Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around; to turn the world around.
[Chapter One - Blue and Orange Complement]
They were comfortable indoors—a stack of Solitan Pine crackled in the fireplace, the rumbling rain now a mere ambience that soothed the ears. Roman's loft consisted of the fourth floor and any renovations he had made to it. The place was simple, but he wagered it was one of the more luxurious ones on the market. It consisted of a living room, a kitchen-dining area, a rather impressive bathroom, a master bedroom, and two guest rooms; all fashioning a rustic design.
Apparently when not screaming his lungs out in absolute terror, Yon turned out to be quite the curious little boy. Before Roman even realized it, the child had calmed down and was already roaming around the place, asking just about anything that enticed him. Roman was more than happy to satiate little Yon's big curiosity. But for now, the boy was too occupied with himself, scrutinizing over some wall ornaments above the fireplace.
Yon dressed as if he had returned from a gala of some sort, though Roman himself wasn't one to talk. The boy wore a striped white shirt and black suit shorts with matching colored shoes and knee-length socks. His fair complexion had a light tinge of tan; smooth, knowledgeable with just a look. A mop of blue hair with faint charcoal-like shade nearing the roots; probably around cheek length, but neatly combed back. The fur that covered both his animal parts also had the same gradation.
"Why were you all by yourself?" "How did you get here?" "Who are your parents?" These had been some of Roman's many questions for the boy, the answers to which could help get him home, but the answers he knew none.
He was like a clean slate.
Maybe a Semblance…? The assumption was definitely wild. But taking that into consideration, why would somebody do such a thing to the poor boy in the first place? A multitude of possibilities popped into mind. Perhaps his parents couldn't afford him, but that didn't make any sense with his lavish attire. Then maybe he's—being a little crass here—a bastard. If that was the case, why would you even leave your unwanted child dressed in such formal designers?
This was getting unnecessarily complicated.
His head perked up, jerking over his shoulder and towards the front door. Green orbs narrowed at what rested against the shoe cabinet: the boy's bag, placed there by the owner himself. With how things had been going, Roman doubted there could be anything worthy of notice—but why would he be given it in the first place?
He refused the benefit of the doubt. Roman got off his seat and promptly returned with the satchel. Definitely brand new, Roman thought, quite showed with its shiny brown polish and stiffness of the leather. Roman guessed that it was as big as Yon's torso.
He first checked the two extra pockets at the front: nothing. Roman then flipped open the main compartment and, much to his joy, there definitely was something. He took it out and held the item in front of him. It was a box, rigid and blue. A folded piece of paper was taped to its lid. Roman stand corrected; there was something worth noticing.
The paper felt thick and sturdy, gritty on the touch. It was a handwritten letter. Roman began reading, hoping to find some explanation, which he indeed found. Albeit it only raised more questions.
'Hello,
'If you are reading this, then you must have met my son. Due to a tragic set of circumstances, my wife and I can no longer take care of him ourselves. I wish I could explain it in detail, it only seems fair for you to be able to wrap your head around our decision, but nevertheless, I am not at liberty to delve into it.'
Roman scoffed, "Of course you can't…"
'I hate it. Truly, I despise myself for this course of action I am forced to take, but it is what has to be done. I can only assume that you have realized this, but allow me to clear something up: yes, Ion's memory has been altered.'
Oh, so it's Ion? With an "i"? And those sad excuses for parents actually erased the memory of their own son?
'Due to what will come, forgetting about everything might be the only way to protect Ion. It hurts me! The thought of doing something so despicable to my own flesh and blood will always haunt me! But if Ion stays with us, just the thought of what could happen weighs on my heart even more so. Therefore, I must ask of you a selfish request, one that is neither fair to you nor my son. But it is what has to be done.
'Sir or Madam, please, take care of my son, Ionius Dragalia Mare. Take care of him as if he was your own flesh and blood, love him, cherish him as so—and if you cannot, I beg of you to find someone that could. Please do not abandon him like I was forced to.
'With this letter comes a blue box, in it, is a family heirloom and another letter specifically written to him. None of which are to be given until he's thirteen. You may keep what you wish, for the trouble I have put upon you, but Ion must receive that letter.
'This is all I can write to you. I hope that we may meet in the future. So that I can thank and repay your kindness myself.
'Until then,'
The letter signed off with three letters: "SCL…?"
Roman wanted to be angry: both at himself and in the stead of the boy at these people. They're abandoning their responsibilities as parents, no matter what the hell kinda reason there is: and in a way, it reminded Roman of his own past. But moreover, he's absolutely pissed at himself for not being able to discern whether this was bullshit or not!
He had to calm down.
Roman took some deep breaths. Setting the letter aside, he turned his attention to the box. The top gave little resistance and easily popped off, and the first thing he saw was the supposed letter for Ion: enveloped and sealed with wax. Curiosity was such a bothersome thing—"Open it. Might have a good lead."—like a fly buzzing around his head. Postal crime was nothing more than a drop in the bucket of felony he's done, don't get him wrong, but despite all that, it felt really, really wrong. Plus, it's sealed with wax. Those fancy ones with fine details and pizzazz. There could be a lead there, he suppose.
Roman took the letter in the box to bunch it together with the last one, but he was far too transfixed on what it had been hiding underneath.
"Woah…" This surpassed whatever it was he expected. He had stolen a lot of jewelry in the past but this definitely takes the cake. Brilliant with a deep shade of blue: the thumb-sized gem was a beautiful beast caged in its silvery prison, guarded by eight sparkling white sentries.
Roman closed the box back and blinked.
"Loma!" His contemplation was cut short by Ion. "Who dat?"
He pointed to a photograph—one of many inside a glass cabinet left of the fireplace—that showed a rather displeased Roman walking a bride down the aisle.
"That's… my sister, Mabel."
"'Abel…" the child trailed off.
The rain was calming down. Roman's face lit up as he began rearranging Ion's belongings back in the satchel, standing up afterward to approach the boy.
"Hey, kiddo." Roman crouched down in front of Ion with a smile. "Whaddya say we go meet a friend of mine?"
(-S.o.T-)
"All agents, this is Opcom. VIPs have exited the building and are currently on the move inside a vehicle. Plate number Oxley-Gecko-niner-five, break, two-niner-four-four. Order from the High Overseer: observation directive, only intervene if Orange is intending to drop Little Blue at a nearby police station or other government instances. Report every five. Opcom out."
(-S.o.T-)
Roman doesn't enjoy nightclubs. Whether it be the nauseating flashes of lights, loud music that's enough to tear your eardrums, or a group of people practically packed like sardines partying it up influenced by alcohol or narcotics—hell, maybe even both.
But there was indeed one he frequented. Almost every day since it first opened its doors, in fact. Never during rush hours, but whenever he had the time after lunch or even before, Roman would drink and talk to a friend.
When not discussing shady business with said friend, of course.
Roman strolled into the establishment while carrying Ion. In fact, so much so that he gained a multitude of weird looks from the employees, quite possibly thinking that he had kidnapped somebody's poor child or the product of an affair gone too far when he went to Alter last year.
"Loma, where dis?"
The place was like a defunct factory, or perhaps a warehouse, repurposed to a nightclub: a high ceiling at least ten meters off the ground, four supporting pillars that flanked the middle dance floor with large light installments above—a few were currently turned on, adequate enough. To the right were chairs and tables, against each side of the wall were a dozen or so booths; all empty. Roman headed towards the bar left of where they were.
"This is my friend's place. Oi! Hei!"
One word Roman liked to use to describe Hei ever since they were kids was bear-like. Standing straight at two meters accompanied with his rather thick facial hair, the description landed its mark. Well, a sharp-suited bear, but a bear no less.
"Roman!" The man yelled back, still busy with organizing the top shelf. "Did you walk here? It's pouring out."
"Hailed a cab." Roman sat down on one of the stools and plopped Ion to his right.
"I coulda just sent someone to pick you up." The barkeep chuckled, finishing his task before turning around with a bottle of brown liquor and two glasses. "Now, you gotta tell me about that Labour MP you… helped…"
Staring down with narrowed eyes, his expression contradicted Ion's who looked back at the man with stoic curiosity. Confused and quite perplexed, Hei turned to his friend as if asking whether he's seeing right, but Roman in return only raised a brow.
"What are you looking at me like that for?" asked the redhead, taking off his trenchcoat.
"Didn't expect you to jump back in the business after everything I did to get you out, but you deal in kidnapping these days?"
"What? No, I didn't kidnap him!"
An awkward silence passed. The man kept his stare and asked: "Your hit and run, then?"
Roman groaned, "Just pour me a glass first, would ya?"
"I ain't pouring you anything when there's a kid here."
"Seriously?" Roman deadpanned. A beat. Hei only continued to stare at Roman and a sigh escaped his lips. "Fine. Water. That alright?"
Roman quickly gulped half the water down, and seeing as how impatient his friends were becoming, immediately continued to explain how everything transpired to this. Extremely simplified and straight to the point. From his lunch, the walk home, before finally encountering a very perplexed Ion. He ended by finishing his drink, and even after the whole bravado, Hei's skepticism stayed where it had been since the start.
"Really?"
"Why the hell would I make this up?"
"Blegh…" the two adults turned to the boy who had been quiet through the ordeal. His twisted expression varied levels of disgust, all directed to the beverage given to him. "Too sweet… Ion no like."
Hei chuckled. Taking the cup of chocolate milk of Ion's hand, he commented: "Never met a kid who don't like chocolate milk."
"Nothing in this situation is normal," remarked Roman.
The giant man pondered for a second. "Anyway, you haven't told me why you brought him here in the first place. Why not just go to the cops?"
Roman leaned forward and whispered; "Something I needed to talk to you about. But," he jerked his head to Ion, "can you call the girls first? Where are they anyway?"
"We're here."
Startled by the synchronized response, Roman's body slightly jolted away from the voice, his head snapping down and left to see two girls. The one on the right wore a white dress and bore a stoic, if not almost irritated expression; and a carbon copy stood next to her, this one wore a red dress, slightly leaning to her right as if trying to see what was behind Roman.
"When did you two get here?"
This one narrowed her eyes at Roman. "Just now?"
"Who's that?" That one pointed at a confused Ion.
"Melanie, Miltia," Hei gained the twins' attention, "this is Ion. He's… uhh…" he gave up on coming up with something midway. "Well, he's with Roman."
The twins looked to Ion, then Roman. Miltia seemed content with the answer—she herself more interested in Ion—but Melanie voiced her question.
"Does this mean he's our cousin?"
"No," Roman deadpanned.
"Kay."
Hei's cough interrupted the peculiar banter. "Girls, me and Roman have something to talk about. Can you two play with Ion for a bit?"
"New friend!" chirped Miltia, practically blitzing around Roman and happily hopping in front of—an even more confused—Ion. Melanie didn't share her sister's enthusiasm, but she still walked over and stood next to her.
To Roman, Ion looked downright terrified, especially with the little glances—pleas for help—the boy was giving him. Roman stifled a chuckle. Well, tried. A little wheeze came out. But he gave Ion a gentle pat on the head.
"Go on now, it's fine."
That seemed to be enough to assure the boy. He nodded and began shuffling on his stool, but stopped. Ion looked at the floor, then to Roman, followed by, in the straightest face Roman has ever seen a child pull: "Ion cannae go down."
Roman rolled his eyes before hoisting Ion down, Miltia immediately taking a hold of the boy's hand once he touched the ground. "You're Jon, right? I'm Miltiades! Just call me Miltia! This is Melanie, my sister."
"Hey," she lazily greeted.
His ears pulled back and down slightly. Ion had a quick back and forth—something that Roman noticed the boy often did. As he was led away, Ion looked to Miltia and said, "Is Ion."
"Yhon?" Melanie chimed in.
"Ion."
"Yan?"
"Ion."
They continued as they walked away from the adults, the butchering of Ion's name becoming fainter and fainter as their little figures, followed by a couple of guards, eventually disappeared. A short silence fell between the two friends, one that ended with a clink of liquor-filled glass that quickly emptied.
"So…" Hei leaned forward against the bar.
Roman held back a groan. "So…?"
"So, out of all the places you can bring him to, preferably a police station—" Roman rolled his eyes— "why here?"
He bent his body to grab the bag resting against the chair's footing. "I found this with him." No hesitation. No making sure that anyone was even close enough to eavesdrop on their conversation.
He first took out the open letter, giving it a little shake in front of Hei's face when he refused to take it. The burly man sighed before snatching it off Roman's hand and began reading. Halfway through, he had poured a drink for them both. Although he was on his third at the end of the letter.
"Guess we know that you ain't his pa," Hei sighed, pouring himself another serving. "And that his parents are fucking insane. What about the second letter? And the box?"
"All here." He patted the bag and pulled out the other items. "The letter was sealed with wax—"
"Smashing," Hei whispered in a mocking posh accent.
"—and… the box."
"The mysterious chest!" Hei chuckled. "What's in it, buncha rocks?"
"It's a rock, all right." Roman popped the top and spun the box around. "One shiny rock."
A faint blue sheen danced in the eyes of an awestruck Hei. "Sweet mother of… holy fuc—you found this with the kid?" he had lowered into a hiss.
"In all its sparkling glory."
Hei shook his head in disbelief. "Right. Parents're definitely off their rockers."
"Hear, hear."
They clinked glasses and downed the content in one swift motion, Hei seemingly cringed less than Roman considering the amount he had already consumed through that rollercoaster.
"No way in hell are you gonna go to the cops with that." The two chuckled, falling into silence as they watched the kids—mostly just Miltia—pester some of Hei's employees to play with them. "So… what's your plan?" Roman turned back to his friend at the question. "I'm guessing Mabel? She's in town."
"That's the plan," clarified Roman while putting everything back into the bag. "Hopefully she can track down the diamond's origin."
"And you're thinking of leaving him here?"
"Well, I thought he'd be more comfortable around other kids."
"I don't know, he always looks confused if anything."
"I'm pretty sure that and curious are his two main emotions."
Hei sighed, turning away from his friend. "Well, guess it's fine. Good for the twins to meet someone new. Seem like a well-behaved ki—where the hell did they get cookies?"
This made Roman look over with a furrowed brow. Ion was in the middle with the twins flanking him, the trio was hastily getting away from someone. Indeed, where the hell did they get handfuls of cookies? The answer they received was in the form of a staff slamming through the kitchen doors. Hei sighed, telling her that it was okay.
Roman slung the bag around his shoulder and downed the rest of his drink. "I need to borrow a car."
"Go grab a key, take something from the garage." Roman nodded, but as he got far from the bar, Hei shouted: "And don't you use the Super Eight, Torchwick! Don't think I haven't noticed how you keep eyeing it!"
A/N: This is mostly for those in the know and most definitely stating the obvious, but I feel like it needed to be addressed nevertheless; Ion and Thomas are the same people, or at the very least different iterations of the same idea. During the first rewrite the name stuck around, but it was through a certain brainstorming session that I came up with the new name. This is clearly one out of many things that is changed from the OG version of SoT and its first rewrite where I now ACTUALLY take time to plan things instead of winging, though in my defense, those two were mostly exercise fics if anything—not to say that I have perfected ANYTHING. Ion's name refers to the Ionian Sea, which definitely has no plot importance whatsoever.
I also feel the need to address how canon-friendly this fic. It ain't. There was a time where that was most definitely something that I leaned to, but I've decided that that's boring and threw it out the window like it's 1419 in Prague. This is a COMPLETE AU with its own worldbuilding and everything in-between, I'm talking about only taking the fundamentals of canon and mixing 'em in a blender with whatever the crack-abled mind of my co-writer and I comes up with. One spoiler that I am willing to share is that Ion won't be enrolling in a huntsman academy. The rest of it you'll have to see for yourself.
Also, Roman, you ginger fuck, don't take the knockoff 1940 Packard Super-8
