February 2020

The call comes in at 3:32 PM. An eight-year-old boy in need of a home. No issues in school, no behavioral concerns, no problems at daycare. They only have a few minutes to decide before the caseworker needs a decision. It's only been a few weeks since their official license came in the mail. It had originally sounded like they'd get a foster child almost instantly, so when no calls came in that first week, it had been a little disheartening.

Jamie became frustrated, taking his mood swings out by having a dram or going for a run. Claire was nervous, wondering if the agency felt like they weren't a good match for any of the children that were available for placement. She spent her time in the garden, weeding and cutting the herbs that were thriving under her care.

"Claire and James Fraser. Licensed for one child. No gender preference."

The ink on the license had barely had the chance to dry before they were fielding calls for orientation, training opportunities, chances to discuss different placement options. It had all been so overwhelming but they were trying to take it in stride.

Jamie called Claire at work and gave a brief description of the boy before getting her approval. He knew that it wasn't how they imagined, but the child was in need of a good home and they had one to offer. Jamie hung up the phone with the caseworker after scheduling a time to drop the child off before realizing that he had not even gotten the lad's name.

"Ifrinn," he muttered as he raced home from work, his fingers tapping nervously on the steering wheel. He had no real time to organize the spare rooms, pacing the halls nervously as he waited for the sheets to be laundered. Claire would want a shower after she came home from work, knowing that they had to meet their newest arrival later that evening.

"So, how does this normally work?" Claire's question had been on his mind as well, though he felt foolish for thinking it and therefore hadn't asked. Jamie was forever grateful for his wife's lack of pride. She was never worried about looking silly and just wanted to be knowledgeable.

"Well, we generally try to give you the opportunity to have a smooth transition with a child. Introductions, visits, phone calls, before they move in. Of course, it's not always able to happen that way, but it's preferable as it allows the child to have time to adjust and transition." The caseworker was kind as she spoke. Something about the look on her face made Jamie realize that this was not the first time she had fielded this particular question.

The child. The way she said it, like the individual personalities she saw every day were interchangeable. He assumed that in her eyes, they were. She saw so much sadness, so much devastation that they had to become interchangeable. He vowed not to let a child in his home feel that way.

Well, this wasn't quite the way they intended on welcoming a child into their home, but it was the way that it was meant to be. He heard the door open and knew Claire would be toeing off her shoes just by the door, scurrying upstairs to change before their foster child would be dropped off.

Foster child. The words felt foreign to him. Jamie had always planned on having a child of his own and when he had first met Claire it was all he could dream of, but then they had serious conversations about their future.

She was infertile. A previous relationship with Frank Randall had made that obvious when they tried for children and with no luck for almost a year. She shared that the issue obviously lay not with Frank but with her own body. Her eyes had shone with unshed tears as she told him the story, vulnerable as they lay together in the dark one night. The moonlight had cast the room in a white-blue glow, matching the tone of her voice. His eyes drifted shut for a moment as he leaned forward to give her a kiss as she told him of her disappointment and feelings of failure. His lips attempted to siphon the pain from her, taking it on as his own.

"It's alright. There are other ways we can be parents together," he assured her, pressing a hand to her hair, his thumb finding its spot behind her ear. They had been together only a few months, but it had been the safest Claire had ever felt, like her vulnerabilities were not flaws, only a part of her. She told him this later, on their wedding night, that it was the moment she realized she was in love with him.

Jamie thought back to that conversation, wondering when exactly they had decided that this would be the way they grew their family. He should have known Claire would want to foster. She was a natural-born healer, and that included emotional pain. She had somehow coaxed the stories of his brother, mother, and father's deaths from him. Just as he sought to own her pain, she returned the favor in kind. Claire had healed Jamie from his past, and he knew she could do the same for a child. They shared fears about parenting but agreed that as a team, they could take on this experience.

There was a loud knock at the door and he froze. The water to the shower had just turned off and he glanced at the clock. The worker was twenty minutes early. He was told they were always late. It was common knowledge that caseworkers were always overworked and therefore running behind schedule.

"Shit!" He heard from upstairs, causing his lips to twist up into a smile. He could sense the anxiety running through Claire's own body. His wife, a generally steady and calm surgeon, now a fit of nerves and fears. They were both scared, but excited. They could do this.

Jamie went to open the door and felt his heart pounding in his chest. There was no turning back.

The door opened and Fergus felt like he had to crane his neck to see the man's face. He was tanned and had a kind smile, though Fergus was used to people's smiles being deceptive. How easy it was to smile at a caseworker and reassure them that everything was fine. He had seen his mother's boyfriend do it on numerous occasions, his heavy palm resting on Fergus' shoulder while fingers dug into his skin roughly, causing Fergus to nod in agreement.

He shook the thought from his mind and chewed on his inner cheek, peeking past the man to see a tall woman coming down the wooden staircase. So this home had a mom and a dad. Okay.

Fergus was used to seeing different types of families. Before he had gone home to his mom the last time, he had been with a single mom for a while, then two moms. This would be the first time that he had a dad living in the home. Other than his mom's boyfriend, who was most definitely not a dad.

"Fergus, would you like to come inside?" He glanced up and saw that the caseworker had already taken a few steps into the home and was waiting for the boy to join her.

"Oui," he murmured, biting down on his lower lip as he glanced around the house. It looked larger from the inside, and he felt himself clutching onto his backpack a little tighter. He was sure he could find a few places to hide should the man become angry. Not should… when the man did become angry. He knew it was a matter of when not if.

"Fergus, I'm James Fraser. And this is my wife, Claire. You may call me Jamie if ye'd prefer. Most people do," Fergus hadn't expected the accent from this man. Fergus knew he'd have to get used to it. What surprised him, even more, was that the mother had an English accent. Very proper in comparison to the man's thick, rough brogue.

"Um, hello. I'm Fergus," he explained, then felt stupid for saying it. Obviously they knew his name, the man had just addressed him as such.

"Fergus, would you like to see where you'll be sleeping? We have two spare rooms, you're welcome to pick whichever you'd prefer." The woman stood as his caseworker pulled out her paperwork file to have the man start signing the papers.

She led him up the staircase, carrying the small sack that his clothing had been placed in. He had only had a few minutes to pack up his things with the help of his caseworker and the police officer. They both had been kind as they helped rummage through the clothing, looking for clean items from piles on the floor while he gathered up one of his stuffed animals and the blanket he slept with each night. The packing had been brief, probably no more than twenty minutes, but how could one pack up their entire life in such a short time? He realized the woman had been talking to him, but he hadn't been paying attention.

"Sorry, what?"

"Oh! I was just saying that this room is a bit bigger and already painted a nice blue, but the other one has a window seat with a space to store your toys. If you'd like, we can paint either room a color you like. You'll just have to let us know which color you'd prefer." Fergus peered into what was deemed the larger room, eyeing it dubiously before looking down the hall to the other bedroom. He stuck his head into that one as well, giving it some serious thought. Although he didn't plan on being here long, the window seat did look pretty cool.

"This one would be okay. Thank you," he murmured as he stepped into the room, setting his backpack down by the bedside table. "I'm… I'm really sorry. I don't remember your name."

"Oh, that's alright, sweetheart. I'm Claire, and my husband is Jamie. Why don't you take a few minutes to unpack while I go help sign the paperwork so we can get Ms. Sutton out of our hair and order some pizza for dinner? Do you like anything on your pizza?"

He gave some thought to the question, trying to remember the last time anyone had asked what he liked for dinner.

"I guess just cheese is fine," he answered before sitting down on the corner of the bed, feeling out of place in the room being designated as his.

"Just come downstairs when you're done unpacking."

Fergus watched as she shut the door, pulling the blanket from his backpack. It was too much for him to think about. Being taken from his mom's apartment for a third time, not knowing when he'd be able to go home. He heard that some kids got to go home after only a few nights while others could take years. Last time he had been gone for eight months and three days. He knew because it was on New Year's day and he had gone back right before school started.

What if his mom took longer to get him back? It was already springtime. Would he have to spend the whole summer here? What about Christmas? The thoughts became overwhelming as he held the blanket to his face and started crying. It smelled like his mom's perfume and cigarettes. She often had just finished one, or had one in hand, waiting for the moment that she felt too stressed that she would need to light it.

Dinner was a simple and quiet affair. Jamie and Claire filled him in on the various house rules.

No television until homework was done.

No television a half-hour before bedtime, which happened to be at 8:30.

Closed doors are to be knocked on and wait for permission to enter. (They swore they would only break this rule if they felt he wasn't being safe. Fergus wasn't exactly sure what that meant but he nodded as if he understood. They had smiled at that.)

He had to try each food on his plate at least once. If he truly didn't like it, they'd find him something else to eat.

The rules seemed simple enough. He wasn't a very picky eater and he usually went to bed around that time anyway. He didn't plan on walking into any closed rooms, and he preferred to play with his toys or read a book rather than watch television. Fergus didn't usually watch television because ever since Casey had thrown his toy train and smashed the screen, his mother hadn't had the chance to buy a new one. Or maybe it was Marcus who had broken the television. Mama was never without a boyfriend long, which meant there was always someone who was making Fergus afraid to leave his room. He often had trouble keeping them apart in his mind. He tried to think it over and remembered that Casey had broken Mama's phone when he threw it at her head and missed, smashing it against the wall that one time. Yes, that's right. And Marcus had been the one who broke the television.

Claire and Jamie had offered him an ice cream sandwich as a treat before he was allowed to go to change for bed. Jamie informed him that they had a green or blue toothbrush available and would set out both on the bathroom counter, he only had to pick which one he preferred. Fergus knew he would choose the blue one but simply nodded, going to finish his nighttime routine.

By the time he went to settle into bed, the clock on his nightstand said 7:26 PM and he knew he wouldn't be able to stay up much longer, even if he had an hour until bedtime. Just as the clock struck 7:32 and his eyes began to droop, Claire popped her head in.

"Goodnight, Fergus. If you need anything, Jamie and I will be up for a bit longer. If we're in our room, it's the one furthest from the stairs. We'll leave our door open so you can come in and wake us if you need anything. Goodnight, sweetheart."

Her words seemed genuine, but he knew if he tried to wake her, she'd be annoyed with him. Nobody liked a kid waking them up in the middle of the night. Not even his own mother.

The thought of his mama made him curl up into a ball, his thumb finding its way between his lips. He hadn't sucked on his thumb in years, but missing his mother made him feel like that scared little boy again, wondering how long it would be before he could see her again. He had gotten the chance to be home with her for almost two years before he was taken a second time. Would this happen forever? Short periods of happiness until he was all grown up?

Claire dressed for bed in the adjoining bathroom, speaking to Jamie through the door, though they kept their voices down in an effort not to wake Fergus.

"Do you think he'll sleep okay?" she asked nervously as she opened the door back up, watching as Jamie stepped closer to her. Despite trying to sound conversational, she knew that he could pick up on the insecurity in her voice.

"Aye, Sassenach. He'll do. And if no' he can come into our room and wake one of us until he feels more comfortable. It will do ye no good to worry over the matter any longer." Jamie's arms slid around her waist as she leaned against his chest. He was her source of comfort, and she was glad she had him to lean on at this moment.

"I know, I just can't help but worry over him. The poor boy has been taken from his mother for the third time in his life. That can't be an easy thing to sleep through."

Pulling back the comforter on their bed, she took a minute to breathe deeply before climbing in.

"Do you think he'll like us?" she finally asked, feeling small as she looked up at her husband. He stood on his side of the bed, pondering the question for a moment.

"Aye, I think he'll like us just fine."

Fergus was placed in their home on a Thursday. Jamie had called into work almost immediately and luckily Claire was on a four-day rotation at the time with Fridays being her days off.

They opted to keep Fergus home, rather than scramble after hours to figure out where he'd be going to school in the morning. They took the Friday to figure out which school he went to and set up a schedule for rides, found him an after school program, and took him shopping for school supplies and clothes. Once they'd finished their day, Claire and Jamie both found themselves helping him put his things away, placing a calendar on his wall with who would be dropping him off and picking him up each day. This consistency was supposed to be helpful. Give him a routine, make him feel settled. Offer him no bad surprises. Make him feel secured.

They did everything the trainings told them to, yet they found themselves watching Fergus anxiously fret with his things, pace back and forth, checking to see that they had put everything where it belonged. He kept rubbing his hand over his blanket and Claire's teeth worried at her lower lip while glancing up at Jamie.

"Aye, he's just settlin' in, Sassenach. Stop yer worrying so much," Jamie reassured her, though his soft tone must've caught Fergus' attention because the boy peered up at them, almost as if remembering they were still in the room.

"Do I get to go to the same school? If not I need to find a way to tell Benny that I won't be there on Monday…" He sounded sad and Claire instantly jumped into action, crouching in front of him.

"No, no. You get to go to the same school. It'll be a little bit of a drive until the buses can be set up to come to pick you up but until then Jamie or I will drive you. We're not going to make you switch schools." She smiled slightly as she glanced back at her husband.

"Aye, on Monday you and I will drive to yer school together. I hope ye ken we don't want to take ye away from yer wee friends in yer classes." He grinned as Fergus' body seemed to calm down at that, though he had a funny look on his face. His fingers were still moving against his blanket, but he had stopped pacing otherwise.

"Ken?" he inquired, eyebrows scrunched together out of confusion.

"Ah, um, Jamie just means he hopes that you know we want you to stay in your school. You'll find Jamie uses funny words sometimes, but I can translate for you. Ken basically means know. Aye?" Claire gave him a wink and smiled as she watched Fergus grin and nod. Jamie offered his own attempt at a wink to Fergus, his eyes blinking like an owl.

"Oui, I ken it," Fergus responded, his first true smile appearing for the first time since he had moved in the day before.