It wasn't really fair; Boris spent most of his time either at the hospital or the home, and he didn't particularly care to be at either one. Sitting here now, with Father Kricket, waiting for Lorraine to show up. Boris sighed and checked his watch, as Father Kricket read a book across from him, them both sitting next to Ellens bedside. Boris sighed again, folded his arms and shook his head.

"Patience is a virtue," Father Kricket said, without looking up, turning a page in his book.

"Patience is a waste of time," Boris said, "You're just giving others carte blanche to throw your precious time away and I don't know about you, but I'm pretty old and I ain't got much time left, and frankly, I'd prefer not to spend what little time I do have in this place."

"You have to learn to be patient, it isn't something that comes naturally, it's a skill, like cooking," Father Kricket said, leaning forward and resting the closed book on his lap, continuing, "When I was in college, I was interested in this girl but I wasn't sure she was interested in me, and at the same time I was thinking of switching colleges but I wanted to see if things would work out with her first, so I waited for her to make her decision and until she did, I wouldn't switch schools. It taught me to bide my time and wait for the right choice to show itself."

"You know, sometimes, listening to you is like having a conversation with a hostage negotiator. You know what I mean? Everything you say sounds logical, it very well may be the right way to feel in fact, but god knows I don't wanna hear it," Boris said, making Father Kricket smirk.

"That's what I'm here for. To help people along, especially when they don't want it," he said.

Boris looked at Ellen and put his hand on the sheet over her legs. He thought about the last conversation they'd had before she went under for her operation, and wondered how such a thing could result in this sort of situation. The door opened and Lorraine entered, making Boris scoff as she shut the door behind her and sat down at the end of the bed.

"Well, what're we doing here?" Lorraine asked after a minute.

"We're here to say a prayer," Boris said, "Or does that cut into your 'me' time?"

"For your information, all my free time is my me time because I don't have anyone else in my life to deal with, so," Lorraine replied, fishing through her purse for some gum as Father Kricket leaned forward and cupped his hands on his lap.

"Let's not bring negative energy into the room," he said calmly, "Let's approach this like rational adults, alright? We're all capable of being in complete control of our own emotions, so let's try that. We're here for Ellen, remember that? Not for you two, but for her, so let's stay focused on that."

"I'm sorry," Boris said, continuing to rub Ellens hand, "So I'm not a particularly religious person, is there a sort of non partisan prayer we can do? One that ensures she'll be okay even if I go to hell?"

"Certainly," Father Kricket said, laughing, "The thing about prayer is there's no set rule on how they must be said or anything. They can be made up on the spot, so just say whatever comes to your mind. Boris, if you'd like to start, you're welcome to."

Boris cleared his throat and squeezed her hand as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Dear god, please let my daughter wake up, let her go on to bigger and better things, lord knows she deserves it. Please do not punish her for our misdeeds. MY misdeeds. She is not me, she is her own person and she deserves to be judged accordingly so," Boris said, "...I love her, please just protect her and let her wake up."

"That was beautiful Boris," Father Kricket said, then, turning his gaze to Lorraine, he added, "Would you like to go?"

"Certainly," Lorraine said, "Dear god, please give my husband and I something else to do besides grieve over someone who isn't even dead yet. And please don't let my husband see this as something to make about himself."

"Gee, you're a riot," Boris said, glaring at her, "This is supposed to make us feel better."

"There's no feeling better about this, Boris, and in fact, I think it's time we let it go and take her off life support. They say that after 3 months nobody comes out of a coma generally, or at the very least, the chances drop dramatically."

"It's barely been a month and a half," Boris said, sounding annoyed now, "How about, if that's the case, we at least get to the third month and see what happens before we write our only child a one way ticket to the afterlife."

Lorraine leaned back and crossed her legs, groaning as Father Kricket shifted in his seat and looked at Boris. He fumbled with his bible before standing up and finally setting it down on his chair as he stood up and headed for the door.

"I, uh...I am going to head to the snack machine, if anyone would like anything?" he asked, but neither one responded, so he politely nodded, opened the door and exited the room. Boris looked at Lorraine and ran a hand over his face.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I know this hurts you too, I'm not making this about me, I hope you know that. I hope you don't think I'm the same man that I was before. I'm not saying I'm totally better now, but I like to think that I've grown a bit in the last year or so, and I'm still trying to change for what it's worth."

"I believe you," Lorraine said, "But I'm still going to blame you."

"Why?!"

"Because if I don't...I have to blame myself, and I...I don't think I could handle accepting that guilt," Lorraine said, near tears. Boris understood that line of thought, though. He stood up, patted her on the back as he passed by her and exited out into the hallway. He spotted Father Kricket standing near the snack machine, eating from a bag of chips. Boris strolled up to him and stopped beside him, leaning against the wall as Father Kricket put the bag in front of him, offering him some chips.

"I never speak ill of people, but I have to say...she's hard to deal with," Father Kricket said, making Boris smirk.

"She's not hard to deal with," he replied, "She's just like anyone else. She's reacting, understandably, to something that's terrible, that's affecting her, and has affected someone dear to her. I think, more than anything, what she's actually upset about is that Ellen came to ME instead of HER before her surgery and tried to talk to me."

"I could see that. She might take it personally, making her question her worth," Father Kricket said, putting a chip in his mouth and eating it before adding, "That's why we shouldn't take her attitude personally, because she's already judging herself far more harshly than we ever would. She's forcing herself to suffer, so we shouldn't add onto that. We should be helping her."

"Exactly. I couldn't agree more," Boris said, "If there's one thing I've learned in the last few months, it's that I don't need other people hating me. I hate myself enough as it is. Don't need any help in that department."

Father Kricket chuckled as he crumpled the chip bag and tossed it into a garbage can across from them. He sighed, adjusted his collar and looked at Boris, who looked up from his shoes to Father Kricket, their eyes locking for a moment.

"Come on, let's get back to the room," he said, Boris nodding in understanding as the two turned on their heels and headed back to Ellens room. As they arrived, Lorraine was coming out, pulling the strap on her purse up over her shoulder, adjusting it. She stopped and let them in before passing them. Boris turned and followed her, abandoning Father Kricket in the room. Boris walked with Lorraine down the hall, towards the main lobby.

"So you're just leaving?" he asked, "We're done today?"

"I can't sit there with her," Lorraine said, "I just...can't."

"I know, it's hard."

Lorraine stopped, her back still to him, and she sniffled before saying, "She didn't have to do this."

"...do what?"

"Have the surgery."

"Sure she didn't have to, but she wanted to and that's her decision. I was more than supportive."

"But she wasn't broken," Lorraine said, "She's always acted like she's been broken but that's because of the bullshit lense society puts on those with disabilities. She wasn't broken. She was still Ellen. She could've done anything she wanted just as she was."

"I agree with you," Boris said, "But...nonetheless, she made a decision about her own life and I stood by her."

"Do you still?"

"Excuse me?"

"Do you still stand by her decision, even now, while watching her lay in that bed, struggling to even live?" Lorraine asked, "Because if you do...then I don't exactly know where you stand. I don't know how you can support a decision that nearly killed her."

"You can support something in the moment and not support it in retrospect."

"Certainly, but perhaps had you not supported it to begin with, she-"

"Don't you EVEN," Boris said, almost snarling at her now, pointing at her, "Don't you DARE do that. That isn't fair. You and I both know she would've done it whether or not I supported it."

"Oh please, she was always your little girl, she always wanted your approval," Lorraine said, "Don't pretend she wasn't. She asked you because she knew that you would go along with it, because you want to make her happy, you want her to love you. I would've fought her on it, because that's always been the dynamic, I've always been the bad guy."

Boris stood there as Lorraine wiped her eyes on her sleeve, hoisted her purse back up again and buttoned her sweater.

"I'm so tired of being the bad guy. I say it's time we audition for new roles," she said, before turning and leaving, letting Boris stand there and watch her walk off towards the main lobby. He turned and headed back to Ellens room, where he found Father Kricket reading his bible silently, as he sat down beside him.

"Am I a villain?" Boris finally asked, taking his hat off and scratching the back of his head.

"Nobody is a villain, Boris. They're just misguided heroes," Father Kricket said.

And somehow, this statement made Boris feel better. They sat for a few minutes, watching Ellens machine buzz and beep, and after a moment, Boris held his hand down by his chair, and Father Kricket held his hand for a little bit. Boris rarely held the hands of other men, but this wasn't just any man, it was a man of god, and that meant, in a way, he was holding the hand of god, and that comforted him in its own small way.

*beep*
*beep*
*beep*

The noise had become somewhat soothing, over time, like a white noise used to help one drift off comfortably to sleep. This made Boris uncomfortable. Did it mean he was alright with what had happened? That, because the noise didn't bother him, that it meant he wasn't hurt by it? No, that couldn't be right. He was definitely hurt. He put down his magazine and looked at the bed, where his daughter lay, unconscious. He sighed and reached out, touching her hand, gripping it ever so gently. He shut his eyes for just a moment, when he heard the flatline, which jolted him awake. Boris opened his eyes in worry, only to discover that it wasn't Ellen's machine, and instead was sounding from a machine down the hall. He stood up and swiftly marched to the door to her room and glanced out.

He saw two nurses and a doctor rush by and head into the room two doors down. Boris came out into the hallway and headed to the room, peering inside where he saw a man who was probably his age laying flat on a gurney, while the doctor prepared paddles. One of the nurses turned and noticed Boris, then swiftly shut the door to the room. He backed up, and stood in the hallway while every manner of person seemed to move around him, quicker than he ever could. He felt trapped in time, stuck in existential molasses. He buried his hands in his coat pockets and realized that this place was where it all ended, and that was if you were lucky enough to not die alone.

Yes, this place, a hospital, is where most roads lead. He sighed and turned, heading back into Ellen's hospital room, shutting the door behind him. He only hoped it wouldn't end for him here as well.

                                                                                           ***

"I always wanted to be a pilot," Burt said, "Never happened, but it was nice to imagine. Even tried out for my pilots license every few years. Just...couldn't quite grasp it. Add it to the list of shit I'll never finish I suppose."

"I know what that's like," Carol said, "I never quite got the hang of a lot of things I was interested in, that I swore up and down that I'd learn to do. You have anything like that, Boris?"

Boris looked up and shrugged, his chin resting on his fist, his elbow posted up on his armchair. He sighed and sat up more, yawning.

"I don't know why we think we don't have time NOW," he said, "I mean, what's stopping us? Who says that at a certain age you can't learn to do something, right?"

"I appreciate your attempt at positivity, but that isn't how things work. As you age, your brain stops soaking in new information and it becomes harder to learn things," Carol said, "Like, if you try and teach a small child a language, they learn it easier when they're young than if you try when they're older. It's just how the mind works."

"But you can still learn things. Sure, it may not be as easy, but you CAN do it," Boris said, "I don't...I don't want to die and be remembered for the two things I did in life. I want to be remembered for all sorts of stuff I knew how to do. I want them to say that I spoke multiple languages and could play multiple instruments and that I could build things with my hands-"

"But you can't do any of those," Burt interjected.

"Thank you, I was getting to that," Boris said, annoyed, "But that doesn't mean that I can't learn it right now. Who knows how much time we have left? Why're we spending it sitting around, taking medication and remembering the things we have done instead of finding new things to do?"

"Because I'm old and cranky," Carol said, "And I prefer to complain, because that's a right you get when you live to be this age."

"Carol has a point," Larry said, approaching them with a drink in hand, "Everyone tells you not to complain your entire life, but dammit, if you live to be our age, that's a right that you EARN."

"I think I'm going to make the best of my time and learn something new," Boris said, "I'm tired of feeling useless, I want to feel like I still have things I can offer the world, even if the world doesn't necessarily want or need them."

With that, Boris stood up and headed down the hallway towards his room. As he walked past a door, Father Kricket came out, and the two stopped to look at one another for a moment.

"What're you doing here? Is someone else dying?" Boris asked, and Father Kricket laughed and touched Boris's shoulder.

"Of course not, I'm just visiting someone who can no longer come into church. Walk with me a ways," he said, and Boris obliged, walking alongside Father Kricket as they headed down the hallway; Father Kricket cleared his throat and said, "So, how've you been? How are you dealing with things?"

"Not very well," Boris said, "Honestly, I feel like I'm the one who should be dying and my daughter should be out there leading a full life."

"It's never easy for a parent to see their child in a manner that could lead to death," Father Kricket said, "I've dealt with many grieving families who've lost children at a young age, even some at a not so young age, and man let me tell you, it's hard. They're not even my children and it's hard."

"They're not your children? But you call everyone 'my child'," Boris said, smirking, making Father Kricket laugh again.

"Well, biological children then. I know from experience what it's like to lose a child," Father Kricket said.

"I thought priests couldn't-"

"No no, no, I watched my parents lose my brother at a young age," Father Kricket said, "I watched them go through all the stages of grief, watched their marriage fall apart. You know that it's a rather high statistic that a marriage that sees the death of a child doesn't last, right? Most marriages usually end within a year of said death."

"My marriage didn't end because of what happened to Ellen," Boris said, "Not just for that, anyway. I want to become a better person, but I'm finding it difficult to know where to start."

"Don't let the rough start discourage you. It's good that you're wanting to better yourself. Just because you reach a certain age doesn't mean you can't continue to evolve into a better human. There's no age limit on morality."

"That's what I was thinking," Boris said, "But where should I start?"

"Frankly," Father Kricket said, stopping, turning to him and placing a hand on his shoulder, "I think we both know where you should start."

                                                                                        ***

Boris and Carol entered the hospital room, Carol lightly clasping his hand as he stopped right in the doorway and stared at Ellen laying in the bed. Carol looked at him and patted his shoulder, letting him know that he wasn't alone. He cleared his throat and approached her bedside, taking a seat and gently stroking her arm. Carol came in and stopped beside him, again, resting her hands on his shoulders. Boris sighed and looked down at the floor, at his shoes, and opened his mouth.

"I wasn't the best father, nor was I really a father of any sort, so I guess take how I feel with a grain of salt, but...I really could've, and should've, tried harder. But here we are, you're unconscious and I'm talking to a semi lifeless body and I don't really know what to say or how to feel and all I know is that I should say something and feel something and now I'm not sure where to go. I wish I could actually speak to you. I wish I had spoken to you more before this happened. I just...I wanna know what you think. About everything."

Carol tightened her grip on his shoulder and he reached up and held her hand, his eyes brimming with tears. He wiped his nose on the sleeve of his other arm and exhaled, waiting a second before speaking again.

"I didn't really know how to be a dad. I just sort of assumed you'd know what to do when it happened to you, that somehow, this magical button would get pushed in my head and I'd know exactly what to do. I think it's safe to assume that most parents think that's what'll happen when they have a kid. Like...like having a kid is what somehow flicks this light switch and you now know how to do everything for them, but that is SO not the case. I thought playing Soccer is what you wanted. I'm sorry, I'm an idiot. I tried to push you into extracuriculars and it ended so poorly. If I could go back in time and change one thing, just one, it'd be that. Fuck Soccer. I fucking hate Soccer now."

"Eh, most americans do, so you're not alone," Carol said, making him chuckle a little.

"I wanna be a better adult to people, but nobody needs me now," Boris said.

"There's always someone who needs you," Carol said, and this made Boris think.

                                                                                          ***

The school bell rang and Chrissy came out, heading to the bike rack. She put her bookbag down and started undoing her bike lock when she heard a horn honk and she looked around, concerned. After a minute of scanning the parking lot, she spotted a car sitting nearby, and noticed a priest sitting in the drivers seat, and an old man standing by the passenger seat.

"Hey, get in the car, kid, we're gettin' ice cream," Boris said as she started to wheel her bike towards them, glancing at Father Kricket.

"Usually when you're told to get in the car with a priest, it's not a good sign," Chrissy said, and Boris laughed as Kricket rolled down his window.

"That is true, and I am aiming to change those connotations, so if you're humor me, please get in the vehicle so we can acquire rum raisin," Father Kricket said.

"Rum Raisin? I'm not 21," Chrissy said.

"Nobody said it was for you," Boris replied, popping open the car trunk, "Now get that bike in here and let's ride."

Chrissy smiled, nodded and did exactly as she was told.

She might not be his kid, but for this afternoon, she would be.

"You are NOT serious," Becca said, as Anna nodded, sipping her beer as she set things up on the dining room table. Becca laughed and added, "Really?! You did that!?"

"Yeah!" Anna said, "Yeah, no, back in high school I absolutely was into fantasy stuff and I used to write smutty fantasy stories. Werewolf girls hookin' up with peasant girls, dragon women enslaving, and then falling for, brash young adventuring men. Yep. I still have it all in a binder somewhere."

"Oh my god, that is hilarious," Becca said.

"What, you never had any ridiculous hobby like that?" Anna asked, and Becca shrugged, taking a seat.

"I don't know, I mean, I guess but it was never like that," they said, "Can I read it sometime?"

"I guess so, if I can even find it, it might be in storage," Anna said.

"You have a storage unit?" Ashley asked, coming in from the kitchen, eating from a bag of chips.

"Yeah," Anna said, reaching into the bag and taking some, "You know, I didn't grow up in the best home, so I've always been afraid of losing my things. I know at least with a storage unit, unless it floods or something, or is robbed, which is unlikely, that as long as I pay for it every month then my shit is safe. It's just things I don't feel the need to keep on hand, stuff like, oh say, lesbian werewolf smut."

"That's my new band," Ashley said, making Becca laugh.

"When I was like 10, there was this fire at my aunts house, and it decimated the place. She lost everything. I've been very aware of safeguarding my belongings ever since then," Anna said, taking a seat as Ashley circled the table, and put a large platter on it, pouring chips into it before going back into the kitchen as Becca cleared their throat and spoke.

"Yeah, I saw this movie about a house fire once, and it scared me so bad, I must've been like 7 or something, that I was terrified of fire for a long time after that," Becca said.

Betty came into the dining room sipping wine from a glass and, as she finished it, put the glass on the table and burped. Everyone turned and looked at her, and she just shrugged. Betty sat down as Ashley put the bowl of chips in front of her and stood behind her mother.

"Where's your brother?" Betty asked, looking over her shoulder at Ashley.

"You ask that as if I care," Ashley said, "He's probably stuck in traffic."

Sarah came into the kitchen and handed Becca a drink, taking a seat by them.

"Who're we bad mouthing?" she asked.

"Jason," everyone said in unison, and she nodded, accepting this answer. Just then they heard the front door open, and heard Jasons voice. After a few moments, he came into the dining room, Amie trailing behind him; from the looks on their faces, it had been obvious that the two clearly were arguing about something before coming inside. Amie sat down while Jason took his jacket off and looked around the table to everyone.

"What's up?" he asked.

"Not much, just waiting on you," Ashley said.

"Well, I'm here now," he said, "So you can all breath a sigh of relief."

"Alright folks, let's get this show on the road. This thing takes up a lot of time, so we don't have much to just sit around and shoot the shit," Anna said, sitting down and cracking her neck before opening her notebook and passing around the die and pieces, adding, "If you have to go to the bathroom, go now or forever hold your pee."

Nobody said a word and Anna looked at her hands nervously.

"I thought it was funny," she whispered, before clearing her throat and reading, "So, you have a few options of where to go from here. You can exit the cave and from there there's two branching paths that lay before you; the right one leads to a small town where you can stock up on supplies and such, and the one ahead of you leads to a larger city where you may likely run into enemies of Glave. Which do you want to do?"

"I roll to stay in the cave," Jason said.

"I roll to slap Jason," Ashley replied.

"Alright, listen, if we're gonna do this, you have to take it seriously," Anna said, pushing hair behind her ears and sounding stern.

"I also would like to roll to slap Jason," Becca said, raising their hand.

"Alright," Anna said, sighing and leaning back, "Well, since it's a move action, and not a specifically high one, you don't need to roll, so you both slap Jason."

"My name is Brutus, thank you very much," Jason said, "And I'd like to slap them back."

"Brutus slaps both of you," Anna said, putting a hand on her forehead, already sounding exasperated.

"If I may chime in," Betty said, leaning forward and looking at their sheet, "So, Anna says that if we head to a larger city, we might run into enemies, so that should be enough to tell us that we should head to the small town first and get supplies. Can't fight and survive without supplies, right?"

"She's right," Ashley said, "We can hit Brutus later."

"Nobody is hitting me unless it's consensual," Jason muttered, "Alright, so fine, we're gonna head to the town then. Anna, lead us, oh grand narrator."

"This small town known as Tu'nark, it's not a very populated town, but it does have your usual run of the mill folk. There's a blacksmith where you can forge or purchase weapons, and an inn where you can rest, there's also a lumber mill where you may find information pertaining to your quest. Perhaps someone of the town has knowledge that you seek," Anna said, leaning back and brushing her bangs out of her face.

"Okay, so, we should get weapons, right? I mean, we need those to kill enemies don't we?" Jason asked.

"Definitely," Becca said, "But asking for information wouldn't be bad either. Let's do that first."

"Alright, we wanna ask someone at the lumber mill for information," Jason said.

"You approach the mill, but it appears there is only one person there; a lovely young woman with hair the color of golden wheat and eyes as blue as the darkest sea. She is the only person you can find, and she looks rather solemn about her loneliness."

"I roll to hit on the lumber girl, cause she sounds fiiiine," Becca said.

"You've caught her attention," Anna says, now doing a character voice, "She approaches and asks 'How may I help you, weary travelers?'."

"I ask if she's heard of any disturbances around these parts from Glave," Becca said.

"She replies 'I have not, but lo, if you bring me a jewel from the local trader, I can read your fortune and tell you where it is you need to seek out the answers you so desire'," Anna replied.

"You're really good at that," Jason said.

"Thank you, I've always wanted to be a wench," Anna said, laughing.

"So wait, you didn't say anything about a local trader being in the town," Becca said, "Where are we supposed to find this trader? I ask the lumber wench where to find this trader."

"She tells you she knows only of Bartok, the jewel trader, who is sitting at the inn," Anna says.

"She lives in an entire town but she only knows one person?" Jason asked, "That seems unrealistic."

"It's a game about magic and dragons and improbable geography is the issue you're going to take in regards to realism?" Becca asked, looking at him, making him nod, realizing his question was in fact kind of dumb.

"Maybe she's a hermit," Ashley said, and Amie shook her head.

"She sounded hot, no self respecting hot woman is a hermit," Amie replied, making Ashley laugh.

"Okay, so, can we go to the inn then and talk to this Bartok?" Jason asked, and Anna nodded.

"You move to the inn and find Bartok in a corner, shrouded in a deep blue cloak, his eyes only barely visible as he nurses his ale; he welcomes you to sit with him," Anna said.

"I ask Bartok what he might know about anything happening within the town," Becca said.

"Bartok tells you he knows there's lately been whispers of a small group of bandits dealing in stolen weapons and jewels that often surface just on the fringes of town late at night," Anna said, "He tells you that he can give you weapons if you retrieve for him a trinket they stole from him."

"Jesus, this is tedious, is this entire thing just fetch quests?" Jason asked, and Becca looked at him.

"Have you ever played an RPG?" Becca asked.

Jason leaned back in his chair and ran his hands over his face, groaning loudly. This made Anna smirk, satisfied she was getting to him. Becca looked back across the table at Anna and cupped her hands.

"So," Becca continued, "I roll that we take this offer and try to fight off the bandits and get back his priceless trinket, unless someone has any objection to that?"

"I have an objection to all of this," Jason said, sounding exhausted.

"You stay in the inn until nightfall, at which point he outfits you with various weapons and sends you along your way. Since the bandits do not know you're coming, you have a good shot at sneaking up on them and getting extra damage, do you take the chance?" Anna asked.

"Uh, I guess I'm the Ranger, so I'd likely have a bow, right?" Jason asked.

"That is correct, yes," Anna said.

"Alright, fine, I roll to shoot from the bushes," Jason said, tossing the dice on the table.

Anna rolled the dice and smirked.

"You fail and shoot yourself in the foot instead, bringing attention to yourselves," she said, "You're nothing if not clever, Jason, well done."

Jason exhaled and leaned back in his chair, running his hands over his face. By the end of the fight, they had in fact retrieved the item in question and come away with extra equipment, gave the trinket back to Bartok and ended their game with the decision to be made to continue onwards with information from Bartok about the potential whereabouts of the Wyrm.

After the game wrapped for the evening, Jason was standing on the back porch, smoking a joint while he watched the stars. He heard the door slide open behind him and saw Becca step out onto the porch with him. He handed them the joint, which they gladly took and puffed a bit on.

"I think Anna is trying to make a mockery of me," Jason said.

"As if you need the help,"  Becca said, making him chuckle.

"Seriously. She thinks I'm clumsy or something, thinks I don't know how to interact with others in a group dynamic, didn't you notice how everything I did in the game tonight failed to meet minimum standards?"

"Dude they were dice rolls, they were just unlucky, that's all," Becca said, "That's the way the game goes. Sometimes you get lucky and sometimes you don't. She can't pick on you, that isn't how the game works. You just need to let it go."

Jason sighed and sat down on the lounge chair, leaning his elbows on his knees and making a somewhat pained face that Becca couldn't help but take notice of.

"You don't think she harbors some sort of ill will towards me, do you?" he asked, and Becca shook their head.

"Naw, you've grown a lot in the last few years man," Becca said, taking another puff and rubbing Jason's back, "They got what they wanted, ultimately, in the end, so what could they be harboring toward you?"

"I don't...I don't know," Jason said, lying on the lounge chair, looking back up at the sky, "I miss dad."

"Yeah, me too."

"It's like without him to guide us through the dungeons of life, we're just an aimless party, unable to find their way to their destination. Unable to save their kingdom, watching it crumble beneath them," Jason said quietly, surprising Becca with this analogy; he continued, "I feel like her making me a ranger insinuates that I keep myself at a distance with others, afraid to get too close to them, hence why our marriage was never great to begin with."

"Wow..." Becca said, "That was...incredibly insightful, I'm impressed. Seriously though, while I don't think you're wrong, I DO think you're definitely over analyzing it a bit. Let's just try and see where she goes with it."

Becca sat on the edge of the lounge chair beside their brother and looked up at the sky, pulling their hair back in a messy bun.

"...What do you think dad would be if he were part of the party?" Becca asked.

"Dad wouldn't be part of the party...he'd be the treasure we're trying to get at the end," Jason said.

"It's good to know you can work together in a fictional setting at the very least," Amie mumbled as she stepped out onto the porch with them

"What's that mean?" Jason asked, turning his head towards her.

"All you've done since we started is question every single move someone's made or a decision that we've had. You're not so much working with us and much as you are working in spite of us," she snapped back.
All we ever do is bicker. You fight with me on every little thing, there's absolutely no compromise. It's either one way or no way. You like to tout that you've grown and changed, but..."

She trailed off, not finishing, but instead staring out at the backyard. She sighed, as Becca stood up and excused themselves, heading inside to find Sarah. Amie sat down beside Jason and ran her hand through her hair.

"...you want to break up, don't you?" he asked quietly.

"What? No! No, Jason, I'm just...frustrated. After all this time it seems like you still can't help but fight with your family."

"They're fighting with me, there's a big difference," Jason replied, "why can't you see that?"

"Because you don't have to feed into it. By giving them reactions, you're only further enabling their behavior," Amie said taking his hand in hers and kissing it, "and I know that deep down you're better than that. You're so much better than they've ever given you credit for."

"It feels like they were mad at me for not being modern enough, now they're trying to get me to backslide on my progress," Jason whispered.

Amie put her hand on his face and pulled him towards her, kissing him, making him smile. After the kiss broke, Jason laid his head on her chest and let her stroke his hair as they sat on the back porch, simply enjoying the cool night air and the sound of crickets.

"You may have to play the game," Amie whispered, "but you don't have to play by their rules."

Jason nodded, realizing this was the first time someone outside of the family told him that he wasn't beholden to his families whims, and that he could in fact be whoever he wanted while still being with them. No matter what happened, he'd be a hero, either in game or not. That much he was certain of.

The smoke clouded his vision, and he tripped over an ottoman while grasping for the board game closet. He leaned there, on his hands and knees, coughing, hacking, everything going up in flames around him. Jason Fuller looked around, squinting to try and see, and tried to stand back up but he couldn't. His knees buckled, his chest tightened, his face too full of fire and smoke.

"Jason!" a voice called in the nearby distance, shrieking to find him, "Jason! Where are you! I can't see! Talk to me! Jason!"

Jason opened his mouth to speak but continued to cough. He grabbed the ottoman and pulled himself to his feet, only to slip and slam his head on the coffee table, knocking himself out cold as the fire burned brightly around him. As he lost grip on the world, his sight fading, he could still faintly hear them calling his name, and then everything went black.

All Jason Fuller had wanted was to save his fathers board games.

                                                                                          ***

It had been about 4 months since the whole family had been together for a family game night.

Ashley got very busy with work and trying to finish her own website, working on her own original content, while she and Anna both got acclimated to being with child now; meanwhile, Jason had also started working hard to try and get a better apartment, and Becca...well, she'd been preparing herself, both psychologically and emotionally for her eventual surgeries. Thrilled to pieces but also a bit pissed that this was all society associated with people like her, she was struggling to simply keep it all together, and often felt all over the place, emotionally. Nonetheless, the Fuller kids were happy enough and alright. And things were alright until Ashley phoned Jason one night and told him she had an excellent idea, and for him to tell everyone else to meet that Thursday for a family game night.

Driving over there, Amie in the passenger seat playing with her braided hair, Jason couldn't help but feel that whatever idea Ashley had in store for them...he wasn't going to like it. He glanced over at Amie, who smirked at him and chewed her gum as she played around on her phone.

"You're not mad at me, are you?" he asked.

"God for the eightieth time, NO," she said sternly, "You know I wanted to go to Rome and instead you gave your money to Becca to help them, and honestly, I couldn't be more proud of you. That's awesome. I still wanna go to Rome, but I certainly don't blame you, nor am I upset, alright? Stop trying to make me hate you like everyone else does."

"What? Uh, not everyone hates me, thank you," Jason replied.

"Well, apparently your family hated you enough for you to try and change your entire persona," Amie said, blowing a bubble with her gum before adding, "So, sure, they might not hate you NOW but they certainly DID."

"I'm not trying to make you-"

"I think you need someone to be against you, honestly," Amie said, sitting up straight in her seat now, putting her phone down, "I think you need someone to prove wrong, so you try and force everyone around you to fight who you are so that you can prove them wrong somehow."

"Well, thank you, Professor Unwanted Analysis, you're contributing so much to the science of bullshit judgement," Jason said, making Amie laugh as he turned a corner, "But seriously, I don't...I mean, I don't think you're wrong, exactly, but I just...I feel like after a while of being married to Anna that I stopped doing nice things for her, and I don't...wanna...do that to you too. I wanna give you things."

Amie blushed and kissed his cheek.

"I like what we have," she said, "You don't have to give me shit, dude."

Just then a knock came on the drivers side window, and startled them both. Jason rolled the window down and saw Ashley on her moped, with Anna hugging her from behind. He raised an eyebrow and put his elbow on the edge of the window, leaning out of it casually.

"You know, I used to have a dream about this sort of stuff; two women riding motorbikes together," Jason said, "It's nice to see that some dreams come true."

"That's gross, Jason, she's your sister," Anna said.

"She was your sister IN LAW, that didn't stop you from making your move," Jason said.

"I think I saw a movie like that in a hotel room once," Ashley said.

"Yeah, THIS is a psychologically healthy family situation," Amie said, making Ashley laugh.

"So, you wanna tell me about your awesome plan?" Jason asked, turning back from Amie to his sister, but Ashley merely shook her head and revved her engine as the light turned green, and she sped away in front of them. Jason sighed and started driving, rolling his window back up as they followed her.

"Yeah," Jason said under his breath, "This is gonna SUCK."

                                                                                             ***

Becca Fuller was standing at the island in the kitchen, trying desperately to saw through an old loaf of french bread, while their mother, Betty, sat and watched, dipping her cookies in a glass of milk. Becca pulled their arm back, screamed and started stabbing the bread manically.

"Towards thee I roll, thou all destroying but unconquering loaf of bread; to the last I grapple with thee, from hells heart I stab at thee, for hates sake, I spit my last breath at thee!" they shouted, repeatedly jamming the knife against the french bread. After a few more stabs, they stopped and exhaled, the knife sticking firmly up in the loaf as they glanced at their mother, who just smiled.

"I hate to tell you this, but I don't think you're gonna win this battle," Betty said.

"Why does anyone buy french bread?! Two weeks later and it's worthless!" Becca shouted, throwing their hands up in the air, annoyed as Ashley and Anna entered the kitchen, taking their helmets off and putting them on the counter. They walked up to the island and looked down at the bread, then up at Becca.

"What the hell goes on in this house when I'm not here?" Ashley asked.

"French bread is a joke; it mocks me and everyone I love," Becca said as they picked it up and walked it over to the trash, tossing it in.

"You love people?" Ashley asked as they walked by, hand on their hip, shrugging.

"Well," Becca said, "Perhaps 'love' is too strong a word, you're right."

"Ashley," Jason said, now entering the kitchen, Amie right behind him, "What are we doing? I need to know. Please tell me it isn't something awful. What are we playing? I'm going nuts trying to figure it out."

Just then, Sarah Riddle, in a sundress and sporting a undercut, came into the kitchen from the foyer and stopped next to Becca.

"Did you find the guest hand towels?" Becca asked, and she nodded, holding their hand as Ashley looked to Jason and nodded, motioning for everyone to follow her. Everyone got up and followed Ashley into the dining room. Arriving there, she flicked the lights on, and held out her arms.

"I present to you all, Dungeons and Dragons," Ashley said, presenting the dining room table laid out with a full board with character pieces, dice and all. Everyone stood there in shock, except Betty who had watched her set this up the previous day, as Ashley walked towards the table and motioned at it all, saying, "A guy I created something for this past month, he's a big DnD fan, and it got me thinking that all we ever do is play board games. We're always competing, and never working together, so I figured now would be the time. We'll play a campaign and we'll all work together, except Anna, who's going to be our DM because she's impartial."

"Impartial?" Jason asked, somewhat shocked, "She's been with two of us, I wouldn't call that impartial."

"Yeah, but I've only liked one of you," Anna added, smirking, making Jason glare at her as she walked to the table and sat down. Everyone else followed suit, and took their respective seats around the table.

"Now, this week we're simply going to be creating our characters and everything like that, and next week we'll actually begin the campaign," Ashley said, "I wrote this campaign myself, so don't expect it to be high literature or anything of the sort."

"Don't worry, our expectations are tempered appropriately," Jason said as he sat down next to Amie.

"So, there's a sheet for all of you," Ashley said, handing out some papers, "I had this guy give me a rundown of what sort of characters are available to you. You can pick one of these off the sheet, so let me know what you would like to be and what your name is and Anna will write it down."

"Well, seeing as I've actually played DnD before, I'd like to be a Tiefling," Becca said, "That sounds pretty appropriate to my life these days."

"I have no idea what I'm reading," Jason said, scratching his growing beard, "I guess I...I'll be a human."

"God could you BE anymore generic," Ashley said, laughing, "Like, you have a whole sheet full of magical creatures and you pick a fucking human. How standard of you."

"I don't know shit about this sort of stuff!" Jason said.

"I'm going to be an Elf," Ashley said.

"Okay, alright, we have a tiefling, a human and an elf. Betty, what about you?" Anna asked.

"Well, I like to Tortle. I like turtles, and I'm certainly old and wise," Betty said, "I don't look like a turtle, but that's besides the point."

"Alright, we got a tortle," Anna said, jotting it down, "What else? Who's left? Amie and Sarah?"

"Gotta go with Half Orc," Sarah said, pushing her glasses up her nose, "That's certainly up my alley."

"I think," Amie said, scanning her sheet, "I think I'll be a gnome. Gnomes are cute, right? I like gnomes."

"It's not like a garden gnome," Becca said, "These are badass warriors."

"I'm a badass warrior," Amie said, "I once killed a coyote with my keys."

Everyone stopped and stared at her as she lowered her head and mumbled.

"It was bag of chips. I opened a bag of chips with my keys. I'm sorry for lying," Amie said, sounding ashamed. Anna nodded and wrote this all down, then looked at the paper and sighed.

"Alright, I'm going to just read this guide and assign you all classes, and eventually names. This is a process, so just work with me okay," she said, "Alright. Becca, your tiefling is a cleric, so you do damage from a distance and can heal your party. Your saving throws are wisdom and charisma Amie, your gnome is fighter, so you know, you have proficiencies in all armors and shields and your saving throws are strength and constitution. Sarah, you're half orc is a paladin, so your saving throws are also wisdom and charisma, plus you know, you've got some magical abilities. Betty, you're tortle is a wizard, so you've got proficiencies in light weapons, but no armor and your saving throws are intelligence and wisdom. Jason, your human is a ranger, so you're an independent adventurer, so you've got simple weapons and martial arts, light and medium armor proficiencies and your saving throws are strength and dexterity, and finally, Ashley, your elf is a rogue and you have proficiencies in light armor and simple weapons, along with your saving throws being dexterity and intelligence. We'll go over skills and all that in a bit."

She exhaled and started to write some more down on the paper while Amie played with her character piece and looked at Sarah.

"I like your hair," she said.

"Thanks!" Sarah replied, "Yeah, I was worried it'd look weird, and that it was, like, too mainstream or whatever. Everyone gettin' undercuts these days, but screw it, right? Makes me not as sweaty when it gets hot out."

"I like it," Becca added, "I think it looks good."

"Women are lucky, you all have a variety of hairstyles to pick from. Men get such basic shit," Jason said, making all the women at the table stop and look at him, which he took quick note of and then added, "I...I wasn't, like, I like my hair, I guess, I'm just...jealous I guess. I don't know."

"Jason, do you want a makeover?" Ashley asked, making Anna chuckle.

"No, I didn't say that, I just-"

"We could bust out the curlers and give Jason like a pompadour or something!" Becca added, making Ashley and Anna crack up, "We'll make you into, like, a ninteen fifties hunk, man, it'll be great!"

"I just sometimes wish my hair could be styled more than just a lump on my head," Jason said, "I don't need or want anything fancy, god, forget I said anything."

"Just shave it," Anna said.

"Your father shaved his head for a while," Betty said, catching Jasons attention.

"Really?"

"Yeah, he shaved his head for a while," Betty continued, pouring a glass of wine for herself, "He looked good too. Did it mostly in the summer to, as Sarah already stated, avoid the heat. When he needed it covered or felt self conscious, which, knowing your father, was rarely, he'd just throw a baseball cap over it."

"That doesn't sound bad..."

"Plus, you've got hair on your face now," Ashley said, "You could totally get away with having no hair on your head. A lot of guys with beards go clean shave on their skulls, and they look pretty nice too. Just food for thought," Ashley concluded, shrugging as she scrolled on her phone.

"Okay," Anna said, handing out sheets with their skills and names on them, "Now I'm going to read to you the basis for the campaign, so here we go-"

"Wait, just, hold on one cotton pickin second here," Jason said, "My name is Brutus? Seriously?"

Everyone looked at him.

"Nobody thinks that that's weird?" he asked, and everyone shook their head, as he added, "A fuckin human ranger...named Brutus? Brutus is like, the name of something big and scary, not someone like my guy. My guy should be named, like, Daniel or some shit."

"You can't be named Daniel, that's not realistic," Becca said.

"Real-oh! I'm sorry, I didn't know the game that has magical creatures and spells in it was aiming for 'realism', my bad," Jason said, making Amie laugh, adding, "I'm just saying, that's super not right. What's your name?"

"Glory," Becca said, looking at their sheet.

"See! That's badass!"

"Your name is badass, you idiot," Anna said.

"Yeah, but that name coincides with their character; their character is like a magical being, so of course they would have something cool like Glory, but my dude is just a shrimpy little guy and he gets named Brutus?"

"I'm not good with names, alright?" Ashley said, annoyed.

"Boy, I'll say," Amie said, looking at her own sheet, "My name is Peaches."

"I stand by my statement," Ashley said, crossing her arms.

"Did you just write down names and pick 'em out of a hat?" Jason asked, "Peaches? That's ridiculous!"

"Cooler than your lame ass, Brutus," Becca said.

"What about you, Sarah, what's your name? You're a half orc, you have to have something cool," Jason said, as she checked her sheet, then shrunk in her seat, embarrassingly stating her name was Adidas. Jason looked at Ashley in disbelief, everyone following his stare with stares of their own, as Ashley rolled her eyes.

"Look, the names aren't important!" Ashley said, "I'm not a goddamned fantasy author!"

"Adidas? Fuckin' Adidas?! You named a goddamned half orc Adidas?! You were just naming shit in your bedroom!" Jason said, "Am I...like...does nobody else have a problem with this?!"

"Brutus, please calm yourself," Betty said, "We're trying to get to the game here."

"What's your name, Ashley, huh? I'd be very curious to know what the person who wrote this campaign named themselves," he said, folding his hands on the table and leaning in, smiling.

"If you must know, Brutus, my name is Baron Von Fruch, and I am the daughter of the highest elf lord," Ashley said, "So, before you speak so callously to me, just remember who exactly it is that you're dealing with here, because I could have you strung up in elf court."

"Pfft, I'm not scared of some pansy ass elf, wearing flower crowns and playing wind chimes as musical instruments" Jason said, scoffing, leaning back and crossing his arms.

"Guys, guys," Anna said, trying to interrupt.

"Elves are way cooler than humans, you just don't know shit cause you never read a good fantasy book in your life," Ashley said, "Why don't you try going outside your genre circlejerk once in a while, you literary snob?"

"Go Baron Von Fuck yourself," Jason snapped back, as Anna started shouting now to get their attention.

"GUYS!" she yelled, "Guys, come on. We're not gonna get anywhere if we don't get through the goddamned introduction, okay? I know, this isn't the thing we usually do, and I know things aren't perfect, okay, but let's just try and have a good time. We've been doing so well, getting together as a real family, don't let some goofy ass names ruin that."

"Are...are your family game nights ALWAYS like this?" Sarah asked, leaning into Becca, whispering.

"Yeah, basically," they replied, as Anna continued with her impassioned speech.

"So we all need to just calm down, exhale and just get on with this thing, alright? Remember the last time you guys had family game night? Ashley came home and said it was one of the single most memorable nights of her life, because you all recognized what a good, healthy family dynamic you had begun to cultivate, so why ruin that over some stupid fantasy names? Let's just get this started."

"Anna's right," Jason said, "I'm sorry. Ashley, thank you for doing all this work. It must've been exhausting looking through your closet for things to name characters after."

"You are SUCH a dick," Ashley said, as Anna giggled and held up a paper, clearing her throat.

"Now, allow me to read to you the campaign concept," Anna said, "Years ago, a fire Wyrm named Glave ached for power. Considering himself the best, strongest of his kind, he destroyed all the other types of dragons in the world, and then went on to begin to destroy and overtake the areas surrounding his own. With each city that crumbled beneath his mighty strength, he grew more and more intense with his lust for destruction. Soon, each race began to secretly meet to discuss what could be done, and it was decided that one of each race would form a party and go destroy his kingdoms, one by one, until they reached, and destroyed the great Wyrm himself. Each with their own abilities, skills and assets, this unlikely troupe would fight to the finish, even if it killed them, because the world depended on it."

"If it killed them, then wouldn't they have failed?" Becca asked, as everyone glared at them and they shrugged, "Sorry, sorry, geez."

"So that's the deal, guys. That's what we're working with here. Giant fire wyrm is destroying the world so you have to fight his armies until you can reach him and destroy him, thus returning peace to the land you live on," Anna said, "So, who would like to begin?"

"I guess I will," Sarah said, sitting up and sighing.

"Alright, let me set the mood," Anna said, coughing and reading from the stack of paper, "You've come from the last meeting of the races with an anger about you; a palpable frustration fills the cavern you find yourselves in, being forced to work together when you don't even like one another, to save a world that doesn't respect you one bit? It must be a joke. But, this is what fate has dealt, and so you all realize you must put your egos aside and at least try and save the world, to save yourselves."

"Oh my goood," Jason sighed, rubbing his forehead, "This is going to be SUCH a long game."