Willa May Scott

April 1993

"All of the tests were perfectly normal, Miss Scott," the doctor was telling her, sitting on the opposite side of the large wooden desk, his hands folded on top of the beige file that he had been consulting moments before, "Your daughter is a perfectly healthy little girl. We found nothing of concern".

May Scott shakily inhaled and exhaled, tired bright brown eyes lingering on where a small girl of three years old played over in the corner of the room, ginger curls pulled back into two little pigtails on either side of her head and a white lace headband keeping the little baby-hairs at bay. The toddler was oblivious to the anxious eyes of her mother, happily building a tower out of brightly coloured wooden blocks. May couldn't help but feel relief and fear as she watched the toddler play; relief at the knowledge that her baby girl was so blissfully ignorant to what was happening, fear at the utter lack of answers.

She switched her attention back to the doctor, who peered back at her with kind, but distant eyes, and she could have wept. She had expected it, God, she could have almost recited the same response, word-for-word, for how many times she had been told the same thing by so called 'Medical experts,' but she knew differently. Call it a mother's intuition, call it basic logic, if you wish, but she knew that there was something different about her daughter. She couldn't even put her finger on what, aside from the obvious, but she knew it was something and whatever it was, it was serious. And at twenty-one years of age, she didn't know how to handle that, she barely knew how to be a proper parent, half the time, but she was trying. She tried so bloody hard, which was why she was here today, trying, yet again, to get some answers, because she was terrified for her daughter and she wanted to help her, even if everyone said that she was fine and healthy. May knew that you could be healthy and fine, but still need expert help.

And she was definitely no expert here.

"Then what is happening to her?" she found herself asking, her voice soft, full of frustration and desperation, almost brought to tears by yet another doctor trying to fob her off. She looked pleadingly at the man before her, almost shaking, "Why does she keep...keep...these episodes..."

"Children go through strange phases, sometimes," he told her gently, "They act up trying to get attention..."

"This isn't a tantrum; this is...she passes out. Sometimes she has these terrible nose bleeds. I don't know how else to explain it..."

"Children are terribly resourceful," he said reassuringly, but it only felt condescending, his smile still gentle, even though his features grew slightly tight, "They are startling good mimics and far more perspective then most adults would like to admit, Miss Scott. A child who finds that they are given extra attention when ill will soon learn to fake illness for attention. It's a perfectly normal behavioural response..."

"Willa has plenty of attention," she bristled, instantly horrified by the implication that she wasn't there for her daughter, "Even if I'm not there, my mother is always around. We might not have a lot, Doctor Andrews, but Willa is far from neglected".

He grimaced very slightly, "And I wasn't wishing to make it sound like she was, clearly, she isn't," he said hastily, looking very slightly alarmed, "Willa truly is a very healthy little girl, Miss Scott," he shifted slightly to lean back in his chair, lifting his hands off the folder to flip it open, though May wondered if it was only so he had an excuse to look away from her tearful, desperate gaze. He cleared his throat, eyes swiftly scanning the pages, "She passed every test perfectly, her blood tests were all as expected, her medical...her height and weight is exactly as expected. She scored excellently in her cognitive testing, too, leaps and bounds ahead of most children her own age," he looked up to her and shrugged, giving her another gentle smile, "There is nothing wrong with her, Miss Scott".

May barely chocked back a helpless sob that welled up in her throat, barely stopped herself from lunging across the table and grabbing the red tie that hung around Doctor Andrews neck and stopping herself from throttling him, because she knew that there was something...well, maybe not wrong, but something different about Willa. Her mother called her a 'Miracle,' a gift sent to them. A miracle or not, May still didn't quite know what to make of her daughter's sudden and very unexpected arrival on this plane, but she did believe that it was her duty to protect and ensure that Willa was raised well and had every chance afforded to her to succeeded in life, all the chances that May never had and never would get, either. But that wouldn't happen if Willa was sick, if she couldn't get better. She needed Willa better, because there was something wrong, she knew it. Why couldn't anyone else see it?

"What about the nose bleeds?" she asked tearfully, her voice barely a whisper. It was a wonder that Doctor Andrews could even hear her, really, "And...and the zoning out, and the...the unconsciousness..."

Doctor Andrews gave her an almost pitying, if rather reserved frown, "We've ran all the testes, Miss Scott," he told her patiently, but firmly, "There is nothing physically or medically wrong with your daughter".

May shook her head, pressing her teeth gnarled lips together to try and stifle the small, helpless sob that threatened to slip out, her gaze darting away and over to Willa. She watched Willa, who had now moved on from the blocks to sit on her backside on the carpet flooring, the skirt of the second hand dress fanning around her, while she amused herself with the brightly coloured wooden toy abacus, chirping happily to herself the numbers of the beads as she pushed them along, utterly in her own little world and oblivious to the grown-up talk going on just a few feet away from her.

"She's a very special little girl, Miss Scott," Doctor Andrews said softly, making her look back to him, blinking back tears. He gave her a reassuring, kind look, once again folding his hands together on top of the folder, "Is she enrolled in nursery school this year?"

"I..." May was briefly thrown, even as she felt pride wash over her, because she knew very well that Willa was a smart girl. She was far smarter than her, she had no idea where it came from, "I wanted to, I think...I think she would love being around kids her own age. But I just..." she felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment, her eyes dropping away, "I just can't really afford it right now. Next year, hopefully..."

"I think it would benefit her greatly, Miss Scott. A child like young Willa needs stimulation, she needs a little pushing and I think that perhaps with some interactions with children her own age, perhaps these..." he hesitated, almost seeming a little dubious, before he carried on, "...episodes, as you put them, will stop".

May barely held back the urge to snap at him that he was an idiot and that this was just a waste of time, and money on the bus tickets and the day off work, which she really couldn't afford to have taken, but she had, for Willa's sake. He didn't believe her, perhaps he thought that she was suffering from some sort of mental illness, one of those nutcase mother's who make their own child sick for the sympathy or something, but May knew that there was something there with Willa. Perhaps her own aggravation showed in her tight expression, because he sighed very slightly.

"What about Willa's father?" he asked, and the weary, slightly forced polite curve to his lips only made May want to get up and storm out...but she stayed, for whatever mad reason, she didn't know.

The question still made her stiffen, "What does the father have to do with this?" she questioned warily, her expression growing tense, "This is about Willa".

"Family history can be very important, Miss Scott. You've provided us with details about your family, but no mention of his..."

"Willa doesn't have a father," she said it quickly, almost in a rush, but it never quite made it feel any better. Still, she put on a brave face and lifted her chin, staring at the man before her with an almost challenging glare, daring him to judge her. She had enough of that from her old school friends and neighbours, her own church...Doctor Andrews simply peered at her in slight confusion and she deflated slightly, though her expression didn't waver, "I...know how mad it sounds, but one moment I was perfectly normal, and the next..." she paused, licking her chapped lips, a small frown crossing her features as she looked down, "I wasn't even pregnant".

Doctor Andrews shifted suddenly in his chair, causing it to squeak loudly as he seemed to sit up straighter, understanding flashing over his wrinkled features, understanding and interest as he stared at May. His lips parted, before closing again, his eyes shifting off her to rest on where Willa still played with the toy abacus, still blissfully unaware and loudly whispering each number. May eyed him and then Willa, a flicker of alarm washing over her...she didn't like the sudden keen interest in his eyes, how he seemed to stare at her daughter as if she was a prize that he had just won. He had barely spared Willa a glance since bringing them into the office and suggesting that Willa might be happier playing with the toys, but now? He seemed curious.

"I wasn't aware that Willa was one of the forty three children," he said slowly, still eyeing Willa intently, "Why did you not inform us, Miss Scott?"

May definitely didn't like the way he was staring now, a chill running down her spine and her mouth was suddenly as dry as the desert. Her instincts told her to grab Willa and run, get her far away from Doctor Andrews and his sudden interest. Her hands folded in her lap tightened and her heart began racing...she heard rumours, back when Willa was just a newborn that there had been other incidents of women giving birth to a child when they hadn't been pregnant before, but she had shrugged it off as an urban myth. It wasn't impossible, she must have been pregnant the whole time and just...well, not shown until the labour started, it was the only logical explanation. And as for the father...well, she couldn't explain that one away, she hadn't been with anyone since she was sixteen, so giving birth spontaneously at the age of eighteen shouldn't have been possible, but...there was a logical explanation for everything. But worse still, there had been other rumours; a story that a very powerful and wealthy man in America had adopted some of these kids had briefly circulated, before all reference disappeared, almost overnight.

"I didn't think it mattered," she said softly, staring at him, struggling to conceal how suddenly afraid she was by his sudden change in mood.

He must have noticed, because he finally dragged his eyes off Willa to look back to May, his intent gaze softening and a light, calming smile curling at his lips, but May wasn't fooled. She could still see a flicker of something lurking in his eyes, something that made her blood curdle with dread and a stone drop into her stomach, and the sudden realisation that she had made a mistake coming here today, not because of the lack of answers and cost, but now because she suddenly wondered if she should have kept the secret of Willa's unusual birth closer to her chest. She was used to people knowing, though, her entire village knew, her local GP and the hospital, but this was the city and her mother always warned her that city people thought differently. May had always rolled her eyes and thought her mother was just being very old fashioned, but...mother knows best.

"This does change things, Miss Scott," Doctor Andrews told her, his tone warm and gentle, but still...off, "If you're truly convinced that there is something amiss with young Willa, I have a colleague I can contact. They're the best in their field, a true visionary..."

May felt her panic rise with every world, felt the dread and growing horror of her great error pressing down against her chest, almost chocking her. No, this wasn't right, she had come seeking answers, but she now felt as if she had held Willa up beneath a spotlight, when she only wanted to help her daughter. This wasn't helping her, she didn't know who this 'Visionary' was, but she didn't care. Besides, it made no sense, one second Doctor Andrews is trying to tell her that Willa is a healthy, ordinary girl and the next he is suddenly wishing to contact another person to get involved? No, no, twenty-one years old, she might be, barely holding onto a high school diploma, sure, but she wasn't so naive as all that.

"I think I've heard enough, Doctor Andrews," she said as pleasantly as she could, though she knew that it came out slightly breathless and cold, her legs feeling wobbly as she rose from her chair. He rose quickly, too, a look of barely concealed alarm sparking in his eyes. She grabbed her handbag from the back of her chair and her coat, hastily pulling them on, "Thank you for all of your time and patience today, but I understand now that there's nothing else to be done..."

"Miss Scott, that's not true..."

"Willa," she turned her back on him, coat still hanging off her right shoulder in her hast to just get the hell out. Willa looked up from the toy, blinking slightly confused big brown eyes up at her, but May didn't pause to lean down and grab her hand. She tried to give her a shaky smile, "Up we get, now, come on, honey. We have a bus to catch..."

Willa partly stood on her own accord, partly had to be hauled up off the floor, frowning in bewilderment as she seemed to realise that something wasn't quite right, even to her painfully young mind. May wasn't about to take any chances, either, and she leant down to pick her up, even though Willa was really too old and big for her to be carrying, but she didn't care. She cradled her on her hip and Willa immediately wound her arms around her neck, gripping onto her.

"Please, Miss Scott," Doctor Andrew said hastily, moving around his desk, his chair scattering back in his hast, eyes wide and pleading, "I think there's been a very great misunderstanding..."

May didn't pause, nor did she hesitate, turning and leaving the office as swiftly as she possibly could with a three-year-old dangling off her hip and her kitten heels.

...

The Scott house was a tiny two-bedroom cottage, right in the middle of the small village called Oakdale. It was a tiny cottage, really, not built at all for modern housing, but May had lived in the same cottage since she was as little as Willa. It was tight and cramped, Willa had a small bed set up right beside May's, but May had always enjoyed the feeling of security of living in seemingly the middle of nowhere in rural Wales. It hadn't always been so, once she had longed to escape and have a big, grand life in the city, to live in London or New York, to travel the world...but then she had given birth in the middle of her own kitchen to the shocked screams of her parents, and now Willa was her focus. A small part of herself could still admit that she longed for that lavish, free lifestyle. Another part of herself could even admit that she wished someone had swooped in and taken Willa from her hours after birthing her, but it was too late nw. She was resolved to be a mother and she did love Willa, truly loved her, even if being a mother at eighteen was so far from what she had wanted for herself, it wasn't even funny.

"You didn't make a mistake," May's mother, Gwen, shook her head, "You did what you thought was best for little Will, don't go feeling guilty for that".

It was late at night now and May was so tired, she thought she might collapse soon, her eyes feeling as if she had been hit with a handful of sand and watering, while her feet ached from the heels she had kicked off at the back door upon arriving home. She hadn't even had the energy to bath Willa, thankfully her mother had stepped up and done all of that, gotten Willa washed and ready for bed, tucked her in and sung her a lullaby, before coming back downstairs to where May sat heavily in the chipped, rickety dining chair in the middle of the kitchen. A plate with crumbs from the sandwich that had been her dinner sat before her still, while a cup of tea swirled steam into the warm air of the small, gloomy kitchen. It had taken almost the last of her strength to tell her mother the story of how the doctor's visit had gone.

"You didn't see how he was looking at her, Ma," May breathed shakily, the memory of that nearly hungry, fascinated stare that had sparked in Doctor Andrews eyes the second he had learned of Willa's unusual entrance into this world, the way he had seemed so suddenly concerned and interested, suddenly so very keen to try and help. It made a bubble of nausea roll in her stomach and she almost regretted scoffing down the dry ham and chess sandwich. She just couldn't get rid of the feeling of dread whenever she thought of that look. She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself, reaching up to drag a hand through her slightly frazzled ginger locks, "There's stories, Ma, about kids like Willa being taken..."

"Nonsense," Gwen cut her off with a slight scoff, pinning her daughter with a rather stern, motherly frown, one that practically said 'You listen here, young lady, mother knows best'.

"It's true!"

"May, don't you think that if someone was going around snatching newborns out of their mothers arms for profit, no less, it wouldn't be front page news around the world? Don't be silly, there would be outcries in the street!"

"Not if you're wealthy and powerful enough to pay off reporters," May said quietly, frowning warily at her mother, a slight tremble of anxiety making her voice shake very slightly, "Not if those mothers and their families are paid handsomely enough to shut up about it all".

"We're talking about a baby, not a car, May. Who's going to sell their own baby for profit to an eccentric billionaire to do God knows what with? No, it's ridiculous".

May kept silent, her gaze dropping onto the chipped edge of the battered rounded kitchen table between them. She could still trace the dent she had accidently made in the wood when she had been doing her big science project in Year Four. She could see the char mark from one of the only times her dearly departed dad had made in the table when he had been forced to cook and sat a hot pot directly on the table surface. She traced the scars of her childhood to try and keep herself from blurting out how she probably would have been one of those young women who had sold their own child for profit, back when she had been just barely eighteen and feeling like her entire world had just ended the second she had doubled over with the first, sudden onset of labour pains. Her mother was the type of woman who would never understand it, she had been the one who had best handled Willa's arrival with barely a waiver, the one who had taken it all in her stride and simply accepted it as one of those weird things that life throws your way sometimes, something you just take and get on with.

Of course, she would dismiss the whole notion that someone might actually not be so willing to accept parental reasonability when one had neither wished, nor expected for it to be thrust upon you. May felt a flicker of bitterness about it, her teeth biting down on the inside of her cheek to stop herself from saying a single word. She loved Willa and Willa was hers...she had come to accept that, but that didn't mean that she didn't sympathise and understand entirely if other girls in the same situation had made a very different choice. Some people just weren't meant to be parents and that was okay. May didn't even think she was all that cut out to be a mum, but...here she was.

"No one's taking Willa," Gwen continued, sparing her daughter a level frown as she moved to rise from her chair. She was already dressed in her nightie, her tartan dressing gown, frayed at the cuffs from years of loving wear, wrapped tightly around her slim middle, while a pair of curlers were pinned in the top of her head, sandy blonde hair flecked with grey. She picked up the edge of the sandwich plate, turning away to take it across to the sink, "Stop fussing, you're going to worry yourself sick over nothing".

"You didn't see how he was looking at her..."

"Oh, tosh," she scoffed dismissively, placing the plate in the sink and reaching up to turn the tape on. She picked up the damp sponge and began scrubbing at the plate, even though it was only some crumbs, back turned to May, her face hidden in the shadows of the gloomily lit kitchen, "Drink your tea and go to bed, May. You have work in the morning. Forget about it".

May gritted her teeth, her fingers briefly curling around the edge of the table, while she stared at her mother's shadowed figure. She wanted to argue, she knew she was right to be worried, but her mother was the type of woman who never would listen when she thought she was right. She wasn't going to get through to her over this, so instead of fighting a useless battle, too tired to keep it up anyway, she forced her fingers to release the edge of the table and grabbed her teacup. It had gone lukewarm by now, but she knocked it back quickly, almost chocking, but she couldn't stay in the kitchen any longer, not without saying something regrettable.

"May," Gwen sighed, throwing her a look full of disapproval, "Manners, girl! Manners!"

May pushed her chair back and placed her cup back on the table, slightly harder than she meant, "Night, Ma," she muttered tightly, ducking her head to avoid meeting her eyes.

Still, even as she left the kitchen she felt her mother watching her. You would think that her mother would stop treating her like a child, when she had her own child, but that seemed unlikely to ever happen. She made her way upstairs, ducking into the bathroom to clean her teeth and wash her face before bed, before tip-toeing into her bedroom. Her eyes immediately fell on Willa, sleeping so peacefully on a tiny bed right beside May's own, one hand fisted in the floppy ears of her stuffed rabbit. May breathed a soft sigh, her lips curling upwards...she edged closer until she was leaning over the bed, lifting the edge of the blank more securely over Willa's shoulder, taking a moment to just watch her.

A loud clatter of someone taking their bins out made May jump, then, and her head snapped up sharply to the small window that looked out onto the street below. She checked that Willa was still asleep, which she was, before straightening and squeezing herself between the end of her own bed and the corner of her wardrobe, lifting aside the floral curtain that had hung in her bedroom since she was eight, fabric faded from the sun. She peered down at the street below, empty of any one at this hour of night, save for a few parked cars from the patrons of the local pub just a little ways up the street. She relaxed, all was well. Perhaps she should stop stressing. She let the fabric slip from her fingers and turned away, readying herself for bed.

May Scott never noticed the fact that one of the cars parked opposite her own front door contained a single man, failed completely to ever notice when similar strange cars and lingering people within them seemed to randomly watch over her house or eventually her daughter's school. Time passed on; a false sense of security fell over May. But it was only ever that: false.

Mother knows best, indeed.

God, I probably really shouldn't be writing another story...but this would not leave me alone. I watched the Umbrella Academy and bang! This OC would not shut up and, honestly, I adore her so much, too (She's got a worse mouth on her then any of my previous OC's). This story isn't going to jump to the show for a bit, it'll follow Willa and the rest of the gang as they age, sort of following bits and pieces of their childhood, and then there will be a bit of a time lapse, but also not? I mean, we follow Willa for seventeen years, but it'll be condensed into two chapters and then it'll be the start of the show, but it's a while before that, so enjoy the original content!

As for season four, I shall be handling that differently, it will be taking a change in direction once we reach that season, because I cannot accept what they did in that season and I absolutely refuse to acknowledge the pure character assassination of our beloved characters, Five and Lila especially. Just a big no to that entire season, just no. Not sure what I'm going to do with it yet, but I'm thinking of it :)