Chapter Text
“No indication of any device implantation or chemical enhancement. The boy is for all intents and purposes, just an infant. Approximately one year of age. Underweight, no record of appropriate postnatal care. Bilirubin levels raised. Does not meet benchmarks: cannot sit up on own, cannot crawl, does not grasp items, does not babble. Does not cry when hungry, cold, or tired. In fact simply does not cry. Is otherwise healthy and with appropriate care expected to thrive.”
Cor Leonis continued staring into the distance. He was tired. So tired. After his long assignment, after the long journey home, after the long hours explaining everything to everyone above him in the chain of command, over and over again, and now a debrief from medical experts after days of tests and observations, Cor was more tired then he'd ever felt in his twenty six years of life.
“The girl is six years of age. No indication of device implantation or chemical enhancement. Underweight and malnourished. Specifically deficient in Vitamin D, Vitamin B, iron, and magnesium. Suffers from anemia. Social work assessment found evidence of post traumatic stress disorder, intermittent anger disorder, depression, and insomnia. Shows common signs of neglect and abuse including aggression, hostility, low self esteem, refusal to eat, refusal to follow simple instructions, and disregard for personal safety. Demonstrates above average intelligence for age cohort despite insistence of no previous schooling or formal education. With appropriate physical and mental healthcare may thrive.”
Cor simply nodded along. There was nothing the doctors were saying that he didn’t already know. The baby had spent its entire first year of life, an incredibly important foundational year, floating in a tube of whatever the fuck and completely cut off from any form of affection or stimulation. The girl had been left to her own devices, wandering around a dangerous facility at her own whims with barely any supervision. Nobody gave a shit about her. Worse, she had an inflated ego from being told she was smarter than everyone else and acted the part.
Cor handed over two damaged, broken, abused children to his higher ups with no idea what would happen next.
“So, in essence, we have no strategic use for either of these subjects?” That was the voice of one of the military men. Cor didn’t look up to see which. Some old guy who’d sat comfortably in his rank for a long time. Completely capable of talking about two little lives like they were inanimate objects only good for his own devices. “No proof of genetic manipulation, or enhancements, or weaponization. Just two neglected children from Niflheim.”
Just. They were just neglected and abused and fucked up. No big deal. Nothing to see here. Just two completely damaged innocent kids. How useless.
“In that case,” came a female voice, one of the politicians, “what should be done with them? Certainly we will not be sending them back.”
“Considering one of them is, let’s face it, the kidnapped child of a prominent Imperial figure it would seem we should make this decision with utmost care.” That was a male politician, young, currently side eyeing him.
“Truth be told, while the infant shows no signs of purposeful manipulation we cannot be too sure," a second doctor gave his prognosis. "I believe it would be appropriate to have him come of age under the close supervision of our own agents. See how he adjusts to normal life, observe him, and should the unfortunate need arise control and...contain him.”
Not for the first time this day, Cor felt like he was going to be sick.
“As for the girl, well, she’s an unfortunate case. She is simply too self-aware and uncooperative to hand back to the Imperials. If her father makes demands for her return that will be a case for the council to broach. However, the girl is adamant that will not happen. My professional opinion is that a long term health center would do her well. Someplace that specializes in disturbed children. In the meantime we could coordinate the legality of guardianship and set her up for a comfortable, albeit heavily surveilled, adult life.”
So that was it. The fates of those two kids, pulled out of hell itself, was decided between a bunch of old assholes who had barely spoken a word to either of them. Institutionalization, constant surveillance, a lifelong observational study, or whatever was most convenient for these people. Whatever helped them sweep the problem under the rug and move onto more important issues. Like tax referendums.
That’s what Cor risked his life and theirs for.
“We will require some time to iron out the details.” Another politician.
“In the meantime I will have our team continue monitoring their physical states.” The first doctor. “Any changes or updates will be noted in their charts.”
“I’m glad we could find a proper solution to this...unexpected little inconvenience.”
Little inconvenience. Incredible. Cor stood from the table and left the briefing room, already sure no one wanted his input anyway. He'd already made his stance quite clear and everyone treated him like a snapped shell-shocked infantryman for it. Like he was insane for suggesting two kids were just two kids.
They didn’t spend the time with those kids like he had. They didn’t win that little girl’s trust, hadn’t seen her cry. They didn’t bargain with a stranger at a train station to get some damn milk. They didn’t fret about how cold it was, how long they’d been awake, what lurked in every corner and shadow around them. They hadn’t seen the shit he’d seen.
He needed to see her. Maybe apologize before the people much more experienced and empowered than he was decided her fate.
Her room was 2-164. It was in the pediatric intensive care unit. She had been placed in the unique pathogens room to keep any prying eyes far away. That biohazard symbol meant nothing to Cor as he helped himself into the room.
She was sitting up, staring at a television, looking like she hadn’t slept in a week. The channel was on some kind of home shopping network. They were selling a gadget that promised to clean your car in half the time, and keep it clean for twice as long. There was no way a six year old was enjoying this.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey,” she replied without looking away from the television.
Cor pulled a chair from the corner of the room and set it at the bedside, taking a seat.
“They’re just about done poking and prodding at you.” Start with the good news.
“Woohoo,” she said flatly.
“They’re making decisions about where to put you now,” he continued.
She didn’t say anything.
“Your uh, your brother’s gonna be fine, okay? He’s gonna get adopted and have a family and all the normal stuff. Just like you wanted. Just like I said he would. He’ll be safe,” Cor tried to reassure her.
“But not me.” She continued to stare. Cor wasn’t sure if she’d blinked since he came in.
“No.” Why bother lying? “They said you need help. They want to...send you some place with professionals who can help you-”
“I’m going to a nuthouse,” she stated.
“That’s...an outdated term. It’s a place where kids who have gone through what you’ve gone through get help. And heal, and go on to live normal lives.” They had to. That had to be the case. That had to be what was ahead of her.
“And I’ll never see him again, will I?” She finally turned to look at him with bloodshot eyes. Cor couldn't tell if she was pissed off or distraught. Most likely both.
He frowned. What was there to say? What could he possibly say to make this better? Oops, sorry kid, you’re too fucked up to be adopted but the baby has a chance. He gets to have nice parents in a nice home, but you’re too vulgar and too angry to join. Thems the breaks.
“Probably,” was all he could say.
Not for the first time since they’d met, Delphia’s eyes began tearing up. Cor was sure this was only possible because the IV sticking from her arm had helped rehydrate her. He felt a twinge of something (guilt?) pulling at him when she sniffed hard and began rubbing at her already swollen eyes. She was struggling to maintain her composure. He felt he should give her a hug, tell her it was alright, like how any decent adult would want to comfort a crying child. A normal crying child. He already knew she'd hate that.
“You’re smart. Look, kid, if you can just temper the anger for a little while, just reel it back for now, maybe...maybe I can convince them to set you up somewhere else. You know? Maybe a school. You should be in school. Maybe a school where you can get all the books and homework and assignments your heart desires, and you can, I don’t know...you can show all the other kids how much smarter you are and be the best at...whatever it is you want. Everything, I don't know. That’d be better, right?” Cor asked.
She shrugged her shoulders. “I guess.”
This was best. This was the best option for her.
“Look, it’s really late, you shouldn’t be watching this junk. You should be asleep.” Cor grabbed the remote from the bedside table and flipped the television off. She sighed but fell back against the pillow anyway. He pulled the sheet and flimsy blanket up over her shoulders and turned the convenience lamp off. “Don’t stress about the future. Just worry about yourself, and getting better, right now.”
“Yeah, whatever. Bye.” Del closed her eyes and pulled the sheet all the way over her face.
“Alright. Bye.” Cor saw himself out. He leaned against the wall by the door, ignoring the stares from staff who didn’t know the situation and wondered where his PPE was. He really, truly wished he hadn’t picked this year to quit smoking.
Up two more floors was the neonatal intensive care unit. Normally, an infant of this age could be placed in the PICU. But he was so small, the only equipment that fit him was in the NICU. Room 4-924 b. In a plastic covered bed, hooked up to a dozen tubes and wires, and surrounded by buzzing machinery, was the little infant. A small bundle of fuzzy blonde hair, pale skin, and red veins. A blue light was shining above him. The purpose of it had been explained earlier but everything happened so quickly, Cor couldn’t remember what it was.
He remembered the bandages patched over the eyes were to protect them from the light.
The baby somehow looked more like a depersonalized experiment now than he had the first moment Cor had seen him. He knew it was all to help. He knew it was for his best interest. It didn’t make it any better to look at.
“You’re gonna be okay. Alright? We’re gonna get you some parents. You’re gonna have a home. You’ll go to school. It’ll be alright. It’ll be better than...that. You’ll be held and loved and the whole package. Okay?”
It’s the best we can do. It’s the best he could do.
The baby, in turn, stirred a bit before reaching an arm out into the unseeable distance. Most likely a reflex. Cor moved to take the hand, placing a finger in his palm, just a small signal that said ‘you’re not alone’. The boy in turn made a small first, grasping it tightly.
“Shit.”
“We’ve selected the Argentums for the case.”
Cor snapped back to attention. “What!?”
The man cleared his throat. That same whoever above him in rank asshole as before. “We’ve decided they would be ideal candidates to take the infant. They fit the profile of a young couple seeking to adopt. The agents will maintain intelligence gathering duties, switching off for cases that require travel.”
“They’re twenty one years old,” Cor snapped. They were both younger than him and these guys think they could handle raising a baby?
“Couples raise children at even younger ages. I don’t see their age as a barrier,” the man continued.
“They’ve never raised a kid before, their marriage isn’t real, do they even like each other?” This was not the life Cor had in mind for the boy. This was not the kind of family he wanted for him.
“Leonis, none of our agents who have children would be idiotic enough to bring that into their home. And let me assure you, one does not need to love his spouse to raise a well rounded child,” he smirked.
Of course. Of course he’d make an ‘I hate my wife joke’ right now. This was going all wrong. Those two were great agents, they were fantastic at playing the part of tourist couple or scared young couple or overeager lovebird couple accidentally falling into places they shouldn’t be. That was what they excelled at. And now they were expected to drop it all and raise a baby.
“Once his condition is stabilized, he’ll be placed in an orphanage for a month while the Argentums are familiarized with their new roles. That will give us a legitimate paper trail. They will be expected to bring him back for monthly checkups and check ins for the first year, at minimum. To be expanded if necessary.”
“And as for the girl,” this was a doctor. Different from the earlier doctors, “her emotional state has improved in the past three days. We believe the initial shock of her situation exacerbated the symptoms. The recommendation now is enrollment in a boarding school, at her own request, while closely followed by a caseworker. Should her mental state slip back she can receive the necessary care.”
The poor girl managed to fake being mentally healthy long enough to be placed under a microscope. Fantastic.
“Well, I do believe this solves our little tykes problem.” A politician joked. They laughed. These assholes laughed. “As for the facility itself, we’ll be reporting that to the council during the next session.”
Cor excused himself before the meeting officially adjourned, and made his way to the only place he knew to go.
“It’s bullshit, Clarus. They don’t give a single shit about these kids.” Cor always felt more than comfortable speaking his mind in the confined office of the Shield of the King. “They put in the bare minimum thought and now they’re being set up as little experiments to observe and prod along. They should have a real family! Real fucking school, you know? Not this sham. And the Argentums? Oh I’m sure they’ll be so happy to hear the plans that were just decided for them about the rest of their entire lives. It’s like they’re playing with cards and not people. Gods I need a smoke.”
Clarus simply frowned from behind his desk. “I thought you quit.”
“Yeah well, desperate times and all that.” Cor ran a hand through his short hair. He hadn’t gotten more than a couple hours of rest here and there in the past few weeks. The agitation, exhaustion, and stress was starting to overpower his will and sense. Or so that was his excuse.
“One of my men smokes,” Clarus offered while motioning his eyes to the left, signaling where the man could be found down the hall, “if it’s really that terrible you could probably bum one off him. But I do believe what’s really needed here is a good night of sleep or two.”
Cor crumpled into the seat opposite of his superior. “You have a kid, Clarus. You get this, right? You get how fucked up this is?”
Clarus took a deep breath. “I believe, Cor, my situation does not quite compare.”
Right, Cor thought. Of course. Your kid had the luck of the draw to be born into a family that expected and wanted him.
“I’ve read the report, the case notes from doctors and social workers, the recommendations and such. This really does seem like the best option available to them. Unless you can propose something better? I certainly can’t think of another way that satisfies every party’s conditions.” Clarus tapped on a stack of paper, the evidence in question. “Again, unless you can think of something better.”
Something better than this would be a cigarette. Something to get his mind back into the real world. Clarus was right, what other option was there? If he could force his legs to stand up, walk down the hall, and bum that sweet sweet nicotine, just one, maybe it’d help calm his frayed nerves enough to think clearly. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Just stand up and go get it, and everything will be alright. There really wasn’t another option.
...
There was absolutely another option.
He didn’t need a cigarette.
He needed to fix this himself.
“Actually...I think I do have a better idea,” Cor said slowly, trying to convince himself he wasn’t about to make the biggest mistake of his life.
“Do you? I’d love to hear it.”
Cor took a deep breath, chasing thoughts of addiction and relief far away. Fix the problem you created. Take responsibility for your actions. Make this right, let the chips fall where they may.
Cor looked Clarus in the eyes, and said three words that would upend his life as he knew it forever.
“I’ll take them.”
“This is insane, we have a perfectly good plan laid out, the best possible options for each of them, and you want to completely scrap that on the whims of an overworked and irresponsible boy!?” That man again. General Whoever.
Another five hours had passed for Cor without any rest. He spent the time waiting for his friend to speak on his behalf. And now, here he was sitting with Clarus in this old man’s office, taking a verbal beating. Cor noticed the walls were full of tacky nonsense all about how great he was. Emphasis on was.
“Last I checked twenty six was more than a legal adult,” Clarus said while helping himself to the unknown brown liquor sitting on the man’s desk, “and that it was rude to speak about people like they are not present.”
“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into! You have no idea how to raise a puppy, much less two children.” General Blanca, that was his name. Never liked him much.
“And yet I got them from Niflheim to the Citadel alive and in better shape than I found them.” Cor could feel a slight twinge of pain as his fingers dug into the arms of the chair. “Your plan treats them like a problem. You think that girl is a pain in the ass now? Wait until you tell her she’s never seeing that baby again. This isn’t going to turn out how you want it.”
“Funny, Leonis, I was about to say the same thing to you.”
“Gentlemen.” The Shield, ever bemused at the audacity of his young friend, nonetheless commanded a silence from them both. “These are two young lives we are speaking of. And not only that, but two kidnapped children from enemy territory. Keeping them under the safe watch of our own is the first priority, and second to that is ensuring they have the best chance at a fulfilling life. Which is why, after careful consideration, his Majesty has already decided to grant Leonis custody of these children for three months.”
“Just three-?” Cor started to rise from his chair.
“It’s a trial, Cor.” Clarus couldn’t help a tiny smirk. “You understand that concept. Three months. Let the two adjust to their new circumstances. Let you adjust to the realities of childcare. By then you should have a pretty good idea of where you stand. If you’ve changed your mind or cannot adapt to this assignment, the original plan can still be put into motion.” Clarus nodded to the General.
“And otherwise?” Cor asked, somehow feeling worse than he had when he stepped in.
“I’ll tell the Department of Child Services to have the adoption papers drawn up.”
“This is outrageous, delaying the inevitable so you can smooth out your guilt.” General Asshole pointed a finger right in his face. Cor wanted to take that finger and break it. And the wrist too, for good measure.
“Personal opinions aside, this is the ruling of his Majesty, and the terms that will be followed.” Clarus stood his ground, downing the rest of his glass of the General’s reserve.
The General, knowing when he was beat, silently shook his head and waved them out. Cor didn’t need to be told twice.
Outside, in the fresh air, the sun was setting. The passage of time started to elude him. He needed a shower. And a meal. Oh yeah, and maybe some sleep.
“Thanks, Clarus,” he sighed to the man standing nearby.
Clarus chuckled. “You should most assuredly not thank me just yet. Do you know what Regis said when I told him Cor Leonis, the boy who ran screaming into the face of death on multiple occasions, wanted to adopt two children?”
Cor felt himself deflate. “No, what did he say?”
“Nothing,” Clarus nodded, “he laughed. In fact, it was the hardest I’ve seen his Highness laugh since...well, it was a good laugh.”
“I appreciate the bout of confidence from you both.”
The Shield clasped a hand on Cor’s shoulder. “My boy, you have no idea what you are heading into. But then again, you almost never do. Yet somehow you always manage to come back just fine.” Clarus gave him a parting smile and made his way back home.
Cor hit the back of his head against the wall once, twice, three times. “Alright. Time to break the bad news.”
Back in room 2-164, the girl had noticeably fewer tubes sticking out of her. She still looked exhausted, and angry. A pissy little gremlin of a kid. She obviously felt comfortable being herself in his presence.
“So what’s the final verdict? Am I going to the looney bin or Little Miss Lucis elementary?” she asked. A kid her age shouldn’t be able to deliver a joke that perfectly deadpan.
“Neither,” Cor answered, unsure if what he was about to say would be seen as an improvement in her eyes.
“Then...where?”
“You’re going home,” he said.
Her eyes went wide as her face turned red. She balled her fists in front of her mouth to stifle a whimper.
Wait. Shit! Shit shit-
“No no, not- Shit no not back there. You’re...MY home. You’re going to live with me! For awhile. For now. MY home.” Cor was very much regretting not getting more sleep before this visit.
Del stared, dumbfounded, processing his erratic correction. “I’m...not going-?”
“No no no! Gods, no, kid. You’re not going back there. Ever! You’re...you and your brother are gonna live with me. For a few months at least.”
“Oh,” was all she had to say.
Amazing. He’d been her guardian for all of five minutes and he was already fucking it up.
After a sad attempt at pretending she had not actually cared about any of it, she spoke again. “The...nurse said I can go tomorrow.”
“Yeah, your discharge paperwork is, uh, we’re working on it. And I’ll be taking you home, uh, back to your new...a safe place to sleep. Your brother needs a couple more days, he’s got…’failure to thrive’. Disease. I guess. A couple more days though and he can join us.”
“Enough time to set up a crib,” she said with a nod.
“Yeah.” Wait. Wait yeah, a crib? Kids need a place to sleep. Wait fuck, they need a lot of things. What kind of food did he have? Did kids like it? What the hell did this kid like? He needed formula. He suddenly remembered something he read on the cover of a parenting magazine he saw in passing. ‘10 Reasons Why Breast Milk is Better For Your Baby Than Formula!’ Shit. Shit! Could he get breast milk? Could he buy that somewhere? Could he ask anyone that without looking like a total creep? He was fucking this up. He was going to give this baby a bottle of formula and fuck him up. He had string cheese at home, kids like string cheese right?
“You like string cheese, right?” He asked.
She stared at him. “What the fuck is string cheese?”
Cor stared back. “This is going to work fine.”
Cor shoved his key into the door knob long after night had fallen. He could sleep for maybe five hours. Then he had to, at minimum, get a crib, and kid sized bed, and some decent food, and maybe some clothes? Maybe she’d want to pick out her own clothes? Maybe he should have asked her? Pajamas, at least. She needed some decent pajamas. He could get all those at that department store he saw ads for on tv. There were happy kids in those commercials. Jumping around. Excited about flannel pajama sets on sale for 8.99.
He opened the door, ready to stumble to the couch (his bed was just too far away) only to notice something large and unfamiliar was in his way. He reached over and flipped on the light switch by the door. Waiting for him was…
A crib. Just...sitting there. In his living room. Cor shut the door behind him and took the three steps over to it. It was a perfectly good, if slightly used, crib. Inside was a wrapped gift and a card.
“Okay,” he said, picking up the card, “this may as well be happening.”
‘Don’t really need this anymore. Enjoy! - C.A.’
Clarus. This must have been his little boy’s old crib. Cor felt like he might cry. He picked up the haphazardly wrapped gift, gingerly taking apart the taped seams, and revealed the white box hidden beneath. A piece of paper was taped to the top of the box.
‘Good luck! You will need this. -Reg’ He felt a smile breaking out on his face despite himself. That smile quickly dropped as he saw what was inside the box.
‘Parenting for Morons: A Guide for Idiots In Over Their Head.’
Cor took a small amount of solace in the fact that the book was also obviously used. He took the book and dragged his feet down the hall to his room, collapsing into his bed without bothering to remove his shoes.
“Chapter 1: You Are Going to Mess This Up.”
Cor closed the book, threw it aside, and fell asleep.
Cor woke up at ten the next morning. After several expletives and a quick change of clothes, he was out the door and on his way back to the hospital. The book he had tossed in the passenger’s seat mocked him. ‘You are going to mess this up!’ the smug little cartoon man yelled at him from the cover.
“Shut it.” He grumbled to the very much not real person.
Back in the PICU, Del was not in her biohazard room.
“She’s getting a few assessments before she’s cleared,” the nurse explained, “just for insurance purposes. The doctor believes she’s medically ready to discharge though. It should be no more than an hour.” Cor collapsed in a chair in the waiting room. Across from him was a young couple, both looking exhausted and ready to cry.
Cor felt like shit.
He opened the book back to the taunting first chapter.
‘You are going to mess this up. And that’s okay! No one is a perfect parent. Just like no child is a perfect kid. What matters is that you and your kid are perfect for each other. In this book, we’ll go over strategies to help you discover what your kid needs from you, and then how to fulfill those needs. We’ll also cover the basics of how to keep that kid alive and thriving. (Oh thank Gods) Finally, we’ll have a section on how to care for yourself when the going really gets tough!’
Okay. Okay not as bad as he thought. It wasn't being sarcastic, it was genuinely trying to help. Cor found himself drawn into the hand holdy well meaning prose of the book his dear friend dropped on him. He read over tidbits like, ‘teaching independence’, ‘when are solid foods safe’, and ‘it’s time to take off the training wheels’. Most of the advice boiled down to, ‘You will learn what works best for you and your kid.’
It was equally helpful and useless.
“Mr. Leonis?” The nurse from earlier asked for him. Cor looked up. The man in scrubs was holding the girl’s hand with his left and a cardboard box in his right. Del was holding a large bag filled with clothes.
Before he could put the book away he noticed her scanning the title.
“Dude…” She said. “Seriously? Way to believe in yourself.” It would seem she was back to her baseline level of sarcasm.
“It was a gift. From a friend,” he clarified.
She snorted, mouth stretching into a wide smile. “Your friend’s a jerk.”
“Everything good?” He asked the nurse, standing up from his seat.
“Sunshine here is all clear for takeoff. Uh, the staff on the unit all pitched in some things to send her home with.” He handed Cor the open box. Inside were basic necessities: a toothbrush, hairbrush, some ties and ribbons, kid-safe shampoo, and towels. He also noticed coloring books, colored pencils, age-appropriate (for a normal kid) books, and a very gaudy looking box with bright neon colored animals that promised five different craft projects were inside.
“And clothes?” Cor asked, looking at the bag.
“Mostly second hand, we know how hard it is to keep up with growing kids. Just some things to help get you two going. Alright, it’s been a pleasure having you but I hope we never see you here again!” The nurse waved to her.
Cor felt offended for a moment before realizing he meant because this was the pediatric ICU.
“Gonna miss our littlest CNA,” the nurse said, patting her on the shoulder.
“Certified nursing aide?” Cor asked.
“Certified know it all,” the nurse corrected.
Ah, that made more sense.
The drive back to Cor’s apartment was eerily quiet. She had to be exhausted, after everything they’d been through. He thought for sure she'd fall right asleep in the back seat (Children under the age of 12 should always sit in the back seat). Instead, every time he managed a quick glance to check on her, she was staring out of the window. Not just vacantly, but with intention. Scanning every sign, building, person, and tree that passed by. It had been the middle of the night when they arrived, this must have been her first glimpse of the city landscape. He wondered how different it was from the city she was born in.
Approaching on their left was an all day breakfast restaurant. Having noticed it, Cor was struck with the realization he had no idea when he last ate a full meal. Hell, when had she last eaten a full meal?
“Hey,” he called to the backseat, “you hungry?”
There was a small pause before he could barely make out a ‘No’.
“You sure? When did they feed you breakfast? You know what, doesn’t matter, we’re getting waffles.” Cor flipped the blinker and turned the car into the diner parking lot. The doctor’s words from several days ago, noting her refusal to eat, echoed in his ears. “This place makes the best waffles in the city, you’re gonna love them.”
She frowned back at him. “I don’t even know what waffles are.”
And that was the saddest thing he’d heard since this whole mess kicked off.
“Yeah. Yeah we’re getting some. Right now.”
Del was completely displeased with the state of things. First, she’d been told the only way to keep her brother with her was to live with the absolute moron who’d fumbled their way over here. Second, she’d been patronized, talked down to, and subjected to a series of verbal tests with obvious measures that could easily be gamed for her advantage. They could have saved everyone's time and just asked her to grade herself. Now, when all she wanted was to put her head under a pillow and disappear into silence for a week, she was sitting on a vinyl cushioned bench in a too brightly lit dining area, and handed a children’s menu with three broken crayons.
Would the injustices never cease?
Del had no interest in the sickly sweet smelling food being cooked behind the far wall, but she had to admit to herself she’d lied about being hungry. Her stomach was growling, and she knew she was supposed to eat, but she just...didn’t want to. The thought of eating made her feel more sick.
The man who insisted on bringing her here ordered on her behalf, since most of the menu was (quite literally) foreign to her. The more time that passed before their food would arrive, the closer she knew they’d come to having another conversation. And she would honestly rather rip her own eyeballs out of her skull than talk to the mouth breathing moron who insisted, time and again, on butting into everything around him.
And as much as she loathed the idea, she did need to ask him something. Something only he, unfortunately, could tell her. And waiting any longer would only increase her anxiety and make eating even more of a chore. So, may as well get it over with.
“When does he get to come home too?” She asked, pretending to care about the fanciful line art composing a simplistic maze on her placemat.
“Your brother?”
She was about to answer with ‘No, the King, dipshit’ when a plate was set down in front of her.
“Shy little thing, isn’t she? More coffee, Sir?” The woman in a bright pink dress asked.
The man, Cor, made a face like he’d just heard a hilarious joke, and cleared his throat. “Yes, thank you.”
The pink woman filled his cup and walked back to the counter.
“Doctor said he needs a couple more days...just a little more time to reach those benchmarks. But the good news is, he’s getting there just fine. Doc says he’s making a quick rebound, getting healthier every day. We’ll be bringing him home in no time.” He took a fork and knife and started cutting into the stack of...waffles, in front of him.
She looked down at her own plate. There was a single one of those waffles, as well as two strawberries right next to each other, a fluffy white substance framing the top, and a slice of fried meat in a semicircle at the bottom of the thing. In the middle was a small scoop of butter.
“Oh. It’s a face,” she observed solemnly, begrudgingly cutting into the food. People here seemed to relish in condescending to children. “He needs a name.”
Cor looked like he had only just realized this for the first time.
“Seriously?!” She groaned before taking a bite. It was...surprisingly good? Fluffy, warm, sweet but not too much so.
“It’s...it’s been a long...I figured we could discuss that together.” Yeah, nice save, Del thought as she rolled her eyes. “You need a name, too.”
“...I have one,” she replied to the idiot who had been using it this whole time.
“It’s probably a good idea to change it though. At least on paper. We don’t want..." he lowered his voice, "anyone finding you.” Yeah, that was a pretty bad sentence to be taken out of context. Still, she really hadn’t considered the possibility of a new name for herself. “Unless you really like your name, then we can-”
“I don’t,” she snapped quickly. And she didn’t! She hated the name Delphia. She hated that it sorta almost rhymed with her last name. She hated the way her mother said that name, and the few and far between times her father had said it. She hated every attempt people made at making a nickname out of it. “I want a new one.”
“Alright. Anything you got in mind?”
She considered the question carefully. She couldn’t think of a single name that didn’t belong to someone she detested. Del focused again on the placemat in front of her. Next to the maze was a drawing of a girl and written instructions: ‘Petunia needs to get to school pronto! Help her find a shortcut before the bell rings.’ No, that name also sucked. She took another bite. This dish was growing on her. Finally, she shook her head.
Cor looked at his half finished waffles with a very serious stare. “What do you think about...the name Amelia?” he asked.
She paused. She...didn’t think anything? She didn’t hate it. That had to mean something.
“It’s okay,” she replied.
“It uh, it was my Mom’s name. It means ‘one who strives’. Think it fits you just as well as it did her.”
Oh Gods, he was getting super sentimental now.
But he wasn’t wrong. One who strives, or struggles to achieve something. She certainly felt like she was struggling to achieve some peace and quiet. It was a name she’d never heard her parents say, untainted by their venom. And it was, admittedly, kinda pretty, which shouldn’t matter but added an extra plus.
“It’s good. I’ll take it.” She nodded while stabbing at the bacon smile with her fork.
“Alright. Amelia. Okay.” He exhaled heavily. “That’s one thing done.”
Amelia started to feel sorry for him. He truly was an idiot completely out of his element but he seemingly meant well. “We should take our time picking his name out. It needs to be perfect.” She threw him a bone. She was sure there would be plenty enough missing that she’d have to yell at him for as it was. “Also, you do know they won’t let you take a baby home from the hospital without a car seat, right?”
Cor pulled his cell phone from his pocket and poked around on the screen for a moment.
“Alright, let’s start a list. At the top we have ‘a name’. Now car seat. I’m going to get ahead of whatever sarcastic quip you have brewing and state we already have a crib. Formula, bottles...clothes…pacifiers?”
Amelia sighed. This was going to be an exhausting venture. “Prolonged use of pacifiers is correlated with increased middle ear infections and dental issues.”
“So...so uh, no to pacifiers. Bibs. Toys! Babies need toys…” He continued tapping along.
“Diapers.” Amelia added, while mentally setting up a reminder to make sure every toy was age appropriate and contained no small easily swallowed parts. As much as she didn’t like this guy, she had to admit, unlike every other adult she’d ever met, Cor at least tried. He was genuinely trying to do right by her brother, and that was worth something. It was worth a lot of somethings. “And stuff for a baby first aid kit, like rash cream.”
“Smart, good, see that’s why we’re doing this together. Two brains, we’ve got this.” Cor smiled at her.
For the first time since she left that awful place, she actually believed him.
“Just one more overnight, and your baby brother will be all set to go home!” The social worker smiled down at Amelia. “Now, since this is a foster care situation, we do have a few questions to ensure everything’s good to go. Just some basics for regulatory purposes.”
“Alright, give it to me,” Cor said with a sigh. Amelia was busy standing on her toes, staring lovingly at the baby who was now able to see the world around him. And he was making noises. Adorable noises.
“Do you have a car seat properly installed to legal specifications?”
“Got it in this morning. Completely secure.”
“Great. Are there smoke and carbon monoxide detectors in your home?”
“Brand new, fresh batteries.”
“Electrical outlets?”
“Plastic plugs. And the cabinets have plastic baby locks. Got rid of the long cords on the blinds too.” Cor smirked, very proud of the many, many hours of work he and Amelia had put into getting everything ready.
“Why does his wristband say that?” She asked, pointing at the baby.
Cor frowned and looked over. On his medical bracelet was printed ‘BBBOY TRAPROMPTO’
“Oh, that’s a naming code we use for infant medical records. The first part is to identify him as a baby boy. Then the TRA part stands for ‘trauma’, which is the unit where his record was started. When we don’t have a last name for the baby, the electronic charting program randomly assigns a word as a placeholder name, completely unique from everyone else in our system. That way we can make sure all of his care stays in the same record.”
“But, when he gets a real name, you’ll be changing it?” Cor asked. Dumb question. He felt like he was asking a lot of dumb questions lately. Better to look dumb than screw something up completely and be dumb AND a bad parent.
The social worker nodded. “The medical record number will be reassigned to the new name.”
“Hm.” Was all Amelia had to say to that.
“You know, everyone on the team thought it was funny that the computer assigned him the name ‘Prompto’. In latin it means ‘quick’. And he’s certainly been quick to come back from such a precarious state. Well Mr. Leonis, it sounds like you have everything under control.”
Cor suppressed the urge to break down laughing.
“Here’s my card with my contact information, if you have any problems or needs please don’t hesitate to call me. It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Amelia. And you’ll be going to a happy home tomorrow, won’t you? We’re all going to miss you, Prompto.” She smiled and waved at the little family unit before leaving the room.
“Prompto!” Amelia whispered urgently. The boy turned his head to look at her. “Prompto!” She said again, putting her arms in the air. The boy giggled. It was the best sound Cor had ever heard in his life. “I think he thinks his name is Prompto now.” She said, turning back to look at Cor with a very serious expression.
“Alright. That’s the last item on the list then.” Cor didn’t think too hard about the name. It certainly felt cute being attached to that little face. They stayed there awhile longer, Amelia making sounds and faces just for her giggling brother, Cor sitting slumped in a chair smiling at the display. The nurses passing by commented on what a sweet looking family they were and what a lucky woman the mother must be. Cor had to laugh at the assumption. No, he was in this by himself. And he was going to screw this up. And apparently, that was okay.