A/N Here goes, I've never even thought about writing this character, but some1tookmyname picked him and RositaLG gave me the key words and took me out of my comfort zone.
Thanks PorQueSarah and JenLovesBones for the beta'ing and helping me understand a five year-old's mind set.
I had to do some re-watches and research. I think I remained true to the character. All errors are my own.
Enjoy!
Disclaimer: It would be nice to own it, but I don't.
He gazes at the office window at the Department of Motor Vehicles. He glances at his watch, only two minutes have passed since getting his ticket and sitting down. His eyes go back to the office window. Everyone is looking. It happens to be that window where the Driving Instructor tells a nervous 16-year-old whether or not they get to drive home with the temporary paper license or that tattered permit. The current girl inside is dressed like she is ready for the beach. Sunglasses, flip-flops and a sundress over a bathing suit. She shows no real emotion as the trooper speaks to her. The trooper's back is to him, making it impossible to glean whether it is pass or fail.
He glances at his watch again. Another five minutes pass slowly. His mobile phone is on its last leg, so playing a game is not an option. No one calls him, so he assumes they do not need him to talk to a suspect, yet. He stuffs the dying phone back into his suit jacket while adjusting his posture and looking up at the big screen displaying the numbers for a turn in line. Forty numbers until they call his. Maybe he could inform the woman at the front he works for the FBI? No, he figures he can just wait it out. Plus, he doesn't have a badge.
The number finally flashes on the big screen. His number. A woman bristles by. She passes him smelling of pineapple. She doesn't seem to care that she is cutting in line. The stoic DMV employee looks at him, speaking with her eyes. 'Let me take care of this so a big scene doesn't come to fruition.' He cannot bring himself to say anything because the smell of pineapple paralyzes him with fear.
He was five years old. He was living in his last foster home before his parentsadopted him. Gretchen and Paul, his guardians of the past year were not always the loving, warm parents they projected when the officials checked in with a homestudy. Paul was a carpenter, he made most of the furniture in the house. There was big oak desk in the room upstairs, opposite the boys' room. He would settle in there after school to do his homework. His legs would swing because he wasn't tall enough to touch the floor below.
He would trudge upstairs after school, like clockwork. Armed with his green reading pack, he had picked his two books for the week, The Lucky Baseball Bat and Saturn. He read the books himself. He carefully copied the title and author on the paper to pass back to the teacher. The other boys didn't care about school. Their blue and red reading packs were never opened.
The air vent from the kitchen was below the desk, opening where the chair would roll to when he was done with homework for the night. He smelled it. Pineapple. Gretchen loved pineapple. The kitchen was decorated in all things pineapple. She smelled like it, too. She even had pineapple soap.
One night, he remembers hearing Gretchen downstairs. The screen door slammed shut. He would learn later than Paul was gone. He could hear the clink-clink-clink of the belt buckle. He quickly put his pencil down and considered a place to hide. But he was too late. Gretchen was already in the doorway, belt in hand, coming toward him. He got out of the chair and turned away from her. No sense of delaying the inevitable. She said nothing. She just raised the belt and began to whip him.
He had gone to school the next day, back sore with welts. He kept to himself at recess, preferring to read a book or play piano in the music room. This particular day, he went outside with great resistance only to be met by some of the older boys. They called him names, quietly so the teachers wouldn't overhear. Today was the day he said something back. An older boy pushed him. Pushed him so hard that the welts on his back opened up and bled out, leaving his shirt soaked in blood. The morning after Gretchen would always pick out his clothes.
What happened after continues to be a blur.
The teacher moved quickly to separate the boys. He proceeded to the nurse's office to get cleaned up. When the nurse left, he was so afraid she was calling Gretchen and Paul. He whimpered, 'No' as the door closed. Fortunately, this time a child advocate was called.
He never went back to that house.
'Sir. . . thanks for being so patient.'
Sweets
The DMV
Pineapple, Desk-lamp, flip-flops, Saturn, and...baseball bat.
