Disclaimer:  Don't own them, never will.  Just borrowing them for my own entertainment, and making absolutely no profit doing it.  Thank you to all reviewers, especially Angel and Frankie, who have given me specific comments and suggestions.  I am writing this for my own entertainment, but knowing that I have interested or entertained you, my faithful readers, that does encourage me to get the chapters out there faster.  Thanks.

Too Young

Chapter Eleven

At the Hospital

Katherine blinked.  He did not look twelve, well almost twelve.  Maybe a lanky ten year old, but, to her, they all looked so young, too young—these victims of adult rage.  The boy's abdomen was lightly bandaged, with a drainage tube visible..and…oh…lord…the bruises on this child.  His stomach was purple, red, and black, the discoloration extending up to his chest.  He had blue finger marks on his forearms and shoulders that told a story of their own—of being held in place while the blows fell.  She had seen all this before.  What was unusual was his reaction to her introduction.  His face was solemn, and he did not seem either surprised or alarmed to see her.  Most older children were very afraid at this point.  But his blue eyes, so intense—even in weariness—studied her calmly, carefully.

"Lucas, I need to ask you some questions."

He nodded once, waiting.

"Who did this to you?"

He raised his eyebrows at her bluntness.  Usually, the caseworker took more time getting to this point.  His first interviewer took 35 minutes to ask 'the question'.  He was so tired, but he realized that this was necessary and that he had to be careful.  What he said now would affect his future.  He did not want to leave the dorm.  He didn't want to be separated from Mike and Anne and…and Jenny.  He was…happy…in their home, now his home, and he didn't want to lose that.  He took a deeper breath, wincing slightly and answered her, answered 'the question'.

"I…don't want to tell you who did this…Actually, I won't tell you."

Her face showed her surprise.  Of course, she'd heard this answer before; all caseworkers had.  But he didn't say the words with the confusion, or defiance, or anger that always accompanied them.  He used a matter-of-fact tone, as if he were telling her his phone number, or reciting his part in a…a..familiar story?  Was that it?  She studied his eyes, so blue, but so full of awareness—of…understanding.  He smiled slightly at her, and she suddenly realized that he'd been through all this before, this interview process…and probably more than once.  She'd stake her license on it.  Yet she'd run a check on this family.  It was standard practice when social services got a hospital report of suspected abuse.  There was…nothing.  Flustered now, she did something that she'd never done before, she reached over and checked his file again.  Yes—it was clean.  According to their records, Lucas Wolenczak had never had an encounter with a caseworker, the foster care system, or any social service department anywhere.  The same was true when she had run Cynthia and Lawrence's names.  Nothing.  Nada.  Zip.  What was going on?

He waited.  He could see her confusion, her puzzlement, and he knew the cause.  After a minute, he took pity on her and decided he would at least explain about his file.  He was so exhausted that all he wanted to do was to close his eyes and sleep, but perhaps if he explained a little, she would realize all of this didn't matter and leave…just…leave, and let him rest.  He took a chance.

"My father—do you know who he is and what he does for the UEO?"

She nodded, thinking,  'Just when did I lose control of this interview?'

"He…makes…these…incidents disappear.  I've been in foster care four times now—it never lasts long—a few days, once three weeks…then the charges will be dropped, and my dad comes to an understanding with the caseworker, or the caseworker's supervisor.  The file contents are…deleted, the record expunged.  The UEO has scrubbed my file several times.  That's why you didn't find anything."

"Your father…he did this to you?"

Lucas was gratified to hear her outrage.  She still cared for the kids she served.  She wasn't burnt out, or overwhelmed, like so many he'd seen, but it would make this 'incident' harder to erase.  "My father had a problem with alcohol in the past; that's over now.  He hasn't had a drink in twenty-seven months.  I haven't even seen him in three months, since he went to World Power.  And…I still won't tell you who did this."  His voice faded a little at the end.  She could see his exhaustion.

"But the previous times, the four foster care placements, those came from injuries caused by your father?"  She couldn't or wouldn't let this drop.

"My dad hasn't touched me in years.  He's sober now.  I can't change the past, as much as I might like to…and neither can you."

His voice, so resigned, so sad, made tears prickle in her eyes.  How had he become so…so..accustomed to this treatment?  She wouldn't just let this drop.  He was a child, and it was her job to protect him…to make sure that the person who did this never hurt him again.

He had watched her face change, her chin firm with determination.  He added hurriedly, "I know that it won't happen again…"

"How?  How…can you know that?  And even if…if..it doesn't, justice needs to be done, you can't let this…person…get away with this.  You almost died!"  She gestured at his abdomen.

"I know it won't happen again because…I will not be returning to my mom's house…I…I'm not wanted there."  His voice cracked a little, and she saw the hurt and rejection flicker quickly across his features. 

He noted her intense scrutiny and shifted painfully away from her, then closed his eyes, shutting her out.

"Your…mother did this?"

His eyes flew open again at that.  "NO!…no…it's not her—let's just say that she has made lousy choices in men."  He sighed; he hadn't meant to tell her so much.

She would not let up.  "So, a boyfriend?"

"Look, I…I'm not going to cooperate with your investigation.   And…even…even if I chose to, it won't change anything.  I…."

"You need to make sure that he doesn't get away with what he's done to you!  If you don't care, then I will care for you…you can't….just let this go."

Lucas looked at her sadly.  "No one gets away with anything.  Don't you realize that?  It's just that….that…sometimes, we don't get to see their…consequences.  No one gets away with anything…"

She stared at him openmouthed.  Then she took his hand. 'Two firsts, Katherine. First you check his file…in front of him.  Now, you're touching a client.  You have really lost it here.'  She said aloud, "You…you..really believe what you are saying? 'No one gets away with anything?'"

He nodded…and squeezed her hand weakly.  "If I thought it would help, I would tell you…everything.  I…I did want to tell you that…that..I admire what you do.  No.  Not just what you do, but how you choose to do it.  I can tell that you care about the kids you try to help.  Thank you…for that.  Don't ever stop; it's what we need the most.  But…don't bother writing this up, it will just disappear on you…and…you need to spend your time helping someone who really needs you."  He let go of her hand

She brushed his hair off his forehead.  Had she ever become so attached to a 'client' this early?  She didn't think so.

"What about you?"

"I…have Mike and Anne now.  I have school.  I…even…have my dad, sometimes.  I'll be O.K., really."  His eyes locked on hers.  "For the first time…I have a family.  Please…please don't pursue this, just let it drop.  I don't want to leave them—even for a little while."

She didn't know what to do now.  "I…need to talk with the Norris's…and Lucas, I'll expect them to monitor every interaction with your mother…"

"She…doesn't want me around."  He was crying now.  "There..won't be any 'interaction' to 'monitor'."  He tried to rub his eyes, but his IV restricted his movements and he flinched at the pulling pinch on his arm.  She took a tissue and gently wiped his tears away for him.

She said quietly, "Lucas, I will let Mike and Anne in to see you now, and I will agree for you to be released in their care when you are discharged here.  But I can't let this drop…I will have to contact your father.  I believe that counseling could be of great benefit to you.  Will you cooperate with that, at least?"

She smiled softly at him and then turned to pick up his file.  If she judged the Norris's correctly, they would agree to transport Lucas to counseling, perhaps even participate as a support for the boy.  She would talk to them right now.  Katherine patted Lucas' arm and placed her card in his hand.  "Call me..if you need anything.  I will get Mike and Anne in here as soon as I finish speaking with them.  Try to get some rest."

When the door closed behind her, Lucas turned again toward the window.  He was folding and unfolding her card in his hand.  His eyesight was blurry, and he couldn't make out the numbers on the card.  Tears of pain, of relief, of…hope…clouded his vision.  He set the card he'd never use on the bed and covered it with his hand.  He looked out the window at the trees, listened to the wind blow, and watched the clouds in the blue sky.  After a few minutes, his eyes closed, and he slept.

Next:  Jenny visits.

To be continued…