A pounding headache woke Yakko, and he groaned as he reached up to touch his head. There was movement across the room, and he cracked his eyes open to see Dr. Scratchansniff rubbing his eyes and squinting at him. Yakko peered at the man, confused. Why wasn't he in the water tower? Had he passed out during a session? What about his siblings?

A flash blinded him, and he saw his siblings lying unconscious on the floor in their old living room, unmoving and unseeing. Yakko yelped, sitting up and springing to the floor. His knees gave out and he hit the unforgiving floor hard. Gasping for breath, Yakko began to panic. What was that scene? Where were his siblings? What had happened?

"It's alright, Yakko," Dr. Scratchansniff said. "They're not dead."

"Hurt?" Yakko stammered, trying to push himself up.

Steady footsteps came toward him, and he was picked up easily, cradled in the doctor's arms. Yakko pressed close, trying to calm down. The human set him on the bed, settling beside him to hold up his trembling form. Yakko leaned on him, struggling to focus on anything past his thundering pulse and throbbing head.

"Name five things you can see," Dr. Scratchansniff prompted, nudging him with his shoulder. "Come on, Yakko. Five things."

Yakko's eyes searched the unfamiliar room. "A p-picture of you and Plotz."

"That's one. Keep going."

Yakko blinked as the room began to come into focus. He took a breath then spoke again. "A wardrobe with a mirror."

"Two."

"A pair of shoes in the corner. A glass of water on the table. And you."

"Good. Four things you can feel," Dr. Scratchansniff said, reaching up to scratch behind Yakko's ears. The toon pressed closer, relaxing.

Yakko stirred after a moment, running his hands along the bedclothes. "Blanket. An empty stomach. A cool breeze. And your hands."

"Three things you can hear."

"You talking. Birds outside. And the ticking of the clock."

"Two things you can smell."

The toon took a deep breath, letting it out slowly; everything was sharpening into focus now, and the panic was subsiding.

"I smell soured clothes and…smoke?"

Dr. Scratchansniff jumped in before Yakko could ask. "And one thing you can taste."

Smacking his lips, Yakko wrinkled his nose. "Bile."

"Feel better?"

Yakko shrugged one shoulder, his eyes searching the room. "Is this your bedroom?"

"Yes. I needed to make sure you vere safe. You've been unconscious for three days."

"And Wakko and Dot?"

The doctor sighed, looking away. "Vat do you remember after our last session, Yakko?"

The toon frowned, reaching back into his memory. The same picture of his unconscious siblings, the familiar pool of blood and gore from his not-there memories, and a raging inferno around him. Opening his eyes, he gritted his teeth.

"Are they okay?"

"No. They aren't." Dr. Scratchansniff looked at the ceiling. "I know vat happened. I used the zany ability to see it, like you taught me. It took two days and many naps to piece it together. I know, and I think I know how to fix it."

Tears bloomed in the corners of Yakko's eyes, and he squeezed them shut. His siblings were not alright. But the doctor thought he could fix it. After several moments of silence, Yakko sniffled and sat up.

"What happened?"

"Vell, Vakko and Dot heard vat you vere saying about your parents. Their minds couldn't take it. It vasn't for them to know. I searched the archives to find notes from Frankie Hayes about your creation. Vakko and Dot veren't written to know your past, Yakko. You viped your parents from their memories during your time in the forest. They vould never villingly think of your mother or father. Any desire to know more doesn't exist in them."

"So, when they heard me talking about it…"

Dr. Scratchansniff shrugged. "Their minds couldn't handle it. They broke. They're unresponsive to any physical stimuli right now. They do not move when touched or pricked. They hear no sound, see no light. They're comatose, and they have strange injuries on them that are not disappearing. Vakko continues to bleed from a skull vound vithout bleeding out, and Dot's covered in bruises and cuts."

Yakko sucked in a breath then heaved himself to his feet. Dr. Scratchansniff followed him up, watching him closely. The toon stood straight, his limbs quivering, but he didn't sit back down.

"Take me to them. I…I need to see."

Dr. Scratchansniff nodded and helped the boy out of the room and across the hall. Pausing for only a moment, the human opened the door to a little-used office. Wakko and Dot didn't move at all. They lay limply, eyes wide open and staring at nothing. Yakko groaned, stumbling forward out of the doctor's grip and kneeling beside the spare couch they were draped over. He reached out a hand then froze. He wore no gloves.

"Where are my gloves?" he asked blankly.

"Vith your pants. I washed them, but I couldn't get the blood out."

Yakko looked down at himself. He wore a long shirt that went down to his knees. How had he not noticed this? But then he looked back at his siblings, and he knew that it didn't matter what he wore. Tears leaped to his eyes and poured down his cheeks. Cradling Wakko's pale face in his hands, he turned his brother enough to see the head wound.

"This is where Daddy hit him," Yakko murmured. "This is why he talks so slow. This was the worst thing that ever happened to him."

"And Dot?"

"Mommy would hit her a lot. Leave bruises and scratches. She never got anything as bad as Wakko. She was younger. I tried to protect them, doc. I tried until…"

"Yes. I know, Yakko."

Yakko arranged them carefully, his movements tender and infinitely gentle. He stared at them for several moments then looked desperately up at the psychiatrist.

"You said you can fix them?"

"No. I do not think I can. I do not have enough zany." Yakko's face pinched, so the doctor continued quickly. "But I believe that you can, Yakko."

Yakko opened his mouth but nothing came out, and he shook his head. "What?" he asked.

"Those archives. They state that you are so powerful, Yakko. You vere right. You are far more zany than most toons. Hayes himself said that you vere the one who viped out your siblings' memories. They did not forget. You made them. You took avay their memories. They do not know your parents, Yakko. They do not know that you were abused and broken. They do not know any of that because of you. You did protect them, Yakko. You made sure they vouldn't be able to function vith the knowledge of your past."

Yakko snapped his mouth shut and looked back at his siblings. The tears still fell from his eyes, but his dark eyes showed a new feeling: hope. Yakko's bottom lip trembled and he reached out, touching Wakko's head, but Dr. Scratchansniff snagged his hand.

"Not yet, Yakko."

"But you just said I could do it," Yakko argued.

"But not yet. Some things have to happen first."

"What?"

"The vater tower is destroyed. They cleared the metal avay, and the concrete is destroyed. I told Plotz that you vould be able to fix it, that is vhy people aren't vorking on it right now. If you reset your siblings before the vater tower is rebuilt, then they vill vant to know vat happened. That vould send them right back to comatose."

Yakko worried his bottom lip then nodded slowly. "That makes sense, doc." He stood up then grimaced. "But I don't think I can do it right now. My body hurts."

"That's okay. I told Plotz that it vould be at least a veek before you could fix it. He thinks that you finally got hurt and that I am nursing you back to health."

"Kinda true," Yakko said with a smile. "So, what now?"

"Now I make food and you eat it. Then you rest. And ve'll see vhere you are tomorrow."

Yakko nodded, then leaned down to kiss both of his siblings. "I'll help you soon. I promise."

After that, Yakko focused on getting back to full strength. Dr. Scratchansniff was actually a great nurse, too. He made whatever the toon fancied, and most dishes were good. Each day, Yakko was put through stretches and exercises in zaniness to improve his coordination and regain his power. Now it was Yakko sitting at the doctor's feet, relearning his zany abilities with many a laugh. And the doctor grew stronger with his own power.

After a week, Yakko felt strong enough to put the tower back together. Dr. Scratchansniff told Mr. Plotz that it would be perfectly put together the next morning. They would work at night so as to not disturb the movie shoots. The toon walked out into the crisp night air with the doctor, scanning the scarred concrete and the smoke-stained surroundings.

"Well, doc, if you'll help me," Yakko said, stretching out and popping his fingers.

The doctor nodded. "I vill lend my help if you vill guide it."

Yakko grinned then raised his hands like a conductor, and Dr. Scratchansniff followed suit.

"Now remember to breathe," Yakko instructed. "Let the power flow through you, and make sure it comes from your fingertips. Focus it, and it will listen."

The good doctor nodded and awaited the signal. With a nod, Yakko inhaled and flung his power outward. Dr. Scratchansniff pulled the zany from his core, which was much stronger now. His body began to tingle, but instead of pushing away the sensation, he found a smile on his face as he forced it to spiral higher and higher until it leaped from his fingers, invisible but tangible.

He combined his power with Yakko's, and he felt the toon focus the energy on the concrete. Just like in his office that first night, pieces began to flow backward, only this time it came from nowhere as they forced existing air molecules to change and morph into concrete, and then metal. They worked from the ground up, carefully stitching together a new reality that matched the old. Piece by piece, they built a key feature of Warner Studios from nothing but air, and it was glorious.

It took five long, grueling hours as they moved from the foundation to the legs to the body, then within to recreate the Warners' living space. By the time they were done, both were sweating and shaking, exhausted but very, very pleased with the night's work. They grinned at each other then climbed down to the ground and plodded, side by side, back into the doctor's domicile for a glass of ice water.

Once they had some of their strength back, the doctor and Yakko went upstairs to the two comatose toons. They looked just as bad as before, but Yakko was determined to change that. Glancing at the doctor for encouragement, he relaxed a bit when he received a smile and a nod. He took a deep breath as he knelt down and placed one hand on each head.

With a gentle flex of his zany, he projected their last recollections above their heads. Then he began to rewind, graying out the memory, removing it completely. He put them back in bed before Dot awoke and began to search for him, then he paused. Closing his eyes, he began to reconstruct their memories, making sure to put blocks and slides to help them to stay sane, to not consider too deeply the things that had gone on the last week and a half.

After a half an hour, he pulled back, trembling. His siblings looked as they usually did when they slept, with smooth fur, clean bedclothes, and peaceful expressions. The cuts and bruises and blood were nowhere to be seen, and there was no evidence of their comatose states.

"That looks better," the doctor praised in a whisper.

"It's okay, doc. They won't wake up until morning. I made sure of it," Yakko sighed. "Let's get them back to the tower and get them into bed. Then I'm going to sleep. I don't think we'll be out much tomorrow."

"That's alright, Yakko," Dr. Scratchansniff said, scratching behind his ear. "You just get some rest."

Yakko scooped up his sister, and the psychiatrist picked up Wakko, and they headed down the stairs and back into the early hours of the morning. There was a chill, and both of the sleeping toons snuggled close, trying to stay warm. Yakko smiled at Dot, kissing her cheek then gently hefted her over his shoulder and began to climb the ladder. She didn't wake, and Dr. Scratchansniff copied Yakko.

When the doctor got into the tower, Dot was being tucked into her pick bed, and Yakko made sure she was comfortable before taking Wakko from the human and pulling back his bedclothes. When Wakko was snug and warm, Yakko stood up and nodded.

"That's so much better, doc."

Dr. Scratchansniff nodded, staring, not at the sleeping children, but the toon who stood in front of him. Stepping behind him, he placed a hand on the inked shoulder. The tingles no longer bothered him in the slightest, and he smiled warmly when Yakko looked up at him.

"What?" the toon asked, his lips quirking.

"I am so proud of you," the human said.

Yakko blinked. "Huh? I didn't do anything."

Dr. Scratchansniff shook his head. "You have. You are still here. You've lived through decades vith a past that no human could live vith. You took avay your siblings' memories to protect them. You know that you can never talk to them about this, and yet you still stay by them. You are so strong, Yakko. So very strong."

Tears gleamed in Yakko's eyes again, but they were tears of joy. Reaching up, he clapped his hand over Dr. Scratchansniff's.

"Thanks, doc. That means a lot coming from you."

They shared a joyous smile, then the doctor guided Yakko to his own bed. Surprised, Yakko found himself being tucked in for the first time in his life. As the blanket was pulled up to his chin, Yakko hummed and snuggled down. Dr. Scratchansniff pet the toon's head, scratching behind his ears again.

"Regular appointment next Thursday," the human said. "See you then."

"Yeah. See you, doc. And…thanks. For everything,"

The psychiatrist nodded, and Yakko watched him turn and leave. As the door shut behind him, Yakko turned over and pressed into his pillow. Peace filled his heart, and some of his happy tears fell onto the soft pillowcase, but Yakko didn't bother to wipe them away. He was glad that somebody was listening to him and helping him, and that gladness had to go somewhere.

What the doctor had said was true. He could never tell his siblings about what their parents had done to them. He stayed by them to protect them, and that was okay. Because he had somebody he could trust, somebody who cared like his parents never did. And with that joyful thought, Yakko drifted into a pleasant dream instead of the nightmare that had plagued him for most of his life, knowing that he could handle whatever came tomorrow.