Author's Note: So, I'm sure everyone's noticed that fourth tube in Harvey's lab, and how we never get to see what's actually in it. A large part of this fic comes from the fact that human experimentation really would not be out of character for Harvey, especially if he gets to stick one to Osvald in the process. Also, I kinda feel like Elena's mostly an only child because the story just didn't know what to do with a second kid. So, conveniently answering a bunch of stuff at once here!

...But more seriously, there's going to be a lot of character development and other such things to dig into in this fic. And there will be a lot of fic in general. So yeah, let's get started.

Chapter One: The Discovery

This was a terrible idea, and Osvald had no idea why he was doing it.

Well, he could retrace the series of events leading up to this moment. He'd decided to stay in Montwise for a few days, mostly because he wanted to browse the various tomes and books in the library. If he couldn't return home for a while, he may as well keep himself busy.

Though Osvald figured he could also visit Regulus, since he was there. Someone had to make sure the man was eating (to be fair, it had only been one day since his last meal this time), and Regulus's telescope really was interesting. They'd made a few observations and updated some measurements after going to the tavern for dinner (which, naturally, Osvald had paid for).

Then, Regulus returned to his study, allowing Osvald to browse the library at his leisure. Osvald found a nice tome on practical applications for lightning magic on the first floor; then, he went down to the basement. That was where most of the advanced mathematics books were, and he hoped to pick up one or two of them.

Then he passed the shelf in the corner that concealed Harvey's laboratory. Osvald had no reason to care about it anymore… He'd spent five years despising Harvey, but Harvey was dead and no longer posed a personal threat to him. Elena was safe, and Osvald had long since decided that she was more important than any lingering regrets or doubts.

But if the lab was still there, and it hadn't been cleaned out yet—

Osvald knew very well what Harvey's research could do in the wrong hands. (Were there any "right" hands for it?) However, it wasn't Osvald's job to take care of things; that should be left to the city guards and library staff. But since Osvald was already there…

Well, he might as well check. He could alert the appropriate people afterwards. (Clarissa was right; Osvald was going soft. Not that he'd give her the satisfaction of telling her that… She'd never let him hear the end of it.)

Regardless, on that single mad whim, Osvald pushed the shelf aside and found that the tunnel leading underground was indeed there.

That was how Osvald ended up trudging through the lab with an increasing sense of unease coursing through him. He didn't have to stay so long; he should've turned around already. In a few more minutes, he told himself. You can't report anything if there's nothing to report.

So Osvald kept going, listening to the echoes of his own footsteps and the sounds of water dripping in the distance. The place was filthy, and had gotten even worse in the several months since Osvald had last been there. Dust and mold coated most of the area, and it was hard to breathe.

Soon, he arrived in a small room not far from where he and his traveling companions had encountered the chimeras. There were several musty old books scattered about—mostly forbidden tomes on blood experiments. Osvald briefly contemplated whether or not it'd be satisfying to light them all on fire.

He decided he wasn't that petty, and then his eyes fell on a stack of paper on a nearby shelf. Osvald squinted and leaned down, and it took him several seconds to register the sentences that had caught his attention.

"Put the boy back in the tube. He may be released after I've had the opportunity to put the other experiment in motion."

They were near the bottom of the page, and there was likely something earlier in the notes that would explain this bizarre statement. But Osvald certainly hadn't seen any boys in the laboratory on his last visit—only those three chimeras and the thing Harvey had claimed was Rita. There was an all-too-familiar boiling sensation growing in his chest as he re-read the first sentence, however. If Harvey was experimenting on children—

Osvald had no idea what he'd do about it, or if there was anything he could do about it. The logical part of his mind told him he might be too late. Another, less-logical part of his brain chimed in and said he might find something if he looked a little longer.

Osvald took a deep breath and tried to calm down. He regretted it when the stale, dirty air made him cough profusely. That had been stupid, but regardless of what happened next, Osvald did need to remain calm.

For now, Osvald grabbed the papers and stuffed them into a pocket in his coat. He could go through them later and see if they held any clues. Then, Osvald decided on a compromise: he'd go through one or two more rooms, and then turn around and leave.

Soon, he found himself in the area where he'd fought the chimeras. The three broken tubes were still there, with shattered glass and dark liquid stains on the floor around them. There was one final, intact tube in the far right corner. Osvald hadn't paid it much attention at the time (for understandable reasons), but…

He walked towards it, frowning. Now that he thought about it, it was strange that this tube hadn't shattered at the same time as the others. Maybe it had some extra enchantments on it, or it was made of stronger glass, or…something. Either way, now that Osvald was looking more closely, he could see that there was a figure suspended in the thick green fluid.

…Could this be "the boy" mentioned in Harvey's notes? The figure was humanoid, but it was hard to make out any details. Well, there was only one way to find out, foolish as it was. Osvald grabbed his staff and swung it towards the tube.

Surprisingly, the glass shattered. Osvald instinctively closed his eyes and stepped back as the thick, strong-smelling fluid spilled out onto the floor around him. Then, Osvald opened his eyes and tried to process what he was looking at.

There was a boy sitting on the floor of the tube, but he was the strangest boy Osvald had ever seen. His limbs were too long for his body, and his large hands and feet had webbed fingers and toes. Red frills protruded from his cheeks, and his eyes were wide-set. His hair was matted and clearly hadn't been cut in years; it would've fallen past his knees if he was standing up.

For a few moments, the boy silently observed Osvald, and then he scrambled backward towards the remnants of the tube's wall. Osvald leaned down and held his hand out, palm upwards, hoping the boy recognized it as a gesture of peace. He stared at Osvald's hand, head cocked to the side in confusion. He stopped moving, but his breathing was still heavy.

"It's all right; Harvey's gone. I'm not going to hurt you."

The boy remained quiet, blinking and biting his lip. For a moment, Osvald wondered if the boy could even understand him. Would it be pointless to keep speaking? He decided to try anyway.

"...Would you like to come outside?"

The boy swallowed. He looked from Osvald's hand up to his face, and then hunched up and shook his head.

"Have to stay," he mumbled.

So he could understand Osvald, and he could speak. Those were certainly important facts. But he was a scared child speaking to someone he didn't know, and he was clearly worried about what'd happen if he left.

And Osvald knew he wasn't the best at dealing with feelings and emotions. Even if he was, nothing Osvald could say would erase whatever had hurt this boy. But—

Osvald remembered the times Elena woke up crying from a bad dream in the middle of the night, or got upset from a fall off the swing. "She just wants you, dear," Rita had always said. "Go on—cheer her up. You don't need to do anything special."

Maybe he didn't need to do anything special here, either.

"You'll be fine," Osvald repeated, taking a few steps forward, leaving his hand outstretched. "There's nothing here anymore."

The boy glanced around cautiously. It was obvious he didn't believe Osvald yet, but he looked up at him after a few seconds. He didn't maintain eye contact long, but he swallowed again and finally spoke up.

"No…tests?"

Osvald wasn't sure what that meant, but he could press the boy for details later. Not now, when he was still afraid. He was getting a response, and that was what mattered.

"No tests," Osvald confirmed. "I can show you, if you come with me."

Eventually, the boy nodded. He tentatively reached for Osvald's hand. His skin was cold and slightly slimy, but Osvald wasn't sure how much of that was natural and how much of it was due to the fact he hadn't had a chance to bathe in who-knew-how-long. Regardless, he gently closed his hand around the boy's and helped him stand up.

His legs wobbled as he climbed down to the floor. They obviously hadn't been used in a while, and Osvald tried to hold back the rage coursing through him at the thought. (Children shouldn't be locked up like this—experimented on like animals—it's not his fault; Harvey's gone now, anyway.) It was clear he'd have trouble walking on his own, and Osvald needed a quick solution.

"…I'll carry you, if you'd like," he offered.

The boy cocked his head to the side. "Carry?" he repeated.

"Like this."

Osvald slipped his other arm behind the boy's knees. He flinched at the unexpected contact, but he didn't protest vocally. Osvald felt him tense, and most of his lingering anger melted into pity. Children needed human interaction, and this boy obviously hadn't had much, if any, positive contact in his life.

Soon, Osvald was holding him up against his chest, one arm beneath the boy's legs and the other behind his shoulders. He stood there for a few seconds, letting the boy adjust. Slowly, he relaxed against Osvald and awkwardly gripped his shoulders.

"Warm," he mumbled into Osvald's chest.

…All right, now the boy just seemed sweet in some strange way. He was odd-looking, but he was acting like a kid who needed to be tucked into bed. Osvald felt the tiniest of smiles cross his lips at the thought.

"Well, if you're comfortable, we can leave."

He glanced around, trying to figure out the best way to go. There were probably still people in the library, and it wouldn't be good to let them see the boy. Besides, it'd be difficult to climb up the ladders leading back to the first floor while carrying him… The grate in the back might still be present, though.

Well, there was one way to find out. Osvald carefully shifted the boy (who held on tightly in response) as he walked towards the room. He tensed as they approached. Osvald's last visit there had been…unpleasant, to put it mildly. But he glanced around and found the room completely empty; the golem's remains were nowhere in sight.

The grate was still lowered, though. Fortunately, as Osvald approached it, he saw that it was getting rusty. The wind rattled around it, indicating that it was starting to loosen. A good blast of ice magic would probably knock it off its hinges.

"…Hold on tightly," Osvald said, realizing he should at least give the boy a warning.

He nodded into Osvald's shoulder as his grip tightened. Osvald shifted his hand and muttered a spell, and ice erupted from his fingertips. With a loud crash, the grate swung backwards and landed on the ground. The boy winced at the sudden noise, but then he shifted and blinked curiously at the dim evening light filtering into the dungeon.

"Haven't you been outside before?"

Osvald knew the answer before the boy shook his head. "I…don't know."

"Well, now you can."

Osvald adjusted his arm, holding the boy more securely as he stepped outside. It was slightly cool, and several stars were visible in the dusky sky. They were on a low, overgrown patch of land, with the library perched on a hill behind them. It would be a bit of a walk back to the inn, but…the boy could use all the fresh air he could get.

Speaking of which, a thought occurred to Osvald as he glanced down at the boy (who was currently looking around in amazement). He probably should've asked earlier, but better late than never.

"…Do you have a name?" Osvald asked as he started walking.

The boy's brow furrowed. "A name?"

"It's what people call you when they want your attention," he explained. "Mine is Osvald."

The boy pondered this for several seconds before shaking his head. "I don't have one."

That strange mix of anger and pity welled up in Osvald again. Harvey clearly hadn't bothered to call him anything while he'd been under his "care." If he'd ever had a name, he must've forgotten what it was.

(The practical part of Osvald's mind realized this would make it harder to figure out where the boy had come from, too. Even if he could learn whether anyone in Montwise was missing a child, it'd help to have a name to go off of.)

Regardless, Osvald couldn't keep calling him "the boy" forever. He needed something, even if it was only temporary. Then, for some inexplicable reason, a name came to mind: something Rita had considered calling Elena if she'd been a boy.

"I can call you 'Hector,' if you'd like."

"Hector…" he repeated softly. Then, he nodded and said, "Sounds nice."

Another brief smile flickered over Osvald's face. "Hector it is, then."

He wasn't sure where the odd surge of contentment was coming from, but Osvald could ponder that later.

Osvald managed to avoid some of the main streets on the way back to the inn, but there were several people milling about the lobby when he arrived. Naturally, their eyes turned to Osvald and Hector when they entered. They might not have had a clear glance at him, and Hector quickly pressed his face into Osvald's chest when he noticed all the attention. However, it was best to get back to his room before anyone did get a good look at Hector.

Osvald fumbled around for his key and managed to unlock the door without dropping Hector. Carefully, he set him down on the bed, and Hector looked around curiously. There wasn't much to see; Osvald didn't have many possessions at the moment, bar a large traveling bag and several books he'd scrounged up. But it would all seem new to Hector, he supposed.

As Osvald watched him, something else occurred to him. "You need a bath. Can you wash yourself?"

"Yes," Hector mumbled, obviously trying to sound more confident than he felt.

Osvald leaned down and brushed some of Hector's filthy hair aside. "I'll run the water and stay nearby if you need me. All right?"

Hector nodded, and Osvald went into the washroom to draw a bath. He wasn't sure how warm Hector might like the water—he probably hadn't had a choice, if he'd gotten to bathe often at all. And it was probably a bad idea to shock his skin with something too warm…

Finally, the tub was full of lukewarm water. Osvald nodded to himself before going to fetch Hector. He offered Hector his hand again, and Hector took it as he climbed down from the bed. Once they were back in the washroom, Osvald leaned down and reached for the hem of Hector's grimy, still-damp shirt.

"Here, you'll have to undress."

Hector fidgeted as Osvald helped him peel away the slimy clothing. Then, he carefully climbed into the tub. Hector sat there for a few seconds, once again looking as if he was contemplating something. Finally, he reached for the washrag set on the rim of the tub and started cleaning himself up.

Osvald sat on a stool nearby, pretending as if the many pockets in his coat were fascinating to dig through. Hector deserved some privacy, but Osvald should be there if he needed anything. Soon, he was shaken out of his muddled thoughts by Hector's voice.

"You wash…here?"

He looked up and saw that Hector was pointing towards his back. Obligingly, Osvald moved over and pushed Hector's hair out of the way. He took the rag, wet it, and gently moved it across his skin. There was…something oddly cute, but still sad, about the way Hector hummed and leaned back into Osvald's touch.

"I'll have to cut your hair," Osvald mused as he worked. "It'll be too hard to clean otherwise."

"Cut?" Hector repeated, sounding panicked.

"It won't hurt. It's just hair; it's not like cutting your skin."

"…Okay," Hector mumbled.

It was obvious something had happened to Hector for the word "cut" to alarm him like that. Osvald held his tongue, however. He didn't want to worry Hector even more, especially if he'd already agreed to the idea.

Instead, he reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a small scissors. Then, Osvald gathered Hector's hair in his other hand, pulling it into a pseudo-ponytail just above his shoulders. The blades were sharp enough to slice through Hector's hair, but it took several seconds of work. Osvald could see Hector fidget as he worked, but he remained silent as his hair fell away from his back.

Finally, Osvald gathered the wet hair and deposited it in the waste bin in the corner. He turned around and watched as Hector felt his hair with a mix of confusion and amazement. It had to be much lighter, but Osvald noticed he hadn't gotten it perfectly even. Close enough for the time being; it could be adjusted later.

At any rate, Hector clumsily rinsed out his remaining hair. Then, after a short pause, he held his hand out to Osvald. After helping him out of the tub, Osvald handed Hector a towel and helped him dry off. Hector reached for the grimy pile of clothing in the corner, but Osvald frowned and stopped him.

"You need something clean. Wait here a moment."

Hector blinked but nodded obediently. Osvald returned to the bedroom and rummaged around through his belongings. His own clothing was far too large for Hector, but…it was better than nothing. It would have to do until Hector got some new clothes.

He returned to the washroom with a plain white shirt. Even after tying a belt around it multiple times, it was still too big. Hector's shoulders kept slipping out of the neck hole, and his awkwardly-lanky build made it look even bigger. It was better than leaving him in those filthy clothes he'd been wearing, however.

Suddenly, Hector's stomach growled, and Osvald was shaken out of his thoughts as Hector looked away in embarrassment.

"You must be hungry. Here, I have food."

Osvald offered him his hand, and Hector tentatively followed him back to the bedroom. He had some leftovers from dinner: a small tin of soup and half a slice of bread. One of the tavern workers had fetched a paper sack for him to carry the food in, and Osvald had intended to eat the rest tomorrow (or later that evening, if a midnight study session had struck his fancy). But Hector needed it more than he did.

Hector sniffed at the soup when Osvald handed it to him. Then, he tipped the tin back and started drinking faster than was healthy. Osvald quickly reached for it, and another brief smile crossed his lips as Hector cocked his head to the side in confusion.

"Not so fast; you'll choke."

Hector nodded awkwardly before finishing the soup. Osvald handed him the bread, and he ate that at a much better pace. Then, Osvald rummaged around in his bag and found a comb near the bottom. Hector watched him curiously as Osvald sat down next to him.

"May I comb your hair?"

Hector nodded again, and Osvald shifted so he was behind Hector on the bed. His hair needed a good combing anyway, and Osvald figured he could take the time to ask him some questions. He started working and was once again inexplicably reminded of Elena. She'd always liked having her hair brushed, but…

Osvald shook his head and started speaking. "Do you know who your parents are?"

"What are…'parents'?"

Osvald exhaled slowly. That was clearly a 'no.' "The people who take care of you," he explained. "Do you know how long you were in the laboratory?"

"Um…no."

All right, that meant 'most of his life,' or at least 'most of what Hector could remember.' And Hector probably didn't have much of a sense of time, in either case. He might not have known what months or years even were, never mind that he'd likely been down there several years.

Osvald took another deep breath; this next question might be the hardest. "What did Harvey make you do?"

Hector was quiet again, and Osvald wondered if Harvey had bothered to properly introduce himself. If not, Hector was probably wondering who "Harvey" was. He seemed to figure it out soon enough, though.

"Magic," he said matter-of-factly. "Lots of ice."

Osvald's brow furrowed as he kept working. He knew Harvey had researched magic, of course. But why did he specifically need this boy to practice ice magic so much? And how did that relate to Hector's strange appearance?

Well, at any rate, he was finished combing Hector's hair. Osvald set the comb on the nightstand before turning to get a better look at Hector. Now that he was clean, it was easier to notice a few details of his appearance that he'd missed before.

Hector's skin was close to a natural peachy color, but it had some grayish undertones. When combined with the large frills on his face, Osvald was reminded of the Collared Salamanders common on Toto'haha. He could also see some faint pinkish lines on Hector's arms: clearly places where Harvey had chosen to draw blood. Osvald tried to ignore the roiling sensation in his stomach, choosing instead to continue examining Hector.

His eyes were a nearly identical shade of blue to Osvald's own, he realized with a start. In fact, if it weren't for the obvious monster-like traits, he would've looked very similar to how Osvald had when he was around five or six. They had the same nose, the same chin; the main difference was that Hector's hair was closer to Rita's slightly-warmer shade of blond—

He and Rita had been intimate shortly before the fire.

No, it couldn't be. Osvald had to be imagining things. It was just a coincidence—

Osvald stood up abruptly. Hector jumped, but he otherwise watched Osvald in silence. When he reached the desk in the corner, Osvald grabbed the stack of papers and spread them out in front of him. He searched frantically through the notes, reading backwards, hoping desperately to find something that explained the situation.

Several phrases jumped out at Osvald as he scanned Harvey's notes. "The boy has a particular affinity for ice magic, as I suspected." "I'm moving the child down to the lab with the other monsters. It's time to start testing him." "Frills have started to grow on the cheeks; hands and feet are webbed like a Froggen's." Then, finally: "Extraction successful. Fetus has been moved to one of the pods. With some convincing, Rita may not even realize what happened."

Osvald sank down onto the chair, tightly gripping either side of his head. He closed his eyes as his brain swam, refusing to acknowledge the horrible truth staring him in the face. It couldn't be real, and yet…

Hector was his son. Harvey hadn't been content to experiment on Rita and Elena. No, he'd taken it a step further, used an unborn child as his guinea pig, cut Rita open like she was some kind of animal to dissect—

All out of petty jealousy. Harvey would truly sink to any depths, purely out of spite. The sheer cruelty of it all, over something so minor—

"…do something bad?"

Osvald jumped. He looked over his shoulder; Hector was blinking at him worriedly. Then, Hector glanced away and shrank down. He was probably afraid that even asking had been 'something bad.'

Slowly, Osvald stood up and walked back over to him. He sat down, put one hand under Hector's chin, and gently tilted his face up for a better look. Hector stared up at him nervously, breath quickening at the scrutiny.

His son. The weight of it hit Osvald all at once. He had a son, and he'd never even known. He'd passed by the tube on his last trip to the lab, and he'd just left him there—

There was nothing he could do about that. Osvald knew, logically, that he shouldn't blame himself. He couldn't have known. And yet…

After accounting for the average pregnancy, and then adding the time his and his companions' journeys had taken, Hector was almost five. Five short years of life, and Hector had spent it all as a lab rat. No one should go through what Hector had, let alone a child as young as him.

And Osvald had missed his first several years of life. He'd missed part of Elena's, too, but somehow this seemed even worse. He truly didn't deserve to call himself their father, but—

"You didn't do anything wrong," Osvald choked when he found his voice. "You're my son."

Hector's brow furrowed further. "What?"

"I'm your father. Your parent. I—" Deep breaths, Osvald thought. "I haven't done anything to take care of you, not yet. But I'd like to, if you'll let me. You can…call me 'Papa,' if you want."

Hector paused again, and the silence was deafening. Osvald knew he needed to think about it, and he knew most of his explanation didn't make sense yet. But, for half an awful minute, he thought Hector would reject him—and understandably so.

They barely knew each other. The only other person Hector had interacted with had treated him horrifically; it made sense if he assumed Osvald would, too. Sure, he'd bathed and fed Hector, and given him as much information as he could, but—

That was the bare minimum. It didn't make up for leaving him alone for so long. ("Leaving" wasn't the right word, a desperate part of his mind said. But it was effectively the same thing.)

Finally, Hector nodded, and he almost smiled—but the expression was hesitant. Uncertain. He had no idea what to expect, but…

"Okay," he replied slowly, voice nervous yet hopeful. "What do I do, Papa?"

There was an explosion of mixed feelings inside Osvald that he couldn't properly describe. (Gods, why was he so bad at this? It shouldn't have been so hard.) Still, Hector had actually called him Papa—that was what mattered most.

"Nothing. Nothing yet," Osvald said gently, moving his hand up to Hector's cheek, resting it behind the frill. "I'll figure something out."

…He did need to figure something out. Wandering around "in pursuit of knowledge" while he waited for Elena to get better was more feasible when Osvald was alone. But he couldn't drag Hector all over the place with no physical goal in sight, could he? That wasn't fair to him.

Hector was watching him intently, but he seemed slightly more at ease. Finally, Osvald cleared his throat and nodded.

"Hector, would you like to visit some friends?"

"What are 'friends'?"

"People you like." Osvald brought his hands down, taking hold of Hector's as he spoke. "We can stay with them for a while. I'll tell you more when we get there. And I can explain anything else you'd like, and teach you things, and…" He cleared his throat again. "Well, I'm sure they'd like to meet you. All you have to do is tell me what you want."

After some more consideration, Hector nodded. "Where is it?"

Well, Osvald needed to decide where they were going… He knew none of his old companions would mind if he needed to stay with them. But Throné would be hard to pin down for a while, with all the traveling she wanted to do. Similarly, Castti, Partitio, and Hikari would be too busy with work (or ruling Ku, in Hikari's case) to have time for much else.

So, that left Temenos, Ochette, and Agnea as the "practical" options. Flamechurch was closest, and they'd probably have to stop there for a night or two anyway, just so Hector could get used to traveling. But Osvald didn't want him to end up staying inside for too long, either; being cooped up in the church sounded like a bad idea.

And really, Beasting Village and Cropdale were both good choices for being outside. Maybe they could visit both. That settled it, Osvald decided.

"Beasting Village, then Cropdale," he said. "You…don't know where those are yet, but you'll see. We'll leave tomorrow."

Hector nodded, and his smile seemed more natural. Then, he looked around before speaking up again.

"What now?"

"We should rest; we'll need to leave early."

Osvald absently glanced around as well. There was only one bed in the room, and he wouldn't make Hector sleep on the floor. He didn't know if Hector had ever slept in a proper bed, and Osvald wanted him to be comfortable. That said, Osvald had more than gotten his fill of sleeping on the floor back at Frigit Isle…

But he tucked the thoughts of his prison stint away for now. Osvald would have to mention it at some point, but not when he and Hector were making positive progress. For now, Osvald simply stood up and let Hector cling to his arm as he crawled off the bed as well.

Osvald adjusted the sheets, sat back down, and pulled Hector down next to him. It was no different from all the times Elena had wanted to sleep with him and Rita when she'd had a bad dream, Osvald reasoned. Hector needed to sleep by himself eventually, but there was no harm in doing it now.

Hector shifted awkwardly as they got into position. He looked up at Osvald with the same slightly puzzled, yet not frightened, expression he'd had for much of the evening. Osvald let out an amused breath as he adjusted the blankets.

"Go to sleep, all right? I'll be right here if you need anything. I promise."

Hector nodded and closed his eyes. He lied stiffly at first, but then he shifted closer to Osvald. His eyes were closed in that too-scrunched way that made it obvious he was only pretending to sleep. He was clearly waiting to see what Osvald did, hoping he wasn't causing trouble.

Osvald took a deep breath as he set his glasses on the night stand. Then, he draped one arm over Hector, closed his eyes, and murmured, "Good night, Hector."

"'Night, Papa," Hector mumbled.

Osvald was surprised he drifted off to sleep at all—but as he slept, memories churned through his brain, and he dreamed of certain precious events, ones that should have led to a much happier life for the boy curled up against him.