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Thorin sighed heavily and shook his head. "Oh no, Dís. This is not good." He started, hands on
his little sister's shoulders.
"You think I don't know that?" She demanded, rubbing tears laden with her mascara into streaks
on her face. "I can't do this. I can't. I just- I can't Thorin. Kíli won't sleep, he's colicy, Fíli needs to
go to his little league soccer practice, and speech therapy, and therapy therapy, and jr. karate,
and school, and I'm working double shifts, and I can't."
He tugged her close, letting her cry into his shoulder. The apartment was silent, for once. Fíli
was at the aforementioned little league soccer practice with coach (and uncle) Dwalin. Kíli was
asleep for once, and over Dís' quiet sobs, he could just barely hear quiet music from his room.
From experience, he knew the best thing to do with his sister was to let her cry herself out. So,
although he hated the sound of her crying more than anything else, he just held her close and
ran a calloused hand from the back of her head to the small of her back again and again. He
didn't try to shush her, or give her empty platitudes- that, he knew from experience, would lead
to consequences ranging from frogs in his bed to getting his toes stomped on.
And while he was wearing steel-toed boots now, he wasn't willing to risk the frogs.
Later- he estimated about half an hour- her sobs trailed down into little sniffles and her hands
around his neck finally stopped shaking.
"Sorry." She rasped quietly.
"Don't be. You needed it."
"Thorin? What am I supposed to do now?"
Oh, he hated that voice. It sounded nothing like his precocious, mischievous, and proud little
sister and everything like his helpless baby sister while they were living under their grandfather's
abuse and parent's neglect. During the days when she and Frerin would hide in his bed
because he was fifteen and they were 4 and 5, so he had all the answers.
He never did. But he could give his grandfather a bigger target, and though he resented his
parents, he couldn't do much but love and take care of his (kids) little siblings.
He sighed. "Long term? I don't know. Short term? Take tomorrow, Sunday, and Monday off. Put
in PTO, you know you have enough."
She opened her mouth, and he tugged one of her ears. "Still speaking. You get together a
couple changes of clothes, go to my apartment, and sleep. Watch my movies or TV. Drink my
beer. Order pizza or takeout or cook if you want to. Wear out the hot water heater with as many
hot baths and showers as you want."
"I'd have to go grocery shopping if I wanted to cook." She mumbled. She'd buried her head
under his chin, but he was fluent in 'mumbling because I don't want to look at you.'
"Yeah, my cooking is- you're better off with takeout is what I'm saying. I'll take care of my
nephews, and call you every night so you know they're not dead."
She snorted in laughter. "I can't let you do that. That's too much to ask."
"Good thing you weren't asking, little sister. I'm telling you that I'm going to take care of you and
my nephews. You can fight me on it, but I don't think you've slept enough to be much of a threat.
Besides, I like to think I did a good job of raising you and Frerin in a much worse environment
with no resources. Things are better now."
He felt her mouth open and close, and he was pleased she stopped short of offering to pay him.
"And after a three day stay-cation?" She finally asked.
"After, you're going to remember that you have an older brother who loves you and wants to
take care of you. You'll call me or show up at my house at 2 A.M. in the morning if things start
getting bad again. I'll take Fíli to school and karate-"
"Thorin, no, then you'll be late for work."
"Nice try. Store doesn't open until 9 A.M. Plenty of time. All you have to do is get him ready for
school. I can even watch Kíli until the store opens." He didn't offer to pick him up from his
psychiatrist- that time, he knew, was something Dís needed to have with her son.
"Dwalin has
already offered to take him to soccer practice and back home, so all you have to do is pick him
up from speech therapy at 4, and take him to and from his therapy every Wednesday." Not for
the first time, Thorin felt grateful for speech therapy being on-site at the school.
She sighed heavily and shook her head. In return, he tugged gently at a lock of her hair. "I- ok.
Thank you."
"You're welcome."
"What if they fire me?" She asked quietly.
"Then you've got a brother with a house with too many rooms, and a chance to look for a job
that's in your field of study and not in a shitty diner."
She nodded a few times, and when she stepped back from him, she wiped her eyes again and
stood a little straighter, a little taller. "Ok. I'm-thanks. I'm going to pack some clothes and check on the little guy."
"You've got this." He replied.
"I've got this." She repeated, and headed into her bedroom, repeating those three words like a
mantra. He was reminded that she was a 25 year old girl again. She'd been 19 when she
married her high school sweetheart, and given birth to Fíli barely 4 months later.
She'd managed to get her nursing degree despite it, and had worked as a nurse for four years
before becoming pregnant with Kíli. The doctors had told them they'd never be able to have
another baby after Fíli- but against all odds, She'd carried and given birth to a mostly healthy
baby boy, but the pregnancy had been high risk, and she'd quit temporarily.
Then, a few months later, Víli had died in a school shooting. Thorin- and many others- felt the
pre-school teacher had died a hero, standing between a psycho with a gun and his class of 4
and 5 year olds, but that hadn't helped with the bills. The GoFundMe had raised just enough for
Dís to choose between speech therapy and counseling sessions for Fíli, who'd watched his dad
bleed out before the police arrived or living easy for the next few months.
Dís had chosen speech therapy and mental therapy for her son, and at the suggestion of the
psychiatrist, had gotten him involved in baby sports and self defense classes.
Sports, to have him open up and work with others as a team, so he didn't feel so alone, jr.
karate so he didn't feel so defenceless, and speech therapy for the stutter that had almost
disappeared before Víli was killed, and then come back ten times worse.
Through that, she'd been forced to take a job at a local 24-hour diner prepping takeout orders
due to the lack of schedule flexibility.
The last time he'd suggested letting him, and some of their other family members, take some of
the load, she'd been too upset- thinking it was pity, instead of love- and hadn't talked to Thorin
for weeks. During that time, he'd taken to getting updates from Fíli at soccer practice like a
creep.
Thankfully, Fíli had been more than happy to run up to his uncle and struggle through telling him
all about therapy, and the cool new project Mr. Elrond was having them do with beans, and how
his mom was doing, and how Kíli wouldn't stop crying.
After a small eternity (2 ½ weeks), Dís had texted him to come fix her sink because her landlord
was useless, fed him while he was there, and that was that. Maybe he'd take the time later to
remind his assistant of why she probably should be happy to be an only child next time she griped about it.