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His third visit came at the worst possible time.

After all, it wasn't often people find out their boyfriends are literal Trolls.

Barbara angrily adjusted the glasses on her nose as she leaned back in her office chair, trying not to think about the previous week's episode.

She failed, of course.

An entire magical world right underneath their very feet. Literally.

It was a bit jarring, yet…not. In the whole scheme of things Barbara found she wasn't as surprised as she thought she would be.

She had an inkling as to what world Atlas came from, but to actually see it was another thing entirely. She never questioned the boy though, believing that some things were best kept secret.

And now, she was directly involved.

Great, just what Barbara needed. As if her life wasn't complicated enough.

She hadn't talked to Walt since he and the girl—Claire, she remembered—destroyed her living room. The girl was apologetic, she and her friends offering to at least clean up the broken wood and glass, but it didn't change the fact that she would need new furniture and a new door. She had money, but between the mortgage and the car she was spread pretty thin at the moment.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Barbara startled up off her chair, looking around for the source of the noise. She didn't have to look far; a dark figure rattled his knuckles against the window.

Atlas grinned mischievously from beyond the glass, waving at her in a friendly manner. He knocked again, his other hand readjusting his grip over the strap of the backpack he carried.

Barbara sighed, then propped open the window.

"Seriously, Atlas? What's wrong with you, child? This is the second story. Get your butt in here. What if you fall and break your neck?"

He crawled inside, careful not to rack his horns against the window pane. "You're so funny, Dr. Lake. As if a fall this low could kill me."

"Is everything okay?" She went into Doctor Mode, pulling his shirt up to check for wounds. "Are you still hurting?"

"Whoa, hey! What are you doing?"

"Calm down, Atlas. I just want to see how your wound is healing." What was once a grisly claw mark had closed, fading into a jagged lightning-shaped scar. Otherwise, the boy looked no worse for the wear. "Any residual pain?"

"Ah, no, it's fine actually," he remarked, scratching his cheek. "Your stitches helped a lot."

Barbara stepped back, arms crossed. "Well then. Why are you here if you're not injured, Atlas?"

The teen hiked his shoulders up, both hands tight against the straps of his backpack. His face flushed. "I wanted to thank you. For everything."

"It was no trouble at all, really." She said.

"Well, I was told gifts were good ways of showing appreciation, so—" He unzipped the bag, pulling out a plastic container. "Ta-da!"

"What is it?" She asked, eyebrows raised. "Oh my god, are those— "

The teen placed them into her open hands, a proud grin gracing his features. "Yes! Shrimp cakes. I made them myself. I noticed you like to eat shrimp fried rice a lot."

She paused, brows coming together. "Wait, hold on a second. Have you been spying on me?"

"No, no! I was just protecting you!" He exclaimed, "I wanted to make sure no one tried to hurt you for helping me or the Trollhunter."

She rubbed her temples. On one hand, he'd violated her privacy. On the other, shrimp cakes. "So you brought me food as thanks."

He nodded, passing her a plate from his bag. "You should eat more. You're very skinny."

"That's exactly what my boyfriend says," she said, grabbing three cakes for her plate. Screw table manners, she was hungry. "Though at this point I'm not even sure if he's my boyfriend anymore. Turns out he's a Troll and is a part of an evil army of Dum-Dums or something."

"Gumm-Gumms, but go on."

"So, does that make you a…?"

"Half-Troll. Unaffiliated at the moment."

That explained…nothing.

Still, Barbara continued on. "Well, apparently that Claire-girl—the Trollhunter—is supposed to stop this Gumm-Gumm army, or so the weird blue Troll said."

"Yeah, I heard from Claire. She's really sorry about all this by the way."

"Oh?" She grinned. "A text? Does that mean what I think it means?"

He shook his head excitedly. "Holy shit, you were right."

"When did this happen?"

"Recently, just after Angor Rot's death," he said, looking down at his phone. "She gave me her number! We text all the time. And we share these things called 'Memes', though some of them are very confusing. I still don't understand the frog one."

She settled back into her chair. "Details, kid, details. What happened?"

"You said I should scope out the field, so that's what I did. After some spying on her and the others, I noticed she always had her sketchbook with her. So I stole it and what do you know? Like, half the book was filled with drawings of me."

"You stole her art book?"

He waved her off. "No, no, it's okay. I put it back before she saw."

Barbara shook her head, but gestured for him to continue, asking, "and then?"

"Well, next I stole her Amulet and left her a note to meet me in the woods near her house."

The woman resisted the temptation to smack her hand against her face. Perhaps it was different for Trolls. Still though. "That…sounds creepy. And she met actually you there?"

"Yeah. I kind of tried following Nomura's advice, but that failed."

"What did she say?"

"To corner your love interest and prevent them from escaping."

"This Nomura sounds…interesting." Wait, is that— "You don't mean Ms. Nomura, the museum director, do you?"

"Yeah, her last boyfriend was a huge troll though, so maybe it worked for them."

Barbara pinched the arch of her nose. She'd gone out for coffee with both the woman and her boyfriend last month. They had a thrilling talk about pottery of all things. Was everyone in her life involved in the supernatural?

"After that fell through I just confessed to her and we walked around and then we kissed." He hugged his backpack close to him. "It was magical. Don't ever tell Claire I said that though."

She covered her snort with a small cough. Was she like this as a child? The memory of her entire locker covered in photos of her and her ex-husband passed through her head. No, she had probably been worse. "Did you ever return her Amulet?"

"Oh, I told her I hide it in the school. I figured it was safer there than in my hands."

She slapped a hand over her face. "I'm amazed she agreed to date you."

He sighed, "Me too. But look! We went on a picnic date yesterday and she got me these clothes."

She noticed, but didn't want to say anything. If it weren't for his "extra" features, he could have easily passed for any Arcadian teen.

Claire had chosen wisely, dressing the boy in fitted blue jeans and a darker long-sleeved turtleneck. He was even wearing shoes, a small wonder since she'd always seen him without. Maybe he trimmed his nails to fit into them?

"She's teaching me a lot about human culture too. I mean, it's not like lived under a rock or anything, I lived with Changelings for as long as I can remember, and they're always trying to be up-to-date with the newest human technology, but…it's different with her. It's like everything is suddenly interesting and new. I've been "binging" a bunch of shows on Netflix and Hulu. I really like the cooking shows. Its where I got the idea to make you Shrimp Cakes, because you like shrimp and—"

She put a finger to his mouth, shushing the teen. "Slow down," she said. "You're talking a mile a minute. I'm old, so bear with me here."

"That's what father says too," he said, putting on a fake British accent. "Young Atlas, 'Men of few words are the best men.' He's a total nerd for Shakespeare and other old as dirt writers, which makes since because he's a history teacher and—"

"Wait," she stopped him, eyes widening. "Is…is Walter Strickler your dad?"

"Oh shit," he said, putting a shrimp cake into his mouth. "Pretend you didn't hear that."

"Did you know?"

"About you? Not until recently," he admitted, hands up. "I promise."

She tore off a piece of shrimp and threw it at his head. "I cannot believe all this time my boyfriend had a son and he didn't tell me! Ugh, I'm not sure what is worse, him lying about being a human and wrecking my house or him lying about not having kids."

"I mean, technically—"

"Not helping, Atlas," she groaned. "God, why do I always have the worst taste in men."

He picked up the piece of food off of his hair and stuck it in his mouth. "He's not so bad. I mean, sure, he's a Troll, both literally and figuratively, but he's been an alright dad to me so far."

Barbara rolled her eyes. Coming from the budding thief, that was not saying much. She sighed, saying, "I just can't even imagine him as a father after what happened."

"He's not so bad," Atlas said. "I wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for him." The teen looked down at his hands, "When I was first…brought in, the Changelings didn't know what to do with me. I was put in a cell and treated like an animal. They once tried to feed me socks and well…ultimately it led to me biting off someone's finger, but that's beside the point. The point is: Dad, he saved me. He treated me like, well, a 'human' being as they say. I wouldn't have survived without his help. I still need his help from time to time. He's…not the most conventional guy, but he's a good person deep down. He's like me in a way. We don't do well with emotions, especially with girls, and sometimes, we just need a little push in the right direction to get us going."

"He and your girlfriend destroyed my living room," she pointed out.

"Okay, so maybe he needs a lot of push. But he's changed since he's met you, Doctor Lake."

Barbara glanced at her phone (which she'd done 142 times that day, but hey, who was counting?). "You say that, but why hasn't he called?"

"He's probably afraid too," Altas said. "Behind all that stoic British nonsense he's got a good heart, he just forgets to use it sometimes."

The doctor stood, heading towards the window. It was a beautiful night, the weather neither too cool nor too warm.

What was she even doing here?

Did she like Walt? Yes. Undoubtedly. Did she trust him though? Hell no. Whatever relationship they had after this would have to change. No more secrets. She knew now.

Her gaze flitted back to the young man in her office, who sheepishly smiled at her.

Atlas would need her, she realized. He had no medical figure in his life (or mother-figure, part of her whispered, but she ignored it). What would happen if he got sick or was seriously injured? What if Claire or one of her friends from last night got injured? As much as she hated the fact that children were risking their lives fighting monsters, she understood their reasoning. Just as she protected people's bodies, they protected peoples' lives.

As long as it was in Barbara's power she would help in whatever manner she could.

"You're a strange kid, you know that, Atlas?"

"And you're a strange Doctor."

"I'm glad you shared that story with me," she started, "and you know you're always welcome to drop by. Also, tell Walt that it was pretty pathetic of him to send his son over to clear things up between us. If he wants to speak with me, he can do it over coffee. This Sunday. Ten O'clock sharp. I also expect him to be paying for the repairs in my house."

"Nothing gets past you, does it?"

She smiled and it actually felt genuine.