Chapter One

Oscar walked down the street, heading home from the school he had been going to for the past eight months. At the end of the block was his destination and he just let out a sigh at it. So much of his life had changed and he varied from feeling breathless to just numb. He shifted his books, held together with a belt, to sling them over his shoulder and looked up to the bright blue autumn sky. Once he got there, he'd spend the afternoon continuing to practice. Apparently farm life wasn't sufficient for city life, and he had a lot to catch up on.

Pulling off his cap and tucking it under an arm, Oscar ran his free hand through his messy hair. He passed under the only tree on the street, a breeze making the leaves bustle around him as he opened the gate to the community open space that the back of all the buildings faced. The screams and screeches of young children reverberated as they chased each other around in delight. Oscar envied them. They were young. They had hope.

Most of the community space was used by his building, which wasn't a surprise given it was an orphanage. Oscar closed his eyes and just took a breath to remember his aunt before the coughing took her.

"Right on time," Miss Goodwitch greeted. "How was school?"

"Fine," Oscar replied. "I'll go put my books away. Who's been the most troublesome?"

"Jett and Ebony have been at each other's throats," Miss Goodwitch replied. "I've been working on Ebony. Could you play with Jett for a while?"

Oscar nodded and headed inside. His room was shared with four other boys, all years younger than him. At thirteen, he was labeled as hard to place, being so old. People seeking children only ever wanted babies to mold and shape. Maybe a toddler. No one wanted a teenager who was ready to take on an apprenticeship. Especially a teenager who apparently wasn't skilled enough to start an apprenticeship since Oscar had grown up on the farm. He put his books on his bed, grabbed an apron, and headed back outside. Knowing Jett, it would probably be best to bring him into the kitchen and keep him busy and out from underfoot. It was Oscar's day to make snacks, after all.

Outside, he found the six-year-old up a tree, dangling and daring his agemates that they couldn't get as high as he could.

"Jett!" he called up. "It's your turn to help me today."

Seeing Oscar and his apron was enough for Jett to start to come down happily, since he knew snacks were coming. Granted, there weren't really "turns" for helping Oscar, just whoever needed to get pulled to avoid anymore trouble, but the kids didn't really need to know that.

"Didyousee? Didyousee?" Jett screamed. "People were here today! It's 'Meet and Greet' Day!"

"Really," Oscar pasted on a smile. "Were you good? Did anyone meet you?"

"They met all of us, that's how it always is," Jett replied. "Catch!"

"Jett!"

The boy jumped out of the last tree limb and Oscar scrambled to line himself up and catch him.

"Awesome!" Jett shouted. "Didyousee?" he shouted to his agemates.

"Yes, I'm sure they did," Oscar replied. "Come on. The snacks aren't going to bake themselves."

"Then let me down!"

"Given you've been jumping out of trees, I don't think so."

"Awwww!"

"Come on."

"Some of them are still here."

"Them?" Oscar asked, managing an armful of very hyper child.

"The Meet'n'Greeters! Beryl was looking happy and Melanie was laughing. Most of 'em were with the babies though."

Hardly surprising. It was probably one of the people who'd been coming for the past few weeks. The orphanage and a weekly Meet and Greet for prospective parents. The adults could meet with any of the children and see if it was a match or not. It took several meetings for potential parents and the workers of the orphanage to come to some sort of agreement. Oscar didn't bother following the details. He knew he had no chance at his age.

"Okay Jett," Oscar said as they entered the kitchen. "You know the rules. You sit and watch me and tell me where to find everything."

"You're so old Oscar! You never remember where anything is!"

Oscar shrugged. It was how he kept the kids from being a problem. "Nothing is ever where I put it last," he said instead. "I've explained this before, at the farm I knew where everything was. Here it always moves like magic." He gave a smile. "Now, where are the mixing bowls?"

"Oscaaaaar!" Jett laughed. "The same as last time! Bottom cupboard under the counter, next to the flour barrel!"

"Oh, so it is!"

Oscar had Jett "help" him move around the kitchen, joking around teasing, as Oscar started making a quadruple batch of cookies from a recipe he had in his family cookbook, one of the few items still with him from the farm. Once he set the first batch in the oven to bake, he sat with Jett and let him help shape the rest of the dough so that the next batch of cookies would be ready. Oscar sat to watch the oven carefully, counting in his head and paying attention to the smell so that he would know when it was done.

Miss Goodwitch came in after the fifth batch. "Thank you, Oscar." She looked hard at Jett. "Will you be nicer to Ebony?"

Jett squirmed.

"She has agreed to be nicer to you."

Jett squirmed some more.

"It's okay to apologize," Oscar said softly. "It's okay to admit a mistake. The reason it's okay is because you're always working to improve yourself."

Jett let out an explosive sigh. "Fine."

Miss Goodwitch smiled. "Good. Now I see you've helped Oscar with the snack baskets. You'll take this one to the toddlers. Make sure each gets only one."

"Yes Miss Goodwitch," Jett chorused. But he hopped off his seat and grabbed one of the baskets to scurry off.

"How was the Meet and Greet?"

Miss Goodwitch smiled. "Ongoing."

Oscar blinked "Really?"

"That would be my fault," came a voice behind him.

Oscar turned and, just beyond the doorway of the kitchen, in the dining area, was a tall, tall man, sitting at a table with a cup of tea.

"Oh…" Oscar gave a stiff bow, one arm at his waist, one at his back, and bend. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir. We didn't see you there."

The man eased to standing, leaning heavily on a cane. "I assure you, it's no problem."

"Would you like anything?" Oscar offered, very, very aware that there was a guest to look after.

The man pushed back his dark spectacles and gave a soft smile. "I will admit that my traitorous sense of smell has been delighted with the aromas you've produced in your kitchen."

"Ahhhhh, um, oh! Of course!" Oscar rubbed his hands together nervously. "Ah, right away."

The man chuckled softly.

Oscar pulled some cookies out of one of the baskets and Miss Goodwitch winked at him, taking the other baskets to head to the various age levels. Cleaning his hands nervously on his apron, Oscar brought the plate back and set it with the man's teacup.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," the man said, hand out in greeting.

"Oh! Yes, um, hello, a pleasure to meet you." Oscar gulped. Meet and Greeters never spoke to him, he was too old!

The man gave another soft smile. "I am Ozpin Ozma. Would you care to join me?"

"Ah, yes?" Oscar stared. Then his brain kicked in. "Oh, I'm Oscar. Oscar Pine."

Mr. Ozma carefully sat back down, one leg stiffly out away from the table. Oscar dithered before carefully sitting on the edge of the seat across from him, staring down at his hands as he fisted them on his apron under the table.

"Hmmm, delicious."

Oscar glanced up through his bangs, saw one of his cookies in Mr. Ozma's hands. "Oh, thank you, sir."

"I think a pinch of salt would bring out the flavor more, but I don't know how to translate that into such large batches as you make," Mr. Ozma said.

Oscar took a deep breath.

This was his one shot.

He was going to make this count.

At first glance the prospective parent read as a Professor because of his tinted spectacles and well made suit. Oscar was dubious, though: if Mr. Ozma was really a professor there would have been chalk on his hands, ink smears on his sleeves, but there weren't any. He certainly sounded the professor though - his words were airy and almost musical, his rich tenor lilting up and down with big words that Oscar could (mostly) keep up with.

"So… you're looking to adopt?" Oscar winced at his first question - what a dumb thing to ask and a terrible way to make a first impression.

"I rather thought that obvious," Mr. Ozma said, "Though perhaps not to you, since this is the first time I've seen you. I've been coming here for a few weeks now, since I made the decision, and interviewing children."

Oscar frowned, surprised that he hadn't seen the older man, then. "Do you come in the mornings?" he asked.

"Yes."

"That explains it," Oscar muttered, looking down at his hands and feeling slightly stupid. "I go to school in the mornings. I grew up on the farm, and those skills don't translate to city work. I'm not ready for an apprenticeship yet."

Mr. Ozma nodded, fingering his chin, warm smile still in place. "I'm sure the entire ordeal is exacerbated by the fact that you were planning on being a farmer, and have no idea what to apprentice yourself as."

"No, well yes. I mean partly," Oscar answered, chewing his lips and picking his words carefully. "I never wanted to stay on the farm. I knew I wanted to do more, but…" He had been happy to learn the orphanage was in the city - one bright spot in the worst month of his life. Adventure lay there, big ideas and big possibilities. He'd no idea what those things were, but he wanted it, in whatever form it took. "I know my letters well enough, but my figures are a little weak, and I guess there's some 'well-rounded knowledge' I don't have."

"Hm. Can you read a newspaper?"

"Yes. Easily."

"And your textbooks?"

Oscar winced, knowing how he answered would hurt his chances. He was supposed to say "easy," but they weren't. Some of the words took a long time to sound out, and some of them were like a different language - he didn't have a reference for what they meant.

His pause must have been too long, he saw Mr. Ozma nod. "A limited vocabulary is something easily remedied," he said genially. "If you can read a newspaper you can read your textbooks, we just need to introduce more words. I imagine textbooks by design are meant to be slightly harder to read, it keeps children working and occupied while the teacher sets up for the next part of the day. Tell me, are you interested in cooking? These cookies are delicious."

Oscar shook his head. "I was in charge of cooking when my Aunt had to go to town or if there was a guest. It's fun, I guess, but not as a career."

"A hobbyist, then," the Meet and Greeter said, leaning back in his chair. "That would be valuable, given that I can't stand for long periods of time anymore."

Involuntarily Oscar glanced down at the man's leg, still held out awkwardly from under the table, the cane leaning against the aged tabletop. Wait… did the professor just sound interested… in Oscar? Anxiety started to flutter in his stomach and tighten his chest. He might… He might have a real opportunity - after less than a year! His face started to heat, and he tried to stay calm, knowing how much was riding on this conversation.

"Can… can I ask what happened?"

"Certainly, the new disease: the back breaker, I think it's called. I'm told I nearly died, but I don't remember much of it - a lot was happening at the time and it's a miracle that I can walk at all, all things considered. I can't complain, but as you can imagine it makes chasing after a younger child much more difficult. I had hoped to find an older child with a level head."

Oscar hid a gulp. He would be perfect, but at the same time he knew: the older children would try very hard to be what he wanted, change themselves in whatever way they thought necessary to score this professor as a parent. The competition must have been vicious the past weeks, and Oscar knew he wouldn't have a chance compared to the bigger kids. So many of them were loud, attention getters. Oscar was always unobtrusive and diligent. How could he compete?

"If I may ask, Mr. Pine," Mr. Ozma said, "though I often find it a sensitive question, what circumstances brought you here?"

Oscar flushed bright red, looking down at his apron, cleaning his hands more for something to do than any real need. "It's not much of a story," he said softly. "I grew up with my Aunt, and then she got the bleeding cough."

Mr. Ozma nodded, reaching out and placing a hand on Oscar's shoulder. "It's a hard thing to go through," he said softly. "I lost almost all of my family to the pox, thirty years ago. It still hurts."

Oscar wasn't expecting the comfort, looked up in surprise and saw a well of emotion in Mr. Ozma's face.

"It hurts, coming here," he continued, squeezing Oscar's shoulder. "Everyone here has a story like you, tragedy and ignominy and isolation. You are all desperate to reach out to any offered hand, and I don't know how to help all of you. I'm not even sure I can help one of you."

Oscar frowned, a little surprised to hear something so honest. Even after eight months - nine, now - prospective parents talked only about their desperate need for a child. Oh, they might ask about the circumstances of the kid they picked, but it was all hope and dreams and expectations. Oscar couldn't remember ever seeing a Meet and Greeter who was… uncertain? Was that the word? About adoption. He looked up through his bangs, worrying his hands in his apron again, as he asked the question: "Then… why do you keep coming here?"

The Professor smiled, soft and warm but also a little sad, and the hand on Oscar's shoulder removed itself.

"Maybe it's because I, too, am desperately trying to reach out to any offered hand."

"You're… lonely?"

"More than any man, woman, or child on this planet, it feels like."

More than any man, woman, or child on this planet...

The sentence burned through Oscar's ears, startling him straight and meeting the man's gaze head on, seeing brown eyes deeply full of emotion. His own hazel eyes watered, something was starting to hum in his blood, something he hadn't felt since the death of his aunt, building up and putting pressure on his head and blurring his vision slightly. More than any man, woman, or child on this planet, it echoed through his blood as he stood outside his aunt's window, unable to be in the same room with her because of the bleeding cough. Energy hummed in him then as it did now, loud and quiet at the same time, an emerald and a crow, the emerald warm and close, but his aunt was dying and he had to push it all away so he could watch her breathe her last. He had heard that sentence before… but… Auntie Em…

Oscar was on his feet, he wasn't sure how, and he was trying to put it away, turn the humming off, more than any man, woman, or child on this planet, he didn't know how to turn it off there was too much pressure to think. A strong hand sifted through his hair and pulled him into a soft embrace, his face pressed into warm but worn wool knit, strength wrapped around his shoulders and oh, when was the last time he had been hugged like this? The pressure subsided, and the hum faded, the buzzing in his ears slowly replaced with soft, soothing sounds from a lilting tenor. Coming back to his senses, Oscar realized he was being held by the Meet and Greeter, and embarrassment flooded through his face as he jerked back, hands flying to his cheeks to hide it all. "S-sorry!" he stammered, backing up. "I'm so sorry!"

The response was a warm chuckle, soft and gentle. "You have nothing to apologize for, Mr. Pine. I'm the one who asked an impertinent question. I apologize for upsetting you."

"N-no… It's fine…" Oscar said, humiliated and embarrassed, wiping his cheeks and determined to never look up again. "I… I've still got chores to do. I should… I should get going."

"... Of course. I'm sorry to keep you."

Ozpin sat in the Matron's office, bad leg out as far as it would go, leaving him awkward in the seat. The room was crammed with files, overflowing the desk and bookshelves, leaving the only space free of paperwork being the candlesticks to prevent fire. Matron Goodwitch sat across from him, arms folded over her white button up shirt, looking over her spectacles to him.

"You've been coming for six weeks," she said flatly.

"Indeed I have," he agreed amiably.

"All the children like you. You're kind and gentle. That's what many of the kids need. Any one of them would do well with you."

Ozpin raised his brows and smiled. "My, such a thorough assessment of my character and possible aptitude as a parent."

Matron Goodwitch snorted. "I doubt you didn't notice how closely I watch every Meet and Greet."

"How could anyone not see you?"

An amused smile. "Oh, you'd be surprised how much people don't notice when they're just dealing with the kids. The good parents are the ones who deal with the kids and notice other things. The bad parents only notice the other things and pay no attention to the kids."

"Hmmm, I suspect that's why your orphanage is rated so highly in adoptive placements."

Matron Goodwitch gave a shrug. "You'll be good, but you've never shown interest in any of the children here."

Ozpin let his amused smile drop to a faint grin. "All the children you have here are clearly loved and cared for. They all deserve a good home and family that can provide for them. I…"

He looked to his cane, and ran a finger along the length. His own life was lonely. So very lonely. After everything that had happened… But he was a cripple. His profession's history of good-standing becoming of little use in this modern day. He had a nest egg that he was living on, and to add another life meant another drain on his resources.

Yet…

Ozpin let out the softest of sighs. "Love and attention are not the problem," he said quietly. "Nor is initial financing. The future however…. Buying a good apprenticeship…."

Matron Goodwitch smiled. "You're looking better and better. Now you're worrying about providing for the future. In all the weeks you've been coming here, it's obvious you're parent material. Yet you've never once asked me about a child."

Ozpin looked to Matron Goodwitch with another smile. "I may be good for any child here, but I also need a child good for me as well. A successful relationship needs trust and for both sides to be willing. This is a risk."

"I guarantee, many of the children here would take that risk. Would you?"

Ozpin titled his head to the side. "Matron Goodwitch, it's obvious that you're working me to a point. Perhaps a more direct question?"

The blond matron rolled her eyes. "Six weeks you've been coming here. It's obvious you want an older child because you can't chase down toddlers and all their wild energy. Every one of our teenagers have been trying to gain your favor, but you've treated them all the same." She stood and paced around her desk, leaning against it. "Until today. For the first time you offered a bit of yourself to one of our children."

Ozpin looked down, adjusting his seat to try and find a comfortable angle with his unmoving leg having so little room. He thought of his weeks coming here, searching and yearning. The long walks and the ache once he was home. Of how he left the city for this borough.

He sighed. "All the children that I'd met were very forward. They all vie for my attention. It is… false." He shook his head. "Oh, they are sincere in their desire to be adopted, they are earnest and trying to learn what I want. But they want to emulate what they think I want. I don't even know what I want other than to have a child. But despite all that sincerity, it is a falsehood. You know my profession. I only deal with truths."

Ozpin looked to the matron, saw her knowing smile, then looked out her one window to the drizzle outside.

"Young Mr. Pine was honest with me the whole time. It was… refreshing, to know someone was so true." He gave a small smile. "I find that being able to express heartfelt emotions to be a rare gift in this day and age."

"We do appreciate that about Oscar," Matron Goodwitch said quietly.

Ozpin gave a wry chuckle. "I seemed to have scared him off, unfortunately."

The matron's smile had a distinct glint. "Oh, don't worry about that. I'll talk to him."

"I wouldn't force-"

"You won't be and I won't be. But I will straighten him out."

Ozpin narrowed his eyes. "Might I ask what you mean by 'straighten him out'? What you mean when you say that you'll 'talk' to him?"

Matron Goodwitch stood taller. "What I'm saying is that I'll talk to him. With all due respect, you don't know Oscar. We've been taking care of him for almost a year. He wasn't scared of you, he was being shy. He can live in his own head sometimes and I just need to guide him out of it."

Ozpin nodded, adjusting his seat again. "It must be a choice," he insisted. "I know that I wish a child, but I also know I'll be a burden. I am crippled, and I don't want a child just to make my life easier." Less lonely, maybe, but not easier. Ozpin had survived for five years like this. He could keep going as things were. "I won't use a child like that."

"And you won't be," she replied firmly. "Once you've had a few meetings with Oscar, I think you'll see that he won't be used like that." She gave a wry grin. "Assuming he can overcome his shyness enough to speak."

To this, at least Ozpin could chuckle. Young Mr. Pine had seemed quite tongue-tied. "It must be his choice."

"It will be."

Author's Notes: So... we're not technically done with the fic yet but we just broke it down and it's already 35 chapters and 500 pages on the GDoc, so we figure we have enough buffer to start posting. If it takes 35 weeks to finish this beast of a fic then... but anyway.

This is the true chapter one: introducing Oscar and the mystery of Ozpin. We had originally had the idea of Glynda being a recurring character, aka some kind of period equivalent of a social worker to see that the match was working, but as we discovered what we wanted in the fic she kinda never shows after this. Ah, well. Not much else to say otherwise.

Next chapter: Oscar goes home with Oz, and we get to know one of the main locations of the fic.