Illia’s smiling mouth gives way to an exhilarated breath as she’s pushed high on the swing by Niel. They’re the only two at the glade on this cool overcast day as the other kids opted to stay inside. Not even Voltaire could be coerced to join them, citing the gym closing tomorrow for Thanksgiving as his excuse for being lazy. Between him and preparing tomorrow’s supper with Poppy, Mabel’s hands are too full to take Illia here, so Niel volunteered instead.

‘How is everything between you and Voltaire now?’ Illia signs when her momentum slows.

“It’s slowly improving. These past few days aside, I think he’s slowly getting used to everything,” Niel responds. Voltaire’s stealing habits have escalated recently, sneaking into rooms and stealing various items. Niel, Illia, and Mabel are the usual victims, with Niel and Gabriel being the ones to retrieve them.

‘I don’t think it’s fair that you have to go with him to the gym.’

“I don’t mind. Everyone there is nice, and I needed the exercise anyway.”

‘Is going there really helping him?’

That question can be taken two different ways. “Do you mean, is him going to the gym helping him? Or, is me going to the gym with him helping him?”

‘The first one.’

“I think so. He’s not as… punchy as he was before.”

‘Punchy.’ It seems that Illia likes how silly that word sounds coming from Niel; her smirking mouth and jaw move ever so slightly as she says it to herself internally. Having no more questions to ask, she returns to kicking her legs gracelessly to gain momentum. Her clumsiness, her innocent smile, the way her curled hair wisps in the wind… If the branch holding her were to break, Niel would catch her in a heartbeat. To him, she looks… cute.

When they get home later in the day, they find a commotion ensuing upstairs. It sounds like Voltaire stole something from Mabel again. Niel sighs and scales up to Voltaire’s barricaded room where their guardians are standing outside. Mabel is again trying to coax Voltaire into cooperating while Gabriel shadows her, none too pleased.

“What did he steal this time?” Niel asks.

“Just some money from my purse,” Mabel explains.

Voltaire can be heard protesting from inside, shouting, “I didn’t take anything!”

“He’s not listening. Could you…?”

“Yeah.” A scan reveals that Voltaire has placed his dresser in front of the door, and firmly within his grasp is a small wad of dollar bills. Niel uses invisible Dust to move the dresser and gain entry, much to the displeasure of the room’s occupant.

“Why?” Niel asks simply as he closes the door behind him.

“I didn’t take anything!” Voltaire repeats from his bed. When the dresser moved, Voltaire swiftly hid the money underneath the covers.

“We both know that’s not true, Voltaire.” Niel uses his Dust again to retrieve the stashed cash before the thief can interfere. “If you wanted money to go out somewhere, you could’ve just asked them. Or hell, I could’ve brought you somewhere.”

“That’s not it.”

“Then what is it?”

Despite Niel’s assumption being incorrect, Voltaire isn’t in any hurry to correct him.

Niel sighs. “Whatever it is, why did you lie? I thought you hated lies?”

Voltaire grits his teeth angrily and pleads the Fifth. Niel hopes that Medova will be more proficient at opening him up than he is.

“Come on,” Niel says, breaking the silence and motioning towards the door.

“What? I said I’m staying inside.”

“We’re not going for a walk, you’re going to go apologize.”

A loud snap of electricity erupts from between Voltaire’s hands. “No.”

Niel glares death at the thief for this defiance, and Voltaire sends a cold glare of his own right back. Before this can heat up any further, Gabriel opens the door and he and Mabel stand in the doorway. Niel returns the money to its owner.

“Voltaire.” Gabriel says sternly, arms crossed.

“What?”

“Apologize,” Niel repeats.

Finally feeling the pressure, the thief caves. “Sorry,” he says insincerely.

“Not good enough.”

“No, it is,” Mabel objects before she walks away, much to Gabriel and Niel’s disagreement. The former chases after his wife in protest while Niel is left standing there.

“You need to stop doing this, before they take something from you in return,” Niel warns as he leaves Voltaire alone in irritated silence.

Things cool down and not much more is said for the rest of the day, but an awkwardness can be felt by all between the two adults. It’s not like them to fight, or at least Niel has never seen it before. Niel catches Gabriel throughout the evening trying to bring Voltaire up with Mabel, but she shuts him down repeatedly, stating that they’ll talk later that night. Sounds like a good opportunity to see how they feel about Voltaire’s antics and if they plan to do anything. When it's time to go to bed, Niel slips into the shadows and sneaks downstairs to eavesdrop on his guardians. He wasn’t expecting their conversation to bleed through the door.

“Dear, I think you’re being too soft on him,” Gabriel says to his wife.

“And what good would being hard on him do?” Mabel responds.

“I never said to be hard on him! I said you’re being too soft, and he sees that and thinks he can get away with what he’s doing because he knows there won’t be consequences!”

Seems like Gabriel is finally getting fed up with Voltaire. It’s come much later than what Niel would’ve liked, but better later than never, he guesses.

“I know how you feel, but being hard on him will make him push back harder. Punishing him outright won’t work—we need to guide him into behaving!” Mabel reasons.

“So then, how do we guide him without him thinking he can walk all over us?”

“I just need more time with him. Just like with Blake, Sam, Illia, and Niel, I can get through to him.”

Niel doesn’t know who Blake or Sam are, but he guesses they were previous residents of the home before he, and likely Illia, got here.

“Dear, I think you’ve been trying too hard to be liked by him,” Gabriel objects. “You kept getting in his space and he shocked you for it, and now because you won’t do anything—introduce any kind of consequence—he can push boundaries without fearing repercussions!”

“Then what should we do?”

“I don’t know. Medova’s coming here on Tuesday, so between us, her, and Dwayne, we’ll come up with something.”

And Niel hopes they come up with something good because Voltaire is getting harder and harder to manage. He’s good on his good days, but he’s been having a lot of bad days recently, and Niel would like the bad days to stop before they end the good ones completely.

>>>>>>

Thanksgiving is a day to be thankful for and appreciate what you have. Niel certainly is both, but he doesn’t feel that this day is much different from any other, apart from everything being closed for said holiday. There’s also a big feast for supper consisting of several foods they don’t often eat, like turkey, pickled beets, and pumpkin pie. Niel expected several of the home’s staff to be here for it, but none of them showed, not even Dwayne (though Dwayne did drop by the home earlier in the day). He’s told by Gabriel that they’re spending the holiday with their own families, which he supposes is fair.

Something observed again by Niel is Mabel’s treatment of Voltaire. Just like before, she keeps too close to him too often, hoping to play his good side and earn his favour, though often earning his aggravation instead. Gabriel put it best last night: she’s trying too hard. But why? Of course, it’s better to have a good relationship with your (surrogate) children as opposed to a bad one, but this type of effort has diminishing and noticeably inversive returns. Is this related to what Reed was keeping secret? Unfortunately, the only way to find out is by talking to Mabel, and Niel doesn’t feel like he’s ready to confront her about it.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Dwayne and Medova arrive at the home the next day after school, and she and Voltaire disappear behind the door of the private room. Of course, Niel doesn’t know what’s being said in there and nor does he pry, but the thief didn’t look very happy when it came time to talk with her. Whatever conversation they had in there only lasted half an hour, after which Voltaire leaves and the other three adults enter. This must be that discussion Niel overheard Gabriel speak of the other night. The meeting lasts only 15 minutes before they exit, and Medova leaves the home not long after that. Gabriel and Dwayne talk to Voltaire in his room for a few minutes more before the latter also leaves. Curiosity of this hour gets the better of Niel. Maybe Voltaire will talk about it? He decides to wait until they’ve gone for a walk to bring it up.

“How did everything go today?” Niel asks the thief on their way to the city.

”Shit. What did you expect?” Voltaire growls.

”Well… What did they say?”

“That I’m going to be talking to Medova every Tuesday for a while, and I’m going to be helping around the house more.”

“I could think of worse outcomes.”

This response elicits quite the angered growl from the thief. Sensing encroaching irritation, Niel leads Voltaire into a sparse alley. Neither are fazed by the potential danger.

“I don’t understand why you’re stealing in the first place,” Niel says with crass honesty. “If you really need something, Mabel and Gabriel can get it for you.”

“Shut up.”

“It’s—”

“Shut. Up.”

With the way Voltaire is reacting, Niel guesses it has to be from him mentioning their guardians. He has no love for his parents, and that likely extends to his other parental figures, too. It kind of makes sense why he’d steal from them. But why also steal from him and Illia? Niel just doesn’t get it.

He also doesn’t see a lone figure watching them from a distance.

>>>>>>

“It would probably be easier to get on and off the mat if you had sandals or something,” Brock suggests during a water break.

“Wouldn’t be a bad idea,” Niel agrees as he unties his shoes for the fourth time that evening. Voltaire’s on his third, and both of them still have to rewrap and reequip their gloves.

”Hey Niel?” Nathan begins. “How many times have we sparred?”

“Not many, I don’t think.”

”Why don’t we go a few rounds? I want to see how you’ve gotten.”

“Very well.”

As he and Nathan break off to gear up, Niel sees through his Dust that Voltaire is watching with what looks like a scowl on his face. He turns around and confirms this with his eyes—Voltaire isn’t happy. Of all things, why is this bugging him? Brock eventually invites him to spar and he accepts, giving Niel a small piece of mind. The rest of their class goes smoothly with nary a scene coming from Voltaire. Instead, it’s Brock who has words at the end.

“Hey, do you think you could talk with Voltaire for me?” Brock requests to Niel. “He was getting rough again today. I tried telling him to lighten up, but he didn’t really listen.”

Niel sighs with all the disappointment for his house-mate. “Yeah, I’ll talk to him. Thanks for telling me.”

“Thanks. He’s good at this—picks up on it fast. I’d hate to see that talent go to waste because he can’t control himself.”

Niel decides to save this pending conversation for later that night when he and Voltaire have both cooled off and regained their stamina. The thief hears a knock on his bedroom door, and though he’s initially against opening it, it doesn’t sound like Mabel’s regular gentleness. He reluctantly gets off of his bed and opens it, finding Niel standing on the other side.

“What?” Voltaire questions with a touch of grouchiness

“You were giving Brock trouble today,” Niel says, his tone a combination of accusation, disappointment, and calmness.

“Was I?” Voltaire responds dismissively.

“We’re sparring, not fighting. It’s not a competition, so you need to pull your punches.”

“If we’re sparring, then shouldn’t I be fighting with my best?”

“It’s light sparring; practice. Not heavy sparring,” Niel corrects. “If you want heavy sparring, then control yourself and learn what we’re being taught, and then Theo and Chai might invite you to the advanced classes.”

Voltaire’s expression of aggravation remains; it looks like he has something more on his mind. Niel forces himself into the room and shuts the door behind him.

“Talk to me. What’s bothering you?” Niel requests.

“Nothing.”

“I can’t know what’s wrong if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“There’s nothing wrong.”

“Bullshit.”

Voltaire sighs with frustration and his voice dulls with shame. “I didn’t like it when Nathan left me to spar with you…”

“That’s what this is about?”

“Yes!” Voltaire barks. Niel worries that he might’ve woken up or startled someone in the house.

“Just because someone decides to do something with someone else for a change of pace doesn’t mean they don’t like you anymore.”

“You must be great at giving relationship advice.”

“No.” Niel says. “Nathan is his own person, and sometimes people decide to do things without you. It doesn’t mean there’s malicious intent.”

“I still don’t like it.”

“That’s something you’ll have to learn to deal with over time. Medova can help you with that.”

“I don’t want her to.”

“I didn’t exactly want to talk to her either when I first got here, but she’s very good at what she does. She’s helped me a lot.”

It looks like Voltaire is starting to calm down now. Now seems like a good time for a morale boost.

“Brock told me today that he thinks you’re good at this. You’re picking up what we’re being taught quickly, you just need to control yourself.”

The thief gives a small, dirty grin of self-satisfaction. He gets a lot of praise from Mabel— especially lately—but this is the first time in which he looks receptive to it. Niel just hopes it doesn’t go to his head.

The next morning, the pair end up waking late and miss breakfast, so now they need to get it themselves. Both are slow on the draw, too, spacing out at times and forgetting what they need. Niel is mostly capable of doing things on his own while Mabel lends an eager hand to a less-than-eager Voltaire. She at one point tries to open the refrigerator door for Voltaire but nearly gets hit by it when Niel tries to open it for her in turn. After they eat, Mabel employs the two to clean their own dishes. She’s been acting dotingly all morning and Niel can see it’s wearing on the thief’s nerves, but now that he’s stuck in place with her hovering over his shoulder, every compliment might as well be an insult. Just like before, it’s too much.

“SHUT UP!”

Voltaire slams the plate he was drying into the sink, breaking it and some glassware beneath. Niel is ready to restrain him again, but instead of attacking Mabel, he darts past her and upstairs in a tear-soaked fury. Gabriel rushes over expecting the worst, but the situation is already over before he reaches the kitchen.

“Mabel, what did we say?” Gabriel says to his wife disappointingly.

“I…” is all she’s able to stammer out. Gabriel analyzes what was being done and what is now damaged.

“I’ll deal with this,” he says, motioning to the mess of glass and porcelain in the sink. “You just… sit down and leave him alone for a while.”

Like a child scolded for a mistake made, Mabel dejectedly leaves and sits down alone in the living room. Why is she so insistent on buttering Voltaire up, even when it leads to this? Niel assumes it has to be related to what Reed wouldn’t tell him. With the camel’s back broken again, Niel feels courageous enough to talk to her about it.

“Mabel?” Niel asks as he sits down next to her—his voice and actions radiate cautiousness and his own tenderness. “Why do you treat Voltaire so… nicely?”

She’s somewhat taken aback by this question, mainly because it’s Niel who’s asking. “Well, because I want him to know I care about him.”

“Even when he doesn’t like you being so close?”

“Even…” She was going to say, ‘even then,’ but she couldn’t bring herself to commit.

“…I spoke with Reed a few weeks ago. I was hoping he knew why you were treating Voltaire this way, and I think he knows, but he wouldn’t say why and told me to talk to you instead. Do you know what he’s referring to?”

Mabel’s eyes glisten. Her first son knows her like one, too.

“Yes…” she mutters, barely above a whisper.

“So why, then?”

Mabel readjusts herself in the seat. It’s a hard story to tell.

“A long time ago, this home worked a little differently than it does now. We used to look after children who were being abused or caught up in custody battles until they could be returned to a parent, rather than raising children who didn’t have a home. Of course, that meant saying goodbye a lot, and it hurt all the more when we knew it wasn’t a good home they were going back to.

“I saw it so often. Families who couldn’t raise their children or didn’t care to—so many of them had their children taken away and then given right back, even when the abuse was obvious and the children were afraid of going back. There was this young boy named Adam, the sweetest, bounciest little two-year-old. His mother was abusing him and his father was trying to get custody of him. His father had a stable income, he had a good relationship with his other children, and they all vouched for him and against the mother. The courts decided to give Adam back to his mother. I had to watch as his father broke down into tears, and I had to stand there with a smile on my face as I watched a child that I cared for walk away with the parent that abused him, powerless to stop it. She murdered Adam two months later.”

Niel is in absolute, horrified disbelief. Mabel wipes the tears streaming down her face as she looks up to see her husband sit by her side and take her hand.

“I can’t let Voltaire go like Adam was. I need him to know that someone cares about him. I just… get lost in trying.”

“We know who Voltaire’s parents are,” Gabriel says, much to Niel’s shock. “Voltaire doesn’t think we know, but we do, and we have to tell him soon now that a case is being put together against them.”

“And he’ll have to…” Niel needs to remember the right term, “...testify against them?”

“Unfortunately, unless he wants to go back with them.”

“He absolutely does NOT want to do that,” Niel assures sternly.

“Did he tell you this?” Mabel asks.

They already know, so Voltaire’s secret isn’t much of a secret anymore. “That he knows who and where his family is, yes. He never told anyone because he knew if he did, he’d get sent back to them.”

“I’m surprised he trusts you this much, considering how you two started off,” Gabriel observes. Niel knows he’s referring to the thief’s first couple of weeks here, but he finds it amusing how correct Gabriel really is with that statement.

“He’s been reaching out to me in his own way.”

“Then…” Mabel begins, “...can I trust you to keep helping him?”

“Of course. I’ll bridge the gap between you two and make sure that your thoughts and feelings reach him in a way that isn’t overwhelming,” Niel promises. “And I think that starts with an apology to him.”

“Yes… I think that would be best, too.”

As the pair ascend the stairway toward Voltaire’s room, Gabriel returns to the mess at the sink and thinks back on earlier days. When he first met Mabel, when he proposed, when they got married, when they moved in to the home. The children he’s met, both who have come and gone and those that are still here. Reed, Lydia, Illia, Niel. And then there’s the love of his life. How they’ve all grown, and how they’ll continue to grow. In time, he hopes Voltaire will join them, too.

He’s as much a proud father as one can be.