Chapter Text
“He doesn’t look like a monster.”
“He’s sleeping, Barb.”
“I know, but-“ Barbara reached out to brush the unconscious boy’s hair from his face, “He looks like such a little angel.”
Adam rose to stand behind his wife’s chair, squeezing her shoulder as he did, and looked down at the boy. His face and arms were streaked with charcoal, his hair singed and uneven, his nose and mouth obscured by an oxygen mask. In the most innocent definition of the word, he did look like a monster.
Adam had read his file: he was a whole five foot nothing of pure chaotic energy who had had four sets of case workers in the past eight years. Each time they handed him over they said the same thing: he’s a little monster. Though it seemed cruel to Adam this was an understandable label, considering his track record.
Age six: broke a window, threatened foster mother with shard of glass.
Age nine: threatened to beat PE teacher to death. Almost followed through.
Age eleven: played drums for seventy two hours straight.
Age thirteen: burned house down with entire family inside.
“They didn’t even go back inside to get him.” Barbara was still playing with the boy’s hair. He squirmed restlessly beneath the thin hospital blanket. “They got their other kids out and they just left in there to die, Adam.”
The misty look in Barbara’s eyes was unmistakable, but Adam knew he couldn’t chastise her for it; he had the exact same look in his. Instead all he said was, “You know we can’t.”
“I know,” she sighed. “I just want him to be safe.”
“That’s why we’re doing this-“ Adam removed his jacket and laid it over the boy’s bare arms, “So we can make sure lots of kids like this are safe.”
“Some family better love this little boy so much,” Barbara said. “Or I swear to God I’ll be requesting a warrant for their arrest.”
Adam smirked at his wife’s sudden change of tone. She was so perfect for this job. So, so maternal and loving, yet so ruthless and strong. He was really just here to cook and do the children’s hair.
“Come on,” he said eventually. “We’ve got a new placement to supervise tomorrow, and then we have to find someone to take this guy.”
“I want to keep him,” Barbara whispered. She said this about every child they met, but Adam knew she meant it each time. They’d taken on this role thinking they weren’t at all ready to have children of their own, but rapidly realised they’d been better prepared than over half a million families. As much as it pained them it was really a benefit that they were now too busy with work to have a child, or else they’d have adopted every child whose case they were given to manage.
“Me too,” Adam agreed. “But instead we’re going to find him a really nice home, with parents who won’t leave him in a burning house.”
Barbara looked uncertain.
“We’re going to get him adopted, Barb, I promise.”
She nodded, and rose without taking her eyes off the boy. “It’s Laurence, right?”
“I think his file said he’d rather be called BJ, but I don’t know where he got that from. His initials are LBS-“ Adam paused. “That’s probably pretty rough, he’s a chunky little guy.”
“Oh, he’s adorable,” Barbara cooed. “If he wants to be called-“ She stopped. The innuendo of the name had flown right over Adam’s head, “Bee-Jay, then that’s what we’ll call him.”
“Of course.”
They took one last look at the child.
How bad could he really be?