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screpdoodle · 2 years

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Duality - Chapter Twelve (????)

"Care for another cup, sweetheart~?"

Before Kaos could answer, a porcelain teacup had already been slid his way by a lacy, gloved hand; two others poured steaming liquid from a matching teapot into the cup. Both looked like they should be in some museum, aged black porcelain adorned with shimmering magenta cobwebs; not being served in the back of an eclectic old caravan. Then again, everything in the small ship gave off the same musky vibe… including their 'host'. Kaos had only met Mesmerelda a few times, being one of (if not the only) friend his mother had. He remembered listening in on their late night conversations from the hallway as a child, watching warped shadows cast from the firelight and peering in through the crack in the door as they laughed over cups of glistening mauve tea. Now, staring at his reflection in Mesmerelda's glassy magenta eyes, the memories came bubbling to the surface. Late night meetings when Father was off on expeditions, whispered talks behind locked doors, the puppets. Kaos shuddered. He has never been the kind to dislike puppets, but the ones Mesmerelda specialized in always made a chill run up his spine.

So the fact that countless were hanging from the ceiling of the small room, eyes all seemingly locked on him, definitely was not helping his nerves.

Mesmerelda finished pouring her own cup, humming softly to herself as her extra set of hands moved to the tune. Kaos looked down at his own cup, the steam curling up from its surface causing his vision to blur.

"Come now, darling. You've barely touched your tea cakes." Mesmerelda cooed, gaze locked on Glumshanks, who sat in the chair beside Kaos. Unlike Kaos, though, Glumshanks hadn't been tied down in countless layers of spider silk.

"O-Oh, I'm fine ma'am." Despite his best efforts, Glumshanks' voice shook.

He prodded one of the tea cakes set before him, then watched with wide eyes as a single tiny spider crawled out of the pastry and off of the side of the table. Kaos stuck his tongue out, brow furrowing in disgust. Mesmerelda just blinked, her smile never wavering on her angular face. Kaos took a moment to glance around the caravan, from the lacey curtains pulled over the frosted windows to the doilies and eclectic artifacts that lined every possible surface; devoid of dust but gathering cobwebs he knew Mesmerelda had no intention of cleaning. With her second set of arms, Mesmerelda poured her own cup of amber tea, finally sitting down at the head of the table. Shimmering, purple smoke billowed out around her, gathering on the mauve, carpeted floor. She took a sip, licked her lips, then leaned forward.

"So. What brings you two to this little corner of the islands?" She cooed, locking eyes with Kaos across the table from her.

Kaos shifted slightly in his chair, chuffing. "I could ask you the same thing, arachnid."

"Now, that's no way to talk to someone who's practically family."

Kaos just rolled his eyes, squirming against the shimmering webs wrapped around him. He looked to Glumshanks, the troll's eyes still trained on the plate in front of him. He looked back up just as one of Mesmerelda's spindly hands grasped his face, squishing his cheeks.

"My my, how you've grown. I barely recognized you! I'm so glad I did, though; this is no place for a small boy like you." She chided, tilting his head side to side, examining every inch of it, cloying sweetness dripping from her words like venom. "Especially without your mother around to protect you."

"I don't need protection!" Kaos spat, slamming his knees against the underside of the table.

Mesmerelda pulled her hand away in surprise as Kaos' teacup tipped over, steaming liquid quickly seeping into the maroon tablecloth. Her smile fell for only a second before she stood to her full height. She checked her dress for any stray splashes before clicking her tongue.

"Now now Kaos." Mesmerelda's eye twitched as she spoke. "All I'm trying to do is help. Who knows what would have happened if someone unsavory got their hands on you and your… troll. Now, I'm going to clean this up before it stains. You stay put."

With a flourish of her second set, Mesmerelda pulled the tablecloth off of the table, the silverware set atop it barely shifting; though Kaos' topled cup did roll to its other side. Kaos kept his glare locked with Mesmerelda's as she strode to the only other room in the caravan, slamming the door behind her. The whole room shook from the force, the puppets hanging from the ceiling swaying back and forth on their strings.

"You know, I thought I recognized her." Glumshanks commented.

"Eh?"

"Mesmerelda. I snuck out to watch one of her shows once. Quite the talented singer. Never understood the puppet aspect of it though." At the mention of puppets, Glumshanks looked around the room once more, mentally counting all of the garish marionettes that were displayed. "I never expected to see her this close up though."

"Yeah, yeah. Save your fantrolling for once we're out of here."

Kaos pulled his legs up to his chest, resting his feet against the edge of the table. He took a deep breath, then pushed back. The back of the chair thudded to the floor, taking Kaos with it, his head bouncing against the hard wood. Glumshanks just stared at him, his ears drooped and brow furrowed. He opened his mouth to speak a few times as Kaos continued to squirm, before finally finding the words.

"...what are you doing."

"Trying to escape, what does it look like!? I have better leverage this way!"

"Do you now."

"Don't sass me, Glumshanks!!"

Glumshanks fell silent. He looked to the door Mesmerelda had gone through.

"...maybe it would be best if you go with her? She knows your mom-"

"Mother." Kaos corrected.

"...she knows your mother, it might be the easiest way to get you home."

Kaos gave a single, short laugh before resuming his squirming. "Absolutely not!! That exorbitant arachnid can't be trusted! I'd rather take my chances with the lugs out there to get me home. At least then I wouldn't have to listen to 'oh Kaos look how much you've grown' 'you're too frail to travel on your own Kaos' 'don't touch that Kaos you'll damage the finish'. Bleck." "It just sounds like she cares about your health." Glumshanks carefully pushed his plate away from him, just in case there were any more spiders tucked away inside.

"Mesmerelda? Caring? Don't make me laugh, Glumshanks. If she wasn't buddy buddy with my mother, we'd most likely be dead. Or worse."

Kaos continued to flop like a fish out of water as Glumshanks stood up from the table. Careful not to make too much noise with his chair (not that it would have been heard over the racket Kaos was making), he pushed it back into place, then knelt down beside the small human. He easily worked through the webs with a silver butter knife that had been resting on the table before helping Kaos to his feet. Kaos brushed the remaining webs from his arms, a few straggling strands sticking to his fingers and clinging to his top. As he did so, his vision wandered to the frosted glass, out to the protest that was still going on. Minus one distinct figure. He shook his head. What he had heard was preposterous. There was absolutely no way he had seen his mother or heard her voice. It must have been coincidence, homesickness infecting his mind from the residual stress from the long travel. She was at home, tending to Meyhem's scuffed knees from skyball practice and exchanging empty kisses on the cheek with his father. She was planning to tell Kaos about the new school, how all his hard work was for nothing, weeks of preparation down the drain. And all for what? What was supposed to be few days of manual labor cleaning the garden as punishment before he was thrown right back into it, disgusted stares from his father like he was some kind of monster, getting lost in the middle of nowhere and out of sheer coincidence coming across the only face that didn't look at him like he was some kind of mistake-

"...Kaos? Is everything alright?"

Kaos blinked the tears from his vision. He hadn't even noticed he had balled his hands into fists, his body trembling. Glumshanks had placed a hand on his shoulder, a look of genuine concern spread across his green face.

"Eh? Of course everything's fine!" Kaos forced a grin, brushing Glumshanks off. "I was just thinking of an ingenious plan to get us out of here, in... mostly one piece."

"Mostly one-"

Kaos cut him off, slapping a hand over his mouth. With the other, he pointed to the window. "If we can find a way out of here, we can lose her in the crowd. Then, from there, we should be able to hitch a ride on a balloon and it'll be smooth sailing from there!"

Glumshanks pushed Kaos's hand down. "...I don't even want to start on how many ways that could go wrong-"

"Great! So glad you asked, Glumwad!"

"I didn't-"

“Knowing Mesmerelda, as I do, it should be a simple task to slip out while she’s occupied with spot-cleaning her ‘precious, antique’ tablecloth.”

As he spoke, Kaos dragged Glumshanks to the door, pressing his ear up against it and motioning for the troll to do the same. On the other side, he could hear the muffled humming of Mesmerelda, along with the sound of swishing water. Being sure to stay as quiet as possible, Kaos reached up, testing the tarnished silver knob. He held his breath as it turned, then stuck half way with a dull clunk. Kaos furrowed his brow, then tried again, a little more forcefully this time. Clunk. Not giving up, Kaos tried turning it in the other direction, then tugging on the knob, then jiggling it vigorously; forgetting the fact that they were supposed to be staying quiet. Having had enough, Kaos took a few steps back, attempting to run at the door, only for Glumshanks to stick an arm out and block his path.

“I think it might be locked.” He whispered.

Kaos blinked, then looked to the door. The sound of Mesmerelda’s humming had stopped for a moment, then resumed as if nothing had happened. Kaos breathed a sigh of relief before pushing Glumshanks off of him.

“Of course it is.” Kaos hissed. “I was just trying to see if I could… coax it into obeying. That’s all!”

“It’s a lock, Kaos. You can’t ‘coax’ it to do anything.”

Kaos rolled his eyes, then tried the knob one last time for good measure, as if something would have changed in the brief moment he hadn’t been manhandling it. With a huff, Kaos began pacing, moving his hands to punctuate unspoken sentences that seemed to be going a mile a minute within his mind. His entire plan foiled because of two inches of (probably spider-infested) wood. He trailed his eyes around the eclectic room, cursing wordlessly, until his gaze came to rest on the puppets hanging above the table; their arms raised by silvery strings that looked thin enough to snap with a good enough tug. Kaos stopped to think for a moment, then looked to Glumshanks, an all too familiar grin starting to form on his face. Glumshanks opened his mouth to object to whatever half-cocked scheme Kaos had managed to think up in that split second; but before he could even utter a syllable, Kaos had grabbed the shears that had been hanging off his hip, pulled his hand back, and chucked them as hard as he could muster at the web of puppets that decorated the ceiling. The rusted blades sliced through the air and any strings they happened to come in contact with, puppets clattering to the ground below. One collided with the teapot, the ancient china shattering below the lifeless mass of wood, the tea spilling out onto the table and the carpet below. The sounds from behind the door stopped all at once. Kaos froze, listening, before diving into the corner beside the door at the sound of a small click, dragging Glumshanks with him. The door swung open with enough force to have torn the wood from the hinges, slamming into Glumshanks’ face, though luckily enough the troll caught himself before yelping in pain, clutching his nose. Kaos peered around his friend, watching with bated breath as Mesmerelda stormed into the room. He couldn’t see her expression from this angle, but just from her tensed shoulders and clenched fists, Kaos could tell she was absolutely seething.

Mesmerelda stopped in front of the table, glowing eyes surveying the damage with a stare that could have sent even the most foolhardy adventurer running home to their mommy. She picked up what remained of the teapot in one hand, then the fallen puppet in another. She held it up by the cut strings, inspecting them, before crushing the remnants of the teapot that she still held. Kaos squeaked, then quickly covered his mouth, his blood running cold. As Mesmerelda stiffened, Kaos grabbed a hold of Glumshanks’ hand, a look of determination crossing his once frightened expression.

“Run.”

Kaos ran through the open door as Mesmerelda whirled around, a high pitched hiss escaping her bared fangs. Glumshanks stumbled to keep his footing, but was soon running in pace with Kaos. The two dove out of the caravan, landing on the sandy ground outside, the beating sun a stark contrast to the chill air that seemed to pour out of the open doorway. Kaos coughed out a mouthful of sand as he scrambled to his feet, looking around wildly, having less than a second before Mesmerelda was on top of them. It was Glumshanks this time that took the lead, pulling Kaos towards the crowd until he seemed to get the idea. As the two of them slipped back into the sea of people, Kaos couldn’t help but look back over his shoulder. Mesmerelda had torn out of her abode, quickly locking eyes with the tiny human. With the hand that wasn’t holding Glumshanks’, Kaos held up an L to his forehead and stuck his tongue out. As they joined the crowd, weaving through the sea of bodies to get to the other side, Kaos could hear Mesmerelda’s shriek over the protest’s chatter; a sound that could have come from death itself. Despite everything, Kaos couldn't help but let a smile slip across his face. Glumshanks, on the other hand, didn’t seem so sure their escape was set in stone. He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead, slowing just a bit to try to get their bearings.

“Which direction is the dock??”

“I-I’m not sure!”

Kaos looked back, the sound of a commotion separate from the protest itself reaching his ears. He could see flashes of magenta and lace through the crowd quickly approaching, the indignant cries of people getting thrown aside as the spider cut a path through quickly growing closer.

“Just pick a direction and go! Go!” Kaos pushed Glumshanks forward.

He could almost feel Mesmerelda’s gaze boring down on him as he ushered Glumshanks forward as quickly as he could. At this point, Kaos wasn’t as much weaving around people as he was forcing his way through, ducking under people’s legs and shouldering his way through cramped spaces, paying no mind to whatever foul language that may have been getting thrown at him. The only thing on his mind was getting away from that raving mad spider. He could hear Mesmerelda behind them, frantically searching, spouting curses and words Kaos couldn’t quite catch. Before he knew it, the two had reached what looked to be the center of the protest, the dried up fountain surrounded by countless shouting figures, signs held high. Kaos contemplated taking this time to get a better look at what was written on them, but decided against it, not wanting to risk wasting a second of precious time. Instead, he set his sights on the top of the fountain.

“Glumshanks, there!” He pointed. “Help me up there, I’ll be able to see what direction the dock is in!”

Glumshanks hesitated, glanced back over his shoulder, then nodded. The two climbed up onto the lip that once would have held back water, then Glumshanks leaned down, locking his fingers together. Kaos stepped onto the troll’s hands, grasping at the carved folds of the statue's robes to steady himself. Glumshanks’ legs wobbled a bit as he hoisted Kaos up, nearly toppling off of the lip. Kaos grabbed onto the statue’s outstretched arm, kicking off of Glumshanks’ hands and swinging his legs up. He managed to get one foothold, the other dangling down. Kaos could feel his grip slipping, a few bits of the old stone crumbling off and falling into the dried up basen below. Kaos gulped, then swung his leg up, managing to get a hold this time. He lifted himself up with what little arm strength he had, straddling the stone arm before inching his way up to the hand. He looked down at Glumshanks, putting on a brave face as he stood up on the outstretched palm and looked out at the crowd. From up there, he could see their little escapade had finally gathered some looks, a few faces having turned to watch the tiny human make his way up what Kaos could only assume was a sacred artifact or landmark of sorts. Was climbing it seen as an act of defilement? Kaos didn’t have time to think about it, almost immediately spotting Mesmerelda amongst the crowd; and judging by how quickly she was moving, she had noticed him too. Kaos hurriedly scanned the area, finally coming to rest on the docks. He pointed towards them, waving his hand hurriedly as he looked down to Glumshanks. His grin quickly fell though, his eyes going wide as Mesmerelda shot out from the crowd, reaching out to strike Glumshanks, who was too focused on Kaos to notice.

“Glummy, look out!!”

Glumshanks looked back, taking a step back in surprise. Forgetting he was standing on the rim of the fountain, his foot touched the ground lower than expected, causing him to fall back, his head hitting the statue with a thunk. Kaos cried out in surprise, leaning down to check on his troll companion. He seemed to have leaned a little too far however, because the next thing Kaos knew, he was falling through the air. Then, a split second later, he slammed into something slightly softer than the ground he had expected. Kaos shook off the daze, pushing himself up, coming face to face with the spider he had been trying so hard to avoid. Kaos squealed, scrambling back to the edge of the crowd. Mesmerelda was quick to right herself, brushing the sand from her striped dress before turning her piercing gaze to Kaos once again. Almost all of the crowd was focused on them now, even the protesters seemed to be occupied with what was happening, though no one moved to try to help.

“Have I ever mentioned how much of a thorn in my side you are, Kaos.”

“Once or twice.” Kaos did his best to choke back the fear that made his voice shake, doing his best to put on a smile.

Mesmerelda reached down, hoisting Kaos up off of the ground by the collar of his shirt, mere inches away from his face. From this close, Kaos could tell the smell of dust and old perfume wasn’t just from her home, but seemed to cling to her like a cloud, masking the stench of something much more… foul.

“Be grateful your mother and I are such good friends.” She hissed. “Or else you’d be in a much worse state right now for damaging my dear puppets.”

Still holding Kaos off of the ground, Mesmerelda turned to look at Glumshanks, who was just starting to come around, rubbing the back of his head where it had collided with the statue. Her glowing eyes narrowed, before a smile crossed her face. A hungry smile. Kaos kicked his legs, struggling like a worm on a hook to squirm his way free of her grip. His breath was catching in his throat, the world seeming to close in around him. All he could do was watch helplessly as Mesmerelda approached the troll, his friend, a malevolent glint to her gaze. She knelt down, holding Kaos arms length away, moving her hand to force him to watch. She couldn’t hurt him, but Kaos was quickly realizing she didn’t have the same concerns for Glumshanks…

With her free hands, Mesmerelda grabbed Glumshanks roughly by the face, lifting the barely conscious troll from where he was slumped. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. Kaos couldn’t tear his eyes from the sight, Mesmerelda’s hungry gaze locked on his only friend, fangs glinting in the bright afternoon light, poised and ready to devour.

Tick tick tick

Before he knew what he was doing, Kaos cried out in defiance, grabbing ahold of the arm that held him aloft. He tightened his grip as much as he could, feeling his hair standing on end, before a shock ran through him and his vision went black. The next thing Kaos knew, he was laying in the sand, head pounding and vision spinning. He could make out Mesmerelda’s form a little ways away from him, curled into herself and motionless. Before Kaos could really process what had happened, he felt familiar hands lifting him to his feet.

“A-Are you okay? What happened??” Glumshanks looked Kaos over for any damage before pulling him into a tight hug.

Kaos stood there, still a little dazed, before putting his arms around Glumshanks in turn. He furrowed his brow, trying to recall the last thing he remembered. With his vision a little clearer, Kaos looked around. The crowd had finally started to disperse, with the little town center back to its usual goings-on. The protesters left their signs stuck in the ground around the old fountain as they left, like a sort of makeshift fence, though the only thing it would really be able to stop was a light breeze.

“How… How long was I out?” Kaos wormed his way from Glumshanks’ grip, taking a step back.

“A few minutes, I-I think…” Glumshanks stood up, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “You… you saved my life, didn’t you-”

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself, Glumwad.” Kaos sneered, punching Glumshanks in the ribs playfully. “I knew if she got her teeth through you she was gonna move to me next.”

“R-Right.” Glumshanks couldn’t help but chuckle.

The two started the short trek down the street, to the docks. As they passed by Mesmerelda, Kaos couldn’t help but stop. He could see the slow rise and fall of her side, shaking breaths still passing past her lips. Kaos smirked, then gave her a kick to the ribs for good measure, before running to catch up with Glumshanks. As they walked, the two of them exchanged a glance, then looked away again. Though neither of them could hide their smiles.

Kaos couldn’t stop staring at his hands. He sat on the floor of the small balloon he and Glumshanks had managed to hitch a ride on (the pilot had said their previous passenger hadn’t shown up, so they didn’t mind), his back up against the woven side of the basket and knees drawn up to his chest. He wiggled his fingers, watching them move. As thrilling as it had felt in the moment, a sinking feeling had started to flood in where one of accomplishment had once rested. What had really happened? He scrunched his eyes closed, trying to think, to focus. One moment he had grabbed onto Mesmerelda’s arm, and the next they were both on the ground. It didn’t make any sense…

Tick tick tick tick

Kaos clasped his hands over his ears, groaning. He wouldn’t be able to focus on anything with that infernal racket starting up. Kaos tried to think, to focus on that day. That protest, the fountain… that figure. He had almost forgotten about that figure. The one that was so familiar, yet so foreighn. He was sure he had seen them before, but at the same time, he was sure his hunch was far from the truth. There was no way. Kaos pressed his head into his knees, only to shoot his head up at the feeling of a hand on his shoulder. Glumshanks knelt down beside him, a concerned expression on his features. Kaos brushed him off, getting to his feet. Kaos turned, resting his arms on the top of the basket, though he had to stand on his tiptoes to do it. He stared out into the endless expanse of blue around them, the hues of the late day sun painting the sky and the islands that were scattered about it. Glumshanks did the same, standing beside him (though in contrast, the troll had to hunch his back instead.)

“...It’s beautiful, isn’t it.” Glumshanks said.

Kaos nodded in response, sighing. He couldn’t help but imagine what adventures could lie on each island around them, what secrets they could be holding, lying in slumber for someone to discover them. Maybe picking one at random and seeing what awaited him would be better than heading home. Certainly, whatever was there wouldn’t be worse than Mother’s wrath. If it really had been her at that protest, would she have seen everything? Kaos hadn’t seen the hooded figure when he climbed the statue, but that didn’t mean it wasn't still there, watching. Would Mother confront him outright when he got home, or would she hide it to use later? To lord over him or back him into a corner of obedience, to strike him down at his lowest?

Kaos shook his head, feeling the ticking right on the edge of his mind, clawing its way out of the abyss. He stared out into the sky, needing to focus on anything but that.

“Where’d you two say you were headed again?” The pilot spoke up, the fwoosh of the burners growing louder as they gave it a little more power. “The isles of whos-a-whatsit?”

“Umbra Isles.” Kaos rolled his eyes.

“Ain’t that the place that borders the Outlands? What would a kid like you wanna do there-”

“None of your beeswax, airhead.”

The pilot put their hands up in defense, turning back to the steering rig they had set up. Kaos huffed, watching the clouds drift past. He couldn’t help but reach down, letting his hand run through the vapor as they passed through. He looked up, noticing Glumshanks’ furrowed brow.

“Don’t worry troll, I’m not gonna fall out.” Kaos snickered, though he did put his hand back in the basket, if only to make Glumshanks more comfortable.

Glumshanks breathed a sigh, letting himself relax.

“Remind me to never go on another adventure with you.”

Kaos paused, then burst into laughter, his nose crinkling as he grinned. Glumshanks couldn’t help but crack a smile.

“You’re a laugh riot, Glummy.” Kaos patted Glumshanks’ back with a little too much force, though he didn’t seem to notice. He wiped his eye, then sighed. “...You’ll write to me, right? Once we get home?”

“Of course, I’ve still got your number.”

“You do?”

Glumshanks rolled up his sleeve. Sure enough, there they were, just as Kaos had written them down the first day they had met. He snickered, a fuzzy feeling flooding his chest. Glumshanks pulled his sleeve back down, taking extra care not to smudge the ink, before looking out into the sky once again. Kaos joined him, albeit standing a little closer than before. He could see the color of the sky starting to shift, the blues fading into purples which would soon shift into familiar, faded reds. These were his last few moments of freedom before probably being locked in the dungeons for life, and Kaos was doing his best to try and cherish them. Kaos closed his eyes, feeling the sun on his face, the slight breeze in his hair, the crackling of the balloon’s burners mingling with the general sounds of nearby islands. It wasn’t long before Kaos felt the balloon beginning its slow descent, his smile falling with it.

“Sorry kid, this is as far as I’ll go. I trust you know your way from here?”

Kaos opened his eyes as the basket bumped against the side of a rock, before floating down and coming to rest on the patchy grass below. He gave the area a quick once over before sighing, hopping out of the basket.

“Yeah, it should do.”

Kaos turned, facing away from the balloon. He definitely recognized the area, having spent a day or two climbing the rocks with his siblings and searching for griffin eggs (much to Mother’s absolute dismay), but it was still a good hour or so away from home. Better than nothing, he supposed. After taking a few steps away, he looked back over his shoulder at his troll companion.

“Try not to die without me, kay Glumwad?”

Glumshanks chuckled lightly as the balloonsman closed the basket door.

“I’ll try my best.”

Kaos looked back ahead of him, the sound of Glumshanks explaining where he needed to be taken quickly fading into the background as he made his way under rocks and over gaps in the earth beneath him. He didn’t bother hurrying, knowing the outcome would be the same if he came home in an hour or by nightfall. And so, Kaos took his sweet time, inspecting the plants that grew from cracks in the stones around him, grabbing samples of anything that happened to catch his eye, and watching various creatures scuttle to safety at the sound of his footsteps as he passed them by. The familiarity of the area didn’t dampen his adventurous spirit, though it did remove a bit of the mystery of what could be lurking around each corner. After a while, Kaos could make out his home only a few islands away, silhouetted against the red sky. Kaos sighed, hopping down from the rock he had been balancing along the edge of, mustering up every last ounce of courage he had to face what lay within. He considered one last time to make a break for it, or possibly even lie down right here and hope something would come along and gobble him up whole; but he pushed those thoughts away once again. He was no coward. Any punishment his parents had for him, he could face. Even if he would have much preferred being a meal for a pack of rabid greebles.

#skylanders #bring back the skylands #second leaf #duality #fan retelling #fan continuation #fan fiction

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faeriekit · 1 month

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The Foster Mother

Now on ao3 and VHS release

There was, supposedly, someone waiting for him in the green sitting room.

“…Why?” Tim asked. Most of the usual suspects had already come by to give their “condolences”—former Drakes Industries investors, curious about the newly orphaned heir; fellow socialites, once again flocking in to give and receive sympathies for their “close friends, the Drakes”; gawkers come to see what they could scavenge off of a dead family’s home, never mind that their child was alive.

“She claims to know you, Master Tim,” Alfred offered, kettle in his hand. He spent a moment deciding between different two canisters of tea; a sign of possibly difficult future conversation. “Her interest in your father's estate seemed quite…minimal.”

…Alright.

Tim was still in his formalwear. Dissolving Drake Industries would take at least another year, and plenty of future hours cementing the future home of certain resources in their dissolution, but the outfit probably was more appropriate for whatever oncoming conversation that was about to ensue than his planned change into Dick’s old hoodie and board shorts.

Okay. Tim steeled himself. The self-determination…mostly worked. Whatever. He trudged up into the green sitting room from the kitchen with his usual introduction ready on his tongue.

And then Tim walked into the room.

And then Jazzy was there.

Tim had been three, and Miss Jasmine had been his had been his third nanny. He’d outgrown the wetnurse early on, and his second nanny had been dismissed, so although Miss Jasmine was the third nanny, she was first nanny Tim could consciously remember.

She’d had red hair. She’d been very gentle with him.

She got him up in the morning and put him to bed at night; for the first time, there had been someone who sat with him until he was asleep, reading all sorts of books his parents had left to engage him with as an early genius. Then, when those were over and done as promised to his parents, they got unauthorized books from the library: silly books with made-up words, dinosaur books, books about teddy bears and adventures around the world.

Tim hadn’t been allowed to travel the world. Tim hadn’t been allowed a teddy bear. His parents had thought it would encourage undue attachment.

(It had been the same reason he’d never been given a pacifier.)

Miss Jazz had given him a knitted bunny. She’d said her dad had made it especially for him.

The toy’s name was Bunny and Tim remembered him being very soft.

She didn’t smile all the time, but smiles were rewards that were easy to earn. He finished his meal and she smiled. He finished an educational puzzle and she smiled. He was quiet all through her phone call and she smiled, and answered all his questions once she was done.

Jazzy had been the first person in his life who was there all the time. She’d kissed his forehead after the bath and kissed his scraped knees; she’d carried him in his arms when he was tired and sometimes even when he wasn’t. His parents had wanted him to be independent, proactive, and not clingy, but Jazzy had been someone who he could run to from his bed when he’d had nightmares and someone he could cuddle on her lap with when he’d cried.

She was gone when he was seven. He didn’t remember why. His parents had probably never told him, but still; he'd assumed he'd have found out why eventually.

Jazzy looked the same right now as she looked in Tim’s memories, although she was likely no longer a college student at a nannying gig. Her red hair was pulled into a high bun, her dress modest and conservative from her neck to her ankles. There was a backpack beside her foot. She was sitting, one leg crossed over the other, on the high-backed loveseat in the green sitting room.

She looked up when he came in.

Tim. Stopped in his tracks.

It didn’t matter. Jazzy—Miss Jasmine stood up as soon as she saw him, eyes alight with worry. Foggy memories were swimming to the forefront of Tim’s brain. He couldn’t move.

“Tim?” Ja—Miss Jasmine asked, teal eyes raking over his frame. Tim froze where he was. He didn’t move, wide-eyed and terrified for no reason at all when Miss Jasmine got closer to him, at a distance that was more appropriate for a conversation.

She stood there. Watching him. It felt like his mother had just come home from her trips with Dad, and a ghost of old terror wafted through him as he waited for her to decide he’d done something wrong. Her voice got softer. Her eyes got softer. Why was Tim feeling so wrong-footed?? It was only a former staff person!

“Tim?” her voice was so gentle. “I don’t know if you remember me. I’m—“

“M’s Jazz,” Tim croaked. Which. Wasn’t the level of formality he’d been going for, but better than Jazzy. He wasn’t a toddler anymore.

Miss Jasmine was so tall—honestly, was she taller than Bruce? She’d seemed insurmountable as a child; he hadn’t expected her height to truly be so statuesque as an adult.

(Or. Well. Almost an adult.)

She didn’t quite kneel down, but she did stoop lower, as if Tim was small and he needed to be on equal footing in order to have a serious conversation.

He could see all her freckles. Tim swallowed. It was too familiar. Everything about her was too familiar.

“You’re so big now,” Jazzy whispered, looking at his hair, his suit, his polished shoes. He didn’t feel it. “Oh, you’ve grown up so well.”

Thanks, Tim almost said. Something stopped him—something thick in his throat, to impassable to break through.

“I—“ he tried. He coughed. “Why…you… You’re here?”

Jazzy threw him an incredulous look, and then an incredibly wry one. “Well,” she drawled a little too primly, in the way that Alfred occasionally made obvious statements, “I’d think it obvious that when one’s parents have passed away, that those who care about you might come to check and see if you’re alright.”

Which. That didn’t make sense. Jazzy hadn’t come back for any other reason; she hadn’t come back for his mother’s funeral, nor when his father was injured publicly by a villain. Why start now?

“And,” Jazz added, seeing his visual confusion and distrust, “Your parents can’t exactly threaten me with a kidnapping charge for visiting you when they’re dead.” Pause. “Which I am sorry about. My condolences.”

Which. Whiplash. What a statement.

“Uh,” said Tim, who was rapidly losing control over the situation.

Jazzy stood again, and went back to her seat; she didn’t set herself down, though, as she only stooped to grab her backpack. “I am sorry for being unable to visit, although I really wanted to; you were at a very vulnerable age and had already moved into a class a year above you, and your parents should have been less hasty about replacing your main caretaker. The assassination attempts were unwarranted, but they did drive the point home that attempting contact was perhaps discouraged.”

“What,” said Tim. “Assassin what.”

“They were ninjas,” Jazzy offered, as if that was an answer. “Except the last one, which was a former marine. The point is that I do care about you, and wanted to ask if you had any idea where you’re going now that your parents are no longer…available guardians.”

Tim’s mouth opened. It closed.

Jazzy waited patiently.

“…How have you been?” Tim tried, resorting to a part of the script they hadn’t gone through yet.

Jazzy’s laugh was tired, but no less real. It was nothing like listening to his parents titter politely; he didn’t think Jazzy would even know how to fake a laugh. “Well, my brother told me that my former bosses had died, which was somewhat stressful. Otherwise, I’m pretty happy: I live with my brother and worked with him for the last few years. I was going to pursue medicine, but…well. The assassination attempts made it hard to interview for scholarships. I suppose that I could return to that now,” Jazzy mused, attention now elsewhere. She pulled the backpack off the floor and up into her grip. She opened it, and flipped through its contents. “How are you doing? I know that Wayne Manor fosters, but your parents were always rather…hands off. I thought the difference in levels of attention might be overwhelming.”

It was. Tim should be surprised how clearly she sees through him—

—But Jazzy used to watch him stim for almost a full hour after school, twisting Bunny’s arms back and forth until he could calm down. Seeing other people all day had been too much for him. Coming home from his parents’ parties had been similarly stressful.

She’d never been mad at him for it. She held him while he talked and stimmed and talked and talked and talked, and brushed his hair sometimes, or if it was very late and he was very young, helped him brush his teeth through all the medieval execution facts he could name.

“It is a lot to get used to,” Tim agreed quietly. He didn’t want to be ungrateful. He didn’t want to let on anyone about his plan to leave.

He had an out. The papers had already been filed; there was an actor waiting to play his uncle for a custody battle, ready for the fight.

Tim was ready to up and go. It was no hardship to leave all the good things here; anything beat making Bruce stick his fingers into Tim any deeper than they already were, compromising the dynamic they’d already established.

It was for the best.

“I can imagine,” Jazzy sympathized easily. “And I wanted to offer—well. I know there’s probably a lot of choices available to you, but my brother and I recently moved back to Gotham proper for the time being. He’s teaching astronomy courses at the university and I’m filing paperwork for Arkham patients. It’s not so privileged a home, but it’s quieter, and more central in town.”

…Tim’s heart skipped.

He. He couldn’t stop staring. Jazzy stared back at him, quiet and sure. Sure of what, Tim had no idea, but…

Why? Why would she want Tim? There was no way she would be able to get to his trust fund without his help, and he for sure knew better than to enable her ability to leech from him. The last time she’d known him, Tim had been a snot-nosed kid who cried all the time and couldn’t be normal for twenty consecutive minutes. His parents couldn’t even stand to be on the same hemisphere as him as a child. What appeal did this have for her?? What could having a teenager with severe baggage living in her house do for her?

And it’s not like there was any chance she knew he was Robin!

“Oh,” Jazzy suddenly interrupted. “I brought these for you, by the way. Your parents had tossed them out at various points; I’ve washed them since, of course.”

She handed him the backpack by the handle.

…Tim peeked inside.

On top was Bunny, still a washed-out faded sort of pink. He looked as fresh as he had the day when Tim’s parents had ”cleaned out” Tim’s nursery—in other words, a faded, a little gray, and slightly discolored from an old spaghetti stain. His button eyes were big and blue.

And beneath him were books that hadn’t passed his father’s muster as appropriately masculine reading material: The Velveteen Rabbit, with the cover a little scarred from a fierce attack of wet wipes. There’s A Monster at the End of This Book, with a goofy-looking Muppet on the cover, gold spine beat up beyond belief. Art Tim’s teacher at the time must have laminated and sent home; Tim’s dorky, crayon cat proved he would never make it as an artist, but attached to it was a photograph of a grinning boy with a bowl cut and a missing tooth.

Tim stared. There’d been purple marker on his hands and face. His grin looked…really bad, actually, like as if he was baring his teeth because he didn’t know how to smile. There was no formal grace there. Nothing to show the neighbors, nothing worth framing to put into the line of sight of the investors in the office.

Jazzy had kept it and brought it home with her. Jazzy had fished it out of the trash, and brought it with her to give back to him in Gotham.

It was crinkled like it’d been folded, over and over again. Further down in the bag was a crumpled certificate dedicated to “Timmy Drake, for: knowing a lot about octopi”, and a baby blanket Tim didn’t even remember. It had rocket ships on it. It looked as if someone had cut into it with scissors, although it had been obviously and brightly mended with red embroidery floss later on.

Jazzy had only been his nanny until Tim was seven. She had simply been gone one night, and Mom and Dad had been home for ten nights after without help before giving in and hiring Mrs. McIlvane and Mrs. Edith. Ms. Edith had never been so…permissive…with Tim as Jazzy had been.

Tim swallowed. He carefully put everything back into the backpack, unsure if he even wanted to keep it or not. It wasn’t like he could leave it here; he’d be gone, ideally, before the week was out. There was no point in taking it with him if he only planned to live with a stranger until he was eighteen.

“J…” Tim tried. He cut himself off before he could get too informal without prompting. “Miss Jasmine—“

“Just Jazz,” Jazzy corrected politely.

“—Why are you here?” Tim asked, ignoring how she’d technically already answered. He didn’t believe her. “What made my parents fire you?”

Jazzy’s expression turned…soft. Tim couldn’t look at her. Something horrible was welling with it, and he didn’t know how to cope.

“I’m here because I care about you,” Jazz repeated, and knelt beside him. She looked up into his face, and took his hand. Tim didn’t know why. He was practically an adult—he didn’t need this!

“And I was fired because your Mother overheard you calling me ‘Mommy’ on accident when you were tired. I suppose she was insulted, although I’d never know why; it’s not like she was ever home to bond with you in the first place.”

Tim’s throat closed. He missed his mom. He missed waiting up for his parents’ flight home, seeing their headlights outside the window, and knowing they’d bring home gifts from overseas. He missed using Mom’s perfume, and knowing he’d used more of the bottle sitting on her dressed than she ever had, but that it still smelled like her. He missed hearing his Dad telling all sorts of adventure stories and promises through the phone to be home for the holidays, even if Tim knew there was every chance he’d find some other way to spend the time back in Gotham.

And there was some small child in him who missed Jazzy, who hugged him and walked him to the library and made him soup from a can instead of fancy dinners and, who’d never needed to be waited for in the first place.

Tim looked at Jazzy’s round, freckled face.

He swallowed.

Tim moved out before the end of the week, as expected.

#dp x dc #Jazz fenton #tim drake #that one time Tim specifically hired a fake uncle so that Bruce couldn't adopt him #free to a good home #Jack Fenton knits btw #I'm not going to continue this but i thought it was a cool premise and needed its time. Have fun with it if you want to!#this is dedicated to all the fulltime nannies at the library who are fully just college girls raising babies #dpxdc #dcxdp #Jazz said is anyone going to raise this baby and was targeted by ninjas for it #I don't have any future plans BUT there is a moment where Dick tries to sneak into her apt to 'check it out' and she fully Gets Him with a #TBI and a Fenton CreepStickTM #also. parents who try to shape their kids by denying them every form of human comfort and access to their interests. You're dead to me #also also also I'm still a Tim Drake Autistic truther #not NOT inspired by the Say Uncle by Megarakles. This one's for you fellow fans #also. if he goes with her. He gets parented for the first time ever and it Sucks Ass lol.#faer fic

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