follow. Before she left she glanced back at Yakko and they locked eyes; it looked as though she wanted to say something to him, but then she seemed to remember she was leading a group of toons to freedom and skirted out the door instead.

"You tell Buster Bluebell Bunny you stole his girlfriend yet?" Max asked.

"Shut up," Yakko snapped.

"Oooh, hit a nerve, did I?"

"I'll hit something of yours if you don't cram it and follow me."

Max grumbled something back but Yakko ignored it. Now that Babs and the others were gone he was reminded of how far they still had to go until they were free, of how many things were still left to chance. He crept out of the cell, Max behind him, and struck off in the opposite direction of the other prisoners. Babs had done her job quite well; it had been up to her to convince all the weasel guards that she was, in fact, Mortimer going under cover. They'd spent the last week perfecting her Mortimer impression, as well as inventing a reason as to why Mortimer would be asking all the guards to report to the break room. An earthquake drill was the best one they could come up with.

But as they rounded the corner, Yakko spotted two weasels were skulking around the entrance to the Machine room. There was no way she could've rounded up all of them. He caught Max just as he was about to bluster down the hall. Reaching behind his back, Yakko pulled out a giftwrapped box, placed it on the ground, and kicked it so it slid in front of the weasels.

"What are you doing, it's not like it's Christmas – " Max began, but Yakko slapped a hand over his mouth.

At first the weasels jumped away and hissed at the box, but slowly their confidence grew and they began to inspect it curiously. Yakko crossed his fingers. One of them was brave enough to poke the box with its foot. Ever so slowly, they clawed at the package. One of them pulled the ribbon, and the whole thing tumbled open –

The box erupted with toon fireworks. Sparklers whizzed around the weasels' heads as rockets ricocheted off the walls. The weasels yelped in panic and tried to run, but only managed to crash into one another since they were all but blinded by the bright lights. Taking advantage of their distraction, Yakko grabbed Max by the arm and together they ducked into the Machine room.

"Works every time," Yakko said with a smirk.

Max rolled his eyes. "Next time maybe you should pull something out of your ass that draws even _more _attention to us."

This made Yakko pause. The juvenile taunting had ceased, and Max's voice had now taken a sharply bitter texture to it. Perhaps it was seeing Yakko pull something from his hammerspace again, or maybe it was that the Compound was finally getting to him. Yakko had no idea. But he didn't have time to puzzle it out either. Frowning, Yakko pressed forward.

The room was more dimly lit than usual. Yakko could barely go three steps without tripping over a wire or a tube, and Max was cursing with ease each time he stumbled and fell. Having been forced to work there every day, Yakko had a better grasp for the room's layout and was able to pick his way to the Machine itself.

"Listen Max, you stand guard while I take this thing apart. If you see anyone – _anyone _– get my attention."

Max merely grunted at him, surprising Yakko. The old Max would have probably told him to go screw himself and, to Yakko's infinite shock, he missed the taunts.

Trying to push these thoughts out of his head, Yakko set to work. He had little time, minutes maybe, before the guards figured out what was going on. But he couldn't leave knowing that this hellish Machine was still working, that it could still take an innocent toon and turn him or her into a monster. Pulling a pair of scissors from his hammerspace, Yakko began to slice through clumps of wires, plowing forward like a jungle explorer. He bent pipes and tore through the tubes, ducking out of the way of weak jets of ink. When the scissors wasn't enough, he pulled something else from his hammerspace: shovels, baseball bats, sledgehammers, jaws of life. Everything was ripped apart with a savage vengeance. He didn't have time to be an artist. He didn't even know if it was going to work.

He made his way to what had been his station. The pipe he had broken had been hastily, and poorly, reassembled and held together mainly with duct tape. Yakko grabbed the gigantic fastener with both hands, twisted, and pulled, grunting with the effort. It came loose, letting a small stream of ink pool on the floor. He looked at the fastener for a moment before tossing it in his hammerspace. They'd have a lot of fun trying to put it back together without the right piece.

Yakko stepped back to admire his handiwork for a moment when he noticed the plastic flamingo on the floor. Its neck was bent at an awkward angle from when he'd smashed it against the Machine two weeks earlier. Feeling a bizarre surge of affection for it, he stashed it behind his back as well. He couldn't stand leaving it in this place.

"I'll show you where he is, I swear, just give me my hammerspace back, please – "

Yakko stiffened at the sound of Max's voice. Footsteps were coming his way. His heart racing, he searched for an escape, somewhere to run, but he was backed in a corner –

Max came into view as he stormed around the bulk of the Machine, looking at Yakko like he was some kind of rare animal he was trying to trap for its pelt. "Here he is, this is him, this is Warner!"

Mortimer and a weasel appeared, the former pulling an ugly sneer onto his face. "Get Bosko," he muttered to the weasel.

The weasel nodded. "Mo. Mo, Mo!"

"Yeah whatever. Just go."

The weasel scurried off, slithering over the tubes and pipes. Yakko glared at Max, who refused to meet his eyes.

"There, I showed you where he is. Now get me my hammerspace back. You guys have to have some kinda potion or something – "

Mortimer barely looked at Max. "Ha, you must really be desperate. Sorry kid, I lied. That shit's permanent."

Max was pale beneath the dirt on his face. "You've gotta be joking."

Tugging a switchblade from his pocket and shoving it against Max's throat, Mortimer snarled, "Guess that's what toons do..."

Max gulped and quickly backed off. Realization was dawning on him, it was all over his face, but Yakko found that he did not feel sorry. And it was this, more than anything, that troubled him – what had this place done to him? How could he not feel sorry for a toon that had been stripped of the thing he held most dear?

At that moment Bosko came puffing and wheezing around the corner. "Bo, Bo!" cried the weasel, pointing fanatically at Bosko.

"Shaddup!" Bosko snapped as he smacked the weasel in the face. It whimpered and disappeared in the mess of equipment. Bosko's eyes flicked from Yakko's face to the path of destruction he'd left behind.

"Looks like our favorite decided to do a little redecoratin'."

"You like it? I did it with you two in mind," Yakko shot back.

Mortimer glared at him. "Oh, I love it. Love it as much as I love the goose egg you gave me on my head. Here, let me show ya how much I love it."

With a snarl, Mortimer lunged forward, his hand moving for his hammerspace. Realizing it was now or never, Yakko made for his own. In one movement he pulled his mallet from his hammerspace and reared back. The mallet seemed to almost sigh with relief from being freed, and to Yakko it felt glorious. Somewhere out of the corner of his eye he saw Max flee. Mortimer seemed to realize what was happening the second Yakko swung his mallet like a baseball bat. It connected with Mortimer's head with a marvelous _thwack_. His body went ramrod straight, stars dancing around his head and ridiculous grin, before he toppled over backwards.

Yakko smirked. "You're gonna have brain damage by the end of the day, mac. And you've got enough of that as it is."

The smirk slid from Yakko's face when he felt something hard press against the back of his head along with the terrible stench of the DIP. "Drop the mallet," Bosko growled.

Yakko held it stubbornly until Bosko roared once more. "I said DROP IT!"

The mallet slid from his fingers and onto the floor with a _thunk_. "Turn around," Bosko said softly. Scowling, Yakko obeyed. Bosko's DIP gun was pointed directly at his face.

"The Blot," Bosko said with a manic look in his eye, "he don't want ya dead. He wants ya alive. See, he's under the impression your show was tellin' the truth. He believes everything. That you were drawn. That ya lived in the tower forever and all that bullshit. He thinks you can help him out. But I know better. I know damn well you were born…born to an idiot broad who never got out of the bad part of Toontown no less."

Yakko blinked at him in shock. How on earth did he know –

"Oh, I know," Bosko said as though he'd heard what Yakko had been thinking. "I know a little _too _much. Which is why I'm gonna have to make a little exception for you and your brother and sister. The Blot don't even know you're here, so the Blot won't know if you died here too. And what the Blot don't know won't hurt 'im, right? Sorry Warner, this'll hurt you a hell of a lot more than it hurts me."

Bosko took aim. The smell of the DIP, the stench of death, was clouding his brain. Yakko tensed, preparing to jump –

A pie splattered against the back of Bosko's head, sending filling in every direction as he pitched forward. Looking over his shoulder Yakko caught a glimpse of Babs, sprinting full tilt in their direction. Spinning around, Bosko shot the DIP gun blindly in her direction. Yakko yelled and lunged for Bosko as Babs cried out in pain and tumbled to the ground. They collided; Bosko turned the gun on him but Yakko grabbed it. It became an odd wrestling match as both toons struggled. Bosko was doing everything he could to aim the gun at him while Yakko desperately tried to angle it away. Despite his stature, Bosko was much stronger than he looked.

Panting, Bosko threw an elbow into Yakko's ribs, the spot that had never quite healed from when he'd initially been captured. Grunting in pain, Yakko's grip loosened and Bosko twisted the gun so it pointed at his face. He pumped the barrel once, then his wormed his finger around the trigger. Staring down the barrel of certain death, Yakko's survival instincts kicked into overdrive. With a frightened surge of adrenaline Yakko pushed back just as Bosko squeezed down on the trigger. The gun flipped backwards and the stream of DIP shot towards Bosko, past the side of his face. He howled in pain, dropping the gun and clutching his face as he sunk to his knees.

Yakko did not wait. Swinging his mallet with all the force in his body, Yakko hit Bosko squarely on the top of his head. He was out cold before he hit the ground. Breathily heavily, Yakko snatched up the DIP gun. It felt odd in his hands.

"Babs! BABS!"

"I'm – I'm okay," she called back shakily.

Yakko all but fainted with relief. Feeling weak-kneed, he dashed to her side. She had propped herself up and was trying to get a good look at her leg. "What happened – "

"He missed, sorta," she said, "the spray got my ankle. I think the jumpsuit got most of it, but it just burned right through it – _aahhh_."

Babs hissed in pain and withdrew her hand. "Can I take a look?" Yakko asked. At her nod, he carefully pulled the leg of her pants up. Her ankle was already swelling, and he could see fiercely red welts speckled across it, the fur around them completely burned away.

"That's gonna leave a mark," she muttered.

"God Babs, I'm so sorry – "

"Don't be such a drama queen, it's not your fault. He didn't get you, did he?"

"No, but not for lack of effort."

Babs looked at Mortimer and Bosko's still forms warily. "Let's just get out of here before they wake up."

Yakko pulled her to her feet, but she only took one step before her ankle gave out beneath her. He reached out to catch her.

"Great. Just peachy," she snapped irritably.

Yakko took her arm and pulled it around his shoulders. "C'mon, I'll help you. I'll cut you some slack for being slow. You just, you know, saved my life back there."

"Well, _Molly _did owe you one," she said with a wink.

They shuffled down the hall as though they were in some kind of deadly version of a three-legged race. Yakko kept looking over his shoulder, expecting Bosko or Mortimer to pop up at any second. His mind was racing…how did Bosko know about his mother? And what could the Blot possibly want with him and his siblings?

"I already had everyone in the van when Max came running. He said he tried to save you but he couldn't without his hammerspace," Babs said, interrupting his thoughts.

"Oh, is that the world according to Max? Think again. He ratted me out, then high-tailed it out of there when things got hot," Yakko growled.

"Yeah, I figured as much. He got in the van with the others when I went to find you. Wile E offered to drive – well, actually, the 'Batduck' offered first but I didn't think that was the best idea – anyway, they should be making tracks to the border by now."

"You should've just gone with them, you didn't have to come back for me."

"Don't be stupid Yakko – "

"I'm serious, I don't want something to happen to you, that was your chance – "

"Oh yeah? What would you have done?"

Yakko stared at her and realized she had a point. But suddenly she screamed, and the next thing Yakko knew something strong had plowed into him, knocking him flat on his back. He tried to support Babs before she fell, but he lost track of her as his head smacked against the ground. Foul breath and sweat filled his nostrils; it was Gums, he was on top of him, snarling and looking particularly manic. Yakko squirmed beneath him, trying to wrestle him off, but the throbbing beneath his skull was making his vision swim.

The head of Babs' mallet whizzed so closely by his face that his fur was mussed in the breeze. She made contact with Gums and sent him flying into the wall. He slid down to the floor and was still.

"Hey, I wanted to do that," Yakko groaned as he rubbed his head.

Babs was on her knees and staring at Gums. She looked horrorstruck. "Oh my god, look at all that ink…I didn't do that to him, I swear!"

Even in the poor light Yakko could see that the entire back of Gums' head was covered in dark, thick ink.

"No you didn't, that was the Blot. I can tell by just the way it looks," Yakko said grimly. "He must've been controlling Gums."

"Then he knows we're escaping," Babs whispered fearfully.

Yakko's stomach twisted at this horrible thought. Right on cue, a chorus of angry shouts reverberated from down the hall, accompanied with the sounds of pounding feet.

"Go…go go go!" Yakko chanted, pulling Babs to her feet. They hurried down the hall, Yakko all but dragging Babs as they went. His heart was thundering in his chest, his body was aching for rest…they were so close, so close…

"Down here, it's at the end of this hall!" Babs shrieked.

Yakko turned abruptly, too exhausted to talk. They burst through the double doors and into a large, open garage. The black vans were lined up military style in front of a large ramp that presumably led outside.

"Keys, keys!" Babs gasped, pointing toward the far wall. They pushed each other to a long board that held rows and rows of keys, each of them hanging from a hook.

"The numbers…on the tags…license plates…"

"Got it," Yakko said quickly, snatching a set from the wall. He glanced at the tag: SQ4 5TU6.

Babs grit her teeth against the pain as they dashed behind the row of vans. "There, I see it, third one from the end!" he yelled. They came to a skidding halt next to their van, and Yakko handed Babs the keys.

"Sorry Yakko, you have to drive. I don't think I could get us out of the garage with my ankle."

Yakko swallowed, feeling color rise into his face. "Uh…"

Babs nudged him in the ribs. "C'mon Andretti, let's move!"

"Babs, I can't…"

"What?"

"I never learned…"

"Spit it out!"

"I don't know how to drive, okay?" Yakko burst out.

Babs' jaw dropped open and she stared at him in complete disbelief. "_I beg your pardon?_"

"I grew up on the lot, where was I gonna go? You know I never had a car!" he yelped, feeling himself starting to ramble, desperate to rationalize it, "Buster always drove! And then we moved to New York, and they, unlike LA, have an excellent public transportation system, so there was no point then either. And then when we came back home everything was a mess, so when was I supposed to learn, huh?"

Babs' face contorted in angry disbelief. "Don't you think this is something you should've mentioned _before _we tried making our getaway in a _car_?"

"How was I supposed to know, I thought you were going to drive – "

"Who said I was driving – "

"Well I just assumed, little miss Dale Earnhardt – "

An explosion of noise filled the garage. Yakko and Babs whipped around to find a hoard of weasels and guards pouring in through the doors. "Bad, bad!" shrieked the first weasel to spot them.

"Consider this your first lesson!" Babs shouted, shoving the keys back in his hands. Feeling like he didn't have much of a choice, he helped her into the passenger seat before throwing himself behind the wheel.

"Stick the keys in the ignition – "

"Yeah, got that."

"Don't be nervous – "

"Don't got that."

The engine came to life and Yakko tried to swallow but his throat was too dry. Having the feeling they'd be safer back in their cells, he shifted into gear.

"Okay, now, tap the gas pedal, gently – "

One foot on the pedal and they jerked forward, knocking them back in their seats and nearly running over several weasels.

"I said gently!"

"I'm trying!" Yakko cried, his voice jumping several pitches higher.

"It's okay, it's okay," Babs breathed, trying to calm herself as much as him, "just go for that ramp, that's the way out…careful, don't hit anyone, we don't know who the weasels might actually be!"

Yakko swerved to avoid the flocks of weasels as they charged the van. Two of the wheels lost contact with the ground and they tilted dangerously before slamming back down again. Convinced he was going to roll the whole vehicle, Yakko alternated between slamming on the gas and slamming on the brake.

"This isn't the best way to learn ya know," he said through gritted teeth.

"But think, after this highway driving will seem like a piece of cake."

"Gee, thanks."

They had picked up a decent pace when the van suddenly jerked to a wrenching stop. Babs cried out as they both plunged forward into the dashboard.

"I didn't even touch the brake, I swear…wait, where's everybody going?" Yakko wondered aloud.

Every weasel and guard was rushing away from them, pushing others out the way in their haste.

Yakko frowned. "Must've scared them away with my driving."

And then Babs screamed again. Reeling around, Yakko jumped as a thick tentacle of ink slapped itself against her window. Several more followed in a series of heavy _splats_, shooting up at them from behind. His heart rocketing against his ribcage, Yakko poked his head out the window and looked around. The Blot was charging towards them, surging on bulges of ink as he moved like an odd, land-ridden octopus. His face was twisted in fury, and it seemed as though the entire room had gone cold with fear. The van lurched violently – the Blot was pulling the whole car towards him.

"It's him, it's the Blot!" Yakko yelled.

Babs looked positively ill. "What do we do?"

Yakko pushed the gas pedal to the floor. Burning rubber filled the air as the tires smoked and spun helplessly against the ground. Desperate, Yakko reached into his hammerspace and began pulling out anything he could think of – bricks, bird cages, row boats – and hurled them at the Blot. Babs followed his lead, throwing pies and goats with a frightened passion. But the Blot absorbed everything effortlessly into his bulk.

"It's not working! Yakko, he's getting close!" Babs cried.

Yakko watched the Blot hurtle towards them, his mind blurring with panic and fear…they weren't going to make it…the Blot was going to kill them, he'd never see Wakko and Dot…

And then it clicked. Yakko looked down at his waist. There, in his pocket, was the DIP gun he'd stolen from Bosko. He tore it from his pocket and pumped it once, just as he'd seen Bosko and the others do dozens of times. He could feel the DIP churning and bubbling in the tank, which seemed to grow warmer in his hands. Leaning out of the car, he pointed it at the Blot.

Something flickered in the Blot's eyes at the sight of the gun, and he hesitated. For a split second, he hesitated. Somewhere in his brain, Yakko wanted to hesitate too. He wanted not to be so warped from the Compound that he could shoot DIP at another toon without a thought. But he couldn't, his body seemed to act of its own accord, as though its sense of self-preservation was stronger than his own will. He whipped the gun away from the Blot and aimed it at the main tentacle that was gripping the van. Sucking in his breath against the stench, Yakko squeezed the trigger. The DIP surged out of the gun with tremendous force, jerking the butt of the gun painfully into Yakko's shoulder. The DIP splattered against the tentacle and immediately began to sizzle and burn. The Blot let out a terrible, otherworldly shriek of pain. The tentacle released them like a crack of a whip, and Yakko was nearly thrown out of the car as it shot forward.

Babs dove for the wheel and steered them out of path of massive steel beam. She used her other hand to tug Yakko back into his seat.

"The ramp, go up the ramp!" she cried.

Grabbing the wheel, Yakko swerved and tore onto the ramp, they were going up, higher, they were almost there –

Sunlight, bright and white and beautiful, streamed though the garage door and cut across their faces. It was blinding and Yakko squinted against it, unable to see and praying that they were going straight, resisting the urge break down weeping because he hadn't seen the sun in weeks and had, at one point or another, thought he'd never see it again. He was dimly aware of Babs screaming at him to go faster. They hit some kind of bump, the car bounced forward and through the open door and Yakko knew at once by the sound of the tires that they were driving on dirt and sand.

When his eyes adjusted, Yakko could see a massive expanse of desert ahead of them. The sky was a brilliant blue, just like the day he'd been captured. Glancing in the side view mirror, Yakko caught the door to the Compound shrinking behind them.

"_We did it!_" Babs shrieked, tears spilling down her face, "_We're free!_"

They were free…_they were free…_

She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. Yakko laughed, letting out all of his fear and joy and exhaustion. They did not look back as the Compound finally disappeared over the horizon.


	19. Getting Closer

_**Chapter 18: Getting Closer**_

The van jerked over a particularly large pothole, and Yakko gripped the steering wheel even tighter.

"So, let's review," Babs said as she glanced in the sideview mirror, "Bosko and Mortimer are kidnapping toons and turning them into a weasel army."

"For the Blot," Yakko added.

"Right. And you said the Blot can…can _blur_?"

"Yeah. He can screw around with your mind, Bugs told me about it. It's just about as fun as it sounds."

"And the Blot is looking for you, and Wakko and Dot."

"You have to remind me?"

"Do you have any idea why?"

"He's in the mood for a fun yet educational song and dance number? No, no idea. Bosko said something about him thinking we were drawn, but what does that matter? There's plenty of drawn toons out there."

"But Bosko, he didn't want you found. He tried to kill you."

"Yup. They were a real charming bunch, weren't they? I'll miss them."

Babs sighed and leaned back against the seat. "You'd think getting more answers would've made things _less _confusing. Silly me."

"Leave the mysteries to Scooby. I don't care what they're up to anymore, I just want to find Wakko and Dot before the damn Blot does."

That wasn't entirely true. Bosko's strange comment about his mother was sticking in his brain. Yakko stared along the lengthy stretch of road before them. They were cutting through the hills and valleys of the desert, racing the rapidly setting sun. He felt like if he squinted hard enough at the horizon, he could see Toontown just ahead of them. What he wouldn't give to be there, now. Wakko, Dot, Bugs and Buster hadn't felt this close in weeks.

Cutting her eyes anxiously toward the mirror again, Babs continued, "Well first thing's first. We need to figure out how to get over the border. Bosko and his lunatic friends must have connections there, or how else would they have gotten us down to Tijuana in the first place? And then we'll go straight to Toontown and find the others. And then we'll give you a haircut."

"Huh? What's wrong with my hair?"

Yakko took a moment to look at himself in the rearview mirror. It was the first time he'd seen his reflection since he'd been caught. He'd certainly looked better, that was for sure. His hair was a shaggy black mop on his head, much longer than he'd ever let it grow out before. The fur that lined his cheekbones, which were more prominent from weight loss, had grown as well. His white face was now a dirty gray marked with smudges of grime and ink, and his eyes looked completely exhausted. He suddenly wished he didn't look so homely in front of Babs.

"You're braver than me, I don't even want to know what I look like," Babs muttered.

"Oh c'mon, you look great, you always do," Yakko said without thinking.

He gulped as the cabin of the van went silent, apart from the whir of the tires. Yakko kept his eyes strictly on the road. Maybe, if he pretended like he didn't say anything, she'd forget about it.

"Thanks Yakko, that's nice."

Well, okay, she wasn't going to forget about it. Play it cool Yakko, be suave –

"Yakko stay on the road!"

"Sorry!" Yakko yelped, his voice jumping up several pitches as he realized he'd drifted off the pavement and into the dirt. He jerked the steering wheel and they swerved wildly back onto the road. Yakko exhaled. He'd decided that he didn't like driving.

Babs patted him on the shoulder and laughed weakly. "It would be kind of ironic if we lived through everything at the Compound only to die in a fiery car wreck."

"Hey, c'mon, I think I could be doing worse for my first time behind the wheel."

"I'm just teasing!" She looked in the mirror again. He knew she was making sure they weren't being followed. "We _are _going the right way, aren't we?"

"Trust me Babs, if there's one thing I know, it's geography."

She snorted. "That's true. How could I forget?"

"Don't ever doubt the great Yakko Warner."

"I doubt your ability to drive in a straight line."

"Touché." He glanced at her. "How's your ankle?"

She pulled her leg carefully onto her lap. "I think the swelling's gone down, a little bit. It doesn't look like it's the size of a telephone pole anymore at least. But it burns like crazy…I can't imagine getting a full blast of that DIP. How could you do that to another toon?"

Yakko's hands clenched around the wheel, his mind racing back to when he'd forced the DIP gun back at Bosko, to when he'd shot the Blot. "I think they lose it in the heat of the moment. And I don't think Bosko and his cronies care about other toons. They seemed to think everyone else is just stealing their spotlight."

"Yeah, but just because someone gets picked for a role over me doesn't make want to go out and murder them."

"They're drawn, Babs. They had one purpose in life and now it's gone. I'm not making excuses for them, I just think that's how they're warped little minds are looking at it."

He could tell she was looking at him closely. "I'm glad I wasn't drawn."

"Oh yeah?"

"I think I'd feel like a bird in a cage."

"And if you never aged, you'd never get a senior discount at the breakfast buffet."

She snorted and rolled her eyes. "And what about the Blot? Honestly, I didn't even know he was _real_. All this time it's just been other toon actors playing him in the cartoons and comics. I didn't know he existed. And it's not like he had his own cartoons, he'd give kids nightmares for weeks – "

"Kids? _I'm _gonna have nightmares for weeks," Yakko muttered.

" – so what would he be jealous of? Where did he even come from?"

"Beats me. Maybe someone made him on the sly, like they're doing with the weasels. It would explain why he's battier than Bracken Cave."

"Could be," she muttered, frowning. She thought for a moment before sighing and running a hand through her ears. "I can't wait to be home."

"You and me both," Yakko said, fighting against the cold feeling in his stomach. When he was trapped in the Compound, the thought of seeing his siblings again was the only thing that had kept him going. But now that they had escaped, now that they were actively getting closer to them, his excitement was battling his dread. What if he got there only to find that they were hurt? Or missing? Every time he thought about it his heart would race uncomfortably while his stomach twisted itself into a tighter knot. It almost made him want to jump out of the car and run away, to disappear into the desert and never find out. But he couldn't, not when there was even the tiniest chance that they were there, waiting for him.

"Yakko, the road."

"Yikes!" he yelped, jumping into high-pitched levels yet again. He pulled back onto the pavement and groaned. "I hate when my voice does that," he grumbled, not looking at her.

Babs giggled. "Why? It's cute."

Now it was Babs' turn to blush and look away. Yakko raised an eyebrow at her, but couldn't help the way the corner of his mouth quirked upwards.

* * *

"Why can't we just park at Skippy's old house? I don't want to walk. I'm too hungry to walk."

From the backseat of the station wagon, Dot rolled her eyes. "Because, dear brother, we might as well wear signs that say 'here we are, capture us please!' if we park right next to Minerva's house. After all we've been through a little walking won't kill you."

"I don't care about walking, I care about wasting out time. We should go to Pete's tree farm."

"To find what?"

"I don't know, something weasel-y."

"Face it, we voted, you lost, fair and square."

Wakko sent a pleading look to Buster, who was sitting next to him in the passenger seat. Buster raised his hands. "Sorry dude, I'm with your sis. Minerva has something to do with it. And I'd rather walk than be sitting in the back of a van with a bag over my head."

With a groan, Wakko shut off the ignition, and the car gave a grateful shudder before going silent. They were parked several blocks from Minerva's house, which was too far away to see in the waning evening light. Without the hum of the engine, the street was silent. Too silent for what had once been a lively suburban neighborhood. It appeared as though it had not seen a single soul in weeks. Nevertheless, Dot felt like there were eyes peering at her from every corner.

As Wakko and Buster got out of the car, Dot turned to Skippy. "You sure you're okay with this?" she asked.

He bit his lip for a second. "Uh, yeah…yeah, I think so. Er, yeah. I mean, that Minerva she's…she's a bad egg."

Buster whistled. "Whoa, coming from Skippy that must mean she's the antichrist. What's so bad about Minerva, aside from the fact that her voice makes me want to chop my ears off?"

"She's up to something!" Dot attested as she and Skippy got out of the car. "She was mean to Skippy – "

"She's mean to everybody," Wakko countered.

" – and she was too interested in Yakko. Way too interested. Something's not kosher here."

Buster snorted curtly. "Yup, _e-e-every _girl is after Yakko, aren't they?"

Buster stormed ahead of them, his hands shoved in his pockets. Dot frowned at her brother, but Skippy leaned his head toward them in a whisper.

"He's been like this ever since I found him. He was trying to fight off a bunch of weasels, but he was a wreck. Bleeding ink everywhere, and he smelled like my Aunt Slappy's liquor cabinet. I think he was giving up. But I distracted the weasels…well, I sorta tripped over one of their tails…and they almost got us, be we escaped. Buster didn't talk to me for a while, but I kept talking to him, and then he came around. But I never know what mood he's in. Sometimes he'd be cheerful and want to try different places to look for you guys. But then other times he'll get real mad and frustrated and he'd do really risky things. The worst is when he just kind of gives up again. He'd say stuff like 'Babs is dead, Yakko's dead, everyone's gone and we might as well just leave.' He changes like a light switch."

"And you always say girls are moody," Dot mumbled to Wakko.

Wakko shrugged. "Give the guy a break. He had a lot of bad stuff happen to him, especially right before we got attacked and he and Babs – "

His eyes widened in embarrassment and he cut himself short, promptly looking away from them.

"What?" Dot pressed, "What happened with him and Babs?"

"Uh, how should I know?"

"Oh c'mon."

"It's nothing! Nevermind!"

"Wakko – "

Up ahead, Buster stopped and whipped around. "Are you guys coming or what?"

"Yup!" Wakko called, hurrying after him. Grumbling under her breath, Dot shared a glance with Skippy and followed them. They traipsed through the trees until they were crouched behind the hedge bordering Minerva's backyard.

"Think she's home?" Buster whispered.

Skippy peered over the leaves. "The lights aren't on, which is weird…her car isn't in the driveway either…"

"So then what are we waiting around here for? Let's go," Buster said, standing up and marching straight toward the back door.

"Wait!" Skippy hissed.

Dot rolled her eyes. "I'm guessing this is angry, risky Buster today?"

Wakko gave her a small nudge. "We can't let him go by himself."

Thinking she'd be quite fine with that option, Dot nodded nevertheless and followed Wakko across the lawn, with Skippy taking up the rear. Buster was cupping his hands around his eyes to stare into the windows. "Looks empty."

"How are we gonna get inside?" Wakko asked, leaning against the door. His question was answered when his weight easily pushed the door open, causing him to lose his balance and tumble inside with a yelp.

Buster craned his neck to look at him. "Well, that was easy."

Dot bit her lip. "Too easy, don't ya think?"

"Ugh, I dunno, there's dust everywhere," Wakko said, coughing, "I don't think she's been here for weeks."

Needing no further persuasion, Buster stepped strode inside and pulled Wakko to his feet. Dot looked back to Skippy for reassurance, but he looked as nervous as she felt. Sucking in her breath, she pulled her mallet from her hammerspace like Buster and Wakko were doing and stepped into Minerva's house.

If it had been clean, it would have been nice, if a bit gaudy. Like Bugs' house, it was obvious Minerva had money: a crystal chandelier overlooked the expansive foyer, the furniture was trendy and high-end, surrounded by exotic decorations and overlooked by a fully stocked liquor cabinet. Feminine accents were abound, and Dot couldn't help but feel that this was what a sorority house looked like on the inside. There were framed pictures and posters everywhere, and it wasn't until closer inspection that she realized most of them were depictions of Minerva herself. The majority of them were particularly vain images of her looking poutily into the camera during one of her photo shoots. Above the mantle was a massive painting of her lounging over an armrest, her back arched and her eyes closed.

"Can I vomit now or do I have to wait?" Dot snapped, glaring at each photograph. The pictures stared back at her lifelessly.

"This is creepy," Wakko said, "I wouldn't want pictures of myself all over my house."

"Well with your face who could blame ya?" Buster said, snickering as Wakko swatted at him.

"Shh," Skippy hissed, "we don't know if anyone's here. There could be weasels. They like to hide in places that are quiet and dark."

"Then Pete better watch out for the space between his ears," Dot said, earning a small laugh from her brother.

"So Dot, you're the one who said Minerva's up to something. What's she up to? What are we looking for?" Buster asked.

Dot took a step back when everyone turned to her. "Well, um, you should for, you know, weasel stuff, or something."

Wakko crossed his arms. "C'mon Dot, do you actually have anything to go on, or are you just pissed Yakko liked her?"

"Yakko liked her?" Buster asked sharply. "Jeez, he has a knack for going after the wrong girl, doesn't he?"

Dot shook her head. "No! Just call it a hunch okay? I'm not saying there's gonna be a neon sign that says 'this is a clue!' Just look for something – anything!"

"And if we don't find anything will you lay off?" Wakko asked.

"Yeah, fine. I'll lay off."

Nodding his approval, Wakko wandered off with Buster in the direction of the kitchen. Dot rolled her eyes…the only clues he was after were the edible kind…then again, they'd barely had anything to eat over the last two weeks, so she couldn't really blame him.

"All this time we lived next door and I've never been in her house," Skippy murmured as he inspected the mantle.

Dot quirked an eyebrow as she stared at a particularly elaborate painting of Minerva. "And you're disappointed by this?"

"No, I guess not. I'm just thinking…maybe if I'd gotten to know her better, I might've known what was going on."

"C'mon Skip, don't tell me you're blaming yourself."

"Nah, but…what if she was lonely or something? And she was just trying to get attention?"

"You know, I'd hate to see what would actually make you mad."

She started up the stairs, and Skippy followed. Each footstep creaked on the steps, and Dot could feel tremors of nervousness beginning to shake down her arms and legs. She pulled a flashlight from her hammerspace and pointed it down the upstairs hall. Everything seemed quiet and still, but somehow this made the house more menacing. Dot snatched Skippy's hand in her own, and he gave it a reassuring squeeze. Swallowing, they made their way down the hall.

They'd only made it a few steps when Dot saw something move to her left. She gasped in terror and jumped backwards, colliding with Skippy. Her hand was already in her hammerspace…she'd smash whoever, or whatever it was –

"Dot, chill out, it's just your reflection, see?"

Skippy had one hand on her shoulder and used the other to point through the doorway. Dot blinked, her heart still racing, then shakily raised the flashlight to get a better look. The light beamed back at her, and she realized that she'd merely walked past the mirror in Minerva's bathroom.

"Oh…phew," she breathed, then laughed weakly, "sorry, I was being stupid, next thing you know I'll be running away from my own shadow."

"S'okay, I still check under the bed at night," Skippy said with a chuckle.

Dot and Skippy stared at each other for a beat, then both looked down at the hand Skippy still had on her shoulder. They both jumped away from each as though an electric current had surged through them, laughing awkwardly and not making eye contact. Dot gave her ears a fluff, cleared her throat, and wondered why she had to be such a spazz.

She had missed Skippy over the past few weeks, and she wondered if he had missed her. Had he thought about her at all? And if he had, what had he been thinking? Dot hoped he had concentrated more on her charm and good looks rather than how she got loud when she was excited or that she snorted when she laughed sometimes. Besides, she'd certainly thought about him, about the cute way he smiled when she said something funny, or how he always offered to carry her books at tooniversity…

Dot gave her head a good, hard shake. Now was not the time to turn into teenage mush, she had a mystery to solve. Not only that, but the dark, quiet house was getting creepier by the second, and she had half a mind to concede defeat just so they could get the heck out of there.

"I think this is her room," Skippy whispered, pointing his own flashlight into the last doorway.

Minerva's bedroom was cavernous. More self-portraits lined the walls, and Dot was wondering when the mink would ever run out of poses to photograph herself in. To the left was a massive armoire, while the right side was taken up by a monstrous vanity. Skippy went to inspect the walk-in closet, which was bigger than Dot's entire bedroom back in New York. A giant bed with a frilly canopy sat in the center of the room. It was decked out in brilliantly red silk sheets and mountains of fluffy pillows.

Dot approached the vanity for a closer look. The mirror took up over half the wall, while the shelf was covered in tubes of lipstick and mascara, eyeliner sticks, foundation powder, eye shadow and more. There were no less than nine bottles of expensive perfume, including Pepe Le Pew's top of the line brand. Dot couldn't help but take a peek into Minerva's jewelry case, which was like finding a small diamond mine. Dot rolled her eyes, not doubting that half of these were tokens from Minerva's various flings vying for second chances.

Dot pulled her eyes from the jewelry and faced herself in the mirror. A pale, nervous teen looked back at her, not at all like the young girl from _Animaniacs_. She used to look at herself in the mirror a lot when they were filming. Everyone told her how cute she was, it was a running gag on the show, and she had soaked up every minute of it. Yakko had always told her that she had the title of most beautiful girl on earth and that no one could ever challenge her for it.

She had envied Minerva on set, just as she'd envied Tress. Not only was Minerva stunning, but the guys couldn't look away from her. Dot remembered wanting to be just like that when she grew up (not that she'd ever mentioned that to Yakko). But now, as she gazed at herself in the mirror, she imagined Minerva sitting in the same spot doing the same thing, and she cringed.

"She's got enough shoes to last her every day for eight months!" Skippy called from the closet, "I'm serious, I counted!"

Dot snorted, then noticed a photograph pinned into the corner of the mirror. Frowning, she plucked it out for a closer look. Then she gasped, almost dropping it. It was a picture of Rocky. And there was writing on the bottom: _To a killer dame. Love, Rocky._

Dot suppressed a gag. There was an odd ringing in her ears as Rocky's image stared back at her, and she had to stop herself from ripping it to pieces. Her whole body started shaking as the memory of Yosemite coursed through her.

And then she understood what Skippy had come to grips with a long time ago. She knew what loss was now – not like the kind she felt with Yakko, where she was still nursing the flame of hope that he was alive. No, this was the loss where she knew, deep down in that same place, that someone she cared for was gone forever and never coming back. She understood the tearing feeling in her chest, the desperate wish that it was not real, that it was all a bad dream, and the crushing realization that it was not.

She looked away in disgust, only to have her eyes land on something else. Something much, much worse than the photograph. Dot felt as though ice was pumping from her heart and into her veins; Skippy was shuffling around in the closet but he sounded very far away, as thought she was traveling away from Minerva's house, miles and miles from Toontown. There, nestled among the makeup and perfume, was Slappy's green bowler hat.

Dot reached for it, her hand shaking, and brought it to her face. The flower was still clinging to it, but it was bent and wilted. It still smelled faintly of Slappy's perfume. Dot's throat began to burn as tears sprang to her eyes. Since the casket had been closed at Slappy's funeral, it had never really sunk in that she was gone. But here was a solid reminder, sitting primly in her hands.

"Whatcha got there Dot?"

Skippy's voice made her jump and turn around. He was standing barely a few feet from her, looking at her with bright curiosity. For a moment Dot had half a mind to hide the hat in her hammerspace, but her arms didn't seem to be working. As if in slow motion, she saw his eyes travel from her face to her hands, she saw the look of interest slowly melt into blank shock.

"Can I see that?" he asked after a few moments. His voice croaked.

"Skip, I – "

"Can I see it? Please?"

Dot thrust it out to him, and he accepted it gingerly. With his face bent low she couldn't tell if he was crying or not, but it was obvious that the optimism that had lit him so had been snuffed out.

Dot licked her dry lips. "It might not be hers, we don't know for sure – "

"It's hers. I can tell."

She had never felt so helpless in her life.

"I made excuses for her, Minerva" Skippy said softly, "I thought that deep down she was nice."

"I'm so sorry."

They stood in silence, with nothing but a mournful streak of moonlight coming in from the balcony window to comfort them. Dot wished more than anything that she could go back to the night that Scratchensniff had called them in New York. She would have ripped the phone out of Yakko's hands.

"Can I have a few minutes?" Skippy asked quietly.

She hesitated for moment, but nodded. There was no room to argue, not when he sounded so small. Without a word she left the room. But she only made it a few steps down the hall before tears burst out of her, and she did everything she could to muffle a long, powerful sob. She had to be strong for her friend – crying like a baby right outside the door was not going to help him now. Swallowing big gulps of air to steady herself, she swiped the tears from her eyes and cheeks and went downstairs.

The dusty footprints throughout the living room meant that Buster and Wakko had searched there. She noted that the liquor cabinet seemed less full than it had before, and she wondered vaguely if Buster had decided to stock up. This didn't seem to bother her though. She felt numb.

Buster and Wakko emerged from the dinette, and Wakko held out his hand to her. "Here," he said, though his voice was muffled by a mouthful of food. He brandished a granola bar at her. "Eat this one. Fair warning, she buys the crappy, healthy kind. They kinda taste like wood."

Dot winced at the sight of it. The thought of eating something Minerva had deemed acceptable made her sick to her stomach.

Wakko frowned. "What's up?"

"Where's Skippy?" Buster added.

She looked back at their silhouettes in the darkness, one of them taller than the other, and for a moment she could have pretended that that it was both of her brothers instead of just one.

"Well, we…I mean, I…" Dot stuttered. Why did this have to be so hard to say? "…we found Slappy's h-hat in Minerva's bedroom."

Wakko sucked in his breath sharply, and Buster flinched back as though she'd struck him. "What the hell? You're kidding, right?"

Dot shook her head, pushing tears back again. "Skippy's still upstairs, he wanted to be by himself for a bit."

Buster ran a hand through his ears. "I don't believe…you've gotta be…what a _bitch_…"

He stormed away from them and out onto the porch, slamming the door behind him and leaving Wakko and Dot staring at each other. Even in the limited light, Dot could tell that the color had been sapped from Wakko's face.

"You weren't kidding when you said she wasn't up to any good," he whispered, his eyes wide with shock.

* * *

The van hobbled along the dirt, sputtering and jerking with every rotation of the wheels.

"C'mon baby," Yakko said soothingly, patting the dashboard, "just a little further…you're so close…do it for Yakko…"

He prodded the gas pedal and then let it coast. They were riding on fumes now. But there was a massive boulder up ahead, big enough to shield the entire van from the road once they got behind it. Especially now with the waning sun, someone could drive by and have no idea they were there.

Babs stuck her head out the window. "Little to the left…yeah, right there!"

Yakko killed the ignition, and the van practically sighed with relief. "There's no way we're getting that to start again. Way to go us for picking the only van with only half a tank left."

"Bummer we couldn't have just stopped for gas…" Babs murmured.

"With that smuggler's van? I don't think we'd get the gas cap off before we got arrested. Or shot. Or both."

"Do you think the others made it? What do you think they did at the border?"

Yakko stared into the distance. "We haven't seen them, but I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. And I'd love to know how they're getting over the border since the best idea I've had is to run like hell and hope for the best."

"Well whatever we do, it's waiting 'til tomorrow, I'm not doing any kind of running with this leg," Babs said, glaring at her ankle as though it had wronged her.

He did not blame her, but he understood her resentment. They were undoubtedly being followed. Delaying the rest of the trip by an entire night meant that Bosko and his crew would overtake them and probably be waiting patiently for them at the border. He was reminded, bitterly, that it meant it was that much longer until he could look for his siblings. But he couldn't leave Babs by herself – not that she hadn't offered when they first noticed they were running out of gas. He'd turned her down immediately.

"That's okay," Yakko said, "It's kinda been a long day."

They stared at each for a beat as the vast understatement of that sentence settled over them. Then Yakko smirked, and Babs grinned, and the next thing he knew they were overcome with fits of hysterical laughter. He felt as though the hinge of his jaw was rusty – he hadn't laughed like this in weeks. It felt wonderful, even though he knew that it was merely a way for his mind to cope with what had happened and was still happening to both of them. Emotions were only coming to him in extremes now: he'd gone from wild fear to manic elation in the span of day, which was wildly contrasting with the cold, cruel numbness he'd felt when he'd aimed the DIP at Bosko and the Blot. But none of that mattered at the moment. He was alive, Babs was with him, and they weren't in the Compound. They weren't in the Compound, they weren't in the Compound…

They laughter died down, and Babs clutched her side as the last few snickers escaped her. "Thanks, I needed that," she said, wiping her eyes.

Yakko, trying to ignore the tingling in his spine that her laugh had triggered, gave her a small bow. "I try my best."

He hopped out of the van and stretched. The evening air in the desert was cool, but god, it was fresh. He inhaled deeply, swelling up his chest to toonish proportions, reveling in the feel and scent of it. Babs eased herself out of the van and used the door as support. "Here," she said, and tossed him a chunk of bread from her hammerspace. "I took it from the storage room when I was stealing the uniforms."

She pulled out her own and ate no less ravenously than Yakko did. With all the panic and pain and exhaustion he'd nearly forgotten that he was starving. He wished more than anything he'd just stuffed an apple or something in his hammerspace before he'd left for Pendleton that day; time didn't exist inside a hammerspace, so food wouldn't rot.

He leaned against the van next to her and cleared his throat. "Thanks for saving me back there. You were amazing. I really owe you one."

She waved her hand as though she did that kind of thing every day. "Don't worry about it. You saved 'Molly,' so we're even."

"Nope, if you recall, you saved my sorry tail twice. You one-upped me. And when did you get so good with a mallet?"

"Growing up with Bugs as a family friend has its benefits," she said with a grin, "but fine, you owe me then. You'll be the first person I call when my life is in peril – and at the rate we're going that should be in, oh, I'd say the next hour or so."

Yakko stared at the ground for a moment. "Babs, do you know if Bugs holds grudges?"

She blinked at him. "Grudges? Bugs? Unless it's got something to do with the Yankees, I don't think Bugs even knows _how _to hold a grudge. Any reason you ask?"

He squinted into the distance. "We, eeehhh, had a bit of a disagreement right before we went to Pendleton. I never got a chance to say I was sorry."

Babs chucked him gently on the arm. "_You_ could chop off one of his ears and he'd still forgive you. And you'll get your chance, trust me." She paused, looking at him with a critical eye. "Sit down."

"What?"

"Sit down, I'm cutting your hair."

"Well aren't you the forward one. No thanks, I'm growing it out."

"Come on, please? We've got all night ahead of us, what else would we be doing?"

At this Yakko's mind dove headfirst into a dozen despicable scenarios and he mentally slapped himself. Not trusting himself to speak, he just nodded and sat down rather clumsily. God, why did he have to be such a spazz around her?

Babs shrugged and scooted behind him, carefully arranging her legs so there was no pressure on her ankle. She produced a pair of scissors from her hammerspace, then ran her fingers through his hair, pulling at it gently and weaving out the knots. Yakko exhaled slowly and shut his eyes. That felt good. That felt way too good.

"I've never cut anyone's hair before," she said conversationally.

Yakko smirked. "That's exactly what I love to hear from my hair stylist."

She was tugging on a lock toward the back of his head. He heard her suck in her breath, felt her tense, then heard the metallic _snip_. A few wisps of hair tickled his neck as they fell.

"Hmm…not bad!" she said brightly. She was a bit too excited over cutting one chunk of hair, but he could tell by her voice that she was in confident mode again for the first time since she'd revealed herself in the Compound. He was sure that if he turned to her she'd have the accompanying confident look on her face, the one that made him want to start drooling like a neanderthal, and he wouldn't be able to stop himself from throwing himself at her – whoa. He didn't know where these thoughts were coming from but they had to stop. He'd already thrown his friendship with Buster to the ground, there was no reason to stomp all over it.

_Snip_. She cut another lock. _Snip_. Another. _Snip snip_. The cuts became more frequent as her confidence grew.

"So Babs, I've got a question." He had to distract himself.

"Shoot."

"Why did you call yourself Molly?"

The snips hesitated. When she spoke her voice was quieter. "That was my mom's name."

_Snip._

"Was?"

"She's not dead, if that's what you're thinking. But I don't know if I'd still count her in the 'mother' category. She bailed out on my dad and my sister and me when I was little. I never really cared, not much, I wasn't even that mad."

"Sounds like you were a pretty zen grade schooler."

"Huh, I haven't finished the story yet. I made excuses for her, like I understood her or something. I always thought that she left because my dad was trying to force her to be something she wasn't, since he kind of did that with my stepmom. I thought my mom wanted to make her own way. In my head she was this strong, independent toon that no one could reign in, and that's what I wanted to be."

"I feel like this is where the 'but' part comes in."

"You got it…she visited me, right around the time you came back from New York. She was just so…she was a wreck. She wanted to say she was sorry my show got cancelled – which, you know, she a few _years _too late for – and gave me this song and dance about how she's cleaned up and wants to be a family, even though she pretty much missed the whole 'Babs grows up' part. Who ditches their two kids, anyway? And when she said 'cleaned up,' she really meant she managed to stay sober for a three days and thought it was this huge accomplishment that I should be thankful for."

Yakko thought of her and Buster and it felt like a stone had dropped in his stomach.

_Snip_.

"I guess that's part of why I gave you such a hard time when you came back," she continued, "I didn't want people bouncing in and out of my life anymore. But when those bozos caught me and I needed to come up with a name, hers was the first I thought of. She was just on my mind."

Yakko stared off into the horizon again. The stars were out now, and only a few last streaks of orange and pink indicated there had been a setting sun. He hadn't thought of his own mother in years but, like Babs, she had sprung to his mind in the Compound.

_Snip_.

"Buster didn't get why I was upset with her," she said so softly that Yakko had to perk up his ears, "He thought I was being too harsh. You must think I'm a real cad."

"No, I don't actually. It would make me a hypocrite."

"Oh yeah?"

"The only things I really remember my mom saying to me fall along the lines of 'be quiet Yakko' and 'stop talking, I can't hear myself think!' I couldn't be good enough for her. It was like everything I did was wrong, and being with my sibs was the only thing I could do right. It's funny, when Wakko was a baby I was so scared for the day he learned to talk. I thought he would tell me to shut up too, but he didn't. My sibs listened when I talked, and they talked back…it was…it was just the greatest feeling. I didn't miss my mom, at all, when we went to the orphanage. And when I found out she died – I'm sure Buster told you that at some point – I was sad, sure, but I wasn't broken up about it. Not like you should be over your mom dying."

He was glad he was facing away from her, as he was sure that was he was saying was reflecting on his face. He didn't really know why he was spouting out all these things that he'd never told a soul before. It was like someone had unblocked a dam.

Suddenly, he missed Wakko and Dot more than ever.

_Snip._

Babs sighed. "I think that just because someone's technically your mother doesn't make her a mom. Your family can come from anywhere. I mean, look at us – all us lot kids have patchwork families."

Yakko inexplicably thought of Bugs.

"There, I think that oughta do it," Babs chirped. She ran a hand through his hair again to dust out the loose strands, and Yakko held back a shiver. Then she leaned over his shoulder and held out a mirror. His pale face stared back at him; his hair looked a bit wild, but it was still a vast improvement over the shaggy look he was sporting pre-haircut. He didn't look for very long though. Babs was pressing into him in a rather distracting way.

"Nice work Babs, I'll be the bell of the ball," Yakko said, clearing his throat. Not really thinking about what he was doing, he turned to her. Babs was closer than he'd expected, and he found himself nearly nose to nose with her. Her breath hitched, startled, but she did not pull back. She held his gaze. All the feelings, acknowledged and unacknowledged, from before his capture came racing back to him, filling him from his toes to his ears. There was no way she couldn't hear how hard his heart was battering against his chest, that she didn't notice that his breath was becoming shallower by the second. His brain was screaming _abort abort abort_, but every other bit of him was telling him that if he leaned forward just slightly they'd be connected. That's all it would take really, tilting his head a little, just one inch –

The unmistakable sound of an oncoming car shattered everything. Babs gasped and clutched at his wrist, jerking Yakko so violently from the moment he felt dizzy. Motioning for her to stay where she was, Yakko crawled to the other end of the boulder and peered out from behind it. By this point it had grown dark, and his face was so dirty he was sure that he blended seamlessly into the night. Several yards from them he could make out a smuggler's van speeding up the highway. Its headlights were off, making it hard to follow in the darkness. Trailing behind the van was a large, black humvee, the same one that had originally pursued Yakko at Pendleton. They zoomed past him, completely oblivious to the two toons they were chasing.

Yakko waited until he couldn't even hear the vehicles anymore before he crawled back to Babs.

"There went our friends," he muttered.

Babs let out a frustrated sigh and dropped her head back against the van with a loud _thunk_. "Great. Straight for the border. They'll probably be waiting for us with gift baskets."

He slid down the van until he was seated next to her. "Excellent. If we're lucky they'll be filled with bath soaps. We smell like Newt Gringich's backside."

She snorted. "You're shockingly chipper."

He met her eyes. Was he? He had to be. How many times in the last week had he almost lost hope, stopped trying? If she gave up, then he had no chance. Babs was the only tangible thing he had at the moment; the need to see his siblings, the desire to apologize to Buster and Bugs – those were so incredibly far from his reach. But Babs was here with him in this hell. She was a light that guided him down a dark, twisting path that he did not know the end. If that light went out he was lost. They couldn't be beaten – not so easily. But stuffing all of the fear and uncertainty back into his heart, out of sight, was proving to be so hard. Yet there was something about the clearness in her eyes that made him feel stronger, that nurtured the barely flickering flame inside his chest.

"Is there a reason not to be?" he asked, his voice forced into lightheartedness. "I'm on my way back to LA, the air is smog-free, and the company is fantastic."

Babs let out a happy, humming sound and let her head drop to his shoulder. Sighing, he draped his arm around her, trying to ignore the bottomless ache of fear in his heart.

* * *

The small campfire crackled in front of him, casting lights and shadows over Wakko's sketchbook. No one had really felt much like talking, let alone doing more investigating, after the incident at Minerva's house, so Buster had led them up the winding roads that overlooked Hollywood to a deserted patch of woods. Skippy had shocked everyone by promptly setting up a campfire – apparently he'd been in Woodchucks with Huey, Dewey, and Louie back in the day. Who knew? Wakko wanted to ask him how he did it, but Skippy didn't seem to feel like chatting.

Skippy and Dot were sitting at the other side of the car, sides touching and heads bent close together and whispering. Wakko snorted – Yakko would've laid an egg if he'd caught them doing that. But aside from the fact that Skippy was a bit twitchy, Wakko couldn't care less – that's what made him the cool older brother. He glanced up at them. Skippy had laid his hand on Dot's. Something in Wakko's chest let out a nasty snarl. Okay, so even he had his limits. If he knew what was good for him, Skippy better keep his hands where Wakko could see them.

With one last withering scowl at Skippy, Wakko turned back to his sketchbook. Buster was staring absently into the fire, so with his back was to the car no one could see what he was drawing. He preferred it that way – his sketch wasn't turning out so good. His comic book was splayed out beside him and he was focusing on one of the panels. Both Mickey and the Phantom Blot were in it; they were in the midst of a car chase, and moments later Mickey would be crash his own car into a tree. It was one of his favorite parts and Wakko was doing his best to replicate it. Finishing up the curve of Mickey's ear, he pulled back to get a good look at it. Wakko glanced from his sketch, then to the panel, then back at his sketch again. He frowned. The panel in the comic book looked perfect, while his sketch looked like he'd shut his eyes and scribbled. He tossed the sketchbook aside with a frustrated grunt. Yakko, Scratchensniff, Yosemite…he couldn't do anything right, could he?

"What, that book bite you or something?"

Wakko looked up to find Buster looking at him over the fire.

"Whatcha drawing?"

"Nothing. It's stupid."

"I doubt it. Yak told me you were really good."

This made Wakko look up at him in shock. He'd always assumed Yakko told him that his drawings were special just because they were family – he had no idea Yakko had told anyone else about it. Something seemed to inflate, if only a little bit, in Wakko's chest, though he wasn't quite sure what it was.

"Oh…well, I was trying to draw this one part from this comic…"

He gestured vaguely to his book. Buster, his ears raised in interest, crawled awkwardly on all fours and plopped down next to him to get a closer look.

"Oh man, I used to love comics when I was little," he said, grinning, "I was more of a Marvel guy myself."

"Yeah, Marvel's cool. Did you read the one…"

They chatted happily about the intricacies of their favorite stories, of Spider-man's continuity, and Wakko felt some of the tension ease from his shoulders. It took his mind off of all the darkness around them, if only for a short while. He could see now why Yakko liked talking to Buster.

"Marvel's good, but it doesn't have Crisis," Wakko concluded.

Buster laughed. "Ugh, don't tell me you're a DC fanboy."

Wakko raised his hands in mock defense. "Hey, I like all comics. Great and small. It's just that DC is great and Marvel is small."

Buster gave him an odd little smile and quirked his head to one side. "What?" Wakko asked, feeling self-conscious.

Chuckling and shaking his head, Buster said, "Nothing, you just reminded me of your brother. Even the look on your face was right on target."

"That's just 'cause we look like clones," Wakko muttered.

"It's more than that. You two are a lot alike. Fun to be around, smart, make people laugh, put your family first, all that schmaltzy goodness."

Wakko rolled his eyes and rested his chin on his knees, staring into the fire as he spoke. "Yeah, and a lot of good that's done me. Yakko wouldn't have gotten into this mess."

"No, he probably would've talked himself into a worse one. That's the thing – you guys look alike, but as soon as you open your mouths you're completely different."

"Yeah, the difference is that I stop talking at some point."

Buster snorted. "Astute observation. That's why it's fun talking to you, you know. A guy can get a word in. I feel like I'm running a mental marathon with Yakko sometimes."

"What am I then, a mental stroll?"

"Did I say that?" Buster asked, raising his brows, "I just mean it's easy talking to you. Talking to Yakko…sometimes I felt like I could never keep up. Like it was it was a competition, and I'd always lose. And it wasn't just talking…school, gigs, girls…he always won. Always had to be the best."

Wakko glanced down at his arm. "Trust me, I know the feeling." It had never occurred to him that Buster, of all toons, felt the same way he did. Life was strange.

"Ya know, I always gave him a lot of crap for watching you guys all the time. I was always on his case for not going out and having fun. I was pretty stupid. Can you forgive me for that?"

Wakko blinked at him in bewilderment. Buster was staring at him, the question ending with a desperate need for reassurance. He seemed childlike almost, like he was begging.

"Well yeah, sure," Wakko said hesitantly, still wondering why Buster wanted amnesty from him, "But I…I think that was fun for him though. At least it was for me." Wakko frowned, his heart constricting a little. Had Yakko been having fun with him and Dot instead of going to parties with Buster? Or had they just been a burden to him?

"Are you still mad at him?" Wakko asked quietly.

Buster snorted. "Was it that obvious?"

Fidgeting slightly, Wakko decided not to mention he'd heard the conversation in the car as confirmation. "Uh, yeah. Are you?"

Buster inhaled through his nostrils and absently picked up the sketchbook. In the flickering firelight Wakko could see that his face was bent in deep concentration, and he looked significantly older. "I don't know," Buster said finally. Wakko took courage in the small amount of hope in Buster's voice. He was sure he hadn't imagined it.

Buster opened the sketchbook and began paging through it. "Wait, don't – " Wakko burst, lunging forward to snatch the book away. No one else aside from Yakko had ever laid eyes on his drawings, and Yakko had barely even seen half of them. But Buster was quicker and pulled it out of his reach.

"Oh please, have you seen me draw? I can't even make a convincing stick figure. Whatever you've got has to be better just by default."

Settling back on his heels, Wakko waited in forced silence as Buster looked through.

"Hey, these are badass!" Buster said, a grin cracking across his face as he inspected a drawing of a sea monster, "Oh man, look at his tentacles, those are so cool!" He flipped the page. "Whoa, hold the phone, who's the cute chick?"

Realizing he was pointed to the sketch of Berry, Wakko blushed horribly and mumbled, "Nothing, don't look at that one…"

Buster smirked but thankfully turned to the next page. The smirk slipped off his face, and his grip tightened around the edges of the book. His whole body seemed to have stiffened, and the air became tense because of it. Confused, Wakko craned forward to see which sketch it was that was making him mad…maybe it was the unflattering one he'd drawn of Buster's messy kitchen, it had been pretty gross at the time –

But Wakko's heart stopped when he saw it: it was the sketch he'd done, months ago, of Yakko and Babs talking. It still had the dark line marring it from when Shirley had burst into the room and scared the crap out of him.

"Buster, that's nothing," he said quickly, "it's just a stupid drawing – "

Ignoring him, Buster slapped the sketchbook shut and thrust it into Wakko's hands. "No, it's good," he said in a low voice, "real lifelike."

In one movement he was up on his feet. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Buster disappeared around the other side of the dented car. Wakko watched him go, desperate to shout after him, but all the words that bubbled up in throat refused to become cohesive and tumble out. His eyes darted around helplessly, searching for something, anything, that would make it better, that would take it back, but of course there was nothing. He'd screwed up. Again.

* * *

Yakko watched as Babs' face bent in concentration, all of her focus burning on the face where their hands joined. Her fingers were wrapped around his, her thumb working furiously against his thumb in what was possibly the most heated thumb war match of all time. The competitive side of Yakko was screaming at his other side to get a grip on himself – the side that kept getting distracted by her hand and her giggles.

Once the sun had set the cold had settled in, and they'd moved to the cabin of the van. Without words they had agreed that the more spacious back of the van was out of the question, each of them battling memories of being thrown in it by weasels. Babs, who had pulled a blanket from her hammerspace and had wrapped it around herself like a cocoon, laughed again as his thumb pinned hers. She squirmed, trying to free it and failing, and he began to count, "One, two – "

"No!" she cried dramatically, and reached out to jab him in his side. He yelped – how on earth did she know he was ticklish there? – and she seized her chance, her thumb sliding out easily in his moment of weakness. How dare she?

"Hey, that's cheating!" he said.

"I prefer to call it _strategy_," she shot back with a smirk.

"The secret of life is honesty and fair dealing. If you can fake that, you've got it made," he quoted in his perfected Groucho Marx impression.

God, she had that confident look again. Stop it, stop it…

"I'd rather regret the things I've done than regret the things I haven't done," she returned. A flawless Lucille Ball.

Her smile was arresting, he was a prisoner to it, he'd just have to sit here for years because he would never be able to leave –

"Onetwothree _gotcha!_" she exclaimed triumphantly, and it took him a moment to realized she'd had his thumb pinned down. This immediately caused her to break down into a victory dance in her seat, which was accompanied by a song with lyrics loosely strung together on the spot.

"Babs is the best, better than the rest, at thumb war, it is no chore…"

Yakko rolled his eyes. "You should take my spot on Broadway."

Finally settling down, her eyes flicked to his. "Do you think you'll go back to New York? After all this is done?"

"Doubt it. Unless Dot or Wakko want to go back to JTAP. I want it to be their decision this time, instead of me dragging them across the country just because I wanted to. Besides, the air's way too clean in Manhattan."

"Good, because everyone missed you here when you left." Her eyes dropped down to their hands, which were still connected. "Buster really missed you," she added quietly.

"I missed him too," Yakko said, trying to ignore the way her fingers were curled, "If I'd have known that he was having trouble…I could've done something, I should have – "

She waved him off. "As if I was some kind of saint to him. Please, I let it happen. But, even if he doesn't act like it, he's an adult. He's just going to have to decide for himself. I hope he hasn't gotten himself into too much trouble…I mean, he is a toon, but…I never know with him…"

The van grew silent as Buster's invisible presence ushered out the merriment from before. Part of Yakko wished Buster would just go away and leave them be, but the other part of him, the part closer to his heart, missed his friend desperately. He missed the old Buster, the real Buster, not the one consumed by addiction and pointless longing for a life he thought he wanted but never needed. He missed being good enough for Buster. And Buster, didn't he see what he had in Babs? What he was pushing away?

"He's tougher than anyone gives him credit for," Yakko said, "And smarter. I don't know if he'll find a way through this, but he'll find a way around it."

"I hope so. I wish I knew him better. We were perfect for each other as kids, but we just grew into two different people. Life's funny that way, isn't it?"

"Life's got a twisted sense of humor."

She snorted, but then gave way into a full-body shiver. To his surprise she suddenly scooted closer to him so that she was pressed up against his chest, her head nestled beneath his chin. Every muscle in his body wound to a level of tightness he hadn't imagined was possible; if someone so much as poked him he'd shoot straight through the roof of the van. Probably in the shape of a rocket. And if he was lucky he'd land in a magical where there were no amazing girlfriends of best friends to fall completely in love with.

Wait.

Love? He wasn't in love. Was he? That was impossible. He was a Warner. He was _Yakko _Warner. The word had been scratched out from his romantic vocabulary, and used only when he needed a good chuckle.

Almost of their own accord, as though they were breaking through the chains of his own confusion, Yakko's arms slid around Babs, holding her close to him. They settled there and his entire body seemed to soften, like clay, and there was only one word on his mind: perfect. This felt perfect. _She _felt perfect. He'd never wanted to just hold a girl like this before. Then again, he'd never wanted a girl like this before. Not in this way. Babs seemed to relax too; she sighed, and it made him delirious. What he wouldn't give, or do, to make her make that noise again. He buried his face in her ears and breathed her in.

They stayed like this until her ears perked up. Yakko watched her. She took his hand, cradling it in hers for a moment as though it was made of glass. Then his breath caught in his throat as she slid her bare hand under his glove. The friction of skin against skin was incredible, deliciously slow, only stopping when she was satisfactorily settled against him. Every pinprick point where their palms met positively burned, and Yakko found his eyes glued to their hands, pinned together beneath his glove. After too many moments he realized he was holding his breath. He exhaled in a puff that was almost a cough, and without any kind of conscious decision his eyes met hers.

In the past, Yakko had only ever looked into a girl's eyes as a means to an end. They thought it was romantic, they thought _he _was romantic, and he always found that he prospered in the end. Not once did he really look into to their eyes, deep into them to find the girl behind them. But now, as he all but drowned in the brilliantly clear blue of Babs', his brain was clouded with all that he had missed, every truth and happiness in the world, and all that he had to gain. He felt naked and exposed under her gaze like he never had before, as though everything about him was laid out plainly before her, and he wondered what she thought of what she was seeing.

He had to say something. He had to, before he did something he'd regret or he made her feel uncomfortable by staring at her like an idiot for some inappropriate amount of time –

"Why don't you wear gloves?" he croaked, then nearly cringed. That was the best he could come up with? God, he was an embarrassment to himself.

To his surprise, she smirked. "I always told people it was protest against tradition. But the real reason is because I thought they made my hands look too big. Isn't that ridiculous? But that's what most girls did back then anyway."

"You're not like most girls."

For how close she was there was no way she couldn't feel the frenetic way his heart was beating, and on top of that he swore she was getting closer. Her warm breath broke against his chin, and he realized for a second time that night that it would not take much for him to close the distance between them, like he'd wanted to do for months. With any other girl he wouldn't have given it a second thought – hell, by this point he'd be offering her a tour of his apartment. But not with Babs, with her it was so much harder, so much scarier. She could see right through him, he knew she could, and she'd realize he wasn't good enough, just like his mother had, just like any other girl would have if he'd stayed with her long enough to give her the chance to decide –

"I'm sorry!" she burst out suddenly, "It's my fault – well, sort of my fault – I guess it still makes it my fault – "

He blinked at her, trying to keep his head from spinning. "Come again?"

He'd never seen someone look so guilty. "It's my fault we're even in this mess! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…I've been meaning to tell you, but…"

Yakko frowned and shook his head, trying to knock some sense into it. "Wait, what are you talking about?"

Taking a deep, shuddering breath and not making eye contact with him, Babs said in a miserable voice, "I should have told you…on the night Bugs told us we were going to Pendleton, Buster thought it would be a good idea to go out for a bit, to take our minds off of things, even though Bugs told us we shouldn't. But I went, we went to this bar in downtown Toontown, it was one of those overpriced ones that thinks it's better than it – you know what, nevermind – long story short, we had a fight. And I was yelling at him, I mean really yelling, like Jerry Springer, you're-not-the-father kind of yelling. And in the middle of all of it, I said that he shouldn't even bother going to Pendleton. There were dozens of people there Yakko, and I screamed it at them like an idiot. Who screams a secret like that in some seedy bar? They'd have to be Beethoven-level deaf not to hear me. It's the only way the news must've gotten out, and it's all my fault. I'm so sorry, I haven't been able to stop thinking about it…"

Yakko felt as if a cold stone had been dropped into his stomach as he watched her blink back tears. It would be easy to not say anything, to let her and Buster take the fall. And for a moment, he very nearly did. Yakko bit his lip and stared out into the black desert. His heart was pounding again, except this time for very different reasons. He shut his eyes and sighed, and painfully turned his head back to Babs.

With a horrible effort, Yakko said slowly, "Babs…listen, it wasn't…it wasn't you who let it slip."

Her eyes finally flicked up to meet his, her brows puckered with confusion. "What?"

Yakko hesitated. He used the moment to soak in her face, because she was probably never going to look at him the same way again. "It…it was me. I said it. By accident." He felt as though he was pulling the words from his mouth against their will.

"You? To who?"

Oh boy.

"Um, well…you're going to laugh…well, no, probably not, but…Minerva."

Her face went from concerned to emotionless in one swoop. She blinked at him. Once. Then a chill seemed to settle over the car. Babs pulled away from him and Yakko immediately missed the warmth of her body against his.

She looked him full in the face. "You told…_Minerva?_"

Each of her words was like a punch in the gut. Like a coward, he couldn't muster the words to answer her.

Her eyebrows darted together as her eyes narrowed. "And why, might I ask, did you tell her about that? What _exactly _were you doing with her?"

"It wasn't anything – "

She laughed humorlessly. "Oh yeah, I'm sure, you two were just having tea and a nice little chat when it just slipped out – "

"What does it matter what we were doing?"

"It matters to me!" Babs shot back, but something flashed across her face the moment she said it. Yakko would have dwelled on this had his own frustration and regret not bubbled to the surface.

"Why?" he challenged, "I don't see why it should, last time I checked you were with Buster!"

"Well maybe I'm not!"

"What?" he yelped, wincing as his voice jumped up several pitches, "You didn't tell me that!"

"And why would you need to know?"

"I don't!"

"Then it doesn't matter!"

"Well then even if Minerva and I were going skydiving that shouldn't matter either!"

This seemed to wash over her, and it pinned her mouth shut in a thin line. Her blue eyes, so deep and inviting before, were now a cold, impenetrable wall. "And I thought what you did to Fifi was pathetic," she snapped, and put shuffled to the other side of the cabin to put as much space between her and Yakko as possible. She glared pointedly out the window, but he could still make out her stony face in the sideview mirror.

Yakko took a breath, snide remark prepared, but shut it when he realized it would only make things worse than they already were. That seemed to be the only thing that happened when he opened his mouth anymore.

* * *

Thrusting his back against the car, Wakko's eyes fell on his sketchbook. That stupid thing had done more harm than good…it was just a showcase of his many failures…with and angry snarl, he snatched it up. He tried to tear it apart but he couldn't even break the binding. Frustrated, he hurled it into the darkness, the papers fluttering, perfectly happy if he never saw it again.

_Thump_. "Ow! What the…"

Wakko frowned as Dot came marching into the light, one hand clutching the sketchbook and the other rubbing the side of her head. "A girl can't get some shut eye without getting concussed? What did you do that for?" she demanded.

But something must've shown on his face, because her own softened almost immediately. She glanced at the book, then back at him again. "You okay Wakko?"

"Fine," he grunted.

Not breaking eye contact, she padded lightly around the campfire and dropped down next to him. "Look, you do a lot of weird things, but trying to throw your sketchbook to Timbuktu? That's a new one."

"How'd you know it's my sketchbook?"

Dot rolled her eyes in a wonderfully familiar way. "Okay, well, for starters, it says 'Wakko's Sketchbook' on the cover."

He had to give her that one.

"And…I also…might have peeked at it before."

Wakko's ears jumped in alarm. "What? When?"

"At Bugs' house," she said, making an effort not to sound to guilty, "after we had some moronic fight. I was mad at you, and then I found your book, and I was totally gonna use it as blackmail material. But then I looked at it…and then I saw this one…"

She paged through, then held the book up to him so he could see. She'd stopped on one of the sketches he'd done of her, curled up on the couch and watching TV.

"I love this one," she said, "Just when I thought no one could translate my adorableness to paper…it looks just like me!"

"Keep it then, if it's so great," he grumbled, shoving the book back her, "'cause it's done me _so_ much good…not…"

Her brow puckering, Dot's gaze turned to the book, then back at Wakko. Without warning, she slapped him over the head with it.

Wakko yelped and clutched his head. "Ow! What's your problem – "

"God, you're a worse drama queen than Yakko, you know that? I just told you your drawings are good, and you go whining about the thing like it chopped your tail off or something – "

"It's not just that! All I do is screw up, all the time, everything I touch just gets ruined, I might as well not even try – "

"That's not true and you know it! Whining and crying never solved anything. If you have problems, then deal with them!"

She had such a fierce look on her face that Wakko's mouth slapped shut. He pulled back to stare at her, her thin chest heaving, her tiny fists balled at her sides. After glaring at him for a length of time she deemed appropriate, Dot's face softened, and she was looking at him with a tender expression that reminded him irrefutably of Yakko.

"But don't think for one second that I'm letting you deal with them alone," she said, and she scooted next to him to snuggle into the spot under his shoulder, "you've got me now, too."

Feeling her shiver from the cold night air, Wakko wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a quick squeeze. They watched the fire in silence until Dot picked up his comic. "Be careful," he blurted, fidgeting under her.

"Geez, how many times have you read this thing? The ink is wearing off," she asked, examining the worn pages.

"A bunch."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Ya don't say…" He watched her as she brought the comic close to her face, angling it so it could catch whatever bit of firelight she could. "Don't you get sick of Mickey being so darn cheerful all the time?" she asked after a while.

Wakko shrugged. "Not really. That's part of why I like it."

The comic lowered. "Why _do _you like this so much?"

Keeping his eyes on the book, he thought for a moment. No one had ever asked him that before. "Well…I dunno…I mean it's exciting, and stuff…I found it at the orphanage, so I've had it forever…" his eyes drifted to a frame with Mickey and the Phantom Blot, "…and, well, I like that Mickey goes through all this stuff, the Phantom Blot keeps trying to kill him, but he never gives up, and he never stops being brave or doing the right thing. No matter what. But then there's the Phantom Blot. You think he's just a bad guy, but at the end he says he can't watch anything die. So there's a little more to him than you think. And…I don't know…that just seemed to make sense to me. I wish I could be like Mickey, but most of the time I just feel like the Blot."

Dot paged through the comic with considerably more interest now. "Well, I think that you're brave and do the right thing."

He thought of leaving Yakko, Scratchensniff, and Yosemite behind. "I dunno."

"I think there's more to you than most people think too."

"I dunno…"

"Don't be such a party pooper! C'mon, you can drive a car and you came all the way to Bugs' house to protect me, even after I was mean to you, and it was your idea to go to Pete's tree farm tomorrow!"

He nudged her. "Says the one who sets up snares and mallets huge toons in the head."

Her whole body seemed to swell with pride. "Just a little thing I do." She paused, staring into the fire, and a wave of sadness rippled across her face. Wakko wondered if she was thinking about Yosemite, and his mind scrambled for options on cheering her up.

"So uh…what's the first thing you're gonna do when we find Yakko?"

The corner of her mouth quirked ever so slightly, and he considered this a victory. "Hug him 'til he can't breath. Then tell him to get off his duff and tell Babs how he feels."

"Wait, what?"

"Oh please, he's been eyeing Babs for months."

"What? Babs? For real?"

Heaving a gigantic sigh, she gave him a classically Dot look – one that implied that he, like every other male on earth, was incredibly stupid.

"God, you're such a _boy_. You all are oblivious to everything. Yakko was obviously nuts about Babs and the only reason he didn't say anything was because she's Buster's girlfriend. Duh. So he should just tell her. Sure, it'll ruffle up some feathers, but even if she says no, he needs to show himself he can do a lot better than his current track record, a _whole _lot better."

Wakko rolled his eyes. "You were jealous of Minerva even before we knew she was rotten."

She let out an offended sniff. "I told you, I'm not jealous!"

"You never liked any of his 'special friends,' not one. Even the ones that weren't so bad. Remember Natalia? She told me she liked my hat once."

Dot was practically bristling. "Oh what do you know, you probably don't probably don't even know you're totally in love with Berry!"

"What?" Wakko yelped, shocked at the abrupt turnaround, "Since when?"

"Look, you're blushing!"

"No I'm not!"

"Wakko's blushing, Wakko's blushing…"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am not – "

"Hey, simmer down over there! Some of us would prefer _not _to get a visit from some smugglers," came Buster's voice from the darkness.

Still smirking, Dot dropped her voice to a whisper. "Anyway, as I was saying, once we find Yakko – and Babs for that matter – he needs to prove he can ask out a girl who doesn't think IQ is a way to abbreviate the alphabet. It's too bad she's still going out with Buster though."

"Buster's not so bad," Wakko said, ringing his hands.

Dot prodded him in the side. "What's up?"

"Huh?"

"You've got that 'I know something and I feel guilty about it' look on your face," she said, raising an eyebrow at him. It made her look remarkably like Yakko while reminding him that she alone had inherited their older brother's poker face, not him.

"I…well…Buster's a good guy, but…I kinda, accidentally heard him and Babs argue before they disappeared and, um, they might…not be dating?" he mustered.

"Really?" she asked, frowning.

"Yeah – but don't say anything, promise? And don't go trying to, I don't know, do some kind of matchmaker thing or something."

She'd gone back to staring into the fire, and Wakko found this unnerving. He didn't trust girls. The wheels in their heads were always turning. Opting to distract her again, he muttered, "'Cause if you do, I'm telling your boyfriend you want to elope…"

The fire reflected in her wide eyes. "Don't you dare, that's not even true! And he's not my boyfriend!"

"Yeah, right."

She crossed her arms and stuck out her nose stubbornly. "And even if – in some _insane_ alternate universe – he _was _my boyfriend, it's not a big deal. I'm a teen. I date boys. That's what I do."

"Hey, you don't have to tell me that, _I'm_ not the one you have to worry about," Wakko said with blissful unconcern, stretching back to lean against the car with his hands behind his head, "I don't have to go after Skippy with a baseball bat. Big brother's gonna do all the work for me."

Groaning, Dot dropped her face in her hands. "Don't remind me," she muttered through the weave of her fingers, "He'll have a freaking coronary when he finds out."

He smirked. "Oh, so it's true?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," she said, crossing her arms and looking away to hide the color in her face.

If she had revealed this months ago he would have taunted her around the clock, but Wakko was surprised to find he had no such impulse. Instead, he simply adjusted himself to find a more comfortable spot against the car and said, "Don't worry. I won't tell Yakko. Not right away, at least."

She snuggled closer to him. "We're gonna find him, right?" she whispered, and she sounded small.

"Yeah." It did not occur to him to say no.

Wakko could feel sleep weighing down his eyelids, and the fire was an orange blur against the black night. He was so far from home right now, but with Dot here it didn't feel so bad. They were just missing their Part Three. With a guilty twinge he remembered ragging on Yakko for forcing him to stay at Bugs' house, that it wasn't his home. He should have realized that as long as his brother and sister were there, anywhere was home.

"G'night, sis."

"Goodnight Wakko."


	20. Oswald the Lucky Rabbit

_**Chapter 19: Oswald the Lucky Rabbit**_

As he'd fallen into a troubled sleep the night before, Yakko had hoped that Babs' temper would subside by the morning, and that like any sane, logical person, she'd recognize that their current predicament overrode any ridiculous and groundless judgment against him.

Nope.

Yakko marched beside her, occasionally throwing glances in Babs' direction as they trudged the miles toward the border. Despite his efforts, she'd barely said a word to him since they'd gotten up before the sun rose, and when she did talk it was only in terse snippets born out of necessity: "We should go now." "I don't need help, my ankle's fine."

She was very talented at ignoring him. He wondered if she'd had practice with Buster. At the moment she was staring resolutely ahead, squinting in the harsh sun, pretending that he was trivial annoyance similar to the sweat on her brow – something that could not be helped but that she had to deal with.

Yakko rolled his eyes. For how many times he'd been told he was good with the ladies, it was a joke. He didn't understand girls. At all. They were insane. All of them. Where did she get off treating him like yesterday's garbage for hooking up with Minerva? He was a free agent at the time. And Babs was – or had been, whatever – dating his best, after all. Didn't she get that he could have easily lied to her? This was what he got for being honest. The silent treatment. Brilliant.

"There it is."

Babs' clipped tones dragged him back to the present. She was staring ahead (just where he'd left her). Quivering in the heat haze was border control. Even from a distance it seemed intimidating.

"We can't really walk up there and say 'hi, we were kidnapped and now we're trying to sneak back without our kidnappers knowing. So do us a solid and keep a lid on it, will ya?'" Yakko muttered, "I think we might – hey, Babs, where are you going?"

"Crossing three miles down."

"Babs, hold up!"

She had already taken off so briskly that Yakko had to jog to catch up with her.

"You're going to have to talk to me eventually, you know," he said.

"No I don't."

"There, see? You just talked to me."

Silence.

He followed her another three miles until they reached a desolate stretch of the border. Yakko scanned the area for guards and didn't see any, but he doubted that meant anything.

"You think this place is safe to cross over? I feel like I won't be able to put a toe on the US without getting tackled."

Babs shook her head. "I'm not going over the border."

"Eh, come again?"

"I'm going under it."

And with that she took a running leap that turned into a perfect dive straight into the ground. Before she smashed face first into the dirt she began to dig, burrowing into the ground like a drill. He blinked, then with a quick glance at the border and over his shoulder, Yakko dove after her.

He landed clumsily – he wasn't used to naturally dug tunnels, they were rougher and more crooked than the false ones built for the sets. Once his eyes adjusted to the darkness he could see chunks of earth churning ahead of him as Babs dug. He followed, crawling on his hands and knees, trying to avoid dirt clods and clawed up roots.

"Babs, how far – ugh, worm – how far are we going?"

She either hadn't heard him or she was ignoring him. He was more inclined to go with the latter.

"Babs, what do I have to do to get you to talk to me? I'll tap dance. I'll mallet myself. Heck, I'll do both at the same time. Just say the word."

Nothing.

"I made a mistake, alright? I didn't mean to give away our plan, but I don't think that's what's got your ears in a knot."

She kept digging. They had to have gone at least half a mile by now. The tunnel was tight and hot, and his shoulders scraped against the walls of dirt.

"You're mad about Minerva. And you know what? I'm sorry. I'm sorry I even looked at her. I'm sorry I've treated almost every girl in my life like crap. I'm sorry I did the same thing to you. You didn't deserve it."

She stopped, as did he. Wow…he'd never apologized to a girl who wasn't his sister before. It made Babs freeze in place…maybe he was onto something.

"See? Knew you couldn't stay mad forever. I mean, c'mon, look at this face – "

"_Shh!_" she hissed, staring at the ground.

Yakko suppressed an eye roll. "It's bad enough that you won't talk, now I have to go mute too – "

"Be quiet will ya? Don't you hear that?"

"You're the one with the ears, I don't…wait…yeah, I hear something…it almost sounds like…"

"Footsteps," Babs finished for him, finally looking at him with wide eyes.

Yakko whipped around. The sound was coming from the other end of the tunnel.

"Move," he commanded in a steady voice, grasping Babs by the shoulders to turn her back to her digging. "Just go up, as fast as you can!"

She obeyed without any complaint, clawing towards the surface as Yakko watched nervously over his shoulder. The footsteps were echoing in the tunnel now, getting louder with each step, and with a sickening swell in his stomach he could hear a faint, "Bo, Bo!"

Babs' foot slipped above him and he gave her a boost, scrambling up after her. Light appeared in pieces as she broke the surface and the scent of fresh air filled the tunnel. Just like leaving the Compound. He gave her another push and she disappeared over the edge, seemingly into the sun. Grabbing the ledge he hoisted himself up and over as well.

Scurrying onto his knees, Yakko said through gasps of breath, "Babs, run, I'll take them down and catch up – "

Something hard and heavy collided with his back, knocking the air out of his lungs as his face hit the ground. Lights burst in front of his eyes and Yakko was pretty sure he had stars dancing around his head. Somewhere in the confusion he felt nails scrape his scalp, and then a fist clenched in his hair, pulling him painfully back up to his knees. The putrid stench of DIP filled his nostrils.

"Knew you'd, eh, _resurface _eventually, heh heh heh. It pays to pay border control, I tell ya."

Yakko growled at the sound of Mortimer's voice, but this only made the rat laugh harder. "Aw, miss me?"

Yakko twisted in his clutches to find Babs. She was clamped in Mugsy's vice grip – he only knew she was there by her pink ears that stuck out above his arms. He struggled against Mortimer, who yanked him back, shooting pain down his scalp and neck. "Don't worry, yer girlfriend's just fine. And, look, here's our ride!" He pointed to the black van that was heading in their direction. It sent dirt and rocks flying as it slid to a stop next to them, and Bosko jumped down from the cabin.

"Surprised you didn't need a booster seat," Yakko commented, which earned him a kick in the stomach. With Yakko now doubled over, Bosko eyed him imperiously while Mortimer snickered.

"Hope you enjoyed your little joyride as much as I did, bub. You put us in one ugly mess."

Yakko glared up at him, but his eyes widened: the side of Bosko's face that had been hit with DIP looked terrible, almost like an exceptionally bad burn. All of the fur on his cheek was gone, exposing rippled, bubbling red skin. It looked as though several layers had been stripped clean off. It had barely missed Bosko's eye, which was stretched tight in one corner by the mangled skin.

"Yeah, looks like you're the ugliest part of it," Yakko shot back.

Mortimer burst out laughing at this, but to Yakko's surprise, Bosko grinned. "That was a good one, really! And look at ya, makin' tracks back to Toontown. Bet you was tryin' to go back to little Wakky and Dottie, is that right?"

The smirk vanished from Yakko's face and his jaw was clenched so tightly it hurt, but he didn't care, he just glared at Bosko with every bit of hate he could muster.

"Don't worry," Bosko continued, "they'll be well taken care of. Rocky's been seein' to that, I expect. And in fact, because of your little stunt, the Blot himself is on his way there right now!"

On instinct, Yakko gave an aggressive jerk. This caught Mortimer off guard enough to actually twist out of his grip, but Yakko had barely gotten off his knees before Bosko had a DIP gun pointed straight at his chest.

"Ya got lucky with yer first getaway. And ya only get one free pass." He turned to Mugsy. "Git these two losers in the van."

* * *

Wakko flattened his body to the ground, trying to blend in with the grass and waning light. He was sandwiched between Dot and Buster, with Skippy taking Dot's other side. He copied the rest of them and pulled out his own set of binoculars from his hammerspace. Peering through them, he surveyed Pete's Christmas Tree Farm from the security of their distant hill. The thick rows of trees stood silent and still in the darkness – it would be pretty if he wasn't so nervous.

"There's a cop car there…" Buster murmured.

"It's Pete's," Wakko said. When everyone turned to stare at him, he added, "He's posing as a cop. That's how he found me and Scratchy."

Dot's eyes narrowed behind her binoculars. "So that means Pete's present and accounted for."

"And maybe Scratchy will be present and accounted for too," Wakko added.

Skippy lowered his binoculars and frowned. "How are we gonna find him in all these trees?"

"By getting up off our butts and looking," Buster answered with authority. In one movement he grabbed them all by their collars and hopped up to his feet, dragging them up with him. Wakko barely had time to register that he was standing again before he noticed Buster already marching to the fence line. Wakko gulped. He'd been bugging them to investigate Pete's place for weeks, but now that the moment was here he was nervous.

He felt a gentle nudge at his back. Looking down, he found Dot staring up at him with wide eyes. "C'mon Wakko. Maybe Yakko's in there."

There were no words to express how desperately he wanted to believe her. He refused to get his hopes up, there was only so many times they could be crushed…but even he couldn't hold down the small bubble of possibility.

He and Buster helped Dot over the massive chainlink fence (despite here outraged protests that she could handle the "stupid fence" on her own). Once she was up and over Wakko followed, landing cat-like in the soft dirt on the other side. Loose needles were strewn across the ground, and they poked his feet as he walked. The whole place smelled pleasantly of pine. Wakko wondered what it would be like to grow in a forest – no, in a treehouse, with no other buildings or cars or people around…

It was easy to imagine such a thing in this place. Trees surrounded them on all sides, looming over them as they walked in silence. Dot had scooted so close to him that her elbow was knocking into him with each step.

"It's so quiet," Skippy whispered. He seemed to be shrinking in on himself.

Buster rolled his eyes. "What did you expect? Evergreens aren't exactly the chattiest bunch."

"What was that?" Dot hissed.

They froze, huddled together, each staring off into a different direction. "What?" Wakko shot back, frantically scanning the lines of trees, "What is it?"

"I just…I thought I saw something…"

His eyes were playing tricks on him in the night. Every shadow was a weasel ready to attack him, each tree was Pete, or Rocky, waiting for the chance to grab him by the throat…

"Let's keep moving," Buster muttered.

Deeper and deeper into the trees they went; Wakko realized it would have been smart to leave some kind of trail to find his way out again. The lot was far bigger than he could have imagined, and there was no way to distinguish one black pine tree from the next. Nearly an hour had gone by when Dot started whining about being cold, but he ignored her. Mostly because he was cold too and it only made it worse.

"Stop," Skippy said suddenly.

They came to a halt again, but this time Wakko had heard it. A rustling in the trees that did not belong to them. And again. Dot whimpered, and Buster reached behind his back. A swell of foreboding overwhelmed Wakko, and his heart began to pound in anticipation –

There was a vicious howl, and nearly a dozen weasels burst from the trees like gunshots. One of them slammed into Skippy, flattening him to the ground, and Wakko had barely managed to dive out of the way when another clipped him in the shoulder. Pain shot up his side as he landed awkwardly on his hip. Next to him Skippy was struggling with a particularly burly weasel, and Wakko kicked out, catching the weasel hard in the stomach. It wheezed and rolled to the side; Wakko grabbed Skippy and pulled him to his feet.

"Thanks!" Skippy cried, but in the next second three more weasels were upon them. Wakko squirmed out of the way, losing Skippy in the melee.

"Wakko!"

Dot's cry sent him running blindly in her direction. He collided with two weasels, sending them straight to the ground and his view was clear; Dot was attempting to climb one of the trees while simultaneously throwing pies at the weasels below. It seemed to be only semi-successful as half her pies got tangled in the branches beneath her. Wasting no time, Wakko whipped out his mallet and swung – it struck the foremost weasel in the chest, sending him hurtling into the other one.

"Nice one!" Dot cried as she jumped down from the tree. She dashed to his side just as more weasels emerged from the tree line.

"Wakko! Dot!" Buster bellowed from the fray. Wakko could barely see his blue ears poking over the weasels' heads. "Buster!" Dot called out, but the weasels were surrounding them, pushing them back.

Wakko knew he didn't have a choice – a dozen more weasels were bearing down on them. He grabbed Dot's hand and tore up the nearest hill. The trees whizzed past them in a dark blur as they sprinted, their feet pounding stray pine needles into the dirt, their breath heaving in and out of their chests. The weasels hissed and snorted behind them, darting in and out of the trees like snakes. Wakko was suddenly very aware of the rhythm of his feet as they hit the ground, of his breathing, of Dot's breathing. He noticed when her breathing turned into sharp wheezes, and he grabbed her by the shoulder when she began to slow. She was tired, he knew, but this wasn't exactly the time for a break.

"_This way!_" she gasped, yanking him to the right. He followed without question, and their sharp turn threw off the weasels, who scurried in a different direction. Wakko, who was watching them over his shoulder, felt Dot jerk his arm again. He turned, only to find himself in front of a small, shed-like structure, nestled in a copse of pines.

Wakko dug his heels into the ground when she tugged him. "No way Dot, what if someone's in there?"

"You have a better hiding place?"

"Good point."

She wrenched open the door and they leapt inside. He and Dot collapsed back against the door and gasped for breath. As Dot bent to lean on her knees, Wakko glanced about the room. It was small and dark, except for a tarnished lamp on a table against the wall. The fur on the back of Wakko's neck prickled. Why was there a light on in a shed?

A shadow flickered against the wall. Someone was in the shed with them.

Instinctively, Wakko threw himself on top of Dot, knocking her to the ground like a domino.

She squirmed under his weight. "Wakko! What the hell?"

"Excuse me, but is that you, Dot?"

They both froze at the sound of the voice. It was so familiar…it couldn't possibly be…

"Brain?" they asked in unison.

The impressive frontal lobe of none other than Brain appeared over the edge of the table. "There is no logical explanation for why you two should be here at this moment," he said.

"Brain!" Wakko and Dot cried happily.

Wakko scrambled up from the floor and dashed to the table, immediately scooping up Brain and clutching him to his chest.

"You're alive!" Wakko trilled.

Brain let out a painful grunt. "True, but not well," he said through gritted teeth. "Put me down, or I shall be forced to take serious action."

Frowning, Wakko quickly placed him back on the table. Dot smacked him on the arm and said, "Good going Wakko, don't you see his legs? Brain, are you okay? What happened?"

As Brain heaved himself into the lamplight, Wakko noticed that both of his tiny legs were wrapped in makeshift splints. He looked thin – for a mouse, anyway – and his normally snow white fur was mussed and gray.

"I believe the more accurate query here would be, 'what did _not _happen,'" Brain said, wincing slightly, "but I can only assume you two are hiding from someone – or something?"

"Yeah, that seems to be the name of the game lately," Dot muttered.

"And what about the oldest one – Yakko – where is he?"

Dot turned to Wakko, who answered, "We don't know. We got split up near Pendleton – "

"When was that?"

"Um, November, I think?"

"And what of Dr. Scratchensniff, and Bugs Bunny?"

"We haven't seen Bugs either…" Dot murmured.

Wakko nodded. "Scratchensniff is missing too, I think Pete got him." Jeez, they were striking out here more than he'd thought.

"Pete?" Brain blurted, "The same thug who's held me prisoner here for the last two-hundred and twenty-two days?"

"But who's counting?" Dot said, "C'mon Brain, tell us what happened!"

Brain peered at them from beneath his large forehead. "As I'm sure you have surmised by now, I was kidnapped from my home by a pack of weasels. The ruffians brought me here, where it became apparent that Pete was up to something nefarious. As it turns out, those weasels are clones from an original – a weasel by the name of Psycho, who was lured here by Pete, no doubt with promise of Pete's various extracurricular substances.

"After I'd been spirited here by those flea-bitten mongrels, Pete took it upon himself to explain to me that I'd be perfecting a so-called 'Machine,' so that he and some unnamed cohorts could continue to create more of the undesirables. They were particularly focused on making their creations water-resistant, as they'd noticed a flaw with the weasels' water solubility. An issue with ink, as it were. Pete and company were clever about it – I use that term loosely, mind you – in that I was never given the full plans for this Machine. I was never privy to the source materials for these toons, but through logic and deduction I have come to suspect that they are created from other toons."

Dot's hand was glued to her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. Wakko's jaw dropped so suddenly it banged against his chest; embarrassed, he pushed it back into place.

"At first I refused. I did not want to be credited with such sins against nature. I used my time to plot my escape, but it was thwarted by one of Pete's weasel goons." Brain gestured to his crippled legs. "As you can see, Pete made it so I could not escape so easily again."

"So Pete's trapped you here and forced you to do all the work his sick, twisted little pea-brain came up with?" Dot asked with rising disgust.

"That's just the beginning, my friend. In addition to my work on the Machine, Pete has also tasked me with a far more deadly project. As I am sure you are aware, Pete and his fellows have been creating DIP from the sap from his pine trees and the petroleum from ToonGO. But they can't disintegrate everyone who crosses their path, can they? Who would they have left to control then?" Brain said with a humorless laugh, "No, that wouldn't be practical. So they have a next step. Another level in the plan."

"What?" Wakko and Dot asked together. They locked eyes, and Wakko knew what she was thinking. _Freaky sibling thing_.

"Mind control."

"What?" Wakko asked again, but this time Dot shushed him.

"They have an ink," Brain said breathlessly, and Wakko had the chilling impression that the scientist in Brain was excited about this in spite of himself, "I wish I knew where they got it…but this ink, it has strange properties…they – well, largely myself – have been developing an airborne contagion from this ink, one that, when inhaled, submits the infected under another being's control."

"So Pete can control people's brains now?" Wakko asked, horrified. Pete's own decisions were bad enough. He couldn't imagine if they were multiplied.

"It hasn't been successful when Pete's applied the Mist. I suspect the toon in control would be the source of the ink itself."

"Who'd the ink come from then?" Dot demanded.

Brain shook his head. "That information regrettably remains classified."

The shed grew quiet for a moment, and Wakko let the information wash over him. A mind control mist, made out of ink? Great. If they weren't doomed before, they certainly were now.

Suddenly, Dot slammed her fist on the table, making him and Brain jump. "But how could you go along with this? You _knew _it was hurting toons! Your _project _could be hurting our friends, or my brother! How could you? Why couldn't you have faked the experiments, or sabotaged it, or something, anything – "

"Dot, cool it!" Wakko cried. He yanked her back from her battle charge by the shoulders, and he could feel she was positively hot with anger beneath his hands.

"No no, all valid points from the presumptuous young lady," Brain drawled, "But they would have realized immediately if I was a saboteur, and most likely murdered me on the spot. A noble death for certain, but a wasteful one. I felt that my talents were best utilized in another way. Yes, I created accurate and, if I may be so bold, groundbreaking updates to their weapons. But that, my friends, is what some people refer to as a _cover_."

Dot was breathing heavily through her nostrils, but she no longer felt like she was going to combust on the spot. Wakko decided to accept this as progress.

"In my spare time I've been developing a side project. For the greater good, as it were."

"Wait, you had _spare time?_" Wakko blurted.

Brain ignored him. "Long ago, Dr. Scratchansniff and I had come to the realization that we cannot stop unscrupulous toons from making DIP. Thus, our only other option was to stop the DIP itself. He and I had been developing an anti-serum, though that work was interrupted by my untimely capture. I don't know what Otto has been up to, but I took the liberty to pursue the remainder of the project independently.

"I have a prototype available, FLIP, as I like to call it, but unfortunately it is still in beta form as I have no means to test it. If I could get my hands on some of that DIP…but alas. You can see it, it's under the floorboards, just over there."

Wakko followed to where he was pointing and lifted the loose floor boards. Several viles filled with bright pink liquid were nestled together in a small hole.

"Take them," Brain instructed, "Keep them hidden. You will have more use of than me. Keep in mind, they haven't been tested yet…there is the slight possibility that may erupt into flame upon contact with the air, but that is doubtful. Mostly."

Wakko stuffed them into his hammerspace. Pulling her gaze from the viles back to Brain, Dot said, "I'm sorry about what I said, Brain. You were really brave."

"Um…what did you mean when you said we'd have better use for this FLIP stuff than you?" Wakko asked.

Making an attempt to draw himself up, Brain surveyed him steadily. "Look at my legs. Do you think I'm going anywhere with these cumbersome things? Think about it – would I still be here if I could have left?"

Wakko bit his lip, but Dot glanced at him before countering, "Don't be crazy, you're coming with me and Wakko! We'll get you out of here! We just have to find Buster and Skippy, and then we can figure out how to stop that numskull Pete right in his tracks – "

She was cut short as a heavy fist pounded against the door.

"Let me in," came Pete's voice, boisterous as it was malicious, "or I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll blow this house to smithereens!"

* * *

Yakko tried to remember if he'd ever been in a worse situation than the one he found himself in at the moment. He didn't know where his siblings were. His best friend and Bugs were mad at him. Toons were being kidnapped. He'd just survived a prison camp, only to drive away the girl of his dreams and get caught again a day later. And now he found himself in the back of a dark van, being held down by Mugsy. For all he knew – he prayed it wasn't true – they were going straight back to the Compound. If he wasn't worried about getting another kick in the ribs, he would have let out the raw wail of defeat that had threatened to burst from him ever since he'd been caught in the desert all those weeks ago. It was exhausting keeping it inside this whole time, what he wouldn't give to let it free. What good was he, really? He couldn't even keep himself out of trouble, let alone his siblings and his friends. All of them would have been better off without him.

He didn't know what he'd do if he thrown back in the Compound again. Part of him begged for sweet release, to grab the first DIP gun he could get his hands on and turn it on himself. It would be quick – probably not painless, but still quick. But another voice inside him, the quiet but strong one, told him that this was the coward's way out. Was he a coward? Sometimes he couldn't tell.

Yakko tensed when he felt the van stop moving. He twisted, but Mugsy's grip on his hands was strong. Somewhere on the other side of Mugsy's massive bulk was Babs, and he could tell she'd spent most of their two hours in the back of the frustratingly familiar van trying to squirm out of his grip. He wished he could tell her to stop, that she'd wear herself out, but anytime he tried to talk one of the weasels pointed a DIP gun at him. Not that it mattered, he wouldn't have trusted his voice in speaking to her. He could only imagine what she must be thinking of him right now. Nothing good. He couldn't silence the throbbing refrain: she probably wishes Buster was here instead of me.

Outside he could hear Bosko and Mortimer muttering excitedly to one another. The van doors flew open, but no sunlight filtered inside; instead, Yakko was nearly overwhelmed by the smell of gasoline. Before he could make move, Bosko hollered, "Mugsy, bring 'em inside!"

Yakko was lifted off his feet like a ragdoll, and by the sound of Babs' protests of "I can walk, ya know!" he assumed Mugsy had done the same to her. His eyes darting rapidly, Yakko realized they were in some sort of garage, and for one horrifying moment he thought they'd been taken back to the Compound. But no, the walls were made of cement and plaster and steel, not hollowed out earth. Bosko and Mortimer lead them through the garage to a large, steel-plated door. Above the door was a giant sign in faded blue and red letters: **ToonGO**.

They crossed the threshold and the sign disappeared. It was replaced by an even stronger smell of gasoline and a balcony overlooking an immense factory space. There were dozens of vats, all filled with petroleum; weasels scurried about the vats, sliding through their crevices, attending to the various valves and pressure monitors throughout the plant. It was hard to make them out in the dark and clouds of steam that blanketed the concrete floor.

"Beautiful, ain't it?" Mortimer asked. "Ownin' yer own petroleum plant is like growin' yer own DIP – ow, what the hell'd ya do that for?"

Mortimer rubbed his ribs as he glared at Bosko, who'd elbowed him. Bosko's eyes flicked to Yakko and Babs, but Mortimer just muttered, "Pssh, like they didn't know anyway…"

Ignoring him, Bosko stepped forward into the light that cascaded down from one of the massive ceiling lamps. It had a cheap spotlight effect that, when combined with his five o'clock shadow and marred face, made him look like a mad showman.

"So…you two thought you'd go all _Great Escape_ on us. Gotta say, that was pretty damn exciting. I'm surprised, really…I thought those cells were pretty comfy. And you, Warner – I told you ya wasn't to go nowheres, and you did anyhow. Seems to me ya got a problem with authority."

"I don't have a problem with authority, it's just that there was none," Yakko countered.

Bosko sauntered closer to him. His face was close to Yakko's now, and Yakko could see the way his burnt skin rippled and bubbled. He thought of Slappy, and his stomach churned. "You know what yer problem is? You don't know when to shut up. I could teach ya, ya know. I could show ya how to shaddup. I have a special technique. Some people wash out a dirty mouth wit' soap, but me…" Bosko grabbed the DIP gun from Yakko's pocket and help it up to Yakko's mouth. "…I think DIP works much better."

Yakko kept a stone face and pinned his mouth shut, trying not to breath in the horrible stench. Grinning darkly, Bosko pressed the DIP gun harder against Yakko's cheek.

"I've got half a mind to wipe that mouth clean off yer face – that is, unless you can answer me a question. Can ya do that, Warner?"

Yakko glared at him.

"Tell me, where are yer brother and sister? My buddy Pete's been havin' a hell of time getting those two to stay in one place."

His chest tightened considerably. They were alive…his sibs were _alive_…but Pete was after them? They were on the move? He'd been praying they were safe at Bugs'. All of his effort was thrown into keeping his face expressionless, and it was the hardest thing he'd ever done. Harder than anything in the Compound.

"Oh c'mon, just give me a hint. I'm sure you didn't leave darling Wakky and Dottie all alone without a babysitter. You still tie their shoes?"

Yakko refused to answer. He saw Babs try to kick Bosko's shin out of the corner of his eye.

"What, no answer? Well, let's see what one, little squirt of DIP does to loosen yer tongue – "

"No!" Babs shrieked.

"Babs don't!" Yakko hissed, but Bosko had already turned his attention to her. "I noticed you brought yourself a piece of tail for the road, Warner," he said, nodding in Babs' direction. "Nice choice, I gotta say. Ya probably coulda done better, but I guess pickings were slim. Too bad she's hiding too much under that jumpsuit. Mugsy, give her to Mortimer."

With a wicked grin, Mortimer extended his hand out to Babs as though he were offering to dance. Babs sniffed and turned up her nose, but Mugsy thrust her into Mortimer's grasp, and he gleefully slid a hand around her waist and tugged her against his side. The fur on the back of his neck rising, Yakko twisted wildly in Mugsy's iron grip, growling threats and obscenities, but it was useless. Babs made a noise of utter disgust and tried to wriggle away from him. Mortimer dug his fingers into her hip.

"Feisty one, ain't she?" he said with a laugh. He brought his hand to her cheek, then slipped it under her jaw to turn her face towards his. "C'mon sweetheart, give Morty some sugar – "

Without a second's hesitation Babs tried to bite him. Mortimer pulled his hand away just in time with a "Yikes!" accompanied by Bosko's mocking laughter.

"Let go of me ya creep!" Babs snarled, desperately trying to kick him in any sensitive area. Mortimer yelped again and was forced to dance out of the way while still trying to hold onto her.

Still laughing, Bosko pointed his DIP gun directly at Babs' face. Both she and Yakko went still, a deathly silence falling over the platform. Bosko turned to face Yakko, and the look on his face sent a shiver down Yakko's spine.

"Don't point that at her!" he yelled.

Bosko quirked an eyebrow at him. "What about now, Warner? Now will you tell me where your brother and sister are hiding?"

"No Yakko, don't – " Babs began, but Mortimer clamped a hand over her mouth.

Yakko's eyes flicked from the gun, to Babs' face, then to Mortimer. He could only offer guesses to Bosko, but that would only be if he was willing to sell out his siblings, which he solidly was not. But there was no way he was about to let Bosko so much as pump the DIP gun in Babs' general direction. There had to be some way out of this, but what…what would Bugs do…what was _he _going to do…

Bosko's finger tensed around the trigger. "Out with it Warner! Where the hell are they? Tell me now or I do the same thing to her that you did to me!" His voice jumped up several pitches in a bizarrely familiar way.

Yakko's heart was pounding so hard it hurt. Across from him Babs was trying to shake her head beneath Mortimer's grasp, and her eyes were so wide and fearless that it made his chest ache.

"Why are you even looking for us?" Yakko shouted, the words spilling out of his mouth before he could stop them, "What did we ever do to you? We didn't even know you! They're just kids and you're just low-life tabloid fodder, what could we possibly have to do with you?"

All eyes were on Bosko now, who in turn stared back at Yakko with a calculating glower. They held each other's gazes for far longer than Yakko would have ever guessed, so long that the muscles in Yakko's back were beginning to throb from straining against Mugsy.

Suddenly, Bosko proffered a rope from his hammerspace and threw it at Yakko's feet. "Tie 'im down, Mugsy."

Yakko could only watch as Mugsy dutifully picked up the rope and looped it around his body in slow, clumsy circles. He jerked and twisted in the massive toon's grasp, even landing a few kicks, and it was about as effective as a mouse punching a bear in the arm. The rope wound about him, tighter and tighter, and soon his arms were pinned to his sides and his ankles were completely bound.

"Okay Wartimer," Bosko said finally, never taking his eyes off of Yakko, "take the girl and Mugsy for a walk. See what you can get out of her, then do whatever you want. Keep her alive though – try to, anyway. Warner and I need to have a little chat."

"Call me that name again, I dare ya."

"Just do it!"

Mortimer muttered under his breath, but finally turned to Mugsy.

"You heard him ya oaf, move it!" he barked, throwing a rock from his hammerspace at Mugsy's head. It bounced off dully. Mugsy didn't even blink. But he let go of Yakko, who dropped to the floor. He lunged for Babs immediately, which in retrospect was quite stupid considering his feet were tied together. He hit the ground, hard. Mortimer and Bosko burst into laughter, though Mortimer's was cut short after Babs connected a knee to his abdomen with a solid _thwump!_

Trying to glare at her between his coughs and gasps Mortimer grabbed her by the ears and yanked her out of the room. Mugsy followed with heavy footsteps. Babs struggled against him; she was so tiny in his arms that her kicks and wriggles were almost comically pointless. Waiting until they were out of earshot, Bosko turned on him with a dark look. A cloud of steam burst from the factory behind him, framing him in eerie mist.

"Let go of her!" Yakko growled, animal-like, "Let her go or I swear I'll – "

"Or you'll do what? Shout at me to death? Oh, the horror," Bosko drawled. "Ya know, I knew you Warner kids were dumb, but damn, I didn't know ya were as dumb as Fudd. _What do you want with us? We didn't do anything!_" he cried in a mocking imitation of Yakko. This devolved into cruel laughter, an effect that was petrifying given his mangled face and dim lighting. "What did you do, Warner? You did _everything_, and it's all your fault!"

"My tax returns make more sense than you," Yakko snapped.

"Oh please. Drop the act kiddo."

Yakko grit his teeth. "Don't call me that."

"Aw, is that what Daddy Rabbit called you?"

The shock must have reflected on Yakko's face because Bosko continued, "Yeah, the mink told us _all _about you and Bugs. I bet he changed your diapers. And I bet you let him, because you and rest of those idiots in Toontown think he walks on water. Well, newsflash, he don't! He's just a hack who got lucky 'cause a' bunch a' studio bozos had their heads so far up their bums they couldn't see a star if he punched him the nose!" Bosko punctuated this by pounding his fist in his hand. Steam was actually starting to pour off of him in his anger.

"Touchy subject, eh?" Yakko muttered.

Bosko grabbed him roughly by the ears and yanked him forward. Yakko felt several hairs rip from his scalp. "All talk and no action, just like the rabbit."

"No action? I thought I did _everything…_but then, compared to you, maybe not. I didn't kidnap dozens of toons and deform then for my own twisted will. Boy, have I been lazy."

"God, just shut up, will you?" Bosko roared, "you were _born_, that's what you did! And if you weren't bad enough, your brainless skank of a mother was stupid enough to produce two more of you brats. If she'd had any brains at all she'd have drowned ya like I – like she was told. But she didn't. So then the least she could've done was keep ya little vermin outta sight. But _nooo_…unless getting yer own goddamn show on national television means 'outta sight!' What a witless, worthless woman…that's what I – I mean, that's what ya get wit' born toons. Go figure."

Blood was pounding in Yakko's ears; he still wasn't sure what Bosko was talking about but the idea that someone – let alone Bosko – knew more about his own mother and didn't tell him was strangely infuriating. He twisted against the ropes, which rubbed angry burns into his fur and skin. "She tried to keep us out of sight – she ignored us. She pretended we weren't there. We barely left the house. But what do you care? And who told her to drown us? For the last time Bozo, what are you talking about?"

"I didn't know she was a born toon!" Bosko shrieked, outraged, "I didn't know _you three _were born! No one can know, Warner, you're an abomination and I won't have you ruin my reputation!"

Bosko's voice jumped up several pitches with his last few words. Just like his own voice always had when he was surprised or stressed. Yakko suddenly felt dizzy, he felt sick, it couldn't possibly be…

"You…" Yakko said slowly, "you're not my – "

"DON'T EVEN SAY IT!" Bosko bellowed. He whipped out the DIP gun, pumped it once, and aimed it directly at Yakko's chest, who froze in shock.

A frying pan appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and landed on Bosko's head with a sharp _clang! _Bosko dropped the gun and, with his tongue sticking out of his mouth in a goofy way, fell to the ground face first, out cold. This revealed another figure behind him, still clutching the frying pan. Yakko stiffened. Who was it now? It was too short to be Mortimer or Babs…maybe it was another weasel…but whoever it was had ears, long ears…

For one heart-stopping moment Yakko thought it was Bugs; but then the same figure stepped out of the mist. "Hi," he said, "let me introduce myself. I'm – "

"_Oswald!_" Yakko blurted.

Oswald blinked at him in surprise, his brow puckering slightly with frustration. "Hey, how'd you know?"

"Because I met you, months ago, at Slappy's funeral."

"Darn…I was hoping you'd forgotten about that. Look, I had a bit of a speech prepared. Let me try again." Oswald extended his hand. "Hi, I'm Oswald, and I'm your grandfather."

* * *

Dot gasped, her heart in her throat. She exchanged a panicked look with Wakko. She knew what he was thinking. _We're trapped_.

Wakko began pulling his mallet out from behind his back, but Brain held up his hand. "Don't struggle."

"He just told us he was gonna blow us to smithereens!" Wakko growled.

"You'll only exacerbate the present situation. He has well over one hundred pounds on both of you combined, which puts you at a statistical disadvantage."

Dot rolled her eyes. "Thanks for the pep talk."

"Get a hold of yourself. You have the FLIP. Do not let him know this under any circumstance."

As gently as she could manage Dot scooped Brain up and cradled him to her chest. She couldn't stand the thought of Pete hurting him more. Another heavy bang on the door made them all jump, and Wakko positioned himself in front of her so she was nearly out of sight. She tried to push around him, but he held her back, protecting her like a shield.

One last bang and the door broke clean from its hinges and landed on the floor. Pete leered at them, and his eyes shown wild and white against his dark fur. He tried to step inside but he became wedged in the doorframe; after several grunts and missed attempts he finally thrust himself through, shattering it in the process.

"Miss me?" he asked with a guffaw.

"Yeah, like a hole in the head," Dot shot back.

Pete's eyes dropped to where Brain was nestled in her hands. "Look at dat, ya caught a pest. Sorry runt, but you're gonna have to find dinner somewhere else, he's mine!"

Pete stepped forward and Wakko pushed her further behind him with a growl. A moment passed before Pete exploded with laughter. "Well well well, ain't that precious! Big brother, to the rescue! Careful, last two gentlemen who went around protectin' dat little princess met a sticky fate, heh heh."

Dot's fists clenched, but a strangled yelp from Brain reminded her that she was nearly crushing him and she stopped.

"First your loudmouth brother was stupid enough to get himself DIPped, then we got Yosemite wiped away like a bad stain. Dat one was fun, to tell ya the truth."

It was though someone had dumped a bucket of ice all over her. "No!" Dot shouted shrilly. Her voice sounded high and squeaky and not like her own.

A cruel smirk cracked across Pete's face and it made her hate him. "No _what_?"

"Yakko's not DIPped. He's not dead!" Wakko shouted. There was something manic about the way he said it, as though he was convincing himself it was true.

"Cool yer jets! I never said he was dead, did I?" Pete drawled, "I just went and said he got DIPped. He's alive…well, sorta. Your buddy Rocky is babysittin' him right now."

"He's bluffing," Dot snapped. It couldn't be true. Yakko was smarter than that. And the thought of him stuck with Rocky made her sick.

"Is that right?"

She did not like the way Pete was grinning. She held Brain, who was watching everything with an even scowl, closer to her. If she concentrated she could feel his little heartbeat against her chest. Pete was reaching into his hammerspace now, and the hand that wasn't holding Brain clutched at the back of Wakko's jacket. He was shaking.

At first Dot couldn't see what Pete had pulled from behind his back and held up in the air. Whatever it was was small and hidden in his meaty hand. But then the lamplight caught it, and with a jolt she realized it was Yakko's cell phone. Or it least, it looked like it was.

"Nice try," she scoffed in a falsely confident voice, "hate to break it to ya, but they make more then one of each phone. That's not Yakko's."

Pete's grin stretched impossibly wider, giving off the impression of a bloated jack-o-lantern. He pressed a button on the phone. A tinny recording of Dot's own voice echoed in the small shack.

_"Yakko, it's Dot, please answer your phone! This isn't funny! Pick up, do you hear me? Pick up!"_

Dot's stomach dropped so fast she was certain she was about to throw up. Hot, angry tears threatened the corners of her eyes. Wakko glanced at her, his question all over his face. "I left that message on Yakko's phone the day he disappeared," she whispered to him in a rasp. She'd never expected to hear that message again in her entire life. She sounded like a scared little mouse.

"Believe me now, buttercup?" Pete asked before laughing once more.

"Yakko's not…he can't…" she sputtered. She was cut off by Wakko, who lunged forward with a dog-like growl. Pete caught him mid-jump with ease, only to hold him up in the air and laugh as Wakko tried to punch and kick him to no avail. Dot's feet were frozen to the ground as her mind flickered between a dozen fragmented thoughts and ideas…grab Wakko…mallet Pete…was Yakko hurt? The only thing stopped her from curling into a sobbing ball on the floor was the vehemence with which Wakko was now trying to land a hit on Pete.

A flash of white materialized in the doorway. Minerva was now standing there, smirking and perfectly framed in the moonlight. On either side of her was Buster and Skippy, both being held at bay the duel DIP guns she held in each hand. The stench was overpowering; Buster looked like he was about to be sick. Skippy looked like he'd already been sick all down the front of his shirt. Dot locked eyes with the two of them and saw the same kind of hopeless panic that she felt churning inside her.

"Well look here! See what the mink dragged in!" Pete roared. "The lush and the girl squirrel."

Buster glared at him. "Stuff it up your – "

Before he could finish, Minerva shoved the tip of her gun against his temple. Buster gagged, and she clucked her tongue. "I swear your head's made of concrete. How many times have we played this little game?"

Pete balanced his free hand on his hip. "Pretty fine haul we got here. Whaddaya say we take the kiddies on a little field trip?"

"Yeah right," Wakko and Dot snapped simultaneously.

Pete turned to face them slowly, and Dot had a terrible sense of foreboding. "Ya won't go, huh? Well, sounds fine to me."

He promptly dropped Wakko to the floor. Wakko was so stunned his knees buckled and he landed in a heap. Still clutching Brain, Dot scurried to help him to his feet. But her eyes were on Pete. What was he playing at?

Minerva seemed just as confused as she was, since she snapped, "What the hell fatso? How much pine have you been sniffing? We need to take them to you know where!"

Pete spared a moment to glare at her before saying in an offhand manner, "We can't force 'em to go. Not if they don't wanna. Just so's they know that if they don't go, we're gonna have to give good ol' Yakko a DIP cocktail. Boss won't be happy if he don't have the complete set."

Dot felt Wakko stiffen beside her as her own blood ran cold. Buster and Skippy were now staring at them with wild eyes. This was a threat she could not bluff past, and she knew Wakko was thinking the same thing. They were going to have to give in. Stop running. Brain remained silent in her hands.

"Fine," they said. In perfect unison.

Wakko's jacket was wrenched from her grasp as Pete grabbed them both by the scuff of the neck.

* * *

Yakko cocked an eyebrow. "Ex-squeeze me? I thought I just heard you say you're my grandfather."

Oswald scratched one of his ears. "Er, well, at least I think I am."

"You think you're my grandfather."

"Yes. You find that hard to believe?"

"Extremely."

"Well, nice to meet you again anyways," Oswald said, still holding out his hand.

Yakko rolled his eyes. "I'd love to, really, but aaahh, I'm a little tied up at the moment."

"Oh! Sorry, hang on."

Oswald scurried forward and began to work at the ropes. Craning his neck to get a good look at him, Yakko frowned. After nearly five minutes of Oswald grunting and tugging at the ropes, Yakko finally heaved out another sigh and grumbled, "Okay, maybe it's time to try a plan B with the whole untie me thing, don't ya think?"

"Oh, yeah, I suppose, haha," Oswald said with a laugh that reminded Yakko of Mickey Mouse. He whipped out a gigantic pair of scissors from behind his back. "You know sometimes I forget I have a hammerspace. Isn't that silly?"

"How can you forget something like that?"

"Over the years, when you don't have any cartoons and everybody who hasn't forgotten thinks you're scum, well, you kinda don't feel like reaching back there anymore."

"I had mine taken away and I almost got killed trying to get it back. Think about that before you just forget about yours."

Yakko felt the cold metal of the scissors slide up his back. The fur on his neck was on end again, and he was suddenly quite nervous.

"Why are you helping me?" he asked, trying to sound tougher than he felt.

"I told you. You're my grandson. I've got a lot of lost time to make up for."

There was a quick, metallic sound of the blades coming together. The scissors cut through the ropes smoothly, and the shredded pieces fell around his feet like shed pieces of skin. Yakko rubbed at the sore spots on his arms.

"That, and Bosko and his buddies are up to no good, and it's about to get worse. See – "

Yakko glared at him. "Listen, as much as I'd love to sit and chat about your fascinating back story, can you walk and talk? I've got to get Babs out of here."

"Babs?"

"Pink rabbit I came in here with."

"A rabbit huh?" Oswald said with a grin. "Finally. Girlfriend?"

Feeling himself getting frustrated, Yakko ignored him. "Mortimer took her somewhere in this factory. Where would he go?"

Oswald thought for a minute, crossing his ears and sticking out his tongue in a way that reminded Yakko strongly of Wakko. Maybe there was some substance to this whole 'grandfather' thing.

His ears standing up stick straight, Oswald nodded suddenly. "Follow me!"

Yakko watched as Oswald took off down the balcony and into the corridor at a surprising rate. Shrugging to himself, Yakko chased after him.

"I'm sorry about all of this, Yakko," Oswald huffed as they ran, "This is my mess you're in."

Yakko caught up to him. "So then why are you after us, my sibs and me? We didn't do anything, we didn't kill those weasels like everyone seems to think. And my sibs, they wouldn't hurt a fly – well, Dot has her moods, but she's just as violent as any other teenage –"

"I'm not the one you need to worry about," Oswald said, "though you might want to hurt me after all this is through…this all started back in the twenties. You see, me and Bosko were some of the first toons ever drawn. I was Disney, he was Warner Brothers. Top dogs, we were. Other toons were being drawn left and right, but no one could match us. We had a bit of a rivalry going, to be honest.

"The animators, they drew us girlfriends all the time. Different girls for different needs for different shows. They were drawn to be pretty props that were head over heels for us and nothing more."

Yakko's stomach twisted. He could remember a time not too long ago when that was all he wanted.

Oswald continued. "They were boring as all heck, but what other choice did we have? I was living the high life, and girls were just an added bonus. But then one day, they drew Ortensia. She was a knock-out, a real special gal, and darn it if she wasn't the funniest, nicest thing…she got my fire going, you know?"

"Trust me, I know," Yakko muttered. _God, where was Babs…_

"In one of my last episodes, they needed her to be pregnant. So they redrew her so she was so. Full term and all that, she was _huge_. And then the next you know Walt got in a tiff with Charles and I was out on the street. Just like that. They drew me to be their star, and then within a day I wasn't even able to get a gig as an extra. It was just me and Ortensia. And then there was Bosko, laughing at us all the way to the bank. Too bad, really – it wasn't long before he got the boot too. So we got to watch as a mouse and a rabbit took our places at our beloved studios. The studios that betrayed us.

"Years went by. More and more toons were getting drawn to be stars, but we'd been forgotten. Bosko got himself in trouble with the law, over and over again, usually in some ill-conceived scheme to get famous again. But me, I didn't mind it so much. I had Ortensia, and with the baby in her belly it was almost like a little family. After about fifty years, us drawn toons start to want that kind of thing…a wife, kids…but you don't get that unless they're drawn for you."

Bugs' face flashed in Yakko's head. He shook it out – he was already distracted enough as it was. Luckily Oswald was leading the way through the maze of hallways.

"But I guess after fifty-odd years of being pregnant, you get a little fed up with it. Morning sickness and all that. Ortensia wanted to have her baby, she told me so. But I didn't know what I could do for her. She was drawn that way. And no toon had ever been _born_. That was just crazy. No one thought it could be done. But then again, we were no-names for so long, I didn't think it could hurt to ask."

Yakko tried to catch glimpses of Oswald's face as they ran, but he seemed to be hiding it. Oswald continued, "I searched and searched until one day, I found an animator who would do it. He helped Ortensia have her baby. It was a girl. The first born toon."

There was a note of sadness in Oswald's voice that resonated out from within. Yakko felt as though it was pulling out his insides, carving them out and leaving them hollow, because a small voice in the back of his mind was whispering to him how the story would end.

"Then what?" Yakko asked. Did he really need to know? He ran faster.

Oswald sighed. "I thought we were complete then, our own little family. But babies don't stay that way forever. They grow up. That, along with the fact that Ortensia wasn't the size of a small blimp anymore, people talked. I didn't even know they remembered we existed. But they talked about us. About her. About my little girl, Odelia. The rumors, the insults, the looks we got – Ortensia couldn't take it. Neither could Odelia. My girls were miserable. But there was another problem too, something we could never have predicted. Other pregnant toons started taking after Ortensia's and my example. Toons were being born, hundreds of them, and they started multiplying. Drawn toons were revolted, Yakko. I can't even tell you how disgusted they were by it."

"I have an idea," Yakko said darkly.

"And guess who the finger got pointed at? Us. Me and my beautiful Ortensia. We got blamed for 'the blight of toondom.' So she ran off, leaving me and Odelia on our own. I raised her, as best I could, but she couldn't stand me. Odelia left me when she turned sixteen."

Yakko did his best to keep running, even though he was feeling slightly numb. An image of Dot or Wakko walking out and never returning flashed through his mind. "Jeez Oswald, I'm sorry. Did you ever find them?"

"Well, _I_ didn't…" Oswald said with an unpleasant smile, "Did you forget about Bosko?"

"With his charm and good looks, how could I?"

"He liked ladies. He liked them a lot. But only Inkblot ones, like you and me. He didn't think any of the others were worthy, I suppose. And there ain't too many of us, as you know. And Bosko with his, as you said, 'charm and good looks'…he drove off the few Inkblot girls who would go within arm's reach of him."

"Let me guess," Yakko said, feeling slightly ill, "he found Odelia, didn't he?"

"You got it."

"And I bet she never told him she was a born toon," Yakko pressed.

"Everybody knows only born toons can make other born toons," Oswald said in a choked voice.

Somehow, without any voiced decision, they came to a stop. Yakko found that he was breathing very hard, but not from running. His ears were ringing, he was sweating. Oswald was doing his best not to make eye contact, and instead was shuffling his feet and sniffing slightly.

"She didn't tell him she had a kid, did she? She…she didn't tell him she had three of them."

Oswald shook his head, his limp ears swinging dully with him.

Bile surged in Yakko's stomach. "Bosko's my dad," he muttered, "that lowdown, sleazeball, heartless, brainless, meritless criminal is my dad!"

His voice was suddenly much higher and he was finding it very hard to breathe. Somewhere distant he heard Oswald urge him to put his head between his knees, but he could barely hear it over his own gasps for air. A hand patted his shoulder. Great, like that was supposed to make him feel better. He was related to a scumbag who'd just tortured toons in a prison camp. Whoopie. It was like finding out you'd sold an old set of kitchen knives to a serial killer.

"That's why he wants to find us," Yakko said after taking several deep breaths, "he wants to kill us before any of the others find out we're his adorable little bastard kids. Great. _Juuust_ great. How'd he even figure this out anyway? I spent weeks with him in the Compound and trust me, he ain't the sharpest tool in the shed."

When Oswald didn't answer Yakko turned to look at him. He was using his ears to shield his face again. Just like Wakko used to do when he was really, really little. Yakko was surprised he even remembered it. Irritated, Yakko snatched the ears out of Oswald's face with one hand and grasped the rabbit by the collar with the other. "Well, Gramps? How'd Bosko find out we're his?"

Oswald let out a shaky sigh. "Do you remember when I met you, at the funeral? Bosko and Mortimer had sent me there, as a scout. They figured a lot of important toons would be there, and they wanted me to take notes – "

"Why?"

"They…I shouldn't be telling you this…but they've got this plan. They're going to be stars again, but they've got to get all the big toons in Toontown first. They promised me that if I helped them, I would be a star too – don't look at me like that! You don't know what it's like, to be drawn to be in cartoons and have that ripped away from you! I'm not saying I don't regret what I did – I do, more than anything! That's why I'm helping you now!"

"I just – forget it," Yakko grumbled, "just keep talking."

Oswald was speaking very fast now. "None of them had seen you and your brother and sister since your show. We didn't know what you weren't drawn. So when I saw you, all grown up, I just, I couldn't believe it. And you looked so much like Odelia, especially the little one, Dot…I knew it, I just knew it, you were her kids. I did the math, it all made sense.

"But I was stupid. I tried to draw the attention away from you, even when that mink Minerva said you were asking questions about Slappy. I thought I was protecting you…but Bosko caught on. He thought it suspicious that I was trying to take the heat off of you guys. And then he stole my notes from the funeral, and saw that you guys were older…he started to panic."

"He sent the weasels after us in New York," Yakko said. It felt as though pieces of the puzzles were dropping into place without his bidding.

"He sure did. So when he heard you came back to Los Angeles, he left the Compound and snuck back up to spy on you. I don't know what he saw, but whatever it was, that sold it. He knew you were his kids. He asked his…his boss…the…the…"

"The Blot," Yakko supplied.

Oswald winced. "Yes. The Blot. He told him that you guys were a danger, and needed to be exterminated. But the Blot became fascinated with you. He's been searching for you guys ever since."

Yakko felt empty and shaky, as though he'd just gotten over a vicious fever. The last few weeks had been overwhelming as it was, and to have his family history dumped on him without warning was horribly uncomfortable, cruel even. He was furious at Oswald for all he did, and even more so for what he didn't do, but at the same time there was the desperate part of him that wanted to forgive him. Even though many questions had been answered, he now had many more…what had Bosko seen…what did the Blot want with them…how did –

An angry scream tore through the air, knocking him from his thoughts. "Mortimer," Oswald hissed, "quick, this way!"

They bolted down the corridor, past stinking vats of petroleum, past weasels that hissed and spit as the passed. The clanking of the vats reminded Yakko of the Compound, but he shut it from his mind. There was one path in front of him: get Babs, get out, and get his siblings. He'd worry about Oswald and Bosko later.

Oswald slowed down until he was tiptoeing. His heart pounding, Yakko had to hold back a frustrated yell. "Hurry up," he grunted through grit teeth, but Oswald shushed him and pointed to a balcony the next level up. It overlooked two rather massive vats. Yakko was suddenly struck by the powerful smell of DIP – it overwhelmed the sweat and petroleum aroma that defined the entire plant.

Having had plenty of practice at ignoring the DIP stench, Yakko narrowed his eyes at the balcony. Through the metal grid floor he could see there were several figures corning a lone one by the edge of the balcony. He glimpsed a flash of pink through the grating and with a wild beat of his heart Yakko realized that the lone figure was Babs, and with one false step she would most likely plummet into one of the vats below.

Yakko made to rush forward, but Oswald grabbed him by the arm and yanked him back. "Careful," he hissed, "I'll go first. Mortimer still thinks I'm on his side. And you – did anyone ever teach you how to cut?"

Yakko blinked. "Bugs did, actually. I've never really done it right, I almost lost my tail last time I – "

"Great, so you're an expert then," Oswald cut over him, "think you and the girl can cut out of here?"

"What? No way, I don't want to hurt her, I can barely keep myself in one piece when I do it!"

"Oh c'mon, you just need a little confidence!" Oswald said, punching him on the shoulder. Without elaborating, he quickly darted up the stairs, motioned for Yakko to stay low. Trembling slightly, Yakko crept up the stairs, and the balcony came a little more into view with each step. Mortimer was up there with at least three other weasels. On the other side of the balcony Babs was trapped between them and the ledge. It became clear that the vats beneath her were filled with two different substances: one with petroleum, and one with DIP. Her fur was mussed, as though she'd gotten into a scuffle, and she was clutching her mallet so tightly that her knuckles were pale. Mortimer, meanwhile, had a fat lip, and Yakko felt a swell of pride for Babs.

"Put the mallet down, dollface," Mortimer snarled, brandishing his DIP gun, "it ain't very ladylike. Just give it to Morty, I'll take if off yer hands…then I'll show ya what you can do with yer hands!"

Babs rolled her eyes. "Is that what you say to all the girls?" she drawled. "Puh-lease. I've heard better lines at amateur night."

"Shaddup," Mortimer barked. He pointed his gun at her, aiming for her chest. "Then talk to me, babe. Use yer mouth. Tell me where Warner Wimp's kiddie brother and sister are, and I won't put a whole straight through ya – "

"Mortimer!" Oswald crooned, emerging onto the balcony with far too much enthusiasm. Mortimer, the weasels, and Babs all stared at him in shock, though Mortimer's face melted into a sneer. "Whaddaya you want, Oswart?" he growled, "Can't ya see I'm busy?"

"Oh yeah, I can see, wooing the lady and all that," Oswald retorting. He plucked one of his ears clean off of his head and began examining it casually.

Still watching Babs over his shoulder, Mortimer smacked Oswald in the arm. "I'm guessing Bosko sent you as his little messenger boy again. What does that idiot want now?"

While Oswald babbled back some kind of baloney response, Yakko snuck further up the stairs until he was at the landing. He crouched low, blending into the shadows; Babs, noticing movement, looked in his direction. Her eyes widened as she realized it was him, but he quickly shushed her and motioned to Mortimer. But, to his horror, this caught the attention of one of the weasels.

Yakko could only grip the topmost stair and watch as the weasel yipped "Mo, Mo!" and poked Mortimer in the side. Growling, Mortimer slapped its hand away and snapped, "Quit it you ugly little mutant!" With a roll of his eyes, he turned back to Oswald. "Now tell me idiot, what does Bosko want? Not that it matters, I'm pretty much the boss a' this operation at this point, the big boss ain't none too happy with him at the present."

"Well, it's not so much what Bosko wants as what I do," Oswald said, absently tying some sort of knot in his detached ear.

"What could you possibly want? Talent? Class C status? Tell me."

"I want…this!" Oswald shouted. In the blink of an eye, Oswald tossed his ear at Mortimer. It stretched, toonlike, and Yakko realized that he'd fashioned it into a lasso. It looped perfectly around Mortimer's gun. Before the stunned mouse could even react Oswald jerked it away and caught the gun with one deft swipe of his hand.

Yakko needed no further invitation. He made a powerful leap forward, knocking one weasel straight to the ground with his body and another aside with a burst of toon energy. He dashed across the balcony to Babs, grabbed her hand, and turned. Mortimer had just thrown Oswald off of him and was now barreling toward them. Looking over his shoulder, Yakko could see the two vats below – petroleum on the left, DIP on the right. Mortimer was going to push them straight into the DIP.

Yakko and Babs shared a single glace. With a savage howl, Mortimer lunged for them. At the last possible moment, just as his dirty claws were a hair from their faces, Yakko and Babs parted and stuck both their feet out. Yakko barely caught a glimpse of the shocked look on Mortimer's face before he tripped over their feet spectacularly; Babs wheeled around and kicked him straight in the behind, sending him to the left so he landed in the vat of petroleum with an epic splash.

"Yes!" Yakko and Babs cried simultaneously. He turned to her, and she to him, and her flushed face was beaming at him.

"Go!"

Unwillingly, Yakko turned to Oswald, who was holding off the weasels with the stolen DIP gun. "Cut outside!" he said, "To the west entrance! I'll meet you there!"

"But – "

"Go, now!"

"Yakko, what – " Babs started, but without further hesitation he grabbed her wrist and, concentrating heavily on the outside, on the scent of fresh air, on the warmth of the sun, he shut his eyes and took a single step forward.

He felt incredibly strange, pained even – it was as though four different people had surrounded him, each taken a hold of one his arms or legs, and pulled in opposite directions. It only lasted for a moment though; the next thing Yakko knew he felt dirt beneath his toes instead of metal. He didn't open his eyes at first, he was afraid to. Instead, he tried to sense just about everything else. The warmth of Babs' wrist in his hand. The tickle of the breeze on his fur. The blessedly fresh smell of the air. Swallowing dryly, he opened his eyes.

He was outside. He'd done it.

Yakko whipped around. Babs was standing there, still beaming at him. Then, in the next second, she was babbling.

"Yakko – how did you – Oswald! Did you…I don't…I didn't Mortimer any – I can't believe – we escaped, we've got to go – where's Oswald – Yakko – "

The events of the last two days began to settle on him. Everything had been turned on its head. He'd been a captive, and then he was free. He'd been close to Wakko and Dot, but at the same time miles and miles away. He'd been an orphan…and now, apparently, he had a grandfather who wanted forgiveness and a father who wanted to kill him. The only solid thing, the only thing he could hold onto and know for sure was Babs, and she was standing here in front of him, still gorgeous, still astounding, still mystifying, and they were both alive. He couldn't take it anymore. Yakko reached forward, cupped her cheeks in both hands, and pulled Babs to him.

It wasn't so much a kiss as it was him smashing their faces together. His lips moved across hers hastily, but firmly, it was the only way he could even attempt to convey all of the overwhelming fear and confusion and pain and relief. He was kissing her, Babs, he was kissing Babs, and _god _was she soft. And warm. And just right. He could feel everything all at once, the smallest movement of her jaw, the flicker of her heartbeat, the pounding of his own.

Wait a minute. He was kissing Babs.

Yakko ended it as quickly as he started. He jerked away from her, still holding her face in his hands as if he was anchored there. Good lord, he was dizzy. And warm. He felt weirdly warm. Babs was blinking at him with a look of complete shock on her face. Was that a bad thing? To be fair, she'd had a bit of an unusual day. In the next second he realized that he was mirroring her look back at her. He'd just kissed her. That was the type of thing you were supposed to do after a romantic dinner, not in the middle of the desert after just escaping from two lunatics at a petroleum plant.

_Say something, you idiot_.

Yakko desperately racked his mind for something witty and charming to say, but his brain had suddenly decided to go on strike. Didn't his stupid brain realize that now was not the time? The best he could think of was _'You smell good considering we haven't showered in a while_.' He stared back at her in what he could only assume was a stupid manner, so he opened his mouth, hoping words would come out of it.

But any words he had vanished in his throat, because suddenly she had that confident look. She grabbed a fistful of his collar, yanked him forward, and kissed him back. Her free hand ran through his hair and tangled in his ears, sending shivers radiating down his spine. Somewhere in the haze that surrounded him Yakko's hands found her waist, her back, her sides. She was exquisite. She was spilling into his blood, spreading through his veins, pumping from his heart all the way to his fingertips. She exhaled needily, and the feeling of her hot breath against his face erased every last thought from his brain.

"Ahem…"

Babs pulled away from him, leaving Yakko disoriented. It took him a moment to comprehend that Oswald was tapping his foot and staring at them both. He must have just cut from the plant. "I realize you two are busy," he said with a smirk, "but we should get moving. Mortimer and Bosko aren't gonna be too happy." He started to trot away from them, but glanced at them over his shoulder. "Don't mind me, just pretend I'm not here!"

Yakko rolled his eyes and sighed. But Babs nudged him in the side, and when she followed Oswald he swore he saw a small smile on her face.


	21. Setting the Stage

_**Chapter 20: Setting the Stage**_

Dawn was breaking. Yakko could tell by the wash of warmth on his face. But he screwed his eyes tighter together and continued to float between sleep and awake.

The three of them had made it a few miles last night before conceding to exhaustion. Oswald had found a small valley nestled between two knolls and they were all nearly asleep before they hit the ground. The earth beneath him was cold, but sometime during the night Babs had cozied up against Yakko's side, sharing her comforting warmth. He curled his arm around her and pulled her tighter to his chest. This made her sigh.

His nose was cold too, so he found a soft spot where Babs' neck met her shoulder and nuzzled his face there. Her smell was like a drug that pulled him down, deeper back into sleep. What was he doing, sleeping next to this girl and holding her like she was his? This was wrong. This was betrayal. But after everything, he was just too tired right now to care. She was warm (in so many ways, he realized), she was wonderful, and body curved so perfectly against his. What he wouldn't give to just be able to stay like this, to not have to be on the run, to have a normal life again for just five minutes –

No sooner had that thought crossed his mind when Yakko's ears twitched at a small sound not too far away. His body stiffened and he willed himself to keep still, though he could not keep the fur from bristling on his neck. They were being watched.

Clutching Babs so tightly he was surprised she hadn't stirred, Yakko cracked open one eye. A large figure was approaching them. His heart pounded, and he was suddenly very wide awake. Babs and Oswald were still asleep, he'd have to wake them without raising alarm – but the figure was now picking up speed, he was already too late, he'd given into sleep when he knew they were being chased –

In one movement Yakko jumped to his feet and pulled his mallet from his hammerspace. He was barely aware of Babs jumping awake at his feet because the horse in front of him – wait, a horse? – had now reared back in shock. It let out a piercing whinny, one that woke up Oswald in a flurry of "What the heck? Who let in the horse?" But above it all, Yakko heard an unmistakable voice shout, "No Yakko, don't hurt Figgy! It's me, we've come to rescue you!"

Yakko lowered his mallet. Babs was on her feet now, and together they said, "Pinky?"

The horse, which Yakko now recognized to be Farfignewton, dropped back to all fours with a typical dopey grin. Pinky and, to Yakko's surprise, Speedy Gonzales scurried to the top of her head. "Hola amigos! Long time no see, eh?" Speedy greeted cheerfully.

Yakko grinned and was about to respond when Pinky threw himself from Farfignewton's head and latched onto his chest. "Yakko! Babs! I'm so happy you're alive! Narf!"

Patting him with an index finger, Yakko muttered, "Could say the same thing about you guys, Pink. No offense, but how in the world did you find us? Have you seen Wakko and Dot?"

"No Wakko or Dot, no Brain either," Pinky said with a sigh.

"We found Daffy," Speedy chimed in, "he told us to search ToonGO. Thought it was no good. We were on our way when we spotted you two lovebirds." Speedy waggled his eyebrows at them. "But eh, who is this third amigo?"

He jerked his thumb at Oswald, who had been watching the conversation with a small amount of interest. He jolted slightly when addressed but recovered quickly and muttered, "Hey there, I'm uh, I'm Oswald. Former Disney toon."

Speedy stroked his chin. "You knew Mickey, eh? He talks about you at Christmas parties – "

"How cute," Babs butt in impatiently, "but you said you saw Daffy? What about Bugs, or Buster?"

"Daffy can't find Bugs, it's so terribly sad!" Pinky cried, "Daffy said he got caught be someone named…oh what was his name…Stoney? Boulder?"

Speedy rolled his eyes. "Rocky."

Babs gasped and they shared a shocked glance. Bugs was caught…somehow this made everything seem much more difficult. And given the circumstances, that was really saying something.

"Rocky, right! No Buster either. But now we have you!" Pinky continued, "You have to come back to Toontown, please! We promised Daffy we would bring help!"

Yakko scooped him up in his hand. "Of course we will, that what we've been trying to do for…geez, what day is it?"

"24th a' January, amigo."

Babs blinked. "Hey Yakko, happy belated birthday."

He stared at her, realizing she was right. He'd been twenty-years-old for the last four days.

And he'd been gone for nearly two months.

"Well what are we waiting for?" Oswald said, climbing onto Farfignewton's back. We have to go back and save the town so we can have birthday cake!"

* * *

Wakko shifted uncomfortably, trying to avoid more pine needles sticking into his side. But the van hit another bump and his head struck the metal wall with a _thunk_. He groaned and cursed under his breath. A muttering from across the van meant that Dot had done the same thing. He couldn't tell for sure, considering he was currently stuck inside a burlap sack.

Pete didn't want them to be seen when they got to – well, wherever they were going – so he'd been resourceful and stuffed them each in used pine tree sacks. It was probably the smartest thing he'd ever done, though there wasn't a lot of competition for that achievement. But now Wakko, Dot, and Skippy were in the back of a van with three other weasels, with Minerva at the wheel. Pete, deciding that Buster wasn't to be trusted, was escorting him in his squad car. He'd given Minerva a walkie talkie and would occasionally bark orders at her; Minerva's voice was drowned out by the engine, but Pete's voice was so loud that Wakko could hear him even over the walkie talkie.

Another bump sent his head against the metal. Wakko cringed and screwed his eyes tight against tears, though he knew they weren't from pain. He'd tried, he really had – he'd tried to save the day. Tried to step in when Yakko could not. And where had it gotten him and his sister and their friends? Tied up in Christmas tree sacks and in the back of a van, heading toward what he could only imagine was certain doom. He was useless.

"Wakko?"

He could barely hear her over the engine and Pete's gruff voice.

"Wakko, you there?" Dot couldn't speak above a whisper or the weasels would claw out at them. He knew from experience.

"Don't talk to me," he grumbled.

"But Wakko – "

"Stop, Dot! I know I screwed up, you don't have to try to make me feel better, it's not gonna work!"

"Would you just shut up and listen?"

"What?"

"Listen to Pete!"

Frowning, Wakko pressed against the rough burlap. If he concentrated, he could hear Pete through the noise.

"_Listen to me mink, how many times do I gotta say it? You take the squirrel, I'll take the kids. No, I ain't takin' 'em to Rocky, they're goin' straight to the Boss. What? Hell no! Look, first stop, you take the squirrel. Second stop, I take the kids. Or is that too much for your tiny blonde brain?_"

Wakko twisted in the tight material. For a moment he was glad he couldn't see Dot or Skippy. He didn't want to see the terrified looks on their faces.

"D-don't worry Skippy," he heard Dot stutter, "It'll be okay, we'll figure something out – "

"It's okay," Skippy whispered, "maybe I can get away from Minerva and go look for help."

A light blinked on in Wakko's head.

"Skippy. Switch with me. Quick."

"What?"

"Switch sides with me, hurry, before they notice."

Whether he was scared or just confused, Skippy obeyed – at the next big bump he hurled himself next the Wakko, landing with a thump. Wakko thrust himself against the sack and tumbled to the other side of the van. Given the amount of hissing and scratching he'd landed in what must be the lap of a weasel.

"Wakko, what are you – " Dot began, but Wakko blindly struck out his foot a few times until he landed one on her.

"Ow! What gives?"

"Shhhh!"

The van screeched to an awkward halt, sending them all careening. Minerva's heels clicked along the ground as she rounded the van and wrenched open the doors.

"Alright ugly, gimme the – "

"Give her the squirrel," Pete cut over her. "They can paint each other's nails an' such, ha!"

Wakko felt the ground disappear beneath him as he was hoisted into the air, only to be dropped unceremoniously on the asphalt.

"Why bother with him? He's dead weight. Let's make him _real _dead weight, just like his aunt," Minerva shot back.

Wakko gulped. Not good.

"Can it ya dumb blonde, ya said yerself he and the girl were an item, so the squirrel's leverage! Stick with the damn plan!"

"You just want to be the one to take them to the Boss!"

"'Course I do! And you want to see loverboy, so get!"

Minerva must be the one dragging him across the ground now, because she was close enough for Wakko to hear her muttering curses under her breath. He strained his ears to listen to the van drive away, and all was quiet again. Wakko knew he must act, and act soon, so he did everything he could to push the fear down and away. The element of surprise was the only chance he had.

"So, squirrel, you and I have a bit of a history, huh?" Minerva said, her voice taking back some of its usual purr.

Wakko kept his mouth shut. He couldn't fake Skippy's voice…why couldn't he be a mimic like Yakko…

"I'm sure even you've managed to figure out that I took out your aunt."

Ever so slowly, Wakko drew out a large pair of scissors from behind his back.

"I…you should know…look, I didn't want to get my hands dirty, but I didn't have a choice, okay? She stuck her old nose in where it didn't belong, she was gonna blow our whole cover. She was too stupid to just mind her own business. I didn't know that DIP stuff was as…powerful as it was. But she should've just left well enough alone – "

The blades of the scissors tore through the sack like paper and Wakko burst onto his feet. Minerva barely had time to let out a shriek before he'd landed a spectacular mallet shot on her head. Letting out a dazed chuckle, Minerva dropped to the ground. But Wakko didn't even see her faceplant on the asphalt; he was sprinting wildly away from her, determined to put as much distance between him and her as possible before she came to. He'd covered nearly half a mile before he even began to take in his surroundings. And when he realized where he was, he felt like he'd been hit by a mallet too.

He was back on the lot.

* * *

When they'd crested the hill and caught their first glimpse of Los Angeles, Babs whooped so loudly that Yakko had to cover her mouth. She spit out a quick apology but could not hide the giddy laugh that was bubbling out of her. He could hardly blame her – he'd never thought LA could look so drop dead gorgeous. They were finally home again.

Farfignewton had descended into the valley; the more human-populated cities were far more subdued than he'd remembered them. Were they suffering from the toons' problems as well? Yakko got his answer when they'd reached Toontown: it was a ghost town. With the exception of a weasel darting through the streets, the once lively toon hub was unnervingly still. Even Pinky, who'd been chattering at them like a broken pullstring doll the entire trip, had fallen silent as they drifted through the empty streets.

Babs leaned over Farfignewton's flank to get a better look. "This is so spooky…where is everyone…"

"And to think, I used to say I'd give anything for less traffic," Yakko muttered. Sensing Babs was about to fall right off of the horse's back he tightened his grip on her waist.

Farfignewton neighed and jerked her head to the left. They followed her gaze to see toons in the distance, seemingly marching in a single file line. Yakko urged her closer. He realized that they were being herded by weasels with what had to be DIP guns. And the direction they were marching in to…Yakko had a bad feeling about it.

"C'mon, let's follow them," he whispered.

Trotting at a careful distance, they trailed the agonizingly slow pace of the toons. Yakko scanned their faces, trying to find the two that resembled his own, but he recognized no one. But soon it became clear where they were headed. They rounded they corner.

"The lot," he and Babs said together.

"The Warner Brother's lot?" Oswald repeated curiously, "I've never been allowed on it before."

Yakko's eyes narrowed as he watched the toons filing into the gate. "Something tells me you won't be needing to show any ID."

"But where are the humans?" Oswald asked.

Babs sighed and pointed to the security booth. Three weasels had two of the terrified security guards bound together by a thick rope. "What is this, Dudley Do-Right?" Yakko muttered.

"No offense Pinky, but I don't think we can sneak in very well with Figgy here. She's a bit eye-catching," Babs pointed out.

"Isn't she though?" Pinky cooed, batting his eyes at her.

Speedy rolled his eyes. "Listen, we split up, right? You three follow, we'll check the perimeter. Deal?"

"Deal," Yakko agreed, using his pinky finger to shake hands with Speedy. "You guys watch yourselves, okay? That DIP will leave a stain that won't come out."

"Aye aye, captain!" Pinky cried with a salute. Everyone else shushed him, and he blushed and whispered, "Sorry!"

Yakko and the others slid off of Farfignewton's back. Babs patted her flank and said, "Thanks Figgy, we really owe ya one." Yakko couldn't agree more.

"See ya on the flip side, amigos!" Speedy called, waving as they disappeared around the wall. Yakko decided that if he lived through all of this, he was going to take optimism classes with Speedy.

"So what's the plan on getting in without being seen?" Oswald asked.

"I'm not wearing a sack over my head, just saying," Babs added.

"That's not going to be necessary," Yakko said, "follow me, and I'll give you a little tour."

He led them to his spot in the wall where the bricks were missing. He tried not to think about that face that the last time he'd done this he'd met Bugs. He, Oswald, and Babs crept through the lot, taking advantage of the long shadows cast by the sinking sun. The captive toons were being herded in a serpentine path throughout the studio, past the executive buildings and to the soundstages. The aching familiarity of the place was colliding with the anxiety inside his chest. Memories bubbled up with nearly every building, and yet he couldn't help but wonder what sinister purpose they were being used for now. Were there more Machines? Were these toons doomed to be turned into weasels, or worse – were they headed for DIP?

Beside him, Babs was squeezing his hand rather tightly, her eyes wide and sharp as they followed the toons' and weasels' every move. Oswald, on the other hand, was taking a much more meandering path. The weasels seemed little more than an afterthought to him; he was much more interested in taking in the sights of the WB lot. Several times he's wandered off so far from their little group that Yakko had to grab him by the shoulder and yank him back into the shadows.

"Why don't you go pose with one of the weasels and I'll take your picture?" Yakko snapped irritably.

"Easy for you to say, you've been here before, this is old hat to you!"

"Quiet you two!" Babs hissed, "Look!"

She was pointing to a building that Yakko remembered to be one of the theaters. All of the toons were being shepherded in through the double doors. Up close, they looked as nervous and scared as Yakko felt.

"Think anyone's at the back door?" Yakko asked.

Babs kept her eyes locked on the toons. "Let's find out."

They made a large loop through two soundstages to avoid being seen before circling around to the back of the theater. Yakko was familiar with this place. Warner Brother's premiered a lot of their movies internally here – they'd even played _I'm Mad _on the big screen once it was finished. He remembered thinking it was odd to see his face so large and in front of so many people. It was the first time he'd ever felt self-conscious about being on camera. From then on he'd skipped every _Animaniacs! _premiere until Plotz grew wise to him and chewed him out for it. Yakko had responded by sticking a ferret down his pants. He didn't know why he was thinking about all of this right now.

Behind the theater was a crew door that led to the backstage. Unsurprisingly, a weasel was standing guard.

"What do we do about him?" Babs asked.

Oswald pushed past them with a flourish. "Leave him to me. You two can scamper on in there and see what all the fuss is about."

Yakko grabbed his shoulder. "Wait."

Oswald turned to face him, one of his ears cocked in interest. As strange and abrupt in Yakko's life as he was, there was something about the little guy that Yakko wanted to keep close and protect. But the words would not come.

Oswald smirked. "Don't worry about it, Warner. I've been around the block a few times. I can keep my ears on my head."

Yakko's grip on him loosened and Oswald strolled casually toward the weasel. This bravado seemed to throw the weasel for a moment and he stared at Oswald, his jaw slack.

"Hey pal, yeah you, the one in the snappy jumpsuit," Oswald called out to him, "can you point me to the Batmobile? My grandson told me a can't leave 'til I get a few polaroids of that one!"

The weasel broke out of his spell and leapt for Oswald, who danced easily out of the way. "Missed me missed, now ya gotta kiss me!" he teased, and sprinted away from them. The weasel gave chase, and they disappeared in the maze of soundstages.

"I can see the family resemblance," Babs said with a smirk. Yakko gave her a playful nudge before they tiptoed to the door. He inched it open, peeked inside, and saw nothing but cleaning supplies and abandoned props. There was a partition about fifteen feet away that blocked off where the actors would typically prepare. He and Babs slipped quietly inside.

Their corner of backstage was dark, but he could tell by the cracks of light throught he partition and the noise that there was a great deal of activity right around the corner. Biting her lip, Babs crept to the large velvet curtain and drew it back. "Yakko, come here, quick!"

He joined her and stared over her shoulder. It was a full house: all of the toons they'd followed were being ushered into the rows of seats. Even the balconies were taken up by skittish-looking toons. Once a row was full, two armed weasels stood on either end to make sure there were no premature departures.

"If there's an audience, that must mean there's a show," Yakko muttered.

The sound of footsteps sent them diving behind a prop barrel. A weasel came hurrying in to grab a broom and darted back out just as quickly. Yakko locked eyes with Babs and, through some implicit understanding, crawled to the petition and pulled it back by the corner.

It looked for all the world like the backstage of _Les Misertoons, _five minutes before show time. Weasels and toons alike were bustling about, applying makeup, putting on costumes, and checking over scripts. Yakko bit back a gasp as Mickey Mouse hurried past. What was he doing here? In fact, what was Foghorn doing here, towering over the weasels? And Daisy, pulling on a frilly skirt and heels? Upon second glance he noticed a strange jerkiness to their movements, as though all their joints were stiff. Daisy seemed to be struggling to get her foot into one of her heels. Foghorn kept dropping his comb, only to have one the weasels scoop it up and hand it back to him. Yakko glanced at Babs, who shrugged and looked as completely bewildered as he was. What was going on?

But then a weasel scrambled out of his view and all thought came to a screeching halt. It was as though someone had kicked him in the chest. There was Bugs, barely ten feet away from him, pouring over a script.

"Bugs – " he choked out in a rasp, but Babs clapped her hand over his mouth. He pulled it away, already pushing himself to his feet without any kind of conscious will, but she dragged him back down again. He fell painfully on his tail, and he turned to shout at her but she shushed him again.

"Yakko, calm down – "

"It's Bugs!"

"I know, but – "

"Then let me go!"

"Will you just listen for a second? Something's not right here."

"Yeah, Bugs is here and we're not grabbing him and running for the hills."

"But look at him. After all of this, you think he'd just be standing there, reading a script? While other toons are being forced here at gunpoint? I don't like this."

Yakko's fists clenched and unclenched. The small voice in the back of his head was agreeing with what she said, which he hated. His heart was beating too fast for what she said to be true, and he was too close. He couldn't wait, not after everything.

"Just give me a minute, okay?" he said, getting back to his feet.

"_Yakko!_" she hissed, but he darted away from her, skirting between the harried toons.

"Bugs!" he cried. His heart was threatening to leap straight out of his mouth. "Over here, it's me, Yakko! Bugs!"

Despite being barely an arm's length from him, Bugs still hadn't lifted his eyes from his script. Frowning, Yakko reached out and pulled the script out of his hands. "Bugs, I…um…"

This got his attention. Bugs' eyes snapped to meet his own, but Yakko might as well have been looking at a stranger. The rabbit's eyes were hard and without a single flicker of warmth or recognition in them. His brow was knit together in an unfamiliar scowl. "What the hell, mac? Don't you realize I'm a star? Give me back my script!"

Yakko blinked back at him in shock, his stomach sinking. "But…but Bugs – "

"_But Bugs!_" Bugs mimicked cruelly, "That's Mr. Bunny to you!"

He knew that he and Bugs hadn't left on the best terms. He knew he didn't deserve to be welcomed back with open arms. They weren't exactly family, after all. But that hadn't stopped Yakko from hoping that Bugs would forget all about that and treat him like they were. Even yelling and sticks of dynamite would be better than this.

He made a grab for the script but Yakko snatched it away. As he did so, Yakko noticed something catch in the light near the top of Bugs' head. Squinting, he realized that it was a fine stream of ink trickling from his ear. The fur on the back of Yakko's neck stood on end.

"Bugs," he said sharply, "What's wrong? What did they do to you?"

"Nothing compared to what we're gonna do to you," answered a snide voice.

Yakko whirled around to see Bosko and Mortimer, DIP guns raised. Mortimer's formerly beige fur was stained gray, and Bosko now had a lump on his head that was somewhat difficult to distinguish from his mangled skin. "Whatsa matter, Daddy don't love you no more?" Mortimer jeered.

"Depends who you're talking about," Yakko shot back, glaring pointedly at Bosko. Mortimer frowned, his eyes flicking between Yakko and Bosko, whose color had drained from his face.

"Am I missin' somethin' here?" Mortimer asked.

Out of the corner of his eye Yakko noticed Babs slowly making her way towards them, a lit stick of dynamite in each hand.

"He's full of hot air, just like the rabbit," Bosko jeered, his eyes fixated on Yakko, "bet he wouldn't be all talk if he knew his darling brother and sister was here."

Yakko felt as if he'd suddenly fallen straight through the floor. Everything around him may as well have vanished. "Wait, my sibs? Where are they?"

He lunged forward, but Bosko jerked his DIP gun at him. "Don't think so Warner. It's the end of the line for you. Why don't you come with us, and maybe I'll let you live long enough to wipe their diapers one more time."

Babs was close now. The wicks were nearly burnt out.

"I would, but believe it or not, I wasn't born yesterday. Hell Bosko, you should know that better than anyone," Yakko said.

Mortimer frowned again. "What's this dink on about?"

Instead of growing pale, Bosko's face was bubbling over with red. He pointed his DIP gun directly at Bugs. "If you don't shut up and get over here I'm turning the rabbit into a cotton-tailed puddle!"

Bugs crossed his arms, completely oblivious to any and all danger. "Can't a rabbit memorize his lines in peace?"

Babs leapt forward. She sunk one stick in the belt of Mortimer's pants quite successfully, but Bosko, with shocking dexterity, twisted out of her way. DIP exploded from his gun with a boom and coursed straight for Bugs. Yakko dove, instinctively, like a bird taking flight, and tackled Bugs out of the way. They landed in a heap, and Yakko's face was buried somewhere in Bugs' shoulder blades when he heard it: the hissing sound of melting skin accompanied by an otherworldly shriek of pain. He whipped around. The DIP had connected with a passing weasel, who'd all but dissolved into nothingness.

For a moment there was silence. Every toon behind stage had frozen, staring at the grisly sight before them. Then the stick of dynamite in Mortimer's pants exploded. The bang was like a trigger, as every toon flew into a panic.

It was chaos. All the toons were sprinting different directions, away from the stench of death, away from the fallen, nameless toon. Their shouts and screams drowned out Yakko's voice as he called for Babs, who'd disappeared into the churning masses. He dug his fingers into Bugs' arm, but he was ripped away from him in seconds. Yakko lurched forward to grab him again, only to be thrown back by a frantic gorilla toon.

"Bugs! Babs!"

* * *

Dot's ears perked up against the burlap as the van came to a stop. The whole vehicle rocked when Pete got out of the cabin, and again when he slammed the door shut. She could hear him stomping around to the back doors.

"That little blue bastard – jumped right outta a movin' ve-hicle! I'll kill 'im!"

Her heart soared. That could only mean Buster. Was he free now too?

The doors wrenched open – clear off their hinges, judging by the sound of it.

"Gimme those!"

Dot and her sack were yanked violently upwards, and she squeaked as she felt herself being tossed over his back.

"If you two ink splots so much as even _think _about running off, I'll DIP both your hides without even blinkin'!"

Well, Wakko had already thought about it. Did that count?

"You there!" Pete shouted to someone unseen, "Yeah you, fatso, give me the guns and help me!"

The smell of DIP seeped through the sack, and Dot took courage in the fact that Skippy was still next to her. She tried to feel for his hand through the burlap, but she was suddenly flipped up and over before tumbling straight out of the sack and to the ground.

"The squirrel? What the – _those idiot weasels!_ They gave me the wrong runt! I'm gonna wring their scrawny little necks!" Pete bellowed.

Scrambling next to Skippy, Dot took in her surroundings. If she didn't know any better, she'd say she was in a soundstage. Heck, it looked like one from the Warner lot. Pete was looming over them, looking furious, and behind him was a very large, very dim-looking toon. His eyes were pointing in different directions, and a bit of drool was clinging to his chin. But when his attention drifted to her, his eyes gradually came into focus. She felt uncomfortable under his gaze until the toon raised his thick hand and gave her a small but unmistakable wave. Puzzled, she snuck a tiny wave back.

Pete's fist connected with the toon's cheek. _Crack!_ The toon staggered. Dot gasped.

"Quit standin' there and lookin' like a knuckle-dragger, Mugsy!" Pete snapped, "Find that dippy mink, she grabbed the wrong splot. You heard me!"

When Mugsy continued to stare at Dot, Pete landed a punch on his nose that actually crunched when it hit.

"Stop it! Leave him alone!" Dot cried out. Skippy mumbled something, but the ink was pounding too loudly in her ears.

An ugly grin split Pete's face. "Aw, you afraid I'm gonna turn the handsome down a notch on your boyfriend's face? Why, between him and the squirrel over here, you've got yourself a good ol' fashioned love triangle, little lady!"

"Be quiet!" Skippy shot back. Dot blinked at him. By Skippy standards, that outburst was downright explosive.

This only encouraged Pete to laugh harder. But then she noticed that Mugsy was staring at her, again, and his face had arranged itself into what had the potential to be a smile.

"That fat oaf always likes the short ones," Pete chuckled, nodding in Mugsy's direction, "probably 'cause his old boss was a real shortstack – "

The door behind them flew open, revealing a harassed-looking Minerva. Her hair was mussed, and one of the sleeves on her dress was torn and drooping limply from her shoulder.

"There you are," Pete grumbled, "I hope you know you took the wrong kid – wait a second, where _is _your kid?"

Realizing that Wakko was nowhere to be seen, Dot heart practically floated.

"Missing," Minerva spat.

Pete slammed his fist into the wall, breaking off bits of plaster. "You _lost him_? See, this is why women should just stay the hell home, instead of insisting on taggin' along. You mean to tell me you not only grabbed the wrong one, but you lost him on top of that? You're explaining this to the boss, mink, he's a kid, how hard could – "

If looks could kill, Pete would have dropped straight to the floor. Minerva's voice was painfully shrill as she shrieked, "Don't you _dare _blame this on me, you're the one who made us stick 'em in bags! That idiot kid malleted me from behind, the coward – "

Dot snickered at this, and Minerva turned the hateful look on her. "Laugh all you want you little brat. This place is dripping with DIP, he'll be dead in minutes."

Dot's face melted into a glare.

Pete dragged a heavy hand over his face. "You'd better hope to hell he's still alive. Looks like I'm going to have to go out and save the day _again_. I'll go find the kid before the boss figures he's gone missing. Mink, you stay here and watch the kids with Mugsy…now, remember, the point is for them _not _to escape, think you can handle that?"

"Here, let me show you what I can handle – "

Minerva pulled out a DIP gun just Pete retrieved his own. They pointed their guns directly at each other, until Dot said, "I'd be careful if I were you, I heard that stuff is bad for your health."

Minerva was the first to end the standoff, choosing instead to sniff haughtily at Dot. But the door opened suddenly, and Minerva's face went from haughty to dumbstruck so quickly that Dot wondered if she'd shapeshifted. Turning to the door, Dot's stomach dropped.

Rocky slammed the door shut behind him and walked toward them with quick, short strides that clicked as he walked.

"Rocky!" Minerva gasped, batting her eyes and dashing toward him. Dot was reminded of the teen girls at JTAP. "Baby, it's been so long, I missed you so mu – "

She stooped to fling her arms around him, but Rocky elbowed her out of the way, sending her staggering. "Give me the girl," he snapped at Pete. "Dispose of the squirrel. Excess baggage."

Dot gasped as Pete grabbed her by the scruff of the neck, lifting her clean off the floor. "Finders keepers!"

Without hesitating Rocky pulled his DIP gun cleanly from his pocket and directed it between Pete's eyes. "I don't care who I use this on, Pete. Give me the girl."

Pete's breath was heavy behind her. He seemed to stew on this for several seconds. "She's all yours," he muttered, and Dot knew he was thinking of Wakko. He dropped her to the floor at Rocky's feet.

Mugsy, who'd been silent since the fist to his face, made a gurgling noise in his throat. His mouth was warped into what might have been a smile, and he extended his bent arms to Rocky, yearning for a hug. But Rocky's lip curled as he looked up at him, radiating disgust. He pushed him away with the tip of his DIP gun. "Grab the girl, Mugsy," he ordered.

Still smiling, he scooped Dot up in his arms. She kicked and struggled but he would not release her. He was gentle, but firm. Skippy disappeared behind his bulk and Dot could not see him as Rocky led them down the corridor. The effort to shout hateful things at him was lost, because Dot finally realized that her throat was completely dry. Her heart was beating frantically, like a small bird, as the reality of the situation began to settle around her. She was alone this time. With Rocky.

He parted the double doors, but for once he faltered. In the dim light Dot could recognize the backstage of the main theater, and it was teeming with frantic toons.

"What the…" Rocky murmured, but then shook his head. He picked up his pace slightly and wound his way around the chaos and to the main stage. It was quiet there. The curtains were drawn, blocking where the audience would sit, but with the flip of a switch Rocky illuminated the stage. Blinking, Dot gasped at what she saw. After all those years of Yakko watching Bugs Bunny cartoons, she would have recognized it anywhere. The stage was set up as an exact replica of the stage from the _High-Diving Hare_ episode. In the dead center of the stage was a towering ladder leading up to the diving board. Below it was the laughably tiny diving pool filled with water.

"Let's go," Rocky said. Still grinning, Mugsy nodded and slung Dot over his shoulder to ascend the ladder. Dot was forced to look down as they climbed, bringing her face to face with Rocky as he followed them.

"What is this?" she snarled, glad to have found her voice. "You a thespian now or something?"

"Just shut yer mouth."

"You can't tell me what to do, murderer!"

She blinked, surprised and a little frightened that the words had spilled from her mouth.

"Wanna bet?" His voice was cold and hard.

Mugsy had reached the top of the ladder. They were so dizzingly high that Dot could only think of the tower. Hoisting himself over the final rung, Rocky dusted off his pants and straightened his hat. "Put her down."

Mugsy nodded and placed Dot primly on the edge of the board. She made a quick move to curl her legs beneath her, to jump, but Rocky had his DIP gun out before she could even think of squashing. "Jump and you get DIPped, capice? If you remember yer friend Yosemite, then you'll remember I got good aim."

He gestured to their surroundings with the gun. "Now, in a few minutes, you're going to be the main attraction in a little show we're about to put on. The Big Boss has been looking forward to this for a long time, so you'd better not screw up. You are going to wait here, so he'll see you, and so he'll he see that _I _was the one who brought you here. I'm not losing again. Not this time. You're a hot commodity you little Warner brat – you were a hard one to come by, and I want my reward, see? I've earned it. So just do as you're told and no one gets hurt – "

"Rocky!"

The three of them whipped around to see Minerva sprinting onto the stage. Her hair flew about her face, sticking to the sweaty parts on her forehead, until she came to a stop by the diving pool. Her eyes gleamed as she stared up at them. "Rocky, baby, why'd you go so fast? I've missed you…don't you want to give me a proper hello?"

"Hello," Rocky said shortly.

Dot's eyes flicked between the two of them as an awkward silence stretched out for several uncomfortable moments. Finally, Minerva jerked out one of her hands. "That's it? 'Hello?'"

"That's what you asked for, wasn't it?"

"Baby, I – I," she stuttered, "I wrote you all those letters while you were in prison, I offed Slappy, just like you asked…I broke you _out _of prison, I gave you the _Warner dit it _idea, the one that made everything work…and damn it, all I get is _hello?"_

"Flowers would've been nice," Dot added dryly.

Rocky twitched irritably in her direction before turning back to Minerva. "And do we have all three Warners? No. So you didn't do the job like I asked. You left me all the dirty work, see. You want a pat on the back for that?"

A moment's worth of hurt flickered across her face before it was replaced by stunned outrage. "You…_you_…you pathetic little slimeball! All that talk of us moving to a house in Malibu – you said you loved me, you short little pipsqueak! Was that just another one of your lies?"

"About time you figured that out," Rocky spat.

Dot braced herself, preparing for an explosion. Probably one with lots of yelling and dynamite involved. Instead, Minerva simply smirked. Then she withdrew her DIP gun. Snarling, Rocky pulled out his own, aiming straight for her chest. But Minerva pointed hers at the diving pool and pulled the trigger. DIP splashed into the water, swirling and bubbling.

"What are you doing?" Rocky roared, making both Dot and Mugsy jump.

"You ruined my plans," Minerva spat, "so I'm ruining yours."

Growling, Rocky fired. Minerva screamed as she scrambled away from the stream of DIP. The gun recoiled, sending droplets of DIP into the air. And then Dot felt it – a horrible, burning sensation on her forearm. It was as through had placed a hot poker against her skin. She cried out in pain, straining in Mugsy's grasp, pulling back the sleeve of her jacket. A quarter-sized patch of fur was missing, burnt away, revealing hot, pink skin.

Rocky looked from her to Minerva. "Now look what ya made me do, ya dumb broad! Wait 'til the Big Boss heres about this. Mugsy, put her down and grab me that stupid mink. Mugsy?"

Mugsy had not moved. Pulling her eyes from her arm to his face, Dot saw that he was staring at Rocky with a solid, intense expression, one that was more cogent and aware than she'd seen yet. The blind adoration for Rocky was gone. Dot blinked. Was it because Rocky had just hurt her? It couldn't be…

With unexpected gentleness, Mugsy placed her down on the board.

"Good, now go down there and get…" Rocky paused, "Mugsy, what are you…Mugsy…Mugsy!"

Dot gasped. Mugsy had lunged forward, grasping Rocky by the shoulders and lifting him in the air. Rocky's feet kicked pointlessly beneath him. With slow, methodical steps, Mugsy walked to the edge of the high-dive.

"Mugsy, what the hell are you doing?" Rocky screeched, his voice strangely shrill. "Mugsy! _MUGSY!"_

"Mugsy, don't!" Dot cried.

Mugsy stepped purposely off the high-dive. Minerva screamed as he and Rocky plummeted through the air, but Rocky's own scream was cut short as they landed in the pool with a tremendous splash. Dot threw her hands over her eyes and tried to tune out the hissing and spitting of the DIP. Finally, when all was quiet, she opened them.

A few lingering waves rippled through the DIP water until all was still. Mugsy and Rocky were nowhere to be seen.

* * *

Wakko's breath was coming in gasps as he sprinted through the maze of soundstages. _Find help, find help, find help_, repeated his useless brain. But where? From who? The only toons he'd seen were weasels, and it was all he could do to scurry away from them before he was caught. Dot and Skippy – and who knows who else – were relying on him, and here he was: failing. Again.

He'd rounded the corner by Stage 23 when a car darted out of the alley. Wakko threw himself to the side, narrowly missing being clobbered by the passenger side tire, and rolled when he hit the ground.

"Well well well, runnin' around in yer natural habitat again, huh?"

Wakko scrambled to his feet, his stomach dropping at the sound of the voice. "Pete," he gasped, trying to sound tough while barely being able to breathe. He didn't think it worked.

"Well done, numskull, I oughta give ya a gold star," Pete drawled. "Now listen here, I've been wantin' to introduce ya to someone. Hey shrink, come over here and meet the cute little kid?"

_Shrink? _Wakko frowned as a toon stepped out of the car and shuffled to Pete's side. It was yet another weasel…except…no, it couldn't be…

Wakko squinted at him, his heart beating faster. There was something familiar about the weasel's beady eyes. And it was wearing an impossibly thick pair of glasses that reminded Wakko of home so palpably that he could taste it –

"_Scratchy?_" he blurted, horrorstruck.

"Why, you're on a roll there, kid! And here I was under the impression that you was the stupid one. Goes to show ya, don't it?" Pete said.

But Wakko barely heard what Pete said over the noise of his own horror mixing with hatred churning up past his ears. The weasel – or Scratchensniff, rather – was hissing at him with bits of saliva dripping from his jaw. All the warmth and exasperation and good humor that the doctor had previously bestowed on him was gone.

Before he had time to process this, Pete leaned on the police car, causing it to groan and sag under his weight. "Sic 'em, doc," he said.

Narrowing his tiny eyes, Scratchensniff hurled himself at Wakko. He yelped and dove out of the way. His feet found the ground beneath him and he was running, darting between the soundstage alleys. Scratchensniff bounded after him with more speed and agility than he had ever displayed in his regular form. Casting a frightened look over his shoulder, Wakko locked eyes with his friend. If he looked hard enough, he could still see Scratchensniff there, deep down.

"Scratchy, stop, it's me, Wakko!"

Scratchensniff hissed and leapt for him again; Wakko ducked out of the way.

"We worked together! You taught me and my brother and sister – "

Another hiss. Another swipe of the claws. Wakko stumbled over a pile of props that were stacked behind one of the stages. His back was against the wall. He was trapped.

"I lived at your house, remember? You made me feel better after I lost Yakko and Dot, you showed me how to not lose my socks in the dryer, you taught me how to drive…remember? In the car?"

Scratchensniff, whose claws were spread and poised to strike, blinked at him. His eyes seemed clearer, as if he was thinking.

Chewing his lip, Wakko continued, "I've known you since I was a kid, we were on _Animaniacs _together…we drove you nuts, but we always secretly liked you, even Yakko did. You were our favorite…that's why we teased you so much." He thought of how awful he'd been to Yakko and Dot in the past. "You're always mean to the ones you like."

Scratchensniff tilted his head. He lowered his claws and stepped forward. Tensing, Wakko scooted backward, and his shoulder bumped against a rather strange looking prop. His eyes flicked to it for a second, but then he returned his gaze to Scratchensniff, who was now sniffing him.

"Weird…" Wakko muttered, "brings a new meaning to Scratchen_sniff _I guess."

Scratchensniff blinked at him again. There was the undeniable undercurrent of recognition swimming in his eyes, something Wakko had never seen in the weasels before. "Wak?" he barked, his voice warped by his transformed vocal chords.

A grin spread across Wakko's face. "Scratchy!"

An engine revved, and the police car sped around the corner. The headlights threw his and Scratchensniff's shadows arching up the wall behind them. Pete lumbered out of the car, looking annoyed. "What the hell is taking so long, rodent? Grab the twerp and let's go!"

Scratchensniff merely looked at him. Frowning at the rebuff, Pete took an aggressive step forward. "Did you hear me, or are you even dumber than you look? I said: grab. The kid."

But by this point Scratchensniff was actually wagging his tail happily, like a Labrador, and if Wakko wasn't so frightened he'd be temped to laugh. Gulping, he glanced down at the prop again, and his heart jumped: it was a plot hole. A toon plot hole.

Pete let out a snarl of rage, making Wakko jump. The bigger toon was marching toward him now, arms outstretched. Scratchensniff let out a whimper; Wakko looked to him, then to the plot hole. Whether it was from Scratchensniff's own natural intelligence or the weasel in him had made him extra crazy, he seemed to understand what Wakko was thinking. Just as Pete lurched forward to wrap his hands around their throats, Scratchensniff threw himself at Pete's feet. Pete let out a comical wail of surprise as he stumbled; without hesitating, Wakko made a toon leap into the air while pulling out his mallet. He swung down with all the strength he had and landed a hit square on Pete's rear end. The yelp of pain was muffled as Pete flew straight into the plot hole, only to have his own gut stop him halfway through. Only Pete's feet were visible as he kicked and struggled, wedged firmly in the hole.

Letting out a whoop of triumph, Wakko wrapped his arms around Scratchensniff, who wagged his tail ever harder. "That was faboo, Scratchy!"

He pulled back, staring at Scratchensniff's odd, weasel face. Up close he finally noticed the bald spot gleaming at the top of his head.

"Well…" Wakko said slowly, "Dot told me to find help. And you helped me just now…so I guess you count."

He glanced at the police car behind them. With a grin, he reached into Pete's pocket and pulled out his ring of keys. Sticking his tongue out, Wakko patted him on the backside. "Thanks for letting me borrow the car, Pete!"

Pete's voice was too muffled for Wakko to make out what was most likely swear words.

* * *

He couldn't hear his own voice above the din. Ricocheting from toon to toon like a pinball, Yakko stumbled into a corner next to another toon. Whoever it was was trying to wrestle away a weasel – no, not just a weasel, a weasel with a DIP gun. Thinking fast, Yakko pointed beyond the weasel's shoulder and shouted, "Better watch it mac, the Big Boss is behind you!"

Its face twitched with fear as it turned around. This one falter was all the other toon needed: he all but malleted him from the theater straight to San Francisco. Yakko barely caught a glimpse of the weasel sailing over the crowd of toons before he turned to the other toon.

"Way to go Babe Ruth, that was a – _oh my god!_"

"Yakko!"

"Buster!"

There he was, Buster, standing right in front of him after all those weeks. He looked thinner, maybe older too. Ink was running from a pair of scratches on his face and he had his fair share of bumps and bruises but it didn't matter, it was still his friend. Buster was the first to get over his shock. Lurching forward, he squeezed Yakko in a crushing hug. Giddiness bubbled up inside Yakko and for a moment he might as well have been thirteen again.

"Dude, Warner, I can't believe – everyone thought you were…dude, you're _alive! _You look like shit, but you're alive!"

"Yes, thank you, Ears."

"What happened to you man? Are you okay? What the hell happened? You just disappeared! Wait, have you seen Babs?"

His heart skipped a beat. "I – yes, she's okay, she's here."

Buster's eyes nearly sprang out of his head. He clutched Yakko by the shoulders. "Are you serious? Where is she? What happened?"

"We got caught by Bosko and company, they've got a prison camp down in Tijuana – " Buster muttered an impressive swear under his breath " – where they've been making all these weasels. From other toons. Babs and I, we escaped, but – "

"But what? Is she hurt? Is she alright?"

"No, she's fine, we just got split up in this mess. But I, uh…"

"What? What is it?"

His friend's eyes were practically the size of tennis balls. He was bleeding, pale, beat up and tired, but to Yakko he'd never looked better. The sight of his friend was like having all his own aches and pains lifted…only to have a new set, the one that had been clawing at him ever since he'd touched Babs' hand on the balcony, settle into his chest. There was no getting around it. He couldn't lie, not to his best friend's face. Not again.

"Buster, I…I kissed Babs."

In spite of all the chaos, Buster suddenly emanated a chilling stillness. He simply stared at Yakko, who was holding his back rigidly straight, eyeing Buster cautiously.

Succumbing yet again to the urge to talk when he probably should not, Yakko babbled, "I'm sorry, but you've got to understand we were really under a lot of stress – it's kind of hard to explain actually, but an unusual amount of people want to kill me…you do too now, probably…look, you can hit me if you want – "

Yakko's blathering was cut short by Buster's fist connecting with his nose. It connected with a solid _thwack_, and Yakko staggered backwards into the wall. He blinked at Buster, preparing to defend himself, but Buster only blinked back, his face twisted with outrage, his fist still raised. It wasn't even that hard of a punch, it was just the shock of it all.

Buster was breathing heavily through his nostrils. "Sorry," he grunted.

Yakko touched his nose gingerly. "Eeehhhh, it's okay, I had it coming."

"You're damn right you did!"

"Well you haven't exactly been the picture of perfection yourself!"

Buster lurched forward and Yakko prepared to fend off another blow. But Buster's fist fell limply to his side, and the anger on his face seemed to crumple off and reveal a thoroughly depleted one instead. The suddenness of the change nearly startled Yakko as much as the wail that accompanied it. "You know what? You should've just let that weasel DIP me, that's what you should've done! You come all the way back here just to stop the one thing that would've fixed everything! I'm a mess, Yak, I'm worthless, and you know it!"

Gaping at him, Yakko stuttered, "W-whoa, Buster, what are you talking about?"

"Look at me! I used to be famous! I was a star! And now what? An alcoholic nobody with a girlfriend who ditches him for his friend? Look at this, look at what's happening! We'll be dead before the sun comes up. And I couldn't keep a bunch of kids away those idiots…if someone just DIPped me, they could redraw me, you know? They could redraw me and I'd stay like this, this age, forever, before I grow up into even more of a loser – "

Now it was Yakko grabbing him by the shoulders as though he could keep him from falling apart. "Buster, listen to me. Pull yourself together, alright? You've had some bad ideas – that one involving the company car and the pineapples springs to mind – but I gotta admit buddy, this one tops them all. No one's DIPping anybody, you understand? I don't know what's been going on with you but you're not worthless – you're my friend. Right?"

Buster lifted his eyes and Yakko recognized the uncertainty in them. He realized that there was no going back from what he'd done.

He cleared his throat, trying to heave away the dry lump that seemed to settle itself there. "Besides," he croaked, "now isn't exactly the best time to have a mental meltdown. We need to find Babs – "

One of Buster's blue ears flicked. Something seemed to click into place. "Wakko and Dot are here."

There was an odd ringing in his ears as Yakko demanded in a steady voice, "Where."

"One of the garages I think. Pete and Minerva have them. I got away before Pete could drag me there. I can go after Babs if you can look for them."

If this was a diversion to keep him away from Babs, Yakko did not care. "Done. Which garage?"

"Looked like the west one."

"Alright – hey, be careful, alright Ears? Don't do…don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"That leaves a lot less gaps than it used to," Buster said dryly.

Yakko quirked an eyebrow at him, to which Buster nodded curtly. They dashed off in opposite directions, and he ducked and dodged between the legs and shoulders of other and to the back door. Free of the herd of toons, he barreled toward the west garage at a dead sprint. Please let them be there, he'd give anything, everything, for them to be there, safe and unharmed –

He rounded a tight corner and bolted through an alleyway. All the shortcuts were as familiar to him as though he'd crossed them yesterday. The garage was barely a block away, he was so close he could nearly see over the sound stages –

A dark mass darted out from the shadows which he instantly recognized as a weasel, and he would have tripped had he not been so practiced at avoiding them. Instead he dove out of its way, rolled, and sprang to his feet. This would have been quite successful had he not found his back against a wall with a half dozen weasels closing in on him.

"War!" one of them shrieked, jabbing a pointy claw at him, "War! War!"

"No no, War-_ner_," Yakko corrected. If he'd doubted that Bosko had sent his legions after him specifically, those doubts were erased now. "Try it again, from the top."

But the weasels merely foamed at him, creeping closer and closer by the second. Yakko's mind reeled – he was losing space to manipulate around in, and there were so many of them. Yet at the same time he didn't want to hurt them. They could be anybody, after all. Hampton...Sylvester…he couldn't live with himself if he harmed someone he knew. But his siblings, they were so close, and he was so trapped –

Blue and red lights flickered against the wall in the second before the sound of squealing tires split the air. A police car, having just skidded around the corner, was careening straight for him.


	22. The Blot on the Lot

_**Chapter 21: The Blot on the Lot**_

Wakko nearly smashed the brake pedal through the floor. Beside him Scratchensniff threw his arms over his head and shouted incomprehensible gibberish. The group of weasels in front of him squealed in terror and dashed out of sight. Shutting his eyes and bracing for a crash, Wakko held his breath.

The crash never came. Popping one eye open, Wakko chuckled with delirious relief to see that he'd come within inches of the concrete wall of the soundstage. A scraggly looking toon, washed out by the bright beams of the headlights, staggered out from the tiny space between his bumper and the wall. "Whoops," Wakko muttered to himself. He'd almost turned that toon into a pancake.

"Stay here, Scratchy."

Curious, he slipped out of the car to check on him. It was probably another weasel, but maybe, like Scratchensniff, it was one he knew.

The other toon made it about two steps before his jaw dropped and he froze in his tracks. Wakko mirrored him. Someone may as well have malleted him in the stomach. It would have felt no different.

Yakko.

His older brother stood before him, thin and dirty and shaking. Wakko's eyes traveled up his body. A tattered jumpsuit like the ones the weasels wore was hanging from him, it rose and fell with each heave of his chest. His hair was matted and scraggly, and there were bruises blossoming beneath the pale fur on his face. Their eyes met. His brother's were wide and wild.

Of all things, it was Wakko who spoke first. "Y-Yakko?"

The warmth seeped back into his eyes and emotion broke over Yakko's face like a wave. "_Wakko!_" He rushed forward and gathered Wakko into a fierce hug. Ink was pounding in his ears and Wakko pressed his face into his brother's chest, fisting his hands in the back of the jumpsuit. He couldn't tell who was trembling more but it didn't matter, because his brother was here and he was alive. Here, alive. Alive alive alive. Surely this could not be real. Above him Yakko was sputtering whispered words so quickly that Wakko could barely make them out. "_Wakko – I missed you – tell me you're not hurt – I don't – I'm so – I can't – I'm so sorry – Wakko_…"

Yakko grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him back to drink in his face. It was all Wakko could do to stare back at him, too scared to blink and have Yakko disappear all over again. His brother's face radiated concern and love in equal measures.

"Wakko, are you okay?"

"I'm – "

"Are you hurt? What happened?"

"I'm not – "

Stretching out a hand to stroke Wakko's face, Yakko laughed softly. It came out as a rasp. "Sorry Wak, it's just…it's been…it's just so good to see you right now."

The words tumbled out of Wakko's mouth before he could stop them. "I'm sorry, all of it, everything's my fault – I went in the car when I shouldn't have, and then Scratchy took me back – that's him by the way, he's a weasel now – anyway, uh, I was with Scratchy, but Pete found us, so I went to find Dot – " Yakko's eyes were growing wider by the second but Wakko pressed on, "– but then they found us again and Rocky got Yosemite and it was really bad and um, we got away and went looking for you but then Pete got us and Dot's here somewhere and I told her I'd go get help – "

"Shh, shh, nothing's your fault, it's okay, you did great…"

Yakko pulled him back into a hug and Wakko collapsed against him. All of the fear and worry was pouring out of his body, leaving him weak and spent. "We were looking for you the whole time Yakko, we kept trying to find you no matter what."

Yakko's arms tightened around him. "That means everything to me."

They stayed like this for a moment before Yakko pulled back once again. "Whaddaya say we go find the Warner sister, huh?"

Grinning so his tongue peeked out his mouth, Wakko nodded. It was the best idea he'd heard in ages.

Frowning, Yakko looked over his head and across the lot. "Buster said they were headed to the west garage…maybe if we really book it we could get there in time… " He ran a hand through his air and looked exhausted.

Wakko dangled the car keys in his hand. "Don't worry about it. I can drive now. We can swing around the back where they keep the tour trams, we'll be there in no time."

Yakko's face went slack and he blinked at him. For a moment Wakko expected to be reprimanded, to be told that he was too young and it wasn't safe. But instead Yakko smiled wider than ever. His eyes were shining and beneath all the grime and ink he was positively beaming, brighter than the sun. Yakko grabbed Wakko by the shoulders, held him at arm's length and said with all the pride in the world, "You are amazing."

Wakko let out a strangled, happy noise and smiled back. That meant everything to him.

* * *

The stage was eerily still as the last waves of DIP water settled into place. Dot, still clutching the edges of the diving board, continued to stare at it, convinced that Rocky and Mugsy were going to pop out of it, guns blazing. Mugsy…

Dot bit her lip, startled to feel a lump swelling her throat.

"Rocky? Babe?"

Minerva crept toward the tub with her DIP gun. "Rocky, are you alright? If this is a joke, let me be the first to tell you that it's a stupid one!"

She nudged the edge of the tub with her gun. Dot rolled her eyes and wondered if Minerva seriously thought that was going to do something. But she was dragged out of her thoughts when the gun suddenly turned on her.

"You did this! This is all your fault! You took away my Rocky!" Minerva shrieked, looking manic.

"I'm sorry, but I don't remember turning the tub into a DIP bath!" Dot shot back. She stiffened when Minerva jerked the gun at her face.

"It's always you kids! Always! It was always about you on the show, and now the Big Boss wants to make it about you too! It makes me want to puke!"

"What do you mean, the Big Boss?"

"It ain't cute to play dumb, sweetheart! Trust me, I would know!"

The gun jerked again and Dot flattened herself to the board. But a hand darted out, toon-like and seemingly out of thin air, and snatched the gun cleans from Minerva's fingers. Dot followed the arm as it boomeranged back across the room to its owner: Skippy. He clutched the gun in his hands and his eyes found Dot's.

"Picked that move up from Wakko," Skippy said with a timid smile, nodding to his arm.

"Give that back!" Minerva huffed. She actually stomped her foot.

Dot rolled her eyes. "When has asking for your weapon back ever worked?"

Minerva reeled on her, but her string of profanity was cut short by Skippy's quiet voice. "Is this the one?"

Blowing her hair out of her face, Minerva snapped, "Speak up, kid!"

"I said, is this the one?"

"The one what?"

"The gun. You know, the one that you killed my aunt Slappy with."

Dot clutched the board tighter and sucked in her breath. Down below, Minerva took an aggressive step forward. "What's it to you?"

"I need to know. We worked together for years Minerva, and you killed her, so I deserve to know."

There was a pause. "It is. There. Feel better about yourself now? Is that enough closure for you?"

Skippy blinked as though he was coming out of a dream. With precise intent, he pointed the DIP gun at her. Minerva squealed and staggered clumsily backward, tripping over her feet in her attempt to run and smashing to the wood floor. "Skip!" Dot croaked. Her heart was trying to escape through her throat.

"Why?" Skippy demanded, his voice breaking, "Why would you do a thing like that to Slappy? What did she ever do to you? What made you think you could take her from us, from me! I'll never see her again, and for what, for whatever it is you guys think you're gaining from all this? These are our families you guys are breaking apart! I should do to you what you did to Slappy, right now, while I can!"

Somewhere in the back of Dot's mind she knew she wanted to jump from the board, to run to Skippy, to yell, but her body seemed to have frozen itself in place. By this point Minerva had bust into tears and began pleading for her life with pathetic words that Dot could barely hear.

Skippy looked from the gun, then at Minerva. With a sigh, he dropped the gun to his side. "But...but I won't. I can't. I'm not like you. Not at all."

Silence washed through the room as all three toons stared at one another. Then Minerva's face spread into a manic grin, and a bark of laughter escaped from her painted mouth. This seemed to activate Dot's body. Without a second's hesitation she reached behind her back, pulled out the biggest anvil she could muster, and let it fall. It dropped directly on Minerva's head, splintering the wood and smashing her straight through the floor. Dust floated out of the gaping hole where she'd been sitting a moment ago.

Skippy stared up at her with wide eyes. Dot shrugged. "You gotta admit, she at least had that one coming."

Skippy smiled up at her, and it had mingling hints of sadness and relief. He held his hand up to her, inviting her to come down, the little Romeo to her Juliet. She snickered to herself. She'd indulge herself a moment of cheesiness.

But he was interrupted by three weasels darting onstage and grabbing him by the shoulders. One of the gestured wildly to the hole in the middle of the stage, and the others shook their heads. Skippy kicked and struggled in their grasp while Dot lunged toward the ladder. "Stay!" one of the weasels barked at her.

Dot clenched her fists. "What am I, a dog?"

They scurried offstage, dragging Skippy with them. "Dot! Dot!"

"Hang on Skip!"

But she'd barely made it to the first rung of the ladder when the massive red curtains shifted. With a heavy rustling sound they began to part, revealing a dark mass that steadily came into focus. Dot gasped; the audience was composed of the terrified residents of Toontown. It was a full house.

Dot shrunk down against the diving board as hundreds of frightened eyes bore down on their star.

* * *

Wakko hadn't even put the car in park before Yakko was racing out the door. Urging Scratchensniff to stay in the car, he chased after him. Wakko had to hurry to keep up with Yakko. Despite looking like he hadn't eaten or slept in weeks, his brother showed no signs of slowing down. Instead he picked up the pace after they'd slipped through the door to the west garage. Wakko heart was beating nearly as quickly as his feet. The thought of the three of them together all at once was calling for him.

The main garage was empty. With a grunt of frustration, Yakko bolted for the rear garage. Flinging open the doors, he let out an impressive swear when it too was empty.

"This must be the wrong garage," Yakko said.

With a sinking feeling, Wakko approached the limp sacks on the floor

"No, she was here, we're just too late," Wakko groaned. He kicked the burlap sack aside. "Pete stuffed us in these."

Yakko ran a hand through his hair. "Okay, well, that's fine, we'll just keep looking, she's gotta be here somewhere, the lot's not that big, she's feisty, she can handle herself until we find her, right? Right. I mean, she lit you on fire once, that's gotta count for something. They might've taken her to stage seventeen, it's usually empty ever since Pesto and Bobby puked their guts out in the corner that one night – "

Tuning out Yakko's babbling, Wakko crouched to inspect the sack for any sort of clue. Determining it to be useless, he threw it aside. But beneath it, he noticed a strange set of faint footprints. He pressed his nose to the ground for a closer look. Small, pointed feet, barely inches apart.

"Yakko – "

" – or maybe they went to Plotz's office, he's got the mini fridge – "

"Yakko!"

"What?"

"Rocky has her!"

"Rocky? He's here?"

Wakko nodded, wringing his hands. "Yeah. It's bad Yakko – he um, he got Yosemite Sam. With DIP."

Yakko's face paled underneath the grime. "_Yosemite?_"

"Yeah and – " Wakko slapped his hand to his forehead, "oh no…I have all of Brain's stuff!"

"Care to elaborate, second sib?"

"Brain made this stuff, it's called FLIP, and it's supposed to protect toons from DIP. He gave it to us, but I took it all. Dot doesn't have any!"

Suddenly Yakko's hand clenched on his shoulder, and Wakko was about to question him when he noticed two figures, one tall and lanky and one short and squat, sneaking out of the shadows.

"Looks like it's the Warner brothers and their sister…not!" cackled the tall one.

Yakko rolled his eyes. "Congratulations Mortimer, I think you just insulted all of comedy with that joke. You should be proud. Don't listen to him Wakko, you're too young to have humor ruined for you."

The mouse named Mortimer pulled a DIP gun from his hammerspace. "You hear that Bosko? Rocky's got his sister on the stage and he still thinks he's a comedian. Quite the brother, ain't he?"

Wakko growled and took a step forward, but Yakko gently guided him back. "Manners, sib," he said, "our friend Morty just told us where Dot is. If anything we should be thanking him."

Mortimer blinked in shock the second before Bosko walloped him with a beefy fist. "You idiot! " the fat little toon roared. "You and that damn mouth of yours!"

"Says the toon who called good ol' Morty here a 'Micky Mouse wannabe,'" Yakko drawled.

Whipping around with his gun, Mortimer fixed Bosko with a hard stare. "Say that to my face, ya two-timin' schnook!"

Bosko, whose face looked like it had seen its better days, pulled out his own gun. "No, on account of I never said it to begin with! Warner's brain is toast, he's makin' stuff up!"

Out the corner of his eye, Wakko caught Yakko's wink. Smirking, Yakko continued, "I don't know about that. I distinctly remember Mortimer saying…now what was it…oh, I remember: that he'd seen spilled ink with more talent than you. And at least spilled ink doesn't get arrested half as often."

"You low-life, miserable hack, piece of sh – "

Bosko charged forward with a roar. Wakko could only assume it would have been more impressive with a taller toon; Bosko's fists were swinging uselessly through the air as Mortimer held him back with an arm.

Wakko was halfway through a snort when he felt Yakko dragging him back to the car. "Get any lessons in getaways when you were learning to drive, sib?"

"Uh…"

Hands shaking, Wakko climbed behind the wheel. Yakko threw himself into the seat next to him and patted his shoulder. "Just focus on getting us to the main stage. I'll make sure the Wonder Twins over there don't throw us any surprise parties. As much as they hate each other, I think they hate us just a _teensy _bit more. Besides, from what I just saw, you got all the driving skills in this family. With me behind the wheel, I don't think we'll make it out of the garage."

Despite the queasy feeling in his stomach, Wakko couldn't hold down a proud grin. He threw the car in reverse and tore out of the garage. They swung around the far corner of the building and into the lot. The tower was passing by them on their right when Wakko caught a large whiff of DIP. "Ugh," Yakko muttered, "I'll never get used to that smell – "

The roar of another engine cut him off. In the rearview mirror Bosko and Mortimer were tearing towards them in Minerva's van. They were gaining on them at a startling rate, and Wakko gulped.

Yakko lowered his window. "Pull to the left!"

Wakko's ears raised in panic as Yakko hefted himself out the window so his legs were the only things left in the car. Wakko blinked in shock. Wherever Yakko'd been for the last few months, it must have made him crazy. Maybe he should remind Yakko that he had a lot less chance of getting a face full of DIP if he stayed in the car. But then Bosko rammed the back of their car, pitching him forward, and Yakko was yelling, "Left! Left!" so he gasped and swerved.

The back end of the car fishtailed and Wakko pulled wildly at the wheel. To his left was a blur of sound stages flying past them, to his right Bosko and Mortimer, now level with his car, with nothing between them and him but Yakko. Bosko shouted something that Wakko could not hear over the roar of the engine and his own frenzied thoughts, but Yakko yelled something back. It must have been something pretty good, because Bosko's face went straight from angry to enraged so fast it would've made Plotz's head spin.

Then Bosko aimed his gun dead at Yakko's face.

Wakko cried out. He slammed the brake to floor and turned the wheel. There was a tremendous screech and the car spun around at a sickening speed. The lot became a colorless, dizzying blur, and Yakko cried out, clutching onto the window frame for dear life. Surprised, Bosko and Mortimer surged ahead of them, with Bosko's stream of DIP shooting harmlessly into the air. Finally, the car jerked and settled to a stop.

Lifting his shaking head, Wakko saw Bosko and Mortimer making a U-turn and heading for them once more.

Yakko, who barely had one foot left in the car, struggled to hoist himself back in. As Wakko helped drag him by the tail, Yakko said breathlessly, "Bring us back up to the left! C'mon, hit the gas, hit the gas!"

"Yakko, he was going to shoot you! Do you know what that stuff does?"

"Don't worry about it, just do it!"

"But - "

"Wak," Yakko said slowly, looking him in the eye, "trust me on this, okay?"

Wakko stared back at him. Unable to remember a single time in his life when he didn't trust his older brother, Wakko sighed and pushed the gas. He spun them so they were being chased again, but this time he let Bosko catch up to them rather quickly. "Now!" came Yakko's cry, and he swerved to the left again, leaving Yakko face-to-face with Bosko.

"You know, you work too hard," Yakko told him, smiling.

"Grab the wheel Mort, I've got a pest to exterminate," Bosko said calmly, taking aim with his gun.

Yakko's smile didn't falter. "Don't you think you deserve a vacation?"

"Don't you think you should shut up?"

"Clever, Bosko. But seriously, you ever consider relaxing by the poolside? Skiing, perhaps?"

Wakko noticed Yakko's arm slinking behind his back. The stage was getting closer now. Dodging a weasel that scurried in front of him, Wakko held his breath.

"Backpacking through Europe? Heck, how about some white water rafting?" Yakko said, and pulled out a small, yellow box from his hammerspace, which he shoved into the barrel of Bosko's gun.

"What the?" Bosko blurted, trying to shake it out.

Yakko shook his head. "No, no, no. Sheesh, that's not how you do it! You've got to pull the string first!"

In one movement, Yakko pushed Bosko roughly back into his seat while his other hand tugged on the tiny string that hung from the box. Bosko fell back into his seat, swearing, in the second before the yellow box burst open.

The yellow thing grew rapidly in size, and Wakko realized at once that it was an inflatable raft. Mortimer and Bosko's muffled screams could barely be heard as the raft expanded into every last inch of the cabin. The van swerved this way and that before screeching to a halt and disappearing behind them. Wakko reached out to pull Yakko back into the car, who fell into his seat with a bark of laughter. "Saw that in a cartoon once. And they say TV rots your brain."

Wakko pulled his eyes from the lot to glance at him, grinning.

Yakko returned with a smile of his own. "Nice work, Warner brother."

"Ditto," Wakko said.

* * *

No amount of screen time could have prepared Dot for the hundreds of eyes that were locked on her own. All of them wide and fearful, all of them wild with the look of a captive animal. Armed weasels guarded each row of seats, daring them to move. They could do nothing but watch her. Dot became painfully aware of the fact that she was the only one onstage. Should she say something? Should she make a run for it? At both stage exits she could see more armed weasels. Watching her, just like the audience.

"_Ladies and gentleman!"_

A strangely calm, smooth voice purred through the speakers. Several toons gasped or jumped in their seats. Still clinging to the diving board, Dot spun around, searching for the source.

"_I would like to welcome you to tonight's event, and thank you all personally for coming."_

Dot rolled her eyes. Yeah, like any of them had a choice. Get real.

"_You must be wondering why you're all here. I must confess, I haven't exactly been very forthcoming with information, have I? You, all of you, are the proud survivors. You have not spoken out of turn, you have not tried to fight back, you have not tried to defend your more insolent neighbors. You are good. As your reward, you will be the first to witness the rebirth of the cartoon, here, right in front of you. The cartoons that you love, the way they should have been – "_

"Who are you?" came a brave voice from the crowd.

Dot heard a low, angry hiss spitting from the speakers. "_The fact that you do not know is precisely why this renaissance is necessary. You should know. You won't ever forget. I am the Phantom Blot."_

A murmur rippled through the crowd. Dot felt as though her stomach had just jumped off the end of the diving board. Where was Wakko when she needed him?

"_And I, the Phantom Blot, will be the one to bring you all into a new era of entertainment. One where the immortal toon is the only toon, where two tone is the only tone, one where the human is no longer the superior, because, my friends, we do not need them anymore. But more importantly, I will tell you stories, and I will make you laugh. _

"_Tonight, I present you my life's work: I will be showing you cartoons. Dozens of them. Hundreds of them. Every cartoon ever made, you will watch on this stage, reenacted properly, and you will see what you have been missing. Forget about your troubles, your concerns. You will never leave, because you will never want to. Just watch! _

"_For our first act, I bring you the classic Looney Tunes short, 'High Diving Hare.' I trust you are all familiar with it. The protagonist will be played by the eternally young Dot Warner."_

Wondering when he name was going to be mentioned by this world-class nut job, Dot looked to audience once more. They appeared to be just as perplexed as she was. All of this chaos and tragedy…just so he could put on a show?

He was insane.

* * *

When Wakko brought them to a sliding halt outside the stage, Yakko all but dragged him out of the car. The thought that they were too late was one that his brain was stubbornly refusing to process. If he only moved quick enough, if he only thought fast enough, then the last of the Warner trio would be okay.

They slipped in the same door he and Babs had used earlier, and Yakko gestured for Wakko to be quiet. As if he needed to – his wide-eyed brother hadn't made a peep since they'd left Scratchensniff in the car. Backstage wasn't nearly as bustling as it had been before. Several of the toons he'd seen rehearsing earlier were now gathered at the stage exit, craning to see whatever, or whoever, was on stage. Yakko scanned them, searching for Dot – had she been brainwashed too, like Bugs? – when Wakko tapped him on the shoulder.

"Look."

Yakko followed his gaze to a crack in the curtain. Through he could see the hoard of frightened toons huddled in the audience, terrified to move should the weasels that guarded them gunned them down.

"Brings a new meaning to 'captive audience,'" Yakko muttered. "Whoever's putting on this show must really want toons to see it."

Wakko frowned. "Must be one heck of a show."

"I bet. Let's find out, shall we?"

They tiptoed forward, doing their best to stay in the shadows. A voice was echoing through the speakers, saying something about "the rebirth of the cartoon." Yakko tried to listen and crane over the shoulders of the toons in front of him at the same time.

The stage was nearly empty aside from a high dive and what looked to be a large tub at the bottom of it. Yakko frowned; if he didn't know any better, he'd swear it was a replica of the 'High Diving Hare' set.

"_The cartoons that you love, the way they should have been – " _boomed the voice again.

"That voice…" Yakko murmured. The fur was rising on the back of his neck.

"_The fact that you do not know is precisely why this renaissance is necessary. You should know. You won't ever forget."_

Whipping around to face his brother, Yakko whispered, "Wakko, that voice – I know him. That's the – "

"_I am the Phantom Blot."_

Wakko let out a gasp that Yakko wasn't quick enough to cover. The brainwashed toons turned around as a group, eyeing them suspiciously and still holding their scripts. Yakko and Wakko stared back at them, frozen to the spot, Yakko's hand still covering Wakko's mouth.

"You again!"

Bugs Bunny elbowed his way through the crowd of toons and marched straight up to them. He whacked Yakko on the head with his script and snapped, "I thought I told you to scram!"

When Wakko turned questioning eyes to him, Yakko muttered, "I think he's been brainwashed…well, I hope he has."

"Oh, you mean hypnotized?" Wakko said.

Yakko blinked at him, not sure that he'd heard him correctly. "Come again?"

"Oh, I forgot, you never read the comics…the Blot hypnotizes people, it's one of his tricks. So if the Blot's here, he might've – BRAIN!"

Both Yakko and Bugs jumped back at Wakko's outburst. "I think he just short circuited," Yakko mumbled to Bugs, who simply sneered at him.

"No, listen," Wakko said, his breath quickening, "when me and Dot talked to Brain, he said that there was some sort of ink that Pete and them were making to control people. Like mind control. He didn't know where it came from, and he said that the only one who could use it was the toon who made the ink. It's the Blot, it has to be!"

Yakko glanced at the trickle of ink that he'd noticed in Bugs' ear. Bugs glared at him and said, "Why don't ya take a picture, it'll last longer!"

But Yakko could barely hear him. His mind was spinning…it made sense, all of it…his control over Bugs, the blurring he'd done to Yakko, when he'd been tricked into thinking he was drowning in DIP…

"Wak, you're a genius," Yakko breathed, turning to him, "how do we stop it?"

Wakko, who'd grinned at the 'genius' compliment, practically deflated. "I dunno…I mean, it's gotta be something with the Blot, he's controlling it."

"Right. And if he's controlling it, then we've gotta make him lose control."

"_For our first act, I bring you the classic Looney Tunes short, 'High Diving Hare.' I trust you are all familiar with it."_

Their attention returned to the stage and the Blot's echoing voice.

"_The protagonist,"_ the Blot said, _"will be played by the eternally young Dot Warner."_

Yakko was only dimly aware of Wakko grabbing his arm. All he knew was that his feet were carrying him forward of his own accord, pushing away from Bugs and through the crowd of toons to the stage exit. There, atop the high dive, was his little sister. The jolt of electricity that had shot through him when he'd seen Wakko was back, lighting his body on fire, urging every inch of him to run to her, weasels and DIP and Blot be damned. After all those months, there she was – visibly shaken, but unharmed.

Wakko looked up at him with feverish eyes. "What do we do?"

"Nothing," Bugs answered for him. He strode up to them and shoved them away from the stage. "The Phantom Blot has a show to put on, and you two furballs aren't gonna get in the way. He's a star, after all."

"What show? Why does he need Dot?" Yakko demanded.

Bugs rolled his eyes. "How should I know? I'm no inksplot. Only inksplots know how to be stars, the Phantom Blot said so."

"What's he talking about?" Wakko asked, his eyes flicking between Yakko, Bugs, and Dot.

Yakko opened his mouth, but shut it again as several clouded thoughts were becoming clearer. Bosko had said the Blot believed their show was real, that he thought they really were trapped in a tower since the thirties. And what Oswald had said, about all of them wanting to be stars again. The thoughts were slowing knitting themselves together, but he couldn't see the whole tapestry yet…

Wakko looked up at him. "Yakko…"

Yakko turned to the stage again. He was guaranteed a DIP bath if he ran out on stage. He needed a plan –

"It's filled with DIP, you know."

Yakko turned to find Minerva leaning against the doorway, her whole body one long, languid curve. She looked like she'd been dragged through hell and back. Aside from his mouth suddenly going dry he wasn't quite sure how to feel about the sight of her. She'd tricked him, but then he'd been stupid enough to fall for it. Beside him Wakko was bristling.

"What do you mean?" he asked neutrally.

She jerked her head towards the stage. "The tub they're about to dunk your sister in. It's filled with DIP. I doubt the Blot knows that…and god knows how he hates when his plans get ruined…"

"Dot's playing Bugs' part, and he never falls in the tub," Yakko said. Not that it helped Bugs' situation though…

"Yeah, in the original script maybe. Have you read the one the Blot wrote?"

"She's lying," Wakko snarled. Yakko couldn't remember the last time he'd sounded so ready to mallet someone.

"You really want to take that chance?" Minerva asked, arching a perfect eyebrow.

Yakko gave her a hard look. "Why are you telling us this? You don't exactly have the best track record in the 'help the Warners' division."

Her eyes narrowed and she hissed, "You think you're in the position to question me?" She took a moment to breath, then plucked at the broken strap of her dress. "I've ruined enough things already. I'm tired of it. I'm tired of everything."

The Blot's voice rang out again. _ "And allow me to introduce our antagonist, none other than that loathable braggart, Bugs Bunny!"_

"I'm on!" Bugs cried, his ears jerking up. He shoved his script into Yakko's chest and began marching toward the stage. Throwing the script to Wakko, Yakko lunged forward and grabbed Bugs' wrist.

"Bugs," he said, thinking fast, "Bugs, there's been a change in the script."

Flattening his ears, Bugs eyed him like he would an insect that had crawled into his food. "I think I would know if the script got changed, mac. The Blot picked me to be his star, after all!"

"No, you don't understand, that's why he sent me here. It was a…really last minute change. You said he likes inksplots, right? What do you think I am?"

Bugs gave him an appraising eye. "What's the change?"

"When you get to the top of the diving board, don't jump. You have to keep stalling, understand?"

"Well then when do I jump, oh Mr. Floor Director?"

"I'll let you know, alright? I'll let you know when it's my turn to come out on stage."

"What? You don't – "

"Script change, remember? Work with me here! Now get out on that stage, and remember: you don't jump, Dot doesn't jump, got it?"

"Yeah yeah yeah, quit mussing up my fur," Bugs snapped, swatting Yakko's hand away and making his way on stage. At the other end of the stage Yakko heard several loud boos; he groaned when he saw Mortimer and Bosko, flanked by a number of weasels, in the shadows. Bosko pointed at him, then dragged his finger across his throat. Yakko rolled his eyes.

Strutting across the stage, Bugs gave the silent audience a cheery wave. He cleared his throat and, with a dramatic flourish, he rolled seamlessly into Yosemite Sam's part. "I paid my four bits to see the high divin' act, and I'm a' gonna see the high diving act!"

Yakko watched as Bugs climbed the ladder, still spouting his lines. Dot was watching him with an understandably perplexed look on her face, making him wonder how much of this she was actually privy to. She probably thought there was some sort of plan, that Bugs had something up his sleeve. Yakko was horrified to find his mind blank.

"Yakko…have you seen these scripts?"

Wakko held the thick stack of papers up to him. Frowning, Yakko flipped through them. There had to be over fifty cartoons in here, and all the skits were based off of old Warner Bros. or Disney cartoons, but the similarities ended there. Most of them took strange, illogical turns, or would repeat the same action over and over again. Bugs seemed to be cast as either a villain or someone who was on the receiving end of some brutal form of violence in every skit. In fact, the next skit was 'Rabbit Seasoning,' which was calling for Bosko to shoot Bugs point blank in the face. If Bosko got the chance to point a gun at Bugs, Yakko could not imagine it ending well.

"Did any of your comments ever mention the Blot being a scribble?" Yakko asked.

"A what?"

"A scribble. A messed up toon drawing, like Mugsy. A mistake. Bugs told me about them."

Wakko scrunched his face in thought. "Well, I think he came from spilled ink…why?"

Yakko sighed. "Because if he's a scribble, that means we're dealing with a toon that's gone off the deep end."

"_Why aren't you jumping?"_ came the Blot's voice.

"I think he's gone off the deepest end there is," Wakko muttered.

The Blot was breathing heavily in agitation, causing burst of static over the speakers. _"Jump! I said jump! What are you waiting for?"_

Dot looked up at Bugs, who was glowering in Yakko's direction. The pounding of his heart was drowning out all logic and thought.

"Why does he want them to jump into the DIP?" Yakko cried, his frustration breaking out in every direction, "He knows it'll kill them! How does he expect Bugs to be in all his other ridiculous cartoons?"

"But Minerva said he didn't know there's DIP in the tub," Wakko pointed out, "I don't think he thinks they're going to get hurt."

"What are you talking about?"

Swallowing, Wakko continued, "Well, in my comic, one of the Blot's weaknesses is that he hates to see anything die. And he likes when everything goes according to his plan. In that script that he wrote, he has them jumping in the tub, and then doing the next skit, and the next. I think…Yakko, I think he just wants to put on a show. Entertain people, you know? And I don't think he cares who jumps in, he just wants to see someone jump off the diving board and into the tub. Because it's in his script."

They stared at each other until Dot's voice made them both whip around. She had Bugs by the hand and was attempting to pull him toward the ladder. "You know, heights aren't really my thing," she said, "I think we'll just be climbing back down now – "

"Nah girly, stay where you are, don't trouble yourself!" called Bosko, who had now walked onto the stage. He made sure to keep the scarred side of his face out of sight. "Don't worry folks, all part of the act!" he said with a cheesy wink to the audience. Yakko suppressed a groan; if that was supposed to be endearing, then he was the Queen of England. No wonder he got canned.

But then it dawned on him that Bosko was now heading up the ladder and toward his sister. And he'd made it quite clear to Yakko on several occasions that he preferred the Warners to be dead as opposed to alive. And he had a huge tub of DIP at his disposal.

"Yakko!" Wakko cried, unable to hide the panic in his voice. "We have to do something! What if he goes after Dot-"

"Not in front of the Blot he won't," Yakko said, "the Blot's been looking for us for months, he'd squash Bosko like a bug."

But Yakko clutched at his ears. He was finding it hard to breath. Everything seemed to closing around him. He had to go to her, he had to, but then what? Wakko had said that the Blot just wanted to see someone, anyone, jump into the tub. It didn't matter who, it was all entertainment as far he was concerned. Yakko stared up at his sister. He'd take her place in less than a heartbeat, he'd jump straight into the tub with a smile if he had to –

Jump into the tub…

Yakko grabbed his brother by the shoulders. "You said Brain gave you something that protected toons against DIP. Where is it?"

Raising his eyebrows, Wakko pulled four viles of pink liquid out of his hammerspace. "He said he hadn't tested it yet – "

"Doesn't matter," Yakko said, holding out his hands, "give them to me, hurry."

His brow twisting with confusion, Wakko looked from the viles to Yakko's face, then to the tub. After a moment's thought, the terrible comprehension washed over him, and Wakko's eyes grew slowly with distress.

"No," he said, clutching the viles to his chest, "no, no, no Yakko, no way, I won't let you!"

"Wak, c'mon – "

"No Yakko! I don't know if they're gonna work, I shouldn't have even said anything! I just got you back, I'm not letting you do this!"

Yakkos stared into his brother's anguished face and felt his heart break. But behind him Bosko was nearing the top of the ladder, and he saw no other choice. Willing them to steady, Yakko reached out slowly and put both his hands on top of Wakko's.

"Wakko, listen to me. Bugs is in trouble. _Dot _is in trouble. This might be our only chance. I know you're scared. I am too. But you have to trust me on this. Give them to me. Please, sib."

Wakko remained frozen to the spot, still clinging to the viles and staring unwavering into Yakko's face.

"Listen, when you see your chance, go for Dot and get out of here. Get somewhere safe and I'll come find you guys. Now, Wakko, if…if anything happens to me, I love – "

"Yakko, stop," Wakko choked out.

When he'd been captured in the desert all those days ago, Yakko remembered how he'd wished that he'd had the chance to look at his siblings, really look at them, before he was taken. And now, as he looked at his strong, brave, grown-up brother, with the knowledge of what lay ahead of him weighing him down, he couldn't move. He could stay here for hours, for the rest of his life, if it just meant being here, together. But no, they weren't complete yet, it wasn't finished…they were still missing someone.

"_JUMP! SOMEONE JUMP!" _

The Blot's shrill cry jolted Yakko back to the present. Back to the inevitable. Wakko looked to Dot, then back to him, his eyes hollow. Yakko grasped his brother's arm, the one that had been hurt.

"Please, Wakko. That's our sister."

Hurt one sibling to save another. Force his brother to do something against his will. But Wakko was brave, Dot was in trouble, and he was the leader. And leaders had to make decisions.

Even if it was his last one.

"You're scared?" Wakko repeated.

Yakko held his gaze. "Yes."

Beneath his own hands he felt Wakko's tighten. Wakko stared at him, pain still etched on his face, his resistance visibly crumpling after Yakko said the word "yes." He snorted without any trace of humor and mumbled, "You would talk me into doing this." Slowly, his grip loosened on the viles and he handed them to Yakko. "I trust you."

Yakko forced a smile and willed his voice not shake. "Thanks. Now here, help me get covered, we can't miss a spot."

Yakko tugged out the stoppers with his teeth - he didn't trust his trembling fingers - and dumped the viles over his head, his chest, his arms and legs. It felt strangely cool, soothing even, if a bit sticky. Wakko dutifully helped to rub over every inch of him, but he winced as he did so, as if it was physically hurting him.

"There, I'd say I'm properly marinated," Yakko joked lamely. He could not blame Wakko for not laughing. "Now Wakko, whatever happens, make you get Dot out of here. Get out of here. Go somewhere safe. Understand."

Wakko let out a choked sound and the frail shell of Yakko's resistance cracked even more. He realized with a sickening pang of regret that he should have hugged Wakko before the FLIP: he couldn't risk rubbing any of it off.

He looked into Wakko's eyes – they really looked exactly like his, didn't they – and turned resolutely to the stage.

All those times he'd strode onto stage in the past had been so easy. He hadn't felt like curling up in a corner and sobbing then. How had he managed to do that, night after night? His mouth was so dry, he felt like he was going to be sick at any moment…

When he'd been on stage, he'd been confident. He'd been in control. Courageous. When he wasn't feeling those things, he'd look to the audience for his siblings. They made him feel all those things.

He should have told them how much stronger they'd made him feel. For all his talking he'd left out the important things. It was his greatest talent and he'd hardly ever used it for the two most important people in his life. There were so many things he wanted to say to them now. If he could just hold them once more and tell them everything, that they were the most miraculous little creatures he'd ever met, that they never stopped making him proud, that without them, he wouldn't, couldn't, exist.

But it was too late. He had to act, and he had to act now. Swallowing, Yakko looked up to this sister, who was struggling to stay brave in front of half of Toontown. At the sight of her he knew he could do it. Holding his head high, Yakko walked onto the stage.

"Helloooo nurses!" he called out with a wide smile, "Miss me?" The weasels shifted uncomfortably, unsure as to whether or not they should gun him down or let it go as part of the act. The crowd gasped and murmured, and he remembered that he'd been something of a fugitive for the last few months and his appearance must be somewhat shocking. Either that or they were appalled by how dirty he was and how much he stank. But come on, he'd just escaped from a prison camp, give him a break...shaking his head, he climbed resolutely up the ladder.

_"Oh ho, what a delightful surprise!"_ the Blot cooed, _"Quite unexpected, but this is showbiz, folks! But, one must ask...whatever are you doing here, Yakko Warner?"_

The undertone of malice was unmistakable, but so was the unbridled glee. After all, the Blot's prey had just walked willingly into his inky hands. As Yakko crested the top of diving board, he was greeted by Bosko's utterly stunned face. He would have loved to close the toon's gaping jaw for him, but he couldn't chance touching anything and letting even the smallest amount of FLIP rub off. Instead, he smirked and said loudly, "Well Blotty Boy, I saw a perfectly good diving board with a perfectly good diving pool just going to waste. How could I ignore something like that?"

_"My thoughts exactly. So does this mean you're going to jump?"_

"Good question," Bosko murmured, now eying him closely.

"Does Donald Duck have an anger management problem? Of course I'm jumping!"

"No!" Dot cried out.

Up until this point he hadn't looked at her, because he was reasonably sure that if he did, they'd need a crowbar to pull him off of her. But he locked eyes with her before he could stop himself. It was the same feeling he'd had upon seeing Wakko: like he'd been punched in the stomach. Like he was seeing her for the first time. Like he'd never see anything more beautiful in his life. Her eyes were wide and shining like stars, looking not at him but through him, drawing every bit of himself out and to her. How could he have been responsible for raising someone so absurdly perfect?

And now, how on earth could he willingly break her heart?

Dot pushed past Bosko, nearly knocking him off the board. She reached out to him. "Yakko don't, it's full of - "

He withdrew before she could touch him. The look that flickered across her face made his chest tighten. "Water, yup! I hope you're all watching folks, I'm only doing this once."

That was for sure.

Dot stared at him, searching his face for an explanation. Her trust in her older brother was shattering him.

He stared at her. He'd spend lifetimes with her. For a moment he thought about saying "Don't watch" but he held it back. Instead, he whispered to her, "Don't worry," and gave her a smile that was only meant for her.

Yakko tore his gaze away and curled his toes over the edge. His heart was beating wildly against his ribcage, as though it knew it was trapped and was trying to escape its fate. He fought down the need to hug his sister, and the far more overwhelming urge to look at either of his siblings. If he saw their faces he'd never be able to go through with it.

_"Jump!"_

Just one step off, that's all it would take. He shut his eyes. It was now or never. If it didn't work, he hoped he didn't scream.

_"JUMP!" _

Yakko took a deep breath and stepped off the end of the diving board.

The fall was longer than he was expecting. Dimly he heard what could only be Dot and Wakko yelling. At the last moment he remembered that he should squash his body, the tub wasn't that deep, but was it really going to matter anyway? And then he landed in the DIP water with a tremendous splash. He felt his body hit the floor like a wet sack before it stretched back to normal. Holding his breath and biting down so hard he could taste ink, Yakko waited for the pain. But no...there was no pain...the water around him felt warm, but it wasn't burning him away, not like it had when the Blot had tricked him. Or had it all happened so fast that he was already gone? Was this what death felt like? But like when the Blot had tricked him, he could still hear the viscous bubbling of the DIP all around him. He was still in the tub. The Blot had no idea that his perceived torture was actually helping Yakko right now, he hadn't lost his head yet, if he wasn't burning alive yet then maybe, just maybe, Brain's solution had worked...

Yakko pushed off the floor with all his might and felt himself break the surface. His eyes still screwed tight, he reached blindly for the edge of the tub. He found it and heaved himself out, landing on the ground with sodden thump. The yelling and gasping from the audience was disorienting him. He swiped at his eyes, trying to push the DIP away so he could open them.

His skin was growing hot. With a pang of horror, he realized the DIP was steadily burning away the FLIP. In a few moments it would reach his fur. Everyone, including his siblings, was going to see him bubble away into nothingness, live on stage. He reached for his hammerspace but stopped midway - his hand was covered in DIP, he'd burn it from the inside out.

"Why, you're all wet - here, let me dry you off!"

Yakko heard Oswald's voice the second before a strong jet of water pummeled him in the face. Coughing and sputtering, he felt it course up and down his body, and the heat of the DIP was slowly dissipating as it was siphoned away. Finally cracking open an eye, Yakko saw Oswald standing over him with a large bottle of seltzer water. Oswald leaned into him and muttered, "Are you nuts?" before turning to the audience and joking loudly, "There, all dry!"

Too stunned to answer, Yakko inspected his hands and arms. No signs of burns. Nor were there any on his chest, or his legs and feet. Brain's concoction had worked perfectly.

_"Bravo!" _the Blot cheered, _"Truly marvelous! You see, ladies and gentlemen, how a real toon does it? How a drawn toon's skill deftly handles – " _

Yakko cleared his throat, silencing the Blot. "Hold your horses there, Phantom ol' buddy. About this whole _drawn _business…you and Bosko really need to have a heart to heart."

"Say one more word and she gets it!" Bosko bellowed from above, grabbing Dot and pressing his DIP gun against her, causing Yakko's heart to nearly give out. Unperturbed, Dot rolled her eyes and drove here elbow into the DIPped half of his face. He hollered in pain and let her go. She locked eyes with him and shouted, "Catch me!"

And then Dot ran, reaching the end of the diving board and leaping from it. She arced through the air, plenty far enough to clear the DIP tub, but now she was falling. Yakko staggered backwards and tried to position himself under her. A black blur caught his eye and he realized Wakko was sprinting toward him. He skidded to a stop at his side as Dot hurtled the last few feet into their waiting arms. There was a tremendous crash, which Yakko could only assume was his tailbone making exquisitely painful contact with the stage, and he was laying flat on his back. The three of them were a tangle of limbs and tails, but as Yakko tried to extract himself, he suddenly found himself nose-to-nose with two brilliantly white faces. Wakko and Dot were beaming at him. It was as though the world had come to a halt.

Dot's shrill scream of "_Yakko!_" cut through his stunned thoughts and she flung herself into his arms, knocking him on his back again. Swallowing, he stroked her ears and held her close as she sobbed into his neck. "Shhh…long time, huh sib?" he murmured into her hair.

Looking over her head he spotted Wakko watching them, smiling, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. Not caring that everyone was watching them, Yakko held out his arm. Wakko joined them, wrapping himself up with his brother and sister.

Yakko felt his throat growing tight. It was the most complete he'd ever felt in his entire life. He couldn't remember how he'd managed to go so much as a day without them. Everything was right again. Heaving out a sigh, he gathered Wakko and Dot to his chest and nuzzled his face in with theirs.

At long last, Yakko was holding both his siblings in his arms.

_"Ladies and gentlemen, what unprecedented luck you have tonight! Allow me to announce three exquisite casting changes to our show: Yakko, Wakko, and Dot Warner, escaped from their tower and together on stage to demonstrate that we drawn toons, poured straight from the inkwell, are the true entertainers!"_

Wakko and Dot shared a confused look before turning to Yakko. But he knew now, the mysterious tapestry was coming into full view, and he knew what he had to do, even if he didn't know what to do afterwards.

"On your feet, sibs," he whispered, nudging their backs. "Stand up as tall as you can, no slouching."

Dot frowned as she rose. "I don't get it - "

"Don't worry about it. Just stick close to me, and get ready for anything."

He glanced up at Bosko, whose jaw was practically hanging off the diving board. Yakko winked at him and enjoyed the way his eyes narrowed.

Straightening his back and rising to his full height, Yakko wrapped his arms around his brother and sister. Addressing the audience, he said, "You got that right Blotty Boy, master entertainers we the Warner three be" he could feel Dot rolling her eyes at him, "But eeehhh, I think you've got one little hitch in your giddy-up. Ya see, I don't remember any inkwell. And you gotta admit: for drawn toons, we sure do grow up fast, don't we?"

There was no sound from the Blot, only the crackling static from his silent loudspeaker.

"He's kiddin' boss!" Bosko shouted with nervous laughter, "Just kiddin'...yeah, ain't a he a real joker?"

_"Grown up?"_

Yakko had to pick up his ears to hear the Blot's faint hiss. Perhaps it was seeing them all together at once, side by side and still on the stage, that was convincing the Blot that they were born, not drawn. Or maybe it was just the fact that Yakko had called attention to it. Either way, the Blot repeated, louder, _"Grown up?"_

Yakko nodded gravely. "Yes, I'm afraid so. It's an unfortunate side affect of aging."

_"You can't be. Drawn toons do not age."_

"We got a real detective here, folks, watch out," Yakko said to the audience.

"Exactly boss, he's just inhaled too many DIP fumes," Bosko said, finishing with a growl and glaring pointedly at Yakko.

_"Are you telling me...you are born toons?"_ Blot asked slowly.

"Yes, I'm afraid so. Did Bosko forget to mention that?" Yakko said.

Bosko let out an angry shriek above them. It was followed by a whooshing sound that Yakko's months in the Compound had taught him to recognize as a DIP gun being fired. Before he could react Oswald had plowed into the three of them, knocking them out of the way of Bosko's stream of DIP.

Already yanking Dot to her feet, Yakko said, "Wakko and Dot, let me re-introduce you to Oswald, also known as our grandfather."

As far as earthshaking genealogical news went, he felt they took this rather well. They gaped at Yakko before turning appraising eyes to Oswald, who was wearing and awkward, yet hopeful, smile.

"Our grandpa's a rabbit?" Wakko said finally.

"I guess it explains the ears," said Dot.

"And yet it still doesn't explain Wakko's accent," Yakko added.

"Pleased to re-meet you," Oswald said with a grin. It faltered when he looked over his shoulder as Bosko, now sliding down the ladder like a fireman, screamed, "Get them, DIP them, I don't care!" Armed weasels scurried out onto the stage, with Mortimer taking up the rear. Yakko, Wakko and Dot took several steps back; Yakko was looking in every direction, desperate for some kind of option, an idea, anything, he didn't care if it was someone reaching from the sky and scooping them up and away from the lot -

The floor began to rumble. It grew steadily louder, even drowning out the audience's frightened murmuring. The weasels froze, whimpering and fumbling their guns. Yakko grabbed his siblings by the shoulders, wanting to run but not knowing which way to go since every direction was shaking. Oswald gasped and pointed to the catwalk above the stage. Yakko looked up.

Suddenly a huge, dark mass erupted from the ceiling. It was as though the world had been ripped open to reveal a black void. The entire stage went dark as the lights burst, showering them in sparks. Toons screamed, weasels were blown backwards off their feet. Yakko threw himself on top of Wakko and Dot, feeling Oswald dive to the floor beside him. Black droplets splattered the ground around them like rain. Gasping, Yakko looked up to find the Blot, bloated and swelling so he was monstrous in size, his face contorted into a ghastly mask of rage.

"YOU DECEPTIVE LITTLE MONGRELS! BORN? BORN!" he roared without the aid of the loudspeaker. "HOW DARE YOU - "

He surged forward and Yakko reached behind his back but for what he did not know. But in the next moment the Blot's outraged face was covered by a well-aimed pie that struck him, hard, with a satisfying splat. Two more pies followed, making the Blot splutter and swipe at them, the cream mixing in with his ink. Yakko traced their trajectory to Bugs, who was still atop the diving board. Already prepped with another pie in his hand, he had a focused, determined look on his face that he had somehow managed to combine with a smirk in a way that only Bugs Bunny could.

"Hey Yakko, you were right. We just needed the Blot to lose control," Wakko said, as though he'd watched toons come out of hypnosis every day.

But Yakko, not yet daring to believe, called out cautiously, "Bugs?"

The rabbit locked eyes with him and his whole face warmed with one of the happiest smiles Yakko had ever seen. "And then I found you running around the lot," Bugs said, just as he had all those months ago in front of the fireplace. Bugs was back. Yakko felt himself returning the smile. All the things he'd wanted to say but didn't, that he'd either been too embarrassed or too proud to choke out, were now bubbling to the surface. But Bugs' attention had turned back to the Blot, whose inky tendrils were flaring out from all sides. "Move aside, rabbit, before I drown you with my own ink!"

"Is that any way to make friends?" Bugs shot back, dodging the Blot's strikes with ease. Every time the Blot surged Bugs was there, meeting him blow for blow. Snarling, the Blot reared back and snapped a tendril around Bosko, who'd been attempting to sneak quietly off the stage. "Get them and I'll consider sparing your life," the Blot seethed.

Bosko gulped and nodded meekly before the Blot dropped him to the floor. He bounced twice before sticking two fingers in his mouth and whistling. Every weasel in the theater turned their attention to him. "You heard the big boss," he bellowed, "GET THEM!"

The weasels charged forward, squealing and hissing. Even the ones guarding the audience abandoned their posts in pursuit of the stage. The frightened toons saw their chance and exited the theater in droves - though some of them, Yakko noticed, were actually charging the stage as well. Why didn't they try to get away? Unless they were trying to help...

"Uh, Yakko..."

Dot's frightened murmur brought him swiftly to the present. Weasels were bearing down on them from all sides, Bugs was facing the Blot, and he had no idea what to do. Yakko grabbed Wakko and Dot and prepared to run for the DIP tub. He didn't want to DIP anyone, but if it meant preventing one of his siblings from getting DIPped, he wouldn't hesitate. But he'd barely taken a step when he heard a voice rise over the clamor: "Batduck, to the rescue!"

Plucky the half-weasel swung in on a rope from the right stage, screaming nonsense and flinging himself into the melee. In the next second dozens of toons stampeded onto the stage. Yakko's heart stopped when he saw that they were being led by Buster and Babs, the latter of which was yelling "CHARGE!" at the top of her lungs. Behind them was Shirley, Wile E, and all the toons they'd freed from the Compound, Skippy, and many more. Mickey, Foghorn, Sylvester, Porky, Goofy, all of them were running straight for the weasels. They were armed with an odd assortment of weapons that were clearly human: umbrellas, plates of plexi-glass, raincoats...all things intended to momentarily deflect a stream of DIP.

It was chaos as an all-out toon brawl began. There was bending and bouncing, squashing and stretching. Weasels scratched and fired their DIP guns, which melted the other toons' weapons almost instantly. But it gave them the time they needed to retaliate; mindful of not hurting the weasels (too much), an array of toon traps were sprung. Bombs were lit and exploded. Tunnels were painted, and bananas were thrown to the floor. To his right, Yakko was reminded of how good Wakko was his mallet, and to his left, he was surprised at how good Dot had gotten with hers. He joined them, landing several hits of his own.

Ahead of them, Babs was charging down Mortimer. He blocked two of her blows, smiling wickedly, until her third caught him expectantly in the hip and sent him sprawling. He looked up at her and pleaded pitifully, "Aw c'mon sweetheart, you wouldn't hit a toon while he's down, would ya?"

Babs towered above him, gripping her mallet and staring down her nose at him with disdain. After a long moment of thought she lowered and turned away. "No, I wouldn't hit a toon while he's down..."

Mortimer sneered with victory. Then Babs whipped around with astonishing speed, slinging her mallet behind her head before bringing it down on Mortimer with a devastating crash. When she lifted it his body was crumpled in a comical way, his ears crooked and his eyes spinning as miniature weasels danced around his head.

"But I would hit a cowardly, nasty little sleazeball while he's down," Babs said, smirking.

Yakko was about to rush over to her when he saw something that made his heart jump into his throat: Buster, who'd been handling three weasels on his own – and fighting, _really _fighting – had been knocked flat on his back. Three DIP guns were aimed at his face. Babs noticed it at same time as Yakko and let out a terrible scream. Something quivered in Yakko's heart, but he pushed it down for now. He had to get to his friend.

Wakko and Dot were behind him as he ran. Wakko extended his arm out and knocked a DIP gun from one weasel's hands as Dot, with incredible precision that only Yosemite could have taught her, caught the other with pie to the face. Yakko kicked his legs into a toon sprint and slid into the last weasel's knees, knocking his feet out from under him. The three weasels groaned together in a heap before a large anvil fell on top of them. Yakko and the others looked up to find Oswald hanging from a rung halfway up the ladder, looking very pleased with himself.

Wakko and Dot pulled Buster to his feet. "Thanks guys," he said, "and boy, do you three know how to throw a family reunion or what?"

"You don't know the half of it," Yakko muttered as Oswald joined them.

Babs turned to him, her face flushed. Ink was dribbling down a cut on her cheek. "Yakko, this isn't working. Every time they run out of ammo they just come back with more DIP. We can't hold them off for much longer."

"Where are they getting it all?" Buster asked.

Yakko frowned. "They must be hiding it somewhere, where security wouldn't come across it. It could be anywhere..."

"That stuff's corrosive as all heck, so it's gotta be a real special hiding place," Oswald added.

Yakko growled in frustration. They didn't have time for yet another mystery. Above them Bugs was still squaring off with the Blot, though now he had a companion: Daffy had appeared and was now fighting side by side with Bugs. But even they couldn't last against the Blot forever. Yakko turned to Wakko and Dot, who mirrored his questioning face.

"Think sibs, think," Yakko urged, "where would you hide gallons of stinky, caustic chemicals on the lot?"

"Plotz's office?" Dot tried.

"The men's bathroom in the cafeteria," Wakko said, "if you're going to find stinky, caustic stuff anywhere, it's there."

Yakko shook his head. "C'mon guys, we have to figure this out. We know this lot better than anyone. We're the Warner siblings. I mean, our name's on the freaking tower for cryin' out – "

His jaw seemed to stop working as a massive chunk of information fell into place. He remembered the stench he'd caught as he and Wakko drove past the water tower.

Yakko knew where they were hiding the DIP.


	23. Bonded

_**Chapter 22: Bonded**_

The tower. They were hiding the DIP in the water tower.

This thought and "_what are we going to do about it?"_ were running circles in Yakko's head. Outside of him, the toon brawl continued, though the weasels and their relentless DIP supply were making the fight rather one-sided. Even Bugs and Daffy were on the defensive now as the Blot surged around them.

Inside him or outside him, it didn't matter, it was all chaos. He needed to think, he needed to concentrate, he needed to _do something _besides stand here but he couldn't focus –

"Yakko?"

Dot and Wakko's voices came simultaneously. And then Yakko looked at them, and everything was quiet again. They were his center. They made everything clear.

"You three," Yakko said, pointing to Babs, Buster, and Oswald, "hold off the weasels while we go for the DIP. Help Bugs if you can. Watch yourselves, alright?"

"Only if you do," Babs said.

Oswald gave a mock salute, but Buster seemed to be stuck halfway between being angry at him and being worried for him. He compromised by giving Yakko a stiff nod.

Yakko turned to his siblings. "Wakko and Dot, you're coming with me. I need your help."

Wakko and Dot shared a stunned look.

"Really?" Dot asked. Beside her, a small smile had crept up on Wakko's face.

"Really."

Dot beamed and opened her mouth to say something, but a loud rushing sound cut her off. The Blot had whipped violently upwards, sending Bugs and Daffy flying off the stage and into the shadowy seating area. The plan abruptly dropped from Yakko's mind and he started after Bugs, but Babs grabbed his arm.

"We're roadkill if you guys don't do something about the DIP," she said with a reassuring squeeze, "We'll take care of Bugs. I mean, c'mon, you've got three rabbits on the job!"

"Go! Go go go!" Oswald cried and pushed Yakko from behind.

Yakko, Wakko, and Dot dashed toward the stage exit. Darting and ducking, they weaved through the melee, eyes always on the door. When Wakko tripped, Dot already had an arm out to catch him. Before a stream of DIP could catch them, Yakko was pushing their heads down. But when a circle of rope snaked under their feet, none of them saw it coming. The lasso tightened around their ankles and they tipped forward and hit the floor at the same time. Reaching into his hammerspace, Yakko turned blindly and whipped a banana peel at the ground in one movement. Bosko was storming after them, holding the other end of the rope. He couldn't have stepped more squarely on the peel if he'd tried, and his feet slipped out from under him. He crashed to the floor, snarling and cursing. His face was bent in such hatred that he looked downright demented. Yakko had never seen that look on himself or either of his siblings, and doubted that he ever would. Father or not, they were not like Bosko. He was sure of it.

"You little rats," Bosko seethed, "just because your dimwit mother didn't drown you freaks the second you were born doesn't mean I won't finish the job."

Wakko and Dot, who were jointly using a band saw to cut through the rope, looked up at him in surprise. Growling, Bosko raised his DIP gun. Yakko slung his brother and sister behind him. Bosko laughed. "You can't protect them both, Warner, I'll DIP whoever you don't save. So go on then, pick your favorite and I'll give you one less kid to worry about!"

Yakko shook his head. "I have no more a favorite than you have comedic timing. Besides, unlike you, I don't take orders from delusional toons."

"So then it's older brother first while the other two watch. Suit yourself."

But Yakko was no longer looking at him. He and his siblings' attention was now focused on a spot above and behind Bosko. Bosko frowned when he realized this, and turned around. He let out a cowardly shriek when he saw the Blot, towering above, staring down at him like a disgusting insect.

"You kept the truth from me," the Blot said. His voice had dropped an octave to something low and sinister.

Bosko sunk to his knees. "N-n-no...I d-didn't - it w-w-was Os - it was Oswald - "

"You kept the truth hidden inside. Now I will do the same to you."

Transfixed, Yakko looked on in horror as the Blot's mouth stretched wide, like a snake unhinging his jaw. Bosko screamed and scrambled to his feet. He'd barely taken a step when the Blot's head swooped down, his mouth engulfing Bosko completely, cutting off his scream like the slice of a knife. Yakko grabbed his siblings and sprinted for the door, trying and failing to tune out the terrible sounds of gulping and chewing. It wasn't until they were outside that his siblings spoke.

"I think I'm going to be ill," Dot said delicately.

"They never covered what the Blot ate in the comics," Wakko said, looking slightly green.

"I'd think that Disney usually tries to avoid depicting cannibalism," Yakko replied.

Dot's brow furrowed. "Are you okay?"

Yakko frowned at her. Then he realized he was shivering slightly, though he was not remotely cold. Yakko didn't think it was the appropriate time to tell them that it was their father they'd just watched get the dinner treatment. Instead, he urged them forward. "I'm fine. Look sibs, this nightmare isn't ending until we get to the tower. Let's move!"

They ran together as a unit. No one was filming them now, no one was encouraging them to be silly and gleeful and wild. They were running through the Warner lot because their friends and their town depended on it. Remembering how Bugs had taught him to sprint, Yakko shared a few tips between breaths, encouraging them to go faster. It was as if it was only yesterday that they'd been filming _Animaniacs!_, and they followed the familiar shortcuts to the tower effortlessly. Finally, they came to a skidding halt at the base of the tower.

"Ugh, the DIP's here alright," Dot groaned, pinching her nose shut and waving away the overpowering stench.

Now that he was looking at it properly, Yakko noticed two hoses coming out of the manhole that led to the tower's water ducts. One for pumping the DIP in, and one for pumping it out. This could only mean that the tank was so full the weasels could no longer use the tower door. It would spill everywhere.

_Unfortunate for the weasels, but perfect for the Warners, _Yakko thought.

"Okay guys, listen up: we need to dump that DIP from our tower," Yakko said, catching his breath, "Dot, when we get to the top, I need you to climb on the roof and watch out for toons. We don't want anyone getting doused. Wakko, you need to help me open the door. With all that DIP in there, it's not going to be like opening a jar of peanut butter – "

They froze when they heard it: the sloshing sound of liquid – of _ink_ – rapidly approaching.

"The Blot! He's coming!" Wakko cried.

"Guy doesn't quit, does he?" Yakko muttered. He turned to his wide-eyed siblings. "Climb!"

Wakko followed Dot up the ladder with Yakko bringing up the rear. They'd scaled the tower ladder countless times when they'd been shooting; years of practice had given them climbing abilities that would put a monkey to shame. But when Yakko threw a look over his shoulder he saw that the Blot was nearly at the foot of the tower. They locked eyes, and Yakko nearly lost his grip on the rungs. A strange feeling of light-headedness had come over him. He pulled his gaze away and shook his head. He didn't know what that was about, but now was certainly not the time for going faint. Above him Dot had already hoisted herself onto the landing and was pulling Wakko up as well. Yakko was about to join them when the tower swayed, throwing off his balance. Yakko yelped as his body pitched off the side of the ladder. He swiped at the air and caught the edge of the landing by the tips of his fingers. Now he was dangling over the lot by one hand, his feet swaying below him as the Blot was now churning his way up the ladder. The Blot was struggling though. His inky tentacles kept slipping.

Two pairs of hands grabbed Yakko beneath the shoulders and heaved him up. He collapsed next to Wakko and Dot.

"Geez Yakko, you need to eat a burger or something," Wakko said, frowning and poking him in the ribs.

"I appreciate your concern but eehhhh, maybe later," Yakko said as the tower shuddered again.

They peered over the edge of the landing. The Blot's eyes met theirs. Yakko realized what was happening much too late: the same light-headedness as when the Blot had used blurring on him at the Compound. _I can control your mind..._

And then suddenly the tower was dizzyingly high, so high that the lot was nothing but a speck below. Yakko gulped and tried to will away his panic as the wind whipped his ears. It wasn't real, it wasn't real –

Two frightened gasps made him turn. Dot and Wakko had pinned themselves to the wall of the tower. They looked beside themselves with fear. Yakko realized with thrills of relief and dismay that they were trapped in the hallucination with him.

"How'd we get so high?" Dot cried.

"Don't worry, it's not real, it's just a trick – "

"A trick? Are you sure of that?" came the Blot's voice.

Tentacles snaked around the railings, surrounding them in a ring of ink. The Blot was level with them now. His face was alive with predatory glee. Yakko joined his siblings at the wall and tried to usher them behind him, but they forced themselves to his side instead.

"Born toons. You are a blight. What it must be like to be born I do not know...disgusting and dirty and without purpose..." the Blot seethed, ink churning angrily in his throat.

"At least we get a birthday," Dot snapped.

"Yeah, every year. With cake," Wakko added.

Yakko stared at them incredulously for a moment before it dawned on him: they were stalling for time. Presumably for the nonexistent plan that his brain was going to gift him with.

"That foul human invention? Your devotion to those bloodthirsty simpletons is pathetic. That's why I've written them out as middlemen for drawn toons. They've been purged. We don't need them anymore."

"Yeah, you can make as many toons as you want with your Machine – oh wait, I broke it. Oops," Yakko said with a smirk.

Bubbles were popping all over the Blot's body, as though he was boiling with anger. "It does not matter. With the time I will save from no longer pursuing your filthy hides, I will build a newer, stronger Machine."

"But what are you going to do after that? You don't have your business model anymore," Yakko said.

All the ink in the Blot's body seemed to still, and his pale eyes narrowed to slits of light. Clutching his sibling's shoulders to still his trembling hands, Yakko continued, "I mean, that's why you've been after us this whole time, right? You thought it was all true...you thought we were drawn and locked away in the thirties, that we'd busted out of the tower after sixty years. But the kicker is that you thought three drawn toon kids figured out how to have their own cartoon show in the nineties. And you wanted us to show you how we did it. Isn't that right?"

A snarl gurgled up from the Blot's throat. It started out low and grew in intensity, like an oncoming storm. Yakko needed no further confirmation.

"You must've thought we were pretty good if you've chased us for so long," Wakko said quietly.

Yakko nodded, not taking eyes off the Blot. "Yeah Blot, you're our biggest fan."

"Want our autograph?" offered Dot.

"Never," the Blot spat, "now that I know you stole the show from a drawn toon who deserved it – "

Yakko gripped his siblings tighter. "Who says we didn't deserve it? It doesn't matter if we were born or drawn. It doesn't matter where we came from. Do you know why we got those parts, had our show? Because we never quit. Not when we were with our mother, not when we were at the orphanage, not even when we got the parts and signed the contracts. We were always working and practicing, always giving it our all and trying to get better at what we wanted to do. Every day I see Wakko and Dot wake up and learn, they still go to school, they never stop trying."

"And Yakko's still learning from Bugs all the time," Dot chimed in.

"Right. No one's born with talent and TV show and fame. It takes work. Years of it. And what have you done? Gotten mad because you weren't handed fame and fortune just because you came out of an inkwell? Instead of working and earning it, you tore toon's lives apart and forced them to watch you. Those aren't fans, Blot - those are hostages. Maybe if you hadn't spent so much time making machines and DIP, you might've made something of yourself!"

The Blot's body rolled and boiled with ink and the sheer force of it was causing the tower to sway back and forth. Dot and Wakko staggered much too close to the edge of the landing for his comfort and Yakko dragged them back. Behind him he could hear the DIP sloshing about in the belly of the tower.

An idea hit Yakko so forcefully he almost lost his grip on his siblings.

"I am a drawn toon!" the Blot roared, "Cartoons are my purpose, and it's your ilk that's taken that away from me! I am reclaiming what is rightfully mine!"

"Yeah, we get it," Dot drawled.

Yakko shook his head. "No Blot, you're a scribbled toon. Cartoons weren't written in the stars for you." With each word he inched closer to the tower door. Any slower and it would be agony. "But that's just an excuse you're using, isn't it? You know, when I was in your Compound, I didn't miss being on stage. I didn't miss my show. I missed my family. They were they only things that got me out of that hellhole. Fame and fortune are nothing - you can't come home to them." He was so close now...just a hair more and he could reach the handle..."None of it matters if you don't have people you care about, and people who care about you. And that's what makes you weak, Blot - you don't understand that one bit. Find your own purpose. I found mine."

Yakko's hand was a fraction from the giant wheel that served as the tower door handle when the Blot let out an unnatural shriek of rage. It startled him and made his insides feel like ice. The Blot reared back and the tower lurched violently with him. Yakko, Wakko, and Dot were thrown forward, clean over the railing. Yakko made a grab for the wheel but his fingers only swept through air. Though impossibly, they weren't falling. If anything they were floating. Yakko looked for the tower but it wasn't there. The Blot had blurred them again and the tower was gone - in fact, everything was gone. They were suspended in black emptiness, nothing below them or above them for as far as the eye could see. Beside him Yakko could only make out his siblings' white faces, gloves and feet; their black bodies and dirty clothes blended in with their surroundings.

"Um...where'd the tower go?" Wakko asked in a shaky voice.

Yakko frowned. "Eeehhhh..."

Then, as though an invisible floor had given way beneath them, they were falling. All three of them let out startled yells as they plummeted downward, rolling and pitching uncontrollably through space. Yakko's ears and clothing were rippling along his body as he fell; Wakko was clawing at the air as though he could latch onto something, while Dot simply had her hands splayed at her sides as she shrieked.

"Sibs! Sibs!" Yakko cried, swimming through the air in an attempt to reach them.

"What are you going to do for them, Warner? Grow wings? You are worthless to them!"

The Blot's voice surrounded them like a fog. It was as though he was coming from all sides, so much so that Yakko wondered if it was the Blot himself they were falling into.

But were they falling? It was only the sensation of falling - was he really falling if there was no ground, or no sky? Knowing the Blot, he was sure the ground would feel very real once he splattered against it like a water balloon. No, mind over matter, this wasn't real, this wasn't real, he needed to find what was real and cling to that.

But Yakko was exhausted, and frightened, and so confused, and for one despairing moment he felt he'd never determine what was real at all.

"Yakko?"

His brother's voice.

"Yakko!" His sister's.

His siblings. God, his siblings. They were the most real things in his world.

Yakko looked at them, and they looked back, and something strange happened. For a moment, he could have sworn he saw the tower, like the disjointed image of a mixed television signal flickering on a screen. A tear in the illusion. Yakko heaved himself through the air with the equivalent of a swimmer's butterfly stroke and grabbed Wakko and Dot's hands. At their touch, the tower spasmed into view again.

"What are you doing?" the Blot asked shrilly.

Yakko could see his own face reflected in Wakko and Dot's eyes. He felt Dot lace her fingers in his as Wakko squeezed his hand so tightly.

"Stop that!" came the Blot again.

Even now, in the nightmarish clutches of the Blot's twisted mind, Yakko knew that everything would be okay, because they were with him. They were his everything, his rock, his reason for being. They were his home. He knew that they loved him, as they'd showed him that time and time again. And he'd never gone a second in his life where he didn't love them with everything he had. His love for them was so real he was certain it was a physical thing he could hold in his hands.

No sooner had Yakko thought this when the blackness shredded to pieces. It dissolved around them in tatters, and the falling sensation came to a sudden stop. Yakko was laying flat on his back against cool metal, staring up at the night sky. He was shaky and weak, like he'd just gotten over a fever. He pushed himself into a sitting position - his head spun - and looked around. Wakko and Dot were sprawled out on either side of him, sitting up and looking as bemused as he felt. They were back on the landing of the tower. They'd never left it.

"Remind me never to go skydiving," Dot said, clutching her head while Wakko nodded. Catching his eye, they both looked up at Yakko and smiled. He smiled back. He had a feeling they'd felt it too - absolute and unconditional love. It was no wonder the Blot had released them. The Blot could not control what he could not understand.

Their moment was short-lived. The sound of ink swishing heavily along with a terrible growl drowned out the noise around them. They gasped as the Blot emerged from the base of the landing, massive and menacing and alight with murderous intent. His face had swelled to nearly the size of the tower tank itself, blocking Yakko's view of the lot completely. There was nothing, toon or human or otherwise, in the Blot's eyes. They were twin torches of nothing except the need to destroy, and they were focused directly on Yakko, Wakko, and Dot. His - no, not his, _its_ - mouth opened wide into a hideously gaping crevasse, tendrils of ink clinging at the corners.

Yakko's heart began to race and the ink in his veins was replaced with sheer adrenaline. His body was positively buzzing. It was survival instinct, gripping him more powerfully than it ever had in the Compound, because now he had his siblings' lives to defend as well. He was on his feet without conscious will. Wakko and Dot mirrored him, they were perfectly in sync with one another. This was it. If they were going to live, then they were going to have to act. Yakko looked to the tower door, then back to his siblings. Their eyes locked, and knew by the looks on their faces that they understood. Yakko turned to face the Blot square on.

"Alright Blot, you want to learn how to be star? Fine. Consider this your first lesson. It's something I learned my first day on _Animaniacs_," Yakko shouted above the Blot's animal growl. His eyes were hard and defiant. "This door is not a prop."

All three Warners lunged forward, grabbed the wheel, twisted, and pulled. Metal grinded on metal and the door exploded open as hundreds of gallons of DIP came gushing out in torrents. Yakko caught a brief glimpse of the Blot's shocked face before he and his siblings were thrown backwards by the force of the door. The Blot had no time to react; DIP poured straight into his open mouth. Wedged behind the door, Yakko used one arm to cling to the wheel and one to hold his brother and sister, with the great WB Shield living up to its name and blocking them from the DIP. He squeezed his eyes shut as the door shuddered against the chemicals, pinning them to the tower wall. The sound was tremendous, like standing next to a waterfall, but even its roar could not drown out the dying screams of the Blot. They seemed to drag on, terrible and piercing so deeply they may as well have been echoing inside his skull. The tower lurched again as a great weight fell off of it.

The DIP slowed and the pressure on the door subsided. The lot was quiet again. Yakko held himself still until he could only hear the _drip_, _drip_, _drip_ of the last of the DIP. He opened his eyes. Dot and Wakko were still clutching him and burying their heads into his side. Slowly, he pried his arm away from around their shoulders. They raised their heads, looking at him with curious eyes. Yakko was not sure who was shaking more – them or him.

"You two okay?" he croaked.

Wakko and Dot nodded, too stunned to find their voices.

Yakko inched the door away from them carefully. There was no sign of the Blot. Not even a splatter of ink. He took a ginger step forward on his toes, making sure to avoid any DIP puddles. Wakko and Dot followed him to the edge of the landing. Glancing at them, Yakko peered over the railing.

At the base of the tower was large pool of DIP that was gathering slowly into a sag in the asphalt. Streaked throughout it like a scar was a splash of black ink. The Blot was finished.

Yakko exhaled. He was overcome with a sense of release. It was like waking up from a year-long nightmare.

Wakko and Dot stood on either side of him, silently observing the remains of the Blot. Yakko wasn't sure how long they stood there. Words were not needed at the moment. They simply took comfort in each other's presence. After having gone so long without it, it was a balm for invisible wounds.

Taking one final look at the ink below, Yakko walked to the tower wall. He collapsed against it and slid down so he was sitting on the landing. Wakko and Dot joined him, and he forgot about the aches and pains in his body. They pressed their backs against the water tower, the symbol of their rise to success, of what they'd overcome together. Yakko put his arms around his siblings and they rested against him.

"Mickey made it look _way _easier in the comic," Wakko said, breaking the silence.

Dot snorted. Even her snort sounded exhausted. "_Pssh_, you thought that was hard? Please."

"Yeah, that was so easy that I think we need a long, _long _vacation to recover from it," Yakko said. After a pause, he added, "Preferably somewhere north of the border."

* * *

Grinning from ear to ear, Wakko jumped into the passenger seat of Scratchensniff's car. He couldn't wait for Scratchy to see it - they'd gotten all the dents taken out, fixed the broken taillights, and even gave it a paint job. It looked as good as new.

Yakko buckled up in the driver's seat before turning to him with a large, goofy smile. Even though it had barely been over a month since they'd faced the Blot on the water tower, his older brother looked much better. The shine was coming back to his fur, he was putting weight back on, and his eyes no longer had that feral, empty quality to them. "Where to, Mr. Official Class A Candidate?" Yakko asked.

Wakko smirked, his tongue sticking out one side. "The lot. Definitely the lot."

They pulled out of the parking lot of the Los Angeles Toon Testing Center. Remembering how worried he'd been last year when he'd been preparing for his Class A Candidacy test, Wakko had to laugh a bit. It hadn't been nearly as bad as he'd expected. If anything, it had actually been a bit fun. And, as Yakko had pointed out that morning, after all they'd been through, what was the big deal about a silly little test?

As it was, he'd passed with flying colors, and in roughly a year he'd be back for his final test: the Class A. Then he'd join the ranks of his brother and Bugs and Daffy as an official Class A toon. But he could wait though, he was patient. If the last year was any proof, he had no idea what the future would bring.

"So how does it feel?" Yakko asked.

Yakko hadn't gone into great detail about his experiences from the last two months. He and Dot had peppered Yakko with questions until they realized that it may be the rare occasion where Yakko didn't want to talk about it. Wakko knew the gist of the whole thing: that he'd been captured and imprisoned, that he was forced to work on the Machine that made the weasels, that he'd eventually found Babs, that he'd broken the Machine, freed the toons, and escaped. Though he had a feeling that his brother was leaving a lot of details out, Wakko couldn't help but in even more awe of him. It sounded like he'd been smart and brave, things that he thought were worth looking up to. Above all, he was thankful that his brother hadn't given up. They might have never seen each other again if he had.

"Feels good," Wakko said, still grinning, "wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, but I'm glad it's over with though. I can't wait to tell Dot and Scratchy. I mean, I can't wait to see Scratchy either."

Yakko snorted. "Explaining it to him is gonna be a trip. 'Yay Scratchy, you're back! Oh, what happened, you ask? You've been a mutant weasel for a few weeks. No harm done. You won't remember a thing.'"

After they'd emptied the DIP from the water tower, the weasels had been quickly subdued. Currently they were being held in one of the sound stages on the lot. In the meantime, Brain - along with a throng of armed security - had been escorted to the Compound at Yakko and Babs' direction. While the Compound was dismantled and arrests were being made, Brain had examined what was left of the Machine. In days he had developed a prototype to reverse the effects of the transformation, and it had gone into beta testing two weeks ago. He named it "The Tool." Yesterday, he'd "fixed" his first weasel volunteer, who'd turned out to be none other than Launchpad McQuack. Today, several more toons were scheduled to be fixed, including Scratchensniff and Plucky.

"It's kind of lame that they can't remember anything after they got turned into weasels. Scratchy'll never remember helping me kick Pete's butt," Wakko said.

"His finest hour. You'll have to relive it for him."

Wakko watched his brother cautiously go through a green light. He'd almost fallen over when Yakko asked him for driving tips. Yakko, asking him for advice? The planets must have aligned. But it wasn't the first time Yakko had surprised him since his return. In turn, Yakko had dozens of questions for him and Dot, about what had happened, about how they'd felt, about what they'd done. At all of their answers, he'd practically gone into fits of elder brotherly pride.

"There's so much I have to tell him. I don't think he'll believe half of it."

"I still don't, and I was there for most of it," Yakko said.

After the encounter on the lot, dozens of toons – many Wakko had never even met – had approached them and told them how brave they were. How they were an inspiration. Thanking them for saving their families.

Wakko had confided in Yakko that he wished they wouldn't do that. After all, it was undeserved, and he felt like he was tricking them. While Wakko had wanted to be brave, most of the time he'd just felt scared and unsure. When Dot was on the diving board, he'd had no idea he could feel so terrified. When the Blot had cornered them on the tower, he didn't know what they'd do. Yakko had been the brave one.

Yakko had looked at him for a moment before taking him by the chin and holding his gaze. "You were scared and you never caved in," Yakko had said, "You never gave up, never stopped protecting our sister and you never changed yourself. Sib, I really can't think of anything braver than that."

Wakko watched palm trees whiz past his window. "Do you think Scratchy will be okay? When Brain turns him back to normal, I mean?"

"That implies you'd consider Scratchy 'normal' under the best circumstances," Yakko answered. But at Wakko's look his face softened. "I can only hope so, sib. If Brain's work saved me from a DIP bath, I'm pretty sure there isn't anything he can't do. But no matter what happens, it sounds like Scratchy's got a pretty good friend in you that he can count on. If that's the case, then you already know he's going to be fine."

Wakko nodded. Yakko always had a way of untangling his confused thoughts and laying them out in front of him so he could see them clearly.

He was glad to have his brother back.

Yakko slowed down as he prepared to turn onto the lot. "Besides, he's got all three Warners to watch his back now. Or drive him crazy. Or both. I give it three days before he asks Brain to turn him back into a weasel."

All three Warners. The thought of it made Wakko feel lighter. He remembered a time not too long ago when he'd wanted nothing to do with his brother and sister. How could that have been possible? His world was so much brighter when both of them were in it.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Wakko pulled it out and saw, with a swooping feeling in his gut that wasn't entirely unpleasant, that it was Berry.

"One sec, I uh, need to take this," Wakko said. He tried to discreetly angle his head so Yakko couldn't see him talking, as if this would somehow also prevent him from hearing it.

A huge grin spread across Yakko's face. "Tell Berry I say hi," he said, waggling his eyebrows.

"I will. And you need to put your turn signal on," Wakko pointed out.

Yakko's grin faltered and his eyes narrowed a bit, but he did as he was told.

Yup, it was good to have his brother back.

* * *

Dot ran a finger down the tattered cover of Wakko's comic. Well, it wasn't exactly Wakko's anymore. It was hers. He'd given it to her this morning. Apparently he thought it was time to "pass it down." Squinting in the Burbank sun, she slid it into her hammerspace.

Brain's Tool was situated in the middle of the WB lot in an open space between the soundstages. It most closely resembled a giant egg with a lot of tubes and cables hooked up to it, with a circular door in the middle. Dot and dozens of other toons had formed a perimeter around it as Brain's latest "fixing" session was about to begin. To her far right, a line of weasels was forming, waiting to be returned to their normal state. Many toons were smiling, others seemed nervous. Dot understood how they felt - there was no telling if their missing friend or family member would turn up as one of the weasels, or if they'd simply gotten DIPped and no one knew.

And then she spotted him; Skippy was sitting alone on a bench a good distance from the crowd. Grinning, Dot weaved her way to him.

"Mind if I join?"

Skippy looked up at her and a large smile split his face. It was the same smile she remembered, the one that was always on his face before he lost Slappy. He patted the space next to him, and Dot sat down.

"You look really good, Skip."

"You too."

"No, I mean it. I haven't seen you look this happy in...well, a really long time."

Skippy shrugged. It was light and breezy and confident. "Well, what's there not to be happy about? My best friend has her family back, Toontown is going back to normal, and Scratchensniff will be here any minute. With all that good stuff happening, I know my aunt Slappy, wherever she is, must be really happy too."

"Not to mention she has a nephew who's a total ace," Dot added.

Skippy's cheeks turned slightly pink and he seemed very interested in his feet. "Aw, come off it..."

"I'm serious! You showed Minerva up, I'll never forget that as long as I live. And I bet you she won't either. I hear jail gives you a lot of free time to think about stuff like that. You hear she's stuck in a cell across from Mortimer? I can't think of any worse punishment than that!"

Skippy shuffled his feet for a moment, then asked, "Where are Wakko and Yakko?"

"At Wakko's test. They should be back soon. If Yakko's driving it'll take twenty minutes. If Wakko is, it'll take fifteen."

Honestly, you lose your brothers for two months and both of them learn how to drive. Go fig. She was totally jealous, but she knew her time would come. Maybe she'd get Wakko to teach her, he seemed to be the expert of the family. Or maybe she'd ask Babs, since she evidently taught Yakko.

But she wouldn't ask Yakko about Babs. She wasn't touching that subject with a fifty-foot pole. Not yet, anyway.

Besides, she didn't need to be asking him those questions just yet, as she was still reveling in the feeling of having him back. Both brothers, for that matter. It hadn't gotten old yet, and she had a feeling it never would. Now that she knew what it was to lose them, their relationship had taken on a different meaning. She was sure they would have disagreements in the future – they were still siblings, after all – there was something that seemed to ground them when they were in each other's presence. Perhaps it was the knowledge of how much they meant to each other. She'd known it before, in her gut, but now she'd seen it completely exposed, stripped of pretense and pride. Or perhaps it was something else entirely, she couldn't be sure.

Besides, it didn't seem like Yakko was ready for too many questions. He'd answered some of hers, but not all. What had happened to him while he was gone had changed him in small ways. He was still Yakko, still her brother, but there was something more reflective about him now. She couldn't put her finger on it. They were all different now though. Wakko had a self-assured spring in his step that he'd been sorely lacking before this whole escapade had begun. And she…well, she knew so much more now. What it was to lose. To want to live. To give and gain. To love two certain boys more than anything.

But then, there was also a third boy.

She did have questions for Yakko, sillier ones that didn't seem appropriate at the moment. Or any moment, really. But they burned her…did boys feel the same way girls did when they looked at that special someone? How should she know if a boy liked her, what were the clues? How did she know if what she was feeling was more than like and more like love? She saw the way Yakko looked at Babs, she was sure he must know.

Boys were the most unholy of topics with Yakko, but she was sure he'd answer her if she asked. He'd do anything for her, she knew that now. He'd come back from the desert for her, jumped into DIP for her, stood in front of the Blot for her. Later, he'd held her as she tearfully recounted Yosemite's death.

"I think Brain's starting," Skippy said.

The toons had formed a tighter circle now. Some were clutching at each other in anticipation. Dot scanned the crowd for her brothers, since she wanted to watch the fixes with them. Brain had specifically requested their attendance or, as he put it, he wanted them to "reap the fruits of their labor." She had to admit, it was pretty moving to watch toons reunite after a transformation.

She felt as though she'd been transformed too. There was something different now, something new and bright and strong. The knowledge of who she was, and who she was bound to become: someone who would choose to be good like Yosemite, to stay resilient like Wakko, and to give all of herself like Yakko.

"Skippy, wait."

Giving her a curious look, Skippy eased back into his seat next to her. His wide-eyed expression was just so adorable, she just had to –

"You can't leave without your girlfriend," she said.

Unable to stop herself, Dot leaned forward and kissed him. When she pulled away, Skippy was an impressive shade of scarlet. "G-girlfriend?" he stuttered, trying not to look overly pleased with himself.

"I didn't think you'd mind," she said, "but...let me be the one to tell Yakko. He just went to all the trouble of saving my life, so I think I have a much better chance of not getting strangled. He's slightly protective, if you haven't noticed."

* * *

Yakko was still parking when Wakko flung off his seatbelt and bolted out of the car.

"I hear it's healthier to wait until the vehicle stops before you get out of it," Yakko called after him as he put on the emergency brake.

Wakko was already halfway around the soundstages. "Park faster next time! I don't wanna miss Scratchy!"

"I wonder if it's too late to return him," Yakko murmured to himself. Then he shrugged, smirking. He'd missed his brother, manic energy and all. Besides, after sixteen years, he'd probably lost the receipt.

He followed Wakko's path through the lot where the large crowd of toons had gathered. Brain and his contraption were somewhere in the middle of it, as well the weasel-toons. Wakko was trying to push his way through the throng, but he kept getting stopped by toons wanting to thank him, or apologize, and point out something fantastic they'd seen him do during the fight. Yakko grinned – he was a distance away and he could still spot Wakko blushing.

Someone waved to him and his heart gave a funny jump – it was Babs. Her arm was flung around Shirley, who looked understandably nervous; Plucky was due to be fixed today as well. But Babs was smiling at him, and he smiled back.

She'd been one of the first on the scene after the Blot fell; from the tower landing Yakko had watched her skid to a stop in front of the pool of DIP, her jaw dropping as her eyes traveled along the ink stain. Then her eyes were moving up the ladder, to the tower and, at last, to Yakko's. She practically melted with relief at the sight of all three Warners waving at her.

There was a fake town square on the WB lot. It had been used in several films, from _Bonnie and Clyde _to _Gremlins_, and it was as Americana as Los Angeles would ever get. In the middle of the square was a white gazebo surrounded by trees. After a week of toons and police and news and tears and reunions and exhaustion and joy, Yakko and Babs had found themselves sitting together in the gazebo. Perhaps it was an after effect of being locked underground for so long, but Yakko found he could breath easier in the open air.

"I don't know if I ever really said thank you," Babs said after their quiet chatter had lulled to a stop.

Yakko shook his head. "That's because you don't have to. I'm the one that owes you. If it wasn't for you I'd be twiddling my thumbs in the Compound right now."

"Oh please. Getting out of there was like a tango, Yakko: it took two. And besides, I'm not thanking you for that. It's for a lot of things. You helped me in more ways than one."

Again, he should be the one thanking her. For giving him hope when he had none. For showing him what he'd been missing. For making him want to be a better toon.

He noticed that she was sitting a chaste distance away from him. There would be no molding against his body like she had done in the van. While this didn't surprise him, it didn't stop him from feeling a small ache in his chest.

She didn't elaborate, but she didn't need to. After what they'd been through, something unspoken seemed to pass through them at all times. There were so few toons who would understand what he, what they, had endured. And he'd always appreciate her for that.

"You're a special bunny, Babs," he said.

"And you're a special…" her ears twisted in a comical manner, "what are you now? Half-rabbit, or something?"

Yakko shrugged. "Feel free to make something up. I still have no idea."

"Fine, you're a real special whatever-you-are," she finished with a grin.

Yakko snorted, then sighed. Staring at point in the distance, he said, "It's a shame these two special toons won't be going on a date anytime soon."

The grin slowly faded from her face, and he knew that she was looking at him fully now. "How'd you know?" she asked. Her voice sounded so small and pained.

He smirked, knowing that it must look very ironic. "A lot of things. Being back here, after all that…the desert feels like a whole other lifetime. And now we're back, and everything's trying to be normal again and we're both not. I know I'm not exactly the resident guru on healthy relationships but eehhhh, starting something when we're both messed up kind screams major red flag to me. That and…well, you know what."

"Buster."

"Yeah, Buster. I heard you when the weasels almost got him."

"Yakko, I – "

"Don't worry about it. I've known both of you since you were in braces. Really, I understand."

"I don't think you do. Yakko, I'm not going back to Buster. I'm not going to anybody. I'm taking my hat out of the ring for a while, if that makes you feel any better."

"That doesn't make me feel better." He thought for a moment. "Okay, it makes me feel a tiny bit better." A smirk tugged on his mouth and he cut his eyes to her. "That whole career thing is calling your number?"

And there it was, as if his words were a spark to light the flame – that confidence, filling her to the brim. His heart broke just a little bit more. "You got it, bub. I figured I was gonna have all this free time now that I'm not escaping from prison and fighting off mutated toons, so I'm going to give it a shot."

He laughed, and he was so glad it wasn't forced. "You're gonna be great."

"So are you," she said.

"Present tense, Babs. I _am _great."

"And I'm not? I was just being nice."

"Will we still be able to joke around like this?" he asked. He was keeping the smirk on his face, but on through sheer will; it must be a grimace by now.

"Hey," she said, softly. She steered his face towards hers with a finger beneath his chin. "Yakko, sometimes your jokes were the only thing that kept me going. And I _hope _you'll still joke with me, I mean, haven't you done this before?"

"Done what?"

"Still talked to a girl after you broke up with her."

"We're breaking up? Doesn't that imply we were dating?"

"This is kind of an unusual circumstance."

"True."

"It was the closest thing I could come up with."

"Gee Babs, I didn't know you moved so fast. Next thing you know you'll be moving into my apartment – "

"Ha ha Yakko."

"We'll get a dog, then you'll be proposing to me – "

"I'll be proposing to you? I thought that was the guy's job."

"You're a modern woman, remember? I saw you mallet your way out of a prison, hopefully you can handle a little proposing here and there. And look, I may be half-rabbit but we're gonna have to talk if you want carrot cake at our wedding – "

She tried to roll her eyes, but the effect was lost with her snickering. Could she tell that he was stalling?

"And then our half-rabbit, half-whatever-I-am progeny will be scurrying around the house."

Still laughing, she pointed out, "I thought we were living in an apartment."

"Give me some credit Babs, I would've gotten you a house by that point."

"Oh good. If you let me have the whole closet, I'll let you have a whole drawer for your Bugs Bunny boxers."

"What do I need to do to make you forget about that? Saving Toontown wasn't enough?" Yakkko yelped, his voice jumping up a pitch.

She giggled. "I'll never tell!"

He still got the same thrill out of making her laugh.

"I hope I was a good boyfriend," he said quietly.

Babs gave him a sad smile. "Award worthy."

"Is there a chance you'll give me another shot at it? Someday?"

"I'd like that. Someday."

It would have to do for now. He'd already dragged out the moment speculating about their fictitious wedding, but he just didn't want it to end. He never wanted things to not end before. Then again he'd never been rejected before either. There really was a first for everything.

_Red…I feel my soul on fire…black…my world when she's not there…_

"Thank you for saving me, Yakko."

He met her eyes. They'd seen so much. They'd seen him in trouble, and they'd gone to rescue him. They brought him back to his family, which was debt he could never repay. And they'd watched him learn that he could be liked, loved even, by an equal, by someone he could respect, and be respected by in return. Those eyes had broken his heart, and he knew now that he had one to be broken. And for that, he owed her everything.

"And thank you, Babs."

She kissed him, a soft peck on the lips, and he closed his eyes as she'd rested her forehead against his.

But as he looked at her now, in the bright light of the Burbank sun – she looked so good in the light, she should never be forced underground again – he remembered he couldn't talk to her just yet. Later, yes, but now, he had another rabbit to find.

Yakko weaved his way around toons, pausing every few seconds for a well-wisher ("I hope you three are doing alright after all that!"), an apologizer ("I'm sorry I thought you were a criminal, but we just didn't know what to believe!"), a thanker ("You saved my brother, you know! Good on you!"), or a disbeliever ("I heard you throttled the Blot with just your pinky and a toothpick. Is that true?"). But then, he spotted him: Buster was standing just outside the circle, leaning against the wall of a soundstage and observing the excitement with a subdued look on his face.

He and Buster had not spoken since their exchange at the stage. At first, Yakko had hoped that, like himself, Buster was busy and overwhelmed with his post-trauma life. When Yakko had called, there was no answer. No one answered at his door. But when Wakko had casually mentioned that he'd chatted with Buster on the lot, Yakko realized that he was being ignored. He didn't know who was more upset: him, or Wakko upon realization.

Steeling himself, Yakko gave Buster with a small wave. Buster raised an eyebrow at him. The fact that he had neither ignored Yakko nor punched him in the face was an encouraging sign. Approaching him cautiously like a wild animal, Yakko said, "Hey Buster."

"Hey Warner."

That was progress. But now the speeches and words Yakko had prepared to fix everything had dissipated. And Buster was clearly waiting for him to speak.

"Listen, Buster," Yakko said, running a hand through his ears, "there's no excuse for what I did and if you don't ever forgive me that's fine - eh, well, not really, but I mean, what can I expect after what I - look, the point is that you probably won't forgive me, but I want to say I'm really - "

"You don't have to say you're sorry."

Yakko blinked. "Ex-squeeze - er, excuse me?"

Buster looked at him again. "We both screwed up. Babs did too. None of us came out of this smelling like a rose."

"You can say that again," Yakko muttered darkly. It had taken three showers to get the stink of ink, sweat, and body odor out of his fur.

"Besides, you suck at apologizing. Spare me the agony."

"Then I just need practice."

"This doesn't mean I've decided if I'm speaking to you or not."

"You speaking to me right now," Yakko blurted before he could stop himself. Wow, he really hadn't learned, hadn't he?

Buster gave him a long-suffering stare from the corner of his eye. "I _knew _that was coming." There was a pause, and then Buster reeled on him. "Damn it dude, why did you do it? I should be hating your guts right now, hell, I shouldn't even be talking to you! You took my girl, you broke the number one rule in the Guy Code of Ethics!"

"The guy code of –"

"So why am I not hating you as much as I should? I mean, aside from the fact that you did break out of a prison, wander through the desert, and come back and help save the whole freaking town."

Yakko stared at him. His first impulse was to fling back a snide remark, but it would only be covering his deeper urge to throw himself at Buster's feet and beg for forgiveness. The uncomfortable and nearly unfathomable knowledge that things would never be the same between them had nestled itself in his mind, and the full reality of what he'd done was filling the air around them, making it hard for him to breath.

Of all the girls he'd had to fall for…

Buster seemed to appreciate that Yakko hadn't said anything, and continued, "You know, I probably wouldn't be talking to you now if it wasn't for Bugs."

Yakko blinked, his ears perking up. "Bugs?"

"He took me aside at the Toon Hall meeting the other day, and started babbling on about how he and Daffy used to not get along and did all kinds of horrible things to each and crap, and how they had someone come between them but in the end Daffy had his back. Then he started talking about how much he'd missed carrots during this whole fiasco –"

Barely hearing Buster over his own pounding heart, Yakko suppressed a smile. He had another rabbit to talk to today.

Buster sighed. "But this is different. I still don't know if we'll ever be okay."

Yakko nodded. It was funny how something he'd been expecting could still come as a shock.

Buster glanced up at him. "But thanks for…thanks for stopping me from doing something stupid. Back on the stage. You might've saved my life."

Yakko smiled softly. "Anytime, Ears. It was nothing compared to what you did for me. You kept an eye out on my sibs when I couldn't. There aren't many toons I'd trust them with."

"I didn't have to do much. I don't know if you've noticed, but they're pretty self-sufficient," Buster said, shrugging, "But I mean, that's all your doing. I guess that's why you grew up and I didn't. And you have a lot to show for it, Warner – they're pretty amazing kids. It's a hell of a lot more than I've made for myself. "

"I can't take all the credit," Yakko said quietly, watching his friend. He couldn't ever remember having such an adult conversation as this with him. And from what he'd been told, Buster hadn't abandoned his siblings in their hour of need. And there was no denying the way he'd _fought _for his life against those weasels. "You haven't quit, Ears. Not by a longshot. That's got to count for a lot more than you think."

Buster quirked an ear in his direction. "Is this going to turn into a Disney movie?"

"If it is, they're going to have to seriously edit that Blot part to get a G rating," Yakko said.

"Stop being funny, I'm really pissed at you right now."

"Sorry."

Buster watched as Daisy Duck rushed forward to be reunited with a newly-transformed Donald. "Look, Yakko," Buster said, his voice low and raspy. He wasn't meeting his eyes. "We've all been through a lot. And, I know this isn't…it won't be like it was…I know that…look, in the end, I just want you guys to be happy, and if that means…"

Buster trailed off. Stunned into silence by this sudden bout of selflessness, Yakko gaped at him for a moment before shaking his head. "We're going to be fine, Ears. All of us. You'll see."

Letting this sink in for a moment, Buster finally nodded. The last scraps of the man-child Buster formally was seemed to be slipping away. Returning the nod, Yakko left Buster and slid back into the crowd. He still had to find a few very important toons.

Cries of joy and happy sobs were all around him. Toons mingled freely together regardless of Class, happy just to see another happy face. To Yakko's left, Shirley was sprinkling kisses all over Plucky's now-recognizable beak. The duck seemed unable to decide whether he should be confused or pleased. "I had the weirdest dream...I was pretending I was Batduck again..." Yakko heard him tell Shirley. Behind them was Montana Max, who was hanging away from the crowd and looking uncertain, but still managing to hold up a conversation with Fowlmouth. Foghorn had engulfed an unwilling Sylvester into a bear hug, while Plotz was rattling off orders to his construction crew regarded the damaged theater. Wile E was chatting with the Roadrunner - apparently Wile E had used his own border connections to get their van into the US. Skippy and Nutsy were on the other side of the circle; with Skippy trying to explain why there were "so many dang weasels about" to Nutsy. When he glanced back, he noticed that Buster had found Babs. They were chatting, and it seemed amicable.

While he watched them he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Fancy seeing you here," said a familiar voice.

Grinning, Yakko turned around. Bugs was there, smiling back at him. He was leaning on a crutch as his foot was encased in a heavy-looking cast. A souvenir from his fight with the Blot.

But a broken leg hadn't stopped Bugs from rushing to the tower that night after they'd DIPped the Blot. Despite a serious limp, Bugs had been the next to arrive after Babs. Miraculously he'd managed to tug a full-blown mattress from his hammerspace for Yakko and his siblings to land on - using the the DIP-covered ladder to get down from the tower was out of the question. Yakko and his siblings leapt off the landing and to the mattresss below. As Yakko fell, he readied his apology, the one where he was so sorry for the things he'd said, how he hadn't meant it, and maybe, if Bugs could forgive him -

He'd bounced to his feet to find Bugs giving him an inscrutable look. Shaking and tired and overwhelmed, Yakko began spluttering words at him. But he'd barely formed a coherent sentence when Bugs yanked him into a fierce hug. Apparently he was forgiven.

Yakko glanced down at Bugs' cast guiltily. "Does it hurt?" he asked.

Bugs waved his hand. "I've had worse. Besides, I couldn't sit back and let you kids have all the fun now, could I?"

"Sorry I couldn't pick you up today…how'd you get here, anyway?"

"I eh, have _help_," Bugs said with a smirk, jerking his head toward the crowd. Yakko looked up and saw Daffy, who raised a suspicious eyebrow upon being stared at by both of them. In the days that followed the attack on the lot, Bugs had demanded a full funeral for Yosemite. Nearly all of Toontown had shown up. Daffy had stood by Bugs' side, and, to Yakko's astonishment, had actually burst into tears.

Still grinning, Bugs added serenely, "He's a good friend."

Yakko looked down at his hands. "Speaking of which...I heard you talked to Buster. You didn't have to do that but...I'm glad you did. Thanks."

Bugs shrugged and chucked him on the arm. "Don't mention it. I've been around the block a few times, and most of those times a certain duck has been in the passenger seat. Wouldn't have it any other way. I hope the same can go for you."

"Me too," Yakko said, "but you can keep the duck though, he's all yours."

"Trust me, I know a few things – you'll be fine. Whatever mistakes that were made will be fixed, you three are too good for anything less."

Wanting to believe him, Yakko nodded. He watched the crowd milling and laughing about with a distant feeling. Since the Compound, every now and again it was disorienting to be around so many people.

"What's on your mind, doc?"

Yakko jumped at the question. To his absolute horror, his throat started to tighten, though he had no idea why. Shaking it off, he was moments from responding with a brusque "Nothing," but instead, he found different words tumbling from his mouth. "Why did this happen?" he asked.

Sadness spread across Bugs' face. Laying a hand on his shoulder, Bugs said, "It happened because a few people made a few bad decisions. They chose to act selfishly and to hurt, and that's all there is to it. As to why it happened to you, I don't have an answer. But…look around you, kiddo. All these toons wouldn't be standing here if it wasn't for you and your brother and sister. With everything that happened, this is the kind of good you three are capable of. You should be proud. I know I am."

Yakko couldn't hold down a small smile. Had anyone ever told him that before?

"You know, you had a birthday during all this," Bugs said with a chuckle, "I guess I can't call you 'kiddo' anymore, huh?"

"Nah, of course you can, old man. It fits."

Now it was Bugs' turn to smile. "Glad to hear it. C'mon then kiddo, let's find Wakko and Dot. I think Scratchensniff's – oh, wait a sec…that reminds me, I got somethin' for ya."

Bugs pulled a phone from his hammerspace and handed it to him. "Is this Dot's?" Yakko asked.

"Yup. She wanted me to give it to your brother, but Rocky got his miniature hands on me and I never got that far. According to her she left messages for both of you."

Quirking an eyebrow, Yakko dialed in to the recorded messages and held the phone up to his ear. _"Yakko, it's Dot. If you're listening to this - and you'd better be listening to it, because we're gonna find you if my name isn't Angelina Contessa...you get the point - look, if you're listening to this, I didn't mean to be a brat. You and Wakko are the best brothers a girl could ask for. Really, I mean it. But I'll tell you more when I see you. I miss you Yakko, I miss you so much, just come back from wherever you are, okay? It's not polite to keep a girl waiting, you know. You're the one who told me that…" _

While he listened to her talk, that hard knot grew in his throat again. Feeling Bugs' hand tighten on his shoulder, Yakko turned away for a moment until he'd managed to get himself under control. God, he hadn't been weepy in the Compound and someone was usually trying to murder him every five minutes there. And yet here he was, listening to his sister's recorded voice.

"Thanks," Yakko croaked, still looking at the phone.

"Thought you should know what it felt like to have great kids too."

Surprised, Yakko smiled at him. He said nothing because he didn't think he had to.

Bugs continued, "C'mon, let's go find them. They wanted us there when Brain takes care of Scratchensniff. They only mentioned it to me two or thirty times."

Helping Bugs get into a steady hobble, Yakko strode slowly beside him. In the middle of the circle, Brain was readying the Tool. He sat in a tiny wheelchair of his own creation, perched on top of a massive switchboard. As he called out commands, Speedy would zip back and forth, flipping switches and pressing buttons. Pinky and Farfignewton were behind them for "moral support." Brain wouldn't let either of them come within so much as hoof's distance to the Tool. But Pinky was all smiles as he cheered words of encouragement to his friend.

Yakko found Wakko and Dot standing at the base of the tower. They were talking with Oswald, gesturing and laughing as they did so. It had only been a month, but Oswald was a new toon. He smiled more. He held himself taller when he walked, and he kept himself well groomed. In a few months he'd be back in the courtrooms to face his charges, but he was very optimistic about it. Unlike human law, the toon court system relied heavily on public opinion. And, for the first time in Oswald's life, Toontown was on his side.

As it was with Bugs, it would be a long road until Oswald was loved and trusted as a member of the family. Given Oswald's past dealings Yakko still held his reservations, but he _had _saved him and Babs, after all. And Wakko and Dot seemed to be getting attached to him. Oswald seemed to be over-the-moon to have any semblance of family again, so Yakko chose not to rock the boat and just let time write the story for them.

"That's right, you're part rabbit now," Bugs mused, "Knew I liked ya for a reason."

Yakko shook his head. "I have more rabbits in my life now than I know what to do with. It's true what they say about rabbits – you guys do multiply."

Bugs snorted while Yakko glanced up at the tower. He felt a sudden gush of affection for it – he would never look at the WB shield the same way again.

Oswald welcomed them with a broad smile. "These two just told me you're a bit lyrical when it come to geography, Yakko," he said, raising a curious eyebrow.

"I know my way around a map," Yakko replied.

Wakko and Dot looked up at him with twin grins. It felt as though they were filling him with warm air, making him feel lighter just by the sight of them. "

"Dr. Scratchensniff, will you please step forward," Brain called out.

Their attention snapped to the center of the circle. Weasel-Scratchensniff regarded Brain with a blank stare until Farfignewton nudged him into the Tool with her head. The door shut and Speedy darted around the various switches. Brain pressed a large red button, and the Tool began to whizz and churn. Dot was standing on her toes to get a better look.

"It's like a big washing machine," Wakko commented.

"I think that's what's it's doing, essentially: washing off the over-drawing," Yakko said, then shrugged. "But what do I know, I just beat the old Machine with a flamingo until it broke."

His siblings turned slowly to stare at him; Dot opened her mouth, paused, then finally flung up her hands and muttered, "Not gonna ask."

The churning had reached such a zeal that the Tool was positively bouncing now. The muffled, metallic thuds they heard could only be Scratchensniff ricocheting off its insides like a pinball. Yakko grimaced, thinking they probably should have brought him an ice pack. Then Brain lifted his hand, and Speedy used his entire body to flip the main switch. The Tool shuddered to a stop, and all was quiet. Yakko sucked in a breath as Dot clutched his hand like a vice. Wakko was tugging on his own ears so hard he might very well rip them off.

The circular door swung open and steam billowed out of it in clouds. And for a moment, nothing else happened. The entire crowd seemed to be collectively holding its breath, and Yakko was certain Dot was breaking several bones in his hand. But then a figure, shrouded in steam, stumbled out of the Tool. Wakko released an ear to cling to Yakko's forearm.

The figure shakily rose to its feet. In the dissipating steam Yakko noticed Speedy run forward and slap a towel around the figure's waist. "Scratchy?" all three Warners called out, unable to contain themselves. Yakko glanced at Wakko and Dot, who shrugged back and muttered, "Freaky sibling thing," in perfect unison.

"Warners?"

The lasts wisps of steam floated away to reveal Scratchensniff, pink-skinned and confused, the sun glinting off his bald head. He squinted, trying to see without his glasses, but jumped in surprise when toons cheered and clapped. When he looked down and realized he was wearing nothing but a towel, he yelped (nearly dropping the towel, causing Dot to flinch) and hunched down as though to cover himself. Yakko wondered if there was a less embarrassing way of going about this whole situation, but his thoughts were interrupted by a happy cry from his brother. Wakko burst from the crowd and jumped into Scratchensniff's arms, effectively tackling him to the ground.

"Scratchy! You're back!" Wakko cried, beaming down at him.

"Yes Wakko, yes," Scratchensniff laughed. Then he frowned and scratched his head. "But, ehm, where did I go? And what did you do with my clothes?"

"Oh, don't worry about clothes," Wakko scoffed, waving his hand.

Yakko glanced down at Dot. "Says the boy who didn't where pants on national television," he muttered.

Catching this, Wakko grabbed Scratchensniff by the hand and yanked him upright. "C'mon, c'mon, say hi to everybody!"

Completely bewildered, Scratchensniff allowed himself to be half-dragged by Wakko. Brain waved at him as they passed. Scratchensniff stumbled into their little group and Bugs clapped him on the back. "Good to see ya, doc!"

Wakko pushed him forward. "Scratchy, this is Oswald, he's our grandfather - "

Oswald bowed and his ears flopped against the ground.

"W-what?" Scratchensniff stuttered.

"Don't worry, it was news to us too," Dot said, "I'm happy you're back Scratchy, but I gotta admit, you pulled off fur pretty well."

Scratchensniff's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. "_Fur?_"

"We'll explain later."

"Guys, give him some space, it's not every day that you change species," Yakko said.

Scratchensniff squinted at him. "Yakko?" he breathed. His eyes widened as the memories spread across his face. Looking from face to face he stammered, "You are here...all of you, you are all here, together! How did this happen? Did you - the weasels - the DIP - how did you figure out - oh my...this is astounding!" First he pulled Yakko and Dot into a hug, only to release them and lunge for a startled Bugs and Oswald. Then he seemed to remember he was only wearing a towel and let go. Finally, he turned to Wakko and said, "You know Wakko, I do not remember much, but I do remember that you were very dear and brave friend to me. And look, you found your brother and sister, just like I knew you would!"

Reddening slightly, Wakko nodded and shook Scratchensniff's hand. As Scratchensniff turned to talk to Bugs and Oswald and several other approaching toons, Wakko joined Yakko and Dot.

"I'm a pretty lucky guy, you know," Yakko said. At their questioning faces, he continued, "I've got several rabbits who I adore, a psychiatrist, a grandfather, and two pretty incredible sibs."

But as he watched them smile, he finally voiced something that had been nagging him for weeks.

"So Bosko...he is - eh, he _was_ - our father. I know he's gone, but I thought you guys deserved to know."

He thought about elaborating, but instead chose to be quiet and let them process it for themselves.

Rightfully, this seemed to unsettle them more than the revelation about Oswald had. After all, Oswald hadn't tried to kill them. Wakko developed a heavy frown while Dot appeared particularly revolted. They were quiet for a long time, breaking only to occasionally glace at and whisper to each other. Finally, after a brief, hushed conversation, both of his siblings straightened up and regarded him calmly.

"Well, I mean...just because he's our father...that doesn't mean he's our f_a_ther," Wakko said slowly.

Yakko quirked an eyebrow at him, but Dot stepped forward. "Let me rephrase," she said, "we're glad you told us, but it doesn't make a difference. As far as we're concerned, we're still nix in the dad department. And I like it that way."

They shared identical grins and Wakko nodded. "Yeah, because we have something way better."

"We've got somebody who totally busted out of prison and crossed a desert for us."

"Someone who can get up on stage and jump into a tub of DIP so we wouldn't have to."

"Someone who taught us to do the right thing, even when we're scared."

"Besides, what dad would let us mallet a bunch of toons who were shooting at us? That was awesome, by the way."

"So who needs a father when we have an older brother like you?" Dot asked simply. Beside her, Wakko grinned with his tongue hanging from his mouth.

Yakko stared at them, stunned and moved, and every last little thing seemed to slip into place. The three of them together here, in Burbank, with all their friends exuding relief and hope, felt just right; they were his family, his home, his life. Everything would be for them, forever and always. Whatever the future held in store, it would be alright, because he had them.

"Would you look at that," Dot said, nudging Wakko, "we've made Yakko speechless. The planets must've aligned."

Wakko pulled a calendar from his hammerspace. "Wait, let me write this down. Is today Saturday?"

"Next thing you know, asteroids are going to be falling from the sky..."

"Plotz will give all his money to charity..."

"Schwarzenegger will be governor..."

Laughing, Yakko shook his head. "Let's not go crazy."

He caught a sibling in each arm and pulled them to his sides. Together they watched as toons celebrated and laughed.

"Remember when we used to be on a show about us running around and destroying the lot?" Dot asked quietly.

"They never wrote an episode where we saved it instead," Wakko said.

"It's too bad they didn't," Yakko said. He looked at both of them and held them just the smallest bit closer. "I think it would have been our best one."

_**The End.**_

_Well, it took me almost two years, but it's done. As always, please feel free to send me questions or suggestions on what worked or what could have been improved. _

_I would like to thank every person who took the time to read this fic, and especially those who reviewed. You all are without a doubt the best reviewers on this site - I never expected to receive such thought-provoking, interesting, and insightful comments. I really appreciate it and your advice and encouragement has been invaluable. I'll be messaging personal thanks to you all in the next few weeks. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. While I plan to take a bit of a break, I've been entertaining the idea of writing oneshots here and there. If you're not sick of me yet I might post them. _

_One thing I wanted to mention before I go...early on, several people had speculated that a certain character had faked her death. While this is unfortunately not the case, I just wanted to point out that this was an extremely clever observation and I only wish that I had thought of it first._

_Thanks all._

_-FF_


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Animaniacs, Adventure, Mystery