WPaRG Intermission: Calisota Healthcare

by chelonianmobile, MultiFanGirlWickedPony

Summary:

The local doctors, dentists, and therapists, and the people who visit them.

Chapter 1

“Ms. Rita Malone?”

The woman on the exam table was young, but far from the youngest he’d seen. Red hair pulled back in a ponytail and a somewhat nervous, but still fairly relaxed, expression. Good. He liked those patients, they tended to be straightforward.

“I’m Dr. Weisburg.” He stuck out his hand and she shook it. “I’ll be performing your exam today. Unless you’d prefer another doctor?”

“No, you’re fine,” Rita said. “I would just like to get this out of the way, if that’s alright.”

“Of course.” He looked down at the chart. “Says here you’re here about birth control?”

“Uh, yeah,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck. “My boyfriend and I had a little bit of a scare last week. I just wanna keep that from repeating.”

“Perfectly understandable.” He motioned to a nearby chair. “You don’t actually need a medical exam for this, based on what you told the nurse. I just need to go over some questions. You have plenty of options for birth control, but I need to know a little more about you before I can say which one might be best.”

“Oh.” She blinked. “Okay.”

She moved over to the chair and he sat across from her. He clicked his pen and they started. “So, Ms. Malone, you said you had a boyfriend? And based on your comment, I believe it’s safe to assume you’re in a sexual relationship with him. Are you polyarmous or-”

“No,” Rita said, cutting him off quickly. “No, it’s just him.”

“I see. And how often do you two engage in intercourse?”

“… Um…” she blushed. “Pretty often? Once or twice a week if I had to guess.”

“And you mentioned a scare. Were you using any form of birth control before this?”

“Uh, yeah - condoms. We were using condoms. It’s just that one of them broke, y’know? I think it expired. We used Plan B, but for a few days we weren’t sure if it worked.”

He nodded. “Fairly common, I assure you. So. Have you ever been on birth control before?”

“Um… I used to be on the pill in high school, but, uh, I didn’t find that to be really effective. I kept forgetting to take it.”

“Well, there are plenty of other options. First things first, do you ever want to have kids? I have no judgements if you would like to schedule a sterilization, though we'd have to discuss possible complications it can cause…”

“No,” she said. “I want kids. Just not for another few years at least.”

“Fair enough. Well, if your main concern is taking it every day, but you feel comfortable taking something on a regular basis, then I would recommend the patch or the ring. Those only need to be readministered once a week or once every three weeks, respectively.”

Rita thought about this for a moment. “I’d rather not have to worry about running out of things, you know?”

“Sounds like you’d like a longer term solution, then.” He nodded. “How about the shot? That’s where we inject the same hormones that the pill contains, but in larger amounts. You’re good for three months after each injection.”

“I’d… rather not. My schedule’s too, um, unpredictable.”

“I see. Have you considered an intrauterine device?”

“You mean those T-shaped copper things?”

“Some also release hormones. They would last-”

“Yeah, no,” Rita said. “My mum got one once. It went… wrong. Plus her periods got way worse and I’m worried about those wires… getting in the way.”

“Alright…” He looked over the notes. “Sounds to me like what you need is the rod, then.”

“The rod?”

He nodded. “If I may…” He motioned to her arm and she held it out, letting him roll up her sleeve. “We would make a small incision right about here,” he pointed, “and insert a tiny rod into your arm. It’s really only about this big. It would continuously pump hormones into your bloodstream that would prevent you from getting pregnant, and one rod is good for up to five years. I can give you more information, if you’re interested, just so you’re fully aware of the risk.”

“Just one question… what exactly is the effectiveness of this rod thing?”

“It’s actually over 99% effective, and since there’s no way to use it improperly, it works for everyone the same way.”

“That… actually sounds great.” She bit her lip. “But if I do want to have kids earlier than that…?”

“We can take it out.”

“Cool. So, if you don’t mind, could I get that done now, or do I have to set up an appointment?”

“It would only take a few minutes. I could certainly get it done now, I’d just have to grab a few things… Quick question, though, has your period started within the last five days?”

“Uh… no?”

“Then you are going to have to wait a week before it starts to work for you.”

She shrugged. “No big deal. We bought new condoms, we should be safe for a week.”

“Good.”

In the end, she left with a matchstick-sized bump in her arm.

Weisberg liked her. A responsible young woman. He hoped to see her again.

Chapter 2

“Zim Norman?”

Philip Sherman, dentist, had been warned about this one in advance. Social workers and foster parents sometimes brought in pretty dreadful neglect cases, that was nothing unusual, but Mr. Bubbles had insisted on speaking to him directly instead of his secretary.

“Zim is… prickly, and has issues with people touching his mouth.”

Sherman wasn’t the most observant of people, but if the social worker was telling him this before the appointment was even made, let alone attended, he gathered that meant “protect your fingers”.

There were tools at his disposal. The kind one could use to pry a shut mouth open and to keep an open mouth shut. Still, he didn’t like to use them. Especially on a patient so young.

“UNHAND ME, you foul BLOB of MEAT and SKELETON! RELEASE ME AT ONCE!”

Somehow, he didn’t feel so guilty this time around.

Bubbles, the social worker, stood by the chair. “Do you need me to hold him still?”

“Nah, I’m sure we can manage. Can’t we, mate?” Dr. Sherman said cheerfully.

“I AM NOT YOUR ‘MATE’, YOU VILE SLIME MOLD OF A SUPPOSED MEDICAL PROFESSIONAL!” Dr. Sherman moved his hand again, and Zim’s jaws snapped shut millimetres from his flesh.

“… Or maybe not.”

Bubbles gently but firmly took hold of Zim’s shoulder. “Zim, we talked about this. He needs to look at your teeth. Remember when Dr. Kekata did? Would it help if you put your own fingers in your mouth?”

“What would HELP is him NOT STICKING METAL INTO MY ORAL CAVITY IN THE FIRST PLACE!”

“Zim, do your teeth hurt?”

“NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!”

“I saw your teeth, they’re in horrible condition, and it’s probably not helping to not have that dealt with. If Dr. Sherman fixes your teeth, that’s one problem over. Are you gonna behave?”

“THE GREAT ZIM DOES NOT OBEY THE ORDERS OF LOWER LIFE FORMS!”

“Hard way it is.”

The social worker was a large man. Zim was small and skinny and very clearly unhealthy in more ways than one. Bubbles was gentle, for the loosest definition of the term. He didn’t hurt him, but the boy’s mouth opened and Sherman slipped the bite-block in to keep it from closing again.

And Zim screamed.

He could not make out the words and, truth be told, didn’t want to, but Sherman was sure the kid was calling him every name in the book and then some. He tried to focus on the job at hand, but that was hardly better. Zim’s teeth were little more than brown and black blunted stubs. “No offence, mate, but have you ever brushed your teeth?” Zim didn’t cease swearing as he shook his head; it might have been an answer, or an attempt to dislodge the block.

“ ‘Fraid it’s about as bad as it could be,” Sherman said to Bubbles.

“I guessed as much. So…?”

“They’ll have to come out. All of ‘em.”

More screaming. Something that sounded like “no”.

The social worker actually winced upon hearing that. “All of them?”

“They’re rotted straight down to the roots. Leaving them in’s just asking for trouble.”

Zim squirmed again beneath the dentist’s hands. He wasn’t crying, but his eyes blazed red.

“I… I can give him a local anesthetic, like the kind we use for removing wisdom teeth, but this is a bit more… severe a case and I’m not… He won’t…” Sherman swallowed. “I’d like to use general anesthesia. It’ll be easier on him.” On all of us.

Bubbles sighed. “Whatever you need to do, do it. If it’s necessary then it’s necessary.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“Of course. Is that enough, or should I sign some kind of paperwork?”

Sherman removed the bite block, Zim’s teeth snapping shut so fast he felt the breeze again, and the boy’s mouth was immediately open in a scream of, “I KNEW IT! I KNEW you were SEEKING an OPPORTUNITY!”

“Zim,” Bubbles said with remarkable patience, “if we wanted to harm you, we wouldn’t need to drug you to do it.”

“Do NOT play DUMB with me, HUMAN! I know you intend to MAINTAIN MY TRUST and so ABUSE ME FURTHER!”

Bubbles thought for a moment, and took out his phone. “Look, if I film the whole process and show it to you when it’s done, would that prove that’s not what we’re doing?”

Zim actually paused to think on this. “This footage will not be doctored in any way?”

“No. Of course not.”

“I will KNOW if you alter it! Mark my WORDS. I will KNOW!”

“I’m sure you will.”

Zim continued to glare, but settled, marginally. “Very well.” He turned to Sherman. “You will not be spared my WRATH, should your treachery be REVEALED!”

“I’ll… keep that in mind.”

“I WILL SET FIRE TO YOUR HOME!”

“I promise you won’t need to, now will you settle down and let me put this mask on you?”

Zim minded less what Sherman did when nothing was actually going inside his mouth, and complied with the anaesthetic mask with only one or two token biting attempts. Even in his sleep, he grumbled and made aggressive hand motions.

“I don’t suppose you can tell me what… happened here?” Sherman asked as Bubbles filled out the required stack of forms.

“Abuse case.” The man shrugged. “But I’m sure you already had that figured out.”

“Bad?”

A look. “One of the worst I’ve ever seen.” The paperwork was handed over with a nod and Sherman set about the task at hand. Zim had settled, for lack of a better word. His mouth opened without resistance. Sherman readied the forceps in his hand.

“Well, this’ll at least mean he’s not in physical pain any longer.” Sherman did not say out loud Maybe it’ll also help his temper.

Chapter 3

“Esmeralda Guybertaut?”

The woman on the exam table was young, of Romani descent, with thick black hair and watery teal eyes. She nodded.

“I’m Dr. Weisburg. It says here you want to know about options for an unwanted pregnancy?”

“Y-yes.” The woman’s voice was clogged with tears. “I took a drugstore test, I know it’s happened. I need to know what to do.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Now, first, how far along are you?”

“About two months. I know it’s still within the time window, but it’s closing fast.”

“Not necessarily. It is closing fast for a medicinal abortion.” Weisburg pulled up a chair. “But I can also do a surgical aspiration up until around 16 weeks and a D and E until 24. Do you know what your options are?”

“Um… kinda?” She sighed. “But I can’t… I can’t keep it, and if I carry to term, there’ll be talk, and prenatals are so expensive on their own… I-I don’t think I can afford to keep it.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that,” he repeated. “So you believe that an abortion is the only option?”

She flinched and frowned.

“Miss Guybertaut?”

“… I’m Catholic,” she whispered.

Ah.

Well.

That made things complicated.

“So you’re of the belief that abortions are morally wrong?”

“… Yes? No? Maybe? It’s… it’s kind of made harder by who caused this.” She looks at Weisburg. “Can I guess from your name that you’re Jewish?”

“I am. Reform, if it matters.”

“What’s the Jewish position on abortion, just out of curiosity?”

“You know the old saying, ask two Jewish people’s opinions on a religious matter and you’ll get three answers?” he says. “It’s complicated.”

“Isn’t it always?” she sighed.

“You said your situation was made more difficult due to the father?”

“Don’t…” she said, holding up a hand and flinching. “… don’t use that word for him. Please. He’s no father.”

“Alright.” He detected something in that tone he had heard before. “I’m getting the sense that the intercourse was not… consensual.”

She hesitated, but shook her head. “No. No it was not.”

“I see. I won’t ask who it was, but may I ask what his relationship was to you? If you’re uncomfortable with sharing, of course, you don’t have to, but it would help if I knew so I can help you moving forward.”

She thought about it for a moment, and tapped her thumbs together. “He… he is… was… a major benefactor at my church. Has been for as long as I can remember.”

Weisburg flinched at that. “I see. That’s unfortunate… but not uncommon.”

Esmeralda looked up. “What?”

“I am not,” Weisburg said quickly, “going to say that all men who end up in important religious positions do so to take advantage of those they are supposed to serve, but the fact is that they are in a position of authority, and some… less savory men have been known to exploit it. Has the abuse been going on for some time?”

“Not exactly. He only… did this once, but I think he was stalking me. He would watch me during sermons, and he made a point of implying stuff about me. I thought it was just annoying. But I was wrong. And he cornered me.” She took a deep breath. “In the church building.”

“Oh my goodness.” No wonder she was feeling so conflicted.

“I called on all the saints I could think of. Maybe it did help. He left me alive, at least. I was scared he wouldn’t, since I knew it was him, but I guess he was hoping I just wouldn’t be believed.” Tears fell from her eyes and struck her folded hands. “And I wasn’t.”

Weisburg looked her in the eye. “I believe you, Ms. Guybertaut.”

“Thank you.”

“And no matter what he said to you,” Weisburg added, “this was not your fault. You did not tempt him or fill his mind with unholy thoughts, and it was not God’s will that he act as he did. You did absolutely nothing to deserve what happened to you. I know that, and I’m sure that God does, too.”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

“As for your options, we offer counselling before and after the procedure. If you’re really not sure you want to go through with it, we can also connect you with an adoption service and low-cost prenatal care.”

She consider for a moment, and said, “No. I’ve thought about that. I thought about… what if it was me? I mean, what if I was born under those circumstances? And I’m not sure I would want to face life knowing I was the child of such a terrible person. I know that must sound awful, Catholicism is so big on ‘where there’s life there’s hope’, but I wouldn’t want my mother to look at me and see the worst moment of her life every time. It’s… it’s why I haven’t looked for my own birth parents yet. I don’t know how happy they’d be to see me, and I don’t want to make them feel worse.”

“If I may say so,” Weisburg said slowly, “it sounds like you feel Catholicism may not be the best fit for you anymore.”

“Maybe not… but it’s been there my whole life. It’s what I was raised on. It’s what I know.”

“That doesn’t mean it has to remain that way, you realize.” Weisburg looked at her. “Perhaps this seems odd, but being comfortable with your spirituality is a big part of being happy with yourself, and can have an effect on your mental health. You may want to explore, and find out what works for you.”

Esmeralda nodded. “Yeah. Yes, I will.”

“Good. Now, regarding the procedures available…”

Chapter 4

“Miss Andersen?” Weisburg was looking at his notes when he entered the room. He caught a glimpse of a tall woman with long black hair, and briefly assumed that was the patient.

“Uh, I prefer mix actually,” said a soft, shy voice. He looked up, and saw the person on the exam table; a blond child. “I’m… nonbinary. Um, can I ask if you know much about that?”

“Enough to go on - don’t worry, Mx. Andersen, we're informed. We have pamphlets about it in the waiting room, we’ve all read them for approval.”

Mx. Andersen - Riley, he saw - relaxed. “Oh, good. A lot of people don’t know it’s a thing.”

“Well, it’s my job to,” Weisburg said, smiling. “And you are…?” he said to the woman.

“Esmeralda Guybertaut,” she said, shaking his hand. “I’ve been here before.”

“Oh! Yes, I remember - how’s it been?”

The woman shrugged. “Um, health-wise, fine. I’m in a support group for the mental side.”

“Good. And, ah, what’s your connection to the patient?”

“Um… emotional support.”

Well, that wasn’t suspicious at all…

“She’s here to make sure everything goes okay,” Riley spoke up. “P-please. I can’t let my parents know.”

“Know? Know what?”

A deep breath. “I think I might be pregnant.”

Oh…

“Okay.” Weisburg sat in a chair, bringing himself closer to the patient’s level. “And what makes you think that, exactly? What are your symptoms?”

“Uh, well, my period hasn’t come when it should, and I wasn’t really regular yet anyway, but I’m worried. And I’ve been throwing up, but that might just be because I’m nervous?”

“It could be, yes. Smart move to get it checked, though. Even if you’re not pregnant there could be a different cause which would need looking at.” He took a deep breath. This part was likely to be hard on all of them. “And what can you tell me about… why you think it’s a possibility, to put it delicately?”

“Um…” Riley blinked back tears. “There was a guy… an adult… and I thought I could trust him. And I was wrong.”

“That’s awful. I’m very sorry to hear that.”

They sniffed. “You’re… you're not gonna yell at me for that?”

“That’s hardly what you need right now.”

“I know, but…” They trailed off.

“Don’t worry. This is not a place for judgement. Have you taken a pregnancy test?”

They shook their head. “Uh-uh. Not yet, anyway. I… I really don’t want my parents to find out about this, if that’s okay.”

That might be a problem. “How old are you?”

“Twelve. And, um, actually, I have an appointment here for next week already, but like I said, I didn’t want my parents to know. I’m gonna come to discuss treatment options for my gender thing, and that might mean I need a general check-up, and if that happened and I was pregnant then my parents would be told, so I need to know now.”

“We… may have to tell your parents anyway.” No need to sugarcoat this. “Seeing as you are a minor, and under thirteen at that. We could get in a lot of legal trouble if we don’t tell a legal guardian-”

“What about the sexual health laws? Can’t you get birth control and abortions without parental consent?” Esmeralda cut in.

“If you’re thirteen or older,” Weisberg corrected. “However…”

Riley perked up. “However?”

“I may not have to tell them directly. It may just be that I’ll have to put it on your medical record, which your parents will have access to.”

“Hmm.” Riley twiddled their fingers. “I guess that’s okay. I mean, if you put pregnancy test, they might assume it’s part of the health check for whatever I end up doing for my gender stuff, if they even see it. I don’t think they’d read my medical record that closely.”

“That should work, then, but I recommend that you do tell them. It doesn’t have to be now, but it’s the kind of thing they would want to know about.”

“Okay. Maybe later.”

Weisberg had dealt with enough kids and teenagers to know that this meant never. He didn’t comment.

“Alright then. So. Concerning pregnancy tests, you have two options. You can either have an over-the-counter urine test done, or you can have a blood test.”

“… Which one’s more accurate?” Riley asked.

“Both are highly accurate. The blood test is a little more accurate, but it will also take a bit more time.”

Riley thought for a moment. “Well, I wanna be really really sure, and they might have to take my blood when I come here again, so blood test, maybe? How long does it take?”

“Two to three days, on average.”

“Oh. And how long does a urine test take?”

“Usually about ten minutes or so.”

“Urine test, then, please. I think it’s better if I don’t have to come back here again to get my results, or get a letter my parents might read by accident. And if I am, then I need to do something about it today.”

“Of course. I can get that set up for you right now.”

“I’ll be paying for any costs,” Esmeralda said. “Well, the support group will, we had a collection, but I’m the one who’s here.”

“Good, good.”

He walked over to a nearby drawer and pulled out a test, then handed it over to Riley. “This is the pregnancy test. It’s ninety-nine percent effective. It comes with a cup, a dropper, and a test. What you need to do is pee in the cup, and then use the dropper to put a few drops in the little hole here.” He pointed to the picture on the box. “One line you’re not pregnant, two lines you are.”

“Okay… what can I do if I am?”

“How long ago was the… incident?”

They shuddered. “A little over two months ago?”

“Okay. Then we can abort, but we’ll have to figure out exactly how far along you are before we can move forward. But first we need to know if you are pregnant.” He pointed. “Restroom’s that way, if you want to get started now.”

“S-sure.”

Riley hurried off, and soon came back with the test in hand. “Okay, done. You said it takes ten minutes to work?”

“ ‘Round about that, yes.”

“Okay…” Esmeralda leaned over Riley’s shoulder and they both watched the test with bated breath. Soon, blue started to fade into view in the little window. One line…

One line remained, and no more appeared.

“Woooooooooo!!!!” Riley jumped up and started to dance in relief around the room. “I’m not pregnant! I’m not pregnant! I’m not pregnant!” At one point, to Weisberg’s amazement, they cartwheeled.

“Congratulations, Mx. Andersen…”

“Wooooooooooo!!!!”

“Easy! Easy, Riley, we’re in a doctor’s office, there are things here that could break!” Esmeralda caught Riley’s arm, but she was smiling too. “Congratulations.”

Riley grinned broadly, then briefly looked worried. “Uh, how accurate did you say these are?”

“Over ninety-nine percent. False negatives are slightly more common than false positives, but not much, and since you’re so young and your menstruation isn’t regular yet, it’s highly unlikely you got pregnant.” Weisburg made a note. “That reminds me, if your period hasn’t come by your appointment next week, we might need to see if there’s another cause for it, but it’s most likely stress. I imagine you’ve not been having a good time worrying about this, and it can be self-perpetuating.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds pretty true. Can that cause puking too?”

“Yes. If that carries on, you might need to speak to your regular doctor as well.” Weisburg peered over his glasses at Riley and added, “Keeping big secrets is stressful, so I must repeat my recommendation to tell your parents, unless you have reason to believe they’ll react abusively or dangerously.”

Riley swallowed. “I’d… I’d really rather just forget it happened. I kinda have enough to worry about with the gender thing.”

They had a point. “That might be adding to stress too. See if it clears up after you come back for treatment about that, alright?”

Riley nodded, said, “Will do. Thanks!” and danced out of the clinic on Esmeralda’s arm, clicking their heels and singing “I’m not pregnant!” again.

Chapter 5

“Mercu- whoa!”

Bubbles was back again, this time with another boy. Older than Zim was, quieter, but with all the surliness that comes with one’s teenage years. That would be all that was worth mentioning if not for the wobbling, shambling way Black entered the room. Tripping and nearly falling into Sherman, pulling the dentist with him on the way down.

Thankfully, the social worker was a large man. Large enough to pull them both back and away and set them on their feet again. He let go of Sherman almost instantly, but kept a hand on Mercury Black’s arm. “Sorry about that.”

“Ah, no worries, mate!” Sherman ran a hand through his hair. “Hop on the chair, I’ll get me pliers.” He laughed. Black didn’t, and nor did Bubbles.

Black opened his mouth alright, but cautiously, with his eyes on Bubbles. Sherman spotted his nervousness. Social worker rather than parent… “This your first time seeing a dentist?” he asked.

A “Yes”, or as much of one as the kid could manage with his mouth pried wide.

“Huh.”

No judgement, but perhaps Bubbles saw some anyways. Maybe Black heard it. “Dad never took me,” he explained, when Sherman pulled back.

“I see…” A glance to the caseworker at the door.

“Oh, no. That’s not why… well, it kind of is why I’m here, just not in the way you’re thinking.”

“Oh?”

“You bet I was taken away, right? Nah. He’d never let that happen.”

“So… what d-”

“He’s dead,” Black said, almost… proudly? “As a doornail.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“O…kay. Well, it looks like you brushed, at least sometimes?”

“Yeah, I saw on TV I needed to, took me a few years to get into the habit, and for a couple months recently I… well, I couldn’t get to the sink.” Black shifted his legs, and a glimmer of metal caught Sherman’s eye. Where his feet should be were curves of shiny steel. “Yeah, those are new.”

Sherman didn’t like to pry, but he struggled to avoid staring. Black and Bubbles must have known. Bubbles said shortly, “There was a fire. That’s what happened to his father, too.”

Black looked uncomfortable now. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“Alright…” Sherman looked closer. There were cavities, and places where he had to scrape the plaque aside, and… “Some of your teeth…” he began.

“What about them?”

“Some of your…” He stopped and began to phrase it in a way the boy would understand. “The ones near the front and a few at the side… they’re gone. Are you sure you’ve never had dental work-”

“If they’re not there, then they were probably knocked out.” Black shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s no big deal. They’ll grow back.” He saw Sherman’s expression. “What? They did before.”

“Um…” Sherman glanced helplessly at Bubbles, who was no help, and settled on, “That only happens once.”

“What? Aw, crap.”

“Sorry. I can take impressions for a partial denture, if you want?”

Black shrugged again. “You’re poking around in there anyway, might as well.”

“Okay, open up again… good… Looks like you’re also gonna need an extraction or two, and fillings here, and here.” Sherman gently touched the teeth in question with the mirror. “And a really good cleaning and scaling.”

“Is that gonna hurt?”

“Maybe a little.”

Black narrowed his eyes, but nodded cautiously. “Fine. Bring it.”

“Let me know if you need a minute,” Bubbles said to him. “Okay? Let me know and he’ll stop if you-”

“You worry too much.” The boy rolled his eyes. “It’s fine.” He dug into the armrests with dirty and bitten nails.

Sherman reached for the brush. They’d start with that. Better to get everything out of the way before he started drilling. Plaque and blood and swollen gums - gingivitis - and rotten areas revealed underneath. A few more spots of black and brown. Some of his teeth were cracked, as though from blunt force trauma.

“I’m gonna recommend an antiseptic mouthwash, and also a numbing one till everything clears up.” He extracted the brush so Black could speak, and said, “You may also need antibiotics.”

“Oh, I’m already on enough of those to make me rattle,” Black said, after spitting out foam. “My leg situation was… really, really not good. They don’t work only on specific body parts at a time, right?”

“Heh, no, that should cover you. Okay, do you have a problem with needles?”

“No…?”

“Okay. That’s good. I’m going to inject something into-”

“This is that painkiller stuff that knocks you out, right? I know. They gave me that while I was in the hospital.”

“Oh, it won’t knock you out. It’s only a local anesthetic, but it’ll stop you from feeling it when I drill into your teeth, or when I take them out.”

“Huh?” Black thought. “That’s… pretty cool. You can do that?”

Sherman wondered how this teenager knew less of the world than his eight-year-old niece. All he said was, “Yeah, we can.”

“Cool.”

Black groaned and tensed up when the needle went in, but didn’t struggle, and poked his tongue curiously at his gums when it kicked in. “Huh. Id wor’s,” he said, muffled by his numbed mouth, and sat back.

The forceps came out as soon as Black seemed reliably sedated. Better to get the worst of it out of the way.

“How many will you be removing?” Bubbles asked as Sherman snapped on a second pair of gloves.

“Not many,” he replied. “Not many, a lot of these cavities can be solved with fillings or root canals, but a few of his teeth…” He examined one. “They’re rotted straight down to the root.”

Bubbles winced but said nothing more. Black stared up at the dentist with clouded gray eyes, floating on procaine and far beyond words.

The drilling was about as unpleasant a procedure as the extraction. Perhaps a little less so.

“Fire,” Black mumbled when Sherman took the instruments out of his mouth, clearly away with the fairies, sounding far too happy. “Fire in all the windows…”

Poor kid’s been through a lot.

Chapter 6

“… Beans?… Sanchez Hernandez?”

“Um, yeah, that’s my legal name. Daddy was a bit… eccentric.” The young woman in the examination room was plainly dressed and quite ordinary-looking, except for her obvious nervousness.

“I see… ahem. So you’re looking to discuss options for birth control?”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “So, uh, what types are the least… conspicuous?”

Weisberg raised an eyebrow. “I don’t follow.”

“What are the ones the guy wouldn’t notice?”

“Beg pardon?”

“I need somethin’ that’ll keep me from gettin’ pregnant, but’ll…” She sucked in a deep breath. “I don’t want the guy to know ‘m protected.”

“Would it be… too much trouble if I asked you why?”

“It’s… a long story.”

Weisberg stepped closer and spoke more gently. “Miss, is this man in question trying to get you pregnant without your consent? Because that’s legally a form of abuse, and I’d advise you to report-”

“No! I can’t… can’t report it, not right now. Um…” Her eyes darted from side to side.

“Is he a significant other of yours?” Wanting to protect him wouldn’t be unusual.

“Lord, no! No, it’s, oh glory, it’s all very…” She cut off abruptly, staring into nothing. Weisberg wasn’t exactly a specialist in either, but as a doctor he’d seen both epilepsy attacks and dissociation before. It could have been either, but it passed before he could fully diagnose.

“Are you alright?”

“Fine! Fine, I just… that happens sometimes. I don’t wanna talk ‘bout it. I just…” Her eyes sharpened and fixed on him. “I can handle this myself, I just… can’t go to the police. Not yet. An’ you,” she said, sterner than stern, “ain’t about to make me. Understand?”

Legally, she was right. “I can’t, I was only-”

“Well, don’t.” Her eyes softened. “Please… just let me know if‘n there’s anythin’ you can do, that’s all I need right now.”

“Okay.” Weisberg sat down and flicked through a few pamphlets. “Well, one of the types of pill could certainly help. There’s no way for anyone to tell just by looking or anything that you’re taking it. Though if this man is ever in your home at all, you may want to find a secure hiding spot for them.”

“Hm… what are the other options?”

“Well, the IUD is inserted into the uterus, but some users complain of being able to feel it during intercourse-”

“Not that, then,” she said hastily. So hastily Weisberg increased his mental danger warning to a full-on red alert. It sounded like this guy would become violent if she offended him. But, as he’d said, he couldn’t force her to report him.

“There’s also the rod, which would be put under the skin of your arm. It’s subtle, but if someone was looking for it they could possibly find it. I think your best option might be Depo-Provera.”

“Depo-what now?”

“It’s an injection. Every three months you’d come in and we’d give you a shot. It’s not visually different from a vaccine or anything like that. It’s unlikely that… this man would ever notice anything was off at all.”

“That then. Gimme that.”

“Okay. First, we need you to take a urine test to be sure you’re not already pregnant.”

She shuddered. “I was gonna ask about that next anyway. And I may need that morning-after thing.”

“Of course.”

The proceedings were completed with efficiency, and before Miss Sanchez left, Weisberg spoke up once more. “I would like to say, while I cannot make you, I suggest you seriously consider reporting this man.”

She nodded. “Yeah, I know, but I can’t. If anything happens to him… stuff’s gonna happen to a lotta other folks. It’s hard to explain.”

“No explanation needed. I believe you know what’s best for your own situation.”

She smiled then. “Thank you.”

Chapter 7

“Are you sure my usual doctor’s not available?”

“Yes, sir, I’m afraid she’s not here,” said the receptionist for the seventh time. “I’m sorry, there are no female doctors available for this procedure right now. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to reschedule?”

Glomgold sighed and sat down. “No, it’s fine. I can deal with it.”

“Very well. It looks like our next available physician is Dr. Sweet. If that’s alright, I’ll go ahead and set things up, and you should be able to head to the exam in about half an hour.”

“Okay, that sounds fine. I really just want to get this over with.” He picked up a magazine and flipped through it, uncomfortable but resigned.

“Understandable,” the receptionist muttered.

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

“Mr. Glomgold?” A nurse stepped out with a clipboard. “The doctor will see you now. Please, right this way.”

He followed, nervously glancing side to side as he went. Stop making such a fuss, he told himself. It’s just a medical procedure, it’ll be over soon.

Normal weight and vitals were soon taken, and the nurse left the room. After twenty minutes of fooling around with his phone, a tall, muscular African man walked in, looking down at his clipboard. “Mr. Glomgold?”

… Please be a nurse, please be a nurse, please be a nurse…

“I’m Dr. Sweet. I’ll be performing your exam today.” The man stuck out his hand and smiled in a friendly greeting.

“… Hello.” Glomgold tried to avoid his voice squeaking as he took the doctor’s hand. It’s okay, he’s just a doctor, he’s just a doctor, he doesn’t even look much like them, he’s… bigger and scarier. Oh boy. “Just to confirm, my regular doctor still isn’t here, right?” His regular doctor was the smallest, blondest woman on staff.

“Sorry, I’m afraid not.” Dr. Sweet looked down at his clipboard. “Ah, I can see why you might prefer a female doctor for this. Prostate exam, huh?” Another smile. “Don’t worry, I promise this doesn’t make you gay. I don’t want to do this anymore than you. Just try to relax.” The doctor went over to the sink. “Say, that accent sounds different than your usual one. Is that Australian or South African?”

“What accent?” Glomgold attempted to transition smoothly back into his usual Scottish one, and failed. The doctor gave him a strange look. “Um, oh, yes, uh, South African. I… spent some time there. And I didn’t think… That’s not exactly the problem. I just… You reminded me of someone and it was weird.” Don’t say because he’s black! Don’t say because he’s black!

“I see,” Dr. Sweet said, continuing to wash his hands. “And this someone you know… they wouldn’t happen to be black, too, would they?” He looked back at Glomgold and laughed. “I’m just kidding. Trust me, you are far from the most racist patient I’ve had. Once had a guy demand to see another doctor the moment I walked in.” He shook his head. “Good thing most people don’t know I’m biracial.”

“That’s not… It’s… Argh! I’m sorry! I swear I’m not trying to be racist, or homophobic, or whatever else you think I am,” Glomgold spluttered. “It’s… complicated.”

“It’s really okay. I’ve more or less gotten used to it from men your age.” Dr. Sweet looked at him sympathetically. “We don’t have any female doctors on staff, but I’m not going to be offended if you want a different doctor.”

Glomgold considered his options. Well, the group did say it’s a good idea to try to face your fears… “No, it’s okay. It’s silly. Uh, it might help if I keep talking through it. I know that helps some people with injections and I wasn’t looking forward to this anyway.”

Dr. Sweet nodded. “Whatever helps you feel more comfortable. One of my patients sings every time she has to give blood. And she has the most beautiful singing voice, so I have no complaints.” He slipped on some gloves. “I’m, uh, I’m afraid this is the part where I’m going to have to ask you to drop your pants.”

Fuuuuck. Okay. I’m doing it myself, not someone else. It’s not the same. Glomgold moved very slowly and cautiously, removing his belt and doing as requested. “Okay.” He hoped the doctor hadn’t noticed his breathing was quicker. “Okay. Um, a singer, you say? Is she a professional? I know some pretty famous singers…” He placed his hands on the table, breathing in deeply.

“No, and I don’t know why. She easily could be, I think. Okay, now, if I could just have you bend over the exam table, arms flat. Imaging you’re leaning over a boat, and go to you happy place.” Dr. Sweet chuckled. “Most men think of going fishing. I don’t see why. I hate fishing. I hate fish. I know most doctors will say eat more fish, but not me. Hate the smell, hate the taste, hate all them little bones.”

Happy place… “Weeelll, not so long ago I joined a… sort of a social club. I’ve met some really nice people there. There’s a young man who’s a wizard in the kitchen, he could probably make fish you’d eat. He’s bet the kids he can make broccoli they’ll like.”

The doctor laughed. “Well, if he can win that bet, he’ll be a very rich man, I’m sure. Okay, now, I’m starting the exam. Just take a deep breath in, and out…” He started to push his finger in, then frowned. “Um… Mr. Glomgold, this may be a bit of a personal question, but have you been sexually active recently? Particularly with other men?”

Glomgold’s breathing quickened again. “Recently? No.” Stay here, it’s a doctor’s office, nothing bad is going to happen…

“Sorry to ask, you just… have a lot of scar tissue down there. Actually, the amount you have is rather unusual. Even for homosexual and bisexual men. It’s almost as if it was forced… entry… oh.”

Glomgold barely heard him. The memory was becoming overwhelming, and the doctor’s voice was making it worse. “Okay, I need to stop, let me get up, stop, stop, dit maak seer, STOP!” He pulled free, yanked his clothes back on, and stood for a moment, hugging himself. He looked up apologetically and added, “Sorry, but I did say you reminded me of someone.”

“Your attacker?” Obviously a rhetorical question. “That’s not your fault. Actually, I’m surprised you let me go as far as you did. I assume this was some time ago?”

“… Yeah. I was nineteen. And, actually, it was more than one.”

The room was silent for a moment. “I am so sorry,” the doctor finally said. “… Um, your prostate is fine. So there’s that, at least.”

Glomgold laughed humourlessly. “I guess. Sorry, I really wasn’t trying to blame you or anything. I thought I could deal with it.”

“Well, if you need any support, I can refer you to a psychiatrist, or there’s a group that’s very good…” Dr. Sweet took a business card from his pocket, and Glomgold laughed for real.

“Ha, small world! Actually, this is the group I told you about!”

“Small world indeed!” Dr. Sweet smiled, and offered his clean hand to shake.

Chapter 8

Hudson had his suspicions about Earl Sinclair Junior's condition before seeing him. He hoped he was wrong.

“It’s weird,” said Fran, holding her son’s hand steady as Doc Hudson unpeeled the Band-Aids and examined the bites on the child’s fingers. “I thought he just got over-enthusiastic about sucking his fingers after his teeth started coming through, but now I’m worried. I don’t think this is normal.”

“Has he expressed any distress?”

“No, he seems fine.”

Hudson peered into the child’s froggy-looking violet eyes and said, “Mrs. Sinclair, would you mind covering your son’s eyes for me?” She did so, and Hudson gently pinched the boy’s arm. “Okay, Junior, can you feel that?”

“Uh-huh!” the boy babbled.

“Does it hurt?”

“Huh?”

“Does it feel bad?” Hudson amended.

“Nuh-uh.”

He pinched harder. “How about now?”

“Nope!”

Hudson let go and frowned. “I’d have to do more to be sure, but we might be looking at CIP here. Congenital insensitivity to pain.”

Fran Sinclair frowned too. “That sounds on the surface like a good thing, but from the way you’re talking, it’s not.”

“It’s not, I’m afraid. Pain serves a purpose - imagine how much damage could be done if you cut or burned yourself and couldn’t tell,” he explained, and her eyebrows rose.

“Oh, my poor baby! Is there anything you can do?”

“I, ah… well,” Hudson said, and steepled his fingers. “There have been some successes in treating it with Naloxone, which is used to counteract overdoses of various drugs and can block the chemicals which cause the problem. But the condition’s extremely rare. There are only sixteen or seventeen living people in the U.S. who’ve been diagnosed with it, so…”

“… so our insurance won’t cover it,” Mrs. Sinclair sighed.

“I’m afraid it’s unlikely they will.”

She thought. “Is there anything else?”

“There is one thing, but you won’t like it,” Hudson said. “I believe it’s recommended in some circles to pull all the child’s baby teeth out.”

“What?!”

“As you’ve noticed, he chews on his lips and fingers, and with no pain, he won’t stop when he draws blood. There have been cases where the child bites right through their own tongue, which can result in death.” Mrs. Sinclair fumbled and nearly dropped the baby, who made no attempt to grab her arms and stop his slide from her lap. Hudson caught him.

Earl Junior giggled. “Again!”

“See what I mean? Without wanting to frighten you, I must tell you that the majority of children with this condition don’t reach the age of three, and it’s rare for those that do to live past twenty-five. You’re going to have to be extremely careful with him.”

Mrs. Sinclair was obviously shocked and flustered. “I-I’m going to have to discuss this with my husband and my mother, I think.”

“Of course. Do you care for Junior full-time or do you work?”

“No, I’m at home with him, and so is his grandma now.”

“Okay, it’s good that she’s there too. You’re going to have to check him for injuries every single morning and night, every time you change him, and any time he’s out of your sight, even briefly. Don’t let him near anything even slightly dangerous if you can avoid it. Keep his baths and food lukewarm, encourage him to chew on teething toys and not himself… and does his sense of taste seem to work normally?” She nodded. “Good. Bitter aloe on his nails might put him off chewing his hands so much. Try to keep his temperature stable too. Some causes of this condition can also prevent the body from sweating.”

“Good God, is there anything that won’t go wrong?!” Mrs. Sinclair rubbed her forehead, clutching the baby firmly with the other hand. “I’m sorry, I just… Why don’t our other kids have it?”

“Genetics aren’t that simple. Sometimes there can be a random mutation that’s not carried in the family in the typical way,” Hudson said, taking a syringe from a drawer. “I can send in a blood sample and get it tested to find out the root of his condition. There are a few different gene problems that can cause this, and knowing the specifics will let us know if there are any other probable issues that might come up. I’d recommend combing through your insurance policy just in case, in the meantime.”

When he showed the syringe, the baby wailed and covered his eyes, yelling, “No no no!” When the needle actually went into his arm, he didn’t even notice.

Chapter 9

Chapter by chelonianmobile

“So, I can tell there’s a lot of hostility between you,” said Dolores, before her clients had even sat down. Even if she hadn’t known of their rivalry - which had been plastered across world news for years and had recently become the subject of a viral video involving one of her other patients yelling at them for fighting in a public place - and even if they hadn’t specifically contacted her requesting a neutral mediator, she could have felt the crackling tension between the two.

“What gave it away?” said Flintheart Glomgold, sarcasm dripping.

“Now now, Flinty, be nice.”

“So, could you please tell me in your own words why you’re here?”

“I’m here because four-and-a-half decades ago he stole my weapons and equipment and abandoned me to die in the African wilderness, and has repeatedly tried to kill me since then too.”

“I’m here because he’s responsible for me having been a nineteen-year-old blond in a South African prison.”

Dolores was well-practiced in not showing emotional reactions, but she did blink. These were new. “It sounds like you both have very understandable reasons for fighting.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

“I think you’re both going to have to tell me exactly what happened, in your own words.” A pause. “Though perhaps it would be best if you went one at a time. Do I have any volunteers to go first?”

“What is this, kindergarten?!” Glomgold spat.

“Oh, I may as well,” Scrooge said. “It was back during me fortune-hunting days. I was in South Africa, mining for gold, and I had rented out a little buggy cart. I was just doing some digging when all of a sudden, I spot a water buffalo, and this son of a bitch was tied to its horns.”

Dolores paused in her writing. “ ‘Scuse me?”

“Turned out that was how the nearby town unofficially punished thieves, letting them be dragged to their deaths, but I didn’t know that at the time. I’d worked on cattle ranches not long before that, been travelling in America, you know. So I was able to rope the beast meself and keep hold long enough to untangle him. He tried to pass it off as an accident, and when I didn’t buy that he said bandits had tried to kill him that way. I offered him a ride along to the next town, and he was very eager.”

“I can imagine…”

“He actually offered to give me directions to the next town over. Figured I had no reason to say no to him, he seemed like a fellow who was down on his luck, a bit like I was at the time. So we traveled together until we made camp that night. And when I woke up the next morning, he was gone. Which wouldn’t have been so bad, except for the fact that he took all me things. Even me guns! In the middle of lion territory, no less!”

“Hey! I was-”

“Mr. Glomgold, it’s Mr. McDuck’s turn. You’ll explain your side later.” She looked to Scrooge. “Please go on, Mr. McDuck.”

“Lucky thing I knew how to navigate, and it wasn’t too far to town, so I made it before he sold me things. He’d left them in the stable at the bar, so I went in, found me guns, and marched him down to the police station… Well, alright, there was a scuffle. I make a point of not killing people, but I was young and hotheaded, and… okay, I tarred and feathered him before turning him over. And I thought that was the worst thing to happen to him, but apparently I was wrong.”

“In what way?”

“Well, I didn’t find this out until years later, but apparently South African prisons have… something of a gang problem. The dynamics aren’t exactly something I’m familiar with, but they all go by numbers, and they’re all kind of different branches of the same gang, but also their own thing… I don’t quite know the logistics, but I don’t suppose I have to. What I do know is that one of those gangs - the 28s - are rapists. They rape a lot… and that happened to be the group I got him stuck in.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you did.” Glomgold sounded almost disappointed that Scrooge admitted it so easily.

“I wouldn’t even have found out if not for sheer accident - hell, I didn’t even know me business rival and that young bandit were the same person until a few weeks ago. Me grandnephews and their babysitter happened to be listening to an Afrikaans rap song which mentioned the gangs, and it seems it gave him a panic attack.” Scrooge’s remorseful expression flickered into a more familiar annoyance, and he added, “You still owe Miss DeSpell a new tablet.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Glomgold muttered. “And you owe me about fifty trauma-free years of my life.”

“Speaking of which… Mr. Glomgold, I believe it’s your turn to tell your side of the story.”

He sighed. “Okay. You’ll have to give me a minute, normally when I do this I’m trying to make myself look better than him, but that’s not really going to help here… Okay. Well, our life stories before we met weren’t all that different. I grew up poor too, except out in the mining towns in the Transvaal instead of Glasgow. And yes, I’m aware there are obvious ways it could have been a lot worse, but at the time I wasn’t thinking about that. I was looking for ways to climb the ladder, and did some… not entirely legal things. And I got caught stealing.”

“Hence the water buffalo?”

“Yeah, hence the water buffalo. Anyway, most of the story is like he said. He let me go, and I stole the cart. But I didn’t think he was gonna die, he was too smart for that. He kept bragging about the value of hard work and all the adventures he had and how he was ‘tougher than the toughies’… I figured he’d find town soon enough and he’d be able to start over, after I had enough to start over myself.” Glomgold sighed. “But he found me before I expected him to, and yeah, he tarred and feathered me and hauled my ass up to jail.” A pause. “You ever got un-tarred and feathered? It’s not fun, and it wasn’t even the worst thing that happened to me.”

“So, tell me what happened when you were there?”

“Well, the place I was in was more or less one big cell, with about thirty men in it. I was supposed to be in a separate cell because I was the only white guy there, but they didn’t have a separate cell. The place just wasn’t big enough for it. And at the time I just thought they hated me for no reason, but years later I can tell the guys there had reason to resent white people. Guess they were taking out their frustrations about the system on me.”

“Is that when the… what did you call them, 28s, started showing an interest in you?”

“Uh, well, yes and no.” Glomgold waved his hands in a “so-so” motion. “Here’s the thing, the 28s were… interested in me, but they weren’t the first ones who got me. That was the 26s. Each of the numbers has a specialty, and theirs was non-violent theft, or at least less violent. So I never had to worry about them doing anything all that rough to me.”

“I see. So, how did you end up in the company of the 28s, then?”

“I… I tried to cheat the 26s’ leader.”

“Chronic backstabbing disorder even then, eh?” said Scrooge before he could stop himself.

“Fuck you!” roared Glomgold, standing up, fists clenched.

Dolores raised her voice, just a little. “Sir! Please calm down. Mr. McDuck, that’s not nice and it’s not helping. Mr. Glomgold, I won’t have violence in here. Please continue your story.”

Glomgold sat down, exhaling heavily. “… Okay. I’m calm. So I’d been sort of on probation with them to begin with - like I said, they didn’t trust the white guy - and naturally they weren’t happy, so they handed me over.”

“And when you were handed over-”

“Yeah, I was one of the guys they fucked. ‘Wyfies’, if you want their word for it.”

Dolores nodded. “And you blamed Mr. McDuck for this misfortune?”

“How could I not?! He was the bastard that put me in prison in the first place! He could have just taken his stuff back and left, but noooooo, he just had to make an example out of me, didn’t he?!” This was obviously a rhetorical question, for he continued. “And it’s a good damn thing HIV hadn't reached that place yet! They would have infected me if they could! That’s the sort of thing they do now!” He glared bitterly into Scrooge’s eyes. “You know what they said to me the first time? I passed out after seven men each had their turn twice. They waited for me to wake up, and the first thing one told me was ‘dying won’t save you’.”

“Holy…” Scrooge blinked, his eyes looking perhaps a little shinier than usual. “Curse me kilts, Glomgold, I swear I’m sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t going to stop the fact that it happened, is it, McDuck?” He turned back to Dolores. “So that was my life for the rest of the time I was there. I got sick, too, really sick. Had to go to a doctor as soon as I got out.”

“And how did you get out?”

“Oh, he’d left town and they couldn’t get in contact with him. No complaining witness meant no evidence, meant I got out of prison a lot sooner than if he’d decided to stick around, ironically enough.”

“How soon?”

“Still more than half a year. The system’s badly overcrowded.” Glomgold shrugged. “Better than some people get, it can take a decade, I hear. I wouldn’t know, I got out of the country as soon as possible. Took the first ship out to somewhere with a better prison system, which turned out to be Scotland, hence,” he tugged his tartan hat, “new identity. I got the worst of the physical damage fixed, did a lot better making money there. Years later I met him again.”

“Like I said, I didn’t know him,” Scrooge added. “When I last saw him he was a lot younger and went by the name of Duke. I had no idea why he seemed to hate me on sight, but I thought it was envy.”

“If I’m being entirely honest, it was, at least in part.” Glomgold sat back. “For some reason, you didn’t have to resort to all the things I had to do, and you still bested me… it didn’t feel like it was fair.”

“It wasn’t,” Scrooge sighed. “For about the first time, I agree with you. It really, really wasn’t.”

Chapter 10

“Mr. Leghorn! What a sssurprissse.” Kaa Pamireddy clears his throat and swallows spit. “Excussse my ssspeech impediment.”

“Not a problem, doc, I say, not a problem.” Mr. Leghorn is a rising star in the Calisota business world, and he greets appropriately, with eye contact and a firm warm handshake. Still, his smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

Pamireddy looks him over, once the dust has settled and both men have taken their seats. Leghorn is tense, chewing alternately on his bottom lip and the inside of his cheek.

“What exactly bringsss you here today?”

Leghorn stops, looking a bit uncomfortable for a moment. Then he swallows and says, “My wife died last year.”

“Oh?” Is that all? “I’m ssso sssorry to hear that.”

“It was… it was suicide.”

“Oh dear,” Pamireddy says, brow wrinkling. “Do you know what might have caused her to-”

“I know exactly what caused it. She was never the same after we lost our son.”

Bingo. “He died too?”

“No, I mean lost. He went missing.”

“I sssee. When did thisss occur?”

“A few months before she…” Leghorn stops in his tracks. Stops his voice from cracking in a way that the doctor can hear. “It’ll have been two years in April.”

“How old-?” Don’t sound too eager.

“Three. He’ll be five soon. Or… he would be.”

“Goodnessss.That isss quite a tragedy.”

“She was sure he was dead, but I still wanna hope, you know? I know it’s probably stupid, but…”

“Well. It’s not imposssible, but I have to add that it’sss extremely unlikely he’sss coming back. I’m sssorry.”

“I know. I guess I need your help to come to terms with that?”

“Ah, of course.”

“Can you help?”

“It’sss what I do.”

Something just short of relief flashes across his patient’s face. “I just wish I could have done something.”

“That’sss quite natural. I think I would, too.” There’s quite a bit I’d like to have done. Take him myself, perhaps. “You sound like a posssible candidate for EMDR therapy.”

“What’s that?”

“A way of procccesssing traumatic memoriesss. The ssscienccce behind it hasssn’t been invessstigated deeply yet, but watching the movement of a light or hearing sssoundsss in alternating earsss can help to activate different areasss of the brain, which can help with breaking up a memory that you’re ssstuck on. You won’t forget it, but it won’t feel ssso all-consssuming, and you might be better able to move on.”

“I’d like to try that then,” the man says. “Anything to make it all… less.”

“I can’t make it go away,” Pamireddy warns.

“I know, I know, but… whatever you can do has to be better than what I’m feeling now.”

“Perhapsss… I can shhhow you how it worksss now,” Pamireddy says as he begins to set up a screen. “Sssome doctors just do thisss with a light-up pen, but I like thisss program. It’sss pretty. Ready? Watch.” He presses the button, and a glowing blue light dances horizontal figure-eights, leaving a trail behind it like a snake. “Now, you focusss on the traumatic memory and tell me in detail how you feel, then you keep thinking about it while watching thisss. Afterwardsss, I check in and sssee if your thoughtsss have changed, then we repeat.”

“And it… works?” A pause. “Sorry, that was rude of me.”

“It’sss quite alright. No need to apologizzze.”

“But…?”

“Yesss, Mr. Leghorn, for many of the patientsss I’ve worked with, thisss method can be very effective. I can’t guarantee anything, but it shhhould work for you if you’re willing to try.”

“At this point, I’ll try just about anything.”

“That’sss good. If it doesssn’t work, we can try sssomething elssse, of courssse.” Pamireddy picks up his notepad and pen, and begins asking the questions on the list.

“What would you sssay isss the part of the trauma which you find yourssself focusssing on mossst?”

“Can you think of a ssspecccific image or sssensssation asssociated with it?”

“A ssspecccific belief about the cccircumssstanccce, or about your reaction?”

“On a ssscale of one to ten, how would you rate the distresss thisss memory causssesss you?”

He carefully refrains from asking the questions he wants to ask:

Did your boy look anything like you?

Chapter 11

On the other side of the Pacific, another medical examination went on as normal in the Hanawon centre…

“Hwang Gi-sae?”

The patient on the table looked like he could be anywhere in his late teens to early twenties. It was hard to tell, and the scrawniness didn’t make it easier. “Yes?”

The doctor smiled. “My name is Du Do-yun. I’ll be performing your medical examination today.” He gave a slight bow. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

The patient stared up blankly at him.

“… Were you told you were going to have a medical examination?”

The patient shook his head.

Internally, Do-yun sighed. Once. Just once, the staff could tell them. “We’re going to have you looked over by a doctor.” Such a simple sentence. It would make everything so much easier… Outwardly he did nothing of the sort. “Well, so long as I have your consent, I was sent here to do a basic physical examination. Recording things such as your height and weight, getting baseline measurements for your vitals, asking some basic questions about your medical history, perhaps getting a few blood samples… things like that. If you have any questions or you don’t consent to this, just let me know.”

“Do whatever it is you need, sir.”

Definitely a Northerner. They all talked like that at first.

“First things first then. Mind putting on a hospital gown?”

Hwang raised an eyebrow.

“It’ll make weighing you a bit easier.”

“Oh. Of course,” he said, starting to disrobe.

“Ah, I can give you some privacy if you-”

“No need. I was in the army for several years.”

“Several? How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Twenty-one.”

“And when did you join the army?”

“Seventeen.”

“I… see.” It could be worse. Given what he knew of North Korea, he wouldn’t put even younger child soldiers past them.

Hwang popped his head out of the hospital gown, then just stood there. As though he was waiting to be told what to do. Probably was.

Do-yun cleared his throat. “Let’s start by getting your height. If you’ll just step over here… there you are. Place your back flat against the wall, and stand straight.”

Hwang did so without a word. 167.6 cm. A bit shorter than average. Probably due to malnutrition, if Do-yun had to guess.

“Not bad,” he said, and hoped it sounded encouraging. “Now let’s try the scales, alright?”

“Alright, yes. I understand.”

53 kg. That was… pretty bad. Not the worst he’d seen, though, even with patients who weren’t defectors. He made a note on his clipboard and nodded to the table.

“Why don’t you have a seat?” Then, as Hwang moved to do so: “You’re a bit underweight. When was the last time you had a full meal?”

“Yesterday.”

“Ah, right, the staff did tell me you arrived last night… and when before that?”

Hwang blinked up at him. “The day before yesterday?”

Still in denial to a certain extent, it seemed. “Well, in that case, I’m going to write a prescription for some nutritional supplements. Just to get that weight up, you understand.”

Hwang tilted his head to the side.

“Do you have a question?”

“Is my weight…” Hwang trailed off, then shook his head. “Never mind. It’s nothing important.”

“Are you sure? This is your health we’re talking about. I don’t mind answering your questions.”

“I’m sure.”

“Alright then.” You can’t force them to talk. Do-yun put on his stethoscope. “This next part is relatively simple. I’m going to use this to check your pulse.”

“Carry on with it,” Hwang extended his arm.

Normal. Well, he was a soldier. Do-yun listened to him breathe. A bit fast, but not concerningly so. Poor boy must be scared out of his mind.

“Any injuries that you’re aware of?”

“Why do you ask that?”

“It’s not uncommon for, ah, people like you to get hurt on the way over. Broken bones and bullet wounds.”

“That is not a problem.”

“Right. Of course. Would you mind if I checked your reflexes?”

“I would not mind.”

Do-yun picked up a small rubber mallet, being sure to stand back as he struck the patient's knee. Normal again. For a soldier, that wasn’t too surprising. He pulled out a small flashlight, checking the patient’s eyes. Nothing wrong there, his pupils constricted normally.

Everything else seemed normal, save for a slightly high blood pressure, but that could probably be chalked up to stress as well. He made a note regardless. “Alright, now, I am going to ask you a couple of questions about your medical history and information. If you don't know the answer, that’s fine.” He looked up. “You’re not going to get in any sort of trouble. Just answer these to the best of your ability, alright?”

“I will answer anything you need.”

“Right then, first question. Do you know what your blood type is? I’ll need it to complete your medical record.”

“O-negative. I was tested going into the military.”

“Would you be alright to give a blood sample?”

“Why is that necessary?”

“It’s the fastest way to check for diseases - and any nutritional deficiencies. Just so we know how to take care of you.”

Hwang sighed and extended an arm. “As you wish.”

“Thank you.” Do-yun grabbed an empty vial, continuing to talk as he took the sample. “Do you know of any diseases or conditions that run in your family?”

Hwang blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Things like diabetes, cancer, heart disease… If your relatives have them, then you’re more likely to develop them.”

Hwang seemed to think for a moment. “There are no health complications in my family as far as I’m aware.”

“Alright, and yourself? Have you ever had any sort of major injury or illness that I, or any doctor who treats you in the future, might need to know about?”

“I wouldn’t suppose so. This is meant to be the prime of my life, is it not?”

Chapter 12

“Ji Ma-gang?”

He was a mousy little fellow with wide eyes and shaggy dark hair, shot through with a healthy dose of gray. Do-yun was expecting an old man, but a young one looked up at him, bangs slipping back to reveal a missing ear.

“What are y-you looking at?” he mumbled. “I was born this way…”

“Oh! My apologies, Mr. Ji.” Do-yun took a second look at the file they were able to pull up; and indeed, there is a note about the one ear. Should have taken a closer look. “I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“Mm.” Ji started to play with his hands, looking anywhere but at the doctor.

“Do you consent to this examination? You don’t have to, we can certainly postpone if you don’t-”

“N-no, it’s okay. Go ahead,” he mumbled.

“You’ve already seen someone?” It wasn’t much of a question - his patient’s wounds had been cleaned and bandaged and he was wearing a hospital gown. “I’d like to take a look at… whatever you have under there, in a moment. Let’s start with the usual things. Can you stand?”

Ji rolled his eyes. “How do you think I got here?”

A fair point. “Then would you mind walking over to the scales?”

Ji did so, but appeared to be slightly unsteady on his feet. Do-yun reached out a hand, but it was slapped away as Ji hops on the scales.

50 kilos; not good. The patient picked up on Do-yun’s discomfort. “I… I haven’t exactly had a whole lot of food recently.”

“Understandable. How long were you kept there?”

“What’s the date?”

Do-yun told him.

“Six months then.” He shuddered. “Communist bastards.”

“Mr. Ji, I’m so sorry-”

“Let’s just get on with it. You don’t need to check my height, do you? That shouldn’t have changed much.”

Do-yun shook his head. “Can you sit?”

“What kind of a question is that?”

“One I, ah, have to ask.” Do-yun cleared his throat. “Some survivors do come in with… injuries… in that particular area.”

Ji blinked. “Okay… Well, I haven't. I can sit. I was sitting when you walked in.”

“Yes, of course. My apologies, Mr. Ji.”

“Everyone’s sorry,” Ji muttered as he sat on the examination table.

Do-yun picked up his clipboard. “You don’t have to go into details, and you can refuse, but would you mind giving me a broad overview of what they did to you? Just so I know what sort of injuries or possibly infections to look for.”

“Nails. They pulled out my nails,” he said, flexing relatively normal-looking fingers. “On my feet too. And they whipped the bottoms with a cane. And they beat me. Threatened to take pliers to my teeth if I didn’t give them what they wanted. I started making things up. They left me alone after that.”

“Making things up?”

“Things like Hanawon being a ‘reeducation center’ or… or… I don’t even remember now. Point is - lately - they haven’t don’t more than smack me around… It was worse with the others.”

“Others?”

Ji swallowed. “They took my b-brothers too.”

Dear God. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“It’s…” Ji looked down. “Um… t-they got hurt a lot worse. They made up some stuff but not nearly as much as I did… a-and…”

“And?”

“… They cut off my older brother’s foot. F-for trying to run…”

“Oh. Oh dear-”

“He begged us not to leave without him.”

“I… don’t think you can blame yourself for-” Do-yun paused. “Us?”

“I made it. Jo didn’t.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Choe’s probably dead,” he said blankly. “Or he will be. I… I couldn’t have taken him with us. He was missing a foot. He can’t see, they took his glasses. I…”

“You’re right,” Do-yun said. “It’s a horrible situation to be in, but I don’t think you should blame yourself.”

“He would.”

“You don’t know that.”

Ji looked him dead in the eyes. “You don’t know my brother.”

Chapter 13

“Beck?”

Two adults looked up. A brother and a sister, so the file claimed.

“Yes, I’m Agent Gretel Beck of the FBI,” the woman said, shaking her hand. She motioned to the man next to her. “This is my brother, Hansel.”

“Hi.” He waved. “Not gonna lie, I’m mostly here because she dragged me.”

Dr. Dolores Abbagale smiled. Open hands; empty chairs. She gestured for them to sit down.

“I understand you lost touch until quite recently,” she said. “Now, if you’d prefer, we can start with introductions today - getting to know each other. Some of my clients have trouble building up to-”

“Not necessary, but thank you,” Gretel said. “No use pussyfooting around the subject.”

“And what do you think, Mr. Beck?”

“Call me Hansel.” He shrugged. “Might as well get to the point. It’s what we’re paying for.”

“Very well then, Hansel.” Dr. Abbagale gav another smile. “Would you both mind starting, then, with telling me how you lost touch?”

“Oh, that’s absolutely my fault.” Both Beck siblings spoke simultaneously and blinked blink, each looking at the other.

“What are you talking about? I’m the one who stopped contacting you.”

“After I started selling junk that I knew didn’t really work.”

“There’s a difference between selling crystals and-”

“Look, you want people to be honest and-”

Abbagale cleared her throat, and both Beck siblings turned. “I can see that this is a… complex issue.” She nodded to Agent Beck. “Let’s start with you… and Hansel, please, no interruptions until she’s finished. Why do you feel like you’re primarily responsible?”

“I… Our parents died when we were little. I was nine, he was ten. Granny- our grandmother took us in for a while, but she was… well, I guess you could call her abusive? She used to slip things into our food.”

“What kinds of things?”

“If I had to make an educated guess, I’d say cough medicine. I always felt groggy afterwards… One night she drugged us and… left. She took the money our parents left us and just vanished. We went into foster care. Hansel and I- we’d always wanted to be where I am now - together - doing what our parents did. I was… disappointed when it didn’t work out that way.”

“That’s completely understandable. It can be difficult when a dream we had in childhood doesn’t work out the way we intended it too.”

“It wasn’t just that. I… I thought it was entirely his fault. He started skipping classes, not doing his assignments…” She glanced at him. “At the time I thought he was lazy. I’ve been informed that he was working to save up for college, but… I didn’t know.” A sigh. “And then he got expelled.”

“For truancy?”

“Actually he made the statue in the courtyard disappear for… some reason. Still not entirely sure why.” She looked over.

Hansel shook his head, smiling slightly. “It’s not my turn.”

“Right… Well…” Another sigh. “Shortly afterwards I was told I got a full ride scholarship to university - also a lie.” This time, she shot her brother a glare. “He forged a letter so I wouldn’t worry about it. I’d earned some scholarship, of course, but the rest… well, he paid the rest out of pocket. Which I was never informed of.” She swallowed. “So I just thought he went straight into the workforce for no reason.”

“And you judged him for that?” Abbagale kept her tone carefully neutral. Gretel flinched anyway.

“I thought he could do better. I’m sorry, I know it was small-minded, but…” She shook her head. “Then I found out what he was doing and-”

“Maybe you could elaborate on that?”

“On what he… Right, sorry. ‘New Age medicine.’ Hippy stuff, basically - crystals, love potions, things like that. Part of his magician schtick.”

“I take it you didn’t approve?”

Gretel shook her head again. “Even he didn’t think what he was selling worked. If he did, that’d be one thing, but, well… Our parents always stressed honesty. And he wasn’t being honest at all, so I just… stopped responding to his texts and calls…”

Hansel raised his hand.

“Hansel?”

“She was upset that I crossed a boundary. But that’s not a bad thing, right? Everyone needs boundaries, and not wanting people in your life because they crossed a line… That’s good, right? Healthy even?”

“Er… generally, yes,” Abbagale said cautiously, “but in this specific situation… It doesn’t sound like either of you was really happy with the arrangement.”

“I mean, I guess? But it’s nothing to beat yourself up over.” He squeezed his sister’s hand. “If anything, I should apologize for-”

“Don’t you dare. I’m the one who-”

Abbagale held up a hand. “Talking over each other again. Can’t have that, remember?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Abbagale nodded at Gretel. “You may continue, if you’d like.”

Another deep breath. Gretel bit her lip. “A few months ago he contacted me again. Out of what seemed like nowhere. We hadn’t spoken properly in… a while. And…” She look down at her hands. “… and he was calling because… because he needed help. He had just gotten out of a rather nasty situation.” She looked at her brother. “That’s his story, and I don’t know what details he wants to share, so I’ll just say traffickers were involved and leave it at that. And… after everything…” The woman shrank a little. “… I don’t know why I thought he’d lie about something like that, but I did. And… I ended the call myself. He was looking to me for help. And after everything he ever did for me, I abandoned him in his darkest moment… and I’m still not certain why.”

“Beating ourselves up isn’t going anywhere productive,” Abbagale said gently. “I’m here to help with that.” She nodded to Hansel. “Do you want to take over?”

“It’s not her fault,” he said. “Really, Gretel, I don’t blame you at all. I’m the one who… Okay, I’m not sorry about the school thing. We had the money for one of us. She had the better shot. I just helped out. No big deal.”

“No big deal?! You-”

“Gretel. It’s Hansel’s turn to speak.”

She’d never seen an FBI agent sulk before.

“Ha! You got in trouble~”

“Hansel, please.”

“Sorry, just… never seen that expression on her before.” Hansel gave a smile and ruffled her hair. “But yeah. I did sell stuff that I knew didn’t actually work.” He shrugged. “Can’t say I’m proud of that. I did try just doing work as a magician but, ah, that doesn’t always pay the bills. I needed something to supplement my income.”

“And why did you turn to this, precisely?” Again, neutral tone. Still, Hansel flinched.

“It fit in with what I was already doing. Smoke and mirrors. And besides, I figured people only bought stuff if they already believed in it. It’s not like a couple of stage tricks would make people change their minds. I wasn’t trying to, like, convert anybody.” A sigh. “Still, not great of me.”

“So you don’t resent your sister?”

“Not a bit. If I were in her position I’d probably do the same thing.”

“That’s not-” Gretel cut herself off abruptly and sank back down into her seat.

“And… about what happened afterwards,” Abbagale began, “are you comfortable discussing it?”

“I…” He glanced at his sister. “Not if you’re going to blame yourself.”

“Hansel, I… I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me, okay?” Gretel smiled tightly. “Besides, I know you want to talk about it.”

A deep breath. “Well, um, what happened was…” He shrank a bit now. “Someone offered to buy up half my stock, but he just did that to get me alone. Everything went black. When I came to, two men were arguing. GWF guy against trafficker guy. Well, they gave me a choice, and it was either the… trafficking… or death.”

“That…” Abbagale adjusted her glasses. “… does not sound like much of a choice.”

He shrugged. “Still. Didn’t want to die.”

“I won’t fault you for it.”

He hugged himself, hands shaking. “They ended up hitting it off, a-actually. Those two guys? Cult guy got a job there. Just about the worst that could happen - for me at least. Probably everyone else…”

“Do you want to talk about that?”

“… We had sex so many times.”

“That was not-” Gretel cut herself off, but did still motion to her brother while looking at the doctor.

“Was it consensual?”

Hansel snorted. “God no. Of course not. I mean, I may be bi, but he wouldn’t be my type even if the situation was normal, which obviously it wasn’t.” A sigh. “But, I mean…” A shrug. “It still happened, and to be honest? There were a lot of other things that he, um…” He looked at his sister. “You know. Lighters, tasers, snakes… I kinda started to hope it was just going to be him.”

“That’s fairly common,” Abbagale said. “At least, for what you’ve described. I’ve worked with quite a few survivors of sexual violence, and while I can’t disclose anything personal, this is not my first time hearing something like this. And it is not your fault.”

“Well… I sound kinda dumb when you say it like that.”

“It is dumb,” Gretel muttered.

“It’s easy to feel that way,” Abbagale said. “I know it is. But I can assure you that nothing that happened was your fault in any way, and I’m glad you were able to get out.”

He glanced up, looking smug. “Kinda proud of that myself. It was just a little bit of misdirection, but it went a long way.” A sigh again. “I wasn’t there for very long. My apartment was still mine and I got back to it okay.”

“Got ba- did you walk the whole way?!”

“Agent Beck.” Abbagale didn’t need to say anything else.

“Sorry, but… that couldn’t be easy.”

A shrug. “I lived.”

“And, after you got back… that was when you called your sister?” Abbagale waited for a nod. “And when she ended the call… what went through your head? Thoughts, emotions?”

“IIII, uh, that’s a tricky one…” He ran his hands through his hair. “I mean, it wasn’t great…”

“Mr. Be- Hansel? I’m here to help you, but you have to be honest with me.”

“I holed up in bed for a few days. Got sick. Got better. Dragged myself down to Planned Parenthood. The doctor there was really nice, all things considered! They gave me one of those lollipops for kids!”

Gretel stared at him, sadness all across her face. “I’m so sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“But it was! You came to me looking for help, and… I just abandoned you!”

Abbagale cleared her throat. “If I may?”

The two looked over at her.

“From my perspective, both of you are right. But,” she added, “both of you are also wrong.”

“What kind of an answer is that?”

“My kind of answer,” she said. “There were obviously some mistakes made on both sides. That doesn’t mean that either of you are bad people or that anything was deserved. And considering that all this self-flagellation is actively hurting your communication, well, I’d advise that you stop voicing it as an objective truth. Trust me, it’s doing more harm than good.”

“Then how do we voice it?” Agent Beck looked confused.

Dr. Abbagale smiled at them. “Simple. When you’re trying to communicate your thoughts and feelings about a situation, use statements such as ‘I think’ or ‘I feel’ rather than ‘it is’. For example,” she nodded to Agent Beck, “you could say ‘I feel like I hurt you’ rather than ‘I hurt you’. After all, you cannot speak for your brother.” She looked at Hansel. “And you cannot speak for your sister. Also, I would recommend asking if you need to figure out whose fault it is that you lost touch. You do need to learn from your mistakes, but here, both of you made them. And overcorrecting can sometimes do more harm than good.”

“What did I do wrong then?”

“Hansel, I think you’re looking at this from the wrong angle. This is about healing, not assigning blame. And the last thing I want is for either of you to spend any more time blaming yourselves when you should be focused on mending your relationship.”

“But-”

“I understand that it’ll take time, all I’m saying is that you need to try.”

Both siblings looked at each other again, then back at her. “Where do we start?” Simultaneous yet again.

Chapter 14

The patient was clearly pregnant…

“… but how?”

Roberta DeMayo sat on the examination table, clutching her stomach and glancing towards the door. Her mother was outside in the corridor.

“Why do you need to ask how?” Weissberg asked, tilting his head. Sixteen-year-olds generally knew.

“Well, the… the only person I’ve… the only person it could be is a woman,” Bobbie said. “I kinda figured she was trans anyway, but she didn’t… They don’t leave the… important parts in, do they?”

“She was post-op?”

“I didn’t ask, but it looked like it - from the outside, anyway. If she still had… you know, they were inside.”

“I’m… sure that’s been done, but it’s an unusual way of doing reassignment surgery.” Weissberg thought for a moment. “While I don’t want to get too personal speculating about someone who’s not here, it’s also possible she had PAIS or a similar condition.”

“What?”

“Partial androgen insensitivity syndrome. Someone born with testes which may or may not descend, but with an at least partly feminine appearance. You’d have to ask her, though. It’s quite rare that people with PAIS are fertile, but it’s happened before.”

“… Oh.”

“Is this something you've talked about at all?” Not that kids were usually great about communicating. “I’m guessing there was no protection used?”

“I didn’t think of it,” she said. “Uh, sorry.”

“What’s done is done,” he sighed. “It’s also possible… Are you certain it was her? Are there any other situations-”

“I wasn’t roofied, if that’s what you mean. I don’t get out much. Part of my parole conditions.”

“Parole?”

“There was an, uh, incident I don’t wanna go into. It’s not all that relevant.” DeMayo hugged her belly and muttered, “I’m not dangerous.”

“Okay… Well, do you want to discuss your options now? We caught it quite early, so you have the option of a medicinal abortion if that’s what you want.”

She was quiet for a while, then said, “I… Can I have some time to think about it and come back to you?”

“Absolutely, though I would make the decision quickly if I were you. I’m sure you understand it’s a little time-sensitive.”

He tried to phrase it mildly humorously. It fell flat.

Chapter 15

“Hi! I’m Brian. And you guys are…?” Let them introduce themselves, make them feel at home.

The (rather obviously trans) woman looked at the man, shifted slightly in her seat. Didn’t seem she felt comfortable answering the question. Interesting.

“I’m Wallace Herbertson. This is me fiancée, Wilhelmina Tweedy.” He reached over and squeezed the woman’s hand. The woman merely nodded.

“Nice to meet you!”

“Likewise.”

Well, that puts introductions out of the way. “Can you tell me a little about why you’re here? Are you comfortable with that?”

“Uh, it’s… I s’pose it’s complicated?”

“It’s my job to help with the complicated. No need to worry there.”

Wallace scratched the back of his neck. “Er… we aren’t having relationship trouble exactly, it’s just that… Some things have come to light recently and… we’ve been a little… tense.”

“What kinds of things are we talking about here?”

“Oh… you know…” Wilhelmina spoke now, chewing on her lip. “Just… things… about me previous, ah, relationship.”

Ah. One of those cases. “I see. Mind telling me a little more about that?”

“Oh, um…” Wilhelmina looked down, playing with her thumb. “It’s just, ah… me last relationship wasn’t exactly ‘ealthy.”

Wallace actually snorted. “Understatement, that.”

Wilhelmina sighed. “Me ex-wife was very abusive. Especially about… certain topics. An’ I guess I sort of developed these… ‘abits… an’ they’re not leading to good things in an ‘ealthy relationship.”

Brian's first impulse was to say ‘I’m so sorry to hear that’ but this wasn’t the sort of issue he could smooth over with niceties. Instead he asked, “What kind of habits?”

“Oh, well, um…” She glanced over at Wallace. “It’s been… difficult to put me foot down on certain things.” Pause. “On… most things. It’s ‘ard to say no even if I want to and that… Y’can see why that might be a problem, can’t you?”

“If I may ask a… personal question-”

“No, it doesn’t extend to sex,” Wallace said quickly. “At least, usually doesn’t. Actually, when it comes to sex, I usually let ‘er initiate. Makes things easier.”

He nodded. “Then what does that look like? Can you give me an example?”

Wallace shifted. “Well…” He sighed. “Budgetin’, it tends to come up a lot. Like, for example, say we’re looking at groceries. I ask her if a hundred for the week is good because she’s the one that usually goes to the store - I tend to work late, see - and she clearly has an opinion but she just says ‘Whatever you think, dear’. And I say ‘This isn’t like we’re pickin’ a restaurant, I genuinely need to know’ and we have this back and forth until she finally breaks down and says that we actually need a bit more, and I just shrug and adjust it. And then I have to reassure ‘er that no, I’m not mad, that’s why I asked.”

“I… I don’t think I’m that bad.”

“Dear, no offense, that was literally our Thursday night.”

“That does sound like a problem.” Brian nodded. “It’s good that you realized it though. A lot of people don’t. And you’re talking about it now.”

“But how do we keep talking about it?” Wallace asked. “I can’t get ‘er to open up to me-”

“Wally-”

“Wilhelmina,” Brian stopped her. “Hold off for a second. Let’s hear what Wallace has to say.” He nodded and the man went on.

“I just… If there’s a problem I need to know about it. We’re a couple. We’re a team. It’s not supposed to just be ‘er and I…”

“It’s supposed to be us?”

“Exactly.”

Brian looked over at Wilhelmina. “You mentioned that you were in an unhealthy relationship and that was the likely cause of these issues. May I ask what happened if you tried to disagree with your former partner?”

Wilhelmina shifted, looking rather uneasy.

“You don’t have to tell me, if you’re uncomfortable. This is a first session-”

“No, I… I want to. It’s just… She did a lot.” Her hands went to her pearls. “I’m… I’m not quite sure where to start, honestly.”

“Well… Let’s go with budgeting, since that seems to be a point of anxiety. How did she react when you disagreed on a financial issue? Did you sit down to budget with her?”

“No,” Wilhelmina said. “She ‘andled all the money. I never even saw the bills.”

“Did you ever bring this up to her?”

“Once or twice.”

“How did she react?”

“Not… well.”

“Do you mind if I press for details?”

“Um…” Wilhelmina chewed at her bottom lip. “I… Give me a moment…?”

“Take whatever time you need.”

“R-right… Well, um… Sometimes it was exactly what you’d expect. She’d ‘it me or say awful things. A few times she destroyed me belongings when I set ‘er off.”

“You didn’t do anything-”

“Wallace,” Brian chided. “It’s Wilhelmina’s turn to speak now. You’ll get your chance.”

“I felt like I set ‘er off. I know - logically - it probably wasn’t… preventable, ‘er gettin' so…” She swallowed. “S-still… still, I…”

“Sometimes with survivors of domestic violence, it’s easier to blame yourself and think you still had the power to affect or control it than to accept that whatever happened to you really was completely out of your hands.”

“She… she also raped me.” Wilhelmina’s voice was quiet. “I didn’t think she could.”

“Many people don’t think women can. Was it just the once?”

Wilhelmina looked down, shaking her head slightly. “N-no. It wasn’t.”

“What?!”

Wilhelmina wilted slightly.

“I take it this is your first time hearing about it, Wallace?”

“I didn’t… It wasn’t… Wilhelmina, how often did she do that to you?!”

“… I lost track.”

“I’m… I…” He spluttered. “Why didn’t you-”

“You know why.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I still… I’m still…” He swallowed and looked forlornly at the woman. “I…”

“You didn’t tell him you’d been assaulted?”

“I did, I just… I didn’t tell ‘im it ‘appened more than once. I didn’t want-”

“You didn’t want to upset me.”

“Wally… this isn’t about you.”

“Yes it is! You’re me fiancée! I love you and you were hurting and you didn’t feel like you could… like you could tell me these things! You don’t-”

“Of course I-”

“Then why do you keep leavin’ things out?”

“If I may.” Brian looked at Wilhelmina. “May I ask you a personal question?”

“Go ahead.”

“At any point, did you feel like your life was in danger while you were with this woman?”

“Once or twice.”

“So it sounds like,” he continued, “this may have, at one point, been about your survival.”

“I… She wouldn’t ‘ave killed me… Not on purpose.”

“Are you certain?”

“… I don’t know.”

Wallace reached for her and held on tight. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s still not your fault.”

“She’s right,” Brian said. “It’s nobody’s fault but that woman’s.” He looked to Wilhelmina. “You know that, don’t you?”

Silence.

“Wilhelmin-”

“On an intellectual level…”

“She probably made it feel like it was,” Brian guessed. “But I think that may be the root of the problem. You were with this woman for…?”

“Sixteen years.”

“So you had a lot of time to develop these habits. And now you have to unlearn them. You're having to fight against instincts that kept you alive. I’m sure that can’t be easy.”

“It’s not.”

“And… Wallace, I’m sure it must hurt that she feels that way. Even if you know on an intellectual level why she acts the way she does, I imagine it feels like she doesn’t trust you?”

“Well, I…”

“I know it’s hard, but you have to understand that trauma does things to people that can lead to irrational feelings, even if they’re fully capable of logical reasoning. And it’s easier to act in accordance with fear than to take a risk. Even if logically you know that fear will be proven wrong. Even if it has already. It’s a process. That means you’ll have to be patient.”

“I know… I know. Of course you’re right.”

“… But?”

“It’s… it’s going to take a bit of learning on my end.”

“Well then.” A smile. “Seems like you’ve come to the right place.”

“One can hope.”

“The most important thing is communication. It’s the key to any good relationship.”

The beginnings of a smile played across Wallace’s face.

Wilhelmina nodded slightly. “I’ll… try to keep that in mind.”

Chapter 16

“Hey, I’m Brian. You must be-”

“Buddy Thunderstruck! An’ that’s Darnell!”

“Hey.”

They were an interesting pair. Buddy, wild-eyed and with his hair mussed up, flashed a snaggletooth grin. He shook hands a little too eagerly. Darnell hung back, dark hair greased down, a little more reserved, paler… His hands were encased in plaster casts. There was a nasty burn scar on his cheek.

They settled down, and Brian began. “So you mentioned when you made the appointment there was a specific incident that’s led to problems?”

“Um… yeah…” Darnell squirmed. “Y’know about GWF?”

Did he ever. Brian nodded.

“Well, yeah, I got caught. Just one guy, but he got… enthusiastic.” Darnell held up his hands. “This, plus, uh, their usual, and that’s not all he did…”

“What did he do?”

Darnell clammed up. Buddy, indignant over his genuine fear, said, “He put a gun to Darnell’s head and forced him to try to break up with me over the phone.”

“Oh! Oh… jeez. I can see how that might cause… other issues.”

“He told me it’d be better for Buddy if…” Darnell didn’t look at either one of them. “… if I ‘hurt him as much as he was gonna hurt me’. So I said a lot of awful stuff…”

“Do you mind elaborating? You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but it might help to get a general idea.”

“Mostly I was supposed to make it sound like I’d been cheating with… I told Buddy it was consensual when he overheard…”

“He assaulted you while you were on the phone?”

“Yeah. Yeah, an’ he made me say all sorts a’ stuff about how much better he was than Buddy…” Darnell looked sideways at his partner and added, “He wasn’t. I mean, even before he started really wreckin’ me.”

“I kinda gathered,” said Buddy, patting Darnell’s back.

“Sounds like a horrible experience in more ways than one.”

“Yeah. I mean, I figured it out eventually… but… we both said a lotta really shitty things first.”

“I’m-”

“I ain’t mad, my fault more ‘n yours.”

“Buddy…”

“I mean it. You’re th’ one who-”

“Okay, okay,” Brian said, holding up his hands. “Blaming yourselves really isn’t productive.” He turned to Buddy. “You said something in response? Given the circumstances - with what you knew at the time - I think that’s pretty understandable. And… on the other side of things, you really can’t be held responsible for whatever you said while this man had a gun in your face.”

“Mm,” Darnell hummed and leaned into his fiancé.

“But, and I want you to remember this, all feelings are valid.”

“Yeah, yeah…”

“Are there any hard feelings?” Brian asked. “Towards each other? Or is it just self-blame.”

“Self,” they said near-simultaneously.

Brian smiled encouragingly. “Okay. But if there is any blame towards each other, I’d just like to say that that’s okay. Even if you know it’s not either of your faults, it’s normal and okay to misdirect those feelings. But it’d help a lot if you told me and each other, if you were. You’re here so you can deal with it before it becomes a serious problem, right?”

“But I don’t blame Buddy, I just-” Darnell groaned. “Nevermind.”

“No, please continue. This is all meant to help with the healing process, okay? It’s alright to speak honestly.”

There was a pause, and then Darnell took a deep breath. “The things… the things I said, you know I didn’t mean them, right? I was just… I thought of the worst things I could say, but they weren’t… I dunno, personal? Of course they were, but y’know what I mean.”

“Baby, ‘course I-”

“Did you…?”

“Did I… what?”

“Mean the things that you said. I mean, I get it…” He looked at Brian. “There ain’t too many gay guys in Greasepit. Jus’ me an’ Buddy, far as I know. He’s the town hero an’ I’m just-”

“-the wrench jockey…” Buddy finished, horrified. “Darnell! I didn’t-”

“I’ve always… kinda wondered if you settled. Went for me just because I was there.”

Buddy’s jaw hung slack for a moment, and he had the expression of a beaten dog. It took him a while to form words; when he did, they were, “Is that what you think of m-” And then he cut off again.

“Mr. Thunderstruck?” Brian urged.

“I… Darnell, I thought you said you’d marry me because you knew I love you. I thought you thought better of me’n that.”

“I do! I… Buddy, it’s not you-”

“Yes it is! Did I make you think… Is it something I said?”

“You’ve never had anyone else,” Darnell mumbled. “Not since we were kids. Even he knew that you were outta my league.”

“He didn’t know nothin’!” Buddy went to grab Darnell’s hands, thought better of it, and held onto his shoulders instead. “Darnell, you built the Rabble Rouser from scratch. I know I couldn’ta done that! A-an’ sure, I always liked racin’, but you got me into tryin’ it myself ‘steada watchin’. And when that guy picked on Auntie Uncle and we slashed his tires, you’re the one who knew insurance wouldn’t cover it if we only did three-”

Brian didn’t think he should encourage that one, but now wasn’t a good time to interrupt.

“Point is, you’re smart, you’re cool, and I literally wouldn’t be able to race without you. An’ yeah, maybe there’s a bunch of people can fix up a car, but you’re the one who did. And I didn’t even look for anyone else since we were kids, ‘cause I didn’t like anyone else as much as you.”

“Buddy…” Darnell sniffed. “I didn’t mean… I just-”

“I love you. S’okay. Don’t talk like that ‘bout yerself. I love you.”

Darnell was obviously in pain when moving his hands, but he didn’t hesitate to throw his arms around Buddy.

Chapter 17

“What’s your name?”

Irwin Twahirwa was sixty miles from Kinshasa city. In some tiny little village that didn’t have a name. He was tired, sweaty, thirsty, and oh so very much ready to head home in the morning… and there was a boy chained to a tree.

This wasn’t even the first time something like this had happened, he was ashamed to say.

The boy looked at him. “C-Cyriaque Barafu.”

“Cyriaque.” Irwin turned to the others around the tree. “And may I ask what appears to be the issue with young Mr. Barafu?”

“Don’t get so close,” a man whispered. He was going gray in patches already, and he was holding two toddler girls on his hips.

Irwin raised an eyebrow. “Is he contagious?”

“No,” hissed a woman. “He’s possessed!”

“Look at his feet!”

Irwin did and… oh. So that was it. Cyriaque’s toes were a mess of holes and blisters, misshapen in such a way they barely resembled feet anymore. Covered in black spots and milky places where the eggs swelled against his skin. His nails were gone.

“Jiggers.”

The man from earlier blinked. “I’m… sorry?”

The doctor turned and cleared his throat. “This boy isn’t possessed by demons.”

The community looked nearly ready to chain him beside Cyriaque.

“He’s possessed by something far more mundane. We call it the Chigoe flea.”

“I don’t understand,” the man said. “Our priest said-”

“ ‘Beware the false prophet’, have you heard that? Listen, I’m a doctor-” He held up his med bag. “-and a Christian!” He held up the cross hanging on his neck. “Please… just let me look at him? I think I might be able to help.”

“He stays chained,” the man told him. He looked more resigned than anything. “He stays chained… We’re willing to try though. We’ll try almost anything. You say you’re a man of God?”

Irwin nodded. “I believe in angels and in demons, and I am certain this is only an earthly ailment.”

“Then help him, please. If you can…” He did not sound optimistic.

Irwin turned his back on him and kneeled with Cyriaque underneath the tree. “Are you alright?”

Cyriaque shook his head. “It hurts…”

Irwin didn’t know what specifically he was referring to. There was a lot it could be. “I know. I know. Don’t worry, I’m going to help you, okay?”

Cyriaque nodded, but he still looked frightened. Not that Irwin could really blame the poor thing.

“Alright. Let me know if anything I do is hurting you. I’ll stop if it is, okay?”

“Ev’rythin’ hurts now,” Cyriaque mumbled. He slid back and let Irwin lift his foot. And press the tip of the sterile knife against it.

Sighing, Irwin set it down again.

“I know you’re probably tired, but do you think you could sit up for me? Just a little. It’ll be easier-”

“Can’t sit,” Cyriaque rasped. “Hurts.”

“Where?” Irwin asked. “Can I see? Maybe I can hel-”

“NO!”

… They hadn’t.

They couldn’t have.

They… had, hadn’t they?

He turned back to the village. “What else have you done to chase the demons out of him?”

No one would look him in the eyes.

“We did what we had to,” said the man from before. “He’s a good boy. He’ll understand when…”

Cyriaque didn’t look like he understood. He sniffled and stared at Irwin like any minute now the doctor would turn into a lion and tear him apart.

“I’m not going to hurt you, alright? Just show-” He stopped himself. “He’s hurt! I’ll need privacy. Everyone get out! Er… go away…”

The man with the children on his hips didn’t leave. “I’m his father.”

Irwin couldn’t quite keep the anger out of his voice. “I’m trying to help.”

“I’m his father,” the man said again. “He’s a child. I should be here.”

“How… how old is he?”

“Thirteen. He… he’ll need me here.”

Thirteen. He really was a child. It took all of Irwin’s self control to not murder the man then and there.

“I think you’ve done enough. I’m a professional.”

“That doesn’t mean you can inspect my son without me here. I don’t want you to hurt him.”

He almost laughed. “What exactly do you define as-”

The boy groaned. Irwin turned his attention back to him.

“Fine, stay if you want, but stay back. I need to make sure he…” Survives.

He began to ease Cyriaque’s shirt off. Ribs jutting out and jutting inwards - broken, probably. And he was so thin. There were more fleas covering his front. They must have burrowed in when they… when they did what they had done.

“He might need a skin graft.”

“What?”

“Surgery to replace some of his skin.” Irwin thought. Maybe he could use this moment… He held up a clean scalpel. “Alright, this is going to hurt a little, but not as much as leaving them in there, okay?” he said to the boy. To the man, he said, “I’m going to cut out one of the fleas so you can see what I’m talking about, alright? The ones here aren’t too deep.”

The scalpel did its job swiftly, and Irwin held up a tiny flea. Mr. Barafu squinted at it. “Those little things did all this…?”

“They’re little, but there are a lot of them. Still, they’re perfectly normal insects - though I could definitely believe the devil put them there. They’re quite hard to see when they burrow in like this, it does look rather frightening.”

“This is strange. Why doesn’t anyone already know about them? We’ve known how to deal with most of the insects here since before anyone can remember. No one thinks mosquito bites are from the devil. I mean, not directly anyway.”

“They’re not native to the region. Travellers brought them over quite recently and they spread. No one recognised them here or knew how to kill them, so of course they got everywhere.”

“And… you can just cut them out?” Mr. Barafu sounded both hopeful and horrified.

“Yes. This is a pretty bad case, so I think I need to take your son to a hospital. But I can show you how to take them out before they cause this much damage. I also suggest the children here start covering their feet to protect against them. I can help, if you have trouble getting shoes.”

“I-I… It’s that easy?”

“Yes. I’m afraid you and your village have been misled, sir. The devil spreads lies to cause further pain.”

Irwin had met European and American doctors who told their rural patients similar things just in the hopes that they would be more easily believed. Irwin believed it with all his heart. Who but the devil could take the love he saw so clearly in Mr. Barafu’s eyes when he tearfully took his son’s hand, and twist it to make him treat his child this way?

Chapter 18

“Hey, doc.”

Du Do-yun had seen the Ryoshi brothers once before. Back then they looked thin as rails, exhausted, and the younger one was ready to rip out his throat if he so much as looked at him the wrong way. The past three months had mellowed him out considerably. (Thank goodness.) Both of them also looked well-rested, and they’d gained a considerable amount of weight. Particularly in their mid-sections.

“Hello to you both. You’re looking well.”

Gyeong looked a bit uncomfortable at that. A-hu didn’t. “So, after this, we’ll be good to go, right?”

Du nodded. “Speaking of, have the two of you made a decision as to where you want to go?”

The two brothers looked at each other, then back to the doctor. “I think we’re going to stay? At least for now.”

“We can always crash with Ojisan if it doesn’t work out,” A-hu said. “But… I don’t know. My Japanese isn’t great.”

“Better than mine.”

“That is really not saying much, hyeong.”

Du chuckled to himself as the brothers began to good-naturedly argue. The exam itself went without incident, until the very end.

“So, any questions?”

“I have one,” Gyeong said, poking at his gut. “I’m just curious, is… this… going to be permanent?”

Du shrugged. “It’s not uncommon after… well, a situation like yours, for one’s body to rapidly put on weight. It’s pretty much a survival mechanism. Your body doesn’t know how long the food security will last so it stores extra energy and nutrients just in case. Whether or not it’s permanent depends on a variety of factors. It’s possible that, if a healthy diet is maintained, it will even out. It’s also possible that this is your natural body type. Time will tell.”

“Hm.” Gyeong didn’t look happy with that answer.

“I’ll be honest, you’re not at a particularly unhealthy weight, and if this is your natural body type there’s only so much you can do… but if you’re unhappy with it, I’d recommend increasing the amount of cardiovascular activities you perform. Swimming, running, things like that. Never a bad idea to exercise regardless.”

A-hu looked over at his brother, then at the doctor. “I have a question.”

“Yes?”

“What if I want to keep looking like this?”

Gyeong blinked. “You like this?”

“Yeah, before I could be knocked down with a gust of wind. But this,” A-hu pointed at his own gut, “this packs a punch.”

“Well, as a doctor, I can’t recommend doing anything unhealthy, but strength training is probably a good idea if you like where you’re at. I’d recommend activities that don’t focus on building one muscle group at a time, like cross-fit or boxing.”

“Boxing?” A-hu tilted his head. “What’s that?”

“Essentially, fist fighting.”

A-hu perked. “You can do that? For exercise?”

“A-hu, he probably means with a dummy or something. Not with people.”

“Oh, you can do it with other people.”

A-hu perked up even more. “Wait, really? Like, legally?”

“A-hu…”

“Well,” Du clarified, “it does have to be in a licensed location, you do have to wear safety gear, and the other person would have to agree to it beforehand. But assuming all those conditions are met, yes, it’s perfectly legal.”

A-hu got an almost wicked gleam in his eye. “Good to know, good to know…”

Gyeong groaned. “Now look what you did.”

“It’s useful information! And you said fighting wouldn’t get me any friends.”

“Do you really want to be friends with a bunch of nutcases who will fight you for fun?”

“Yes.”

Gyeong rolled his eyes. “Oh well. I guess it could be worse. I mean, it’s not like people get paid for this.”

“Some do.”

A-hu was nearly at the edge of the exam table. “Wait, you can get paid to fist fight people?!”

“If you’re good at it and can get good representation, absolutely. Some people even make a career out of it. I’d look into competitive boxing if you’re curious.”

“Don’t encourage him!”

“Mr. Ryoshi, it’s really nothing to be alarmed by-”

“Dongsaeng! Think of Okaasan, how do I tell her that her youngest son is a maniac?!”

“She already knows,” A-hu said, waving him off. “At least I’ll be doing something productive.”

“You’ll get brain damage!”

“There’s protective head gear available-”

“See?” A-hu pointed to the doctor. “You heard it from the doc, it’s perfectly safe.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say perfectly safe, there are certainly risk factors, but there are also more dangerous things one could do with their spare time.”

“Like what? Sword fighting?”

“Fencing is actually relatively safe as well - with the proper safety gear. Underwater diving - especially caving - is much more hazardous. Parachuting can be quite risky, certain forms of hunting pose notable dangers, bungee jumping-”

“What on earth is bungee jumping?!”

“You jump from a high place attached to a cord.”

“Why?!”

“For the thrill, usually.”

A-hu looked thoughtful. “And theoretically, if one wanted to do that-”

“Dongsaeng, don’t you fucking dare.”

He pouted. “You’re no fun.”

“Rest assured, you’re quite healthy,” Du said. “But - whatever you choose to do - your body has been through a lot of trauma. It’s better to start slow. Maybe look into a gym membership before anything else?”

Gyeong crossed his arms like a child.

“As for you, I’d wait before looking into any weight loss solutions. You don’t know that this is permanent and you’re still recovering. Give it a bit of time. You might grow to like it.”

“I kinda doubt it.”

“I like it on you.”

“You want to hit people for fun, dongsaeng.”

Du subtly shook his head. Heaven help these boys…

Chapter 19

“Ji?”

“That’s us.”

Yobi Yoo worked at Gwangju every weekend. Why not? She had no social life. Her family was… preoccupied. Might as well sort through someone else’s mess.

The Ji brothers were an odd sight. One of them in pajamas and a bathrobe, in a wheelchair. The other with one ear. They both had bags under their eyes. Their mother was between them, looking up at her with a smile.

“Yoo! I didn’t know you worked here too!”

Both the brothers looked at their mother oddly. “You know her?”

“She’s one of my co-workers at Hanawon… Oh!” She frowned slightly. “That’s not going to be a problem, is it?”

“I don’t think so.” She and Kim were polite - she was nice and generally friendly - but they weren’t particularly close. “If you’re alright with it…”

“Fine by me, dear.”

Yobi nodded. “You must be Ma-choe, then.”

The man sneered. “What tipped you off?”

“Choe!”

“Was it the leg? I bet it was the leg.”

“Actually, it was the glasses.”

Ma-choe blinked. “What?”

“I’ve seen pictures. You always have the same glasses.”

“Hmph.”

“I’m Gang,” the younger one said. “Don’t mind my brother. He’s… grumpy.”

Bo-bae nodded and reached out for him. “They’re weaning him off of that pain medication.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s doing you any favors here.”

“You don’t say.”

“Anything else I should know about?”

“Choe’s got anger issues.”

“No I don’t!”

“That isn’t what the doctor said. How’s that medicine working out, by the way?”

“I’m not choking you, there’s your answer!” Choe snapped.

“Aduel! Behave yourself!”

“Okaaaay,” Yobi says. Wow. “I’m sensing a lot of hostility.”

“I feel a lot of hostility.”

“Do you want to start with that, Ma-choe? Tell me what happened from your perspective. Then, Bo-bae, you tell me. Then Ma-gang.”

“Why am I last?”

“Do you want to go first?”

“Um, well…” He glanced at Choe. “Do you want to…?”

“Fuck off.”

Kim went to cuff him - she did cuff him - and Choe flinched so hard he almost fell out of his chair. She seemed to regret her action upon seeing that, but Choe shook his head.

“So, Ma-choe. Let’s start with you. How do you feel?”

“Angry.”

“About…?”

Choe groaned. “What, do you need a fucking list?”

“Language!”

“That’s alright, Ms. Kim. And yes. A list would be helpful.”

“Well, let’s start with the fact that I shouldn’t have been recruited in the first place! Shrink fucked up my psych test! Then my stupid little brother got himself kidnapped by the fucking animals they have in the North! And then he got all of us kidnapped. And then we were tortured. And then my foot got chopped off. And then they abandoned me. And then Jo died! And then they made me… they fucked me - over and over and over again - and… and… then…” He shook his head. “I’m so sick of this. Of being alive.”

Bo-bae reached over. “You aren’t… you aren’t considering doing anything rash, are you?”

Choe scoffed. “Not like I can. Not with all these doctors around.”

“… And if they weren’t here?”

Choe didn’t answer. Not right away.

“Choe, please. I can’t lose you too.”

A sigh. “I… I just don’t want to have to fucking deal with this. Not… not like this. It’s too much. I am so goddamn tired of feeling this bad all the fucking time.”

Yobi made a note to talk to the presiding doctors about keeping him on suicide watch.

“I’d… like to ask some questions which may be a bit personal. Would you rather speak to me alone?”

“Please, I get enough of that already. Therapy, therapy, therapy. It’s starting to drive me insane. Ironic, right?”

“In that case, Ma-choe… why don’t you tell me how you’re feeling ‘all the fucking time’?”

He snorted. “Like I want to claw my own skin off. Or choke someone. Or something. And I can’t stop fucking crying all the time.” He looked like he might start crying now.

“Really?” This apparently came as a surprise for Ma-gang.

“Yes, really. What’s so-”

“You don’t cry. Ever.”

Yobi looks over at Bo-bae. She sighed. “Even as a baby he was more likely to scream if something was wrong. Not,” she was quick to add, putting a hand on her son’s back, “that there’s anything wrong with that. I can’t imagine what sort of pain you must be going through.”

“Eomma, please.”

“She’s right,” Yobi says. “That’s a completely normal reaction.”

“Mm.”

“How long were you there?”

“In the North? A year and a half. About. It got worse after he left. They were pissed. Then they were just having fun.”

Ma-gang shrank into himself. “I’m sorry-”

“Oh, I’m sure you’re so fucking sorry,” Ma-choe said, his voice cracking. “That’s all you ever are these days. ‘I’m so sorry, hyeong. I’m the worst brother ever, hyeong. How will you ever forgive me, hyeong?’ You need to shut up. I’m sick of hearing it.”

"And why is that?” Yobi leaned forward slightly.

“Because… because it doesn’t matter! Being sorry isn’t going to change the fact that he left!”

“What do you think would have changed if he had stayed?”

“I didn’t want him to stay, I wanted him to stay with me! He and Jo… They left me… they left me…”

There was a long moment of quiet, and then Yobi cleared her throat. “Ma-gang? Do you want to go now?”

“Not really, but I can, I guess… I didn’t mean for- I never wanted to hurt him. But we needed to run and… He only had one foot and…”

“You could have talked to me,” Ma-choe said. “You could have asked if I could come up with a plan.”

“Would that have made a difference?”

“Fuck yes. I could have been a distraction. Both of you could have gotten out.”

“What about you?”

Ma-choe looks away.

“… Hyeong?”

“Look, there’s a difference between staying and being left, alright? One of them is making a choice and the other is being betrayed.”

“I never meant-”

“I don’t care. It’s worse now that Jo’s dead! If you had just let me… Maybe I could’ve fucked somebody else’s corpse!”

“What?”

He didn’t look at his mother right away. “S-sorry, Eomma. Bad joke.”

“I should say so.” She looked away. “You always did have your father’s sense of humor.”

Ma-choe looked up. “I don’t remember Appa making jokes like that.”

“You were still young. He didn’t make them around you when he…” She sighed. “Is it my fault?”

“What?!” Ma-choe did a double take. “Eomma! You did nothing wrong!”

“I knew something was… different about you. I could have taken you to a doctor. You could have gotten help a lot sooner, and… and this would have been prevented.”

“That isn’t on you. You had enough to deal with. Between the three of us and with Appa gone-”

“I. Still. Noticed.” She sighed again, her eyes watering. “You blame the one who approved you for the military. But he shouldn’t have been the first specialist you saw.”

“My teachers didn’t notice! And they… It would have ruined my career! I wouldn’t have been able to get into college. My life would have been-”

“You don’t smile anymore,” Bo-bae sobbed. “You haven’t smiled since- You barely eat, you don’t sleep… I could have done something!”

“Eomma, it’s not your fault. Hyeong’s right. I’m the one who… If you should be angry at anyone…”

“How could I be mad at you?” Eomma sniffed. “My poor baby… my poor babies… You were in a terrible situation. None of it was your fault.”

Yobi made a note. “If I may…”

All three of them looked at her.

“Misdirected anger. I see it a lot here. All three of you are understandably upset and frustrated at a situation where none of you are at fault, but the people who are responsible - the ones who actually kept you two in captivity - aren’t here. So you’ve directed it at someone else so it feels like you have an outlet. It feels more productive than it actually is.”

“Oh, and you’d know all about that.”

“Well, yeah. It’s my job.” Yobi sighed. “I can help. I want to help. You want to help. But, uh, it’s a process we’ll need to work through. Don’t worry, we can work through this.” She turns to Bo-bae. “Do you want to go now?”

“I suppose…”

“Let’s start simply. What would you say has been your biggest feeling since your sons came home?”

“My biggest feeling? Worry, mostly.”

“About…?”

“Well, them. I… I worried for Gang, obviously, when he got back. I worried for Choe when he didn’t. And now I have them both… but Choe’s not safe. And I know this isn’t going to happen again, but…”

“It might,” Choe mumbled.

“It’s not going to happen again! Nothing is- I’m sorry, baby, I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

“E-Eomma, please…”

“You…” She bit back a sob. “You have been through so much pain. All I want is to take that away from you. From both of you. My poor boys, I want you to be happy. But I don’t know what I can say or do to make you stay with me.”

Choe looks away. “Eomma, this doesn’t have anything to do with you…”

“I know. But I still worry. I’ve already lost one of my boys…”

“Do you want to tell me about him?”

“What? But that’s not-”

“It’s family therapy. I think this is relevant.”

“… He was my baby too,” Bo-bae whispered. “My second baby. I had him a few years after Choe and…”

Ma-gang rubbed her back.

“I thought I’d lost all my children! And… and I couldn’t even be happy when I got Gang back because…” She wiped her eyes. “I was happy, but one of my boys was still… And one of them was dead…”

“What was he like?”

“Jo? Oh, he was my little peacekeeper. Bit of a jokester too, always ready to make you feel better. Make you laugh.”

“He wanted to open a restaurant,” Ma-gang piped up. “He always talked about it. He would have done well. After Eomma, Jo was the best cook in the family.”

“He loved food,” Choe muttered. “More than anything… Almost anything. He loved Gang. They were best friends.”

“And you resent that?”

“I never said I resented anything!”

“You didn’t have to. It’s alright to feel that way, it’s alright to talk about-”

“SHUT UP!” Choe looked defensive now. “Why should I resent them for being best friends? Why should I be jealous that they were there for each other and NOT ME?!”

“Choe-”

“Shut up, Gang! Just shut up!” He panted, eyes squeezed shut. “You left me behind! You were always leaving me behind!”

The family was silent for a while. Yobi made another note.

Chapter 20

“So, Ms. Yadao-”

“Esmerelda is fine, Dr. Haggard.”

“Esmerelda, then. You said you were here to talk about your son?”

“Yes, I wanted to discuss his behaviour before I brought him here. He’s… Well, his issues make him hard to read.” She twisted a ring on her finger. Not, Haggard noted, a wedding ring; that finger was empty.

“In what way?”

“He’s…” She sighed. “I’ll just come out and say it, he’s a compulsive liar. Partly I’m here because of that, and partly because he’s recently told me something that… Well, he’s sticking with it awfully long for it to be a lie, and if it’s not, then, well, I probably should stop calling him a he.”

Haggard got the implication and raised his eyebrows. “That is quite an awkward combination to read, yes.”

Esmerelda sighed again, and continued. “He told me a few weeks ago that Bryan at his school is called Tara now, and that got him thinking that he doesn’t want to be a boy anymore. I thought he was just making it up for attention, but it turns out there really is a transgender girl called Tara in his school, and he’s been getting sulky and reiterating what he said every time anyone refers to him as a boy. He’s never been this consistent before, so…”

“He’s been telling you he’s a she?”

“No, that’s the other thing. He says he doesn’t want to be a girl either. That seemed strange.”

“Ah!” Haggard tapped his pen. “I have heard of this. It doesn’t usually appear in children that young, but it is certainly something legitimate. Let me find the pamphlet… Here.”

Esmerelda reached out to take it, studying the glossy folded pages headed Gender Identity and Dysphoria with a crease in her browline. “I didn’t know this was common,” she said, eyes scanning over the page about the nonbinary umbrella.

“Most people don’t,” he said, “and it isn’t really. It’s just more common - and more recognized - than quite a lot of people seem to think. I don’t think I could offer more than an educated guess on the topic without meeting him, but, it’s certainly possible that your… child is being serious. In this case, at least.”

“Well, I’ll have to talk to him about it.” She sighed, exasperatedly. “It’s just so hard to tell with Lucien. He… He… I never know what he’s going to come up with next.”

“The lying is a longstanding issue then?”

“I’m afraid so. It’s been going on pretty much since he could talk. Or,” she glanced at the pamphlet again, “since… they could talk, am I saying that right?” Haggard nodded and she carried on. “I don’t know if there’s any underlying cause, but he - they - have upset my niece and the other kids at school with it a number of times. I’m almost never out of the principal’s office and my sister-in-law won’t leave the kids unsupervised together for even a moment anymore.”

“That does sound like a problem,” Haggard tutted. “Bring your child in to see me, and I’ll see if I can at least get a coherent diagnosis. If they are serious about the gender issue, that’s not my area of expertise so I’d have to refer them on to someone else, but I can do that easily enough. It’s quite fortunate you’re in California. San Francisco in particular has a thriving community of people who, shall we say, don’t fit the standard gender mould, so if they are, they’ll find support.”

“That’s good, and of course I’ll be behind them all the way,” Esmerelda said, then frowned. “But what if he is lying? Wouldn’t I just be encouraging him?”

“What if he’s not?” countered Haggard. “The worst that can happen if he is, is that he’ll get bored eventually. If he’s - they’re - not, then parental support is vital with this kind of thing. Transgender youth with unaccepting parents have an exponentially higher rate of depression and suicide in later life than those with accepting ones.”

“Oh, goodness!” Esmerelda gasped. “No, I think the lying is definitely preferable to that. I’ll go talk to Lucien… Can I bring h- them here next week?”

Haggard arranged the appointment, and watched Esmerelda Yadao leave.

Lying, deception, and manipulation, for profit or self-amusement. Self-dramatisation…

Too young to be sure, but someone ought to keep a close eye on that child.

Chapter 21

“So… thanks for seeing me again… And ‘m sorry I broke your lamp. I’ll replace it.”

Treasure Agateva was sitting as she always did: slouched down, arms folded, avoiding eye contact. But for the first time, she didn’t look angry or annoyed. Rather, she seemed uncomfortable and, dare it be said, almost meek.

“That isn’t necessary, but I appreciate the offer.”

Dr. Abbagale was sitting as she always did: open posture, notepad ready, eyes attentive. The only difference was that her phone - which could be used to page security - was nearer at hand than it usually was. That had been a condition of her continuing sessions with Miss Agateva, and the fact that her terms were not argued made Abbagale hopeful about further progress.

“ ‘Course it’s necessary. Just tell me where you got the other one.”

“Miss Agateva, it’s really not-”

“Just fuckin’ lemme-” Treasure caught herself, inhaled deeply, spoke through gritted teeth. “Just… please… let me buy you a new lamp.”

Abbagale was quiet for a moment, tapping her pen against her notepad. “Why are you insistent on replacing it?”

“ ‘Cause I fucking broke the other one! It did break, right?”

“It did.”

“Well, there ya go.”

“Hm. What if I told you I hated that lamp? What if I said I’d been looking for a reason to get rid of it? Would you still want to replace it?”

Treasure shrugged, then nodded.

“Why?”

“… To make up for what I did. So you wouldn’t be pissed at me.”

Abbagale blinked. “Do I seem-”

“Not really, but I’d sure be pissed if some cunt came into my office and started breaking shit.”

“I see.” Momentary quiet as she scribbled a note. “We can come back to that. For now… are you comfortable discussing what happened?”

Treasure’s fist clenched. “I abused my power as an officer and I scared a teenage girl until she thought she had to fight me, and then I raped her, and then I twisted it all so I didn’t look like the bad guy - which I am - and… and then I raped two other people ‘cause… I’m not even sure why.”

Abbagale nodded, tapping her pen. “Can you tell me a bit about why things happened the way they did?”

“I already told you, it’s ‘cause I’m the bad guy.”

“Miss Agateva, I appreciate that you’re ready to take responsibility for your actions. That’s a very big step. The next step is to recognize the reasons for those actions, so you can improve. Alright?”

A noncommittal grunt.

“Why don’t we start at the beginning, okay?”

“Whatever.” She huffed, staring at the floor. “They made me her PO. Thought it was gonna be a normal thing. I mean, I knew she’d been a problem on the inside so I was gonna have to go tough on her, but-”

“Can you explain what you mean by that?”

“When some of them get out they go right back to doing shit. If you remind ‘em how bad prison is, they’re less likely to reoffend.”

Another note. “Were you instructed to handle certain parolees this way, or-”

“I know how to do my job, okay? I’ve- I had been doing it for long enough.”

“I see.” I am so glad you’re no longer an officer…

“So I did the usual stuff, y’know? Show up at her house, get into her food or whatever… Just be a hardass so she doesn’t get too comfortable. For a while it was just… it was standard.”

There was a long moment of quiet; Abbagale refused to break it. Let it be uncomfortable. Make her want to talk.

Finally, a huff of annoyance. “Things were goin’ how they were goin’, and then she beat the crud out of me with a bat.” Another beat of silence and an awkward cough. “Not, um, not that I didn’t deserve it.”

A small nod and a note. “How did you feel when that happened?”

“Like I got hit with a fucking bat, how do you think?”

“I mean emotionally. Were you angry, scared, aroused-”

Treasure actually surged forward, just catching herself before she lunged to her feet. “I’m not some fucking freak, okay?!” Abbagale didn’t respond, and after a moment Treasure sank back in her chair. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “Um… I was pissed, yeah. Not scared - you know what she’s built like, even with a bat I could’ve fought her off.”

“So why didn’t you?”

A long silence, then a deep breath. “I’m not a freak, I don’t get off on pain or whatever. But… people don’t fight me unless they think they’re as strong as I am. They just don’t. And now here’s this little twig bitch who actually thinks she can stand up to me… She had balls, and I liked that.”

“Hm.” Another note. “How were things after that incident?”

“At first it was the same, but, um…” Treasure fidgeted. “She was… I… She got a lot more nervous, real quiet, and I started… pushing things, pushing harder. I knew she had the guts to fight back, and… I wanted her to fight back.”

“Did you want her to hurt you? I’m not asking if you’re a masochist,” Abbagale added quickly. “There are a number of reasons a person might want to be hurt. Perhaps you associate physical pain with your mother’s actions?”

Treasure shrugged. “I mean, maybe? I don’t think it’s that deep though, I just… She was tough, and I liked that, and I knew I could handle whatever she did. I liked that, too, I guess. Knowing I was strong enough to take it.”

Abbagale made another note. “I think we’ll come back to this… Are you comfortable telling me what happened next?”

Treasure looked well and truly uncomfortable, more so than Abbagale had ever seen. More than she suspected anyone had ever been allowed to see. “I… Look, I’m trying here, I get that it was fucked up, I know what you’re gonna say-”

“Miss Agateva, as I said earlier, I want to help identify the reasons behind your actions so they won’t happen again. I’m not going to be critical. Please, just… explain why things happened the way they did.”

There was a long stretch of silence; and when Treasure finally spoke, her voice was very low. “ ‘M not a pedo, okay? I’m not. She doesn’t look like a kid or act like a kid, and I wasn’t supposed to treat her like a kid. Hell, her mom acts more like she’s her roommate… After a while, I just… I kinda let myself forget how old she was.”

Treasure paused, and Abbagale could tell she was waiting for some kind of backlash. She remained quiet.

“… I didn’t force it. Not with her. I wanted it, yeah, but… If she’d shut me down, I woulda backed off - that happened a couple times, I made a move and she… But when it did happen, she just… No fighting, no crying, didn’t ever say no… Fuck’s sake, she’s the one who locked the door. She coulda set that camera up anywhere, coulda filmed anything, it didn’t hafta be… It was wrong, I get it - I do - but… I still feel like some of it’s on her, y’know? Like… like maybe she was into it, at least right then… She could’ve pulled the camera out as soon as it was over, but she didn’t. She let me go to sleep - I’m pretty sure she went to sleep… That seems like it means something, doesn’t it?”

Abbagale didn’t respond, just made another note. “How did you feel when she showed you the camera?”

A shrug. “Freaked out, I guess. She was my parolee, I woulda caught shit if she’d told my boss. Even without, y’know, the rest.”

Treasure went silent, but there was a brightness in her eyes that caught Abbagale offguard. “What else?”

Another shrug. A mumbled, incomprehensible response. Two increasingly bright eyes.

“Miss Ag-”

“Look, it’s dumb, okay, I know, but… Fuck, I guess I was flattered, kinda? I mean… Bobbie’s not stupid, alright, she knew what the hell she was doing, she coulda taking that footage to the cops or the news or whoever, but she didn’t. She coulda told me to quit or get a transfer, but she didn’t!” Treasure was speaking faster, her voice become louder, her eyes burning. “She wanted me to stick around! Fuckin’- Nobody wants me around, not really! Ma only wanted me while I was the perfect son, all my sisters hate my guts - and she hated me too, but she still wanted me! And all the shit she did - all the shit I did - she never changed her mind, never kicked me out, never… And she made me better, she made me stronger!” She leaned forward, grinning wide, holding up her wrists. “She cuffed me to the couch once, see? Her mom was out of town for a con and she was gonna stay with her cousins, and before she left she cuffed me. When I woke up, there was a note taped to the couch - said something about how people can only live three days without water. The couch looked like shit, but it was fucking solid, and she got the cuffs around part of the frame, and… Fuckin’ hell, it took hours to break ‘em, but I did! And now I know I can, because of her!”

Abbagale was quiet for a moment, tapping her pen. Then: “What did you do to her afterwards?”

Treasure’s expression fell. She didn’t respond.

“Miss Agateva, we’ve already discussed your anger issues, and those are going to be our primary focus going forward. With that said, we’re also going to be working on your…” How to phrase this? “… interpersonal problems. In my professional opinion, you’re exhibiting behaviors that are typically associated with abandonment issues.”

Dolores expected some kind of furious blustering, or at least silent glaring. Instead Treasure blinked, then chuckled bitterly. “Maybe that’s why I wanna replace your fucking lamp.”

Chapter 22

Summary:

Guess the dad.

Well, it was official.

Ginger. Was. Never. Doing that again.

She’d adopt! Or, hell, have a surrogate pregnancy, but she was not squeezing another baby out of her body again.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Fuck off.”

“That great, huh?”

“I’m making Rocky have a vasectomy.” Ginger paused for a moment in thought. “I’m making him get a vasectomy and I’m having my tubes tied, and we are never having sex ever. I hope the baby was worth it, you’ve ruined me for other men.”

“That’s… a lot.”

Ginger gave him a tight grin. “Well, you try squeezing a watermelon-sized object through a coin-sized hole for twenty hours before they cut your stomach up and pull out your insides. Then tell me that’s a lot.”

“Fair point. Where is the baby?”

“Your daughter is in the nursery. Pretty sure Miguel and Chel are at the nursery, too.” She looked at Tulio. “You can go join them, you know. Dad’s on his way over, it’s not like I’ll be alone.”

“Nah, I’ll stick with ya, kid.” Tulio ruffled her hair fondly. Then… “Wait. Daughter?”

“Yeah. You have a girl.”

“Oh dear Lord…” He put his face in his hands.

“What?”

“We took a bet on this. Never make a bet with Chel. Ever.”

“… What are you going to have to do, and can I film it?”

“She and Miguel get to name the kid.” Tulio looked at her in horror. “They’re going to name the baby. Those two don’t have any taste!”

“Oh, how bad could it possibly-”

“Some of their suggestions included ‘Spici’, ‘Manitoba’ and ‘Dorothy’.”

Ginger blinked. “What’s wrong with Dorothy?”

“They also suggested ‘Ginger’.”

“… If they name her Ginger, I am taking the baby back.”

“Ginger Junior?”

“I will get out of this bed and kick you in the knees.”

“At least it’s not the nads.”

Just then, the baby was wheeled back into the room, followed by the beaming Miguel and Chel.

“It’s a girl!” Miguel rushed up and hugged Tulio. “We have a daughter!”

“So I heard!”

“What’s her name?” Ginger asked.

“We thought long and hard about this one-”

“Looooong and hard.”

“Shut up!”

“Make me.”

Tulio sighed. “Would you two cut it out and tell us, so I know what our daughter’s gonna hate us for in sixteen years?”

“We’re naming her Michel!”

“Isn’t it perfect?”

“Please tell me you didn’t seriously name the kid for the sake of a bad pun about what I assume is your sex life…”

“Yeah, I’m just fucking with you.” Chel grinned, “We’re naming her Serafine.”

“Like the cat from that Barbie Roberts movie you made me watch in San Diego?”

“No, you idiot!” Chel smacked Tulio lightly upside the head. “Serafine, like seraphim.”

“Like the ones in the Bible, they’re these big scary angels and they’re on fire and they have wings!”

“Miguel, you aren’t religiou-”

“THEY HAVE WINGS, TULIO!”

“For the record, Tulio, I am here as a witness if your kid thinks that name was your fault,” Ginger said plainly. “At least it’s not Ginger.”

“No, that’s her middle name!”

“… And what exactly is her last name again? You guys got three different last names from the FBI, if I recall correctly.”

“Oh, yeah, we’re giving her Tulio’s last name.”

“So Serafine Ginger Davis…” Ginger frowned. “Just curious, if the baby had been a boy, Tulio, what would you have named it?”

“Twolio, but like spelled with the number. You know, with an ‘o’ and a ‘w’, and stuff.”

“I’m sorry, what the fuck. That is worse than Manitoba.”

“Nah, I’m just fucking with you. I was gonna name him Eugene.”

“I’d rather you not fuck with me. As I recall, someone fucking with me is what got us into this mess in the first place.”

“You know, if you want to know who it was,” Chel said in a gentle voice, “I might be able to help you figure things out.”

“Why would I want to know that?”

“Ginger, the guy was loaded. You have to be to do that. He’s probably got loads and loads of money, and we’ve got his daughter. I think you’re more than entitled to a little financial compensation.”

“I literally got adopted by a trillionaire last week. I don’t think I need more financial compensation.”

“But, like, what if he has a unicorn or something in his house? You never know… Besides, I’d like to have a word with this guy.”

“Fair point. Alright, Tulio’s weird girlfriend, do your Sherlock scan thing.”

“Well… Kid has blue eyes, but sometimes that takes a bit to settle. If they’re green then you know the guy had either the same eye color as you or an even rarer one, which is kind of a red flag. None of them were albino or anything, were they?”

“Uh, no?”

“Figured as much. She’s got dark hair, which means that whoever it was that knocked you up must have too. This color hair is pretty unusual, at least if you’re white. It’s really really black, not just dark brown. You usually don’t see that in Europeans, so he might have not been - maybe Asian, or partly anyway? Most likely option in Russia. Her skin might get darker, that happens sometimes, though it might anyway if you or he had darker-skinned parents or grandparents. You’d think melanin was a dominant gene, but sometimes it can go weird like that. Her features look kinda like yours, or will anyway, except the nose, which is gonna be huge. Like, really big. I’m guessing there wasn’t anyone like that who you remember?”

Ginger shook her head.

“Yeah, thought you looked confused. Relax, this is a good sign, means he had a nose job. When they finish going through the records and track those clients down, I’ll tell Eddie-boy to look through medical histories for that. And,” Chel smiled proudly, “I can tell that guy had an extra toe.”

“Let me guess, so does the baby?”

“Nope!”

“Then how-”

“Thing about polyda- polydatil… the extra nub gene is that a lot of people get the digit removed during infancy. Extra stuff usually doesn’t work as well. The kid has her foot wrapped up and I can tell from the outline of the bandages what kind of procedure they did. She doesn’t have an extra toe now, but she did. That condition is genetic, and it’s something that would show up on his medical records. Extra toe, nose job, dark hair, recessive features. That’s your guy.”

“Cool. That’s really neat of you, Chel.” Ginger smiled. “I mean it. I didn’t even know they gave her surgery.”

“Wouldn’t they have to let you know?”

“Nah. I may be her mum, but I’m not exactly her parent, you know?”

Serafina began to stir in her bassinet, sucking on her fist.

“Speaking of parents, which one of you is gonna feed your kid?”

“Wait, how’d you know she was hungry?” Tulio looked at her suspiciously. “Can you do the Sherlock scan, too?”

“Uh, no. I just used to help out with the babies at the group home a lot. Hungry babies usually have signs to let you know they’re hungry. Smacking lips, sucking on their fists, that kinda thing.”

“I’ll feed her!” Chel and Miguel said at the same time.

“Wanna go halfsies?”

“Lead the way, love of my life.”

“How is that even gonna-”

Her question was soon answered as Miguel held the baby and Chel gave her the bottle.

“Well. That’s one way to do it.” Ginger looked at Tulio. “Hey. Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Ginger bit her lip. “Because… because I kind of expected you to be cooing at your baby, and you’re just sticking by me.”

“Well, I just wanted to make sure you were-”

“Is this about the warehouse again?”

“… I shouldn’t have left you. They could have killed you and I just left you behind.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes it was! I promised I’d get you out of there, and I could have gotten you killed!”

“That wasn’t your fault. You did everything you could. You’re the one who got us to the boats and everything. I’m the one who volunteered to be a distraction, remember? Besides… you weren’t the one who would have killed me. And everything worked out, didn’t it?”

“Yeah… I guess it did.”

She smiled at him then, and this time he smiled back.

“Go on,” Ginger said, “go hold your daughter.”

Tulio looked up. Chel and Miguel had finished feeding the baby then, and Miguel was handing her to Tulio. “The kid’s right. Come on. Hold your daughter.”

Slowly, carefully, Tulio reached over and gently pulled Serafine close to his chest. The baby opened her eyes then, and for a split second, father and daughter simply stared at each other. Then Serafine closed her eyes, tilting her head against her father’s body.

“Aww, she likes you!”

And he loved her.

We might just make this work after all…

Chapter 23

“Hi, Mr. Qi? It’s Brian. We spoke on the phone.”

There were two men sitting in front of him. Both were Mr. Qi; Brian waited to see which one would respond first.

“Right,” the bigger, brusquer one said. He held out his hand to shake. “Zhuzhu, please. An’ this is Tang.” The other man was shorter and thinner, maybe a little bit younger too. With round glasses and sleek black hair.

“It’s nice to meet you both,” Brian said, giving him a smile and motioning the two of them to come in. When they did, they sat side by side. Hand in hand. “So, do you think you can describe what brings the two of you in today?”

“I’ve been a dick,” Zhuzhu said.

Tang bristled. “I don’t know that I’d put it like that.”

“No, it’s true.” He sighed defeatedly. “It’s true.”

“Maybe you could start by telling me what happened.”

“I guess we’ve always kinda had a problem with, uh… communicatin’ effectively or whatever ya call it.”

“I’m not the easiest person to live with.”

“Will ya cut it out, Tang? This ain’t on you.”

Brian hummed. “If I may? There are a lot of situations where there’s a little of column A and a little of column B. Let’s avoid making any objective statements until I understand the situation better.”

Zhuzhu scoffed, but nodded. “Fine. Then I’ll start. I get frustrated easy. And when I’m frustrated, I say things I don’t mean.”

“Can you give me an example?”

“I dunno… I, uh, I guess I…” He squeezed Tang’s hand. “I work with my hands. Always have. Always will. Wasn’t raised to put much stock in that academic stuff. Sometimes that comes out an’…” He swallowed. “Tang works at the college. It’s not what my folks woulda considered real work.”

“Your parents are still alive.”

“Yeah, well- I just mean they were that way. People change! I just mean… ugh…” Zhuzhu shook his head. “Had a little shop place back in Jiangxi. They were pushed out when the economy flipped. Guess they had baggage an’ passed that down to me…”

“Zhu’s never really trusted anyone who didn’t know how to run a shop or change a tire.”

Brian raised an eyebrow. “Does that include you?”

Tang didn’t answer. He looked at his husband.

“Look, Tang, I…” Zhu sighed. “I trust you, I do. But that doesn’t mean the feeling goes away easily.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What? No! I didn’t mean…” Zhuzhu turned to Brian. “See the problem here?”

“You do seem to be quick to apologize,” Brian noted, nodding slightly. “May I ask what your home was like growing up?”

Tang blinked. “Does that matter?”

“Things that happen to us in childhood can often manifest in how we carry on in our relationships as adults.”

“I guess.” He pushed up his glasses. “I grew up in Kaifeng. My parents weren’t landowners, so we weren’t as affected by the cultural revolution. I was born before the one child policy, but…” He shrugged. “There were difficulties. I was their little emperor.”

“I see.” Brian wrote on his clipboard. “And how would you describe their parenting style?”

Tang bit his lip. “I suppose… strict might be the best way to describe it. They wanted what was best for me, you understand. So they pushed me to be the best in what I chose to pursue. When it turned out I was good in academia, they shifted their attention to that.”

“And when they felt you weren’t being the best?”

Tang pressed both lips together. “That’s personal.”

“Please, Mr. Qi, I’m only trying to get the big picture here.”

“I was born in 1976. Ten years before they banned corporal punishment in China. Even after… Well, that didn’t stop anyone.” He shrugged and adjusted his scarf. “That’s pretty normal though - even in Western cultures. Nothing traumatic.”

“Perhaps,” Brian said slowly. “But that does explain quite a bit.”

Tang stared at him a bit blankly.

“As adults,” Brian began, “we tend to seek out the same sort of bonds we had with our parents as children-”

“Wait a minute.” Zhu held up a hand. “You’re saying Tang came to me because I yell at him?”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that.”

“Zhu, that’s not… I love you for all kinds of reasons,” Tang sputtered. “I love how careful you are… and how good you are with Xiaotian and the way that you… take… charge…”

Zhu covered his face with one hand. “Fuck…”

“I love you! I don’t… I’m not using you-”

“Hey,” Brian said. “Nobody thinks that’s the case.” Turning to Zhu he asked: “Right, Mr. Qi?”

“Of course not,” Zhu said, shaking his head. “But I don’t get it.”

“Zhu…”

“You deserve to be with someone who makes you feel good, Tang. Not someone who’ll yell at you because they’re having a bad day.”

“That’s not why-”

“No. It is. It is and we should both say it.”

“Mr. Qi, please,” Brian said. “Let Mr. Qi finish talking.”

“… Ya can just use our names, y’know.”

Brian sighed and motioned for Tang to continue.

“Zhuzhu, there’s no such thing as a perfect couple, but I- I’m not with you because you yell at me. At least… I don’t think…” He stopped himself. “I love you. Really! You’re a wonderful cook! You pay so much attention to every little thing! You do make me feel good! M-most of the time… and I’m sorry for-”

“Stop apologizin’!”

“Er, Mr. Q- Zhu,” Brian said. “Might I suggest you… don’t do that?”

Zhu blinked. “Don’t do what?”

“Tell your husband to stop apologizing.” Brian held up a hand. “I do think there is a problem here with over-apologizing, but telling him to stop is only going to exacerbate the problem.”

Zhu blinked again. “I don’t follow.”

“I mean it’s only going to make things worse.”

“That’s stupid.”

“It’s psychology.”

“That’s-” Tang pinched Zhuzhu’s hand. “Fuck! Yeah, okay, fine.”

“I am sorry,” Tang said quietly. “I should have told you.”

“No. No, I… That one’s on me, okay? You don’t gotta beat yourself up about it.”

“Pardon,” Brian said, “but I’m not sure I follow.”

A pregnant pause.

“You want to talk about it, Tang?”

Tang looked away and shook his head.

“Want me to tell him?”

“… Could you?”

Zhu nodded. “Long story short,” Zhu said, looking at Brian, “whole reason we’re here is because I found somethin' out. One of his co-workers - you’ve seen the bastard on the news - has been extorting my Tang for years. Y’know.” Zhu made a crude gesture. “I only found out a few weeks ago. Tang didn’t feel like he could come to me about it. I just… I want to figure out what I did wrong so if, God forbid, this did happen again, he’d tell me.”

“I should have told you,” Tang whispered a second time. “I thought… I was wrong.”

“About what?” Brian asked. “Can you explain it to me?”

“I thought Zhu would leave me if I- For letting him…”

“You didn’t let him! This ain’t on you!”

“Xiaotian saw. Our son,” he said to Brian. “He was only three and… I didn’t think about how traumatic that would be for him.”

Brian couldn’t help but wince. “That-”

“It’s my fault,” Zhu said.

“No! No, nothing about this is-”

“You were so goddamn worried I’d leave you over this. That is my fault. I shoulda made you feel like you could come to me about this!”

“Zhu, I can assure you, I work with couples every day where victims of sexual assault feel hesitant to come forward. Couples of all kinds.”

“How common is- Wait, it’s Calisota. Nevermind.”

Tang chuckled.

“When exactly did the incident occur?”

“Incidents,” Tang said. “The first time was right after I got a job at the university. The last time was, well… a few weeks ago. Maybe a month now. Xiaotian is almost twenty-three.”

“And did he recall the incident he saw?”

“Not until a few weeks ago,” Zhu said. “When that bastard showed up on the news and jogged his memory. He was three, what can you do?”

“Still,” Tang mumbled. “He shouldn’t have been put in that situation to begin with.”

“You didn’t put him there.”

“I brought him to work with me. He was sick and I… I should have stayed home with him. Or left him with Zhu’s parents or… something.”

“Tang, I-”

“It’s my fault he saw. I was selfish. I went in anyway and afterwards, instead of worrying about him…” Tang’s lip wobbled dangerously. “I made him promise not to tell anyone!”

“Tang…”

“What kind of a father am I? What sort of man is more worried about his marriage than his son?”

“Sir, I…” Brian faltered. “I think you reacted in a very human way. You’d just been through something traumatic yourself. You’d been going through something traumatic for a quite a while before that, right? While I agree this probably wasn’t the best decision… it was a very natural one.”

“Still,” Tang said. “I should have thought of him.”

Brian sighed. “Should have, would have, could have. They all add up to one thing. Didn’t. The past can’t be changed, Mr. Qi. All we can do is learn from our mistakes and look towards the future.”

“ ‘Sides,” Zhu said. “Xiaotian didn’t get messed up. He’s fine.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that,” Brian told him. “Seeing something like that as a young child is probably going to result in a few issues. Is he seeing a therapist?”

“Well, er… No, but…”

“I recommend he undergo some sort of counseling - at least an evaluation.” He cleared his throat. “In any case, I don’t think that what happened is in any way your fault, Mr. Qi. But not telling anyone - especially given the circumstances - is a bit concerning.” He looked at Zhu. “Have you accused him of cheating before?”

Zhu let out a breath. “… Maybe a little?”

“How recently?”

“Not very. I don’t think. It was… mostly when we first started dating. Maybe a little before we got Xiaotian.”

“What made you think he was?”

“Oh, I… didn’t really. I was insecure and-” He tapped his gut. “Look at me, I’m this old, bald, fat guy and Tang is…”

“A four-eyed know-it-all?”

“What? No! I didn’t say that! Did… Tang, did I say that to you?”

Tang looked away.

“… Well, I… I mean…” Zhu sighed. “Tang?”

Tang turned back towards him.

“You are a lot brainier than I am. And… that’s part of what I love about you. I fell in love with you. All of you. And… I am so, so sorry that you ever felt like you had to hide from me.”

“I’m not angry.”

“Maybe you should be.”

“Stop telling me how to feel!”

Zhu stared. “T-Tang, I-”

“You’re always… I don’t know, telling me what to do or how to do it and… and… Stop. Please just stop. At least pick something and stay committed! I can’t keep- I feel like I’m letting you down just by existing.”

Brian made a note.

“Tang-”

“Don’t. I love you, but…” Tang trailed off. “But…”

“Go on…”

“I guess I just don’t want to hear it. I’m not mad at you, Zhu. I’m not, but that doesn’t make it okay. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but you need to stop beating yourself up about it. My decision was just mine. I have agency, and you… you need to respect that.”

“Tang, that’s not… Okay. I just don’t want you to blame yourself either.”

“But I made the choice not to get the police involved. Not to say anything! To bring Xiaotian there! It’s… I didn’t trust you to trust me.”

“I can see why,” Zhu muttered. “I’ve been an assh-”

“You’ve been the only thing keeping me alive for the last… I don’t know how long. You and Xiaotian. Don’t act like that’s nothing.”

“I made you feel like you were nothing.”

“No,” Tang said. “You made me feel like I was everything.”

Zhu blinked.

“You… haven’t been perfect. I haven’t been perfect. But the reason I haven’t…” Tang swallowed. “He made me feel like I was nothing. But then I came home to you.”

“And I would yell at-”

“Let me finish.”

Zhu nodded.

“I came home to you. And you were there. You always had my favorite order ready to go. You always knew what to say to make me smile. You always tucked Xiaotian in when I had to work late towards the end of the semester. And don’t think I didn’t notice the blankets when I fell asleep at the dining table.” Tang looked up. “There have been bad moments, yes. But the good ones kept me sane. Kept me going. There have been times where I may have doubted you liked me. I have never once doubted that you loved me.”

“Tang… I-”

“I love you, Zhuzhu. I love you and Xiaotian more than anything and… I couldn’t risk losing that. I was so afraid of losing that that I- I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Zhu said, tucking Tang’s hair back. “Quit talkin’ like that. You got nothin’ to be sorry for. An’ I’m not going anywhere. I love you too. And I’m sorry for-” He shook himself. “I love you too, okay?”

Brian smiled to himself. Seems there’s hope here after all.

Chapter 24

“Ji?”

The two men looking up at her were very clearly related. Same grey hair. Same eyes, though one had glasses in front of them. Same jawline. There were obvious physical differences - one of them was missing an ear, the other a foot - but they were undoubtedly brothers.

“Ma-choe,” the one with glasses said, sticking out his hand for Dr. Abbagale to shake. “And this is my little brother, Ma-gang.”

“Dr. Abbagale.”

Ma-gang smiled. “Nice to meet you.”

“And you as well. So, on the phone you mentioned needing to work out a few things?”

“Um… yeah, it’s… a little complicated…”

“Hardly,” Ma-choe scoffed. “We hurt each other. We’re trying to move past that.”

“Alright. Do you mean physically or-”

“Like I said, it’s complicated…”

“Well, it's my job to deal with the complicated. Would one of you like to go first in explaining exactly what the issue you’re trying to move past is?”

Both brothers looked at each other. Ma-gang nodded at Ma-choe, who nodded back and cleared his throat. “Me, I guess.”

She nodded in turn. “Alright. And Mister… erm…”

“You can say Ma-gang. It’s fine.”

“Mr. Ma-gang, then. I’m going to ask that you refrain from speaking until your brother is finished explaining. I’ll ask you for your perspective later.”

Ma-gang nodded.

“Alright… So may as well start with childhood. This part isn’t as bad, but I have intermittent explosive disorder. We didn’t discover it until a few years ago, so I was unmedicated during my childhood. And… well, frankly, I was kind of a destructive little shit when I got mad. I don’t think I hit him…” He looked over at Ma-gang, who shook his head. “… but I did yell at him a lot. Punched near him. And I think some of his toys got caught in the crossfire. Like I said, it’s not the main thing. But it feeds into some of the other issues.”

“Alright…”

“We had another brother. Ma-jo. The middle kid. They were… a lot closer. And I guess maybe I was jealous? Seeing them together made me angry - everything made me angry. It still does, but I don’t lose my mind over it anymore.”

She nodded for him to continue, and he did.

“Our father died when we were kids. I was left in charge a lot. We got into a lot of fights. Jo tried to mediate. It… didn’t always work. I graduated and joined the military. Jo waited so he and Gang could join at the same time. Somehow we all ended up in the same unit. People didn’t even realize we were brothers,” he mumbled.

“They didn’t?”

“Well, they realized Jo and Gang were brothers. Not me though. I was the odd one out.” Ma-choe rubbed his arm. “So one night, we got assigned border patrol. For the Demilitarized Zone. You know what that is?” He waited for a nod. “And normally, when you get assigned there, you’re not supposed to get too close to the actual border. But one of us - I forget who - thought he spotted something. Maybe a defector? So we went over to investigate. And Gang here… well, he accidentally went too far. And Jo went after him to pull him back. Next thing I knew there were a couple of commie bastards on my little brothers. I went over and tried to get them off.” He inhaled. “Didn’t work. All three of us were captured that night.”

“O-oh!”

Ma-choe stared at the carpet. “So anyway, there we were. Wasn’t pleasant. I blamed Gang, didn’t make any bones about it either. Especially after… well, they thought we were spies or something. Hurt us pretty bad. Physically. Just physically… I wasn’t as good at reining myself in. Couldn’t keep my mouth shut. They didn’t like that. I took it out on my brothers. I- They had to pull me off Gang one time after I started bashing his head against the bars.”

“I… see.”

“I think that’s why they left me behind.”

“Hyeong, that wasn’t-”

Abbagale put her hand up. “Ma-gang, it’s your brother’s turn to speak.”

“R-right. Sorry. He’s wrong though, just for the record. That wasn’t it.”

She nodded, then looked at Ma-choe. Motioned for him to continue.

“Anyway, the cell was left open one time. They bolted. Together as always… but…” Ma-choe winced. “I woke up to a gunshot.” A deep breath. “It was Jo. They shot him down while he was just trying to escape from that hellhole.” Ma-choe wiped his eyes. “And… and despite everything… He was still my little brother. I didn’t… It should have been me.”

“Eomma wouldn’t want you to say that…”

“Ma-gang.”

“Sorry, sorry… I’ll shut up now.”

“Ma-choe, please go on.”

“Right, so… I didn’t know what was going on for a bit… but then one of them dragged the body in and threw it on the floor and…”

“Do you need a moment?”

“… They made me kiss him. They made me… I didn’t even realize he was dead at first. Then I realized he wasn’t breathing and…” He gasped for air. “They made me take off his clothes and get on top of him. And… once that was over, they raped me in front of his corpse. And they laughed.”

Ma-gang shrank in his seat.

“They only made me do… that… with Jo’s corpse once. They dragged it away afterwards. Probably tossed in the woods or fed it to the dogs or whatever the fuck they do with the bodies of war prisoners. Everything else, though? Happened on a regular basis from then on.” Ma-choe shrank in on himself too. “They kept laughing. And they gave me that fucking nickname. ‘Mulmangcho’.”

“Mulmangcho?”

“Type of flower. You’d know it as a ‘forget-me-not’. Guess even torture technicians can get poetic sometimes.”

“I don’t understand the reference…”

“Because we left him behind,” Ma-gang whispered.

“Yeah, well… They beat me, they fucked me… they got bored. They got creative. Started using objects. Starting beating me while they were fucking me. My girlfriend knew something happened the first time we…” He shook his head. “They couldn’t do anything about the scar tissue. And I’m from South Korea!”

“I’m very sorry to hear that.”

“Whatever. So eventually they set my execution date. And those bastards wanted one last night with their favorite sex toy. I don’t know how or really what happened, but I think I killed them. Some of them. At least one. Then I ran.”

“That must have taken a lot of courage.”

“Yeah. Well.” Ma-choe shrugged. “I got back. Gang was there. Came straight to the hospital. And… for a few days I was yelling at him and also hugging him. I hated him, but I didn’t want him to leave me. Still have those complications.” He leaned back in his chair. “And, you know, that’s more or less why we’re here. From my perspective.”

Abbagale nodded. “Alright, Ma-gang. Your turn.”

Ma-gang took a deep breath. “O-okay, well, I guess I’ll start with childhood too.” He motioned to his ear - or, rather, the one that wasn’t there. “This has been an issue since childhood. Again, we lived in South Korea, but there was nothing they could do. I wouldn’t say it messed up my hearing, but… other kids definitely noticed. They called me ‘Oegwipali’ - that just means ‘one ear’. Creative, I know. But I got picked on a lot. And…” Ma-gang rubbed his arm. “And they knew I had this big scary older brother. I lived with him. I was scared. I knew he could have stopped the teasing, but he never did. And I admit, that… kind of hurts.”

Ma-choe grimaced.

“I know he had a lot going on, but still. And Jo wasn’t as good at… that, but he tried. And Choe was always… He’s the smart one. He’s always been the smart one. I don’t understand chess or Go that well… Sometimes we’d play Yut, but… Yeah. Then Appa died and he shut us out. We didn’t get any closer as we got older. Then he joined the military and we didn’t call or write much. Then I joined the military and he mostly wanted to be left alone.”

More nodding. “Alright…”

“Then we ended up on the wrong side of the border. There’s kind of a thing where people from the North hide out and kidnap people from the South. It’s all a little… insane. But that’s what happened. And they hurt us… but hyeong- Choe’s right. He had it the worst. They… they cut his foot off… when we tried to run the first time.”

Abbagale’s eyes widened. “The first time?”

“Choe planned this whole big thing. It, uh… didn’t work. And he lost his foot.” Ma-gang looked down. “He couldn’t walk. He couldn’t walk. And we had to run.” He looked back up. “That was why we left him. I know that doesn’t make it much better. But still.” He looked at Ma-choe. “It wasn’t you. It was never you. We just wanted to get away.”

Abbagale nodded again. So did Ma-choe.

“Jo was right next to me when they shot him. I felt it. I felt his… his blood on me. And I didn’t stop running. I couldn’t stop running.”

“That sounds like an impossible decision to have to make.”

He wouldn’t look at her. “I made it. Alone. I went home to Eomma - our mom - and I tried to… ‘Forget’ isn’t the right word. I tried. Then Hwang showed up.”

“Hwang?” Abbagale was careful to show no sign of recognition.

“He was from the North. He defected. Our mother works at Hanawon - that’s where all the defectors go - and sometimes she picks up… strays. And… and we started…” He shrugged. “We started talking. And he wasn’t bad. Just… misguided, you know? We became friends. And ironically enough, it was helping. I mean, he was there for me when I mourned for Jo. When I worried for Choe.” He played with his fingers. “Even though… he was one of the ones that hurt us. I found I wasn’t mad at him. He really was a different person. I trusted him. I thought I knew him.”

“I see…”

“Then Choe came back. And I was wrong. Hwang was the one who… with Jo, with Choe. He didn’t touch him himself, but he held him down and put things inside of him. And he acted like that was somehow better?!”

“Oh. Oh dear.”

“I just… Choe was hurt and sick and I didn’t know what to do, so I… I… hurt Hwang. I wanted him to feel the way he made my brother feel.”

“Are you saying you sexually assaulted him?”

“He did it first! He was a rapist first!”

“For the record, I wasn’t even aware he was there. So there’s that,” Choe said, looking away.

“And… and maybe I should have just chased him off. But I was hurt. Choe was hurt. And I just wanted to make sure he left.” And, muttering, “Wasn’t like he disagreed that he deserved it.”

“I… can’t say I agree with that course of action.”

“Yeah, well… That’s what happened. Didn’t tell anyone until we came here and found out he did too. And offering to go do it again is apparently unhelpful.”

“You know I can’t let you-”

“I’m not going to go after him, don’t worry. But I’m allowed to hate him, right? I hate him… I don’t know why Choe doesn’t.”

“I do hate him! I just didn’t want you to… to… do that. How do you think living with a rapist makes me feel?!”

“What, do you think I’d attack you?!”

“You did it once. What’s to stop you from doing it again?”

Tense, tense silence.

“… So, yeah,” Choe finally said. “Um… that’s our story. And there’s a lot to work through. Think you can help?”

“We take no offense if you can’t.”

“I’m not a miracle worker,” Abbagale said, “it’ll take work on your part too. That said, I’m perfectly willing to help in any way I can.”

They sagged in relief.

“Trust seems to be the biggest issue at the moment. Ma-choe’s right, I can see how living with that kind of fear would make things difficult.”

“I’d never hurt you, hyeong!”

“Be that as it may, consider it from his perspective. Rape is a trauma in his past-”

“It’s something my little brother should never even think of. Let alone do.” Choe looked away. “You know, I never understood how you felt before.”

“What do you mean?”

“Being scared of your own sibling.”

Gang gulped. “You’re… scared of me?”

“A little. If you can do that, who knows what else you’re capable of?”

“Choe… Hyeong, I did it-”

“Don’t say you did it for me!”

“I didn’t, but I did it because I love you. You’re my brother. Hwang… He hurt you. I had to do something. I would never-”

“I wish I could believe that.” He looked at Abbagale, pleading. “He… I can’t keep lying awake at night wondering if he’s going to snap. And it’s my own fault, because if I hadn’t… When I was a kid…”

“This isn’t your fault!”

“Then whose fault is it, Gang?!”

“Okay, okay,” Abbagale said. “This isn’t productive. Yelling at each other isn’t productive. So, Ma-choe? You feel responsible for what happened?”

“… Sometimes I wish I’d died in the north. Not even instead of Jo. Just that they’d executed me. Everyone would have… This wouldn’t have happened.”

“Choe-”

“You loved him.” Ma-choe glanced over. “Didn’t you? I could see it in your eyes when you brought him up.”

Ma-gang looked away.

“Say he has really changed.” Choe looked in the other direction. “If I had died… well, you probably never would have found out. You two could have been happy. Maybe together, maybe not. Either way. If what you say is true, then you wouldn’t have raped him. And you could have gone on to live a normal life. And… now you can’t.”

They were quiet for a moment.

“Normal life?” Gang shrugged. “Would have been a boring one. I would have missed you. I would have been responsible for both my brothers’ deaths. How do you think that would have made me feel?”

“It wasn’t your fault. Not really. It was just… I can’t. I'm sorry…”

Abbagale passed the Kleenex. Ma-choe sobbed into his hands.

“Hyeong…”

“I just don’t want to be the reason you ruined his life. You ruined your life.”

Ma-gang tilted his head. “I don’t know. Your life wasn’t ruined.”

Ma-choe looked up.

“I mean, it’s not what we thought it would be, but are our lives really that bad? You’re with a woman you love with all your heart. You’re getting married to her soon! And I found the courage to be myself, I have romantic partners of my own. We have friends. And the best Korean restaurant in town, which we’ve managed to run well. Hell, we’re thinking of opening a second location. And… all this after North Korea.”

“Jo isn’t here.”

“Maybe he is. And maybe it sucks… but it’s not over.”

Abbagale checked her watch. “On that note, I think we’re finished here. But I’d like to see you both next week…”

Chapter 25

“Yin?”

“Li,” the boy says, peering up at Hooves with his big dark eyes. “Kuafu is my uncle. I’m just staying with him until Baba’s hair grows back.”

“Ma-Ba’s actually his aunt and his uncle,” says the girl, tightening a pigtail. “He’s homophobic.”

“Transphobic, Longnü,” says Mx. Yin, sighing deeply, as they all enter the consulting room. “And that’s not why we’re here.”

Hooves nods. “You did mention, ah, ‘disturbing material’ on the phone. But you didn’t specify.”

“Is this because of our fanfic?” Longnü asks.

“Well, you’ll have to tell me. What’s your fanfic like?”

“Oh, we brought some - it's called 'Lotus Petal Party',” says the boy, handing over a few printed pages. Hooves reads, and his eyebrows shoot up into his hairline.

“Goodness.”

“Do you like it?”

“It’s… very creative, but…”

“I wasn’t sure if it was good,” Longnü says. “I don’t do so well in English and Ne Zha can’t read.”

“English.”

“Whatever. We tried to get my brother to do the proofreading - he’s good at that, but he cried and ran away. So, for the sequel, we asked Miss Yue from Ma-Ba’s work to do it, but she told on us. And now we’re here.”

“And why do you think you’re here?”

“Ma-Ba said it was ‘cause we’re not supposed to be looking at gross stuff and especially not writing it.”

“Ugh. Bo-ring.”

“I don’t know where they would have even-” Mx. Yin makes a face. “Ne Zha is in sixth grade and Nü-er is in seventh. They’re certainly not picking this up from school. And… and they said they didn’t see it on TV. I’m… concerned.”

“Why?”

“Yeah, it’s just a story.” Longnü pouts her lip, slouching forward. “It's not like… I thought you’d like it - we used Twinkly Mares and everything.”

“I think that’s what your - parent? - your parent is worried about. Though,” Hooves says, addressing Mx. Yin this time, “I wouldn’t worry too much if I were you. A lot of children do, well, similar things as they get older. They outgrow something and start to resent it. I suspect that might be what’s going on here… though the level of violence is concerning.”

The kids stare at him for a moment, blinking slowly.

“Huh?” Longnü sputters. “We don’t hate Twinkly Mares.”

“You made them cannibals and rapists!”

“No we didn’t! We used an OC for that.” She faces Hooves, very matter of fact. “That means ‘original character’. That means we made him up, he’s not in the show.”

“We needed one to do the cannibalizing. And the raping,” Ne Zha says. “The ponies are just the ones that stuff happens to. Especially Princess Lotus Petal. She’s my new favorite.”

Hooves tilts the printout paper. “What’s ‘hanahaki’?”

“Oh, that’s a thing in animes where flowers grow in your lungs if someone doesn’t love you.”

“Why did it stop after the guy joined in with the violence, then?”

“ ‘Cause he does love her, he’s just scary with it. That’s called ‘yandere’!”

“Okay… and then Genghis Khan shows up?”

“No, Genghis Khar. He’s an OC too. He’s a donkey.” Ne Zha catches Hooves’ look of confusion. “This girl online says it’s Afghan for donkey.”

“I see. But…” Hooves leans forward and steeples his fingers. “Where did you pick up this kind of thing? This is a bit… extreme… for kids your age.”

“Um…” They seem to register that they’re potentially in trouble, finally, and shift in their seats. “TV?” Ne Zha says at the same time as Longnü says “A book?”

“Okay, let me ask something else. Why did you write this?”

“Oh, ‘cause oldest brother woke up and we wanted to cheer him up.”

“Woke up?” Hooves has to suppress the question of why they thought this would cheer anyone up.

“He was… sick? Hurt? Sort of? Really bad for a long time…” Now Ne Zha looks even more uneasy, like he’s said more than he should.

“Oneiroid Syndrome,” Mx. Yin says. “That’s what the doctors in Hong Kong called it. It’s… a type of schizophrenia?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Hooves nods. “But he was… out of it for a long time? That’s unusual. How long?”

“About three years. There was… an accident. The trauma…” Mx. Yin scowls at the kids. “And really! Showing him that is the last thing he needs.”

“What kind of accident?” Hooves asks. “Does it relate to the, ah…?”

“It wasn’t an accident!” Ne Zha pipes up. “Don’t lie! We know he… he got beat up!”

Hooves catches the pause. Ne Zha notices that he noticed and goes silent. Mx. Yin frowns very deeply, and breaks the long silence with, “How do you know?”

Ne Zha shrugs, staunchly avoiding eye contact.

“It’s my fault,” Longnü says finally. “I showed him. There’s… there’s this video online. And we saw- I didn’t know how bad it was going to be.”

“Nü-er,” Mx. Yin says, very very seriously. “How much did you see?”

The children look at each other for a moment and then both of them begin to cry.

“I’m sorry,” Longnü chokes out. “I’m sorry, I didn’t wanna-”

“Kids, please. It’s alright,” Hooves says. “We’re here to help you, not to punish you for anything. Let’s take a minute to calm down, alright? And then maybe you can tell me what you saw.”

“They stabbed him,” Ne Zha whispers. “With their… their… things.”

“Ah. Like… like in your story? I think I see what’s going on now.”

“Y-yeah. He tried to fight but they put some blue stuff that looked like flowers in his mouth and he couldn’t move after that…”

“Do you know who these people were?” Hooves looks between the kids and Mx. Yin.

“No, but they called him ‘wong chung’. That’s… some kind of bug? I don’t know the English. The ones that eat everything.”

“Locust,” says Mx. Yin.

“Does that mean something?”

“It’s a slur… in Hong Kong, at least. For mainlanders. Jin Zha is the oldest. He would have still- He spoke mostly Mandarin. That would have made him unpopular.”

“Mu Zha and I used to make fun of him,” Ne Zha says through tears. “For being so weird. I thought it was his fault when other kids would tease me at school.”

“He tried,” Mx. Yin says wearily. “He wanted to contribute. But of course it’s so hard for mainlanders to find work in Hong Kong, and if he made food for the children’s lunches it was foreign and they got bullied, and if he tried to help with their homework he could only really write it in Mandarin…”

“And we were mean and then he got hurt…”

Mx. Yin wraps an arm around each child. “So you wrote down what you saw. I see.”

“Yeah, this girl online… purplepuma… We were using her fanfics to learn English, it’s more fun than the books. And she said when she’s feeling mad she writes violent stuff using characters she likes. Like ‘Peking Ducktective’, we thought that one was funny. So we tried it with the scared feeling instead.”

“Peking Ducktective?” Mx. Yin asks. Hooves doesn’t stop them. Honestly? He’s curious himself.

“Yeah, it’s a crossover,” Longnü says. “That’s when-”

“I know what a crossover is.”

“Oh. Well, it’s about Ace Hart from Dog City and the Duck from Ducktective teaming up and falling in love and stuff… only the duck is evil.”

“O-…-kay.”

“Ace eats him,” Ne Zha says. “He doesn’t make Peking duck though. I think the title is just there for the pun.”

“I think she said sorry for it after last season started, though,” says Longnü. “She thought Ace Hart was Chinese and then it turned out he’s not, but I don’t think anyone minded ‘cause they hadn't known either. Except maybe that red text guy, but no one listens to him.”

“And ‘Sigmund the Sorceror’ was kinda like that as well? The character finds his teacher hurting his friends so he turns him into a raspberry flan and he eats him too.”

Hooves taps his fingers and says, “Those sound… interesting. So your friends wrote these because they were upset and you thought writing your own story about the thing that upset you would help too?”

“Yeah…”

“And you used the pony characters?”

“Our family owns the company, we grew up with them. We’ve loved them forever, they’re our favourite characters to write about.”

“That kinda seems weird to say, though, now you said it,” says Ne Zha. “If we like them, is it weird we wanted to hurt them?”

“Not at all,” says Hooves. “Someone real who you love got hurt. If you put that on someone you love who isn’t real, it can make it seem less scary.”

“That’s what I thought,” Longnü says. “But then we posted it and people got really mad.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well… some girl told us to kill ourselves for writing ‘pedo porn’ - except all the characters are the same age as us, I think. Or older.”

“I think she meant that we shouldn’t be writing about kid stuff like that, but it’s none of her business.” Longnü rolls her eyes. “And someone kept yelling at us that it’s racist because Murder-Hooves and Genghis Khar are Asian. They’re not the only ones! The show’s made in China!”

“And we showed cousin Hong Hai, but he cried and-”

“And Ma-Ba totally freaked out. And now we’re here because you guys think we’re crazy.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy,” Hooves says. “I think you saw something very upsetting and needed a way to deal with it. I would have suggested telling a grown-up first, but if you thought you’d get in trouble I see why you didn’t.”

Mx. Yin tightens their hug. “I wouldn’t have punished you. It’s sadly very easy to run across things like that online. They pay people to remove it, but someone always tries to put it back up.”

“We thought we’d be okay,” Longnü says thoughtfully. “We’d seen scary stuff in movies and comics before. But we knew those weren’t real, and this was, so we weren’t. And it was never that kind of bad before… ‘cept when we looked for other fanfics like that.” Mx. Yin pulls back, looking both concerned and annoyed, and Longnü hastily adds, “Well, we had to research!”

“I just don’t… This can’t be healthy,” they say, looking to Hooves for backup. “Dwelling on it, I mean.”

“It depends on the person. In this case, it doesn’t seem like what they’re doing is dwelling on it. Especially not if it made them feel better afterwards. That’s about as common in traumatized people as aversion is.”

“But we’re not traumatized,” Ne Zha says. “Jin Zha is.”

“And writing it made us feel better, so we thought if he read it, he might feel better too.”

“Well… again, it depends,” says Hooves. “I can’t say whether it will, but even if he feels it would, please don’t spring it on him, alright? If you want to show it to him, tell him what it’s about first so he can decide. Even people who like this kind of story probably wouldn’t like to be surprised by it.” The kids nod. “And you say writing this made you feel better? It didn’t leave you thinking about it even more than before?”

“No.”

“No.”

They both shake their heads.

“Good. In that case, I’d like to talk to you again next week, and,” he turns to Mx. Yin, “if possible I’d like to speak to Jin Zha as well. If he’s not well enough to come, I can make a phone appointment. And, if this really does help, it’s probably okay to keep writing and drawing your feelings.” He smiles at the kids. “Just maybe keep it off the internet for a while.”

Chapter 26

“Descheenie? Am I saying that right?”

“And DeWitt,” the woman says. “Delilah, please.” She nods at the man behind her, who is holding the baby and one of the little girls. “My husband Doug… and the kids.”

Dr. Constantin Bili does the math quickly. Fourteen in total. Sixteen including the parents. Different ages, races, genders - religions too, if the one boy’s turban is anything to go by. About half are American (American Indian?), half are not. One of them is Punjabi, not unlike Constantin himself.

“Dylan, Dolly, Dawkins, Deepak, Davida, Destiny, Dallas and Deja-” Doug has to stop to take a breath. “Delgado, D.J., Diedrick, Daisy and DeeDee annnnnd Dorothy.”

“Pleased to meet you-” They’ve met before, briefly, but Constantin has always had trouble keeping track of the noisy neighbors from 101. “-properly.” He might have to refer them on if his supervisor suggests it would make things awkward on their street, but he can at least introduce them to the process.

“I’m not,” Dallas - or is it Destiny? - grumbles. “We’re only, like, here because of Dante.”

“My son,” Doug says. “Second oldest. My ex-wife and I adopted him after we had the triplets.”

“His real parents-”

“-like, died.”

“COW ACCIDENT!”

“Deja,” Dylan groans. “And they were his bio parents, not his-”

“His first parents,” Delilah says. “We’re his real family too. And so are they.”

“But there was a cow accident!” pipes up the boy with the lazy eye, finger in his nose. His parents are too distracted to stop him.

“They were ranch workers in Utah,” Doug explains. “Cattle stampede deaths are sadly more common than you’d think.”

“So he’s scared of cows,” says a triplet.

“He’s scared of everything,” says another.

The third wrings her hands. “He’s gotta be really scared wherever he is now.”

“Destiny, please.” Delilah sighs, leaning slightly forward. “He’s been missing for almost two weeks now. And the police…”

Twenty-four hours, Constantin thinks. “I see. And how is everyone handling that?”

“Dylan’s not,” the oldest girl - Dolly, he thinks - says.

“Hey! That’s not true! I-”

“He’s been making everyone download those weird tracking apps and checking to make sure we’re all in bed at night.”

“That’s-”

“Every. Hour. And checking my skin every five minutes.”

“Skin?”

“Uh, yeah.” Dolly shows off some brown blotches on her arm. Constantin notes that her hair is short, while her other family members, even her father, have theirs very long. “We think my melanoma might be coming back. I have an appointment with the regular doctor tomorrow.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“It’s probably stress,” adds Dylan. “I looked it up, that can cause it-”

“And checking it so much is not making me less stressed!”

“But… but…” He wilts. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Silly Dylan,” one of the younger girls (twins? They don’t look like twins, but genetics are unusual…) says. “It’s nothing to worry about. Dante’s gone away before, hasn’t he?”

“Deedee, honey…” Doug squeezes the baby a little tighter. “That was when he was in the hospital. He wasn’t missing. We knew where he was. This time though-”

“He might not EVER come back,” the loudest triplet - Deja - chimes in. “EVER!”

The girl with paint in her hair starts to cry. The triplets join in. Constantin’s surprised that doesn’t set the baby off; Doug catches him looking and mutters, “Uh, yeah, Dorothy’s deaf.”

“Ah.” He understands why they didn’t tell him - Dorothy’s one year old at most and would have no idea what was going on anyway. Constantin lets Delilah settle the other kids down and then says, “May I ask if you have any idea what might have happened? Has Dante wandered off before, or is this new?”

“No, never,” says Delilah. “He barely sets foot outside even on good days! I can’t think why he’d have left of his own accord, he’s old enough to know not to leave with a stranger, but there was no sign of a struggle in the house. And, um, the first thing we did was ask the police to check the river.”

“Is that why Mr. Fuzzy sleeps with Dante’s clothes?” asks the other younger girl, picking orange dog hairs from her clothes. “So he can learn to smell him out?”

Doug rubs the back of his neck and mutters, “Well, it’s worth a try anyway.”

“I still think he did it somehow.”

“Dolly-”

“He? Who’s he?”

“Hunter de Vil,” Dylan groans. “He’s a friend from school - well, one of Dawkins’ friends, I guess, from the fancy school. We get along okay. He likes space and stuff.”

“He likes space because you like space,” Dolly grumbles. “And I haven’t seen him around since Dante disappeared.”

“Didn’t he go with his mum on her work trip?”

“That’s what they said…”

“How old is this Mr. de Vil?”

“Fourteen,” Delilah says. “I have to agree with Dylan on this one, dear. There’s no way that a boy that age would have been able to manage something like, well…”

“Well, it’s unlikely…” Constantin sucks his teeth. “There have been cases of very young people committing terrible crimes before, but he would probably have trouble making another teenager his own age disappear entirely. Usually in cases like that the victim is found and the child gets caught very quickly, and I’m already aware the immediate area’s been thoroughly combed.” He avoids any specific mention of finding a body. “Criminal children also usually target much younger children, and ones closer to home. Usually it’s a boy harming a younger sister. There have been cases where they target peers, but it’s rare and, again, harder for them to pull off, and in those cases there’s almost invariably more than one perpetrator at a time. It’s not very plausible with just one.”

“But not impossible?” Dolly asks, sitting forward. “I mean, I don’t think he has any other friends, but…”

“I’m sure the police talked to this boy already. Speculating here won’t do any good - and, as I said, I really don’t think it’s likely.”

“Whatever.”

“How have you been dealing with this?”

“Huh?”

“Well,” Constantin steeples his fingers. “Dante is your brother, isn’t he? From your side of the family - adoption or no. You’ve been together the longest.”

“I guess…”

“Losing him - that must be very frightening for you.”

“Don’t talk about him like he’s dead!”

“I’m not saying he is. Still, you’ve known him the longest. I’d like to hear you speak first.”

“Uh. Welllll…” Dolly chews her lip and gazes at the ceiling. “It’s weird, y’know? He had really bad OCD and Triple D are right, he was scared of everything. He was more freaked out about the cancer than I was. He was on like five types of meds because he always thought something bad was gonna happen… and now it kinda has. He always thought it would be me dying, though, y’know? He was scared something bad would happen to him too, to any of us, but that was the one which was most real.”

“You haven’t experienced anything similar, have you?”

“No. I think his, uh, his first parents had some history of mental illness and stuff. Dad’s side has deafness. Dorothy was in an accident, but Daisy and Deja and Dallas come by it naturally - only one side each though. No other problems.” She hesitates. “The cancer’s not genetic. I don’t think the other kids will get sick too. Dad spent longer in uranium land than I did, but if it hasn’t happened to him yet… Well, yeah, it’s kind of a worry, and our birth mom’s still over there. But I’ve been trying to just worry about mine.”

Constantin nods and goes to Dylan. “You’ve been anxious, though?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say-”

“He’s always anxious. Almost as bad as Dante.”

“Dolly, it’s your brother’s turn.”

“Well, yeah, of course I’m anxious! I’m the big bro and it was hard enough being responsible with just four others. No, that sounds bad, I don’t want the others to go away, they’re my family too, y’know? Even our names match, it was like fate! But suddenly there were a lot more kids to keep track of, and Dolly and Dante were sick already, and I was the one who didn’t notice Dorothy taking her ear protection off at the firework show… and now I screwed up again.”

“You didn’t screw up, Dylan,” Delilah says. “You weren’t even there, you were at school.”

“Maybe I should have been there!”

“You already spend so much time looking after us you’re even starting to sound American!”

“I… I think maybe my dad did it.”

“What?!”

“Not you, I meant my other dad. My bio dad. He’s… He never hurt us, but he didn’t take the divorce well. And he was- He thought you guys were dirty. Dante especially since he was black and not just brown. And since you guys are Indians.”

“Native American,” Constantin corrects gently.

Doug shakes his head. “No, he’s right, some of us prefer that term. About that, anyway… I’m not sure about the other thing.”

“Why would he want to take Dante away if he didn’t like him?” asks the other younger girl. “Wouldn’t he want him to stay far away?”

“Um, honey…” Delilah thinks for a moment. “Dylan thinks he might want to hurt him, because that would hurt us.”

The littler kids gasp.

“I don’t think he would,” she adds quickly. “He was… not the most pleasant man, but I don’t think he’d go that far.”

“Yeah, and the other neighbours don’t like us either but they were upset too,” says the boy with the turban. Constantin knows who he means. Clarissa’s only way of restraining herself from using actual racial slurs is to call the newer family members “Americans” with just as much vitriol, though she doesn’t look well on white Americans either. He always got the impression her family’s social awareness is stuck in the days of the East India Company. She still joined the neighbourhood search party, and even though her fat little corgi wasn’t much of a sniffer dog, she did try. “Not liking us doesn’t mean they don’t like us that much.”

“Dimitri said we were better off without him because he’s mopey.”

“And how old are Dimitri?” Dolly asks snidely.

“… Thirteen.”

“Oh, but Hunter-”

“That’s different!”

“Wait a moment, ‘are’?” Bili interrupts.

“Dimitri is three people,” Dylan explains. “Our half-brothers on Dad’s side. Dima, Mikhail, and Trifon. Di-Mi-Tri, family joke. But yeah, Dad and them… they could have done it.” He lowers his voice. “They know people.”

“They know Snezhana,” Dolly says dubiously. “I never believed them about the big-time ones.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Their mother. Little woman with big white hair. She’s got this big dog that’s always pulling on his leash. We think she’s Mafiya, but-”

“Dolly,” Delilah says. “We are not here to gossip.”

“Do you want to find Dante or not?”

“Of course I do, we all do, but this isn’t helping. Constantin is not a policeman. He’s here to help you with your… with your trauma.”

“Quite right,” he says. “I’m afraid all I can do is suggest you talk to the police about what you think. And to me about how it makes you feel.”

“I feel bad,” says one of the triplets.

“We all do,” says another. “We miss him.”

“I miss combing his hair for him when he was too sad to move,” says the third.

“I miss teaching him meditation…”

“I miss sharing his metal MP3s…”

“I miss looking up how unlikely all the bad things he talked about were so he’d be less scared…”

“I miss having help to make sure all the younger kids are safe…”

“I miss him when I remember that time he went out even though it was one of his bad days to buy me more black paint because I used up all mine painting him…”

“We’re talking about him like he’s dead again.”

Twenty-four hours have long since been and gone. After that, the odds sharply rise that he is.

Chapter 27

The hospital calls on Christmas Eve. Just before the boys’ bedtime. Five months… after. Guillaume sees the number and shoos Irwin out of the room.

“Hello?”

“M. Uwimana?”

“Speaking.”

“This is Dr. Rafiki from-”

“The maternity hospital. I… Yes, I remember. It’s been… some time. Why are- I don’t mean to be rude, but… I’d think a nurse would call me. And… and it’s been such a long time-”

Rafiki spoke slowly, painfully, like his teeth were being pulled on with every word. “There was a… delay in getting the prince’s blood tested.”

“I’m sorry? I don’t understand-”

“There have been so many cases…” The doctor inhales deeply, sharply. “It took a while to verify the results. I- I'm so sorry.”

Guillaume swallowed hard. “About the wait or the result?”

“I’m sorry,” Rafiki said again. “Would you like to schedule a follow up appointment with us? Or if you’d rather the boy’s regular doctor-”

“He was arrested in September.”

“… I see.”

“His Tutsi wife and… and some of his patients.”

“I see.” Rafiki coughed. “Maybe you’d better bring him back to the Maternity then.”

“For the results?”

“Ah… for treatment. I’m sorry. The results came back positive.”

Long silence. “I see. No need to be sorry, it’s not your fault.”

“Still, I wish I had better news.”

“I do too, but it’s still not your fault.” A long sigh. “So, do we need to do anything in the meantime? Diet changes or something?”

“No, that shouldn’t be necessary. Make sure he’s careful, though. Don’t expose him to any other infections if you can avoid it, and, if he gets a cut or scratch, make sure you don’t have any broken skin on your hands when you clean it up. I can book you in for a follow-up and prescriptions by…” He shuffles through his diary and names a date.

“How do I tell him?”

“I’m sor-” Rafiki cuts himself short. “I don’t know. I wish I did. This is still new to me.”

He wonders if it would be worse when he got used to it. Maybe he will take that job in America after all.

Chapter 28

Dr. Gillman reaches for his inhaler.

“Mr. Drach-”

“I don’t have time for this,” Mr Drach snaps, sweeping into the room with the littlest kid - Miroslava - bundled up in a blanket, wrapped up in one arm.

“Tato,” Lyubov whimpers.

“Shh. Shh. I’m here.” He frowns at Gillman. “They looked at Mirka already. She’s fine.”

She doesn’t look fine. Poor kid is in shock. Eyes wide and watering. Shaking so hard that Mr. Drach almost loses hold of her. The other, younger two - the little boys - cling to his pantlegs. Tripping him as he walks.

“Where… Where are the others?”

“The others?”

“The other kids, I think he means,” says the White girl in the other bed. Draga? Draga - that’s right. “Our brothers and sisters. They… They were, um…” She sniffles loudly. Lyubov strains to rub her back. “We were in the basement. All of us. When the bombs fell.”

“Just one bomb,” Lyubov says. “If it had been more…”

“That’s very lucky.”

The girls wince.

“The Russians brought us down there. They… Hey, Draga, it’s okay. Shh.”

“MAMA!” She wails. “Mommy… I… I… I…”

“Shh. Not in front of Mirka.”

“Mama is dead,” Draga sobs. “And… and… I- What’s going to happen to me?”

“Nothing now,” Mr Drach soothes. “Nothing’s going to happen now except that I and Dr Gillman will look after you. All of you.”

Chapter 29

“Lee?”

Two women look up in unison - almost perfectly in sync. Ruddy complexions, reddish faces. One with a scarf and one without. A little girl in a pink dress sitting between them, rainbow ribbons in her hair.

Dr Wang looks at the other people waiting. Two more women - well, a woman and a girl. Another one with a headscarf. Another one without. Pink floral print and pink streaks. “Are you also Lees?”

One nods; the other says “It’s Lu, actually. Scarlett Lu. But I’m with them.”

“Come in. Please come in.”

The small crowd does so, and introductions are made all around - Scarlett, Lily, Cherie, Cherry, and Nayab is the little one. Cherie and Cherry cling close together with Nayab between them; Scarlett and Lily sit awkwardly apart, Lily at Cherie’s side.

“Remind me of your exact relationships?” Dr Wang says, making notes.

“These are my moms,” says Nayab. “Mama Cherie actually had me but they’re both my moms. And Scarlett and Lily are Mama Cherie’s sisters, but not each other’s sisters? I forget how it works.” She looks up quizzically at her mothers.

“Lily and I have the same Baba,” Cherie says. “Scarlett is my younger sister, on my mom’s side.”

“Younger and worse,” Scarlett grumbles.

“Don’t say that! It isn’t fair and it isn’t true.”

“Don’t lie.” She turns to Fu. “Look at them. I don’t fit.”

“Why do you say that?” he asks, tone neutral.

“Well, Lily and Cherie get along great, but… When we were kids, I lived with Cherie and Mom, and Lily came over, but Cherie always called her ‘my sister’. Not ‘our’ sister, and, like, I know she’s not, but… it felt weird, and they always seemed to like hanging out with each other more than with me. I tried to fit in but I kept messing up. And then Cherie and I are Jewish and Cherry and Lily are Muslim, and Nayab was doing both for a while but she quit temple, so even Cherie’s wife and kid spend more time with Lily than with me now, and that’s not anyone’s fault but…” She takes a deep breath. “Yeah.”

“Scarlett…”

“I’m not mad anymore. I was for a while, but…”

“Yes?”

“Nayab and Lily got hurt. It wasn’t my fault. Or anyone’s fault, but I just… I felt like maybe being angry might have killed them.”

“But,” Nayab says, blinking, “we aren’t dead?”

“I thought you were,” Scarlett whispers. “I thought you were for weeks and weeks!”

Nayab squeezes her fists and scrunches her eyes shut against tears. “I thought we were gonna be, but…”

“You saw the news about the mosque thing, right?” Lily says quietly to Dr Fu.

“I did. yes. I’m sorry. Have you reported it?”

“We didn’t like to say too much. We picked up that these guys are powerful - pretty sure the county sheriff turned up as a buyer a couple times, and I don’t know who else they’ve got on their side. We didn’t want to risk them finding out how much we knew.”

“Well, there’s a group who’s had some success supporting survivors of similar incidents…” Dr Fu reaches for one of the Palace cards, but Cherie sees and nods.

“Way ahead of you. Thanks though.”

“If it helps, the former sheriff is awaiting trial right now, if you haven’t caught up with the news. Not for the trafficking, sadly, but maybe some evidence will turn up.”

“Maybe…” She doesn’t sound sure.

He isn’t sure either.

Chapter 30

Summary:

In case you didn't know: Native people were enslaved alongside Black people (Tituba was Native), and slaves would be referred to with the surnames of their masters.

On the other side of the continent, three hundred years ago:

“Can you tell me your name, child?”

“Myrtle. Myrtle Cluny… well, not anymore, I suppose. Of the Massachusett.”

Auntie Constance (the unmarried matron is everyone’s auntie in their little community) gently peels the girl’s fingers away from the toddler she’s clutching. “And this little fellow?” The boy coughs up phlegm and whines, in no condition to talk, though he’s old enough.

“M-Matthias. The same.” Myrtle coughs too, even harsher. “I’m already asking so much, but… I know I’m not long for this world. Can you bury me with an Indian name?”

“Don’t talk like that,” Constance says, but there’s doubt in it. Old Methuselah, mixing medicine, looks at her and shakes his head. His cap slips, exposing the massive scar that is his scalp - a reminder of the war.

“It’s alright. W-we go to Heaven too, don’t we? Some of the governor’s people said not, but…” She gestures at the meeting hall around them. “Praying Indians have to pray for something.”

“No reason we wouldn’t. Christ Himself wasn’t an Englishman.”

Mortimer, the village leader, sits beside her. His scalp’s all one big scar too, and he leaves it visible; it looks disturbing to those unfamiliar, but to Myrtle it’s reassuring. It shows he understands. “Do you want to tell us what happened?”

“M- Our parents died,” Myrtle says hoarsely. “Killed or… Or they could have been sold to another family. Master Cluny never said. And I didn’t like to ask.”

“Sold?”

“Just me at first. Matthias… he came later.”

They catch her meaning even if the young one does not.

“He’s my brother,” she says. Very, very firmly.

Mortimer nods. “Your brother. How old?”

“Three. I… Things weren’t so bad…” That part’s not true - they’ve seen the marks all over her back and legs and the stretch marks on her belly. But she isn’t actively lying, and they wonder what “so bad” looked like. “But… but…” She starts to cry. “I found Master- the governor… with the baby…” She touches her mouth. “We ran before it could get worse.”

Matthias puts a fist to his mouth and suckles it. Mortimer winces and looks away.

“I don’t know where I… we-” Myrtle sniffles. “I heard we were called Aquinnah.”

This is Mashpee. Still. Still. Wampanoag is Wampanoag. Light is light. And even if Myrtle was Black. Or White. Or silver…

“You’re safe here,” Methuselah says.

And they hold her as she goes.

Chapter 31

“Owie…”

Michelle Conrad holds up her shirt, nasty bruising rising on her belly. Jason stands beside the exam table, looking sheepish.

“What happened?”

“Michelle asked me to do it!” Jason says quickly.

“Asked you to do what?”

Michelle mumbles “Swing really hard on the swing and kick me.”

“Why?”

“Cousin Zigmund got his tummy hurt and he gets to have ice cream and Jell-O for dinner.”

Dr. Stein looks questioningly at the cousin who came in with them. A different cousin, presumably, if “Zigmund” is as sick as he sounds.

“Uh, kids, that’s not… Um,” he licks his lips, “It’s not that kind of hurt.”

“But you said he wasn’t sick,” Michelle protests. “What other kind is there?”

“He got… beat up really bad… harder than that.” The cousin stumbles through his words. “It… broke parts of his insides. He can’t eat solid food right now.”

“Actually,” Stein says. “Mr. Conrad?”

“Mitchell.”

“Mitchell. Can I talk to you in the hall?” They bow out. The door is thick, but Stein keeps his voice down anyway. “What exactly…?”

“Er…” Mr Conrad sucks his teeth. “Guess you ought to know… You know they said they caught the last seven of GWF?”

Does he ever. Dawson took time off for the first time in months after Nuka Abbas’ death and Maxwell’s usual quietness has an awkward melancholy feel to it now (Stein gathers he knew some of the kids involved). “Yes…?”

“There were actually eight.”

“Oh… Oh, I see.”

Mr Conrad swallows. “I found him. The car was… I thought he hit a deer. Goodness knows what that did to his insides… But you see why we didn’t tell the kids?”

“I do, but I think you’re going to have to tell them something.”

“Our Grandmum told them someone hurt his privates. I guess none of us really want to go beyond that.”

“May I give you my professional opinion?” Stein asks. Mitchell nods. “Tell them the truth. The whole truth. It’ll be scary for them, but worse than leaving them in the dark.”

“And you know that?”

“I have two daughters,” Stein says. “Frankie and Olivia. Older than yours, but still. There was an… incident with a boy my oldest is friends with. I told her and my youngest exactly what I knew. I mean, I wasn’t the one who treated him, I wasn’t breaking confidentiality - I know his mother,” he explains hastily.

“Right, yeah. I…” Conrad still seems uncomfortable. “I’m gonna have to talk to Zigmund and Grandmum about it. We’re a bit, um, touchy about subjects like that, we’re all churchgoers, y’know? No, we’re nothing like the GWF guys, but there’s sort of an assumption that it’s not a topic for little kids. Bit… prudish, I suppose.”

“I understand, but not telling them the truth is probably going to be worse for them in the long run. I can recommend some books on the facts of life to get the basic actions across, if it helps?”

“Gimme a second,” Mitchell says, taking out his phone. He punches something in and waits for the returning text. This goes on for about a minute, more or less. Finally, defeatedly slumping, he turns up Stein. “Zig’s not happy, but he’s given me permission… I guess. Somehow I’ll make it up to him. Have to pick up a few pints of pistachio on the way home…”

“If you’d like,” says Stein. “I can talk to them. I’ve had… similar conversations with young children before. Younger children. Not just my own.”

“Would you?” Mitchell looks relieved beyond words. “Thank you so much. Heh, guess I’ll drop a little extra in the collection plate on your behalf.”

Chapter 32

A woman sits in a waiting room, her eyes flickering from the door that leads further in, to the door that will take her outside. She jumps when one of them opens.

“Tatiana Zemlyanin?” The lady in the doorway wears a pink dress, her platinum hair pulled back into a ponytail. She smiles warmly, even when Tatiana doesn’t.

“That’s me.”

“I’m Essie Davis - it’s so good to meet you!” Essie leads her down a hall to an office, chattering pleasantries all the while. “I’m so glad you could come in today. Saturdays are the only days my husband can take care of our son, I work from home the rest of the week.”

Tatiana sits in front of a desk; Essie slides into the chair behind it.

“So,” Essie says brightly, pulling out a small stack of forms. “May I ask how far along you are?”

Tatiana takes a deep breath. “Just over eight weeks.”

“Have you been to a doctor?”

“No, I only just found out.”

Essie nods, making a note. “Now, I’m not trying to judge, but I need to know for legal purposes: is the biological father in the picture at all?”

Tatiana clenches her fists. “He’s dead.”

Essie sucks in a breath. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not.” She doesn’t mean to say it, but the words burst out.

“Oh.” Essie sets her pen down, staring at Tatiana sympathetically. “In… cases such as this, First Smile offers to cover therapy as well as prenatal care-”

“It’s fine,” Tatiana snaps. “I just want to forget it happened.”

Essie nods slightly, taking a breath. Then, carefully: “I felt the same way, after I was assaulted. But - at least for me - therapy was a big help.”

Tatiana chewed on her lip. “Was your son…?”

“No,” Essie said, smiling gently. “He’s a Smile baby. I can’t even describe how grateful I am that his birth mother gave him to us.” Cautiously, carefully, she adds: “Your baby will be loved and cared for, if you decide to go through with the pregnancy.”

Tatiana nods, swiping quickly at her eyes. “It’s… I don’t know if I want to be a mother, ever, and definitely not now, but… The baby didn’t do anything. It’s not its fault.”

Essie nods again, then opens a drawer in her desk. “Even if you’re not comfortable with conventional therapy, this might be helpful.”

She hands Tatiana a rectangle of card stock, with a phone number, an email address, a name: The Palace.

“It’s a support group for survivors. It might help,” she repeats gently.

Tatiana studies the card, then slips it into her pocket. “I’ll think about it.”

Essie nods and doesn’t press the issue. Instead, she picks up her pen once more. “Can you tell me about your medical history?”

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 48 of WPaRG