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The babies are missing.
Well, maybe “missing” is too strong. Hiding is the more accurate term. Either way, Sasha intends to find them.
Jon and Martin are nowhere to be found on the first floor. Their toys have been left abandoned, the telly playing a show she knows for a fact both the boys hate, and Martin’s favorite stuffed cow is also gone.
Tim returns from outside. “They aren’t anywhere in the garden, either.”
Sasha isn’t sure if that’s a reassurance or not. Jon is more likely to hide away outside, so if Martin isn’t in plain sight, either on the swings or by his favorite patch of flowers, it means that the both of them are outside or Jon is running around on his own.
“Let’s try the second floor,” Sasha decides. She shakes her head. Here she thought the boys could sit still for a few minutes while she and Tim started lunch. They really should’ve known better. “Where could those boys have gone?”
As she and Tim the top of the staircase, the question all but answers itself.
Jon’s room is the first on the right, Martin’s on the left, though the two of them almost always end up sleeping together. Why they don’t just merge their rooms and use the spare as a regressor room, she isn’t sure, but it must be nice to have the extra space if needed.
Sasha and Tim have the master bedroom, and Georgie and Melanie have the room right beside that, but Sasha’s suspicions lie with the out of place door between them.
“Well, that answers that,” Sasha says. “Can you go get them? I’m going to make sure nothing burns downstairs.”
Tim balks. “You’re asking me to walk up to the Spiral and ask about them?” The most he can offer the avatar of the Spiral is space and indifference. Anything else is asking far too much.
“He likes them, Tim.” Not only that, but Jon and Martin both made Michael promise to be on his best behavior or they wouldn’t play with him. For whatever reason, this threat has been successful for keeping him in line.
“And what’s to stop him from killing us?” Tim challenges. “You can pretend he’s our friendly neighborhood Spiral man all you want, I’m not going in there.”
“Fine. You go take care of lunch, then.” With a sigh, Sasha brushes past Tim and knocks on Michael’s door.
It opens immediately, and Michael grins down at her. It’s clear he’s trying to be intimidating from the way he bares his teeth, but they’ve lived together too long for Sasha to so much as bat an eye.
“Hello, Michael,” Sasha says kindly.
“Well, hello, Sasha,” Michael croons. He tilts his head at her, as if to emphasize the way his eyes glint unnaturally bright. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“Have you seen the babies?”
Michael puts an overly long finger to his chin, as if to contemplate the thought. “Why, no, I can’t say that I have. Quite irresponsible for you to let them disappear like that.”
Sasha folds her arms, looking less than impressed. “So it’s only a coincidence that it’s their lunch then naptime, I suppose.”
Michael falters a little. For all his bravado, Sasha thinks he’s a regressor as well, just a little older than the boys. A teenager, maybe. It would certainly explain all the pranks he likes to play.
“Don’t make me come in there,” Sasha warns.
“If you want to look inside, by all means, come in.” Michael steps out and sweeps his arm in a grand gesture. He grins at her. “Just remember that anything that walks through its halls will one day be mine.”
“I’d be more concerned if you didn’t crumble at the first sign of tears,” Sasha retorts on her way past him. Honestly, she’s gotten too used to Michael to truly be afraid of him anymore. He’s proven time and time again in the last few years that he’s all bark and no bite.
Michael’s halls are long and expansive. She’s seen multiple versions, some with no doors or windows, and others with only a select few options.
This particular setup is a favorite of Jon’s, displaying a prominent amount of doors that all invariably connect to one another. Hyper little thing loves having that many doors to run through, and his recent addiction to Scooby Doo has only made that worse.
There’s one standout door. Instead of the dreary dark colors, this one is painted a soft baby blue. If Jon had his way, the door to the nursery would look the same as any other door, but Martin needs it to stand out so he doesn’t get lost.
Sasha heads for the baby blue door. Might as well get the easy baby first.
She steps in, unsurprised at the bright pastels that greet her. Soft blues and pinks, gentle whites and yellows, decorate every wall and piece of furniture. A music box sits on a cabinet painted baby blue with fluffy white clouds patterned over it. While everything in this room is bright, the lights are dim, making it the perfect space for a sleepy baby to nap in. Michael makes these rooms custom, so it’s everything Martin could want.
Sasha spots him easily enough, curled up in the corner and surrounded by every pillow and blanket Michael could manifest for him. She treads over carefully, knowing Martin prefers to be woken as gently as possible.
“There you are.”
Martin blinks awake, lifting his head from the mass of blankets he’s cocooned himself in.
Sasha coos. He always looks so cute bundled up in his blankets. “Are you hungry, darling?”
Martin shakes his head, sinking back into the mass of blankets.
“Well, I’m sorry to say we have you on a schedule for a reason, dear.” She combs through his hair in an attempt to take any of the sternness out of her words. He’s the one that asked for this rule after all. “And if you want to spend the day little, you have to follow it.”
With slow, sleepy movements, Martin sits up. He keeps yawning, and if he had his way, he’d spend the entire day curled up in his little nest.
“Thank you, prince.” Sasha sits back, satisfied. Martin will need time to sort himself out, so she’ll drop back by after she’s found the other one. “Do you know where Jon is?”
Martin hums. “Hidin’,” he murmurs. His knuckle is drifting closer and closer to his mouth.
“Is he now?” Sasha grips his wrist, a movement which rouses him just enough to keep him from falling back asleep. “I’ll be back in a bit, love. Do you think you can make your way back to Papa?”
Martin shakes his head, pulling the blankets up around his neck.
Sasha smiles. “That’s absolutely fine. I’ll be back.” She kisses his forehead, and as usual, he leans heavily into the touch, lapping up the comfort.
If only Jon were so easy to deal with.
“Joooooonn,” Sasha calls, letting the nursery door click quietly shut behind her. She stalks through the endless hallway, knocking on each door she passes. Just as expected, the sound of muffled giggles answers her. The only problem is being able to find him, especially when he has the Spiral on his side.
She tries the first door to her left, but upon seeing that it only leads to the same hallway from a different direction, gives up on that rather quickly. That must mean Jon is either in the nursery—which she doubts; he wouldn’t want to wake up Martin—or a little farther down the hallway.
“Jon?” she calls again. She waits for the sound of muffled giggles, but none answer her. However, she’s had more than enough experience with hyperactive Jon to know that only means he’s planning something.
Behind her, she hears the sound of little feet trying to be sneaky and wastes no time pouncing.
“There you are!” She hooks an arm around his waist, and even though she’s not as strong as Tim, she’s able to wrangle him into a half-hug.
“No fair!” Jon cries.
“No fair? I caught you fair and square, mister!” She lets him go, holding him at arm’s length so she can see his smiling face. “Were you planning to scare me?”
Jon giggles, guiltily averting his eyes. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” Sasha gapes, and her mock outrage only makes Jon laugh harder. She feigns a sniffle, placing a dramatic hand to her cheek. “I can’t believe this.”
“Sorry, little Archivist,” Michael says, creeping up beside them. Jon flinches at the Archivist title but doesn’t correct him. “And here I thought we had the perfect plan.”
“Sorry to rain on your parade, but I have eyes in the back of my head,” Sasha teases. “Are you joining us for lunch, Michael?”
She still wasn’t sure if Michael even needed to eat, and while Jon is curious, his questions are usually brushed off with a laugh. Sometimes Michael joins them, sometimes he doesn’t. As far as she can tell, it all depends on his mood.
“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt,” Michael says. “Allow me to fetch the other little one.”
“Much appreciated, love.” Sasha takes Jon’s hand, ensuring he won’t try scurrying off again, but she can feel how Michael goes stock still behind them.
She drops it so casually that it’s easy to turn her back and give him space to process. Still, she’s spent enough time around him to know that his cheeks are burning blue or green or whatever color the Spiral chooses to blush today.
Michael clears his throat. “Yes, well… it’s much easier for me to traverse my own domain, isn’t it?” He opens the nearest door and disappears inside without another word.
Sasha rolls his eyes, not without fondness. In some ways, he’s exactly like Jon—faltering under the slightest praise, unable to handle a genuine compliment for the first time in his life.
The way he preens under her praise but tries not to show it all but confirms her earlier suspicions.
Without knowing it, she and Tim somehow collected another little one.