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As soon as his emerald eyes catch a glimpse of the nursery, Ash's feet halt halfway through their brisk strides to the next room (to his husband of five years who was frantically gathering all of the impossibly massive piles of paperwork and squeezing them into a briefcase two minutes prior), and involuntarily twist towards the spacious, silent bedroom. Everything seems to slow in that moment, his heart finally calming its erratic palpitations and his mind coming to a complete stop whilst an inexplicable instinct washes over him, a moth attracted to the littlest light in the midst of an infinite abyss of darkness. A world where he can breathe for once and chaos completely disintegrates before him is opening up, providing an oasis to his stressed and dehydrated consciousness. He only wishes that Eiji would stop his pre-parental panic for a long enough period of time to discover this peaceful paradise with him, and he automatically smiles slightly at the thought.
However, the two of them already are in their own tiny Heaven, in a cosy house in the calm countryside of Cape Cod, Massachusetts, his childhood home that had never truly felt like home until they spontaneously decided to move here when they had made their escape from the traumatic, violent shithole of New York City. Due to the gravity of Ash's injury all those years ago, Japan was unfortunately thrown out of the window, although they frequently venture across the Pacific to visit Eiji's extremely eccentric family by the American's standards. And so they settled somewhere distant, but not too far away from where everything went down, the quiet backdrop of the time in his life before everything plummeted to unthinkably horrific depths partly soothing him and filling him to the brim with happy nostalgia, but the bad memories occasionally flood in, sometimes stronger than the good.
Shortly after the doctors had given him the all clear regarding the nearly fatal stab wound he'd acquired that fateful day on the snowy streets of New York City, and Ash had been encouraged to come out about the abuse he endured at the hands of Dino and his gang, Eiji had recommended therapy, gently pushing him to go however simultaneously respecting his right not to. It took a lifetime supply of thinking long and hard about every single pro and con, comprising lists upon lists of all the positives and negatives, but five years ago - the same year they had tied the knot, in fact - Ash had finally took the risky leap of faith, flying instead of falling like he had feared for so long, as he found that it actually somewhat helped him to be kinder to himself, despite there still being an unfathomable amount of hurt to unlock, and an immeasurable number of fissures in his heart to heal.
Through the entirety of his abusive adolescence, he had been a clump of wet clay, enduring hardship after hardship, emotionlessly, almost mercilessly murdering one innocent person after another, meanwhile an unnoticeable accumulation of pain burned every bit of him. Killing was a natural part of life to Ash Lynx, although his soul had always ached whenever a person who he had never even spoken to was sentenced to death, just because Papa Dino had decided that Ash's particular victim that day earned such a punishment for such a reason. Being raped was also natural and justified for the lynx. He was young. He was naive. He was vulnerable. He was intelligent. He was flexible. He was skinny. He had luscious blonde hair and beautiful jade green eyes.
He was a murderer.
He was a killer.
He was callous.
He was cruel.
Every seemingly insignificant quality that Ash had possessed, and still unintentionally grips on to all these decades in the future, had provided a whole library's worth of explanations and excuses, each trait a book and each strand of DNA in each cell in his body becoming the words imprinted on the pages of these specific reasons. There was an overwhelming amount of undeniable evidence suggesting that all of the abuse was exactly what he deserved.
What goes around comes around, after all...
But killing and being raped was never natural nor deserved for the small, eight year old boy who had accidentally pulled a trigger in absolute terror twenty years prior, and witnessing the deaths of his friends, of the person who he considered his little brother, and of his actual older brother was something that never should have been thrust upon such an innocent, pure child whose only goal of getting to hug Griffin again was tarnished with tears, blood, and the incessant clicking of a thousand cameras that plague him, that are etched in the back of his eyes, that still reside and scratch around inside his eardrums.
No matter how much he wishes for everything to dissolve and evaporate in his brain, for every memory to be thrust into the bottomless caverns of amnesia, an eternity of therapy will never take away the sort of needless suffering that a previously happy boy from Massachusetts had to endure...
Ash Lynx and Aslan Jade Callenreese were believed to have two different clumps of clay, and yet neither of them had known which one belonged to which person, and it truly was only because of the work that Eiji and his therapist had done with an unbelievable dedication that the realisation that the two of them share this cracked, crimson, colossal collection of horrible experiences, yet also ultimately share an undoubtedly caring conscious, a smart, sweet soul, and a courageous, resilient, hopeful heart.
Eiji and his therapist had helped him to overcome the deceptively random phobias and doubts that he had certainly developed after New York City: allowing Eiji to rarely call him pet names, allowing Eiji to take wholesome, funny photographs of him, and even allowing himself to fall in true, romantic love when every part of him screamed to keep himself upright at risk of being hurt once again.
It was only because of their undying patience, loyalty and compassion that today had even arrived.
The call came in approximately half an hour ago, from a receptionist with a voice as sweet and words as annoyingly sticky as honey, and ever since Ash had relayed the message that the baby had been through his medical checks and is confirmed to be perfectly healthy, Eiji has been racing around the house like a headless chicken whilst he has barely woken up. In just thirty measley minutes, the elder had grabbed all of the adoption documents that have been patiently waiting with bated breath for this day, freshened up so spectacularly that Ash nearly fainted as the scents of mint and perfume wafted relentlessly into his nostrils, in addition to making the both of them steaming, delicious cups of much-needed coffee.
And, of course, Eiji had put up little, last-minute decorations...
Adorable, goofy stickers dance across the white walls, the golden sunlight of the crack of dawn painting the almost blank canvas a comforting orange, as though a spotlight is shining on the animals plastered to them, and the moment his feet softly step onto the similarly white carpet, warmth wraps its welcoming, open arms around him in a desperately needed embrace. The rest of the nursery is also swaddled in the increasing brightness of sunshine, an air of angelic innocence flooding the room before the torrential rain of the outside world starts to drip inside, invading this heavenly space with the hellish things that go on elsewhere.
Walking towards the window and carefully pulling the penguin patterned curtains closer together, he lets the blindingly orange hue fade, gives it permission to be filtered through the thin veil of greys, blacks and whites as the true colours of the bedroom begin to show. It's easier on the eyes, which means it's also easier to perform a final check on everything in this space, ensuring that the oak set of drawers are absolutely anchored to the wall, that the moon and stars dangling from the ceiling won't be dragged down into the crib lying in the corner, especially not once his brand new bundle of joy is curiously inspecting the weird crescents and colours and melodies from the music box, like a detective rummaging for all of the evidence that life is as pleasurable as the universe seems to promise it is.
But the beginning of life is consumed by an alarming amount of innocence and pleasure, to the point where a part of Ash (the part that still holds anger in his heart from the universe's betrayal to him) is concerned that his darling child will overdose from the purity, resulting in an emotionally destroyed adult who fails to function, who despises him to the core just as a million others must do, and this overdose of happiness might cause the person who he is meant to protect more than anyone else to become comatose with no chance of waking up and restarting a scarier, yet more accurate depiction of how life really is.
Life isn't an extravagant shade of glimmering gold; it's a shit ton of shades of a shit ton of colours, and his child will need to learn that someday.
However, deep down in his chest, in the part of Aslan Jade Callenreese whose rage is directed at the sadness seeping into every little life, he knows that this precious angel deserves as much goodness and sweetness as humanly possible, and he will give Heaven incarnate to his baby if it's the last thing he'll ever do. So he still leaves the tiniest gap between the two curtains, where the soothing glow has one of its arms enveloped across his shoulder, offering to help him through this one, last check of the nursery.
And Ash Lynx, the toughest, the bravest, the leader of the gang that eventually defeated Dino, never shrugs the arm off, because as adrenaline races through his arteries, he knows that any reassurance (even an imaginary, delusional consolation from the fucking sun) is better than going through it alone.
The first site of inspection is the set of drawers opposing the crib, and he tiptoes around the mustard yellow rug in the centre of the room as though it hides a neverending pit that he will stumble upon and plunge into the darkness whilst the wool encloses and slowly suffocates him. Once he has gracefully stepped over to the drawers, he kneels on the ivory, polyester carpet, the material feeling like a marshmallow had grown blades of grass since it digs into his skin through his denim jeans. There's nothing wrong with the carpet itself - Eiji says it just feels like a regular, old marshmallow - but it always irritates Ash whenever he checks that the drawers are one hundred percent firmly fixed to the wall, and after second-guessing, triple-guessing, and even quadruple-guessing himself, he reaches a confident verdict that this set of drawers is certainly screwed to the wall and will not crush their child should they decide to crawl around.
With this particular paranoia finally satisfied, Ash moves on to his next mission.
One by one, he opens each individual drawer; clothes, diapers and other miscellaneous items that are required to properly take care of a baby are placed folded in flawlessly organised and neat stacks, confined to their own drawers so that they don't contaminate the things above or below them. He counts every set of every object, starving the worry of not having enough of even the most trivial of supplies (again double-checking, triple-checking and, of course, quadruple-checking), before continuing his investigation of the nursery, a military sergeant checking his subordinates' rooms for anything unorthodox or out of order.
He doesn't know how much time has slithered on by since he started this overly cautious inspection of this polished, peaceful, perfectly prepared bedroom, however as he stumbles upon the one area that hasn't been thoroughly scrutinised, a sense of sentimentality strikes him in the chest and he absorbs all the minute details of the mobile while his heart strangely starts to skip, glitching in its pulsations as though it might malfunction without warning.
An invisible string connects the moon and the stars to the currently empty crib, just as an incredibly strong string connects the ceiling that's precisely the same kind of angelic whiteness, to the moon and stars, where Ash and Eiji would go to and come back an infinite amount of times for the person who is already worth more than every single diamond raining on Jupiter.
He ensures that both of those strings are unbreakable and have absolutely no chance of snapping, in a similar fashion to how he has been observing his own heartstrings for months, tuning them to the perfect pitch that a paternal figure should be at so that he can perfectly raise this child, with no problems or worries in the universe.
And like he would if he was sitting a music exam or performing at a prestigious concert, this is the final rehearsal, the final window of revision to cram into his skull, the final opportunity to get his heartstrings eternally attached, the final chance to notice any glaring mistakes before failure is even a probability.
Grabbing the pale yellow blanket and bundling it into an admittedly cute, mini square, he threads his fingers through the muslin with such fragility, as if the blanket has pain receptors and will scream in unadulterated agony if he pulls the smallest bit too tight, an exaggerated version of what Skip did whenever he came across an especially pesky knot in his hair that he carefully brushed as Skip slowly succumbed to the blissful Dreamland of sleep-
Suddenly, his mind drifts to a boy who he loved so dearly, and yet ten years ago, was ripped away from him so needlessly by two bullets to the spine. He puts the blanket back down in the crib, his stomach entangling itself in excruciating clusters of unanticipated grief.
He picks up the stuffed penguin that's been meticulously placed in the corner of the crib furthest from the pale yellow blanket, cradling it against his chest as though the young boy is still here, positioning it near his chest like Skip's strong, determined heartbeat lives vicariously through this silly toy.
He had failed to protect him then, and his heart still stings as the image of Skip's pained, petrified pupils and the echo of his fruitless gasps for air play out for him once more, and for the first time in God knows how long, Ash Lynx dissolves into tears.
The fear of failing again collapses on top of him, like a house crumbling directly above someone due to an earthquake of uncontrollable emotions. It had been gradually increasing in magnitude with such imperceptibility it had almost slipped under the radar, however now it shakes his entire world, the tectonic plates of his life shifting beneath his feet, and he is utterly powerless against his misdeeds, against his anxieties, against his past.
But those things are all ultimately useless against his irrefutable, invincible love for Skip, for Eiji, and for the child that he will try to bring up in a universe millions of times better than this one.
He had only failed to protect Skip, because everyone else around them had enough power, had enough privilege, had enough money, had enough control, to cause everything to be biased, a dice that always landed on the side that they predicted as they tempted fate with their callousness and cruelty.
A callousness and cruelty that he fears he's been infected with, however he truly knows, beyond all of his trauma, that he's immune to the virus of psychopathy everyone in his teenage years seemed to catch.
It wasn't wholly his fault that the boy he considered his little brother has been six feet under for over a quarter of Ash's life, and Eiji and his therapist have been eager to remind him of this fact countless times for the past few months as the adoption date drew nearer and nearer.
That notion should make him feel better, should cease the cascading of the tears tirelessly trickling down his cheeks, however it only seems to result in more heartache and more scarcely stifled sobs as he hugs the penguin so tightly that he's grateful that it doesn't have lungs, or they would have been completely squashed beneath the weight of Ash's overpowering anxiety.
What if he gets ripped away from him too?
What if even with his unconditional love, the world manages to snap the heartstrings that had attached him to his darling child that he had worked too damn hard to grow?
Would it be his fault for being incapable of protecting his child?
What if he isn't ready to be a parent after all?
"Ash? Is everything alright?"
Eiji's soft-spoken question lands of deaf ears whilst Ash's quiet cries begin to pathetically crescendo into something that only the child they'll be meeting in mere moments would be able to replicate, shuddering gasps attempting to rattle their way into his lungs, substituting themselves in place of a proper breath. He can faintly feel the softness of the penguin fading away from the deathly grip he unintentionally had on it, his fingernails close to puncturing the black fabric, nearly making the innocent bystander bleed out entirely due to his own stupid weakness.
The thoughts just will not stop.
What if he accidentally hurts this baby?
What if he ends up doing to this beautiful child what Dino did to him?
What if-
Two nonsensically comforting arms hesitantly embrace him, a weighted blanket wrapping him up, as though Eiji and Ash are trying to roll themselves up into a human burrito, and he immediately swallows himself up in the unexpected, noiseless reassurance that everything will be alright.
And, although not every bit of him is going to leap on the bandwagon, suspicion surging through his veins alongside the electric current of nervousness, the rhythmic motion of Eiji delicately rubbing his back brings him back to reality little by little. The two of them have been through this situation on an inconceivable amount of occasions since they had officially decided to adopt this baby in particular, crying into the other's collarbones when New York City finds some pathway to creep up on them when they least expect it, and with every second that transpires under the guise of protection, of kindness, of sickening sweetness, New York City eventually abandons them for a while, leaving them to their own carefree devices.
It sounds pretty dumb and obvious, however it causes him to realise that he isn't going to ever be alone at any stage of this crazy parenting process, and he never needed to think of himself as a single father with no room for error when neither of those things are true.
If Aslan accidentally hurts this child, then Eiji will always step in to de-escalate the pain, mellowing them both with whatever calming words are appropriate for whatever scenario, followed by the couple having a conversation where they acknowledge his mistakes and learn from them.
Because no parent is perfect, because no parent produces an adult without fears or insecurities, because every new child brings new experiences that you can never quite prepare for, even if you've already raised a well-adjusted, functioning member of society...
Because life isn't perfect, a lesson that Ash Lynx accepted decades ago and Aslan Jade Callenreese still hasn't wanted to come to terms with, as that would mean accepting everything else alongside it.
It is a necessary lesson to learn, though, and if it assists him in helping and having fun with this adorable, tiny bean that they're fetching home for seemingly forever, then Aslan is willing to let some of the information to filter through, as the constant comfort of the sun's open arm still rests on his shoulder.
No one can predict the way life decides to roll the dice, but Eiji will always be there to help him, regardless of whichever way it ends up landing.
That is a fact which no untameable terror can deny, and neither can it deny the everlasting love that he has already adopted for this child, and will continue to flourish and grow up with them...
Loosening his surprisingly tight hug on his husband, a couple more coughs burst from his lungs. His breath is mostly stable, his heart is settled but still backflipping in his chest, yet his body quivers as the sudden onslaught of emotion drains from each and every cell, and he feels himself slightly sagging whilst the world clears from the blurred edges of his vision.
Ash takes a deep breath, the final tear inching its way down his face as a humourless chuckle scratches out of his throat, and his hand wraps around the back of his head in embarrassment for losing the control that he'd worked so hard to maintain for so long.
"Sorry. Just got emotional, I guess."
Eiji's piercing gaze of concern shatters and reconstructs itself into a gentle smile, his chocolate coloured eyes lovingly looking into Ash's like he typically does in the aftermath of a flashback, or a nightmare, or a panic attack. It's the beaming pride that he has for Ash, for him being the personification of perseverance that his deceptively impenetrable facade and his unimaginable childhood have beaten into him over the decades, and yet he still carries with him in spite of all the shit he's had no choice but to have linger - like a shadow - as well.
Eiji also loosens his grounding grasp on Ash, and then fully lets him go, offering some very valuable space to breathe if he should require it after this little episode.
"It's okay, I understand... So, are you ready to go and meet Skipper, or do you need a few minutes?"
The name Skipper tugs at these heartstrings that have blossomed between him and his baby, and initially, when they had chosen it whilst lying in bed one night when the sweltering heat kept them awake until the early hours of the morning, Aslan couldn't resist the intrusive thought of his helpless child suffering the same fate that Skip had, being brutally whisked away from the world before he had the chance to be truly happy.
However, it pulls at these heartstrings so violently, because of the hope that sings through the air whenever the name pops up in conversation. It sings the song of Ash and Eiji altering Skip's destiny, serving him unrivalled cheer on a silver platter with nothing expected in return.
Because pure happiness is exactly what Skip deserved, and it's what Skipper deserves, too.
Ash allows himself to take Eiji's free hand (he had only noticed now that the briefcase he was stuffing the adoption documents into like a turkey on Thanksgiving, is now dangling in Eiji's right), and they silently stand in the golden nursery, the fuzziness of dawn draping over them as he surveys the bedroom for the actual final time, but not fussing over every intricate detail, just being satisfied with no problems that stick out like a sore thumb.
He grins, a determined grin that he had previously reserved for the members of his gang before they went out to kill but now is only reserved for courageously beautiful moments like these, and gives Eiji's hand an extremely subtle squeeze that he isn't entirely sure he feels at first, however is certain when he feels a squeeze with exactly the same care and tenderness as he put into his.
"Let's go."
Ash is scared - he can hear the blood blazing beneath his skin - but he also couldn't be more excited, more confident, more ready to begin this new life, this new journey with the love of his life and the kid on the other side of his finely tuned heartstrings.
The only difference being that he now understands that those heartstrings are allowed to fray, to go out of tune, and to gather dust.
He is allowed to make mistakes without it making him the worst parent in the galaxy.
Even if a part of him struggles to believe it, Eiji, the squishy, stuffed penguin that he makes a very clear note to clean the potential tear and snot stains off later, and the sun that maintains a steady arm around his shoulder, they all know that he will adore Skipper with all of his heartstrings attached...