Warning: Dr. J and Heero. Sort of like the Howard/Duo story. This focuses on J's first encounter with Heero and his impression.

December 14th

Found

J was avoiding the holiday crowds by walking down back streets, when he found him. The boy had been sitting tucked away in the corner of an alley, next to a crate with old lettuce and a pile of cardboard boxes. Despite the grubbiness of his face, had an air about him that didn't belong on the typical street urchin. It wasn't hostility or wariness, J wasn't sure he could pinpoint the feeling and this he found interesting.

He paused and stepped closer. The boy didn't flinch or cower, he just continued to study J with calm flat eyes. And then J knew. This boy was it. If J had been inclined, he would have done a celebratory dance right in the street. This boy. This boy, would be his.

"You have good eyes." J informed him.

The eyes of a killer.

The child continued to watch him in silence and J felt some of his elation sink away with the possibility that the urchin was just another reject from society, no more intelligent than a dog.

He decided to try a more direct approach and stared down at the child, hands propped on his cane. "How old are you, boy?"

"Why do you need to know?" The answer surprised J. It wasn't delivered aggressively, if this child had a chip on his shoulder he didn't display it openly. In fact the question had been asked in a tone that followed J's own spirit of inquiry.

"So I can gather more information."

The child seemed to find this an acceptable response and tipped his head to the side to peer up at J through dark messy bangs. "Sometimes I'm four. Sometimes I'm five. Once I was six."

That was unexpected. "Do you have a name?"

The child seemed to think about this for a moment and then shrugged. "I've had many."

Oh my young one, you've been around, haven't you?

"You can call me Dr. J."

The boy looked at him, a flash of skepticism appearing quickly before leaving, the first expression to cross his face. "J isn't a name."

"Well at least it's something, boy."

Interestingly, his needling seemed to have little effect on the child. Rather, he seemed to think about the comment for a moment before responding with one of his own. "Names aren't important. People believe what they want to."

Oh, but J liked this child.

"Do you have a home boy? Parents? A little puppy to play with perhaps?"

"No. I finished the job. Now I have nowhere to go." He didn't seem upset by this, rather pragmatic for a four-year-old, five-year-old, one time six-year-old.

"You don't have anyone waiting for you?" J wondered why he felt like the wicked witch from Hansel and Gretel. For a brief moment he experienced guilt but quickly banished the feeling.

"He's dead."

And today truly was Christmas. J rubbed his chin thoughtfully, eyeing the child and then looking around the alley. "Would you like to come with me?"

The boy didn't move, just continued to watch J with those perfect flat eyes. "Why would I like to do that?"

"You could be warm and have clothes. Eat regular meals. If you're good, I might find you some toys."

The child looked up at him, clearly scornful. "You are being condescending."

J barked a laugh, amused. "Indeed I was. You are correct. However, I can provide you with an education and training for your body."

For the first time the child appeared interested and his eyes flashed briefly. "What sort of training?"

J reached into his pocket to pull out a watch, checking the time before shoving it back. "Physical training, weapons training, maybe even pilots training."

"I've had weapons training."

And then the boy pulled a gun from under his shirt and pointed it at J. He decided that gawking was beneath him so he chose to chuckle instead. "Well."

For the first time the boy stood up. He wasn't tall, being only a child and a rather scrawny one. J noted that despite the weight of the gun, the boy's hand did not shake and he held the weapon with a surety that only came from experience.

J smirked. "That makes my job easier."

They stood and looked at each other, boy sizing up man and man sizing up the boy. Finally the gun was whisked away back under the child's shirt and he stood in front of J, arms at his side.

"You aren't afraid to come with me?" J felt the need to ask. Even if he was a strangely cognizant child, he still was just a child.

The boy folded his arms, legs apart and shook his head. "No. Should I be?"

J held up his hand, the one with the prosthetic hook. "Well I'm no Santa Claus," He told the child dryly.

Once again, a scornful look was directed at him and the boy snorted in apparent disgust. "I didn't think you were."

J made no further comment, just led them out the alley way and back onto the street. He looked down at the child by his side and wondered at his own whimsy.

Well little boy, I may be no Santa Claus, but you just might be our savior.