A/N: I'm sorry for the delay, everyone. I was very busy lately and I had no time to write. You don't have to worry, I have no plans to abandon this story. I hope you continue to read and enjoy my work.

Chapter 7: Flight

Laurent enjoyed the library more than any other room in the house. He would pull the heavy science books off of the shelves in the library and stare intently at them. He could hardly read any of the text, for the words were large and foreign, and there were so many. He did, however, enjoy staring at the photographs and trying to come up with what sorts of secrets were hidden within that marvelous, unreadable text. He spent most of his time like that, hardly ever walking out of the library unless he absolutely had to.

That baffled Alice more than anything. "He should go outside and run around with the rest of the boys in town," she told Quillish one afternoon, "Why does he spend so much time in there?"

"Why don't you ask him?" Quillish responded.

She always asked him. The answer was always the same: "I want to."

Time went by and things hardly changed. Laurent would spend hours poring over the texts riddled with unknown jargon, and passed the rest of them in fantasy worlds crafted by marvelous minds. It seemed that he spent far more time in his head than in the real world. It didn't bother Quillish in the slightest, but it seemed to perplex Alice, his teachers and his classmates.

Though it was said he got along well enough with people, Laurent still liked spending his time completely alone. No… it was rather that he craved it. That made him rather unpopular, but he hardly noticed, for the idea of peers didn't quite register in his head. Like everyone else, he had people he liked and people he didn't, but unlike the other children, he didn't put as much effort into those relationships. They were there, and that was all.

Of course, there were still loud children, like Charlie, who were curious about him and would spend time following him around and trying to make sense of his actions. Reading, observing, wandering around on the playground and watching as a third party as other boys and girls played… After a while, even the most curious of the children would quit trying and would leave not understanding why he did what he did.

His teachers were impressed by how much he knew and how much he wanted to know. However, Laurent couldn't help but feel that there was something off about them. They acted a lot like the adults who came to the orphanage; they seemed uncomfortable with his presence. It didn't matter to Laurent as much as it had, though. Quillish was in his life now.

Three years had passed in this manner and the two were still in America. After quite a few months of working, Quillish's friends in law had hit a rather challenging roadblock, and some even began lowering the job on their priority lists. It didn't bother either Quillish or Laurent very much. Any business Quillish had could be attended to over the phone, and Laurent was content wherever he happened to be.

One morning, Quillish was preparing breakfast as he always did. He was never really comfortable in being waited on, even though Esther had insisted in the beginning. Quillish also happened to enjoy cooking, and he didn't like having his gourmet skills go to waste. That day, he wasn't making anything special, just a couple over-medium eggs for Laurent and himself.

Quillish looked up from the frying pain to see his adoptive son at the counter, same as always. However, the boy was perched in such a way that both of his feet were on the seat of his chair. Quillish laughed silently at the spectacle.

"Why are you sitting like that?" Quillish asked as he put a fried egg onto a plate.

"Like what?" Laurent asked, looking confused.

"You're perching."

"Oh," Laurent said, looking down and noticing his position. He then shrugged, "It's comfortable."

"It certainly doesn't look it," was his adoptive father's response, continuing to cook, "Are you turning into a gargoyle, by chance?"

"The floor's cold," Laurent explained, "I don't like having my bare feet so close to the cold floor."

Quillish laughed, "Well, I suppose no one does." He pushed Laurent's breakfast over to him.

As Quillish began cleaning up, the kitchen phone began to ring. He quickly wiped off his hands and hurried to answer it. Laurent glanced up from his egg.

"Hello?" Quillish asked as he answered.

"Quillish! Great news! We've done it!" a very excited male voice cried out from the speaker.

"You've done what?" Qullish asked, confused, "Wait… is that you, Oliver?"

"What? Yes, yes, I'm Oliver!" the man said animatedly, "We've done it!"

"Done what?" Qulilish asked. Laurent looked at his adoptive father with an expression of curiosity etched on his face.

"It was a real headache, but we finally did it!"

"What?"

"After three years, you're now free to take the kid to the UK!" Oliver shouted.

"What? Really? That's wonderful!" Quillish beamed.

Laurent was really curious now. "What? What's wonderful?" the boy asked.

"You can pack up right now if you wanted to!" Oliver said excitedly. "Everything's finally been taken care of! We did it!"

"Thank you, Oliver; I owe you a lot for this."

Oliver laughed, "It was no trouble, no trouble at all!"

"It took three years!"

"Three years? Three years is nothing! Besides, you had to wait three years, too."

Quillish laughed, "You know I don't just take favors like this."

"Might as well pretend to be humble," Oliver replied, and Quillish could hear his grin through the phone.

"Thank you so much."

"Anytime, there. See you around!"

"Goodbye."

There was a click as Oliver hung up, so Qullish quickly did the same. The man looked up to see the boy's expectant face. "Who was that? What did he say?" Laurent asked.

"That was Oliver Bromski," Quillish said. His face broke into a bigger smile, "Laurent, how would you like to see Great Britain?"

They decided to take their leave after school was let out for summer vacation. It was just easier that way. Alice was a little saddened to see Laurent go after three years, so the boy allowed her to hug him before he left. It wasn't a very pleasant experience, but he grinned and bore it for her sake.

"Come back and visit?" she asked hopefully.

"When we get the chance," Quillish responded.

"We'll miss having you around," Josephine said. Gregory, Esther and Veronica nodded. They had all grown accustomed to seeing the two.

"And we'll miss you," Quillish said with a nod, "Goodbye, everyone!"

"Goodbye," Laurent said.

Quillish looked down at his adoptive son, "Let's go, Laurent. Phineas is waiting in the car," With that, they were off to catch their flight.

As Laurent slipped into his seat and buckled in, he heard the faint peal of the church bells announcing the hour.

The house in Great Britain was even bigger than the one in America. Laurent could only stare. "This is where we're going to live now?" he asked, pressing his palm to the cab's window, gazing at the beautiful structure in awe. His dark eyes then wandered to the rather impressive garden that took up the front yard.

"Yes," Quillish smiled, getting out of the cab and waiting for the boy to follow suit. He turned then to the cab driver and said, "We'll only be a moment, and then we'll come back for the bags."

The cab driver smiled, "You're paying me either way."

Quillish nodded.

As he had done a long time ago, Quillish walked up onto the front step, Laurent following behind, and knocked on the door. There was quiet for a few seconds, as was expected, and suddenly the door flew open. "Yes?" the young woman who opened the door asked breathlessly. Her green eyes scanned over the man in surprise, "Mr. Wammy!" she gasped, "You're back!"

"Yes, I am," Quillish said with a smile, "How are you, Caitlin?"

She shifted nervously, "Truthfully…."

There was a loud crash behind her. "Ugh! He really needs to organize his things better!" came a loud, unpleasant female voice.

Quillish blinked and looked over Caitlin's shoulder curiously, "Is that…"

Caitlin's shoulders sagged, "I'm sorry…" she said.

Quillish frowned, "Are the rest of them…?"

Caitlin looked even more apologetic, "I'm afraid so, Sir…"

"How did they…?"

"I don't know, Sir."

Laurent looked from the young woman to his adoptive father incomprehensively, "What's going on?"

Quillish seemed to not hear the boy, and sighed deeply, "Caitlin, could you get Henry and Lucas to get our luggage from the car?"

"Yes, Sir…" Caitlin said, nodding. She then turned and ran into the house.

"What's going on?" Laurent asked again.

Quillish sighed, "Laurent, be prepared to meet some very unpleasant people. Come."

The little boy followed as the man walked into the house. The happiness that had once filled Quillish seemed significantly diminished. As they reached the den, it became apparent why.