~37~

Ronan followed quickly behind Marge Cartwright as she made her way around his apartment, holding a clipboard tight to her chest. She occasionally made a tick on the sheet of paper, or would stop scribble something on the sheet of paper in her chicken scratch handwriting, making it hard for Ronan to read over he shoulder. And sometimes she would stop and place the eraser to the pencil against her lip and mutter a "Hmmmm" as she thought. And it unnerved him. He didn't know what was worse, the silence, the humming, or the questions.

He twisted his fingers together, swung his arms, ran his fingers through his hair, adjusted his tie, pulled up his pants, anything to put some noise in the air. It was all nervous habits, something to try and calm himself down. She wasn't saying anything and he didn't know if he was saying all the right things or making a good impression. It was hard to figure out what she thought.

Marge was a short woman with a permanently pinched expression on her face, as if she had eaten sour grapes. Her grayed hair was slicked back into a tight bun at the top of her head, one that she would occasionally stick her pen into when setting down her clipboard to inspect behind bends, couches, the refrigerator, everything to be sure the place was up to code and livable.

"I see that there is a…lack of adequate bedrooms in this apartment," Marge commented as she turned around on her loud, clacking heels as she turned around to face Ronan. "Would you have enough space for the five of them to stay here?"

"Well, the girls can have the guest room in the back," Ronan thought quickly, running his fingers through his hair for the umpteenth time. "Um, Syd could share my bed-" Marge's eyebrows shot up, "and…and Pat and No could…take the…fold out." He trailed off, pressing his lips together. It sounded bad as soon as it came out of his mouth. "Or…I could take the fold out. That's fine, too."

"Mr. McGuire, I understand this…bachelor pad of yours is suitable to help entertain your lady friends," Marge said, pursing her lips and Ronan felt his shoulders drop as he gave her an annoyed look, "but I'm not fully convinced that it's suitable for what you want." She started flipping through the sheets of paper on her clipboard. "Your background checks are clear, that's good. Since you're reapplying as a foster parent in the state of California, and you've already went through classes when you were in Boston, you don't need to take those. You've already been through First Aid and CPR classes. I'd suggest you refresh yourself on those."

"I just have a few more questions for you. First being; with your field of work, do you find that you'd have enough time to care for your kids? I've done some research of you online, and you have been described as being "married to your work." Ronan blinked. "Second, I'm curious as to why you want to take in the kids of someone who already fosters them? Third, do you think you're equipped to take in five kids at one time? Fourth, I know you'd like to integrate them into your family so I'm wondering why you don't considering moving into a new place that would accommodate them."

Ronan's jaw dropped slightly. He couldn't think of the answers fast enough. She was spitting out questions faster than he could blink. He didn't know if all the questions were good or bad, it was like she was trying to make him fail before he barely ever said anything. And that bothered him. His hands slowly curled into fists before he relaxed his fingers, setting his jaw.

"Fifth, have one boy or girl at a time is different than five, are you sure you know what you're getting into? Sixth, this place doesn't have any space for pets? Seventh, are you looking to adopt them down the line and if you are, are you ready to make that lifelong commitment? And finally, and most importantly, why do you think you'd be a good parent to these kids?"

Ronan closed his mouth, clicking his tongue for a moment before running his hands over his face. He knew that this was it. It all came down to how he answered these questions. Despite knowing that he had to answer questions from the heart, he wasn't 100% sure that it would help.

"I've worked with these kids for a long time now," Ronan explained, choosing his words carefully. "They're not just my clients, they're my friends. I always make time for them. Yes, I can agree that I'm married to my work, but they're my work. Yes, I think I'm able to take them in, I've practically helped raise them all these years with how their dad has pushed them on me. They always have a space here if and when they need it."

Marge slowly nodded, her lips still pursed. Ronan peered at her, trying to figure out if he could read her thoughts or to see if her pinched face had relaxed to show some emotion. No such luck.

"Since they've lived in the US, they've practically lived here. They've practically grown up here. If I had thought about it, that wall over there would've had marked their heights." Ronan pointed over to the corner where a piano sat. "If you look closely at the edge of that piano bench you'll see a blood stain where Sydney knocked out a tooth." He then turned towards the kitchen and patted the island top. "Right under here is where Patrick bumped his head and nearly had to get stitches. They love being here and they wouldn't want to leave it and they wouldn't want to feel like they're putting me out."

"Yes, I know what I'm getting into as; again, I've been around them since they were kids. They trust me and I trust them. I know what makes them tick, how they act when they're mad, sad, scared, nervous. I can calm them down whenever they feel all these things; they trust me to calm them down. I'm well aware of their pet situation but as of now, their animals are all back in Australia with their brother-"

"They're brother?" Marge repeated, her eyebrows shooting up.

"Yes, Julius," Ronan replied with a nod. "He's 19 years old, living back in Australia working his way through college. His grandfather was too old to take in six kids after the accident…everything was so chaotic at the time. He's working through college to come out here and help them once he has a solid job and had a stable enough lie to help them. He has a loving girlfriend who he's been dating since they were in high school. They keep in contact-"

"Are you looking to adopt six kids?" Marge interrupted him again and Ronan let out a sigh of annoyance. "He is out of age for something like this, a legal adult, able to make his own decisions-"

"He knows about all of this," Ronan said, interrupting her, making her sour look turn even more sour. "He understands and is behind it and would want to be adopted by me as a way to stay connected with his brothers and sisters after all these years they've been apart. We're working things out together. He's looking after their pets and if they come here, I have places for them."

"I see," Marge said, removing the pen from her hair to start scribbling again. "And are you looking to adopt them?"

"Yes," Ronan replied without a moment's hesitation. "You see…they need me. Whether or not they want to admit it to themselves, I can see it in their eyes whenever their dad is berating them during rehearsals or during studio work. Even during meet and greets he'll have a comment about something they did wrong, something miniscule and they'll turn to me as if asking me to praise them or…or to take them away. To save them from something I couldn't see…something I didn't want to see."

"They're in danger; I know they are. That's why I want to take them…I'm their only hope. That's the answer to your question; why do I want to take them from someone who already fosters them. I've done my research, no one ever really checks up on foster parents because…well, I don't know why. Maybe because it's temporary? I really don't know. I just know that I'm meant to be their parent. I was meant to meet them that day."

"And why do you think you'll be a good parent?" Marge asked after making a popping noise with her lips.

Ronan let out a breath of air through her nose, dropping his gaze to the ground. "For so many reasons," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

Kendall sat in the doctor's office, his eyes darted back and forth, his foot bouncing on the ground. A nurse walked in, sighing to herself, looking tired. She rubbed at her eyes before looking down at her clipboard and then up at the two men in the room. She frowned, doing a double take before peering over at Kendall, narrowing her eyes. sharp, crisp, white. She looked down at her clipboard, studied it, and carefully checked off a name from her list of patients. She then looked up and frowned when her eyes landed on Kendall.

"Sir, if you don't have an appointment, I must ask you to leave," she commented, placing her hands on her hips.

"I need to talk to the doctor," Kendall replied, briefly closing his eyes.

The nurse's eyebrows knitted together slightly. "Do you have an injury, do you need medical attention?" Kendall slowly shook his head. "Young man, this is a doctor's office. You can't come in here without an appointment. We run a business here and we don't need-"

"Look, it's really important!" Kendall cried, suddenly annoyed. "I didn't plan on coming here today, alright?. My name is Kendall Knight; I was here with my sister a little while ago with a hockey injury?" He licked his lips, running a hand over his face. "I need to talk to Doctor Forrester as soon as possible."

She peered at him for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh. She pinched the bridge of her nose, shaking her head, before dropping her arm, giving a nod. "You're in luck, kid," she commented, pursing her lips. "He only has one more appointment today. He'll see you when he's done."

"Thank you," Kendall replied with a nod and a brief smile.

He picked up a magazine from the table nearest him and started flipping through the pages, occupying his time as best as he could. His foot tapped on the ground and he shifted in his chair from time to time before he was finally called into Dr. Forrester's office.

He walked over to the table and sat down, the white paper crinkling and crunching under his butt as he shifted his weight. He wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans and licked his dry lips as he waited. He looked around the room at all of the charts and hummed to himself, trying to calm himself down. His breathing thinned out and he was trying hard to suck in a lungful of air. He raked his fingers through his hair, and drummed his fingers on the table. The idea of getting up and running out came to his mind as the door opened and Dr. Forrester slipped inside, giving Kendall a warm smile in greeting.

"I understand you needed to talk to me," he commented, clasping his hands behind his back. "Nurse Johnson said it was important. So why have you come here today, Mr. Knight? Carlos didn't try and jump off the top of the Palm Woods into the pool again did he?"

Kendall couldn't help but smile a little bit. "Not recently, but he promised he'd wear his helmet the next time he decided to do so," Kendall replied with a small laugh.

"So, what is that you wanted to talk to me about?" Dr. Forrester asked, moving to sit down on the rolling stool, using his feet to walk himself over to Kendall, resting his elbows on his knees.

"I-it's a lot of things," Kendall slowly replied. "I remembered when I came here last time; that the Jacksons were in here. Sydney, specifically."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Knight, but I'm not allowed to discuss the reasons for my patients' visits," Mr. Forrester said with a shake of his head. Kendall let out a noise of frustration and Mr. Forrester seemed taken aback. "Mr. Knight, what is the problem?"

"The last time I was here, Sydney was getting check on, right?" Kendall asked. "When we were leaving, I heard you say that if they were to come in here again, then you'd have no choice but to call child welfare." Dr. Forrester simply blinked. "They've been in here a lot haven't they?" Mr. Forrester's eyebrows raised. He licked his lips and straightened, crossing his arms over his chest.

"This is against my training as a medical person, but I can see that you're really worried about it," Dr. Forrester replied, suddenly looking tired. "You must promise me that this doesn't get out. I repeat it's against my training as I'm not allowed to disclose any information about my patients-"

"I think they're being abused," Kendall said, getting straight to the point, "is that what you think or not? Is that why you were going to call child welfare if they came back?"

"Mr. Knight, they've come in here numerous times with as many injuries you could think of over the years with as many excuses," Dr. Forrester said, scratching the back of his head. "Now if they played hockey like you and your friends, a lot of those could be covered but I know they're not that active given their careers and I know they're not the type to rough house with each other to give each other bruises and lesions."

Kendall's heart stopped as soon as the words reached his ears. But, he knew it to be true at the same time. He had seen them interact with each other over the months; there were some jokey shoves and punches, but nothing to really hurt each other. He saw how they treated Sydney, not like their brother, but most times like their own son, and he saw how Riley tried to be in charge of them at all times.

"I…" Kendall trailed off, shifting again, the crackling of the paper louder than it normally was. "It just makes sense. I've wondered for a while…I got onto Riley's computer and looked up song lyrics and I listened to their old albums…this whole time I wanted them to be my friends so badly. I think this is why. I think…subconsciously I knew something was wrong and in my own way I wanted to help."

He shook his head. "No, I know they want friends," he said quietly. "I know it's not something they're used to. I can just see it, you know?" The doctor nodded. "So, why hasn't anyone else seen it?"

"As medical personnel, we are trained to notice the warning signs," Dr. Forrester continued. "Abnormal behavior, injuries patients can't explain, their mannerisms, things like that." He leaned forward in his seat and peered closely at Kendall. "Have you noticed anything you'd consider abnormal, Mr. Knight?"

Kendall sighed, looking as if he wasn't going to say anything, before he gave a short nod, explaining everything he had noticed about the Jackson's since he had first met them. Dr. Forrester listened carefully, writing down everything the teenager had to say, pausing every once in a while to ask him questions.

"Mr. Knight, I'll be keeping this conversation we had as strictly confidential," Dr. Forrester said as he folded the piece of paper, sticking it into his large white coat pocket. "But, I must ask you a personal question."

"Sure," Kendall nodded.

"Well, I must ask…if you were knocked around as a kid yourself?" the doctor replied. Kendall looked taken aback, blinking in confusion. "I only ask because you seemed so intuitive and could spot it easier than most teens your age. In my many years of practicing, the person knows what to look for because they acted and felt the same way."

Kendall bowed his head, slowly nodding. "Kendall, it's nothing to be ashamed of." Kendall lifted his head and saw the doctor giving him a small smile. "Of anything, you've proven that it's something that's not a hindrance to you. You've really come a long way; growing up to be a responsible and successful young man."

"Yeah, sure," Kendall muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "I—thanks for talking to me."

"My pleasure," Dr. Forrester commented, tilting his head to the side. "Do you mind if I check something, Mr. Knight?" Kendall shrugged, shaking his head and the doctor walked over to him, asking him to tilt his head forward. Kendall heard Dr. Forrester make a tisking sound with his tongue before he felt the doctor run his fingers over the burn on the back of his neck.

"The Jacksons never seemed to show signs of any altercations with their father." As the doctor moved to stand in front of Kendall, Kendall felt dread, or maybe fear, running through his body. "Either Robert knows where to hurt them, or they're just good at hiding it with make up. If it's anything your burn shows me, we shouldn't rule anything out. However this is very serious. I'm going to have to make a few calls. Thanks for coming in, Mr. Knight."

"You're welcome." Kendall made a noise in the back of his throat and Dr. Forrester gave him a curious look. "How'd you know that-"

"You've been rubbing the back of your neck since we started talking," Dr. Forrester replied raising his eyebrows. "It's your tick, I'd say. I don't think you've ever noticed. Thank you for coming, Mr. Knight."

Kendall nodded before getting to his feet. He walked over to the door before pausing and turning back to face the doctor. "Um," he said, wiping his palms on his jeans. "Is…is it normal to…um, see…I don't know a, kind of, vision? Of my dad?"

"Was he the one that hurt you?" Dr. Forrester asked, scratching as his goatee and Kendall nodded. "Well, it could be PTSD." Kendall gave him a confused look. "Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Something could trigger a fear in you and it's manifested itself in the image of your father. Either that or-"

"I actually saw him?" Kendall asked.

"Yes, that's possible," Dr. Forrester agreed with a nod. "I was going to simply say, you just saw someone that looks like him." He peered over at Kendall. "Is there anything else you want to talk about? Any concerns or anything?"

"Anger," Kendall replied. "Is that normal?"

"Anger is a normal emotion, yes," Dr. Forrester replied. "In this case…because of what you experienced, what they experienced, yes anger is normal. Now, I'm not a psychologist, but to give an educated guess, I'd say anger stems from not being able to help themselves, not being able to help yourself at the time. It could also mean being mad at yourself for feeling like you could've done something more but you didn't. It could simply be that you picked up on someone's mannerisms; monkey see, monkey do."

"Right," Kendall replied with a nod. He gave a fleeting smile. "Thanks. For everything." Dr. Forrester gave a nod before heading out of the room. As soon as he was outside of the doctor's office, he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, bringing it up to his ear. "Hey, mom? Where are you?"

"I'm at Ronan's apartment-"

Kendall pulled the phone away from his ear, staring at the caller ID for a moment before putting it back.

"Sweetie? Are you there?"

"Yeah, mom," Kendall replied. "I need to talk to you."

"Kendall, is this impo-"

"Yes, mom, it is," Kendall replied, briefly closing his eyes. "I'm sorry if I'm interrupting you or, whatever, but I need to talk to you…about dad."

He heard an intake of breath on the other end of the phone. There was silence and Kendall checked the face plate of his phone again to see if they were disconnected and when he put the phone back, he heard whispers in the background before he got an answer from her.

Kendall hung up the phone before looking around for a bus stop, and made his way over to the stop, waiting impatiently for the bus to arrive. He tapped his feet on the floor as the bus rolled down the street. He peered at every man as he passed. Was that his dad? Was it him? Did he really see his dad? What's going to happen now after he talked to Dr. Forrester?

So many thoughts filled his mind that he nearly missed his stop. He had to jump out of his seat and practically throw himself out of the bus as it pulled away from the curb. As he walked into the familiar parking lot, he spotted his mom's car near the front doors. He paused, staring at it for a moment.

"We can be ourselves with the music and around you guys," Riley slowly replied, choosing her words carefully. "We don't have to act like something we're not."

"I know that feeling," Kendall replied. He started rocking back and forth on his heels before giving her a hopeful grin. "So…we're friends now?"

"I didn't say that," Riley instantly deadpanned, her upper lip curling. "Being comfortable around someone and being friends with someone are two different things."

"Ok," Kendall replied with a nod. It was obvious he was not going to give up on this. "So can I walk you in?"

"Nope," Riley simply replied, turning on her heels to move through the revolving door. She threw the peace sign up over her shoulder. "See ya, Kendork."

He let out a sigh through his nose before stepping inside the building. He walked past the receptionist desk and into the elevator, riding it all the way up. As the elevator ding-ed and the doors slid open, he found his heart hammering in his chest. He let out a slow breath of air and shuffled down the hall, sliding his hands into his jeans pockets. As he rounded the corner, he looked up to see his mom standing in the hallway, waiting for him.

"Everything ok?" Mrs. Knight asked, meeting him halfway, cupping his face with her cool, soft hands. "You look a little pale. You wanted to talk about your dad?"

Kendall nodded. He fell silent, instantly wondering whether or not this was a good idea. He wondered what she would say about his dad. He never thought about it before. No one ever brought up the subject with her or if they did, it would be behind closed doors and in hushed tones. Keeping him out of conversations, keeping him unaware of everything that happened to him, to his family.

A small popping sound hit the air as Kendall slowly curled his hands into fists at his sides. When did he start shaking?

"Why didn't you stop him?" he suddenly asked and Mrs. Knight blinked before her shoulders dropped, letting out a sigh through her nose. She shook her head. "Why'd you let him do that to me? All the time? You never stopped him."

"Kendall-"

"I was the one that had to stop him from hurting Katie," Kendall continued, talking over his mom, who's eyes lashed warningly. "I was the one that sang to her at night while you and dad were fighting. I made sure she was ok. I did. You never did any of that."

He saw the hurt look pass over his mom's face but he was too mad to stop talking. He had to get everything out. He had to make her understand how he felt, and how he was feeling about the Jacksons and how he wanted so badly to help but didn't know how and couldn't understand why no one else was doing anything. He wondered why he, again, was doing everything he could to help.

"I did a lot of things, Kendall," Mrs. Knight said quietly. "I tried to get him to stop; to go to therapy, to get anger management classes, but nothing I did he would go along with. We used to work together as a team, and then…he started demanding more of me, of us. When he didn't get his way, he threw a fit. He acted like a little boy when I thought I had married a well, respectable man."

Kendall swallowed, listening to his mom speak. She had started quietly and was now talking in a heated whisper. As if she was mad at him. He couldn't really blame her, he had just attacked her for parenting skills; something that he had always looked up to her for and respected her and loved her for. And with how she was talking now, he felt like a little boy again, shrinking in on himself, upset that he made her upset. Upset that he let her down.

"I did everything I could to help him and time and time again, he just shut me out, as if I didn't mean a thing to him," Kacy said with a shake of her head, giving an odd smile. "But instead of talking it out quietly, he chose to take his anger out on you while I just sat back and watched it all happen."

"So, you let him-"

"I didn't let him do anything to you, Kendall," Mrs. Knight said, her voice rising with every word. "You don't know exactly what happened between us-"

"What?" Kendall shouted back. "What happened mom? Because I remember he left one day and he never came back-"

The door to Ronan's apartment swung open and he stuck his head out into the hall. "I know it's not the best time to interrupt but might I suggest you not yell in the hall?" he asked. Kendall turned his head towards him, and gave him a hard stare just as his mom whipped her head around to face him. He put his hands up defensively and stepped back into the room, closing the door.

"He didn't just drop you and Katie," Mrs. Knight replied, her eyes flashing as she turned back towards her son. "I asked him to leave and to not come back until he promised he would put himself into rehab or anger management. It was his decision to drop all communication and to never come back. Not mine."

Kendall opened and closed his mouth. That was different. He had never known that, of course, and he never thought of it. He was always so stuck to the fact that his dad wasn't around after that night in the hospital, not that he could ever fully remember what happened. He didn't know if he blocked it out or was choosing not to remember. It was all becoming so foreign to him…what was real? What was his dreams? What was it that he was making himself see?

He took a step back from his mom, shaking his head back and forth. She stepped towards him and he took another step back. "I saw him," he said quietly, looking up at her. Mrs. Knight's eyebrows knitted together. "I saw dad; I mean, I think I did. He was in a Jamba Juice. I ran into him…I don't…I don't know if it's him. I-"

"Oh, sweetie," Mrs. Knight said quietly as she stepped towards him and wrapped her arms around him, giving him a tight hug. Kendall felt his eyes sting with the familiar warning of tears about to come and he sniffed loudly as he hugged her back, blinking rapidly to try and keep them back. His dad wasn't worth the tears, not anymore. "I'm so sorry. I know I should've handled things better. I know I should've told you everything earlier-"

"No, mom," Kendall said, shaking his head. He stepped back and peered into her eyes, giving her a warm smile."You're great and I love you. I'm sorry."

Mrs. Knight smiled and pressed a kiss to his forehead. He scrunched up his nose and used his arm to wipe off the spot before leaning forward to press a kiss to her cheek. "I love you, too," she said holding his face in her hands. Chills rushed around his head as she ran her fingers through his hair, pausing to brush the back of his neck where his burn was.

"The Jacksons never seemed to show signs of any altercations with their father. Either Robert knows where to hurt them, or they're just good at hiding it with make up. If it's anything your burn shows me, we shouldn't rule anything out. However this is very serious."

Kendall sighed, removing his mom's hands from around his neck. "Mom, there's something else," he said quietly, glancing at the closed apartment door.

"What's wrong?" Mrs. Knight asked.

"I need to talk to the both of you," Kendall said, nodding his head in the direction of the closed door. "It's very important. It's…the Jacksons. What's going on…I kind of know first hand."

Mrs. Knight's eyes widened slightly before they narrowed and a hesitant look crossed her face. "You know?" she asked quietly.

"You know?" Kendall shot back and Mrs. Knight slowly nodded. "And?" She glanced at the closed apartment door before giving him a confused look. "You both know and you haven't done anything about it?"

The door opened and Ronan stepped out, closing it behind him. "Look, Kendall, this will be hard for you to understand," he said quietly.

"You're doing it again, mom," Kendall said, ignoring Ronan and Mrs. Knight all but flinched. "You're standing by and watching this all go down and you're doing nothing." Kendall balled his hands into fists and breathing heavily started to pace before pointing a finger in Ronan's face. Stop. Calm down, Kendall. Just calm down. "And you! You claim you care about them but you're not doing anything!"

"Kendall, just calm down," Ronan said quietly, putting his hands up defensively. "Come inside and we can talk about this quietly."

"Talk?" Kendall said before snorting. "No, I don't want to talk." Ronan grabbed his arm and he roughly pulled it away. "All you adults do is talk. Well, I'm not going to let this happen to someone else. To my friends." He shook his head back and forth. "Logan...Logan and I can do something. We'll help." He then turned on his heels, ignoring the calls of his name and sped walked into the elevator. He jabbed his thumb into the starred button and paced as the doors slid shut. He was shaking. He squeezed his hands tightly together, breathing in and out through his nose. He suddenly shot out a hand and punched at the wall. Pain shot up into his elbow and he doubled over in pain, holding his fist against his stomach. "Fuck!"

A/N: In case you were confused, at the very end it was the whole "Monkey See, Monkey Do" thing with Kendall and his dad. He saw how his dad acted when he got mad when he was a kid and acted the same way, now.

Again, I know I've barely showed James, Carlos, Katie, and the girls, but this fic is mainly about the Jacksons' abuse. The next fic (Just Getting Started) will show their building friendships and them rebuilding friendships (in Logan, Rhuben, and Riley's case).

Hope you guys liked this one.

Cheers,

-Rhuben