He rushed back to the tunnel entrance of Central Park, his view blurry from the tears that built in his eyes. He couldn't really tell why he was crying, something about the look on that girl's face just hurt him inside. He kept running through the trees, although he could hear Devin running after him. Somehow, that only made him cry more; listening to Devin trip and stumble running in the dark, while he himself sprinted with a silent tread. He kept running right on until he got to his and Devin's shared chamber, ignoring the concern and surprise of the adults and older children. The little girl's tearful, shocked gaze, and Devin's less than graceful pursuit elicited a strange feeling in him, one that he'd never felt before and didn't really like. The room was darker than normal, but Vincent hardly noticed as he jumped into bed and buried himself under the covers. He was hurt in a way he didn't understand, and that only made it feel worse. His crying paused when he heard the approaching limping gait of his father, and sensed his intense worry and concern.

"Vincent, is everything alright?" he heard his father say from beyond his protective blanket shelter. Even though he knew that Father just wanted to help him, Vincent did not feel like talking and gave no response to Father's worried inquiry. Met by silence from the lump under the covers that was his youngest son, Father's worry only increased. "Vincent? Vincent, what's wrong?"

"Don't want to talk about it" came the muffled reply.

That only increased Father's worry. "Vincent, you aren't hurt, are you?" The blankets shifted, he assumed from his son shaking his head, and he finally (though it felt like he waited a long time for any answer, so hightened was his worry), Vincent responded, his voice more muffled than before, and Father could picture him sitting beneath the thick covers hugging his knees to chest.

"I'm not hurt. I just don't want to talk".

Father let out a breath of relief at that. Anytime one of the tunnel dwellers was injured he worried. He may have been an experienced doctor, but there was only so much one could do with their limited supplies, and even the least serious of injuries could have him panicking about infection. But his youngest son was still hiding under the covers, and as far as he could tell, was crying, or least had been. "Are you sure you don't want to talk about it? I might be able to help".

The covers shifted again, and Father sighed to himself. He wanted to help his son, but if he didn't want to talk about what was bothering him, there was little he could do. "Alright, then" he said resignedly, "if you don't want to talk about it, I won't force you. But you can talk to me anytime, about anything, if you need to, Vincent". He didn't move from his spot until he heard a soft "mm-hm" of assent from Vincent. Before he left the room, he went up to the side of the bed and gave the Vincent-shaped bulge in the blankets a reassuring hug. Even if he didn't want to talk, Father tried to comfort him as much as he could. "If you need to talk, I'll always be ready to listen" he reminded Vincent before he finally let go and unwillingly left the room. As he limped down the tunnels towards his own chamber, he thought to himself that he might want to have a talk with Devin. Just what it was that those two boys were doing that would send Vincent home in a state like that he would like to know. But the frustrated thought left him as he thought back to Vincent, replaced with relentless concern. He only hoped that Vincent would choose to talk to him before he had to do any investigating.

Further down the tunnels, Devin finally made it back to his and his brother's shared room, rubbing his skinned knee distractedly. Trying to run after Vincent in the park at night hadn't been a very good idea. Vincent could manage without tripping, but Devin wasn't so lucky. He only hoped that Father wouldn't ask too much about it later. He sighed sadly when he glanced at his little brother, and saw him asleep, but with partially dry tear tracks still on his face. He thought for a moment, guiltily , that he shouldn't have brought Vincent up there in the first place. There was a reason that Father didn't allow it. But he just wanted him to get to see the world Above, a world that he had only seen before in stories and pictures. He didn't mean for everything to go so wrong… Shaking his head, he just put the thought aside for now, and clambered into bed beside his brother.

The next day, Vincent tried to go through the day normally, shoving the experience Topside to the back of his mind: going to his classes and playing with the other children, but he just felt…unsettled for some reason, and no matter how much he tried, the memory of the night before would not leave him. It was an unusual feeling for a child, this feeling of not-rightness. When he encouraged his teacher because he felt that he was distressed, he noticed the uncomfortable (grateful, but still uncomfortable) look he received. When he played hide and seek with the others, he wondered why they were always so loud, and why they were always so shocked that he found them so easily. He began to notice that everyone else acted so strange, so different. For what felt like the first time, he wondered why. Why was everyone unable to find things that could be clearly heard? Why did everyone stumble through halls that were easy to see in? Why were they so surprised when he knew how they felt and tried to help, and why did they seem to have such a hard time knowing what he was feeling? Shouldn't they have known? All these questions were considered by him, and the more he thought about it and tried to answer them, the more confused he became. His family's actions didn't make any sense! But if there was one person he knew could be able to answer them, it was Father. He didn't want to talk to him about the little girl- after all, Father forbid him to go Above- but he could at least ask him his questions with him finding out about that. Nodding decidedly to himself, he turned down the tunnel towards Father's chamber.

Technically he was supposed to be going to reading class, but he was so far ahead and the matter was so urgent that he decided that it would be ok. So instead he headed to his father's chamber, desperate for answers that would make sense out everyone's weird behavior. As soon as he entered the book-lined chamber, Father's eyes looked up at him, and Vincent sensed his father's worry. He probably thought there was some awful reason that Vincent wasn't in class, and his favorite class nonetheless, especially considering what had happened last night. "Don't worry, father, I'm fine, I'm just confused about something".

Father's worry disappeared almost instantly with a flash of relief, replaced instead by curiosity and desire to help. Inside he was relieved that Vincent had come to talk to him after all, and he hoped that whatever Vincent had to talk about would finally get him to the heart of what had hurt his son so much the night before. "Well, I can't promise anything, but I would be happy to help in any way I can. What seems to be bothering you so much that you'd risk truancy?"

Vincent mildly wondered what "truancy" meant, but decided that he had bigger things to worry about. "It's just…things that I've noticed" and he explained all of the observations and questions he had, hoping that something would be clarified. But Father's reactions just made him more confused. As Vincent explained, Father's worry returned more intense than before, and it was joined by compassion, regret, and for some strange reason, guilt. Breaking off of his explanation, Vincent was worried for his father. Had he said something wrong that had upset him like this? "Father, are you alright? Did I say something wrong?"

Father replied, a little too eagerly, "No, no! You've said nothing wrong whatsoever". But deep inside he regretted what he would have to tell his son- what his unique adopted boy may have already learned. But, he had known that this would happen eventually. Children didn't stay blind to the world forever, after all.

But the rushed reassuring response confused Vincent even more. Tilting his head to the side, he regarded his father while trying to figure any of this out. "Then why are you so upset? You weren't until I said anything, so it had to be something I said".

Father mumbled in an aside, seemingly to himself, "Nothing gets past you, does it? So perceptive for your age…" With a deep breath and a sigh, Father turned to Vincent, reaching for an acceptable explanation that would not hurt his sensitive younger son. "Well, Vincent…you see, no two people experience the world the same way. Even identical twins perceive things differently, and they're as close to being the same person as is naturally possible. It's normal for you to see and do things a bit differently than everyone else, otherwise you wouldn't be an individual. Does that make sense?"

"Yes.." Vincent replied slowly. And it did make a bit of sense, but while he had been thinking about those things, another difference stood out to him, and it suddenly seemed so extremely different that he wondered why he never noticed before. "But what about my hands? And my teeth?" Suddenly the number of differences jumped into his mind at once, and it frightened him a bit. "No one else has hair on their hands like I do, or claws like I do, or even teeth like I have" the words all came out of him in a rush, as he started to feel more like an outsider than he ever had in his underground family. "That must be more than me just being an individual, because no one else has them! Different people can at least share the same interests and likes and things, even if they are themselves, but I don't share this with anyone."

Father looked stricken at this sudden discovery of his, and he knew now that nothing he could say would be able to dodge around the issue. It was as he had feared, Vincent had realized on his own how different he was. His heart hurt for his son, for the inevitability of the truth of what his life was. He wished that this moment could have been postponed, that it wasn't happening right now. But it was happening, and he needed to come up with the right words to say. Vincent's confused, and slightly frightened eyes stared into his, waiting, hoping, for an answer. And Father was afraid that the only answers he could give would hurt more than not knowing. Heaving a heavy sigh, Father finally gave a reluctant response, "Vincent, I don't want to lie to you" he paused, considering his next words, before taking another deep breath and continuing, "Yes, Vincent, you are...unique. But that doesn't make any of us here think of you differently".

Vincent wanted to say 'what about that little girl, then. Why did she cry when she saw me? She seemed to think of me differently', but he knew that for Devin's sake he couldn't tell Father about that. So he said nothing, only nodding thoughtfully. What Father had said didn't make him feel any better, and he decided to himself that he needed to talk to someone else, too. Someone he could ask about the girl in the park.

Father held his breath as he waited to see Vincent's reaction to his words. He had tried to phrase the awful truth as gently as possible, but overprotective father that he was, he still worried. When he only gave small nod, Father didn't know whether to be relieved or more worried. Giving a short, awkward cough, he asked, for lack of idea of anything else to say, "Well, Vincent, did you have anymore questions?"

Vincent only replied with a wordless shake of his head, before thanking Father and leaving to get to his classes. He didn't pay much attention to them for the rest of the day, too distracted by what he knew, and what he didn't know. All he could think was that he wanted to talk to Devin.

Later, at night when he went to bed, he laid down next to his brother, and opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again when he couldn't think of what exactly he wanted to say. Finally, after taking a long time to think about it, and then to work up the courage to ask what felt like such a daunting question, he asked in a quiet, yet earnest voice, not looking at his brother, "Devin, am I different?" Vincent turned his head to look at his brother, only to realize that he was asleep. "Devin?" He said, a bit louder, hoping to wake him up.

Devin stirred groggily, with a sleepy questioning "hmm?"

Poking him to get him all the way awake, the younger brother asked his question again, determined to get an answer. "Am I different, Devin?"

Devin got up fully, and hesitated before answering with a weak grin, "Of course you are, everyone's different Vince".

Vincent was not satisfied with the answer, and looking down at his hands with a far-too solemn gaze for a child his age, countered. "But I'm really different"

Devin's grin slipped away, and he sighed, knowing what this was about, but, unknowingly reflecting the feelings of Father, was reluctant to talk about it. He didn't want to lie to his brother, but he defiantly didn't want to hurt his feelings, either. And so, he decided to try and divert the subject. "What makes you say that?" Vincent looked up from his hands, and looked into the distance thoughtfully, reflecting.

"I just...I see things differently than anyone else. I do things differently than anyone else"

"Well, that's not-" Devin started to say, but was interrupted as Vincent then added, in a significantly quieter, smaller, voice

"And there was that girl...when we went Topside…"

Devin fell silent for a moment, when it sounded like his little bro was near crying. Shifting under the covers, he squirmed so that he was facing his little brother, and pulled him into a side-armed hug. Sighing deeply in regret about the truth of the situation, Devin decided he didn't want to keep beating around the bush. He owed Vincent more than that. "Yeah, Vincent, you are pretty different, but that's not a bad thing"

"But the girl-?"

"Don't worry about her, Vince. She was just a topsider girl, there's no way that she'd understand you like we do here. They're pretty mean Topside. Why do think so many of us are down here, anyway?"

Vincent fell silent for a long while after this, and just when Devin had thought that he had fallen asleep, Vincent declared in a somber tone "I'm never going Topside again."

Devin had nothing to say in reply to that. It hurt him to think about the things that Vincent couldn't have, and how even a simple trip up top to see the full moon could go so wrong for him. So he just held his brother a little tighter, letting him have at least the best life that he could here below.

This took so long for me to write. Especially since there are only two episodes with Devin, and I think only one with any substantial amount of little Vincent. But, all I could think was, when did Vincent first realize how different he really was, and what would that have been like? And I went ahead and connected it to the incident with the little girl, since that was the first time he really saw an outsider's reaction to him. Also, I don't really know what age he was when this happened, as far as I can remember the show never specified. I think in my head he was about five or so though. Oh, well. So, there you have it. R&R, please!

Also, hey, I really suck at titles, so if anyone thinks that they have a better name for this story, PLEASE, feel free to tell me it.