Monty didn't know what to make of this dude, what he did know was that he needed to make this emergency foster care stint go as fast as humanly possible. If only he had been more careful, if only he had checked his back before leaving for school. When he had been called into the principal's office after gym class he thought it was because he'd been mouthing off to the teacher. But as Monty was escorted to his locker to collect his things, Bobby and Cal rushed up to him, apologies on their lips.

It stung, that his friends went to the teachers before talking to him. CPS and the principal talked to him, explained the concerns that had been reported. His father, Elliot, was now under investigation, as was the rest of his home life. Before he knew it his social worker, Clint Riley, was driving him two hours into the countryside. They passed a front gate and drove up the gravel drive towards the homestead. The old style building stood amongst the buildings. Monty glowered out the window. The pastures were dotted with horses who swished their tails lazily in the evening sun.

"You'll like it here, promise," Riley offered automatically.

"I would have liked it if my friends didn't snitch on stuff that wasn't their goddamn business," Monty snapped. His arms were crossed and his fingers gripped hard into his forearms, hard enough to leave bruises. Not that those were new to his skin.

Riley parked the saloon car in front of the house. Leaning against the porch posts was a tall, lean, middle aged man. He stood straight and walked across the garden towards the car as soon as it pulled to a stop. Riley got out but Monty decided they'd have to drag him from the damn car. He was fine dealing with his dad, he was just fine thank you very much. It was Bobby and Cal who were meddling. It was none of their business what happened when he went home.

Riley and the man spoke quietly a few meters away from the car.

"His name's Montgomery Fallen or McQueen, there's a bit of a mess regarding his legal paperwork. His mother divorced his father but never finished changing their names before she died. Kid goes by Monty, trust me you don't want to make that mistake."

"Afternoon Montgom-"

"That's my fucking fathers name. My name is Monty, don't fucking call me anything else."

"What sort of situation was he in?"

Riley twisted his mouth, "it's under investigation but his friends saw scars on his back as they changed for gym class. We're just filling the gaps from here. If you don't mind, I'm gonna hand the files over to the local police so they can come out here and talk to him?"

"Of course, I'm familiar with the sheriff. Guess we should meet this kid then?"

Riley nodded and stepped towards the car and opened the passenger door. Monty was glaring at the dashboard, he refused to meet anyone's eye. The man leaned over the open passenger seat door, wary of crowding the kid.

"Hey Monty, I'm Jesse. It's good to meet you," Jesse introduced. Monty's eyes flickered up at the soft tone but as he saw the man's height looking down on him something curdled in his stomach, akin to the fear he felt with his father. "You wanna come inside?"

Monty swallowed thickly and breathed deeply, steeling the fear and feeding the anger. He cast a dirty look up at Clint Riley. "I want to file for emancipation."

"You can," deadpanned Riley. "When we've finished the investigation with your father."

Jesse moved to crouch down next to Monty. "Look kid," he murmured. "You're angry, pissed off, I get it. You've been carted off from school and dumped with a random guy in the middle of nowhere...and I thought Child Protection Laws were soft in my day." Monty hated the fact that a small grin tugged at the side of his mouth. Jesse saw this and realised he had a hook. "I'm old, I know you're young and can be up all hours but I got horses to feed and fields to work tomorrow. You feel like coming inside, meeting my ranch hand, getting some food and setting you up for the night?"

Monty gnawed at his lip, as much as he thought Riley was a twat, he wasn't threatening. He still felt uneasy about Jesse. There was a fraying thread on the hem of his hoodie which he picked at absently. The sun had sunk lower and Monty berated himself for feeling like this, for feeling weak, stupid, scared.

Very quietly he asked, "is he tall? Your ranch hand."

"Mater? Nah, he might as well be the eight dwarf."

That settled the pit in Monty's stomach somewhat and he took the duffle bag that had been collected from his home from Riley before following Jesse inside. Riley followed them, never quite falling from Monty's line of visio. Jesse's house was rustic but well maintained. In the kitchen, Mater stood just finishing up a plate of curry. Jesse was right, he was an inch shorter than Monty who wasn't all that tall himself. He wore dirty farm clothes, his hands were black with grease.

"Hey, I'm Mater," he introduced with a broad smile. He didn't seem all that threatening, but Monty knew manual labour brewed muscle that wasn't to be underestimated. Mater moved to put his plate and cutlery in the dishwasher.

"Monty," he mumbled, suddenly feeling very unsure of himself.

"Well it sure is nice to meet you," Mater drawled. "I'm gonna head to bed before I start yawning. Night y'all."

They murmured their evening farewells and moved to spread around the kitchen.

"Good kid," commented Jesse. "Been working here for the past...eight years."

Riley nodded and turned to Monty. "I've gotta go, you have my number, call me anytime."

"Thank you," said Monty weakly. He didn't want Riley to go, he didn't want to be alone. But before he knew it, the headlights were receding into the distance.

"You got any questions?" Jesse asked as he plated up two plates of curry and set it at the table, gesturing for Monty to tuck in. The teenager shook his head. "I don't want to make presumptions or… assume what your situation was, but I want you to let me know if there's anything you find upsetting or sary."

Monty's cheeks flushed red, he must have been really obvious asking if Mater was tall. He cleared his throat and scratched at his wrist before speaking. "I guess it's kinda obvious but…" Monty paused, seeking for the right words. His face crumpled as he struggled to form a sentence.

"It's alright," murmured Jesse, sensing Monty's distress. "How about I say what I think and you can confirm or deny?" Monty nodded and twisted his hands in his lap, waiting expectantly and nervously for what Jesse would say. "Okay then. I think you don't feel comfortable around people who are tall, possibly tall men?"

Oh fuck, thought Monty, he's got me.

He nodded, eyes fixed on the table.

"Alright, good to know. I'll make sure to be aware of my space around you. I think you were hurt at the hands of your father, and that's what Clint's team is investigating." Another nod. "I think that you're a good kid, smart, good natured."

He was met with a shake of Monty's head, but Jesse expected that.

"No?"

Monty shrugged and looked out the kitchen window. "A long time ago, yeah. I'm a dick to my friends, talk back to teachers. Not a nice person. I'll probably be a dick to you."

"I don't buy it." Monty swung his gaze around to Jesse. "In recent times? Maybe there's some personal growth to do. But I think underneath it all, you're a decent human being who's got some potential to harness."

Monty's chin dimpled and his bottom lip began to quiver. No one had said anything like that in a long time. He tried to brush it off with a wet laugh. "That's a lot of confidence in that statement."

Jesse shrugged with a smile, "maybe."

Soon after, Jesse spied Monty's mostly uneaten meal and decided he wouldn't eat a whole lot more tonight with the nervousness. He showed Monty upstairs to the bedroom, he followed at a wary distance, peering at every dark corner.

"Ever stayed out in the country?"

He shook his head. "I live in an apartment. It's...noisey."

Yeah, he thought. Neighbours screeching at all hours of the night and a bedroom window facing the goddamn subway.

Jesse smiled, "yeah I get that. Well, there isn't much noise. House creaks and dogs bark but nothing to worry about."

"Is there anything I need to do in the morning?" Monty asked nervously.

Jesse shrugged leaning against the door frame of the homely room. "Clint's sending the sheriff over to have a chat with you at some point. I reckon we can get you up on a horse tomorrow." Monty baulked, wide eyed. He laughed at the teenager's face. "Don't stress, you don't have to if you don't want to."

Monty smiled grimly. These past few hours proved that he didn't have a whole lot of say about what he wanted in situations.