Chapter Text
Over the next few nights, and moments when she thought he couldn’t hear, Amelia would be on the phone with the mystery person. Often their conversations would get heated, with Amelia slamming her fist on whatever was nearby. Despite his fear, Keo started trying to listen in. With one half of the conversation, he was left confused, only managing to gather that the person on the other end was likely military, and bore the name Shepherd. It was evident, though, that Amelia didn’t like him and what he had to say.
Despite their earlier conversation, Keo hadn’t been enrolled in school, and spent most of his days similarly to how he did back home. (Secretly, he was sure the man on the phone had something to do with it) The back of the apartment complex was sectioned off by a rusty metal fence, made slippery by the morning dew. The gate was rusted shut, and so he’d settled for jumping it, careful to not cut himself. He hadn’t made any friends– to be fair, he hadn’t even seen many people –but the next door complex had a stray cat he was fond of. She was a big, fluffy animal, with long white and grey spotted fur. He named her Misty. He’d fallen into a routine, and with Amelia’s work taking her out of the house for most of the day, neither of them saw much of the other. Her motherly demeanor had dropped once the work week began, though he wasn’t sure if that was the cause of the change or simply that he didn’t seem responsive to it in the way she hoped for. Either way, he didn’t dislike her, nor was he overly wary; Something about knowing he could run if things went downhill soothed his anxiety.
He hadn’t explored much of the town, only the few– decidedly sad –streets around the complex. The grey skies dulled most of the life from the town, save for the red and orange leaves that covered the ground. Most of the shops were empty when he went in, but that was likely due to the time. He didn’t hate the town, it reminded him of the time he’d spent in the rural parts of Ontario and Nova Scotia as a kid, so it held some kind of charm. It was just empty.
Amelia had given him some money to buy clothes, so Keo spent some of his days scavenging the thrift stores for anything worth wearing. The bigger of the two thrift stores in the town was ”Mara’s thrifty finds” which turned out to be mostly full of moth-eaten sweaters and button-down shirts, but he was able to find a “The Cure” shirt he liked enough and a striped long-sleeve. He considered this a success.
This morning, however, the yelling was louder. He’d just been about to go outside when it started, reaching into the cupboards in search of food for Misty. It was unusual for her to talk to “Shepherd” while he was in the room, let alone get so heated. Her sharp green eyes flicked to him, seemingly assessing something as the man on the other end spoke. It was the first time Keo could hear his voice clearly, and he was surprised by the thick American accent it carried. Amelia frowned. She was watching him closely, he knew, but he wasn’t sure what he’d done to make her look like that. Maybe it was the man on the phone? But he usually made her angry, not defeated like she did now, eyebrows knitted together in worry. It made him feel small. Like he was a kid again, foggy-minded and quiet as his father looked at him the same way.
“Keo.” Amelia called for him, “Keo, we need to talk.” She'd hung up the phone and was seated on the grey couch in front of him, eyes tracking his nervous movements. He only nodded, closing the cupboard door he’d left ajar and refocusing on her. We need to talk never boded well for anyone. She beckoned him to sit next to her, and he perched himself on the other side of the couch. “Im sure you’ve heard me talking on the phone recently,” she started, and keo nodded. “The man I've been speaking to is the commander of the task force you were with.” that caught him off guard, none of the soldiers had mentioned a “shepherd” in his time there. Still, he just nodded again, picking at his fingers. The couch was a bit uncomfortable, the armrest digging into his back as he sat with his knees to his chest. Amelia wore the same, vaguely stern, resting face she usually did, and he found himself reminded a bit of Laswell.
“He’s decided to take you into his custody.” she said, sounding almost defeated. Keo nodded again, silent. He didn’t find himself all that attached to Amelia, nor to the town she lived in, but he couldn’t help the twinge of fear in his chest at the thought of moving again. Even if they hadn’t seen much of each other, Amelia had been good to him, and he had reason to trust that she would continue to be, and though she didn’t say it, it was clear she didn’t like nor trust Shepherd. He fixed his gaze to the floral patterns on Amelia's shirt, following one vine to the next as she spoke. “There’ll be someone here to pick you up tomorrow.” her brows furrowed as she looked at Keo then. “I’m sorry.”
“ ‘s okay.” was all he replied, “will i be going back to base?” please say yes, please say yes, please say yes, he thought, but he knew it was unlikely. If so, she probably wouldn’t be so distressed.
“I doubt it.” Amelia sighed, “you’ll probably be taken to another military station, but he wouldn’t tell me where. It can’t be too far from anything, though, because I had him promise to send you to school.” He nodded. That was…good? He supposed it meant he had somewhere to run, some connection to “the outside world”
While keo was thinking, Amelia had moved, now making her way around the connected kitchen. He figured the conversation was over, until she spoke up again, this time not looking at him. “Look, I know you…don’t like to talk,” she said, taking a loaf of bread from the box on the counter, “but I've gotten you a phone– burner phone –and it has my number on it. Call if something happens.”
“M’kay…i will.” Keo nodded out of habit, even though the woman had her back to him. He shifted his gaze out the window, moving to slide it open. He liked the weather they’d been having, the feeling of the breeze teasing its way though his hair and the crunch of leaves under his feet. Hopefully wherever Shepherd was taking him would be similar, maybe even not too far from town. He glanced back at Amelia, fiddling with the roughed up edges of his jeans as he watched her move about the kitchen. Her movements always had a restrained, serious undertone to them, as if she had to be rigid all the time. He’d gotten a little more used to it, but still found himself worried that she was mad at him whenever she shut a door too firmly, or as she did now, almost slammed down the slider for the toaster with two fingers. He wondered how she came by that demeanor, or if she’d always had it.
The next morning came and went with no sign of Shepherd. Amelia had kept him inside for the morning, not wanting him to be there when the man showed up. Still, when it was 13:00, she reached for her phone and shooed Keo outside, and he was more than happy to oblige. As he had for the past week, he rounded the building, damp grass wetting the canvas of his shoes. He jammed his feet in between the rusted links of the fence, pulling himself over it. He knew he could’ve gone around the front, but wasn’t sure if the residents would yell at him since he didn’t live there. Thus, he settled for going around the back. Misty emerged from underneath a plastic deck chair, little legs carrying her toward keo. He was half-sure she only liked him since he fed her, but she let him pet her and scratch behind her ears nonetheless. She rubbed against his legs as he kneeled to give her the can of tuna, a soft purr vibrating through her.
He stood up, leaving her to eat and fixing his gaze on Amelia’s open apartment window. She’d left it open to be able to call to him, but it meant that, even out here, he could hear her yelling. He didn’t mind it so much when it was far away, being carried elsewhere by the wind, but it did remind him of home. There was a part of him that wished they’d never moved here. Britain was pretty, sure, and he liked the rain so it never bothered him, but something was missing. That wasn’t to say he loved Canada, they were about the same in his books, but he missed the air of his hometown, though maybe that was only because it was wrapped in a blanket of nostalgia. They’d lived in a townhouse then, sparsely decorated but filled with whatever his mother picked up off the side of the road or ordered online. He’d spent a lot of time by the sea as a kid, staying at his ancestral home, so oblivious to the tension that perpetually lived in the walls. You could never clean that house.
He didn’t think of it a lot anymore. He didn’t think of his mother a lot anymore either. He should, probably, Keo thought, he should think of her more fondly. But Cecilia was never fond. (He knew that was a lie.) He remembered how she’d sit by the stove with him, smiling along to his awe and excitement as he watched the muffins they’d baked– baked together, and she’d let him add sprinkles –rise slowly. He remembered how she’d come to his school concerts, how she’d praise his artwork, even when it was bad, how she’d ask about his hobbies.
And then she didn’t.
Didn’t come home for the weekends at all. Didn’t come to his art show, didn’t even know what his classes were. Left him alone to fix what had broken in her absence. Keo knew, he knew it was her first time living too; That she had as much of a right to a fulfilling life as he did. But he resented her, and oh, how he hated himself for it. It was easier when he forgot, when he didn’t bother thinking of it. He couldn’t go home now anyhow. (there hadn’t been a home for him there for a long time)
He was broken out of his thoughts by Misty’s insistent meows as she rubbed against his ankles, asking to be pet. Keo obliged, kneeling to run his hands over her soft white fur. It was then that he heard Amelia call him, her voice sharp. He looked to the window, but it had been closed. Confused, he glanced around until his eyes landed on her standing at the front of the building. Keo felt bad as he had to leave Misty, and gave her a kiss on the forehead before clambering back over the fence. Misty gave a soft trill, and rubbed her cheek against the dirty metal, leaving a small brown smudge on her fur.
Amelia was carrying his bag, and handed it over to him as he rounded the front of the building. There was a car still running beside her, and a man standing by the door. He was a tall, white man, wearing a tailored black uniform. “Keo, this is Shepherd.” she said, not sparing the man a glance. “Shepherd, this is Keo.” The tension between them was palpable, but the man only fixed Keo with a harsh, demeaning look. He bowed his head slightly, not taking his gaze off of Shepherd even as his hair fell into his eyes. He didn’t like how this man looked at him, even if they’d only known each other a minute.
“We should get going.” Shepherd told them. More specifically, Amelia, since he didn’t even look at Keo. His accent matched the one he'd heard on the phone, and he found himself surprised at how civil they were being now.
Shepherd opened the car’s back door, motioning for Keo to put his stuff down. He did, hesitantly, before turning back to Amelia, meaning to wave. Instead, though, she pulled him into a hug, resting her chin atop his head like his mother used to.
“I’m sorry, Keo.”