Chapter Text
Donella hasn’t expected for any of this to happen. She hadn’t expected to suddenly be launched into a parenting position, relying on the small, leather bound book that she’d hidden behind a panel in the wall of the workshop after hours of listening to Ulla ramble about her son. She’d secretly hoped that she’d be able to take care of the boy one day, alas it wasn’t meant to be, but she kept the book regardless. Either way, she hadn’t expected any of this to just...happen on the Thursday afternoon. But let's rewind, shall we?
Walking through Pittsford was a hit or miss. One day you could be walking and it would all be fine and dandy, and the next, you could have a knife to your throat and someone demanding you give them your money. Luckily for her, it was one of the good days. No trouble going on whatsoever. Well, that’s what she thought was happening until she saw the motionless body of a scruffy blonde haired child against a wall.
A frown painted her features as she strolled over quietly, glancing down at the boy with a bloody stump for an arm. He was a mess - hair covering his face with glasses, the frame snapped where his nose was and barely sitting on it with cracks all over the thick lenses. His pale, freckled face had an assortment of cuts and bruises, a particularly gnarly one through his right eyebrow separating the hair there. The shirt he wore was far too big for him, the white fabric hanging off his scrawny frame and coated in grime, blood and mud as though he’d never washed it in his life. His feet were bare, presumably sore and throbbing with pain from having to walk on the terrible quality cobbled streets of Pittsford’s lower class area.
The worst part however, was the significant lack of a right arm. Blood had pooled on the rocks below him, no longer dripping from the stump as apparent from the dried up puddle underneath him and on his shirt. Colour had drained from his face, well, at least Donella thought so as there was no way a kid could be that pale and it not be from blood loss. He’d need to get that wound checked out before infection set in eventually, the arm severed from below his elbow. She should’ve probably been more worried about his condition and the fact that his arm was nowhere in sight, but considering the harsh punishments for thieves that were caught in Pittsford, it wasn’t uncommon for someone to lose an arm.
She lowered herself to his level, glancing over his small figure. “What should I do?” she thought as her eyes scanned over the curled up child. She could send him to an orphanage, but then they wouldn’t get him the help he needed with his arm and the orphanages were already full as it was, unable to feed all the kids in their care. He’d most likely die there if she sent him there. She could just leave him here, but...something stopped her. Maybe it was just something stupid, but all she could think about as she stared at the child was Ulla and how she’d talk about her son all the time.
...Could she be a mother?
She pondered the thought for a moment. She’d made notes on everything Ulla would tell her about childcare, such as certain things her son loved and liked, and this kid couldn’t have been more than two years older than Ulla’s boy (Varian, was it? She couldn’t remember at this moment, more concerned about the scene in front of her). She could also make him a prosthetic if he needed it - scratch that, because he definitely needed it. Donella could take care of him if she really put her mind to it, but she wasn’t sure if she had the money to help two people. Surely she’d have to lower some wages to be able to provide for him and teach the kid how to survive out here. With a groan, she scooped the boy into her arms, him unsurprisingly light, as she carried him down the street.
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Blurry. Everything was blurry.
Hugo grumbled as he pushed himself into a sitting position, only for two strong hands of a grey haired woman to push him back down. Where even was he? And who was she? How long had he been out? He glanced over to his right, a metal prosthetic greeting him and sticking out like a sore thumb against the pale skin of his shoulder. He could’ve sworn that the stall owner only severed from his elbow down, so how the hell had he lost the rest of it?
“Good morning, kid. You’ve been out for three days since I picked you up and made your prosthetic.” the mystery woman muttered, placing his glasses in his hand. Upon closer inspection, however, they had new lenses with the middle of the frame crudely stuck together with some tape. He appreciated the effort though, carefully placing them onto his face and pushing them up his nose as he looked the woman in front of him up and down. “My name’s Donella. What’s yours.”
“Hugo.” his voice rasped and cracked. How dehydrated even was he? A table on the left of his makeshift mattress decorated with sweet sweet water and a loaf of bread. He stared at it, his mouth watering and, when Donella gave an approving nod, he lunged forward to scoff the bread down. It had been so so long since he’d eaten something this beautiful and heavenly - in fact, he can’t even remember when he last ate something like this. He gulped down the water and swore that Donella’s stone cold expression cracked into a soft smile as he indulged himself on the treat placed so graciously in front of him.
“Why did you do this?” Hugo whispered as he gazed at the arm, the sunlight peering through the window glinting off the metal. It looked like titanium, but that was incredibly hard to come by in these parts - or at least for him. Maybe aluminium? Or steel? Perhaps copper? Nonetheless, it was an impressive feat even though there was a slight pain in his shoulder and he couldn’t move it just yet.
“Because you’d die otherwise, either from blood loss or infection and I didn’t want that on my conscience.” She shrugged and her cold stare fixed onto him, a shiver trailing down his spine at the sight. He bet that stare could make a grown man cry if he was being honest. “How did this even happen anyway?”
Hugo took in a sharp inhale. “I...tried to steal something from the vendor that sells mechanical parts. Look!” he declared as Olivia rolled out of his shirt pocket, the small mouse trailing onto his fleshy hand before he moved her to his shoulder, the cold metal lingering on his hand. “I wanted to make some improvements to her, but he caught me and the law said that...this was a suitable punishment.” Donella’s monotone expression shifted into a frown as she heard his story, the two in an uncomfortable silence as Olivia rolled happily on his shoulder.
“Impressive creation.” She muttered, her face conflicted as if she was making a difficult choice. Hugo could almost hear the cogs in her brain turning. “So kid, you’re obviously smart so I’m going to give you a choice,” Donella started, shuffling to sit on the end of the mattress, her knees bending awkwardly as she sat down, the mattress directly on the floor which seemed to be made out of concrete or solid rock. “You can either get sent back to the orphanage, or you can stay here with me. You can work for your keep and to pay off the debt for your arm, with a home to come back to. Which one?”
Hugo stopped eating for a second, his hands hesitating before he took another gulp of water. She was offering him a home. A family. A good life. He didn’t even know her and she was holding out everything he’d ever wanted as if it was nothing. Hugo searched her face for any sign of lying or false hope, picking up on nothing but genuine feelings as her eyes locked with his. “Okay.” he whispered, moving back in the bed as she rose to her feet.
"You need a bath, kid. Just to get all that blood off of you and all." she commented to him as she started to walk out of the door and down the hall. Hugo sat in silence, playing with his hair as he waited for the woman to come back for him. She...really was here to help him wasn’t she? She wasn’t going to double cross him and leave him back in the alley, or throw him back into the orphanage where he really didn’t want to go back. She actually wanted to be there for him. Wow. That was new.
The woman - Donella - walked back in, an old, green tunic in her arms along with a jacket and some brown trousers with leather boots. “Okay kid. Here you go. It isn’t much, but it's the best I can do.” She stated as she guided him along the hall to the bathroom, which was a small room with a little wooden barrel for a bathtub. “Get washed and go to sleep, it's been a long day.” she declared as she turned around and left the room, closing the door behind her, leaving Hugo alone once again.
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As soon as she heard the boy leave the bathroom and his bedroom door creak shut, Donella strided down the hall to remove a panel from the wall. Inside the small alcove sat a leather notebook, already gathering dust and a pair of goggles from her former partner, Ulla. Keeping her footsteps as quiet as she could to not disturb the sleeping child in the room beside her, she made her way back to her room and sat on her bed, the object in question moaning under her sudden application of weight.
Her fingers trailed over the cover for a millisecond longer than it should’ve, the memory of Ulla lingering, as she shook her head and opened the cover to show parchment paper with ink staining their pages. Scanning over the text, she took in as much information as she could, the page illuminated by the small candle lit beside her bed. Scrawled across the pages were notes on Ulla’s parenting techniques for her little boy. She’d made them in hopes she’d at least see the boy and be able to look after him at one point, but that was a wish of the past. The pair had long since separated after the whole...library incident. Her hand drifted upwards to trace the scar trailing over her chin before she shook the thought away and continued to read.
Hours later, she finally set the book aside and let herself fall back amongst the pillows, the sound of snoring from Hugo loud enough to carry itself down the hall. A smile slowly fought its way onto his face, before she shut it down immediately and covered her face. God, she already cared too much about this kid. Oh well, she could look after him.