wasn't just triple crazy, now she classified herself as quadruple crazy.

PTSD had been added to her list by Dr. Sen, something that she wasn't thrilled about.

She wasn't sure what had happened, or how it had. Everything all came onto her so quickly.

Dr. Sen had that glass cupholder he used to keep pens in. Daisy wasn't paying attention, so she wasn't quite sure what he had done. She couldn't remember if he had reached for a paper underneath and caused the glass to slip, or if he had accidentally nudged it with his elbow.

But the glass shattered into shards onto his hardwood floor, the sound searing into Daisy's brain like a hot iron.

Her brain magically transported her out of Dr. Sen's cleanly office and into the pig sty that was the living room of the Walter residence.

It felt more like an out of body experience than anything else. It was like her eyes were stuck, viewing the memory through a magnifying glass.

But Mr. Walter's cold eyes were definitely on her. He looked ready to strike, and she could hear him stringing out more curse words than she could count.

His beer bottle shattered loudly. Daisy usually flinched at that, but she didn't move at all this time. She was stuck where she was, face-to-face with an angry Mr. Walter.

Calypso could be heard crying in the background somewhere in her room, Mr. Walter yelling for her to shut the hell up.

Daisy had never in her life felt so helpless. She wanted to run and comfort Calypso. She wanted to reach her hands up to protect her face from Mr. Walter's hitting. She wanted to do something, anything.

But she was frozen. Daisy felt like she was in a nightmare, her heart racing rapidly at the thought that Mr. Walter was here to hurt her again.

And just as soon as the memory had come up to suffocate her, it was gone in an instant.

Dr. Sen stared at Daisy in a way that let her know she had clearly reacted in an abrupt way unbeknownst to herself.

"Are...you alright?" Dr. Sen asked cautiously in a quiet tone.

Daisy nodded. "Mhm."

A terrible lie, and Dr. Sen knew it too. Daisy was sweating, she could feel the clamminess on her skin, and she wasn't sure how she had gotten so nervous.

Dr. Sen frowned as he looked to his computer before facing Daisy. "I think...maybe we should end our session early today."

And when Mark asked her why her psychiatry session had ended only twenty minutes in, she simply lied and said she had no clue. That was much easier than explaining that Dr. Sen breaking his pen holder sent her into some sort of state of shock.

Presently though, she was safe, and she wasn't in the midst of some emotional breakdown. It was Thanksgiving Day, and Daisy was doing her English homework at the kitchen table.

Daisy always hated teachers that assigned projects over holiday breaks. She swore her English teacher still hated her for what she had written in regards to the whole "What are you thankful for?" prompt.

Daisy was reading a book. The Giver, it was called, and she was to write chapter summaries. It was a weirdly philosophical dystopian novel. The plot was already difficult for her to comprehend, Mark talking to himself in the kitchen like a crazy man made it ten times harder for her to understand the book at all.

"Baste." Mark spoke slowly, narrowing his eyes at his laptop screen that he was currently using to help walk him through preparing a turkey. "Baste. I don't know how to baste."

Daisy tried her best to block him out, really trying to focus on her book instead.

In his mind, Jonas saw again the face of the boy who had lain dying on a field and had begged him for-

"Baste." Mark annunciated the word, turning to Daisy. "How does one baste a turkey, Dais?"

"I'm reading." Daisy spoke, not tearing her eyes from the page she was on.

"I need help." Mark frowned, looking down at the turkey in front of him. "I don't know where to start."

"I'm in seventh grade." Daisy pointed out the glaringly obvious. "You're an adult. Shouldn't you know how to make a turkey?"

Mark felt deeply offended by that comment, ready to defend himself and point out the fact that turkeys aren't exactly the easiest to prepare.

Yet before he could, Arizona hastily entered the apartment without knocking.

"Do you have a lighter? I need a lighter for the candles." Arizona began to rummage through the drawers in Mark's kitchen. "Maybe a frying pan to hit over my head and put myself out of my misery too."

Mark winced as he looked over at his doorway, trying to see if Callie would come storming in too from down the hall. "Is she being that bad?"

"Is she being that bad." Arizona scoffed as she repeated Mark's question. "She's on the verge of tears because God forbid the tablecloth and napkin rings are different hues of orange."

Mark grinned at that. It definitely wasn't funny, but...it was a little funny. He felt bad for the pair, truthfully. Hosting Thanksgiving dinner is never a fun thing, he knows all about the stress from past experiences.

Arizona let out a sigh of relief as she stumbled upon the lighter. "I'm stealing this, thank you."

"Wait." Mark frowned as the woman stopped in her tracks. He looked from his computer screen to the blonde woman in front of him to the dead bird on his kitchen counter. "You wouldn't by chance know how to baste a turkey?"

"Baste? Why are you basting a turkey?" Arizona scrunched her nose up. "You don't need to baste a turkey, that's an unnecessary step. It's not gonna help anything."

"That's not what the Internet said." Mark argued, Arizona giving the man a flat look.

She looked down at the turkey, incredibly underwhelmed with how unprepared it was. "You haven't even stuffed it yet? Dinner is in a few hours and you haven't even stuffed the turkey?!"

"I made the stuffing." Mark pointed out, hoping that would maybe ease the woman, but it proved to do quite the opposite.

"I'm asking why it isn't in the turkey already!" Arizona groaned. She had been running herself ragged trying to prepare her apartment for tonight's dinner as well as preparing side dishes. Arizona already had an overwhelmed wife on her plate, she thought she could count on Mark to take care of the main dish.

"Honestly?" Mark cleared his throat, grimacing down at the turkey. "It feels a little wrong. I'm all about consent, and this just-"

"Oh dear god." Arizona groaned, rolling up her sleeves as she let her hands rinse underneath of the faucet. Apparently she had to take care of everything around here. "You're ridiculous. You don't need a dead bird's consent to stuff it."

"Yeah, but...I just...I'm supposed to open it up and stuff it?" Mark asked as he cocked his eyebrow. "That's a little weird."

"It is food, Mark." Arizona snapped, taking a handful of stuffing and reaching in to pack it inside of the turkey. "It is food that should've been prepared hours ago. It should be done cooking aready, this'll take forever. I swear to god if this turkey isn't ready by dinner time, I'll stuff you."

With each word, Arizona packed more stuffing into the turkey in such an aggressive way that Mark actually felt sorry for the bird.

Mark was silent for a moment before speaking up. "I can't help but feel there's some slight hostility present."

"Is there ever." Arizona laughed coldly, picking up the pan. "Please. Start cooking this."

Mark took the turkey dish from Arizona, placing it in the oven. He seriously hoped it would get done cooking in time to save him from a telling-off later courtesy of Arizona.

"You've been up all morning and you haven't done a thing." Arizona mumbled to herself, washing her hands off underneath the faucet.

"Woah, woah, woah. I haven't been doing nothing. I've been gawking at a laptop screen trying to figure this out all morning, you can ask Daisy." Mark tried to reign in some backup.

Arizona turned her attention to the thirteen-year-old that she hadn't seen sitting there, Daisy looking up from her book at the sound of her name.

"Oh...please don't bring me into the middle of this." Daisy requested, burying her face back into the novel.

Mark was deeply wounded by that. He desperately needed defending from Arizona.

But Daisy knew Arizona. She knew that the woman was incredibly bubbly and kind and warm, but when she got angry, she got angry. Daisy wasn't going to get herself into that crossfire.

Arizona merely scoffed at Mark, clearly fed up with the man. "I have to go make sure Calliope isn't sitting on the floor sobbing with the tablecloths. If anything happens to this turkey, Mark-"

"The turkey will be perfect." Mark cut Arizona off, not wanting to hear anymore of her violent threats. All Mark could really do was cross his fingers and hope the turkey magically turned out okay.

Except...there wasn't much he could do. The turkey had been cooking for hours, and he wasn't just going to wait by the oven and watch it finish to appease Arizona.

He decided instead to get an early start and head over to the Robbins-Torres apartment down the hall, just to make sure Callie really wasn't on the floor crying and Arizona really wasn't banging a frying pan over her own head.

Mark tried to gather some things together to the best of his ability, trying to multi-task as he spoke to Daisy. "Go get your sister please, tell her we're leaving."

Daisy really didn't want to, though. She was in a good place in her book, and she was on a roll with her project. If she stopped now, she doubted she would have the motivation to start back up.

But Mark looked all kinds of stressed out and frazzled as he tried to get everything together, so Daisy figured that it was easier to oblige than to sit and argue.

It clearly took all sorts of energy from him to stare at a turkey all morning and do absolutely nothing.

Daisy began down the hall, lightly knocking on her sister's closed door before opening it.

Calypso was usually an early riser, so Daisy was very surprised to see her still laying in bed at nearly 3:00. Daisy had expected for her to be on the floor playing with her toys or coloring with her crayons, not just laying in bed.

"We're leaving, Cal." Daisy spoke. She didn't make her way over to the girl but rather the girl's closet, trying to sift through possible Thanksgiving dinner outfits for her. "Callie and Arizona are having dinner. There's gonna be food, and tons of people for you to talk to, you'll love it."

Calypso didn't answer, something that made Daisy frown a little. She decided not to acknowledge it though, focusing instead on the dresses in front of her.

"What do you want to wear today? Pink? Blue?" Daisy asked as she thumbed through the fabrics. Her hand stopped on a small Calypso-sized dress. "Ooh, yellow. I feel like yellow is festive enough for Thanksgiving. Yellow is festive enough, right?"

No response, and Daisy was seriously alarmed.

She made her way over to the girl's bed, peeling her blankets off of her.

That sure enough sparked a reaction, Calypso glaring up at Daisy as she hastily pulled her covers back over her.

"Stop it." The girl grumbled, turning to face her wall. "I want to stay in bed."

"But it's dinner time, we have to go." Daisy spoke gently. "It's Thanksgiving."

"I hate Thanksgiving." Calypso said, still curled up in her own ball of misery. "And...and I think turkeys are the stupidest animals ever."

Daisy wondered if something had happened to make Calypso sad. She wondered why her cheery sister had turned into the Thanksgiving version of Ebenezer Scrooge.

"What's wrong?" Daisy asked, taking a seat on the edge of Calypso's bed.

Daisy was kind of hoping that maybe she could get the girl to open up to her and spill her soul. That's what the sisters always did, they always talked to each other when something bothered them.

But Calypso stayed silent, and it was clear she didn't want to speak about what was pressing on her brain.

Daisy sighed as she stood up. "Come on, Caly. Get changed. Mark wants us to leave."

Calypso groaned as she pulled her blankets over her head, angry that Daisy wasn't getting the hint that she just wanted to lay in bed and be left alone.

Daisy rolled her eyes, laying the dress out on the end of her bed. She knew that Calypso was just being dramatic and that she would unbury herself in no time, so Daisy decided she would help her out by laying her things out for her.

As she picked the hairbrush off of her desk though, she noticed Calypso's homework sprawled out. There were sharp scribbles drawn through the entire thing, making it clear the girl had gotten frustrated with her work. Daisy wondered if that was why Calypso seemed to be in such a mood.

"If you can get dressed and get through this dinner, I'll help you with your homework tonight." Daisy offered.

She had her own homework to do, of course, but Calypso seemed frustrated. Daisy was also sure that a first grader's homework couldn't be that difficult for her to try to assist with.

Calypso slightly peeled the covers back, looking up at her sister. "Do you promise?"

Daisy nodded, giving Calypso a small smile.

Calypso still looked as unsure as ever, looking hesitant to unwrap from her safe cocoon of blankets.

Slowly though she showed herself, letting out a quiet sigh as she got out of bed.

With Daisy's help, Calypso was able to get dressed. Per Daisy's request, she also brushed her hair, something Calypso was not happy about.

But the girl was Thanksgiving dinner ready, and Daisy was happy that Calypso was being momentarily compliant.

She took Calypso's hand, leading her out of her bedroom and into the kitchen where Mark was waiting. Calypso begrudgingly followed Mark and Daisy as they all made their way to Callie and Arizona's apartment, which only happened to be down the hall.

"I brought stuffing." Mark announced happily as he entered the apartment. Although...his announcement didn't quite go well received by his audience.

Daisy had thought Calypso's little moment of pouting had been bad. Callie was currently sat at the kitchen island, her mascara smeared as she appeared to be in the midst of some sort of emotional breakdown.

"It looks so good!" Arizona attempted to cheer Callie up, looking quite panicked as she shot Mark a look. "Doesn't it look so good?"

The "it" in question appeared to be a cake. Or...remnants of a cake. The icing had been smeared, and the cake itself was flat, as if there was a missing ingredient. It was clear some sort of cake fiasco had occurred moments before their arrival.

"Wow!" Mark spoke in a clearly overexaggerated voice, something that made Callie glare at him. "It's so...nice!"

"It looks pretty!" Calypso caught onto the social cues regarding trying to cheer Callie up about her cake.

Calypso was, however, quite possibly the worst whisperer in the history of the world. She leant over to Daisy, "whispering" far too loudly. "What is that supposed to be?"

All three adults snapped their attention over to the girl, Mark and Arizona wearing the same panicked expression.

Callie let out a loud cry, putting her head down on the kitchen counter.

Arizona frowned, placing a hand on her wife's back. "It's okay, Cal. Your cake looks beautiful-"

"No it doesn't! It's ugly! And the color scheme is all off, and...and..." Callie let out another muffled cry. "And I hate that intern you invited!"

"Intern?" Mark groaned as he turned to Arizona. "You invited an intern?"

"What was I supposed to do?!" Arizona groaned. The woman was incredibly frustrated with the situation at hand. "Murphy was droning on and on about how lonely she was. Am I supposed to just walk away? 'Oh, sorry your life sucks. I'll be at my Thanksgiving dinner with all my friends and family'?"

"That's exactly what you should've said." Mark nodded, not seeming to find a problem with that statement.

"Unlike you, I don't find contentment in being a terrible person." Arizona snapped, turning her attention back to her still sobbing wife. "Calliope, please. We will fix the cake. It'll be okay."

Callie continued to ugly-cry, not letting up in the slightest. She didn't let up until there was a knock at the door either, retreating to her bedroom in an attempt to not let her guests see her in such a state.

"Can you get that?" Arizona asked Mark, walking over to pull a dish out of the oven. She had taken over as the main host while Callie cried in the bedroom. Arizona seriously wished she had twelve other arms so that she could take care of everything at once.

Mark opened the door, wanting to immediately shut it again when he was faced with three interns standing in the doorway.

"Oh...Dr. Sloan." Leah beamed. "I...I watched your rhinoplasty from the gallery yesterday. Can I just say that the way you move the scalpel is flawless, your work is so..."

Leah trailed off when Mark turned and walked away from her mid-speech, earning a sigh from the intern as she turned to face Stephanie and Jo. "Am I crazy or does he hate me?"

"He hates all of us." Jo shrugged, though Leah wasn't so sure. She was convinced that he at least liked Jo because she got along well with his kids.

Which wasn't exactly wrong. Out of all of the interns, Mark hated Jo the least because of how much his girls liked her.

Murphy just pushed all sorts of buttons in him, and he found her to be seriously annoying. Mark had gotten her the internship at the hospital in the first place as a favor to her mother. He wrote a wicked letter of recommendation and everything, planting seeds here and there with the chief.

One would think Leah would accept the nice deed and never speak to Mark again.

But of course, Mark was plagued with the question of why he had never called her mom back every five minutes, as if it hadn't been eons ago that he had dated Leah's mother.

"When you said intern, I thought that meant one. As in singular." Mark grumbled, adorning himself with oven mitts to help Arizona get all of the baked casseroles out of the oven.

"I did invite one. Just Leah." Arizona spoke, glancing over at the living room area where everyone had begun to settle. "She...brought friends."

"I feel like I'm at a high school party again." Mark sighed, spreading the dishes out. "Everything's fun and great and awesome and then bam. The freshmen show up and ruin everything."

Arizona rolled her eyes. "You can be nice for one dinner. The interns aren't even that bad."

Mark felt as though that was a major understatement though. He found himself to be a relatively brave person, not scared of much. And even so, he had two phobias: airplanes and interns.

"Everything looks...good." Arizona felt herself smile for the first time all morning as she looked over her assortment of foods.

And yet as quickly as her smile had come, it quickly left.

"Alex?" She frowned at the man that walked through her front door without knocking.

It's not that she was upset the man was here, she was just confused. She had invited Alex to this dinner days ago, an invitation he passionately turned down. Arizona wasn't sure why the change of mind.