Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Rachel woke up, she was in a smelly hospital room. 

Her left arm hurt where they’d stuck a bunch of tubes, and her right arm…

She didn’t look at her right arm. Instead, Rachel glared at the clothes they’d dressed her in. 

Her old clothes were gone, too covered in blood and dirt according to the doctors, no matter how much she’d argued with them. She’d tried to tell them that her shirt had been a gift from her real mother, but they gave her an odd look and bared their teeth at her, daring her to attack.

So she’d attacked, and they acted all surprised for some reason. They all looked so skinny and weak, but as a pack they were strong enough to hold her down and give her sleep drugs.

That had been a few days ago, or at least she thought it was a few days ago. Time was really hard to keep track of when people kept giving you drugs. Now she understood why schools always told people not to take them, which was strange because they seemed expensive.

The doctors had asked her about drug allergies, saying they couldn’t find her records and that something called a “reaction” could kill her. Rachel told them she’d never been allowed to take drugs before, no matter how much she got hurt, and that made them look at her funny.

It was a look that made her feel hot and angry for some reason, and she got it from more than just doctors. The people in suits used it as well, usually after talking to her about her foster families. She’d get mad at them, and they’d retreat while throwing words like “trigger trauma” and “abuse” and “probation” and “involuntary manslaughter” at her. 

The PRT people said they just wanted to help Rachel, and she knew it was bullshit. For years, nobody had given a rat’s ass about her, and now suddenly they were so kind and nice because she had powers .

Powers that had killed her foster family, turned her best friend against her, ruined her arm, left her at the mercy of people in stupid costumes who wouldn’t just leave her the fuck alone…

Rachel had only gotten halfway through explaining that to them, admittedly with some snarling and spitting and swearing, when she fell asleep again. Now that she was awake, it was only a matter of time before someone showed up to shovel more shit at her, and she hated it.

She glared at the tube in her left arm, knowing it was probably why she kept falling asleep, but there was a strap around her wrist that kept her from yanking it out with her teeth. Supposedly it was there to help with pain, but she’d told them that she didn’t mind a little pain.

Rachel had gotten used to pain, both dealing it out and taking it, after years of being bounced from foster home to foster home. That had gotten her another weird look, but she’d ignored it.

No, what really bothered her was the lack of pain in her right arm. It was just…there. 

She couldn’t even look at it anymore, and everyone always stared at it.

Hanging there with metal and tubes and bandages and blood.

Rollo was supposed to be her friend , but instead he’d bit—

“Hey, Rachel.” The girl in question closed her eyes. “C’mon, we need to talk about yesterday. Rachel? I know you’re awake. Would you prefer I used a cape name instead, like Kennel Kid ?”

“That’s not my name.” Her throat was raw, from that tube they’d stuck in her throat and all the growling she’d been doing the past few days. Eyes open, she glared at the circuitry-garbed lady who had entered her room, the door open and voices coming from the hall. “Go away.”

“No can do, kiddo.” The lady bared her teeth, getting right up close and sitting on Rachel’s bed. Leashed by her bad arm and the restrained one, she could only glare as the lady snarled down at her. “I can use another name if you want? Image came up with a few others, right? Canis Major, Pawsome Pup, Alpha, Paw Protector—”

“Bitch.” Rachel growled, and couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face as the lady’s grin vanished instantly. “ That’s my name. Now fuck off, bitch. That one was an insult.”

The lady sputtered, started to say something, then paused and looked up at the door.

Rachel turned away from her, and only now did she see the man in armor again.

He’d shown up a few times before, but never spoken to her directly.

Now, he stepped inside the room, and pointed over his shoulder.

“Battery, I think you should leave. You’re making her uncomfortable somehow.” His voice was clipped, like each word was carefully studied and considered before coming out of his mouth. The lady leapt to her feet, a retort pouring out of her and being cut off as he shook his head slightly. “That wasn’t a request. Every time you talk to her, her heart rate jumps significantly.”

Grumbling, the circuitry lady stomped out of the room, turning to say something and being cut off once again as the armored man closed the door in her face. Rachel couldn’t help but smile a little, but it vanished as the armored man turned back to her.

She’d seen him on TV before, and had thought he had a nice smile…but thinking back on it now she understood that he’d been showing dominance. Even now, with his armor making him tough and tall, looming over her from so far away, she felt smaller and weaker by comparison.

It was a feeling she hated, and was part of the reason the last few days had been so terrible for her. Everyone here was always lording their strength and her weakness over her, and it sucked.

Rachel glared at his stupid shiny visor, waiting for him to act like every other so-called hero that had visited her. Finally, the silence and his staring got to her, and she spat, “What do you want?”

“I want to understand. Can I come closer?” She didn’t respond, and he finally gave up on pretending to be polite after a minute. His arm had a little TV on it, and he held it out for her to watch. “This is the security video from yesterday. You bit the doctor, and I was wondering why.”

She glared at the video, trying not to be amazed by how clear it was, and glanced up at the ceiling to see a little camera there. So, they’d been watching her this whole time, huh? Well, why did they need to ask such stupid questions, then?

“He was threatening me.” She’d explained this to them before, and just like every other time he reacted with silence. He just kept staring at her, and she kept getting more and more angry at his stupid game. “You have it on tape. You know what he did. Stop lying to me!”

This was the part where things always ended. Any moment, she figured he would call her crazy or grab her and inject some drug, then she’d sleep and wake up and it would all start again…

But instead, he turned around suddenly, facing the wall and stepping away from her.

Rachel’s anger was still there, but now there was a lot of confusion as well.

She got even more confused when his helmet made odd noises.

“Sorry, I just need a moment to activate my faceplate.” He was talking to her, but not looking at her, and it was kind of strange. “Based on your reactions the last few days, as well as just now, I think you may have Scopophobia. It’s a fear of faces, as well as being seen. The way you react to people looking at you, the way your body reacts…I apologize for making you uncomfortable.”

Rachel honestly wasn’t sure how to respond, and that didn’t change as he turned around to reveal that his face was now fully covered by metal and glass. Even then, he didn’t look directly at her, instead turning his helmet towards the wall just over her shoulder.

“I hope this is better, and I’ll make a note to tell the doctors and agents if so.” He waved slightly, as if greeting a ghost hovering beside her bed. “To start again, I’m Armsmaster. I lead the ENE Protectorate, and I’m sorry for not visiting sooner. A guest from out of town has been taking most of my time, and…well, I suppose that’s really no excuse. Can I get you anything, Rachel?”

She didn’t have to think long for her answer, and was replying before he’d finished asking. 

“I want to leave.” It was the same request she’d made every day. “Let me go, please.”

The please was something that rarely worked on adults, but she was desperate.

So far, every time she asked to leave, these people pretended to consider it.

Once again Rachel found herself surprised, as Armsmaster reacted oddly.

“Okay.” Armsmaster nodded, then held up two fingers. “But there are two things we need to take care of before you leave. The first is to get you healthy. That’s non-negotiable, but luckily for you, I have a friend whose specialty is magical healing potions. His name is Cask, and—”

Armsmaster talked a little bit more, even showing her pictures of what her arm looked like on the inside, and it was kind of scary. Rachel knew what bones were, and hers were…not in great shape. But supposedly his friend could fix all that, he just needed time and samples.

A doctor joined them to take some samples as he continued speaking, the elderly lady wearing a face mask at his request. It didn’t make the experience any better, but it was kind of nice to have them change their habits because of her , for once.

Armsmaster never told her what the second thing they needed to take care of was, because after all the samples and explanations she was feeling really tired. Kept yawning and her eyes were drooping, no matter how hard she tried to stay awake.

The doctors had said it was because of malnutrition, whatever the hell that meant.

“Oh, before I go, one very important question.” Armsmaster motioned for the doctor to stop, and the old lady paused with her needle inches from Rachel’s tube-thingy. They gave her something to help her sleep every night, and she always had strange dreams. “What’s your favorite flavor?”

“Huh?” She blinked, surprised at the question, and heard him repeat it with a bit of playfulness in his voice. He explained that Cask flavored his creations for children, and she wasn’t sure how to respond. “Nobody’s ever asked me that before. I guess…um…cherry flavor?”

“Nobody’s ever…? Okay. Cherry it is.” He sounded odd, like he was having trouble talking. She heard some adults like that sometimes, usually when she talked about old foster families, but before she could ask him about it the needle went into her arm and everything went dark…

Just like every time she’d slept for the last few days, Rachel dreamed about Rollo. She had planned to go on an exciting adventure with him, but that’s not what ended up happening.

He’d fallen into the pool when they were playing around, and she’d been so scared and then—

There had been so much blood and screaming and he was having so much fun as he killed—

Rachel had started to run away but Rollo grabbed her arm with his mouth and it hurt so much—

The horrible nightmare ended, and the room swam around her as she tried to stay awake.

But the drugs wanted her to sleep, and it wasn’t long before she drifted off again.

This time, there were no dreams or nightmares, just blissful silence…

When Rachel woke up, she was in a smelly hospital room.

Her left arm hurt where they’d stuck a bunch of tubes, and her right arm…

She didn’t look at her right arm. Instead, she focused on the sandy, painful feeling in her eye.

Normally she'd have wiped it, but her left arm was still strapped down. The crusty stuff in her eye really, really sucked.

“Pardon me dear, is this the loo?” A voice at her door had Rachel looking, face twisting as her eyes watered. “Oh, sorry…do you need help with something?”

She wanted to yell at him for taking pity on her. Sure, Rachel was sad and lonely and her eyes were crusty and she couldn’t feel her arm and she was tied down and everything sucked…but she wasn’t some kind of useless weakling who needed people to pity her.

Something about his voice and accent made her pause, the angry retort dying on her lips.

Staring at him, she really wished she could wipe her blurry eyes.

Because what she saw made no sense at all.

Standing just inside her door was a very strange-looking man, one whom the guards at her door had seemingly ignored. Instead, they had their helmets off and were eating something he'd given them. Then he closed the door, and they didn't seem to care one bit.

For a moment, she thought he was another of those Image Department people, because of how silly his clothes were. But most of them had worn bright clothes that hurt her eyes, or hairstyles that were all spiky and multicolored. This person was far too…normal, compared to them.

But there was still something off about him, and she couldn’t put her finger on it.

The man had brown pants, a white shirt, and some kind of green sweater that didn’t cover his arms. He was tall, bald, and had big ears that wiggled, as if honing in on her location. 

Although mainly, she was focused on that huge toothy grin of his, one that grew as he saw her.

Normally, teeth made her feel wary, but something about the man’s didn’t.

It was like a little puppy, showing its teeth and wanting to play.

“Sorry, I was trying to find the loo, and got kind of turned about.” Putting words to action, he walked closer, doing a little turn, almost losing his balance for a moment until he put a hand on the foot of her bed. “Whoa! Sorry about that. Had to skip tea, and now I’m quite knackered.”

Rachel’s vision blurred again and she tried to wipe her eye with one shoulder, but that didn’t work. It probably looked pretty stupid, and she expected him to laugh at her.

“Would you like some help, young miss?” Instead he held out a little cloth, his smile slowly fading as he saw her condition. “Oh, or I could take this strap off, and you can do it yourself! I know I hate having people do things for me. Up to you, I suppose?”

She nodded slowly, certain this was a trick, and that he’d try to get her to give him something in return. One of the men in suits had tried that, claiming she could eat after she signed his stupid papers. Rachel had told him to fuck off, and now prepared to do the same to this guy…

But once again, the bald man surprised her, just taking off the strap and holding out the cloth.

Rachel snatched it away, wiping her face quickly, afraid to take her eyes off him.

Despite that, for a moment smelled dogs and bread and cheese…

Her mouth began to water, and her stomach rumbled.

“Why do you smell like cheese?”

“Ah, I see you’re a fan of my Wensleydale!” He looked around, noticed the camera, and then moved to the left side of her bed to seat himself between her and the device. The odd man withdrew another cloth, this one wrapped around a sizable hunk of white cheese. “Now, this’ll be our little secret, okay? I promised Gromit I’d cut down, but…well, a few bites can’t hurt, right?”

“Whoosh Grobbit?” Rachel asked around the large hunk of cheese she’d stuffed into her mouth. It was the first real food she’d had in days, the hospital only giving her mushy crap. She felt a shiver pass through her whole body as a supple, crumbly delicacy graced her taste buds.

“Grobbit? Oh, Gromit! ” The man grinned again, giving her a smaller piece as his eyes looked fondly into the distance. “He’s my best friend, of course. Genuine, sensitive, and resourceful! The kindest, gentlest, smartest dog ever to grace this fine Earth…or any other celestial body!”

“He’s smart?” Rachel told herself she didn’t care, but the more the man talked the less he’d eat the cheese. She grabbed a few more pieces, trying to savor what little remained. “How smart?”

“Smart enough to help me with my inventions, gadgets, and various doo-dads, for one.” He patted his pockets, then finally pulled out a small beaten-up card. He waved it in her direction, and she pretended she could read. People always got all weird when she didn't. “That’s me! Wallace Wallis, master inventor and gadgeteer!”

“What have you invented?”

“Oh, all kinds of useful things. A machine to jelly my toast, another to clean windows…and sometimes break them, but only on occasion.” He blushed, then thrust a finger into the air. “Oh, and when I kept oversleeping, I made my bed dump me out of it every morning, like so!”

Wallace leaned hard to the side, then lost his balance and fell off the bed in a way that seemed entirely accidental. It was so sudden that Rachel was glad she’d finished the cheese, because a snort and a giggle escaped from her at his goofy antics.

Instead of getting up, he thrust a finger into the air, pointing at the pale white ceiling above them.

“Seeing this reminds me of the time I invented a rocket ship and went to the moon!”

“The moon?” Rachel had seen it in the sky sometimes, but always figured it was just a big rock, and not really a place people could actually go . “Why did you go there?”

“Well, because we ran out of cheese, of course!” Wallace sprang back to his feet, and began to act out the effort of building some sort of machine. “We’d been planning to take a holiday for some time, and Gromit handily reminded me that the moon is made of cheese. So I built a rocket, in the basement since that was the only place we had enough room, you see…”

Rachel found herself smiling, laughing, and shaking her head throughout his fantastical tale, equal parts disbelieving and amazed. Wallace bounced, spun, and even did little voices as he explained, and for a moment she almost forgot about her arm and everything else.

It was truly a dream come true, after the shitty week she’d had.

But the worst part of every dream is that eventually it has to end, and in this case that time came just as Wallace was breathlessly acting out his and Gromit’s escape from an evil robot.

“I was just about to throw the moon cheese at him, when a mighty explosion suddenly—” Wallace paused, and for a moment Rachel thought it was a dramatic effect, but then he waved in the direction of the door and smiled. “Hullo, Colin. I was wondering where you got off to!”

“Where I got off to? You just disappeared!” Rachel saw an unfamiliar man in the doorway, out of breath. He was tall, with a brown beard and hair, wearing a suit and glasses. It was the oddest thing, but he sounded a lot like Armsmaster, although that might have just been her imagination.

“Well, I was trying to find the loo, and got a bit turned around.” He did the little spin again, once again losing his balance and catching himself on Rachel’s bed. This time she laughed, despite being pretty tired from all the cheese and antics earlier. “I also met this lovely young lady! Was just telling her about the time I went to the moon, and fought that terrible coin-operated robot.”

“Wallace, you can’t just…this is a secure facility…I’m trying to…” He trailed off, then blinked at Rachel, as if seeing her for the first time. “Wait, did she laugh? Did you give her something?”

“Nope, I certainly didn’t.” He turned and winked at her, and she carefully hid his cheese-stained handkerchief under her blanket. “Right lass? Nothing more than a few tales, is all.”

“Yeah.” Rachel nodded, then let out a yawn that smelled suspiciously like a North Yorkshire dairy farm, but luckily the man in the suit didn’t seem to notice. “We were just talking.”

“I’d be very interested to know how you managed to take ‘down the hall, third door on the left’ and turn it into…ugh, never mind.” The man in the suit sighed, glancing between the two of them and smiling slightly. “I suppose I can’t argue with your results. Shall we go?”

“Certainly!” Wallace started to leave, but paused as Rachel let out a little sigh. He glanced back in her direction, silly grin returning. “Oh, but could I come back tomorrow as well?”

“Why?” He followed Wallace’s eyes to Rachel, and cocked his head slightly. “Aren’t you heading back home in a few days? Do you really want to spend tomorrow in the hospital?”

As it turned out, Wallace certainly did. 

Though the rest of the day was boring, the one that followed was nothing if not exciting. 

Rachel awoke the next day to find Wallace sitting beside her, chatting quietly with the man in the suit. This time he introduced himself as Colin, and admitted that he was Wallace’s cousin. 

Apparently Colin had burned a few bridges when he left home and came to America to join the PRT, especially when he hid his accent to fit in better. His parents had practically disowned him, and most of the family barely ever talked to him anymore, despite all his accomplishments.

But his dear cousin Wallace had continued to write letters and call him weekly. They remained friends through thick and thin, inspiring each other to make all kinds of strange inventions.

Although some of their craziest ones were built long before Colin ever came to the States…

“No! Don’t you even try to pin that one on me!” Colin was laughing at one point, his stodgy demeanor having vanished mere minutes into Wallace’s first story. “I just wanted to make a simple science fair project, but you had to add all that Rube Goldberg shit to it!”

“Bah, additional complexities gave it class and sophistication.” Wallace took a sip of tea he’d somehow snuck in. His little finger poked out as he winked at Rachel. “Besides, we won the science fair, didn’t we? First place, and a sizable cash prize, if I recall. You’re welcome!”

“Maybe, but we also got banned from ever participating again!” He threw up his hands, ignoring the other man’s self-satisfied smirk. “Now, if you want a real story, Rachel, listen here…”

Their strange stories lasted all day, interrupted only by a few meals, and she was more than a little sad when visiting hours were over. Half asleep, she muttered about how she hoped he had a nice trip home, and then darkness claimed her young mind.

Yet to her incredible surprise, the next day both were back again, as well as a third man. His name was Renick, and while he wasn’t related to either Wallis, he did have a lot of ribbons on his suit. He avoided looking directly at her or baring his teeth as well, which made her happy.

Later, that joy grew when Wallace shared an idea he’d had, one Rachel liked a lot. Not only would it get her out of the hospital, but it would mean spending even more time with Wallace.

Best of all, it would mean she’d finally get to meet Gromit! Rachel had heard so much about him, and had built up quite a few expectations based on Wallace’s tales.

There were a whole bunch of papers to sign and things she had to pretend to read, but Colin and Wallace were there with her every step of the way. 

That evening, the pair showed up in her hospital room, and escorted her to the roof.

She saw a beautiful sunset, ruined by the smelly city around them.

But hopefully she wouldn’t have to look at it for very long.

“So, any last minute questions?” Colin smoothed out his suit, looking carefully at Wallace and then turning to Rachel as she nodded. Her arm felt strange in the new cast he’d made for her, but at least it hid all the damage and blood. “Fire away. Strider should be here soon.”

“How long do I have to wear this thing?” She tapped the cast, and shivered. “It feels funny.”

The cast itself was a silvery blue metal, covering Rachel’s right arm from her lower bicep to her fingers, ending with a blunt nub. She only knew that her fingers were in there because she’d watched them put it on. A strap attached it to her shoulder, the sling and metal oddly lightweight.

“Rachel, that cast of yours is very special.” Colin stooped, as if to look into her eyes, but Wallace cleared his throat and instead he looked at the cast. “You have 24 broken bones from your elbow to your fingertips, and are in danger of permanent damage if you don’t protect yourself. Your safety matters to me, and my cousin here is… accident prone . So I—”

“Luckily, Colin here is chums with Armsmaster, and borrowed a bit of his armor to make this!” Wallace piped up, reaching down to tap on the metal. Rachel didn’t feel a thing, neither pain nor impact, and was amazed. “Blocks the nerves, and the metal’s unbreakable!”

“Well, not unbreakable . Just very, very tough. And waterproof. Probably fireproof…mostly.” Colin coughed, trailing off before shaking his head. “Anyway, just be careful, okay? The whole point of this is that you relax, away from capes and danger.”

Rachel looked up at him, hearing actual emotion in his voice, and wondered if this was actually a dream. She was about to go off on some grand adventure with a man who’d just come out of nowhere to save her.

No costume, no powers, just a strangely friendly fellow with an incredibly smart dog, taking her to a town that had no capes at all!

Not for the first time, she asked him if he was absolutely sure this was okay, and Wallace just grinned.

“Wigan, Lancashire…” Wallace sighed, eyes closing as he nodded. “You’re gonna love it, dear.”

Suddenly a man in a blue costume was beside them, Colin was waving goodbye, and then…

Her ears popped, and they were somewhere else. 62 West Wallaby Street, in fact.

Standing outside of a nice little cottage, one whose door flung itself open.

“Home sweet home!” Wallace cheered, kneeling slightly. “Gromit!”

Some… thing rushed out of the cottage, and hugged Wallace.

Whatever it was, it stood on two legs, and waved at her.

It looked like a dog, but acted more like a person.

Rachel couldn’t help but stare at Gromit.

Gromit stared back at Rachel.

“That is…not a dog.”

Wallace blinked.

“Wot?”

Chapter Text

Despite nearly having her arm torn off by one, Rachel still loved dogs more than anything in the world. 

She’d spent countless hours looking at them in books, far more interested in the pictures than any stupid words. TV and movies were good as well, though a lot of them were way too focused on people and barely ever on dogs. There were a few exceptions, though…

For instance, Lassie was smart enough to name the show after the star, and surrounded her with a bunch of really dumb people who always needed saving. It had been one of Rachel’s favorite shows, and more than once she considered running away from home to go to that farm. 

Given how frequently Timmy fell down a well or such, she was pretty sure they’d welcome her.

But when Rachel told her foster siblings, asking for her help finding the farm, they’d just laughed at her. Told her it was all fake, but she could see it right there on the screen, and that just made them laugh harder. Called her all kinds of names, and it got worse when they told their parents.

In the end, Rachel was left alone with her show, having learned to keep her dreams to herself.

Still, as much as she was jealous of him, Timmy was probably a decent kid, judging by how he interacted with Lassie. Over time, she came to realize that the best indicator of a person’s character was how they interacted with dogs, and in turn how those dogs reacted to them. 

Lassie obviously loved him enough to save him, and he was always super thankful.

It was one of the reasons she’d come to trust Wallace, despite only knowing him for a few days. Not only did he speak openly about the many times he’d screwed up and been saved by his dog, but the pictures he’d tried to show her of that dog were so worn she could barely see them.

Yet he’d been able to describe them perfectly, having looked at each so often that they were burned into his memory and overlaying reality. Or at least, that was how he’d explained them.

Rachel had a single picture of her mother, the one thing her foster families had never managed to take away from her. It was so worn down that now it looked more like a piece of shiny paper, but that was how she knew that Wallace was the real deal. 

Just like her, he’d taken out his picture so many times that it was worn down to almost nothing. He was so proud of Gromit, that he was constantly showing people pictures of their adventures.

Where photographic evidence failed, his words and hilarious stories more than made up the difference.

But now that she was actually seeing the dog firsthand, something was…off.

For one thing, he was walking on his hind legs, like a human.

“That’s not a dog.” Rachel repeated, carefully stepping behind her suitcases. Maybe this creature would trip over them when it came after her? Then she could run away, and maybe hide in one of these other houses… “What the hell is that thing? Some kinda monster?”

“Beg your pardon?” Wallace cocked his head, and with a curse Rachel realized she couldn’t just run away. She still owed him for the food, and he was helpless without her. Even now he looked straight at the creature, right into its beady little eyes. “Gromit, dear friend. You’re a dog, right?”

Gromit nodded.

“See? If he wasn’t a dog, I feel like he’d at least be a good enough chap to tell me so.”

Gromit stared at Rachel, and she stared right back as the silence grew longer and longer, only interrupted by distant thunder. She was certain that any moment now this creature would shed its disguise and attack her, and she wanted to be ready. 

Or maybe it would run, and…well, she wasn’t really sure what she’d do at that point. 

Chase it? You were supposed to chase bad things far away, right? 

Rachel used to chase cars when she was little.

And whenever she caught them, she’d—

“Ah, perhaps you could explain this to me, Rachel?” Wallace interrupted her train of thought, and she noticed that he was a little closer. “Because I have to admit, I’m a bit confused.”

With one of her arms already in a sling, it was easy to cross them and glare imperiously at Gromit, warning him to stay away. Probably scared of her size, he backed up a step, and she nodded once before turning back to Wallace. 

Frowning deeper than ever, she stabbed a finger at Gromit, gathered herself and then…

“That’s not a dog.” She repeated a third time, having once heard that things came in threes. She wasn’t sure what things specifically, but people were always accusing her of stuff so accusations were probably one of them. “I dunno what he is. Except not a dog. Definitely. Probably.”

“Interesting…” Wallace glanced between Rachel and Gromit, the latter raising an eyebrow. That should have been all the proof he needed, but instead the man asked, “ How is he not a dog?”

“How…is he not a dog?” She asked slowly, and he nodded patiently. “Um…because…”

Rachel briefly recalled some debate club nerd at one of the schools she’d been forced to attend shrieking about how you couldn’t ask someone to prove a negative for…some reason. Debate was stupid, because it was people arguing when they could have been fighting.

But this was a fight that had to be fought with words, which sucked because she was bad with words. On the plus side, it seemed like Gromit couldn’t actually talk. Technically that was a point in his favor, but was eradicated when the so-called dog crossed his arms and waited.

“Because dogs can’t do that!” She pointed at Gromit again, even though that hadn’t helped much before. In response, he rolled his eyes and sighed. “That too! They don’t roll their eyes or nod when you ask questions…he’s like a monster pretending to be a dog! He’s a not-dog!”

Wallace rocked back on his heels, obviously stunned by her powerful logic, deeply considering her words. Or at least that was what she assumed, since he didn’t reply immediately.

Thunder boomed overhead, now closer than before, and Rachel shivered involuntarily.

Not just because of the rain that began to fall, but something else on her mind.

Mere minutes into her new home, and she was already screwing it up.

The whole point of this was to get away from capes and danger and bullshit, and here she was acting like...but she just wanted to help Wallace and now...now he was probably pissed at her! His smile was gone and she just knew that he was probably regretting inviting her into his home.

Before she could decide whether to apologize or try a different argument, Wallace spoke up.

“Rachel, dear…standing out here in the rain won’t do any of us any good, right? How about we head inside, and I show you why I think he’s a dog?” Now he was right next to her, voice low as he carefully picked up one of their bags. She nodded quietly, muttering an apology. “Now, none of that. Never feel bad for speaking your mind, eh? Gromit, be a good lad and lend a hand, will you?”

The not-dog leapt into action, jogging towards them on his hind legs, and moving as easily as a person would. It was like he wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore!

He made eye contact with her, and she could have sworn he glared at her, teeth bared in a dark and nasty smile.

Remembering Rollo, she flinched away, a phantom pain rushing through her body.

She stumbled back a step, and would have fallen if Wallace’s hand hadn’t caught her. It was warm and soft, and she glanced up to see him smiling at her pleasantly, as if her whole loud argument had never happened. By the time she recovered her balance, the suitcase was gone and…

Gromit was walking away from them, carrying it while moving at a decent clip.

But the bag wasn’t in his mouth, like a dog was supposed to carry stuff.

It was in his front paws, like a human would carry a suitcase.

Rachel certainly wasn’t giving up on this, especially when she saw Gromit reach out and turn the knob to open the door with what definitely looked like opposable thumbs. As if to mock her, he turned back and saw her looking, tail wagging and brow ridge lifting, as he realized she was utterly failing to expose him.

For a moment, she considered stopping, since he’d probably try to silence her soon. Maybe it was better to run for help, and then come back and bask in Wallace’s thanks after she saved him from this evil little monster disguised as a dog?

More rain splashed down on her as she slowed, despite Wallace’s hand on her back.

But instead of pushing her along, he waited patiently for her to continue.

She wondered how long it would be before that changed…

Usually it only took a few weeks for foster families to reveal their true selves, the number of mistakes she made being a key factor. For instance, one family had given her yard work a few weeks in, then gotten mad at her every time she figured out a way to do them better.

The final straw had come from the idea she’d had while hedge trimming. Bored out of her skull, Rachel had realized that the smartest thing to do was to eliminate the plants altogether. After all, if there were no bushes, there’d be nothing to trim ever again! 

Yet instead of praising her for the ingenuity, they’d gotten mad and locked her in the garden shed that night. On the plus side, they never asked her to do yard stuff for them ever again.

Which was kind of too bad, because she’d found some gasoline in the shed, and that would have been perfect for getting rid of the lawn…

Still, if she had the choice, Rachel would take indoors with a strange monster creature over sleeping in a leaky shed any day of the week. Plus, her mood immediately lifted when she stepped inside, because the whole house smelled like bread, machine oil, metal, and…cheese!

But rather than finding some kind of bakery or…whatever the hell you called a cheese shop, she found something that was closer to a mad scientist’s lab. Except it was a whole house someone lived in, and way too small to be both at the same time.

Hadn’t stopped him from trying, and the whole place was a little bit daunting.

All over the walls were framed pictures, pipes, wires, and random junk, along with what looked like the sort of decorations she’d seen in restaurants her first foster family used to love. They used to drag her out there all the time to watch strange animal robots sing songs or have people wearing colorful clothes menace her with big white teeth and greasy food. Except here it looked like a bunch of this stuff wasn’t just nailed to the wall haphazardly, but for a purpose.

“There we go, now let’s just lock up.” Wallace turned around and stepped on a little plate just inside the door. “One of my first inventions, the Security Anti-thief Door-locker!”

Over the course of at least thirty seconds, Rachel watched as balls rolled, pipes spun, electricity crackled, a hamster ran in a wheel, and finally a little white-gloved hand lowered and closed the front door…then locked it.

“So it goes through all that, just to close and lock the door?” She turned to see Wallace looking at her, grinning happily and watching her intently for a reaction. It seemed like a lot of wasted effort to her, and she admitted, “That’s…sad.”

“Why yes! S-A-D!” He nodded proudly at her statement. “Rather clever with the acronyms, if I do say so myself.”

Feeling like she was missing something, Rachel shook her head as Wallace made an attempt at giving her a tour. He kept getting distracted by strange gadgets and half-finished inventions scattered around the house, but she got the gist of it.

The living room had a nice couch with only a few burns, a little doggy bed next to a beaten-up easy chair, and a television with a few cracks in it. Wallace admitted that the cracks had been his fault, a new invention intended to replace the remote control entirely!

“—unfortunately, it launched the blasted thing right at me!" He laughed, as if having a huge TV smash you into a wall was no big deal. Yesterday he'd told a tale about some mechanical trousers and a few other inventions going wild or exploding, making her wonder if maybe he had some kind of healing invention. How else could such an ordinary person survive so much wild adventure and danger? “Luckily my latest invention is far safer. An investor has me creating a robot suit to shuck corn, for the upcoming harvest festival.”

As much as she wanted to say how strange that sounded, Rachel was a guest and figured she was already in hot water for earlier. Sure, he'd claimed it was okay to speak her mind, but with how excited he was to talk about his inventions, she just nodded and kept her dumb mouth shut this time.

Speaking of inventions, he warned her that his basement lab was off-limits, only giving her a glance at the stairs leading down to it. It looked so crammed with boxes and gadgets that she wasn’t sure how he got down there, let alone got out.

From there he showed her the kitchen, cluttered and filled with crumbs, but generally clean. Her belly rumbled almost as loud as his, drawing a smile from both as he promised they’d be eating quite soon.

“After all, my cousin left me quite a list of nutritional requirements for my little house guest.” He waved a paper at her, then stuck it on the fridge with a magnet. Rachel couldn’t read any of it, but saw a lot of words that she expected would taste terrible. “Of course, he also mentioned that you needed plenty of dairy for strong bones…like…”

What Rachel had taken to be a simple closet door opened wide to reveal a heavenly smell, bright light, and what sounded like a chorus of angels as she beheld several delicious-looking wheels of cheese…

Strangely, the chorus of angels kept going even as she stopped looking at the cheese.

“ Aaaaaaahhhhh ,” She turned to see that Wallace was making a soft yet high-pitched noise, though he stopped as she looked at him oddly. He coughed, then cleared his throat and closed the door. “Sorry, I got caught up in the moment. Heavenly scent, that. Onwards with the tour!”

Rachel carefully followed him through the cramped kitchen, looking warily at the various ingredients and kitchen gadgets. Many of them were his inventions and had silly names attached to them, but her greatest worry came from the more ordinary devices. It must have shown on her face, because after only a few minutes Wallace was asking what was wrong.

“Nothing!” She was already worried about him sending her back after their little argument earlier, so the last thing Rachel wanted was to risk alienating him so soon. But his soulful gaze eventually eroded her self-control, and she admitted, “I’m not great with kitchen machines.”

“You and me both, lass!” Wallace chuckled, tapping what looked like a rotund robot with a blender for a head. It looked like someone had pulled the wires out of its back and shredded them. “So I built the Autochef! I keep meaning to fix the lad up, but the wires are always getting chewed up by rats or such. Strangest thing…but what about you?”

“One time, one of my foster parents asked me to make him a protein shake, but I forgot to put the lid on the blender. It painted the ceiling brown, and then he got really mad and…” She trailed off, remembering how other people always reacted to this story’s end. Instead, Rachel laughed a big fake laugh, and finished, “Anyway, that’s why I’m not usually allowed in the kitchen.”

“Well, just so you know, I’m not going to get mad at you for messing up. Mistakes happen, lass.” Wallace lied, and she really wanted to believe him, but people always said stuff like that. Before she could reply, he pointed her at a picture on the wall. “I’m a disaster in the kitchen, so it’s a good thing Gromit’s quite the chef!”

“Wow, that’s…” She trailed off, focusing on the picture. In it, she could see what looked like some sort of pie contest, with Wallace coated in white flour while Gromit held up a pie with a blue ribbon on it. “Doesn’t it seem strange that he can make pies and cook so easily?” 

“Not one bit!” He pulled another picture off the wall, handing it over. “Why, just look at this!”

Like most of the pictures in their home, this was another with Wallace and Gromit standing together. But while she couldn’t read the sign behind them, it wasn’t hard to understand the rest of the picture, even if the actual context made no sense to her. 

Wallace and Gromit were both celebrating something, the former in a suit with his arm around the latter, who wore some kind of dark robe and a square-looking hat with a tassel.

Putting aside the fact that dogs didn’t normally wear clothes, the larger point of confusion for her was the rolled up paper Gromit was proudly holding.

Both looked incredibly happy, but she wasn’t really sure why. Luckily, Wallace must have known that she was stupid, and explained.

“Part of the reason Gromit’s so smart when it comes to gadgets is that he’s very well-trained.” 

Okay, that made sense. Rachel knew that some dogs could be trained to do all kinds of—

“Got a double first in Engineering from Dogwarts University! I’m so proud of him!”

“What?” Her train of thought derailed. “Like…he got a college degree?”

“Oh right, you’re from the States.” Wallace paused, tapping his temple as he tried to translate his country’s system of education for her. “Yes, it’s effectively a college degree, but he was at the top of his class. Even graduated well ahead of most other dogs…are you familiar with the term summa cum laude ?”

Rachel shook her head, but held up a hand as Wallace appeared ready to launch into a really complex explanation that would probably go so far over her head that it would knock that Bird Lady Endbringer out of the sky. “Look, I can see he’s really smart and all, but doesn’t that prove I’m right? Most dogs can’t do that. Most dogs are just…dogs.”

“I suppose it just doesn’t matter to me.” Wallace shrugged, not a hint of concern in his eyes as he looked off into the distance. “Gromit is loyal, kind, patient, and intelligent. He’s always willing to help me, constantly looks out for my well being, and loves me with every ounce of his heart. Gromit’s family, and I love him because—”

But before he could continue to praise the dog, a brown blur slammed into his legs. Arms thrown wide, Gromit buried his doggy face in the man’s knees, letting out little whimpers.

“Oh, there he is! Hey lad, what’s all the fuss about?” Wallace knelt awkwardly, petting his dog as huge puppy eyes glistened up at him. “Ah, I’ll bet it’s just dusty in that guest room, eh? Sorry, Rachel, I called Gromit yesterday and asked him to tidy up our old guest room for you. Suppose he was just finishing it up now? Good work, lad.”

Feeling a little uncomfortable at the outpouring of affection, she trudged past the pair and towards the room in question. Something twisted inside her as Wallace continued to comfort Gromit, reminding her of earlier thoughts on the relationship between Lassie and Timmy.

As she walked, Rachel wondered why it mattered so much whether Gromit was a dog or not? 

She lived in a world of people with superpowers who could turn into all kinds of creatures and create monsters. At the same time, some of the most horrible dangers she’d experienced had come from those who looked perfectly ordinary despite the horror and hatred within them.

Even Rollo, adorable little puppy that he’d been, turned out to have darkness lurking in him…

Or had she made him that way, with her horrible new power?

Rachel shook her head, trying to push away those terrible thoughts and to focus on the present. Just like every other new home she’d been to, this would likely be a room that was barely fit for a person, much less a child. Yet when she opened the door, Rachel found herself in…

Heaven.

True, the closet was filled almost to bursting, several heavy wooden boards nailed into the wall to keep it shut. And yes, the bed was barely big enough for her, with bright pink and red sheets.

Also, Gromit had already unpacked her bags, filling the scratched up dresser to the brim…

But all her attention was focused on the walls, or rather on the wall paper .

Dogs, as far as the eye could see. 

It looked like someone had taken hundreds of pictures of dogs, and used quite a bit of glue to stick them to the walls from floor to ceiling. Every possible breed and shape and size, more than she’d ever seen in one place. Even the ceiling had a bunch on it, and she was still staring up at them when Wallace spoke up, startling her slightly.

“Hope you don’t mind, but I was taking notes when you talked about the things you liked, back at the hospital.” He held up a little notepad, waving it slightly as her eyes slowly focused on it. Beside him, Gromit pulled a similar notepad out of…somewhere, waving it around with one hand while the other wiped at his eyes. “Gromit’s been preparing this room for you ever since I gave him a call, and I have to say he’s really outdone himself. Do you like it?”

Rachel nodded slowly, unable to put words to the feelings swimming through her. This was more than any foster family had ever done for her, and she felt lighter than air for a few moments.

She barely noticed as Wallace said something and trundled off, leaving before she could thank him. Words escaped her, just like they always did, and she felt…bad about that.

But when she looked up, starting to rise to seek him out, Rachel saw Gromit in the doorway. He was staring at her oddly, glancing away as she looked at him.

From the direction of the kitchen, she could hear Wallace bumping around, Gromit’s ears twitching in that direction.

Ah. He’d probably heard what she’d said about him, and was mad at her for calling him a not-dog.

“Sorry.” Rachel muttered, crouching slightly and holding out her hand. His eyes flicked at her again, but he didn’t approach. Instead he just waited patiently, and she continued. “I guess I was just…surprised. You don’t really act like a dog, and that sort of confused me.”

Gromit finally looked at her, brows raising as he cocked his head slightly. She got the distinct feeling that he was saying, “Is that it? That’s your apology? For calling me a monster and a not-dog?”

“I’m not good at this stuff, okay?” She looked down at the floor, noting a bunch of odd round indentations in the carpet. “The last time I trusted a weird-looking dog, it turned out bad. His name was Rollo, and nobody loved him but me. I gave him food and tried to use my power to save him, but he killed my foster family and nearly bit my arm off and I’m so stupid —“

Something wet rubbed against her hand, and she looked up through swimming eyes to see Gromit pressing his nose against it. He sniffed at her, likely picking up scents of the hospital, Wallace’s special cheese, and Wallace himself.

He seemed to like what he smelled, because after a moment he licked her hand. Then he turned to her cast, and started sniffing that as well. 

She hadn’t used her power since Rollo, but now Rachel couldn’t help it as a tiny sliver of energy passed between them.

It was only the faintest of echoes, a reverberation that reminded her of the sound when her piano teacher would give the school’s old piano a tune-up. It sounded like a dog howling, or maybe a growl deep in the throat of a wild animal, but she’d only heard it once before. 

Even now it filled her with a sense of power and danger and fear as she remembered Rollo—

Rachel slammed the power off, still just as afraid of using it as she’d been back at the PRT, no matter how much they assured her it was safe. She’d confirmed that it only worked on dogs, since no other animal made that sound that nobody else could hear, but that was it.

She refused to use her power ever again, no matter how bad things got. It had turned Rollo into a monster and hurt a lot of people and nearly killed her…and that scared her a lot.

But for just a brief moment, she had understood Gromit, and realized that she’d been wrong .

Gromit was definitely a dog according to her power, despite acting really strange.

Something that was driven home as he reached out and shook her hand.

She couldn’t help it. Rachel laughed, and shook his hand back.

He smiled, more like a human than a dog, but whatever.

Soon, the pair of them were eating lunch with Wallace, the inventor doing most of the talking as all three snacked on bread, cheese, and some healthy stuff that Gromit actually made tasty.  Rachel still felt worried about the future, but no more than usual, and had plenty of questions to keep herself distracted for the time being. For instance...  

“Hey, what are all those strange marks in the carpet of my room?” It felt strange to call it her room, since she was just a guest, but neither seemed to mind. A moment later she laughed, worry forgotten as Gromit held up a dog-sized pogo stick. “Wait, a pogo stick? Seriously?”

Gromit’s tail wagged as Wallace explained their brief stint as painters, using a variety of his inventions that mostly worked sometimes. Unfortunately, a series of mishaps and explosions had brought that particular venture to an end, but left both with a particular set of skills.

Watching Gromit leap and bounce around the kitchen now, she was entirely convinced it had been worth it.

Speaking of convincing, as soon as the other two were done eating, Rachel was on her feet and trying to clear the table. She’d been rude to both of them earlier, and knew she had limited time to convince them not to get rid of her.

But once again, Wallace’s inventions surprised her, and he was there to help load all their dishes into some strange contraption. According to him, it was called a dishwasher, and did what the name said.  Before she could praise him for inventing something with a simple name, the most unbelievable thing of all happened.  

“So, that storm looks like it cleared up, and it's a beautiful day…” Wallace grinned at Rachel, spreading his hands. “What do you want to do, lass?”

Just like her favorite flavor, that was a question she rarely got. Usually, foster families told her to do things, and she did them or else .

For a brief second, she wondered if this was some kind of test, except...what if this really wasn't some kind of test?

After the room earlier she knew Gromit liked her, and Wallace had been nothing but kind and caring so far.

Her eyes fell across a scratched up frisbee, and she heard a tapping noise as Gromit’s tail wagged.

Well, she still sort of owed the beagle for being mean earlier, and it was a beautiful day...

Minutes later, they were playing at the dog park, having a wonderful time together.

After all, Rachel still loved dogs more than anything in the world.

And Gromit was definitely, probably a dog.

Chapter Text

Rachel was bored.

It was raining outside, Wallace was away, and she was bored.

Normally boredom was easy to deal with, but now things were different…

Home One had sort of thrown their hands in the air, first-time fosters and having no idea what to do with her. They took her out to colorful playgrounds and loud venues, trying to give her a hundred options. But all it did was overwhelm Rachel, replacing her boredom with anxiety.

Home Two had a lot more freedom, her several foster siblings all doing their own thing and leaving Rachel to do the same. That meant wandering in the woods, chasing cars and squirrels, and generally finding her own fun. Even when she got bored, it was pretty easy to exhaust herself and then sleep would come and bring a brand new day of possibilities.

But Home Three had been the exact opposite, and why she never complained of being bored. 

The lady who’d taken care of her would always get this look in her eyes, as if Rachel had insulted her by saying that, and then things got bad. She’d go off on a rant about good books (bullshit, books were stupid) and how idle hands made you the devil or something.

In no time, she’d load Rachel up with chores and work, usually giving some to her siblings as well. Then they’d get annoyed at her, even the few times the lady didn’t remind them that their punishment was Rachel’s fault. It was one of the reasons they were always tattling on her, sometimes even pinning their mistakes on her, just to get praise and watch her suffer.

On the plus side, very little of the last few years were spent bored, because she was either busy as hell, hungry, or sleeping. That lady was always taking Rachel’s food away and dumping it, or locking her in the punishment closet where there was nothing better to do than sleep.

But in the week since she’d been with Wallace and Gromit, Rachel had noticed a distinct lack of all that. Not just a lack of food-stealing and punishment, but a total lack of boredom overall.

If anything, they kept shoving food at her, forcing the girl to eat three or more meals a day.

And as for punishment, they hadn’t hit her once, even when she deserved it!

Instead, the only thing Wallace was beating was her expectations , as each day had been more fun than the last. He was always introducing her to new people, and even though some were kind of threatening it only took a few whispers from Wallace before they apologized. 

It was strange, having people apologize to her as if they’d made a mistake, since she was used to stuff being her fault. Eventually Rachel just assumed they were lying to make her feel better.

It helped that everyone in this place had really funny accents, which made them even harder to figure out. But luckily Gromit was smarter than all of them and spent a lot of time standing behind people as an interpreter. 

He’d wave his paws around and make faces, and it helped. Even better, sometimes he’d hold up props and stuff, turning every conversation into a game of charades.

But a few accents were too thick for even Gromit, and he’d just shrug.

For instance, one guy yesterday wore a plaid skirt and had this screeching bag he kept blowing into, for some reason. Wallace was taking another shot at some invention called a Pianomatic, which had been a petrol-powered mechanized piano, piquing Rachel’s interest at first. Even if she'd hated being forced to learn the piano, it got her away from other kids and was kind of fun, but Wallace had some disappointing news for her about the invention.

Namely, that it had backfired on itself and exploded, but rather than give up he was now working on a commission to create a Bagomatic , as he called it. It had some bellows attached, and a bunch of other odd parts that would play the bag automatically. Apparently the man in the skirt wanted to play a duet with himself, and that was...interesting.

But no matter how interested she was in the invention, Rachel found it hard to concentrate because of the man’s strange words and the shrieking noises coming from his bag. Even worse, she could see that the noise was hurting Gromit, but he refused to leave Wallace’s side.

Given that the man’s inventions had a habit of exploding, that made sense…but it still hurt her to see him so dedicated and in pain. She wanted to help him, but didn’t know how to do it.

A week or two earlier, Rachel would have just grabbed the nasty bag and smashed it, or run away with it to save her new friend from his tormentor…

But now, for whatever reason, she’d tried a completely different approach.

Rachel told Wallace how she felt, pointed at Gromit, and then waited.

Instead of ignoring her, or something worse, he apologized.

Rachel and Gromit got fancy headphones that blocked out all sound, and suddenly things were so much better. She could hang around and watch, and Gromit hugged her for some reason.

Well, she knew the reason, but it still felt kind of strange to have people thanking her. All she’d done was try to help a friend, it didn’t seem like she really deserved that much thanks.

The Bagomatic eventually left with the man in the skirt, and only then had Wallace let out a great big sigh, turning to the confused Rachel and Gromit.

“Lovable fellow, but that bagpipe is like nails on a chalkboard.” He’d groaned, slumping into the couch. “Plus, I can’t understand a word he says!” 

Despite his confusion over the reason, he joined Rachel and Gromit as they burst into laughter.

Still, explosives and screechy noises aside, most of his inventions were pretty cool. Her favorite so far was the one Wallace had spent the last week working on, the robot suit for shucking corn. 

He called it his Corn-Opening Robot uNiform , but said the name was still a work in progress.

“Not a fan of having to pronounce that third N as a capital letter, y’know.” He’d pointed at a chalkboard just littered with words and letters, confusing her. “Still, I like calling it a CORN.”

Gromit had just shaken his head, trading a look with her that often crossed his doggy face when Wallace’s inventions came up. It was mostly exasperation, but also a hint of inspiration. More than once she’d seen the beagle working on his own creations, and they were far simpler. For instance, some kind of armor like Wallace's CORN, but smaller and not made from a bunch of bicycles and other random parts.

While she wasn’t a tinker, Rachel was glad that at least one of them preferred things simple. Most of Wallace’s creations were far over-engineered for whatever problem they were solving. Kind of like using a sledgehammer to crack a walnut…

But in a way, that made them more fun to her, since they were far more creative than anything she’d seen before. Like something out of a wild dream, brought to life!

Every invention had an amazing story behind it, or some sort of grand adventure at the heart of its creation. No matter how old or strange the device was, Wallace was just as excited about it as he’d been the day he created it, and happy to regale her with the tale.

Perhaps someday she’d have stories of her own like that, instead of bad memories that made people sad. They bugged her too, but it wasn’t like she could just pretend they hadn’t happened. She’d tried that at school, when teachers asked about her bruises, and it never worked.

On the other hand, those memories seemed to be fading with every passing day, more like an old nightmare now than terrible life-changing experiences. Maybe there would even come a day where she’d forgotten them entirely?

Speaking of forgetting things, it took a moment for Rachel to realize she’d forgotten how bored she was. The day had started off rather nice, but now it was raining outside and quiet inside.

After breakfast this morning, Wallace had put on his rain slicker and told her he was going on some errands. He asked if she needed anything, and Rachel immediately shook her head, to avoid being needy. For a moment it looked like he would push her, but then he just smiled.

Instead, he began to tell her where he was going, just in case she thought of something.

It was something he did a lot, telling her about his plans, usually in great detail.

It was strange, and sort of made her want to join him, sometimes.

“—and then a short nip to the shops, restock our cheese.” Wallace had said, stretching his legs and grimacing. “Gromit’s not allowed inside, so I’ll be getting quite the workout. Too bad our Guided Trolley forgot to look both ways on its last mission. The poor fellow went all to pieces!”

Rather than question any of that, Rachel had joined Gromit on the couch to watch cartoons. They were different from the ones she was used to, but she had to admit that they were fun. Back home all the cartoons were about capes and monsters, for instance.

One of her favorite new ones was about some annoying kids, and something with time? Luckily it also had Harriet the Heron and Osbourne the Owl, or she'd have given up on anything cool happening.

An hour later, they were over and Wallace was still gone, so she turned to Gromit for entertainment. He was enjoying the newspaper, but not in the way most dogs did.

“Having fun?” She asked, and he lowered it to look at her. A pair of tiny half-moon glasses were perched on his large nose, and from the pencil in one of his paws he appeared to have been doing a crossword puzzle. He offered it to her. “Oh, no…I’m not good with…words. Sorry.”

Over the last few days Rachel had found herself talking to Gromit more and more, and she wasn’t sure why. Talking to people had always made her feel terrible, and aside from Wallace, Colin, and her mother, none had ever really seemed to listen to her.

But Gromit? For some reason, she trusted him, and not just because he was a dog. 

He was a dog who acted like a human, and yet…couldn’t talk.

She was constantly telling him stuff that normally made her angry or embarrassed, and there wasn’t an ounce of judgment in his eyes. He didn’t blackmail her, didn’t give her stupid platitudes, and not once had he tried to hurt her. Not even when she probably deserved it.

But most of all, she kept coming back to that silence. The fact that he was incapable of speech actually made him one of her favorite beings in the entire world.

Even now he just raised an eyebrow, which on a human probably would have pissed her off, because it was asking for more without saying the words. Yet it didn’t take more than a few seconds for her to sigh and admit, “I can’t read.”

Now both eyebrows went up, surprise and some amount of curiosity. He used those a lot on her, and it didn’t bother Rachel as much as it did with people. 

“I mean, I recognize some words, like Stop on a stop sign, and I know the alphabet. But I never really learned…where are you going?”

Out of nowhere, Gromit had dropped the newspaper, then hopped up and rushed out of the room.

She could hear boxes being knocked over, cloth sliding against cloth, and papers being flipped. What was especially odd was the fact that it was coming from several parts of the house, as if the dog was hunting around for various things. Finally, there was a loud thump that almost had her rushing to find him, but Gromit returned mere moments later.

Or at least she thought that was Gromit?

It looked like a pile of colorful clothing, stuffed animals, books, papers, and two Gromit-like ears poking out of the top of it. Rachel almost laughed as the pile shuffled around, ears pointing one way or the other before the whole mess was finally dumped on the ground at her feet.

Underneath it all was Gromit, who thrust something thin and colorful in her direction as he flopped onto the couch.

He looked tired, but from how his tail was wagging she could tell that he was also very pleased.

Rachel couldn’t say the same for herself, because the thing he’d given her was a book .

“Didn’t you hear me? I can’t read.” She tried to hand it back, but Gromit shook his head, then jumped a little as thunder boomed outside. “Why? I’m just gonna fail! I always fail!”

He cocked his head at her, and she began to tell him a terrible story.

Home One had given her books and candy, trying to teach her to read, and she’d failed.

Home Two had teased her, calling her names as if trying to motivate her, and then turning to violence when she failed.

Home Three had been the worst of all, though. The lady used to act like Rachel was doing this on purpose, that she was only pretending to be stupid, and got her teachers in on it as well. All the time they’d make her get up in class and fail, just so everyone could laugh at her.

Then after class, her classmates would keep going, and she’d have to beat the shit out of them to make them stop. But she was always the one who got in trouble, every single time!

Gromit didn’t seem to understand it either, and hugged her as she finally ran out of breath. The anger started to fade, his soft fuzzy fur relaxing Rachel after a while.

Eventually, he stepped back, saying nothing as she wiped her face with one arm and sniffled.

She thanked him, and then looked back down at the book in her lap.

Gromit started to reach for it, but she got there first.

“Okay, I’ll try.” She grumbled, though it was hard to stay mad with Gromit beside her, and even harder with such a silly book in her hands. On the cover of the book was a very strange cartoon dog in a bow tie, gloves, and a big striped hat. “Here we go…”

Like the cover, Page 1 had pictures and words, the former being a house with two people in it. 

It sort of reminded her of her own situation, trapped in a house while it rained, and she began to read. Or at least, she tried to read…and failed, just like she always did.

But unlike before, this time she wasn’t alone.

“The…ssssss…sssss…” She trailed off, already feeling like an idiot and sounding like a tire losing air. But rather than laugh at her or smack her with a ruler like the teachers at her last school had, Gromit dove into the pile of stuff and soon emerged with a yellow ball. He held it overhead with one paw, the other putting a pair of sunglasses on. “Sun? The sun?”

Gromit’s tail wagged, and he gave her a big thumbs up. Which was sort of strange, since she was pretty sure he didn’t have thumbs, but that feeling of confusion was swiftly overcome by pride at having guessed the word.

For a brief moment, she could almost feel it in her mind, memories of warm sunshine filling her as she stared at the word on the page. It reminded her of all the times she’d snuck away from Home Two, playing in open fields under the sun, occasionally getting shocked by wire fences.

“The sun. The sun.” She burned it into her mind, smiling as she heard Gromit’s tail wag. “Sun.”

Rachel had always been good at memorizing things, and her first foster family used to praise her for it, back before their expectations skyrocketed and transformed into disappointment.

Both good and bad memories were almost dwarfed by a sense of hopelessness, as she realized that she was only two words in and there were at least twenty more on the page. 

But it wasn’t like she had anything better to do, and besides…this was actually kind of fun.

It sort of reminded her of Wallace’s stories, with an unconventional solution to a tough problem, and Gromit right there to help. This couldn’t compare to going to the moon or solving a crazy were-rabbit problem, but even their most exciting tales had to start somewhere.

Galvanized by both the dog’s presence and her own sense of adventure, Rachel pushed on. 

With every word that made her stumble, Gromit found something in the pile to help. 

Soon, the entire difficult page lay bare before her mighty powers of literacy.

Just for the hell of it, she confidently read the page, one more time.

“—so we sat in the house all that cold, cold, wet day!” She finished, proudly turning the page as Gromit applauded. Rachel took a moment to give him a little bow, then glanced at Page Two…

Her smile froze on her face, because the second page had twice as many words on it, and the picture had almost no clues! It was a bicycle and a bunch of balls...

Wait.

She flipped back a page, remembering the word all had been there, then returned to Page 2. There was an all , and another word that had all in it with a B at the start. 

Her finger stabbed at the word, “That’s ball! Right? Right?”

Gromit clapped for her, nodding happily as his tail went wild for her accomplishment.

But only a few words into the page, she was down in the dumps again, failing .

“I sat there with…sssss…sssss…” She was back to hissing. “Sss…shit!”

Gromit was digging through his pile, but couldn’t seem to find what he wanted. After a minute he held up a paw and ran off, banging and crashing as he hunted for a solution to the problem. 

Powerless, Rachel just glared at the word, as if she could intimidate it into revealing itself.

When that failed, she considered throwing the book at the wall, but held back.

She knew Gromit would be disappointed, and after she’d come so far.

So instead of fighting or quitting or getting angry, Rachel tried to start over. First, she reread the first page, to remind herself of the confidence and success she’d felt moments earlier. Then, after a deep breath to settle her nerves, Rachel tried to be smart like Wallace, and figure it out. 

Okay, the word started with an S , like sun , shine , so , and sat from Page 1. 

Just like sat , it had an A as the second letter. Which meant that the word probably sounded like Saaaa -something. Sat, Sap, Sad …she knew a bunch of those words.

The problem was that the next two letters were both L . In her whole twenty minutes of reading experiences, Rachel had only ever seen two Ls next to each other, and that had been All . 

“Sssaaalllll? Sawl?” No, that didn’t sound like a word. Maybe a name? “Saul?”

Okay, that was closer, she had a classmate called Saul once, but his name had a U in it, so that had to be wrong. Plus, this word had a Y at the end, and Sauly sounded wrong.

She shook her head, and flipped back a page to start over. Reading Page One gave her a surge of confidence again, and this time she barreled right through to Page Two. That was how smart people did it, just reading page after page like it was easy, because they weren’t stupid.

“I sat there with Sauly…wait. I sat there with…Sally? No. That can’t be a name…”

In the end, Rachel decided to just skip the word. Maybe she’d get lucky and this character would die at some point, and then their name wouldn’t matter anyway. People died in movies all the time, so there was a pretty good chance it would happen here, as well.

After that, warm accomplishment filled her as the next few words blazed by. “We sat there…we…tuh. Tuh…what the fuck is that? T-W-O ? The fuck? How does T-W work?”

Gromit chose that moment to come back, out of breath and holding a video tape. He stuck it in the TV, pressed a bunch of buttons, and a screen came up with the S-word on it. People started singing, and one of them was that girl from Wizard of Oz, except her hair was blonde now.

Then they reached a song and he started tapping the page each time they said a certain word.

“Sally?” She cocked her head, surprised that really was a name. “I sat there with Sally? Okay, got it. But what about this one?”

Gromit tapped his chin for a moment, then held up two paws.

“Paws? I mean, it has a W , but where’s the P? ” He pointed at the bathroom, and she laughed. Rachel lightly whapped him, then scratched behind his ears. “But seriously, I don’t get this one. I thought if there was more than one of something, it had an S at the end?”

In response, Gromit dug another book out of the pile, opening it up to what looked like a bunch of numbers. He tapped a claw on one of them, then another on the strange T-word.

TWO was 2! Although now Rachel was wondering why some words were also numbers. Maybe she’d ask Wallace later, after he was done being impressed by her new reading skills. 

That brought her up short, as she wondered why he was the first person she’d thought about.

It wasn’t normal for her to feel good about something, and want to impress other people.

With the other foster families, whenever she did something well they’d be happy for a few seconds…but then immediately ask her to do something even tougher. That was when the disappointment would return, reminding her that she didn’t deserve to feel good about stuff.

Normally, good emotions were like the rare hot showers she used to get in Home Two.

At any moment, one of the parents might burst into the bathroom and turn off the hot water, ignoring her shrieking and then punishing Rachel for wasting hot water. Same with her siblings, who would always flush the toilet or torment her, then she’d get yelled at for making a mess.

Eventually she just stopped using hot water, taking quick showers to avoid more disasters. Much the same, she avoided doing things intended to impress, because eventually that joy she got from success would be pulled out of her.

But Wallace had yet to do any of that to her, it was like he actually wanted her to feel good.

Instead of letting her be happy and snatching it away, he…cared about her.

She wanted to show him what she’d learned, let him see that he wasn’t nearly as stupid as he probably thought she was. To let him see that she could learn, and he didn’t have to get rid of her like everyone else did. But at the same time, she almost felt like she didn’t need to do that.

Rachel had screwed up so many little things over the last week or so, and Wallace had just laughed them all off. It was like he didn’t even care that she was a dumb failure…

She was free to make mistakes, and he liked her despite her many flaws.

For the first time in years, she felt…

Grand. 

There was probably a better word for it, but Grand was the one Wallace always used for good things. She looked down at the book, realizing that if she kept reading them, she’d learn more words. Gromit was helping her, in more ways than one, and that made her feel grand as well. 

So grand that some of the happy feeling welled up in her chest, and she had trouble breathing for a moment. Her eyes even watered a bit, probably from holding it all in like this.

Gromit was right there with a tissue, and his hug only made the warm feeling stronger.

But eventually she pushed him away, mumbling her thanks as his tail wagged.

Then she went back to the book, and finished just as Wallace came home.

He was so happy to hear about the fun they’d had, because for the first time in her life reading really had been fun. Then Wallace told her about a few of his favorite books, and something amazing happened. Not just the delicious dinner they ate, but Wallace offered to read to her .

He called them ‘bedtime stories,’ and she dimly remembered the phrase from somewhere…

Home Two she’d heard one foster sibling being teased by the others for wanting a bedtime story. They’d called the boy a little baby, asking him if he wanted to be tucked in as well, and laughing like the whole concept was dumb. She’d just assumed they were right…

But now Rachel was coming to realized that they’d been fucking idiots, because having Gromit tuck her in and Wallace read to her was the best thing ever.

He did all kinds of silly voices, while Gromit acted a bunch of stuff out for her, and she fell asleep in no time.

In her dreams, she went on an adventure with Wallace and Gromit, both in big striped hats.

The next day, it was bright and sunny outside, and they all went to the park together…

Where Rachel sat on a bench, and read a book about a very hungry caterpillar.

Chapter Text

“—of course I warned them all that it would be nothing but trouble, lass. Holding it at Tottingham Hall was just asking for problems, and do you know what happened?”

Rachel blinked, then realized that Police Constable Mackintosh actually seemed to be waiting for an answer. He stared at her, his great bushy mustache quivering as he waited. Finally, she ventured a guess, “What happened was…nothing but trouble?”

“Exactly! This lass gets it!” A roar of laughter went up in the police station, and Mackintosh nodded as if he hadn’t repeated that same phrase a dozen times. He tipped his conical hat at her, the same one everyone else was wearing, and gestured at a blond. “So Dibbins will be replacing me in a few months, and this’ll become his mess. Does that answer your question?”

“Not really.” That got another round of laughter, and the crowd began to break up into smaller groupings of the townsfolk whose names she only dimly recalled. Even after a month in Wigan, Rachel was still a little lost on just who certain people were, hence Wallace’s idea to bring her along to this party. “What does any of that have to do with telling me where the bathroom is?”

“Eh? Wassat, then? What was your question?” Mackintosh leaned closer, poking a finger in his ear and frowning. “Bathroom? Sorry lass, must have misheard you. The loo’s over there.”

She realized that the people standing in a line at the far end of the room had been people waiting to use the bathroom, and felt kind of stupid for not figuring that out sooner. Especially after wasting time on that long story, politely sipping at her punch to occupy herself.

It had been really tasty, and helped Rachel keep her promise to Wallace that she’d try to stop just walking away from people when she got bored. Luckily, Mackintosh turned away from her to chat with someone else, giving her an excuse to go get in line.

Feeling like she was trying to keep a litre of water in a pint-sized jug, Rachel only lasted a few minutes in that line. She tried to distract herself by looking at Wanted Posters, but someone had put silly ones up as decorations for the party, and they were making her laugh.

For instance, there was a very angry-looking penguin in one, and another had what was supposedly a green saltwater crocodile. Someone had even given the penguin a funny name, and as she giggled Rachel realized she wasn’t going to last all the way to the front of the line.

By the time her brain caught up with the rest of her, she was already climbing out a window.

Unlike toilets, you didn’t have to wait in line to use a tree, and it was quieter outside.

A minute later, a very relieved Rachel stepped out from behind the tree and—

“Woof!” She was glad she’d already gone, because having Gromit just appear like that would definitely have led to an accident otherwise. He looked out of breath, and it took her a moment to realize that he’d been worried about her, given how she just jumped out a window. “Woof?”

“Hey. Sorry about running off like that, I really had to go.” He cocked his head, then gave a delicate sniff and stared at what she’d done before nodding. Gromit started to walk back to the party, but turned around when he realized she wasn’t following. “Can we stay out here a bit?”

A person might have asked why, or tried to trick her or guilt her into coming back inside. Most people didn’t like being outside or away from big groups, they felt safer in a loud pack…

But Gromit wasn’t like that, and he knew her pretty well after a month. So instead of staying beside her or going to get Wallace, he pointed at a nearby bench.

It was halfway between the trees and the party, and visible from the windows. After a few moments, the pair were seated together on the bench, Rachel petting Gromit and Gromit waving at the partygoers. One even took a picture of the pair, but otherwise they were left alone.

“Thanks, it was getting kind of…overwhelming in there.” Gromit didn’t say anything, and after a few moments Rachel realized he didn’t need an explanation. He knew by now that sometimes she just needed a break from big, loud, chaotic stuff, and he accepted that. “Thanks.”

Gromit leaned into her skritches, and they sat there side-by-side, enjoying the faint sounds of PC Mackintosh’s party. Neither could really go anywhere until Wallace was ready to leave, and judging from the sound of his laughter and singing, he’d be a while.

But eventually the party started to quiet down, and that meant it was probably almost time to go.

“Oi! Here you two are!” As if on cue, Wallace approached just as Rachel was starting to doze off. She noticed he had three plated slices of cake in his hands, and passed them out as he explained, “You missed the cutting of the cake and the singing, but that’s okay. Looks like you two found the best seats in the house! Mind if I join you?”

She nodded, and he plopped down beside her before quietly telling her about the party. He was also getting better at recognizing her moods, and seemed to know that she was a little somber.

Rachel wasn’t sure why, but something about this party made her feel kind of sad…

Still, it was tough to feel sad with Wallace around, and he was happy as ever. 

Earlier she’d seen him making the rounds with a variety of people inside. Everyone seemed to know the man in one fashion or another, though not all appeared happy to see him. Yet they all were willing to put that aside today, because it was a special party that only came once a year.

Now that she had some peace and quiet, Rachel figured it was as good a time as any to ask about it. Maybe she was just overthinking it, but why spend time around people who hated you? 

For that matter, why let people who didn’t like you have a chance to come after you?

“Oh, pish-posh. It’s PC Mackintosh’s birthday, I’m fine!” Wallace laughed, slapping his knee and gobbling up the last of his cake slice. He looked hungrily at Gromit’s, then let out a little cheer as the exasperated beagle gave him the lion’s share of what remained. “That means it’s his day, and he declared in the invitations that there’d be no fighting or arrests all day!”

Gromit groaned a little and rubbed his head at that, but Rachel wasn’t entirely sure why.

“That doesn’t make any sense.” She carefully picked at her cake, trying to savor it since you never knew when a treat might be your last. “But I guess it looked like everyone was having fun, so it doesn’t really matter if I don’t get it. Sorry, I’m just dumb about some stuff—”

Rachel cut herself off, almost dropping her cake as Wallace’s ever-present grin fell off his face.

A chill enveloped her as she prepared for some kind of punishment, unsure what caused it.

But instead Wallace continued his trend of surprising her, and apologized.

“I’m sorry, lass. Parties are just such a grand time, and I was worried about how much time you were spending indoors lately. But I shouldn’t have pressed you to come here.” He looked almost sad, which was really confusing because he hadn’t done anything wrong. “You’re not dumb, and if you’re not having fun that’s not your fault. I’m sorry if I made you feel left out because I—”

“It’s fine!” Rachel answered quickly, then hurriedly shoved more cake in her mouth to buy time. Nobody ever apologized to her! Was she supposed to say thank you? She swallowed, almost coughing on some crumbs, and babbled, “It’s not so bad. I just don’t…nobody ever invites me to parties, so I was kind of…don’t worry about it. I just needed some air, that’s all!”

“Rachel, you climbed out a window to escape.” Now the smile was back, but not nearly as wide as usual. He looked at her hands, and she glanced down to see they were shaking a little, but that was probably just sugar. “Did you like any part of the party at all? How about the presents?”

It had been cool to see so many strange gifts, even if the stories behind most of them were lost on her. For instance, the man with the big gun had given Mackintosh a 24-karat golden bullet, glaring at Wallace the whole time. 

When she’d asked him what that was about, he just mumbled something about carrots and full moons, then changed the subject.

Figuring he was probably uncomfortable about it, Rachel went with a different answer instead.

“The food was good.” As if to prove her point, she shoved more cake in her mouth, savoring the sweet frosting and fluffy bread-part. Crumbs flew out of her mouth as she added, “Sorry, I guess the singing was cool, too. Thanks for bringing me. I’ve never been to a birthday party before.”

“Never been to a…well, what about your birthday? When is it, anyway?” She glanced up to see him with a pad of paper in one hand and a pen in the other. “You’re here another month or so at least, and if it’s close by we could probably celebrate a little early. If…Rachel? What’s wrong?”

The cold chill was back, and suddenly she realized why the party had made her so sad.

Months earlier, Rachel would likely have responded to him with curses and snarls.

Talking about birthdays always made her sad, angry, and most of all…lonely.

Yet more and more over the last few weeks, she’d found herself opening up to the pair when such moods came along. Some of it was fear, worry that they’d send her back to the PRT if she was too standoffish or rude, but there was something much deeper at work in her psyche.

Even now, she glanced to one side and saw nothing more than concern, care, and unrelenting love in Gromit’s eyes. He was curious, but also keeping just enough distance so as not to overwhelm her, and that made her feel strange.

Turning to Wallace revealed a similar expression, but while Gromit had puppy dog eyes, Wallace had…puppy human eyes. He was honestly curious, and wanted nothing more than permission to try and find a solution.

Sure, half his solutions turned into bumbling messes and his inventions rarely worked as he’d planned, but he actually tried . He put in the effort, and with Gromit supporting him it seemed like anything was possible.

Both wanted to help her, and so like every other time in the last few weeks…she spoke.

Rachel’s words were soft, drawing upon memories she barely recalled now.

Memories of her first home, and the only true mother she’d ever had.

“When I was seven years old, Mom threw me a birthday party. I remember it because she said it was lucky number seven, and she spent the whole day with me.” Rachel felt Gromit’s nose press against her hand, and she began to softly scratch behind his ears. “I was so happy, sometimes I feel like it must have been a dream because I’m the only one who remembers it.”

She’d been taken to Home One not long after that and her new sister had destroyed most of Rachel’s stuff. She’d saved a few pictures, but the calendar that had Mom’s handwriting on it and her birthday circled was long gone.

“—and every time I asked my foster parents, they’d always tell me to keep waiting. It sucked .” Rachel growled a little thrusting hands in her pockets and glaring at the ground. “Like, the last lady was always saying that ‘only good girls deserve to be celebrated.’ And no matter how hard I tried to be good it was never good enough for her!”

After a while, Rachel stopped asking and stopped fighting, giving up on ever celebrating her birthday again. Kids at school said that birthday parties were for babies and never invited her to their dumb parties anyway, so she figured there was no point.

Rachel got bigger and stronger, but had no idea how old she was…and frankly she didn’t care.

Her anger vanished when she realized Wallace and Gromit were sniffling at her story.

“I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to make you sad. That’s why I just don’t talk about it.”

But instead of getting mad or hitting her or changing the subject…

“It’s not your fault, lass.” Wallace put a hand on her shoulder, a gentle pressure that vanished as she hugged him because he sounded really sad and it was her fault. Rachel felt a few tears trickle out, probably because her face was in Wallace’s old sweater. “It’s important that you know that. What they did to you…none of that was your fault. You’re a good girl .”

She didn’t believe him, but he was the foster parent so he was always right anyway.

He sounded like he was crying now, so she went ahead and did the same.

After all, she didn’t want him to get embarrassed for acting weak.

Rachel spent a few minutes like that, and it was…nice.

“Well, I feel a little better now, but I know something that would probably help even more.” Wallace eventually leaned back, wiping his eyes and smiling again. “How about Gromit and I try to help you remember your birthday? I’ve got a bang-up idea for how to make that happen!”

“D-do you have an invention for that?” Rachel wiped her face with a sleeve and looked down at the ground. Her last foster mom used to say that girls who cried were just trying to get attention, but she was an evil bitch. “Maybe something to search my memories, or get rid of bad ones?”

“Hmm, nothing quite that impressive. Besides, I’ve always found that the best way to get rid of bad memories is to cover them up with good ones.” He grinned again, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and using the other to point at the rousing party across the way. “No, my idea is that we have a practice party, just like Mackintosh’s. Some games, cake, singing, and a few guests, all there to celebrate the wonderful lass named Rachel. Maybe that’ll jog your memory!”

“What if it doesn’t?” It had been so long since she’d had a birthday, and even now her memories of Mom were so faded... “What if I never remember, and it’s gone forever?”

“Well then, we’ll still have a fun party.” He winked at her, rising to his feet and stretching. “I think that a big loud one like this isn’t your style, so we’ll make this a little personal one. Okay?” 

“Okay.” It was hard to stay sad with Wallace’s optimism and Gromit’s wagging tail. “Let’s do it!”

That night, on the walk home they talked about her favorite activities and foods, then after a quick bedtime story she was fast asleep. She had wonderful dreams that night, only waking up once or twice to the sound of Wallace inventing something…musical?

The next morning, Rachel awoke to breakfast in bed, something she’d never had in her entire life.

Apparently it was like a normal breakfast, except that someone gave it to you in bed.

For some reason, it was the tastiest breakfast she’d ever eaten.

Even though Wallace had burned her French toast.

“Let’s see…we had a beautiful brekkie, a rather restful reading session, a peaceful park patrol, and a fully fantastic fetch festival at the park…” Wallace trailed off, checking off the latest activity on his list. “Why don’t you go have a hot bath and take a nap, while we set the party up?”

Any other day, Rachel might have argued that she didn’t need a dumb bath, but all that playing in the park had left her rather sweaty, smelly, and sticky. Gromit had put out the call to every dog in town, and she’d spent hours throwing balls, discs, and all manner of sticks for them. 

They’d all been quite thankful, giving her licks and getting skritches in return.

It was like something out of a dream she’d once had. 

Speaking of dreams, the relief she felt while relaxing in a hot bath was such that Rachel actually dozed off in the bathroom. She had a dream about two fluffy clouds, one in a rather fluffy sweater, dragging her from a warm bath to her bed.

But when her wonderful dream eventually ended, she found herself in her little bed, lights off in her tiny room, wearing clothes she’d bought with Wallace a week earlier. She stretched, body sore in a good way, and glanced at the window…

Only to realize it was quite dark out, and a surge of panic blasted through her. Practically falling out of bed, she moved faster than Wallace had last week, when he was testing his new robot suit and accidentally hit the ejector seat. 

Except in her case, it seemed like her restful sleep had ejected her from the rest of her birthday party, and that had Rachel panicking more than a little.

After all, it was called a birthDAY, which meant when the day ended it was over. Probably. She wasn’t entirely clear on that.

But mere moments into her mad sprint, she screeched to a halt, sniffing the air.

“Something smells good,” she muttered, mouth already watering.

“Ah, just in time, lass!” Wallace poked his head through a small hole in the wall he’d made by accident the other day, when testing some new cooking gadget. He got stuck for a moment, then appeared from around the corner with drywall dust on his face, a hand reaching for hers. “Come on, we’ll be starting any moment now that the guests are here.”

“Guests?” She was confused, but didn’t resist as he guided her down the hall and into the backyard, where she could barely hear dogs barking and growling softly. “Who?”

The answer revealed itself as she crossed the threshold into the back, and saw that there were three guests at her party.

The first was a familiar sight, the odd little sheep that she’d nearly tripped over a dozen times in the last month. He barely seemed to acknowledge her, nodding slightly in her direction before returning to eating the lawn. As usual, he wore a sweater the same color as his wool, and if it weren’t for his hooves she’d almost have thought he knit them himself. 

On the other hand, Gromit was a dog who defied expectations, so who was to say a sheep couldn’t do the same. Regardless of his manual dexterity, he was a guest at her party and she was happy to see him. Now, if only she could recall his name…

Sheep? Sweater? Shaun? Well, maybe someone else would say it at some point.

Before she could put more consideration into that, Rachel’s eyes were caught by a rather eye-catching poodle, one with a diamond-studded collar that read Fluffles . Gromit was nearby, putting up decorations and sucking in his gut, as well as unnecessarily flexing on occasion.

He caught Rachel looking at him and gave her a look, then glanced at Fluffles and flexed again. Even if she didn’t have much experience with romance, it didn’t take a genius to see what was going on, so Rachel turned her attention to the third guest.

“Run WOOF.exe.” Speaking of geniuses, the third guest was a robot, although he seemed to be a robot built on a budget. A shiny cylindrical body on wheels, looking rather like a barbecue grill or smoker, with a spiky dog head on the front of it. She wasn’t sure where he’d come from, but someone had carved the name Preston on his chest, so she greeted him. “Run WAG.bat.”

Rachel couldn’t help but think Preston had a few screws loose, but didn’t really care. He was a guest at her party, and therefore he was now her friend according to Wallace.

She patted him, and smiled as he continued to repeat his previous statement over and over, despite his odd little tail remaining motionless.

Aside from the sheep, poodle, and “dog” guests, the backyard also held a rather wobbly lawn table simply loaded down with Rachel’s favorite cheeses and meats. A plastic cover was over them, and despite being a robot even Preston was looking at them with interest. 

But all of Rachel’s attention was taken up with an incredibly festive chair that was at the head of the table. It appeared to have been festooned with streamers and balloons, and she soon got a much closer look as Gromit finished his decorations and directed her to take a seat.

From her queen’s throne, Rachel had a perfect view of Wallace as he entered the backyard, laden down with a huge cake in one hand and three wrapped boxes in the other. Gromit leapt into action, taking the cake and moving it to the table, while Wallace set the gifts aside.

“Welcome one and all! To the birthday celebration of one Rachel Lindt!” His voice rang out, calling all eyes to him. Then reaching into his pocket for a lighter and a box. “Though he could not be here today, my dear cousin Colin tested some of the samples he took from Rachel and determined for us the exact number of candles to put on her cake!”

As he spoke Wallace stabbed colorful candles into the cake, which wobbled almost as much as the overloaded table. She counted along with him, grinning as one mystery was finally solved.

“I’m thirteen years old.” Rachel said, quietly at first and then again. A third time it came out more conversationally, and on the fourth it was to brag. It didn’t matter that she had no idea when she would turn fourteen, because now she knew for a fact that she was thirteen. “Thanks, Colin.”

Sure, he wasn’t actually here right now for her to thank in person, but Rachel felt a warmth in her chest as she whispered to the man. Even a million miles away in America, or however far away he was, Wallace’s cousin was thinking of her.

But the kindness and celebratory offerings didn’t end there…

“We also have gifts from folks a bit more local, but we’ll get to them after the games.” He waved at Gromit, who was attempting to reinforce the overloaded table with duct tape. “Hurry Gromit!”

The harried pooch looked like he hadn’t slept much last night, likely working on setting all this up for her, and rushed across the yard to a rope. With one mighty tug, an odd-looking shape lifted into the air from under a green blanket. 

“Now, before we get to our delicious cake, snacks, and gifts, I prepared a few fun little games that I’m sure you’ll enjoy.” Wallace pulled a cricket bat out from behind his back, pointing it at a misshapen yet colorful blob that was now hanging from the tree in the backyard. “This piñata is filled with delightful little treats, and can be whacked even with one arm!”

He handed her the bat, giving the confused girl a quick how-to on the rules of the game. Once a blindfold was over her eyes, she set to doing her best to destroy the strange beast.

But the beast’s creator was an engineer and inventor at heart, which led to a rather difficult problem several swings later.

Namely, the fact that the piñata was quite a bit tougher than anyone expected, and refused to break.

“Hmm, perhaps I shouldn’t have used so much tungsten?” Wallace muttered, as they took a break for him to examine the small dents in it. “Perhaps I could take a whack at it? There are supposed to be some pressure plates that pop it open, but I don’t recall where I put them…”

Rachel nodded, handing the bat over and returning to her throne for a better view. Plus, she didn’t like the idea of a blindfolded Wallace swinging a bat so close to her head, especially given his propensity (a new word she’d learned from Mackintosh) for accidental disasters. 

Swaggering and bragging about his college days, Wallace took a few practice swings, one of which turned him in the wrong direction. Gromit rolled his eyes and began to lower the piñata so as to set his friend right…but that was when things went terribly astray.

Suddenly, Wallace swung with everything he had, landing a mighty blow upon the piñata. Gromit let out a yelp, struggling to control the piñata as it swung, and Wallace took off his blindfold just in time for the colorful blob to return and clock him in the head.

He reeled backwards, heading towards a pile of especially sharp lawn tools, causing Gromit to release the rope and rush to his rescue. Rachel watched as the piñata bounced off the man’s thick head, flying through the air right at the snack table.

“The cake!” Wallace shouted, shaking off Gromit’s help and as much as shoving the beagle towards the towering confection. Then he noticed what else sat on the table and let out a milk-curdling scream. “The CHEESE , Gromit!”

Time seemed to slow down as Rachel watched Gromit leap into the air, curling his body around the piñata as if it was made of clay instead of flesh and fur. 

He caught the piñata, and managed to land on the one clear spot on the table, saving both the cake and the snacks.

“Woof!” Gromit barked, raising the piñata over his head triumphantly, to the cheers of everyone present.

“Good boy!” Wallace crowed, patting Gromit on the head. “Now get off the table, before it—”

The table collapsed.

In the aftermath of the table’s collapse, there was complete silence for a few seconds. 

Fluffles’ pristine white coat was just as white, but now about half of it was vanilla frosting. She looked rather insulted at having hours of beautification ruined by a delicious cake, and left with her nose so high in the air it may have been a flight hazard.

Preston had been struck by food as well, but in this case it was dozens of meats and cheeses. They peppered him so much that his onboard computer system determined he was caught in a deadly hailstorm, putting him into sleep mode in case destruction was imminent.

Speaking of cheese, a rather large wheel of it had been under the table in case they needed more, and it was currently rolling down the street. Shaun was in hot pursuit, taking a bite out of it every time he caught up…causing it to start rolling again.

Which left Wallace, Gromit, and Rachel at ground zero, absolutely covered in cake.

Wallace fell to his knees, letting out a low moan as he noticed the way Rachel was shaking. He was speechless, reaching a hand for her as if to provide comfort, and then thinking better of it as she made a choking noise. He turned to Gromit, hoping the clever pooch had an idea.

Gromit was still frozen in the same stance he’d had as the table collapsed, piñata above his head. He could see Rachel shaking and Wallace at a loss, and likely hoped that the cheerful inventor would handle this since he was actually capable of human speech.

But before either of them could attempt to speak, something completely unexpected happened.

The piñata popped open, Gromit’s paws having found the catch built into its belly.

Some candy poured out, little foil-covered chocolate doggies.

Rachel blinked, made another little noise, and then…

…unable to contain herself any longer as a flood of emotions overwhelmed her…

…burst out laughing.

She laughed, she chortled, she guffawed, she giggled, and…that was about all the words she knew for laughing. But Rachel knew she was making a lot of other noises too, and loved it.

A glance at Wallace and Gromit’s expressions only made her laugh harder, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees, tears streaming down her face. Any attempt to speak failed, as she roared and wept with mirth, shaking her head at the absurdity.

This was the very sort of wacky adventure she’d been told about, but seeing it first hand was far different from a story or reenactment! Even as the other two started to wipe themselves off, she kept going, eventually getting ahold of herself. It was at that moment that Wallace finally spoke.

“Rachel, lass…I’m sorry I ruined your birthday.” Wallace’s words brought her more confusion than anything, and she wiped her eyes to confirm that he indeed looked oddly sad. Gromit too looked at her with something resembling regret, and she had no idea why.

“Ruined? Are you kidding?” She snorted, voice raw and throat aching, but heart lighter than she’d ever felt it. “That was amazing! You smashed the hell out of that thing, and then Gromit jumped and flipped and everything went kablooey!”

She reached out and took a dollop of frosting off Gromit’s head, managing to get a chunk of cake as well. Before Wallace could stop her, Rachel had crammed it into her mouth, and she nearly fainted at the taste.

“Delicious! C’mon, you gotta try some!” Rachel grabbed another chunk and handed it to him, while Gromit licked his own arm and grinned. “Nobody’s ever made me a cake before, or given me gifts, or anything else like that! You two spent the whole day trying to make me happy. Why the hell would I care if a few things went wrong? Besides, this is my day, and I say it’s fine!”

Wallace’s smile returned, though something seemed a little different about it as he exchanged a look with Gromit. They shrugged, then joined her in chowing down on cake, cheese, and meat that had survived the piñata-pocalypse . If nothing else, it was a birthday they’d all remember.

For several minutes, only chewing, murmurs of delight, and compliments could be heard…as well as the occasional cough as someone got a bit of dirt, grass, or dog hair in their mouth.

Their guests even returned to join in (or woke up, in Preston’s case), Shaun following a much smaller wheel of cheese and Fluffles looking somewhat ashamed. Gromit welcomed her with open arms, and the two spent a few minutes licking cake off each other.

For some reason, Wallace tried to cover Rachel’s eyes when she looked, and she laughed.

Eventually, they were all cleaned off, and seated at a mostly-repaired table.

“Okay, next gift is from…well, I think we all know who sent this.”

Rachel grinned at Wallace’s words, putting on a rather comfortable sweater and marveling at the beautiful designs knitted into it. Nearby, a certain cheese-loving sheep was fast asleep, but she made a mental note to thank him when he woke up.

Her second gift was a small box wrapped in bone-themed paper, which turned out to contain a cookbook. Gromit had bookmarked her favorite dishes, and judging by the apron he’d included there were plans to teach her how to cook. 

After she was done hugging the damp doggy, she turned her attention to a rather heavy gift that challenged the structural integrity of the recently repaired table.

As she asked Wallace what it was he almost seemed to grow more excited, and Rachel had a pretty good idea why.

He may have given her the gift of a gift, but she’d given him the gift of explaining something!

It was one of his favorite things in the world, after Gromit, cheese, and inventions.

Maybe someday…she would be on that list as well?

“It’s a roll-up piano!” He finally burst out, unable to contain himself any longer. With one hand, he unrolled the strange amalgamation of metal, porcelain, and rubber, revealing a kludged-together musical instrument loosely resembling an electric keyboard. “Now you can play on the go, eh?”

Rachel wasn’t sure what to say to that, and only stared silently as Wallace showed her how to turn it on (pulling a crank), change the sounds it made (many, many switches), and control the volume (a big red button, right next to another marked DANGER ).

She’d been forced to play the piano, learning only because it meant more time away from her abusive foster mother. But despite being reasonably good, she had few positive memories of the instrument or the music itself.

Except…this was a gift Wallace had obviously worked hard on, and so she hugged him even before he finished talking. But as she pulled back, he was staring at her cast, looking sad.

“Drat, it just hit me…with one hand out of commission, you probably can’t play. Sorry lass, suppose I didn’t think that one all the way through.”

But her good hand was already reaching for the keys, and Rachel began to carefully tap out the first few bars of Happy Birthday .

It was one of the first pieces she’d learned, part of a dream she’d once had of friends and family singing to her someday.

Despite a few missed notes, she was soon playing it quite proficiently, figuring out how to do it one-handed.

Then she started over, and this time Wallace sang to her while Gromit harmonized with howls.

Afterwards, Rachel blew out the single candle that had survived the cake’s destruction…

“Now remember, don’t tell us your wish,” Wallace warned. “Or it won’t come true!”

In about a month, her time with Wallace and Gromit was supposed to end.

So instead of telling them her wish, Rachel played another song.

It wasn’t great, and she made a whole bunch of mistakes…

But the family she’d wished for sang along anyway.

Chapter Text

Even though they made time go faster, Rachel had come to love taking showers.

Warm water, sweet-smelling (inedible) soaps, and best of all…some privacy.

As a nearby clock chimed, she sort of regretted learning to tell time…

Sure, it was great being able to look at the clocks people put all over the place and know what time it was. But it also meant she was always worried, because time was running out. Fun stuff took forever to come along, and it was over far too soon, no matter how much she savored it.

For the longest time, events and appointments always seemed to just happen for Rachel. People would get mad at her for being late to stuff and ask if she knew how to tell time, and when she’d answer in the negative they’d act like she was being difficult.

But when she did that with Wallace a few weeks ago, he hadn’t just shrugged it off. 

Instead, he’d helped her learn all the numbers and hand positions on the clock, even taking one apart to show her how it worked inside. It turned out that clocks were full of gears and little spinny things, and the whole thing worked in concert…and that was what a machine was.

Before that, she’d always thought “machine” just meant it was loud and made of metal.

Or really delicate, like that computer she’d cracked open back in middle school.

Stupid teacher told me to get the files, what did he expect?

But having Wallace show her what was inside a machine without getting mad and yelling at her had opened up a whole new universe for her. Apparently things were full of stuff , and though saying that out loud made her sound stupid, Wallace’s grin got even wider for some reason.

In fact, it awakened a sort of hunger in her, similar to when Gromit had helped her learn to read. But instead of wanting to read books and learn new words, now she wanted to know what was inside of things, and Wallace was only too happy to help.

He offered to let her assist him, and she jumped at the chance.

Not just because his lab sounded really cool, but she also had an ulterior motive.

That word meant secret , and in this case it was a big one…her whole future rested on it!

She got a labcoat of her own, a bunch of tools, safety gloves (well, glove) and goggles. It was like being an inventor, but instead of making things she was helping him take stuff apart. He needed a whole lot of parts for his newest project…the Corn-Opening Robot uNiform .

So she helped him take a whole bunch of bicycles and cars apart, and put them in a pile in the middle of the basement. It might not have seemed like much, but it felt good to help him with the CORN, and she learned a whole lot about what was inside of things.

The important thing was that it made her very useful, which was her ulterior motive.

Wearing a labcoat like him, loving science like him, being the perfect foster kid…

Now if only he’d realize how useful she was, and ask her to stay.

Armsmaster had told her that she would only be in Wigan for two months, to give her arm time to heal. Then he’d show up with a special potion that would finish healing her arm, the cast would come off, and she’d be gone. Back to the world of capes and monsters and pain…

Back to her nightmares and loneliness and probably a terrible foster family…also known as hell .

The last two months had been like heaven, and she was totally different from the person she used to be. Rachel was feeling strong and healthy thanks to regular exercise and a wide variety of delicious food. She was sleeping a full eight hours every night, almost double what she was used to getting, and dreamed of happy adventures almost every night.

Even when she had bad dreams, memories of bad foster experiences or the incident with Rollo, Wallace or Gromit would be right there to comfort her. They never laughed at her for being weak, or told her to shut up and stop bothering them with her many, many problems.

Home Three was like that, punishing her for having nightmares, but Wallace preferred to talk about them. He said that being able to face your fears, to give them names and figure out their roots, would make you stronger over time. Rachel really wanted to be stronger, like him…

So she’d given it a try, telling them about her powers and how Rollo attacking her had felt. How she kept having bad dreams about the damage he’d done, and how he’d nearly killed her, too.

She’d just wanted to save him, and her power had saved him, but also made him a monster.

Rachel came to realize that as much as she really, really hated Home Three…

She hadn’t wanted them to die.

Telling Wallace and Gromit that hadn’t made the nightmares go away, but they did happen less often. A bunch of her bad memories and dreams were like that, getting weaker and less painful as she talked about them. It was like what Wallace said…good memories cover up bad ones.

He’d proven that he was a great foster parent, and so she was trying to prove she was a great foster kid. In the last month she’d been trying to get him to ask her to stay, but it wasn’t working.

She washed her clothes (after learning how from Gromit), tidied up the lab, dusted so much she spent a full minute sneezing, and more. She even put her reading skills to use trying to organize things around the house, helped cook, and did the dishes. She’d given him a hundred reasons to adopt her, but so far he hadn’t said a word, so she just kept coming up with more of them.

Sure, she could have just asked him if she could stay, but there were two good reasons not to…

First of all, if he said NO , then the rest of her time with Wallace would be ruined. No matter how much she loved h… being around him, knowing he didn’t want her would hurt. She’d spent years expecting to be discarded, hated, mistreated, and now she finally had someone who seemed to like her. Rachel wasn’t sure she’d be able to take it if he rejected her like that…not now. 

Part of the reason she’d started tidying up had actually been because she was hoping to find an adoption document. Wallace lost stuff all the time, so maybe he just needed a little help? But after weeks or searching, she hadn’t found one, no matter how much she cleaned up.

Which brought her back to the time thing.

Ever since she’d learned to tell time, it seemed to go faster.

The time she had with Wallace and Gromit was running out, and nearly gone.

If only she could ask him to adopt her…but she couldn’t . Rachel couldn’t risk her w—

“Rachel! Breakfast in twenty!” His voice snapped her out of her fugue, and she hurriedly started rinsing the last of the soap off. Rachel never used to care about washing, but Shaun gave her shampoo as a gift, and she liked the scent. “Gromit’s cooking up a storm, so bring an appetite!”

“Coming!” She shouted back, hurriedly climbing out and drying off. It would be strange going back to having two arms and hands, after getting so used to doing all this with only one. But in mere minutes she was letting Wallace’s hair care device tie off her ponytail and tying her shoes with one hand as if it was nothing. Soon she was joining them, muttering, “Sorry, lost in thought.”

“Sounds like a great place to get lost. Besides, it gave Gromit here time to test out my new juicer.” Wallace was nothing if not cheerful, despite the orange pulp dripping down one wall, and passed her a slightly chunky glass of juice. “Still a few bugs to work out, but tastes great!”

Despite lingering worries about the future, it was hard to disagree with him as the sweet citrus traveled into her mouth. Rachel used to hate healthy juices and foods, but helping Gromit cook had taught her that some of her favorite dishes were actually chock-full of stuff she already liked. Plus, helping him make food had opened another door for her.

While she couldn’t do much with her whole arm in a cast, Gromit had still let her watch as he made food. He was very versatile, and intelligent enough to realize that she wanted to help. So he’d found a bunch of one-handed stuff she could do, like stir pots and squish fruits.

Actually, her cast was really good for squishing stuff…one time she’d even dented the counter!

It also made it easy to shred things, since it was resistant to getting cut and scraped.

A week ago they’d had mac and cheese, made with SIX different kinds of cheese, and Wallace had loved every bite. He’d turned to Gromit and thanked him for the delicious meal, but the dog had motioned at Rachel as well, and it had been awesome .

The look on Wallace’s face, the pride she’d felt…was it any wonder she wanted to stay here?

Even now, taking her dishes to the sink to handle cleanup, Rachel could see the calendar on the wall and how every single day had something amazing on it. Memories of all the fun they’d had, written in Wallace’s terrible handwriting, and even a few notes of her own.

But as she waited for the water to warm up and the phone rang nearby, her eyes were drawn to today in particular. There were only two notes there, and for the first time ever she regretted being able to read. 

Her lips barely moved as she said the four words, barely audible: “ Rachel talk. Pickup day .”

No matter how many times she read them, no hidden meanings revealed themselves.

Suddenly, the dishes didn’t seem so important anymore, not if today was the end.

Rachel could have sworn that tomorrow was her last day, but…guess not.

She turned to see that Wallace was gone, and that she’d missed him leaving over the sound of her heart pounding in her ears. Barely even thinking about the empty plate still in her hands, she turned and walked out of the kitchen, feeling like her head was stuffed with cotton.

But one sound managed to cut through the fog, and it was a ringing phone. Somehow her brain just completely forgot how they worked, and instead she stood there staring at it for several seconds. Wallace appeared, missing it by a second, and then turning to look at her confusedly.

She saw him glancing at Gromit and getting a shrug in return, but there was no way he didn’t know what was wrong. The man was maddeningly insightful and had gotten to know her really well these past two months. Surely he’d seen her stare at the calendar, knew how she felt…

But he didn’t say a word, and Rachel wished that she wasn’t so incredibly superstitious. It might have been a stupid, childish reason, but if there was the tiniest chance it was true then she couldn’t risk asking—

The phone rang again, and once again the silence was broken. Wallace turned and picked it up, his own silence broken as he spoke easily, giving her an odd look and holding up a finger.

“Speaking.” Wallace grinned suddenly, the person on the other end saying something that made him quite happy. “On his way? Ten minutes? Good! Will be nice to get the room back!”

Rachel knew that she was dumb, and that was probably why Wallace didn’t want her.

But even someone as stupid as she was could figure that call out.

Someone, probably Armsmaster, was on his way to pick her up. He’d arrive in ten minutes, and Wallace was quite happy. He was looking forward to getting his spare room back.

Time had finally run out for Rachel.

So Rachel ran out, too.

Out the back door.

A part of her brain was shouting that the last two months should have taught her to talk about her fears and problems, not just react and lash out.

But that only made her run harder, because the only way to explain this reaction was to tell Wallace why she was running.

And if she said why, then the last tiny bit of hope she had would melt away, like a candle on a birthday cake.

So she kept going, until she stood atop a hill overlooking Wigan, then slumped against a tree.

That was where Gromit found her, weeping into her knees, all alone.

After she’d finally calmed down, he was still there, waiting.

“Sorry.” She felt like crap, and there were plenty of reasons for it. Trying to talk only made snot run down her face, and then more tears when she saw Gromit cock his head to the side. She wiped her face on her shirt, then groaned. “I’m gonna miss you so much.” 

Gromit looked even more confused now, and then Rachel mirrored his expression as he held out a paw with a cell phone in it. She shuddered a little, but didn’t try to run again as he dialed.

When she heard Wallace’s voice come out on the first ring, Rachel wanted to hang up…

But she also wanted answers, and knew she couldn’t handle this in person.

Especially if he told her what she already suspected.

“Just a moment lass. Need to sort this dapper lad out.” Before she could respond, Wallace went on, hand muffling the receiver. “ Family business, sorry. Head on down, and I’ll join you shortly. ”

She heard the sound of the basement door creaking and a set of footsteps heading down, away from Wallace. It was confusing, because she would have expected the PRT to send a bunch of people, and Armsmaster’s armor was heavy.

“Rachel?” Wallace paused, then continued as his chair squeaked in the background. “I don’t know why you ran, but you really scared me, so I sent Gromit to find you. I just need to hand the CORN off to the dapper lad who funded it, then I promise we can talk. Please come home—”

“But it won’t be my home much longer, will it?” She cut him off, and it felt wrong to be so rude to Wallace of all people. But Rachel was angry, both at herself and the whole situation, so she kept going. “I saw the calendar, Wallace. I know today’s the day the PRT comes to pick me up.”

“No, that’s tomorrow.” He corrected her, then slapped his forehead and quickly corrected himself . “Wait, sorry! I mean, tomorrow would have been the day the PRT came for you, which is why I wanted to talk to you today . Heck, I wanted to talk to you all month about your future, but time ran out while I was trying to think of the best way to explain things. It always does that!”

Despite her anger, already cooling no matter how she tried to stoke it, Rachel smirked a little.

“I know, I sort of wish you hadn’t taught me to tell time. Seems like it goes faster, now.”

He chuckled, and she tried to stifle her own. She was supposed to be mad at him!

“It does, lass. And no matter how hard I thought, no good ideas came…”

“Why didn’t you just talk to me, then?” Her voice sounded so small in her ears, but Rachel was already speaking and couldn’t stop. “If tomorrow’s my last day, why wait for today to talk?”

This time Wallace was the one whose voice was quiet, with none of his usual bravado.

“Because I was afraid.” Wallace had never been shy about his occasional cowardice, but when the chips were down he always pulled through. Now he sounded…sad. “I was afraid if I asked you to stay and you said no, then the time we had left together would be…what’s the word?”

“Ruined?” Rachel felt Gromit slide into her lap, and started idly petting him. On the other side of the phone, Wallace sounded like he was leaning back in his chair. “Being rejected hurts. So you kept waiting for the right time, trying to come up with the right words, and time ran out.”

“Sounds like you know exactly what I’ve been dealing with, lass.” Elsewhere she could hear the sound of metal on metal in the background, but focused entirely on his words. “But I still should have done better. I’m sorry…though I do wonder, was there a reason you never asked to stay ?”

“It’s dumb. Childish. Silly.” She mumbled the words, wanting to hide her face and realizing Gromit was in the way. His puppy dog eyes caught her, and she could just imagine Wallace making the same face back home. “My birthday was amazing, you know? It gave me hope.”

“Hope?” Wallace sounded confused, but even without his question she knew that time had run out. It was time to just say it. “I don’t understand, Rachel. That was a full month ago…”

“You said if I told you my birthday wish, it wouldn’t come true.” Her face was red hot now, because saying it out loud was so embarrassing, and she expected Wallace to laugh. “You and Gromit have done so much for me, and my wish was to be a part of your family. All month I’ve been trying to prove I was useful, because I was afraid if I asked…it wouldn’t come true.”

There was a long moment of silence, but the sound Wallace made wasn’t laughter.

He sniffled , and she could see Gromit wiping his tears away as well.

Rachel felt her eyes getting moist, waiting for him to speak.

“Oh lass…” Wallace trailed off, and she swallowed, so afraid of what he’d say. “You never had to prove anything to me, Rachel. There’s been a place for you here since the moment you walked through my front door, and I’d be honored if you would—”

But before he could finish saying the words she’d dreamed of hearing for so much of her life, Wallace’s voice was replaced with a metallic screech. It sounded familiar, and a shock of dread ran through Rachel as it died down. 

“Wallace?” Gromit must have heard the panic in her voice, and pulled the phone down to tap the speakerphone button. “What was that? Did you sit on the remote for the Tellyscope again?”

“No, nothing like that, dear.” He sounded annoyed, and she could hear him stumbling through the house. “That blasted investor was supposed to wait for me so we could deconstruct the CORN, but instead it sounds as if he’s starting it up for a test run!”

Another metallic screech, and this time it was accompanied by a rumbling noise. 

“Hey! Stop that right now! There’s not enough room in here, we need to take it apart and move it outside first!” Wallace shouted, then began to descend the cluttered basement stairs, grunting as he squeezed through. “Rich fop won’t even give me a minute with my girl. The nerve!”

By the time she recovered from being called my girl , Rachel realized that Gromit had started tugging her back towards the house, an odd look having appeared in his eyes.

Especially when Wallace used the words “dapper” and “rich fop” to describe the troublemaker.

Figuring they could catch a ride, she pointed them towards the police station.

“Who is this person, anyway?” Unfortunately, PC Mackintosh appeared to be out for tea, but Gromit still ran inside anyway to leave a note she’d written. “Can you describe him?”

“Oh, rich little tike, you know the type.” She really didn’t but now Wallace was full-on shouting as he made his way down the stairs, the metallic noises louder than ever. “Wearing a black and white suit every time I see him, but with a silly hat. Only speaks to me in notes, too good to talk like a person. Pointing a knife at me and pretending to…wait…I know you!”

“Wallace? What did you say?” Rachel stopped, and not just because she could barely hear Wallace over the sounds in the background. No, her real reason for stopping was the paper Gromit had thrust in her face, a Wanted Poster for a little fellow in a suit and funny hat…

Wait, that isn’t a suit…is that supposed to be a penguin? So that poster I saw wasn’t a prank?

“You stole my trousers!” Wallace shouted, then grunted. “Get off of me! Don’t you dare—“

Gromit’s eyes widened, Rachel dropped the phone, and both started running home.

From up ahead, they could hear Wallace’s CORN starting up, even louder now.

There was another rumbling noise, and the ground shook beneath them.

Car alarms went off, birds took flight, and dogs all over town barked.

Rachel felt Gromit’s paw in her hand, and squeezed it.

Both of them sped up, despite the danger…

Wallace needed them.

Chapter Text

As the ground rumbled and danger grew, both continued running to Wallace.

Yet Rachel couldn’t help but notice that Gromit wasn’t running at full speed, even though his owner obviously needed him. He was pacing himself, and kept glancing over at her, matching her speed as they ran down the street. It was like he was protecting her, at the same time.

It didn’t make sense, since she’d only known the dog for two months. 

Wasn’t Wallace way, way more important than her?

Before she had time to puzzle it out, they arrived at the little home that Rachel had lived in for two months and Gromit for his entire life. Ten minutes ago, Wallace had been eagerly awaiting the arrival of the person who had funded his latest invention, a corn-shucking robot suit. It was so big that it would’ve had to be deconstructed and removed from the basement, but…

Well, as his stories had taught her, ten minutes was more than enough time for a little disaster.

Before either could enter the house, to descend into the basement and help Wallace…

The house collapsed, and the backyard split open to reveal a huge basement.

The Corn-Opening Robot uNiform , or CORN , stepped out of the hole.

Rachel had never seen it stand at its full height, and she was pretty sure it was about fifteen feet…no, wait. 

Metric system. 

It was about…five meters tall, and roughly half as wide. The CORN was created from a mix of car parts, bicycle wheels, various gears, and a big glass bubble for a head where the driver sat. It sort of looked like a very low-budget movie robot, and was sort of silly…

But to a beagle and a thirteen year old? It was scary as hell.

Although it was hard to keep a straight face when she saw who was driving it.

Looking exactly like he had in his Wanted Poster, except for a tiny cowboy hat sitting slightly tilted above beady little eyes, was Feathers McGraw. The poster had claimed he was guilty of all sorts of crimes and extremely dangerous, but it was still hard for Rachel to believe a penguin could really be so danger—

The CORN’s fist clenched and blades popped out, then retracted. It did this a few more times.

Rachel gulped and let Gromit tug her behind cover. Luckily, Feathers hadn’t seen them yet.

But their luck ran out when both spotted Wallace.

Or rather, when he spotted them.

“Rachel! Gromit! Over here, you two! Hahaha!” Wallace laughed, and she wasn’t really sure why. He was in the chest of the CORN, wrists and ankles strapped to pedals like some sort of nightmare workout machine. “You two! Stop hiding behind that fence and run away, hahaha!”

Then her eyes focused on the rest of the contraption, and it all became clear. Every time he slowed, an odd feathered belt around his waist would shift about, tickling him until he started again. Feathers was using Wallace as both a hostage…and a propulsion device.

Rachel dimly recalled Wallace telling her that the fellow funding the CORN was quite the environmentalist, and had requested a suit that didn’t use fossil fuels. It was a large part of the reason the inventor had so many solar batteries on it, being charged by a bunch of panels. But since it had been in the basement so long, for now it was being powered by human energy.

Given Feathers’ family likely lived around polar ice caps…that made some amount of sense. 

It was one of the few things about this situation that made any sense at all.

Before she could continue wondering if there was a way to use this little nugget of kindness to convince this monstrously megalomaniacal penguin not to kill them, he tried to kill them. Rachel went flying, and realized in mid-air Gromit had tackled her just before the CORN ran them over.

Her cast hit the ground before she did, but luckily the crunching noise wasn’t accompanied by a flash of pain, thanks to both its toughness and that nerve-block thing. She figured that she’d just landed on a branch or something, but Gromit was keeping her down as something exploded.

As he was hauling her to her feet and dragging her to cover, she saw the CORN fighting some police and that guy with the big gun. The former were mostly getting their cars flipped, and the latter kept accidentally winging Wallace, laughing as he apologized.

Gromit patted her head, motioning for her to stay behind a large rock, and then dashed away. He didn’t make it far, leaping headlong into the huge hole left above their basement, where the collapsed remains of the house now lay.

Annoyed, she slammed her cast into the rock, then stared as she heard another crunching noise. Once again, there was no pain, but her eyes were on the cracks that had appeared on the rock face.

Glancing to the side, she could see similar cracks where Gromit had tackled her, and found herself wondering just how strong this cast was? Could she use it to save Wallace, perhaps?

Unable to keep this to herself, she crept to the edge of the basement hole, figuring that Gromit was cobbling something together in the remains of their lab. The CORN was down to only a few police cars, Wallace’s laughter kicking off again as he spun its energy back up for handling an armored car that had joined the fracas, so she felt safe to raise her voice a little.

“Gromit! I have an idea! Hey, where are you?” Admittedly her idea was mostly ‘hit the CORN with my cast,’ but it wasn’t terrible. Luckily, it seemed like Gromit had a better one, as a huge shape leapt out of the hole and landed beside her. “Wait, is this that thing you were building?”

Gromit winked at her and gave a thumbs up with his suit. 

It was nowhere near as impressive as the CORN, barely half its size, but seemed much more versatile. Garden tools and various weapons were loaded into it, as well as a few car batteries on the back that must have come from the junked cars they’d taken apart. 

Not only that, but it smelled like…dog food?

“Wait, did you make the armor out of cans of dog food? Smart!” Rachel nodded approvingly, having wondered why they never seemed to have any aluminium recycling. “Anyway, between your armor and my cast, I think we can take that guy down. It’s super-tough! C’mon!”

But even before she made it a few feet, a metal fist that smelled like doggy chow held her back. 

Both Gromit and his suit shook their heads at her, and he lifted one finger. 

A can opener popped out of it, and he carved a little S on his chest. 

The other hand patted her shoulder and pointed at the ground.

Then he pointed at himself and ran off before leaping.

He jumped so high, it was like he was flying!

“I stay and you go? I feel like you’re making a reference to something, and I have no idea what it is!” Rachel shouted after him, but still stayed put for a minute or so. It was pretty cool watching him fight the CORN, crawling all over it and ripping off armored plates, exposing a lot of gears. 

Well, it was cool until the CORN got a grip on him, anyway.

Metal groaned as Feathers started squeezing Gromit, and when he finally broke free the bigger armor turned to stomping. Wallace shouted and Gromit howled, the CORN’s foot grinding the beagle’s armor into the asphalt, before it reared back to deliver a mighty kick.

The kick sent Gromit flying through the air, over the fence and into the huge basement hole.

Anger rushed through Rachel, and she said some bad words she’d learned from TV.

People had yelled the words during that other game when people kicked a ball.

Feathers apparently didn’t like them, because he stomped towards her.

But all her attention was focused on Gromit, and on a very particular noise. Not the whimpering sound he made, or the alarms from his suit. Nor was it the sound of his armor bits falling to the ground, or her teeth grinding as she glared at the monster that had hurt her very best friend.

No, all of her attention was on a single sound, ringing in her ears.

She hadn’t heard it in nearly two months, but now it was all she cared about.

Because Rachel knew that as long as she could hear it, Gromit was still alive and well.

It was her power, reverberating between the two of them, reminding her he was definitely a dog.

Even as the CORN drew closer, blades popping out of its fist and Wallace shouting for her to run, Rachel focused on that sound. She just kept pushing more and more of her power into Gromit, because despite knowing the terrible things her power could do she didn’t care .

She was scared, but not like in her nightmares and memories of that day with Rollo. 

No, now she was afraid of losing Gromit, the best dog she’d ever known…

But with her power and a little time, Rachel knew she could save him.

That thought gave her the courage she needed to leap backwards, catching the CORN’s fist on her cast and being sent flying head over heels. Just like before, her arm didn’t feel a thing!

Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for her ribs, which felt pretty bad after having a metal cast smash into them. The rest of her didn’t feel too hot either, slamming into the ground and rolling. But at least she slid to a stop right at the edge of the hole, covered in mud and grass.

From here, as she groaned and climbed to her feet, Rachel could feel Gromit getting stronger. She heard growling and metal tearing in the hole, and figured he was rebuilding his armor. Any minute now he’d pop out and defeat Feathers, and be a hero just like in Wallace’s stories.

Rachel didn’t have a minute though, because with a mighty crash the CORN tore through the remains of the fence she’d been launched over. Wallace shouted out a warning, but she rushed at the mechanical monster with her cast raised.

Before she could land a powerful blow, the CORN’s other hand caught her and slammed Rachel into the ground, trapping her arms at her sides. The claw reared back, and Feathers prepared to finish her off.

But despite her rather scary impending doom, Rachel just smiled up at him, and gave Gromit every ounce of power she could.

Her grin seemed to confuse Feathers, and he looked around as if expecting an attack from behind.

Instead of begging for her life or trying to escape, Rachel thought about Gromit.

She thought of their time together, and remembered all the fun they’d had.

The dog had taught her to read, how to cook, and how to have fun.

They’d played all sorts of games, celebrated her birthday, and…

Rachel was going to miss him so much...but it was okay.

In all their time together, she only had one regret.

She’d never had the chance to say goodbye.

Then the claw swept down, and she—

“WOOF!”

The sound was so loud, Rachel squeezed her eyes shut and screamed, throwing her arms over her face just as there was a horrible crash overhead. Ears ringing, it took her a few moments to realize that she shouldn’t have been able to lift her arms with the CORN holding her down…

Blearily, she opened her eyes, wondering if Gromit had fired some kind of sound cannon or something. How else could he have made such a loud noise?

The answer became obvious when her vision finally cleared enough to see what stood over her.

Not just Feathers McGraw in the CORN, but something…else…

“WOOF!” The noise came a second time, slightly quieter than before, from some sort of huge…creature. It towered over the CORN, easily six meters tall and covered in bony spikes, huge arms and legs bulging with muscles as it grappled with the armored suit. “ARF!”

Then it turned its massive head in her direction, and winked at her. 

“G-Gromit?” She practically squeaked, then let out a nervous laugh as the huge creature nodded once. “How did you…I mean…you’re so…huge!”

It shrugged, like only Gromit could do, and turned back to catch the CORN’s fist in one meaty paw. There was a tearing sound, and the gears of the robot suit strained against a body that defied physics ten times before breakfast. Feathers pounded at the controls, using the other claw to smack his opponent in the face, then backed up and prepared for another assault.

Unable to believe what she was seeing, this only being the second time in her life that she’d used her power, Rachel struggled to get up. A hand went to her head and found blood, which explained a lot, but she kept going. Her head was spinning and body aching, so much that she nearly fell into the hole.

Looking down for a moment, Rachel saw the dog food suit, torn asunder like a caterpillar's cocoon. This was what her power did…it made dogs big and strong and—

Dangerous.

A tremor of fear went through her, and Rachel almost fell over as harsh memories welled up. 

Memories of Rollo, who had also come to her rescue, and then attacked her…

She swallowed, heart pounding as she gasped for breath…

The last time she’d made a monster this big—

No.  

Gromit isn’t a monster. 

He’s a good boy. The very best boy. 

He saved me. He loves me. He’s protecting me.

He proved that over the next few minutes, as the pair fought across the neighborhood. People that Feathers tried to attack were swept aside by Gromit, and he took damage in their place.

His big heart was also his biggest weakness, because she soon realized that Gromit was losing.

“Look out!” Her shout came a moment too late, and Gromit missed the speedy CORN yet again, only to get a slash across his back instead. For all his strength and size, he was far slower than his opponent. “No, left! Left! The other left! Now behind you!”

Feathers was smiling and Wallace was laughing, the latter because of that belt and the former because Wallace’s mad pedaling was keeping him well ahead of the huge Gromit. Apparently he had some experience piloting robot suits, while Gromit hadn’t been a hulking beast before.

Bit by bit, the bad bird was shredding the dog’s meaty exterior, and Rachel could feel her own energy draining as she worked to replenish his bulk. Worse, it looked like Wallace was getting tired as well, and once he passed out…would Feathers just flee?

This was a fight they weren’t going to win with brute force, and both of the smartest people she knew were too busy to come up with a plan. That meant it was all up to Rachel to be a genius.

She wasn’t a big thinker though, and didn’t have time to build a cool machine like they would have. All she had was an unbreakable cast, and her opponent was a big machine made of a bunch of interlocked gears and wheels. Many of which were exposed now, thanks to Gromit.

Suddenly, all those weeks spent taking stuff apart and learning the best ways to break down complicated machinery were flashing through her brain. Hadn’t Wallace said that the gears in the chest were the most important of all?

Was that why Gromit had torn the plates off, back when he was in his power armor? As if he was reading her mind, the huge beagle grabbed the CORN in a full nelson and barked at her.

She was running before her brain fully caught up with her, but this time Rachel didn’t bother to second-guess her plan. It was incredibly stupid, dangerous as hell, and might hurt a lot, but it was the best idea she had. 

Therefore, why waste time trying to come up with a better one?

After all that Wallace and Gromit had done for her, Rachel felt like she owed them at least a little bit of stupidity and danger. Hell, she was certain that if their positions were changed, either of them would have made a sacrifice like this for her in a heartbeat, and that was all she needed.

Gromit rumbled approvingly as she scrambled into the chest cavity and ripped that stupid belt off of Wallace. Then it was a simple matter of working buckles to free him from the bicycles.

But instead of joining him as he tumbled out of the chest and into Gromit’s waiting paw, the huge hound already stumbling back as the CORN shoved him, she stayed put. Rachel looked above her, seeing all the delicate machinery, and knowing what she had to do.

Feathers switched to battery power and all the gears slowed for a split-second, allowing Rachel to see the primary gear…the heart of the CORN. She took a deep breath, ignoring Wallace’s shout, then jammed her cast into it as hard as she could.

Colin had said that her cast was supposed to be some super-alloy, and had cracked the ground earlier. It was basically unbreakable, and had blocked the CORN’s claws with ease!

There was a horrible grinding noise, and for a split second it seemed as if her plan had worked perfectly. The huge suit was tearing itself apart, and everything was great!

Until Rachel realized that she was stuck! Her cast was locked in place by huge gears and dangerous machine parts, trapping her. Whoops.

She noticed Wallace waving, and couldn’t hear him over all the noise, but saw him pointing at a nearby safety lever.

Pulling it freed her arm, but the entire CORN shook, shuddered, and began to collapse around her.

The last thing Rachel saw was Gromit’s huge paw, with Wallace clutched in it.

Both were reaching for her, just like they’d always been…

She reached for them as well, but it was too late…

Something hit her in the head, really hard…

Everything went dark.

Chapter Text

When Rachel woke up, she was in a smelly hospital room.

Her left arm hurt where they’d stuck a bunch of tubes, and her right arm…

She didn’t look at her right arm. Instead, Rachel glared at the clothes they’d dressed her in.

They seemed familiar, but her head hurt every time she tried to remember where they’d come from. Nothing like the dirty and worn down clothes foster families normally gave her, but also nothing like the crinkly ones she remembered from the PRT hospital. 

Wait, was she still at that same hospital, or was this a different one?  

There were two PRT guys standing guard right outside her door, so she must have been in their custody, right? Rachel’s memories were hazy and she kept dozing off from the drugs they’d given her, but this time she fought back. It almost felt like she was about to fall asleep again, but then she pinched herself and managed to avoid losing the battle.

For the last few hours, she’d been drifting in and out of consciousness, and so tired that even the thought of escape was a million miles away. Searching her memories only brought her more confusing, fragmented recollections of the past.

Like, where the hell had she learned the words “fragmented recollections” from? 

Rachel knew she wasn’t nearly that smart, but thinking of the words brought a flash of her reading a book of all things. She was pretty sure she couldn’t read, and the more she focused on it the more her head hurt. Just before she gave up, there was another flash of a… dog .

It was such an odd dog, acting like a person, but that seemed totally normal.

More than that, it was familiar , and more memories trickled in.

Had the dog taught her to read? Was that a dream? It seemed real…but then it was gone, slipped away like a familiar scent on the wind, and Rachel felt her frustration start to grow. 

Any other day she’d have shouted, thrown something, and maybe cursed…but now she just started taking deep breaths. It seemed natural to her, as if she’d practiced it a hundred times, and her anger began to fade.

Rather than get mad about what she couldn’t recall, Rachel focused on what she did remember. Slowly but surely, she worked from her earliest memories to more recent ones. Home One, Home Two, Home Three, Rollo —

Unable to stop herself as the phantom memory of pain surged, as well as flashes of a huge monster biting her, Rachel finally looked at her right arm. 

Last she remembered, it had been hanging from a mess of tubes and metal, covered in bloody bandages and completely numb.

No, it had been encased in a cast, one made of strange metal that made it super-tough and powerful as hell.

Right, she’d cracked a rock with it, blocked sharp blades, stuck it inside of a bunch of gears—

Rachel shook her head, focusing on what was actually in front of her, not dreams.

Her arm was kinda pale and skinny, but otherwise healthy.

How in the world had that happened?

“Ah good, you’re awake.” Memories flashed through her mind even as she glanced in the direction of a familiar voice. A nerdy PRT agent named Colin, brother to… someone that filled her with longing and happiness and something else. But she blinked, and realized it was Armsmaster , the tinker hero she’d seen on TV. “Sorry, I had some paperwork.”

“It’s fine?” She noticed that he wasn’t looking at her, full face mask pointed just past her instead. There was something at the edge of her mind about a…fear of faces? Right, he’d thought that she was afraid of seeing them and being seen. Her head hurt… “Wait, why are you here?”

“Well, for one thing, I wanted to ensure Cask’s creation worked as advertised.” He drew closer, pulling out an odd little device and waving it over her. Lights flashed and it hummed, drawing a nod and hum from the hero. “You were pretty banged up after what happened. Concussion, cracked ribs, fractured skull, several lacerations and bruises. In fact, the only part of you that was entirely fine was your right arm. Not to toot my own horn, or anything.”

At the mention of Cask, a few more memories connected in her brain, and Rachel remembered the armored hero telling her that his friend could create healing potions. They’d taken samples from her…was it yesterday, or a few months ago? 

Time felt so loose, and all she could think about was this odd dream she’d had while sleeping…

It felt like a bunch of real memories though, not a fantasy. Or the other way around?

What the hell was wrong with her?

“Remember? You told me your favorite flavor was Cherry?” She smacked her lips, and realized there was still a hint of it in her mouth. Rachel wanted to tell him that her real favorite flavor was caramel, but she couldn’t recall when she’d learned that. There was a flash of eating ice cream with a man and a dog, but then it was gone just as fast. “Rachel? Are you feeling okay? Or is my presence and the attention I’m giving you making you feel uncomfortable?”

It was amazing how much he reminded her of the man from her dream, both the nerdy guy named Colin and someone else. The bald guy with the huge smile who kept popping into her memories, then fading away just as quickly. 

Fear swam through her at increasing speeds, as she began to worry that many of her best memories were little more than dreams. Her life was shitty and she was stupid, so of course she’d have a fantasy like that…

But in the dreams she also remembered talking about her fears, and how it made her feel better. How the man and his dog had comforted her, and listened to her feelings…

“My brain feels all funny. It’s like…a bunch of memories and thoughts keep skipping all over the place, and nothing seems real. It’s kind of scary.” She glared down at her arm, as if mad at it for not being in a metal cast or covered in bloody bandages like she remembered. “Plus, I had a really amazing dream, then I woke up…and now I’m kind of sad.”

“Well, you did take quite a blow to the head, as well as going through a traumatic experience. There’s also a small chance that Cask’s solution ‘healed’ your brain to such a degree that it affected the neurons in your…” He trailed off, likely seeing how her eyes had glazed over a little. The hero gestured at the chair beside her bed after a moment, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “Want to talk about it? I think this chair can hold me without collapsing.”

“Sure.” The answer came a little too fast, and she worried he had better things to do. Adults did that all the time, asking if she needed help and then getting annoyed when she did. Although in her dream, one particular adult always had time for her. “But don’t you have bad guys to fight?”

“Around here?” He scratched the side of his helmet, as if confused. She felt a smile edge onto her lips, recalling the bald man from her dream doing that. “Listen, you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. But I care about your wellbeing, and I always have time to talk to another hero..”

Rachel rubbed her head, that last part going so far over it that it probably bounced off the Moon.

Why was he calling her a hero? When had she ever done anything heroic?

“I had a dream where someone adopted me, even if it was only for a little while.” She paused as he sat down, the chair squeaking horribly against his big metal butt, but holding. “He was so nice and funny, and had a really smart dog. I loved being there, away from capes and monsters and stuff. But the best part was they treated me like…like I was a person .”

“Rachel, you are a person. What are you—”

“But I’m not!” She cut him off, ignoring the heat that rushed to her face as she shouted at a superhero. Rachel growled, angry at the fuzziness in her head for making her all confused and weak, tears coming to her eyes. “My foster parents treated me like trash . The PRT treats me like a science project . Kids treat me like an idiot . But in my dream…I was f-finally a p-person !”

She knew it was silly, getting all broken up over a dream, but it had seemed so real to her. 

Even now, names and events were flashing by so fast that she could actually remember them a little, and Rachel tried to hold onto them. It might have been a fantasy, but it was the closest she’d ever come to being truly happy.

“I had a family that loved me. Wallace and Gromit…I l-loved them! In my dream I…” Rachel hugged her arms to her body, remembering the end of her dream, tears pricking at her eyes. “I know it’s dumb, but I never got to say goodbye, and n-now they’re g-gone f-forever…”

“No we’re not, lass. We’re right over here.” A familiar voice, one she’d heard in a dream that felt so real, got louder and realer as its owner walked over to sit on her bed. He smiled a familiar smile, then glanced at Armsmaster as if they were old friends, muttering, “Memory issues?”

“It was a possibility, but luckily conversation is helping.” The armored hero chuckled loudly as Rachel buried her face in a familiar green sweater. “Alas, if only we knew someone who excelled at telling wildly memorable stories, many of which she’s already heard…”

“But…how? How can you…but I thought…” She babbled, pulling back from the hug as familiar scents of cheese, bread, dog, and machine oil filled her nose. A warm hand settled atop her head, gently smoothing out her hair. “You’re real!”

“Of course I’m real! At least I hope so. All that paperwork took me ages, and if I’m not real then I’ll get in a heap of trouble.” Wallace paused, tapping his chin with a finger and then looking over his shoulder. “Gromit, dear friend. I’m real, right?”

“Woof.” In the doorway, holding a huge bouquet of flowers, a brown beagle nodded. He was walking on his hind legs, but after a moment Rachel realized that was perfectly normal. 

“See? If I wasn’t real, I feel like he’d at least be a good enough chap to tell me so.” Wallace gave her a handkerchief that smelled of…Wensleydale! “Now, how about a story?”

“A story?” She wiped her face, then let Gromit climb into bed with her. With one hand petting him and eyes on Wallace, she asked, “What kind of story?”

“Oh, it’s one of my new favorites, and I’m sure you’re going to love it! Already the talk of the town! So, are you ready?”

She nodded, refusing to take her eyes off of him, as Wallace began to weave for her a very familiar tale.

“Once upon a time, a brave little girl named Rachel met a clever inventor in a hospital…”

“—authority!”

Rachel awoke to find Gromit beside her, reading the paper. As soon as he saw her blinking, the beagle flipped to the crossword, which had been their morning ritual for the last few days. 

He’d brought a whole book of them to the hospital, and every time she woke up…he was there. 

Just in case she forgot that this was real.

“What do you mean you have authority? On whose authority do you have authority at all, lad?”

She still wasn’t very good, but with his help she seemed to get a little bit better every time.

“On the authority of the PRT, whose financial assistance is the only reason you—”

Plus, the crossword was infinitely more fun than listening to arguments.

“Listen here, boyo…” PC Mackintosh growled, mustache quivering.

“Look, officer…” Armsmaster sighed, scratching his beard. 

“What are they arguing about this time?” Rachel whispered to Gromit, then noticed the Constable was holding a familiar Wanted Poster. “Oh, is this about the penguin?”

Her memories were still a bit scattered, but several days of Wallace telling stories had restored the vast majority of them. It was hard to believe so much had happened in just two months, and it had taken until last night to even get to the incident with Feathers McGraw and the CORN.

Wallace had gotten a bit choked up last night when Rachel had asked why she’d been so far from home when he got attacked, so she’d pretended to be sleepy to give him time. She figured that he’d finish up the story when he was ready, and it would make a nice finale to her time here.

Rachel wished she could have stayed forever, but last night she’d heard the two of them talking while they thought she was asleep. It sounded like her near-death experience had really scared Wallace, and so she knew better than to ask him to keep her.

He’d been so nice to her, but she knew that asking and getting rejected would be painful as hell.

She had a broken memory of a similar conversation, and it hurt her heart to think about it.

Which sort of told her everything she needed to know, sadly…

Luckily, Armsmaster interrupted her thoughts.

“—was just ensuring proper precautions were being taken for Feathers McGraw.”

“Yes, and I was telling Mr. Big Hero Man here that we’ve got it all under control.” Mackintosh waved off the Armsmaster’s concerns and rolled his eyes. “We already put Feathers in the Birdcage. Not completely inept, are we?”

“Wait, you did? But I just spoke to Dragon this morning, to set up his transport. I’d think she’d have mentioned it if he was already there.” Armsmaster wasn’t wearing his full faceplate now, and Rachel could see him frowning. “How did you move him? Teleporter? Some sort of plane?”

“What? Why would we need either?” Mackintosh pointed thumbed over his shoulder, smirking under his bushy mustache. “It’s just up the road here, so I had my deputy drop him off.”

“There must be a miscommunication.” Armsmaster took a deep breath, then spoke slowly. “When you say ‘Birdcage,’ are you referring to the Baumann Parahuman Containment Center , a prison for some of the most dangerous beings on Earth?”

“What? No, of course not!” Mackintosh choked out a laugh, shaking his head and muttering to himself. “We sent him to the zoo , where he’s being kept in a cage . For birds . On account of him being a bird. That’s what I meant, obviously !”

“Yes. Obviously .” Armsmaster’s fist clenched so tightly his armor creaked, and Rachel wondered if he was going to hit the man. “At least tell me you put more security on his cage this time.”

“Well of course! He now has two guards, and a security camera. We’re not completely inept!”

“Every time you say that, I believe it less and less. Especially since this isn’t the first time he’s escaped custody and gone on to cause millions of pounds of damage.” The armored hero began listing off incidents, each more diabolical than the last. “—after that, he helped Teacher to assassinate the Prime Minister of England! Do I really need to continue?”

“He’s a felonious fowl, what do you expect?” Mackintosh growled, thrusting a finger at the armored hero. “Why, this time he didn’t even escape! The damned bird was let out of his cage so we could clean it, and ran off instead of staying put like he’d promised! How is that our fault?”

“That’s completely your fault!” Armsmaster bellowed, fingers curling as he reached for—

“Pardon, am I interrupting anything?” Wallace stuck his head into the room, holding a bag with Rachel’s belongings, and handing them to Gromit as he saw the pair.  “Sorry I’m late, got caught up in house repairs and…are you two okay?”

“We’re fine.” Mackintosh and Armsmaster chorused, taking a step away from each other and removing their hands from a truncheon and a halberd, respectively. 

“Excellent! Well, we got the okay to leave, so how about we go somewhere a bit less—whoa!” Even before Wallace finished speaking, Rachel was out of bed and fully clothed, practically teleporting to his side. “Ahem. Well…shall we go?”

He didn’t have to ask her twice, and soon they were moving down the corridor. Gromit led the way to the parking lot, and Rachel heard Armsmaster talking to Wallace behind her. 

“—just in time, Wallace.” Armsmaster tapped his wrist, and she heard a motorcycle roar. “Another minute and I’d probably have been sent to the Birdcage for strangling a cop.”

“The Birdcage?” Wallace scratched his head, blinking. “Why would they send you to the zoo?”

Armsmaster’s groan, and Rachel’s laughter, echoed through the corridor.

“Wow, they rebuilt it already?” Rachel had to lean against the car as she got out of it, shocked at how different 62 West Wallaby Street looked compared to a picture PC Mackintosh had shown her yesterday. “Didn’t it get smashed by a penguin in a robot suit, after he tore a huge hole in the backyard to escape from the basement?”

“Yep, but the whole neighborhood pitched in.” Wallace pointed out how the bricks were no longer crumbling, the roof had shingles from a dozen sources, and one of the windows was even made of stained glass. “They all saw you and Gromit fighting off Feathers, and lent me a hand with rebuilding. Our little home is better than ever! Take a look inside.”

She saw him exchange a grin with Gromit, as much as a dog with a rarely visible mouth could grin, and found herself wondering why.

As they approached the house, Rachel could feel those last few fragmented memories start lighting up in her brain.

For instance, seeing Wallace glance at his watch reminded her that time had been running out for…something.

Gromit grabbed Rachel’s medical forms, making her think…wasn’t there a form she was trying to find?

Wallace caught up with her as she reached the front door, and handed her a shiny new key.

“Well, that’s new.” She took it from him, and used it to open the door. But when she tried to give it back, he looked confused and directed her to pocket it, instead. “You’ve never locked the place up before. Why start now?”

“It was one of the requirements the PRT and CPS put on me. Didn’t Armsmaster mention it?” Wallace seemed confused at her reaction, trading a glance with Gromit and getting a shrug in return. Rachel headed inside, making a face at the smell of fresh paint and drywall. “Plenty of other changes, too. Like child-safety outlets, smoke detectors, and…”

Rachel was only half-listening as he rambled, focusing instead on trying to follow her memories of the house towards whatever she was missing. In the distance, she could hear Armsmaster’s motorcycle, and knew it wouldn’t be long before he came to get her.

She still wasn’t sure why he hadn’t just taken her away earlier, but figured that this gave her a chance to say goodbye to Wallace and Gromit. Her arm was healed and it was time to go, no matter how much she wished she could stay…

Memories flared up at that thought, but they’d already reached the end of her walk down memory lane.

She leaned against the door to her tiny little room, where Wallace had read her bedtime stories.

Behind her, the man in question went to answer the door, Armsmaster having arrived.

“I’m going to miss this,” she whispered, then slowly opened the door. “Goodb—“

Her farewell was cut off as Rachel stepped into her…tiny…little…room?

She found herself turning and looking around, spinning in place as she moved through a room that had been far smaller in her memories. Eventually she stumbled and tripped, landing on her back in a bed that was much larger as well, and stared up at her posters and keepsakes.

“Woof!” Gromit called for help as only a dog can, leaping atop the bed and staring down into her eyes with concern. She swallowed, unable to put her thoughts into words, and let him help her sit up as Wallace and Armsmaster charged in.

“Rachel, is everything okay, lass?” Wallace looked around at the room, something that took longer than it had before, since it was twice as big as before. “Oh drat, I was so certain we got it perfect! What did we miss?”

“N-nothing!” Rachel swiped at her face with one arm, looking around the room with wide eyes and taking it all in. “It’s perfect! It’s huge! I just…why did you do all this? Why make the room bigger?”

“You’re a growing girl, and…wait a mo.” Wallace snuck a look at Armsmaster, whose face had gone pale. “Lad, weren’t you going to tell her the news, after you finished talking to PC Mackintosh? Don’t tell me you forgot…”

“I…may have gotten caught up in my conversation and…ahem.” He stepped closer, pulling a sheaf of papers from the thigh armor of his suit. The PRT stamp was on them, as well as a symbol that looked like a crown and a sword. “Rachel Lindt, given your bravery with the Feathers McGraw incident, as well as your personal growth the last several months…”

Rachel stared, heart pounding in her chest so loud it was all she could hear. Yet despite that, she still felt the words reverberate through her body, as Armsmaster handed her the papers. 

Rachel shakily took them, memories of her birthday wish finally returning. But most of all, she remembered Wallace’s answer, and how it made her heart swell painfully…

Her eyes danced over the pages, reading the words faster than she’d ever dreamed possible.

Continue to attend therapy sessions, as well as keeping in contact with local PRT liaison…

Cool, apparently Wallace was a member of something called “The King’s Men.”

Hereby…blah blah…until eighteen years old…serve Queen and Country…

They were setting her up with homeschooling and community stuff.

Solemnly swear to use my skills and powers to protect the people…

But the most important paper was on the bottom, already signed.

I, Wallace Wallensis Wallis, adopt Rachel Lindt as my daughter…

Seconds later, she’d signed, hugging Wallace and Gromit.

Minutes later, they all waved to Armsmaster as he left.

Hours later, Wallace started to talk about the future.

Days later, they made vacation plans together.

Weeks later, they were on a grand adventure.

In all the months and years that followed…

Life was truly a dream come true.