Chapter Text
When the bus rumbled away, it coughed a goodbye of dark smoke to his face.
Looking around, Vin saw no one was paying attention to them. Everyone was running around like colorful ants in a picnic.
Four Corners was the kind of place that benefited from being close to Denver, yet it was far away enough to be small and old-fashioned, quaint-like for bored rich folk wanting to "get away from it all."
Most people weren't looking to permanently stay in Four Corners either. It was a pit stop to and from the big cities like Denver and Colorado Springs, so no one bothered remembering faces who might not be there tomorrow.
It was perfect.
Two tiny fingers slipped into his hand curled around the handles of the beat-up burlap duffel he'd held onto since Tascosa. Vin glanced down at the unblinking green eyes tilted up toward him. The child leaned heavily against his thigh, lower lip stuck out. Someone was pooped.
"Up?" Vin guessed.
A nod and two little arms lifted. Vin stooped down. He waited until arms curled carefully around his neck before he hugged the small body to him. As he rose—oof, the pipsqueak was getting heavier—there was a wheezy honk from that darn stuffed, yellow-bellied, bright green alligator squished between them.
"Quiet, Gatey," Vin grumbled half-heartedly. He squared his shoulders and hefted the small body closer to him. Little gray dusty shoes kicked him.
His throat ached from talking with a deeper voice than he really had. Vin's lower back twinged from trying to stretch his spine up inches more when he spoke to the tickets clerk and the old lady in the seat across the aisle of the bus. Luckily, she had been more interested in telling Vin about her granddaughter than his story about riding cross-country to meet their mom.
A soft cheek rested by his ear and a soundless yawn tickled his nose. Vin eyed the service clock hanging by the arrivals area. He made a face. Yeah, they need to hunker down somewhere soon. Besides, the duffel hanging off his grip was getting heavier and heavier.
The station wasn't very busy; it was too early for people to come back from work from Denver. There was still a lot of people though, enough so a deputy was patrolling its shiny floors. Vin stayed behind a pillar and warily watched the dark-haired officer nodding as some went by with smiles for him.
When the deputy drove away in a black and white patrol car with the lettering "Four Corners Sheriff's Department," Vin exhaled slowly. He checked the boy he held, who'd been quiet the whole time.
"Hungry, Ezra?" Vin whispered into his ear. He'd have to get used to calling him Ethan in front of other people. Ezra didn't like it though; at three, he didn't understand why people couldn't know their real names or why Vin wasn't really eighteen. He ignored Vin whenever he called Ezra "Ethan," but that's what their new passports and birth certificates said: Ethan and Vincent Simpson. Vin'd had to keep his name though, otherwise it could confuse Ezra.
But right now, between them, Ezra could just be Ezra.
"There's a place to eat inside this station. Want to get a hamburger? Maybe a hot dog?" At the head shakes, Vin hesitated. "We could get a sandwich?" Another shake. Ezra fidgeted in Vin's hold and then dropped his head on top of his toy. Gatey squawked. Ezra did it again and it honked louder.
Yeah, it was almost time for bed for cranky toddlers, but lunch had only been some of the cold gravy-soaked fries off Vin's meatloaf platter, the grilled cheese sandwich ignored despite being cut into four smaller triangles.
Vin jiggled Ezra in his arms. That got him a tiny smile. Ezra hugged his neck tighter. Vin tried again, "You have to eat dinner. Maybe some spaghetti?" Ezra screwed up his face. "How about a pork chop?" He paused before adding, "No circles. And I'll buy ice cream."
Ezra seemed to think about it for a moment, tilting his head back that kinda reminded him of a grownup. There was a second, Vin really, really thought Ezra would say, "Yes," in that squeaky voice he'd remembered.
When Ezra only nodded, Vin forced himself to swallow back the funny lump in his throat.
"Okay," he croaked. "Maybe Gatey want some fries, too?"
The answering beam of sunshine completely squeezed the rest of that lump away.
* * * * *
Maude once told Vin that sometimes the best way to hide things was in plain sight; hide it in a place with a mess of people. She told him a list of such places although at the time, Vin thought she was just a pretty lady with weird taste in bedtime stories. But in her clear, soothing drawl, Vin could hear her telling him and Ezra about the lockers bus stations normally have for people to keep their stuff in.
After dinner, the duffel went into one of them, but he kept the oversized dirt-colored knapsack that was as big as Ezra. Vin stuffed the duffel in the locker, taking care not to look at it, not to check inside it, and not to look back toward the locker when they walked away.
Ezra needed to skip to catch up with Vin's longer legs. Gatey bounced in the tiny rucksack that hung off Ezra's shoulders. It held all their important stuff because no one would think to steal from a little kid..
A bump into the back of his knee made Vin pause and Ezra caught up. He stuck a sticky hand into his.
Well, not all of their important stuff.
The adults wandering around the station smiled at Ezra licking the ice cream cone, with an "Aw, will you look at that?" on their faces. He was sort of cute for a kid, Vin supposed. Ezra has those cheeks old ladies like to pinch and even if he jumped, he could barely reach Vin's hip. His green eyes were like pieces of soda pop glass and clearly didn't match Vin's blue ones. But his light colored hair—although not as yellow-white golden like Maude's—was close enough to Vin's. If no one looked too careful, they looked enough to be family.
By itself, Vin's hand wrapped around Ezra's tightened. No, they were family.
The tug in his grip made Vin look down. Ezra peered up at him, his ice cream dripping forgotten on the station floor.
"Sorry." Vin steered Ezra toward the waste bin and watched Ezra stand on his tippy-toes to throw the ice cream away. He chuckled at Ezra's face when Ezra considered his chocolate-covered fingers. Most kids would happily like the treat clean off their fingers. Most kids weren't Ezra.
Vin poked his brother on the shoulder to catch his attention. "Okay, let's get you washed up."
The station's bathrooms were clean, the urinals over by the back wall, a row of bright white sinks sunk into a painted wooden counter the color of sweet potato pudding. There were fresh flowers in cheap, plastic blue vases. Vin snorted. There was even a bowl of blue and white chewing gum Chiclets on the counter. Next to it, there was a just as colorful stripped bowl with a slick sign that read "Penny."
Vin peered inside the dish. He grunted.
Sure enough, there were a couple of copper pennies in the bowl. Someone had even chucked in a whole nickel. What a crazy town! He tilted the bowl to show Ezra who craned to see, one hand fisted around Vin's jeans so he could get some height, not that it worked. Ezra stuck a finger into the bowl, rattling the coins around. He quickly got bored of the sound and went to jump in and out of every empty stall instead, playing peek-a-boo with Gatey hanging out of his shoulder sack.
Music floated into the restroom from a radio Vin could hear but not see. All the sinks worked; the stalls were wide with wooden shutter doors that ran nearly all the way to the floor. Vin ducked inside one and peered below. He could barely see Ezra's ratty sneakers; he had to press his cheek down real low to do that. He chuckled when he spied Ezra's fingers wiggling at Vin from under the short opening. He gave them a tweak. Gatey squeaked back at him. Vin warned Ezra to step back before he came out of the stall.
"Looks good," Vin told him as he wet a hand towel from their pack. He made machine gun noises as he scrubbed Ezra's face, behind the ears like Momma taught him, and gave it to Ezra to clean his fingers himself because the brat wouldn't hold still to let Vin finish. Ezra rested his chin on the sink counter. Well, tried. Even on his toes, he could barely reach.
"You're such a runt," Vin murmured, smiling as he rinsed off the towel. He felt Gatey hit him on the back of his knees. "Hey! Watch it or I'll give him a bath."
Ezra stuffed Gatey back into his dark blue rucksack.
Vin snorted as he wrung the towel dry and washed his own face, behind his ears as well and the back of his neck. He combed his hair. His bangs flopped over his eyes, like a sheepdog. Charlotte in his history class once said it made him look older. Wonder what Charlotte would think of him now?
Gloom dropped onto Vin. His shoulders slumped. Aw, what was the point thinking about that? He combed his hair back, squinting at the tuffs of hair he could see behind his ears. Maybe he'll let it grow out anyway. Vin blew at his bangs hanging over his eyes. Then again, maybe not.
The warmth of Ezra leaning close to his leg made Vin look down. He snickered. Ezra tried to copy Vin with the comb before Vin interrupted him, fixing that mess of sandy hair to something less of a rat's nest, back into the side part Maude liked. He canted his head and studied Ezra. Maude did a better job though.
"Brush your teeth," Vin told Ezra as he fished out a dented tin cup from their pack. He gave it a sniff before he filled it. He took out Ezra's favorite green toothbrush, squeezed out what he could from the flattened tube of paste and gave them both to Ezra.
"Use the cup. Sink's too tall," Vin warned. He dug around his pack until he found the beat-up sign he'd swiped from their first bus stop. He smoothed it out and considered it.
The blocky handwriting claiming "Out of Order" was still legible. Vin had kept it between the pages of his mathematics textbook—why he saved the dumb book he wasn't sure—so the sign would stay clean. He fished out a penny from his pockets and swapped it for some Chiclet gum. He hoped they didn't mind he took two.
Chewing both pieces loudly, Vin went down the row of stalls and chose the one that was between two lights. Shadowed and toward the back, Vin figured no one was going to bother checking an "out of order" stall when there were eight others working. He placed his gum on the corners of the sign and stuck it on the middle of the door.
There was a slight pressure against his knee. Vin looked down to see Ezra against his left leg, green eyes focused on the sign like he knew what it said. Probably did.
"Just for tonight," Vin told him. He crouched to meet his eyes. "Then we're gonna find a place. Remember? I'm gonna get a job." Vin grinned. "Then we can move to an even better place. Just you and me."
Ezra wiggled until he twisted his rucksack around.
"And Gatey," Vin laughed. "But I ain't getting him his own room. He's too little. He can stay in your room."
Ezra nodded solemnly.
Vin sobered. He framed Ezra's face with his hands. Ezra stared back just as seriously.
" One more night, little brother," Vin murmured. He peered up at Ezra hopefully. "Okay?"
Ezra nodded. He'd never even pause to think about it and darn it, Vin felt that dumb lump in his throat again. He carefully pulled Ezra to his shoulder, felt Ezra press his face into Vin's neck, his fists clutching the flaps of Vin's oversized cracked bomber jacket he'd bought at a Salvation Army.
The two stayed there for a while until Vin's knees started to bother him. Then, with a loud sniffle, Vin straightened. He ruffled Ezra's hair, cackling watery until Ezra squirmed free and batted his rucksack with Gatey at his knee. Gatey honked inside its home.
Feeling loads better, Vin brushed his own teeth and washed his flushed face again. He went into the stall and stowed their big pack close so he could stretch his legs out on it. He wiped the toilet and pulled down the lid. Ezra climbed up to his lap and how lousy was it that they both automatically knew how to sit right so neither one of them would fall off?
Vin felt Ezra relax against his chest, head tucked under his chin. His fists were now around Vin's middle, or at least as back as his little arms could reach and grabbing some of his shirt layers. Vin opened his jacket so he could zip Ezra up in it with him. He felt Ezra yawn.
"Night," Vin whispered. Ezra nodded against him before he relaxed.
Vin stayed awake a bit longer. He listened to the muffled bus announcements outside the restroom. He listened to the music floating into the space, but it was set so low, Vin couldn't figure out if it was a man or a woman or even if a person was singing at all. Closing his eyes, it almost sounded like Momma when she used to hum to him when he was sick in bed.
Eyes burning, Vin rested his chin on the tousled light hair. It was soft against his cheek and tickled the corner of his mouth. Ezra fidgeted until Vin murmured some quiet words into his ear. Ezra tugged his handful of shirt and went back to sleep.
Vin sniffed again. He wondered what his friends were doing back home. School had just ended. Did they miss him now that he was gone? Or did they keep going to Lawson's Drugstore for a soda without him?
With Ezra glued to him, Vin couldn't wipe his eyes, not without dropping him off his lap, and that was never, ever going to happen. So he just squeezed his eyes shut tighter until he could feel something hot trickle down both sides of his face. He kept doing it until he felt dried out. He hugged Ezra closer to him, rested his head back on one of the stall's walls and drifted off to sleep under the hushed strains of Momma's voice.
* * * * *
"…told him that was a dumb thing to do and you know what he said to that? Nuts, I tell ya! And with…"
Vin jerked awake at the loud guffaw that arrived with a bang of the restroom door. Heart hammering, Vin sat there, listening as two, maybe three men came in, cursing and laughing—and peeing from the sounds of it—before they tromped out again.
The fidgeting from the lump burrowed in his jacket told him Ezra was awake, too. Vin checked his wristwatch. He grimaced. Oh well, they were supposed to get up in an hour anyway. He pulled down his zipper and Ezra wormed free. Vin nearly burst out laughing at the standing up hair and scowl Ezra made when he was freed of the jacket.
"Morning," Vin teased. He smoothed a palm over Ezra's head, thought of a better idea and shuffled both hands through Ezra's hair instead, mussing it up more until it stood up like a porcupine.
Ezra squirmed, wiggling, bony elbows bumping into Vin's chest and stomach until Vin finally set him down.
The sign was taken back, gum cleaned off. Vin made sure they both did their morning clean up. He caught Ezra making a face when Vin took a tentative whiff of themselves. They'd been able to sneak in to the last city's YMCA. It had been big enough that no one noticed an extra teenager or kid tagging along with a family. They'd used the showers there, but Vin doubted Four Corners would have anything like that.
"I'll figure something out, Stinky," Vin told Ezra, grinning when Ezra screwed up his nose as if saying, "You're stinky."
At that moment, Vin's stomach gurgled. Ezra cocked his head and poked him in the belly.
"Breakfast?" Vin suggested. The place in the bus station was open all day.
Ezra lifted up his rucksack high above his head. Gatey's bright green fuzzy face stared at Vin with its glassy blue eyes.
"Fries?" Vin's face fell. "Don't Gatey want anything else? Maybe a pancake? An egg?" At Ezra's quivering lower lip, Vin exhaled sharply but couldn't get annoyed at Ezra. "Okay, but if he don't finish it, I'm stealing his fries."
Gatey bopped him on the knee again and Vin ended up briefly chasing them around the restroom, laughing his head off for both of them.
* * * * *
Sure enough, Vin and Ezra ended up eating the rest of Gatey's fries. At least Ezra had a bite of his chocolate chip pancake, too. Weird though: Vin could have sworn he'd ordered the cheaper plain one. The waitress said it was a mistake in the kitchen, including the three sausages Vin got with his single fried egg.
She kept coming back, refilling their milks and trying to talk to them. She kept asking if they wanted more food; tried to pinch Ezra's cheek. Ezra at one point, started to slide down the padded bench to hide under the table until Vin moved to sit next to him. She cooed and made funny noises at Gatey, sitting there all quiet with his saucer plate and a single fry drowned in ketchup. Ezra insisted on putting the ketchup himself. Gatey had almost gotten a tomato bath.
Vin told her about waiting for their mom at the station. He told her since she lived close by, she thought it better Vin and Ezra came by bus and she would pick them up.
There was a scary moment when the waitress offered to wait with them. Then she looked like she wanted to follow when Vin pointed to a crowd of people hanging around the ticket booths and said he just saw her.
Poor Ezra stood on his seat to see, too, until Vin tugged him away. Vin wanted to pick up Ezra and run, but the toddler wouldn't like that and Vin didn't want a scene. He paid with one of the fives in his jeans' back pocket and held tight to Ezra's hand. He tried to look like he was hurrying.
* * * * *
JD knew no one liked morning patrol as much as he did. He didn't mind. Everyone up at this hour looked hopeful, optimistic, acting like the day was going to be good. It was nice nodding greetings toward those faces. Better than night, when many return from long, underpaid hours. They appear downtrodden, walked on, all used up as they get off the Denver buses. Evening patrol was a bit depressing. He had enough of those faces in Boston. He'd seen enough of that on his mother's prematurely lined face.
Shaking his head—he better grab some breakfast to shake off this cloud hovering over him—JD steered toward the all night shop that rented a corner of the bus station. He waved as Mrs. Potter looked up from pouring coffee for one table. His smile broadened when she went behind the counter and lifted up a paper sack in return.
"It sure pays to know the owner," JD joked as he stepped into the shop. He nodded to a few chiming "Morning" to him. He sniffed the air in appreciation of the brown sugar and butter that hovered around him. He eyed Mrs. Potter hopefully.
"Sweet rolls?"
The widow chuckled. She smoothed out the apron over her generous figure. Buck had told him once Mrs. Potter stopped laughing when her husband was shot down in a dogfight with a Zero over Iwo Jima a couple of years back. JD hoped the smile and fond headshake she was giving was due to him.
"Just ten minutes ago. All I do is bake, bake, bake these monsters." Mrs. Potter blew a dark strand away from her face. "This isn't gray hair," she told him ruefully, "it's sugar." She nodded at the paper bag JD was now eagerly peering into. "Milk and one roll." She made a face. "With extra icing."
With a broad grin, JD stuck his nose into the sack. "Think I could get another for lunch?"
With a roll of her eyes, Potter made a shooing motion with her hands. A glance at her window, though, she hesitated.
Checking over his shoulder, JD furrowed his brow. "Something wrong?"
"There was…" Mrs. Potter smoothed down her apron as she came to a decision. "A young man and a boy were eating in that booth there." She nodded toward the back. "Both boys really…"
Frown deepening, JD squinted at the window. There. He spotted a scrawny youth with a child at tow. They stood around the locker area, staring at the arrival gate.
"They been causing trouble?"
Mrs. Potter shook her head. She sighed. "No. They were no trouble at all. Polite. The little one's quite sweet. I just…" Her mouth pressed thin as she looked their way as well. "I have this funny feeling, you know?"
The station was starting to fill up with folks heading up to Denver. JD almost lost the pair in a sea of zoot suits and Sunday's best. He noted with approval that the older boy was holding the little one in his arms now.
"Said they were waiting to be picked up."
Still staring at the two, JD nodded. "I'll go check on them." He lifted the paper sack. "Thanks for breakfast."
"Deputy," Mrs. Potter bade as JD exited under the tinkling chime of her bell.
After a few steps, JD could tell he was spotted. The oldest of the pair met his gaze but before JD could offer a friendly wave hello, the boy hastily looked away. JD's curiosity welled up, and he quickened his steps. He made sure there was a grin on his face when he approached.
"Morning," JD greeted. He nodded to the older of the two.
Skinny like there was still growing to do, the youth eyed JD up and down before reluctantly replying with a barely audible yet courteous, "Morning."
"Can I help you boys with anything?" JD went on. He tilted his head toward the huge eyes peering up at him from behind his hiding place of the taller boy. "Hi there."
The eyes disappeared behind a pair of denim.
"Sorry." The other didn't look like he was. "My brother's shy."
JD waggled his fingers at the kid but the other just pressed his face into the back of the other's knees. JD chuckled awkwardly.
The older brother staggered off balance, but he recovered. "Real shy," he offered.
JD shrugged. He quelled down his disappointment. He wasn't that scary looking, was he? He studied the one standing in front of him. He reached JD's shoulders and met his gaze as if he expected JD to crack and cry, "Boo!"
JD kept his hands away from his hip holsters, a smile on his face. "You boys waiting for someone? Kinda early to be out here."
"Our father." The teenager glanced down, but his sibling was still hugging the back of his knees. "He's coming to pick us up."
"What's his name?" JD scanned the crowds. Not that he would know, mind you, but he expected some harried older man to come hurrying toward them. When he saw none, JD turned back. "He live around here?"
Before the boy could answer, JD heard a musical pair of, "Oh, Officer JD," from across the station. He groaned to himself and turned around to listen to the Bolt twins twitter to him about everything and nothing in general. When he was released from their conversation, JD turned back, but the two were gone.
* * * * *
There was a hard thumping that crawled up his throat as he tugged Ezra behind a pillar and then another until they were far away, behind the row of lockers by the time the deputy looked up. Vin watched, mouth dry, as the officer craned his head as if he could look through walls.
With a gulp, Vin crouched down to Ezra's height, his hands on the boy's narrow shoulders, and he tracked the deputy as he took a few steps to the left then to the right.
Don't look this way. Don't look this way, Vin mentally chanted as he peered around the edge of the metal wall. He exhaled when the deputy was called away by someone else— swell, everyone seemed to know him—and he strolled in another direction. The officer, though, kept checking over his shoulder. Vin waited until he could see the deputy leave the station.
"Hey, you're blocking my way." A gruff voice loomed over him. "That's my locker. Go play somewhere else."
"Sorry," Vin mumbled and they shuffled over. He straightened to walk away, but stopped.
Ezra's small hand was curled tight around as many fingers he could grasp. Cold, stiff, the boy's grip squeezed Vin's fingers like he was trying to pull them off.
"What's the matter?" Vin whispered. He crouched down in front of Ezra again. "We gotta go."
Unblinking, Ezra bit his lower lip.
Vin could hear the grouch above them grumbling about "brats" before slamming shut his locker. He checked left and right to make sure they were really alone in the row of lockers before he turned back to Ezra.
Letting go of Vin's hand, Ezra hugged his rucksack to him, head bowed. Inside, Gatey squeaked. Ezra sniffled.
Vin's eyes widened. He was so stupid. He reached for Ezra, but his brother shrank back.
"No." Vin said rapidly. "No, no, he's not coming. Not for real."
Ezra peered over the top of his bag at him.
"Just pretend. Honest." Vin carefully tucked him under his chin. He felt like a heel when Ezra sniffled again and buried his face into Vin's shoulder.
"It was just pretend," Vin soothed as he rubbed his hands up and down the shivers he could feel on Ezra's back. He swallowed hard. He kissed Ezra's cheek and hugged him tighter.
" I didn't mean to scare you," Vin murmured into Ezra's hair. "He's not really coming. It was just pretend. We were only pretending." He loosened his arms when he felt Ezra squirm. He leaned back to study Ezra.
"Okay?"
Ezra bonked him on the head with Gatey, who squawked in protest.
Vin grinned. "I'm sorry, Gatey," he told the soft toy before giving it an one arm hug and tucking it carefully back into Ezra's knapsack and the bed Vin made from borrowed towels.
"Good??" Vin asked as he watched Ezra zip his bag closed over Gatey. "I promise. No more pretend without telling you first."
Ezra nodded, paused and then held his arms up. Vin was forgiven.
His chest tons lighter, Vin accepted the shy grip around his neck as he balanced Ezra in his arms and the backpack slung over his shoulders. It felt like everything he could call his own was in his arms.
Vin rubbed his nose against Ezra's temple.
"Let's go see what this Four Corners is like."