Chapter Text
Mortimer meeting Miles for the first time in a decade. Mary Jane has just died and Miles was temporarily placed in the foster care system. He’s only socially transitioned, started going by a new name and new pronouns. But he couldn’t afford physical transition even with Zienna’s good trans healthcare. So this is the first time Mortimer learns he has 6 sons instead of 5.
[Warnings]
- Mentioned abuse
- Mentioned transphobia
—
Mortimer arrived at the foster house in his old beat-up car. He had received the call the day before that his ex-wife had died and left their only daughter behind. She was still a minor and had been placed in the foster system, but at her age there was no chance of anyone adopting her. The court decided it would be better to place her with her father for the last few months of her childhood than let her age out of the system. Give her a better chance at success with a parental figure of some kind than risking her bouncing from fosterhome to fosterhome.
Mortimer paused in his car a moment, caught off guard by the girl waiting outside with nothing but a small suitcase halfway full of clothes, and the sweater and shorts she’s wearing. This kid looks nothing like the daughter he’d left over 10 years ago. The toddler he left was full of life and wonder at the world, constantly pestering him and Mary Jane with questions. Even bothering her brothers left and right. But this kid standing on the sidewalk? All the life is drained from her eyes. She stands like the weight of the world is on her shoulders, and she doesn’t look up from the spot she’s studying on the ground.
“Madeline?” Mortimer asks as he steps out of the car. As if hesitant that maybe he has the wrong place… But she has the same deep blue eyes he remembers. She has his curly red hair, the same orange and cream coloring… This is his daughter, he’s sure.
“Miles.” She answers, softly, voice hoarse. Mortimer blinks. He couldn’t hear. Mary Jane had long ago taken his hearing, and even the hearing aids doctors gave him barely worked. They helped pick up normal conversation easier, but it was still difficult. So Mortimer couldn’t hear the correction.
He slowly makes his way over. Carefully, not wanting to scare her. Mary Jane must have done so much to hurt her if she won’t even look at him. Or must have scared her, convinced her that her dad was some horrible monster. Mortimer wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case. But now that he’s closer, he can see how tall she’s become. Almost as tall as he is. She might be as tall as he is actually. She used to be so small…
“.. How are you feeling?” Mortimer finally asks, having stood on the edge of the sidewalk, staring for far longer than was necessary.
Madeline looks away. Her grip on her suitcase tightens. Her jaw tenses. “Fine.” She says it simply, now loud enough for Mortimer’s hearing aids to pick up. She sounds so grown up now… Nothing like the toddler he remembers.
Mortimer glances down at the suitcase for a moment. “Is.. Is this all you have?” He tilts his head to the side a little. Madeline scowls.
“Yeah. But it’s just… Stupid skirts and dresses.” She kicks at the ground. “Mom banned shorts. Stole these ones from Maverick. Before he left.”
Mortimer blinks. “Your mother… Banned you from wearing shorts..?” He sounded confused. Apparently it was enough to make Madeline look up at him, finally. Mortimer almost melted then and there at her eyes. Still that same deep blue, but now… Carrying a pain he knew all too well.
“Yeah… Said they were too ‘boyish’...” Madeline now eyed him with a sense of suspicion. “Didn’t you… Know that?”
Mortimer shook his head. “No, your mother never.. talked to me after the divorce..” It wasn’t a complete lie. The only reasons Mary Jane ever reached out to Mortimer was to yell at him. Which became easy enough to ignore; put the phone down and turn off hearing aids. Worked well enough.
“Didn’t Mark tell you?” Madeline asked, ears flattening against her head. “Or Marshall??”
“Malaki and Maverick were the only ones still on speaking terms with her.” Mortimer explained, looking away from Madeline’s stare. It was intense. “But even then, just barely.. I don’t think they knew..”
“That’s stupid!” Madeline snapped, her tail lashing. “They knew! They knew and didn’t do anything!! They wanted me to be a girl just like mom wanted!!”
Mortimer blinked again, staring at her. “... You don’t want to be a girl?” He asked. This was news to him, and evidently….only him.
But that question made Madeline pause. “...no.” She whispered. Mortimer didn’t hear the answer, but he saw her lips move. He saw the way she looked away, the way she squished in on herself. He saw the way she looked….scared.
“What do you want to be?” He asked gently after a few moments. He saw the way she flinched at first, as if expecting…punishment. But then she glanced up at him, blinking. She looked surprised that he reacted gently, and kindly, instead of with anger.
Madeline frowned, looking down at her feet for a little bit…then looking back up at him again. Mortimer saw the way she forced herself to stand up straight, to puff out her chest with faux confidence. He saw the way she put on a mask of determination.
“I want to be a boy. I want to go by Miles, I want to use he/him pronouns.” Miles responded. “I want to wear shorts and play sports and do everything my brothers do. I want to be seen as my brothers are seen, strong and confident. I want to be a boy.”
Mortimer smiled. A real, genuine smile. And that seemed to catch Miles off guard. Even more so when Mortimer pulled his son in for a hug.
This was not the toddler he’d said goodbye to all those years ago. This was someone shaped by the abuse he’d endured, and had come out the other side. This was someone who had created his own identity, his own sense of self. This was someone who Mortimer knew he would never stop loving, and never stop loving calling “son”.
“Miles is a lovely name.” Mortimer finally responded as he released the hug, stepping back to look in his son’s eyes. They were brimming with emotions; shock and tears. Mortimer gently wiped away a tear that had fallen. “A lovely, lovely name. It suits you.”
Miles just stood there, blinking in surprise at his father. “Y-? You’re not mad?”
“Mad?” Mortimer blinked, then smiled. “I would never be mad. I am very proud of you… And I am very sorry I couldn’t protect you from everything your mother did. I hope to get to know the you that you want me to know. Madeline or Miles, or anything else or inbetween. No matter what, you will be my child. And now that I can.. I will be by your side and here to help.”
“.. Can.. Can I cut my hair?” Miles asked softly. Mortimer smiled brighter.
“Yes, and we can get you some shorts. And pants. And whatever other clothes you want. You’ll need more than just what’s in that suitcase after all.”
Finally, for the first time since Mortimer pulled up to the house… Miles smiled.
“Okay. Thanks.” Miles paused a moment, then offered sheepishly. “I guess if… If we’re sharing names.. What should I call you?”
“You used to call me Papa when you were little…” Mortimer smiled sadly. “But now that you are grown, you can choose something else if you want.”
Miles thought about it a moment, then shook his head. “I’ll stick with Papa. Thank you, Papa.”
“Of course, Miles.”