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Chapter Text

Nicholas Benedict’s first and only friend, indeed, the only family he could remember, was his twin brother, Nathaniel, who was in many ways a mirror image of himself, and in many other ways, the opposite.

When one is an identical twin, people have the tendency to group you, to blur you together into one person, and Nicholas and Nathaniel, having such similar names and interests often fell victim to such careless errors, with teachers, their classmates, and even the orphanage director mixing them up. So, the boys found ways of distinguishing themselves. The fact that they had different narcolepsy triggers certainly helped as did their very different ways of dealing with it.

From an early age, they were discouraged from having any narcoleptic attacks. Prospective parents, even parents who were open to adopting a sibling pair would silently shake their heads and comment that they simply were not equipped to handle a disabled or “high needs” child, much less two. As for their classmates, well, the twins were high academic performers and with success often comes jealousy and, in an orphanage, especially one as overcrowded and mismanaged as the ones the boys found themselves in, bullying was bound to occur. The brothers tried their best to look out for each other of course, but they could only do so much, and sadly, their easily identifiable triggers provided an area that was easy to exploit. So, Nicholas, for his part, sought to cut the joy from his life. Not all of it, of course, not the happiness, just…the overexuberance. The laughter, the giddiness, anything that might send him over the edge. He spoke softly, quietly, and kept his head low. He didn’t need the attention; he didn’t want the attention. He learned the hard way that the boys who tried to make him laugh and smile weren’t really interested in being his friends, but interested in seeing how fast they could make him fall asleep so they could leave him somewhere, locked in the basement or an old storage closet. Nicholas had gotten punished quite severely when one of his stricter teachers found him there. Nathaniel had tried to argue with the teacher, of course, but unfortunately the headmaster found Nathaniel’s comparison of his instructor’s faulty methods of distributing justice to civil rights cases to be disrespectful and indignant, which only resulted in him getting punished too.

Nathaniel’s narcolepsy, though it did not deny him joy, it did deny him something else, something arguably just as if not more precious. Vulnerability. Himself, the ability to be seen, to be known. But he too found ways of coping, theatrical performance being one of his preferred methods. You could be center stage, as vulnerable as can be, all eyes on you, so long as the truth you spoke was not yours but a character’s truth. And unlike Nicholas, who became accustomed to going with the flow, acquiescing, and making himself small to stay out of trouble and avoid triggers, Nathaniel found that seizing control of his uncontrollable and terrible environment and creating for himself an invulnerable shield of confidence and ego was an effective strategy, and one that he clung to, like a raft in the middle of a raging ocean, to keep himself (and by extension, his brother) safe and secure.

But as much as the brothers might have tried to avoid their narcolepsy triggers, it was, in both their cases, unnatural, and indeed, impossible to go very long without joy or vulnerability. So, it was in the safety of each other that they confided. The boys shared a bunkbed, Nathaniel took the top bunk of course (unwilling to admit he feared the upper bunk falling and crushing him in the lower should he sleep there), and Nicholas (who would readily admit he was afraid of heights) took the bottom bunk. Some nights, when one or both brothers was having a hard time falling asleep or when Nicholas was in need of cheering up or when Nathaniel was in need of a confidant, they would face their fears and crawl into the bunk of the other. Nathaniel would whisper jokes into Nicholas’ ear, grinning as he listened to Nicholas’ muffled laughter as he chuckled into his pillow, until he fell asleep. Nathaniel loved making his brother laugh. It was so easy too; Nicholas would burst out laughing if you simply told him the right pun, which Nathaniel, having a very similar sense of humor, understood all too well. On other occasions, Nicholas would simply lie next to his brother, silently offering his support and waiting for Nathaniel to whisper a truth about himself he couldn’t admit to anyone else. Sometimes he would, sometimes he wouldn’t, but Nicholas liked to give his brother that space, the space to quietly admit what he couldn’t to anyone else. That he feared their bullies too. That he was afraid that no one would ever adopt them. That he was hurting, hurting deeply, and sometimes the pain felt so great he didn’t know how to go on. Nicholas was never sure what to say, not that he would have had any time to say anything anyway, as Nathaniel almost always fell asleep immediately after he’d spoken. But Nicholas was still there, to silently hold his brother’s hand and reassure him that he would always be there, no matter what.

Though it was not only by their narcolepsy and subsequent personality development to deal with their respective triggers that one might distinguish the young Benedict brothers. It was also by their interests. Both were undeniably academically inclined, but they found themselves drawn to different academic pursuits. Nicholas was enthralled with literature, philosophy, ethics, religion, social studies, the humanities, and one of his greatest hobbies became reading. No matter the subject, Nicholas would read it. He devoured nonfiction of course, because he loved gaining knowledge, but it was fiction that really captivated him. It became his escape from his present circumstances, to read about the way things used to be, they way things could be, stories of brave men and women, feuding kingdoms, terrifying villains, dragons and mythical creatures. Nathaniel, on the other hand, preferred academic pursuits in the sciences: chemistry, biology, physics, mathematics, technology, economics, and business. That’s not to say Nicholas didn’t excel at these subjects as well, or that Nathaniel wasn’t gifted in the humanities, but simply to say that the brothers found themselves drawn to different interests and that they used those interests to help establish themselves as individual people. One sought to escape their situation through the past, through books written by those that lived long ago, to disconnect from their present woes by escaping into a wonderful fantasy and stories that never failed to captivate him. Meanwhile, the other was a realist, who determined that the way out of their present circumstance was not in the past, but in the future, in the life they could build for themselves, if only they could take control of their environment, if only they could mold and shape it to suit them. Nathaniel was obsessed with discovery, exploration, and what new things they could build and accomplish. Nicholas, consequently, was often roped into being his technically willing (though occasionally reluctant) lab assistant, though Nathaniel’s little “experiments” often got them in trouble. After one particularly spectacular and unfortunate volcano demonstration, Nicholas ended up coughing up black grit for a week, and both brothers were punished severely. Despite this, Nathaniel was determined to continue his “great work”. The right experiment, the right discovery, that could change their lives, he insisted. He kept his thoughts in a carefully coded journal (lest anyone even consider stealing his ideas), the code only known to himself and his brother, the one person Nathaniel deemed brilliant and worthy enough to collaborate with him on projects.

But though it was an honor and though Nicholas did enjoy working with his brother, Nathaniel could sometimes be…a lot. Everything needed to be done his way, always his way, and over the years Nicholas had learned better than to argue with his brother about that. Nathaniel had developed a way of making himself sound so right, so confident, and making you look like a poor misguided fool for disagreeing. Not that Nathaniel ever meant to make his brother feel like that, but once you get into the habit of adopting that as your survival strategy, it can be hard to see the effect it has on those around you, even those you care about the most.

This was why Nicholas took to the habit of reading alone in quiet places during his free time. Not that he was exactly “hiding” from Nathaniel, he just…needed some alone time. Some time to escape, some time to indulge in his books, some time to let his mind slip away to a better place without his brother dragging him along for another experiment or science project that might change their lives or lecturing him on how best to appeal to adoptive parents. Nicholas simply couldn’t keep up with all that the way Nathaniel could. His portion of their room was a mess, his clothes were often disheveled. Nicholas knew it bothered Nathaniel as he was lectured about it constantly, but he simply didn’t have the motivation or energy to do anything about it. Besides, he knew where everything was. Surely, adoptive parents weren’t going to scrutinize their cleanliness and dress too harshly.

Nicholas sighed, crouching himself in a little storage unit above the orphanage director’s office, one of his favorite undiscovered places of escape where he’d taken to reading on the weekends, a place too dark and dirty for even Nathaniel to think to look for him.

Nicholas held his book up to the light of a small window slit, about to resume his latest story, when he heard the sound of the orphanage director’s voice below.

“There’s a rather long waiting list for infants,” she warned.  

Nicholas knew she must be talking to a prospective couple. Most of them wanted babies. Unfortunately for Nathaniel and Nicholas, they were left on the orphanage doorstep at age three. Just too old to be considered babies, and what with there being two of them, it was hard to convince anyone to adopt them and that task only became more difficult as the boys grew older.

“We could do without an infant,” answered a woman’s voice. “At this point, we’ve been trying for so many years…I’m sure everyone knows by now.”

Nicholas felt bad for the woman. She sounded embarrassed and heartbroken. He knew mothers and fathers who couldn’t have children of their own were often ashamed of it, though Nicholas wasn’t quite sure why. It certainly wasn’t their fault.

Why would you blame yourself for something you couldn’t control?  

“If you’re open to adopting an older child, that would be easier,” noted the orphanage director. “It also saves you the trouble of finding one that looks like you. In infant adoption, we encourage families to look for children that look like them. Makes it easier to pass them off as your own, which is a better situation for all involved. However, for the older children, since that’s out of the realm of possibility anyway, we make it a policy to match based on personality. What child might make a good fit for your home.”

“That sounds lovely,” said a man’s voice.

“It’s practical,” corrected the orphanage director. “Now, I suppose we should start with gender preference. More families tend to ask for male infants, but at the older ages, especially in the teen and preteen years, parents tend to prefer girls. Less potential for behavioral problems, aggression, outbursts, delinquent behavior, that sort of thing.”

“Oh, gender doesn’t matter to us,” insisted the woman. “I’m sure any child, with the right amount of love and care, can learn to thrive.”

Had Nicholas been able to see the look on the orphanage director’s face and been able to interpret what it meant, he might have known that she was giving the woman, Mrs. Glenn, a look that could only be described as pitying a poor naïve well-meaning but ignorant soul.

“Very well,” she relented. “We’ll keep our options open to either gender. Now, in terms of interests and personality, what sort of child would be ideal for you?”

“Well,” began Mrs. Glenn uncertainly. “I’m not sure that’s how we’d think about it…”

“…we’d prefer,” clarified Mr. Glenn. “To consider what sort of child we can best support. To be quite frank, my wife and I are both more academic types. A more athletically inclined or highly sociable child might find us a bit boring, but one that’s perhaps more academically inclined might be able to thrive in our care. We have a library in our home, and my wife and I often spend our evenings with our noses in a book.”

Nicholas, in that moment, forgot his own book, captivated by the fantasy of the family being described below him.

Reading every evening? That sounded lovely. Like the perfect fit. And they were open to adopting an older boy? Most parents weren’t open to that, or at least, they weren’t open to it very often. Nicholas knew it was a long shot, Nathaniel would have told him as much if he was here, but nevertheless, the hope rose in his chest as he imaged a home, a home where he could relax, feel safe, feel joy again, and read his books in peace.

“We do have two academically inclined boys that would fit that description,” reported the orphanage director. “A pair of twin boys.”

“Well, we certainly weren’t expecting to take in two, but perhaps we could consider making room,” noted Mr. Glenn, glancing over at his wife for approval.

“It would be lot, but it also might be better,” she suggested. “Less of an adjustment for the two of them if they had a familiar person with them.”

Nicholas felt his heart soar.

Academically inclined twin boys? That could only mean him and Nathaniel! This was it! Their family!

They…they were going home to a family, at last! Oh, he wanted to hear everything! He couldn’t wait to tell Nathaniel!

Nicholas felt like falling asleep, but he forced himself to stay awake, thinking of every sad thing he could think of to prevent it, anxiously waiting to hear what the orphanage director had to say.

“You might think that,” she agreed. “However, in this case and at this point, we think it might be best if the brothers were to go to different homes.”

Nicholas felt his heart sink in an instant. The…the orphanage director thought it might be best they go to different homes? Nicholas had never considered that as an option before. Nathaniel was his brother, of course they were going to stay together! How could they not? Why would they ever want to split them up if these parents might be willing to take in two?

Nicholas anxiously pressed his ear to the floor, only to have the sounds in the office drowned out by the sound of the janitor vacuuming outside.

However, had Nicholas been able to hear what was said behind closed doors, he might have been surprised.

“Different homes?” asked Mrs. Glenn. “Why ever would you want that?”

“For the good of their development,” declared the orphanage director. “This orphanage has a reputation to maintain, and we maintain it by matching children with the appropriate home, homes where they won’t make trouble, homes where they will adjust well to their new environment. The fact is, these boys, they tend to make trouble together, always off doing these ridiculous science experiments and projects, making a mess of things. One of them, Nathaniel, is clearly the ring-leader. He’s brilliant, lots of potential, but he’s also very…how shall I put this…in your face. Perfectionistic, neurotic, and frankly, occasionally off-putting. His brother Nicholas on the other hand, is very similar but much nicer, quieter, more of a blank slate. Sometimes too quiet perhaps, always sitting around with his nose in a book-”

“-I was often the same way, when I was young,” interrupted Mr. Glenn. “I’m not sure I’d count a lot of literature as a bad thing.”

“-when he has any free time,” continued the orphanage director, clearly not amused to have been interrupted. “And he usually doesn’t because most of his time is spent doing whatever his brother tells him to. Obedience to teachers and authority is a good thing, but giving into peer pressure like that is rather unbecoming. He simply withers in his brother’s presence, Nathaniel’s…uh…personality simply takes up too much room. They might be identical twins, but the environments they’d need for a successful match with parents are completely different.”

“Well, I’m sure not every parent raises each of their children exactly the same,” suggested Mrs. Glenn. “After all, children have different needs.”

“Perhaps,” sighed the orphanage director. “But we try to make things easier for you by giving you a child that doesn’t require you to adapt yourself or your lives. It’s one of the reasons our orphanage has such a high and successful adoption rate. The fact is, it is my professional opinion that both brothers would simply be too much for any one home to handle, and Nicholas is the one whose personality makes the better fit for your household. I’d also argue that it’s better for him to have the separation from his brother, given how much his brother dictates and overshadows his personality. The opportunity to be on his own should enable him to be more sociable. Besides, even if that wasn’t the case, taking on them both at once would still be tricky given their disabilities.”

“Disabilities?” asked Mrs. Glenn. “What sort of disabilities?”

“Nothing too drastic,” the orphanage director promised. “Narcolepsy. They pass out temporarily during moments of strong emotion.”

“A child in my neighbor had that growing up,” recalled Mr. Glenn. “I’m familiar with the symptoms. I think that’s something we could handle, one of my wife’s friends is a pediatrician, I’m sure she’d have advice for us.”

Nicholas sighed in relief as finally, the janitor finished his cleaning, and he put his ear back to the floor to hear the rest of the conversation.

“She’ll likely have suggestions,” agreed the orphanage director. “But the fact is that disabled children are still a lot to look after, and I cannot in good conscience recommend adopting both at the same time, especially when one brother has the opportunity to excel without his brother holding him back and suppressing his potential.”

Nicholas felt like he’d been punched in the gut.

“Without his brother holding him back and suppressing his potential?”

Well, it had never been a secret that Nathaniel was the better one. The one with the slightly higher grades, which Nathaniel would constantly criticize him for. Nicholas always thought a 97% was just about as good as 100%, but Nathaniel disagreed, particularly because it was usually that Nicholas had simply made a careless mistake like writing “13” instead of “31” on an exam. And they couldn’t afford careless mistakes, not when prospective parents were scrutinizing their transcripts. But it wasn’t just the grades either, Nathaniel was the neater one, the ambitious one, the disciplined one, the go-getter, the one who longed for bigger and better things while Nicholas was content to drift away into his books. Nathaniel was the one who’d put all the effort into making sure they could get adopted and try to find a home and he'd always advised Nicholas to put the same amount of effort. Nicholas had thought it was perhaps overkill before, but now he had to accept his brother had been right all along.  

Even so, while it was no secret that Nathaniel was the better one on paper, and Nicholas might have accepted that a pair of parents might pick Nathaniel over him if given the choice…were…were they really going to say that he was holding his brother back? That Nathaniel was actually better off without him?

Nicholas felt like crying. He couldn’t deny it was true, but it hurt all the same to hear. He certainly never meant to hold his brother back! And of course he wanted Nathaniel to be happy, to go to a good home, but…what would he do without his brother? He’d never thought about it before.

“Well, we trust your professional opinion of course,” said Mrs. Glenn, though she still sounded unsure.

“Though we’ll have to meet the boy first,” added Mr. Glenn.

“Next week is the pageant,” suggested the orphanage director. “The perfect occasion and that gives you plenty of time to review his file and think it over.”

Only a week?

Nicholas got up from his spot as he heard the couple thank the director and leave.

Then he walked numbly back to his room.

He only had one week. 

Only a week before Nathaniel, his only friend, his only family, the only person who’d ever loved or cared for him, left him forever.

What should he do? Should he beg Nathaniel not to go? No, that felt wrong, and more than wrong, it felt cruel, and it wasn’t like he could ever hope to be adopted with his brother anyway! The orphanage director had said herself that she was advising families to take them separately! Nicholas supposed it made sense, taking in two disabled children was a lot to handle, and Nathaniel was clearly the one that was worth the trouble, but Nicholas still couldn’t imagine a life or a family that didn’t have his brother in it!

That night, Nathaniel found Nicholas sitting glumly on the edge of his bed.

“Hey Nicky, there you are, where have you been?”

“Just around. Reading,” sighed Nicholas.

“What’s wrong?” asked Nathaniel.

“Why do you think something’s wrong?” asked Nicholas.

“Because I can read you like a book,” declared Nathaniel, sitting himself on the edge of the bed. “Did you get bullied again? Because I’ve been concocting a new chemical formula for an acid that can eat through shoes. It’s still in the rudimentary stages, but it shows potential.”

“No,” answered Nicholas. “Nothing like that, no need for revenge or acid or anything like that. I was just…thinking is all.”

“Well then that’s the problem. What were you thinking about this time?”

“I was thinking about if we were to ever get adopted,” explained Nicholas. “And about how it’s possible that one day a family will have room for one of us and not the other, and if they said they wanted just you, I’d want you to be happy, but I’d miss you and I…I’d be sad to see you go, that’s all.”

Nicholas reached forward and hugged his brother, who sighed.

“Nicky, that’s not going to happen. We’re twins,” Nathaniel lectured. “If they take one of us, they have to take the other.”

“But what if they don’t,” implored Nicholas. “What if they only want to take you? What if they only act interested in you? Would you…would you go without me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Nicky, I wouldn’t just go with them and leave you here. I’d give them a pitch. Explain why there’s value in adopting you too,” declared Nathaniel.

“What if they say they’ll still only take one?” asked Nicholas.

“Then I’d go with them, and once I’d charmed them and made myself the son of their dreams, they’d understand that adopting both of us is well worth the extra expense, and they’re not going to say no to me after I’ve done so much to impress them.”

“But what if there’s no convincing them?” asked Nicholas. “What if they still say no?”

“They won’t say no if I can prove you’re a valuable asset, Nicky,” explained Nathaniel calmly, rolling his eyes. “I’ve read lots of books on public speaking, debating, and how to convince and lead. Trust me, I’ll make sure any new parents we get see things my way. You leave that, and the thinking, to me.”

“I don’t really know if you can do that with parents,” said Nicholas. “Aren’t they supposed to be the ones who make the decisions?”

Nathaniel rolled his eyes.

“That doesn’t mean they can’t be manipulated,” he countered. “It’s a parent’s job to keep their children happy, and if their new perfect son they love more than anything in the world asks for his baby brother, then of course they’re going to be moved to do whatever it takes to give him his family. One way or another, everyone has their breaking point, and if they won’t accept my logical argument for why you should be adopted too, an emotional appeal to their sense of sentimentality will work just as well.”

“But that still leaves a long time before I might be adopted too,” protested Nicholas. “Days, weeks, maybe months!”

“If that were to happen, which it probably won’t,” lectured Nathaniel. “We’re a package deal, Nicky, part of a set. When people see how special we are, they’ll wish there were three or four of us just so they could have more. That’s not gonna happen, and if it does, I’ll handle it.”

“Okay,” said Nicholas, still not quite sounding like he believed it. “But…all the same…would you mind sleeping with me, just for tonight?”

“Sure,” sighed Nathaniel. “If it will make you feel better. But trust me, you don’t have anything to worry about, Nicky. You leave our adoption to me. You just need to worry about getting ready for next week’s pageant. This could be our big chance to impress our future parents.”

“Your big chance,” thought Nicholas sadly to himself, though he didn’t voice it out loud.

He felt Nathaniel fall asleep next to him, blissfully unaware of the fact that in a week, he’d be lying in his own bed with two loving parents while Nicholas would be left behind.

Nicholas tried to focus on his brother’s presence, enjoying it for as long as he possibly could, as he knew it was only a matter of time before he’d disappear forever.

During the next week, Nicholas vowed to spend every second he could with Nathaniel, any moment he could, since he knew that this was the last week he’d have to spend with his brother.

Unfortunately, it was a week when Nathaniel was being particular intolerable, insisting that he and Nicholas practice for the pageant 24/7. Everything, from appearance, to dancing, to vocals, had to be perfect.

Nicholas tried to bear it. He really did. But everyone has their breaking point, and even knowing these were his last days with Nathaniel wasn’t enough to keep him from needing just five minutes of reading in the stairwell.

Unfortunately, his five minutes ended up really being more five seconds, given how quickly Nathaniel was able to find him.

“Nicky, there you are,” declared Nathaniel, as he ran around the corner, jar in hand.

Nicholas sighed.

“So, how do I look?” asked Nathaniel.

Nicholas looked up from his book.

“Uh, shiny? What’s that stuff in your hair?”

“It’s not stuff. It’s my house-made hair pomade. One part water, one part mineral oil, some melted wax, and last, but not least, four drops of sage essence I extracted myself from some kitchen herbs.”

“Steam distilled?”

“Of course! Come on. Get up.”

Nicholas sighed, put his book away, and stood up to allow Nathaniel to rub his dreadful concoction into his hair.

“Nobody’s looking to adopt a couple of scruffy street urchins, Nicky,” lectured Nathaniel. “They want kids who are clean and well-groomed. Presentation is everything, right?”

“I guess,” shrugged Nicholas.

“We might know how special we are, but no one else will unless we show them,” Nathaniel reminded him.

Nicholas sighed again. It was nice that Nathaniel believed in him. But Nicholas just wasn’t like his brother. He wasn’t this motivated or driven to be the perfect child. Nicholas was just himself and if that wasn’t enough then…then he supposed this was it.

“You’ll thank me later when we’re with our new parents in our rooms with bunk beds that don’t rattle and sag,” promised Nathaniel.

Nicholas supposed that perhaps there might be some hope that Nathaniel’s tricks might dazzle this new couple enough that they might insist to the orphanage director that they wanted both. Though he still didn’t like the hair gel. It felt gross and sticky.

 “I don’t know, Nathaniel,” sighed Nicholas, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror. “When I’m older and I’m adopting a child, I won’t care how they look as long as they’re nice and in need of a good home.”

“You want to adopt a kid when you’re grown up?” asked Nathaniel, wrinkling his nose.

“Yeah,” said Nicholas. “To give them the home we never had. Plus, I like little kids. I’d want at least ten of them.”

“Ten? That’s way too many. What are you going to do with all those kids?” asked Nathaniel.

“I’m not sure I’d do anything with them. I’d probably mostly take care of them,” suggested Nicholas. “Wouldn’t you like to adopt one for yourself?”

“Certainly not,” declared Nathaniel. “I’m never adopting any children or having any kids. They’re too boring. Especially babies. All they do is poop, eat, sleep, and cry. I don’t see what’s so miraculous or special about them or what they could possibly do for me. I’m certainly not going to be adopting or taking care of one, that’s for sure. Besides, I don’t need my own children. I’ll probably get roped into helping take care of yours once they get older if you insist on having ten of them. Now c’mon. We need to keep rehearsing if we want your future children to have any grandparents.”

Nicholas sighed and relented to subjecting himself to another hour of Nathaniel’s critiques of his vocal performance and dancing.

Nicholas was only able to escape after he’d convinced Nathaniel that he desperately needed to go to the bathroom.

He ran to the back stairwell and sat down, happy to have his head cleared at last.

Then he felt filled with shame.

What was he doing? Running away from Nathaniel, again, when this was his last day at the orphanage? Nicholas felt awful, but at the same time he’d been practicing nonstop for an hour, and he just needed a break.

“HEY. NERD.”

Nicholas looked up to see James marching towards him, with Tommy Jacobs close behind.

James was one of the older boys at the orphanage, and was one of the children who’d been identified as having “significant behavioral problems” that made him difficult to adopt. James’ hobbies included skipping classes, punching other students in the throat, and mocking and torturing Nicholas and Nathaniel whenever he had the opportunity. Tommy Jacobs seemed to be James’ only friend, though he really was more of a follower and wasn’t nearly as competent a bully as James. Nicholas always felt rather bad for poor Tommy, as he was universally regarded as one of the dumbest, clumsiest, and most incompetent students in the school. Nicholas, out of the kindness of his heart, against his brother’s wishes, had once tried to help Tommy learn to dance for one of the orphanages’ pageants. Unfortunately, in this case, Nathaniel’s cynicism proved correct, and Tommy indeed put on one of the worst performances in recorded history. Since then, Nathaniel had insisted that Nicholas stay away from Tommy, lest they become infected with his incompetence and failure.

But since Tommy was a follower of James, and James’ favorite hobby was torturing them, this was easier said than done.

“Me?” asked Nicholas.

“Yeah you, stupid!” said James. “What are you doing in my stairwell?”

“Your stairwell?” asked Nicholas.

“You heard me,” declared James. “My stairwell!”

“Well…gosh, James, I didn’t know this was your particular stairwell,” said Nicholas nervously, not wanting to make any trouble. “I suppose I’ll just be going then.”

“Oh, you’re not going anywhere. Not until you learn a lesson about wandering into places you don’t belong,” declared James, grabbing Nicholas by the shirt collar.

“Put him down!”

The others turned to see Nathaniel standing in the doorway at the top of the stairs, his arms crossed.

“This isn’t your stairwell, this building belongs to the city,” he lectured. “And I’ll tell the headmaster you were roughhousing if you so much as touch him again.”

“Aw,” said James, in a mocking tone. “This is adorable. Little tattletale know-it-all is here to save the day. Too bad your brother decided to sit his behind where it doesn’t belong.”

“What are you doing here anyway?” asked Nathaniel. “The concert is in ten minutes.”

“You think I’m gonna waste my time singing in a stupid pageant?” asked James. “Please. If they wanted us to do something that would really impress our would-be parents, they’d let me do something I’m actually good at, like throwing your spinless brother across the yard.”

James snarled at Nicholas, who whimpered in fright.

“Yeah!” agreed Tommy. “Though I uh…I did practice for the pageant. Might be cool to do part of a number, just for fun or whatever. Thanks for helping me with my dancing, Nicholas.”

“Oh, it was no trouble,” promised Nicholas, giving Tommy his best attempt at a friendly smile.

“SHUT UP!” hollered James, glaring at Tommy. “I told you not to talk to these losers. We don’t talk to nerds, and we don’t participate in sissy pageants!”

“And we,” added Nathaniel, giving his brother a side-eye that Nicholas knew meant Nathaniel’s words were meant to chastise him too, “don’t waste our time socializing with primitive Neanderthals or waste our time trying to teach such hopeless downtrodden buffoons how to dance!”

“Oh wow,” said James sarcastically. “Mr. Fancy pants is gonna dazzle all the parents at the pageant with his big words.”

“I’m going to impress them with how cultured and sophisticated we are,” declared Nathaniel. “The combination of my literary skills, natural talents, and fashion sense will show them that I am a child that would thrive in a financially secure and stable two-parent household, and if Nicholas follows my lead, which he will, they’ll see that he and I are destined to achieve great things together.”

“How adorable,” mocked James. “You and your brother impressing parents with your fancy words and little bow ties and your ability to be the fanciest little girls at the tea party.”

“There’s a tea party?” asked Tommy.

“No, it’s a joke, stupid,” groaned James.

“Oh, right. HA!” declared Tommy triumphantly (though he was disappointed about the lack of tea and cookies).

“Why don’t you just leave us alone,” suggested Nicholas. “I didn’t mean to intrude on your stairwell, James, and we have to get ready for the pageant anyway. I wouldn’t want anyone to get into any trouble.”

“I’m sure a goodie little two-shoes like you would like to avoid trouble,” laughed James. “Especially considering a weakling like you probably couldn’t handle it. You know, you’re lucky your brother is such a fancy-pants sissy, Nicholas. He’s probably the only person who could stand next to you and actually look like more of a freak by comparison.”

“Yeah,” agreed Tommy. “Theater boy!”

“Good one, Tommy,” compliment James.

Tommy beamed with pride.

“It wasn’t a “good one”,” responded Nathaniel dryly. “Theater is a highly respected art form that takes emotional depth, talent, and a deep understanding of narrative structure, things that neither of you will ever have, and calling my brother of all people a “freak” is rich coming from you.”

“Are you calling me stupid?” demanded James.

“I don’t need to,” replied Nathaniel smugly. “You pretty much call yourself stupid on a daily basis by your own actions, but if you need concrete evidence, we can always look at our grades, which are publicly posted. I make the highest grades in the entire orphanage and when my brother learns to stop making careless mistakes, we’ll be tied. You and Tommy rank the lowest, to the surprise of absolutely no one.”

“So? I’m proud to rank the lowest,” declared James. “The real idiots are you and the rest of the orphanage for even trying on those stupid exams, as if any of us are ever going to go to college. We’re all gonna end up in jobs you don’t need degrees for anyway. Everyone knows it. Bothering with exams is just a stupid waste of time.”

“It is?” asked Tommy, who unlike James, really did try his best on every exam, unfortunately to no avail.

“No, they are part of our resumes that will no doubt impress prospective parents and show them our potential to thrive,” lectured Nathaniel.

“Yeah,” chuckled James. “I’m sure that’s what every parent dreams of when they picture a child. A gross little theater nerd who marches around bossing everyone. No wonder you never seem to keep any friends. Even your own brother knows you’re a loser. He ran away to hide in this stairwell just to get away from you, which is really saying something considering he’s a pathetic little wimp.”

“That’s not true! I was…I was trying to find a bathroom,” protested Nicholas, though he felt his face turning pink.

“At least my brother doesn’t go around declaring public spaces “his stairwell”,” remarked Nathaniel, oblivious to Nicholas’ embarrassment. “As if someone of your intellect could ever match up to his brilliance.”

“Aw, you’re defending him,” mocked James. “Once again, adorable. But I’m getting bored. Let’s see how good you really are, theater boy.”

James raised his fist.

“No, wait,” cried Nicholas. “I don’t want anyone to fight!”

“It’s fine, Nicky,” said Nathaniel. “I’ve been practicing my technique.”

James laughed.

“Good,” he snarled. “Maybe that will make this more of a challenge this time!”

And then Nicholas gasped as James grabbed Nathaniel’s arm, twisting it as he slammed him against the wall.

Nathaniel grimaced and gritted his teeth, trying with all his might to wiggle his way free.

“Oh, this is pathetic,” said James, grinning down at Nathaniel. “How are you feeling? Weak? Scared? Vulnerable?”

“I’m fine,” grunted Nathaniel.

“You sure?” asked James. “Not too tired, are you? Don’t wanna lie down and take a little nap like a precious baby lamb?”

Nathaniel growled and thrashed more aggressively than before, his embarrassment at being beaten so quickly and forced into such a vulnerable position mercifully overcome by his resilience and anger just enough to keep him awake.

Unfortunately, his escape efforts amount to little more than that.

“Let him go!” begged Nicholas, horrified to see Nathaniel in so much pain, and feeling guilty to have put Nathaniel in such a position. After all, if Nicholas hadn’t run away to the stairwell to spend time alone, Nathaniel would have never challenged James, and then he wouldn’t be in this position!

James smirked.

“Let him go?” he repeated, with a mischievous grin on his face. “Oh, very well. If you insist.”

And with that, James launched Nathaniel down the stairs headfirst.

Nicholas gasped and ran after his brother.  

“Next time, I’m gonna break that arm,” warned James. “C’mon Tommy, let’s go.”

“And one day,” muttered Nathaniel angrily, as Nicholas helped him up. “Men like you are going to work for men like me.”

“Nathaniel, are you alright?” gasped Nicholas.

“I’m fine, Nicky,” sighed Nathaniel, though his arm still hurt, and he had bruises on his legs. “I just need to cover my bruises with some stage makeup before the pageant. Can’t have prospective parents thinking I’m clumsy. We can get our revenge later.”

“But do we have to?” sighed Nicholas. “Nathaniel, framing them for things, getting them into trouble, it only ever makes things worse!”

“And if we let them get away with this, we give them control,” Nathaniel reminded him. “Control over us, Nicky. What did I teach you about control?”

Nicholas sighed.

“It’s not something you give away, it’s something you take,” he recited.

Nathaniel nodded.

“Yes. You control your environment, or it controls you, and I will not allow myself to be controlled.”

“But maybe you don’t always need to insult James and provoke him,” suggested Nicholas.

Nathaniel shook his head.

“He insulted you and your honor, Nicky. I’m your older brother. It’s my job to protect you and defend our family’s reputation.”

“You’re not my older brother. We’re twins.”

“But I’m clearly the older one.”

“We don’t know that.”

Nathaniel gave his brother a look.

“I clearly fit the older twin profile, Nicky, you know that.”

Nicholas sighed.

“I guess so. Thank you for standing up for me. I’m sorry I got distracted again.”

“It’s fine, Nicky,” sighed Nathaniel. “So long as you’re ready by the time the pageant starts. This is our big day, remember?”

“Your big day,” Nicholas thought silently and sadly to himself, remembering that after the pageant the couple would be taking his brother home and leaving him behind.

Though Nicholas knew Nathaniel was confident in his abilities to keep them together, he still felt unsure.

After all, the only reason Nathaniel had gotten hurt was because he was defending him. Maybe the orphanage director was right. Maybe it really was for the best that his brother went on to a better life without him.

“I’m going to put some stage makeup over these bruises, you go backstage and touch up your hair gel,” advised Nathaniel. “Break a leg. And don’t be late!”

Nicholas nodded.

“Break a leg,” he echoed, as he wandered backstage, though it all felt like such a blur.

This was it. Nathaniel, his best friend, the only friend he’d ever known, was really going away.

Nicholas was so lost in thought; it wasn’t long before he heard singing and realized he missed his cue.

♪ “There’s got to be a morning after, if we can hold on through the night,” ♪

Nicholas ran on stage, a few seconds late, much to Nathaniel’s apparent disappointment.

Though Nicholas noted his brother wasted no time stepping into his spotlight.

♪ “We have a chance to find the sunshine. Let’s keep on looking for the light.” ♪

Nathaniel stepped forward and began singing an impromptu solo he’d rehearsed.

♪ “Oh, can’t you see the morning after? The morning after…” ♪

Two of the girls on stage looked at each other and raised their eyebrows.

Nicholas was mortified. He knew Nathaniel was wonderful, but he still wasn’t totally comfortable with the attention.

Gosh, maybe he was holding his brother back.

♪ “It’s waiting right outside the storm…” ♪

♪ “Outside the storm…” ♪

♪ “Why don’t we cross the bridge together…” ♪

♪ “Cross the bridge together…”  ♪ 

♪ “And find a place that’s safe and warm?” ♪

Nathaniel dramatically took center stage, and at this point, the conductor attempted to kindly and subtly usher Nathaniel back to his spot, but his solo would not be interrupted.

♪ “There’s got to be a morning after…There’s got to be a morning after…There’s got to be a morning after…” ♪

Nathaniel sang loudly and proudly, smiling at the audience once his moment was finally finished.

Then he walked back to his brother and put his arm around his shoulder, waving at the audience while Nicholas, still unsure how to awkwardly deal with all the attention and all the prospective parents looking at them, embraced his brother and smiled uncomfortably as a photographer took their picture.

Then came the reception.

“That was one of our best performances yet!” declared Nathaniel triumphantly. “They’re bound to be impressed with us, Nicky.”

Nicholas nodded.

“You were brilliant, Nathaniel,” he complimented.

“I know,” said Nathaniel, beaming with pride as he turned to survey their prospects.

Nicholas sighed and slinked off to a dark corner to read by himself.

It was only a matter of time before Nathaniel had his big moment. Nicholas didn’t want to ruin it, and a part of him, though he was happy for his brother, couldn’t bear to watch.

“Such great parents, here we are!” declared the orphanage director as she led Mr. and Mrs. Glenn to Nathaniel Benedict, who looked remarkably like Nicholas from the back (and the orphanage director had never been particularly good at telling them apart).

“Hello, nice to meet you. My name is Nathaniel Benedict,” announced Nathaniel, with a rehearsed polite smile as he turned around.

“Well, hello,” said Mrs. Glenn, wondering whether perhaps the orphanage director had given them the wrong name, as she had thought Nicholas was the name of the twin she said they’d be interested in.

“Great show,” complimented Mr. Glenn, who was wondering a similar thing himself.

Nathaniel’s pride swelled, and wasting no time, launched into another rehearsed monologue that was sure to impress

“Now is the winter of our discontent, made glorious summer by this sun of York. And all the clouds that lowered upon our house-”

The orphanage director, who had been uncomfortably mortified the second Nathaniel introduced himself and she realized she’d led the couple to the wrong twin, glanced at them awkwardly, silently hoping they’d forgive her mistake, and she might have the chance to lead them away.

“Impressive,” said Mrs. Glenn, as politely as she could.

But Nathaniel wasn’t finished.

“-in the deep bosom of the ocean buried. Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths, our bruised arms hung up for monuments.”

“It’s Richard the Third,” Nathaniel explained proudly.

The Glenns smiled and nodded uncomfortably in acknowledgement of the boy, both finally realizing that this indeed, was not the quiet studious boy they’d heard so many good things about, but his more “in your face” brother.

“My brother, Nicholas,” began Nathaniel, gesturing back towards his brother, who perked up at the sound of his name.

“He can do long division in his head. I taught him how. With us, you get two for the price of one, no strings attached. He doesn’t take up much space, really. Or eat much for that matter.”

Nicholas was surprised. Nathaniel was still thinking of him, even when this couple was clearly more interested in praising his performance. But even in his description, it was hard to deny that Nathaniel was the better option. Nicholas really hoped the parents might not mind a second child. He really wouldn’t take up much space or eat much, not if it meant he could stay with his brother and that they could go home together!  

“I’m sorry to say that we only have room for one, buddy,” said Mr. Glenn, apologetically.

“If you can only take one, we understand,” said Nathaniel sweetly.

Nicholas trembled. He felt shocked, even though he knew he had no reason to be. If an opportunity to go to a good home came along, both brothers knew they had to take it. They were getting older, and the older you got, the less parents were interested in adopting you. Nathaniel would undoubtedly hatch some scheme to bring him home, but in the meantime, Nicholas would have to spend days, maybe even weeks alone in the orphanage without Nathaniel, for the first time in his entire life.

“We want what’s best for each other,” Nathaniel promised, in the most adorable, reassuring voice he could muster.

“That’s really sweet,” complimented Mrs. Glenn with a smile, relieved that despite her fears, the orphanage director had been right, and this child wouldn’t be upset about the misunderstanding and would be happy to see his brother go to a good home.

“He’s right over here,” announced the orphanage director, sensing her opportunity as she led Mr. and Mrs. Glenn back towards Nicholas.

Nathaniel turned around in shock.

They…they could be seriously considering Nicky, could they? Nicholas had shown up late for the performance, and every accomplishment of his was something that Nathaniel had encouraged and facilitated! If they really could only adopt one, surely they wouldn't pick Nicky? And…if they were really interested in Nicky, then why had they approached Nathaniel first? Why had they given him that hope? Could the orphanage director really not tell them apart after all these years?

Nicholas was equally as surprised. They…wanted him? Was this a mistake? Was he dreaming? But…he’d heard what the orphanage director had said, about either he or Nathaniel holding the other one back, so surely this must be a mistake. Nathaniel was the one with the slightly better grades, and he had more talents, more work ethic, and he was more organized, more presentable…how on earth could anyone believe he was the one holding Nicholas back?

“Hello,” said Mrs. Glenn with a small smile. “We hear you like to read.”

Nicholas nodded shyly and showed her his book.

“One of our favorites,” complimented Mr. Glenn.

“Thank you. My…my brother found it for me,” whispered Nicholas, his voice uncertain and nervous.

Nathaniel continued to stare at his brother, a thousand emotions running through him.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want Nicky to go to a good home, of course he wanted that, how could he not want that, but…him being chosen first? Before him? When Nathaniel was the one who would stop at nothing to be perfect, presentable, flawless, everything a parent could want? When Nicholas hadn’t lifted a finger, when he owed his presentability and many of his accomplishments to his brother’s influence?

It was jealousy and bitterness, certainly. Sadness of course. But there was something else too, something far more painful underneath it all.

Fear.

An emotion dangerously close to vulnerability, far too close.

Nathaniel had considered of course the possibility that perhaps he might be adopted first, and would have to launch a scheme to ensure Nicky was adopted as well (eventually), but Nicky being adopted first…Nathaniel hadn't accounted for that, he hadn't planned for it! What if Nicky couldn’t convince his new parents to take in him home too? Furthermore…what if he didn’t try at all?

Nathaniel shook off the thought. It was ridiculous. Nicky was too loyal, too good, too much of a moral do-right rule follower. Though he was weak, and there were times, times when Nathaniel had trouble finding Nicky and he seemed to vanish into thin air that he began to wonder if maybe his brother didn’t want to be found. But that was preposterous. Ridiculous, Nathaniel told himself. He might be a tad overbearing at times, that much was true, but it was all for good reason. After all, Nicky needed him, depended on him. He couldn’t survive without him.

Could he?  

It all happened so fast, faster than Nicholas had ever imagined.

He was so shocked this nice couple was approaching him instead of Nathaniel, that he didn’t even know what to say. They asked about the book he was reading, and he explained it to them, quietly, nervously, hoping that nothing he said sounded too strange or awkward. Then they began to talk about it, and at first Nicholas had been so nervous, but after a while, he began to open up, happy to finally have someone (besides Nathaniel) who was willing to talk about books, and indeed someone who seemed as interested in what he had to say as they were in their own thoughts, which was not something Nicholas had experienced very often. It was lovely, marvelous, and Nicholas, to his pleasant surprise and to Nathaniel’s horror, began to greatly enjoy himself.

Soon, the two kind strangers were smiling in his face, asking him if they could be his new parents, promising to give him a good life, a better life.

Nicholas glanced over at Nathaniel.

Nathaniel looked away then back at his brother and reluctantly, painfully, unwillingly, nodded, though it felt like someone else was moving his body for him. He wanted to shake his head, to scream no, that this wasn’t the plan, that he hadn’t accounted for this, that he hadn’t planned for this, that this was supposed to be his adoption, in his control, and that of course Nicky could have all the conversations about books he wanted once Nathaniel had established and gotten a sense of their new routine in their new house, whether it was one they went to together, or one Nathaniel found for them.

But it wasn’t in his control, though Nathaniel had done everything in his power to keep it that way. He’d strived to be perfect, beyond reproach, the perfect child, one that any parent would want so badly that they wouldn’t mind a spare should Nathaniel ask very sweetly if his brother could come too.

And yet, none of that mattered. None of the work he put into his appearance, his cleanliness, his talents, his grades, none of it mattered, none of it was good enough. For some inexplicable reason, they’d chosen Nicholas instead.

And though he knew he ought to be happy for his brother, and that certainly much of the credit was owed to him for helping Nicholas improve himself over the years, he still felt a sickening bitterness in his chest, a bitterness that grew even as he helped his brother pack and walked outside to say goodbye.

“It should have been me,” he declared, unable to hide the resentment in his voice.

“I know,” Nicholas whispered.

He really didn’t understand why it wasn’t Nathaniel. Surely the orphanage director must have made a grave mistake. Nathaniel was the one who wanted this, who wanted bigger and better things, he was the one who had put in all the work, for both of them. He deserved this! It was Nicholas’ dream come true, but it was also a dream he felt was unearned, as if he was being given a prize for someone else’s work, credit where he didn’t deserve any.

“What do they even see in you?” asked Nathaniel bitterly, unable to stop himself, even though a part of him knew he was being unfair.

“I have no idea,” said Nicholas nervously, not being able to help himself from thinking back to that conversation he’d overheard about Nathaniel holding him back and hoping for a brief guilty terrible moment, that perhaps what they said might have some ring of truth to it. Could it really be possible that Nicholas lived in a world where he was the preferred twin? The thought repulsed him as much as it delighted him.

Meanwhile, Nathaniel, realizing he was faced with his final moments with his twin before they said goodbye, looked past his more resentful feelings and instead looked cautiously towards the fear and sadness he kept buried under the surface, though he was determined to stay focused on the practical, on what he could control, the one person he could rely on, despite how quickly the situation had slipped out of his grasp.

“You’ll come back for me…right Nicky?” he asked softly, surprisingly softly, realizing to his shock and horror that he was unable to hide the fear in his own voice.

“Of course,” said Nicholas immediately, without a second thought, upon seeing his brother’s distress. “I’ll convince them to adopt you too. And if they say no. I’ll come back and get you anyway.”

The brothers leaned forward to hug each other goodbye, holding each other tightly as they each knew it might be a long time before they got the chance to hold each other again.

“I promise,” declared Nicholas boldly.

And he meant it too. Nathaniel had worked so hard to find them a home, and now, it was Nicholas’ turn to be there for his brother. He could do this. He could take control; he could find a way to convince his parents to give Nathaniel a home too. Nathaniel had taught him how. The orphanage director might have thought they were better apart, but that clearly wasn’t true. And once Nicholas told them how much better their lives would be if Nathaniel was there with them, then his parents would see it too, and they’d realize they needed to come back for Nicholas’ brother too.

Nathaniel watched sadly as Nicholas walked to the car with his suitcase. His new mother smiled and opened the car door to welcome her son inside.

Her son. Nicholas was someone’s son now.

Nathaniel tried with all his might to stay awake and keep the tears from coming.

Nicholas took a moment to look back at his brother.

There he was, standing alone, as they were about to be without each other for the first time. It felt so strange. Neither could recall a single day where they’d been without the other before. Though they each knew, or at least, told themselves that it wouldn’t be for long, there was something terrifying about it. Something ominous, something final, as if this really was the end.

Nathaniel tentatively put up his hand and waved goodbye, though he wanted to scream, to scream at Nicholas to come back, to beg him to take him home, to not leave him here.

Nicholas nodded, took one last look at his brother, Nathaniel, the only family he’d ever known, and climbed into the car to join his new family.

Nathaniel watched them drive away and then began crying, unable to stop himself any longer, the tears falling freely as the director lead him inside.

“Tough break,” said James, who of course was loitering in the hallway. “But if it makes you feel better, I honestly don’t know what they would have seen in either one of you. They’ll probably return your brother in a few days when they realize what a loser he is. Oh well, I suppose there’s always next pageant, isn’t there?”

“He’s coming back for me,” muttered Nathaniel, marching past James to his and Nicholas’…well, to his bedroom now, he supposed, since he wouldn’t have a room or bunkmate anymore.

He fell into his bed and began to silently cry into his pillow.

He felt stupid for crying. There was no point in crying. Nicky was a rule follower, and he’d made a promise. He’d come back for him. Well, of course he’d come back for him, he could hardly manage without Nathaniel, and besides, they were brothers, they loved each other, he…Nicky had to come back for him, he would come back for him, and then James and anyone else who mocked Nathaniel would realize just how foolish they were!

…but if that were true, then…why did it all feel so hopeless? So final?

So out of control?

Nathaniel gritted his teeth. It wasn’t over. Nicky wouldn’t abandon him. In all likelihood, it wouldn’t even be a week. Nicky would come to take him home. He would. He had to.

He…he had to. He had to come back.

“He’s coming back,” Nathaniel whispered to himself over and over again, though doing so made him feel stupid and childish, but of course, without Nicholas, he had no one besides himself to offer comfort in his more vulnerable moments.

“He’s coming back,” Nathaniel whispered, as if his words could change reality, take control of his situation and bring his brother back.

And he continued to whisper it, over and over, until at last, his narcolepsy did its work.

Meanwhile, Nicholas was whisked away to his new home, which ended up being more than anything he’d ever dreamed.

He had his own bed. His own bedroom and it was four times the size of any room he’d been given to sleep in at the orphanage.

The food was better too, much better, and his parents let him have as much as he wanted. He had new clothes, new books, even a new bike. It was like he’d won the lottery, and at the end of each day, the family gathered in the living room to read. Mrs. Glenn would pass around cookies and tea while Mr. Glenn started a fire in the fireplace, and then once the clock struck bedtime, the entire family would wish each other goodnight and go upstairs to sleep.

It felt like heaven, a beautiful heaven, that Nicholas would have been content to immersive himself in it, to let himself get swept away, were it not for the fact that every time he was about to give into the magic and fully accept this as his new home, his new reality, he pictured his brother’s face on the front steps of the orphanage, silently crying as he watched Nicholas leave with his new family and a pain of guilt ran through him.

“I’m coming back for you, Nathaniel,” he’d think to himself. And every evening, before he fell asleep, Nicholas would debate whether tomorrow was the day he ought to ask his parents the question he needed to ask:

“Can my brother please live here too? Please, I miss him so much, can he be a part of our family?”

And every night, Nicholas would tell himself that no, tomorrow just wasn’t the right time. At first it was because Nicholas told himself he needed at least a week to get used to his new family, and then he needed at least another week, to win over his new parents, to make sure they’d be open to the idea. Then they were going to the park together, or they had an errand the next day, or something else came up that just didn’t make it the perfect time. But that was all Nicholas was waiting for. The right moment.

And when it came along, he would take it.

Wouldn’t he?

“I hope you’re happy here, Nicholas,” said his mother sweetly, one sunny morning.

“What?” asked Nicholas, looking up from his book. “Oh, yes, mother. I’m very happy here. Living here with you and my dad is better than anything I ever could have ever imagined!”

“Really?” asked his father. “Well, that’s quite the compliment, son. What’s so wonderful about it?”

“Well…” said Nicholas, for the first time considering what really was the best thing about his new environment, only to feel a chill up his spine as he considered a thought, a dreadful thought, one that he immediately dismissed.

“It’s…it’s the…the house,” he said quickly. “It’s just…so big. Plenty of room to read, and I get my own bedroom, and there’s such a big library, it’s really wonderful.”

“Thank you, dear, it’s been in the family for generations,” explained his mother.

“One day, we’ll pass it on to you,” promised his father.

Nicholas smiled and nodded, trying his best to forget the terrible thought he’d had and focus on the wonderful almost unbelievable idea that one day a house as grand and beautiful as this could be his someday.

But he still couldn’t shake the uncomfortable feeling that lingered in the back of his mind. The awful thought that maybe the real reason he was happier here was because…

…no, Nicholas told himself. No, that couldn’t be it, that was just a horrible ridiculous silly thought, no, of course not. He missed Nathaniel terribly, and he wanted him here, he wanted him here more than anything!

“One more day,” Nicholas thought to himself each night as he drifted off to sleep.

“Just one more day and then I’ll ask them.”

But eventually, Nicholas realized that he could put it off no longer. Today was the day. He was going to ask his parents if they might consider adopting Nathaniel, if his brother might come to live with them.

He’d already let several months go by, which he hoped Nathaniel would forgive. Nicholas had simply needed enough time to fall into a comfortable routine with his new family, with his parents (though it still felt strange to call them mom and dad, almost like it didn’t feel real. Like something out of a movie of a wonderful perfect life that wasn’t really his).

It was Sunday morning, and the family was having breakfast, pancakes with strawberries and cream. Nicholas was wearing a new green shirt his mother had gotten for him. It was the kind of new clothes Nathaniel would have loved. To Nicholas, one good shirt was as good as another, but Nathaniel always dreamt of having finer things.

Nicholas sat at the table, steading himself as he prepared to make his speech.

He looked between his parents and across the table, imagining Nathaniel sitting there between them.

For a moment, the thought made Nicholas happy.

Nathaniel, eating breakfast with his brother again, part of their family once more.

Nathaniel, smiling at Nicholas across the table, talking about some grand discovery he’d made.

Nathaniel, grinning as he and Nicholas exchanged ideas for a new project.

Nathaniel, smirking and bragging about his latest accomplishment.

Nathaniel, chastising him for eating too much or eating too sloppily or not being clean enough.

Nathaniel, interrupting and talking over him throughout breakfast.

Nathaniel, lecturing him about another careless mistake he’d made.

Nicholas’ mouth opened, but nothing came out. He didn’t have the words to express what he was feeling.

He wanted his brother. He missed Nathaniel.

But…

…he also didn’t. That was the awful, terrible, horrible part about all of this, this perfect family Nicholas had stumbled upon. He hadn’t told his mother the truth. She hoped he was happy here, and he was happy, but it wasn’t just the bed, and the new clothes, and the books, and the nice new parents. It wasn’t the size of the house that impressed him.

It was, to Nicholas’ great shame, how quiet and peaceful it was. How quiet and peaceful the world was, at last, without Nathaniel. How he could make his own decisions, be his own person, finally breathe and hear himself think at last!

How could he give that up? But again, how could he not give that up? Nathaniel was his brother, his first and only real biological family, and regardless of how controlling he could be sometimes, he’d always been there for Nicholas! How could Nicholas even consider betraying him like this?

And yet he was considering it, and more than considering it, for the past few months he’d actually been living it! For what young twelve-year-old Nicholas wanted, though he did not have the words to express it, was to have the impossible. His brother here, as his brother, his twin, part of his family, part of their family, but also to have his own privacy and separate space from him, freedom from the control Nathaniel seemed to seek to impose on every person and thing in his path. But Nicholas knew from experience that he couldn’t have that. That simply wasn’t how Nathaniel worked. No, Nicholas knew he had to choose.

His brother or his freedom.

He knew what the right choice was, of course. What he ought to say. What he ought to do, what Nathaniel (though through undoubtedly manipulative and coercive means) would do if he were in Nicholas’ position. Nathaniel would come back for his brother. He’d come back and bring his brother home, home to their new family. Or, more precisely, given that this was Nathaniel, he’d take control. He’d demand his brother come back, snap his fingers and summon him the second he needed an extra set of hands on his latest science project. Or maybe he’d put on an adorable face and tell his new mother and father in the saddest cutest most heartbreaking voice a little twelve-year-old boy can muster that the only thing missing from his perfect new life was his missing brother and send his doting parents scrambling to make sure their precious new little boy wasn’t sad another moment, like parents rushing to get their child a puppy for Christmas. Then their parents would send for Nicholas at once, and Nathaniel would act casual about the whole thing, as though he hadn’t missed Nicholas at all, and there’d be no way to really tell because of course Nathaniel never acted like anything bothered him. He’d simply roll his eyes and say something like “you can’t have thought I was going to let you sit around at that orphanage forever, do you, Nicky?” before snatching a book out of his hands and giving him something to do as if no time had passed at all.

Yes, that was what would have happened, thought Nicholas, if it had been Nathaniel instead of him. Because for as controlling and manipulative as Nathaniel was, he was also strangely rigidly loyal and principled, in his own way, when he wanted to be. He’d make sure he brought Nicholas home with him, one way or another, regardless of whatever flaws of Nicholas he’d have to put up with, his mess, certainly.

Nicholas knew that he ought to do the same for him. If Nathaniel would put up with his flaws and ask for him back, then Nicholas should certainly be willing to put up with his brother’s more difficult behaviors too. After all, Nathaniel was his brother, his twin, and Nicholas had made a promise. The right thing to do, indeed the moral thing to do, the only thing to do was to at least try to fulfill that promise.

But he wasn’t. Nicholas wasn’t trying or saying anything. He was just sitting there, with his mouth hanging open, trying to imagine his brother sitting across the table, staring at him, crying for him, lecturing him, chastising him, smiling at him, joking with him, critiquing him, infantilizing him.

“Nicholas?” asked Mrs. Glenn gently.

“What?” asked Nicholas.

“Did you have something to say, darling?” asked his mother, noting her son’s open mouth.  

Nicholas looked back across the table at the empty chair where he’d been imagining his brother sitting across from him, just like he always had before.  

The chair was empty, quiet. No interruptions, no lectures, no mirror image of himself directing the rest of their shared lives.

“Uh…” began Nicholas, his throat suddenly feeling very dry.

“Um…no,” he finished. “No, mother, there isn’t. I’m just really enjoying my breakfast.”

“Well, help yourself, dear,” said Mrs. Glenn, smiling. “We made plenty.”

Nicholas nodded, though he felt too sick to eat any more. The word “no” felt like a rock in his stomach. There was something dark and terrible about it, something really, truly, final. Because before, Nicholas had been able to tell himself that beautiful lie: “one more day”. That he would just give himself one more day of quiet, one more day of reading in peace, one more day without Nathaniel directing the rest of his life, one more day to win his new parents over. Then, he’d ask the impossible ask, and no matter what answer he received, he would do whatever it took to bring his brother home, and he wouldn’t give up, he would never give up. And throughout the many months that Nicholas had lived in his new home, though it had been a long time, there was always a part of him that had believed the lie he told himself. Believed that of course he would eventually ask for Nathaniel, that of course he’d stop at nothing to bring his brother home.

But now Nicholas knew there was no denying the truth, the truth that perhaps he’d known all along, but was too ashamed or perhaps too naïve to admit even to himself.

He was never going to ask for Nathaniel back. Because for as much as he missed him, there was also undeniably, a part of himself that was better without him, a part that thrived in a family without his brother. And now that Nicholas had gotten a taste of that freedom, he wasn’t strong enough to let that go, not even for a promise he made to the one and only person who had ever cared for him.

It was a dreadful sickening realization, one that made Nicholas feel like the worst of people, the worst of traitors and liars, like all the horrible villains in his storybooks who turned on their kin and country. He didn’t deserve his new clothes, or nice parents, or big house, or strawberry pancakes.

His new shirts’ collar, which had once felt nice and comfortable compared to the itchy collars on the hand me down sweaters and resale clothes the orphanage gave him suddenly felt heavy, uncomfortable, and hot, like a collar that was choking him.

He politely asked to be excused, explaining that his stomach wasn’t feeling quite well. His parents, his kind adoring parents that he didn’t deserve excused him upstairs to his nice new bedroom to rest. 

Nicholas ran upstairs, fell into his bed, and once he was alone, he buried his face into his new fluffy comfortable pillows and cried. He cried and mourned for the brother he’d lost, the brother he’d given away for good, even as he continued to lie to himself.

“It’s not forever,” he told himself frantically, as he desperately tried to believe his own words.

“Yes, it is,” a voice inside whispered back at him. “Deep down, you know it is. The signs have been there all along. Think about all the times you wished you could be alone, all the times you ran to get away from him. You knew it too, didn’t you, when you looked back at him for the last time and saw the tears in his eyes? That this was finally the end? The freedom you’d always secretly wanted, the opportunity to stab him in the back that you’ve always desired?”

Nicholas shuddered, trying his best to forget how helpless and afraid Nathaniel had looked, standing there alone on the orphanage doorstep, his distress on full display, despite how much Nicholas knew his brother tried to hide his more private feelings.

“Do you think he knew even in that moment that you would betray him? That you would leave him forever? That you whispered lies into his ear as you hugged him for the very last time? Do you think he knew that was your final goodbye as brothers, the last time he would ever call you friend?”

Nicholas couldn’t answer. It felt like his chest was burning. But he knew what the voice said was right.

“But…but maybe Nathaniel will understand,” thought Nicholas desperately to himself. “He did say we wanted what was best for each other! Maybe he’ll understand that this was what was best for me!”

“But did you want what was best for him?” countered the voice in his head. “When you abandoned him? When you left your own brother, you best friend, behind for a new family and a better life?”

Nicholas shook and sobbed into his pillow, wishing there was some solution, some way he could help Nathaniel without giving up his newfound freedom.

“How could you leave me here? I’m your brother! You know how horrible this place is! You, and only you, ever knew how miserable I really am here! How could you do this to me, Nicky?”

His brother’s voice, angry, bitter, heartbroken, and betrayed, echoed through Nicholas’ mind.

It made him tremble, every terrible word like a knife to his chest.

“I’ll never forgive you for this, Nicky.”

Nicholas sniffed as the tears continued to roll down his cheeks.

“I know, Nathaniel,” he whispered sadly, his voice full of shame although there was no one there to hear him.

“I know.”

Later that evening, Nicholas’ mother came in to check on him. After seeing her son didn’t have a fever, she suggested Nicholas get an early night’s sleep, and he was happy to oblige.

It still felt weird, having an adult who routinely checked in on him when he was feeling sick. Before that had always been Nathaniel. That was what the brothers had done for each other, but Nicholas supposed Nathaniel would have no one to look after him now.

“Please,” he prayed silently, hoping desperately that although little twelve-year-old Nicholas knew he was now to be counted among the world’s Judases, the worst of all sinners and monsters, that perhaps there might be a loving God out there somewhere who had not yet turned his back on him in justifiable disgust and contempt.

“I know I’m not worthy of asking for anything, not when I have all this,” Nicholas whispered silently. “But my brother, Nathaniel. I know I hurt him, I know what I’m doing and what I’ve done is terrible, but he doesn’t deserve to suffer for it! Please send him someone to take care of him. A family that will love him, the family he deserves, the family I failed to be. He deserves that, he deserves to be happy! He can’t stay in that orphanage, he’s too brilliant, he deserves a place where he can shine! Please send him people that will give him that, people who will love him, people that will make him happy. And…if it’s not too big of an ask, I would also like to see him again. Someday. Just so I can tell him that I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t love him enough. I’m sorry I failed him.”

After he’d finished, Nicholas, exhausted from his tears, finally fell asleep.

As the days and weeks and months rolled by, Nicholas continued to tell himself that one day he would go back for Nathaniel, but the lie that he’d once told himself with confidence felt empty and hallow now, like a phrase spoken out of an obligation he couldn’t shake although he knew it was an obligation he would never fulfill. Though it filled him with guilt and shame, it was a guilt and shame he eventually got used to as time dragged on and soon it became a familiar weight Nicholas carried with him, a crushing terrible weight that took the place of the brother he’d lost and made itself a home deep inside his chest.

This was the first time that Nicholas Benedict ever broke a promise to his best friend.

It would not be the last.

Bonus: Art for this chapter by seamstressofthestars

Chapter Text

Though Nicholas knew, deep down, that he had made his decision to stay with his new family, he still found it difficult to completely shake the thought of Nathaniel from his mind, not only in the guilt he felt (which was to be expected) but also, strangely, in Nicholas’ inner convictions of loyalty to his brother, despite his current betrayal. This is why when his parents offered to introduce him to another family in town and their children with whom they thought Nicholas might find kinship, he resolved to not let himself be too taken by them. Needing space from Nathaniel was one thing but replacing him…that was another.

“The Hopefield’s have a nice little farm on the edge of town near the woods, it’s a lovely area,” explained Nicholas’ mother. “Their children are a bit older than you, but I think you’ll get along. They have a daughter name Violet, she’s a few years older than you, around fourteen I believe, and they have a son John, he’s a little older than that, and he’s adopted too, so you have that in common.”

Nicholas nodded. He would try his best to be polite, but he knew from experience that other children didn’t really want to play with him. Well, no other children besides Nathaniel. Violet and John were older anyway, so they likely wouldn’t be interested in him.

When they arrived at the Hopefield’s house, the adults exchanged pleasantries before introducing the children to each other. The first thing Nicholas noticed was that Mrs. Hopefield, Violet and John’s mother, appeared to be deaf, as her husband did quite a bit of interpreting for her.

They seemed nice though, and very eager to welcome Nicholas, as were their two children.

Nicholas, despite his resolve not to allow anyone to take the place of his brother, found himself immediately taking a liking to both of them. They weren’t like anyone he’d ever met before. They seemed interested in talking with him and acted like they genuinely wanted to get to know him.

John seemed like a well-mannered nice person. He had an oval shaped face and what Nicholas thought at first were freckles, but upon closer inspection, realized must be fading chicken pox scars. He had dark brown hair, blue-green eyes, and a strong grip, which Nicholas discovered when John offered his hand to introduce himself. It was obvious from John’s lighter complexion, differing features, and slightly more athletic build that he was adopted. Nicholas thought that was odd. Wouldn’t the Hopefield’s have wanted to adopt a child that looked like them, one they could pass off as their own biologically? That seemed to be what most people did. Nicholas also thought it was odd that John introduced himself as “John Cole” rather than “John Hopefield”. Did John keep his last name after being adopted? Nicholas had never really thought about whether he’d like to go by “Glenn” or “Benedict”. Benedict was what he was used to, and it was his last connection to Nathaniel, but he loved his parents too and didn’t want to disappoint them by rejecting their name.

Then there was Violet. She had a long, narrow face and pointy chin, wide round dark brown eyes, and long dark black hair that fell to her waist. She was someone that Nicholas was instantly drawn to, though he couldn’t explain why. She seemed very warm and friendly, and the sort of person who was very thoughtful and intentional. You could tell she thought a lot about and cared a lot about the world and the people around her. Violet was much like Nicholas in that way, and despite Nicholas’ resolve not to like her or John, he quickly found himself doing quite the opposite. But perhaps that wasn’t a bad thing. Perhaps there was room in his heart for his new friends and Nathaniel. After all, it wasn’t as if he was replacing Nathaniel, nothing and no one could replace him. It was just that Nicholas, for the first time in a long time was feeling…he wasn’t sure what the word was. Understood, perhaps? He’d never had friends or even acquaintances who’d been this interested in having conversations or seemed to actually enjoy his company. They wanted to hear about the books he was reading, what he liked about his new house, and what classes he’d be taking at school. It was discovered that Nicholas would be in many of the same classes as John and Violet as he’d tested extremely well and was to be taking classes at the town’s high school several grades ahead of his age. John made a lighthearted comment about how Nicholas must be a genius. Nicholas blushed but wasn’t quite sure what to make of the attention. He knew he and Nathaniel had been the highest scoring children in the orphanage and both loved to seek out knowledge, but because every child was forced into the same small classes, Nicholas had never had any wider range of outside achievement or standards with which to compare himself. Were he and Nathaniel really that bright?

“We’re very proud of Nicholas,” gushed Mrs. Glenn. “He has quite a love of learning, and we hope to be able to give him the opportunities a boy like him deserves.”

Nicholas nodded appreciatively at his mother’s compliment, but he still felt awkward having all this new praise directed towards his apparent intellect. He wasn’t quite sure how to handle the attention and wished silently that Nathaniel could be here just for a moment. He had always been so much better than Nicholas at navigating these sorts of things and would have happily embraced the praise and admiration that overwhelmed his brother.

After lunch, the parents allowed their children even more time to get acquainted, and Nicholas began to get to know Violet and John even more.

“So, Nick, do you mind if I call you Nick?” asked John.

“Not at all, it’s fine,” said Nicholas, trying to ignore the guilt he was feeling and the fact that while he loved the nickname and how close he already felt to John and Violet, the only person he could ever recall giving him a nickname was his brother.

“Alright then. Nick, what have you enjoyed most about your new home? I assume you’re liking it okay. You can tell me if you’re not, I promise I won’t snitch.”

“Oh no,” said Nicholas, who was enjoying still getting used to John’s humor and trying his best to respond politely, but mildly, lest he trigger his narcolepsy. “It’s lovely. Better in so many ways. It’s quiet and peaceful, and there’s tons of books I can read, I love my parents, and the food is a lot better too.”

“The food was one of the best parts for me too,” agreed John. “Oh yeah, and the family I guess.”

“Very funny,” said Violet, smiling at her brother.

“It’s a transition though,” continued John. “I was twelve when I was adopted too, so I know a little about what it’s like.”

“You were also twelve when you were adopted?” repeated Nicholas, wondering why a family with an older daughter who was clearly theirs would feel the need to adopt an older boy. Perhaps they wanted a son, but if so, would they not have had one of their own or adopted an infant they could pass off as their own? Nicholas was curious, but it felt rude to ask.

“Yep,” said John. “It took some time adjusting, but it was also easy for me because the orphanage where I came from wasn’t great. There wasn’t anything to miss, and the Hopefield’s gave me a perfect home and a perfect family. I don’t suppose you left any friends behind that you might visit from time to time?”

Nicholas felt put on the spot. He knew John’s question was well-intentioned, but he still wasn’t sure how to respond. Technically, he didn’t have any friends at the orphanage, Nathaniel was so much more than a friend, he was family, but how could he even begin to explain that, or why Nicholas could never go back for him no matter how much he might want to see his brother again?

“Um…no,” lied Nicholas awkwardly. “I don’t have anyone I left behind.”

John, who mistook Nicholas’ awkwardness as shame at not having any friends at the orphanage rather than guilt, was quick to comfort him.

“That’s alright, Nick. I didn’t either, but I made new friends. That’s one of the perks of coming to a new home. It offers a new beginning.”

Nicholas nodded.

“Yeah, I guess,” he agreed. “Though I noticed, sorry if this is an intrusive or impolite observation, but you have a different last name.”

“Oh that,” said John, shrugging. “I was back and forth on whether I wanted it changed or not. Hopefield is a great name, and this is my family, but Cole is the name that belongs to where I came from, and I like to honor that, you know? Even though I never met my birth parents, or at least, I wasn’t old enough to remember them, they were still, at one point in time, my family, and they loved me. It’s one of the last connections I have to them, so I decided to keep it.”

“Your parents were okay with that?” asked Nicholas, who had overheard his own parents talking about when they might get a chance to go down to the courthouse to get his name changed. Nicholas had always assumed it was a given that everyone who was adopted took the last name of their new parents.

“Of course,” said John. “Ultimately, it’s your decision. You can take a new last name, keep the old one, or some people choose to take both and hyphenate it. “Nicholas Benedict-Glenn” doesn’t sound too bad.”

“It does sound good,” agreed Nicholas, who liked the idea of being able to have a connection to both Nathaniel and his new family, even if it was only in his name.

“I’m sure your parents will be fine with whatever name you choose, so long as it’s what makes you happy,” added John.

“You think so?” asked Nicholas.

“Of course, Nick. Why wouldn’t they be? It’s your name. You’re the one who’s going to be using it the rest of your life. It should be one that makes you happy, not anyone else.”

Nicholas had never thought about it that way before, but what John was saying did seem to make a lot of sense. It was his name after all. Perhaps he should be the one to make the final say on what he wanted it to be.

“If you ever want to talk about it more, I’m always here to listen,” offered John. “Unless I’m practicing or trying out for sports, but other than that, I’m free. There’s not a lot of people who’ve been through what we have, and I know it can be nice to have someone who gets it, you know?”

“Yeah,” agreed Nicholas. “It is. Thank you, John.”

“I’m sure whatever name you decide will be best, Nicholas,” added Violet. “I know I can’t relate to what it’s like to grow up in an orphanage, but I’m always here if you need anything or want to talk about books.”

“Thank you,” said Nicholas, who had greatly enjoyed some of Violet’s commentary on his favorite books during lunch. She seemed to not only enjoy the experience of reading the literature itself, but also thinking very deeply about the themes, characters, and messages of the story, and Nicholas found himself eager to engage with such a kindred spirit.

“Oh, and that reminds me,” said John. “With all this talk about you being a book worm and genius, I almost forgot to mention my sister’s a genius too.”

“She is?” asked Nicholas.

“Not a genius, John,” corrected Violet. “I’m artist. I paint. It’s a hobby of mine.” 

“A hobby?” repeated John. “Yeah, right. She’s being modest. She’s won national art competitions!”

“You have?” asked Nicholas, his eyes widening. “That’s amazing!”

“Just a few competitions,” clarified Violet. “I have a small studio upstairs if you’d like to see it.”

Nicholas nodded, as he had never seen award-winning art before, but had always dreamed of being able to visit an art museum. He thought this was better though, because it gave him a chance to see high quality art and discuss it with the actual artist herself.

Violet led Nicholas upstairs past the bedrooms and into a small room at the end of the hall with windows overlooking the woods and farmland behind the Hopefield’s home. Inside the room was a plethora of paintings, each more beautiful than the last, and each one highly detailed. Nicholas felt like he could stay in the room forever examining each painting one by one for hours.

“Woah,” he whispered.

“I told you,” said John. “She’s a genius.”

“It’s just art,” said Violet modestly.

“It’s the most beautiful art I’ve ever seen in my life,” corrected Nicholas, though he admittedly hadn’t seen very much, if any, professional art in his life.

After a few minutes, John excused himself to go to the bathroom and finish helping his mother in the kitchen, which gave Nicholas the opportunity to silently walk around and examine the works in detail.

Many of the paintings were landscapes, and there was one particularly lovely painting of the bluff that overlooked Violet’s family’s farm.

“This might be one of my favorites,” commented Nicholas.

Violet didn’t answer him.

Nicholas turned around to find that her back was turned to him.

“I really like this one,” he repeated.

Violet ignored him.

Nicholas hoped he hadn’t made her upset. He silently continued to examine the painting, hoping John would come back soon to relieve the awkwardness.

After about a minute, Violet walked over to him.

“Do you like this one?” she asked.

“Um…yes,” repeated Nicholas, a bit confused by her behavior, but hoping he hadn’t done anything to offend her. “I actually think it’s one of my favorites.”

Violet nodded.

“Mine too. I saw the stars outside my bedroom window and knew it would be the perfect night to paint them. So, I crept downstairs with my art supplies and went out onto the bluff to paint them. I didn’t want to wake or worry John or my parents, but the night sky was so clear, and the stars were begging me to paint them, so I couldn’t say no.”

Nicholas agreed. It was one of the most beautiful paintings he’d ever seen, and he’d never seen a night sky so full of light and life.

He looked at the one next to it, a painting of what appeared to be a simple yet beautiful piece. A drawing of the wide-open ocean, taken above the water line, so you could see the sun glistening on the blue-green waves as they danced over the earth. Violet’s signature was in the corner. This painting was lovely, but it was something else too. Nicholas couldn’t quite figure out why, but looking at the painting made him feel sad yet intrigued. For some reason, the strange blue and green painting of the sky and waves made him think of Nathaniel, though Nicholas wasn’t sure why, and he couldn’t shake the feeling like something important was missing.

Then he realized what it was.

“You can’t see the boat,” he observed.

“Boat?” asked Violet.

“The way the waves are drawn,” explained Nicholas.

“And the way the light shines on them. There’s supposed to be a boat, right there,” he added, pointing to a spot in the painting. “You can see it by the way the waves move, but there isn’t one drawn in the picture.”

“Astute observation,” complimented Violet. “Most people don’t notice details like that. The painting is supposed to convey a sense of loss and hope. The boat and the people in it are missing, and yet-”

“-you know they were there once,” finished Nicholas. “Because their impact can still be seen in the water, and you know that something or someone is supposed to be there.”

“Exactly,” agreed Violet. “The painting doesn’t show you what the boat or the people on it looked like, but you know they exist and are supposed to be there. You don’t know where they’ve gone, but if you know they were there once, then there’s always hope that maybe the boat and its people will return one day.”

“That’s a nice thought,” agreed Nicholas, looking longingly at the painting and thinking again of Nathaniel.

Violet noted the change in Nicholas’ demeanor.

“Loss and hope are a theme in a lot of my paintings,” she explained gently. “It’s something I think everyone can relate to and understand.”

Nicholas nodded.

Violet looked back at the painting that had first captured Nicholas’ attention.

“That painting is called “The Boy on the Bluff”” she explained.

Nicholas was confused.

“But I don’t see a boy,” he observed.

“Look closer,” advised Violet.

Nicholas looked closer and realized that he could see a boy’s footprints in the mud near the bluff.

“There’s someone supposed to be there too,” he observed.

“My older brother,” explained Violet.

“John?” asked Nicholas.

“No,” said Violet. “My other older brother. He passed away when we were little.”

“Oh,” said Nicholas. “I’m sorry, Violet. You and your family must miss him terribly.” 

“It’s alright,” said Violet. “We do miss him. Grief never really goes away, but you learn to live with it as more love grows around you. He loved going out to the woods to watch me paint.”

“Are those your favorite spots?” asked Nicholas, noting all the nature paintings that Violet had done.

Violet nodded.

“They are,” she confirmed. “It’s the perfect place to capture the natural beauty. My brother always thought so too. He would have loved to have gone stargazing with me that night, had he been there. That’s why I drew him in the picture.”

Nicholas was silent for a moment. Then he spoke.

“Violet…can I ask you a question?”

“Yes.”

“Did your parents adopt John because…” Nicholas faltered, unsure of how to ask the question without sounding offensive or rude.

Fortunately, Violet was not put off by his curiosity.

“No,” she answered. “They didn’t adopt him to replace my brother. People aren’t the sort of thing that can be replaced. But when you get used to loving someone or something and that someone or something goes away, it’s only natural to want to give the love to someone else who needs it too. That was why my family decided to adopt John. He ran away from the orphanage one day and ended up in the woods outside our farm. We became friends, and then, we became siblings too. My brother would have love him.”

“I’m sure he would have,” agreed Nicholas, looking again at the painting of the bluff. “And if you ever want someone to go outside and look at the stars with you, or paint out in the woods, I’d be happy to go with you.”

Violet smiled.

“I’ll take you up on that,” she agreed, before turning to look at another painting.

“Thanks,” said Nicholas. “I’d love to learn more about the way you got that effect of the boat’s imprint in the water. The way the light reflects is very impressive.”

Similar to the way she’d reacted before, Violet didn’t answer him.

Nicholas thought that was odd. Violet seemed so kind and was happy to talk to Nicholas most of the time, and yet when her back was turned, she completely ignored everything he said. Almost as if…

Then something occurred to Nicholas. A theory, one he could test rather easily.

“Violet?” he asked.

Violet didn’t answer him.

Nicholas tested his theory again. He made sure he was outside of Violet’s line of vision and carefully crept behind her.

“Violet?” he asked, as loudly as he could.

Violet didn’t respond.

Nicholas gently tapped her on the shoulder.

Violet jumped.

“Sorry,” said Nicholas. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I was just…testing something.”

“Testing something?” asked Violet. “What were you testing?”

“Whether you were…” began Nicholas, but then he stopped short of what he was going to say.

Was it rude to explain what he’d deduced?

“You can say it,” said Violet, turning in her chair and smiling at Nicholas. “Most people don’t notice, so I’d like to hear or rather, see, how you figured it out.”

“Well,” began Nicholas. “I noticed that you didn’t respond to me when your back was turned to me. At first, I thought maybe I was being annoying or that I’d done something wrong, but then I remembered that that happened earlier, and you didn’t seem mad at me once I got your attention. Then I thought that perhaps you might have a disorder that affected your attention, maybe narcolepsy or an attention-deficit disorder, but you always seemed to be paying attention when I was in your line of vision. That evidence, plus the family history of your mother being deaf suggests you are…or might…also be deaf? I’m sorry, I hope what I’m saying isn’t offensive.”

“It’s not,” Violet promised. “It’s impressive you deduced that.”

“I won’t tell anyone about you being deaf,” Nicholas assured her. “If you don’t want me to.”

Violet looked confused.

“It’s not a secret,” she clarified. “And I don’t see any reason to be ashamed of it.”

“Oh,” said Nicholas. “Sorry, I don’t think there is either, it’s just that, you never use sign language unless you’re talking to your mother, so I thought you might be trying to hide it.”

Violet shook her head.

“I read lips,” she explained. “I don’t hide the fact that I’m deaf, but most people can’t tell and don’t know sign language, so unless it comes up, I usually don’t mention it.”

Now it was Nicholas’ turn to be impressed.

“You know everything I’m saying just from reading my lips?” he clarified. “But I’ve read about lip reading. Most people can only get about a third of what people are saying from lip reading alone. How do you always know what I’m saying?”

“Because she’s a psychic telepathic mind reader.”

Nicholas turned to see John standing in the doorway.

Violet rolled her eyes playfully.

“I’m not a mind reader, John,” she insisted, before turning back towards Nicholas. “It’s not like that, not exactly. I wouldn’t call it mind reading, it’s more…a gut feeling. You know how sometimes something will happen, maybe something funny or something you find important, and you’ll look at someone you know very well, maybe your best friend, and you make eye contact, and in that moment, you just know you’re both thinking the exact same thing about the situation? Almost as if you can read their mind?”

Nicholas, who had only ever had those sorts of moments with Nathaniel, hesitantly nodded.

“Well, that’s sort of what I feel,” explained Violet. “Except it’s with everyone, even people I don’t know very well. I can just…sense or guess what they’re saying, partially from their lip movements and the context, but also because it just feels right. That’s really the only way I can explain it.”

“Or you could just tell him the truth. That you’re a mind reader who reads their minds,” suggested John jokingly.

“Mind reader or not, that’s really impressive,” complimented Nicholas. “But would it help if I were to learn sign language? Then I could talk to you in a way that’s easier for you to understand.”

“Sign language is easier for me,” admitted Violet. “But don’t feel like you need to spend time learning a whole new language just for me. I’ve gotten used to reading lips and intuiting what people are saying.”

“No, I’d like to,” insisted Nicholas. “I love learning new things, and ASL is a beautiful language. If you’d like, you and John can teach me.”

Violet smiled.

“We’d be honored.”

“But it will probably be Violet doing most of the teaching,” added John. “She’s been doing this her whole life, and I just started learning the language when I was adopted three years ago.”

“Yes, and you’ve improved a lot,” Violet reminded him.

“Maybe,” said John, “But something tells me my progress is going to be surpassed by Nick in about a week.”

Nicholas blushed at the compliment, which he was still growing accustomed to receiving.

“If you want, we could teach you a few signs now,” suggested Violet.

Nicholas nodded.

“I’d really like that.”

And so Violet, John, and Nicholas spent the afternoon practicing. Learning the signs and memorizing them was the easier part for Nicholas. Getting the hand motions right was the more difficult part, but with practice and patience he quickly mastered that too.

Despite his desire not to replace Nathaniel, Nicholas felt very at home with Violet and John. Not that they were his new home or family or that they or anyone could really replace Nathaniel, but it was nice to have people he could relax with, people he could smile and joke with, people who made him feel safe and happy.

Perhaps too happy, as at one point, one of John’s jokes sent Nicholas into a fit of laughter.

It was only when he felt his consciousness slipping away that he remembered he forgot to suppress his joy.

He woke up with a concerned Violet and John standing over him.

“Oh, thank goodness,” said John. “That was quite a scare, Nick.”

“Nicholas, are you alright?” asked Violet.

“What? Oh, I’m fine,” said Nicholas, blushing as he got up. “I’m so sorry. Maybe I should go.”

“Go? Nick, you just fainted in front of us,” John reminded him. “Take a breath. Do you need anything?”

“No,” corrected Nicholas. “I didn’t faint. I had a narcoleptic seizure, it happens sometimes when I get emotional, usually joy and humor is what does it. I’m fine as long as there’s someone who can catch me and tell me how long I was out, but I haven’t had to have anyone to do that since…forget it, I’m sorry, I try to control my emotions to make sure it doesn’t happen, but I was just having so much fun-”

“-Nicholas,” interrupted Violet gently. “You don’t need to apologize for something you can’t control, and you shouldn’t try to suppress your emotions or not feel joy just to avoid having an attack.”

“I shouldn’t?” asked Nicholas. “You mean…you don’t mind it? I’m not a burden?”

“A burden? Nick, of course not!” said John. “You’re our friend. I’ll catch you as many times as I need to, if that’s the price I have to pay for my jokes.”

“And you shouldn’t think of it as being a burden,” insisted Violet. “Do you think learning sign language for me is a burden?”

“Of course not,” said Nicholas. “You’re my friend! If there’s anything I can do to help you, I’d like to do it!”

“And you don’t think it would be a good idea for me to intentionally try to deny that I was deaf or treat my deafness as something to be ashamed of?” asked Violet.

“What? No,” said Nicholas. “And I never meant to imply it, I just…I guess I just got used to thinking that these kinds of things were burdens or that people should be ashamed of them. But I don’t like thinking of you that way.”

“Then you shouldn’t think of yourself that way either Nick,” said John. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, and it might have been nice to have a little warning, so we could have caught you. At least now I know to be ready next time.”

Nicholas agreed, and he was grateful to have friends like Violet and John, friends who made him feel at home, friends who helped him adjust to his new life and made him feel like he really belonged here.

As the years went by, Nicholas mastered sign language and used it almost exclusively to talk to Violet, so he could practice and communicate in the language he knew she’d prefer. He also started to accept his narcolepsy as part of his life and part of himself. Sometimes others would stare, but his parents and Violet and John were always there to catch him or make sure he was alright, and it felt so good to be able to freely experience joy without moderating or tempering his emotions and experiences. Nicholas also became very close to Violet and John and spent most weekends with them. Occasionally the Hopefield’s would invite him on their trips and family vacations, and Nicholas’ parents would have Violet and John over for dinner at least once a week. During the summers, Nicholas would go on hikes with Violet and John in the woods next to the town. John would teach him all sorts of things like fishing and how to build a campfire, and how to ride a bike. Violet would take him to the most beautiful spots where they could talk about books and literature and Nicholas could watch her paint landscapes for hours. They were truly special people; the older brother and older sister Nicholas had never had.

Though he’d had a twin brother before, and despite the good times with his new friends, the memory of Nathaniel never left Nicholas. The memory and the guilt always live in the back of his mind, and it never got easy to live with per say, but it did become familiar, expected. A constant dull ache instead of a sharp pain. It occasionally put a damper on things, whenever Nicholas was having fun with Violet and John and thought of his brother and wondered what he might be doing now. It was especially difficult on his thirteenth birthday, when Nicholas’ parents and Violet and John did so much to celebrate and Nicholas had to pretend to enjoy it, though he sensed they might have picked up on his façade. It wasn’t that Nicholas didn’t appreciate their efforts, he just found it rather difficult to enjoy his birthday without Nathaniel. Nicholas hoped his brother was celebrating with his own family somewhere, a family that would give him everything he’d ever dreamed of and everything he deserved, though Nicholas also knew he’d have no way of knowing the truth, not unless he went back for his brother, which was something he knew, to his great shame, he could never do. 

But Nicholas still hoped his brother was happy, wherever he was, even if Nicholas himself could never know the truth. He assumed the possibility of seeing Nathaniel again in person was impossible, but that changed one day, about a week before his fourteen birthday. 

By this point, Violet and John were sixteen and seventeen respectively, though Nicholas, being a very bright student, took classes with both of them and the other juniors and seniors.

One day Nicholas’ science class was asked to write about an original science project or idea they thought could change the world. The teacher had meant this to be a hypothetical exercise, but Nicholas, who had spent hours discussing electric turbines with Nathaniel (specifically the way they could be used as an energy source) decided to go above and beyond, with drawings, and models, and descriptions of how the turbines might be able to work.

What he could not have guessed was that his teacher, impressed by what he’d turned in, would call a meeting with his parents and encourage them to have Nicholas submit his project to a big science fair competition.

“Your son has incredible scientific talents,” praised his teacher. “I’ve never seen anything like it. If he takes advantage of this, he could end up at any college he’d like, and in almost any prestigious or lucrative scientific career you could possibly imagine!”

Naturally, Nicholas’ parents were thrilled and encouraged Nicholas to take advantage of his gift.

The only problem was that it wasn’t really his gift. At least, not entirely.

The turbines were Nathaniel’s idea. Not totally his idea, Nicholas had helped with it considerably and made many necessary adjustments to the designs, but it still didn’t feel right submitting it to a competition. That was Nathaniel’s dream, to be a world-renowned scientist and great man of his time, but Nicholas didn’t need any of that. He thought this was only going to be a school assignment, he never considered something like this as a possibility.

But when his parents and teachers were giving him so much praise and pushing him to do this and saying it would open doors for him, how could he say no?

On the one hand, it was an honor, and Nicholas was eager for the competition, but also reluctant. This was the sort of opportunity Nathaniel had always dreamed of and he was the performer, Nicholas had never liked being in front of an audience, it was much too nerve wracking, and for it to be on live television…that was too much.  

He told as much to Violet and John when they congratulated him on the opportunity.

“You’re already making it big, Nick,” said and signed John with a smile. “You’ll have to remember us when you become famous.”

“That’s only if I win the competition,” objected Nicholas. “And that’s only if I don’t totally choke up on stage. I’m not a good public speaker. I stumble over words, and I…I just know it’s not going to go well.”

“John and I can help you,” signed Violet. “Why don’t you practice your presentation for us? We can pretend to interview you and everything.”

“You’d do that for me?” asked Nicholas.

“Of course, Nick,” said John. “I might not be able to critique your presentation on its quality; I don’t know much about wind turbines-”

“-hydroelectric,” corrected Nicholas.

“-hydroelectric,” agreed John. “But I’ve been president of our school’s athletics club for over a year. I know about public speaking.”

“But I don’t even know what to wear!” protested Nicholas. “Or how to do my hair.”

“Why would you need to do your hair?” asked Violet.

“My curls,” explained Nicholas. “I don’t want to look…scruffy. Sorry I um, I guess I don’t know the sign for scruffy or a suitable equivalent.”

“Scruffy?” repeated John while Violet giggled.

“You’ll look fine,” she promised. “I can help you do your hair. Curley or straight, your hair will look fine. I like your curls.”

“Me too,” admitted Nicholas, grateful to learn that he would not be subjected to one of his brother’s attempts to smooth down their hair for purposes of presentation.

“When is the competition?” asked John.

“The day before my birthday,” explained Nicholas. “Thursday. Then my birthday is on Friday, which is a day off school for the teacher’s meeting and senior exams, but my parents still have work, so they suggested we celebrate on Saturday.”

“We could still do something on Friday to celebrate you winning the competition,” suggested Violet.

“You two can do something. I’ll be taking senior exams all day,” complained John, sighing in a comedically exaggerated manner to senior exams were the worst torture that anyone could face.

“You’ll see us in the evening,” objected Violet, smiling at her brother. “We can all have dinner together then.”

“And I don’t know if we’ll be celebrating anything, I probably won’t even win,” protested Nicholas. “Besides, we don’t really need to do anything big or anything at all for my birthday. It’s just another day, really.”

“It’s also not only your birthday,” a voice in his head reminded him. “It’s Nathaniel’s. The brother whose ideas you stole. The brother whose dream you took for yourself.”

Nicholas shuddered. It wasn’t like that, it…he…he’d helped with turbines, it was an idea Nicholas contributed to, and it wasn’t like Nicholas had done this trying to upstage Nathaniel! It was just supposed to be a silly school project, he didn’t know his teacher would see it as a genius idea and convince his parents that their son ought to take advantage of his full potential.

“It’s not just another day, Nick, it’s your birthday, and we’re going to celebrate,” promised John. “Now, let’s hear that presentation! Or uh, sorry Violet, let’s um…I’ll hear that presentation and interpret it for you, though something tells me you’ll end up understanding most of it anyway.”

Nicholas practice for hours, nervous at first to hear all the criticisms Violet and John were sure to send his way. But to his surprise, their advice, while occasionally similar to Nathaniel’s, was not delivered in a way to suggest that Nicholas had failed or missed the obvious, but that he was doing a wonderful job and that this could be a way to help improve what was already great.

It felt nice to be spoken to that way, by friends who loved him and were almost more excited to see him succeed than he was.

The day of the competition, Nicholas was allowed to bring his parents and two guests, so of course, he invited John and Violet to sit in the audience to watch the show.

“Welcome,” said the lady at the check in counter. “Let’s see…Nicholas. We’re going to need your full name for the teleprompter, is there a nickname you’d prefer to be called?”

“No, Nicholas is fine,” Nicholas promised. “Nicholas Benedict-Glenn.”

“Is that your entire last name?” she asked.

Nicholas nodded.

“A bit long,” she noted. “Can you pick one?”

Nicholas froze, unsure of what to say or do.

“It’s just for the competition, honey,” promised the check in lady. “We only have so much airtime and it’s easier to put the names on the screen when they’re shorter, easier for our teleprompter boys too.”

“Oh,” said Nicholas, unsure of what to say. His parents were the whole reason he was here, they were the ones who got him into a nice school, who supported giving him the best, but part of the science he’d be presenting today was Nathaniel’s work too.

“Well, I’m adopted. My original last name was Benedict, but my parents’ last name is Glenn,” explained Nicholas hesitantly.

“And they’re the ones here with you today?” confirmed the check in lady.

Nicholas nodded.

“Glenn it is then,” she decided, striking the word “Benedict” out on the check in form.

“Here’s your name tag and schedule. We have staff backstage who will show you and your parents where to go. Your friends can take their seats and enjoy the show.”

Nicholas thanked her and went back to join his parents.

Before long, the competition was started and Nicholas found himself blinded by lights and cameras as he stood on stage next to five other children who’d been selected.

“Welcome,” said moderator with a huge smile, “to the 25^th National Science Fair competition. We had some truly impressive entries this year, but after a careful review we are down to the final six competitors. Let’s take a moment to hear a bit about some of these talented kids, shall we?”

Nicholas waited until the woman made her way to his table.

“And here we have Nicholas, one of our youngest competitors to date and a first timer at this competition, but who has come in with an entry that really wowed our reviewers, so congratulations Nicholas!”

“Thank you, it’s an honor to be here,” replied Nicholas.

“And he’s polite too,” commented the moderator, before turning back to the audience. “Nicholas and his peers on this stage are some of the highest performing students in the country at one of the country’s top science competitions, but even considering that fact, Nicholas has given us something that even I’ve never seen before, and I’ve been hosting this show for the past eight years. Nicholas, why don’t you tell us a little about the turbines what you have here. In laymen’s terms.”

“It’s preliminary,” explained Nicholas. “Purely theoretical at this stage, but it could be an excellent way to create new energy.”

“And you call them hydroelectric turbines?” clarified the moderator, as the judges surrounded his table and began making notes.

“Yes,” said Nicholas, trying his best not to show how nervous he was as he answered more questions about his model.

“Fascinating stuff,” complimented the moderator. “And I understand your parents are here with us today?”

“Yes,” confirmed Nicholas, as the camera focused in on his parents, who were sitting on the side of the stage with the others.

“Quite the story,” commented the moderator. “I understand you lived in an orphanage until the time you were twelve before you were adopted and lost your parents when you were only three years old?”

“That’s…that’s true,” said Nicholas, wondering for a moment how she knew that.

The interview (and seemingly the audience) all expressed their deepest sorrow that something so terrible should happen to a boy so brilliant as the moderator began talking to Nicholas’ parents, who were all too eager to praise him.

“Do you feel like this is your accomplishment too?” asked the moderator, “Given that only a few years ago this poor boy was in an orphanage until you took him in and gave him a proper education?”

“Oh no,” insisted Nicholas’ mother. “Nicholas has always been so brilliant. As parents we try our best to give him opportunities to shine, but we can’t take credit for his accomplishments, he did it all on his own.”

“We’re so proud of him,” added Nicholas’ father.

Nicholas blushed a little at the words “all on his own”. Saying this was his accomplishment wasn’t a lie, but saying it was only his accomplishment still didn’t feel right.

“And is there anyone else in the audience or watching at home that you’d like to thank for their support?” asked the moderator, turning back to Nicholas.

For a moment, Nicholas thought of Nathaniel, but the shame of admitting what he’d done kept him from saying his brother’s name. It wasn’t as if it would make a difference anyway. The orphanage didn’t have televisions, Nathaniel would never see this and would probably be furious at him anyway for stealing his idea.

“I do,” answered Nicholas. “My…um…my friends. Violet Hopefield and John Cole. They helped me practice my presentation, and they came here with me today.”

“They sound like wonderful people,” agreed the moderator as the cameras turned to focus on Violet and John, who waved happily from the audience.

“They’ve been really supportive of me,” explained Nicholas.

“Well, you’re very lucky to have such a wonderful team behind you,” commented the moderator. “That was Nicholas Glenn, one of the top competitors in our competition. We’ll have the judges results after the break.”

Then the cameras cut, and Nicholas sat on stage nervously as commercial after commercial played and the judges whispered amongst themselves.

Finally, they went back on the air.

“Five…four…three…two…one…roll it!” yelled a man, and the lights came back up.

The moderator stepped back onto the stage and reintroduced the contestants and their entries. Then she was handed an envelope that contained the names of the winners.

Nicholas held his breath and waited in anticipation for the results.

The third and second place winners were announced. It wasn’t him.

Nicholas couldn’t help but be a little disappointed. This was his first competition, he knew he didn’t have a chance of coming in first, but he’d still hoped to walk away with something after all his parents and friends had done to support him getting here, not to mention the fact that Nathaniel never would have blown this opportunity.

“And the winner of our highest scholarship and first place prize goes to…Nicholas!” announced the moderator as the cameras zoomed in on Nicholas and confetti fell from the ceiling.

Nicholas couldn’t believe it. He won? He…he actually won? He did something right, he did something wonderful, something amazing?

He wasn’t used to being in the spotlight like this, he’d always found it intimidating, but he had to admit, Nathaniel was right, the praise and attention did feel good. He smiled at his parents and John and Violet, who clapped and smiled back at him.

The judges spoke about how impressive he was, the moderator gushed over what an outstanding presentation he’d given and how much good his technology could do for the world if it was fully developed.

Nicholas allowed himself to relax and smile at the cameras, thanking the judges, his parents, John and Violet, and the moderator for everything.

The moderator smiled and turned back to the cameras.

“And that’s our show folks! Once again congratulations to our winner, Nicholas Glenn, a young man with a very bright future ahead of him!”

At the mention of his new last name, Nicholas’ face fell slightly.

In all the excitement, he’d been so happy and overwhelmed that he’d hardly thought of Nathaniel, the brother whose ideas he stole, though he hadn’t really meant to.

How could he keep celebrating knowing what he’d done?

Fortunately, Nathaniel had drilled in Nicholas’ head the importance of faking a smile on stage.

“No doubt we’ll be seeing Nicholas and some of our other great contestants again next year,” announced the moderator. “And hopefully some new young competition. Thank you for joining us!”

Then the cameras cut, and Nicholas was swarmed by his parents and John and Violet, all hugging and congratulating him on his great achievement.

Nicholas’ parents treated everyone to a fancy dinner, and the next day Violet invited Nicholas over for a picnic hike to celebrate.

“It’s not every day you turn fourteen after winning a big competition,” she insisted.

Nicholas didn’t want to turn down such a kind offer, but he still felt incredibly guilty about the whole thing. He’d rather spend his birthday alone, if he could, but he didn’t want to hurt Violet’s feelings.

At least it wasn’t going to be anything too big or special, since John wouldn’t be there.

“I’ll be tied up in exams until five,” John noted on his way out the door. “Promise not to have too much fun until I get back?”

“No promises,” laughed Violet.  

John grinned.

“Alright. Maybe not that promise. But be careful in the woods, okay? Especially when it gets late. Stay vigilant and stay with Violet. Promise me, Nick?” 

“I’ll stay vigilant, and I’ll stay with her,” agreed Nicholas. “Good luck on your exams, John. I’m sure you’ll do great.”

“Easier said than done when you’re not a genius science star,” said John, smiling at Nicholas, “but I’ll do my best, Nick. Happy Birthday! I suppose I’ll have to give you your present later.”

“We can give him his gifts tomorrow,” signed Violet as she wished her brother good luck on his way out the door.

Nicholas wasn’t sure what to say. It was thoughtful of Violet and John and his parents to get him gifts, it really was, but Nicholas would have preferred they’d just let his birthday pass like any other day. It just didn’t feel right celebrating without Nathaniel. If Nicholas could have his brother back for just one day…but that was impossible.

“Ready to go?” signed Violet as she picked up her easel and put the last of her art supplies into her backpack. “I also brought my painting of the invisible boat, “Hope Across the Water”, since I know you said you’ve been practicing the technique of the light hitting the water. I was hoping to paint the valley today, and there’s a creek that flows down into it, so I should be able to do a good demonstration.”

Nicholas nodded, smiled, and picked up the picnic basket, trying his best to act like he was enjoying Violet’s kind offer.

He had to admit, it was a good day for a hike. It was warm, but not too hot, and there was a nice breeze coming through the trees. You could hear the birds singing and as Violet and Nicholas got closer to their picnic spot, you could also hear the bubbling of the creek.

It was almost peaceful enough to make Nicholas forget the guilt crushing him inside.

Finally, they made it to the clearing on top of a hill overlooking the town and farmland.

“Wow,” said Nicholas, for a moment, forgetting what day it was and how awful he felt.

“I thought you might like it,” signed Violet with a smile as she set up her easel.

The view was spectacular. Nicholas and Violet stood silently, taking it in, before Violet started painting.

Nicholas loved watching Violet paint. She was so talented; Nicholas had never seen anything like it. He enjoyed listening, or well, watching Violet explain her techniques, but he also enjoyed the silence, the calm, of watching her paint. It was a relaxing comfort compared to the constant monologuing and speeches of Nathaniel that Nicholas had experienced before.

Though his birthday was one day when admittedly, Nicholas wouldn’t have minded the interruptions and long rants if it meant he could celebrate his birthday with the one person who used to share it.

Violet took a break from her painting to open the picnic basket.

“I made sandwiches,” she explained. “Your favorites. I also brought some little chocolate cakes for dessert. Let me know when you want to look at the painting. I was thinking you could keep it as part of your birthday gift, since you like it so much.”

“Thank you,” signed Nicholas, trying his best to look happy.

Violet didn’t seem convinced.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“Wrong? Oh, no,” Nicholas quickly assured her. “Everything is fine. Why?”

“You seem like you don’t want to celebrate,” noted Violet. “And you acted the same way last year on your birthday too.”

“Did I?” asked Nicholas. “I’m sorry, Violet. I know you, and John, and my parents just want to do something nice for me. This picnic is lovely; I never meant to seem ungrateful!”

“You don’t need to apologize,” signed Violet. “I was just wondering if there was anything you might like to talk about or sign about, if you’d prefer.”

“Talk about?” repeated Nicholas, feeling his face flush with embarrassment.

“Not if you don’t want to,” clarified Violet. “But no one deserves to feel sad on their birthday.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” thought Nicholas, though he didn’t voice his thought out loud.

But Violet seemed to sense what he was thinking.

“Nicholas,” she signed carefully. “I don’t know what you went through those first twelve years in the orphanage. I can’t imagine. But John’s talked a little about his experiences, and opening up about what he went through helped him a lot. Do you think that maybe that might help you too?”

Nicholas wasn’t sure what to say. He hated lying to Violet, hated that she thought he was a good person, when Nicholas knew the truth. But of course, he couldn’t tell her. If she knew, then she and John would probably never want to see him again.

“It’s okay, Nicholas,” promised Violet, speaking aloud softly. “Whatever you want to tell me, you can tell me. I’m here for you. No matter what.”

Despite the kindness behind her words, Nicholas still felt as if a giant spotlight and a thousand judging eyes were upon him, unkind, hostile, terrible eyes. Then he looked at Violet and saw how caring she looked, how compassionate, like what Nicholas had always dreamed the perfect mother or big sister would be like. He really felt safe, like he could tell her anything.

“The reason I don’t like my birthday isn’t because of the orphanage or because of you or John. It’s because I did something. Something…something very bad,” signed Nicholas, his hands trembling as he signed the terrible words.

It all happened so fast, before Nicholas even realized what he was doing. He quickly turned away from Violet, his face turning red.

What would she think of him if he told her the full truth? Told her what he’d done to his own brother, his best friend?

Violet gently turned Nicholas’ face towards her so he could see her hands.

“If you want, you can tell me,” she signed. “I promise, Nicholas, whatever it is, I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”

Nicholas sighed and trembled, feeling a lump form in his throat. He wanted to lie, make something up, but…he couldn’t. He couldn’t dig himself into a bigger hole, and the weight that he carried inside him, the weight of Nathaniel, it was so heavy, so crushing, especially today of all days, that Nicholas felt he’d burst if he didn’t let it out.

“It’s…it’s not my birthday,” he confessed. “It’s…it’s our birthday. I have…I have a twin brother, Nathaniel. It’s our birthday. Not my birthday.”

Nicholas put his hands down, as they were now shaking.

She knew now. She had to realize what he’d done; it was obvious now.

But Violet didn’t look angry or disgusted. She looked concerned, sympathetic, and perhaps a bit curious.

“Nathaniel,” she repeated. “That’s a nice name. What happened to him?”

She didn’t ask it intrusively. The question was gentle, but it still felt so terrifying to Nicholas.

But there was no escaping the truth now.

“I…I betrayed him,” signed Nicholas. “I…we…it’s a long story, but I betrayed him. When my parents came to the orphanage, they said they only wanted me. I went with them, but I promised I’d come back for him, that I would return for Nathaniel, but I didn’t.”

Nicholas was really crying now. He felt like a complete mess. Surely Violet must hate him now that she saw him for the monster she really was.

After a few moments, Nicholas fearfully looked at his friend.

She didn’t look repulsed by him. She looked sympathetic, but also contemplative, like she was trying to understand what Nicholas was saying.

“Do you think I’m horrible?” signed Nicholas, his hands shaking as he painstakingly asked the question.

“No,” answered Violet. “I don’t.”

“You don’t?” asked Nicholas, wondering if perhaps Violet didn’t understand what he had told her or maybe he’d gotten the signs wrong.

“I don’t,” answered Violet. “And I don’t think whatever happened to you and your brother was nearly as much your fault as you think it is.”

“But I promised I’d go back for him, and I didn’t!”

“Why?”

“Because…”

Nicholas nervously looked into Violet’s eyes, but he didn’t see any judgment in them.

“It’s okay,” promised Violet, speaking aloud as comfortingly as she could. “It’s okay, Nicholas. I’m here to listen. Why don’t you tell me about him? Your brother, Nathaniel? I think it might help if you talked about him.”

Nicholas nodded sadly and soon he was telling Violet everything about his brother.

How Nathaniel was the only friend, the only family he’d ever known. How Nathaniel had always stood up for him, always cared for them, always wanted the best for them. How clever and smart Nathaniel was, how perfect too, perfect grades, perfect appearance, perfect everything, but also how scared Nathaniel was, how his narcolepsy dictated that his emotions and truth be silenced, buried deep down and hidden in a part of himself he could only show to his brother, the only person he could trust. Nicholas told Violet all about how Nathaniel dealt with his vulnerability by control, control of everything and everyone around him, driving the few friends he might have had away, and even sometimes driving his own brother to hide in storage closets and stairwells to get away from him. Not that Nicholas hated his brother, but it just got to be so much sometimes, so oppressing to always have someone at your side constantly trying to regulate and control your every move! He told her about when he left the orphanage, how he never meant to leave for good, he meant to come back, he really did, but he just couldn’t bring himself to give up the freedom and happiness he’d found no matter how much the guilt he felt was eating him up inside.

Violet listened intently and patiently, until at last, Nicholas had said all he could say.

“Do you miss him?” she asked.

“Yes,” admitted Nicholas. “More than anything. But it’s complicated. I love Nathaniel. He’s my best friend, or I guess he was my best friend, and we understood each other, we were each other’s only family, we did everything together, but…I never realized how suffocating it felt sometimes. Nathaniel dictating everything in our lives. I never realized it until I got to experience what it was like not to have to deal with that. And I know, I know that if given the choice, I should choose Nathaniel and the promise I made over my freedom, that that’s the right thing to do, but I just…I can’t. I’m sorry, I know it makes me a monster, but I can’t.”

Nicholas felt his face flush with shame.

“You’re not a monster for wanting to be your own person,” signed Violet.

“Even if it means sacrificing my own brother?” asked Nicholas.

“Why should or would you having freedom necessitate giving up Nathaniel?” asked Violet. “What makes you think that your parents would allow Nathaniel to treat you like that here? Don’t you think that if he was here and acted that way towards you that your parents would intervene or say something to him about it?”

Nicholas shook his head.

“Our teachers never did,” he explained. “At the orphanage, they knew Nathaniel would treat me like that, and they never did anything about it or said anything about it.”

“Arguably, they should have said something, but part of the reason they might not have intervened is because they were your teachers,” signed Violet. “They look after classrooms of dozens of children and their primary job is to teach you, but your parents are the ones who raise you. They wouldn’t or shouldn’t let siblings treat each other that way. If my parents saw John or I trying to control each other, they’d say something about it. Not that they would punish or shame either of us, but they’d want to understand why we were acting that way and help us so that we could found more positive ways to relate to each other.”

Nicholas was surprised. He’d only had parents for two years and had learned that parents were very different from a teacher, but he’d always assumed, in the absence of other information, that they for the most part allowed sibling relationships to exist separately and wouldn’t intervene unless on sibling did something clearly and obviously wrong, like stealing another’s toy. He hadn’t ever considered that parents who might pick up on more subtle strained dynamics between their children might have a responsibility to help them relate positively to each other.

“You’re saying if you and John were like that, your parents would help you both?” asked Nicholas. “They wouldn’t separate you, or take sides, or not get involved, they’d really want you both to be happy?”

“Of course,” signed Violet. “That’s part of a parent’s job. They’d help one of us be more independent and the other learn to be secure without controlling others. They wouldn’t want us to be miserable, and clearly your brother’s control was making you miserable, and I’m sure whatever circumstances led him to feel like he had to control everyone and everything around him weren’t making him very happy either.”

“They weren’t,” agreed Nicholas sadly, thinking back to poor Nathaniel, alone on the orphanage doorstep watching him go. How heartbroken he looked watching his only friend, his only family, drive away from him forever, trading him for a better life.

“So,” signed Violet gently, after wiping away a tear from Nicholas’ face, “since this is upsetting for you, and you love and miss him a lot, don’t you think you should tell your parents about it?”

“I’m not sure what good that would do,” signed Nicholas. “Even if you’re right, and they wouldn’t let Nathaniel control me if he was here, they still wouldn’t want to adopt him.”

“Have you ever asked them about it?”

“No, but I heard the orphanage director talking to my parents about us, we they were considering adopting both of us,” Nicholas explained. “She told my parents that one of us was holding the other back. At first, I thought she must mean I was holding back Nathaniel, since he was always the more successful one, but then…for some reason…my parents chose me. The orphanage director told them it was better that we were separate and that I was a better fit for their home. She’s an adult. My parents aren’t going to listen to me over her.”

“They might if they knew how you really felt about it,” countered Violet.

“But she’s a professional!” objected Nicholas.

“But you’re their son,” insisted Violet. “And you miss your brother. And I know from experience that that’s a terrible thing to go through.”

“…yes,” admitted Nicholas. “…it is. I’m sorry, Violet, I must seem horrible to you. You lost your brother, someone who mattered so much to you, and I traded mine away like he was nothing.”

“Nicholas, I told you, I don’t think you’re horrible, and I don’t think you traded him away,” signed Violet. “I think you and your brother were in a terrible situation, and you both did your best to survive as best you could with the tools and opportunities you have available. The fact that things worked out this way isn’t your fault.”

“It’s…it’s not?” signed Nicholas cautiously.

“No,” signed Violet. “It isn’t, and with the right love and care, I promise, your brother can come to see that too. He will forgive you, Nicholas. I know he will.” 

“How could you know that?” asked Nicholas. “You’ve never met him.”

“True,” agreed Violet. “But I’ve met you. I know you love your brother, and I’m guessing that if he was here, you’d forgive him for controlling you and bossing you around, wouldn’t you?”

Nicholas nodded.

“Of course.”

“And I’m guessing that despite his obsessive control, Nathaniel loved you too?” guessed Violet.  

“He did,” admitted Nicholas.

“Then would you want to tell your parents about him?” asked Violet. “Your brother? To explain the situation, how there are issues to consider, but at the same time, you miss him terribly and that it’s hurting you inside?”

Nicholas sighed.

“I know you think if Nathaniel was here, my parents wouldn’t let him control me,” signed Nicholas. “And I know you think that they’d listen to me if I asked them to bring Nathaniel home because I’m their son, and they love me and care about me and want me to be happy. But the problem with that is, I just don’t know how to explain all that to them! My feelings about Nathaniel are…complicated. It’s easy for me to talk about it to someone like you. You’re such a good friend, and a good listener, and you always understand. But you saw how much help I needed just to do that televised competition! I’m not the best at making public speeches, and I get emotional and stumble over my words, and talking about science is one thing but talking to anyone else or even my parents about something like this…I don’t think I can do it. I get choked up, it’s like the words are in my heart, but I can’t say them. I’ve tried but I…I just don’t know how.”

Nicholas hung his head sadly. Violet must think he was weak. Even though she knew the extent of the terrible awful thing he did, she was still offering him a way to have his brother back, a way to make up for what he did, and Nicholas wasn’t sure he could accept it because he was too emotional and scared to explain things to his own parents.

But Violet wasn’t looking at Nicholas with disgust, but with gentleness and compassion.

“If you want, I can help you talk to them,” she offered.

Nicholas looked at her, surprised.

“Really?” he asked, so overwhelmed by her offer, that he forgot to sign for a moment before he remembered. “You’d do that for me?”

“Of course,” signed Violet. “He’s your brother and he’s clearly very important to you.”

“Thank you, Violet,” signed Nicholas, a grin spreading across his face. “That would mean everything to me. It would be the best birthday present I’ve ever gotten.”

Violet smiled.

“In that case, then I’d be happy to talk to your parents about it with you tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“Yes. Unless you think it would be a bad time.”

“No, no, it’s perfect. I don’t want to wait another day. If what you’re saying is true, that my parents wouldn’t let Nathaniel control me all the time, and we could really be happy here together, then I trust you, Violet. When my parents get home from work, we’ll talk to them.”

“Sounds like a plan,” agreed Violet.

Nicholas felt that terrible crushing weight that had buried itself in his chest beginning to lift.

Could it really be true? Could there be a way to bring Nathaniel home, to have a home where he could have his freedom and his brother? Where they could have friends who loved them and opportunities and everything they’d ever wanted?

Violet smiled at him.

“I can’t wait to meet him,” she signed. “I think it will be wonderful. After all, you’ve met my brother, I think I ought to meet yours.”

“He can be a lot,” warned Nicholas. “Rather controlling, overprotective. It takes him a while to trust people.”

“I gathered that,” signed Violet, smiling. “But I’m sure John and I can win him over. Why don’t you tell me more about him? Nathaniel, your brother. I want to know all about him. You seem better, now that you’ve talked about him. Happier than I’ve ever seen you.” 

Nicholas nodded. He was feeling better, better than he had been in a very long time.

It felt good to say his brother’s name again and know that hope was not lost, that they would be together.

“We can spend our next birthday together!” Nicholas signed excitedly.

“That will be something,” agreed Violet. “What does he like to do for your shared birthday? Your brother?”

“Steal us extra treats,” answered Nicholas. “Or, at least, that was what he used to do. I suppose he wouldn’t need to steal anything now that we can have a cake every year. The chocolate ones were our favorites, but Nathaniel was always cautious about watching his figure, so he only indulged on special occasions.”

“His figure?” asked Violet. “But you were twelve? Why would a twelve-year-old need to watch their figure?”

“Nathaniel insisted it was important. He was certain prospective parents didn’t want kids who would eat too much of their food,” recalled Nicholas. “He was determined that we be as fit, smart, and well-groomed as possible. Birthday and Christmas treats were allowed, but he still insisted moderation was necessary.”

Violet began looking at Nicholas with a look that could only be described as pity.

“I’m sorry you went through that,” she signed compassionately. “I hope your brother has an easier time here.”

“Me too,” signed Nicholas, though he still thought Violet’s reaction to be a bit overdramatic. Of course, parents wanted to adopt better and healthier children. That seemed like a reasonable concern.

“Though I am worried about Nathaniel joining us on our hikes and adventures. He can be rather particular, and if we’re going on a long hike, he’ll insist we go early, and he’ll insist on choosing the trials. It’s going to take a while for him to get used to doing what other people want to do.”

“I’m sure he’ll find it easier with time,” suggested Violet. “That’s part of having friends and being a good friend. Sacrificing your own wants and needs for the sake of others. Besides, people like your brother aren’t always bad. It sounds like he really cares about you, and I’m sure he’ll come to care about us too, and we’ll come to care about him.”

“That sounds lovely,” signed Nicholas, imagining his new family: his parents, himself, Nathaniel, and their friends, the Hopefield’s. It was perfect. Nicholas felt as if his heart was soaring with joy.

“I’m coming, Nathaniel,” he thought to himself. “Just hang on one more day. This time, I’m coming for you, and I’m going to bring you home. And next year, we’ll celebrate our birthday together.”

Nicholas and Violet spent the rest of the afternoon enjoying their picnic and talking about Nathaniel. Nicholas told Violet about all the good times they’d had together, and Violet made suggestions for things that they could all do together that Nathaniel might enjoy.

“He’s very competitive, so he won’t want to play against John in sports,” noted Nicholas. “He’ll also want to do local theater, but I can’t promise he won’t be tempted to sabotage other auditioners to get the lead role.”

“Has he done that before?” asked Violet.

“Not in any way that can be proven,” admitted Nicholas. “I didn’t want to ask. All Nathaniel said to me after two other auditioners for the spring musical fell mysteriously ill was that prospective parents were coming to the show, and that if we wanted to impress them, we had to make sure to take the best for ourselves. That was Nathaniel’s favorite saying: “There are only two types of people in this world. Those that are controlled, and those that have control. You have to decide who you want to be.””

“He said that? That’s hilarious,” laughed Violet.

Nicholas was confused.

“Hilarious?” he asked.

“Yes,” signed Violet. “Very sad, but at the same time, it’s humorous. You were only twelve. How could he have such a cynical outlook already? And to have it towards an elementary school musical, of all things!”

Nicholas thought about it for a moment, and then he laughed and giggled, throwing his head back at the sun.

He’d never thought about his brother from an outside perspective before, and he’d always thought of Nathaniel as being perfect, but he realized Violet was right. He was only a twelve-year-old boy saying these things, as if he was destined to rule the world, and it was very silly when he stopped to think about it. Nathaniel literally trying to rule the world, declaring that he would control everyone, as if that would or could ever really happen! And to have him talk that way as a child, about a musical of all things, it was so silly.

And then, in that moment of pure joy, pure ecstasy, the wonderful feeling that everything was finally alright and would be alright, now and forever and ever, Nicholas’ narcolepsy took hold, and he fell asleep, feeling Violet’s arms around him as she gently laid him down on the picnic blanket.

When he finally woke up, Nicholas realized he must have been out for at least a few hours.

He’d fallen asleep in the late afternoon and now the sun was setting.

He smiled and stretched his arms, looking up at the sky between the branches of the trees overhead.

“Sorry, that must have been a long one. We should probably be getting back soon,” he noted, sitting up to gather their things.

He noticed Violet’s art easel had been tipped over on its side; her paint splattered all over the ground, her art project knocked onto the picnic blanket.

“Oh dear,” he sighed, looking around at the mess. “There must have been wind. Don’t worry, I’ll help clean it up.”

Nicholas turned to sign for Violet, but suddenly realized she was no longer sitting next to him.

He looked all around him but caught no sight of her.

That was odd.

Had she gone back to the house?

Probably not, Nicholas reasoned. She wouldn’t go back and leave him, especially not leave him sleeping after a narcoleptic seizure without knowing where she’d gone.

Was she nearby? Her backpack and the painting inside it were gone, so she must have been wearing it when she left or taken it with her.

Nicholas looked in all directions. Violet wasn’t in the clearing. He supposed she might have gone into the woods, perhaps she’d spilled paint on her dress and needed to wash it off in the creek. But if that was the case, couldn’t she have waited until he woke up, or tried to wake him up?

Nicholas waited a few more minutes. He could feel the summer air getting colder and the sun was getting lower now. He decided he might as well start to pack up their things. He gathered the basket and blanket and as many of Violet’s art things as he could carry.

He knew he wasn’t supposed to wander off alone, but he wanted to make sure he got a sense of where Violet was.

He left her easel with a note, explaining that he was planning on walking back towards the house as it was getting late, and he wasn’t sure where she had gone.

Then he walked down towards the creek.

But Violet wasn’t there.

Nicholas started to worry. The creek wasn’t too far from their spot, it would make sense for Violet to go there for a moment if she spilled paint on herself and needed to wash it off. But she wouldn’t have gone far, and if she wasn’t at the creek then…where was she?

Nicholas thought back to the scene he’d woken up to. The turned over easel, spilled paint all over the grass and picnic blanket.

His heart began to pound.

“Violet?” he whispered, shaky and uncertain before yelling.

“VIOLET?”

No one answered.

“VIOLET!” Nicholas yelled again, as loud as he could, before he remembered that it would do no good.

Violet was deaf.

He could yell as loud as he wanted, but wherever she was, she couldn’t hear him.

Panicked, Nicholas dropped everything and began sprinting back towards the house.

He wasn’t the best runner, and by the time he got back he was exhausted, red in the face, and gasping and panting for air.

“My goodness,” said Mr. Hopefield, catching sight of him. “Someone’s been on quite the run.”

“Hey, Nick,” said John, coming out of the house. “There you are, exams finished up about an hour ago, and we were wondering-”

“-isViolethere?” gasped Nicholas, the unintelligible words blending together as they spilled out of his mouth.

“Woah, easy there, son,” said Mr. Hopefield. “Catch your breath. I assume Violet’s coming after you?”

Nicholas, feeling himself about to cry, shook his head.

“She’s…I can’t find her,” he gasped.

“What do you mean you can’t find her?” asked John. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” said Nicholas. “I just…I looked everywhere, and I can’t find her!”

“But you said you’d stay vigilant and stay together,” John reminded him. “If you were both next to each other then she couldn’t have gone far.”

“There’s no reason to panic, Violet knows these woods,” said Mr. Hopefield, hoping to calm poor Nicholas down, though he himself was beginning to worry. “When did you last see her?”

“See who?” signed Mrs. Hopefield as she came outside. “Is everything alright? Where is Violet?”

“I don’t know,” said and signed Nicholas, his hands trembling. “I had a narcoleptic attack, and I don’t know how long I was out, but when I woke up, she was gone.”

“Gone?” asked John. “What do you mean by gone?”

“She was gone,” explained Nicholas. “Her easel was knocked over and paint was spattered everywhere, and she was gone. I thought she must have spilled paint on herself and gone to wash it off, so I went by the creek, but she wasn’t there, so then I came back, I thought for sure she’d be with you.”

Mrs. Hopefield gasped as her husband put his arms around her.

“When?” asked John, the panic rising in his voice. “When did the narcoleptic attack happen, how long do you think you might have been out, minutes? Hours?”

“Maybe a few hours,” admitted Nicholas. “I don’t know. The sun was setting when I woke up, but…I don’t know, I’m sorry, I don’t know how long I was out!”

“It’s alright, Nick. I’m going to find her,” declared John, putting on his jacket and running out the door. “I’m faster, I can cover more ground.”

“JOHN!” yelled his father, but John was already out the door, flashlight in hand, racing as fast as he could through the woods, determined to find his sister.

Mrs. Hopefield began to cry.

“I’m sorry,” signed Nicholas. “It’s all my fault. John told me to stay vigilant and if I hadn’t had my narcoleptic seizure, if I had been more careful and mindful of my triggers-”

“-it’s not your fault, dear,” promised Mrs. Hopefield.

“And we don’t know anything yet,” added Mr. Hopefield. “There’s no reason to jump to the worst-case scenario. I’ll call your parents, Nicholas, and then we’ll notify the police to sweep the area. I’m sure they’ll find her.”

But even though Mr. Hopefield tried his best to sound reassuring, there was a tremble in his voice, an unmistakable worry that any parent whose child was in danger might feel, and it was a sound that broke Nicholas’ heart.

The rest of the evening was a blur.

Nicholas’ parents came, worried and quick to volunteer to help look for poor Violet and quick to reassure a distressed Nicholas that it wasn’t his fault.

The police came too and took statements from everyone.

“I don’t see a reason to panic, ma’am,” the policeman tried to assure Mrs. Hopefield, as her husband interpreted for her.

“Surely if this was a kidnapping the boy would have awoken to the sounds of a struggle.”

“He has narcolepsy,” explained Mrs. Glenn. “Sometimes he can sleep very soundly for hours at a time.”

“Ah,” said the officer. “Well, even so, the fact is, it’s highly unlikely any kidnappers would take just the girl and leave the sleeping boy unharmed. Even if it was one person working alone, they likely wouldn’t risk leaving a potential witness. These woods can be confusing at night and every year we get a report of another kid going missing. Usually, they show up within 24 hours at the edge of town, but we’ll send a team out to check the perimeter of the woods, and for your peace of mind, sweep the creek, though I’m sure this is just another case of a little girl going down the wrong path.”

Eventually, after Nicholas had spoken to all the officers, his parents took him home.

“I hope you know this isn’t your fault,” said Mrs. Glenn, anxiously trying to comfort her son.

Nicholas nodded, though he knew his mother was wrong.

This was his fault. This was all his fault. He’d promised to stay vigilant; he’d promised to stay with Violet, and he failed! He’d broken a promise. Again.

Maybe he was a monster.

“Please, don’t let this ruin your birthday,” advised Mr. Glenn. “I’m sure the police will find Violet, and we’ll all be celebrating in the morning.”

“Oh, and speaking of your birthday,” said Mrs. Glenn, eager to change the topic to something more pleasant for the sake of her son. “When you gave your statement to the officers, you mentioned something about Violet agreeing to help you tell us what you wanted for your birthday?”

“Huh? Oh…yeah,” said Nicholas, his throat suddenly feeling very dry again.

“Well, I know Violet’s not here, but we’re open to anything,” promised Mr. Glenn. “It’s your special day.”

Nicholas nodded, but he knew he couldn’t ask for what he wanted. Not now, not like this, he couldn’t explain it right without Violet, and if this was what happened to his friends then maybe it really was for the best. Maybe Nathaniel was better without him, or maybe Nathaniel had been right to control him! After all, the only thing Nicholas had managed to do with his new freedom was hurt his friends and break promises.

“Nicholas?” repeated his father.

“Darling, are you alright?” asked his mother.

“What? Oh yes,” said Nicholas. “Just tired. We were going to talk to you about what kind of cake I wanted. But we can figure that out tomorrow when the stores are open.”

Then Nicholas said goodnight to his parents, went upstairs to his bedroom and cried himself to sleep on his birthday, wishing, though he knew he had no right to wish for it, that Nathaniel was there to comfort him.

“Comfort you? Nicky, the fact is, if I was the one who had been adopted, this never would have happened to Violet. And this never would have happened if both of us had been there either. You were the one who didn’t want to come back for me. You have no one to blame but yourself.”

Nicholas sighed.

“I know, Nathaniel,” he whispered. “I know.”

Despite the officer’s reassurances and search after search of every inch of the woods by the police and concern townsfolk, Violet was never found.

The incident rocked the tiny town, and it was hard for Nicholas to go anywhere without hearing someone mention it. In a particularly unfortunate incident, he and his parents overheard two men talking about it on the bus, seated a few rows ahead, oblivious to the fact that the very people they were discussing were seated a few rows behind them.

“Well, if you ask me, the boy can’t be blamed for it. It’s the parents’ fault,” declared one man. “All four of them. Letting two disabled children go off into the woods like that. Even if they are technically teenagers, you simply can’t treat them the same as you would other children that age, or this sort of thing is bound to happen!”

“Two disabled children?” asked the other man. “I know the Hopefield’s have deafness in the family, but what about the boy?”

“Narcolepsy,” explained the first man. “Sleeping spells or something, I’m not quite sure. I suppose the Glenns must have adopted him as an act of charity.”

“Well, they shouldn’t have adopted a disabled child without knowing how to properly care for him, which they clearly don’t if they’re comfortable letting him live that freely,” declared the second man.

Mr. Glenn looked furious.

“Some people are just ignorant,” he muttered.

“It’s okay, Dad,” promised Nicholas. “Really, it’s fine.”

But it didn’t feel fine. It felt to Nicholas like he was a burden and now his poor parents were being blamed for it.

Yet, for as bad as the attention Nicholas and his parents got was, it was nothing compared to what John and the Hopefield’s faced.

Everyone was constantly checking up on them and trying to offer them support, but what do you say to a family that’s already lost one son and now their daughter too? What do you say when you can’t even say condolences because there’s still the hope of the child being found, but every day the hope is replaced a tiny bit by the increasing likelihood of finding out something terrible has happened rather than your child alive and well?

Nicholas didn’t know. He didn’t know what to say to his parents about Nathaniel, he didn’t know what to say to the Hopefield’s about Violet, and he didn’t know what to say to John about his broken promise and how sorry he was about what happened so he just…didn’t. He kept his head down, did his schoolwork, read in the evenings, and that was that. He didn’t talk to anyone else, and he never let anyone else get close to him. He wasn’t going to risk hurting anyone else ever again.

Eventually, as the months turned into years, the Hopefield’s left town. They never sold the house, too many memories, but the memories also made it impossible to live in. Nicholas wasn’t sure where they’d moved but supposed it didn’t make a difference since he never saw them or his friend John again.

He still did science competitions, it was what his parents and teachers expected from a boy of his talents, but Nicholas no longer enjoyed them. Before, he’d liked them okay because Violet and John were there to cheer him on, though he was admittedly bit reluctant because the attention and subject matter wasn’t necessarily his favorite thing, and he wished Nathaniel might have shared the credit. But now that Violet and John weren’t there, he hated everything about them. He hated going by “Nicholas Glenn”, he hated pretending like these ideas were his and not his and Nathaniel’s or that he enjoyed doing any sort of science without his brother and he hated pretending that this was his primary passion, and he wouldn’t prefer reading a book or writing about something.

But Nicholas pretended anyway. After all, this was the life he had chosen for himself when he’d let his parents adopt him.

So, he played the role and played it well. Nathaniel had taught him how to act, and Nicholas knew how to give a fake smile. He supposed that was one ironic advantage to all the fakeness. He need never worry about another narcoleptic attack again.

And every night, before bed, he would picture the faces of Nathaniel, Violet, and John, and remember the good times he’d had with them and mourn for the good times they all could have had together, the future they had come so close to, only to have it so cruelly ripped away.

This was the second time that Nicholas Benedict broke a promise to his best friend.

It would not be the last.

The day after Nathaniel Benedict watched his brother leave was the loneliest day of his life, at least at first. He soon found each subsequent day to be lonelier than the last, and it only got worse as the days went on.

He knew it wouldn’t be forever. It wouldn’t even be long, really. Nicky would be back for him by the end of the week, maybe sooner.

But even that was longer than Nathaniel had ever gone without his brother, without someone to talk to, without someone to share his ideas with, without someone who he could call a friend.

“One more day,” Nathaniel would think to himself, looking up at the stars each night. “I’m sure he’ll come tomorrow. Nicky has to come tomorrow. I can hold out just one more day.”

But the days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months, which eventually added up to years, and still no Nicholas.

And as time went on, more adoptions began happening, and as Nathaniel found himself on the cusp of puberty, he found himself slowly sticking out and towering over the other students.

He was never quite sure how to approach prospective families, as he wouldn’t want to turn down any options, of course, but he also knew that Nicholas could come any day, and he didn’t want to promise himself to another family.

But fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately for Nathaniel, that was never a decision he had to make. It wasn’t long before couples’ eyes began to pass over him and most of the other older children as if it was a given that they wouldn’t be adopted. Every once in a while, a couple would be willing to take in an older child, but they were mostly looking for girls, or children who could be guaranteed to be “well adjusted” have “low behavioral problems”.  Soon it wasn’t long before Nathaniel, Tommy, and James were the only older children left, and they stood out like sore thumbs, towering over the other children, especially James, who was quite large for his age.

Nathaniel asked almost daily if any word had come from his brother, a letter, a Christmas or birthday gift perhaps? They always said no, and Nathaniel could tell they were tired of him asking, but they told him he couldn’t have Nicholas’ new address (for reasons of privacy and confidentiality), so it would be up to Nicholas to initiate first contact. Nathaniel was sure something must have gotten lost in the mail, which had to be the reason he hadn’t gotten anything on his thirteen birthday or for Christmas. He and Nicholas always got each other presents every year, whatever they could find or make themselves. Nicky wouldn’t forget that. Nathaniel was sure of it…right?

“Maybe he doesn’t care about you,” a tiny voice in his head suggested. “Taking a few months is one thing, but a year? And forgetting your birthday?”

“The package could have gotten lost in the mail. Leave it to Nicky to write the address wrong and mix up the numbers,” reasoned Nathaniel. “But the one thing he’d never do is break a promise. He’s coming back for me. I’m sure of it.”

“Are you? Really? Think of all the times he seemed to disappear. When it seemed like Nicky just couldn’t wait to get away from you,” the voice reminded him.

“So? Nicky likes his privacy, but he also needs me. I’m the one who took care of us,” Nathaniel reminded the voice.

“But I’m the one who didn’t need to control everyone around me,” Nicholas’ voice reminded him. “You did, Nathaniel. Maybe I’m the one who can survive without you. Maybe you needed me, but I never needed you. Maybe being free of you has allowed me to be better.”

Nathaniel shuddered and turned over in his sleep. No, no, that was wrong. Nicky would never say that, and besides, it wasn’t true. It wasn’t. Nicky loved him, Nicky needed him, and he was coming back.

He…he promised. He had to come back.

That was what Nathaniel told himself and though each passing day made it harder and harder to hope, he clung to that hope tightly, as it was the only thing he had left to hold onto, the hope that his brother would not fail him.

The hope that his brother hadn’t run from him. The hope that he hadn’t driven him away forever. The hope that there was nothing wrong with him.

But still, the doubt lingered, even as Nathaniel denied it and clung steadfast to hope as hard as he could.

It wasn’t until one night, about a week before Nathaniel and Nicholas’ fourteen birthday, that at last, doubt began to obtain the upper hand.

After Nicholas moved out, Nathaniel found himself forced to share rooms with other students until eventually, he, James, and Tommy, being the oldest students left and all boys, were shoved into a small back room. At first, James had taken to teasing Nathaniel as usual, but even that became boring as time dragged on, and eventually the boys mostly silently shuffled around each other.

Though when Nathaniel woke in the middle of the night to see James and Tommy with packed bags, he did decide to say something.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Dang it, Tommy,” snapped James. “I told you not to be loud!”

“Sorry,” said Tommy, who had just dropped his suitcase on the ground with a loud BANG.

“What are you two doing?” repeated Nathaniel.

“None of your business. Go back to sleep,” said James, but by then Nathaniel noticed the open window.

“You’re running away,” he observed.

“And you better not be squealing,” demanded James.

“Do I look like I’m interested in tattling?” asked Nathaniel. “You run away, and I get a room to myself, I’m not complaining. What I’m wondering is why. You don’t exactly have anywhere to run to. Where will you go?”

“Anywhere,” replied James. “Anywhere but here. Face it, Nathaniel. We’re not getting adopted. No one wants to adopt a teenage boy, and certainly not boys like us. We might all have different problems, but we all got problems. At this point, they’re just waiting until we turn eighteen so they can legally throw us out onto the streets. Well, I’m not waiting around for that to happen. I’m going to make my own life, and Tommy’s coming with me.”

“They’re going to send people after you, we’re minors,” Nathaniel pointed out.

James laughed.

“Yeah right. The police might care if we were rich kids, but they’re not gonna care about some orphaned teen runaways. My guess is they spend a day of searching, tops, and then call the whole thing off.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Nathaniel. “We’re too young to get real jobs, and we don’t have a place to live.”

“We’ll steal,” replied James. “And do whatever we have to. The world’s been unfair to us, might as well take a little back. Tommy and I are gonna join a gang. Or maybe we’ll form our own gang.”

“Your own gang?” asked Nathaniel.

“Yeah,” said James. “One that nobody would mess with, one that could be our own family since none of those fancy pants parents think we’re good enough for them. It’s what we’ll probably do in four years when they kick us out anyway. Might as well get a head start instead of rotting in here.”

“Well, good luck with that,” sighed Nathaniel. “Have fun on the streets.”

James didn’t answer him. He looked at Nathaniel as if he was studying him and thinking for a moment.

Then he spoke.

“Come with us.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Come with us. You’re not seriously gonna wait around here for four years by yourself, are you?”

“No, I’m not. Nicky’s coming to get me.”

“You still believe that?”

The look on Nathaniel’s face told James he’d crossed a line.

“Look, whatever,” he sighed. “The fact is it’s been almost two years, and you don’t know when the waiting is gonna end. Give me one reason why staying in here is better than what we could achieve out here.”

“That fact that you hate me,” suggested Nathaniel. “And I have no reason to believe that you would ever give me a sincere offer.”

“Fair,” sighed James. “Fair. Look man, I know I gave you a rough time. I know I was mean to you and a lot of the kids in here. But I’ve been doing some thinking lately, and I’ve decided that the fact is, at the end of the day, it’s not about you vs. me, okay? It’s people like us vs. people like them, and if we can’t become like them, then we’re stuck being us, and we might as well learn to live with it. You annoy the heck outta me, but the fact is, you’re smart, you get stuff done, and on the streets, we could use a guy like you, and this might be the best chance any of us have got. So, what the heck. Wanna come with us?”

Nathaniel shook his head.

“Your gonna hold out for him?” asked James. “Still?”

Nathaniel looked away.

James scoffed.

“Whatever man. If you wanna stay here until they kick you out and wait for someone whose never gonna show up, be my guest. But I’m taking control of the rest of my life. C’mon Tommy, let’s go.”

Nathaniel watched and James and Tommy left through the open window, dragging their bags behind them.

The next day the police were called, of course, to search for the missing boys. But Nathaniel noted that the orphanage director didn’t seem particularly broken up about the disappearance of two teenagers, and neither did the officers. They took statements and descriptions, promised to keep a sharp lookout and posted fliers around the station, but besides that, they did nothing. There wasn’t a search party, a sense of panic, or any concern as to what might have happened to either of them.

“You see, he was right,” whispered a voice in Nathaniel’s head. “No one cares about what might happen to either of them. No one cares about you, either.”

Nathaniel forced the voice to be quiet.

“You’re wrong!” he countered. “You’re wrong! I’m not like James or Tommy. I matter to someone; I have someone who loves me. Nicky cares about me. Nicky is going to come back for me. You’ll see.”

But the week dragged on, and Nicholas still didn’t come to take him home.

And the doubts that Nathaniel had fought to banish to the corners of his mind began to grow stronger, but still, he resisted.

Though there was a new kind of doubt that he had begun to consider, particularly in light of the fact that not only had Nicholas failed to come back for him, but he’d also failed to write even a letter. What if Nicholas’ parents were bad people? You did hear of it happening sometimes, people will ill intentions adopting children to kidnap them for child labor. The orphanage did a review of every couple who came seeking a child, but still, mistakes could happen. But even if that was the case, it had already been almost two years. How was Nathaniel supposed to rescue his brother or even verify whether he was okay or not?

Finally, Nathaniel made a decision. He was going to have to visit Nicholas himself to find out the truth.

He knew when the orphanage director took her lunch breaks, and he was a good enough pickpocket to take her spare key. From there, all he had to do was look up the records and walk to the address. He could go on a Saturday, when he usually spent the day in his room anyway, and he knew that no one would check up on him or even notice he’d left.

So, on the day before their fourteen birthday, that was what Nathaniel did, and that was why he ended up walking very far from the orphanage on a one of those days as the spring turns to summer where the temperature, which has been fluctuating between warm and cold whether drops back down to cooler weather and the rain doesn’t just rain but pour.

He shivered against the cold. He didn’t have money for a taxi, didn’t own an umbrella, and he’d been walking for hours, but he wasn’t going to wait another day, and he wasn’t going to give up. If Nicky was in trouble, then Nathaniel needed to get to him, and if he wasn’t then…well, surely something must have gone wrong to have delay him for so long. 

Nathaniel stopped to catch his breath. He wasn’t too far now, only about 30 minutes away. He’d already been walking most of the day and his feet were killing him, but he couldn’t give up now, not when he was closer to his brother than he’d been in years.

“Thank you, it’s an honor to be here.”

Nathaniel gasped at the sound of his brother’s voice, looking around for him in every direction.

“Nicky?” he asked, hope rising in his chest.

Then he caught sight of a display of televisions in an appliance store window.

His brother was on the screen.

“Nicky?” Nathaniel muttered again, stepping closer to the display of his brother’s face, plastered over every tv in the shop window.

He stood for a moment in shocked silence. It was him. Nicholas. He looked different now, he had better clothes, fancier clothes, and he looked healthier too, but his hair, his curls, oh goodness he’d let himself go, and to be on live television looking like that.

But why was Nicky on live television?

Nathaniel continued to watch the program, and listened as the announcer explained that this was one of the country’s top science competitions, and that each other these children was one of the highest performing students in the country.

Nathaniel wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Science had always been more his thing, if Nicholas was going to be on television for something, wouldn’t it be a spelling bee or something like that?

Nevertheless, he stayed to listen.

The weather was cruel and unforgiving, and Nathaniel was already fatigued. The coat the orphanage had given him was old, full of holes and much too thin for this weather, but he stood his ground even still, determined to watch the full broadcast, shivering against the wind as he stared uncomfortably at the fancy television screens through the store’s cheap and dirty glass windows.

Meanwhile, Nicholas sat on stage, dressed in a fancy new outfit, cheerfully explaining his scientific research.

“It’s preliminary,” explained Nicholas. “Purely theoretical at this stage, but it could be an excellent way to create new energy.”

“And you call them hydroelectric turbines?” clarified the moderator.

Hydroelectric turbines?

But…that had been Nathaniel’s idea. Well, perhaps not entirely, Nicholas did help with the designs, but Nathaniel was the one who came up with it!

“And I understand your parents are here with us today,” continued the moderator.

“Yes,” said Nicholas, as the camera focused in on his parents.

“Quite the story,” commented the moderator. “I understand you lived in an orphanage until the time you were twelve before you were adopted and lost your parents when you were only three years old?”

Nicholas nodded.

Nathaniel watched as the moderator began to talk to Nicholas’ parents, who were all too eager to praise him: “Nicholas has always been so brilliant… we can’t take credit for his accomplishments, he did it all on his own… we’re so proud of him…”.

“But he didn’t do it all on his own!” Nathaniel wanted to shout. “Those were my ideas too! Not just his! Science was always my thing, I’m the brilliant one!”

“And is there anyone else in the audience or watching at home that you’d like to thank for their support?” asked the moderator.

“Me,” thought Nathaniel. “He wants to thank me. This is it. This is what Nicky’s been waiting for. He’ll tell them about me, about my work on the turbine design, and then they’ll see that I belong up there on that stage with him.”

Nathaniel’s eyes were glued to the television as he held his breath.

“I do,” answered Nicholas. “My friends. Violet Hopefield and John Cole. They helped me practice my presentation, and they came here with me today.”

The camera quickly flashed onto the blurry faces of two people in the audience.

Nathaniel scowled. He immediately hated them, whoever these people were that Nicholas had seen fit to replace him. Nicholas’ new rich, privileged, frivolous, unintelligent, superficial friends who'd never accomplished anything of value!

“They’ve been really supportive of me,” explained Nicholas.

“Wrong,” thought Nathaniel. “I’ve been supportive of you. I’m the only one who has ever been supportive of you!”

“Well, you’re very lucky to have such a wonderful team behind you,” commented the moderator. “That was Nicholas Glenn, one of the top competitors in our competition. We’ll have the judges results after the break.”

Nicholas Glenn.

That was the final gut punch, the final words that finally broke Nathaniel into a million pieces.

Being abandoned had hurt, and being replaced by Violet and John, whoever they were, that hurt too, it hurt worse than anything, but for Nicholas to even go so far as to change his name? The one and only thing that still connected them?

As the initial shock of seeing his brother again for the first time in two years wore off, the weight of what Nathaniel had just witnessed fully descended upon him.

He wasn’t quite sure what he had been hoping to see when he’d left the orphanage to find his brother. On the one hand, a part of Nathaniel had hoped to see his brother safe and in good health, but on the other hand, if Nicholas looked scared or weak then maybe… maybe he hadn’t wanted to leave Nathaniel behind, at least not really. Maybe his new parents were abusive, maybe Nicholas had been trying to protect him, or maybe Nicholas was in trouble, maybe he needed him!

But now there was no denying the truth. What Nathaniel Benedict had just seen on television confirmed his worst nightmare: Nicholas had left him for good.

He took their ideas all for himself, he took Nathaniel’s dream of sharing his knowledge with the world, he got new friends, he even changed his last name!

He wasn’t coming back.

Nicky wasn’t coming back.

“But you knew that, didn’t you,” mocked a voice in Nathaniel’s head. “Even as you saw him getting into the car with his new family, you knew that was the last time, didn’t you? Don’t tell me you’re surprised. Your parents abandoned you. Your would-be friends always abandoned you. It was only a matter of time before your brother abandoned you too. How could anyone stand someone as bossy and controlling as you? Face it. James was right. You’ll never have a family.”

“No…” whispered Nathaniel, but he knew there was no denying the truth.

He was alone. He’d always be alone, and he’d always be nothing, he’d always mean nothing. No one cared for him, nothing he did mattered!

He felt like such a fool. Waiting for Nicholas for two full years, looking at the sky each night and telling himself it would only be one more day before his brother came to take him home. How had he been so stupid? How had he not realized the truth?

Nathaniel’s feet and hands were completely wet and numb, but he didn’t move. He stood frozen in front of the televisions, tears streaming down his face, his ears ringing.

“Hey, hey kid!” yelled the store owner stepping outside. “What are you doing? Can’t you read? No loitering. You come inside and buy something, or you move along. Hey, kid, I’m talking to you!”

The man’s voice seemed to mix with the sound of the commercials playing on the televisions. Nathaniel tried to say something but couldn’t speak.

He felt the tears begin falling down his cheeks as he mourned for the loss of his brother, his only friend, the only family he’d ever known.

“C’mon kid, move it, or I’m gonna have to get the police involved,” warned the man, but Nathaniel didn’t budge. He continued to stare helplessly at the televisions as if his stare could somehow bring Nicholas back on the screen and undo everything he’d just seen, though he knew it was impossible.

This was the end.

Nicky was gone for good, and there wasn’t anything he could do. Nicky wasn’t coming back; he didn’t want to come back! It wasn’t in Nathaniel’s control. He’d tried everything, he’d tried to be perfect for his future parents, for Nicholas, he’d tried to be good, but it wasn’t enough…he wasn’t enough.

He’d never been good enough.

When Nathaniel woke up, he found himself numb, shivering and wet. Apparently, he’d slammed into the pavement and landed in a puddle.

No one tried to catch him or bothered to pick him up.

“Look, I never touched the kid,” the shop owner promised the policeman taking statements. “I just asked him to stop loitering in front of my store. Then the kid freaks out and falls over, probably fainted or something.”

Nathaniel rubbed his eyes and looked around.

Everyone on the street was staring at him.

“Alright son,” said the officer, pulling Nathaniel to his feet. “Why don’t you give me your phone number, I’ll put a call in to your parents, and we can sort this whole thing out?”

“I don’t have parents,” replied Nathaniel numbly. “I don’t have anyone.”

The officer sighed in disappointment, realizing this meant he’d be forced to file more paperwork.

“Okay, then, I’ll take you down to the station, and we’ll call up some of the local orphanages and juvenile detention centers, find out where you belong. Up against the vehicle.”

Nathaniel was about to protest, when he heard the moderator on the television speak again.

“Once again congratulations to our winner, Nicholas Glenn, a young man with a very bright future ahead of him!”

“Hey kid,” barked the officer. “Aren’t you listening to me? You’re gonna have a very rough future ahead of you if you don’t start listening. Get up against the vehicle, now. I don’t have all day!” 

Nathaniel looked around at all the people staring at him. The officer shove him forward.

All at once, a surge of adrenaline and panic coursed through Nathaniel’s body.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He couldn’t let it be like this.

He felt the officer grab his hands to put cuffs on him.

“NO!” yelled Nathaniel, twisting in the officer’s arms and flailing backwards, knocking the officer in the face and giving him a bloody nose.

He was so stunned by what happened, Nathaniel didn’t know what else to do other than take a few steps backwards.

As he did so, the spectating pedestrians backed away from him, and a nearby mother stepped in front of her kids, shielding them from the teenage delinquent she’d just seen frantically punch a cop in the face.

The officer spoke into his radio.

“We just had an assault on an officer downtown, I’m gonna need backup at this location.”

Nathaniel’s heart began to beat faster. There was no way they weren’t going to send him to some sort of detention center now. And if he went there…then that was it. That would follow him for the rest of his life. But no, he couldn’t let that happen, he couldn’t let them take any more away from him!

“Everyone, stand clear,” ordered the officer, before turning towards Nathaniel. “Son, you just made a whole world of trouble for yourself. Now, I’m only gonna say this one more time before I have to resort to physical force. Get into the car.”

Nathaniel nodded slowly and stepped forward as if he was about to comply.

Then he bolted.

He didn’t turn around to see if the officer was following, he just ran faster and faster, past pedestrians who jumped out of his way and gasped as if they’d just had a close call with a notorious murderer.

He ran until it was dark, ran until he felt his feet bleed, ran until the streets were silent.

Then he walked back to the orphanage.

He gathered and packed his things and used the key he’d stolen to break into the orphanage director’s office to steal his social security card, birth certificate, and any other documents they had on hand. He also helped himself to all the cash in the safe. If they wanted it back, they could send the officers to track him down.

Then he left the orphanage, just as the sun was coming up on his fourteenth birthday.

This was the first day of his new life.

He didn’t know who he was now, but he knew one thing.

Nathaniel Benedict was no more. That boy died when he fell into a puddle the day that he found out his brother left him for good and chosen a new name.

And whoever he was now, he didn’t need a family, a brother, friends, or anyone! He had himself, and that was going to be enough, and one day, the whole world was going to know his name. One day, he would be on televisions all over the world, he would have control, and he wasn’t going to wait for someone to hand it to him.

He was going to take it.

Bonus: Art for this chapter by seamstressofthestars

Chapter Text

After losing Violet and John, Nicholas became somewhat of a loner.

His parents, concerned for his mental health and well-being after such a tragedy, got him a therapist for the first few months after the incident occurred, but Nicholas never made much progress, namely because he could not be convinced that what happened wasn’t his fault. He never voiced this out loud, not to his parents, teachers, or his therapist, but he knew it in his heart. He had broken a promise not just once, but twice, and doing so had ruined his friend’s lives forever. He wasn’t going to risk getting close to anyone again. What was important now was to focus on the one thing Nicholas knew he could do right: his studies. His teachers and parents constantly showered him with praise for his giftedness and encouraged him to continue pursuing his talents. It was the one thing Nicholas seemed to be able to do right. Although his parents were constantly encouraging him to form social connections, Nicholas politely declined any opportunity in order to throw himself into his academics. To his credit, his hard work paid off, which is why nineteen-year-old Nicholas Benedict found himself almost done with his undergraduate degree and offered a prestigious internship opportunity in partnership with the naval academy to gather data for his hydroelectric turbine designs aboard the M.V. Shortcut.

The turbines were Nicholas’ greatest achievement, the one his teachers and parents encouraged him to pursue the most, but it was also one that filled him with guilt. This shouldn’t just be his glory or his accomplishment. It was Nathaniel’s too. But Nicholas didn’t know how to tell the world about his brother, and he also didn’t know how to tell the world that he didn’t want to go down this path when so many people were constantly praising his aptitude and talking about how good new energy sources could be for the world. So, he didn’t say anything. He continued down the path he’d chosen for himself, unable to turn back.

“We’re so proud of you, Nicholas,” said his father, as he helped his son take his bags out of the car.

“Do you have everything?” asked his mother. “I packed your sunscreen, notebooks (I know how you go through those), plenty of clothes and some spending money, are you sure you don’t want anything else?”

“Thank you, mom. I’m fine. This is more than enough,” promised Nicholas.

“Are you excited?” she asked. “The ship is beautiful. It really is the trip of a lifetime.”

Nicholas nodded. It really was. Under other circumstances, circumstances where Violet, John, and Nathaniel could have accompanied him, he might have felt more enthusiastic about the journey, but as it was, it felt more like a chore than an opportunity or even a vacation. Still, he didn’t want to seem or sound ungrateful.

Nicholas smiled.

“I am,” he lied, a process that felt sickening but familiar. Fortunately, his parents couldn’t seem to tell the difference and considered that Nicholas’ sudden lack of narcolepsy was a sign that he had grown out of it, though his mother was notably concerned that it seemed to have occurred right after the incident involving Violet and John. Nicholas did his best to quell her fears, insisting that the incident had nothing to do with that, and that he was fine now. It was simply that Nicholas had strong academic pursuits, and didn’t have time for friends right now. That was all. And wasn’t it better this way? Wasn’t the world better off without him?

“We’ll be here to celebrate when you get back,” said his father. “We’ll have to hear all about the trip.”

“I can’t believe it’s going to be almost two months,” cried Nicholas’ mother, and Nicholas could see there were tears in her eyes.

“I’ll be fine, mom,” he promised as he hugged his parents goodbye. “The time will pass before you know it.”

“I hope so,” agreed his mother. “We love you, Nicholas.”

“I love you too,” said Nicholas, as he hugged them tightly.

That was the one blessing that Nicholas had, despite all he’d lost. Parents that loved him. Perhaps not parents that fully understood him or what he needed, but ones that tried their best to give their son every opportunity he deserved. Nicholas knew he ought to be grateful for that.

He stood on the deck and waved goodbye as he watched his parents waving on the shore, their silhouettes growing smaller and smaller until they disappeared over the horizon.

Nicholas sighed to himself as he looked out over the water. It was so peaceful, so calm. For a moment, he could look over the water and feel content as he watched the waves dance in the sunlight.

“ATTENTION ALL PASSENGERS!”

Nicholas, who’d been quite lost in his own thoughts and admiration of nature’s beauty, stifled a scream as a loud voice called out over the intercom.

“WE WILL BE HAVING A MANDATORY SAFETY MEETING ON THE NORTH DECK IMMEDIATELY. ALL PASSENGERS ARE REQUIRED TO ATTEND. PLEASE MAKE YOUR WAY TO THE NORTH DECK.”

 Nicholas hurriedly gathered his bags and made his way to the deck, where the crew introduced themselves and went over the safety protocol.

“Now many of you may have heard that the sea is a dangerous place,” began the captain, who had introduced himself as Captain Noland, in a very serious tone. “Full of terrible sea monsters that feast on the flesh of the innocent and sirens with haunting voices that lure weak and unsuspecting sailors to their wretched deaths.”

Nicholas nodded while some of the other passengers, particularly those with young children, began giving the captain strange looks.

“But those that have heard such things may be reassured to know that we have no such dangers on this ship. The creatures from those stories are merely myths and legends. Or at least, their existence can’t definitively be proven…”

Noland’s voice trailed off and he paused, glancing across the horizon with a worried look in his eyes, as if he was remembering something terrible. And indeed, he was. They said it was the exhaustion, perhaps a flashback from the war, but…Noland would never forget what he’d seen that night. It haunted his nightmares, for just as the sea was beautiful yet terrifying and mysterious, so were the creatures that inhabited her.

“Captain,” prompted one of the officers, Officer Zhao, as he’d been introduced.

“Hm? Ah, yes,” said Noland, snapping out of his trance. “Yes…nothing to worry about there. But of course, though we’ve been forecasted with good weather, the sea can be unpredictable. Which is why safety is paramount. Our hard-working crew does our best to ensure the safety and comfort of everyone on this ship, so if you need anything, anything at all, please don’t hesitate to come to us.”

Nicholas nodded out of obligation, though the last thing he intended to do was bother the crew with any inconvenience.

He listened patiently as Officer Zhao explained the safety procedures aboard the M.V. Shortcut and dismissed the passengers.

Then he attempted to quietly take his belongings to his room, without making much of a fuss.

Unfortunately, the captain had other plans.

“You must be Nicholas,” he noted, putting out his hand to shake. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“Oh. You heard of me?” asked Nicholas, hoping the captain wasn’t a fan of his academic competition successes on television.

Over the years, Nicholas’ parents and teachers encouraged him to take advantage of his gifts, and Nicholas had played the part well, though it always felt like a role rather than an authentic version of himself, especially in the absence of his friends and brother. He hoped the captain wasn’t hoping to meet that version of himself.

“I make it a point to know who is on board my ship,” explained Noland. “And you seemed to be the only one traveling alone and doing quite an impressive amount of research as I understand.”

“Yes,” agreed Nicholas.

“Well, impressive as it is, I know firsthand that too much dedication to one’s work, while admirable, can begin drive a man mad,” noted Noland. “Not to mention the negative effects of all that stress. High blood pressure, high cholesterol, heart disease. Those are the silent killers.”

Nicholas nodded, unsure what to make of the captain’s sudden ominous tone.

“Which is why comradery is essential,” continued Noland. “And you’re invited to take part in any of our crews’ social events, which might be to your liking.”

“Oh,” said Nicholas. “That’s a lovely offer, but I wouldn’t want to impose or interrupt anything.”

“It’s no imposition,” promised Noland. “It’s an honor to have you on board. Please, allow Officer Zhao to help take your bags to your room.”

Nicholas was about to protest that he could struggle his way there himself, but Officer Zhao was quick to grab hold of his suitcases and take them to his quarters.

“Please make yourself at home,” said Officer Zhao, as he opened the door to Nicholas’ room. “And let us know if there is anything we can do to make your stay more enjoyable.

“I will,” said Nicholas, though he still had every intention to keep to himself and his research as much as possible.

For the first few days at sea, Nicholas was successful in his mission to keep to himself. He ate his meals quickly and sat in the back of the dinner room alone, making sure he was finished before anyone got a chance to talk to him. He spent his hours not at the ship’s social events, but alone on the deck, looking over his notes as he studied the movements of the waves and the ship’s mechanics.

Sometimes he’d allow himself a break to look out over the water. It really was lovely, the way the light shined on the waves. Few artists could capture something so wonderful, but Violet’s painting really had done it justice. She’d had such a talent for capturing the beauty and sadness of things.

Nicholas couldn’t help but think of himself as the person on board the invisible boat from Violet’s paintings. Lost and alone at sea, trapped in a destiny that he’d chosen for himself, technically, but one that left him feeling empty and unsatisfied. As if the real him, the person he was supposed to be, had gotten lost somewhere. Maybe it was the moment he left Nathaniel. Maybe it was the moment he woke up to find Violet gone. But whatever the reason, what could not be denied now was that he was alone.

Completely and utterly alone.

Suddenly a shadow blocked out the sun.

“Hello, Nicholas.”

Nicholas turned to see Captain Noland standing over him with a serious expression on his face.

“Oh, hello captain,” said Nicholas. “I um…didn’t see you standing there. Have you…have you been standing there long?”

“Long enough,” declared Noland dramatically, in a tone that made Nicholas feel as if he’d been caught doing something wrong, though he couldn’t fathom what that could possibly be.

“Enough for what?” asked Nicholas, but the captain ignored his question.

“You don’t seem like a particularly talkative fellow, Nicholas,” noted the Captain.

Nicholas nodded.

“I like to keep to myself,” he explained. “Things tend to work out better that way.”

“Do they?” asked Noland. “Because my number one concern is the well-being of my passengers, and from where I’m standing, you look like the loneliest of the lot.”

“I’m fine,” Nicholas promised. “I just…tend to be a burden to others. This way is better. This way I don’t spread my…cumbersomeness to others.”

To Nicholas’ horror, the captain was not satisfied with his answer but shook his head and took a seat across from him.

“These are some mighty impressive blueprints you have there, Nicholas,” noted Noland.

“Are they? Oh, well, no, they’re nothing really…” said Nicholas modestly, as Noland picked up the blueprints before Nicholas could put them away.

“Admirable work,” muttered Noland, looking over the designs. “Clearly a passion of yours.”

“Passion?” repeated Nicholas. “Well, I’m not sure I’d call it that exactly. It’s more work than a passion, if I’m being honest.”

“Well, a man’s work should be his passion, should it not?” asked Noland. “Why would you ever do anything else with your life other than what your God-given talent and calling compels you to do? Why invest in anything other than what brings you joy?”

Nicholas wasn’t sure how to answer the question.

“Well…perhaps because of practical realities,” answered Nicholas, giving his own reasons. “Certain careers make more money than others-”

“-but as long as a career makes enough to live and fulfill one’s obligations towards one’s family, isn’t that enough?” asked Noland. “You don’t strike me as a man who desires a life of extravagance.”

“I’m not,” admitted Nicholas. “But these turbines could provide the world with a resource it desperately needs. Surely, if given the opportunity, I have an obligation to see this project through.”

“But you could give your ideas to someone else with more of a passion for such an undertaking,” suggested Noland. “There’s no obligation for you to see the entire project through yourself if there are other interests you wish to indulge.”

“Um…that is a fair point,” conceded Nicholas, drooping his head in shame as he thought about how much Nathaniel would have loved the opportunities that shackled Nicholas. “But well…scientific careers are more…prestigious.”

“Prestige isn’t everything.”

“Yes…I know that. But to others who support you, your teachers, your parents…those that have helped you along the way…you owe it to them to be your best. To make the most out of your life.”

“Ah,” said Noland knowingly. “You know, Nicholas. I’ve seen many a man in your situation. Perhaps myself most of all.”

“Really?” asked Nicholas.

“Oh yes,” declared Noland. “The sea was my first love, my calling. Her beauty and mystery compelled me since I was a boy, but as the eldest, it was my responsibility to take over the family business. We grew up in a small seaside town, and the delight of the town was my family’s ice cream shop, 359 Flavors of Fun. But at the end of the day, it was not the quiet life of a shopkeeper, but the thrills of the sea that attracted me. Mother was terribly upset when I told her, but in the end, she saw that this was what made me truly happy, and as a parent what she wanted more than anything in the world was for me to be happy.”

“But what about the ice cream business?” asked Nicholas.

“Doing fine. My sisters took it over, and from what I hear there’s talk of expanding it to different locations, if business continues to grow,” said Noland. “You see, these things have a way of working themselves out. Now, tell me honestly, Nicholas. If it weren’t for this scientific undertaking, impressive as it might be, what would you be doing with your life right now?”

“Right now?” asked Nicholas. “Well…I never really thought about anything else. But if I could pick anything…I’ve always loved to read. That’s more of a hobby than a job, but maybe a librarian, or journalist, no that’s impractical.”

“Why is it impractical?” asked Noland. “Those are both noble professions.”

“But don’t you think it’s a waste of my scientific talents?” asked Nicholas.

“Wouldn’t it be a bigger waste to throw away your passion, to deny the world the pleasure of who you are?” asked Noland. “The unique joy, talent, and knowledge that you have to offer?”

“I assure you; other people are better off without me,” insisted Nicholas. “I have nothing worth offering them, and besides, my work on these turbines won’t be continuing without me. You had your sisters to take over your family’s business, but I…well, I don’t really have anyone to take over this for me, and I’m afraid it isn’t something I can just abandon.”

Nicholas gestured at the blueprints, and looked away, hoping Noland would assume from his answer that he was an only child and not press him for more information.

“You don’t need siblings,” insisted Noland. “What about friends? Someone who could help you with such an impressively complex undertaking?”

“Oh,” said Nicholas. “Well, I never really…I mean, it’s better off I don’t have friends. I tend to ruin things. Separating myself is for the best. I appreciate your attempts to be hospitable, but it’s better that you leave me alone. I’m sure you have more important responsibilities to attend to.”

“My responsibility is the well-being of my passengers,” declared Noland firmly. “And no man is better off not having friends. Have you ever heard the saying “no man is an island”, Nicholas?”

“Well, yes,” admitted Nicholas. “But I don’t think that’s exactly what I was referring to-”

“-because when a man is alone at sea and finds himself stranded on an island, he has a slim chance of survival. Not only because he’s trapped on an island, but even if he is clever enough to survive alone, the madness of being there alone, the long, long cold lonely nights…it can make a man jump at shadows and question his very self, his very humanity. It’s enough to break the strongest of souls,” preached Noland threateningly, as he recalled his own days alone on that very island, both literally and metaphorically.

“I don’t necessarily think I’m better off alone,” clarified Nicholas. “Just that perhaps others are better without me.”

“That’s a very dangerous and self-deprecating line of thinking,” scolded Noland. “One that frames isolation as a noble sacrifice. A monster cutting himself off from society to spare them his pain, but this leaves out the very real possibility that the monster was never a monster at all and that his isolation deprives others of what could have been a good friendship and a good friend.”

“I did try that,” sighed Nicholas shamefully. “A few times. But I’m afraid I’m not what one would all a good friend or a good person.”

“Ah,” said Noland knowingly. “How old are you, Nicholas? You look young.”

“Nineteen,” he answered.

“Rather young to be sitting with a lifetime of regret,” noted Noland.

“It is,” acknowledged Nicholas. “But I have more than enough regret.”

“And has stewing in that regret done any good for anyone you’ve hurt?” asked Noland.

“…no,” admitted Nicholas sadly, considering Violet, John, and Nathaniel, the people he’d loved the most and let down the most.

“And do you think they’d even want you to feel so miserable?” asked Noland.

Nicholas considered this for a moment.

“Maybe some of them,” he answered, considering Nathaniel’s emotions. “But certainly not all of them.”

“Then don’t,” advised Noland. “Even if they did want you to feel miserable, feeling that way wouldn’t do you or them any good. Take it from me. You’re not the only man on this boat with regrets. Do you know I’ve been divorced twice already?”

“Twice?” asked Nicholas.

“Indeed,” confirmed Noland. “Sometimes I think I might be doing something wrong. I certainly have my share of regrets. But if I gave in to despair, then I might lose all chance of loving again. Your mistakes might define your past, but they need not define your future. Nothing was ever won by giving up hope, but much has been lost by losing hope. That’s why a man at sea must always fight until the end. That’s the way to survive.”

Nicholas thought a moment about what the captain had said. Hope until the end. It sounded like a combination of the advice Nathaniel, Violet, and John might have given him, once.

“It’s good advice,” he agreed. “But it’s hard to move on when you know that others aren’t because of you. When you know that you…that you ruined things for them. I don’t want to ruin things for you too.”

“Well, I don’t know much about those people from your past, Nicholas,” admitted Noland. “But I do know this. As captain, I take full responsibility for what happens on board my ship. My well-being is not something you need to concern yourself with. You need to relax. Come now.”

Nicholas found himself taken by the arm and marched through the ship as Noland led him to where some of the other crew men were playing cards.

Nicholas shyly took his seat at the table as the men reintroduced themselves.

At first, Nicholas felt a bit uncomfortable, but soon he fell into a rhythm and got to know the men in Noland’s crew.

Some of them went by nicknames they’d earned during the war for acts of bravery like “Single Shot”, and “Night owl”. And they loved to tell stories of their acts of bravery at sea, along with some friendly teasing that happened every now and again.

“Well, I might not be the fastest swimmer,” acknowledged Night Owl, “But at least I’m not struggling as much as poor Officer Zhao when it comes to fitness.”

“I thought you said Officer Zhao was the best swimmer of all of you?” asked Nicholas.

“He is,” replied Single Shot. “With one small weakness.”

“Weakness?” asked Nicholas.

“The greatest shame of my lifetime,” explained Officer Zhao, blushing as he did so.

“I’m certain it can’t be that bad,” objected Nicholas.

“I’m afraid it is,” said Officer Zhao. “A great and terrible secret only known to the men in this room, my closest friends. You see, Nicholas; to be a member of this crew, one must demonstrate him a strong swimmer. I’ve broken crew records in every swimming stroke, but there is one skill that eludes me. I cannot dive.”

“You…can’t dive?” asked Nicholas. “But…surely you can jump into the water just as well.”

“Not gracefully,” lamented Officer Zhao. “Not a beautiful dive, nothing majestic. I tried once during my swim trials but all I could manage was a belly flop and a cannonball. The greatest humiliation a man could suffer.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” comforted Nicholas.

“You’re a kind man,” said Officer Zhao. “But I’m afraid the imperfect will always cast a bit of a shadow over my soul.”

“We all have our demons,” acknowledge Noland. “Some more than others. The dives we can’t do. The alimony payments we’ve missed. The people we’ve betrayed.”

Nicholas nodded shamefully.

“Yes…” he agreed. “That last one is probably the hardest.”

“But you can always make amends,” objected Noland.

“I’m not sure,” countered Nicholas. “Not in my case. What I did is…rather unforgiveable.”

“Unforgiveable? Did forget someone’s anniversary?” asked Noland.

“Or splash them when you belly flopped in the pool?” asked Officer Zhao.

“Or panic and tell them the truth about how bad they looked in their new outfit?” asked Noland.

“Or accidentally knock them into the pool?” asked Officer Zhao.

“Did you steal their map to the lost treasure of Atlantis in a moment of ocean-madness induced hysteria?” asked Noland.

“What?” asked Nicholas.

“Or…” continued Noland dramatically. “The greatest betrayal of them all. Did you cheat?”

“Cheat?” asked Nicholas.

“On your diet,” continued Noland. “Because your doctor told you that you needed to change your habits thanks to a family history of several health conditions, but then you failed to stick to your treatment plan, lied to your doctor about it, and put your health in jeopardy?”

“Captain, we were all very concerned about you,” Officer Zhao reminded him.

Noland hung his head shamefully.

“I know,” he admitted. “And I’m sorry for what I did. As Captain, my crew depends on me to take care of myself. I should have done better.”

“We forgive you,” Officer Zhao assured him.

“Um…well I didn’t cheat on any diet,” said Nicholas, feeling a bit confused.

“Then surely there is nothing you could have done that can’t be forgiven,” promised Noland. “Every man has made their share of mistakes, Nicholas. But when you care about someone, you forgive them. After all, if this person your thinking of hurt you, would you not forgive them too?”

“I would,” said Nicholas.

“Then it’s never too late to make amends,” advised Noland. “Remember: it’s never too late to apologize. Well, that is unless they take you to court and get a restraining order against you. Then it is too late, and probably better that you didn’t.”

“Oh dear,” said Nicholas, unsure what to say to Noland.

“Don’t worry about me, the feeling was mutual,” Noland assured him as the men continued playing cards.

“I see,” said Nicholas, who continued to play, but also began to consider Noland’s words.

Never too late to apologize? Perhaps it could be true. Violet had seemed optimistic about it, and as far as Nicholas knew, Nathaniel hadn’t gotten a restraining order against him, so…

Maybe there was hope.

After a few turns, Nicholas found himself feeling more relaxed. At one point, he laughed so hard at one of Noland’s stories that he fell asleep.

He woke up and hastily explained and apologized for his narcolepsy, and for interrupting the game, but Noland and the rest of the crew were quick to reassure him.

“Never apologize for who you are,” Noland reminded him. “We all have our “burdens”. Some men have narcolepsy. Some men can’t do a perfect dive. Some men have poor finances, heart disease, high cholesterol, and demons that whisper in their ear on cold nights at sea. Voices that know what they’ve done. Horrors they can’t unsee.”

“Huh?” asked Nicholas.

“But we all care about each other,” continued Noland. “Because a burden isn’t a burden to friends. We care for each other, and we’re happy to have you here. If our joy makes you sleepy, then your narcolepsy let’s us know we’re doing a good job at making you happy and showing you a good time.”

“I never thought about it that way,” admitted Nicholas. “But I suppose you’re right.”

Nicholas spent the rest of the day with the crew, and they chatted and played cards long into the night.

Then he went to bed with a smile on his face, feeling more relaxed than he had in years.

And after his first day with the crew, Nicholas found his spirits lifted. For once, he gave himself permission to be better, to not let the guilt of his past mistakes weigh him down. To strive, persistently, to be better, and be happier.

He continued his work, but he also laughed and socialized with Noland, his crew, and the other passengers. He allowed himself to enjoy the sites. It felt odd at first, enjoying life’s pleasures after punishing himself for so long, but eventually, Nicholas began to really feel like himself again, a person he that reminded him of the good moments he’d once had with Nathaniel, Violet, and John, a part of himself he hadn’t even known he missed.

However, despite the effect the good Captain Noland’s advice had on Nicholas, Captain Noland was unfortunately the sort of man who had a difficult time taking his own advice, particularly when it came to keeping his own stress levels down.

No one was more aware of this than Officer Zhao.

“Captain,” he reported solemnly. “I believe you’re going to want to take a look at this.”

Officer Zhao handed Noland a telescope.

Noland looked through it and gasped in horror at what he saw on the horizon.

“Is…is that…”

“I believe it is sir.”

Noland stared through the telescope. There was no mistaking it.

Miles of open water and clear blue skies, but on the horizon, there was something that threatened to destroy it all.

A cloud.

A single, solitary, fluffy cloud.

“Is it hostile, do you think Captain?” asked Officer Zhao.

“Too soon to say,” said Noland. “At this point all we can do is pray. The forecast called for smooth journey, but the way the cloud seems to be forming. I’m afraid to say it Officer Zhao, I shudder to even say the word, but I believe it could be…a cumulonimbus.”

“A cumulonimbus,” gasped Officer Zhao.

“Yes,” said Noland. “To be safe, we’ll do a slight reroute. Tell the men to prepare, but don’t tell the passengers. Not a word. No need to frighten them unnecessarily.”

“Understood,” agreed Officer Zhao.

Noland nodded to dismiss his officer and looked out over the water.

Why did these things always seem to happen to him? His mistakes during the war were bad enough, though they certainly weren’t his fault! The map was outdated, that sand bar was not supposed to be there! Thankfully, Noland’s reputation as a captain had kept his career afloat, but the same could not be said for his relationships. Two divorces and three and a half situationships. Bad luck, that’s what they all said, and of course, there were plenty of fish in the sea. But still, sometimes, on those lonely nights looking out over the water, Noland couldn’t help but wonder if his string of back luck might not be a coincidence. Perhaps the curse was real. Perhaps he’d brought doom upon not only himself, but his entire crew, and worse still: the M.V. Shortcut. Heaven knows she didn’t deserve to suffer for her captain’s mistakes. Noland knew he never should have dug up that ancient, buried treasure, but there was nothing to be done about it now. It had been curiosity, not greed that had driven him to it, but still, all things come at a price.

All debts demand to be paid. One way or another.

“Are you alright captain?” asked Nicholas.

“What?” asked Noland, snapping out of the spell. “Oh, yes, yes, of course, just admiring the beauty of the sea. Everything’s fine, perfectly fine. Right on schedule.”

“I see,” said Nicholas. “May I?”

Noland nervously handed Nicholas his telescope, praying silently that Nicholas wouldn’t notice the signs of potential doom and devastation.

“Ah! A cumulonimbus!” noted Nicholas cheerfully.

Noland cursed under his breath.

“Your familiar with them?” he speculated hopelessly.

“Oh yes,” said Nicholas pleasantly. “Though this one looks a long way off.”

“Quite right,” declared Noland. “Though not necessarily dangerous on his own, we’re taking all manner of steps to avoid him. No sense on encroaching on his territory.”

“Seems rather drastic,” noted Nicholas.

“You can never be too careful,” explained Noland. “The seas and skies can be funny that way. One minute they’re your friend and then next they turn. And the signs were there all along, but you don’t understand, you don’t see the destruction and devastation until it’s already upon you. Until it’s already too late.”

“Oh my,” said Nicholas, who didn’t know what else to say.

“But it will be fine,” promised Noland. “We’ve taken every precaution, I promise. Please, enjoy the buffet.”

Nicholas nodded, pleased to see the captain had everything under control.

But Noland felt anything but in control. First, he failed to manage his blood sugar, now his ship was in jeopardy!

Clearly, he was headed down a slippery slope, and one mistake could bring down the entire operation.

Noland was determined not to let that happen.

Hours later, he nervously watched the skies.

“More clouds, captain,” noted Officer Zhao. “Quite unexpected.”

“And rather rough seas,” agreed Noland. “There’s no denying it now. A storm approaches. It’s just as I feared.”

“Indeed,” agreed Officer Zhao. “The question is: can we avoid it? I hate to say it captain, but at this point, we’ll be cutting it close. Look at the route.”

Officer Zhao dramatically pulled a comedically large map out of nowhere.

“Great Scott!” exclaimed Noland. “You’re right. Tell the crew to make an announcement. We’ll be experiencing some light rain with a slight possibility of thunder. Advise all passengers to stay below deck for the evening. Then, full steam ahead until we’re in the clear.”

“Right away, sir.”

That night, Noland and his crew stayed awake, each man doing his best to make sure the ship stayed away from the storm.

“Keep her at a steady speed, men,” ordered Noland. “The Shortcut is strong, but we can’t put her under more stress than she can handle. Swift, but steady, that’s the ticket.”

“Captain,” called one of the men. “You’re going to want to come up on deck and see this.”

Noland ran upstairs to find Nicholas in his nightgown and slippers standing on the deck.

“Good heavens!” exclaimed Noland. “Have you gone mad boy? You can’t stand out on the deck like that in the rain! You’ll catch a cold, or worse, death.”

“I noted the clouds earlier,” said Nicholas. “And I’ve been watching them, and the waves all day.”

“As have we all,” agreed Noland. “No need to trouble yourself with it. Back to bed now.”

“But captain!” protested Nicholas. “I’ve been thinking about it all day, and I came out to tell you…forgive me, I’m sure I don’t know as much about these sort of things as you do, but based on the signs…is it possible we might not be where you think we are?”

“Why would you say that?” asked Noland.

“Because,” explained Nicholas. “our route was forecasted to have clear skies. But if we were to veer off course, is it not possible that we might end up…oh, here.”

Nicholas pointed on the map that Noland’s men were holding.

“And if I’m not mistaken,” he continued. “I believe the forecast for this area was…”

“A hurricane,” announced Noland darkly, looking up at the sky. “At last, my sins have caught up with me.”

“What?” asked Nicholas.

“Don’t worry about it,” said Noland. “Get below deck. We’ll handle this.”

“But captain, there seems to be a navigational problem-”

“-yes, yes, we’ll handle it,” said Noland. “But your safety is our concern, get below deck. I want this ship on lockdown.”

“But captain, you said that I shouldn’t lock myself away, that I should help-”

“-and you have helped, Nicholas. But this is a battle I must fight alone. I can’t inadvertently put civilians in danger. Not again.”

“Again?” asked Nicholas.

“Never mind that,” said Noland dismissively as two of Noland’s men ushered Nicholas back down below.

“We have work to do. Men, we’re in for the fight of our lives. For the sake of every man, woman, and child on board, we need to outrun this storm!”

After being escorted back to his room, Nicholas was at a loss for what to do.

Perhaps he should just stay back and pray and hope that Noland would be alright. But still, it didn’t feel right. Something was clearly wrong with the ship’s navigation system, it had to be for them to end up in this part of the ocean. If Nicholas didn’t fix it, they might never have any hope of getting out of this storm.

He braved rose from his bed, and quickly put on suitable clothes and a life jacket. Then, he grabbed a flashlight and left his room.

He opened the door to the outer deck and was greeted with pouring rain, lightening, and raging wind. The waves jostled the ship up and down and Nicholas clung to the railing for dear life as he stumble to the ship’s navigational control panel.

“What are you doing here?” asked the officer on duty.

“Fixing the navigational controls,” declared Nicholas, as he got to work.

“This should make it easier,” he explained.

“This is incredible,” said officer, looking at the controls. “I can’t believe you knew just how to fix it.”

Suddenly Noland burst into the room.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” shouted Noland over the sound of the wind and waves. “I TOLD YOU IT’S NOT SAFE FOR PASSENGERS! HOW COULD YOU LET HIM IN HERE? WE NEED TO SEND OUT AN SOS AND GET NICHOLAS BELOW DECK BEFORE HE GETS HIMSELF KILLED!”

“I had to fix the navigation system,” explained Nicholas. “Otherwise, we won’t be able to get out of here and we won’t be able to send the right coordinates to the rescue team.”

He pointed towards the controls.

“I see,” said Noland, as he inspected the controls. “We must have missed that on our final check. Your efforts and bravery are appreciated, Nicholas. However, if there’s nothing else you’ve notice that needs fixing, perhaps I might now convince you to head below deck?”

“Of course,” agreed Nicholas, but as he moved to do just that, a giant wave appeared over the ship, knocking Nicholas overboard into the cold darkness of the sea.

Water rushed into his lungs as he struggled to breath.

He managed to get his eyes open and saw the M.V. Shortcut above him, tossing and turning in the violence of the storm as lightening flashed across the sky.

Was this how it was going to end?

Nicholas struggled and kicked, but the storm was strong, and there was only so much he could do.

But just as Nicholas closed his eyes and sunk below the ways, something or rather, someone, launch himself off the deck of the M.V. Shortcut.

That shape was Officer Zhao, his body in the shape of a perfect cannonball, which hit the water and rapidly sunk immediately after Nicholas.

Officer Zhao grabbed ahold of him and furiously dragging him to the surface, where Noland had lowered a lifeboat.

“GET HIM BELOW DECK!” hollered Noland as Officer Zhao stumbled onto the deck with a barely conscious Nicholas in his arms.

“As for the rest of you, man your stations. We’re getting out of this storm.”

After several difficult hours, the storm finally cleared and the M.V. Shortcut was slightly damaged, but still together, with all of her passengers safe and sound.

Nicholas was declared a hero for his assistance fixing the ship’s navigational system and Officer Zhao, for saving Nicholas despite his inability to dive gracefully earned him a prestigious nickname among the crew: Cannonball, a name spoken with admiration and respect rather than mockery.

“Congratulations, Cannonball,” said Noland shaking his hand. “What you did back there was one of the bravest things I’ve ever seen.”

“It was the least I could do as a crewman looking after his fellow man,” insisted Cannonball modestly.

“Thank you,” said Nicholas.

“And thank you,” said Noland. “You were a great help, Nicholas. I’m going to miss you when you go back home after the journey is over.”

“I will too,” said Nicholas sadly.

“What will you do once you go back home?” asked Noland. “Do you think you may have found the courage to talk to your parents about what you really want out of life?”

Nicholas nodded.

“Well, after surviving that, I can’t imagine anything more terrifying,” he admitted. “And I know that my parents love me. If I tell them this is what I want, they’re sure to agree. Though, how exactly I plan to use my more literary talents, well, I’m not quite sure I’ve thought that far ahead.”

“Well, you’re always welcome to come with us,” offered Noland. “After we get to shore, it’s a quick refueling and then late this evening we depart once more, restock again, and then we’re heading on another cruise around the world. Might be the perfect opportunity for you to visit some libraries and talk to literary scholars across the globe, and of course, your parents are welcome to come too, free of charge.”

“They are?” asked Nicholas. “That’s incredible! I’d be happy to come.”

“Promise you’ll ask them?” confirmed Noland. “I don’t want you backing out of this now that you’ve come to such a profound realization.”

Nicholas laughed.

“I promise I’ll talk to them, and we’ll join you on your next journey,” he confirmed, happy that he could finally say those words without the fear of breaking his promise.

This was one conversation he knew he could have with his parents. Nicholas knew they’d be happy to join him on such a wonderful free trip, and then he’d have plenty of time with them to talk about what he wanted in life, and Nathaniel, and everything else. It was a bit late to have that sort of conversation, but better late than never, and Nicholas was happy that he would finally have the chance to tell them about all the feelings he’d kept bottled up inside for so long.

This time, Nicholas was going to keep his promise. How could it possibly go wrong?

The ship docked very early that morning, and Nicholas bid his new friends farewell.

“Once I talk to my family, we can have our things packed by tonight,” he promised as he ran down the deck to greet his parents.

But they were nowhere to be seen.

There were, however, reporters, no doubt eager to talk about Nicholas’ progress on his turbines.

“Nicholas,” said one of the reporters, shoving a microphone into his face. “We just heard the news, it was all over the morning papers, how are you feeling?”

“Fine,” said Nicholas, surprised that the reporters should be so concerned about the weather. “The storm was bad, but we got through in one piece. I’m sorry, I know you must have questions about my work, but I was really looking forward to seeing my parents, if that’s alright. It’s been a long journey, and I have a lot I’d like to discuss with them.”

The reporter’s face fell and everyone on the dock suddenly looked extremely uncomfortable.

“Oh dear,” he stuttered. “You don’t know. I’m sorry, I would have assumed someone told you.”

“Told me what?” asked Nicholas.

“Um…” began the reporter awkwardly. “Nicholas, while you were away there was a car crash. The details were all in his morning’s paper, but I’m afraid your parents didn’t make it. I’m sorry, I was sure someone would have found a way to deliver the message to you before you got to shore.”

Nicholas felt like the entire world had gone silent.

No…no that wasn’t possible. He was going to talk to them, he was ready to talk to them about Nathaniel, about his dream, about what he wanted he was finally…no. No, that couldn’t be right.

“Will you be able to cope with the tragedy?”

“Do you think this will impact your research?”

“Will this impede your progress on the hydroelectric turbines?”

“Do you have any words to say about your parents given how selfless it was of them to adopt you?”

Nicholas wanted to scream, to tell the reporters to shut up. He was supposed to be talking to his parents right now, he wanted his mother, he wanted his father, he wanted his brother, he wanted his friends, he didn’t want these strangers in his face with cameras and lights.

Still, he found himself following the routine he’d carefully perfected.

“My parents were the best people,” answered Nicholas, almost robotically. “I’ll miss them dearly and will probably be taking some time off.”

“It must be a hard loss,” added one of the reporters sympathetically. “To lose the only family you have. As many of our viewers know, Nicholas Glenn was adopted when he was twelve. I don’t suppose you might have any other surviving family, adoptive or biological that might support you during this time?”

Nicholas paused and looked nervously at the camera. He wasn’t sure what to say.

It was Nathaniel that immediately came to mind. That was what Nicholas wanted, more than anything. To have Nathaniel there to comfort him, just as he had once so many years ago.

But there was no way he could explain that to all these people, who were more interested in his private life for the sake of sensationalizing the genius scholarly gifted version of him than they were out of genuine concern. Besides, Nicholas was ashamed to admit that this of all things was what drove him to want Nathaniel. His own selfish need for comfort. Of course, he was planning to reach out anyway, and there was no way of knowing this would happen, but it still felt selfish and cowardly.

“No,” mumbled Nicholas, after a long sad pause. “No family, just um…just me.”

“My that is a shame,” said the reporter. “You have our sympathies.”

Nicholas nodded, an expression on his face that someone who did not know Nicholas well would have assumed to be sadness.

But Nicholas knew what the expression really was. Guilt. And something else too. Regret.

Nicholas wasn’t sure what to do but stand there as reporters and crowds showered him with pity and lamented on how awful it was that someone as talented as he should be without a family again so soon.

“Move,” announced a man in a suit, stepping through the crowd to approach Nicholas. “No further questions, can’t you see the poor boy has been through enough?”

Nicholas recognized him. Mr. Decimal. The family lawyer. Though his last name was pronounced “Dez-Mel, despite the spelling, which he was very particular about.

“Terribly sorry for your loss,” he announced, handing Nicholas a key and a card. “But there is a bright side. As the only surviving family member, you’ve inherited everything, and being an only child of two working parents, you’ve inherited yourself quite a fortune. The house is yours now, and as for everything else, just stop by my office this week, and my secretary will set up an appointment.”

“Um…thank you,” said Nicholas, who still felt like he was in a dream as he accepted the key.

“Of course,” said Mr. Decimal loudly, making sure the reporters got at least one picture of him next to Nicholas. “We’re a family business, and helping families is what we do.”

Nicholas nodded numbly, unsure what else to say.

He started to walk away, trying to find a place where he could go somewhere, anywhere to figure out what to do next, when he heard yet another voice behind him.

“Ah! Nicholas,” said Noland, who had just stepped off the ship. “Did you get a chance to talk to your parents yet about joining us on our journey?”

“I…I can’t,” admitted Nicholas, tears beginning to fall down his face. “Noland, I’m sorry, I know I promised, and thank you for all your advice, but…they died. While I was at sea, they died, and I can’t…I’m sorry for crying.”

“It’s alright,” said Noland. “It’s alright, Nicholas. Crying in public is one of the bravest things a man can do, you should have seen me after I watched The Sound of Music. This is terrible news. Words can’t possibly capture what you must feel right now. Is there anything I can do for you? You’re still welcome to join us of course.”

Nicholas shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I know I said that I would, I know I promised, but I…”

Nicholas paused, thinking of Nathaniel.

“…I miss my family,” Nicholas admitted. “And even if I can’t talk to my parents now, there’s someone that I’ve missed for a really long time, and I don’t think I can wait any longer. I need to see them again. I’m sorry, I know that breaks the promise I made to you, and I know you must be furious with me-”

“-furious with you?” repeated Noland. “Nicholas, believe me, I feel many emotions towards you right now, but anger is not one of them.”

“It isn’t?” asked Nicholas. “But I’m breaking a promise.”

“And friends keep promises,” acknowledged Noland. “But friends also understand that promises are often made under certain circumstances and assumptions and that much like the turning of the tide, our fates can change in an instant. If there is something you need to do here, then you are free to do it. I release you from your promise. And when you have the occasion to come to sea again, my crew and I would be happy to see you.”

Nicholas smiled through his tears.

“Thank you, Noland.”

“No, thank you,” correct Noland. “The M.V. Shortcut and her crew are in your debt and are routing for you, Nicholas. And if you ever need anything, you have my card.”

Noland handed his business card to Nicholas.

Nicholas tucked it into his pocket next to his pocket.

“Likewise. Good luck on your journey,” said Nicholas.

“And you as well, my friend,” replied Noland.

After bidding his new friend farewell, Nicholas wasted no time getting to the orphanage.

“I’m sorry Nathaniel,” he thought to himself, as he quickly made his way across town.

“I’m sorry it took so long, I’m sorry I abandoned you, but I…I need you. You’re my family, Nathaniel, and I need you now more than ever. Please. Please tell me it isn’t too late.”

“If you’re here to inquire about an adoption, we have an intake form,” reported the new orphanage director when she saw Nicholas on her doorstep.

“What? Oh, um… no, I’m not here to adopt,” said Nicholas. “I was adopted, from here I mean, and I…I had a brother here, Nathaniel, and I was wondering if he might be…I mean, I know he’s older now, but if you have any information on what might have happened to him, what family adopted him, and how I might contact them.”

“Of course,” said the woman. “Shouldn’t take more than a quick record search. Now that you’re an adult, all that information should be public. We haven’t cleaned out our storage facilities yet, so we might not have many updated documents, but I should be able to see where he went after he left us.”

“Oh, thank you,” said Nicholas, sighing with relief.

The woman looked through the files, then a strange look came over her face.

“Is something wrong?” asked Nicholas.

“Oh,” said the woman nervously. “Well, it says here your brother stayed with us until he turned fourteen. Then he um…”

“Was adopted?” guessed Nicholas hopefully.

“Ran away,” corrected the orphanage director. “I’m terribly sorry, that’s all it says. You might be able to find out more from the local police, but there’s no mention of him ever coming back here.”

“Oh,” said Nicholas sadly, imaging how angry and scared his brother must have been to have waited so long for him. “I see.”

“I’m sorry,” said the director. “I wish there was more I could tell you.”

“No, it’s alright,” said Nicholas. “Thank you for your help.”

Then Nicholas felt more alone than he’d ever felt before. He’d been mercifully released from his broken promise to Noland, but now that he had nothing else to do, perhaps a cruise around the world might be nice. But then Nicholas saw the time on his watch. He was too late. The ship had already left. He was five years late keeping his promise to Nathaniel, and about twenty minutes too late to keep his promise to Noland.

So instead, Nicholas walked home to his parents’ house, which was now his house.

His big, lonely, empty house, which had once been filled with joy and laughter, was now filled with pictures of the parents he’d once had and silence. A silence he once longed for when Nathaniel had always been there to talk over him, but for once, Nicholas wanted nothing more than to hear his brother’s voice again.

And now freed from the demands, obligations, and hopes of his long-gone families, Nicholas faced a daunting challenge.

Figuring out what he wanted to do for the rest of his life.

He didn’t know. But he thought about what Noland had said. About not despairing and finding his purpose, about not letting his past mistakes, and the ways he’d hurt others stop him from loving and caring in the future.

Perhaps there were people out there who could fill the halls the Nicholas’ big empty house and make it feel like a home again.

Perhaps this wasn’t the end of his story.

This was the third time that Nicholas Benedict broke a promise to his best friend.

It would not be the last.

There are moments in our lives that, much like a storm changes the course of a ship, change the direction of our very lives into something very unexpected.

Losing his sister was that moment in John Cole’s life.

He was supposed to be going to college, originally open to any major, perhaps with an interest in agricultural sciences. But watching as his parents, who had already lost one son, drained their finances and fell into despair searching for their missing daughter, led John Cole down a very different path.

It began with an interest in missing children. How the police tried to find them, what happened to them, how they could be helped. His parents of course told John not to let what happened change what he wanted out of life, that Violet’s disappearance was something they would handle, but John could think of nothing else he wanted more in life than to have his sister back home.

At the age of nineteen, this newfound interest of his eventually led young John to the field of social work and an internship at the police station, which he assumed would involve helping traumatized rescued children.

However, it was during the very first case John Cole was assigned to that he discovered the police department took a very different attitude towards many of these “missing children.”

“This one is a real handful, by all accounts,” warned the officer. “Cocky little brat. Probably best you let me do most of the talking.”

“I’m sure he’s been through a lot,” suggested John.

The officer rolled his eyes.

“You’ll see what I mean after enough cases,” he promised as he led John into the room.

John followed the officer into the interrogation room, a secure room with a single window and nothing but a table and some chairs. Handcuffed to the table sat a surprisingly well-dressed sixteen-year-old boy who looked at the officer and John with a look of annoyance and superiority, as if they had done him a terrible disservice by keeping him waiting.

“Alright son,” said the officer, sitting across from the sixteen-year-old who sat across from him, handcuffed to the interrogation table while John awkwardly took a seat next to the officer.

“Would you please state your name for the record?”

The boy sighed and rolled his eyes.

“I’ve already told you countless times,” he lectured, as if he was chastising a child. “My name is Ledroptha Curtain.”

“Not the stage name you use to swindle people on the street with magic tricks!” barked the officer, slamming his fist on the table.

“Your real name.”

The boy looked around innocently.

“But that is my name,” he answered with a fake and sarcastic naivety. “Surely you can’t be suggesting I’d lie to an officer of the law!”

John Cole wasn’t sure what to make of the boy. It might sound rather surprising that he wouldn’t “recognize” him, considering the boy sitting across from him was the identical twin brother of a friend he’d seen only a few years ago. But the Benedict brothers, much like many boys their age, went through considerable physical change during puberty, and Nathaniel, or Ledroptha as he was now calling himself, was so different from Nicholas in the personality, dress, and mannerisms he chose to present himself that the resemblance was not immediately apparent unless you were thinking to look for it, which John, who had no idea Nicholas had a twin, was not.

“We can do this is the easy way, or we can do this the hard way,” warned the officer.

Ledroptha, who had heard the speech before, nodded.

“We certainly can,” he acknowledged. “But you can’t keep me here for more than 72 hours without proof that I committed a crime, and you never seem to have that, do you?”

“How else could a street boy like you have clothes like that without shoplifting?” asked Officer.

Ledroptha shrugged.

“People are very giving. Don’t tell me you’re so surprised by the generosity of the human spirit?”

“Does this generosity involve stealing from them when they’re distracted by your street tricks?”

“Is doing a bit of theater on the street for a few coins a crime?” asked Ledroptha innocently. “If so, then officer, believe me, I was unaware it was illegal.”

“It’s not…” muttered the officer angrily. “Not technically, but it is rather suspicious that most of the people who’ve witnessed your little tricks end up with missing cash and credit cards shortly after.”

Ledroptha sighed.

“That is a pity,” he acknowledged. “But people are careless, and the streets are busy. Can never be too careful these days.”

“Stop the act,” snapped the officer. “We both know what happened and why you’re here.”

“Do we?” asked Ledroptha. “Because I’m a bit confused. If what I’ve done isn’t illegal, and you have no evidence to prove I committed any crime, then I don’t see what more there is to discuss.”

“Evidence or not,” lectured the officer in a superior tone that made Ledroptha role his eyes. “We know that you’re living on the street and in all likelihood, stealing to survive, on track to become another one of society’s lawbreakers and land yourself in one of our cells someday.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that” promised Ledroptha, as the officer frowned.

“Well, you might want to start believing it,” snapped the officer. “And drop the attitude, because if it were up to me, I’d say sixteen is plenty old enough to be locked up in a juvenile detention center for verbal disrespect of an officer.”

“Without any official charge?” asked Ledroptha, but the officer ignored him.

“But lucky for you,” the officer continued, “the state has been trying out some alternative methods that might be better suited to delinquents like you.”

“Do any of these alternatives involved letting me go and continue living as a law-abiding citizen?” inquired Ledroptha.

“No. Do you know who this is?” asked the police officer, pointing to John, who’d been patiently waiting nearby.

“The prettiest princess in all the land?” guessed Ledroptha sarcastically.

“No,” answered the officer, frowning again at his captive’s lack of seriousness.

“Well, he’s clearly not old enough to be a real cop,” explained Ledroptha. “So, I had to take another guess.”

“This is John Cole,” said the officer, ignoring Ledroptha. “He’s a social work trainee and is part of something we’re calling a “big brother” program.”

“Good for him,” said Ledroptha, in a tone that suggested every minute hearing about John Cole was a stupendous waste of his time.

“And good for you,” said the officer harshly. “Because the program is designed to assign college trainees to troubled high schoolers in a…mentorship role of sorts. To teach you skills and help you establish community.”

Ledroptha smirked.

“Is something funny?” asked the officer.

“Believe me,” said Ledroptha “The last thing I want is community, and I promise you, there’s nothing I can learn from Jimmy. He’s what, a year older than me?”

“Three years older than you,” corrected John. “And my name is John, John Cole. And I don’t think you actually forgot that.”

Ledroptha smirked. He hadn’t forgotten John’s name. Not when he’d first heard it on television, and not now that he sat in front of him. Though whoever this “John Cole” was, he didn’t seem to see the resemblance between Ledroptha and his former brother, which meant that if this was the same “John Cole”, then it appeared that Nicholas’ friendship with John and Violet didn’t quite work out, much to Curtain’s smug satisfaction.

“Rather accusatory,” sighed Ledroptha. “I didn’t mean to be forgetful.”

“I’m sure,” said John, in an equally sarcastic tone. “So, tell me. “Ledroptha”. Have you ever gone by another name?”

“What’s it to you? You don’t like my name?”

“I like it just fine. I’m just making conversation. I was reviewing some of the tests they had you complete before I came here.”

“Oh?” asked Ledroptha, doing his best to look uninterested, but not before John saw a hint of pride and satisfaction on his face.

“Yes,” said John. “You scored very high on our academic achievement tests. Very impressive, especially for someone who doesn’t seem to be enrolled in a high school, which you would need to be if you wanted to go to college, which I’d think a boy as ambitious as you might want to do. I can help you with that.”

“I don’t need help with that,” answered Ledroptha. “I think I can handle the college application process.”

“Without a high school diploma or a GED? You’ll need that to apply, especially to the most competitive programs,” John reminded him.

Ledroptha smirked.

“Most people do,” he agreed. “But I have ways of making sure things work out for me.”

“I’m sure you do,” said John. “You’re smart. Smarter than a lot of adults even. I’d imagine being treated like this must be very frustrating. But at some point, even smart people reach their limits, and no one can get lucky forever. Having a trip to juvie doesn’t look good on a college transcript. One mistake can ruin your future, and I know you’re better than that. At some point, everyone needs support and community in one way or another. I want to help you.”

“Oh right, that “big brother” program,” sighed Ledroptha. “So, you can come in and be a hero to poor little me. How inspirational. Well, let me save you some time. I’m not interested in friends, community, companionship, or anything remotely similar. I work better alone, I always have, and the very last thing I need or want is a “brother” or anything in the realm of family.”

“So, you don’t have a family?” confirmed John. “No parents, siblings, living relatives?”

Ledroptha frowned, momentarily upset to have given part of himself away, but he recovered quickly.

“I don’t need one,” he answered, with a shrug. “Like you’ve acknowledged and like your special little psychological and cognitive exams proved: I’m smart. And like I said. Things work out for me. I promise you, I’ll be fine, certainly better than you two,” he added, looking at John and the officer as if being an inspiring social worker and a cop were the lowest occupations that any human being could ever hope to achieve.

John ignored the insult.

“I don’t doubt that” he agreed. “But we want things to be better for you, or at least easier.”

Ledroptha laughed.

“You actually believe that? While Mr. Stick in the Mud has me handcuffed to this table?” he asked.

“Alright, enough,” snapped the officer. “Cole, I’ll speak to you in the hallway. You stay put.”

Ledroptha sighed and rolled his eyes at John and the officer, gesturing with his restrained hands to indicate the obvious fact that he couldn’t go anywhere.

“I feel like I’m getting through,” noted John hopefully as soon as he and the officer were out of earshot. “He’s starting to open up a bit.”

“Open up? Cole, this kid is being blatantly disrespectful, and you’re talking to him about college and how smart he is?”

“Of course,” said John. “His scores are impressive, and if we can offer opportunities and motivate him, maybe we can inspire better behavior.”

“Better behavior? I’ve been doing this for twenty-five years. Kids like this, they don’t grow up to become well-adjusted citizens, and they don’t go to college. They grow up to fill these cells and put a burden on society. The best we can do is “scare them straight” now while they’re still impressionable kids.”

“Scare them? Officer, with all due respect, this kid seems plenty scared already.”

“He’s been openly insubordinate and rude!”

“As a defense mechanism!” protested John. “He admitted he has no family, friends, or community, and that he doesn’t want them!”

“Sounds like a delinquent loner,” sighed Officer.

“Exactly,” agreed John. “Or someone who more specifically believes he’s better alone because he won’t trust or open up to others. Someone who’s been hurt before, who’s offense is his defense, but we might be able to make a breakthrough if we can get him to trust again. I know some scholarships for disadvantaged students, and he’d be a competitive applicant. Of course, he’ll be opposed to therapy at first, but perhaps with time-”

“-time? Cole, this kid is a troublemaker, and you want to reward him with scholarships? That’s not how this works. You’re here to warn him of exactly where he’ll end up if he doesn’t get in line and accept his lot in life.”

“I don’t think he’s a troublemaker,” protested John. “There’s something about him. I know it sounds weird, but something feels familiar about him, like we have some sort of connection, and if I can tap into that, I really think I could help him.”

“I assume they told you about the importance of not connecting too deeply with your patients?” asked the officer. “That it’s inappropriate, and in cases where you see a bit too much of yourself or a loved one in them it’s best to take the initiative to step away? Let someone else take the case?”

“They did,” agreed John. “But this is different somehow! I can’t explain it, but…just give me ten minutes with him alone. I think I can make a breakthrough!”

“On your first case? No. I’m sorry Cole, but I’m taking over from here. The kid is gonna get one more chance with someone else from the program, and if he keeps up the same level of sass, I’m forcibly transferring him to juvenile hall, whether we have “hard evidence” of his crimes or not.”

“But-”

“That’s my decision. And if you want me to send back a good report to your supervisor, I suggest you accept it,” replied the officer coldly, as he led John back into the room.

The officer opened the door and John looked into the room only to find that Ledroptha Curtain had disappeared along with the handcuffs that once shackled him to the table.

The room was exactly as it was: empty chairs around an empty table.

The only difference was the window on the other side of the room.

“We got a jumper!” exclaimed the officer, as he ran over to the window.

John ran after him, frantically looking around outside the window.

There was nowhere to land safely, and they were too high up, there was no way anyone could survive a fall from that height.

“A lot to witness on your first case,” sighed the officer, as he continued to scan the ground below. “Take a breath. I’ll find the body.”

John’s heart was racing as he tried to calm himself down. This didn’t make sense…this couldn’t be happening!

The boy wouldn’t have jumped surely, he’d been so cocky, so confident, self-assured, he didn’t seem like the type to…but then again, you couldn’t always tell. But if he had jumped, then where was he? There was no balcony he could have landed on, and the room was completely empty except for the interrogation table, there was nowhere to hide except-

Oh, John realized, a moment too late.

The door.

He’d been hiding behind the door.

John whipped around to find the great magician, “Ledroptha Curtain” grinning smugly in the doorway, holding the handcuffs that hand once bound him to the table.

The shock on John’s face must have been evident as Ledroptha smiled at him, savoring the victory of having someone see and understand just how clever he’d been.

“How?” asked John.

“Magic,” answered Ledroptha, with a smirk and a wink before he quickly, but elegantly, slammed the door closed before John could protest, locking him and the officer into a soundproof room.

It was hours before John and the officer’s cries were heard and they were finally let out of the room, and by the time that happened, “Ledroptha Curtain”, whoever he really was, was long gone.

John Cole never saw him again.

But the incident did leave him with a sense of determination and purpose. There were tons of missing, homeless, and traumatized kids out there, kids who’d escaped abusive situations or kidnappings who were looking for their families, kids who were alone and scared, and they needed someone who could help them.

John Cole decided he was going to be that person, and he was good at it, for a while. It wasn’t easy, as there were a lot of people who felt like giving up on such hopeless cases. But John vowed that he never would. Perhaps that was just the sort of person he was, or perhaps it was because of Violet. John felt somehow that maybe if he could help these children, despite all odds, then maybe somehow, someway, he could help her too. Every once in a while, he’d look through the police records for any mention of the name “Violet Hopefield”, just to check whether there had been any breakthrough in her case.

But there never was.

And though John’s work brought him fulfillment, some days were harder than others, particularly on days when his colleagues disagreed on how best to handle the children that had been labeled as “difficult”.

Ledroptha Curtain, John’s first case had perhaps been the most notable example of such an occurrence, but that all changed on the day of John’s last case.

He was twenty-two by this point, and almost done with his college education. He also knew from the review of the case file that this case was going to be an interesting one, which was why he wanted to talk to the girl’s primary caseworker first before he got involved.

“A delinquent,” declared the caseworker boldly, before John had even started inquiring about the file. “Plain and simple. We put her in foster home after foster home, orphanage after orphanage, we give her chance after chance, and what does she do? Run away, steal, and drink. Drink. At fourteen! Slurring her words and stumbling around as if she was a bum at the bar. After all we’ve done for her, it’s profoundly ungrateful and unladylike!”

“It’s certainly putting her health at risk if she’s drinking that much or drinking at all at such a young age,” agreed John. “But what I really wanted to talk to you about was her psychological evaluation and cognitive testing and whether you think it’s…accurate. It says here that she has an abuse history, but when asked to provide details-”

“-all lies, I assure you,” answered the caseworker. “Fantastical stories about people with magic mind powers running evil science experiments on children and chasing them through the woods and using other magic children to hurt them. It would be one thing if the girl was five, but to still be telling such obvious falsehoods at fourteen and sticking to them so stubbornly is ridiculously immature.”

“Immature?” repeated John. “Well, the report indicates that the girl shows significant signs of anxiety and depression and signs of trauma. You don’t think that, perhaps, in part due to the abuse, that she might…believe what she’s saying is true.”

“Oh, she’s not psychotic or delusional,” clarified the caseworker. “Believe me, I had her tested for that. But they assured me she’s mentally sound, just stubborn and ill-tempered. We offered to help her bring whoever abused her to justice, if she’d only give us accurate information, but she either insists she somehow forgot details or gives us names and places that don’t exist. Then she gets mad at us for not helping her and throws a tantrum when we try to send her to rehabilitation and sober living. Honestly, the girl is completely impossible.”

“But extremely intelligent,” added John, flipping through the file as the caseworker frowned. “Which is the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. The report indicates the girl likely went through serious trauma and is drinking regularly and disturbingly heavily when she can. Yet when given an intelligence test, she achieved a perfect score. You don’t think she might have cheated?”

“No possibility of that,” replied the caseworker. “We normed our test this year and we administered several in a monitored room.”

“In that case,” said John. “She must be remarkably intelligent. She got perfect scores on multiple intelligence tests.”

“And yet all that intelligence hasn’t stopped her from lying and stealing,” sighed the caseworker. “Unfortunately, a lot of academically smart children think they can get away with anything.”

“But she’s not just a smart child,” explained John. “A perfect score on an intelligence test isn’t the same as a perfect score on a test at school. A score two standard deviations above 100 is considered gifted, three standard deviations above 100 is already guaranteed to be higher than almost 99.75% of the human population, but a perfect score on multiple intelligence tests, especially considering the drinking and trauma she’s suffered…I really think we need to consider how extraordinarily remarkable this is. I’ve seen smart kids before, kids who had more potential than what they were allowed to achieve. But if these tests are accurate, then this is far beyond that.”

“Well, I don’t interpret the test scores,” objected the caseworker, who did not seem especially impressed. “I have my people administer them, and then they tell me if there is a problem. And since the test shows the girl isn’t stupid-”

“-well, I wouldn’t call anyone who got a low score on these tests stupid,” objected John, but once again, the caseworker ignored him.

“-and not delusional or psychotic, then the only conclusion we have left given her drinking and delinquency is that she is obstinate and defiant,” declared the caseworker. “You’re free to try to talk some sense into her, but I wouldn’t hold my breath with this one.”

“I’d like to hear more about her stories,” said John, as he followed the caseworker down the hall. “If she feels like she needs to make things up, there might be a reason.”

“Trust me,” sighed the caseworker. “We’ve explored every avenue. The only “reason” she has for her lies is that she wants to be difficult and get attention. Here she is. Good luck.”

John opened the room to find a tiny red-haired girl sitting alone at a table. She didn’t look particularly defiant or rude. If anything she looked rather timid, flinching when John entered the room.

“Hello, Molly,” said John carefully. “My name is John Cole. I’m here to ask you a few questions.”

“I’m not going to change my story. I’m not lying,” the girl answered.

“I didn’t say you were lying.”

“But you were thinking it. That’s what they all think. That’s why you’re here isn’t it? To try and convince me to stop being an ungrateful drunk and a liar?”

“Yes, your caseworker mentioned the drinking. I’d mention the negative health effects for someone of your age, but based on your test scores, I’m guessing you already know,” said John. “Which begs the question why someone as intelligent as you would want to risk ruining their potential by drinking at all. Even small amounts of occasional alcohol can have irreversible effects on the developing brain.”

“I don’t care what effects it has or what potential I ruin,” answered Molly. “I just want to make the pain go away for a little while. That’s all.”

“What pain?” asked John.

Molly looked down into her lap.

“You can tell me,” said John gently.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“You’ll think I’m lying. They all think I’m lying.”

“They can think what they want. I prefer to evaluate each case for myself.”

“Some of them said that too. In the end, they all concluded I was making up stories.”

“Well, if I am going to come to any conclusion, I’d prefer to hear it from you,” declared John. “And I think if you were trying to make up a story, you’re clever enough to make up one that I’d believe. Which means that any one I wouldn’t believe at face value ought to be carefully examined.”

Molly seemed to contemplate John’s words for a bit.

“Okay,” she relented.

Then she began to tell John everything she remembered. Or rather, everything she could remember.

Pieces were missing, names, details, but John managed to put most of the story together.

“You were kidnapped by people who wanted to run scientific tests on you,” he recapped. “Because the people in your birth family-”

“-also had those powers, yes,” said Molly. “So did the people who took me. Some of them. I think.”

“Okay,” said John, scribbling on his notepad. “And…have you ever tried to demonstrate these…mental abilities to anyone?”

“No. I don’t have them.”

“I see. And where is your birth family now?”

“Gone.”

“Gone?”

“Dead.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. It was long time ago.”

“That’s still a lot for anyone to go through,” said John. “I lost my sister, about five years ago. Even though the time passes, I know that the pain never really fully goes away. For that, I’m terribly, terribly sorry.”

Molly seemed moved by how genuine John’s words were. John was struck by her expression and wondered if this was one of the first times anyone had thus far expressed their sorrow at what this poor girl had lost or that she had met anyone who could emphasize with her loss. Unfortunately, it was. At least, it was the first time Molly could remember.

“Thank you,” said Molly. “That means a lot.”

“Of course,” said John. “You can continue whenever your ready, or if you’d like to take a break-”

“-it’s fine,” said Molly. “You can go on.”

John nodded.

“So, you don’t remember how you escaped or with whom?”

Molly shook her head.

“We were, or maybe just I was running in the woods at some point, and I think I fell at some point,” she explained. “I remember their faces, some of them. But not their names. I remember one of the experiments they’d run on me. They had these cards and if I couldn’t do what they wanted, they’d hurt me. Really badly.”

“I’m sorry about that too,” said John. “You didn’t deserve that. No one deserves that.”

Molly nodded.

“They called themselves a rehabilitation and psychiatric treatment center and said they were affiliated with a school. But it wasn’t a real school, and they weren’t real teachers, and they weren’t good people,” she explained.

John nodded.

“Are you worried about those people finding you again?” he asked.

After some hesitation, Molly answered.

“…yes,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “I have nightmares sometimes, and I worry about it every day.”

“You shouldn’t,” said John. “You should be allowed to feel safe and happy. I’m going to help you with that, Molly, and I can also help you find the people who hurt you.”

“You’d do that for me?” asked Molly. “You’d…you’d make sure they can’t hurt anyone else?”

“I would,” said John. “Descriptions of their faces would be a good start, anything you can remember. Then I can file a police report.”

“Thank you. But you should also make sure to include the stuff about their powers,” warned Molly. “The things that they can do. That’s very important, if you want to be able to stop them.”

John paused, his pen in the middle of the page, not moving.

Molly’s face fell.

“You’re not writing it,” she observed, her mind already making the connections. “You don’t really believe me, do you?”

“I do believe you,” insisted John. “Molly, I believe that you were hurt, unfairly and cruelly hurt by bad people who need to be stopped.”

“But you don’t believe everything I’m telling you about them,” protested Molly. “You think I’m a liar too.”

“No,” exclaimed John. “Not at all!”

“Then why won’t you write it in the report?” she despaired.

“Because…” began John, wondering how to explain that the police wouldn’t be believe his report without hurting the poor girl’s feelings.

“Because, Molly, while I don’t think you’re a liar, and I don’t think you’re crazy, and I don’t think you’re stupid, I have worked with lots of children like you who have been hurt very badly by some very bad people. And sometimes, children, when they’re in those situations, especially intelligent children, they tell themselves stories to survive. It’s their way of making sense of what’s happening, to put themselves in a narrative that will take them out of that reality. And sometimes, when they tell themselves that story for a very, very long time, the story starts to become very real to them, even years later, and even things that they know intellectually could never be real still seem very real because that’s the story they’ve told themselves for so long.”

“But it’s not a story!” insisted Molly. “I’m not a liar!”

“Like I said, Molly, I don’t think you are,” said John softly and compassionately.

“But you still don’t believe me,” said Molly, tears in her eyes. “Do you?”

“I believe that you’ve been very deeply hurt and deserve to get the care you need,” replied John. “And I can help get that for you.”

“No,” cried Molly, beginning to sob, her tiny body starting to shake. “You…you’re the only one who’s even come close, but you still don’t…no one believes me. You have to…you have to believe me.”

John handed her a box of tissues.

Molly pushed them away.

“I want to be alone.”

“I’m afraid I can’t leave you like this,” answered John.

“I just need a minute to calm down,” explained Molly. “If my caseworker sees me like this, she’s going to yell at me for trying to manipulate you. Please just go.”

John nodded and made a mental note to talk to his supervisor about possibly getting Molly’s case reassigned.

He stepped out into the hallway.

“Excuse me,” he called out to another one of the trainees. “Do you know where the assigned caseworker went?”

“Out to lunch,” she explained. “It’s noon. The rest of us are taking our breaks. You’re alright by yourself? I heard this one can be trouble.”

“No trouble at all,” answered John. “She just needs some…emotional support. I’ll be alright. Take your break.”

The trainee nodded gratefully and left.

John reentered the room to find that Molly had disappeared.

He sighed and looked behind the door, where he found a very disappointed Molly.

“That’s not the first time someone has tried that trick on me,” he explained. “Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me.”

Molly sighed.

“Are you going to tell her?” she asked.

“No,” said John, turning around and taking out Molly’s file. “She’s out to lunch right now. They all are, actually, so it’s just you and me.”

“It is?” clarified Molly. “Everyone else is gone?”

“Yes,” said John. “You don’t have to be afraid of them. I was hoping we could use this time to talk. Go over some things and make a plan for what we might do next, one that let’s you play a role in deciding your own future.”

“That’s a lovely thought,” agreed Molly.

“I thought you might agree,” said John, turning around to take out some papers, pleased to hear he’d made a breakthrough.

“But if you don’t believe me, then there’s nothing you can do to help me,” said Molly. “I’m sorry.”

Suddenly John felt the softness of a cloth in his face.

He tried to remove it, but his limbs felt abruptly numb, tingly, and heavy.

“Don’t be afraid,” the girl whispered. “It’s only diluted duskwort. You’ll sleep for a few hours, but you’ll be fine. I’m sorry I have to do this to you. You seem nice, and I was hoping you just wouldn’t check behind the door so I wouldn’t have to do it this way. But I can’t stay here, and I have to take this opportunity while I can. I hope you understand.”

John tried to protest, but within the next second, he was out, and woke up a few hours later to find the girl gone, and himself out of a job.

The next few weeks were hell. He felt directionless, and without a purpose. He couldn’t stop thinking about them: Nicholas, Violet, Molly, and whatever “Ledroptha’s” real name was. Where they were now. What might have happened to them. How he’d failed to help them. 

John’s mother and father suggested he come home and take some time to himself to figure things out. But John felt restless, and more determined than ever to do something.

Somehow, someway, he was going to find out what happened to Violet, and he was going to find a way to help her and all the other children he’d failed to help before.

He just needed to find the right opportunity.

Meanwhile, while John Cole set off to find a new path for himself, nineteen-year-old Ledroptha Curtain was sitting in a rundown college bar drinking a beer, which was one of the perks of faking your own legal documents: the ability to adjust the birthdate. It also helped that Curtain carried himself with the confidence and dress of someone older than himself.

In his hands was the morning paper, which read “Brilliant and world renown genius 19-year-old college student Nicholas Glenn loses adoptive parents in a car accident while completing prestigious internship at the naval academy.”

Curtain had smirked when he’d first seen the headline.

“So much for your chosen family now, Nicky,” he thought to himself smugly, as he sipped his beer.

He preferred to go to the bars in the afternoon, when they weren’t overrun with partiers and pedestrians. The bar he sat in was old, cheap, and Curtain couldn’t wait for the day when he’d finally have enough money to frequent a fancier establishment. But for now, this would have to do.

He sat back at the table, alone, no one else in sight but the bartender.

“Sorry about the tv,” he apologized. “Reception has been terrible.”

Curtain nodded and continued drinking his beer as the bartender adjusted the television.

Suddenly the screen flicked to life, and Curtain was surprised to see his brother appear on the television.

He appeared to be in the middle of another one of his ridiculous interviews. The media had always been eager to sensationalize his brother. “Nicholas Benedict: the local genius boy.” To Curtain’s disgust, ever since his early victories at science fairs, the reporters and media had been especially excited to eat up his brother’s terrible “tragic” backstory: poor little orphan boy who lost his parents at the age of three, taken in by such a loving and caring couple. It was enough to make Curtain want to throw up. If only everyone could see the truth of who his brother really was: someone who lied, broke promises, and would betray his own family just to get ahead. A selfish, heartless monster.

“My parents were the best people,” said Nicholas. “I’ll miss them dearly and will probably be taking some time off.”

“It must be a hard loss,” added the reporter sympathetically. “To lose the only family you have. As many of our viewers know, Nicholas Glenn was adopted when he was twelve. I don’t suppose you might have any other surviving family, adoptive or biological that might support you during this time?”

Nicholas paused and looked nervously at the camera.

The pause was short but to Curtain it felt like an eternity as a ray of hope he didn’t know he still had inside of him shot up amidst the bitterness. The hope that perhaps this time his brother might tell the truth. That Nicholas would acknowledge him.

But he hoped in vain.

“No,” mumbled Nicholas. “No family, just um…just me.”

“My that is a shame,” said the reporter. “You have our sympathies.”

Nicholas nodded, an expression on his face that someone who did not know Nicholas well would have assumed to be sadness. But Curtain knew his brother, and he knew what the expression really was. Guilt. And something else too. Regret.

“That’s right Nicky,” he thought to himself, “you might not want me, you might not love me, but you have always needed me. And now it’s too late.”

He scoffed as the reporters and the media gave Nicholas nothing but undeserved pity and admiration at his academic achievements in the face of the adversity he had suffered. As if what Nicholas had suffered could be counted as “adversity”: having an adoptive family that had given him every opportunity a child with his intellect could want, paid his way through college, and died the second he reached adulthood leaving him with more money than he knew what to do with. Curtain rolled his eyes at the thought of his brother being anything other than incredibly pompous and privileged.

“Geez,” commented the bartender, who was looking at the television. “Poor kid. Why does this stuff always seem to happen to the best people?”

Curtain frowned and made a mental note not to leave a tip. Normally he hated to look cheap, but in this case, he’d make an exception.

He was about to ask for the check and excuse himself, lest the bartender attempt to engage him in conversation, but fortunately, Curtain was spared by the sound of breaking glass in the bar’s storeroom.

“What was that?” said the bartender going back to investigate.

Curtain took the opportunity to leave his money on the table (enough to cover the beer plus tax and not a penny more) and left with his head held high.

It didn’t matter what Nicholas said on tv. None of it mattered. Curtain had a bright future ahead of him, and Nicholas had decided not to be a part of it. Furthermore, Curtain didn’t need his brother to be a part of that future. He didn’t need anyone. The only person he needed was himself.

No one else.

“Hey!” yelled the bartender, turning on the light in the storeroom to find a young-looking girl putting bottles of wine into her backpack.

The girl quickly zipped up her backpack and threw the bag over her shoulder.

“Stay right there,” warned the bartender. “This will be easier if you don’t run.”

“No,” corrected the girl. “It will be easier if you can’t run. Sorry.”

Then she pushed over a shelf of bottles, which the bartender hurried to catch as the girl raced out the backdoor towards the bus station.

“Bit young to be taking the overnight bus across state lines alone?” asked the bus driver as she boarded the bus. 

The girl shrugged.

“I’m older than I look,” she promised. “My parents are divorced. I’m going to see my dad. He and his new girlfriend are meeting me at the bus station.”

The driver nodded sympathetically.

“Just let me know if you need anything.”

The girl nodded, pleased to see the bus driver wasn’t questioning her lie, and took a seat.

This was it. She was really on her own now. No one believed her, no one would or could help her. The world was in danger, and she was the only one who knew, the only one who could do anything, and she had nothing and no one to protect herself against them.

At least not yet.

The girl carefully opened her backpack so as not to reveal the stolen wine bottles and took out a notebook and a pen.

Then she began to think.

She had to come up with a plan. She had to find a way to defend herself. But how could she defend herself against people with powers like that? How could she fight them when she herself didn’t have any of those powers, and couldn’t give herself those powers no matter how hard she tried?

The young girl pondered the question for a long time as trees, hills, and streets rolled on outside her window. Then at last, after a few hours, it came to her. A very clever idea.

Artificial Intelligence. Well, that wasn’t uniquely her idea, but the girl’s desired application of it was. Theoretically, AI could be used to mimic the structure and functions of a human brain. Though scientific progress on AI wasn’t there yet, it was, technically, possible. 

And if that was possible…then wouldn’t it follow that it was also possible to create a machine that could mimic the structure and functioning of a psychic mind as well? After all, if the only way to fight the psychics was with another psychic, then the most practical solution to the problem was to create a psychic of her own. One she could control and need not fear, one that could enter the minds of her enemies and stop them from hurting her or anyone else ever again.

Though the dream seemed impossible, at least from a practical standpoint, it gave the girl comfort as she imagined it: a weapon that could creep into the minds of everyone who’d hurt her and restructure their minds, removing all their power, forever.

It was a beautiful thought, no matter how impossible.

The girl smiled as she wrote two words on the first page of her journal.

“The Whisperer.”

Then she closed her journal, closed her eyes, and as the bus continued to drive into the night, Garrison let herself doze off as the comforting thought of one day creating such a powerful weapon lulled her to sleep.

Bonus: Art for this chapter by seamstressofthestars

Chapter Text

The year after his adoptive parents died, twenty-year-old Nicholas Glenn learned to start over.

He learned how to take care of his family home, he learned to grieve alone, and he learned to focus his talents and skills on something that brought him joy.

He still dabbled in the scientific field, but he put his and Nathaniel’s hydroelectric turbine project aside to focus on a new challenge. 

Managing the local library.

It was a wonderful job, quiet, peaceful, a life that Nicholas could enjoy. He still hadn’t made that many friends, save for one. A twenty-two-year-old woman name “Pencilla” who he’d hired to be his assistant.  

It was a name that suited her very well. Pencilla had bright red hair and was always dressed from head to toe in yellows and browns. She was thin, smart, and though a fragrant violator of the “no eating in the library” rule, always made sure to clean up after herself. She was also incredibly quick and strong, which Nicholas found very useful, as the right humorous passage in a book could easily trigger a narcoleptic seizure. But Pencilla, his loyal second in command, was always there to catch him and remind him upon waking to sit down whenever he was about to read something unfamiliar (which Nicholas always meant to do, yet always seemed to forget).

Yet despite Pencilla’s charm, she was also a bit of a loner. The library had plenty of events for young adults, but Pencilla politely turned down all of Nicholas’ offers, and Nicholas noted being in the presence of others her own age always seemed to make her uncomfortable, and though he occasionally encouraged her to step out of her shell, Pencilla always declined, in fact, at times, she seemed incredibly uncomfortable by the proposition, though it was unclear why she should be, at least at first. But after a few months of getting to know her, Nicholas began to formulate a theory, one that he intended to discuss with Pencilla that very morning.

They were meeting for breakfast at a local diner. Pencilla at first seemed horrified by the proposal and insisted that she could not and would not ever date anyone, to which Nicholas assured her that this was purely a gesture of friendship to thank her for all the work she’d done. He’d also agreed to give her a ride to the diner since Pencilla didn’t have a car and picked her up in front of a local park, as Pencilla had requested he pick her up there rather than in front of her apartment building.

“Feeling a bit sore today,” noted Nicholas. “I don’t suppose you could drive the rest of the way?”

“Oh, um…well, I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night,” stammered Pencilla, looking a little off guard. “It’s probably better you drive.”

“Very well,” said Nicholas, as he drove the rest of the way to the diner.

The two arrived and sat down at a booth and began looking over the menu.

“They have excellent mimosas here,” noted Nicholas. “Would you like one? I’m paying.”

Pencilla shook her head.

“I told you; I don’t drink.”

“Right, of course,” said Nicholas “Apologizes. Must have forgotten.”

“Can I take your orders?” asked the waitress approaching their table.

“Oh yes,” said Nicholas. “Strawberry pancakes, side of bacon, and a hot chocolate. And for you, Pencilla?”

“Bacon, sausage, pancakes, eggs, a side of fruit, a side of hashbrowns, toast, water, a hot chocolate, and an orange juice,” requested Pencilla, handing her menu to the waitress.

“You seem quite hungry,” observed Nicholas.

“If you’d like I can pay for it,” offered Pencilla.

“No, no,” insisted Nicholas. “I only wanted to make sure you were feeling alright.”

“Perfectly fine,” promised Pencilla. “Just a bit hungry. Didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”

Nicholas nodded.

The two continued to sit in silence for a bit.

“Elections are coming up,” noted Nicholas, as the waitress began bringing them their drinks and trays of food. “I assume you’re registered to vote?”

“Of course,” agreed Pencilla, as she began plowing through her enormous breakfast.

“Perhaps we could go to the polls together,” suggested Nicholas. “I could offer you a ride.”

Pencilla paused, her fork to her mouth and then shook her head.

“I prefer to vote alone,” she muttered hastily, shoving more pancakes into her mouth.

“Hm. Well, to each their own,” said Nicholas, as he began to dig into his own breakfast. “But you know, Pencilla, I wanted to meet with you today to thank you for the work you’ve done around the library. Not just the work you’ve done as a professional, but everything you’d done for me. As a friend.”

“Part of the job,” replied Pencilla as she continued to eat.

“Yes,” said Nicholas. “But I want you to know that I’ve greatly enjoyed your presence over the past year. It’s been a difficult one for me personally, and your presence has helped enormously. Which is why while this conversation is necessary, though it’s also an incredible difficult one for me to have.”

Penilla looked up at her employer, trying to read his expression.

“Do you always take your employees to breakfast before firing them?” she asked.

“No,” answered Nicholas. “Because I’m not firing you, Pencilla. I’m also not angry at you, and I want you to know that. I simply want to know why you feel the need to hide who you truly are.”

At these words, Pencilla froze, glancing around the nearly empty diner, mentally calculating whether it would be wise to attempt a hasty escape.

“What are you implying?” asked Pencilla, her voice raised slightly in a hushed whisper.

“I’m not implying anything,” explained Nicholas gently. “I’ve simply made a few…interesting observations about you. You don’t drink, ever-”

“-nothing wrong with that is there?” interrupted Pencilla, rather defensively. “It’s better for you. Healthier.”

“It is,” agreed Nicholas. “But then I noticed, you also don’t drive.”

“Don’t have a car.”

“You also refuse any offer to drive my car-”

“I don’t have insurance. Are you done?”

“Not quite I’m afraid. You also seem to have no interest in dating-”

“-some people don’t want to date anyone. Nothing wrong with that.”

“Or in making friends with any of the other young adults at our library’s social events.”

“Maybe I’m happier as a loner. And I do have friends and hobbies. I play pool.”

“Do you? Are you any good?”

“The best. Is that all your questions?”

“Observations, and no, I have a few more. We’ve had many conversations during which you’ve seemed very politically aware and mindful of social issues, and yet, I haven’t seen or heard about you voting in a single election,” noted Nicholas.

“Maybe I just don’t like talking about it,” snapped Pencilla. “It’s not anyone’s business who I’m voting for.”

“But the biggest clue was when I hired you,” noted Nicholas. “The documents you provided me for the job, and the background checks I ran-”

“-you run background checks for your library assistants?” asked Pencilla. “Is that really necessary?”

“No,” answered Nicholas. “But I do make it a point to know who I’m hiring. And while your paperwork was good, surprisingly good, better than most, I have to say, your background check was…lacking.”

“Lacking?”

“Nonexistent,” clarified Nicholas. “Not even a birth certificate, and yet you have an accent that suggests you were born and raised or raised by people or around people who live or have lived a significant portion of their lives in the United States or Canada.”

Pencilla began squirming uncomfortably in her seat.

“Which lead me to wonder,” continued Nicholas. “Why someone would fake documents and records just to work as a library assistant. And while there are several possibilities, one is inclined to consider the most likely scenario, which as evidenced by the lack of voting, drinking, driving, and reluctance to see other “fellow adults” as your primary peer group, I have to conclude that you are, perhaps, not twenty-two years old.”

Pencilla looked like she was about to object but saw from Nicholas’ face that there was no point.

“Though it is clever,” noted Nicholas. “Most people lying about their age would say they’re 18 for legal reasons or 21 if they want to drink, just old enough to do what they want without going too far, but twenty two won’t get you accused of lying for the specific purpose of accessing anything. In fact, it's so much older, that people's first conclusion wouldn't be that you're lying, just that you surely must look unfortunately extremely young for your age. It's very clever. Though if I had to take a guess as to your actual age, I’d say…15?”

“16.”

“Really? But you can’t drive?”

“Oh, I can drive,” corrected Pencilla. “Better than you, certainly.”

“I’m afraid that’s not a particularly remarkable accomplishment,” noted Nicholas, who had a less than perfect driving record (the narcolepsy certainly didn’t help).  

“I just can’t afford a car,” explained Pencilla. “Obviously I have a license, but as you so cleverly deduced, it’s not real and if the police pulled me over-”

“-would they pull you over? I thought you said you were a good driver,” asked Nicholas.

“I am,” insisted Pencilla. “I just…like to go fast.”

“Most would call that “bad driving”,” noted Nicholas.

“Most people need to get out of my way,” grumbled Pencilla. “And if some idiot crashes into me, they’ll need my information regardless.”

“Of course,” agreed Nicholas. “And the address you gave me, an apartment building, but I’m guessing you don’t actually live there?”

“Both true and false. They have an apartment model they use to show people around. I borrowed a key and sleep there at night.”

“Borrowed?”

“Borrowed. I always intended on returning it.”

“I see. And was I correct about everything else, so far?”

Pencilla sighed. If he was going to insist on going through this, they might as well get into it.

“No,” she admitted. “I’m not from the United States.”

“Canada?” guessed Nicholas.

Pencilla shook her head.

“Luxemborg,” she explained.

“Luxemborg?” repeated Nicholas. “But your accent-”

“-well, I suppose I’m not technically from there. I was born here. My natural accent is more rural, but I’ve done a lot of work to get rid of that.”

“But it still sounds American, so you must not have lived in Luxemborg long.”

“Another erroneous assumption. We moved when I was young, we just never left the house.”

“We?”

“My mom and my siblings.”

“I see. And you and your sibling’s father…”

“Fathers. Plural. Different guys, but they might as well be the same one. All deadbeats, and probably literally dead by now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It is what it is.”

“And aren’t your mother and siblings worried about you being so far from home?”

Pencilla laughed.

“Trust me. My siblings do whatever my mother tells them, and my mother couldn’t care less about me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure she’s devasted that I’ve “abandoned the family” but I have a hard time believing my well-being is #1 on her list of priorities.”

“Oh dear,” said Nicholas. “Pencilla, I’m terribly sorry…”

“…don’t be. I’m better off this way. You wanna know why my accent is still American despite living there for so long? It’s because we never left the house. Yeah. My mother moved us from rural American to rural Europe and stayed just as paranoid about the outside world. What was even the point of moving? All I could do was sit inside and play pool all day, waiting for the chance to actually play against someone with actual talent. I felt like I was going crazy.”

“I’m sorry, Pencilla,” said Nicholas gently. “Truly I am. You’re an intelligent young girl, and I’m sorry your family didn’t appreciate it.”

Pencilla did not seem to appreciate his words.

She looked around the empty diner and looked at Nicholas like a frightened wild animal about to run.

“I’m glad you’re sorry,” she replied. “But I already know where this is about to go. “Your too young to be one your own, you need to go home, family is everything, I’m sure it’s not that bad”, but the thing is, you don’t know. And I’m not going. You can’t outrun me.”

“I have no intention of running anywhere,” promised Nicholas. “Merely in helping a friend have a place to stay without always looking over her shoulder.”

“And how exactly do you intend to help me?”

Nicholas pulled out a stack of papers.

Pencilla looked over them.

“These are adoption papers,” she noted.

Nicholas nodded.

“But you’re not suggesting…”

“…that I could replace your family? No,” Nicholas assured her.

“Or that you could be my dad. This is ridiculous, you’re four years older than me.”

“Four and a quarter. And don’t think of it like that. Think of me as…as your older brother.”

Nicholas’ voice caught in his throat as he said the word “brother”, but fortunately Pencilla didn’t seem to notice as she wrinkled her nose in disgust.

“Absolutely not. You’re much nicer and more tolerable than any brother I’ve had.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, but I’m afraid I wouldn’t make a very good brother,” admitted Nicholas, trying his best not to think of Nathaniel or how much the girl sitting across from him, another angry runaway, reminded him so much of the brother he lost.

“You wouldn’t say that if you had to deal with one,” promised Pencilla. “My brother is an intolerable mama’s boy. You’d be a model sibling my comparison, I’m sure.”

“I very much doubt that, but I’m flattered you would think it,” said Nicholas, eager to change the subject. “Very well then. These papers won’t make me your brother or father. But there are still other matters we need to discuss before filling these out.”

“What’s the catch?” asked Pencilla, crossing her arms.

“There isn’t one,” explained Nicholas. “You’re the best assistant I’ve ever had and sending you back won’t fix the circumstances that led you to run in the first place. It will only lead you to run somewhere else, maybe somewhere worse or less safe, and I’d like to prevent that peacefully, if I can. There’s only one more thing I’d need to know to properly process the paperwork.”

“Which is?”

“Your name.”

“Pencilla.”

“Your real name.”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Why not?”

“It’s stupid.”

“I’m sure it’s a lovely name.”

“Not a chance. It’s stupid, you’re going to laugh at me.”

“I’m not going to laugh at you, and if it makes you feel better… perhaps I’ll tell you my real name first.”

“Your real name isn’t Nicholas?”

“It is. I meant my real last name.”

“Glenn isn’t your real last name?”

“It is and it isn’t,” explained Nicholas. “It was the name of my adoptive parents, before they died. My birth last name, which I haven’t used in years, is/was Benedict. I always hoped to go back to it someday, but my second set of parents only died last year, and it never felt quite right to go back to it.”

“Oh gosh,” whispered Pencilla. “I’m sorry. I mean, I’ve been sitting here bashing my family, and talking about running away from them while you lost two sets of parents. I must sound incredibly selfish to you.”

“Not at all,” replied Nicholas. “I loved and still love every family I’ve had, but I do know from experience that family can be…well…difficult, at times.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“And that’s why I will try my best not to be that way,” explained Nicholas. “But the paperwork does require a name. Your real name.”

Pencilla sighed.

“Very well. But I have three conditions. First, you’re not my dad. You’re not my brother. This is a business arrangement. You’re my boss, you’re allowing me to work here and stay with you. I’ll call you “Mr. Benedict”, that’s all. No first names, nothing sentimental. Don’t get mushy on me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Nicholas assured her, though Pencilla knew that was a lie.

“Second,” she continued. “You need to promise not to laugh when you hear my name.”

“I’m sure it can’t be that bad.”

“You don’t know my mother.”

“Even so, I’m sure it’s lovely.”

“Very well,” began Pencilla. “My last name is “Two”. Like the number. Spelled the same.”

“Unusual,” admitted Nicholas. “But not awful.”

“That’s not the awful part. It’s my first name.”

“Which is?” asked Nicholas.

Pencilla sighed and with great difficulty repeated the name she’d swore she’d never say again.

“Number,” she admitted. “My first name is literally the word “Number”.”

Nicholas took a moment to let that sink in.

“But…that means that your full name is…”

“Yes,” said Pencilla. “My legal full name is “Number Two.””

A few minutes later, Nicholas awoke to find Pencilla glaring at him across the table with her arms folded. Mercifully, she’d snatched his plate of pancakes before he could face plant into the syrup, and Nicholas took the fact that she hadn’t left the restaurant as a promising sign, though he was quite ashamed of himself.

“You promised you wouldn’t laugh,” remarked Pencilla, setting the pancakes back in front of him.

“I know,” admitted Nicholas. “I’m sorry. I’m terribly sorry, Number Two. Your name is lovely. It was just…unexpected. But I think it suits you.”

“Suits me? Oh why, because of the red hair and the yellow? Which is also why I decided to change my name to Pencilla, I guess I just wanted to keep a part of myself even with the name change, no matter how ridiculous it was…forget it, that was a stupid idea anyway.”

“I don’t think that was stupid at all,” insisted Nicholas.

“Or are you laughing at the idea of “going Number Two”?” she asked. “Because that’s insanely juvenile, and I had plenty of jokes made about that the few years my mother actually allowed me to go to primary school, so I don’t need to hear about it from a grown man.”

“What? Oh goodness, no,” exclaimed Nicholas. “I only meant because of the expression. Since becoming my assistant, you’ve been the greatest Number Two anyone could ask for. You’re smart, reliable, and something tells me you won’t be a mere “Number Two” for long. Your brilliance and resilience make that much clear.”

Number Two’s aggressive demeanor faded.

“That’s...there's the first time anyone has ever said anything nice about my name,” she noted. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” said Nicholas. “Like I said, it’s beautiful. Is that all?”

“No,” answered Number Two. “One more condition, and something tells me this might be the most difficult for you, but I’m extremely serious about it.”

“Then I’ll do my best to honor this mysterious condition, whatever it is.”

“No siblings.”

“What?”

“No siblings. You’re doing me a favor, and I appreciate it, but I’m coming from the world’s most dysfunctional family. We’re friends…or rather, we’re in business together, and we have a good relationship, and I can’t have anyone else coming along and screwing that up. So, you’re not doing this to anyone else. I’m not coming home one day to find myself with a younger brother. I have one, and it didn’t work out. I know you have a big heart, but I can’t stand the thought of anyone else invading my space. Can you promise that?”

“Well, Number Two, we don’t exactly know what the future holds, I’ve inherited quite a sizable home, and you might grow lonely or change your mind-”

“-I won’t. Trust me, I won’t. And if I’m going to sign this, I need you to promise me that you won’t offer this deal to anyone else. I’m serious about this one. Otherwise, I won’t be signing.”

“Then, as difficult as the condition might be, I accept. I won’t give you any surprise siblings,” promised Nicholas.

“In that case,” said Number Two, signing her adoption papers. “It’s a pleasure to have done business with you, Mr. Benedict.”

“Likewise, Number Two,” replied Mr. Benedict.

Later that day, Nicholas moved her things into his house. He’d spent the last year grieving his family, his friends, and Nathaniel perhaps more than anyone, but now he finally felt like perhaps his life was getting on a new course, a better course. He might not have been able to help his brother, Nathaniel. He might have blown his shot at that. But there was a girl who reminded him so much of the brother he lost, and he could help her. Not that he was replacing his brother, nothing could replace him, but maybe…maybe this time, he could do it right. Maybe this time, he could be a real family for someone.

“This is a big house,” noted Number Two. “Plenty of room for a pool table, plenty of yard for axe throwing.”

“Not the use I had in mind for the space, but I’d be happy to accommodate,” said Nicholas, as he showed Number Two around their house.

“What’s this?”

Nicholas turned to find Number Two looked through the old blueprints of his hydroelectric turbines.

“That? Oh, an old project of mine.”

“It’s genius.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Why haven’t you patented this? You could make a fortune!”

“I already inherited a fortune, and money isn’t everything.”

“But this could help tons of people,” insisted Number Two.

“It could,” replied Nicholas. “But it isn’t my passion, at least not anymore. Though you’re welcome to pick up the work, if you feel up to the task.”

“I do,” said Number Two, looking over the blueprints. “Some of these designs could use a little work, and I have a few questions, but this could be brilliant.”

Nicholas nodded. It really could. And while he felt guilty about giving Nathaniel’s ideas away like this, his work did deserve to be seen through to completion. If Nicholas could not find his brother and compel him to accomplish such a task, perhaps entrusting the work to someone who was so much like him and similarly brilliant would be a suitable alternative.

An alternative his brother might be able to understand and forgive him for.

Six years went by, and Number Two and Mr. Benedict lived happily together. Number Two went to university, studied all sorts of interesting things, and continued to work on Mr. Benedict’s old hydroelectric turbine designs, hoping to patent them someday.

But unfortunately, that was not meant to be.

“Someone beat me to it,” she declared angrily, stomping through the front door after coming home for the weekend.

“Can you believe it? Years of work, and someone patents the idea before me! I couldn’t even find a name; he just uses the initials “L.D. C”. Probably some sort of corporation.”

“Sounds like a difficult break. But I am sure you will turn it around, eh?”

Number Two turned at the sound of the voice of the person sitting on the living room couch, a voice which turned out to not belong to Mr. Benedict, but to a sixteen-year-old girl who seemed to be making herself at home, reading and enjoying tea. 

“And you are?” Number Two asked.

“Rhonda. Rhonda Kazembe. You must be Number Two. Mr. Benedict has told me a lot about you.”

Number Two frowned and wordlessly marched up the stairs to Mr. Benedict’s office where she found him organizing his bookshelves.

He jumped when he saw her in the doorway.

“Ah! Number Two,” he gasped. “Why…you’re home early! What an…unexpected surprise. How was the drive in?”

Number Two didn’t answer but continued to glare at him like a disappointed parent.

“Can…can I get you anything,” asked Nicholas. “Perhaps an afternoon snack?”

“Who is she?” demanded Number Two.

“Who?” asked Nicholas.

“Don’t play dumb. The girl downstairs with the African accent,” emphasized Number Two.

“Oh, her,” said Nicholas. “Yes, Rhonda. Lovely, isn’t she?”

“Why is she in our house?” asked Number Two.

“Well…she…I…well,” stammered Nicholas.

“Because when I agreed to live here, I remember a promise was made,” recalled Number Two. “No siblings.”

“…yes,” admitted Nicholas, drooping his head shamefully. “And I tried my best to keep that promise, Number Two. I did. But Rhonda, she had no where else to go, and she’s really quite nice, and I…I know you were firmly against brothers, but…is there any chance you might have better feelings about a sister?”

Number Two sighed.

“In my experience, they’re more tolerable than brothers,” she admitted. “Not great, but…tolerable at least. You already signed the papers, didn’t you?”

Nicholas didn’t answer, but merely continued to look like a puppy who’d just been caught doing something wrong. He knew Number Two had a right to be upset, but he just couldn’t say no to Rhonda. He wanted to keep his promises, he did, he just…sometimes…well, perhaps promises weren’t really Nicholas’ thing.

Number Two groaned.

“Fine,” she grumbled. “She can stay. Frankly, I’m surprised the promise took this long to break, anyway. But don’t expect us to be sisters or anything close.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” promised Nicholas, relieved to see his broken promises hadn’t lost him another friend. “Though, if you two were to grow close, I would not object.”

“That won’t happen,” promised Number Two. “Anyway, I was just stopping by to say that someone else patented the turbines before I did. Similar designs and everything, but no evidence of thievery they just…came up with it around the same time and got to it first.”

“Oh dear, I’m terribly sorry,” said Nicholas, before a thought occurred to him. “And um…did you see who patented it, by any chance? The name of the person?”

“Initials.”

“Which were?”

“L.D. C. Probably some company.”

“Oh,” said Nicholas, trying his best to hide his disappointment. L.D. C, not NB. Not Nathainel.

“It’s fine,” sighed Number Two. “I have other projects I’m working on anyway.”

“Perhaps you can join me for another scientific lecture,” suggested Nicholas. “I’m presenting at some conferences next week. I do prefer the humanities to the sciences, but since being able to explore such topics with you, I’ve found the subjects to be a good deal more enjoyable.”

“That sounds wonderful,” agreed Number Two. “Just don’t expect me to entertain the kid while we’re there.”

“Rhonda,” corrected Nicholas. “And she’s only six years younger than you.”

“Exactly. A child,” Number Two reminded him. “Also, I got the mail.”

She put the letters on Nicholas’ desk.

“Anything of note?” he asked as he went through the letters.

“Mostly the same. Letters from people asking about your scientific and literary works and lectures, and one thing from the city, something about orphanage records, probably spam. Also, you forgot to water it again.”

“What?”

“The violet on your desk, the poor thing is dead,” Number Two pointed out. “If that girl Rhonda is going to be living here, she could at least water the plants. Do some chores, earn her keep. After all, I can’t always be here to remind you to water it.”

But Nicholas wasn’t listening to his friend. He was too busy looking over the letter he’d received.

The city had cleaned out the orphanage’s records office and was offering anyone who had been an orphan there to come and claim their family’s items. Which meant that maybe Nathaniel would…

“Are you okay?” asked Number Two, noticing the look on Nicholas’ face.

Nicholas quickly put the letter away. It wasn’t as if Number Two wasn’t aware he was an orphan, but if he admitted why he was so nervous about going to look at his family’s items…well, Nicholas still hadn’t told her about Nathaniel. How could he? She and Rhonda trust him, they thought he was a good person, and he just…as awful as it felt, it wasn’t as if telling them would change anything now, though the guilt still haunted him.

“Fine, Number Two,” he insisted. “Perfectly fine. I just remembered I had an errand to run later this afternoon. Perhaps you could take the time to bond with your new sister.”

“Roommate. And she better stay out of my way and out of my room,” warned Number Two ominously.

Nicholas nodded and looked back down at the letter.

For years, he’d hoped and waited for a chance to see Nathaniel again. He knew it sounded foolish, but perhaps if Number Two was willing to consider even the possibility of having a sibling, then maybe his hope wasn’t entirely foolish, as terrifying as it was.

This was the fourth time that Nicholas Benedict broke a promise to his best friend.

He didn’t know if it would ever be the last, but he did know that he was determined to be a better friend and a better brother from here on out, no matter what it took.

He wasn’t going to give up.

Twenty-six-year-old Ledroptha Curtain smiled to himself as he jogged down the street.

He’d just received the news that morning. He’d patented his hydroelectric turbine designs, and he’d done so just before Nicholas and his pathetic little friend could swoop in like a pack of greedy vultures and steal his glory. Soon, Ledroptha Curtain was going not just be a rich man, but rich beyond imagination. He’d be able to build the Institute with his friends, become a famous scholar and philanthropist, and become everything he was born to be.

But first, he had to get in his morning exercises, a daily jog around the neighborhood while listening to the latest hits on his Walkman.

He arrived home to find Pedalian waiting for him on the front porch.

“Hello Ledroptha,” he called out cheerfully. “We’ve been waiting for you to come back.”

“We?” asked Curtain.

“Yeah, the girls came over,” explained Pedalian. “Evelyn, Beatrice, and Molly wanted to go on a hike this afternoon.”

Curtain suddenly became very self-conscious of the fact that he looked sweaty and tired.

“They just came over unannounced?” he complained, as he silently hoped that he looked more athletic than disgusting in his current condition.

“They do that a lot, and they live next door,” Pedalian pointed out. “I don’t think it’s especially out of the ordinary. While you were gone, I picked these violets for Evelyn. Do you think she’ll like them?”

“I’m sure she will,” sighed Curtain in resignation as he made his way into the house.

“For you,” said Pedalian, as he smiled and handing his girlfriend the bouquet.

“Oh, thank you, Niles,” exclaimed Evelyn. “These are perfect, I’ll have to grab a vase for them. And hello to you too, Ledroptha. I hope you had a good run, and congratulations on the hydroelectric turbine patent.”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” said Curtain dismissively, though he was obviously glowing with pride. “Couldn’t have done it without help,” he added, nodding in Garrison’s direction. “We’ll have to celebrate later.”

“I just tweaked a few of the designs,” explained Garrison modestly. “And I just came over to do a bit of studying. I won’t be celebrating anything until my finals are over.”

“You never need to study, Molly” Milligan noted. “You always know all the material.”

“Even so,” said Garrison. “I still like to review the material. For my own sanity.”

“We’ve been over it, you know it,” insisted Beatrice. “You deserve a break. Milligan and I were hoping that you might join us on a nature hike this afternoon.”

Curtain was about to agree, when he noticed something on the counter.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“A flyer from the city. Something about the orphanage records office being clean out,” explained Pedalian. “I assumed it was for me, but I was adopted from an orphanage in Brazil, so I guess they either sent it to the wrong person or were just sending them to everyone. I got in the mail a week ago, sorry, I meant to throw it out.”

A week ago?

It was all Curtain could do to keep himself together. A week was far too long, with his luck Nicholas had probably snuck in and stolen all their family’s information like the selfish entitled brat that he was!

“It’s…fine,” muttered Curtain. “Perfectly fine. But I’m afraid I’ll have to decline the hike. I have errands to run.”

“What sort of errands?” asked Pedalian pleasantly. “We could join you, and I have some exciting news I’d like to share with the group.”

“Later,” Curtain insisted, as he quickly cleaned himself up and grabbed his jacket.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Ledroptha?” asked Evelyn. “You seem to be in quite a hurry.”

“I’m fine, Evelyn, I just need to handle a few things,” promised Curtain.

“You know, I’ve always wondered,” added Milligan. “Why you’re willing to call Evelyn and Beatrice by their first names but not the rest of us?”

“It’s impractical to do otherwise,” explained Curtain. “They’ll only be taking your last names eventually, and it’s confusing to call two of you the same thing.”

“Or you could just call us by our first names,” suggested Pedalian helpfully.

“And who said we’d take their last names after marriage?” asked Beatrice.

“That’s true,” observed Milligan. “Maybe I’ll take her last name. What will you do then?”

“Then that’s what I’ll call you,” sighed Curtain.

“And Garrison could change her last name too, if she got married,” Pedalian pointed out.

“That is a good point,” said Milligan, glancing over at Curtain, who looked like he couldn’t wait to leave.

“Are you sure you can’t join us for a hike,” repeated Evelyn. “It won’t be until later this afternoon.”

“Yes, and it sounds lovely, but we’ll see if I can make it back in time. If not, I hope you all have a wonderful excursion,” declared Curtain, as he made his way outside, having slipped the flyer into his hand when (hopefully) no one had noticed.

He glanced at the address. As out of the way as this trip was, he knew he had to get there before Nicholas. He couldn’t let his brother take anything else from him, not when he and his friends were about to have it all!

He hurried off to his destination.

Meanwhile, Pedalian turned to address the others.

“I suppose I ought to wait until Ledroptha comes back to tell you what I was going share,” he speculated.

“Forget about that,” declared Garrison happily. “I have bigger news. I didn’t actually come here to study.”

“You didn’t?” asked Beatrice.

“No,” said Garrison. “I just needed an excuse until I was sure Ledroptha was gone so I could tell you all. I found him.”

“Found who?” asked Evelyn.

“The brother,” announced Garrison. “Ledroptha’s brother.”

The room went silent, then suddenly exploded into a series of questions.

“How did you meet him?” asked Evelyn.

“Are you sure it’s his brother?” asked Milligan.

“What is he like?” asked Pedalian.

“Tell us everything, Molly,” begged Beatrice. “Is he as heartless and nefarious as Ledroptha made him out to be?”

“Hold on, I’ll explain everything,” promised Garrison, as she sat herself down to being her story.

“I was at an academic conference, and I was looking at the list of speakers, and I saw a photo of him.”

“And you’re sure it’s him?” asked Milligan.

“Oh I’m 100% sure,” promised Garrison.

“So, you confirmed it, you talked to him?” asked Evelyn.

“Of course not!” exclaimed Garrison. “What was I supposed to do, walk up to him and say “Hi, I’m friends with the brother you allegedly betrayed, abandoned, and all but left for dead, pleased to meet you?” Ledroptha would kill me.”

“But…if you didn’t talk to him…then how do you know the man you saw is his brother?” asked Pedalian.

“Because Niles,” explained Garrison, her face bursting with excitement. “They’re identical twins.”

 “What?” exclaimed Beatrice, while everyone else gathered around as Garrison produced a photo.

“Oh my gosh,” gasped Beatrice. “Look at the hair. The curls. Are those natural? There’s…there’s no way those are fake. But that means that Ledroptha has to straighten his hair every day.”

“That’s probably why he uses so much product,” noted Pedalian. “I always wondered why he needed so much time in the bathroom and why he has so much of it lying around.”

“I wish I could have talked to him,” sighed Garrison. “I have so many questions.” 

“He looks very different from Ledroptha by the way he’s dressed,” noted Milligan. “If you didn’t know what you were looking for, you might even miss that they were brothers.”

“I think he looks nice,” said Evelyn, studying the picture intently. “He seems…kind. Thoughtful.”

“Not at all what I would have expected him to look like from Ledroptha’s brief descriptions,” noted Beatrice. “Nice or not, he certainly doesn’t look like a scheming villain.”

“He’s not,” agreed Garrison.

“You mean you did talk to him?” gasped Pedalian.

“Of course not, Niles!” exclaimed Garrison. “I just…listened to his presentation. It was good. He’s clearly intelligent. A bit of a nervous presenter, but very kind. Friendly, but shy. He didn’t give me the impression of someone who’d abandon his family or even say a mean word about anyone. If anything, he was overly polite.”

“So…the opposite of Ledroptha?” suggested Beatrice.

“Not exactly,” explained Garrison. “He is, but he isn’t. His mannerisms, his demeanor…he’s so different from Ledroptha, and yet, they’re also very similar. It’s hard to describe, but that’s not the important part. The bigger news is: I got his name. I have Ledroptha’s brother’s name.”

“Which means…we have Ledroptha’s last name,” Beatrice realized. “Which is going to make it way easier to guess his real first name now that we can narrow it down to names that sound good with that last name!”

Ever since discovering their friend’s name was “Ledroptha Curtain” and that the “L.D.” apparently stood for “Ledroptha”, Ledroptha’s friends knew it must be a fake made up name and had made a hobby of guessing what their friend’s real name might be. Occasionally, one of them would shout out a random name in the hopes that Ledroptha might respond to it, but so far, they’d had little luck, though they’d all loved to speculate.

“Exactly,” said Garrison, a grin spreading across her face.

“Well, don’t leave us in suspense, Molly,” exclaimed Pedalian. “What’s his brother’s name?”

“Nicholas,” answered Garrison. “Nicholas Benedict. Which means Ledroptha’s name would need to be a first name that sounds good with the last name “Benedict” and would need to sound good next to his twin’s name.”

“We should all make guesses and place bets on what his real name is,” suggested Beatrice.

“Is that really the kindest thing?” asked Evelyn.

“Well…Ledroptha doesn’t necessarily need to know about it,” reasoned Milligan.

“Exactly,” said Beatrice. “Besides, he’s the one who is kind enough to give us jobs, money, and everything in between but draws the line at telling his real name. It’s only natural to be curious, and we don’t have to bet a lot. I was thinking $50 each would be enough, and if we ever discover the truth, whoever is alphabetically closest his real name wins.”

“I think I’ll take those odds,” agreed Milligan. “Does anyone want to guess first?”

“Michael,” declared Garrison. “It’s in the center of the alphabet, it was one of the most common names for baby boys the year he was born, “Michael Benedict” has a decent ring to it, and “Mikey and Nicky” sound like cute names for twin boys.”

“An excellent first guess,” complimented Beatrice. “What about you, darling?”

“Hm. Charles Benedict has an interesting ring to it,” suggested Milligan. “And Charlie and Nicky would also be nice names for twin boys.”

“Oh, that’s a good one,” said Beatrice. “But I was thinking something a little bit more fitting Ledroptha’s demeanor, like Preston, Augustus, Maximillian, Barnaby, Reginald, or Octavius. Posh rich people names.”

“Be nice,” lectured Milligan with a smile on his face, while Garrison and Evelyn giggled.

“Fine,” sighed Beatrice. “Johnathan. It’s an extremely popular name, and “John and Nicholas” sound pretty good together.”

“Oh…” said Evelyn as she studied the photo.

“You alright?” asked Milligan.

“Were you planning on taking that guess?” asked Beatrice. “Because I could go with something else.”

“No, it’s alright,” said Evelyn. “I’m just having trouble coming up with a name, and…that just sounded like a really good guess.”

“I’m sure you’ll come up with something just as good,” promised Garrison.

Evelyn carefully studied the photograph.

“Nathaniel,” she finally decided.

“Nathaniel. Interesting. Why Nathaniel?” asked Garrison.

Evelyn shrugged.

“I don’t know. It just…feels right somehow,” she explained. “What about you, Niles?”

The group turned to Niles, who had been silent ever since Garrison had announced the name of Ledroptha’s brother, and now that the group had made their guesses, somehow looked even more uncomfortable.

“Are you okay?” asked Evelyn, gently putting her hand on his shoulder.

“What? Oh yes,” said Pedalian. “I’m fine. Completely fine. Yes, I…um…I’ll guess his name is um…Buster.”

“Buster Benedict?” confirmed Garrison.

“Yes,” said Pedalian. “That’s my guess. I think it fits.”

“It does have some excellent alliteration,” admitted Milligan.

“Well, I suppose that’s everyone’s guess,” declared Beatrice. “Now we just have to wait until we find out the truth.”

“In the meantime, I was going to go on a morning run before the hike,” suggested Milligan. “If anyone else would like to join me.”

Beatrice was the only one who obliged.

“I um…have a few things I need to get done too,” said Pedalian. “If you wouldn’t mind joining me, Evelyn.”

“You two can go ahead,” said Garrison. “I think I’ll just finish up some studying, unless…wait, Niles, you said you had something to tell us too.”

The group looked at Pedalian.

“Oh, uh…nothing. Just that I was excited to go on our hike today because…there have been reports of new birds in the area,” stammered Pedalian. “So, I was hoping I might get to see some today.”

“Sounds exiting,” commented Evelyn, as they made their way out the door.

Once she was back home and her friends were gone, Garrison sat down and flipped through her notebook to the Whisperer’s designs, which she’d been carefully adjusting in secret over the last few months.

She felt incredibly guilty every time she did so. These were her friends, they made meals for her, they took care of her, they joked and laughed with her, they were like the older siblings she’d dreamed of and missed for so long, and now they were giving her a chance at a new life. Lying to them about the technology she was offering felt awful, but Garrison knew they couldn’t possibly believe the truth. Like it or not, this was the only way. She supposed she could always hope that she wouldn’t have to use her inventions for their true purpose. 

And if she ever did that perhaps by some miracle her family might be merciful enough to forgive her.

Meanwhile, Beatrice and Milligan began their daily jog around the neighborhood.

“I have some news for us too,” said Beatrice. “I spoke to the agency on the phone today. They want to have us in for an in-person interview, but it sounds like they want to hire us both. The fact that we’re about to have incredibly flexible day jobs working for our best friends really sealed the deal.”

“That’s excellent news,” agreed Milligan. “Though I do feel bad about the prospect of living a double life.”

“That’s the best way to protect our friends,” Beatrice reminded him. “Otherwise, we’d be putting innocent civilians in unnecessary danger. Besides, you can’t deny there’s something exciting about it. Being secret heroes. It’s fun, isn’t it?”

“It is,” agreed Milligan. “It just feels a bit strange lying to our family.”

“I know. It does,” sighed Beatrice. “But once we move up our rank in the agency, I’m sure there will be an opportunity to tell them. We just have to establish ourselves first. Then we can ask the agency if we can be more honest and open about our occupations to our family, provided they’re kept safe of course.”

Milligan agreed.

Meanwhile, Evelyn and Pedalian decided to take a walk together.

“Are you alright, Niles?” asked Evelyn. “You look like you need to talk.”

“I do,” admitted Pedalian. “I discovered something today that I…I thought was good news, but…now I’m not sure how to feel about it.”

“What did you find out?” asked Evelyn.

“Well,” said Pedalian slowly. “I was in an orphanage since I was four, and I didn’t really know much about my birth family, so I decided to see if I could find out what I could. But when I tried to find my original birth records, there was some confusion, because they couldn’t find any records with the name “Niles Pedalian” on them. So, I did some digging, and I found out some stuff about my family, and at first, I was excited, but now…well, see for yourself.”

He handed Evelyn some papers, which she carefully read through in detail.

After a few minutes she gasped.

“Oh, my goodness,” she whispered. “This is a lot.”

Pedalian nodded.

“I know. I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to lose my friend. Ledroptha would never forgive me, but I…I just want to know more about myself. Where I came from, who I am, and what that means for me. I want to tell him about this, but if he puts my loyalty and friendship to him above me wanting to connect with my family, then he might never forgive me.”

“I’m sure he’d understand,” said Evelyn. “It just…might not be easy for him, at first. But it’s up to you. Whatever you want to do, I support you.”

“Thank you,” said Pedalian. “I think I just need sometime to think this over, if that’s okay.”

Later that day, Pedalian sat down at his desk, and began attempting to write a letter, a letter he would draft a million times before finally getting it right.

“Dear Ledroptha…”

Despite not seeing his friend Nicholas in many a year as his own travels kept him busy, Noland still hoped that his friend was well, as the same could not be said for himself.

He didn’t think anything could be more financially devasting than his second divorce. But he hadn’t counted on his lawyer being exposed for taking bribes and being disbarred, banned from practicing in this town (or any town) ever again!

He’d nearly lost everything.

“Chin up captain,” advised Cannonball. “There’s nothing you could have done differently. I’m sure many a man has lost a divorce case and been unwittingly thrown dangerously close to financial ruin because their attorney was publicly exposed as a fraud and a con man and banned from practicing law in this town ever again. It could happen to anyone.”

Noland nodded. He knew that was true, and he knew Cannonball meant well, but still. It appeared as though the world was out to get him.

As if he really had been cursed that night.

Perhaps he never should have gone looking for answers to questions that no man should have the answers to.

The mysteries of the sea.

“Captain?” asked Cannonball, as Noland stared at the horizon with a dissociated look in his eye.

“Hm? Oh yes, of course,” said Noland, snapping out of his trance. “I’m sure we’ll be fine. Just got to tightening the purse strings around here, make some better financial plans, but if I know the Shortcut, she’ll be bringing us years of prosperity that even my little string of misfortune won’t be able to destroy.”

“That’s the spirit!” praised Cannonball, pleased to see his Captain in a better mood.

But as Cannonball walked away, Noland’s smile disappeared. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong about this whole situation, and not just because he’d lost his case. No, that was just a piece of it, a small piece of this long, horrible story he found himself trapped in. A seemingly mere financial setback, and yet, Noland couldn’t shake the feeling that it was a sign of something worse, a coming doom, perhaps a long time coming, but coming all the same. He couldn’t explain how or why, but he somehow sensed deep in his soul that something was wrong.

 Terribly, terribly wrong.

“I hope you were paying attention son,” lectured David Decimal (Pronounced Dez-Mel), a prominent attorney, as he walked into one of the fanciest bars in town. “That’s how you win a case.”

“I know dad,” sighed Dewey Decimal (Pronounced Dez-Mel), as he trailed behind him.

“I’m serious,” his father lectured. “Dropping out of graduate school was the best thing that ever happened to you. The family law firm is a more prestigious and better employment opportunity for you, and the sooner you learn the ropes, the better. Today’s lesson was an illustration of a very important principle: if you’re going to take bribes, take them from people who can protect you. Otherwise, you might end up like that crazy sea captain’s attorney, or well, ex-attorney.” 

David Decimal smirked at his now former opposition, who as it happened was drinking alone at the bar.

“What a loser,” agreed Dewey as father and son watched the poor man quickly pay his tab and leave the bar looking humiliated.

“He better enjoy the drinks while he can,” noted David smugly, as the waitstaff escorted him to his usual table. “Now that he’s unable to practice law, I doubt he’ll be able to afford dining in a place like this for long.”

Meanwhile, the former lawyer in question couldn’t get out of the bar fast enough. Couldn’t a man have a last drink in peace without being subjected to David Decimal and his equally ridiculous son?

He sighed to himself as he sat down on a park bench.

How had things fallen apart so fast?

Ironically, this hadn’t even been a case where he’d done anything illegal. But leave it to David Decimal to dig up dirt on him. Dirt on a client was one thing, especially in a divorce case, but him?

He’d lost everything. This was it. It was over.

“Mind if I take a seat?”

The former attorney looked up to see the largest well-dressed businessman he’d ever seen staring down at him, briefcase in hand.

“You might as well,” sighed the former attorney, as he moved over to let the man sit next to him.

“Thank you,” replied the stranger. “You know, if you don’t mind my saying so, I’m a really big fan of yours.”

“Then you must have me confused with someone else.”

“Oh no,” corrected the man. “You’re that fancy lawyer who just got busted for taking bribes, right? Brilliant work, really.”

“If you just came here to harass me, then I’m going leave.”

“Not at all,” insisted the man, putting his hand firmly on the other’s shoulder to stop him from leaving. “I mean it as a compliment. You really didn’t care who you were working for, as long as they gave you enough money. I think that’s admirable ambition.”

“Then you must not be a very good person.”

The stranger laughed.

“You catch on fast,” he complimented. “But I suppose lawyers are supposed to be able to read people. But you’re right. Between you and I, I’m not exactly an upstanding citizen, though as I’m sure you’ve been able to deduce, I’ve still somehow been a very successful one. However, I’m at the point in my career where I’m looking to up my game, and a man of your talents could be just what I need.”

“Then you might want to look elsewhere. I’m not going to practice law again for a long, long time. Forever, actually. So, I’m afraid I’m not going to be much use to you.”

“That’s where I’d disagree,” objected the man. “You might not be able to practice law, but you know the law, you know the loopholes. That kind of knowledge is a useful asset. It’s not as if you have any other options at the moment?”

The former lawyer sighed.

“I don’t,” he admitted. “But I’m not going to agree to anything until I know who you are. I make it a point to know who I’m working for.”

“Certainly,” replied the man with a smile. “Where are my manners? My name is McCracken. My associates are Mr. Sharpe and Mr. Crawlings. Not our real names of course, but no one uses their real names in the work we do.”

“And what work do you do?”

McCracken smiled and handed him some papers.

“Work that pays,” he explained. “Work few men will do but work that will put you back on top.”

The former lawyer looked over the papers that detailed everything about the work this man was offering him. It was about as bad as he expected, and about as lucrative.

He could decline. Get a minimum wage job, start life from scratch, try to work his way up to something dignified.

But then he thought of David Decimal and the smug and condescending look on his face as he’d watch him run out of the bar, as if he wasn’t just as dirty, just better at putting on a façade for the courtroom and getting the right people on his side.

“What would you need me to do?” he asked.

McCracken grinned.

“I knew you were the kind of man who’d be up for the job,” he declared pleasantly, patting his new friend on the back. “First, we’re going to need to change that name of yours. Something on theme. “Mr. Garrotte”, how does that sound?”

“Fine,” replied Garrotte. “I can learn to live with it.”

“Then you’ll fit right in,” replied McCracken. “Welcome to the team.”

Mr. Gaines smiled as he sat down at his desk. Perhaps things at the office had been a bit…rocky lately, but he was man who was patient, and more importantly, he was a man who had the privilege of being connected to the right sort of people who could provide the right sort of favors. The kinds of favors that can get one ahead in life and get them positions that they might not otherwise achieve by merit alone (though Mr. Gaines of course considered himself more than worthy of such honors).

Mr. Gaines then turned his attention to his assistant. An excellent girl, smart, skilled, unfailingly loyal, excellent with discretion, didn’t ask questions, and as far as Mr. Gaines could tell, was willing to bend the rules, overlook minor ethical violations, and had no qualms about getting her hands dirty, when necessary, which were the exact qualities he looked for in a good number two. She, like almost everything else in Mr. Gaines’ life and career at the moment, seemed almost unrealistically perfect.

“Virginia,” he sighed, not once looking up from his papers, “a report on my branches. I assume their recruitment has been progressing as we discussed?”

Miss. Virginia Argent, Mr. Gaines’ assistant, nodded.

“Yes, sir,” she replied. “I have reports from every division. Division one has recruited a married couple that come with established day jobs, flexible work schedules, and excellent skill sets. Division two has set their sights on younger recruits, tracking teenagers that show promise now so that we can be ready to recruit them in college, offer them something we know they’ll be unlikely to refuse, and appeal to their established morals and patterns of behavior. All recruits have a history of upstanding moral character.”

“Excellent,” said Mr. Gaines, taking a puff of his cigar, the smoke wafting in Miss. Argent’s face, though if this upset her, she didn’t show it.

“I want this to be one of our fastest growing departments, and not just the fastest, but one of the most unquestionable. Having talented people of unquestionable moral character accomplishing unquestionable moral actions as our front men, the faces of this department as it were, is just what we need to have the freedom and isolation from oversight that we require to do our jobs well.”

Miss. Argent, who was used to Mr. Gaines’ speeches, nodded along.

“I have a vision, Virginia. One that we’re going to be dedicating all our time to going forward. Do you um, have any news on our…other divisions?”

“Divisions three and four are still interviewing-”

“-I mean our other divisions,” clarified Mr. Gaines, in a chiding tone that suggested Virginia ought to try her best to keep up. “Off the record.”

“Ah. Yes,” said Virginia. “Of course. We’ve succeeded on keeping the plans within our inner circle, and we’ve begun construction on the labs. We’ll hopefully begin subject recruitment by this time next year.”

“Excellent.”

“Though there is one small hiccup,” noted Virginia. “While our timeline has been ahead of schedule, some of our patrons have begun growing impatient. Mr. Pressius called me this week. He’s interested in the specifics of our progress and wants a guaranteed return on his investment.”

“Tell Pressius that he has my word that he’ll receive everything he’s been promised and more,” ordered Mr. Gaines. “He knows my reputation. I always come through for my friends, and I always keep my promises. Nothing and no one is going to get in our way. I’ll make sure of that. Please, won’t you be a dear and remind him of that?”

“Of course, sir,” replied Virginia, seamlessly exiting the room while removing Mr. Gaines’ cigar from his outstretched hand and disposing of it.

She walked outside of Mr. Gaines’ office and sat down at her own desk, which stood at the front of the department, separating it from the rest of the offices.

She was about the dial the number when she was approached by another employee.

“Excuse me,” said the hurried looking man as he approached her desk. “Is this the reception desk for the children’s welfare department?”

“Dealing with all complex and sensitive cases involving child trafficking and/or missing and kidnapped children, overseeing the Department of Juvenile Well-Being, Child Protective Services, and all other related departments, yes that’s us,” replied Virginia, not looking up at the man as she continued to take notes.

“Oh, good,” said the man, as he caught his breath. “Well, um…I’m here to see Mr. Gaines.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“Um, no, he’s denied my requests, but I-”

“Then I’m afraid he can’t see you.”

“But I…listen, I’m sorry, I don’t normally do this, but this is important, something that concerns this department and everyone in it!”

“Then you can tell me, and I can relay the message,” Virginia informed him, as she continued to search through her files, still not looking up at the man in front of her.

“Are you Mr. Gaines’ receptionist?” the man asked. “His secretary?”

“His new assistant,” corrected Virginia, at last looking up at the man in front of her. “I’m also considered one of the top agents in this department.”

“Oh, right. I’m sorry…Virginia,” apologized the man, looking at the name written on her desk.

“Miss. Argent,” she corrected.

“Sorry. Miss. Argent. I’m John, John Cole, I work on the other side of the building. National surveillance mostly, but I’m hoping to branch out.”

John extended his hand. Virginia, after a long period of hesitation and confusion, awkwardly took it and shook it.

“Listen,” sighed John. “I’m sorry I’m bothering you like this, but Mr. Gaines won’t respond to any of my applications or calls, and I have information that I need to get to him. It’s essential, it can’t wait, and it’s crucial to our operation. Would you…please just see if he’s available?”

Virginia sized up John carefully.

He seemed nice. Too nice. Mr. Gaines would destroy someone like him. But he was determined, and she could tell warning him was pointless.

“Very well,” she relented, paging Mr. Gaines’ office.

“Yes?” came Mr. Gaines’ voice from over the phone.

“Sir, John Cole is here to see you,” reported Miss. Argent. “He says he has essential information that can’t wait that will be crucial to our operation.”

Mr. Gaines frowned. John Cole…that man was like an annoying gnat that refused to go away. Not a threat, certainly, he wasn’t ranked nearly high enough for that, but he was ranked just high enough to be a nuisance, one that Mr. Gaines was far too important to be bothered with. Why couldn’t the man just take no for an answer? Why did he insist on inserting himself everywhere?

He sighed. He knew from experience that telling John he was too busy to see him now would only lead to him coming back again, and he certainly couldn’t have that man wasting his or his assistant’s time. Perhaps it was better to deal with the matter once and for all.

“Sir?” repeated Miss. Argent.

“I heard you, Virginia,” confirmed Mr. Gaines. “Bring him in. I have a few minutes.”

Miss. Argent nodded, hung up the phone, and motioned for John to follow her.

They arrived at what looked like one of the coldest, largest, and most fancy and intimidating offices John had ever seen.

“Ah, thank you, Virginia,” said Mr. Gaines, with a fake smile plastered across his face. “And…what was your name again?”

“John. John Cole. I sent you an application for a position in this department?”

“Right, of course, John,” said Mr. Gaines, standing up to address his guest.

He began sizing John up and down.

“You drink scotch, John?” he asked.

“Um…” said John, not sure what drinking scotch had to do with the reason he’d been requesting an audience with Mr. Gaines for so long. “Perhaps occasionally.”

“Excellent. Please, sit. Virginia, bring us some drinks.”

“Yes, sir.”

Virginia exited the room swiftly, leaving John to ponder why Mr. Gaines was interested in offering him alcohol in the middle of the afternoon on a workday.

“I pride myself on being able to guess a man’s palette,” explained Mr. Gaines as he sat across from John. “Impressive talent, wouldn’t you say?”

“Of course, sir,” replied John. “Quite impressive. But I um…I’m afraid I had something rather urgent to bring to your attention.”

“Naturally,” said Mr. Gaines. “Right to business. That’s what I like about you field agents, always on the move.”

“Oh, well I’m uh…not exactly a field agent…anymore,” mumbled John, “but I um…I’ve been working on national surveillance for a few years now, and I’ve noticed a few troubling things.”

“Troubling?” asked Mr. Gaines raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” said John. “I’ve been reviewing old records of unexplained children’s disappearances. And I’ve started to notice some disturbing patterns. Instances of individual children disappearing, but the rates of their disappearance seem to be spiking at certain time points. Once, a little over 10 years ago, but then another time decades before that, and each time, these children were geographically scattered, seemingly unconnected, and yet all these disappearances seemed extremely targeted. Each kidnapper went to extreme lengths to acquire these children, rather than opt for an easier target, and though there is no evidence that any children were harmed, and no bodies were found, none of them were ever discovered.”

“I see,” said Mr. Gaines, as Virginia came back into the room with their drinks. “Ah. Thank you, Virginia. I’ll let you know if we need anything else.”

“Of course, sir.”

Mr. Gaines raised his glass in toast and took a sip. John did likewise.

“Do you like it?” asked Mr. Gaines. “It’s some of the best.”

“Quite strong,” commented John. “Thank you, sir. But getting back to the subject at hand. I’ve been reading quite a bit into these disappearances, and I don’t think they’re coincidences. I can’t explain why these instances occurred so many years apart, but I’m sure that there must be a reason, and one that is certainly worth investigating.”

“Certainly?” repeated Mr. Gaines, raising an eyebrow.

“Isn’t it?” asked John. “None of the children listed as missing in either of these instances were ever confirmed to be found. Don’t you find that suspicious?”

“Perhaps,” sighed Mr. Gaines. “But these are old cases, John, and part of the job is the understanding the cruel and sobering reality that not every case can or will be solved.”

“But surely to have so many gone missing at once on such a large scale-”

“-in such disparate regions of the country in unconnected instances. And the most recent instance being so many years ago, most of those children would be adults by now, if they’re still alive, and of the ones who disappeared even before that, well they’d certainly be past their prime. Our department has limited resources, John, and it’s my job to make sure we spend those resources on current cases, recent disappearances, cases that have some hope of being solved. Not cases with trails that went cold decades ago.”

“I understand that,” replied John. “Really, I do, sir. But it’s just…I have a feeling about this.”

“A feeling?”

“Yes. And with your permission, I’d like to open a case file on it. I’d do the work on my own time, and under supervision. Please.”

John looked hopefully at Mr. Gaines, who sighed dramatically, as if he was pitying a poor child.

“Oh, John,” said Mr. Gaines patronizingly, “your…persistence is admirable. That much was clear in your application. You’ve applied to this department…what is it now…seven times?”

“Nine.”

“Indeed. And most men would have taken a hint by now,” lectured Mr. Gaines.

“I’ve put in the training, the hours, my supervisors can vouch for me, and if there is anything wrong with my application-” began John.

“-oh the application was fine,” interrupted Mr. Gaines dismissively. “One of the best we’ve seen.”

John was surprised.

“The best? But then, why would you-”

“Continue to reject you?” asked Mr. Gaines.

“I’m passionate about this kind of work,” insisted John.

“I have no doubt you are,” said Mr. Gaines, in a vaguely ominously suggestive tone. “And that is precisely the reason why in my professional opinion you are unfit for this particular occupation. You see, strong moral convictions are present in almost every applicant we hire, and I consider it very important that my field agents have those sorts of beliefs, that they are willing to put their lives on the line for the children we try to protect and rescue. But it is also important to consider the source of such convictions because for those that have more of a…personal connection to our work, seeing the kinds of things we see in the field can lead to some unexpected emotional reactions which can lead to rash decisions that are the last thing we need in high stakes scenarios.”

A personal connection?

John sighed.

“You know.”

It was a statement, not a question.

Mr. Gaines smiled.

“Of course I do, John. You don’t think I have my men do background checks on every employee they screen? We know everything about you. Think of it as our way of watching out for you. I would of course like to offer my condolences to you and your family for the loss of dear…oh what was her name…Vanessa?”

“Violet.”

“Yes, Violet. A shame to have lost someone with so much promise, such a talented young musician.”

“Artist.”

“Pardon?”

“My sister Violet was an artist.”

“Right, yes, and I understand it was a devasting loss,” continued Mr. Gaines in a very pitying tone. “In fact, if I’m not mistaken…wasn’t the timing of your sister’s disappearance around the same time as these cases you’re so interested in reopening? That seems quite the coincidence, doesn’t it John?”

John, who was now quite red in the face both to the embarrassment of being lectured and the alcohol Mr. Gaines had all but shoved into his hands, began to awkwardly stammer.

“Well, sir, perhaps it’s not entirely a coincidence, but just because my hunch might have a personal connection, that doesn’t diminish the significance-”

“-but it does call into question your judgement on the manner,” declared Mr. Gaines, in a very firm tone. “And to tell you the truth John, despite the impressiveness of your application, your personal judgment was the one area that I found lacking. One instance of a personal connection to our work or even to a particular hunch is something I might be able to work with, but that combined with other incidents that you’ve had is asking a bit much, even for a man with my generosity. I think you know what I’m referring to?”

John’s face began to get redder, and he looked down into his lap, looking for a moment not unlike a schoolboy being lectured by the principal.

“The reason you’re not in field work anymore, as I understand it?” inquired Mr. Gaines. “Of course, I wasn’t involved in the particular case, but from what I understand it was quite the misjudgment of character. Betrayed by your own partner, one that you vouched for not only as a colleague, but as a close personal friend of many years.”

John sighed.

“Trusting William Contraire was a mistake,” he admitted, “But sir, he had us all fooled, and I’ve vowed never to be so trusting or careless again, my supervisors can testify to that.”

“Oh, I’m sure they can,” agreed Mr. Gaines. “And I’m sure Mr. Contraire had many fooled, but you, John, you were the one who was with him the most, you were the one who gained his confidence, you were his partner, and you were the one who was tasked with making sure that this man could do his job, just as it was his responsibility to ensure you could do your job, or in his case rather, to ensure that you swallowed enough of his façade that you wouldn’t identify him as a mole.”

“It was my job,” admitted John. “And I failed. I know that. William, he…he was a good friend to me. A true friend, I would have never thought that he would ever have done something like that, but I’ve since learned to not let my guard down so easily. Over the past few years, I’ve proved myself to be a valuable employee. My record since that incident has been nothing short of perfection.”

“As a desk worker,” Mr. Gaines reminded him. “Not as a field agent. I’ve been in this game a long time, John. Let me give you some advice. Men like you, men who are overly…sentimental, they often aren’t the best when it comes to the field work. Their emotions get in the way. Not that that’s inherently a bad thing of course, but there is a right place for everyone, isn’t there? And part of my job is making sure I put my employees where they’ll succeed. And you said it yourself, your desk work record has been nothing short of perfection. Seems like you’re exactly where you need to be, wouldn’t you say?”

“But sir, please-”

“-and so, we have nothing more to discuss, yes?” asked Mr. Gaines forcefully, his tone suddenly slightly aggressive.

“We…I mean…no. No, sir. I’m sorry to have bothered you with this.”

“Oh, no apology necessary,” said Mr. Gaines, the false pleasantness returning to his voice as if it never left as he pressed a button on the side of his desk. “Virginia will show you out. It’s been a pleasure, John.”

“Likewise,” lied John numbly as Virginia led him out of the room and into the lobby.

He felt like a fool for coming here. Was it really over this easily? All these years he’d spent working, trying to find something, anything, to help Violet, to help someone, to help anyone, and only to have every step of progress he made ruined by a single mistake.

“The exit is that way,” Virginia reminded him, as John stood paralyzed in front of her desk.  

“Miss. Argent,” said John, turning to look at her. “Can I ask you for a favor?”

Virginia looked back at John with a contemplative and curious expression.  

“Depends on the nature of the favor,” she replied.

“Right,” said John, as he pulled a pen and paper out of his pocket and frantically scribbled his phone number down onto it, before handing it to her.

“Listen, I don’t normally do this, but you seem nice, and this is really important to me, so if you wouldn’t mind putting in a good word for me, and if anything opens up, anything at all, would you mind calling this number? I really value this sort of work, and what I’m working on right now is what I’ve been working towards my whole life, and I…I just can’t give this up. I know it sounds crazy, but I know I’m onto something here, and I need this job. Please, if Mr. Gaines has a change of heart, or there’s anything you think I might be able to do to get a position here, would you let me know?”

Virginia could see John was being serious. She felt sorry for him. John seemed like a nice and sincere guy. He certainly deserved the job, but there was no way Mr. Gaines was going to change his mind about something like this.

“It’s unlikely,” she cautioned as she accepted the paper. “But I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”

“Thank you,” said John, nodding in appreciation before leaving.

Meanwhile, Mr. Gaines sat in his office pondering what to do.

He could tell John wasn’t about to let this go. It was people like him, people who just wouldn’t leave well enough alone and insisted on poking their noses where they didn’t belong that annoyed him. An overly stringent moral compass, Mr. Gaines could handle, provided it was attached to someone levelheaded enough to respect the rules of command and the need-to-know policy, but men like John, emotional men who bent the rules when their consciences demanded…no, no, no, this wouldn’t do. That sort of men could only stay pacified and subdued for so long. Something would need to be done about him.

“Virginia,” he called into his desk phone as he pressed the button on the side of his desk. “Come in here now.”

Virginia obediently entered.

“John Cole is going to be a problem,” announced Mr. Gaines. “And we’re going to have to find a more permanent way to deal with him.”

Virginia nodded uncomfortably.

“Are…you um…implying elimination, sir?” she suggested.

Mr. Gaines sighed.

“We can’t just eliminate everyone who comes to our doors poking their noses around. That will only draw attention to ourselves. No, we need something else.”

Virginia handed Mr. Gaines the paper with the phone number John had left behind.

“He left his number,” she reported. “Asking me to report any opportunity I saw that might allow him to gain a position here. Obviously, I had no intention of calling.”

Mr. Gaines looked down at the number. Further evidence that John was too trusting. To think that Virginia Argent, his assistant, of all people, would take the time to give him information to help him find a job rather than report his insubordination to her superior immediately.

Then Mr. Gaines smiled to himself.

“Actually, Virginia, I’d like you to call this number,” he ordered, handing the paper back to her.

Virginia looked surprised.

“Um…call it, sir?” she asked.

“Not right away,” he clarified. “Too suspicious, even someone as dense and delusionally optimistic as John Cole would find that odd, no, no, in a few weeks when some unforeseen circumstances will cause me to have a change of heart and reconsider his application.”

Virginia still looked confused.

“You…want to hire him?” she clarified. “But, sir, he’s been investigating us, and he seems determined to uncover the truth about those cases.”

“Indeed,” agreed Mr. Gaines. “Enemy number one, some might say. But there’s an old saying, Virginia. Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer, and that is exactly how I intend to handle our good friend John Cole. You see, he seems intent on investigating this case whether we give him permission or not. Without our assistance, there’s no telling what he’ll do, but with our supervision we can monitor him, and with his trust, we can limit him. Set up file restrictions, boundaries that he’ll respect under the guise that we are doing everything possible to help him succeed. And of course, a man like John Cole has potential for other uses.”

“Other uses?” asked Virginia.

“Well, in the event that someone was to catch on to our operation, we’d need someone to take the fall,” suggested Mr. Gaines. “Someone’s head must roll. Who better than a man who has a history of bad judgment calls? His head is already halfway off. All it would need is a gentle push. But there’s no need to consider anything like that yet. Right now, our main objective is to get Cole under my thumb, but since he seems to have no problem questioning authority, I think your thumb would be a more suitable fit.”

“My thumb, sir?”

“Yes. You’re young, attractive, and as far as poor John knows, “just” my lowly assistant. Connect with him, roll your eyes at how ridiculous my orders are, flatter him, act nice and shy and let him pull you out of your shell, and he’ll be eating out of the palm of your hand, or at least, he’ll trust you enough to tell you everything he knows, which means that I’ll know everything he knows. He’ll also trust you enough to accept any limitations or restrictions you place on his work or research and accept any of your “suggestions”. I’m sure I can count on your cooperation in this assignment?”

Virginia nodded.

“Consider it done, sir. It’s a brilliant plan. I’ll call John in about two weeks.”

“Excellent,” said Mr. Gaines, a grin spreading across his face. “Thank you, Virginia. This is why I like you. You always provide just what I need in any situation.”

“Just doing my job, sir,” replied Virginia. “Will you be needing anything else?”

Mr. Gaines shook his head.

“That will be all for now,” he answered as he dismissed Virginia.

She left the room feeling slightly conflicted.

John seemed like such a nice person. It would be a shame to use him as a pawn, even if it only ended up being for a time.

Virginia looked at the phone number and sighed.

Shameful or not, there were more important factors to consider. She had a job to do.

With that, she carefully tucked the number away in her desk, with a note reminding herself to call him before the end of the month.

Then she got back to work.

Chapter Text

As months and years went by, Nicholas Benedict and his two "daughters-not-daughters", Number Two and Rhonda, discovered they might quite a remarkable team, giving academic presentations and lectures around the country. Despite Number Two’s resolved not to grow close to Rhonda, she found herself enjoying her sister-not-sister’s company, much to Nicholas' delight.

And it was at one of these very lectures that Nicholas noticed him. A man sitting in the back row, hanging on every word he was saying.

The first time Nicholas saw the man approaching him up after a lecture, his heart skipped a beat.

“Nathaniel?” he whispered, until the man got closer.

No. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t his brother.

“Hello,” said the man, awkwardly introducing himself. “My name is um…uh…um...Buster. Buster…um…Bluth. Yes, Buster Bluth. I was hoping to ask you a few questions about the work you do, if you could spare a moment.”

“Oh of course,” said Nicholas, making room for his new friend to sit down. “Ask anything you like.”

And then, for the next few months and years, Nicholas learned that he could count on Buster being in the audience of many of his lectures. He seemed curious to know everything about Nicholas’ life and work, though rather nervous and shy when it came to discussing his own, which Nicholas chalked up to the man simply being anxious. But anxious or not, he clearly had an intelligent mind, and Nicholas greatly enjoyed his company and intellectually stimulating conversation. Occasionally he’d invite him back to his house for dinner, but Buster was always quick to reject such offers, so Nicholas decided it might be best not to press the issue. But he still enjoyed his conversations with his strange friend and looked forward to seeing him at very presentation.

Until one day, about eight years after their first meeting, when Buster came up to Nicholas after a lecture looking rather distracted.

“Are you alright?” asked Nicholas. “You look a bit off today.”

“Just…dealing with some illness in the family,” answered Buster. “So, I wanted to let you know that I won’t be able to attend your lectures and presentations, at least not for a year or so. But I also wanted to tell you that I’ll be back. I promise, as soon as this is over, I’ll see you again.”

“No promises necessary,” insisted Nicholas. “I know from experience that illnesses can be unpredictable. Take all the time you need.”

Buster nodded.

“And if you need anyone or anything,” added Nicholas. “That is, I understand you’re a fairly private person, but you’ve been such a good friend to me, and if you need anything, anything at all, please let me know. And if not, then I hope you have someone in your life and your family’s lives to help you through all of this.”

“I do,” admitted Buster. “My…my best friend. He’s taking care of us. Paying the hospital bills and everything.”

“He sounds like a wonderful person,” observed Nicholas. “I'd love to meet him someday, if you think he'd enjoy these talks.”

“Yeah. He is a wonderful person,” Buster admitted somewhat awkwardly. “A little rough around the edges, but very generous and caring, and when this is all over…I think it might be nice to try to introduce you two. I think you’d really get along if you gave each other a chance.”

“Oh, I’m sure we would,” agreed Nicholas. “Well, I hope your family is doing well. I look forward to seeing you again soon, Buster.”

Pedalian nodded, wished Nicholas farewell, and left.

Years after that, Nicholas waited for his friend to return, scanning the crowds at his lectures for his face.

But "Buster Bluth" never returned.

And it wasn’t long after Nicholas observed the extended length of his old friend’s absences that things took a turn for the worst.

The Emergency came and took the world by storm.

Nicholas, Number Two, and Rhonda tried to warn as many people as possible, but it seemed like no one would listen. Nicholas could only hope his friend was okay, and that he knew that whatever reason he had for breaking his promise to come to his lectures, where it was his family's sickness or the arrival of the Emergency, that it was okay, that Nicholas understood how easily circumstances could lead to broken promises, and that no matter when or how his old friend decided to come back into his life, Nicholas would always be ready to welcome him.

No matter how long it took or the reason for his absence.