when was the last time this was even updated who the hell knows

TW: general alcoholism, child abuse/injury, and Robert Morse being an absolute asshole to his daughter who didn't deserve it at all. And general abandonment.


Bobbi Morse once believed she could control the sun.

Every morning, she would wake up to see the sun dancing across her bedroom wall, little dashes of light that would flicker across the rosy pink paint. For a moment, she'd be rose gold, bright blue eyes and golden curls bouncing happily as she watched the mini light show she presumed was just for her.

After all, she was a princess. Daddy had told her so. Why wouldn't she have control over the light? Princesses always got to control everything. At least, that's what her books had told her.

"Princess! Come get breakfast before you're late for preschool!"

Preschool! The four-year-old's eyes had popped open wide, and Bobbi half hopped, half stumbled out of her bed, dainty feet scrambling down the hallway. It was her first day of preschool! Her toothbrush zoomed across her teeth, bright pink watermelon spat into the sink and quickly followed by a splat of cold water.

"Doesn't someone look excited," Robert Morse remarked when little Bobbi bounded into the kitchen, toothpaste still crusted around her mouth. She squealed with laughter when he sloppily picked her up and carried her back to the bathroom, making sure to wipe away the leftover toothpaste with a soft motion. "Maybe I should call you the toothpaste princess instead, huh?"

"Daddy!" She still squirmed at the touch of the cold washcloth against her upper lip. "Daddy silly!" Bobbi didn't want to be the toothpaste princess! She was going to be the princess of...of...well, of what, she wasn't exactly sure yet, but she most definitely didn't want to be the toothpaste princess!

Her father had a fond smile on his face when he carried her back to the kitchen, setting her gently onto the counter. "I'm silly? You think I'm silly, honey?" When Bobbi nodded, so did he. "I see. But didn't you know that silly people can't make pancakes for princesses?" She gasped. Pancakes?! Her Daddy never made pancakes! "I guess if I'm silly, I can't make you pancakes, princess..."

Noooooo! Bobbi wanted pancakes! "Nooooooo!" tiny Bobbi yelled, bursting into giggles. "Love you, Daddy!" Robert Morse had already grinned at his daughter's attempt to save her breakfast, and was pouring the creamy batter into the pan as Bobbi watched.

"What shapes do you want today, princess?" When Bobbi put a finger to her chin, pretending to think, he casually flipped the pan and began shaping the lump of batter, already knowing what she would say. A star, of course. It was always a star. He couldn't remember a time when Bobbi hadn't asked for a star - not even when she'd nearly coughed her lungs out last year with that cold.

"C'n I have a heart today, Daddy?" The star-shaped pancake flopped to the ground in Robert's surprise, the slightly scruffy man standing in shock with a sizzling pan in his hand. Bobbi scooted out of her chair, gingerly scooping up the pancake with a reverence only a child could have. Just because she didn't want it didn't mean it deserved to be treated badly, after all. Star pancakes deserved all of the love they could get.

"Daddy? You okay? You look like you've seen a ghostie." And that would most certainly be a problem. Ghosties had never come into her castle during the day! They were only supposed to come at night. Bobbi would have to have a word with the next ghostie that decided to hide under her bed. She was the princess - everyone had to follow her rules, even the ghosties!

"Not a star today, princess?" her father finally croaked out, reaching for more pancake batter. Satisfied that a ghostie hadn't taken over her Daddy, Bobbi climbed back into the chair and resumed watching the pancakes get made. "You surprised me there, honey. You always have star-shaped things."

"Bu' today's special," Bobbi said, assuming all of the old, wise airs she could muster. She held the persona for a moment, face grave and posture ramrod straight, before a small giggle escaped her lips. "'M goin' t' preschool today, Daddy!" She paused for a moment, her eyes shining brightly. "Ya...ya didn't forget, did ya?" Bobbi shrieked a little as the pancake almost fled the pan once more. "Daddy, that's scary!"

Robert caught the pancake with ease, a charming smile stretching across his face as he slid it onto the plate. Bobbi ooh'd and ahh'd appropriately, clapping when a small dust of powdered sugar dusted the surface of the star-shaped pancake. "One star pancake for the most royal star princess in the entire galaxy starting preschool today," Bobbi's beam could've lit up the room. "Syrup, princess?"

"And sprinkles!"


Looking back, Bobbi would always remember those first few months of preschool as some kind of otherworldly heaven, when all she had to do was exist in a floaty golden haze of preschool, pancakes, and the ability to control the sun. All of her fears about making friends had vanished almost instantly when she'd stepped into the room, one girl running up to her and patting her hair reverently.

Another boy had even thrown a foam block at her, but it'd turned out he'd been as fascinated with her hair as the other girl was, but had been afraid to tell her. Bobbi had been pretty sure he'd been her first boyfriend. In, of course, the way that only preschoolers could be in a relationship - Bobbi shared her favorite books with him, reading them to the best of her ability; in return, he'd sometimes let her play with his prized toy Mustang wind-up car.

She wondered often what happened to them. Did they remember her? Kept her in their memories when they thought of ice-blue eyes and shiny hair? When they read those same books and played with the Mustang? Maybe they'd seen her at some point during when her face'd done time on the side of the milk carton.

She hadn't been Bobbi Morse then. She'd been the girl who'd run away from her parents because of her extravagant attitude. She'd been a clueless, uneducated girl who was 'bound to come back home eventually, she'd never last this long in the streets. Surprised they haven't found her body yet'. She was weak, her father said. His little girl who he just wanted back.

Bobbi hadn't seen a trace of that little girl, pink tutu and all, since the fifteenth crack of her father's palm against her cheek. (Even after all this time, she wasn't sure it was fifteen. It could've been twenty-five for all she knew.)

The first crack had been accidental - that's what they'd all thought. Soon after the first few months of preschool, Robert's firm had laid him off, citing necessary closures. It hadn't been the end of the world for the Morse family, Robert easily finding new work elsewhere. Ann, the ever-versatile mother, was able to move just as easily.

Soon enough, Bobbi had found herself in a new room in a new city, where all she could see were rain droplets on the window and the sunlight's reflection off of the skyscrapers harshly glaring into her eyes when she woke up. She missed her the rose pink of her last room, and she said as much to her father the first morning of her new preschool.

Unfortunately, there were no pancakes, star or heart-shaped, to be found this time.

"I'm sorry, princess, but we can't paint your room again," Robert was bustling around the miniscule kitchen as Bobbi sat at a poor imitation of their previous kitchen island, kicking her feet. "We don't actually own this house, and we can't do everything we want to it."

Bobbi didn't understand. She just wanted the sun to stop being so mean to her. Whichever princess was controlling the sun here was a big meanie. Having her castle meant that she could get her powers back! "Please, Daddy?"

"When things get better, sweetheart." There was a brief kiss on her head. "I promise I'll get you back your castle and everything you've ever asked for, okay?"

"Okay, Daddy."

'Things getting better' went from two weeks to four, then to a month and six. As it'd turned out, Robert's so-called 'new job' had been temporary in all senses of the word, and any money they'd saved quickly ran out. Bobbi's father went from spending the morning preparing his favorite daughter pancakes to spending the morning combing the streets for jobs. Ann did her best to support the family on what she could give, but it was barely enough to feed the three of them. Bobbi lost her ballet class, the majority of her wardrobe, her favorite books. Ann had even tried to throw out Fluffy, her favorite stuffed duck, but there was simply no dealing with a five-year-old who'd been attached to that duck for her entire life.

And when the same kind of loss hit her father after one too many failed mornings, they usually meant a drink at night. Or two, or three. Bobbi was never sure how many drinks one could have in a bottle. It ended up being the least of her worries, anyways, after she learned that Robert liked to take his anger out on things when he was one too many drinks in. "Things" usually included his wife, daughter and nearest household object.

She was so stupid. Believing she could make her father better was one of Bobbi's larger mistakes, but still one she made time after time. Her sweet, naive, five year old self. Daddy had always said everything could be cured with the touch of her lollipop wand and a kiss. Why wouldn't he be the same?

"Don't touch me, kid" was snarled at her instead, a wide-eyed Bobbi shoved back onto her behind. Bewildered and momentarily confused, Bobbi clutched her little lollipop tight. "Don't need fucking brats like you." A swig. The thud of a bottle onto the nightstand.

"But Daddy..." Maybe one tap wasn't enough? Maybe he needed another one to feel better. Bobbi scrambled to her feet and tried to touch her father's nose with the lollipop wand once more. "A touch of love, a touch of fun, a touch from the lollipop -"

"I said, don't touch me!" The slap threw Bobbi back before she could comprehend what was happening. Robert clambered unsteadily to his feet, sending the young girl scuttling back. "What about that don't you understand, you bitch?" The lollipop was yanked out of her hand. "The real world isn't all rainbows and unicorns, you stupid idiot. You can't fix me."

He'd been right about that one thing.

"Bobbi?!" Ann tore into the room to find a shadow of her husband cowering over a broken version of her daughter, and immediately scooped up the latter. "Robert, stop this. You're scaring her!"

"I'm scaring her?" Robert laughed, and Bobbi squeaked in horror. That wasn't her daddy. She was too young to tell how, but that much she knew. Her daddy wouldn't laugh like he was a villain in her Saturday morning cartoons. He wouldn't dispute the power of the lollipop.

Her cheek twitched, and she put a hand to the answering flair of pain. Her daddy would never hit her. Never, ever, ever. In conclusion: this man wasn't her daddy. Bobbi's real father had been kidnapped and replaced with this evil man. Princess Bobbi had to get back to her castle, pronto, and bring the sun out so she could have her old daddy back!

"Bobbi, honey," Ann, in the midst of everything, had taken Bobbi to her room and settled her small daughter into bed, holding two frightened, clammy hands. "Daddy's sort of sick right now, and we have to be nice to him, okay?"

"But I wases," Bobbi whimpered, sniffling just a little. She was a big girl. She could be a big girl, and big girls didn't cry. "I tried to help daddy with the lollipop wand." The aforementioned wand was lifted, and she palmed its slick surface. "He didn't let me. He. He." Bobbi sniffles again valiantly. "He hit me, momma." What had she even done to be hit? "I didn' do anythin'! I promise I was nice!" The small girl burst into tears. "I wan' daddy back!"

"I know, honey. I know." She had to get her little girl out, Ann knew, but at the expense of their entire lives? Robert was going through a rough patch. They all knew that. Rough patches didn't last forever. He'd find work, they'd have a steady income, and he'd go back to making Bobbi pancakes in the morning before taking her to school. All would be forgiven. It had to be. "Sometimes...sometimes we have to give people time to get better. Like when your cousin Caitlin was sick, remember?" Bobbi nodded. "You and me, we have to give daddy time to get better before we can get him back. But we have to give him time."

"And then we'll get daddy back?"

"And then we'll get him back. Him and all of his star pancakes. I know you love those, honey. Try and get some sleep, okay?" Bobbi nodded, already excited about the distant prospect of pancakes. "Daddy and I both love you very, very much."

"I love you too, momma." (If asked to repeat those words today, Bobbi would've laughed. Love her mother? The same one who'd drawn into herself at the first sign of conflict when, hours before, she'd promised to protect her one and only daughter with everything she had? Fucking bullshit.)

(She knew what real love was, now, too. It came in the form of teaching her how to stand tall when all she'd knew was to cower. In how to repair herself when someone else had torn her apart.)


"Barbara! Come here, princess! Daddy's home!"

Bobbi, now nine, couldn't remember what it was like to feel warmth at those words. As it was, ice was already running through her veins. What would her father want her to do today? She'd already done the dishes by hand yesterday. And cleaned the bathroom the day before when Robert'd dry heaved into the toilet one too many times. Still, with Ann at work for the next few hours, it was up to the youngest Morse to keep control.

She straightened her back - slouching would earn her a cheek, and it was still stinging from the day before - and marched out into the living room. "Hi, Daddy."

"Why d'you look so down in the dumps, ey, honey?" Bobbi didn't even react when Robert scooped her into his arms and spun her around. She didn't shriek with happiness anymore when he did that. She didn't even allow the tendrils of hope to sneak up into her stomach anymore - that today was maybe the day that her father was back. There'd already been too many false incidents, and Bobbi was tired of getting her hopes dashed. "Wanna go out to the park?"

Bobbi didn't want to point out that it was currently pouring cats and dogs outside, rain pounding the pavement hard as she'd ever seen it. "Sure, Daddy. The one down the street?"

"Thatta girl. Go get your coat and we'll go." He put Bobbi down abruptly, the ground slamming into the soles of her feet. She wiggled her toes a little to make sure they were all working before shuffling to get her shoes. The sound of beer bottles rattling in the kitchen were just background noise at this point as she shrugged her coat on. She couldn't say she'd ever been forced to to go the playground before, though. This was new.

New meant a different set of variables Bobbi wasn't prepared for. What if something happened that she didn't know how to handle?

"Barbara! Come on, kiddo!"

"Coming, daddy." Bobbi did a quick stretch to make sure nothing would hurt before ambling out into the hallway with her raincoat. She watched as Robert fumbled the keys shut, then as he stumbled down the staircase, then sighed when the rain hit him full force.

"S' a fuckin' hurricane out here!" In her mild panic, Bobbi had forgotten to check if her father had been wearing a raincoat, and said man was now rapidly getting drenched while turning in circles. "Good thin' ya got your boots'n, hm? C'mon. Lessgo." He grabbed her hand and half dragged her down the sidewalk. "Jump in the puddles, Barbara!" Bobbi did so, wincing whenever Robert jumped a little too enthusiastically, splashing the passerby around them. "Sorry!" he would always call. "''M just havin' fun withh my daughter!"

She wondered how long it'd been since he'd used that term sincerely.

It took them over twenty minutes to get to the end of the block, by which then, despite her best efforts, Bobbi was drenched through her thin raincoat. Robert seemed to care less. "Daddy, can we go home now?" she called. She wanted nothing more than to get home, get her father into a hot shower, and dry off. "It's raining so much!"

"Nonsense!" Robert had other plans. "We're going to play, princess. We came all this way." With that, he was climbing onto the jungle gym, long limbs looking awkward in comparison to the small spaces on the gym. "C'mon!"

"N-n-no thanks, daddy," Stand tall, she reminded herself. Stand tall and he wouldn't try anything. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"'M not going to get hurt," Robert scoffed, waving a hand and automatically banging it against a pole. "Motherfucker!" Bobbi winced at the language. "Goddamn motherfucking pole! Hey, I bet I could pole dance," She wrinkled her brow, the definition only becoming clear when Robert slid unceremoniously down the pole instead of gliding on it, as she assumed he meant to do. "Motherfucking pole! So slippery. Just like your mother."

Oooookay. Bobbi'd heard some pretty bad potty jokes in class, but this didn't even come close. What was Robert even talking about, anyways? She had to get him down from the pole. "Daddy, come on -"

"I came to have fun, and I'm gonna have fun!" Robert got to his feet and stumbled towards Bobbi, trying to pick her up. "C'mon, 'm gonna teach ya to pole dance." It was only out of fear that she didn't react the first time, freezing instead. "Get all the boys t' look at ya, huh?" The pole smashed against her sternum. "Hold the pole, Barbara. Hold it."

It wasn't her fault it was raining. When Robert let her go, the water dissolved Bobbi's grip, sending her sliding down with a shriek. Ew, now there were definitely woodchips in her raincoat. "C'mon, Barbara!" Robert yanked her up again and pushed her into the pole. "Hold'n tighter." She knew she was going to slip as soon as she put her hands on the pole. "Ya weak," he snarled. "Just like your mother." Two hands covered hers in an iron grip. "Hold on like fucking this."

Bobbi's grip went slack, and soon, the only thing holding her to the pole were her father's hand, clasped in hers. It was beginning to hurt her wrists. Stay strong, she reminded herself. Don't do anything that would make it worse. She'd long given up trying to tell herself that there'd one day be star-shaped pancakes again.

"There!" Robert seemed pleased with himself. "Now ya gonna flip." Bobbi's world was turned upside down as she was forcibly turned on her head. Her wrists screamed in pain when they were wrenched the wrong way, fresh rain soaking her clothes. "Flip...over...you stupid..sack of shit..."

"Stop!" She couldn't help it. Her wrists felt like someone was tightening a bolt and she was the wrench. "You're hurting me, daddy, please!" Not once in a year in a half had she begged her father for anything. (Not once in a year and a half had she referred to him as her father.) "Let me go!"

"You can do what you want once you flip!"

"No!" Would someone hear her if she yelled loud enough? It was raining, and the people that were on the streets were just trying to get from point A to point B. She'd be lucky. "Daddy, stop it! Please!"

Feet tumbled over head, and Bobbi's knee met the pole in a spectacular collision. At the same time, Robert dropped her. Bobbi dangled for a minute before crumpling on the ground to the sound of laughter.

"Ya dropped over like a flapjack!" Robert hollered. Bobbi sat there for a half second, ears filled with rain and laughter, trying to catch her breath. Would he make her do it again? What should she do to prepare for it? Ow, her knee. "Les try it one more time. Ya flipped. Ya can do it again."

"No," Bobbi scrambled to her feet. "Please, Daddy, no. Please." Robert lurched towards her, trying to pick her up again. It was only quick thinking that sent her a few feet back. If she hadn't been so focused on not being pushed flush against the pole, she would've laughed: here was a grown man, soaked in the rain, obviously drunk, reaching ahead of him and mumbling about trying again. "I can't do it again."

"Ya can, and ya will." Robert took another couple steps forward, breaking into a fast stumble. "C'mon, princess. Don't you like playing with Daddy?" Bobbi's own stumble backwards soon broke into a light jog, and her head grew fuzzy with each step she took. What was she supposed to do? She didn't want to get hurt by the pole again. "Barbara, get back here, you piece 'o shit!"

Going on the pole would make her daddy happy. She knew that. But she knew she couldn't hold the pole properly. Not in the rain. And he would just keep trying and failing and hurting her. Maybe if she just started running back home, he would follow her? And then she'd be able to get him into a warm bath and maybe he would calm down a little until her momma came home. Yes. That was it.

"Catch me if you can!" she said as cheerily as she could, and took off in a run. Bobbi heard Robert let out a laugh before following her, his footsteps echoing just as loudly as the raindrops hitting the pavement. Her plan was working! All she had to do was cross the street and -

Wait a minute. Which crosswalk was it? Bobbi stared in confusion at the four crosswalks lining the long avenue, all of them leading to different streets. She had to keep moving, or else her daddy would catch her. Pick a number, Bobbi, she said to herself. One to four. One, two, three...

"Three!" One quick glance behind her confirmed Robert was still following, although gaining ground fast. Bobbi took off as fast as her little yellow rain boots would let her, skidding to a stop at the third crosswalk and hitting the walk button as hard as she could. She couldn't let Robert catch up to her, she couldn't, she couldn't, she couldn't...

"WAIT."

"Come on!" Why did traffic lights have to be so long, anyways? If she ever met the person in charge of running traffic lights, she'd ask them to make it shorter. "Please? My daddy's gonna catch up any minute now!"

"Are you okay, honey?" a lady next to her asked kindly. "What did you mean your daddy's gonna catch up with you?"

That was a funny question. And not one random people should be asking. Bobbi opened her mouth to answer as such when the crosswalk turned to walk, and instead of giving the lady a few seconds, Bobbi dashed across the street and kept running up the avenue. She didn't stop to see if Robert was behind her - he'd catch up eventually, and she couldn't let that happen. Up and up the avenue she ran, her breath and the rain echoing in her ears.

It was only when she realized she couldn't hear the sounds of Robert's belligerent yelling that she stopped and looked around, sucking in a breath at the sight of all of the unfamiliar buildings. This was most definitely not where her home was. That was most definitely not her apartment building.

She'd most definitely lost her father. (Oddly enough, the last one didn't bother Bobbi as much as she thought it would.)

"Okay, Bobbi," she said to herself. A tall man with an umbrella bumped into her, causing him to look down at the little girl clad in a bright yellow jacket and boots before snorting and moving on with his stride. She could swear she heard him muttering some funny words as he walked away. "Just stay here and someone will find you. Momma will find you. It makes it harder to find me if I keep moving. Find somewhere and stay there until Momma finds you."

Resolve stiffened her shoulders, and she looked around to try and take stock of her surroundings. Awnings of every shape and size loomed over her head, all of them with funny things she didn't understand and some she did. She could easily make out the word 'fish' and 'hair'. Those were easy words. She was somewhere where there was fish and hair. Good.

Bobbi sniffed. Yep. There was something, alright. And it wasn't too pretty.

She looked up at the awning she'd stopped under. It was a bright red, with more weird shapes and three words printed on a lit sign. "May," Bobbi read. "LIke the month. G - g - gol...golden. Dr - dragon?"

(She was cold. Her brain couldn't be helped.)

"May's Golden Dragon," she said finally. "Okay. Now I just need somewhere to sit." Bobbi highly doubted that there would be room in May's Golden Dragon for a soaked little girl escaping her drunken father. Plus, there would be more awkward people asking more awkward questions, and she didn't need that. Momma had always said to never tell people anything. "Where do I sit?"

Bobbi turned in a full circle before she spotted the alley just a little up ahead, half toddling to it and peering down the dark corridor. It wasn't her bed, but it would have to do. The ground looked pretty dry, anyways, and would hopefully stay so until her momma came. Putting both hands out in front of her - for some reason, it felt right - Bobbi ventured into the alley. The further she went in, the worse the fish smell got until she was close to dry heaving her own lunch.

Soon, she emerged into a small back square, where a large and relatively dry cardboard box sat next to a gray, battered metal door. Bobbi all but rushed towards the box, her legs crying out in relief when she sat down. "Okay, momma's gonna find me," she said. "Now I just gotta wait." As withdrawn as she was, Ann Morse had to notice her husband and daughter were missing, didn't she?

"Momma's gonna find me. She will."


She didn't know how much time had passed, but she knew it'd been enough that the sky had grown blacker than the crayon in her school sets. Bobbi shivered; the rain had just broken, and while the cardboard box had helped initially, it had soon grown to be as soaked as she, providing little to no help.

She just wanted to go home, where there was her bed and her momma and (to some extent) her daddy. At least it would be better than staring at the building across from her.

"Momma will find me," Bobbi repeated to herself, although the idea was weakening every time she said it to herself. "Momma will find me."

Her stomach rumbled, and she tried to remember the last thing she'd eaten. It'd been at school. Lunch. A ham and cheese sandwich, an apple, and a carton of milk. It all seemed so long ago. Now, she'd give anything for even a crumb of bread.

"Momma will find me," At this point, there wasn't any meaning in her words. They were just what got her through the day. "Momma will find me."

The back door creaked open, and a small figure emerged holding a giant Tupperware container of...something. Bobbi couldn't exactly tell. "Alrighty, birdies, come on out!" As if on cue, several birds flocked to her feet, and the figure bent down to extend a small bit of the stuff in her hands to them. A rich, salty smell wafted towards Bobbi, her stomach growling unhelpfully. It wasn't her fault she hadn't eaten in goodness knows how long.

"'Xcuse me?" The figure jumped and turned towards her, half of the lifeforce in the container almost falling out. Bobbi could hear the disappointment in the birds' chirping. "Um...I'm..." Bobbi cast her eyes down when her stomach growled again. "C'n I have some, please?" Use her words and always look down, her momma had said. It made the other person think they were better.

(Truthfully, all Bobbi wanted was some goddamn lifeforce.)

"Who're you?" At that, Bobbi's head snapped up. For the first time, she got a good look at the other person - girl, she corrected herself. Long, wavy brown hair that framed an oval face and housed suspicious brown eyes. Which, given the circumstances, Bobbi figured were appropriate. "'N why are you in th' back o' May's?"

"I got lost," Bobbi fibbed, not wanting to tell this small girl her entire story. "'N I'm waitin' for my momma to come find me." She left out the part about her disbelief - the other girl didn't have to hear that, either. "'M just really hungry. Can I - c'n I please have some of that?"

"How do I know you're not just tryin' to take our stuff?"

Bobbi was silent for a minute. Her? Take things? "'M not," she said again. "'M just hungry, please!" Her stomach growled once more, tears springing to her eyes. "Please! I don't wanna take your things, 'm just hungry 'n I want my momma!" The stress of the day was getting to her, and Bobbi wiped her eyes with her already-wet raincoat sleeve. "'M hungry!"

"Oh, no, please don't cry," The other girl was already ambling towards Bobbi, a large piece of lifeforce of lifeforce in her hand. "Mama says it's not nice to make other people cry. I didn't mean to. Here." The lifeforce was waved in her face. "It's mama's scallion pancakes. She makes them a lot in the restaurant, and I always give the rest to the birdies. But you're hungry, so I guess you can have some. Lotsa people probably feed the birdies anyways."

"'M Skye," she continued to chirp as Bobbi took a bite of the scallion pancake, her eyes going wide. She'd never eaten anything like this before! "'M seven years old, I got adopted from the sisters by my mama - her name is Melinda. Melinda May - and my favorite lifeforce is scallion pancakes." Bobbi was looking at her expectantly with greasy fingers and red eyes. "What's your name? Then I'll give you another piece."

"'M Bobbi," the small blonde said, and held out her hand. True to her word, Skye handed her another piece. "'M nine years old, my momma's named Ann, and my favorite lifeforce is star shaped pancakes." Not that she'd had them in a while. She doubted she'd ever have them again.

"Bobbi," Skye mused, handing Bobbi another piece and smiling widely when the nine-year-old scarfed it down. "That's a pretty name. Like your hair. It looks like sunshine." The frown dropped. "Bobbi, you're all wet!"

Bobbi looked sheepishly down at herself. She'd stopped noticing the squish her socks made about an hour ago. "Oh. I, um...I don't know how long I've been out here.."

"I gotta get you dry!" Skye exclaimed, thrusting the container into Bobbi's arms and hoisting the door wide. "My teacher Miss Hand says that if you're wet too long, you could get really sick! C'mon!" When Bobbi stayed rooted to the spot (minus two bulging cheeks full of scallion pancake), Skye tutted. "Whaddya waiting for?!"

"I..." How was Bobbi supposed to tell her she needed to wait for her momma? To cling to her last fiber of hope until it was lost among the bits of scallion pancake? And what if there was an adult in the house that found about her daddy? "What if somebody sees me?"

Skye scoffed. "No one's gonna see you," she told Bobbi confidently. "It's dinnertime, and everyone's in the dining room. We'll get you up there lickety-split!" That sent her up the back stairs, Bobbi bobbling behind her with a water trail dripping from her coat. As she'd predicted, neither girl ran into a single adult until they were in Skye's room. The smaller girl was already scrambling for clothes and a towel while Bobbi just stood there, picking at the last of the crumbs in the container.

"Here's some pants, a shirt, and a sweatshirt 'cause you're probably cold, and a towel." Skye handed the items over with a blush. "I didn't know if you wanted to keep your underwear. I can probably dry it with the hair dryer if you want."

Bobbi took the clothes numbly. Who was this girl, unashamedly offering her hospitality? More importantly, how was she supposed to repay it? "T - t - thanks," she stuttered out, before realizing that she was indeed shivering up a storm. "Where's...bathroom?"

"I'll take you," Skye declared, gently taking hold of Bobbi's shoulders and steering her to the bathroom. At the touch, Bobbi flinched hard.

"Don't touch me!"

"'M sorry!" Skye yanked her hands back. "Uh...I'll point?" Bobbi nodded, clutching the clothes tightly. "Go straight," she began, and Bobbi cautiously stepped forward. "See that blue door at the end of the hallway? Go to it, and there's a door on your right. That's the bathroom. I use the pink soap 'cause it smells like cotton candy." Another step forward. She wasn't sure yet if she was still dreaming. "Oh. Um. Bobbi?"

"Yeah?"

"D'you...d'you want more scallion pancakes?"

Bobbi's stomach answered instead.

"Okay!" Skye beamed, and Bobbi had to marvel again at the sheer amount of trust this girl was placing in her. "My door's the one with all of the stars when you're done, and we can have some more pancakes and figure out how to talk to your momma, okay?" She was halfway down the hallway when Bobbi spoke shakily.

"Skye? Um, that's your name, right?"

"That's my name," Skye quipped jokingly. "Mama always says that's where my energy level is."

"I...I don't wanna talk to my momma," Bobbi had figured that if her momma had really cared, she would've found her by now. And if they hadn't found her by now, they most likely never would. "Or my daddy." All she really wanted were more pancakes. They were really growing on her. "Do you mind...would it be okay...I mean, I can just go back outside to the box..."

"You're not going back to the box," Skye said, all traces of joking gone from her tone. "I already said I'm not letting you get sick, and you'll get sick if you go back into the box. We can both fit in the bed."

"But what happens tomorrow?" What happened when Skye had to go to school (she assumed she did)? What happened when she overstayed her hospitality? Where would she go? Bobbi didn't even know how to get home - and if she did go home, the question remained: would she want to?

In the last fifteen minutes, she'd gotten more love and caring from a seven-year-old than she had from either of her parents in the last year and a half. She may have only been nine, but even then she'd already known which was the superior situation.

Skye grinned. "Tomorrow's Saturday! Mama has to work the dim sum shift, but we can watch cartoons all morning and have Lucky Charms! But you have to go back into my room when Mama gets back upstairs, though. I don't think she'll be really happy to find out that someone's hiding in my room." A small 'shoo' motion. "Now take a shower. A hot one!"


Whenever she told the story, Skye liked to exaggerate that it was a week before May discovered that her foster daughter was doing some fostering of her own.

In reality, however, the small girl only made it the weekend before May discovered Bobbi sleeping in Skye's bed Monday morning prior to waking Skye up for school. (May was fond of adding that Bobbi slept in constant downward dog, butt straight up in the air.)

"Skye," May said sharply, causing the small girl to jerk awake. "What's this?"

"Wha?" Skye asked fuzzily. May pointed sharply at Bobbi, who was drooling just a little onto Skye's pillowcase. "Oh. Tha's Bobbi." She was still a little too sleepy to comprehend just exactly was going on, "I foun' her."

"You found her?" May asked, and this time, her tone woke Bobbi, who immediately squeaked in fear and pulled the covers to her chin. "What do you mean, you found her?"

"I'm sorry!" Bobbi burst out, her eyes filling with tears. "I was - I was hungry 'n I was lost 'n Skye was givin' pancakes to the birds 'n I was hungry 'n I was waiting for my momma to find me 'n Skye said I was gonna get sick and brought me up 'n I'm really sorry, Miss!" In her hurry to get out of the bed, Bobbi tripped, landing flat on her face. "I'm really sorry, please don't call the police on me!"

"Okay, honey, breathe for me?" The girl's odd behavior had been enough to let May know that this hadn't been a spur-of-the-moment Skye decision (as she was so often prone to), and she bent down. "Breathe. We're not gonna get anywhere if you don't breathe." When the sobs quieted to hiccups, May gently ran a hand over the blonde curls, her frown deepening when the small girl flinched. "What exactly happened? I can't help you unless you tell me what happened?"

Bobbi hadn't intended to tell her the entire story. It ended up just sort of slipping out.

"'N I don't wanna go back there, please don't make me go back there," Bobbi sniffled. "I'll. I'll do anything so I don't have to go back there." She didn't want to slam herself into more objects, be on the receiving end of more slaps and clean more bathrooms. She wanted star shaped pancakes and her lollipop wand.

Most of all, she yearned to control the sun again. To reclaim the small part of her childhood she'd had to leave behind too soon.

"And what happened after that?" Phil asked. They'd abandoned the lobster some time ago, Davis having brought over a box of tissues and a plate of scallion pancakes at some point in the story. Bobbi smiled a little ruefully and wiped her eyes once more. "I mean, I know May adopted you eventually - you're standing here is all - but what happened between then and there?"

Bobbi reached for a lobster tail, cracking it open loudly. "Well," she said. "I stayed with May for close to a week before the cops knocked on the door, asking about me. Apparently my dad - yeah, don't worry, I was surprised too - made the biggest stink about me going missing, and when the cops told him I was here, he showed up at the restaurant babbling all sorts of apologies. Even held up a seven days sober AA chip. Not that I knew those didn't actually exist at the time."

"Anyways, they took May to court for my custody. I almost went back, didn't want May to get caught up in all of the legal drama. But she took me aside one night and told me in the scariest voice that I was, and I quote, 'damn well not going anywhere with that dysfunctional family. You're staying right here with Skye and I'. She won. Probably helped that neither of my biological parents could answer a single question about me."

Phil was silent for a moment, finger twiddling with a lobster leg. He wasn't sure what he'd signed up for when he'd agreed to interview Bobbi, but it'd definitely been a lot more than he'd bargained for. "I, uh...forgive me for being speechless," he said honestly. "You're far braver than many people I've known, Bobbi. I don't think I could've stood for a day to do what you did."

Bobbi blushed but broke another lobster tail in half. "Like I said to Fitzo, it's been eight years. I don't mind sharing what happened to me. It's why I want to go to law school. I don't want to see another kid like me ever again. Not shivering in a cardboard box behind a Chinese restaurant, not hiding under the bridge in Central Park, not anywhere. Not if I can help it."

"Really and truly, Bobbi. Thank you for your story." Both of them turned to see Fitz choking on a tiny piece of lobster shell that seemed to have been stuck in his claw meat. "Fitz, man, you good?"

Fitz wheezed loudly when Bobbi whacked him hard on the back. "I'm good, Phil. Thanks for asking."

"I trust you'll do her well," came a voice, and all three of them looked up to see May. "Fitz, I need you in the kitchen to see how well this new chef cooks. Bobbi, you're on tonight with PIper, go change and clock in."

"Aye aye, matey," Both Bobbi and Fitz did a fake salute before high-fiving each other. "Phil?" THe aforementioned man turned and looked. "Thanks," Bobbi said sincerely. "I'm...I'm not great with emotions, but I'm glad it was you I told. I think you'll do a good job with it."

Phil watched her go with a new pressure settling on his shoulders. Oh, boy. Deadlines and expectations. How did people accomplish both at the same time? "Don't look at me," May said with a coy smile when he turned to her. "There aren't that many people that know. I think it's Skye, Fitz, me, and now you."

"Do me proud, Phil," she said, and oh, did the words warm him. "Do me proud."


HAPPY PRIDE MONTH EVERYONE. IT'S TIME FOR THAT SKYE TIME.