TW for brief mention of past death of a parent
Miss Hand and Izzy were right on time for dinner, which surprised no one. Miss Hand greeted everyone with her usual prim warmth, while Izzy opted for a boisterous hello that left Skye powerless to stop a grin from spreading across her own face. Phil disappeared back into the kitchen shortly thereafter, May in tow to help him finish setting everything out for dinner.
"Skye, what's shaking?" Izzy asked, once she and Miss Hand had come all the way into the living room. She chucked Skye lightly on the jaw, something that had become a familiar gesture between them. "You get past that Pandora level yet?"
"Not yet," Skye admitted, flopping down onto the couch next to Jemma. "I got hit with the poison arrows today, so better than yesterday, but not as close as last week."
"You still using the sword?"
Skye nodded.
"Try the axe next time," Izzy said sagely. "You get a negative speed modifier, but it's way better for blocking. Helps for keeping those pesky poison arrows at bay."
Skye's eyes went wide. "That's a really good idea."
"I've been known to have them every now and then," joked Izzy. From the other side of the room, Miss Hand gave a little cough, like she was covering up a laugh.
"I wouldn't have thought equipping teenagers with axes counted as a good idea," she said dryly. It took Skye a second to realize that Miss Hand was probably teasing them. Sometimes it was hard to tell with her.
Izzy didn't seem to have that difficulty, though, because she burst into a bouncy, barking laugh. "Oh, lighten up, Vic, it's just a video game. An ancient one, at that. Do you remember how many hours I logged on that thing on the chunky desktop back when we first moved in together?"
"Of course," Miss Hand smiled. "I watched you play every level."
"My best cheerleader," Izzy whispered conspiratorially, leaning in towards Skye and Jemma and grinning. "She'd never admit it, but Vic's a gaming whiz. She helped me figure out the trick to beating the very last level."
"What is it?"
"I'm not telling," Izzy chortled. "Half the fun is figuring out the twist yourself."
"Or letting your partner figure it out for you," said Miss Hand with a raised eyebrow.
"Well, the other half of the fun is playing it with a pretty girl…" Izzy flashed Miss Hand a roguish wink, which made her start fiddling with her glasses. "So I had it made on both accounts."
"You're ridiculous."
"Ridiculously lucky," Izzy shot back with a soft smile.
"Jemma, how was the book on tardigrades I brought last time?" Miss Hand asked pointedly, steering the conversation towards a new topic. "Hopefully there was something in there you didn't already know."
"It was wonderful," Jemma said, smiling shyly. She tapped a buoyant little rhythm on her knee. "They're one of the most resilient species I've ever read about – they can survive in high altitude hot springs, under sheets of ice in polar regions, in deep sea conditions… They can also suspend their metabolism and survive without food or water for up to thirty years."
"Tough little guys," Izzy remarked. "I can see why Vic thought they'd be a good match for you."
Jemma blushed. "They also can survive unprotected in outer space. Scientists have sent them to space more than once and some of them even think tardigrades could survive on Mars without typical life support systems."
"So when we finally decide to start colonizing other planets," smirked Skye, "the tardigrades are going to be the first settlers."
They talked for a little while longer, Miss Hand asking about the upcoming start of school and how things were going at home, until Bobbi came down from upstairs, her hair still a little damp from her post-soccer practice shower.
"Hey, Bobbi," Izzy said, giving her a wave, which Bobbi happily returned. "Good to see you."
"Good to see, good to see you, too," smiled Bobbi. She settled herself on the couch next to Skye and Jemma and a wave of clean, flowery scent washed over them, a pleasant remnant from Bobbi's shampoo.
"Soccer practice today?"
"We're in two-a-days right now," Bobbi said. "6:00am and 3:00pm."
Izzy let out a low whistle. "That's rough." Bobbi shrugged bashfully.
"It's not so bad, once you get going. I'm just glad to be on the field again. Feels good to play."
"I'll bet."
"How's the team?" Miss Hand wanted to know. "Are you making friends with your teammates?"
"Yeah," nodded Bobbi. "Elena and I have really compatible play styles, and we've been training and rehabbing together ever since she was cleared to work out again. And Piper's been cool. Really our whole midfield unit is pretty tight. We should be in line for a good season, even without Kara and Alisha from last year."
"We met a girl today," Skye said suddenly, remembering the surly blonde girl she and Jemma had talked with in the auditorium. "She said she was a soccer player, and a junior, like you. Did she come to practice today?"
"We don't know her name," Jemma added with a slight frown. "She wasn't wearing her nametag like she was supposed to."
"We didn't have anybody new on the field with us today," Bobbi shook her head. "But I did overhear Coach saying he was meeting somebody later for a skills assessment. Maybe that's who he meant."
"Well, if she ends up playing with you all, make sure she tells you her name," said Jemma, a little grumpily. The corners of Bobbi's mouth twitched.
"I'd hope it would come up, if we turn out to be teammates. Kind of hard to run plays if you can't call somebody's name."
"Everything's ready," called May, emerging from the kitchen just then. She smiled. "And Phil's very eager for everyone to taste the new marinade he used on the chicken."
"Oh, well in that case…" Izzy said with a chuckle. "Let's not keep the poor guy waiting."
Everything tasted great, of course, and everyone made a point of telling Phil how well the meal had turned out. He acted all humble, waving away their compliments, but Skye could tell he was secretly really pleased to hear they'd liked his food. Even Jemma, who was sometimes skeptical of new things, had eaten everything on her plate. It probably helped that Phil had made sure to not include any of the little tomatoes from the garden in Jemma's salad, even though there were plenty in everyone else's.
He was good about that kind of thing, Skye had been happy to learn over the last year. He remembered little things, like what sorts of foods they did and didn't like to eat, and he never made a big deal about making minor alterations to people's plates to make sure they didn't have to pick anything out. Some of their old foster families hadn't been so obliging.
Some, like the Williamses, had refused to believe that something like a tomato or an olive was enough to turn Jemma's stomach or send her into a tailspin. Mrs. Murphy had been the type to insist that Skye suck it up and eat gross stuff anyway, like the hamloaf with pineapple rings and jarred cherries on top, because, in her words, Skye should be "grateful to have anything to eat at all." It was things like the memory of fruit-covered hamloaf that always ensured Skye never took it for granted that Phil was not only a good cook, but an accommodating one.
"I hope everyone saved room for dessert," he announced, once all the plates had been cleared and loaded into the dishwasher. "Skye and Jemma made homemade ice cream this afternoon."
"What a treat," smiled Miss Hand. "I can't remember the last time I had homemade ice cream."
"Phil taught us," Skye said as she hopped up to help Phil and Jemma serve the ice cream into bowls. "He said it was something he learned from his mom when he was growing up."
"So we're really going old school, then," said Izzy. "I can't wait to try it."
The ice cream got just as many compliments as the dinner had, but the longer it took for everyone to finish their bowls, the more the conversation around the table began to dwindle and peter out. It was almost like everyone knew it was almost time to have the more serious talks of the evening, and, in Skye's case at least, the anticipation was finally starting to get the better of her.
"I know you all have some business to get to," Izzy finally said, once it was clear everyone was finished eating. "And I know you all could use some privacy. Confidentiality and all that. I'll be amusing myself in the backyard if you need me. Phil, you still have all those canning jars in the shed, right?"
Phil blinked his momentary look of confusion off his face quickly as he processed Izzy's question. "Yeah, they're all stacked up under the windowsill on the side wall of the shed," he said. "But what—"
"You all have your meeting," was all Izzy would say. "Then come find me."
She stood up from the table without any more fanfare after that, and soon the gentle slap of the screen door in the frame signaled that they should begin.
"I'll get right into it, then," Miss Hand said simply. "I know the adoption process has taken longer than any of us would have hoped, and I apologize for dragging this out. The fact of the matter is, however, there are unique complications with each of you that have caused some delays. I've kept Melinda and Phil up to date with everything as best I could while the adoption lawyer and I have worked through them, but I wanted to take the opportunity to fill you three in as well. See if you have any questions, that sort of thing."
"What kinds of complications?" Skye asked, furrowing her brow. Dread like a sinking wad of old, petrified chewing gum clunked down in the pit of her stomach. She should have known that this whole thing wasn't going to be easy. Nothing about her life had been easy up to this point, so why should adoption be any different? "I'm not messing things up for Jemma and Bobbi, am I? 'Cause I have bad paperwork or something?"
"Well, actually, Skye, yours is the least difficult to sort out," Miss Hand said, a faint, wry smile teasing the corners of her mouth. "You've been a ward of the state essentially since your birth, so in terms of custody and adoption, there's not much out of the ordinary in terms of processes and paperwork. Legally speaking, your birth father never had custody of you, since you've been under care at St. Agnes since infancy, so we don't have to sort out parental rights with him now that he's… back in the picture, so to speak. Really the only complicated matter with yours is the fact that your recently rediscovered birth certificate doesn't align with the majority of your records, so on paper, it looks like there are two of you – one named Daisy and one named Mary Sue."
"And none named Skye," Skye grumbled. "I have double the paperwork and still nothing that's actually me." That made all the adults laugh – not unkindly, and not at her, but still in a way that prickled Skye somewhat.
"The adoption lawyer, Mr. Murdock, assured me that he'd be able to sort that out without too much trouble," Miss Hand promised. "I've worked with him for years, and he's very good at his job. He has a lot of first-hand experience with the foster care system and with the innerworkings of St. Agnes in particular, so his expertise will be a great asset to us. The only other snag we've hit with your adoption, Skye, is the fact that there are no official records of your birth mother's death. There are records from the hospital that speak to her passing, but legally, as far as the state is concerned, she's essentially vanished from the record after you were born. Again, this isn't too much of a hurdle, since your custody comes from the state and we don't need her to sign away parental rights or anything like that, but for the sake of due diligence and fully completed paperwork, Mr. Murdock has been trying hard to track down some more official documentation."
"Oh. Okay." Skye looked down, suddenly concentrating very hard on the soupy remnants of ice cream that swirled around at the bottom of her bowl. Her throat felt tight as she tried to swallow back the unexpected wave of emotion that had bubbled up inside of her at the mention of her mother's death.
She tried not to think about that, or about what Cal had told her about her mother, most days. It honestly confused her more than anything, all the complicated feelings and questions that arose anytime she slipped up and allowed her thoughts to wander that way. It seemed wrong to feel so sad over a person Skye had never met or known, like she was playacting at grief, but that never seemed to stop a sharp ache from panging at the inside of her chest whenever she let her mind meander towards her mother.
Cal had told her some things about her, about the kind of person she was, but it hadn't been enough. All her life Skye had wondered about her parents, about her mother, about where she came from and who she looked and sounded and acted like. It had been hard when there was nothing for her to go on, just her own imaginings and longings, but some days it felt so much harder now, now that she'd been given a glimpse, a tiny taste, of what she'd never been allowed to have. She still didn't know hardly anything about her mother, but knowing what little bits and pieces she did know now, it made the mourning of her loss feel that much more real.
"Are you all right, Skye?" Phil asked quietly, stretching out a hand to rest softly over the top of hers. "Do you need to take a break?"
"No, I'm okay," Skye said quickly. She gave herself a little shake and forced herself to look back up at Miss Hand. "So it's just some paperwork stuff that's slowing everything down for mine?"
"Essentially, yes," nodded Miss Hand. Skye hadn't been looking at Miss Hand earlier, but now she could see the look of quiet sympathy that softened some of her features. Skye never liked being pitied, but it was nice to know that Miss Hand felt sorry for having to talk about Skye's mother.
"What about me and Jemma?" Bobbi asked. Skye felt gratitude well up at Bobbi for doing her best to steer the conversation onto someone else for a while.
"Jemma's situation is probably the more complex of the two, at least from a legal standpoint," Miss Hand said. "Mainly because with Jemma we have the issue of citizenship to sort through."
"I'm not a citizen?" Jemma's face was wrinkled up with confused consternation. Skye could hear the sound of her finger tapping on the tabletop. "But I've been living at St. Agnes. Aren't I a ward of the state, like Skye?"
"That's what we've been trying to figure out," explained Miss Hand. "Upon our initial dig into your paperwork, it appeared as though your parents were considered lawful permanent residents of the US – green card holders – at the time of their death, as were you, Jemma. I assume your father's employer helped to expedite your family's immigration process, given the relatively short timeframe we're looking at here. After the car accident, because you were a legal resident here and you had no family back in England to stay with, the state determined that you'd stay in the US and be placed in the foster care system, which is why you came to stay at St. Agnes. So, while the state of Wisconsin was responsible for your guardianship like with Skye, as far as I can tell, no paperwork for citizenship has ever been filed on your behalf."
"Isn't that something St. Agnes should have taken care of?" May asked in a clipped voice. Miss Hand sighed a little and fiddled with her glasses.
"Ideally, yes, they would have at least done some of the preliminary paperwork. There wasn't as much of a rush to do so since Jemma's still considered a legal resident and not in danger of deportation. I also imagine they have a policy of not filing on behalf of children under their care because, again, ideally, when a child is adopted, the naturalization process can be included in the adoption. Think, for example, of when parents in the US adopt a child internationally. There are specific steps those parents can take to ensure that their child is legally recognized as a US citizen."
"So St. Agnes didn't pursue Jemma's citizenship because they were hoping she'd be adopted, and her adoptive parents would be able to take care of that?" Phil clarified. Miss Hand nodded.
"That's my understanding, yes. For us now, it's not an insurmountable challenge by any means. Like I said, there are specific protocols in place for adoptive parents to secure citizenship for their children. It just means we have additional steps to take as we navigate Jemma's adoption process."
"Will I have to take the citizenship exam?" Jemma asked nervously. "We learned about that in social studies last year. You have to know American history, and about the government and the holidays and—"
"You won't have to take the citizenship exam," Miss Hand interjected kindly. "They don't make kids take it. Although I'm sure you'd have no trouble acing the exam if you needed to."
"You have the double advantage of a very good memory and a live-in American history teacher at your disposal," joked Phil.
"I wonder if Fitz is a citizen," Jemma wondered, more to herself than anyone seated around the table. "If he's not, we could be noncitizens together."
"At least, until you get adopted," Bobbi pointed out. "You'll be a citizen after that, right?"
"That's the plan," nodded Miss Hand. "Again, Mr. Murdock and I don't foresee there being any particular challenges to this, but it's just one more thing that's contributed to the delays."
"Delays, delays," Bobbi echoed reflexively. "What about me? What are my delays?"
"Well, Skye's are administrative, and Jemma's are legal, and yours, Bobbi, are… more personal in nature."
"What does that mean?"
"You know that your father's parental rights have been terminated by the courts, correct?"
"Yeah." Bobbi's face slipped into the blank mask that she still sometimes wore, especially if things were getting overwhelming. It was hard to know what Bobbi was thinking or feeling when she shut down like that, but since the subject was on her father, it didn't take a super genius to guess at what was on Bobbi's mind at the moment.
She'd had to make a statement for the court last spring about all the stuff her dad had done to her over the years, and a judge had made it official that her dad no longer had any custody or rights over Bobbi. Bobbi had twirled a lot that week, and there were a couple days where the only way she could talk was if she was parroting what other people were saying around her, making conversation out of the fragments of other people's words. It had been a hard time on everyone, but Bobbi especially.
"In order for your adoption to go through and be made legal, those parental rights have to be forfeited. Either by a judge's ruling, like in your father's case, or voluntarily. Anyone with guardianship has to acknowledge that they no longer have it, so that Melinda and Phil can become your sole, legal guardians."
"Okay, but I don't understand what the hold-up is," Bobbi frowned. "You just said my dad doesn't have rights anymore."
"He doesn't. But your mother does."
"…oh."
Skye swiveled her head around, looking from person to person as the silty sediment of this revelation settled over them all. She had kind of forgotten Bobbi even had a mom. Bobbi basically never talked about her, and Skye knew she hadn't lived with Bobbi in years.
"She's been remarkable difficult to get into contact with," Miss Hand said, a hint of lemon in her words. "I've actually been trying to reach her ever since you were first hospitalized last year. Part of my job is attempting to contact other family members that kids can live with if they can't stay in their current home. We try to place kids with relatives before we just automatically place them in foster care or group homes."
"You… tried to call her? When my lung and my knee and everything were all wrecked?"
"I did," said Miss Hand. "You mentioned to me at the time that she hadn't been a part of your life for several years, so I knew there was a possibility that wouldn't be a suitable option for you, but I had a responsibility to at least look into familial placements."
"Did you find her?" Bobbi's voice was flat and empty-sounding. Not totally unusual for Bobbi, but it still made Skye uneasy to see how blank Bobbi had gone.
"Not at first. I wasn't having any luck locating her, which is why I went ahead and placed you with May and Phil. Eventually I did, though. She's living in California, remarried, with a different name. She's Susan Swift now, not Morse. That's part of why it took me so long to track her down."
"Down, down, down," Bobbi murmured. "Did… did you talk to her?"
"She never returned any of my calls or emails," Miss Hand said delicately. "Eventually I had to send her a certified letter just to ensure that she was made aware of the situation. We've spoken on the phone once since then."
"Okay."
"Essentially what needs to happen is Bobbi's mother needs to sign away her parental rights in order for Bobbi's adoption to go through," Miss Hand explained, once it was clear Bobbi didn't have anything else to say on the subject of her mother. "And so far, she has not done so."
"What does that mean?" May wanted to know. Her jaw was stiff, and Skye could hear the tension lurking in her voice. "Is there a possibility that she would… That we might not be able to adopt Bobbi?"
"I don't know at this point," Miss Hand said, her tone low and even, but her expression darkening slightly. "I hope that won't be the case. It's possible that Susan is just taking her time with the decision, or is the type of person to put off paperwork. It's also possible that she may express some interest in reclaiming her parental rights. Murdock and I are preparing for either scenario."
"Can she do that?" asked Bobbi. All of her words were short and stilted, and Skye noticed that Bobbi was staring hard at the tabletop, avoiding all their gazes. "Can she just decide that she wants me back? After all this time?"
"It's a little more complicated than that." Miss Hand fiddled with her glasses once again. "There are a lot of different factors we'd have to take into consideration, if that was even a situation we found ourselves facing. Family history, your current circumstances, even your personal preference could play a role, given your age and maturity level. I want to stress to you," she said, emphasizing her words carefully, "that may not be a bridge we need to cross. Your mother may agree to sign away her rights, and then it will all be moot. But in the event that she wants to regain full custody of you, there are a great many steps we'd have to take before any final decision was made."
"Bobbi, if…" Phil paused, cleared his throat. He spoke gently. "If your mom does decide she'd like you to live with her, we… we'll support you however best we can. Whatever that looks like. Melinda and I, you have our word. If you decide you want to stay with us, we'll do our very best to make that happen, and we'll understand if… if you decide you want to go and stay with your mom—"
"I don't want to stay with her," Bobbi said sharply. Her hands bunched into fists and her knuckles went white. She looked like she wanted to twirl, or maybe punch something. "She doesn't… She left me. I don't want to live with her."
"That's helpful to know," Miss Hand said quietly. "Bobbi, if it's all right with you, then, I'll continue moving your paperwork forward with the lawyer. We'll still need your mother's signature, in the end, but we can prepare as much of the rest as we can. If you'd still like to go ahead with the adoption."
"Yeah," Bobbi gruffed. She shook her head a little, like she was trying to clear water from her ears. "Yeah, that's… go ahead. Go ahead."
There was a long silence around the table, punctuated only by the faint sounds of tapping. It was like nobody really knew what to say after that.
"I suppose I shouldn't have led with all that," Miss Hand finally said, a little stiffly. "It's not the easiest transition from that conversation into the other one…"
"The one we're all supposed to talk about together?" Skye asked, perking up. She had been waiting all day to hear what big thing Phil wanted them to discuss together. He had made it sound like it was a good thing, but after all the other news Miss Hand had brought, Skye wasn't as sure she should be excited about this new thing.
"Yes, the one we're supposed to talk about together," May said. "I think we could use a change of conversation. Is that okay with you, Bobbi?"
"Okay, okay."
"All right then," nodded Miss Hand. "Let's switch gears. There's a child I've been working with – a little boy from Valders, not too far from here. He needs a foster home for a little while, and I've been trying to find him a good placement. Somewhere safe and loving where he can stay while his more permanent living situation gets sorted out."
"And the other day Victoria asked me and Melinda if we thought he could stay with us," Phil finished. "We know there's a lot going on right now, and bringing another kid into our home would be a big change," he cautioned, "so we thought it was important for all of us to talk about it, as a family. We'll decide together."
"You're asking us if it's okay for you to foster another kid?" Skye asked. May nodded.
"Decisions about our family deserve to have input from everyone in the family," she said.
"You asked us if it was okay for you to foster Bobbi," Jemma remembered. "That turned out to be a good thing."
"A very good thing," agreed Phil, grinning.
"This would be a little different," Miss Hand warned. "For one, Deke is a six-year-old boy, not a teenage girl. And for another, this is truly meant to be a short-term placement. I know I said that about Bobbi last year," she smiled, "but things ended up going in a different direction in that case. Things with Deke aren't quite so open-ended. His mother lost custody a while ago, and he's been living with his grandmother since then, but she's in poor health. Her dementia has progressed to the point where it's not feasible for her to care for him anymore."
"So he needs someplace to stay until his grandma gets better?" asked Skye.
"She won't get better, Skye," Jemma murmured sadly. "There's no cure. Dementia is a neurocognitive disorder. It impacts all sorts of brain functions – memory, cognition, mood, motor and language skills…"
"Deke's mother has been working to regain custody," Miss Hand elaborated. "It's an on-going process, but if all goes well, the goal is for Deke to return to his mother's care eventually. For now, though, he needs a foster home while she's still in the process of being re-awarded custody."
"And you think the best thing for this kid will be to go back to his mom eventually?" Bobbi wanted to know.
"I do," said Miss Hand firmly. "His mother wasn't always able to take care of him when he was younger, but she's in the midst of completing a number of important steps that show CPS and the courts that she's able to do so now. We always try to keep families together when we can, when it's the best and safest option. And barring any setbacks, I'm hopeful that Ms. Shaw will be in a position to take care of Deke long-term."
"How come his mother couldn't take care of him?" Jemma asked. "Has she been ill, too? Like his grandmother?"
Miss Hand paused for just a moment too long before answering, and Skye knew immediately that there was probably something more going on than a run-of-the-mill illness. Something Miss Hand didn't want to talk about in front of them. Skye could guess, and each possibility that popped into her brain seemed worse than the last.
"I don't think Victoria can tell us that, sweet pea," Phil said softly, saving Miss Hand from having to answer Jemma. "It's private."
"Oh. I'm sorry."
"It's all right, there's nothing wrong with asking the question," Miss Hand assured her. "But Phil's right, I can't really go into many of the details with you all. The important thing is that Deke has somewhere to stay until his mother is ready and able to care for him again."
"And you want that place to be here?" Skye asked, looking from one adult to the other, scanning not only Miss Hand's face, but May's and Phil's as well, checking to see that she understood what was being asked of them.
"We want to see what you three think about that possibility," May corrected gently. "Phil and I think it's important to help people, but we also want to make it very clear that you three are our priority right now. If you're not comfortable with it, or you think bringing someone else into the home right now will be too difficult, that's okay. We want you to be honest."
"So, what do you three think?" Phil turned his attention on Skye, Jemma, and Bobbi, his face open in that way he used a lot of the time. Like he was hoping for a response, but not expecting a particular answer. "The floor is open. Pros, cons, questions?"
"Helping people is a good thing," Jemma said simply, tapping on the table as she spoke. "It's important to help. You and May helped us all a lot."
"Other people deserve to have parents like you guys," Bobbi added. She looked a little bashful as she spoke, but her words didn't lack any conviction. "And we have enough to go around."
May and Phil were nodding along as Jemma and Bobbi spoke, and Phil's eyes were shining slightly the way they did any time he was feeling sensitive.
"Skye? What about you? What are you thinking?"
Skye paused, cocked her head to one side in thought for a moment before asking the only question that she could think of right then. "Where's he going to sleep? The pull-out couch in the den?"
Apparently that was a funny thing to ask, because it got a good chuckle out of all the grownups, but it seemed like a reasonable thing to ask to Skye. They didn't have any other beds – or bedrooms, for that matter – in the house.
"We'll have to figure it out," May said, amusement still on her face. "It's small, but we might move the desk and filing cabinets out of the office and turn that into another bedroom. We don't have to decide that tonight."
"We're really proud of you three," Phil told them with a watery smile. "It's not always easy to make the compassionate choice."
"But we always have to try, right?" Skye watched as Phil's smile widened, and he practically glowed as he nodded her way.
"You know it," he said, flashing her a wink.
"Well, if that's decided then, I'll start the paperwork first thing tomorrow," Miss Hand said. She started to rise from the table and Bobbi quickly joined her, gathering up the empty bowls to drop off in the sink. "Deke's grandmother is transitioning to a long-term care facility at the end of the week, so we have a few days to get everything squared away. I can't thank you all enough for agreeing to do this."
"You know you can always call on us for help," May told her. "God knows you've helped us out more than we can ever repay, so anything we can ever do to return the favor…"
"We're all just doing our part," said Miss Hand, cutting the conversation off before it got too far into sappy compliment land, Skye knew. Skye didn't think she'd ever once seen Miss Hand take a compliment easily.
"Vic, what in the world is your wife doing in our backyard?" Phil asked suddenly. Skye looked over to where he was standing, peering out of the kitchen window into the backyard.
"As if I ever have any idea what kind of antics that woman gets up to," laughed Miss Hand with a shake of her head. "We should probably let her know we've finished, though."
"And see what she's doing," Skye added, already moving to the back door.
"Skye, your shoes—" May tried to call, but Skye was already outside, eyes adjusting to the darkening sky as she scanned the yard for Izzy.
The summer air was warm and soft, and a faint breeze brought gentle wafts of sweet lilac and honeysuckle scent to Skye's face. A few stars had begun to pepper the distant sky, tiny pinpricks of cheery light that winked down at her, and a rotund, almost-full moon more than illuminated the yard. Izzy was crouching in the grass back near the shed, semi-hidden by the yellow rose bushes that were in full bloom these days. Skye bounded over to her, the soft, cool grass tickling the bottoms of her bare feet as she drew close to Izzy.
"What are you doing?"
"Hey," Izzy said with a smile, looking up from her handiwork. "I guess you guys are done with your meeting?"
"Yeah," Skye nodded. "We're getting a foster brother soon."
"Congrats," Izzy chuckled. "Want to see what I'm working on?"
Skye nodded again and crouched down next to Izzy and saw several glass quart canning jars nestled in the grass, each one filled with what had to be dozens of lightning bugs.
"No way," Skye gaped. "You caught all these?"
"With my bare hands."
"Our meeting wasn't even that long."
"I happen to be an exceptionally skilled and very fast lightning bug wrangler," Izzy grinned. "Plus, your yard was full of them. I spotted them out the window while we were eating, and I figured I could catch plenty while you guys were inside."
"What are you going to do with them?"
"Let them go," Izzy said simply. "They're happier when they can fly around free. But it always looks super cool if you let them all go at once. I thought you and your sisters could help me open the lids all at the same time, give Vic and your parents a spectacular summer light show. What do you say?"
"Yeah," Skye said, excitement hitching her voice up. "I'll get them all right now."
Skye raced inside and quickly dragged Jemma and Bobbi out to the backyard with her.
"You guys need to come, too," she called over her shoulder to the adults before the screen door could slap closed behind her. "Don't stay in here talking for forever. We want you to come see."
"See what?" Jemma asked as Skye pulled her over to where Izzy was sitting guard over the jars.
"See them," Skye said proudly, spreading her arms wide to present the glowing jars to Jemma and Bobbi. "Izzy caught us lightning bugs. We're going to let them go all at once and make a light show."
"Are they okay to be in the jars like that?" Bobbi asked, bending down to get a closer look at the glowing insects.
"There's air holes in the lids," Izzy assured her. "I'm a humane bug-catcher, I promise."
"Beetles in the Lampyridae family are fascinating," Jemma breathed. "There are over 2,000 different species all in the same family, and lots of them demonstrate bioluminescence, especially the nocturnal ones. Some also make special steroids in their bodies called lucibufagins that make them taste unpleasant to predators, as a defense mechanism."
"Well, good," Skye said cheerfully. "Because they look way too cool for them to just go and get eaten up all the time."
Soon Phil, May, and Miss Hand had all come outside, and Izzy wasted no time in making sure everyone had a jar in hand. Skye watched the bugs in hers, a cluster of gentle, hapless little insects flitting and floating around inside. Soft yellow light pooled on her hands as she tightened her grip on the glass, preparing the remove the lid.
It was a little goofy of Izzy to insist on presenting the release of the lightning bugs like some show for the adults on the steps, and under different circumstances, Skye might have felt like it was too childish of an activity for someone about to start high school to take part in. But Izzy's enthusiasm was contagious, and, if Skye was being honest, it felt nice to be around people who were happy to coax childishness out of her and indulge in it with her. She hadn't gotten to do so many things that little kids were supposed to get to do – things like learning to ride a bike or swim, like making ice cream in a coffee can or catching lightning bugs to show off to your parents – so she felt like maybe it was okay to do them now, to make up for lost time, even if she was probably too old to be playing around with bugs and making May and Phil sit through a lightning bug "light show."
"Three, two, one, go!" Izzy called from her spot in the yard, several feet away. Skye twisted the lid off her jar and waited with bated breath. It took a few seconds for any of the lightning bugs to realize that they could leave the jar, but soon the first few – the brave ones, Skye supposed – took notice and began zooming back out into the open air. Once the first few had taken off, more and more of the lightning bugs began to follow suit, and soon a whole wave of twinkling yellow lights was spilling out of the top of Skye's jar and filling the air around her. The bugs dipped and bobbed and weaved on the breeze, dancing around her face and shoulders. One flew remarkably close to her ear, and the buzz of its wings tickled her as it passed. The lights popped and winked as the bugs relished their newfound freedom, and Skye felt like she was caught up in the world's most cheerful tornado for a fleeting moment.
"It's like being inside of a constellation," came Jemma's voice, quiet beside Skye. Jemma had drifted over to where Skye still stood transfixed, and she slipped her free hand into Skye's and squeezed, tapping three times on the back.
"You always said we were made of star stuff," Skye smiled.
"Carl Sagan said that," Jemma corrected her happily. "I just like to quote him."
Skye glanced over to the other corner of the yard, where Bobbi was cajoling the last few lightning bugs out of her jar, and quickly pulled Jemma along to join her. She wasn't sure if Bobbi was going to want to talk about some of the things that had happened in the meeting yet, but she felt like it was important to at least show Bobbi that she wasn't alone tonight.
"They're beautiful, aren't they?" Skye asked, scooping a lightning bug out of the air gently and then rotating her hand, holding it out open and flat with her palm to the sky, so they could watch the lightning bug crawl across her hand. "I think they're pretty much the happiest bugs I've ever seen in my life."
"They're like stars," Jemma smiled. Bobbi offered a small, half-smile. A little sad looking, Skye thought.
"Do you think a person could wish on them?" Bobbi asked quietly, after a long pause. She tipped her jar forward carefully, trying to entice the last remaining lightning bug to leave. "Since they're like stars, I mean?"
"Totally," grinned Skye. "Lightning bugs have to have a little magic in them, right? It can't all just be that bio-luminance stuff."
"Bioluminescence is magical," Jemma agreed. "The magic of biochemistry."
"So what are you wishing for?" Skye asked, giving Bobbi a little nudge. "There's like a hundred lightning bugs flying around, so you can get a hundred wishes if you want."
"I just need one." Bobbi didn't say anything further than that, and she fixed her attention pretty hard on the one bug still crawling around the bottom of her jar. Skye decided to let the question drop, since Bobbi seemed keen on avoiding it.
"I don't know why this one won't fly away," Bobbi finally said, after the silence had lingered a beat too long. "It can go be free. Go be with the other happy bugs. Nothing's stopping it."
"Maybe it's tired," Skye shrugged. "Or maybe it doesn't realize the jar's open."
"Maybe it doesn't know how," Jemma suggested softly. "Sometimes you get used to being stuck and you forget there's more to the world outside. You forget to fly off and be happy because it's been so long since you could."
Bobbi didn't say anything to that, but it didn't escape Skye's notice that she turned her head so that her long, loose hair was blocking her face from Skye and Jemma's view for a minute. She scooped up a twig from the grass and gently poked it into the jar, trying to corral the bug into leaving.
"I just want it to get out."
"You could leave it sitting open on the back steps," Skye said, trying to be helpful. "It might fly away eventually. Maybe it just needs a little more time before it's ready to go."
"Maybe so."
"Girls," Phil called from the top of the steps just then. "Victoria and Izzy are getting ready to leave, come say goodbye."
"We're all heading inside after that," May added. "It's getting late and we all need to start going to bed earlier. School mornings are right around the corner, you know."
"We know," Skye told her, sticking out her tongue at May. "Unfortunately."
They traipsed over to the steps, where everyone was saying their goodbyes. Bobbi set the jar down delicately on the top step before she joined the rest of the group, making sure it was on its side and with the mouth of the jar pointed out towards the yard, where the rest of the lightning bugs were still cavorting around in their merry dance of fleeting summer freedom.
"You can do it," Skye heard Bobbi whisper to the bug still sitting inside the jar. "They're all out there waiting for you."
Soon Izzy and Miss Hand had gone, and everyone began making moves towards getting ready for bed. As much as Skye fussed about having to go to bed earlier and earlier, now that school was right around the corner, she couldn't deny that May was probably right about getting some good rest now, especially with how interesting the next week was shaping up to be. There were going to be a lot of changes coming to their house; of that, Skye was certain.
Thanks for reading! I asked this on Ao3 too, but I'm curious... did you grow up calling them lightning bugs or fireflies? I've always called them lightning bugs, because that's what my mom called them, but most people around where I live call them fireflies, so I've always been the odd one out haha :)
