Author's Note: And we're back to the present-day stuff here. A couple cute moments, and a couple serious moments. And a Temenos cameo! Because who doesn't love our Best-Worst Cleric?
Chapter Four: Travel Time
Osvald slept fitfully, but at least he didn't wake Hector overnight. The "what-ifs" had come unbidden, as much as he hated to admit it. After one such dream, Osvald shifted and squinted at the window. He could tell from the light that it was early morning. He might as well stay awake, and they could leave sooner this way.
Osvald looked back at Hector, and another odd mix of feelings went through his chest. The poor boy deserved so much better…but Osvald had the chance to fix that. He couldn't undo the past five years, but he could be a father now.
"Hector," he said gently.
Hector mumbled in his sleep and pressed his face into Osvald's shoulder. It was almost a shame to wake him; the moment felt too precious. Osvald let himself watch Hector for a few more seconds, but then he lightly squeezed his arm.
"Hector, we need to get up. We have to leave soon."
Osvald sat up, and Hector yawned as he did the same. He glanced around slowly, as if his surroundings were still registering on him. Maybe he couldn't really believe he was out of the laboratory.
Osvald tentatively reached for his hand, and Hector accepted it. He squeezed a bit harder than he probably meant to, and Osvald wondered, as they headed to the washroom, if Hector was looking for some kind of security. Osvald was new to him, but he hadn't done anything to hurt Hector yet. Any comfort would be strange yet welcome to him at this point.
Osvald sighed as he reached for a washrag, pausing to glance down at Hector. He was watching him intently, and Osvald smiled briefly before handing him an extra rag.
"Would you like me to help you again, or can you wash on your own?"
It took Hector a few seconds to decide. "…My own."
Osvald nodded and watched Hector out of the corner of his eye. He felt a faint flicker of amusement as they washed up. Hector looked at him with the utmost seriousness between mimicking his movements, as if washing his face and then combing his hair were of dire importance. It honestly did a lot to soften Hector's odd facial features.
Soon, they were back in the bedroom, and Osvald slipped his glasses on as he gathered up his things. He paused before tucking Harvey's notes into his bag… As much as he hated keeping anything of Harvey's, Osvald knew this was important. The more he knew about Hector's situation, the easier it would be to help him.
Finally, he sat back down on the bed and observed Hector. There was so much he needed to do, Osvald wasn't even sure where to begin. They needed food and supplies before they set out, but Hector would draw so much attention… He needed his own clothes, too. Hector was still wearing Osvald's shirt, and it was slipping off his body again.
Clothes first, Osvald decided. It was early enough that there would be few people out shopping. And if he was lucky, Osvald might find something with a hood; that would hide his frills.
"We'll get you some clothes," Osvald announced as he stood up. "And then breakfast afterwards."
"Clothes and breakfast," Hector replied, cocking his head to the side as he echoed the likely-unfamiliar words.
"Yes, you need something that fits you. And you must be hungry."
"Why?" Hector said as they walked out of the room.
"Well, it's morning, and you haven't eaten since—ah. That's too big on you, and it's going to fall off. It must be uncomfortable."
Hector nodded as they headed down the hallway. The only person in the lobby was the obviously-tired man behind the desk. He paid Osvald and Hector little mind as they left, and soon they were outside. Hector blinked; he must not have been used to so much light.
"Take my hand, and stay close," Osvald instructed.
Hector obediently reached for his hand, and his webbing scrunched awkwardly as he gripped Osvald's fingers. Then, Osvald turned and started walking. Fortunately, the nearest clothing store wasn't too far away, and they had work to do.
Clothes were…hard, Osvald thought with a groan.
Despite Throné's best efforts, he still didn't understand fashion. He wanted Hector to have nice things, but he had no idea what nice clothes were. But having clothes that fit him was more important. Osvald knew that, logically.
And finding clothes that fit Hector was a difficult task, he quickly realized. His long, frog-like limbs meant that most things were either too loose or too short on him. Shoes would be even harder, but Osvald refused to give up.
(At least he'd gotten rid of his old prisoner's clothing. Osvald didn't have much, but if he had to choose outfits for himself, too, it would've taken even longer.)
He stared at the increasingly-huge pile of clothes on the dressing room floor in frustration. Finally, something occurred to Osvald, and he felt guilty for not realizing it sooner. He glanced up at Hector, who was watching him bemusedly.
"What do you want, Hector?"
Hector blinked at him. "You took those."
It took him a few seconds to realize that Hector probably meant "you want me to have those." That, in turn, could mean "I don't want to pick wrong and upset you," "I don't know how to choose," or both. (It was probably both.)
"Well, yes, I wanted to find something that fit you. Clothes are more comfortable when they fit properly," Osvald explained. "But you can also pick clothing if you like how it looks. So which ones do you like?"
Hector tentatively reached down and rifled through the pile. He glanced up at Osvald before digging around some more. Finally, he held up a shirt with brightly-colored horizontal stripes. The sleeves barely went past his shoulders, but that didn't matter. Hector had just picked something for himself, and Osvald wanted to encourage him.
"Very good. Anything else?"
Soon, Hector had a small selection of clothing: three more shirts, four pairs of trousers, and one pair of shoes Osvald had found in the adults' section. The shirts were all on the loud side, and the trousers were all too short, but it was a good start. Osvald had also (by some small miracle) found a child-sized cloak with a hood on it.
"What is it for?" Hector asked as they approached the counter to pay.
"Well, you didn't like it when everyone stared at you last night," Osvald reasoned. "This will help with that."
And, predictably, Hector buried his face into Osvald's leg when he paid one of the workers. The woman blinked down at Hector, but she fortunately hadn't gotten a good look at him. Then, Osvald ushered him back into the changing area and allowed him to put on some of his new clothes.
…The cloak wasn't a perfect solution, he thought as he looked down at Hector. The hood flattened his frills a bit, but they were noticeable if you looked closely enough. However, it would have to do.
Osvald felt slightly more confident when they left. Now, it was off to the tavern for breakfast.
The meal passed mostly without incident, but Osvald quickly realized Hector was clumsy with utensils. Teaching him some coordination would have to be a priority… The tavern was crowded, too, with how late in the morning it was. There were a few snickers Osvald knew were aimed in their direction.
On one level, he understood why. Most boys Hector's age could eat without needing occasional fork-feeding from their fathers. Osvald bit the inside of his cheek, holding back snappish retorts that would only make the situation worse.
Finally, they were free to leave. Osvald made a quick stop at a secondhand book stall afterwards, deciding he should pick up a few age-appropriate books for Hector. They had a long journey ahead of them, and he hoped to start teaching Hector how to read on the way.
Once they were out of Montwise, Hector clung to Osvald's leg. He paused, turned around, and looked up at the city with a mixture of awe and confusion.
"…What is it?"
"Montwise? It's a city." Osvald sighed as he sat down near the edge of the pathway. "Here…this is a good time to explain some things to you."
He needed to tell Hector so much; the process grew more daunting the more Osvald thought about it. But Osvald had to start somewhere… Hector deserved to know, and children weren't stupid. He would understand if Osvald explained it clearly and carefully.
So he may as well start with the basics, and give Hector more details as they went along. Slowly but surely; they'd get there. Osvald pulled a map out of his bag, and Hector looked curiously at it as he sat down next to him.
"This is a map; it shows you where things are. Montwise is here…" Osvald pointed to the city, and then drew a line with his finger as he kept speaking. "I didn't find you sooner because I was on Frigit Isle for a very long time. That's here."
Hector nodded as he observed the distance between the two areas. Osvald took a deep breath. This next admission was going to be one of the harder ones, but he had to say it.
"I came to Montwise once before, but I didn't know you were there. I found you this time because I came to the library and saw this." He took Harvey's research notes out of his bag as he went on. "Harvey left records behind that said you were there, so I knew to let you out of the tube."
Hector looked down at the stack of papers, and he reached for the one at the top. He squinted at it, turning it around as if that would help it make sense. Then, he tugged on Osvald's arm, looking up at him anxiously.
"It says that?"
Osvald reached for Hector's hand, and—thank Alephan—he didn't push him away. "It does. I'll teach you how to read, and then you'll understand. Someday you should read it for yourself, but…not now."
"Okay." Hector leaned against Osvald's arm, glancing down. Then, he swallowed and added, "Where's Har…Harv…"
"Harvey?"
Hector nodded. For a moment, Osvald thought how easy it would be to lie: to simply tell Hector that Harvey was in Gravell. It wouldn't technically be wrong, but Hector deserved better.
"Harvey went to Gravell. That's here," he said, gesturing to the map again. "But he's dead now. He was hit by one of his own spells. Harvey can't come back and hurt you. Even if he did…" Osvald felt his chest tighten. "I wouldn't let him. Ever."
He wasn't sure how he should explain death to a young child who had already been hurt far too much in his short life. But Hector gripped his arm even more tightly as he spoke up.
"Dead is like…when the other monsters stop?"
The question took several seconds to sink in. Even then, Osvald wasn't sure how to respond. It shouldn't have surprised him, but Hector shouldn't have had to see death yet, either.
Finally, he settled on a firm, "There aren't 'other monsters,' Hector. You're a person. But I suppose it's like that, yes. If you know about death, you should know that Harvey can't hurt you anymore."
Hector nodded, sinking down even further. Osvald slowly wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and Hector shifted against him. They stayed there for a while, and Osvald wasn't sure whether to be happy that Hector was letting him hold him or if that was too selfish at a time like this.
"I'm sorry you had to see what you did." Osvald sighed. "And that Harvey called you a monster. It isn't true. I'll tell you more later, but we have to start walking. All right?"
He shifted and took Hector's hand. Much to his relief, Hector let Osvald help him back to his feet. Hector took a deep breath, and then he squeezed Osvald's hand and nodded again.
"…All right, Papa."
With that, they began their walk through the Crestlands. And, while they were silent for a long time, Hector never let go of his hand, which Osvald was intensely grateful for.
Hector wasn't sure what to make of Papa.
He thought he liked him (or at least, he wanted to), but that was the terrifying part. Why should Papa like him, anyway? Soon he would realize how much trouble Hector was, and then he'd start yelling at and hitting him, too.
But he hadn't done that yet. Instead, he'd given Hector new things, and fed him, and answered his questions. There were some things Hector was still confused about, but he subconsciously realized that Papa was trying. He wanted to keep talking, keep asking questions, but if Papa changed his mind right when Hector got used to him—
Well, Hector didn't know. And the not-knowing was hard.
They walked for a long time, but Papa stopped frequently and let him rest. He often asked how Hector was feeling: if he was hungry, whether or not he was tired. And while some of the things he said were phrased like orders ("Stay close to me. Take my hand. Don't go too far."), they were said softly, in a way that made Hector feel strangely happy.
When they slept, they curled up under trees and ledges, with Hector carefully tucked under Papa's arm. He usually fell asleep with his head resting against Papa's stomach, feeling far more comfortable than he ever had before. Hector had always slept in the cold, drafty laboratory, and Papa was…warm. He liked being held. It had been so strange on the first night, but now…
Hector wanted more of it. More of everything. It was new and different, but…he wanted it. The longer they traveled, the more Hector desperately hoped that things would continue this way.
They arrived in Flamechurch after several days of travel. Osvald had considered teaching Hector how to read along the way, but…he ultimately decided to wait. Instead, he'd allowed Hector to observe their surroundings, get used to being outside the lab, and get used to him. There had been several periods of silence, but Osvald thought (or at least hoped) that Hector was starting to adjust.
Soon, he decided. For now, they needed to get dinner and head to the inn. Hector glanced around as they walked, and then tugged on Osvald's hand.
"Is this…that thing?"
"Neither of the towns I mentioned, no. It's Flamechurch. We'll stop here to rest for tonight."
Hector nodded, but he waved vaguely behind them. "I like being…"
"Outdoors?" Osvald suggested, and Hector nodded. "Well, we can sleep outside tomorrow. But we need—"
He paused; there were a pair of voices drifting down the path from behind the tavern. They were both familiar, though one more than the other.
"We need to get back to the bishop, Temenos. You promised him—"
"Please, Ort, we have plenty of time. They don't expect the report until next week at the earliest."
"But you're the Inquisitor! And you said…"
They rounded the corner, and their eyes fell on Osvald and Hector. Osvald realized a moment too late that Hector had his hood down; he hadn't worn it as often while they were traveling. Swiftly, he reached down to help Hector pull it up, but he knew it wouldn't do much good.
Fortunately, Temenos was too happy to take advantage of his arrival to immediately pester him about Hector.
"Osvald! I didn't know you were coming here. You should have written!" He strode up to Osvald and rested a hand on his arm. "Let me take you out for dinner; you must be starving."
Ort sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Temenos…"
"Now, now, a good cleric should help his guests." He chuckled, then knelt down and extended a hand to Hector. "And you are…?"
Hector clung to Osvald, looking up at Temenos uncertainly. Osvald patted him on the shoulder in a way he hoped was reassuring.
"Hector, this is Temenos. He's a friend, too." He looked over at Temenos and took a deep breath before adding, "This is my son, Hector."
"Your…son," Temenos repeated as he studied Hector. "I didn't know you had…"
Well, of course he didn't. How could Osvald have told him when he hadn't even known? Though Osvald realized how difficult this would be to explain. Part of it was due to Temenos's current company. Ort seemed like a decent enough fellow, from the few times Osvald had met him. Still, he didn't want to go into too much detail in public.
"I was in Montwise, Temenos," he said meaningfully, hoping Temenos caught his drift.
"You were…oh." The gears were clearly turning in Temenos's head, and he smiled sympathetically at Hector before straightening up. "Well, the offer still stands for dinner, if you would like?"
Osvald nodded. "We were just on our way to the tavern. Hector? Let's go. It's all right."
"…Okay," Hector mumbled, but he relaxed as they started walking.
The quartet made their way to the tavern, and Osvald was relieved that Temenos hadn't asked too many questions. Yet simultaneously, he hoped nothing went wrong over dinner…
Most of Temenos and Ort's chatter was meaningless small talk that Osvald could safely tune out. He probably "should've" felt bad about that—and he did appreciate Temenos paying for the food—but it was easier to focus on Hector this way. He caught a few phrases here and there; apparently they were almost ready to select a new Pontiff, and Temenos had worked on a few other small cases. The Sacred Guard, despite its diminished authority, helped out sometimes (which explained Ort's presence).
Osvald nodded absently, but he focused more on helping Hector with his fork and knife. His large, webbed hands made utensils difficult to grasp, and they were harder to hide than his frills. Maybe he should've picked up a pair of mittens, but the weather was too warm… And he couldn't hide Hector forever, could he? If Osvald wanted him to get out more, then…
Osvald was shaken out of his thoughts when he heard Temenos address Hector directly.
"Do you like sweets, Hector?"
"Sweets?" Hector repeated.
Temenos reached into a pocket in his robes and pulled out a small package of chocolates. He took one out and handed it to Hector.
"It's chocolate; try some."
Hector nodded and reached for it. Ort's eyes flickered to his hands, but he said nothing aloud. Instead, everyone watched Hector chew the treat. After a few seconds, he swallowed and then smiled.
"It's good."
Osvald snorted lightly. "Say 'thank you,' Hector."
"Thank you," Hector repeated, glancing away bashfully.
"Goodness; I can hardly believe you two are related." Temenos chuckled. "You're a very good boy, Hector."
He cocked his head to the side uncertainly, as if he wasn't used to receiving compliments. And Osvald realized, with a sinking feeling, that he wasn't. As patient as he'd been with Hector, that wasn't enough. It wasn't the same thing—
"A-am I?"
Osvald smiled awkwardly. "Yes, you are."
Hector's expression brightened, and Temenos grinned at him.
"Indeed; much nicer than your father, I'd wager—"
"I see you still talk too much," Osvald interrupted flatly.
"Except when you actually want him to." Ort sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Why, it's like pulling teeth to make him speak up while we're working."
"I have very important things to focus on during missions! Although…" Temenos leaned over and winked. "You had the most adorable reaction when I spoke up last time."
"Wh—that's because you said I was 'charmingly naïve' for rushing ahead, yet my devotion made me 'dashing'!"
Temenos laughed as Ort reddened. "I was only telling the truth. My, you're easy to fluster."
Osvald sighed, and Hector watched the exchange with a perplexed expression. Truly, Temenos hadn't changed at all in the past few weeks… He didn't know what he'd expected.
"But where are my manners? It appears everyone has finished eating." Temenos glanced around at everyone's plates. "Did you have a place to sleep tonight, Osvald?"
"I was planning on staying at the inn. We'll only be here one night, so…"
"Very well; let me walk you there." Temenos stood up, and then glanced over at Ort. "Not to worry, I'll return to the cathedral once I've seen them off."
Ort sighed as he stood up as well. "Thank you, Temenos. It was good to see you again, sir."
He nodded in Osvald's direction; Osvald politely nodded in return. Once they left the tavern, Ort waved and headed towards the northern side of town. Temenos and Osvald walked down the path towards the inn, and Hector automatically took Osvald's hand.
They walked in silence for a few minutes, during which Temenos observed Hector. Fortunately, he either didn't notice or was comfortable enough with Temenos not to care. Then, when they were just outside the inn's door, Temenos stopped them.
"Now, Osvald, when you say Montwise…" Temenos leaned up, resting a hand on Osvald's shoulder as his voice dropped to a whisper. "You don't mean…?"
Osvald sighed. "Yes, I was there. But this isn't an appropriate place to discuss it. I'll write it down and have it delivered to you before we leave. And make sure you read it alone."
For all his criticisms of the cleric, Osvald knew Temenos was trustworthy. He would believe the truth, and he wouldn't tell anyone. Thankfully, Temenos just nodded in response. Then, he leaned down and patted Hector on the head.
"Of course. It was lovely to meet you, Hector. Make sure your father behaves, all right?"
"Y-yes," Hector replied, sounding startled.
Osvald groaned and rubbed his forehead as Temenos straightened up. He grinned and waved over his shoulder as he started walking away.
"I do hope to see you again, Osvald. Keep in touch, won't you?"
"Yes, I will. Goodbye, Temenos."
Temenos laughed as they entered the inn, and Osvald decided he'd very much be grateful for a quiet moment.
"Hector, would you like to learn the alphabet?"
Hector blinked up at Papa. They'd washed up for the night, and Hector was proud of the fact that he'd managed to bathe completely by himself that time. (His head still felt oddly light, with how much hair Papa had cut off—but it was much better, too.)
Now, they were sitting in the bedroom. Or, more accurately, Hector had perched on the bed and watched Papa spread some paper on what he'd called the desk. He got up and padded over to it, putting his hands on the desk as he leaned up and peered at the currently-blank papers.
"Alphabet?" he repeated clumsily.
"Yes; it'll make learning to read easier. Sit here."
Papa pulled over a second chair, and Hector sat down on it. He watched as Papa wrote down each letter, sounding them out for him. Hector stared at the markings for a few more seconds, puzzled.
"Are they the same?" he finally said, pointing to two different markings. Papa had written both of them down when he'd said one letter, as he had for all of them.
"Yes, the capitals are used for things that are important. Like names," Papa explained. "Here, I'll show you how to write yours."
Hector watched as he slowly wrote out the letters. H-e-c-t-o-r. It was tall at the start and in the middle, with short round shapes in between. Then, Papa added a second name beside it. Hector could tell they were the same length, and the first letter was the same as one of the last ones in his name, just bigger.
"And mine," he said. "Would you like to try?"
Hector nodded, and he accepted the pen. He observed the two names for a few seconds, and then tried to copy the letters. His writing was large and wobbly, going down at an angle across the paper. It wasn't like Papa's small, neat writing at all. But the pen felt strange in his hand, and he couldn't hold it the same way Papa did.
"…Hard," he mumbled.
"You're just learning how," Papa said gently. "Would you like to try again?"
He nodded, and Papa gave him a second sheet of paper. Hector wrote his name several more times, getting a better grip on the pen as he went. Then Papa's: O-s-v-a-l-d…
His writing was slightly better by the end, and Hector looked intently at the paper. Names were a new concept to him, though he'd heard several by now. They were…nice, he thought. And he'd been able to tell, even when Papa had first introduced himself, that he hadn't had one before. "Osvald" sounded so much different than anything Harvey had ever called him.
So he liked having one; it was the first thing Papa had given him. But, as Hector's thoughts drifted back to Harvey, he couldn't help wondering…
"Hector? Do you want to stop?"
Oh, right, he'd been quiet for a while. Hector swallowed and looked back up at him.
"Papa, when you and Tem…Temen…"
"Temenos?"
Hector nodded. "When you said 'Montwise'…what was it?"
Well, he didn't know if that was the right way to say it. But Papa was good at figuring out what he meant. And this time, Hector was scared that he'd finally asked the wrong thing—Papa sighed heavily and glanced away.
"There's…more I need to tell you." Papa paused again. "When we were there, I…saw some of Harvey's monsters. Making chimeras like that is a taboo—it means something most people agree is wrong."
Hector nodded as he considered this information. That was why they couldn't talk in front of Ort. But…
"Then why?"
"Harvey wanted to see if he could." There was an odd tone in Papa's voice, not quite angry, but far from the patient one he'd used before. "I suppose he thought the same thing with you. He had to give you monster blood to see what would happen."
Hector frowned as he processed this information. On some level it made sense, but in other ways it was confusing. It explained why all of the monsters were so different from each other—Harvey had to see what those ones did—but Hector couldn't grasp doing things just because you could.
"Is it a…taboo?" he finally said, repeating the strange word.
"Testing people is, too. But…" Papa took another deep breath. "I'll have to look through Harvey's notes some more, but I suspect it was also partly because of your mother."
Hector blinked at another unfamiliar word, and Papa's expression softened slightly. He reached down and rested one hand on Hector's cheek, just behind his frill. The contact was…nice, and Hector relaxed as Papa went on.
"Your other parent; most people have two. She was…very special, in a lot of ways. But your mother…" He trailed off, and Hector could tell this was another difficult subject. "Well, her blood was very powerful. So Harvey tested you to see if you'd be as strong as she was. And…that's another reason why I didn't know you were there."
Again, there were some things that made sense and others that didn't—but thankfully, Papa kept speaking.
"I…thought she was dead." Papa's hand tensed against his face. "So I didn't think you…"
His voice strained as he shook his head. It was…alarming; this was the first time Hector had heard him talk like that. And while "mothers" were a new concept to him, Hector understood that if his mother was dead, he should have been, too.
And Hector associated death with the monsters attacking each other until they finally stopped moving. Harvey would come in, see the bloodied bodies, and say "Oh. Dead. Another failure," as if he'd simply dropped a cup of water.
He'd wondered if that would ever happen to him, but to hear it said aloud—
"You thought I was…dead?"
Papa closed his eyes. "Something like that, yes."
Hector shook and pulled his arms around himself, and it took him a few seconds to register the next request.
"Hector…come here. Please."
Papa gestured to his knee, and Hector climbed over to sit on his leg. He wrapped both arms around Hector, pulling him in close, and Hector realized he was trembling, too. Still, he felt the same kind of warmth that he always did when Papa held him, and he leaned forward and squeezed his eyes shut.
"Now that I know you're alive, I won't leave you again. You're safe now. Can you believe me?"
Safe. Somehow, Hector knew that safe was the word for how he felt. He didn't know what else to expect, but—
He knew he wanted to stay with Papa, that he'd keep Hector safe, and he shook harder as tears ran down his cheeks.
"Cry as much as you need to." Papa's voice was softer again. "I'm not going anywhere."
Luckily, Papa let Hector sleep with him again that night. And while his mind was still a jumbled mess of thoughts, he knew everything would be fine. Not now, but it would be.
Osvald frowned the next morning as he read over his letter to Temenos. He'd kept it short and to the point, simply explaining that he'd been in Harvey's laboratory and found Hector in the same room as the chimeras they'd fought. He knew Temenos would understand that Hector was one of Harvey's…projects, and he'd likely realize where Hector had come from. He'd been there when Harvey had shown off the golem he'd claimed was Rita.
That wasn't the problem. No, Osvald was worried about the previous night, even though he knew it was foolish. He would've told that to Hector eventually, but had he said too much too soon? Conversely, had he not said enough?
Well, Hector had let Osvald comfort him, and that was the most important thing. Osvald needed to show him it was okay to be upset, and he wouldn't get in trouble for feeling things. He doubted Hector had been allowed to express himself before.
So he sighed, folded up the letter, and stood up. Then, Osvald leaned down and offered his hand to Hector. He'd been sitting on the bed, watching Osvald write with obvious interest. Hector climbed down to the floor as he took Osvald's hand, clinging to it as tightly as always.
Osvald decided that was good; it meant Hector was still comfortable with him.
"I'll leave this at the chapel for Temenos," he explained. "And then we can go to Beasting Village. I'll show you where that is on the map."
Hector nodded. "For…friends?"
"Yes, you can meet Ochette when we get there. And we can practice reading on the way, if you'd like."
Hector glanced up at him worriedly. "But I did it wrong."
"What do you mean?"
Hector bit his lip. "I made you…upset."
Fortunately, they were still in the room, though just at the door. Osvald knelt down and put his other hand on Hector's shoulder, and he cautiously looked back up at him.
"Hector, it was hard to talk about, but it was something you needed to know. And I want to explain things to you so they make sense," he said firmly, but not harshly. "So if you have any more questions…please ask them, and I'll answer as best I can."
Hector swallowed as he processed those statements. But then he nodded, a small smile returned to his face, and Osvald sighed in relief.
"Okay. We're going now?"
Osvald gently squeezed his shoulder. "Yes, we can go."
He stood up, pushed the door open with his free hand, and led Hector into the hallway.
It wasn't easy, but they were making progress, and Osvald knew it would get better soon.
