Chapter Text
The moment Carmilla wakes, she knows from the light pouring through the shuttered windows that the kids are either already in school or sitting in their room waiting.
From a glance over to the pile of blankets and gangly teenage limbs that is the Toy Soldier, she can guess it to be the latter.
(Who knows, maybe her two got themselves up and headed out to go to school on their own. But that would also never happen; at the very least, not for Jonny.)
She reaches out for her cane, one of her hips sending a dull throb out into her side and leg. If it had been dislocated last night it’s settled back by now, but she figures that it just subluxed for a bit.
She uses the wall to push herself up and carefully treads out the door into the hall, pushing open Jonny and Nastya’s door.
Nastya’s on her computer, one tab open to a school page and the other on Discord. Jonny’s playing an Xbox game, but quickly looks up to Carmilla. His face falls slightly when he realizes it isn’t the Toy Soldier, but he tilts his head in questioning all the same.
“Not awake yet,” she reports. “Have you had breakfast?” The pair of them forget to eat more often than not, especially when they’re occupied, but Jonny turns into even more of a bastard when he doesn’t get a meal, and Carmilla would prefer that she not have a concerned and hangry Jonny on her hands.
Nastya holds up an empty plate of what was probably chips; Jonny shrugs noncommittally. Not the most balanced breakfast, even for the one who did eat.
“Jonny, finish up the game and make cereal and cut up whatever fruit you want. Nastya, I got the crunchy grapes you can eat. If either of you want to go to classes, just ask. We can work something out.” She sincerely doubts that they’ll want to, but it’s an offer.
She heads to the kitchen, making instant oats and orange juice for herself and checking the freezer for ice pops in case Toy Soldier is feeling too bad for real food. There’s a few, but she mentally notes to grab some more next time she goes shopping. In case it’s up to food, she puts some chicken nuggets in the air fryer.
It’s been a while since one of the kids have had a bad day like this. Marius came close, a month ago, but it’s been a good go of it for all of them, these last few months. Even for her.
The cynic in her feels coldly satisfied. This perfection could only be a facade, could only lead to tragedy, it tells her. This is just the start.
She shakes the thoughts off before she can spiral, popping back into her room to check on Toy again. She’s met with a tiny squeak and grey eyes peeking up at her from under the covers.
“Toy?” She asks, before registering the movement and correcting, “Jess?”
Another squeak, and she retreats fully below the covers. Carmilla narrows her eyes in concern. “Hey, you don’t have to come out. I’ve got breakfast started.” She sits down on the edge of the cot, offering a hand in case Jess wants to grab it. She does, but doesn’t speak. It may not even be Jess, but the others play much less of a role in their collective life. Most of them don’t get too upset over being mistaken, anyway.
“Chicken nuggets, or there’s two more ice pops left for you,” she expands. She doesn’t need much, but she wants a reaction so she knows that she’s okay.
“Chick’n?” Jess murmurs, her voice high and anxious.
“Yeah. You can have as much as you’d like.”
“Kay.”
A few minutes of silence, before she wriggles out from under the blanket and holds up her arms.
Carmilla scoops her into her lap, where Jess settles, clingy and small.
“M five,” she declares.
“Yeah?” She replies. That settles it, then. It’s going to be an easy, calm day. At least, it will be to the best of her abilities. How Jess does will determine some of that, but keeping her settled like this has never been hard. Let her play in the dirt when she wants to be active, and be clingy and emotional when she needs it, and she’s set up well.
She can’t carry her. Carmilla probably couldn’t even carry a child the age that she feels she is. Whatever strength and immunity to pain she’d mustered in Toy’s breakdown last night is gone and it’d only hurt her to force it back. If it comes to it, Jonny’s strong enough to carry her short distances.
“Do we want to get up for breakfast?” She pitches. “Or take some more time?”
“Hungry.” Jess glances up at Carmilla. “F that’s okay, Mumma…”
“Totally fine. Can you get up, sweetheart?”
Jess clambers to her feet, her fingers creeping up to her mouth for her to bite at nervously. Carmilla takes longer to get up off such a low surface, but Jess is very patient and sweet. She giggles once Carmilla takes her hand again to lead her, and — not for the first time — Carmilla wonders how that old woman could have taken a child, any child but especially Jessica, and hurt her so bad that some part of her still clung to the world before it had shattered her and couldn’t let go.
It was better, though, than the alternative.
(At least they’d survived.)
Jess hums and clicks as she wanders down the hallway. She never seems to have much idea where she’s going, her head in the clouds and her demeanor usually cheery. Much more like Toy than the other, 15-year-old Jess, who is sweet but hyper-vigilant to a fault. Carmilla supposes that the Toy Soldier had to come from somewhere, though.
She pops her head into the kids’ room again, happy to see Jonny with a bowl of oatmeal and some fruit. Probably with honey as well. He’s been preparing more of his own food recently.
Jess scampers ahead of her, running down the hall to sit at the counter. Nastya’s gone somewhere else with her computer, probably sick of the overstimulation from Jonny muttering to himself and the video essay he’s got on for background noise.
She heads to the kitchen and extracts the chicken nuggets from the air fryer and passes the plate to Jess, who giggles happily.
Jonny stalks into the kitchen, pretending that he’s not at all worried about his friend.
“You good, Toy?” he asks.
“Not Toy,” Jess chirps back. “It’s um. It’s far ‘way right now. ‘M Jess.”
Jonny’s expression lights up. “You wanna play in the garden?” he asks. The excitement in his voice is mostly due to being able to interact with Smaller Jess, which is possibly his favorite thing ever just by measure of visible interest.
She needs to encourage him to volunteer at the library more. He’s so bright with kids around.
Jess hops up and throws her arms around his shoulders happily, nuzzling her face into his neck. “Garden!” She echoes.
Jonny guides her to the door and helps her put on her shoes. Carmilla places the mostly-uneaten chicken nuggets in the fridge to be eaten later – she’ll make sure they have a filling tea.
It’s more than a few hours before they trudge in again, covered in dirt. Jess is holding a plastic bug terrarium close to her chest, filled with dirt and probably a whole host of local fauna.
“Shoes off, Jonny make sure to help her wash her hands,” she says. “Change clothes, too.”
Jonny dips his head in acknowledgement, kicking off his shoes at the door and coaxing Jess to do the same.
Carmilla pulls out scones and jam for tea, setting them on the coffee table and sitting down to examine the terrarium they’ve got going on, the little plastic box discarded next to the door. It seems well set up – Jess is always careful with animals; Carmilla never doubted that whatever they caught would be in good hands – but she’ll probably have to remind them to let the poor creatures free later.
Jonny traipses back into the living room and settles on a chair, making grabby hands for a scone but not shifting to grab it. “Can you grab a scone, mom? With jam?”
Carmilla raises an eyebrow. “There’s less than a metre between you and that scone, Jonny. How about you grab it yourself?”
He huffs in annoyance and shifts to grab the scone, curling in a ball on the couch and nibbling on the plain scone.
Carmilla sighs. Teenagers are unknowable beings.
Jess clambers over the back of the couch and flops down on Carmilla’s lap, staring up at her with wide eyes and holding up a book. Carmilla can’t read the cover from this angle, but it’s something from the cabinet full of old stuff. Jonny was a bit too old for picture books by the time she got him, but she’d had some younger foster kids before him and Nastya, and the picture books had stuck around, just in case.
The menagerie that is the Toy Soldier and Co. is that case. Sure, the little one likes it, but a few of the others that pop up now and again also do. Toy Soldier, conversely, prefers the classics; anything long and epic.
She extracts it from Jess’ hands, smiling when she sees the cover. Paddington. Jess is still staring – odd, for her, but endearing all the same.
“What are you thinking about?” Carmilla says in amusement. “Lots of looking at me.”
“Mmmmmmm,” she hums up at her. “F’oggy’s here too. It stares.”
Froggy does stare, but is usually much more jumpy on its own, so Carmilla wouldn't have guessed that it was around.
“Well, would you sit up so I can read you the story?”
Jess tugs herself up and Carmilla opens the book. She points at the drawing of Paddington Station on the inside cover. “Remember going there on a school trip?”
Jess hums. “Um. Think so, bit.”
Carmilla remembers, because Jonny’d texted her the whole time about how bored he was.
“Well, let’s read the story and maybe you'll remember more.”
If she does, she doesn’t have time to point it out. She’s asleep before Carmilla can turn the last page.
Jonny’s looking sleepy too, even if he’s not five, and the exhaustion is more likely caused by his faulty heart than anything else. She hands him a scone this time when he makes grabby hands for it. Maybe it’s naptime. Carmilla could certainly use a rest.
…Sleeping on the couch is not a good idea for her. But there’s a kid napping on her, and that’s nearly as immobilising as a cat.
With a grumpy expression and no explanation, Jonny drags himself up from his corner of the couch and over to the other side of Carmilla, curling against her as if it’s just a coincidence he’s come over here.
She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t interrupt his bluster and scare him off. Just puts a hand on his head.
“Love you, Mom. Or whatever,” he grumbles.
She chuckles. “Love you too.”
She really does. All of her kids. Very much.