Oct 1, 1996 - 6:32 P.M.
"Reginald?"
Grace smiles serenely as a stillness settles over the grand dining room. Her children freeze in the process of leaving the table. Numbers One, Three, Six, and Seven are still seated, and Numbers Two, Four, and Five are already on their feet. Grace wonders why they seem so anxious to return to their rooms. The sullen expressions on some of their faces worry her. She hopes that the cake she made for them was satisfactory.
Perhaps, she supposes, they found it difficult to behave themselves at dinner today. It is their seventh birthday, after all.
Her husband turns to frown at her with narrowed eyes. She knows that he isn't accustomed to her addressing him out of the blue like this, particularly around the kids. Her programming prevents her from disobeying a direct order - but he only forbids speaking during dinner, not after.
"Yes?" He prompts her, looking impatient. Grace understands that he's a very busy man. On a normal day, she wouldn't have spoken up so as not to bother him. But this time, her role as a mother (which she cherishes more than anything) overrode her usual quiet disposition.
"Wouldn't it be wonderful if, for this year's birthday, we give the children names?"
If she didn't have everyone's attention before, she knows she has it now. Seven pairs of wide eyes stare at her in shock. Reginald merely raises an eyebrow.
"Why on earth would we do that?"
"Well, I was listening to this fascinating documentary about how empowering names can be," Grace explains brightly. "It seems that having a suitable first name is beneficial for one's sense of identity, confidence, and even potential for success. I wouldn't want our children to miss out!"
Reginald gazes at her for a very long moment. Then he scowls at the children. At last, he lets out a sigh and says, "If you must." Without another word, he turns and leaves the room, heading for his study. Such a hard worker, Grace thinks.
When she turns her attention to the children, her serene smile wavers. Their expressions are a mix of surprise, confusion, and unease. "Why do we need names? We already have names," Number Five says, with a puzzled frown that resembles his father's look just moments ago. Of all the children, he tends to act the most like Reginald: stubborn, diligent, and quite blunt at times. He's also, Grace thinks, impressively conscientious for a seven-year-old. His jet black hair is always neatly swept back, and his posture and manners are impeccable, even when his father isn't around.
"Numbers aren't names," Number Two argues. His dark brown hair looks a bit uneven, given that he spent most of dinner with his head propped against one hand and his elbow on the table. He seemed particularly disappointed with this year's festivities or lack thereof. Reginald had been kind enough not to snap at him for his poor etiquette. Grace suspects that he may not have been so lax had he noticed his knife-wielding son etching a jagged '2' into the underside of the table.
"I don't know. Maybe they're not normal names, but they're our names, aren't they?" Number One responds, furrowing his eyebrows. Grace hasn't seen her tall, confident, fair-haired son look so uncertain since the time Number Four informed him about the dead Civil War soldier who watches him sleep. (Granted, Grace suspects that her more mischievous son was fabricating that tale, since Number One had criticized his performance in a training session earlier that day.)
"Maybe they don't have to be," Number Three reasons. As her hopeful gaze lingers on Number One, he seems to reconsider. Tugging nervously on her long black coils, she requests, "Can we pick them ourselves?"
Grace's rosy smile returns. "I have something in mind for each of you, but you're free to choose a different name if you'd like."
"I don't want to pick mine," Number Six blurts. His deep brown eyes look anxious, and he shifts uncomfortably in his seat.
"Why not?" Number Four asks him as he retakes his place in the chair next to his. Perhaps absentmindedly, he runs a hand through his chocolate-colored curls, ruining the prim hairdo that Grace had spent ten minutes taming this morning.
"Too much pressure," Number Six answers. "What if I change my mind and hate it later?"
"What if you hate the one Mom gives you now?" Number Four counters simply, propping his legs up on his armrest so his shoes are dangling over Number Two's empty chair. His posture is truly dreadful, but Grace doesn't comment. She figures that children need to be comfortable sometimes.
"But aren't mothers supposed to name their kids?" Number Seven inserts in a quiet voice, her straight tawny hair spilling around her face.
"Sure, when they're babies," Number Four points out, "and when they can't think for themselves."
Pouting, Number Two pushes his brother's feet off of the armrest so he can return to his chair. "So, what? You won't even give Mom a chance?"
"I didn't say that!"
"I think you'll find that my names for you are very well thought out," Grace assures happily. "They all have special meanings, and they derive from your birthplaces."
This seems to peak their interest. As the rest of the kids sit up in their chairs, Number Five reluctantly reclaims his seat - but he isn't surrendering yet. "I still don't see why we need to do this," he grumbles.
"Well, for starters, I could go to a golf course and not have everyone yelling at me," Number Four muses in a cheery tone, earning smiles from a few of his siblings. "Hey, do you get confused when people do this?" He waves one hand at his scowling brother. "Like, are they saying 'Hi, Five'? Or are they asking for a high-five?"
"Have you ever heard of 'contextual thinking'?" Number Five shoots back. "You should try it sometime, once you get the 'thinking' part down." As Number Four glowers at him, he continues, "This is pointless. Dad gave us numbers for a reason."
"Because he adopted One first and Seven last?" Number Three supplies dryly.
"Yeah, Five, that's a pretty dumb reason," Number Two tacks on. "Unless you think that it goes in order of his favorites - which doesn't say much about you."
"I highly doubt that. You think he likes you better than me?" Number Five responds in a haughty tone.
"Come on, guys. Knock it off," Number One interjects firmly.
"Yeah, let Mom talk," Number Seven pleads.
As the children go quiet and looks to their mother, their expressions morph into matching expectant stares. Only Number Five still seems to be in opposition to her idea, but he stays silent this time. "Shall we go in reverse order?" Grace suggests.
"Ha, ha," Number Four sings, grinning at his blonde brother.
"At least I'm not stuck in the middle," Number One mutters.
As Number Four sticks out his tongue, Number Six elbows him and gives him a scolding look. "Shh!"
"Number Seven," Grace begins with an encouraging smile. "I wanted to give you a name that signifies your gifts..."
The young girl's enthusiasm instantly melts into disappointment. Her sad brown eyes drop to the table, and she seems to curl in on herself. "But I don't have any gifts."
"Of course you do," Grace argues, stooping next to her. "Your kindness, your patience, your care for your siblings, your passion for music - these are all gifts. And I think you're one of the most gifted people in this room." As her daughter's face brightens again, she concludes, "That's why I'd like your name to be Vanya."
"Vanya," she whispers, cracking a huge, earnest smile. "I love it. Thanks, Mom."
Grace directs her smile to her next child, who is already a picture of elation. It's as if her naming of Vanya was the beginning of a grand ceremony, and the rest of the children can hardly wait to share in the experience. "Number Six. Even as an infant, you were peaceful and thoughtful, with a great appreciation of life. How would you like to be called Ben?"
His dark eyes gleam. "Yeah, I like that name. It's simple, but nice."
Grace's smile flickers as she moves on. Her next son, who is so very much like his father, seems awfully unhappy. She hesitates, calculating. Then she puts on the same warm expression that she gave to the other two. "Number Five. You are driven, intelligent, and mature beyond your years. For that reason, I think we should call you...Five."
Of course, she did have an idea for him: Magnus. She thought he would appreciate it too, given that it means 'greatest'. But that look on his face changed her mind, and his reaction tells her that she adjusted correctly. The other children seem underwhelmed, but Five's frown mellows into a small smile - an uncommon expression for a boy so serious. He nods in appreciation.
When she reaches Number Four, he's giving her a wary look. "You're only doing that to him, right?" He checks.
"I'd like a real name, please," Number One adds a bit shyly, and Five rolls his eyes.
"The rest of you will get new names, yes," Grace confirms. As her curly-haired son relaxes a bit, she addresses him: "Number Four. Your cleverness and ability to improvise makes you a force to be reckoned with. I believe you deserve a name as unique as your innovative mind: a name like Klaus."
"Klaus, huh?" He seems to ponder it for a moment. Then he shrugs coolly. "That works. It's way better than Four, anyway," he says, failing to mask his delighted grin.
"Number Three," Grace goes on, as her remaining daughter hovers on the edge of her seat. "You always conduct yourself with poise and grace, and you are a remarkable individual, powers or no powers. What do you think of the name Allison?"
"It's perfect, Mom," she answers after a moment, beaming.
When Grace pauses in front of her next child, she can't help but smile a little wider. His eyes are unusually big and vulnerable, and though he's often confrontational toward his siblings, she has a feeling that he would accept any name she gives him. "Number Two. Your competitive spirit and determination is what sets you apart. A personality so fiery and daring should have a name to match. How about Diego?"
Like his siblings before him, his eyes light up with joy. "Yeah," he agrees. "Diego is an awesome name."
At last, she's reached Number One. He doesn't seem to be used to all this suspense, judging by the way he's bouncing his leg anxiously. "Number One. I think you need a name that shows your strength, bravery, and leadership. How do you like Luther?"
Before Number One can respond, Diego stifles a laugh. The blond haired boy glares at his brother. "What?"
"Nothing," Diego replies hastily.
"You think it's a stupid name?"
"No, it's just..." He glances guiltily at Grace. "Never mind."
"Go on. Say it," Number One challenges.
Diego shakes his head. "It's nothing," he insists.
"You went from 'Number One' to 'loser', just like that," Klaus chimes in airily with a snap of his fingers. When Number One redirects his scowl to him, he puts on an innocent expression. "Hey, I'm just saying what he was thinking." He quirks an eyebrow at Diego. "Was that not it?"
Diego gives him an exasperated look, but he doesn't deny it. "You don't know when to shut up, do you?"
As Number One's face turns pink, Allison clutches his arm protectively and joins him in glaring at the other two. "You guys are jerks. I think it's a great name - a powerful name." She beams at Number One, and some of her confidence seems to seep into him.
"I like it too," he decides.
"Me too," Vanya adds, and Ben nods.
"Then it's settled," Grace determines, powering through the tension to smile at each of her children in turn. "Number One will be called Luther; Number Two, Diego; Number Three, Allison; Number Four, Klaus; Number Five will remain the same; Number Six will be Ben; and Number Seven, Vanya. Now, you may have your own names, but your identity as a team is still what's most important," she adds soberly, eyeing Diego and Luther. "First and foremost, you're a family. Never forget that."
"Sorry, One," Diego mumbles. "Uh, I mean, Luther."
"This is going to take some getting used to," Ben murmurs with a wry smile.
"Definitely," Allison agrees, reflecting his expression.
"I've decided: Luther is a cool name," Klaus speaks up in a buoyant tone, as if to bury his previous statement. "Not as cool as Klaus, but it's up there. Besides, I'm sure I could come up with jokes for all of our new names..."
"I'm feeling claustrophobic already," Five offers sarcastically.
"Good one!" Klaus cheers, grinning and offering his hand. When his brother raises his eyebrows, he eggs him on: "Oh, come on. Gimme five, Five!"
"You're an idiot," he mutters - but, to Grace's surprise, he fulfills the request. She thinks he might even be trying not to smirk.
As Luther smiles begrudgingly, Grace's concern for their team dynamic is swept away like dust to the wind. After she dismisses them from the table, the seven children continue their excited chatter on their way out. (Well, it's mostly Klaus trying to come up with more puns while the others giggle or roast him back, but she'll take what she can get.) She watches them go, feeling pleased with herself.
If nothing else, she hopes she gave them a birthday to remember.
