and Calypso were both in bed by the time Mark got off of his hospital shift, purely because it was 2 AM.

He was exhausted, and he couldn't wait to go to sleep. Miss Browning in Room 233 had been exceptionally bitchy today, something that Mark didn't love having to deal with.

He sighed as soon as he opened the apartment door, met with immediate silence. It was bizarre, considering there's usually a decent amount of noise.

Mark yawned as he walked over to the kitchen, heating up yesterday's leftovers, because nothing says healthy dinner quite like leftovers at 2 AM.

Mark concocted an entire plan while he waited. He would change out of his scrubs while the food heated up, eat, take a shower, and finally get some sleep before he had to go in at noon.

Phase one of the plan began as Mark retreated down the hallway towards his bedroom, wanting to get out of his hospital uniform.

The plan was interrupted, however, when he heard quite a bit of rustling around.

He figured it was nothing, maybe one of the girls having trouble getting to sleep or something.

But it wasn't even coming from either of the bedrooms. It was coming from down the hallway, and Mark frowned at that.

Mark followed the rustling sounds all the way to the laundry room at the end of the hall.

He flipped on the light switch and was surprised to see Calypso standing there, resembling that of a deer in headlights.

Mark was stunned for a moment, not quite sure what was happening. His usually neat laundry room was in shambles. Drawers were left open, bedsheets were half-stuffed into the washing machine, and the big bottle of liquid detergent was in Calypso's hand. It appeared to be heavy, because she had spilt some of the blue liquid onto the hardwood floor.

"What..." Mark trailed off, not even able to ask what had happened as his eyes scanned the room again and again. He wasn't even sure what the possible explanation for this was. Sleepwalking? A 2 AM science experiment?

Calypso was usually a cheery kid, and Mark had never seen her do anything other than smile.

But her bottom lip pouted out as she stood there, her glossy eyes spilling tears as she let out a loud sob.

Mark immediately panicked. He wondered if he looked angry. He hadn't meant to, because truthfully he wasn't angry at all. He just wanted to know what happened.

"Woah, it's fine. It's good, I just-"

"I'm sorry." Calypso continued to cry loudly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I...I didn't mean to, I'm sorry."

Mark was incredibly confused, and he was about to try asking what had happened when he focused more on the particulars. Upon more intent observation, Mark noticed that the pink sheets half-stuffed into the washer belonged to Calypso. That and the dark circle on the girl's pajama bottoms made it clear she had had an accident.

"Oh, did you...?" Mark trailed off yet again, Calypso crying out even louder.

Mark wasn't sure why she was so upset though. She was six, it was common for six-year-olds to wet themselves every now and then. Maybe it was a little embarrassing for her, but it wasn't anything to break down over.

Mark wasn't particularly good with kids. Babies he was great with, but that was only because they couldn't form opinions. This kid seemed to calculate his every move.

Some help from the pediatric specialist would be perfect right about now, but Mark had no doubt that Arizona would scream at him if he dared call and wake her up right now.

"Hey, it's...it's okay." Mark tried to reassure, but the kid didn't calm down even a little bit. Nothing.

Mark began to walk forward, and Calypso braced herself. She hadn't wanted to wake Daisy because she thought she could handle it herself. That was probably the dumbest move ever considering that Daisy wasn't there to protect her now, it was one-on-one.

Calypso shut her fists tightly as well as her eyes, bracing for the familiar stinging sensation.

But nothing came, not even when she counted all the way to ten.

Calypso warily opened her eyes. She wasn't met with a fist, but rather the sight of Mark helping put the half-stuffed sheets into the washing machine.

Calypso was incredibly confused. She'd been through this exact scenario way too many times, and she was fairly certain they were skipping a few steps.

Mark put the liquid detergent in too, which confused Calypso even more. The children were supposed to do the laundry, especially after an accident. Millions of questions muddled Calypso's mind as her brain was in knots.

When Mark started the washing cycle, he turned to face Calypso, that dumbfounded look on her face. "What?"

Calypso blinked, looking a little cautious. She looked at him, then to the washing machine, then back to him. Her eyes were all over the place. "You're...not gonna hit me?"

Mark frowned, wondering why that was the first thing that the six-year-old was expecting. He hoped that hadn't happened before. "Of course not. It was an accident."

But Calypso still looked troubled. Mark was happy that her cries had died down a bit, but she still looked petrified, and just so...confused, like there wasn't a possible explanation for why Mark wouldn't lash out and slap her.

"Do you want to pick out new sheets?" Mark offered the girl.

Even though it seemed impossible, Calypso's eyes somehow grew even wider. "I...get to pick out new sheets?"

The girl's questions were really unsettling Mark. "Why wouldn't you get new sheets?"

Calypso only shrugged. It did seem silly. But that was the way it had been with the Walters. The way they saw it, if the little brat was stupid enough to wet herself, she could sleep on the floor while her soiled sheets were cleaning. Heck, the Walters thought the kid should be grateful they found it in their ever so gracious hearts to even wash her sheets in the first place.

They just liked to be mean though. Daisy wasn't even allowed to help the girl, Calypso always was forced to sleep on the floor. It was never about teaching lessons, only giving punishments.

Calypso snapped out of it, focusing back to her reality instead. Mark was stood by a small linen closet on the far end of the laundry room. The shelves were stacked with pillowcases and sheets and blankets.

Mark looked at Calypso expectantly, so Calypso hesitantly walked forward. She kept her eyes on the fabrics, raking over them.

"They're all white." Calypso noted the lack of color in the fabrics.

"Well yeah, they're bedsheets, not Picasso paintings." Mark couldn't help but grin. The girl still looked at the sheets with wide eyes, observing every little detail.

"You don't have any pink sheets." Calypso frowned as she turned to Mark. The sheets that were usually on her bed were pink, and they were very pretty, but Mark didn't have any spare pink sheets on hand. He could use some spare pink sheets.

"No, I guess I don't. We'll have to fix that."

Of course, Mark could go fully into depth about why a single adult man wouldn't have any twin-sized pastel pink bedsheets on hand, but he figured the girl wouldn't even hear it. She seemed very concerned about the lack of pink.

Calypso looked hesitantly at Mark before she reached out, grabbing the two clean sheets nearest to her.

"We have a winner, good choice." Mark nodded approvingly as he closed the closet door.

"It's not a choice if they're all the same color." Calypso laughed quietly. Mark was incredibly happy to hear her laugh, even if her cheeks were still tear-stained.

The two made their way down the hallway, past Daisy's closed bedroom door. Daisy had always been a light-sleeper, Calypso was surprised that her older sister had slept through her mini breakdown.

The thought of breaking down made Calypso embarrassed. It was mortifying enough that she had wet herself, but to just stand there like a baby and cry about it? Mark probably thought that she was pathetic.

She let out a quiet sigh, following Mark down the hallway until they reached her bedroom.

Calypso's bed was completely stripped as a result of her panic that occurred about ten minutes ago when she woke up. She had thought that she was in the clear considering Mark was at work all night, but apparently not.

Mark started to put the sheets on the bed for her, another thing that surprised Calypso. She felt guilty that this was all her fault and he was doing all the work.

She was thankful for it, though. Being so tiny, it was always rough for her to try to get the fitted sheet onto the mattress. It always took her a solid five minutes.

But Mark was done in less than a minute. Calypso would never understand how adults are able to do infinitely anything. Is there anything grown-ups can't do?

Her bed was made up like nothing had even happened. It was perfect, and Calypso was in awe.

Mark turned his attention back to the six-year-old. "Do you want to change into new pajamas?"

For probably the hundredth time that night, Calypso's cheeks heated up as she slowly nodded.

She picked out some clean pajamas from her closet, beginning the journey down the hallway as she insisted that she needed a bath.

The handles for the tub were very difficult to manage, but Mark helped her draw up a bath. The water was warm, and when the tub was filled up enough and the faucet turned off, Calypso hesitated.

"Do you need help?"

Calypso shook her head. "I'm good. You have to get out now."

But Mark frowned. He didn't want to make her uncomfortable, but he knew it definitely wasn't safe to leave a six-year-old in the bathtub by herself.

"I don't think you should be in here by yourself."

"Daisy can help me. She always does." Calypso assured Mark. "And...she would be angry with me if I let you help. She doesn't like you very much."

Mark had figured that much, of course. Daisy had spoken maybe three sentences to him in the week or so that she'd been here. But he'd be lying if he said that his ego wasn't slightly bruised. He wasn't used to being disliked.

"Are you sure?" Mark asked, to which Calypso nodded.

"Mhm. I'll go get her." Calypso said as she padded out into the hallway in her still dirty pajamas, Mark right behind her.

Calypso walked down the hallway towards Daisy's bedroom while Mark made his way to the kitchen. His leftovers that he had microwaved were probably cold again given how much time had passed since he first popped the food in.

"Thank you for helping." Calypso's voice came from down the hallway. Mark looked back, seeing the six-year-old giving him a small smile as her hand was on Daisy's bedroom doorknob. "You're nice, I think she'll like you someday."

Ouch, another reminder that the kid didn't like him. Why didn't Daisy like him?

Mark only nodded though, giving the kid a smile right back. "Night, kiddo."

"Goodnight, Mr. Sloan." Calypso replied, turning her attention on Daisy's bedroom door that she pushed open.

He could hear mumbling, probably the two girls talking about the events that had transpired. And while Calypso was likely destined for a scolding from her sister in regards to allowing Mark to help her, Mark was destined for cold leftovers.