Chapter Text
Ilyukhina was at the front, With DuBois and Yào behind her. Given the obscene stack of papers in Olesya’s arms, they must’ve come in here for some work-related thing, obviously not expecting to see Stratt sitting on the floor with “Grace” braiding her hair.
“Did you need something?” Stratt asked in her usual monotone voice, ignoring how rumpled her hair must be. Ilyukhina snapped out of her haze and placed the papers on Stratt’s desk.
“Uhm… Just need these papers signed. Proof that we did the social media thingie.” Olesya said, eyes drifting to “Grace,” who was biting at his nails again. Stratt nodded and shooed them off, and the three of them swiftly left. Eva set her laptop down on the floor and turned to Hetty, gently pulling the girl’s fingers out of her mouth and replacing it with the previously discarded chew necklace.
Stratt stood up and felt the back of her head, noting an extremely loose braid near the left side of her head. She kept it in and moved to her desk, flipping through the papers. Olesya was truthful that all the papers talked about were release permissions and proof of recording and whatnot. She grabbed a pen and signed of all of them.
Well, not all of them. The bottom paper must’ve been grouped in with the stack by mistake as a result of Olesya’s clumsiness. While Ilyukhina was an incredibly talented and wonderful engineer, she was horribly disorganized. The paper had the distinct handwritings of DuBois, Shapiro, Yào, Komarov, and Ilyukhina. At the top, Olesya had written largely, “WHAT THE FUCK IS UP WITH GRACE????”
“Language,” Stratt muttered absentmindedly. Grace was really rubbing off on her.
Under that was everyone’s names, and their supposed guesses, along with…money amounts? Were they betting on Dr. Grace? She looked over the paper, mentally logging each of their entries. It read:
Olesya - POSSESSION???? Demons or something. ₽1700
Dimitri - Stress, lack of sleep is making him crazy. ₽2500
Martin - Some sort of personality disorder, maybe? $15
Yào - Not participating. This is invasive.
Shapiro - Stress as well. $10
Stratt laughed softly. She wasn’t all that surprised that her team members would do something like this. They did seem to care about Grace, after all. She evened out the papers and set them on her desk, writing a note to herself to return them to the three of them, and not to mention the note.
She was just about to get back to work when she heard Hetty crying.
Ruby had a bad feeling about this family. It was her 4th foster family that year, and this one had four “real” kids. An anxiety so physical that it made her stomach hurt was present. She didn’t know what was wrong with them —— The mom was nice enough, she had her own room, and none of the siblings bothered her or bullied her for not having parents she couldn’t remember.
The dad, however…
He wasn’t drunk, but he smelled of alcohol and cigarettes and soot. He loved his wife, his kids weren’t scared of him, but Ruby’s chest pounded when seeing him. She hated that she had no idea why, that she couldn’t remember anything that would make her feel this way. All she knew was that she needed to avoid the dad. Avoid him, and she’ll be safe.
Trouble started when dinner rolled around. The mom —— Jennifer —— had made spaghetti and meat sauce, and Ruby positively retched at the idea of eating it. The anxiety made her nauseous, and she hated meat. When she picked at her food and kept grabbing dinner rolls to hopefully fill herself up, the six year old girl, Janie, said something.
“Ruby, why aren’t you eating dinner?”
Ruby let out a sharp breath and dropped her roll, looking over at the parents. Jennifer looked concerned and the father, Micheal, looked like he was trying to not look frustrated.
“Is there something wrong with the food? I can make you something else.” Jennifer said, her tone dripping with genuine care. Ruby shook her head quickly. She could feel the eye rolls of the older kids she’d lived with in the past. If she makes a fuss, even unintentionally, a parent might go out of their way to make sure she’s comfortable, which makes the kids hate her and want her out and ——
“No, no. I just… think the rolls are really good.” Ruby could tell that Jennifer didn’t believe her, but was glad that she wasn’t pressed further. She continued nibbling at her meal until Micheal stood and looked right at her. She felt her limbs go numb as she stood and followed him. He led her over to the living room and sat her down.
“Listen, Ruby. I know that this is all new to you, and that you might be used to better treatment at other houses, but I can’t have you disrespecting my wife while under my roof.” He started, and Ruby wanted to cry and run away from this because the little animal in her mind was telling her to LEAVE. She wanted to look into her brain and pull out whatever memories were making her feel this way. Something had to have happened.
“W— What are you going to do to me?” She whispered, choked by tears that had yet to come. He stood up. “Jennifer put a lot of effort into that dinner for you, and it is beyond disrespectful to barely touch it, or thank her, or join us in grace —— “
She. She couldn’t remember what happened after that. Well, she could, but it was…fuzzy. Like she wasn’t in her body. She saw a black eye being dished to her, dully felt her ribs hurt, understood that she was hurting, but it wasn’t…her. It was like she was a car and someone else had taken the front seat, saved her from the painful drive ahead.
… What? She felt like this had happened before. Earlier on with…
With Dad. She knew that he hit her, but isn’t wasn’t really her, it was… the driver.
She named that driver Hetty, after her favorite stuffed animal that she no longer had.
“I like that name,” Hetty whispered, and Ruby froze.
Stratt ran her fingers through Hetty’s hair, trying to soothe her crying.
“Hurts…” Hetty mumbled, and Stratt pulled away to go heat up the beanbags again, but Hetty whined and pressed a hand against her eye, confused for a moment. She stared off into nothing for a bit before Stratt asked,
“Hetty? What hurts?”
Hetty shook her head. “Eye ‘sposed to hurt…‘nd chest.. bone.” She said, pressing her arm against her ribs, also seemingly surprised at a lack of pain.
A realization dawned on Stratt. She must’ve had a bad dream.
“It’s alright, it was just a dream. You aren’t actually hurt.”
Hetty seemed to dislike that answer. “But… had to protect Ruby. Makes no sense.”
Ruby? Who the heck was Ruby? Ryland hadn’t named her when he was explaining the system…
No matter. She had to comfort Hetty, somehow.
“Would you like some hot cocoa?” She asked, somewhat awkwardly. Six year olds liked that stuff, right?
Hetty nodded, and Stratt went over to her coffee caddy that had dry hot cocoa for someone and made some for the both of them. Before turning on the microwave, she made she Hetty was looking at Stratt when she mimed putting her hands to her ears. Hetty did the same and Stratt started up the microwave.
When the cocoa was finished, she let it cool for a bit before giving it gently to Hetty, who gleefully sipped it. Stratt got back to some work on her laptop, and this time no one interrupted them.
Stratt had something to ask Grace, and the only reasonable way to do that was by getting Carl to drag him —— or more likely, Adam, which she hoped wasn’t the case —— out of the lab and into her office.
It was Ryland, if the nervous demeanor was anything to go off of.
“Uhm, you needed to see me?” He asked. Stratt nodded. “Who is Ruby? Hetty mentioned her yesterday and —— “ She stopped mid sentence, which she harley ever does, when she noticed Grace go horribly pale. Tears welled in his eyes, and Eva regretted asking.
“I…” He started, words dying in his throat. He sobbed weakly, muttering, “I miss her,” to the air. Stratt nodded, still confused, but didn’t push further. If he wanted to share on his own volition, he was more than allowed to.
It took 30 minutes and two mugs of packet hot cocoa mixed with coffee before he said anything.
Stratt listened to every word of it.