Chapter Text
This little one was too young to be alone in the world. That was Ace’s immediate thought. He had been sent out on an emergency mission in response to an SOS, but when Ace’s squad arrived, all they’d been able to do is fend off the attackers long enough for the residents to evacuate. Families were torn apart. Trauma was carved into every heart that still beat. Ace hoped that it wouldn’t be the same for this child. He was asleep now, but he had screamed for a familiar face from the moment Ace recovered his capsule from the rubble.
It was possible that one or both of his parents were among the evacuees. It was a task that Ace could have delegated, and in all honesty it was one he probably should have delegated, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. The possibility of another child left orphaned in the aftermath of this conflict was something he refused to look away from. There was an argument to be made about whether it was self-destructive behaviour or not, but those moments when those families actually were reunited again made it all worth it no matter how rare they were.
Ace had dropped off the child with the Silver Cross Aid not long after making it back to the Land of Light. The time between then and now had been filled with asking around to see if anyone recognized the child and a rest that was almost certainly too short to be adequate, but no one needed to know about the latter. Unfortunately, when he doubled back to check on the child, he arrived in the middle of some very familiar wailing and a status report to Mother of Ultra.
“Commander, he’s physically healthy, but we’re having trouble soothing him.”
“The poor thing... He must be so scared,” Mother of Ultra said, her voice at a near whisper.
The possible reasons for that sombreness were things that Ace didn’t really want to think about. Not any more than he had to, at least. Before he even had the chance to make his presence known and pivot the conversation elsewhere, the Ultra who had given the report noticed him and straightened up. Ace couldn’t be sure whether that was out of nerves or an almost endearing reverence for protocol.
“Ace, you don’t have to do this.”
“I’m fine, Mother. Don’t worry.”
Ace was not fine, but he still felt compelled to follow the sound of that crying. Mother of Ultra followed close behind with her hand gently resting on his back. It was so long ago now. Shouldn’t he be over this? After all, he wasn’t alone. He had the Ultra Brothers of course, and Mother of Ultra and Father of Ultra loved him as much as they did Taro. Taro himself never treated him as anything less than a brother in both the best and worst ways. And yet...
In that moment, Ace asked himself if grief ever truly healed.
The child was beginning to tire out again when Ace and Mother of Ultra walked into the room. His cries had softened into sobs and whines instead of all-out crying, but the pain in that voice wasn’t diminishing in the slightest. No amount of toys or food seemed to pacify him either, as the pile left askew on the table proved. One Ultra tried her best to rock him to sleep, but the child only squirmed to the point where she had no choice but to put him back down.
However, during that all too short moment, he was quiet.
Mother of Ultra reacted first, and she lifted him out of his capsule for a hug. The child still squirmed, but less so, and he was silent. He wasn’t happy by any stretch of the imagination, but this was progress! In recognition of that progress, the other members of the Silver Cross Aid in the room visibly relaxed as if on cue.
“That’s a good boy. You’re a brave little one,” Mother of Ultra cooed as she rocked from side to side in an attempt to soothe him further.
It was working well until the child saw Ace standing there.
He screamed bloody murder.
Ace’s mind settled on the worst possible conclusion, which was that his presence reminded the child of what had happened on his home planet. Without thinking twice he turned to leave the room, only to be stopped by Mother of Ultra.
“Please wait!”
Those words had to hang in the air before he heeded them, and it took another moment for him to collect himself before turning around. The child was flailing his arms in Ace’s direction.
“I think he wants you to hug him.”
Despite everything, there was a smile in Mother of Ultra’s voice.
Ace was at a loss for words. It was true that he’d held on to the child’s capsule for dear life during the evacuation. It was also true that he’d done that while showing his attackers no mercy. If anything, he would have thought the child would have been frightened by being caught in the midst of a fight. He was staring at evidence that proved that clearly wasn’t the case, and he was no closer to understanding why, but that didn’t matter now.
If the child wanted a hug from him, then Ace would give it, no questions asked.
The boy was quiet and didn’t even squirm when Mother of Ultra handed him to Ace, which only added to his confusion. The last time he held a child was when Taro was small. It was familiar, but also not. Ace held him as if he was made of glass, which was less out of awkwardness and more out of recognition of how fragile a life could be. This fragile life had been through so much already, but he still giggled when Mother of Ultra poked his cheek.
His crying from earlier was instantly forgiven by everyone in the room.