Chapter Text
June 1992 LA
Athena Carter sank into one of the chairs in the hospital cafeteria, pulling out her notebook as she sipped the black coffee, wrinkling her nose in disgust, but stubbornly took another drink. She needed the boost after working on a case like this, hating cases where children ended up in the hospital, unwanted, and had made it her mission to help those she could. But more often than not, it was too little too late, as it was in this case.
Sighing, she wiped at her eyes and took a breath, looking around the area. It wasn’t busy, at least not for the early morning hours, about twenty people in total. An older man sat beside a young woman, holding her hand as they stared off into the distance, either the news too heavy to contemplate or the grief too overwhelming to react.
A family of five seemed to be celebrating, a party hat on the oldest child as they dug into a cupcake that had just been set down.
Other people were present, but the soft voices of a couple behind her finally caught her attention. The woman’s voice was sharp and brittle. “I can’t do it, Phillip. I just can’t. I never wanted three children, and you knew that. You agreed that if the treatment worked, we’d put Evan up for adoption. And we are. We came here for the treatments so that no one back home could question the birth and subsequent disappearance.”
Athena caught herself eavesdropping, justifying it by recalling that eavesdropping had once saved her life in her line of work. Still, she felt anger prickling inside her as the woman spoke about a child so coldly.
Phillip’s tired reply followed: “You’re right; I’m sorry.” Papers shuffled behind her. “Closed or open?”
“Closed.” The woman sniffed disdainfully, “We don’t need some snot-nosed kid coming back years later and upsetting Daniel.”
Athena clenched her fist against the table, swallowing hard as she anticipated the man’s likely expression, even before turning around.
The man didn’t say anything else, at least not directly, only muttering under his breath, “Evan James. Born February.17, 1991. Blond hair, blue eyes, and a birthmark on and beside the left eye. Type O…”
The rest of the words were drowned out as memories swept through Athena: the phone call, the crime scene, the knock echoing, and then mingling with Tina’s cry of anguish, a matching one wanting to escape from Athena’s throat. Instead, it was empty pledges and promises to get the bastard. It was all too much, and she couldn’t stop herself from turning around to scream and shout at the monsters who would unwittingly drag up those memories.
The couple started and froze as she whipped around, her face heating. They were not monsters, just typical rich white people, and Athena felt the world’s injustice even more, complaining that a third child made their life hard. While she was childless, her fiancé was dead and buried for almost eighteen months, as long as their child had- “Are you going through a private adoption?”
Athena was too well trained to react outwardly as the words left her mouth, but inside, she screamed, “What the fuck?” Over and over, her mother’s voice matched the tone perfectly, or maybe it was her mother’s voice.
It didn’t matter; the older couple swallowed as if expecting to be yelled at, but the woman took Phillip’s hand and nodded, “Yes, we… it sounds incredibly callous, but we- I only had Evan for one purpose. We needed a perfect HLA match for our oldest, who had juvenile leukemia, and I just don’t have the energy to chase after a toddler.”
Athena refrained from rolling her eyes and turned around. “Do you have a picture?”
The couple winced and shook their heads, Phillip offering a bit hesitantly. “No, but he’s upstairs- if you want to meet him?”
Without hesitation, Athena nodded and stood. “Athena Carter.”
The couple exchanged a surprised expression, but quickly rose to their feet as if terrified her interest wasn’t genuine: “Margaret and Phillip Buckley.”
***
November 1992
Daniel wanted two things for his twelfth birthday in fifteen days. He wanted to get out of the hospital, go home, and finally meet and hold his little brother—the miracle who had saved his life. Or at least that’s what his mother said. He didn’t really understand. Being sick for so long, and more so over the last year, he hadn’t really been at a stage to ask questions. It had apparently been closed too. If it hadn’t been for little Evan’s marrow, Daniel might not be there.
It was cool. Daniel was finally cured. He had more energy, no more sickness, and his mother finally allowed his sister to visit—Evan would have to wait until Daniel was home.
Now, don’t get him wrong, he was ecstatic to see Madison. It had been so long since he’d seen anyone but his mother and occasionally his father that he’d gladly take a visit with Madison, even if she were a girl. She didn’t like basketball or baseball; she never played outdoors. She was just a girly girl through and through. Though he couldn’t say, he liked doing that either. He just wasn’t allowed to do it. It had nothing to do with not wanting to. But maybe, though she’d grown some, it had been a while after all.
He hadn’t been allowed outside in years, his immune system too ‘delicate’ to withstand the germs he could catch, and it sucked. He’d give anything to hold a worm again, or maybe, like that one year, he’d found and seen a salamander. That had been an epic summer before he’d gotten sick.
Glancing out the window at the sunshine that shone brightly outside, he wondered briefly if he could convince his mother that a walk would be beneficial; he’d give anything to feel the sun on his skin without glass in the way.
Yawning, he glanced at the clock. He had some time before Madison and his mother arrived. Settling against the pillows, he imagined the first thing he would show Evan. Already smiling as Daniel envisioned the happy grin on what he thought his baby brother’s face was like. (Sadly, it would take years for him to wonder why there was never a picture of Evan in the house.)
Two hours later, the orderly had just left the room after dropping off the lunch tray when he heard the familiar staccato of his mother’s footsteps. It was curious that they paused outside his room, and he listened to the vague reprimand in his mother’s mean voice and shrank against the bed. It had been ages since he’d heard that. He really didn’t want her to be in a bad mood; it was a good day, really.
The door opened, revealing his mother with a pinched frown that smoothed instantly upon seeing him awake. Dutifully, he sat up, smiled, and held out his arms. “Mommy.”
Margaret Buckley smiled back and crossed the room to give the ritual hug. It lasted no more than five seconds. It never did. He’d counted. But having done her duty, Margaret pulled back, patted his head like he was a good boy, and then pointed towards the door.
A young girl stood there, head down, hesitating as if shy, as she twisted one leg by the door. Her long brown hair was pulled back into two neat braids, complete with blue bows that matched her dress, white knee-high stockings, and glossy black shoes.
“Madison?” Daniel asked as if unable to believe what he was seeing. She’d gotten so big; the last time he remembered seeing her, she’d been so much younger, which really wasn’t long, but she had grown. Standing almost a foot taller, Daniel could see that Maddie was going to grow into a beautiful woman, even though she had red-rimmed eyes and cheeks that still glistened.
“Mads? What’s-“
“Daniel! What did I say about that ridiculous nickname?” Their mom snapped and demanded, but Daniel ignored her, keeping his gaze on his little sister.
A breath passed, and then Madison’s entire face crumbled. She flew across the room and threw herself at him, breaking into tears. She clamoured onto the bed and burrowed her head against his chest, whispering the same thing over and over.
It was like his life froze before him. His happy thoughts just two hours prior disappeared in a wave of denial and despair. There would be no baseball or basketball, no digging for worms or anything else. There was nothing.
Feeling tears fill his eyes, Daniel looked up at his mother. He hid the tremble in his lip as she glared at them, her lips compressed into a thin, hard line, and somehow knew with absolute certainty that the words about to come out of his mother’s mouth would change his entire life, and he hated it.
“You should be grateful that Evan did his duty before going to a better place, so this crying fit is unbecoming, Madison. Evan sacrificed himself so that Daniel might live. You should be happy.” Margaret huffed in irritation and rolled her eyes as she stomped toward the door, “I’ll give you five minutes to get over this, then I never want to hear about it again.” Then, without another word or care, Margaret Buckley stepped outside and snapped the door shut, unbeknownst to her two children that on the other side of the city, a judge was signing his approval on the adoption papers, and Evan James Buckley officially became Evan James Emmett Carter. It might have meant more if Phillip had been there, but he wasn’t; he was at the rental home making arrangements to pack everything back up so they could head home to Pennsylvania. To a new home and a new future, where they were a perfectly normal family, living the American Dream - complete with 2.5 kids, all they needed was the dog to finish the look.
***
January 1993
RJ huffed out an annoyed breath as he glanced out the window again before glancing at his watch. He knew he should have asked Dad to pick him up; he knew it. Now he was late because his mom was mad at him. She should have been here an hour ago because he was supposed to go to the mall to grab the birthday present and then to Billy’s house for his birthday party sleepover. Looking out the window again, RJ growled and approached the office; maybe his mom called to say she’d be late.
The secretary and then the principal both attempted to reach either his dad or his mom, and there had been no answer, so another hour passed as he sat slumped over in the chair he’d been directed to, alternating between anger and sadness. It was almost a relief when the school door slammed open and then shut. The rapid pace of someone running down the hall raised RJ’s head. His interest was short-lived as he recognized the person, and a growing sense of dread slid down his spine. The normally put-together man almost seemed like a stranger, but still, he knew him, and half slid off the chair, voice coming out in a whisper, “Uncle Tommy?”
The man in question stumbled to a halt and stood panting, military fatigues askew, dust and something else on his face, and smelled faintly of smoke, his face breaking from the frozen numbness to something like devastation. RJ felt an answering surge of tears as he slowly shook his head in denial.
Uncle Tommy took a breath before hitting his knees and holding out his arms. RJ abandoned his bag and ran across the room to slam into the older man, crying, “Are they dead?”
Even at eight years old, RJ understood the concept of death, his father was a firefighter, his grandparents on both sides were too; even Uncle Tommy though he worked for the military, was a proud member of the 34th Infantry Division - one of the only family to find a career outside of but still falling into the same footsteps they’d all grown up on, even mom worked in the fire department.
Feeling Uncle Tommy shake his head and urge him to pull back, RJ clung just a second longer before allowing his uncle to set him up, his face grave and sad, “Your dad is fine, okay? I need you to hear and understand that he’s slightly banged up, but he is fine. Brook is at the hospital too, where she might be there for a bit, but she will be fine too…” Tommy trailed off, and his blue eyes filled with tears.
The answering tears that had tugged at RJ’s finally spilled free, “and mommy?”
Uncle Tommy shook his head, “I’m sorry, little buddy, I’m so sorry.”
RJ burst into nosy tears and collapsed in a heap, the guilt he’d felt for being mad at his mother suffocating because his last words to her had been, “You’re mean, and I hate you.”
***
April 1993
Eddie sniffed and shifted on the hard wooden chair, not understanding anything that had happened that day. It started well; school had been okay, and he hadn’t gotten into any fights. Which always counted as a win. He’d passed the test he was supposed to do that worried his mom. It might not have been perfect, but he’d passed, only getting three answers wrong. He hadn’t talked or even looked in Gabriel’s direction - which was a pity; he was so pretty. Small and angelic, but his mother, not liking the boy, had told and ordered him, to be precise, that he couldn’t be friends with him. It had hurt, but not wanting to upset or disappoint his mom, he had listened and refused to talk to him, other than to tell him he couldn’t be friends.
Eddie had gone to confession after school like he was supposed to, not detouring through the library, even though it had new books donated, but he knew his mother would never permit him to check any of them out. She claimed that they were too advanced for him to understand, which wasn’t true. Eddie loved to read; thanks to Abuela, she fed his fascination for the written word, but he’d already learned his mother had some particularities he didn’t understand. And yes, he understood the word and his mother’s double standard.
It’s what led to the fight when he’d gotten home; it was like his mother couldn’t find fault in his actions, so she created them—falsely accusing him of lying to the priest because his penance wasn’t acceptable - at least in her eyes. How she knew his confession and subsequent penance wasn’t something he’d even thought about, it was just the injustice of being told he was lying.
The basement door opened, sending a shaft of light down the stairs, making Eddie blink at the harsh contrast, and a whimper escaped his throat when no sound came from the top. He knew it was a scare tactic she employed; it was almost like she enjoyed the effect before she took that first step down.
“Edmundo?”
He blinked at the voice because that wasn’t his mother, that- “Abuela?”
“Oh, you silly boy, stop playing and come up here. I’m too old to be trekking down these steep stairs.” The amusement in her tone threw him for a loop. For the first time in his life, Eddie didn’t know what to do. He thought it was a trick, and it almost broke his heart that Abuela would be in on something like this. Knowing there was no choice but to respect and obey, Eddie wiped his face, shifted off the hard, uncomfortable chair, and dredged up the courage to approach the stairs - feeling like a pirate on the way to the gallows - just like the character in the last story Abuela had read to him. Taking a breath before he came into view, Eddie forced a smile; already knowing the routine, he wasn’t allowed to let anyone know about the punishments, because the next time it would just be worse and harsher.
When he reached the top, Abuela searched his face questioningly before pulling him into a firm but gentle hug, making him sag against her, and making him want to beg to be saved. But knew by the glint in his mother’s eyes as she stood in his direct line of sight that she would enjoy that scenario almost too much, so he stood mute and took the comfort Abuela’s surprise visit offered and prayed she’d never leave. Unfortunately for Eddie, she left weeks later, and because of that delay in his “punishment,” he never prayed for Abuela to visit again.
***