Still going strong. 3 updates in 3 days. Yes, it's really me. I'm seeing maybe 1 or 2 more parts to this. I think the writing is almost done, just a little bit of cleanup to do. Some parts of this have been difficult to write and I really appreciate the feedback I've gotten.
Qweb: Thanks. It's fun coming up with little ways that they can impact her life, make it a little better. Glad you liked the art reference. That's one of those little tidbits about her that stuck in my mind so I thought it would be fun to work it in.
LostintheDarkEyesandSoul: Yup. Got to get Uncle Phil in there. More characters will be making appearances in this chapter. Her dad...let's just say he's very difficult for me to write. Fortunately, this is not an area I have intimate experience with and I simply cannot fathom the darkness of someone like this. I hope it's at least somewhat convincing. Thanks for your kind words.
Much love to you both for the reviews. I also appreciate the favorites and follows. On with the story.
The days continued to grow warmer. Spring break came and went.
She survived another birthday, having learned in years past that her father was at his worst on this day. She snuck out early to go to school and took her time coming home afterwards. Climbing the fire escape to peek through the window, she decided to spend the night in the alley with Cedric.
As the school year wound down, she started wondering what to do about her new school supplies. She couldn't possibly take them home as her father would question where they came from. About a week before the last day, she opened her desk and sighed with relief. The new items were gone, the old, battered ones back in place.
The last day of school was awards assembly. Her classmates were buzzing with excitement, looking around for family and friends. Not expecting anyone, she sat quietly, reading. When her name was called, she walked up to the stage, receiving certificates for all A's, for citizenship, reading, and math. There were several moments of silence before some parent or teacher started clapping and others joined in, apparently feeling sorry for the girl.
After the ceremony, school dismissed for summer break. Whle others expressed their joy at their freedom, she crossed the grounds slowly, not looking forward to losing the small amount of security she found in the routine of the school day.
She sat down on a bench next to a trash can and pulled out the awards she had received. She studied them carefully, memorizing them before reluctantly sliding them into the receptacle. She knew that if she took them home, her father would take great delight in destroying them before her eyes, telling her how the teacher had obviously only given them to her because she was so pathetically incompetent. It hurt less to do it herself.
Exiting the school yard, she slowly made her way home, her eyes on the sidewalk in front of her as she put one foot in front of the other.
"You really need to keep your head up when you walk," a deep voice interrupted her thoughts. "Be aware of what's going on around you, no matter what's going on inside."
Startled, she jerked her head up, turning back to the car she had just passed. Nick leaned casually against it, ankles crossed in front of him.
She smiled briefly, then schooled her expression as she studied him. He was again dressed in solid black: boots, jeans, t-shirt, and a light jacket that she figured probably concealed a weapon. His face, though, had changed. A black patch covered one eye, a series of angry scars radiating out from it. His exression didn't flicker as her sharp eyes scanned him.
Finally, she nodded slightly and let out a very small sigh of relief. He really was okay.
"Was that what happened to you?" she asked, her gaze lingering on the patch.
He laughed, reminded of the spirit that had drawn him to this child in the first place.
"Something like that," he told her, straightening to stand beside her. He nodded towards a vendor with an ice cream cart. "You want something?"
She hesitated. "Anything you want. My treat."
Chewing her lip, she carefully studied the pictures on the side of the cart. He suddenly wondered if she had ever had an ice cream other than the small cups sometimes served with the school lunches.
"What are you having?" she asked, looking up at him.
"Fudge bomb pop," he told the man, pulling out his wallet.
"Same for me," she answered.
They found a seat on a nearby bench. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed her watching him as he carefully opened the package and took a bite. She copied his motions, nibbling cautiously at the frozen treat. Her eyes went wide as the flavor spread through her mouth and she took another, larger bite.
He couldn't help but chuckle, even as he thought about how sad the situation was. "Not too fast," he warned. "Too much cold stuff too fast will give you a headache."
She nodded her understanding, leaning back on the bench to finish at a more sedate pace.
He finished his and threw the trash away, sitting back and watching the world go by. He didn't have many moments like this anymore and cherished them when they came. Soon, the girl dispsosed of her trash as well and resumed her seat, mimicking his relaxed pose. The companionable silence stretched out for several minutes until his phone vibrated, reminding him of the weight of his responsibilities.
He turned to face her. "Is everything going okay, Maria? Any problems with your dad?"
She shook her head. "Everything's fine," she assured him. "Like I told you, it was just one time and it was an accident. He doesn't hurt me or anything."
"And you think you'll be alright during the summer?"
"Sure. He works, I stay busy. We really don't spend much time together."
He frowned. That didn't quite sound right, but who was he to judge what a normal childhood or parent child relationship should be? He had spent the majority of his childhood in the foster care system with others in the same situation.
"Phil said he gave you his phone number."
She nodded and repeated it to him.
"And you'll give him a call if you need anything?"
Another nod.
His phone buzzed again and he pulled it out to check. It could wait another minute or so.
"I'm going to have to go," he told her. "Is there anything else you need right now?"
"I'm fine. Thanks for...well, everything," she replied.
He shrugged, noticing her studying him again.
"Anything you want to know?"
Her gaze rested on the patch over his destroyed eye.
"Did it hurt?" she questioned softly.
A standard denial sprang to his lips, but he stopped himself before he could utter it. With her, there was no reputation to protect. No image to maintain.
"Like a bitch," he admitted. "I just wanted to go to sleep and never wake up."
"I'm sorry."
"But it got better," he told her. "I thought about what I got for the price I paid, about the people that didn't die because of what happened to me and that I couldn't help anyone else if I gave up."
"And you like helping people," she stated.
He leaned close. "Don't let it get around, but I really do."
Winking, he took his leave and she sighed, the long summer stretching out in front of her.
XXXXXXXXXX
It was a couple of weeks later when a knock sounded at the door one evening. Maria opened it to find a woman standing in the hall, holding a clipboard. She recognized her as one of Phil's friends.
Melinda, he had said.
She winked at the girl. "I need to talk to your dad."
When Maria hesitated, she leaned down. "Trust me. It'll be okay."
She led her into the living room where he sat on the sofa, watching a baseball game.
"Mr. Hill?" she inquired.
He stood, glaring angrily at his daughter, then turning to her. "Whatever it is you're selling, I don't want any."
"My name's May. I got your name and address from your daughter's school."
He glared at Maria again. "Only my brat of a kid could still get in trouble with the school over summer break. What did she do now? Is she so stupid she needs summer school?"
Maria noticed a flash of anger in Melinda's eyes, but she covered it quickly. "Oh, no, Mr. Hill. I actually am here on behalf of Master Lee's Martial Arts Academy. We're looking for students for his summer program and the school was kind enough to give us adresses for some of the local children."
"Not interested," he snarled. "I'm not wasting good money so she can have fun while I'm working my butt off to keep food on the table and a roof over our heads."
"I'm able to offer her a full scholarship," she told him. "Absolutely no cost to you."
He considered a moment. "She'd probably enjoy that."
"I'm sure she would," the woman said brightly. Maria's face fell. She knew he would immediately refuse anything that might bring her pleasure.
Then the woman sighed and shook her head. "I'm sorry. I can't do this." She met his gaze. "I'd advise against it, Mr. Hill. Master Lee is a vile, mean spirited man. He claims to be trying to make the students stronger, but he really just enjoys being cruel. Rarely does he lead a class where someone doesn't leave in tears."
"Really?"
She nodded. "Why do you think we're having to offer full scholarships to get students? In addition to providing breakfasts and lunches and picking up and dropping off? And uniforms? Does that sound like a place people are anxious to send their kids to?"
"Sounds like the place will close down," he commented.
"No, it's a tax write off for some investor. He pours in money, the academy loses it." She shrugged. "I don't really now much about how business works, I just know I'm supposed to talk people into letting their kids come." She laughed and shook her head. "As if there's any chance you would after I said all of that."
He looked at her, then at Maria.
"You know, I think it would be good for her. She could really use some strict discipline. She's always been a trouble maker." He considered. "No cost to me?"
"None," she confirmed.
"You guys feed her?"
"Two meals a day."
"When are the classes?"
"Monday through Friday, 8 to 6," she told him. "And one Satruday a month."
He nodded. "What do you need me to sign?"
XXXXXXXXXX
She got through the summer to the start of a new school year. Once again, her breakfasts and lunches were paid for and new school supplies showed up in her desk when needed. At school, as at home, she generally stayed quiet, more a watcher than a participant, knowing that drawing attention to oneself usually had negative consequences.
That continued to work well for her until a few months into the new school year. She woke up one morning, tired and achy. Her throat hurt, her head hurt, and her stomach felt queasy. When she mentioned it to her father, he glared at her.
"Deal with it. I've got plans today and don't want to deal with a whiney brat."
Plans. That meant he had called in sick to work and would be at a bar with some buddies.
She headed off to school, determined to make it through the day.
She lasted about two hours before making a sudden dash for the classroom garbage can and emptying the contents of her stomach. That earned her an immediate pass to the nurses's office. The woman there lightly touched her forehead and cheeks.
"Were you running a fever like this when you came to school this morning?" she asked.
"I was fine this morning," Maria lied. "It just started here."
"Well, we're going to have to call someone to come and get you," the nurse told her, settling her on the bed with a cup of water and a trash can. "There's a couple of things going around and we don't want you to get your friends sick, too."
She pulled up the girl's records and made a call. Then another.
Hanging up, she turned back to Maria, a look of consternation on her face. "There's no answer at your home and his work said that he's not there today. Do you have any other way of getting in touch with him?"
She shook her head, then had a thought. She debated. She didn't want to be a bother, but she knew they wouldn't let her go back to class. And she really felt bad.
"You might call Phil," she told her.
"Who's Phil?"
"He's my...uncle."
The nurse shook her head. "He's not on the list to be able to pick you up, Maria. Your father is the only person we can release you to."
"Maybe if you call Phil, he can get ahold of him," she answered. She didn't know what he could do, but thought he could probably come up with something.
"I suppose it's worth a try." She wrote the number down, then dialed. It was answered on the second ring, and she explained the situation. When he said that he send someone to get her, she again explained that her father was the only one that the school had permission to release her to. He promised to contact the man, then hung up.
Phil looked back at the meeting he had stepped out of and held up a finger, indicating he would return shortly, then placed a call.
"I need a favor."
XXXXXXXXXX
About an hour later, the phone in the nurse's office rang. She spoke into it briefly, then turned to Maria who was dozing on the bed.
"Looks like your uncle was able to get ahold of your father. He's here to pick you up."
Maria sat up quickly, swallowing down her fear. Her dad would certainly not be happy to have his day interrupted to pick up his sick child. She breathed a silent sigh of relief at the sight of the man who walked in.
Suit and tie. Definitely not her father.
"Hi, sweetheart," he said, patting her on the head. "I hear you're not feeling good."
She pondered a moment.
Which would be worse? Her father, or a total stranger?
Focusing on his face, she finally realized that he was the other man she had seen with Nick.
Jasper?
Relieved, she shook her head.
"You should probably get her to the doctor, Mr. Hill. We're starting to see some flu cases as well as strep and she should get started on medication as soon as possible. She needs to be fever free for 24 hours before returning to school and we'll need a note," the nurse told him, handing him Maria's backpack and jacket.
He nodded, helping her into her jacket. "I'll do that."
XXXXXXXXXX
"I'm Jasper, by the way," he told Maria, settling her in the backseat of his car, he spread his coat over her, a concerned look on his face.
"I know. I saw you at my belt test with Nick and Phil and Melinda. Phil told me your name."
"Phil's out of town right now, but he called and asked if I could come and get you."
"But they said only my dad could pick me up," she asked curiously.
He flipped open his wallet to show her a very real looking driver's liscense identifying him as Jonathan Hill and showing their home address.
"We have people who can take care of things like that," he told her with a smile.
Suddenly, she started looking around frantically. Jasper opened the trash bag the nurse had given him and held it in front of her. She heaved several times, but nothing came up, her stomach already emptied of the little she had eaten earlier.
"Do you have a regular doctor?" he asked.
She shook her head. "No. Dad takes me to the free clinic when I need shots for school or something?"
"What about when you get sick?"
"I get better," she told him with a shrug.
Finally, he slid into the driver's seat and started the engine. After a short drive, he parked and looked back at her.
"I'm going to run inside for a minute. I'll be right back."
He was as good as his word, returning just a few short minutes later and setting a bag down in the floorboard next to her. He opened it up to show her a selection of sports drinks.
"I know you need to stay hydrated and I wasn't sure which flavor you liked, so I got several."
When she just shrugged, he chose one and twisted the cap off, handing it to her.
"Drink."
She managed several small sips and he climbed back behind the wheel. When they stopped again, she frowned at the unfamiliar building.
"Where are we?"
"HQ," he said simply.
He helped her out, leading her into the building. She noticed the curious stares, but took her cue from Jasper and ignored them. After a short elevator ride, they walked through a door marked "Medical."
The woman at the desk looked at them with a frown.
"What's this?"
"Part of an important operation," Jasper told her. "Top secret. I'm looking for Bailee?"
At that moment, another woman walked out of one of the rooms and looked their direction. She walked over and stuck out her hand.
"You must be Phil's friend?" she asked.
He nodded. "Thanks for seeing us. She seems to be feeling pretty bad."
She looked at the girl sympathetically. "No regular pediatrician?"
"Long story, but apparently not."
"Come on back," she gestured to them.
When Maria's face went white, the woman grabbed her up and ran into the bathroom, just making it as the sport drink came back up.
"Okay. I believe you're sick, kid. You don't have to convince me."
"Sorry," Marie whispered.
"I'm kidding," the doctor assured her gently. "I know you can't help it. Let's take a look at you and see what we can do to help you feel better."
"The school nurse said flu and strep are both going around," he told her as she lifted the girl onto the table and started her examination. She nodded, checking eyes, ears, nose, and throat. "Probably needs something for the fever, too. She's awfully warm, but she's shivering with chills. And something for the nausea. She's little enough to get dehydrated pretty fast, I'd think."
"Thanks for your advice, Doctor Sitwell," the doctor told him with a sidelong glance.
"Sorry. I'm just not used to all...this..." he replied, gesturing towards Maria.
She pulled open a a cabinet and started looking through drawers. "Tests, tests, tests. Let's see. Anthrax? Bubonic plague?" She turned and looked at the girl, who shook her head. Finally, she turned, a shrink wrapped package in each hand. "Influenza test. Strep test."
Both came back posiative.
While Jasper encouraged her to keep drinking, the doctor called the pharmacy to discuss proper medications and dosage.
"We're not used to pint sized patients either," she explained, looking at her computer screen. "Any medication allergies?" Maria shrugged and the doctor kept reading. "Okay. Seems kids are usually dosed with liquid mediccations that have to be refrigerated."
Jasper looked at Maria. "I'm thinking that might be a problem," he said.
The girl nodded. "Probably."
After some further discussion, they finally settled on the correct medications and doses and the were soon deliverd by the pharmacy. The doctor gave her the first doses of each, including something for fever and nausea and then the two headed back into the hallway.
"I've got some paperwork I need to take care of," the agent told her. "If you don't mind resting on my couch, I'll take you home later."
She nodded and did exactly that, dozing restlessly under his coat. He checked her fever from time to time, waking her up to encourage her to drink more.
Later that afternoon, Nick called for an update.
"Poor kid has the flu and step," Jasper told him. "We've gotten her started on some medication. The doctor said other than that, rest and fluids."
"What's the plan for getting her the medicine?" Nick questioned. "I don't trust her father to make sure she gets what she needs and the neighbor who was helping isn't there any longer."
Mrs. Crowley's son had finally convinced her to pack up and leave the city's brutal winters behind. Instead, the agents had taken over one of the larger mailboxes usually reserved for packages. Her warm clothes were stowed there so that she could change as needed.
"Yeah, from what Melinda said, he doesn't seem overly concerned with her well being." He continued. "I'm still waiting on medical clearance to get out from behind the desk again." He took a deep breath, feeling the twinge of pain where a knife had slipped between his ribs several weeks back. "I'll be able to stop by her place a couple of times a day, check up on her and make sure she gets it."
"Good."
Jasper debated a moment, glanced at the hopefully sleeping girl. then decided to push forward. "Have we looked at the possiblity of having her taken away from him?" he asked quietly. "We could still keep an eye on her in foster care but she would probably be in a better situation?"
"Possibly, but possibly not," Fury replied with a sigh. "How much do you know about the foster care system, Sitwell?"
"That they're a safety net for kids who are in bad situations."
"Ideally, yes," the other man told him. "And it may be that way most of the time. I like to think so. But I know from personal experience that it doesn't always work out that way. They're overworked and underfunded and sometimes, the kids end up in a worse situation than they were taken out of and no one knows until it's too late. I'd just rather keep a close eye in her situation. If it's primarily just a lack of personal attention, I don't really think a foster placement will help. If we're seeing signs real trouble, then I definitely want her out."
"Of course. Real trouble being what, sir?"
There was a pause on the line. "Physical abuse. Life in danger. I don't really know, Jasper. I'm not well versed in family relationship stuff."
"Me, either," the other man admitted, thinking of growing up with his elderly grandfather. His needs had always been met, but he had always felt something lacking.
"Thanks for your help on this, Sitwell."
"Glad to be a part of it, sir," he replied, gazing at the girl curled up under his coat.
XXXXXXXXXX
The girl made a full recovery, heading back to school with a note from her 'father' requesting that her absences be excused.
Time passed and certain traditions developed among the group. At least one of the adults would usually make an appearance whenever she had some event or awards. Supllies would somehow appear when she needed them.
A pair of good running shoes appearing in her locker when she decided to go out for track.
A package of sports bras in her dresser when she started developing.
She really hoped Melinda had picked those out.
Her first period, though, caught her unprepared. The school nurse gave her supplies, but chided her for not having something with her.
"Your mom should have made sure you were prepared for this," she chided.
"Yeah? Well, we don't talk much, seeing as how she's dead," Maria shot back as she walked out of the office. Once her frustration had cooled, she started thinking.
She had learned long ago the futility of asking her dad for money for anything, even if this was sometihng she could talk to him about.
She didn't have friends that she could borrow from. She considered leaving a note in her locker or in the mailbox, but the need was immediate and she wasn't sure when one of the others might check. Besides, there was no guarantee it would be Melinda.
As much as she hated the idea, the only other option she could think of was to steal. Other girls would laugh in the locker room or bathroom, excitedly showing off things they had shoplifted.
Usually makeup or perfume or some other useless something.
On her way home from school that day, she calmly walked into a drug store that was on her way. She had no other choice, she told herself, and she would pay the store back when she could.
Deep breath.
She walked the aisle, selecting a small package and smoothly sliding it under her jacket. After glancing around to be sure no one had observed, she walked back to the main aisle and headed towards the door.
A cough caught her attention. Looking up, she found a single eye glaring at her.
Nick.
He couldn't possibly have seen her. She would have noticed him.
She tried to assume a nonchalant pose, but he kept watching, his gaze sliding down to rest on the slight bulge under her jacket.
His brow rose, then he looked up the the marker for the aisle she had just exited. Without changing his expression, he pulled his wallet out of his jacket, removed a bill, walked over and slipped it into her hand before walking out.
The next day, she found an envelope in her locker with several bills in it.
'For emergencies,' it read in a strong hand.
She rarely had to make use of it, but when she did, it was immediately replinished.
The last day of school was another tradition. Always, Nick would be waiting for her. They shared fudge bomb pops and conversation on a park bench. Some of the encounters were brief, sometimes they had more time, but the times were always treasured by both.
Thank you for taking the time to read this. I'm hoping you deem it time well spent. I do wish to make it clear that I have no issues with CPS. These people have a difficult job that I most certainly could not do. I know that most of the employees do a wonderful job and really do care about the families that they deal with. For the purpose of this story, though, a little distrust was needed.
I'd love to know what you thought. I haven't had to resort to tears yet (well, not counting the section I just finished writing) and I'd rather not. Crying gives me a headache.
Until tomorrow.
As always, my thanks for taking the time to read this. I hope you deem it worthwhile.