Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The doorbell rings early on a Thursday morning.

Phil leaves the boys at the table, eating their cereal, and goes to answer it. He looks through the peephole first, a bit surprised to see Megan on the porch.

Eight months is a bit longer of a break than usual, but the real surprise is that she came here. Usually they meet somewhere else. She hasn’t been here in- years, Phil thinks. Since she left.

He does hesitate to open the door, because she looks properly pissed, but- well, he’s never had much common sense when it comes to his ex.

“Meg? What’s-”

She slaps him, hard. Phil takes half a step back, hand automatically coming up to his stinging cheek.

She’s never hit him before.

“You fucking piece of shit!” she yells.

Phil barely has time to raise his hands to catch the bundle of blankets she shoves forcefully at him. “Don’t swear in front of the boys-”

“Your fucking brats, I never wanted this!” she screams. “You ruined my goddamn life, Phil Craft, you and your kids.”

“Meg-” Phil tries to say, Wilbur and Techno are right there-

She steamrolls along as though he didn’t say anything. “Well I’ve got news for you, I’m fucking done. If I ever see you again I’ll kill you, you bastard, stay the hell out of my life!”

“Not in front of the boys-”

“Fuck them too, I never wanted kids.”

Phil glances towards the kitchen, seeing Wilbur and Techno peering around the archway- Wilbur’s expression is frighteningly blank, but Techno looks utterly terrified.

“You’re scaring them,” Phil says coldly. “Get out.”

“Believe me, I’m glad to.” Meg spits on the porch, storming away.

It’s only when he goes to close the door that Phil realizes he’s still holding the bundle of blankets she shoved at him. He looks down, pulling the folded corner back, breath catching in his chest as he realizes just what it is he’s holding.

The tiny red face is scrunched up in what is probably pain. The baby isn’t crying.

Oh, god. He- he has another kid-

Phil closes the door and goes quickly to the table, setting the baby down- they’re breathing, at least, thank god. He kneels, pulling Techno into a hug. Wilbur’s hands curl into his shirt.

“Daddy, ‘m scared,” Techno whimpers.

Phil smooths his hair, shushing him. “I know, I know honey, it’s okay now,” he murmurs. “We’re all okay, Tech.”

“Daddy,” Wilbur says, moving away, “is- is that a baby?”

“Baby?” Techno leans back slightly. “’nother brother?”

“I don’t know,” Phil says. He beckons to Wilbur, and the eight-year-old comes over to lean against him. “Wil, can you take Techno and go get your shoes on?”

“Yeah.” Wilbur grabs Techno’s hand, pulling him over to the entryway.

Phil stands up, knees creaking, and picks the baby back up, unwrapping them- him. He has another son.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Phil murmurs, adjusting the tiny limbs to swaddle him properly. He’s reeling, still, from all of this- but his dad-instincts are in full swing, he’s running on autopilot a bit. “This has all been really chaotic, huh?”

He picks up the baby, bringing the little bundle up to his chest to cradle him close. He- what is he supposed to do with a brand new baby, it’s already all he can do to take care of Wilbur and Techno-

His new son is whimpering softly, and Phil holds him closer, hushing him. “It’s okay now,” he whispers. “I’m here, baby, Daddy’s here. Daddy’s got you.”

Phil drops the older boys off at his parents’ house with a very brief explanation, then drives to the hospital. To urgent care- not the emergency room, because this doesn’t feel like an emergency, but the baby isn’t okay, either.

“How old is he?”

Phil has no idea. “My ex dropped him off this morning,” he says, throat tight.

“Do you know when he was born?”

“We haven’t been together in- in eight months.” Oh, god, is he a preemie-

“Where he was born? We don’t have hospital records for a Megan Soot-”

“I don’t know.” Phil feels so fucking helpless. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen to his son, is he going to be okay- “She just- she practically threw him into my arms, screamed at me, and left, I don’t know-”

Another nurse asks, gentler, “Does he have a name?”

This, Phil can answer.

“Tommy,” he breathes. “His name is Tommy.”

They take Tommy away for tests and scans, and Phil sits in the waiting room and texts Meg.

-Phil: do you have his birth certificate

A few seconds pass before it shows the text as ‘read’. Phil waits five minutes, and texts her again.

-Phil: do you have his fucking birth certificate or not

Nothing. He calls.

She answers. “What the hell do you want.”

“I want my son’s birth certificate,” he says, keeping his tone level by sheer force of will.

“Don’t have one, he was born at my mom’s house. Is that all?”

“No,” Phil says tightly. “If you’re not going to be in their lives you can at least pay child support.”

“Good fucking luck getting any money from me, asshole.”

“I know a good lawyer. I’ll take my chances.”

“Fuck you.”

She hangs up. Phil sits there, staring at the blank phone screen, hands shaking with anger and overwhelm and grief, perhaps.

Well, he says to himself, we thought it was forever, anyway.

The nurses bring him to see Tommy, later, and Phil’s heart just about stops when he sees his new baby in that plastic box, wires and tubes all over him.

They explain that their tests indicated he’s approximately four weeks premature. That he needs help to breathe and eat if he’s going to grow and get better.

Standing in the little room they put Tommy in, leaning on the wall beside the incubator, Phil finally cracks.

He slides down to sit on the floor, putting his head down in his hands. Sits there half crying, half hyperventilating.

He knew Meg was kind of fucked up, he knew she didn’t want anything to do with their sons, but this- this- he never would’ve thought-

It’s over. It’s genuinely over this time. He’d thought it was just another off period, they’ve been sort of on-and-off for years now, but they always got back together. And sure she’s been refusing to see the boys for a while, but that- it was expected. Things had gotten better for a while, after she left, once they were safe.

And now-

Phil pulls himself together. Drags himself back upright, reaching into the incubator to rest his hand on Tommy’s little body and soothe his tiny, reedy wails.

“It’s okay, Tommy,” he says, so softly. “Shh, Daddy’s here. Daddy’s right here, baby.”

When Tommy’s quiet again, little blue eyes blinking, unfocused, at nothing at all, Phil calls his mom.

“I’m still at the hospital with him,” he says without preamble. “He, his name’s Tommy. They said he’s premature, ‘bout four weeks.”

“Oh, Phil. How’s he doing, is he okay?”

“They’re keepin’ him in the NICU for a bit. He, they don’t think he’s very old, maybe a few days.” Phil’s breath hitches. “He’s not, um- not breathin’ real well on his own, he’s also- it looks like she didn’t feed him much if- if at all.”

“Oh, honey.”

“They think he’ll be perfectly fine, it’s just-” Phil gently runs his thumb over the not-quite-chubby cheek. Wilbur and Techno were both born so healthy, and Tommy- “He’s so fragile right now.”

“Will they let you stay with him?”

“Yeah. I, I’m gonna- can you keep Wil and Tech for a few days? Or until Tommy’s ready to go home-”

“Of course we can. How much do you want us to tell them?”

“Whatever you think is right,” Phil says dully. “Just- just don’t talk to them about Meg. She…”

He doesn’t want to think about her. He doesn’t want to admit that his parents were right, that she ended up hurting him in the end.

“I think she’s gone for good this time,” he says, voice coming out thin and shaky. “She- she said some pretty horrible things. Practically threw Tommy at me.”

“Techno seemed pretty scared,” his mother says quietly. “He’s distracted now. Wilbur’s been quiet.”

Phil nods, putting his head down on his arm on the incubator, staring at tiny, tiny little Tommy. “Can- can you let them know Tommy’s okay?” he whispers. “And tell them I love them, and I’ll be home soon.”

“Yeah, honey.” A pause. “How are you holding up?” she asks softly.

Phil breathes. “It’s- it’s a lot,” he whispers. “I thought- I thought she- we were-”

His mother waits, silent, while Phil collects his thoughts.

“I didn’t know she hated me so much,” he whispers. “Didn’t think she… she would do that. You know, hide this from me. And then, all this-”

“You’re sure he’s-”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Phil snaps. Pulls himself together again. “I’m sorry,” he says, exhausted. “He- yeah, I’m sure. We- we were together a couple times, ‘bout eight months ago. And she- she hates me, but not enough to dump somebody else’s kid on me. And even if he wasn’t mine, what the hell else am I supposed to do?”

Whether or not Tommy is biologically Phil’s, he’s still at least Wilbur’s and Techno’s half-brother. And his mother is no kind of parent at all. He’s Phil’s kid now.

Phil spends the next week half in the hospital with Tommy, half at home digging up the baby things he’d been meaning to get rid of.

He sets up the crib in the corner of his room, for now. Takes one afternoon to wash the toys Tommy won’t need for months, yet. Starts the monumental task of clearing the rest of Megan’s things out of the spare room.

He hates the feeling of grief it gives him. He hates that he misses her. He hates her.

Tommy needs a nursery and by god, Phil’s going to give it to him.

He calls his parents every night. Wilbur and Techno are enjoying their visit, even if they know something else is going on that no one’s telling them about. Because no one has told them how sick Tommy is, how fragile he still is.

Tommy’s getting better. Tommy is going to be okay.

Phil has so much work to do.

The day Tommy gets released from the hospital, Phil feels like he’s more stress and caffeine than human.

He has a baby-sized car seat strapped into the backseat, has clean baby clothes and a little hat so he can get Tommy dressed and warm.

He still marvels at how tiny his youngest son is. Tommy’s so much littler than his brothers were, even right after they were born.

His first stop is his parents’ house, to pick up the boys and let his parents meet their new grandson. It’s been a week of non-stop stress, but just stepping into his parents’ home relieves some of Phil’s tension.

“Daddy!”

Phil sets down the baby carrier, dropping to his knees to catch Wilbur and Techno as they barrel into him. He holds them tightly, finally finally relaxing.

“Hey,” he breathes, closing his eyes and just holding his sons. “Hey, hi, did you guys have a good time? Were you good for Grammy and PopPop?”

“We missed you,” Wilbur says, pressing his snotty nose into the crook of Phil’s neck.

“We were good.” Techno snuggles closer. “Grammy let us have ice cream yesterday.”

“I bet that was nice.” Phil smiles at his mom, who’s come around the corner to stand behind them. He gently disengages the boys’ arms, holding them slightly away from him. Just looking at them, Wilbur’s curious glances over Phil’s shoulder and the way Techno looks a little nervous, chewing on his lip. “You guys ready to meet your brother?” he asks softly.

Wilbur nods, bouncing a little; Techno’s expression shifts to a full-on pout. “I don’t want a little brother,” he whines.

“Aw, mate. It’s gonna be okay.” Phil cups Techno’s face, gently tucking his hair back. “You’re gonna be such a good big brother, I just know it.”

Wilbur strains, trying to pull away from Phil. “Is that him? Can I hold him? Why is he so little?”

Phil laughs a little bit, despite how he’s trying to match Techno’s mood right now. “Yeah, that’s him. You can hold him, but you have to go wash your hands extra super well and go sit on the couch, okay?”

“Yes!” Wilbur cheers, sprinting away.

“Hey.” Phil immediately turns his attention back to Techno. “It’s okay to be nervous,” he murmurs. “But I bet you’re gonna like Tommy a whole lot, once you get used to him.”

Techno’s still pouting. Phil sighs, smoothing his hair back again. This was something they never had to deal with when Techno was born. Wilbur was just two, too little to be very upset- especially once he realized he wouldn’t have to share his toys or his bedroom.

But Techno is all of six years old, and he’s been the baby of the family his entire life, and Tommy’s arrival was so unexpected that of course he’d be upset.

Techno wobbles side to side. “Grammy said you still love me as much as you did before,” he whispers.

“I do. I will always love you that much.” Phil smiles. “I have more than enough love for all of you. You, and Wil, and Tommy too.”

Techno takes a big breath and blows it out all at once, like Phil’s been teaching him to do to regulate his emotions. “Even- even if you don’ always have time to pay ‘tention to me?” he whispers.

“Yeah,” Phil says. “I won’t have as much attention to give you, that’s right. Tommy is really little, and he’s kind of sick, so he needs a lot of my attention right now. But that doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop loving you, or taking care of you.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Phil repeats softly, rubbing Techno’s arms.

Techno nods. “Hug?” he whimpers.

“Aw, sweetheart.” Phil wraps him up in a hug, heart absolutely melting at the way Techno snuggles into him, hiding his face in Phil’s shoulder.

“C’mon,” he says softly, after a minute. “Go wash your hands and sit with Wil, okay?”

Techno pouts a little bit, but he goes. Phil moves back to the baby carrier, carefully unbuckling and lifting Tommy out.

“Oh, Phil.” His mom moves closer, expression somewhere between sad and awed. “He’s so small.”

“Yeah.” He cups Tommy’s tiny head, smoothing his thumb over the light brown fuzz. “He’s still a bit fragile, but they said with time and care…”

“It’s gonna be hard.”

“I know.” He’s fully aware of how difficult the next several months, or years, are going to be. He adjusts Tommy against his chest. “I’m not backing out on him. On any of them. I couldn’t do that.”

“I know you won’t.” His mom hugs him, and Phil closes his eyes, resting his head against hers. “You know your dad and I will be here to support you in any way we can.”

“I know.” He takes a few deep breaths. “Did, um- did you tell the boys anything? About Meg?”

“They didn’t ask.” She pulls back, keeping one hand on his arm. “But you should talk to them. Tell them what’s going on.”

He knows he needs to, eventually. He told them, for a while, that she would come back. She’d left in the past and always came back, but this time- he knows she’s not coming back, ever again.

“I don’t know how to face it,” he whispers. “I don’t know how to tell them their mom isn’t coming home. And not- not because something happened to her, but because she doesn’t- she just doesn’t fucking want them. How- how- how am I supposed to tell them that?”

His mom is silent for a minute. “I don’t know,” she says at last. “Just… you should tell them the truth. I think they’ll understand better than you expect.”

Phil looks away, nodding. “Could, ah- could you grab the camera?” he asks, feigning lightness. “I want to get a picture.”

“Yeah,” he mom says quietly. “Of course.”

Life with two children was difficult, but Phil had at least had help for the first four years of Wilbur’s life and two of Techno’s. And yeah, things since then haven’t been easy, but they’ve gotten by and he’s done well by his sons, he thinks.

Thinks- more like hopes, and prays.

But now.

He’s exhausted, all the time. Tommy is a restless baby, crying loudly and often. Phil is up with him at all hours of the night, rocking him to sleep and, more often than not, falling asleep in the rocking chair with Tommy cradled in his arms.

And he hasn’t touched alcohol since the last time he went out with Meg and it’s been even longer since he had a cigarette but by god does Phil want something to take the pain away, at least for a little while.

But he can’t smoke because he won’t risk his little boys’ lungs, and he can’t drink because his father only just got sober when Wilbur was little and Phil refused to let his parents see his son until that happened. He grew up with the drunken rants and the borderline abuse and he would never do that to his boys.

Instead, when he gets too tired or too pissed off, he calls Meg and leaves voicemails on her phone. She never picks up. He has no idea if she even ever listens to them.

“Why the hell didn’t you want to be a mother?” he wonders aloud, when Techno’s been asking why his mommy left. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I hate you,” he whispers into the phone, late one night when he’s finally gotten Tommy to sleep and it’s five AM and he has to go to work in two hours. “I tried not to, I tried to believe you just didn’t know how to love, and I could help you, but you don’t care about anybody but yourself, do you?”

“I hope you die,” he says, when he’s just so fucking tired and he’s been crying for an hour because Tommy won’t sleep. “Is that what you want to hear? I hope we both fucking die and our sons learn to be better than either of us could be. I hope they learn to make better choices cause god, falling in love with you was the stupidest thing I ever did.”

After some of these messages, he feels intensely guilty.

Phil loves his boys. He loves his sons with his whole fucking heart and he wouldn’t trade them away for anything. They make him so happy, even as exhausting as it is sometimes to take care of them.

But sometimes, sometimes he just doesn’t know how to cope except by hating her. And he thinks he does hate her.

Wilbur is old enough to understand, to fully comprehend, that his mother left, that she doesn’t want them anymore. Phil has never said that to him. What he’d told them was that she was doing her best, but she just didn’t know how to love them.

Phil doesn’t think Techno really understands. He’s only six- almost seven- and he still asks if his mom’s coming back. Only a few times, though.

The child support payments come on time, every month. No amount of money can make up for the lack of a second parent in his children’s lives. It’s not even enough to get Tommy into daycare or pay for after-school childcare for the older boys.

Tommy stays over with Phil’s parents every day. Wilbur is far too mature for his eight years, so Phil reluctantly lets him and Techno stay at home alone for the two hours between them getting out of school and Phil getting home from work.

He never saw himself ending up in this situation. It feels so fucked up.

It’s the life he has, and by god, is Phil going to live with it.

Because as hard as all of it is, there are moments when nothing could make Phil happier.

When Tommy takes his first steps, says his first word- fuck, because Wilbur can’t keep his mouth clean, but it’s funny, anyway. When Wilbur gets his first child-sized guitar for Christmas and starts singing little songs of his own devising all over the house at the top of his lungs. When Techno brings home the first science project he ever got an ‘A’ on, beaming and waving the paper in the air.

Every time one of them crawls into bed with Phil, curling up in his arms to seek safety from nightmares or when they’re sad or particularly worn out by all this shit their family is dealing with. Whenever he takes them to the park to play and just be regular little kids. When they have movie nights, eating popcorn and falling asleep in a pile on the couch.

It’s not the life he’d thought he would have, but he has his sons, and he loves them so fucking much; he just wants to be the best dad he possibly can be.

Chapter Text

Wilbur is nine years old now, and he’s a lot smarter than anybody thinks he is.

He knows his mom left because she didn’t want Techno and Tommy. She said she didn’t want any of them but if she didn’t then why does she still talk to Wilbur?

He sits on the bench at his favorite lunch table, swinging his feet. Mom sits down beside him, handing him an ice cream.

“Can Tech and Tommy have some too?” Wilbur asks, even though he knows better.

“No, sweetie, this is special.” His mom smiles at him and pets his hair. “A secret just for you and me, okay?”

Wilbur considers that. He feels kind of bad that Techno and Tommy don’t get to share, but… well, his mom loves him, doesn’t she? Even if she doesn’t love his brothers. Which is stupid, cause Wilbur’s brothers are the best brothers in the whole world.

“Okay!” He grins, taking a big bite of the ice cream.

It’s parents’ lunch at school. Wilbur didn’t expect anybody to be here, cause Dad is always too busy, but his mom came! He’s really happy about that, cause he hasn’t seen Mom since she brought Tommy and yelled at Dad.

Wilbur kind of wants to ask why she said all the things she did. He doesn’t ask, though, cause he doesn’t want her to get upset with him, too.

Instead, he says, “Are you gonna have lunch with Techno next week?”

His mom makes kind of a weird face. “No,” she says, kind of angry. She looks away for a second, taking a deep breath. “No, I’m gonna be busy then,” she says.

“Oh.” Wilbur looks at the ice cream. He doesn’t really want it anymore. “Okay.”

“Maybe next month I can come eat with you again. That would be nice, wouldn’t it?”

Wilbur nods, staring at the table. “But Techno will be sad,” he says. “He- he really misses you.”

Mom ignores that. “I’ll bring you ice cream again, would you like that?”

Wilbur sighs. “Sure,” he mutters. Maybe he can save some of it to bring home for Techno. And Tommy, but Tommy’s kind of too little for it, still.

Wilbur doesn’t tell Techno he saw Mom. He doesn’t want Techno to be upset.

He does go in Dad’s room, though, once Techno’s asleep.

Dad yawns, propping himself up on one elbow. He’s already in bed. Wilbur feels kind of bad for waking him up, cause he looks really tired, but he smiles anyway.

“C’mon in, Wil,” he says, all soft and quiet. “Everything okay?”

Wilbur comes in and tucks up under the covers. Dad hugs him, pressing a kiss on his forehead.

“Mom came to have lunch with me today,” Wilbur whispers. “I didn’ tell Tech. ‘s that okay?”

His dad is really quiet for a minute, just rubbing Wilbur’s back. “Yeah,” he says finally. “Yeah, Wil, why do you think it wouldn’t be?”

“Cause you’re mad at each other.”

His dad is quiet for another long while. “We’re not… mad at each other, exactly.”

“Then why did Mom yell at you? And why doesn’t she ever come see us anymore? Or like Tech ‘n’ Tommy?”

“It’s… it’s complicated, mate,” Dad says. “But yeah, it’s okay for her to see you at school. But just at school, okay?” he says, a little bit sharp.

“’kay.”

“You know the rule, right?” Dad asks, real gentle.

There are a lot of special rules to remember- like don’t let anybody into the house ever, even Grammy and PopPop; don’t go play outside unless Dad says it’s okay; don’t use the stove or the microwave or do laundry when Dad’s not home.

But Wilbur knows which rule he means now, so he nods and dutifully recites, “Don’t leave school with anybody except you or Grammy or PopPop.” He frowns a little bit. “Even Mom?”

“Even Mom, baby.”

Wilbur kind of wants to ask why, but he doesn’t think his dad would tell him the real reason. Grownups never tell him anything. That’s why Wilbur has to find things out himself. He’s really, really good at it.

“Okay.” He snuggles closer to his dad. “Is it okay if I don’t tell Techno? I don’t want him to be sad.”

His dad sighs. “Yeah. Yeah, Wil, that’s okay.”

The next morning, when he wakes up, Wilbur hears his dad talking on the phone.

“Fucking pick up the phone, Megan, I know you hear your messages,” he’s saying, quiet and hissing.

Wilbur cuddles down under the blankets, hiding his head under them. He doesn’t like overhearing when his parents fight.

After a minute, Dad sighs, really loud and annoyed. “You fucking know why.”

More quiet.

“I don’t give a shit if you see him at school. The second you take it outside of that, I get you taken off the list and take legal action to make sure you never see any of them again.”

That- that’s kind of scary, actually. Wilbur likes getting to see his mom…

“No. You gave up that right when you walked out of his life. All our lives.” His dad is quiet for a couple seconds. “Don’t make me reconsider leaving you on the school list.”

Wilbur wants to cry, but if he does, then Dad will know he was listening, and he’ll be in trouble.

“No. Fuck that. You told me you didn’t want any of them. You don’t get to walk that back, if you wanted to you should’ve done that a long time ago. It’s been a year- a fucking year, Megan,” Dad hisses. “It’s too late to change your mind.”

Wilbur closes his eyes super, super tight so he doesn’t cry.

His dad scoffs. “Nice try, but after the DNA test I had to take to prove Tommy was my son, I know you’re lying. They tested Wil and Tech too, just to be extra sure. This is a new low.” Another pause. “And even if he wasn’t, I’ve raised him- mostly alone, I’ll remind you- for nine fucking years. You think I would give a shit?”

Wilbur wonders what they’re talking about. It doesn’t sound good.

“Whatever. I’m done. Let’s both go back to pretending the other doesn’t exist.”

~~~

Wilbur is fourteen now, and his brothers are twelve and six, and every Friday after school he spends two hours at his mom’s house.

As far as anybody else knows, he’s at book club during those two hours. It’s a plausible lie, at least- there is a book club that meets in the school library for two hours on Fridays, and all the kids there are too nerdy to rat him out.

Wilbur does feel kind of bad, but then, Phil never said he couldn’t see his mom. Just to never go anywhere with her and always make safe choices. And. Well. It doesn’t exactly feel like a safe choice that Phil doesn’t know he’s going to his mom’s house, but Wilbur knows she won’t do anything to hurt him. She’s his mom. She still loves him.

He feels bad about that, too. Because she doesn’t care about Techno, or Tommy, and- and they’re his brothers, they’re her kids too, but- well-

Wilbur just really fucking likes spending time with his mom, okay? She makes him feel special. She doesn’t make him do stuff and- and it’s not Phil’s fault that things are hard at home. Wilbur’s just tired of being expected to watch his brothers and keep the house clean and do dinner prep and wash the dishes and be perfect, be his dad’s perfect helper. It’s fucking exhausting, and his mom- she never expects him to do anything. She likes spoiling him, and Wilbur- selfishly- likes being spoiled.

He gets to his mom’s house and immediately collapses on the couch, dropping his backpack on the floor. His mom gives him a sympathetic smile.

“Long day?”

“Long week.” Wilbur makes a face. “Can I take a nap?”

His mom just stares at him for a second. Wilbur hurries to add, “Tommy’s sick, and he’s been keeping me up at night, so I haven’t slept, like, all week-”

His mom sighs. “I guess we can talk about school some other time.”

Wilbur feels kind of bad now, but he- he is really, really tired. “Sorry,” he whispers.

“No, no, take your nap, it’s fine.” His mom smiles. Wilbur chooses to ignore how strained the expression is. How just barely angry her tone was.

The doorbell ringing is what wakes him up.

Wilbur blinks, curling up tighter and pressing his face into the back of the couch. He wants to sleep longer, he’s so tired…

The door opens. “What the fuck do you want,” his mom says, cold and angry.

“I want to know why the hell Wil’s phone is at your house.”

That wakes him up. That’s Phil’s voice- Wilbur- he didn’t exactly forget that his dad could track his phone, he just didn’t think Phil wouldn’t trust him-

A pause. “Why the hell is Wilbur at your house?” Phil asks, voice icy.

“He’s my son, he’s allowed to be here if he wants.”

“And I warned you that if you tried to see him outside of school-”

His mom laughs. It’s a nasty sound. “Grow up, Phil. Wilbur’s old enough to make his own choices.”

“Wilbur should know he’s not supposed to go anywhere with you.”

“I’ve never picked him up from school. He comes over here on his own.”

“Which you should know better than to encourage-”

“He’s my son, why the fuck would I try to stop him from coming over?” his mom snaps.

“We’ve had this discussion. As long as Wilbur lives under my roof-”

“Well, maybe I should file for custody then.”

Wilbur stops breathing for a second. He- he likes going over to his mom’s but he doesn’t want to live with her- she wouldn’t really do that, would she?

Phil’s quiet for a minute. When he speaks, his voice is very quiet, and the tone makes Wilbur shudder. “I dare you to fucking try it.”

“He’s my son-”

“You gave up the right to call him your son when you walked out on him ten years ago.”

“I gave birth to him-”

“You gave birth to Techno and Tommy, too, but you can’t be bothered to even look at them. You see how bullshit your reasoning is?”

Wilbur can’t take it anymore. He rolls over and sits up, scrubbing sleep from his eyes. Phil’s standing in the doorway, facing off with Mom. His dad looks angry.

An expression that softens a little when he looks past her, meeting Wilbur’s gaze.

“Wil,” Phil says, still a little sharply, “get your shit. Let’s go.”

Obediently Wilbur puts on his shoes and grabs his backpack. His mom grabs his arm as he tries to pass.

“He can stay as long as he wants to,” she says.

“Wilbur,” Phil says, and that’s all he says.

Wilbur loves his mom, he does, but Phil- Phil is the one who puts in the work, who gives a shit about them when things are bad and not just when things are good.

He pulls his arm free and steps behind his dad, staring at the ground so he doesn’t have to look his mom in the eye.

“Go get in the car,” Phil says.

Wilbur hesitates, then. After a few seconds Phil turns to glare at him, just briefly.

“Car. Now.”

“No, let him stay. You don’t fucking own him.”

Wilbur goes to the car. He leaves the door open, though, so he can still hear his parents talking.

“You’re a fucking narcissist, you know that?” his mom snaps.

Phil laughs, bitter and harsh. “I’m a fucking narcissist? Which of us gave up their dreams to be a single parent to three boys?”

“I’m offering to take Wilbur-”

“Fuck that. Fuck you, I wouldn’t trade my sons away for shit,” Phil hisses. “I love them. Honestly, I don’t understand why you don’t.”

“Even though I’m literally telling you I want to have Wilbur come live with me-”

“If you really wanted that, you’d’ve taken him with you when you left. It’s too late to change your mind.” Phil takes a step backwards. “It’s been fucking horrible seeing you again, let’s make it ten years next time.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Mom snarls, and slams the door.

Wilbur shuts the car door before Phil turns around. His heart is racing.

He doesn’t want to live with his mom. Yeah, he likes going over once in a while and getting spoiled rotten, but he’d rather help Phil take care of his brothers. They need him.

Who else would talk Techno back to sleep after he has nightmares? Or make Tommy’s peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and cut them into sailboats and pack his lunchbox? Or give Tommy his baths when he gets particularly fussy? Or spend money from his allowance to buy Techno half a dozen of his favorite donuts for his birthday?

And maybe it’s messed up that Wilbur has to be responsible for his brothers all the time, maybe it’s really fucking awful that Phil can’t be around enough to take care of them, but damn it all if Wilbur isn’t a fucking fantastic big brother.

Phil gets in the car, shutting the door too hard. Wilbur shrinks in on himself, gripping his backpack.

Phil doesn’t get angry very much, but when he does…

“…I’m sorry,” Wilbur ventures, when they’ve just been sitting there in tense silence for a couple minutes. “I- I’m really sorry, Dad-”

“Yeah, well, you better fuckin’ be.” Phil cuts himself off sharply, glaring away, mouth pressed into a thin line.

“Are you mad at me?” Wilbur whispers.

Phil goes silent again, staring out the window.

“Yeah,” he says at last, twisting to look at Wilbur. “I am. You lied to me. You know better than that.”

Wilbur can’t look his dad in the eyes. “I th-thought you’d be mad if you knew I was seeing her,” he whispers.

Phil sighs heavily. “I’m not- okay.” He rubs his forehead. “I am mad about that. You should know better than to go anywhere with her. And she should know better than to encourage that behavior.”

“Technically I’ve never gone anywhere with her,” Wilbur says weakly.

Phil’s expression softens. Just a little.

“I- I don’t want to live with her, I swear, I- I just-” Wilbur doesn’t want to say it’s nice not having to be the grown-up for once, he doesn’t want Phil to feel bad. “I won’t do it again,” he whispers.

Phil sighs. “Wil, you’re not- I’m just trying to protect you,” he says, meeting Wilbur’s gaze briefly. “I know she’s your mom, but you- you don’t know what she’s like, mate.”

Wilbur bites his tongue. His mom’s always been nice, though, to him at least.

“She’s-” Phil stops, looking away. “Just, I don’t want you to get too attached. I don’t want you to be hurt when she leaves again.”

“Maybe she won’t,” he protests weakly. His mom- she loves him. Even if she doesn’t give a shit about Techno and Tommy, even if she has some- something going on with Phil- she still loves Wilbur, right? “She-”

“She always does.” His dad sounds so tired. “I’m sorry, Wil. Someday, it’s gonna happen, and when it does, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Wilbur just looks away. He sits there in sullen silence till his dad finally starts the car and drives away.

His mom loves him. She wouldn’t just walk out on Wilbur. She’s not going to do that.

Chapter Text

Tommy is six when Phil starts to worry- he’s always worried about his sons, but he’s worrying in earnest now.

His youngest is listless, sleeping more and more. He gets short of breath sometimes, he’s pale, but…

Well, at first, Phil tells himself he’s just overreacting. Tommy is still his usual chipper self, some days, bright-eyed and goofy.

But the second he finds Tommy struggling to breathe, lips tinged blue, he knows something is really, deeply wrong.

He calls his mom to come over- tells the boys to behave, while he’s gone- and rushes Tommy to the ER.

Less than an hour later, he’s sitting in that little cubicle, struggling for air himself as he listens to an overly calm nurse explain what’s going on.

Tommy has a heart defect. He needs surgery to repair it, or Phil’s bright little boy could die.

For some reason, his first thought is oh, god, how the hell am I going to afford this?

He hates himself for it right away. Tommy is so tiny lying in that hospital bed, an oxygen mask over his face and various equipment hooked up to him. Tommy is so sick and scared, and Phil is thinking about money.

“How- how soon can he have- the surgery?” Phil stammers.

“A couple of days. We’d like to admit him so we can carefully monitor his condition.”

“Okay.” Phil’s breath hitches. “Okay, yes.”

“They said it would’ve been so small when he was born that- that no one could’ve found it.”

His mom makes a soft, worried sound. “Do they think they can fix it?”

“Yeah.” Phil shoves his hands under his arms. He wants to smoke. “He’s havin’ surgery in a couple days. I don’t… I need to stay with him. Are you guys able to keep Wil and Tech for a- god, I don’t know how long-”

“You know…” His mom hesitates. “We’ve talked about sending them to summer camp. Is that… it’d get them off your hands for a few weeks.”

Phil lets his head fall back against the rough siding. “I can’t afford it,” he whispers. “I don’t- fuck, Mom, I don’t even know if I can afford Tommy’s surgery. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

She’s silent for a minute. “Let us pay for Wilbur and Techno to go to camp,” she says. “They’ll be taken care of, and have fun, and you’ll be able to focus on Tommy.”

Phil glances at her. “You can’t afford that either.”

“We’ll make it work.”

He pauses, shakes his head. “I have an idea.”

Phil tells the older boys- fourteen and twelve now- that Tommy’s sick. That they’re going to go to camp for a couple of weeks so he can focus on getting Tommy better.

Then, he goes out on the porch.

For the first time in years, Phil gives in to temptation. He lights a cigarette and closes his eyes, inhaling the musk and burn of nicotine. He’ll have to go straight home and shower after this. Can’t go anywhere near his boys until he doesn’t smell like it anymore.

When he’s calm, he calls her.

“What.”

“Wilbur wants to go to summer camp,” Phil says, without preamble or pleasantries. He doesn’t want to waste his energy on her.

“And, what, you can’t be bothered to spend my money on him?” Megan scoffs. “This is a new fucking low.”

“I can’t afford it,” Phil grits out. “Just because you don’t give a shit about our other sons doesn’t mean I don’t. Medical care isn’t fucking cheap.”

A pause. “How much money do you need?”

“About eight hundred.”

Megan laughs, harsh and bitter. “Eight fucking hundred? That’s bullshit. I don’t have eight hundred fucking dollars just laying around-”

“That’s bullshit. You just don’t want to give it to him.”

“How do I know you’re not gonna spend it on one of the others?”

Phil nearly pukes. He doesn’t understand how the hell she can be so heartless.

“Because I can keep my fucking word. It’ll go towards giving Wilbur a fun summer. Don’t make me think even worse of you.”

Silence. Phil takes another drag of the cigarette and curses himself for it. For all of this. Trying to manipulate his ex into doing something halfway decent for once, telling her it’s for Wilbur when really it’s just that he needs to get the older boys out of the house for the summer so Phil can focus on Tommy. For trying to get a measly fifty bucks extra, to put towards Tommy’s medical costs.

“Fine,” Megan spits at last. “I’ll have the cash to you by Monday.”

“The camp program starts on Saturday. That’s not good enough.”

“Fucking fine! Tomorrow then. Asshole.”

She hangs up, and Phil resists the urge to throw his phone. Instead he throws down the butt of his cigarette on the sidewalk, grinding it under his shoe to put it out. And then, because he’s a decent fucking human being, he picks it up to toss in the trash bin.

He already hates himself for smoking at all, why add littering?

To his surprise, Megan follows through.

Phil hands most of the money over to his parents. They’ve offered to pay for Techno to go, which is. It’s something, he supposes. He hates feeling like he’s taking their money, but he can’t deny that it’ll be better if they’re away for a few weeks while Phil focuses on Tommy. On getting him better.

“Dad, do we have to go?” Techno whines.

Phil sighs, kneeling to hold his arms. “Yeah, mate,” he says softly. “I need to take care of Tommy, cause he’s real sick right now. But you guys- you and Wil are gonna have so much fun, and in a few weeks, when you come home, Tommy will be better.”

“We could help,” Techno says, stubborn as ever. “We could get Tommy all better.”

“Dad can handle it.” Wilbur meets Phil’s gaze over Techno’s head. Phil is pretty sure he knows more than he’s letting on. “Besides, won’t it be nice to have some time just for the two of us?”

Techno’s face screws up in a frown. “But I want Tommy to come too!”

“Tommy’s really sick right now, Techno,” Phil reminds him patiently. “I know you want to help, but this is a Dad thing, okay? I’m gonna help Tommy get better, and when you come home, you can tell him about all the fun stuff you got to do.”

“C’mon.” Wilbur nudges Techno’s shoulder. “Say goodbye to Dad and go get in the car, okay? I’ll be right there.”

Techno pouts, but he hugs Phil and drags his feet down the driveway to get in the minivan. Wilbur turns to watch him go; turns back to Phil, something knowing and serious in his expression.

“Mom called me yesterday.”

Phil swallows harshly. “Yeah?”

“She wanted to know if it really was my idea to go to camp. I said yes.”

Phil pushes back his hair with a tired sigh. “Thanks, mate.”

He’s still watching Phil with that sharp, knowing look in his eyes. “How sick is Tommy, really?”

Phil knows he has to tell him the truth. “Don’t tell your brother,” he says. “I don’t want him worrying the whole time you guys are away.”

“Dad.” Wilbur looks unimpressed. “Come on. Of course I’m not gonna tell Techno.”

“Yeah.” Phil rubs his forehead. “He’s… Tommy has a problem with his heart,” he says quietly. “He needs surgery to fix it, and he’s gonna be in the hospital for a while. That’s why you guys are going to camp, so I can focus on Tommy.”

He’s worried, for a few seconds, that he’s said the wrong thing. That Wilbur’s going to be upset with him for saying it.

But then the teen nods, expression softening. “Is he gonna be okay?”

“It’s not- there’s never any guarantee.” Phil takes Wilbur’s hands, not nearly large enough to be carrying the things he’s had to. Wilbur has had to do so much, had to be so much for him. “But yeah, they’re pretty sure he’ll be okay. He- and he’s a tough kid, you’re all-”

The words catch in Phil’s throat. He is staring at Wilbur, at his son’s knowing eyes and the worry lines already etched into his face, and Phil thinks he’s failed them.

“I’m sorry you’ve had to be so tough,” he says, heart aching. “I’m sorry I put so much on your shoulders, Wil. You- you deserve better.”

Wilbur laughs a little, short and harsh, scrubbing his face with one fist. “Dad, you- I know you’re just doing your best.” He puts his hand back in Phil’s. “It’s okay. I- I love Techno and Tommy, I don’t mind helping you take care of them. It’s just…”

Wilbur looks away, biting his lip. “That’s why… why I keep going over to Mom’s,” he says quietly. “Cause it’s, it’s nice to not… to get a break once in a while. You know?”

God, does Phil know. He hates that Wilbur’s had to grow up so fast, had to become a second parent to his little brothers.

And now he feels ashamed- hates that he tried to keep Wilbur away from her. Even if it’ll be for the best, in the end- Wilbur should be able to have a place to rest.

Phil hugs him, fingers tangling in Wilbur’s messy curls. “Oh, mate. I’m sorry.” His voice cracks. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t- I didn’t want to do this to you. You shouldn’t have had to- you’re supposed to be able to be a kid.”

“I know.” There’s something so serene in Wilbur’s voice. “But, it’s- it is what it is, right, Dad?”

He closes his eyes, holding Wilbur as close as he can. Wilbur hugs back just as tightly.

“Yeah,” Phil chokes out. “I’m sorry, Wil. I wanted better for you.”

“It’s okay.” Wilbur pulls back, meeting Phil’s gaze. “I’ll look after Techno at camp,” he says.

Phil thinks he’s going to just break down into sobs again. “You don’t have to,” he says softly. “You know that, right? There- there are gonna be plenty of other people who can take care of Techno. I want you to just- just have fun. Promise me you’ll at least try, okay?”

Wilbur looks uncertain, but he nods. “I’ll try.”

Phil leans in, kissing Wilbur’s forehead. “I love you,” he says softly. “Try to enjoy yourself. It- it’s also okay if you can’t.”

“Keep Tommy safe,” Wilbur whispers. “Tell- tell him we love him.”

“Yeah, mate, I will.” Phil squeezes his arms, and lets go. “Go get in the car.”

He waves them off, and is ashamed that part of him relaxes.

Phil thought, when Tommy was a baby, that that was the worst thing he would ever experience as a parent. His newborn son, in a plastic-sided box, helped to breathe and eat and live by the medical equipment hooked up to him.

But now. Now.

Phil’s staring at Tommy, six years old and pale and still in another hospital bed, a thick bandage taped over the middle of his chest. A tube down his throat, a machine breathing for him.

Panic wells up inside Phil; he can’t do this. He doesn’t know- he has no fucking clue how he’s supposed to deal with this.

He can’t fucking do this, he thinks, and for some reason his instinct is to turn around and run. Get out of here, have a cigarette, hide away someplace until the fear leaves his body-

Phil sinks down in the chair pulled up beside Tommy’s bed, taking one small hand into his own. Tommy’s fingers are so, so tiny in Phil’s palm, tiny and cold. He’s so fucking little, and Phil doesn’t know how he’s going to be able to handle this-

He has to try.

Keeping his energetic, bubbly six-year-old still and quiet is proving to be a monumental task.

Phil half wishes he had Wilbur and Techno here to help. Is half thankful they’re not here, because he doesn’t have to think about them, just Tommy.

“Sweetheart, you need to sit still,” Phil reminds him gently.

Tommy stops trying to wriggle, tucking his hands under his legs. “Sorry Daddy.”

“It’s okay.” Phil squats in front of him, cupping Tommy’s face. “You have to wait to play so much till you’re all better, remember?”

Tommy sniffles, scrubbing one chubby fist over his eyes. “Still wanna play with my dinosaurs, Daddy.”

“We can still do that, honey. You just have to sit and play quietly, okay?”

Tommy gives a long-suffering sigh. “Okay.”

Phil suppresses laughter, ruffling Tommy’s hair. “You want me to play with you?”

“Yes!” Tommy perks up. “Yes yes yes! Um, um- please?”

Phil laughs softly, fully sitting down beside him. “What are we playing?” he asks, taking the T-rex Tommy pushes towards him.

Tommy grabs a triceratops, making it walk across the table. “They’re running away from the gov-er-ment!” he announces cheerfully.

Phil has had many years of practice keeping a straight face when his kids make ridiculous statements, so he nods along, utterly serious. “What did the government do?” he asks.

“They’re ty- ty-rants.” Tommy nods sagely. “An’ the dinosaur family wants to get away cause they’re- um- I don’t ‘member the word.”

“Anarchists?” Phil suggests, smothering a laugh.

“Uh-huh!”

“Have you been listening to Techno’s rants again?” Phil asks, actually chuckling this time. He’s not sure exactly where Techno’s gotten his recent anarchist tendencies, but it’s amusing at least. Listening to a twelve-year-old ramble about government corruption and overthrowing the dictatorship is absolutely hilarious.

“No…” Tommy says, in that tone that tells Phil the answer is yes.

“He’s kind of funny when he does that, right?” Phil asks, quiet and with a little smile, like he’s telling Tommy a secret.

Tommy giggles. “Uh huh. Techie’s funny a lot.”

“What about Wilbur?”

“Wilby’s the bestest,” Tommy says, practically with stars in his eyes. “He’s so- so- so cool.”

Phil’s heart fucking melts- he could just die from how cute it is. “Yeah? He’s a good big brother, huh?”

“Yeah!” Tommy grins, wide and gap-toothed. “He’s awesome.”

Tommy’s approved for regular activity by the end of the eight weeks his brothers spent at camp.

Phil’s gotten letters from them a couple of times. Wilbur’s sounded mostly neutral or upbeat; Techno’s have expressed homesickness, mostly.

He hopes Techno’s enjoyed himself, at least a little. Enough to make up for losing his violin lessons and for having to leave in the first place.

He’s got Tommy on his shoulders when they walk out to the cabins to get Wilbur and Techno. Tommy shrieks, pulling on Phil’s hair.

“Dad, Dad, there’s Wilby and Tech!”

Phil grins, bouncing Tommy a little and waving. Wilbur’s grinning, waving enthusiastically, and Techno breaks away from him and sprints to Phil. Phil swings Tommy down, dropping to his knees just in time to catch Techno and hug him tight.

“Hi, mate. Hi, did you have fun?”

Techno buries his face in Phil’s neck, clinging on tightly. “I missed you,” he whimpers.

“Wilby, Wilby look, look!” Tommy’s yelling. “I have a cool scar!”

“That’s pretty cool, yeah,” Wilbur says, laughing a little. “Pull your shirt down, Toms.”

Phil tries to look at what they’re doing, but Techno’s arms tighten, not letting go of him. Phil rubs his back gently, shushing him.

“It’s okay, Tech,” he murmurs. “It’s okay, I’m here.”

“Techie?” Tommy’s little voice asks. “Don’ be sad.”

Techno turns his head a little. “…you better now, Tommy?” he asks, snotty and small.

“Uh huh! An’ I have a big scar!” Tommy puffs out his chest, grinning.

He’s so pleased about it. It’s cute, and funny. And a bit offputting- he doesn’t know, he doesn’t realize how serious all of this was. But maybe it’s better that way, he’s just six years old after all.

Techno doesn’t let go of Phil for a solid three minutes. He cries for part of that time, face tucked into Phil’s neck.

Later, in the car, Techno and Tommy both conk out pretty quickly. Wilbur sits in the passenger seat beside Phil, legs folded and staring out the windshield.

“…so,” Phil says after a while, very quietly, “you have fun?”

“Mm.” Wilbur glances over. “It was nice. Tech was pretty homesick, though.”

“Yeah?”

“He tried to have fun, I think, he just- he missed you a lot.” Wilbur’s quiet for a few minutes. “How was Tommy?”

Phil nods. “Good, he did really well. He missed you guys, but I think it was easier, keeping him quiet. Stitches came out on time and everything.”

“You’re gonna have to tell Techno,” Wilbur says. “I didn’t.”

“That’s okay. It’s not supposed to be your responsibility.”

He glances over, in time to catch his son’s tired, long-suffering look. “But it is anyway,” Wilbur says.

“No, mate, it’s not. You’re supposed to be a kid, you’re not supposed to be responsible for your brothers. That’s my job.”

“It can be my job, too.”

Phil doesn’t have anything to say to that. Because it isn’t Wilbur’s job, or it shouldn’t be anyway, but Phil can’t do anything to change the fact that he’s had to help take care of his brothers for a long, long time.

It’s quiet for a while, while Phil drives and the boys sleep. Wilbur’s still awake, he thinks, but he’s quiet too. It’s nice. They haven’t gotten to have quiet time like this in ages.

“I missed you guys, too,” Phil says quietly. “You know, I- I love hearing you play your guitar around the house.”

“I missed my guitar,” Wilbur says. “Camp was a lot of fun though. It was nice to get to just- you know.”

“Yeah,” Phil says softly. “I know. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, honey.”

That night, Techno comes into Phil’s room and curls right up in his bed.

Phil turns off the light and lays down beside Techno, letting him cuddle up close. Techno’s crying again, and Phil hugs him, running his fingers through his son’s hair.

“Oh, sweetheart, were you really homesick?” he murmurs.

Techno nods, breath hitching. He’s gripping Phil’s shirt tight, face buried into his dad’s chest.

“I’m sorry,” Phil says softly, rubbing his back. “I missed you too, Tech.”

“I don’ wanna go to camp again,” Techno sobs. “I don’ wanna go, Daddy-”

“Shh, shh, it’s okay baby.” Phil bundles him closer. “It’s okay, you’re not goin’ anywhere again, I promise.”

Techno cries for a long time, until eventually, he falls asleep right there, tucked into Phil’s arms. Phil doesn’t let go of him.

He thought- well, it was the best thing, sending them to camp. Phil was able to concentrate on Tommy, he knows it would’ve been a lot harder to keep Tommy calm and quiet with his brothers around. Even as well-meaning as Wilbur and Techno might be, they’re still teen- and tween- age boys, never the quietest of people.

But still, it got them here. With Techno so upset, possibly traumatized, by having to spend two months away from Phil. And yeah, Wilbur enjoyed himself; that doesn’t change the fact that Techno didn’t.

“I’m sorry,” Phil breathes into Techno’s hair. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise, I’ll find a way.”

Chapter Text

Three days. It takes only three days for the police to find them.

“We’re so sorry to have to tell you this,” an officer is saying. “We found them in the basement of an abandoned house. We don’t know why they were brought there, or why-”

“They’re not-” Lee takes a harsh breath. “Where’s our son?”

“I’m so sorry,” the woman repeats. “Phil, Wilbur, and Tommy were already dead when we arrived.”

“No.” Mary grips the table, and her husband’s hand, horrified tears welling in her eyes. “Oh, no-”

“We don’t know who killed them, or why. If it’s any consolation, we don’t think they suffered.”

Her heart skips a beat. “Techno,” she gets out. “You didn’t say- is he-”

“Techno is alive. He’s being treated at Logstead Mercy.”

“Is he hurt?” Lee asks, voice rough.

“He’s not injured. He was found- in the room, with their- bodies. He was rambling and incoherent, but not hurt. We don’t know why he was left alive, but we’re going to need to talk to him as soon as possible.”

Mary tries to dry her eyes, gripping her husband’s hand. “Can- can we see him?” she asks, voice breaking.

The officer nods, expression sympathetic. “Of course. I’ll escort you.”

A doctor stops them before they make it to Techno’s hospital room. “He’s conscious,” the man says. “You wanted to speak to him as soon as he woke up?”

“Yes.” The officer gestures to Mary and Lee, still gripping each others’ hands. “These are the grandparents, could you fill them in?”

The officer goes into the room. The doctor leads them down the hall to sit down in a small, private room.

“How-” Mary’s voice breaks, and she looks away briefly. “How is he?” she manages to ask.

“Physically, Techno is mostly unharmed. A few scrapes and bruises, but no major injuries.” The doctor clasps his hands on the table. “The trauma caused him to experience a psychotic break. We’ve given him antipsychotic medication, and he seems to have come out of it.”

He hesitates, and Mary’s heart skips a beat. “What?” she gets out. “What, what’s wrong?”

“It seems likely that Techno witnessed the shooting,” the doctor says quietly. “We’re not sure if he has any memory of that, or of… after.”

Oh, god. Techno saw- he saw-

He had to see his father and his brothers die. Her son is dead. Her son, and two of his sons- Wilbur and Tommy were so young, Tommy was just- just eight years old-

They’re allowed to see Techno, not much longer afterwards.

He’s staring at the wall, expression blank. Eyes empty.

“Techno?” Mary sits down slowly in the chair pulled up beside his bed, reaching slowly for his hand. “Sweetie, it’s Grammy…”

He doesn’t look at her. He doesn’t move at all.

“Can you hear me?” she asks softly.

Techno’s breath hitches, tears spilling down his face. “I wa-ant Daddy,” he whimpers.

“I know.” Her voice breaks. “Oh, baby.”

Phil’s dead. Her only son- Techno’s father. Techno just lost almost everyone he’s ever loved, in one day.

Techno is alone, so alone, and Mary- she doesn’t know how they’re supposed to live with this. How they’re supposed to help him survive the grief.

Later still, a social worker comes to talk to her.

“I’m Puffy,” she says quietly. “I’m Techno’s state-assigned case worker. You’re his grandmother, yes?”

“Mary. My husband, Lee, he had to go home.” Mary tries to maintain her composure as she shakes the woman’s hand. “Is he… what’s going to happen to Techno now?”

“That’s what we’re here to figure out.” Puffy gestures to the table, and Mary sits down opposite her.

“Ideally, we’d like to place him with family. Would you be able to take him?”

Mary knows- she and Lee both might know, she thinks, that the answer has to be no. Looking after the boys for a few days, or having them sleep over for a night, was one thing. Keeping Techno forever, they can’t do that. Not if she wants Techno to be safe. Lee started drinking when Phil was young, he just couldn’t cope with the strain of being a parent. Mary won’t put her grandson through that, too.

But god, she wants him to come home with them so badly.

“We can’t,” she says quietly. “My husband, he’s a recovering alcoholic, he… he’s always been safe around the boys, but we never had ‘em for more than a couple days. I don’t think it would be safe for Techno to live with us.”

“Okay.” Puffy makes a note of something on her clipboard. “Any other family?”

Mary shakes her head. Phil was an only child, and he wasn’t close with any of his cousins- more importantly, the boys never met them. Techno never did.

“His mother?”

Mary presses her lips together, taking a moment to calm herself. To keep from saying the first thing that comes into her head when she thinks about that woman.

“She walked out of their lives when Techno was two and hasn’t seen him since. I don’t have contact information for her and I wouldn’t give it to you if I did. That-”

She pauses. Takes another deep breath.

“That woman is no kind of mother at all,” she says.

“Okay,” Puffy says quietly. “We do still need to contact her, if we can, but I’ll keep in mind what you’ve said.”

Mary knows already, she thinks, what the answer is going to be before she asks the question. “What’ll happen to Techno?” she whispers.

“I’ll place him in a foster home. Would you like me to see about arranging visitation?”

Put Techno in a stranger’s home, by himself, lost and grieving. Her grandson- newly orphaned, newly traumatized-

“Yes,” is all she manages, quiet and shaky. “Yes, I- we want that. Will he- he’ll be safe? In a foster home? I’ve heard the stories-”

“I have a home in mind. If the parent says yes, then I can guarantee he’ll be completely safe.”

Mary’s heart skips a beat. “And if they say no?”

“I have never placed a child somewhere I knew was unsafe.”

She nods, staring at her shaking hands, so worn by time and age. What she wouldn’t give to be younger, to be able to take her grandson and make a new home for him.

She can’t protect Techno, so he will have to be taken someplace safe. Somewhere he can- can hopefully start to recover from all of this. If there’s any recovering from losing everyone he ever had.

“I just want him to be safe,” Mary whispers. “I just want him to be okay.”