Chapter Text
Rebecca's hair was brushed, her pajamas were on, her pillow was fluffed. All that was left was--
“Okay, Uncle Davey. I'm ready for my story!” Rebecca's wide brown eyes stared up expectantly at him as he finished tucking the blanket around her slight shoulders.
David’s eyebrows wrinkled with perplexion, as he sat down on the bed next to her. “Story?” The whole evening had been rather perplexing, if he was to be honest. He had never taken care of a child before. But Rebecca had been well-behaved and helpful. And perhaps a little bossy. She was her mother’s daughter, through and through. Davey felt pins prick his eyes and he pushed that thought aside.
“Yes, Daddy always tells me a story before bed! And daddy's not here. So you have to tell me a story.” Five year old logic. Ensnares even the wisest of men, David thought.
“Okay. A bedtime story, huh? Well… Did you hear the story about the lady with the glass slipper?”
Rebecca narrowed her eyes as if trying to remember. “I think so...Is that the one where the kind old Lodging House master helps the little girl bet on the winning racehorse and she wins and gets to go the ball?”
David's eyes widen slightly, but who is he to contradict Daddy's story? “Okaaay… Well have you heard the story of the three little pigs?”
She nodded. “One built his house out of matchsticks, the second built his house out of old rags and the third built his house out of newspapers, and that was the strongest one because you can't knock down The World.”
David had to give credit to Jack. His stories were very imaginative. He was handling this single father stuff better than Davey had imagined. It had only been a month! He pushed that thought away, like the other, choosing not to dwell on the pain.
“Okay, then. Little Red Ridinghood? Snow White? Rapunzel?”
“Heard them all!” she announced. “Can't you tell me a NEW one?” Rebecca gave him a testy look. “Or don't you know any?”
Leave it to Jack’s kid to get under David's skin like that. “As a matter of fact, I DO know some new stories. How about a story about your dad?”
Rebecca crossed her arms in front of her chest with a satisfied look in her eyes. David had seen that same glimmer in her dad’s eyes so many times. When they were kids and the headlines were good, to recent times when Jack received his most recent raise at work. But not since… David cleared his throat, choosing to feel a little pride at making that glimmer appear in these big brown eyes in front of him, so like her dad’s. She acted like her mother, but looked like her father. David would work hard to make the story good, for her little sake.
“Alright, well. Once there was this place called The Refuge. It was sort of like a jail for kids. One time, your dad was starving, so he stole some food--”
“Oh, right, food.” Rebecca interjected, but David gave her a look.
“So anyway, Jack, I mean, your dad--”
“I know Jack is my dad’s name. You don't have to say that.”
“Can I tell this story, or do you want to tell it?” Rebecca smiled sweetly at David and she stopped talking. “Thank you! So as I was saying, your dad was hungry, so he stole some food. And he got put into that jail for kids.”
Rebecca looked stunned. But she didn't say anything, probably because she wanted to hear more.
“That place was terrible at taking care of the kids. It was cold, it was over-crowded, they had no medicine--”
“Lucky! I hate medicine.”
“Only because you can have it. You'd hate being sick even more,” David insisted. He felt a flash of weakness as his memories flared up. Medicine doesn't always help. He swallowed, changing the subject. “But that wasn't the worst of it. There wasn't enough food. And in The Refuge, if kids weren't listening, the Warden would--would hit them.” He almost regretted telling Rebecca that last part, judging by the scandalized look on her face, but he didn't believe in sugar-coating things. And he knew her dad didn't believe in sugar-coating things either.
“That's terrible,” she whispered. David tried to comfort her, brushing her hair back from her face. She clung to his arm, so he left his hand resting there on her cheek. “Did they hit my daddy?”
“He probably got hit the most. Because anytime a younger kid was about to be hit, Jack would get in the way, and he'd get hit instead.”
Rebecca's eyes widened, and she said quietly, “He was a hero.” David nodded, suddenly feeling proud to know such a hero.
“You're right, he was. No, he IS.” David's eyes crinkled with a smile. “Your daddy is such a hero.”
They smiled at each other for a moment, thinking about the greatness of their favorite man.
“But what happened next? Daddy's not still in jail.”
“You're right. He got out. The first time he got out--”
“Wait! Daddy was in jail more than once? Why was he in jail a second time? Did he steal food again?”
“That second time will have to be told another night.” David gave her a firm look and she shrunk into the pillow, finally ready to say no more. “This first time he got out, it was because Theodore Roosevelt was visiting The Refuge.” Before she could interrupt, David said, “yes, Theodore Roosevelt, the President. But at the time, he was the Governor.” Rebecca didn't say anything, obviously getting sleepy. “And while Teddy Roosevelt was there, Jack snuck out and hid on the governor’s coach! After the coach traveled few blocks, Jack slipped off and he was free.”
Rebecca smiled at the happy end, her eyes closing, then opening again, as she fought back her sleep, quietly listening. “But ever since that first time in the refuge, your dad was a hero. He had learned how great it felt to help little kids--not just when he protected them from being hit, but even when he would help the little ones who were too sick to go to dinner, by bringing back extra bread for them. Or by telling them stories to keep them cheered up.”
Her eyes slowly closed and stayed closed as David finished the last bit of story. “That's where Jack learned to be a hero, and he hasn't stopped being a hero since…”
David heard a rustling behind him, and a moment later a second body sat down on the bed next to David, resting an arm casually around his shoulders. “A hero, huh?”
David stiffened at Jack’s arm but attempted to ignore it. He turned and gave Jack a look. The same look he had given his daughter with all her interrupting. “The biggest hero I know,” Davey said. “With the biggest head.” He shook off Jack's arm and slipped out of Rebecca’s room. Letting the father and daughter have a moment, David sat at the small kitchen table and waited.
Jack came out a moment later, closing the door quietly behind him. “Out like a light. Good job, Uncle Davey. And thanks.” Jack sighed with obvious relief.
David smiled in spite of himself. “Hey, you're welcome. Anytime.” His eyes swept over Jack’s face, noticing the care-worn wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. It was as though his face had forgotten how to smile completely. After a few beats of hesitation, Davey said in a quieter voice, “how are you doing?”
Jack nodded his head silently, settling into the chair across from David. “I'm…. We're…” He stopped talking and Davey averted his eyes. He didn't want to see his best friend cry. But he wasn't about to ignore him. Davey reached a hand across the table to grasp Jack’s hand. Jack squeezed his hand as they shared in their misery. A brother misses a sister just as much as a husband misses a wife.