"Hey guys? Do you ever wonder what are parents were like? Like, out birth parents?"
Silence permeated the card table at L's question. Mimi awkwardly shuffled her hand of cards while O'Chunks stared at his intently. Finally, Dimentio pressed his hands into the table.
"Why should we?" He questioned. "Either they gave us up or they're dead. There isn't a lot to wonder. Let alone care about."
"Yeah," L pressed. "But I wonder sometimes what they must have been like. I mean… They must have had their reasons, right?"
Dimentio shrugged. "…I guess so."
Mimi swallowed. "Mine died. I know that much. Even if I was too little to remember them I know that. All I can remember of… before, is flashes of skirts, the twisting of ankles and then… death. More death and dirt than I've seen since."
O'Chunks put a hand on her shoulder. "Ah know 'ow you feel. I don't really 'member ma folks 'ither, even though ah was ol'er. My ol' sh'ink said I was… repressing it or somthin, ah dunno. Bu' I know this. Me mum died, and me da went crazy. I woke up one morn'n and both he an' me lil sister were gone. I still dunno what happened. But ah like to think that, were she alive, ma baby sis 'ould be happy 'ere."
A fond smile graced O'Chunks face and another silence filled the room, this one thicker than O'Chunks arms. L could practically cut it.
"I wonder if my family would be proud," He wondered aloud, chattering the awkward silence. "And as much as I'd like to think they died, I'm nearly sure they gave me up. After all, who'd want a kid who can't remember his name half the time?"
He laughed humorlessly. "Still, I have to wonder what would happen if they could see me now."
Mimi patted his arm. "I think they'd regret ever leaving you."
L flashed her a grateful smile.
"I daydream about my mom."
All heads turned to Dimentio, who was currently addressing the cards he was intently shuffling.
"She's all I remember from… I used to have fantasies where she'd come back and take me away from everything. The orphanage, the foster homes. Now I just imagine what she might say about everything I do. She's always proud of me. Always smiling. In my dreams, I have no doubt she loves me.
"And then I wake up and realize the reality is that I was given away. No thought, and I'm sure very little regret. I'm her reject. Plain and simple."
A long pause followed that statement, no one knowing quite what to say.
"We're all rejects," Mimi whispered. "That's what orphans are, isn't it? The scraps no one wants."
"Not te the Count," O'Chunks protested. "He likes us."
"Yes, but we could have been anyone," Dimentio sneered. "We all know how tender-hearted the old man is, he would have taken in any four kids who asked. That doesn't make us special. It only makes us lucky."
"Maybe so," L argued. "But fate chose the four of us for him to take in. There's got to be a reason!"
"Oh please," Dimentio was scowling now. "I stopped believing in fate when my mother dropped me on a doorstep."
For a solid five minutes the only sound in the game room was Dimentio's shuffling cards, each child buried in their thoughts. Suddenly, L spoke again, trying to diffuse the rift he'd caused.
"I don't think it matters, really. You were right the first time, Dims, they either gave us up or died on us. Speculation won't do anything really. The Count is our dad now, and yeah, we could have been anyone, but we weren't. We were us. And the Count… he took us in. Rejects though we are.
"Our birth parents aren't here anymore. For whatever reason, we aren't theirs anymore. But we are his. And maybe that doesn't mean anything in the grand, universal scheme, but… well it means something to me."
He shrugged, feeling awkward for having brought it up at all. He felt a little bit sorry for having mentioned it, but having watched Annie the previous night filled him with an odd mix of curiosity and nostalgia.
"It means something to me." Mimi muttered. "It's a little silly, but I'd rather have the Count than anyone else for a dad."
"Same 'ere," O'Chunks agreed. "Me ol' dad was rotten. The Count is a step up, trus' me."
L glanced at Dimentio, trying not to pressure him into answering. Unfortunately, he got caught.
"Am I supposed to agree now?" The junior magician raised an eyebrow at them. "Well I'm horribly sorry to disappoint but as of yet I do not think of the Count as my father. It'd break his heart if I told him that but it's the honest truth. I'd rather daydream about my mom then be pitied by an old sap like him."
With that, Dimentio dropped his cards and left the room, a clouded, unreadable mask on his face.
L desperately wanted to go after him but he could dense his need to blow off steam.
"I don't think he means it." Mimi reassured him. "He'll be back and say he was wrong. You know him. Has to give everyone a different face, and has one for every occasion. He'll be back."
"I hope so, Mimi," L stared out the door. "I really hope so."
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Dimentio did not pout or cry, ever, unless it was to pull someone's strings and get what he wanted, and even that was used sparingly. So, when Nastasia found him underneath a thick willow tree in the garden she was surprised to see him glaring at the trunk, tear tracks on his face.
Quietly, she moved the branches aside and sat next to him. He didn't say anything, or even acknowledge her, but some internal instinct told her he'd heard her come up.
"So…" She started lamely. "Just how interesting is that tree?"
Dimentio glared harder at the trunk.
"Wow. That cool, huh? Well, I'll just have to watch it myself to see if can see what you are, kay?"
"Why are you here?" the boy asked after some time had passed.
"I'm looking at the tree, same as you."
"Liar!" He snapped. "The Count sent you, didn't he? L must have tattled and the busy nobleman sent his lackey to collect me."
"To clarify, is this the same nobleman who's spending a week in Overthere trying to close a deal?" Nastasia inquired.
Dimentio scowled at the bark, and let the silence settle over them again.
"I don't want the Count to be my only parent."
"What do you mean?"
"WHAT I SAID!" he snapped. "All of them were talking about how our old parents didn't matter because 'we have the Count now.' Sharing their memories of what they used to have. Well maybe, just maybe, not everyone is okay with brushing all of that off to the side! Maybe some of us would pay anything to have memories, even the glimpses that the others have. A hint of who we used to have. Of who used to have us. And yeah, I helped them realize they have it good here. It's better for them if they move on, better for me too, if they stop clinging to the past like a fly to does to a wall! So I nudged them the right way. And yeah, maybe we weren't something anyone else wanted, but all I want is to have KNOWN HER. Just once!"
The tears were streaming freely now, but Dimentio hardly noticed. He was too filled with emotions, red and blue and hot and passionate, filling him up until there was only screaming in his head. And it was far too late to stop that screaming from pouring out.
"I have a picture so I see her I my head all the time! But she has no voice because I've never heard it. She has no personality, because I've never seen it! Who abandons a child with a photo of themselves tucked in the blankets? I know I wouldn't because this? Seeing her ghost, her afterimage? It's little less than torture. My own personal hell. It's… It drives me mad. It's not-"
His throat constricted suddenly, cutting him off. Hot tears poured down his face and he dimly registered that Nastasia had picked him up at some point. He gathered the fabric of her dress shirt in his fists and curled deeper into her lap.
"I just want to meet her- know her," He choked. "Just once. Just once…"
Nastasia stroked his back gently. "You're too young for this, you know. Not for these feelings, but these experiences. No one in this or any world should have had to go through what you kids have gone through. Let alone when you're so young. And you're right, it isn't fair. But I'll let you in on a secret about adoption, kay?"
He sniffled. "Wha-What?"
"It's a choice. Not the choice of the kids, not the choice of anyone who gave you life originally, but the choice of the one who took you in and made you his own. It was entirely his choice and he made it without a second thought. Could you have been any kid at all? Maybe so. But I think you were given this chance because you were needed. Not because of how much you needed the Count, or this family, but because of how much this family needed you."
Dimentio felt a fresh wave of tears course down his cheeks, but he was far past the point of caring. He stayed there a long time, letting Nastasia hold him as, for the first time, he let down his mask.
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Across the city, unbeknownst to the pair under the tree, a young woman felt her heart lurch. She placed a hand over it in concern. If she hadn't known better, she'd say her soulmate was in trouble. But, of course, she did know better, so she merely questioned the feeling, which had come on so suddenly and yet, even now, was slowly calming down.
"Tippi? Are you alright my dear?" Merlon asked.
"Oh, yes," She nodded. "I think I'll be alright. Just had a strange feeling, that's all."
If it was some kind of soulmate, she thought against her better judgement, I hope they're alright. Wherever they are.
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I wrote this at three in the morning last night and spent half an hour editing it. I honestly have no idea where the idea came from, but hey! Development for Dimmy and Nassy! And some Tippi on the side.
I have another chapter almost done after this one, so I should update fairly soon. But that aside, does anyone have ideas on what the kiddos would call the Count? Like nicknames and such? I need a lot of them for what I have planned, but I'm having trouble creating them. They can have as much or as little context as you like, but please, keep it PG. This may be rated T, but I don't wanna see that kinda thing.