A/N: Sorry for the delay, everyone.

This chapter is another transition chapter, and a little bit longer than most of the other ones I have written thus far. I can't help but think this story might be going a little too fast...

If you happen to spot any grammatical or spelling errors in my work that I have missed, feel free to PM me so that I can fix them. Yes, I know that's what Beta readers are for...

I want to thank all of you for your continuing support and interest in the story. I hope you keep reading and enjoying it.

Chapter 10: Beginnings

"We should probably find you a sport before sending you off to school," Quillish said conversationally to Laurent one afternoon. They were sitting in the living room, each with their own form of literature in their hands to keep them occupied. It was their usual way of passing time.

Laurent looked up from his novel, an unamused expression on his face, "I don't like sports that much," he said flatly.

Quillish laughed, "I know that, but we'll need you to do something other than study or read," he said, turning a page in his newspaper and glancing up at his adoptive son.

"I like reading," responded Laurent.

Quillish smiled, "Yes, but…" he rubbed the back of his neck and looked up in thought, "You see, most people find reading all the time to be odd, especially when you do little else."

"It's what you do," Laurent responded.

"I do, which is why people perceive me as odd." Quillish explained.

Laurent simply shrugged, "I don't mind being called odd," he said, his eyes returning to his book, "I really don't care what other people think of me." He turned a page in his novel and mumbled something else.

Quillish cocked his head slightly, "What was that?"

"I said 'I'm odd anyway,'" Laurent said a little louder. He looked up at his adoptive father, "Even you call me odd sometimes."

Quillish laughed, "I know, but it's a compliment," he said. Laurent looked back down at his book as Quillish continued, "At least try something new, Laurent. You don't have to do it if you don't want to; I just thought you might like to know a sport to play with the other students."

Laurent stopped reading, but continued to stare at the book, "What sort of sport?"

"What sort of sport would you like to learn?"

Laurent thought a little bit about it. "I don't really like team sports that much," he said.

That's understandable… Quillish thought, "Well, that takes out quite a lot of them," he responded, looking back at his newspaper, "I suppose if you did find a sport, you'd rather have a team of one, right?"

"That's right."

"Hm…" Quillish said, looking up in thought. After a couple seconds, his face lit up with a smile, "I think I've just thought of the perfect one."

Laurent held his racquet loosely in his hand as he looked across the court at his adoptive father. Quillish smiled at him, his own racquet in his right hand. His left was busy bouncing a small yellow ball. "Are you ready, Laurent?" Quillish called out.

"I guess so," Laurent responded.

"Hold the racquet like I told you," Quillish called out, "Keep your eye on the ball, and just focus on hitting it back, okay?"

Laurent did as he was told, training his eyes on the little yellow ball in his adoptive father's hand.

"Alright, here it comes!"

Thwack! The little yellow ball was suddenly sailing through the air. Laurent swung at it with all his might… and missed. The ball sailed right over his racquet, bounced on the hard surface of the court and rolled until it hit the fence behind him. Laurent looked over his shoulder and frowned.

"No worries, no one can get it the first time around," Quillish said, taking another tennis ball from the bag he had brought outside, "Try hitting this next one."

It took a little convincing, but Quillish had managed to get Laurent outside and onto the tennis courts. Laurent was feeling a little strange about the whole thing, for he was never one for sports and he doubted any of them could convert him. He did, however, agree to try it out.

Of course, Quillish didn't have a racquet for someone Laurent's size, so they had to go out and buy one for him. After the racquet was found, they ended up buying some appropriate tennis attire for the boy. After such excursions, Laurent was already starting to rethink his decision; he really hated clothes shopping.

However, though he groaned and complained, he stuck it out. It was more for Quillish than for himself.

However, the longer they practiced that afternoon, the more Laurent came to enjoy it. Tennis wasn't that bad of a game, really… and the fact that he could play singles matches made him feel all the better about the sport. He had to admit that point system didn't make much sense, though. Why not just use three points? Why did it have to go from fifteen to thirty to forty? There wasn't even a discernible pattern!

The practice went on until it began to grow dark, and by that time, Laurent was getting fairly decent at hitting the ball back. He still had a long way to go when it came to control and the strength of his swing, but for a beginner, he was coming along well.

As they packed up and made their way inside, Laurent looked up at his adoptive father and asked, "Why did you decide to learn how to play tennis?"

"I was bored one summer and decided to give it a go," Quillish said cheerfully, "That's the reason why a lot of people do things. They just want to."

Laurent fiddled with his racquet and frowned. It was true that he did do things because he wanted to, but there was always a reason as to why he wanted to do things. He read books because he wanted to, but he wanted to read because he wanted to learn. Or, he wanted to get lost in another world. He observed things because he wanted to, but he wanted to do so because of what sorts of things he could find out. He wondered if others ever actually had a reason to want, as he did, and the reason "to cure my boredom" was never a complete answer to him.

Learning to play tennis was partially to please his adoptive father, and partially to see if learning a new sport would actually attract more people to him. If he could do that, he could possibly figure out why other people acted so strangely.

The more Laurent thought, the less he was able to see if he ever did anything just for the sake of doing it. There was always a reason… no matter how trivial or silly that reason happened to be.

Perhaps other people really did have their reasons for wanting to do things, they just never bothered to look? Could that be the case? Was he really that different after all?

Perhaps I'm thinking too far into this… Laurent decided as he put away his racquet.

The summer flew by, as summers often do, and soon it was time to send Laurent off to school. He would have lied if he said he wasn't a little anxious to be going off and living there, but in the end, he decided he could handle it. Laurent was already versed in the way a boarding school operated; it wasn't so terribly different to the way the Clark Sisters had run things. He had lived like that once; he could live like that again. Besides, this time around, he had Quillish. Certainly, the man wouldn't be around as often, but Laurent could always call or write if he felt lonely, and Quillish had already promised that he would visit.

"This is everything, right?" Quillish asked, placing the boy's luggage in the middle of the room. Laurent nodded as he glanced around. There were two beds pushed up against opposing walls, two desks, two shelves, two sets of drawers… it was a standard set-up of a dormitory room.

"The room seems awfully plain," Quillish remarked.

Laurent nodded with a quiet, "Yeah," and began unpacking, an effort that Quillish joined in.

"You're not too nervous about this, are you?" Quillish asked, taking out the small collection of books Laurent brought from home and placing them on one of the shelves.

"No," Laurent responded quietly, but he fidgeted slightly with the shirt he was placing in one of his drawers.

Quillish caught this and smiled, "I'm certain you'll do fine," he said.

Laurent nodded.

After a while, everything was put in place. The two looked around, surveying their handiwork with satisfied smiles. "Now, I suppose we have to wait for your roommate to arrive," Quillish said, "I'd like to meet him… I wonder what he's like."

"I wonder what his name is…" Laurent mumbled.

"It is odd that they wouldn't even give is that much," agreed Quillish with a frown, "Perhaps I should bring that up to Roger the next time I see him. I wonder if it would make any difference, though…"

After only a half an hour of the two's shared ponderings, a young boy walked into the room with his mother and father following behind. He began surveying the place as Laurent had done previously, his bright green eyes sparkling with excitement. As gaze fell upon the other boy in the room, his smile grew wider. Laurent silently prayed that this mysterious new boy wasn't another Charlie.

The boy approached him and stuck his hand out for a handshake, and Laurent dutifully obliged him, "Hello, my name is Matthew. Matthew Johnson." The boy beamed.

"I'm Laurent. Laurent Wammy," Laurent said.

Matthew's eyes widened in suprise, "Wammy? Really? Just like this school?"

"That's right," Laurent responded.

The boy's parents blinked at this news and began studying the third adult in the room carefully. "You're Quillish Wammy?" the boy's father asked tentatively.

"That's me," Quillish smiled.

The two adults' eyes widened. "This is amazing!" the boy's mother cried out.

"It certainly is!" responded the boy's father, "I never would have guessed we'd meet a celebrity here!"

"I'm not really that much of a celebrity…" Quillish said.

"In my line of work you are," said the boy's father, putting down a suitcase and sticking out his hand for a handshake, which Quillish accepted, "My name is Henry Johnson. I design and sell all sorts of batteries. Your work influenced me greatly."

Quillish's expression shifted quickly between confusion and elatedness, but finally settled on contentment, "Why, thank you…" he said.

"I had no idea you had a son…" Henry continued, looking closely at Laurent.

"Well, now you do," responded Quillish with a smile.

The room was silent for a few moments, and then Henry looked back at his wife and noticed that the suitcases still needed to be unpacked. As he rushed over to fix the situation, he called out, "Come on, Matthew, you can't make us do it all by ourselves."

Matthew immediately complied with his father's suggestion and began helping. After a few moments, which was expected on account of having three sets of hands to do the unpacking, the room looked a little more livable.

It was then that Matthew's mother walked up to Quillish and took his hand in hers, "I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce myself," she said, shaking his hand, "I'm Amelia Johnson." She was beaming almost as much as her husband had been.

"Pleasure to meet you," Quillish responded.

The woman nodded, still smiling. She then turned to her son, "Well, we ought to be going. Give me a hug, Matthew!" The boy happily obliged. "Be good!" She said.

"I will!" responded Matthew. He then went over to his father who said his goodbyes in a very similar way.

Laurent watched this event unfold, feeling more and more awkward as it went on. After a little while, He looked up at Quillish and asked, "Would you like a hug goodbye, too?"

He turned and saw Matthew with his upper body out of the doorway, waving to his parents as they disappeared down the hall.

Quillish laughed, "Do you want one?"

Laurent paused and looked down. "Well…" Not really…

He felt Quillish ruffle his hair affectionately, "Stay out of trouble, I'll see you soon."

As Quillish began making his way out the door, Laurent began feeling a little empty inside. This goodbye just didn't seem complete. Perhaps… he thought, noticing he was beginning to walk after his adoptive father, Perhaps just this once… Before Laurent had realized it, he had thrown his arms around Quillish in an unexpected hug, causing the man to stop in surprise. He looked down to see the dark eyes of his adoptive son staring into his own, "See you soon," was all Laurent said.

Quillish smiled.