sakon76

Second Chances
by K. Stonham
first released 1st March 2022

Things get better. Douxie has his first appointment with a therapist. Her name's Meredith, and Toby actually was the one to find her. Toby would have been ideal, Jim thinks, but Toby professionally recused himself for almost exactly the same reasons that Jim can't be Douxie's case worker as well as his foster parent - he's too tied up in everything to be impartial. And Meredith is actually Arcadia Oaks-based and so knows the weirdness that permeates the town.

Douxie doesn't love her, but he admits she's "okay."

Jim and Claire will take it.

So Douxie has therapy sessions with Meredith on Tuesdays after school, then, to make up for that bitterness, the reward of guitar lessons on Wednesdays. Magic lessons with Claire happen most other evenings in microbursts, and Jim teaches him how to fight on Mondays and Fridays. They're starting to develop a routine as a family unit, and it's not always easy, but it feels like it's working.

Then the other shoe drops.

"Jim, I am so sorry," Tim says, coming up to him one afternoon in the office.

Jim's heart stops beating for a minute, because he knows exactly what this is, it's about Douxie's mom, it's got to be--

"I found Richard's mom," Tim says, and it takes a second for Jim to remember that's Douxie's legal name. "She's in Wales, and she doesn't want anything to do with this. She hung up on me! But now, since he's a UK citizen, the state wants him repatriated over there--"

The rest is static. Because Jim promised he'd take care of this kid, and he can't do that if the fucking state takes him away and ships Douxie off to a country he hasn't lived in since he was five.

They have backup plans. Blinky and Aaarrrgghh and Trollmarket.

But it's not good enough, Jim likes having this kid around, he's just starting to get to know him, Douxie's finally feeling like maybe there's hope and life isn't shit after all....

And even if Jim trusted the foster care system of another country, he knows they don't have the resources to ensure a proper placement for a budding wizard. And it'll be a hell of a lot harder for Douxie to find people to help him in a country where his contacts number exactly zero.

A crazy plan unfolds. It involves a certain number of illegal things, and bringing some people from the outside into the big secret that is Arcadia Oaks, and risking both his job and rather a lot of other things, but....

But Douxie died to protect the rest of them, once upon a time.

Jim can do no less than roll the dice on this risk, to protect him now.

"What if," he finds himself saying, "she agreed to termination of parental rights? And Claire and I wanted to adopt the kid."

"Jim, she hung up on me. There's no way we're going to be able to get her to agree--"

Jim looks at Tim, and whatever his coworker sees in his eyes, it's enough to make him falter. "If I can get us to England," Jim says, "what do we need?"

"D-documents and a notary public," Tim says.

Jim's not a notary public, but he knows Kendra is. And he thinks she'll go along with this. "Come on," Jim says, and heads to the break room, where Kendra's glaring at the coffee pot. Her suit is deep blue today, impeccable and matching her nails. Her hair is perfectly coiffed, her makeup flawless. Jim is pretty sure she regards it all as armor, to get herself through the day, because inside she's a bleeding heart like the rest of them.

Jim glances around, makes sure it's just the three of them, then summons Excalibur to his hand.

Kendra is shocked; she stares, her mouth an "o." Tim's file folder falls from his hand, the papers inside making a soft shushing rain on the linoleum floor.

"This is Excalibur," Jim says. "The Excalibur. I've wielded it since I was seventeen. Magic," he says, to their wide eyes, "is real. My foster son is a wizard, and needs to be with people who can actually teach him. So I need your help to keep him here."

"What the fuck--" Kendra says, and it's the first time Jim's ever heard a four-letter word from her.

Tim hasn't said anything, but he reaches a hand out to the sword. Jim makes a decision, and reverses his grip, offering the hilt to Tim. Who takes it, and raises it before himself in reverence, barely breathing.

Tim communes with the blade for a moment, then lowers it, returning it to Jim. There are tears in his eyes; he wipes them away. "Sorry," he says. "Just, ever since I was a kid...."

Jim nods. "I get it," he says. "Trust me, I really do." He vanishes his weapon and regards the two of them. "Will you help me?" he asks. "Please."

Tim and Kendra end up coming over for dinner; it's the best way to explain everything to them, and to get Claire to help refine Jim's plan. Douxie's still wary of his case worker, and finding out the state wants to take him away doesn't make him less likely to bolt. But under duress he does show off his fledgling magic to them, and Claire easily demonstrates her own. And over dinner and dessert, they hammer out a plan.

This weekend, Jim and Tim and Kendra will take the gyre to England and rent a car. They'll go to Mary Prichett's home and get her to sign the papers severing her parental relationship to her biological son. She wants nothing to do with him? Fine, Jim will ensure she never has a chance to darken Douxie's doorstep again. Then, after they come back and get everything filed, Tim will work on making Douxie's placement permanent, and then they'll start worrying about citizenship applications and... well, the word "adoption" gets brought up and Douxie goes very still.

"We don't have to, if you don't want to," Jim says. "But it's an iron-clad way of making sure you can't get taken away."

Kendra snorts. "Not that iron-clad," she mutters, and Jim knows exactly what abuse case she's thinking of.

"As iron-clad as anything can be," he retorts. Kendra dips her head, acknowledging the point.

"We can talk about it," Jim tells Douxie. "After we get these papers signed. We have time, all right?"

And maybe they should see about scheduling an extra session with Meredith, because this entire conversation has got to be a cocktail bomb of emotions, but Jim offers one last thing anyway: "Do you want to come with us to England?"

He wouldn't be surprised if Douxie said yes, because the kid loves the gyre, and closure in the form of seeing his biological mom one more time might be worth something, but Jim's also not surprised when Douxie shakes his head and says "No." His voice is rough but his decision is firm.

"Well, guess you're with me this weekend, then, kiddo." Claire slings her arm around his shoulders. "You can come to the playhouse with me, help me yell at everyone during dress rehearsal. Sound good?"

She gets a wan smile. "Sure."

Toby comes with them. By now he and Jim are old hands at the gyre; Toby's brought mints and gum and bottles of water to help Tim and Kendra through the experience. Once the pair of them are over their nausea, their team navigates surfaceside easily enough. The local trolls are able to point them in the direction of a car rental place, and thank god he and Claire have done enough international travel down to visit her family in Mexico that Jim knew to warn his credit card company about an out-of-country jaunt.

(Yeesh, he thinks, handing the card over. The pounds-to-dollars ratio is not favorable at the moment. At least he remembered to put his cellphone on airplane mode before they left, and warned Tim and Kendra to do the same.)

The car is smaller than he expected, and the driver's seat is on the wrong side. But Toby lights up and calls dibs on driving. They all cram in and Toby takes a few laps around the (tiny) lot to get the hang of the car before they set off on the roads.

There are many things that impress Jim about his best friend, but he discovers a new one in that Toby takes to driving on the wrong freaking side of the road effortlessly. And the car has a GPS, so after figuring out it's going to be a three-hour drive to their destination, they stop at a Tesco's and pick up snacks and drinks. All of which are unfamiliar brands and flavors. Toby's clearly having the time of his life picking out the weirdest things he can find, and Jim's credit card is clearly getting a workout today.

"I have never seen so much green in my life," Tim says about an hour later, staring out the car window at the hills on either side of the road that seem to stretch on forever.

The last time Jim was in England, he was also in the wrong century (heck, the wrong millennia!), so nothing really looks familiar to him. But it's kind of funny, he thinks, that Douxie came from the same place both times. Maybe Wales is just magic or something.

It's a long drive, with unfamiliar accents on the radio talking about political parties with what Jim is pretty sure are nonsense terms, but they all get through it okay. Finally they end up parked outside what Jim thinks is called a "row house," all gray brick with a few accents picked out in red, a front yard big enough either for a car or a tiny garden. This one has a car in it, so Toby, following the lead of all the other parked vehicles, pulls their rental mostly up on the curb before cutting the ignition.

"Well," Kendra says, staring up at the two-story structure. "Let's hope she's in."

They troop past the car and ring the doorbell. The windows are curtained, so there's no way of seeing in and knowing if anyone's home. Tim has an iron grip on his briefcase.

After a minute, the door opens.

Jim didn't know what he'd expected from the woman who is Douxie's biological mother, but... he'd thought there would be some hint of resemblance. There really isn't. She's small, a touch on the dumpy side, and mousy. Her brown hair's pulled back but wisps are escaping, and she's got an apron pulled on over her clothes. Her house slippers are old, and need replacement. "Can I help you?" she asks, cautious and suspicious.

Tim clears his throat. "Mrs. Prichett?" he asks, just to be sure.

Her eyes narrow and her hand tightens on the doorknob. "Yes...?"

"I'm Tim Michaels, from the United States Child Welfare Services. I have some papers we need you to sign."

She tries to slam the door in their faces, but Toby's faster than her and catches it, forcing it back open to her terrified gaze. People always discount Toby because he's fat, but Jim's bestie is also strong. "Lady," Toby says, "you will sign the papers to give up legal rights to your son, or so help me, I will make you miserable."

Toby's a cream puff. But at the moment he doesn't look it, and Jim can't blame the woman from backing away from him, her eyes wide and terrified.

"You're a shit parent, and your kid deserves better. Now sign the goddamn papers, so we can be on our way and you can go on living your quiet little life, okay?"

It takes a moment, but then she sniffs, and nods, and lets them in.

Jim tunes out the talk behind him as Tim lays out the papers and the woman signs them and Kendra certifies them. Toby stands watch over the trio, glowering as necessary. But Jim... Jim examines the home. There are pictures on the wall, people he's sure are ancestors, and a portrait of the queen, and several that are clearly a younger Mary Prichett and her husband. He studies those with interest. Richard Prichett, Senior, has almost as little resemblance to his son as his wife. His hair was a darker brown, but nowhere near the true black of Douxie's.

None of the photographs, Jim notices, show any sign of a pregnancy. There are no baby photos up. No sign of motherhood.

Like the woman who gave him birth wants to forget entirely that her son ever existed.

Jim swallows, and wants to hit something. There's being an unfit parent, and then there's... this. Whatever it is.

"All right, I think that's it." Kendra finishes her part of things and stands, closing her notary book.

"Thank you for your cooperation." Tim stands too, the legal documents safe in the briefcase he holds. Neither of them offer to shake Mrs. Prichett's hand before they move toward the front door.

"Is there anything you want us to tell him?" Jim finds himself asking, suddenly desperate for an answer to a question he's never been able to understand. How can this woman just throw away her son? How could his own father just walk out on his family and never look back?

Mary Prichett looks at him, and there's no emotion in her eyes as she says "No."

There are no answers to be found here.

Jim leaves, and doesn't look back.

The trip back to the rental place is silent until Toby starts fiddling with the radio again and lands on some actual music, not just talking heads, and says, "So, who's glad we never have to go back there? Show of hands."

Every single one of them raises a hand. Kendra, after a second, gives a sly smile and raises two. Tim looks at her in betrayal and also raises his second hand. "Me too," Toby says. "So what do you guys think, should we, like, find an actual pub while we're in England and call it a lunch break? Something better than chips and soda?"

"God yes," Tim says, and then it's reprogramming the GPS, and everything starts to get better again.

At the pub, Jim discovers the culinary horror the British call mushy peas, but the fish and chips is almost good enough to make up for it.

"I just don't understand it," Jim finally confesses over his cup of warm Coke with a lemon slice stuck on the rim. "How can people just... be like that? How do they sleep at night?"

"If I knew, we'd be out of jobs," Kendra commiserates.

Toby shrugs. "Good can't comprehend evil and vice-versa. Caring people can't comprehend how some people just can't or don't."

"It's not like... I mean, I could understand it, kind of, if she went off railing about evil and witchcraft or whatever," Jim says. "But there was just... nothing there." He shakes his head. "I don't get it," he repeats lamely. "I just don't."

"Eh." Toby draws him into a sideways hug. "That's 'cause you're a good person, Jimbo."

"Thanks, Tobes."

By the time they're back in California, it has already been an obscenely long day, but it's barely 2pm as they clamber down from the gyre. Tim moves like he regrets that last bag of crisps, and Kendra for once looks less than perfectly polished. But they've also got the same air of grim satisfaction about them that Jim's seen on his friends after they've all successfully fought off yet another supernatural horror. Mission accomplished.

Half an hour of downtime and a fresh pot of coffee sees everyone off to their homes, and Jim crashes onto his bed with the solid intention to set an alarm and be up in time to surprise Claire and Douxie at the playhouse and take them out for dinner.

He is instead awoken in the gloaming by a wife crouched down at the side of the bed, poking his shoulder, mischief written across her face. "Mmm... Claire?" Jim mumbles.

"Guess what," she tells him. But Jim's brain is too fuzzy to guess, so he just makes an incoherent sound.

"Douxie," she says, "has fallen in love with the theater."

Jim blinks a few times, then buries his face in his pillow to Claire's laughter.

Surfacing a moment later, he says, "Like mother, like son," before he can think about it.

Her laughter stops.

Slowly, Claire stands, then sits down on the bed next to him. Jim shifts aside to give her room.

"You're serious about the adoption thing," she says.

Jim breathes. "I don't know if we'll ever be 'Mom' and 'Dad' to him," he says quietly. "But I think we can be a family." His hand finds hers, curls their fingers together. "I want him safe, Claire. And this is the best way I can think of to guarantee that."

She breathes out, and he doesn't dare disturb her thoughts. "Well," she says eventually, "I guess sixteen is old enough for me to have been his mom. Technically."

Jim grins. "We can tell people I knocked you up in high school and your parents made me make an honest woman of you."

"Stop it!" She laughs and pokes him. "People might actually believe that!"

"Especially if they've met your parents," Jim agrees, grinning, and laughs when Claire throws her full weight on him in retaliation. "Agh! Hey!" He tries to twist out of the way and mostly fails. "It'll shut your mom up about asking for grandkids!"

"You-- you--" Claire gives up and grabs a pillow, assaulting him with it.

Jim holds his arms up as an ineffectual shield, and submits to his wife's mercy.

It's a few more weeks after that before Douxie's birthday, which is initially planned to be a small family thing but eventually blooms into a big family thing. Jim counts heads and bakes for twenty. There's the three of them, of course, and Toby. But there's also Jim's mom and stepdad, and the triplets, plus Claire's parents and Enrique. Blinky and Aaarrrgghh and Nomura and NotEnrique roll into town for a visit, bearing wishes and crystals from Douxie's Trollmarket friends, whose parents have not allowed them to attend due to Blinky's questionable driving of the gyre. Krel will be in attendance, as will Douxie's past-life friend Zoe, and Tim and Kendra have also both begged invitations.

It is an extremely loud gathering, and Jim is absolutely not surprised when Douxie has to retreat up to his room for a while. He's also not surprised when he follows, about ten minutes later, and finds his foster son slumped against the far side of his bed, hidden from view, tears leaking down his face because there's just too many emotions going on inside him and he doesn't know what to do with them.

Jim sits down next to him, puts an arm around Douxie's shoulders, and draws him in close. The boy doesn't protest, just goes with it, and that feels like a victory some days. "It's hard to let people love you," Jim says eventually. "Because then you start loving them back. And the possibility of losing them hurts more than you'd ever dreamed."

Douxie sniffs, wipes his nose. "Sorry. I'm wrecking the party."

Jim waves it off. "It doesn't sound wrecked from here," he says, and the noise and music and chatter is indeed drifting up the stairs and in through the window. Everyone's having a pretty good time.

The two of them just sit there for a while, listening, dealing with the effects of too much love.

The party goes on late (luckily it's a weekend) and so Douxie is drooping by the time the last dish is put in the washer and the last scrap of wrapping paper in the trashbag. He made out like a bandit this year, Jim thinks, pleased on his foster son's behalf.

And his and Claire's gift was a cellphone on the family plan, so Jim's surprised, and Douxie's surprised, when Claire comes down the stairs carrying one more wrapped present.

"Happy birthday, Douxie," Claire tells him, and Douxie blinks off the sleepies to open the gift.

Inside the box, nestled in sky-blue tissue paper, is a bracelet Jim hasn't seen for nearly fifteen years.

Douxie takes it out, questions all over his face.

"This was yours, before," Claire tells him, and runs violet-lit fingers down the silvery gray leather of the bracer. It responds by humming to life, a sky-blue network of linked runes hovering above its surface. Douxie stares at it, then looks at Claire.

She swallows. "Each of these is a spell," she says, touching the runes. "I'll help you learn how to use them." She smiles. "They're shortcuts to make things easier."

And Douxie has been working so hard at his academics and his spellcasting, desperate to bring himself up to some self-set standard of where he thinks he should be.... Jim's honestly surprised that Douxie's brain hasn't just fritzed out sometimes, with all the demands he's been making of it.

A tool to make things easier is perhaps exactly what he needs.

Douxie swallows. "How do I use it?" he asks, voice hoarse, and stares at the bracer as Claire helps him put it on his left arm. It almost seems to snug itself to him.

"One last trick." She grins at him, and runs magical fingers down the bracer. It disappears, and only a watch remains. Claire runs her fingers back up the arm and the magic bracelet reappears.

Douxie repeats the moves, as wide-eyed as a child who's just discovered magic, then grabs Claire, hugging her so tight Jim wouldn't be surprised to hear her ribs creaking. "Thank you," he whispers harshly.

Her fingers rest on his black, black hair. "Happy birthday," Claire tells him softly, as she hugs him back.

The school year ends, and Douxie gets confirmed as a permanent placement. Jim and Claire worry about what to do with Douxie now that he's not in school all day, and they both have full-time jobs, but it turns out not to be much of a problem. The teenager, now starting to hit a growth spurt, shadows Claire at the theater some days and stays with Jim's parents others. More accurately, he stays with Strickler, studying his ass off to try to test into an age-appropriate grade for fall.

Douxie is sick of being in a classroom with kids two years younger than him, and being thought stupid because of it. He's determined, and Strickler's a good teacher, so Jim thinks Douxie has a fair shot at cramming two years of education into three months.

Appointments continue with Meredith, and some weeks are rougher than others, but overall things seem to be smoothing out. Certainly the nightmares are happening less, and Douxie's actually leaving his door open at night, not even seeking the psychological safety a barrier provides.

He's also noticing the staff over the mantel more often. Jim catches him looking at it quizzically sometimes.

"It's his," Claire says with a shrug one night. "I'm not sure I want him to have it before he's even fully mastered his bracelet, but, yeah, we're giving it back to him at some point."

"If you say so," Jim says, and kisses his beautiful witch of a wife.

With a teenager around, they can't close the curtains and dance together in the living room in their underwear the way they used to, but he and Claire have talked with Meredith and with Toby about what constitutes acceptable PDAs, and tried to present Douxie with a healthy vision of what loving sexuality looks like. There's nothing overt about what they'll do in front of him, but they don't try to hide that they are very much in love, and do in fact have sex with one another. The kid was raped (there's absolutely no other word for it; Douxie's still not old enough to consent to anything, and they know for a fact he had to prostitute himself at least a few times while on the streets), and there will always be lingering damage from that, but that doesn't mean he can't use a healthier relationship as a template to rebuild himself on.

It helps that Claire's deft enough at sorcery that, with Zoe's help, she's managed to soundproof her and Jim's bedroom.

And once in a while, like tonight, Douxie will go out to a movie with his "cousins" and they have the run of the house for a couple hours.

Jim draws Claire in for another kiss.

In late August, Blinky pays another visit to let them know that while he has not been able to find the actual location of Charlemagne's lair, he has a friend of a friend of a friend who swears that she can leave a message where it will get to the Devourer, and by extension, Archie.

Blinky and Jim and Claire stay up all night, drafting and revising a short letter. It can't say too much, in case the wrong people end up intercepting it or it falls astray. But there are certain words and phrases that, they hope, will say everything Archie needs to know.

They enclose a picture of their foster son, and hopes the letter makes it to the right paws.