A/N: I do not own, nor am I affiliated in any way with Law and Order: SVU. The only characters I own are those that I have clearly made up.
Summary: Adopting a child is never easy; so what made John and Casey Munch think Fostering a child (let alone two teenage girls!) would be any easier?
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Exile: "The act of (involuntarily) expelling a person from their native land"
It was the only term to describe just how my identical twin sister and I might feel; after all, we had just been tossed into Snow Hell, New York without so much as a two day warning. I curled into a tight ball on the lazy boy chair, pretending to thoroughly read the latest issue of 'People' magazine as random thoughts entered and then quickly left my mind. How could Clara have thought this would be the best placement for us?! Had she truly gone off her old-lady rocker this time? She's been our social worker for like, a billion years, and the thought that two, warm blooded (despite the various arguments) teenagers, who were already adapted to the heat and Sun of California, might not care too much for the slushy white snow of New York never once crossed her mind? Anger coursed through my veins hot and steamy despite the clear chill that was slyly seeping its way through the cracks in the window beside my chair. I hated the thought of not being in California anymore. I gave a quick glance down at my skin; not even a full day yet and already it was looking more alabaster than it had been at the time of my birth.
Using the tip of my finger, I quickly flipped the page of my magazine; after all, ten minutes was more than ample time to have read the fruity little stories compiled onto this set of two pages. I really don't understand magazines like this; why would anybody trouble themselves so much just to see what kind of baby blankets Ana Ortiz picked out for the newest arrival in her life? Bo-ring! Seriously, people, get with the program. We have suicide bombers every day in the Middle Eastern part of this world and yet Brad and Angie are still the most important gossip in your life? Okay, that makes sense. I rolled my eyes without really noticing it and let out a short sigh.
I could feel a familiar queasy, knotted feeling in the pit of my stomach, which alerted my nervous system to be on its best look out: I was homesick, and I knew it. Homesick for what, though? I have my sister here, and she's the only real family that I've ever had. Homesick for California, maybe? For Clara? I couldn't quite wrap my finger about it, but none the less I could feel the threat of warm, liquid tears brim at the shallow surface of my inner eye-lids. I blinked twice, hoping to rid myself of the tears before the threat turned into something more, but to no avail. So, instead, I quickly closed the magazine I'd been using as no more than a cover to keep from talking to my new foster parents, and stood up.
"I'm going to bed," I announced, stretching as though my body were exhausted from simply sitting around. I even feigned a yawn, which was pretty impressive if I do say so myself.
"Alright, do you need fresh linens or anything?" Casey asked, looking up briefly from her the mile-high stack of case files on her lap.
"No, I'm good, thanks" I said, turning to retreat safely to the confines of mine and my sister's new room.
"Hold on," Munch put a reserving hand in the air. "Don't forget that tomorrow you and Emily need to meet us at the precinct. You know where that is?"
"Yes," I nodded; No. But I can read a map.
"Alright, good. Maybe when you get there we can go over all the hip new gossip out these days; I myself am partial to N'Sync, but I'm open to other celebs; I'm a pretty open minded guy," Munch added, smirking at the look on Casey's face, daring to call his bluff.
"Hate to burst your bubble, but N'Sync split up years ago," I commented before swiftly turning and heading to the room down the hall and to the right. I could hear an outburst of laughter from Casey as I closed the door; I hadn't made a great attempt at being funny, so I wasn't quite sure what, exactly, she found so amusing, but nonetheless she was laughing.
"Hey Vannah," Emily looked up at me from her latest book of poetry and flashed a small, reassuring smile. 'Vannah' had always been my nickname; short of Savannah, though not by much.
"Hey Em," I sighed resignedly and tossed my current clothes carelessly on the floor, replacing them with a cottony warm pair of grey sweat pants and a plain red hooded sweatshirt. I must say I'm still not used to dressing like an Eskimo for bed, and the bulk of my chosen night clothes were beginning to irk me.
"So how was 'quiet' time?" Em asked me, giggling smugly. Damn her and her ability to feign an illness; tomorrow it's my turn. If I could just get the watts down pat on the light bulbs so I could be sure my fever doesn't become dangerously high, like 126 or something….
"How do you think quiet time went?" I asked, raising a conspicuous eyebrow in the air at her. She's no bonehead; she knows just how much I hate 'family togetherness' time. I don't bond with people, ever, unless it's my sister. People were uncategoricaly known for abandonment; my parents, my grandparents, my uncle… shoot, half of California had abandoned my sister and I, always giving us back to the state when they'd had enough of us or when we'd grown out of the 'cute' phases of the ages they liked.
"Tomorrow is my turn," she sighed and lowered her gaze back to the words in her book, shifting tensely on the bed at the mere thought of bonding time with the newbies. Newbies was our word for our foster parents; you see, anyone who had a child already didn't harbor foster children in their home (unless of course they were hard up for cash). And generally, those who became foster parents never really became adoptive parents…at least not to us, anyways.
"It won't be so bad," I offered, hoping to be of some comfort. "Just bring your book out there with you and pretend to read. Or, well, in your case, actually read," I suggested. It wasn't that I minded reading, but I enjoyed the news more. I loved putting faces to names without actually having to do the work myself. "Besides, I'll be there with you; and once they think they've gotten to know us they'll completely forget about quiet bonding time and go back to their daily routines of boring mushy gushiness" I smirked.
Emily laughed quietly at this and closed her book, leaving a book mark to keep watch over her place. "You're not going to ditch me?" she asked, almost pleadingly with her eyes.
"Naw, I can handle another night. Besides, it's better to feign illness when they've gone to completely ignoring us. I don't think they really bought your stomach bit," I smiled, now tossing today's worn clothes in the dirty hamper.
"Oh well" Emily laughed, turning the knob on her lamp so that the light emanating from ceased. "Goodnight"
"Goodnight," I yawned; this one was real, and I was suddenly aware of how truly tired I was the minute my head hit the cushiony pillow.
"Oh, and Vannah?" Emily said in more of a question than a statement
"Yeah?" I asked, turning so that I was facing towards her bed.
"Thanks," she said, yawning and then flipping over.
"Welcome," I replied, yawning once more (damn contagious yawns), and then flipping to face the icy window. It was here that I let my tears freely flow down my eyes, allowing myself to secretly cry myself to sleep.
