Their faces were pressed up against the glass of the interrogation room. She was interested in what the boy, Andrew, had to say about the night his mother was murdered. He was so little. She couldn't help but feel horrible, and somehow responsible that he'd witnessed such a gruesome sight. Each time he was asked about the subject, he'd go silent, or recoil from the children's services agent. A reason Clary had given him up was to spare him of the gory details surrounding his birth, but perhaps that only damaged him further.
"Andrew…" The agent sighed once he had scooted back in his seat. Her hand pressed out to him. "Can you please tell me why you're so scared?" The agent asked. Andrew lifted his head from his shoulders where it hung limply.
"I don't have a Mommy anymore." He croaked, then let his small head rest in his clammy hands. Simon put his arm around Clary, and she wondered what Jace was thinking from behind them. Perhaps the agent was looking back at Clary, scolding her for giving up such an angel.
Standing up straight, the agent turned to the glass and shrugged, taking her files with her and leaving the three year old in the room. Clary wanted to snap at her for such carelessness.
"He's too shy. He won't open up, to me at least." She said while eyes Clary for the last of her speech. It was as if she knew exactly why Clary had given him up. That maybe she thought Clary had given him up under small stress. That the death of Andrew's and and her family amounted to little stress.
"Do you have any suggestions?" Simon asked her while pacing the hallway outside the room. The agent shrugged, looking back at the boy with ink black hair with doubt.
"No, not really. We can't do anything until he opens up. And until then, he's going to go into foster care." She said with a dull voice. Clary bit back bile.
"Are you kidding?! The kid just watched his mother be murdered! Don't you need to evaluate him or something?!" Clary gasped.
"Adoptive mother." The agent corrected and Clary scoffed.
"Do you think he knew that?" Clary scowled.
"I don't know. What I have from him has come from the day he was born. It was a very confidential adoption. Few probably had proof that he was adopted. Ms. Loss was a secretive woman who'd abandoned her home life. From what I've gathered, the only people that could ever care for him don't know of his existence. He's alone." Clary bit back a tongue lashing, or tears. Either which, they were burning a nasty color on her throat.
"Alone? How can a three year old be alone?" She asked. The agent seemed to be annoyed with Clary's questioning.
"Because, the only people his mother seemed to associate with would be those who actually showed up at her house. She was a single woman who had a three year old child to watch." The agent answered stiffly.
"So, if we can't get him to talk, what happens?" Simon asked.
"He goes back to the agency with me."
"Oh," Simon responded with an echo of sadness. The tongue that Clary had been biting on could remain still no longer, and when she released it, she knew she might regret what she was about to say.
"What if I try talking to him? Could I do that?" Clary blurted, and the agent looked surprised.
"Go ahead. He's not easy to talk to." She shrugged.
"Are you going to go in there with me?" Clary asked. The agent shook her head.
"No, he doesn't seem to enjoy my presence, so for now I'll just watch from the glass." And with that, Clary walked to the steel door and twisted its knob open. Andrew lifted his head up, looking surprised when he saw Clary. She wondered if he knew that she was his biological mother, or if he was scared of her too.
"Huh?" He questioned, no hint of anger. Only curiosity. Clary smiled, then sat next to him, wincing at the cold chair that greeted her pants.
"I'm detective Fairchild. Clarissa Fairchild, but you can just call me Clary." She answered.
"Kay." He nodded slowly, looking down at the steel table.
"It's cold in here, isn't it?" Clary asked him, rubbing her arms. Andrew looked up at her, shivering along with her.
"Mmhmm." He agreed.
"Why were your clothes wet when you got here, Andrew?" Clary asked with hesitation, wanting to keep her questions simply until she knew she could no longer hide the fact that he'd seen his mother's death.
"Rain." Andrew answered simply.
"You know, I kinda like the rain." She admitted, smacking herself on the forehead for sounding so stupid.
"Me too. Mommy says it makes me dirty." Andrew smiled sadly. Clary had an extreme urge to hug the child, but thought against the idea.
"What was Mommy like?" Clary asked him, her elbow leaning on the cold table. Andrew's face lit up, and he opened his mouth with an expressive smile.
"Pretty. Tall. Her hair was… brown." She was amused at his thought process. At how every word was well practiced, and he took a few seconds to think of the color brown. "Not like mine. Mine is black. Her skin is brown too. And her eyes. But I'm white, really white." Clary snorted at him, and she knew Simon would be too. Clary had always commented on her own pearly colored skin, hating how it never tanned.
"My skin is like that too. My husband had skin like your's." Clary responded. "Was your Mommy happy, sad, angry?" She asked the three year old, who seemed to think the question a million times over.
"Happy, but sometimes sad. She said that my daddy was old, very old. He died before I was born." Andrew told her. Clary had read in Catarina's files that her husband was in his fifties, older than her, and he had died of cancer that should have killed him many years before.
"What did he look like?" Clary asked him. Andrew pulled at the ends of his hair, and Clary marveled at how Sebastian did the same thing.
"Not like me." Was all he said back. "Mommy said I'd meet him though, in another place. I think she's with him now."
"Are you happy for her?" She questioned with actual interest.
"How am I going to find them when I die? Where will they be?" Andrew wondered, breaking Clary's heart at his sadness.
"They'll wait." She soothed, even if she wasn't religious.
"But what if I get old? Will the know what I look like?" Andrew asked.
"I think so. I have people waiting for me too." Clary said. This seemed to peak his interest, as his mouth opened to ask even more questions of the afterlife.
"Who?" He wondered. Clary took in a deep breath, momentarily closing her eyes to picture the smiling man with dark hair. Thinking, she pulled out her wallet, knowing that an image of her small, departed family rested inside one of the sleeves.
"This is them…" She said, pointing at Sebastian and Beth, Clary holding her daughter who was laughing at her father's silly faces. Andrew's hand skimmed to over to the protective sleeve, running across his father's face with apparent amazement.
"What is their names?" He said with questionable grammar that she did not correct. Shrugging her pet peeve, she smiled at his darting eyes.
"This," she said, pointing to Sebastian. "Is my husband, Sebastian."
"Sebastian?"
"Yeah, what's wrong? You don't like that name?" Clary asked and Andrew shrugged.
"I've heard it." Andrew answered. "What is her name?" He said, pointing at his biological sister.
"That, is our daughter, Beth. She was amazing. Such a happy baby…" Clary's eyes watered, but she looked up at the burning lights of the interrogation room to dry up her waning tears.
"What happened to them?" His dark brown eyes were wide as he asked. Maybe hesitant at his own words when they left his mouth.
"Bad people took her away from me. From us. My husband, he was very sad, and when his heart broke, he couldn't handle it." Clary answered.
"A bad woman took away my Mommy." Andrew sighed, and her mind shook with interest, as he had never declared the assailant's gender.
"Can you tell me what the bad woman looked like?" She blurted to him, but he shrugged, okay with the question.
"Her hair was black… like mine. Long. Her skin was white… also like mine. But her smile was scary. Not like mine." Andrew detailed. "Are you going to find her? Is she in trouble?"
"Yes, a lot of trouble. She won't hurt anyone's Mommy." Clary vowed. The steel doors opened, and in walked Captain Carstairs and the agent. The agent grabbed Andrew's arm, and he fought back.
"What is going to happen to me? Who will watch me?" Andrew yelled over her commands. Clary looked at the woman with an incredulous stare.
"I don't…" Clary began. "Wait!" Clary shouted, halting everyone's movement. The agent raised her brows, angered that she was being dramatic. "Can he stay with me?" She asked both her captain and the irritated woman. Andrew did too, his lower lip pouting like a puppy being denied a toy.
"Maybe-"
"Yes." Captain Carstairs declared, and Andrew broke free from the agent's grip, running to Clary's side. He was hesitant to touch her, until she finally reached for his hand and gripped it tight. Seeing her invitation, he hugged her. Clary was shocked to hear his long, wet, sobs that sounded in her ear; as if he had been waiting for someone to cry to.
Thoughts?