Prologue: Chase
Boston, MS
August, 1996
Chase wiped his nose on his shirt sleeve as he studied the girl in front of him.
Their surroundings weren't much – a side room in a condemned warehouse with gaping holes in the roof and a door that was rusted shut. The only way he'd managed to get her inside was through one of the many empty slats where the aluminum siding either rusted away or was torn away.
Her pupils were still really wide, making her eyes take up most of the space on her face. She was shaking, too, either from the cold or from the fear about what almost just happened.
He sniffed, swiping at his nose again as he struggled to think of something to do with her.
He'd seen girls before, he'd had foster sisters, some older, some younger. He knew how to deal with them, but she was a complete mystery. Girls who weren't used to dirty streets, girls who didn't know what to do when a man grabbed them. Girls who were clean and nice and smelled vaguely of lilacs and shampoo.
"Are you okay?" The voice startled Liz out of that cold place she'd gone to when she realized what was happening.
Blinking away the images of the dirty man and his crazy smile, she focused on the boy in front of her.
He was dirty, that was the first thing she really noticed about him. His clothes were too big and stain ridden to the point of complete discoloration.
And he kept wiping his nose on his shirt sleeve, which just plain grossed her out.
"Don't you have tissues or something?" The boy stared at her in such blatant disbelief that she flushed under his regard.
"Sorry," she murmured, ducking her head and averting her eyes. "That was rude."
He took a startled step back, blinking and opening his mouth only to shut it once more. He wasn't used to apologies, and the fact that the girl in front of him would make one only made her that much more of a mystery.
"It's okay," he offered finally, shrugging his shoulders uncomfortably. "I'm used to it."
Or, he had been. It'd been a couple of months since he'd had somebody around to remind him how dirty and useless he was.
He'd hated the constant reminders then, but it was different with the girl. She wasn't saying it to be mean, she was just…saying it.
And she'd apologized.
She jerked her head up at that statement, frowning but not saying anything.
"Where…" she trailed off, taking in their surroundings for the first time and he could hear the hitch in her breathing.
"Pier Thirteen," he shot out. "Just outside the city limits. About half a mile away from…"
It was his turn to trail off, wincing as the girl visibly flinched at his unwanted reminder of the back alley where she'd been cornered by one of the many bad guys that roamed the city streets.
He knew to steer clear of them – knew which alleys they frequented and what they looked like enough to either get out of their way or hide. But the girl wasn't street like him and she was too clean to be somebody nobody cared about, which meant there was probably somebody out there looking for a lost little girl.
"I'm Chase," he offered into the stretching silence when it became clear she wasn't going to say anything.
"Chase?" She tilted her head up, peering at him from under a waterfall of silky dark hair.
"Just Chase," he smiled wryly. He'd had plenty of last names over the years, but none of them had stuck, so he settled for Chase.
"Liz," the girl offered, biting on her bottom lip and hugging herself tightly. "Liz Parker."
"Pretty," Chase offered, flushing when she jerked her head up, mouth gaping slightly as she stared at him in surprised confusion.
"Your name," Chase stammered, taking a step back and holding up his hands. "I was talking about your name. I've always liked the name Liz. My first foster mother was named Liz. She was nice."
His blabbering had her smiling, the first genuine lick of warmth in about a half and hour.
"Hey," she smiled crookedly and reached out to give him arm a light shove. "It's okay. I get what you were saying."
"You do?" He looked so relieved she actually managed to giggle a bit before falling silent once more.
"My parents will be looking for me," Liz offered, rubbing her arms against the chill.
"Here," Chase shrugged out of his sweater. He winced when he saw how dirty it was, but held it out anyways. If she didn't take it, she didn't take it, but Liz, his Liz, had taught him enough about manners to make the offer, at least.
"Thanks," Liz shrugged into the oversized adult sweater with a faint sniffle, hugging the dirty clothe close in an effort to stave off a chill.
She was still shaking, though, and Chase, with a muffled curse, reached forward and wrapped her in his arms.
Liz went willingly, practically throwing herself those last few inches as she sniffled and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck.
"Thank you," she whispered, voice thick with tears and belated relief.
"You're welcome." Chase kept his arms wrapped loosely around her waist, mindful of the dirt that caked his skin and the smallness of the girl in front of him.
"I want to go home," she whimpered into his chest, so forlorn and upset that he instinctively tightened his grip.
"Where do you live?" Chase asked, thinking he knew enough of the city that he could find it. Or at least find a safe place where somebody could help find it. He knew plenty of adults who would take pity on him, and plenty more who would fawn over her. All he had to do was wait for morning.
"Roswell," she sniffed, drawing back. He released her as she sniffled, wrapping her own arms around her middle once more.
"Roswell?" He wracked his brain, trying to find the street in his mental map and falling short. "Is that downtown or in the suburbs?"
"It's in New Mexico," Liz sniffed, tears tracking down her face, as she offered him a faintly bemused grin. "You know, where the aliens crash landed?"
"Aliens?" Chase had enough schooling to do reading and basic maths, but that was it. Most of his foster parents didn't care if he went to school even if he did, and since he left the last home, he didn't dare go back.
He didn't want them finding him.
"You know, 1947? The weather balloon? Just, Roswell?" Liz was frankly befuddled by his lack of knowledge. "You've never heard the story?"
"I'm not exactly living in a library here," Chase offered, motioning to their surroundings. The warehouse was, after all, one of his many haunts.
"Oh." Liz dropped into silence as Chase rubbed his bottom lip with his thumb and contemplated his options.
Since the girl was from out of state, it probably meant tourist. And tourists were hard to pin down. Even if he got a motel from her, most of the places around here were chains, and there were at least three places for each within the city.
"Do you know where you're staying?" He asked, figuring at the least they could check them out one by one until they found her parents.
His hope died when she shook her head, wiping her nose on his sleeve as she watched him through watery eyes.
"We should go to the police."
"What? No! No!" His vehemence and volume had her flinching back, ducking her head and huddling more into herself, letting out a choked whimper that immediately made him feel even more like crap.
"I just, I can't go to the cops. Do you know what they do to kids like me?"
Liz sniffed, peering over at him from underneath her eyelashes.
"Kids like you?"
"Street kids, street rats. Orphans," Chase was pacing now, agitated. He glanced over to find her watching the ground, her expression miserable, and swore quietly, jerking his head up and away so he didn't have to face those doe eyes and trembling lip.
"What happened to your parents?" The words were soft in the silence, barely audible, but he heard them clear as day, coming to a dead stop as his world stilled for a moment.
"Dead, maybe," he finally offered, shrugging a shoulder as he faced one of the many open spots on the wall, staring out over the harbor. "I don't know. I was left at the hospital. I've been in foster care and orphanages my whole life."
"Nobody's ever…adopted you?" The words were tentative, uttered carefully as if she was afraid of offending him.
"No." Except Liz.
Liz had had the paperwork, she'd filed the petitions. She'd been three quarters of the way through the process before she'd died.
He'd been so angry after that, like a wild animal. They'd kept him at the orphanage for six months before somebody had come to take him to foster care. And from there, he'd ended up here.
Eight years old and already jaded. But better jaded then…
"Look, can we just…camp out for the night, then worry about this in the morning?"
Her trembling lip and watering eyes made it clear that wasn't Liz's ideal plan, but she nodded her head and he was so damn grateful, he wrapped his arms around her again and didn't let go.
He woke up first, his arms wrapped protectively around her, going from a dead sleep to instant awareness and just listening.
Nothing but the sound of waves and the faint bustle of the still active warehouses around them greeted his ears and he let out a soft sigh of relief.
The rusted door made it impossible for most people to get inside, and most of the holes were too small for regular adults, but the people who lived on the streets were far from regular. His first couple of nights out, he'd found out that there was very little that could unmotivated a crackhead or a meth addict.
Morals were lost along with dignity and respect for anything if you lived on the streets long enough.
The girl in his arms stirred and he ran a hand over her shoulder, getting it tangled into her hair in the process.
"Ouch," she murmured when he gave a not so gentle tug to get it loose.
"Sorry," he apologized, pushing himself upright off the pile of tarps they'd set up as their bed.
"It's okay," Liz blinked sleepy eyes as she rose to a sitting position, yawning as she peered at their surroundings once more.
Chase followed her gaze, rubbing the back of his head lightly as he fought a wince. If he hadn't lived those months with Liz, he wouldn't think this was too bad. But Liz had had a civilizing, everlasting impact on him, and he knew that a girl like the one in front of him lived in far better circumstances than he did.
"There's a faucet, in the back. The waters cold, but clean," he offered, in case she was thirsty or wanted to clean up a bit. "I use it to wash up sometimes. There's soap in the pop bottle next to it, and some rags to dry your hands on."
It was about as civilized as he could make it.
Liz murmured something as she shifted from the pile, walking into the back with another yawn.
He was trying to think of something to do with her when she screamed.
"Chase!" She yelled, practically knocking him over as she raced into him, her expression terrified.
"Who the fuck are you?" The man was tall, burly in plastic waders and a flannel top and pissed off expression that scared even Chase.
"Nobody," Chase shot back, pushing Liz behind him with one arm.
"You squatters?" the man sneered at them, looking them up and down with disgust. "Fucking streetrats. Get the hell outta here before I call the cops on your lazy asses! Move!"
Chase was scrambling, pulling Liz along with him as they ducked out of one of the many side holes and onto the main pier.
Navigating through a maze of alleys and side streets and stumbling over unwashed bodies that occupied them, Liz was openly sobbing into his shoulder by the time they reached what he deemed a safe street.
"I want to go home, I want to go home," she was gasping around her cries and she sounded so scared he couldn't do anything or feel anything except his own panic, which only seemed to be alleviated by having her hand in his.
"Okay," he breathed, coming a stop and glancing at both entrances to the alley as he struggled to catch his breath.
"Okay," he repeated, reaching over and pulling Liz more fully into his arms. "We're okay now. We're okay."
She kept shaking, though, and he could feel the front of his shirt getting damp, then wet, as she clung to him.
"I miss my dad," she murmured into his chest. "And my mom. I want to go home."
"Okay, okay," he breathed again, patting her on the back as he struggled to make a decision.
He knew where the police station was, simply because he needed to know so he could avoid it. He could walk her there and send her in. All she had to do was tell them who she was – her parents were probably looking for her.
He could leave her here, let her find her own way, but as quickly as the thought came it vanished.
He wasn't a monster – he had the ability to help and he was going to make sure Bambi, here, made it home okay.
"Alright, here's the plan, we're going to the police station. You go inside and tell them who you are – "
"You're leaving me?" She latched onto his arm tighter than before, her expression terrified. "Please don't. Don't leave me. Don't leave me alone."
"I'm not, Liz, I'm going with you. To the station."
"And after?" She wiped her nose and peered hopefully up at him. "You'll go in with me?"
Words could not describe the amount of panic he had at the very thought, but he squelched it down, gripping her hand tighter as he focused on the only solid goal he had right now: getting her to the police station.
He'd worry about everything else later.
She wouldn't let go of his hand.
They'd been standing outside of the station for a good fifteen minutes, just two dirty kids loitering. They'd gotten a few looks and there was this one cop on the corner who was watching them with narrow-eyed suspicion that he did not like at all.
"You have to go inside. Just, find a cop and tell them who you are. Tell them you lost your parents and you want to go home. They'll take care of you."
"But what if they don't believe me? What if they think I'm lying? What if they make me leave?"
"They'll believe you," Chase insisted, growing frustrated as the cop finished his cigarette and gave them another look before ducking back inside.
"But what if they don't?" She had Bambi eyes, a purple shirt with flowers, jeans with flowers, and a white sweater with pink lining. She was clean, she had tear tracks on her face, and so looked so out of place on the street that Chase had a hard time believing she'd spent the night there and he'd been with her.
"They will," he assured her, giving their surroundings another nervous glance.
"And if they make me leave?"
"I'll be here," Chase promised, squeezing her hand and offering her a reassuring smile.
"You promise?" Her lower lip was trembling again and he forced himself to keep his feet where they were even as he nodded, his nerves kicking in as the same cop from before made a reappearance, exiting the station with another man. Chase watched them get into a cruiser before turning his attention back to Liz.
"Promise. Cross my heart." He never did understand that phrase, but he knew he wasn't going anywhere. Not until he knew she was safe.
"Okay." She breathed once, chewing on her bottom lip as she eyed the station with fearful eyes.
"Hey," he reached over and gave her another hug. "Don't worry. It's okay. You'll be fine."
Her eyes were watering again and she swiped at them even as she nodded, sniffling a bit more before cautiously, carefully stepping out of the alley.
Chase didn't breath as she crossed the street – didn't breath as she took the first stair, and finally exhaled when she reached the door, glancing back towards him and flashing him a faint smile before pushing her way inside.
He was watching the door so intently, with so much focus, that he didn't notice the man behind him until he was already in his grasp.
"Parker," the desk sergeant was a nice African American lady with nice eyes and a wide, friendly smile. She'd offered Liz a donut stick from the vending machine and some hot chocolate before sitting her down in a side room and calling her parents.
"Elizabeth, yeah, that's right." The woman was quiet as she listened. "Well, they can stop worrying. We found. She's safe, fine. Hungry, but not hurt."
Liz listened to the woman for a few seconds longer as she ate her food, getting half of it down before pausing with a frown.
Chase hadn't eaten anything either this morning. He was probably hungry too.
She'd save half of it, she decided with a nod. And when her parents came, she'd find Chase and give it to him as a thank you.
That decided, she carefully set the half aside and focused on her hot chocolate.
"Liz?" The friendly lady, Sergeant Mills, spoke from the doorway, that same comforting smile on her face. "Your parents will be here shortly. Would you like anything else to eat?"
Liz perked up, swinging her legs under the table as she nodded.
"Another donut stick?"
"And some crackers, please," Liz asked politely. Everybody liked crackers, she could save those for Chase, too.
"What're you doing out here, kid?" Chase struggled against the partners grip, teeth bared and expression that of a cornered animal as he eyed the other cop.
His nametag read Hutchins and he didn't look like a bad guy, but looks were often times deceiving and Chase wasn't going to risk trusting this guy.
"Let me go!" He struggled harder, kicking out his legs and grunting at the futility of the gesture.
"Relax, kid. Nobodies going to hurt you. We just want some answers." His tone was soothing, his expression concerned, but Chase couldn't see past his panic.
He renewed his struggles, twisting frantically.
"Shit," he heard the cop behind him mutter right before his grip loosened. It was slight, but Chase took advantage of the slip, ducking underneath his arms and taking off.
"Liz! Oh my god, Liz! Baby!" Liz smiled with relief as her parents came bustling into the back room, climbing from her chair with a wide smile as she wrapped her arms and legs around her mother.
"Mommy! Daddy!"
"Oh baby, honey! I'm so glad you're okay!" Her father took her from her mother, holding her tight for a long moment.
Now that her parents were here and she knew she was safe, Liz had so much she wanted to tell them.
"Never do that to us again!" Her mother was saying, clutching her close again.
"I'm fine, Mom. Mom, I'm fine," Liz pulled back, smiling at her parents, frowning when she caught sight of the tear tracks on her parents faces.
"I'm okay. There was this boy, Chase –"
"A boy?" Her father's eyes narrowed and his expression went livid as he turned towards the nearest cop. "What boy?"
"She came in alone, sir," one of the officers answered.
"Chase, he's waiting outside. He promised he'd wait for me," Liz babbled. "He kept me safe last night and this morning when the mean man came, he brought me here."
"Mean man? Last night? Liz, honey, where were you? What happened?"
"I got lost," Liz explained, leaning back in her mothers arms. "I turned around and you weren't there so I went outside to look for you, but there was this man and he grabbed me and wouldn't let go and Chase, he came out of one of the alleys and kicked the man until he did and then he grabbed my hand and took me to a warehouse."
"What warehouse?" one of the cops interrupted while Liz was so thoroughly distracted by the story to really think things through.
"Pier thirteen, he said," Liz offered before turning back to her parents. "And we stayed in this office and slept on these tarps and in the morning he told me where to get some water but there was this other mean man and he scared us and threatened us, so Chase and I ran away until we got here. And he promised he'd wait until I was safe."
"Chase, then?" one of the cops was writing something down. "Any last name?"
Liz eyed the man, a sudden sinking feeling in her gut.
"Liz, honey, can you give the nice officer an answer, please?"
"He didn't say," Liz finally offered after a moments silence.
"Can you give us a physical description? Age, weight, height?"
Liz was quiet for a long moment, panicking as she remembered Chase and his reaction to cops.
"I don't want to talk anymore." The cops were giving each other looks, now, looks that had Liz's stomach clenching, especially when her mom started crying again and her dad was clenching his fists as a single tear made it's way down his face.
"Liz, honey, you're safe now. You can tell us what happened and nobody's going to hurt you for it." Mills' smile was strained and Liz ducked away from her, expression tight as she buried her head in her mom's hair.
"I don't want to talk," she insisted, scowling as she gazed out the glass windows of the room wall.
The adults were having a hushed conversation when she heard him.
"Let me go!" Chase was yelling, struggling as the officers dragged him in, one with a grip on his kicking feet and the other holding tight to his struggling upper body.
"I didn't do anything! Let me go!"
"Sorry, kid," one of the officers grunted as Chase gave a particularly harsh tug. "Can't do that."
"Let me go!" Chase was crying now, so scared and so upset that Liz was suddenly angry.
"Stop it!" She yelled, struggling out of her mom's arms, surprising her into dropping her.
"Stop it! Leave him alone!" She screamed, dashing out of the room and around surprised officers until she reached the two that were holding Chase.
"Liz!" Her mother watched, horrified, as her daughter kicked one of the officers in the shin, her hands against her mouth as Liz latched onto the boy they released in their surprise, holding him tight in her arms as she glared at the two men.
"You leave him alone!" She insisted, scowling ferociously as Chase latched onto her, holding her tightly as his panicked gaze darted around the room.
"Liz, honey," her father started forward, his expression a mixture of confusion and appeasement as he held out his hands. "You need to let the boy go."
"No!" Liz shot back, holding tighter to Chase. "He saved me and they're hurting him!"
"He saved you?" Some of the confusion on her father's face cleared up at that. "This is Chase?"
Crying and scared again, this time for Chase instead of herself, Liz simply nodded in response, clinging tighter to the boy, causing him to wince, but he didn't offer any protest, eyeing the entirety of the room with marked suspicion.
"Him?" One of the officers who'd been taking notes arched an eyebrow as he took the kid in.
Dirty clothes, dirty hair, dirt streaked face, and enough tension to put a tightrope to shame traveling across his shoulders. But his grip on that girl was gentle as you please, even though it looked like she was trying to squeeze him to death.
"You have a last name, kid?" Liz was crying in his arms and he was surrounded by cops and all these strange faces, which was making him panic because he had no idea how he was supposed to get out of this, so he answered without thinking.
"Collins," he offered, burying his head in Liz's still clean smelling hair.
"Collins?" One of the men in the back straightened, his eyes narrowing slightly before widening with recognition.
"Holy shit. Chase? Liz's kid?" The cop blinked as he came forward, crouching down in front of them and pushing a chunk of Chase's hair out of his face.
"Hell, kid, where've you been? The Carpenter's reported you missing six months ago." Chase flinched at the mention of his last foster family – they redefined the term monster and if they were going to put him back there…
"We're not gonna put you back there, kid. Kid! Kid! Chase!" Chase jerked back to reality to find the room had emptied somewhat of cops and he had a death grip around Liz, who was lying there passive as you please, one hand balled up against the small of his back, the other holding her wrist as she wrapped him in her grip.
It took him a second to realize he'd been mumbling under his breath, but the cops words brought him hope.
"You're not?" The cop had sympathy and a harder edge of something he couldn't put a name to in his eyes.
"No kid, I promise. You won't go back there."
Chase sniffed, instinctively bringing his arm up to wipe at his nose before hesitating.
"Do you have any tissues?" he finally asked, eliciting a startled curse from somebody somewhere out of his line of sight.
"Yeah, no problem." The cops smile wobbled a bit as he motioned somewhere behind Chase and seconds later a handful of tissues appeared over his shoulder.
He used them to blow his nose and take a few swipes at his tears.
"Are you okay now?" Liz tilted her head back as his grip on her loosened, her Bambi eyes pools of concern. He nodded, giving her a small smile and a quick squeeze before reluctantly releasing her.
"Alright, kid. Let's get you cleaned up a bit," one of the other officers, a female who'd been talking to Mills, offered, reaching down and helping Chase to his feet, Liz scrambling up after them.
"Liz, baby," her mother grabbed her before she could follow, pulling her close to her side. Liz obediently wrapped her arms around her mothers waist, watching Chase until he reached a room at the end of the hall. He hesitated once before entering, glancing back to find her watching him with those damned worried eyes and he offered her another smile before disappearing through the door.
Liz buried her head against her mothers hip and cried.
Two months later…
"He's a good kid," Officer Brooks was telling them as they watched Chase interact with the other kids at the orphanage. "Smart. He caught up to the other kids real fast."
"But?" Brooks sighed as he turned his head to glance at the couple next to him.
"He's been alone for a long time and he has trouble interacting with kids his age. The last time I saw him smile was with…"
"Liz," the woman, Nancy, hugged her husband tighter, biting on her bottom lip as she watched the little boy make a half-hearted effort to throw the basketball through the hoop before giving up altogether, his expression completely blank.
"Your daughter made quite an impression on him," Brooks' lips quirked up in a half smile.
"Yeah, Liz has that ability," Nancy's husband Jeff offered with a wry smile, his eyes locked on the little boy below.
"You've talked to the lawyers, right?" Nancy nodded her head as her husband replied in the affirmative.
"Okay, then, we have your paperwork on file. Are you sure you want to go through with this?"
Jeff's head jerked around at that.
"Yes," Nancy replied quickly, placing a soothing hand on her husbands shoulder. "Why wouldn't we?"
"No offense, ma'am, but I've seen people come and go, and I've seen a hell of a lot kids coming rather than going, some of them more than once. I want the two of you to be absolutely sure about this, cause I do not want to see that little boy end up back here. I don't he could take it."
"He's a good kid," Jeff stated gruffly, watching as Chase picked something up from the ground, offering it to two kids, one of whom hastily grabbed it before the two of them scurried away.
"But he's had a rough time of it," Brooks replied. "He has a hard time sleeping, sometimes. He wakes up screaming."
"So does Liz," Nancy murmured, her eyes hungry and longing as she watched Chase take a seat on a picnic bench.
"She screams his name," Jeff muttered, throat tight. "She gets so scared and she keeps asking for him to save her."
"He misses her," Brooks offered, pulling out Chase's file and setting it on the desk between them.
"Please, sit." The Parker's complied, Nancy holding Jeff's hand as Brooks reviewed their petition carefully.
"Well, all the paperwork looks to be in order," Brooks finished scanning the last page, scrawling his own signature down before closing the file with a snap.
"That's it? We can bring him home now?"
"You can bring him to Roswell," Brooks cautioned. "But this is just the first step of the adoption process. You have another six months before the final paperwork can be filled out, and up to a year after that before it'll be finalized. Are you okay with that?"
"Yes," Nancy answered, squeezing Jeff's hands tight as she smiled radiantly up at him.
"We have no intention of letting him go," Jeff promised, smiling back at his wife.
"That's always nice to hear. So," Brooks stood with a smile. "Let's go meet your son."
The trip to Roswell was surreal for him – he'd traveled within the city of Boston and outside it on occasion, but he'd never crossed state lines and he'd never felt such…peace.
"You know," Jeff Parker spoke from the seat next to him while Nancy slept on his other side, his eyes on the road, expression contemplative. "I've always thought Liz could use a brother, somebody to look out for her."
Chase was quiet for a moment as he studied Jeff Parker.
He'd talked with the man more than a dozen times since he'd saved his daughter. They'd gone out to eat, had movie nights. It was a bit awkward when Liz wasn't there, but Chase had decided that he liked her parents that – if he ever did get adopted – he wouldn't mind having people like them for parents.
And now they were taking him to Roswell, to live with them and be a part of their family and it was just…surreal.
"I've always thought it'd be nice to have a sibling." Course, he'd wanted brothers, but a sister was okay. And Liz, with her Bambi eyes and soft heart was gonna need somebody to look out for her.
"And, you know, I've always wanted a son to do son things with, like sports." Chase loved sports, but he loved baseball and swimming the best. They'd gone to the Y a couple of times and he couldn't remember being happier than he had been when Liz and him had been splashing each other and dunking each other under the water.
"That's cool," Chase licked his suddenly dry lips, ducking his head as he spoke. "I've always wanted a father."
A/N: I took the day off from school with nausea and a sore throat so I could bring this lovely gem to you. Enjoy and review, please.
