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Wilford had never previously thought he was good with children. He spoke to them in a respectful manner and treated them as equals and that was that.
And children typically found him to be quite an interesting adult. He was loud and improper and laughed at their jokes and paid real, genuine attention to their words. Not to mention he was magic. That was nice, too.
So every now and then, Wilford would find a stray child and entertain them appropriately before their parent or guardian showed up to whisk them away. And Wilford got... mixed responses.
Because as much as children often seemed to be at their very best when spending time with Wilford, even if they were previously afraid or upset, not all parents liked the look of Wilford. He looked suspiciously nice, almost too friendly, like a Willy Wonka type who was looking to take children away to some sort of magical place that would curse them or suck their souls out or make them bad at mathematics.
It didn’t help matters with those from older generations that took one look at Wilford and honest to God probably thought his name was Mr Gay Man McStereotype.
So when people attempted to scold him for doing something wrong by existing and also being around kids, he just shrugged it off and let people think what they wanted. He knew he wasn’t being unsavoury, so it mattered very little.
One day, Wilford waited with a girl whose parent didn’t come for her. She was maybe ten years old, sweet as pie, with just enough sass to keep Wilford on his toes and laughing merrily, and she had a tint of an accent that Wilford couldn’t quite place. Her name was Claire.
When he asked about her parents, Claire shook her head and went a little quiet. He tilted his head, not wanting to probe the issue, but it wasn’t like he could sit in the mall with her forever. Or, well, he probably could if he really tried, but he had a life and other things to do.
“Listen. I’ll ask them to make another call over the intercom, and we’ll wait some more, but beyond that, we’ll go to police.”
That promise was easier said than done, since Wilford had issues with police, but he’d figure a way around it. Or rather, maybe he didn’t need to because as soon as police were mentioned Claire was shaking her head furiously, hands out, begging him not to contact them.
Wilford furrowed his eyebrows.
“Why is that so bad?”
Claire looked at her hands and fidgeted for a moment.
“...Mom wouldn’t be happy if we brought police home.”
Wilford tilted his head again.
“We?”
“Yeah. I’ve got a brother, Jonothan. He’s pretty cool, he’s two years older than me and he loves video games and stuff, like Daddy.”
“Well, what about your father? Where is he at the moment?”
Claire shrugged, and looked kind of unsure about what to think of the situation.
“Mom kicked him out, it was weird. Now Auntie Kate does nothin’ but go in the other room and talk about Daddy, like ‘blah blah, Chase is so useless!’ And they think we don’t hear ‘em but we do! Don’t even wanna go into that room anyway, it smells weird.”
Claire seemed to just... go on a tangent, making voices impersonating her aunt and making hand gestures, the lot of it. If it had been anyone else, any other Ego who was a little more aware of their surroundings, perhaps they would have made the connection. But Wilford didn’t. All he saw was a young girl from a broken home who was struggling. And there was clearly something up with that police situation.
So he took her back to the Ego house. The reaction was... less than optimal from Dark.
“What on Earth were you thinking?! This is no place for a child! I know you want to... you know what? It doesn’t matter. We don’t have the time to deal with a kidnaping case, I’ll have Blue get onto this and we can just send this child back home before anything ridiculous happens.”
Dark quietly scolded Wilford in the living room while Claire sat in the kitchen and ate from Wilfords private cookie collection. Wilford tried to explain his concerns, that there was something going on with this kid, he just had a feeling, but Dark was persistent as ever.
Finally, once they were done and Wilford felt properly solemn and downtrodden, Dark walked into the kitchen and loomed over Claire. She seemed... weirdly unfazed. What had this child seen? Dark shook it out of his mind, and he spoke down to her.
“Authorities will be here shortly to take you back to your mother.”
Dark looked... stiff, in the way that he spoke, and Wilford stood behind him, rubbing his neck awkwardly. For the sake of not scaring the child too much, Dark had deliberately pulled in his aura, despite being incredibly annoyed. And then they heard a buzzing.
“- ye bastards wouldn’t know good tea if I shoved it up yer arse!”
Anti had clearly been having half a conversation with himself, wearing denim short-shorts and a shirt that was obviously Wilfords. He was holding a mug and getting rid of the teabag in it, turning around to bin it when he saw the small figure staring at him.
There was a beat.
“...Claire?”
“Anti!”
Claire jumped up from her seat and ran up to Anti, hugging his middle, not giving a damn about his attire or why the hell he was here in the first place, why either of them were there.
Anti looked shocked only in the fact that she was here right now, not that she’d hugged him, because he immediately put a hand in her hair and ruffled it lovingly.
Dark and Wilford looked at each other, utterly confused, as Anti started babbling to her and she babbled right on back. They were clearly comfortable with each other, and Claire’s accent became an awful lot stronger when she was around someone who shared it. She was some sort of wise old soul, and surprisingly enough, Anti treated her with the same kind of respect that Wilford had. Just... different.
“Haven’t seen ye in yonks! How’s the Ma?”
“Makin’ ends meet, as ye do. She banned Nerf guns in the house but Jonothan still does it, obviously. Auntie Kate’s being...”
“Auntie Kate’s bein’ Auntie Kate. Let’s just put it like that, huh?”
Claire giggled at that, and nodded. He finally looked up at Wilford and Dark, since he’d crouched to the ground to be on Claire’s level.
“So where is ye father, then? Guess he brought ye to visit?”
Wilford looked... awkward. Dark explained for him.
“No. We didn’t know this was Chases child. Wilford found her at the mall and her mother couldn’t be located.”
Antis brows furrowed and he looked back to Claire. Claire looked like she wanted to avoid his gaze, like she knew what he was going to ask.
“What’s she been doin’, Claire? What’s Stace been up to? Is...”
Anti hesitated, looking up at Dark and Wilford, then leaning in, cupping his hand over his mouth and whispering in her ear.
She listened and nodded, shyly.
Anti glitched in place. He looked like he was trying to keep a straight face.
“Jono’s still there, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Alrighty. Don’t ye worry about a thing. We gotcha now. I’ll call ye father and we’ll take it from there.”
-
Claire and Chase sat in the kitchen together after something of a teary reunion. There were many kisses and hugs and thanks in Anti and Wilfords general direction. Dark stood mostly in the background, as something of a mediator over the situation. Once Chase and Claire were settled, however, Anti found himself pacing in the living room, muttering and glitching.
Dark was the first to step in and ask Anti what the exact problem was, since he seemed to be somewhat oblivious. Wilford wondered how on Earth Dark managed to be so cool towards children.
Anti barely managed to keep his voice under control, obviously containing a lot of rage.
“He only started hittin’ the drink after she fuckin’ left! And now that’s exactly what she’s doing twenty four fuckin’ seven with the kids in tow! Ain’t lettin’ Chase be a goddamn father, bitchin’ to Cunty Katie and clippin’ em across the ear or screamin’ her tit off whenever they, God forbid, interrupt her fuckin’ drinkin’ sessions!”
It was a little hard to follow along. But the picture was clear enough. Stacy was an abusive drunk.
Dark looked guilty. Really guilty. He’d almost sent this child back home to an environment that was, at the very least, incredibly toxic, when the more than capable, biological father was just a phone call away. He felt ridiculous. Wilford looked more determined than ever though. Dark couldn’t quite place what sort of... determination it was, except for the fact that any time Wilford got determined about anything, someone was either about to be in for a treat or a lot of trouble and there was no in between.
-
Chase already looked tired and teary-eyed before they put Claire to bed in a guest bedroom. But afterwards, when he finally let go of everything on the couch, and Dark watched as Anti poured more genuine care and sympathy into Chase than he usually did with anyone, that was when Dark solidified a few things in his own mind.
Chase sobbed into Antis shoulder.
“She hasn’t even called! Not a text, nothin’! As far as she knows, our daughter is missin’ and she wouldn’t even tell me that!”
At that was concerning. That Stacy cared so little, either about her children’s welfare or Chase knowing what was happening in a crisis situation or both, to not contact him. Even Dark found that inherently wrong. Wilford sat, shaking his head the entire time.
Chase eventually stopped crying and was leaning on Anti. Anti held him in a curious manner, in a way that he held Wilford sometimes, but more... obviously comforting. It was strange to watch.
“So, ye comin’ to visit sometime?”
Anti nodded, running a hand through Chases hair, softly.
“Yeah. Gotta check in with Marv, and Jamie. And the nazi, fuck. And especially you.”
Chase tsk’d at the notion.
“Ye don’t have te ‘especially’ me, y’know.”
“Well... maybe I want to. Because ye’ve been workin’ hard and ye deserve some special treatment.”
Chase went silent, and he shifted a little as his eyes seemed to flicker over to Dark and Wilford, who had paid them the courtesy of mostly staying quiet and not staring too much, despite how sweet it was to watch Anti being so soft with anyone.
Chase buried his face into Antis chest, likely to hide the blush forming on his face. They didn’t really talk about the kinds of things Anti did for Chase sometimes. It helped alleviate some of the... crippling loneliness that came with a divorce. To Anti, it wasn’t a huge deal, and he’d be more gentle with Chase than he’d ever be with Dark or Wilford, because it was a totally different dynamic. Anti barely had it in him to be a dick to Chase when life was already crushing his soul more than any of Antis antics ever could.
-
When Wilford passed Chase and Antis door later on, he made sure to check that it was locked from the inside. God knows privacy could be difficult to get in this house. Wilford and Dark headed off to bed, both a little more quiet and contemplative than usual.
“You should haunt her, Darkling.”
Dark sighed.
“I won’t lie, I was considering it. But it’s an invasion of privacy. You know I don’t use it for... personal reasons.”
That much was true. Dark was picky about when he literally invaded people’s dreams like that. He didn’t like doing it unless totally necessary for a mission or something along those lines. But...
“Oh, come on. You look Chase in the eyes tomorrow morning and you tell me that horrifying excuse of a woman isn’t deserving of a good scare at the very least.”
Dark was silent for a little while.
“Alright. At the very least, she won’t be keeping the children full time.”
-
And that was that. A few days later, Jonothan was dropped off at Chases own apartment with a decent collection of his and his sisters belongings. There was still very little explanation from Stacy. All Chase knew was that she wasn’t trying to take him to court or press charges or anything of the sort. They spoke just enough to arrange for her to see them on weekends, and that was it.
And Chase, despite having the wind knocked from him in terms of the quick turn over, was looking happier. So much happier. To the point where Anti was down right chipper for a few days following the good news.
Wilford was... content. He was a little saddened that he didn’t get to spend any more time with Claire, and he hesitated to express this to Dark. But Anti made him feel infinitely better about things when he approached Wilford on the side.
“By the way... thanks.”
Wilford cocked an eyebrow.
“For what?”
“Bein’ yerself. None of this would’a happened if ye weren’t so goddamn loveable.”
Wilford blushed, maybe a little harder than the situation called for. But he supposed, If he was loveable to so many different kinds of people, demons and glitches and children, then maybe he wasn’t so bad.