'Akili-chan: Kaines' talk about blood/family with May always gave me the impression that was why he was distrustful of April. We don't know how much Kaine saw May growing up just that he returned her to the Parkers and came back. I think that he stayed away to look after Reilly and sort of saw him as his responsibility. I could see him keeping pictures of Reilly thinking it was as close as he deserved to be. April never struck me as someone that gets people so her ideas were fun to write. True although I think Reilly is the runner up after Mary Jane
Title: Leaps of Faith
Warnings: Mention of child abuse.
Summary: There were some things even a child couldn't believe in. At least not this one.
A/N: This is another one shot short story I'm adding to this fic that takes place long before Reilly became Darkdevil. It's based on his backstory in the Darkdevil mini series and has some of my interpretations of it since certain details weren't clear.
...
"If you have enough faith anything is possible, angel."
The boy nodded not wanting to be too close to the stench of alcohol coming off her in waves. All too soon he had come to realize that if he made his discomfort known she'd get upset or worse-her husband would. He didn't know if he believed in god even after all his various foster families harping on his benefits. Few held the same beliefs, others like his aunt didn't seem to believe in practicing what they preached. Though he did understand the latter a little. Deluding yourself with comforting lies made it easier to cope.
He did it daily.
The front door slammed and the youth jumped slightly at the sound knowing what was to come. Running away only delayed the enviable but that flight or fight impulse still thrummed through his body. A beefy man slid into his chair muttering obscenities under his breath. Oblivious to this his wife greeted him warmly asking about his day. The story never changed despite the different jobs the man applied for. Although he never spoke his mind on the matter the boy knew that his uncles' temper usually played a role in his dismissal.
Keeping his eyes down he rotated the action figure he got last week. He never asked for one knowing how his "mooching" was already making things tense in the household. But much to his surprise his aunt had come home from church with a bundle of gifts they received through donations.
That included clothes a size too big, snacks and some action figures of Captain America, Iron Man, several Avengers he didn't know well and Spider-Man. The last was a hero he never heard of on the news since the man seemed to have disappeared when he was little. So if the lack of movement in the joints didn't give away the age of the toys then the choice of characters did. Still he'd hardly complain at having something to call his own even if it was a dated secondhand donation.
Focusing in on his uncle again the boy listened for telltale signs. "-loss again." Of course, more lost money on gambling. Even at that age he suspected that he cost the couple less than their expensive addictions. Whirling Spider-Mans' arm around he posed the figure ready to pounce. Much as he could but with the limited joint movement it looked more like he was sitting awkwardly with his legs spread too far apart and his arms pulled in tight towards his own face.
"What about the brat?" He tensed squeezing the toy hard enough to press the sound button on it's chest /eat web!/ wincing at the sound. "The little bastard do anything around the house?"
Hardly anyone ever called him by his birth name to the point even he didn't recognize it as his own. He had been given an assortment of nicknames ranging from harmless to insulting. He'd been "red" to most of the other kids, "cutie" to a few female foster parents, "angel" to his aunt and an endless list of cruel nicknames from his uncle. Though "bastard" was fast becoming the default name.
Mostly because he was mean spirited the man liked to tell the child that his mother probably didn't know who his real father was. That she was nothing but dirt. That wasn't true, it couldn't be. She was a princess, a spy and a number of other colorful fantasies.
"I'm talking to you, boy!" He was proud of himself for not crying when the blow landed on his cheek. It would swell up later on and residents would think he had another clumsy accident. People were either gullible or truly didn't care. The kid liked to think that most of the other boys were clumsy which was why the lie was believed. It made him feel normal for the fleeting moments he pondered it. Before reality, like always, crashed down on him.
When bedtime came he said his prayers like was expected of him hoping that someone would hear him for once.
"I know I ask this a lot and you never seem to hear me... They say that you help those who help themselves. I don't know how to do that. Did I do something wrong?" According to his uncle being born was chief along his offenses. "I'm sorry if I did. But could you stop him from hurting me? That's all I want. ...Please?"
Just before he fell asleep the boy thought he could feel a warm hand press against his forehead and a rough voice reply, "I promise."
School was much of the same but he liked to focus on the work rather than the students. Most of the time he barely got to know anyone before the next foster family took him in and he was transferred to another school. The "red headed stepchild" indeed.
When the ironic news of his uncles' injury was told he didn't know what to feel. Especially when they couldn't pay for hospital bills and his (ha) welfare. His aunt cried when the social worker arrived promising the usual cliches of a better life. Some fair tales he doesn't believe in anymore. Family was supposed to love you not hurt you. If they couldn't, then who could?