"Oooooh…down…he…goes!" Sun stood at the end of the slide, waiting patiently for Gregory to sit down and push himself off. It was always a little frightening at first for the little ones, especially when-
Gregory squealed, all but throwing himself down the slide…headfirst.
"Friend! No!" Sun gripped the sides of his head, eyeing the fast approaching toddler frantically. Then he remembered the last stop for the slide.
Towards the end of the slide was a little bump. Just something to stop the littles from flying off the end. An unnecessary safety precaution that caused way more injuries than it prevented. As he watched Gregory get closer to it, Sun is reminded of a little girl who took a similar approach down the slide. She ended up with a severe concussion and a black eye, from where her head bounced off the side of the slide, smacking her face right into hard plastic. She was fine, given the circumstances, but she was also school-age.
Sun rushed forward, covering the bottom portion of the slide.
"Oof." Gregory slammed into him. His stomach was down, so his head still hit hard plastic but it was less rough than the girl's descent.
Sun popped his head back up, scrambling up into an upright position.
Gregory was already back up, staring up at him with wide, curious eyes. "Okay?" He asked, reaching out for him. A minor friction burn took up the length of his arm. Sun winced when he noticed it, but resolved himself with the thought that the extent of Gregory's injuries could've been a lot worse.
"I'm okay," Sun reassured him, taking his outstretched hand. He removed himself from his place on the slide, leading Gregory by the hand. "And…hop!"
"Hop!" He shouted, echoing Sun. Gregory jumped down, giggling.
"Okay," Sun started, kneeling down to be eye level with Gregory, "Would you like a snack or to do a craft?"
Gregory considered this, chewing on his bottom lip, like this was the single most difficult decision he had ever made.
"What the fuck!"
Gregory flinched back, eyes going impossibly wide. He looked up at Sun through overgrown, matted bangs. His lips were pursed into a thin line and his jaw was moving back and forth.
Sun sent him a worried glance, placing a gentle hand on his head. "Don't grind your teeth," he chided, trying to distract the overly-anxious child (and isn't that so rich coming from you?) It didn't work, because of course it doesn't. "It's probably just a mean ol' worker. You're going to go play in the ballpit for a little bit, okay? And I'll go check on them."
Gregory nodded, eyes staring straight ahead. "Oh, okay," he said, voice oddly monotone.
He watched Gregory hoist himself up, over the edge of the ballpit, and disappear into the array of colorful, plastic balls. It was only once Sun could no longer see him, that he allowed himself to panic-just a little.
Here he was, in between morning rotation and afternoon rotation, all alone with a (likely, though Sun has to hope his new friend has someone waiting for him) abandoned child. He could count on one hand how many adults had stepped foot in the daycare, and none of them had been anytime recently. So, if there really was a disgruntled customer, worker, or what have you, Sun (and by strictly default and nothing else, Moon) was the only thing standing between their wrath and a small, defenseless child.
Sundrop was many things.
Most of the time, an entertainer. Loud and boisterous to keep the little ones from feeling excluded from their family's excursions.
Other times, a nurse. Placing colorful, faz-themed band-aids on the numerous injuries children tend to sustain while…well…while being kids.
Moondrop was also many things.
A caretaker to the quiet-sort of children that thrived in silence and solitude.
The one that watched over the children while they slumbered, idly waiting until the very last one's eyes fluttered open. In between shushing and patting at the particularly weary ones' backs, reassuring them-in his own way-that, no matter what was going on at home or school, they were all safe and protected here with them.
They were created-so different but melded-together in the same plastic, robotic body-with these roles in mind. Each and every day they had the same argument regarding control and which rules applied to who and when. The tug-a-war was almost always won by Sun, only because of the light-sensitive sensors they outfitted them with, relegating Moon to pure consciousness and will-power until called upon.
They each had their roles to fill, but one thing they could agree on…..
… no one would ever hurt a child on their watch!
-x-x-x-
The minute the door opened, Luis was on Ness' heels, trying to press inside. As much as his mother told him "patience is a virtue", it never really stuck. The cold air was biting at his exposed skin, and from the way Ness rubbed her hands together, it was obvious it was affecting her too.
She stopped suddenly, hands on her hips. Luis-gifted with the same grace as a newborn gazelle-had to jerk himself backwards to avoid breaking his nose on Ness' head.
"What the fuck!?" She shouted, throwing her hands up.
"What?" He asked, peering over her shoulder to see what she was looking at.
An empty cot stared back at him. No blanket. No kid. Just totally empty.
"Oh."
"Where did he go?" Ness asked, even though only she would know. She bent down, lifting up the cot to see underneath. "Gregory?"
"Ness," Luis said softly, taking a tentative step forward.
"No, no, Luis I promise he was here. I didn't…I wouldn't…Gregory!" She yelled, cupping her hands over her mouth. "Gregory!"
Luis tried to help her, searching all the places that a young child could feasibly fit in (and others that no one, not even the smallest ant, could ever possibly squeeze into). He joined her in her search.
It was hardly five minutes later that Ness sat down, head resting on her knees. She stared down at the carpet, defeated. "I'm sorry," she said, and Luis can't tell who it was for. So he remained silent, continuing his search if only to not give up on this child that Ness had probably snatched from his homeless parents (knowingly or unknowingly, it's all the same).
He took a deep breath. They'd find the kid, safe and sound, and then Ness will return them to their parents. Luis should go with her, he was familiar with most of the homeless people that liked to mingle while he waited for the bus after his shift each night. Perhaps one of them might recognize Gregory. But there was always the trifling issue of human-
The lights shut off. With not a single prior warning or announcement made.
The switch from light to dark was so jarring that Luis' eyes began to sting. He rubbed at them, blinking intermittently.
"The daycare is closed, come back tomorrow."
Luis opened his eyes, hands dropping to his side.
Ness audibly gasped, clambering to her feet.
"No one interferes with naptime, no one. Now leave, intruders, before we contact the authorities."
Eyes bright and mouth slightly agape, Luis bounced lightly on his heels. "Moondrop?" He asked, squealing.